Fic: Alright, Brother
Well here we go again. This is the promised, kinder, sequel to Break Us Back Together. This turned out longer than I expected, so I'm splitting it into two parts. Which means an even happier sequel will follow this one! Please enjoy!
Title: Alright, Brother
Author: Singer
Characters: Jason, Dick, Bruce, mention of others
Pairings: n/a
Rating: R for language, my Jason!muse has a dirty mouth. He does not apologize.
Disclaimer: Not my Characters... *pouting in her corner*
Warnings: Language. Unbeta-ed.
Summary: Jason has time to think. Just how can things just be alright? The sequel to Break Us Back Together
Jason was annoyed.
People had been coming in and out if the room all day. None of them were people who actually knew them, actually knew Dick, at least not the parts that went jumping around rooftops at three in the morning. They just knew what they’d read in the papers or seen on TV.
Alfred and Leslie were the only exceptions.
It was probably a good thing that this was contained to the Batclan at the moment; they really didn’t need to be overrun by the spandex brigade right now.
Jason shifted slightly against the white wall he was leaning against. He’d been in the same spot all day, ever since they brought Dick into the room. It was near the far corner, across from the door, next to the window; a good vantage point to keep track of everything going on and mostly out of the way where no one would bother him. Well, most people at least. There were some of them that felt it was their duty to go over to the brooding boy in the corner to offer their condolences and tell him how it would be alright.
He didn’t want their damn condolences because it sure as hell wasn’t alright! …And he was not fucking brooding!!!
Jason doesn’t do “brooding.”
That’s a Bruce thing. In fact, Bruce was brooding right now. Just like he had been all day, sitting in the same chair he had been in all day. He was quiet; even when he’d needed to answer a question or give confirmation he’d been quiet.
Jason was getting very sick of quiet. This is why he hated hospitals. He wanted shouting, and arguing, and fighting, even if it was only verbal! Then he would at least feel like he was doing something more useful than being a damn wall fixture.
With enough noise he could drown out anything that even slightly considered resembling guilt, instead of standing here thinking, remembering.
Remembering how close he came to being worm food again. How Dick had stood between him and advancing death. How Dick’s left arm hadn’t. The fight in which Dick had claimed him as family. How Jason caught him when he fell. How Dick’s blood had seeped into his clothing. The fear in Bruce. The desperation in Tim. The ambulance that he hadn’t been able to ride in when they rushed Dick from the scene.
Damn it… he was brooding.
He blamed Bruce… and the damn hospital!
The kid wasn’t here anymore. Sure, he wanted to stay, but there was school in the morning, so he had had to go back to the manor with Alfred. Jason was so glad he didn’t have to deal with that any more.
Here came another woman. Jason’s eyes never left her as she entered the room, walked over to where Dick laid and replaced the nearly emptied bag of blood. He watched as she checked the bandages that covered Dick’s upper-body and made sure all of the equipment was working properly. His eyes narrowed as she skirted around Bruce’s chair to approach him.
“It’s ok, Honey. He’s going to heal up just fine.”
Jason didn’t even bother to give any response greater than switching his glare from stun to nightmare-inducing. Ha! She flinched. But wait… was that? She gave him a sympathetic face just before turning to leave. Damn her!
Heal up just fine?
Jason growled quietly at no one in particular.
He was not going to heal up just fucking fine! He was missing a fucking arm! So unless another one was just going to magically pop back into place he was not going to heal up just fine! Of all the bullshit to say! That biddy didn’t even bother trying to spin that crap off to Bruce!
He looked closer at the Batclan’s family head, and was surprised to find him asleep. It stung a bit to admit, but he hadn’t honestly expected Bruce to fall sleep while Jason was in the room and Dick was still helpless.
He pushed off the wall and made his way over to where his brother lay. He couldn’t find it in himself to turn down the title Dick had stuck him with.
