Fic: Robin Song | DCU | Jason/Tim, Doc Leslie | R | 1/1
Title: Robin Song
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason/Tim, Doc Leslie
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,434
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Voice; For hc_bingo: Free Space: Loss of Voice
Summary: Seeing Tim like this is even harder than Jason is prepared for.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: The last of my 50_darkfics prompts! \O/ *throws confetti* (Though I plan to use the rest of the 100 prompts unofficially as they fit fics. :p) Follows Waiting. One more part will follow. Warning for severely injured Tim and weepy Jason.
Robin Song
The doc was right when she said it wasn't like none of them had ever seen someone-a loved one-in the state Tim is in. Only, Jason doesn't think finding his mother dead and already cold even comes close to comparing with the sight of his Baby Bird lying in the bio bed, his face bruised and swollen, wires and tubes snaking around his still form, disappearing beneath the sheets and the bandages covering his arms and hands. He looks like an experiment gone wrong, like a casualty of a massive industrial accident, like something Jay might've left in his wake as he tried to shut down Black Mask, like....
Like Jason must have looked after crawling out of his own grave.
Sinking into the chair closest to the bed, his eyes glued to his partner, Jason shivers involuntarily and takes in a shaky breath, only barely hearing Doc Leslie's further detailing of Tim's injuries. The clinical description of the wounds seems so cold to his ears that he can't decide whether he wants to vomit or cry as nausea wars with the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and suddenly he's glad that the rest of the family is waiting in the main Med Bay; he doesn't think he could handle them seeing him losing it so completely.
“...lucky you got to him when you did.”
A flash of rage strikes him right in the chest at that, and he tenses as she lays a soft hand on his shoulder briefly before stepping out of the room, leaving him alone in the quiet with Tim.
Lucky. Tim wasn't lucky. If he was lucky, the bastards that did this would've fallen on their own weapons before Tim even went in, and saved them all the trouble of tracking down their asses later.
Letting out a shuddering breath, Jay leans forward and props his forearms on the bed railing, hands clasped. He can't take his eyes of his Baby Bird, feels like if he does, for just a second, he'll either miss the moment Tim wakes up or else something worse will go horribly wrong that he won't be able to stop. It's ridiculous, he knows that, but so fucking what?
“Not gonna leave you, Baby Bird,” he whispers into the stillness of the room, the only other sound the scraping and pop of the IV machine and the slow beep of the heart monitor. His own voice sounds foreign to his ears, he's still so hoarse from yelling after he got Tim to the Tower, and his heart seems to twist in his chest with the agony of all this waiting. He's not sure he can take much more of this, just wants to see his Bird open his eyes, wants to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he's okay, wants to hear his-
But his wait is finally ended when he sees Tim's right eyebrow twitch, eyelids following suit. A wash of relief flowing over him, Jason reaches up to smooth Tim's hair back from his forehead. “I'm here, Tim. You're all right. You're safe.”
Those eyelids flutter again and peek open at last, slowly rising until Jason can see blue and black, Tim's eyes focusing on him.
“Hey, Baby Bird,” he says shakily, unable to stop the smile that tugs at his mouth. “Welcome back.”
Tim blinks a few times, and his chest starts to rise and fall faster with quick breaths, panic setting in as Doc Leslie predicted.
“Hey, hey, take it easy, Tim,” Jason tries to soothe him, wishing he could just take his hand, but Tim shakes his head, eyes wild and fearful.
A sob tearing itself from Jay's throat, he stands and gets both hands on either side of Tim's face. “Hey! Come on, Tim, calm down. Can't-don't want them to sedate you again. Listen, okay? Just breathe and listen.”
Blue eyes find his again, and Tim shivers, so clearly scared out of his mind that he can't quite get a hold of himself. The huff of a long breath whistles through the tube down his throat, and Jason can see Tim's lips trying to work around the blue plastic, already chapped despite the balm that the med team must have put on him.
“Easy,” he says again, smoothing his hands down Tim's face and trying not to scream again as the agony of seeing his boy like this eats at him. “We're on the Watchtower. You got ambushed, got your throat slit and your arms and hands torn up. Doc Mid-nite and Doc Leslie patched you up as soon as I got you up here, and you're intubated, so don't try to talk.” His own throat tries to close up on him as he goes on, but he manages to swallow down the knot. “Your hands and arms are all bandaged up and restrained, too, so don't try to move.”
He realizes then that Tim has gone from shivering to shaking like a leaf, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, and he can't stop another sob from escaping him. “Just breathe, Tim. Slow and easy. Please,” he begs, petting the sides of his Baby Bird's face and swiping away the tears with his thumbs. “You're gonna be okay, I promise.”
Even as he says it, he knows at once that it's a lie. There's no coming back to one hundred percent from this, not with the severity of his injuries, but he can't let Tim know how bad it really is. Can't let his boy get freaked out even worse.
