Fic: Waiting | DCU | Jason(/Tim), others | R | 1/1
Title: Waiting
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason(/Tim), Doc Leslie, Dinah, the Bat Clan
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,129
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Fear
Summary: Once on the Tower, all Jason can do is wait.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Follows Crimson. Warning for serious tension. You guys, seriously, this is now gonna go at least 2 more parts, even though I only need 1 to finish out my 50_darkfics claim. WHY ME? *laments and shakes fist at the sky* At the current rate of bunny multiplication, I'm gonna finish off the whole table of 100 prompts! :p~~~
Waiting
The flurry of people tending to Tim once they get to the Med Bay on the Tower is disorienting, to say the least. Jason's heart is still pumping adrenaline all the way to his hair as he lets Doc Mid-nite's team take his partner from him, lay him out on a bio bed and strip away the rest of the blood-soaked uniform.
“What did this?” someone shouts at him, the voice seeming distant as his focus stays zeroed in on his Baby Bird. “Jason, what did this?”
Beeping and shouting and the whine of some machine as it's hooked up to Tim fill his other senses, until someone grabs his arm, dragging him back from the chaos.
“Jason!”
He realizes it's Leslie, probably transported just after he and Tim were to help out, and he can't help the shiver that racks through him in the wake of all the adrenaline. “It-” he starts, swallows thickly, tries to remember beyond the haze of panic. So much fucking blood! “Don't know,” he admits as he gets a little bit of clarity back. “Tim went in alone, after I told him not to. Couldn't get there fast enough to-”
Throat closing up around a sob he can't afford to let out, he swipes the back of one glove over his forehead, lets his eyes slip shut for a moment.
Tim's blood. Everywhere.
“Okay, okay,” Doc Leslie says in that soothing way that all docs seem to have to calm a person the fuck down. “Come on, lets get you out of here so we can work.”
Passing him off to Black Canary-when the hell did Dinah get here?-she steps back into the melee surrounding Tim's bed, and the doors to the Med Bay close in front of him.
Cut off from his Baby Bird, he can't help the second surge of adrenaline that boosts him back to the doors to try to force his way in, mangled curses falling from his lips even as Canary pulls him bodily away by the biceps.
“Jason!” she shouts at him, finally getting him down the corridor and turning him to face her. “Jay, he's gonna be all right. You know that. The rest of the family is on their way up, so why don't we go get some coffee and meet them in the cafeteria, okay?”
If anything, her purposefully-soothing voice is more effective than Doc Leslie's, a hazard when working with the Canary, and Jason tries to fight the hypnotic wave of calm that washes over him. Gritting his teeth, he snarls and curls his hands into fists, staring back at the doors keeping him from Tim's side.
“You're not doing Tim any good like this, Jay,” she says, catching his gaze and holding it. “You did your job and got him up here. Now let them do theirs.”
Another choked-off sob tries to escape him, and as his shoulders shake of their own accord, the fight leeching out of him, he has to admit to himself that she's right. Even if he can't fucking stand it.
Releasing a shuddering breath, he resigns himself to the waiting, and lets Canary guide him far out of the docs' way.
~*~*~*~
Four hours later, Jason's on his third cup of coffee and tweaked to the rafters despite his body's attempts to crash out from utter exhaustion, desperately trying to avoid Bruce's sidelong looks, Dick's sympathetic little smile-frown, and Steph's hugs by staring out the tall cafeteria window down at the blue planet far below. They haven't heard anything beyond 'stable' and 'not out of the woods yet', and all he can see when he closes his eyes is the wash of blood covering Tim, the warehouse floor, his own gloves, now discarded along with the rest of his clothes since Alfred sent up a spare set of everything. All he can hear is that hissing gurgle that Tim made just trying to fucking breathe. All he can smell is the sharp iron tang of his Baby Bird's life pooling around them.
