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Disgusting. Horrific. Repulsive.
It would be shocking for the average person to hear just how many things disabled people overhear on the daily, underestimating their ability to understand or comprehend what is being said.
Revolting. Nauseating.
Especially when it comes to other people talking bad about other people.
Hideous.
And especially when it comes to themselves.
Jason slammed the door to his room with a loud THUD, ringing out in the empty manor halls. He didn’t bother changing from his suit further than flinging the suit jacket and tie across the room before flopping onto his bed.
In the dim room he could finally let the tears that had been pricking in his eyes all night fall.
It was just so unfair! Rich assholes were so rude, not caring if their whispers reached Jason. It was like school, but worse because at least some kids thought the scars were cool.
Curling in closer, Jason pressed the scarred side of his face into his pillow, choking out an angry sob. He was sixteen, he shouldn't let the whispers of a hoard of dinosaurs affect him.
No one really knew what happened to the second Wayne son, the official cover story being a fireworks incident. It matched the burns trailing down the upper right side of his body, stopping around his knee. Gossip papers spun the story to include Jason stealing the fireworks, that somehow this was all Jason’s fault. Jason decided to stop reading the tabloids after that.
The thing that made Jason the angriest was the fact that despite the healed scars, he couldn’t ever go back to being Robin. It wasn’t just the identifiable scars, although those had an effect, and it wasn’t just Bruce being a mother hen.
No, Jason had developed muscular atrophy while recovering from third degree burns.
Canes, wheelchairs and walkers had been his life for a year, and even then just the latter six months. It was humiliating, especially when he thought he’d finally grown out of using them, only to have a flare up the next day.
And out of everything, the worst part was that Jason couldn’t even be mad at Bruce for taking away Robin. He had done everything he could, gotten every type of therapy for Jason under the sun and been there every second for anything Jason could ever want.
Everything but Robin.
Jason pressed his face into his pillow and let out a frustrated scream.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Head snapping up, Jason caught sight of amused green eyes. His body immediately relaxed and Jason pressed his cheek back into his pillow.
“Hey Babs.”
No he was not sulking.
Barbara pushed herself past the threshold of Jason’s room, expertly winding through discarded clothes and miscellaneous objects that were strewn across the teens room. The door clicked softly behind her.
Jason pulled himself up so he was sitting up, crossing his legs in front of him. There was an easy air between them, the kind of relationship that only came from years of knowing each other. Barbara was like a sister to him, and they had only gotten closer after Ethiopia.
“Rough night?” She hummed, parking herself next to him, eyes alight with knowledge. It would be ridiculous to try and hide anything from her.
Jason ran a hand down his face, hunching over himself further. “Yeah, regular assholes just being regular assholes,”
Her face scrunched up in thought and she nodded slowly. “The Drake’s, right? The gala just next door?”
He nodded, leaning his face against his hand. “Some kind of auction for certain artifacts found at one of their recent digs.” The information came out easily, like when he’d debrief with B after patr—
Nope, not thinking about that.
Shaking his head to get rid of that line of thinking, Jason turned his eyes back to Barbara’s pausing at the calculating look she was giving.
“What?” Jason winced, it had come out more defensive than he was hoping. Still, he didn’t let his eye contact waver.
Barbara didn’t seem offended. “Did anyone say anything?”
Swallowing, Jason glanced down, not wanting to face those kind but weirdly intense eyes. “Not to me, no.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
There was a familiar lump in his throat, because yeah, he knew what she meant. He also knew she knew what he was going through.
Maybe Barbara didn’t have any facial disfigurements, but she was still a young, paralysed woman in a world that refused to believe women or young people could suffer hardships. Maybe she wasn’t called disgusting or horrific, but Jason was sure she had her own set of derogatory comments sealed in her memory.
Jason sighed and peered up at Barbara. “It was a rough night.” That’s all he could manage on that topic, still raw despite it happening countless times before.
One of the things Jason appreciated about Barbara was her emotional intelligence, something everyone else in his family lacked. So instead of pushing for him to explain, she just smiles sympathetically. Not pityingly. Never pityingly.
“Any highlights of the night?” She hummed, tapping a hand on one of her chairs' arm rests. “The Drake’s have a son, don’t they? Your age?”
Jason can’t help but light up a little at that, he smiles, properly this time. “Yeah, Tim! He’s a few years younger than me, scrawny.”
Barbara snaps her fingers, nodding with her own smile. “Timothy Drake! I used to see him occasionally out and about when I would visit back when Dickie was Robin.”
