Work Text:
The first thing Jett Blitz did after getting concussed was accuse a vending machine of attempted murder.
Jason Todd was standing approximately six feet away when it happened.
He'd seen the hit.
That was the problem.
He'd seen Jett get thrown backward by the blast, watched the back of his head clip the concrete pillar behind him, watched his body crumple for half a second before the kid pushed himself upright and immediately gave the villain the middle finger.
"Fuck you!"
The villain was already unconscious.
Jason stared.
Jett blinked.
Then he pointed accusingly at the vending machine beside him.
"And fuck you too."
Jason looked at the vending machine.
Then at Jett.
Then back at the vending machine.
"What did the vending machine do?"
Jett's expression was deadly serious.
"It knows."
"What does it know?"
"Everything."
Lian, crouched nearby, started laughing.
"Oh my God."
Jason's stomach dropped.
"Nobody laugh. Blitz, stay where you are."
"I am where I am."
"Don't move."
"I'm not moving."
Jett promptly tried to stand.
Jason caught him by the shoulders.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you just got concussed."
Jett frowned.
"That's not a real word."
Jason sighs.
The paramedics come, checking Jett out and giving them the okay to take him home.
"Make sure you watch him carefully, no screens, physical activity or sports. Watch for symptoms of seizure, drowsiness, memory loss or dizziness."
Jason nods, and turns to the group.
"Meet us back at the safe house. I'm gonna carry him there."
The others nod, looking exhausted but resigned to their fate.
Back at the safe house, Jason plops Jett on the couch, who quickly curls up with a blanket.
"Hey." he snaps his fingers "Stay awake."
Jett groans. His eyes are glazed over
"Jett, what's your address?" asks PJ, laptop ready to type into the GPS
The kids parents are probably gonna chew him out for the injury.
Jett freezes, and room turns to him expectantly.
He mumbles incoherently into his blanket
"You're going to have to repeat that."
Silence.
"Jett?" probes Ezra
Jett groans, rubbing his hands down his face
"Head hurts."
"I know kid. But you gotta answer. Jett, can you remember you're adress?"
Jason is concerned. Does he have memory loss from the concussion?
"Don't have one." mutters Jett
"You don't have an address?" asks Lian
"No. Homeless."
The room stills. He says it casually, like he's telling you the date today, or asking about the weather. Not revealing a large secret about his home life.
It's Jason who speaks first.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Jett looked at him.
His eyes were red.
"Because you would've made me stay."
Jason stared at him.
"Yes."
"I didn't want that."
"Why?"
Jett shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
Jett's voice cracked.
"Because then you'd know."
"Know what?"
"Everything."
He wiped his face.
"My papers."
Jason frowned.
"What about them?"
Jett looked frightened now.
"Nothing."
"Jett."
"I don't have—"
He stopped.
His breathing quickened.
Ezra leaned forward.
"It's okay."
"No."
"You can stop."
"I don't have the right papers."
Jason's expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
Jett covered his face.
"I'm not supposed to be here."
Nobody spoke.
Jason's mind moved quickly.
Immigration.
A child.
No parents.
A dead mother.
An absent father.
The words rearranged themselves into something Jason didn't want to understand.
"You came here with your mom?"
Jett nodded.
"When I was little."
"From Mexico?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
Jett shrugged.
"I don't remember."
"Does anybody have custody of you?"
Jett laughed.
"No."
Jason felt cold.
"Jett."
"I'm fine."
Jason almost snapped.
Then stopped himself.
The kid wasn't fine.
He hadn't been fine for years.
He was just very, very good at saying it.
Jett started crying quietly.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just tears slipping down his cheeks while he stared at the blanket.
"I miss her."
Jason didn't move.
"I know."
"I don't remember her voice right."
"You remember enough."
"I don't."
Jett wiped his face.
"I remember the kitchen."
Ezra sat beside him.
"The kitchen?"
"Yeah."
Jett smiled faintly.
"Yellow walls."
Lian's eyes were wet.
"She hated yellow."
Jett laughed.
"She picked it."
"Why'd she hate it?"
"She said it made the room look ugly."
He laughed again.
"She painted it anyway."
Jason smiled despite himself.
"Sounds like her."
Jett nodded.
"Yeah."
His eyes closed.
"She was nice."
A long silence.
Then:
"She would've liked you guys."
Lian looked down.
"We would've liked her."
Jett smiled.
"Yeah."
His eyes drifted shut.
"She would've liked Ezra."
Ezra froze.
Jett didn't notice.
"She liked boys who were polite."
Ezra's face turned red.
Lian's mouth twitched.
Jason stared at the ceiling.
"Okay."
Jett yawned.
"She would've hated you, unc."
Jason looked at him.
"Why?"
"Too loud."
Jason laughed quietly.
"Probably."
Jett's eyes closed again.
"She would've liked you too."
Jason's chest tightened.
He pulled the blanket over Jett's shoulder.
"Get some sleep."
Jett murmured something.
"What?"
Jason leaned closer.
Jett was barely conscious.
"Gracias, mamá."
Jason froze.
Jett had already fallen asleep.
Jason looked at the others.
Nobody spoke.
Eventually, Ezra quietly translated.
"Thank you, Mom."
Jason nodded.
He looked down at the kid on the couch.
Then at the others.
"We're going to talk about this in the morning."
Lian nodded.
Jeffrey swallowed.
Eugene hugged his plushie tighter.
Ezra kept looking at Jett.
Jason lowered his voice.
"But tonight, nobody leaves him alone."
Nobody argued.
For once, Jett wasn't the loudest person in the room.
He wasn't flipping anyone off.
He wasn't making jokes.
He wasn't pretending.
He was just asleep beneath a borrowed blanket, one hand curled around the sleeve of Jason's old hoodie, breathing softly.
And Jason finally understood the thing he'd been missing all along.
Jett hadn't been hiding some terrible secret.
He'd been hiding the fact that there was nobody there to catch him when he fell.
So Jason stayed awake.
All night.