And if Bruce won't stop giving him that stare, that... that accusatory glare from behind his fucking cowl-seriously, why is he even still fucking wearing that thing? No one gives a shit up here!-Jason is gonna snap and break somebody's goddamn face. Only-
“Jason?”
It's Leslie again, and Jay can't help the instant shot of terror that jolts through him at the firm tone of her voice. His throat is suddenly too tight again to respond, so he just nods as he turns away from the window and the deceivingly peaceful view of Earth, not naïve enough to be hopeful.
The rest of the Bats seem to suddenly appear around them as the Doc grips Tim's chart tightly and starts, “He'll make it, but he's going to need a long time to recover. Whatever was used to attack him did a lot of serious damage to his throat and arms, so he'll need physical therapy and further surgery to repair his voice box, and there will likely be a lot of scarring, even with the advanced instruments we have here. He's asleep for now, but if you want to go in and see him, just keep it short. And no more than two at a time, okay?” she finishes explaining with a glance around at all of them, looking the longest at Jason.
“Okay,” Jason nods, finding his own hoarse voice at last as his heart and guts do some kind of flip of stunned relief that make even Grayson's aerial talents pale in comparison. He wants to bolt straight for Tim's room and stay there indefinitely, but the hard look in the Doc's eyes roots him to the spot.
“Good,” Leslie nods back. “The anesthesia should be wearing off shortly, and Tim will probably be disoriented as he wakes up. He won't be able to talk since he's intubated, and there's enough bandaging on his hands and arms that he won't be able to move much; try not to let how he looks scare you-not that any of you haven't seen loved ones in that state before,” she says with a significant look at Bruce, who only seems to fold in on himself under her scrutiny, “-and don't get him too riled up. Dr. Mid-nite and I want him to get as much rest as possible, so we'll sedate him again and keep him that way if need be.”
Swallowing around the knot in his throat and trying desperately not to remember waking up from his own coma with a tube stuck down his throat, the thought of Tim in that state agonizing, Jason is the first to follow the Doc back to Tim's room off the main area of the Med Bay. He just has to keep reminding himself that Tim will be okay... eventually.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason(/Tim), Doc Leslie, Dinah, the Bat Clan
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,129
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Fear
Summary: Once on the Tower, all Jason can do is wait.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: Follows Crimson. Warning for serious tension. You guys, seriously, this is now gonna go at least 2 more parts, even though I only need 1 to finish out my 50_darkfics claim. WHY ME? *laments and shakes fist at the sky* At the current rate of bunny multiplication, I'm gonna finish off the whole table of 100 prompts! :p~~~
Waiting
The flurry of people tending to Tim once they get to the Med Bay on the Tower is disorienting, to say the least. Jason's heart is still pumping adrenaline all the way to his hair as he lets Doc Mid-nite's team take his partner from him, lay him out on a bio bed and strip away the rest of the blood-soaked uniform.
“What did this?” someone shouts at him, the voice seeming distant as his focus stays zeroed in on his Baby Bird. “Jason, what did this?”
Beeping and shouting and the whine of some machine as it's hooked up to Tim fill his other senses, until someone grabs his arm, dragging him back from the chaos.
“Jason!”
He realizes it's Leslie, probably transported just after he and Tim were to help out, and he can't help the shiver that racks through him in the wake of all the adrenaline. “It-” he starts, swallows thickly, tries to remember beyond the haze of panic. So much fucking blood! “Don't know,” he admits as he gets a little bit of clarity back. “Tim went in alone, after I told him not to. Couldn't get there fast enough to-”
Throat closing up around a sob he can't afford to let out, he swipes the back of one glove over his forehead, lets his eyes slip shut for a moment.
Tim's blood. Everywhere.
“Okay, okay,” Doc Leslie says in that soothing way that all docs seem to have to calm a person the fuck down. “Come on, lets get you out of here so we can work.”
Passing him off to Black Canary-when the hell did Dinah get here?-she steps back into the melee surrounding Tim's bed, and the doors to the Med Bay close in front of him.