But he can't keep the truth from Tim, either, even if he wants nothing more than to soothe him. He just can't.
“Hey, stop. Easy,” he says again as Tim's throat tries to swallow around the tube. He knows his Baby Bird must be scared shitless, knows the feeling too damn well, himself. “Just breathe, calm down, and I'll tell you everything.” Fuck, he hates this, hates that his voice is the only one in the room, hates that his boy is in this damn bed.
Tim blinks up at him, his eyes shining with more unshed tears, and takes as deep a breath as he probably can, nodding weakly, just a tiny motion of his head.
“Okay,” Jason breathes, stroking his cheeks one last time before lowering the bed railing and sitting gently on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on his boy's chest and one on his shoulder to keep him grounded, and starts, “Doc Leslie said that whatever you got hit with cut you up pretty bad. Said it severed two tendons in your left palm and three in your right, almost completely severed your right pinkie finger, thought they were able to save it. Also said your right ulna was cut clean through, and your forearm muscles were damn near shredded. Your armor didn't have a chance in hell at stopping the attack. Your throat-” Swallowing thickly, he squeezes his eyes shut briefly against the image threatening to overwhelm him. Blood everywhere, gurgling, bubbles, sucking wound. “Your throat took a slice straight through your trachea. Didn't hit your carotid or jugular, but you still lost a lot of blood. Doc said they had to replace more than half your supply. And-and you're gonna need another surgery to repair your voice box.”
At the wide blinking that meets him then, Tim's lips working around the plastic tube again as if he wants desperately to say something to the load of crap that's just been dumped on his life, Jay reaches up again to run his fingers through his Bird's dark hair, smoothing his thumb over Tim's too-pale forehead and the dark bruise on his temple. It finally hits him that his boy won't be able to talk for who knows how long. Tim doesn't talk much as it is, has always been the quietest of all the Robins, but... but his voice has soothed Jason on more than a few occasions, helped bring him back from the precipice of insanity, and yes, even brought him back into the family when no one else's words could reach him.
His Baby Bird's voice has been his lifeline.
“Tim,” he chokes out, his face scrunching up with the terrified agony that's just been building and building, despite the brief shots of relief. “Tim, I don't-”
When Tim turns his face into Jason's touch, his own brow furrowed deeply and more tears spilling down the sides of his face, Jay fists his hand in his boy's hair and drops his face to Tim's forehead, kissing the cool skin with trembling lips, and finally lets the body-shaking sobs take over.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason/Tim, Doc Leslie
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,434
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Voice; For hc_bingo: Free Space: Loss of Voice
Summary: Seeing Tim like this is even harder than Jason is prepared for.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: The last of my 50_darkfics prompts! \O/ *throws confetti* (Though I plan to use the rest of the 100 prompts unofficially as they fit fics. :p) Follows Waiting. One more part will follow. Warning for severely injured Tim and weepy Jason.
Robin Song
The doc was right when she said it wasn't like none of them had ever seen someone-a loved one-in the state Tim is in. Only, Jason doesn't think finding his mother dead and already cold even comes close to comparing with the sight of his Baby Bird lying in the bio bed, his face bruised and swollen, wires and tubes snaking around his still form, disappearing beneath the sheets and the bandages covering his arms and hands. He looks like an experiment gone wrong, like a casualty of a massive industrial accident, like something Jay might've left in his wake as he tried to shut down Black Mask, like....
Like Jason must have looked after crawling out of his own grave.
Sinking into the chair closest to the bed, his eyes glued to his partner, Jason shivers involuntarily and takes in a shaky breath, only barely hearing Doc Leslie's further detailing of Tim's injuries. The clinical description of the wounds seems so cold to his ears that he can't decide whether he wants to vomit or cry as nausea wars with the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and suddenly he's glad that the rest of the family is waiting in the main Med Bay; he doesn't think he could handle them seeing him losing it so completely.
“...lucky you got to him when you did.”
A flash of rage strikes him right in the chest at that, and he tenses as she lays a soft hand on his shoulder briefly before stepping out of the room, leaving him alone in the quiet with Tim.
Lucky. Tim wasn't lucky. If he was lucky, the bastards that did this would've fallen on their own weapons before Tim even went in, and saved them all the trouble of tracking down their asses later.
Letting out a shuddering breath, Jay leans forward and props his forearms on the bed railing, hands clasped. He can't take his eyes of his Baby Bird, feels like if he does, for just a second, he'll either miss the moment Tim wakes up or else something worse will go horribly wrong that he won't be able to stop. It's ridiculous, he knows that, but so fucking what?