“The kid’s quiet but gets a real bite when you dig deep enough.” Jason was always fond of the kid, those wide blue eyes that stared into your soul had never triggered his hatred of being stared at. “Goes to Gotham Academy, skipped a few years I think.”
The redhead nods thoughtfully, a twitch to her lips. “So you two talked?”
What was most definitely not a pout crossed Jason’s face. “Yeah, for all of two seconds before his parents pulled him away.” The memory of Janet’s usually stony or polite expression falling into shock for just a millisecond flashed in Jason’s mind. His face fell back into its gloomy state as he looked down.
The older woman sighed and Jason almost jumped when a hand was placed gently on his knee. It took him a solid second to steel his nerves into looking up.
Once again, Barbara never with anything ever made him feel bad for having emotions or getting frustrated even when he should just brush things off. He knew logically it was stupid and anyone who treated him like an animal because of what he looked like wasn't worth a single thought. But still, it was just so unfair.
“Talk to me Jay.” She hummed, painted black nails taking his hands into hers. She rubbed a soothing thumb over the scars that covered his knuckles. “And not just with the gala, tell me what’s been putting you in the funk you’ve been all week.”
Jason chewed on this before letting out an unhelpfully shaky exhale. “I just— you know how I'd been doing really good with my therapy? How I’d been able to, for the most part, walk without aids?” Barbie nodded and Jason licked his lips, mouth suddenly really dry. “I just—“ He choked on the words and the tears that had dried were suddenly back, threatening to fall.
Barbara didn’t speak, didn’t talk over him or interrupt to try and finish his sentence for him. Instead, she listened and let him speak, waiting for the choked sounds to come out as words again.
Jason was so incredibly grateful for Barbie, his sister, and he desperately hoped she knew that. With her encouragement pushing him forward, Jason restarted.
“I just haven’t been able to walk more than five minutes without crutches.” Jason pulled one of his hands away to wipe at the tears. They were formed out of both sorrow and frustration, a feeling he had gotten used to over the last year.
A quiet hum came from the woman, something thoughtful. “Jay, do you remember when I was first paralysed?”
That made Jason wince, but he nodded cause yeah, he did remember. It had been a few months before he had almost died. She had been shut off at that time, not lashing out but also not wanting visitors.
Jason wished he had gone to her about his plan to see his mother. Maybe if things had been different—
He nodded yes to her question, blinking back into focus. He could tell Barbie knew he was getting distracted, she always had this look, more often than not pointed and Dick.
“Then you remember the time I spent getting used to my new height, right?” There was a twinkle in her eye. The memory was brought back to the forefront of Jason’s mind, the annoyed frown as Barbara navigated her home in a wheelchair, trying to reach things she easily could have standing up, but couldn’t now.
Jason had walked over and plucked the coffee from the shelf and handed it to Barbara. When their eyes met, there was just so much exhaustion and helplessness. It was a far cry from Barbara now, sitting in front of him, still in a wheelchair but so much more composed than she had been more than a year ago.
She continued, tilting her head. “And you remember how many times I’d get frustrated trying to get places?”
Jason nodded with a sigh. Now, with someone he loves and cares about in a wheelchair, along with his own accommodations, Jason became starkly aware of just how unfriendly the world was to disabled people. Ramps and elevators missing in places they should be, people simply refusing to get out of the way for people who needed more space and people carelessly using accessibility accommodations like toilets all came to mind.
“So you know I understand how frustrating it can be.” Barbie said in a quiet, soothing voice. “Therapy, aids, ignorant pricks, the whole thing. And even though those things can suck and I wish neither of us have to go through it,” She pauses a moment to catch Jason’s eyes, the green slightly watery. “I’d rather I go through it with you so you don’t have to do it alone.”
Jason let’s put a wet chuckle, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. “Fuck, Babs, you really always know the best thing to say, huh?”
Barbara gave him the most genuine, sincere smile before leaning forward and pulling him into a hug. Jason leaned into her, his chin hooked over her shoulder.
Even with no utterance of hero work, Jason knew Babs shared in that crushing heartache for the vigilante life. They both knew the loss that Joker had forced them to suffer with. It didn’t need to be said, the silent solidarity between the two clear.
Barbara pulled back, lingering only to ruffle his hair. “Come on Jay, I’m sure Dickie and Bruce will be up for some board games, how’s that sound?”
Pulling himself up into shaky but sure feet, Jason stretched. “How does scrabble sound?”
“Let’s beat their asses.” Babs grinned.
Yeah, Jason would be okay.