Cut off from his Baby Bird, he can't help the second surge of adrenaline that boosts him back to the doors to try to force his way in, mangled curses falling from his lips even as Canary pulls him bodily away by the biceps.
“Jason!” she shouts at him, finally getting him down the corridor and turning him to face her. “Jay, he's gonna be all right. You know that. The rest of the family is on their way up, so why don't we go get some coffee and meet them in the cafeteria, okay?”
If anything, her purposefully-soothing voice is more effective than Doc Leslie's, a hazard when working with the Canary, and Jason tries to fight the hypnotic wave of calm that washes over him. Gritting his teeth, he snarls and curls his hands into fists, staring back at the doors keeping him from Tim's side.
“You're not doing Tim any good like this, Jay,” she says, catching his gaze and holding it. “You did your job and got him up here. Now let them do theirs.”
Another choked-off sob tries to escape him, and as his shoulders shake of their own accord, the fight leeching out of him, he has to admit to himself that she's right. Even if he can't fucking stand it.
Releasing a shuddering breath, he resigns himself to the waiting, and lets Canary guide him far out of the docs' way.
~*~*~*~
Four hours later, Jason's on his third cup of coffee and tweaked to the rafters despite his body's attempts to crash out from utter exhaustion, desperately trying to avoid Bruce's sidelong looks, Dick's sympathetic little smile-frown, and Steph's hugs by staring out the tall cafeteria window down at the blue planet far below. They haven't heard anything beyond 'stable' and 'not out of the woods yet', and all he can see when he closes his eyes is the wash of blood covering Tim, the warehouse floor, his own gloves, now discarded along with the rest of his clothes since Alfred sent up a spare set of everything. All he can hear is that hissing gurgle that Tim made just trying to fucking breathe. All he can smell is the sharp iron tang of his Baby Bird's life pooling around them.
And if Bruce won't stop giving him that stare, that... that accusatory glare from behind his fucking cowl-seriously, why is he even still fucking wearing that thing? No one gives a shit up here!-Jason is gonna snap and break somebody's goddamn face. Only-
“Jason?”
It's Leslie again, and Jay can't help the instant shot of terror that jolts through him at the firm tone of her voice. His throat is suddenly too tight again to respond, so he just nods as he turns away from the window and the deceivingly peaceful view of Earth, not naïve enough to be hopeful.
The rest of the Bats seem to suddenly appear around them as the Doc grips Tim's chart tightly and starts, “He'll make it, but he's going to need a long time to recover. Whatever was used to attack him did a lot of serious damage to his throat and arms, so he'll need physical therapy and further surgery to repair his voice box, and there will likely be a lot of scarring, even with the advanced instruments we have here. He's asleep for now, but if you want to go in and see him, just keep it short. And no more than two at a time, okay?” she finishes explaining with a glance around at all of them, looking the longest at Jason.
“Okay,” Jason nods, finding his own hoarse voice at last as his heart and guts do some kind of flip of stunned relief that make even Grayson's aerial talents pale in comparison. He wants to bolt straight for Tim's room and stay there indefinitely, but the hard look in the Doc's eyes roots him to the spot.
“Good,” Leslie nods back. “The anesthesia should be wearing off shortly, and Tim will probably be disoriented as he wakes up. He won't be able to talk since he's intubated, and there's enough bandaging on his hands and arms that he won't be able to move much; try not to let how he looks scare you-not that any of you haven't seen loved ones in that state before,” she says with a significant look at Bruce, who only seems to fold in on himself under her scrutiny, “-and don't get him too riled up. Dr. Mid-nite and I want him to get as much rest as possible, so we'll sedate him again and keep him that way if need be.”
Swallowing around the knot in his throat and trying desperately not to remember waking up from his own coma with a tube stuck down his throat, the thought of Tim in that state agonizing, Jason is the first to follow the Doc back to Tim's room off the main area of the Med Bay. He just has to keep reminding himself that Tim will be okay... eventually.
~*~*~*~