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The laughing surrounded Jason like a carrousel, circling over and over again.
Jason’s head spun, breaths rasping in and out of his chest like they were forcefully taken and shoved back in.
It was dark, but Jason could distinctly make out the rough dragging of metal against concrete. His body wasn’t reacting or moving as his brain screamed at him.
A light clicking on right in front of Jason’s face blinds him. He blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting as the blinding light comes into focus as a flood light. His head shifts to the side, wincing when he comes into contact with a rattling metal.
Jason swallows past rising bile as he recognises the metal as a Morgue Slab, pristine and clean. There was the faint sound of beeping and it took Jason a few moments too long of frantically searching for a bomb to spot the heart monitor next to him. His eyes traced the wire, eyebrows furrowing as he realised the attachments weren’t connected to his chest, but directly to his neck. The moment he realised it was there, he felt a choking constriction around his throat, tightening and squeezing.
His body wouldn’t move– Fuck, why couldn’t he move?? Phantom splinters dug into his nails.
Nonono, please no, I can’t, I’m NOT THERE–
The beeping just kept going faster, past what’s capable of a human heart. Jason’s back rose off the table as he writhed, arms stuck in place and chin pulling up as he tried desperately to get some air for his spinning head.
His entire body dropped and Jason sucked in a sharp breath, ragged coughs following. The pressure around his neck had lifted, and as oxygen let his mind make sense of his surroundings, Jason could hear it.
Laughing.
That laugh again.
Crowbar against concrete.
“Well! Looky here! Seems like the little birdy is ready for surgery!” The Joker’s ghoulish face slowly appeared from the darkness, inky blackness swirling around his form.
Jason’s breathing stopped and in the silence he heard the heart monitor. The continuous noise showed Jason to be dead. Dead, dead, dead–
A whimper escaped Jason as the Joker reached for him, eliciting a horrifying giggle out of the creature. Jason can’t move his body, terror coursing through his veins. Joker doesn’t touch him, instead reaching behind Jason and pulling his hand back with a crowbar clutched in pale fingers.
“Now let’s see, what’s got you so down birdie.” A manic giggle reverberates from the inky black around them. Jason tries to look away, tries to pull his eyes from the scene, but he can’t. It’s like there are pins in his eyes.
Joker presses the hooked end of the crowbar to Jason’s chest, a sharp pressure growing and growing until his chest caved in with a sickening tear. Metal hit the bone of Jason’s sternum followed by a crack of bone.
Jason couldn’t move, speak or do anything but watch in pure horror. There was no outright pain, just that sharp pressure.
Blood seeped onto the metal table. It wasn’t shiny or pristine anymore, instead covered in rust and blood, most of it definitely not Jason’s.
Jason’s whine of panic was cut off as the Joker gripped the handle of the crowbar and painstakingly dragged it down, Jason’s flesh and blood squelching and ripping. Joker’s eyes were on Jason, bloodshot and pupils a pinprick. His smile was wider than normal, head tilting in a way normal people couldn’t. Jason couldn’t rip his eyes away from this creature’s green eyes.
Green eyes. Green swirling liquid. Green choking Jason, pulling him under, forcing him down down down.
Joker only looks away when the crowbar has ripped a jagged, gaping hole into Jason’s chest, ending right above his belly button. It’s like a sick imitation of the autopsy scars Jason had, following the line down. “Well well well, let’s see…” His hand thrust into Jason’s chest, a little delighted giggle freely exiting Joker’s grinning mouth. “What hurts more, little birdy…”
The words send a haze over Jason’s mind, unable to hold back the miserable weeping. Why this again?
Pain, proper sharp, aching, agonizing pain tears a scream out of Jason. His eyes slam shut, tears pricking and the sensation like fire in his eyelids. Just as quickly as he shut them, a liquid soaked hand pried them open again, red splattered on Jason’s face.
There, in the Joker’s hands is his liver. “This?” The manic smile on his face gets bigger, worse as he drops the organ. With the hand still on his face, forcing his eye open, Jason could barely whimper as the pain radiated. “Or this?”