“Not gonna leave you, Baby Bird,” he whispers into the stillness of the room, the only other sound the scraping and pop of the IV machine and the slow beep of the heart monitor. His own voice sounds foreign to his ears, he's still so hoarse from yelling after he got Tim to the Tower, and his heart seems to twist in his chest with the agony of all this waiting. He's not sure he can take much more of this, just wants to see his Bird open his eyes, wants to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he's okay, wants to hear his-
But his wait is finally ended when he sees Tim's right eyebrow twitch, eyelids following suit. A wash of relief flowing over him, Jason reaches up to smooth Tim's hair back from his forehead. “I'm here, Tim. You're all right. You're safe.”
Those eyelids flutter again and peek open at last, slowly rising until Jason can see blue and black, Tim's eyes focusing on him.
“Hey, Baby Bird,” he says shakily, unable to stop the smile that tugs at his mouth. “Welcome back.”
Tim blinks a few times, and his chest starts to rise and fall faster with quick breaths, panic setting in as Doc Leslie predicted.
“Hey, hey, take it easy, Tim,” Jason tries to soothe him, wishing he could just take his hand, but Tim shakes his head, eyes wild and fearful.
A sob tearing itself from Jay's throat, he stands and gets both hands on either side of Tim's face. “Hey! Come on, Tim, calm down. Can't-don't want them to sedate you again. Listen, okay? Just breathe and listen.”
Blue eyes find his again, and Tim shivers, so clearly scared out of his mind that he can't quite get a hold of himself. The huff of a long breath whistles through the tube down his throat, and Jason can see Tim's lips trying to work around the blue plastic, already chapped despite the balm that the med team must have put on him.
“Easy,” he says again, smoothing his hands down Tim's face and trying not to scream again as the agony of seeing his boy like this eats at him. “We're on the Watchtower. You got ambushed, got your throat slit and your arms and hands torn up. Doc Mid-nite and Doc Leslie patched you up as soon as I got you up here, and you're intubated, so don't try to talk.” His own throat tries to close up on him as he goes on, but he manages to swallow down the knot. “Your hands and arms are all bandaged up and restrained, too, so don't try to move.”
He realizes then that Tim has gone from shivering to shaking like a leaf, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, and he can't stop another sob from escaping him. “Just breathe, Tim. Slow and easy. Please,” he begs, petting the sides of his Baby Bird's face and swiping away the tears with his thumbs. “You're gonna be okay, I promise.”
Even as he says it, he knows at once that it's a lie. There's no coming back to one hundred percent from this, not with the severity of his injuries, but he can't let Tim know how bad it really is. Can't let his boy get freaked out even worse.
But he can't keep the truth from Tim, either, even if he wants nothing more than to soothe him. He just can't.
“Hey, stop. Easy,” he says again as Tim's throat tries to swallow around the tube. He knows his Baby Bird must be scared shitless, knows the feeling too damn well, himself. “Just breathe, calm down, and I'll tell you everything.” Fuck, he hates this, hates that his voice is the only one in the room, hates that his boy is in this damn bed.
Tim blinks up at him, his eyes shining with more unshed tears, and takes as deep a breath as he probably can, nodding weakly, just a tiny motion of his head.
“Okay,” Jason breathes, stroking his cheeks one last time before lowering the bed railing and sitting gently on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on his boy's chest and one on his shoulder to keep him grounded, and starts, “Doc Leslie said that whatever you got hit with cut you up pretty bad. Said it severed two tendons in your left palm and three in your right, almost completely severed your right pinkie finger, thought they were able to save it. Also said your right ulna was cut clean through, and your forearm muscles were damn near shredded. Your armor didn't have a chance in hell at stopping the attack. Your throat-” Swallowing thickly, he squeezes his eyes shut briefly against the image threatening to overwhelm him. Blood everywhere, gurgling, bubbles, sucking wound. “Your throat took a slice straight through your trachea. Didn't hit your carotid or jugular, but you still lost a lot of blood. Doc said they had to replace more than half your supply. And-and you're gonna need another surgery to repair your voice box.”
At the wide blinking that meets him then, Tim's lips working around the plastic tube again as if he wants desperately to say something to the load of crap that's just been dumped on his life, Jay reaches up again to run his fingers through his Bird's dark hair, smoothing his thumb over Tim's too-pale forehead and the dark bruise on his temple. It finally hits him that his boy won't be able to talk for who knows how long. Tim doesn't talk much as it is, has always been the quietest of all the Robins, but... but his voice has soothed Jason on more than a few occasions, helped bring him back from the precipice of insanity, and yes, even brought him back into the family when no one else's words could reach him.
His Baby Bird's voice has been his lifeline.
“Tim,” he chokes out, his face scrunching up with the terrified agony that's just been building and building, despite the brief shots of relief. “Tim, I don't-”
When Tim turns his face into Jason's touch, his own brow furrowed deeply and more tears spilling down the sides of his face, Jay fists his hand in his boy's hair and drops his face to Tim's forehead, kissing the cool skin with trembling lips, and finally lets the body-shaking sobs take over.
~*~*~*~