Chapter Text
He couldn’t breathe, Goddammit… he couldn’t… breathe…
“Help,” he wheezed, scrabbling at the concrete pinning his chest to the ground like his ribs were made of magnets, pulled relentlessly by the dirt; grasping roots, tendrils of mud swallowing him whole, the weight--- “Help. Please. Please, please, please---”
His com fizzled, staticky. He blinked at the ceiling of the rubble, clearing dust from his eyes. His surroundings glowed a sickly neon green; jagged pieces of wood, broken bits of concrete, and sharp rebar everywhere he looked. His helmet must have cracked open in the collapse; it was modified to deflect the green when he didn’t want to give away his position, or maybe the failsafe for the retractable lenses had been thrown--- It was a Goddamn miracle that he was even still breathing---
His chest jerked, panic with nowhere to go; his gloved hands scrabbled at the concrete, pulling, shoving, tearing at it until the Kevlar threatened to give way.
“Stop,” he told himself, wheezing for air; he tried to hold still, to fight his body, but muscle memory was like a wild beast, and the fear--- the terror--- It was stronger than him. It ruled his body in agonizing waves, heartbeat after painful skipping heartbeat until the lack of oxygen caught up with his rabid brain. His limbs stuttered, temporarily limp.
“Fuck,” he groaned, blinking reflexive tears from his eyes. Now he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see. Perfect. “It’s not even that much rubble, Todd, get a grip…”
The com whined. He punched the side of his head, annoyed, and his knuckles came away bleeding. (Had HE done that? At least the whining had stopped.) Where was he, anyway? This was only one story of building on top of him, he knew that much, but the rest was a chunky blur bouncing around the back of his dirt-stained skull at best. He’d been helping… helping. Someone. It was a setup; he remembered the annoyance, the rage… and then…
“No,” he whined through gritted teeth, struggling against his own body like a puppet against its strings as it started once more to fight. “No… no… fucking… STOP…”
It wouldn’t listen, the fear, or maybe he wasn’t possessed… Maybe it was just the part of his brain that was still fifteen; the tiny piece of him that remembered tugging on the metal handle of that warehouse like it was six hours ago instead of six years. His limbs moved by themselves, free of command, writhing against the weight of the concrete like they had against the dirt---
The fucking dirt, at least, had had some give.
“No,” he pleaded, his frantic heartbeat creeping up his spine, his neck, the back of his throat. It flooded his eyeballs with steady rhythm; his entire throbbing existence one point of suffocating panic; he couldn’t---
He couldn’t breathe.
By the time his body finally stilled, gasping for air it didn’t have through sparks it couldn’t feel, he was almost too unconscious to notice that the whining wasn’t his.
“Fuck…?” he whispered, bracing his trembling hands against the edge of the rubble.
The whining steadily grew louder. He twisted his head to search for it--- Was someone else down here? Who had he---
Steph. He’d been helping Stephanie.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, heartbeats picking back up too early, too soon. Steph… please not Steph. Bruce would kill him. DICK would kill him. Not Steph, please, please for the love of God, not Steph---
A fuzzy muzzle shoved through a tiny opening to his left, took a biiiiiiiiiiiiiig sniff, and barked.
“Ace,” Jason’s mouth remembered, and his nervous system flooded with relief. It sparked at the ends of his fingers, warring with the dregs of adrenaline for sensory dominance in the body that didn’t belong to him. Ace was a trained rescue dog, of course; if he was here, that meant Jason wasn’t buried that deep, and besides… where Ace was, his handler wasn’t far behind.
Batman was coming for him.
“Ace,” Jason whispered around the mud he could feel in his mouth, the dirt that wasn’t there, trying to get his tongue to work. He reached out, shoving the muzzle weakly with one torn glove. “Go… get help…”
The dog’s tongue lapped eagerly at his bloody fingers. A second later, through sheer willpower, the wiry German shepherd had squeeeeeeeezed through. He padded over, performing a snuffling examination of Jason’s entire body; his ribs, his face, his hair.
“Agh---” Jason craned his neck away as a huge tongue graced his bleeding eyebrow. “Ace… no… off. Off.”
The dog boofed very quietly, then clicked his teeth together over and over and over again. Tracker… the I-Found-Someone tracker; it must have been on the inside of his mouth. It was too cramped to wear a vest in here; it would’ve gotten snagged on the way in, like the skin over his---
Jason’s hand smacked the side of his head. He choked off an exhausted sob. Please not again, please not again---
Ace reared up, slamming his full weight against the rubble holding Jason down. Hope shot up the back of Jason’s throat; desperate, he pulled the last of his willpower to bear on shoving at the concrete. Quick, before he could dissolve into panic--- Before he could lose himself to the ghost haunting his body; the kid that just wanted OUT.
The concrete moved.
“COME ON,” he screamed, or maybe just wheezed, because he couldn’t… breathe…
Gone, it was gone, and he was floating, he was free, he was safe---
Something else pinned him to the ground.
“No!!!” his lungs screamed, and he flung his arm out, fighting it. A sharp whine pierced his ringing ears. Oh God… “Ace?! Ace, I didn’t… Ace…”
His vision slowly filtered back; the dog was cowering against a slab of wood, one injured ear flat against his head. As Jason reached out with trembling hands, the poor guy inched forward, wagging his tail; training kicking back in. He stayed off of Jason this time, stretching up to lick his face instead.
“Good,” Jason wheezed brokenly, trying to hang on through the sudden rush of oxygen. He could breathe. He could breathe. “GOOD boy. ‘M so sorry, you… You were jus’ tryna do y’r job… weren’t you? Jus’ keepin’ me from panickin’…”
Ace boofed softly, twisting to get behind Jason as his body fell. His echoing skull landed on soft fur. The last thing he saw was a gloved hand reaching down through a hole in the sky.
“Ace… Ace NO. Bruce, make him stop growling at me.”
“He doesn’t want you in here.”
“YOU’RE in here.”
“I am his food source. You are a dangerous intruder.”
“I just wanna check on my baby brother, Goddammit--- Is that too much to ask? Ace…”
Jason twisted to bury his face in the warm fluffy body at his side, groaning. Everyone was too LOUD. The growling stopped at once, giving way to a wet tongue licking all of his hair to one side.
Jason sighed deeply, put-upon. Whatever. He was too tired to swat that eager muzzle away. As long as Ace kept Dickwing at arm’s length, he’d count today as a win.
“Good, good boy,” Bruce said distantly, gravelly with a weird mix of joy an’ lack of sleep.
“Thanks,” Jason croaked dryly, cracking one eye open. “Do I get a treat?”
Bruce broke Ace’s doggy bone in half without missing a single beat, handing one piece to Jason. The dog snapped up his share before nosing hopefully at Jason’s hand.
“No,” Jason said grumpily, wrapping the crumbly treat in a tight fist. “Mine.”
Ace rested his chin on Jason’s chest with a huff. He kept one eye on the door of the med bay where Dick was leaning against the wall with a shit-eating grin. The other he kept steadily on Jason’s closed fist.
“Good… good boy,” Jason whispered as sleep crept back in. He buried one hand in the dog’s fur, hanging on. It wasn’t dirt. It wasn’t the Lazarus Pit. It wasn’t rain. “G’boy. Y’ve earned it.”
Ace lapped at Jason’s opening hand, going for every single crumb, and gave a triumphant boof.