Vomit rose in Jason’s throat as white hot pain struck up his body, eyes rolling in the back of his head. The hand on his face moved to grip his hair, dragging Jason into a sitting up position as something bloody pressed against his cheek.
It took everything in Jason not to pass out there as his eyes refocused, gagging sobs mixing salty tears with the blood over his face. Squelching mixed with the sound giggles as Jason’s completely still heart was pressed into his face, against his cheek. The other hand in his hair held firm, forcing his head still.
Retching stuttered Jason’s chest, making his cries worse, more violent. Even now, his body couldn’t move. His hands hung limply, useless to his organs spilling out of his body from how Jason was being held up.
The hands gripping him dropped and Jason fell back painfully on his head. He didn’t have time to focus on that as the Joker grabbed the bloody, rusted crowbar again.
“This was delightful and all, but I have to head off.” Joker grinned, deranged. Jason couldn’t relax, there was always one more thing. “But as my parting gift–”
Jason blinked, the swirling in his mind cutting to the Joker with his arms raised, crowbar swinging down. Pain struck his leg, another crack of bones being broken. Jason bit back a cry, only for the next strike, breaking his other leg, to force a raw scream.
The laughter of an unhinged clown echoed out one more time before heavy footsteps led away from the spot of light, the metal slab dripping with blood.
Only Jason’s ragged sobs filled the room, eyes closed as all the pain and panic pulled Jason’s mind in a million directions.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
There’s ticking, beeping. Jason’s eyes snap open, desperately looking over at the heart monitor but he’s still flatlined, still dead. A bomb, there’s a bomb, not again–
Always one last thing with the Joker.
Gasping, shallow breaths wrack Jason’s entire body, eyes looking around frantically for the bomb, for what he knows is here.
Something dry drops into his mouth and Jason startles, throwing his head to the side and coughing. He doesn’t have time to figure out what it is before more and more starts to fall over him.
“No– NO!” Jason screams, arms finally working as he raises them to his face, the dirt falling in his face blinding him. He was helpless to his burial, the second time. As dirt pressed against his face, Jason couldn’t breathe, couldn’t dig himself a pocket.
Jason gasped, sitting up and banging his head against satin covered wood.
He took a moment to adjust, breathing in stale air. His hands, shaky but able to move, pressed against his chest, over his heart.
Bu-dum
Bu-dum
Bu-dum
There was no gaping hole in Jason’s chest. There was no lack of heartbeat. There was no ticking bomb. There was no Joker.
Jason’s hands pressed against the confines of where he was and a nauseating realisation came over him.
His body laid in a satin lined coffin.
It was fine, this was fine, Jason could get out of this, this wasn’t anything new. Jason focused his trembling hands on unbuckling his belt. He was in his old body, the one with a freshly sewed up autopsy scar, but that also meant he didn’t have his gear, anything to get himself out of here please gET HIM OUT OF HERE–
The belt buckle slammed over and over into the wood above Jason, helping splinter the wood bit by bit. Aching in his hands turned to bruises and cuts, flicks of blood dripping onto Jason’s face as he continued to slam the belt buckle in the wood over and over and over and over.
Dirt spilled into Jason’s coffin as the roof caved in. His hands pushed and packed dirt into the bottom of his coffin, trying to dig himself up, out of this hellhole.
Surface came too quickly and Jason felt his reality slip as gravity seemed to shift around him. Dirt that was once falling into his face seemed to melt away, dropping down as Jason himself finds gravity take hold of him.
Plummeting headfirst down, Jason only gets a glimpse of a bubbling green before he’s plunged fully.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Jason shoots up, bending over himself with a desperate cry that sounded more like the wheezing of an asthmatic. His hands raised to grasp at his throat, checking his pulse while also futilely trying to keep the sobs already escaping at bay.
He was okay. He was home.
The sound of his bedroom door made Jason jump, one hand clutching the doona pooling around his waist and the other patting his bedside table for the gun he usually kept there.
Jason froze when his eyes met frantic blue eyes framed by sickly pale skin.
Tim stood in the doorway, black hair messy like he’d just woken up, his bo staff clutched in his left hand and wearing one of Jason’s shirts. It hung off Tim, reminding Jason startlingly of how kids might wear their parent’s clothes.
It was like a shock to his system, a reset that put his brain right in the moment, far away from the nightmare’s setting.
“Tim.” Jason’s voice cracked and he watched as Tim seemed to blink back into focus, shaking his head and eyes scanning the room, a lot less frantic now. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
They both stare at each other, every second filling Jason with more incredulity. To be fair, this was far from the first time someone in his family had broken into his home, but it definitely hadn’t ever been for whatever Tim’s doing it for.
Tim’s eyes narrow for a moment, what was probably sleep filled confusion melting to give way to Tim’s usual calculating look. Even so, his voice is hesitant when he speaks. “Are you alright? I heard you call out.”
Jason watches in slight fascination as Tim takes a wary, but decided few steps towards Jason’s bed. He couldn’t decide if it was brave or stupid, Jason didn’t exactly have a great post nightmare reaction record. Although, Tim’s assessment seemed to be proving right because Jason didn’t feel an urge to lash out at the teen.
Running a hand over his face, Jason lets out a sigh, pushing himself back a little so he’s leaning against the headboard. “I’m fine, just a nightmare. I’m more interested in why you’re in my house.”
A look of sheepishness overtakes the teen’s face and Jason raises an eyebrow. Tim rubs his neck, shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s not something I like to make a habit of–”
“You’ve done this before?!”
“–but I prefer not to sleep in a completely empty house.” Tim admits, cheeks flushing a little.
Jason frowns at the confession. Dick had mentioned to Jason in one of their conversations that Tim had been neglected as a child, left home alone for weeks, if not months, at a time. There was a clear correlation between that and why Tim might not want to sleep in an empty place.
That’s actually… really sad.
“Anyway!” Tim raised his voice, shaking his head again and focusing his attention back on Jason. “Do you need anything? Water? Food?”
Jason studied Tim, the kid now standing at the side of his bed, but not looming over Jason. He didn’t think the kid could loom if he tried. He had an expression of awkwardness, with a hint of hope. Jason couldn’t help the snort that left him, a snicker following closely.
Tim’s expression fell to one of familiar annoyance, slight embarrassment. He turned his head, guard already raising at Jason’s show of amusement. “I’ll be in the lounge room if you need me.”
Before Tim could scamper away, Jason reached forward to grab at the shirt he was wearing. It fit almost like a nighty, which only got another snicker out of him. It was clear Tim was only going because he was embarrassed.
A little yelp of surprise came from the teen as Jason pulled him back, although he didn’t resist much. If Tim really wanted to go, he could and would.
Tim looks back with a light glare. “What?”
“Comere.” Jason mutters, grasping Tim’s arm this time and tugging with maybe a bit too much strength. Tim collapses back into a heap across Jason’s lap, the sudden movement making him disoriented.
“What are you–” Tim mumbles, squinting at Jason.
Jason cuts him off, pulling him fully into him and wrapping the teen in an embrace. It reminds Jason so fondly of the times Dick would pull him into one of his octopus hugs when Jason was Tim’s size. “Shuddup and go to sleep.”
Tim goes limp in Jason’s hold, allowing him to manoeuvre him into a position they would both be comfortable in. Jason ends up with Tim’s head under his chin, Tim pressed against him like a baby brother weighted blanket.
After a moment of silence, Tim shifts just enough to speak. “Uh… what is this?”
“Never heard of a hug?” Jason teases.
The teen is silent and Jason silently curses Dick because why the hell is this kid so touch starved? He should be drowning in physical affection, especially if Dick and Bruce know his past being neglected.
Thinking over his words, Jason spoke again, this time a softness to his voice. “Look kid, I don’t exactly want to be alone right now.”
The admission felt bitter on his tongue, but his headache had grown and Jason felt a little bad for embarrassing the kid before when he was clearly trying to open up. Plus, this wasn’t just for Jason, he noticed the way Tim had immediately sunk into the contact.
Tim stays quiet just a little longer. His answer comes with a shaky breath and his body somehow relaxing more into Jason. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
This time when a hush falls over them, it’s peaceful. Jason is able to drift back to sleep, the weight and warmth of Tim drawing his mind into a peaceful state.