His skin was still too pale, and the white bandages were a stark contrast to the crimson that had practically covered him when he was brought into the hospital. Jason focused on the area that had been responsible for so much blood loss. There was no nub, no little stump to signify an arm, just a flat plane. It almost looked like there had never been an arm there to begin with.
They had to wait through seven hours of surgery for a "never been there to begin with".
Jason really hated hospitals.
He raised his hand, gently resting his fingertips on the mattress next to the bandaged socket, just below the pillow. There should’ve been a shoulder there. His fingers brushed down over the sheets, the elbow should be there, this should be the pulse point, and this spot should be where a left hand was resting. His hand stilled there, pressing into the mattress right where Dick’s would be if the world was good and fair. He watched the imprint of his palm disappear after he drew back his hand, glaring at the space, damning it for being empty.
He looked up from the vacant reminder to his brother's ashen face and was surprised to be greeted by two points of gleaming blue.
Dick’s eyes were only halfway open and didn’t appear like they would remain open very long. He didn’t try to move or say anything, but the very corners of his eyes were crinkled as he looked up at Jason.
He was smiling with his eyes. He was smiling at his brother.
Jason felt like he was trapped. Dick’s eyes held a warmth that conveyed relief and genuine care, but Jason could still see the memory of their prior anguish layered just beneath them.
“It’s going to be ok, Golden Boy. You were a damn fool, but it’ll be alright.”
Damn it! When’d he give his mouth permission to start spouting that crap?
Dick’s lower lids slid up a fraction of a fraction, he was grinning with them now.
Jason wanted to smack himself repeatedly. He couldn’t take it back now!
The grinning eyes slid closed again and Jason was left alone with his thoughts once more. He’d just promised an aerialist who would never fly again that things would be ok. Promised a fighter that had permanently lost his left hook that it’d be alright! He’d just made it seem like Dick’s life wouldn’t be spun on its ear in a decidedly right-handed direction!
... Shit!
He dragged a hand through his hair as he glanced once more at the recuperating hero. There were times when he just didn’t see how ‘Wing could keep smiling. Hell, he hadn’t even had the strength to move his mouth and he still found a way to smile.
Jason sighed heavily. There was just no making this easy.
He grabbed a chair that had been pushed out of the way and swung it over to the bedside with its back facing the bed. He then proceeded to straddle the seat and fold his arms on the back of the chair so he could rest his head on them. Baby bird had been using this seat earlier in the more conventional sitting-at-a-hospital-patient’s-bedside sorta way.
He stared at brother once more. Dick seemed contented even in his sleep, even with a missing arm. ... Jason doubted he’d stay so content once the pain meds were gone and he couldn’t hold two things at the same time.
Damn it all.
He just had to go promising that it’d be “alright.”
...
.........
Well then… he’d just have to make it alright! There was no way he’d let this damn hospital make a liar out of him!
He told Dick that it would be ok, so it would be.
And that was that.
He shifted a bit to get more comfortable as he began to drift off. Taking one last glance around the room before he finally let himself fall asleep.
Things were going to be alright, one way or another.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
END.
Title: Alright, Brother
Author: Singer
Characters: Jason, Dick, Bruce, mention of others
Pairings: n/a
Rating: R for language, my Jason!muse has a dirty mouth. He does not apologize.
Disclaimer: Not my Characters... *pouting in her corner*
Warnings: Language. Unbeta-ed.
Summary: Jason has time to think. Just how can things just be alright? The sequel to Break Us Back Together
Jason was annoyed.
People had been coming in and out if the room all day. None of them were people who actually knew them, actually knew Dick, at least not the parts that went jumping around rooftops at three in the morning. They just knew what they’d read in the papers or seen on TV.
Alfred and Leslie were the only exceptions.
It was probably a good thing that this was contained to the Batclan at the moment; they really didn’t need to be overrun by the spandex brigade right now.
Jason shifted slightly against the white wall he was leaning against. He’d been in the same spot all day, ever since they brought Dick into the room. It was near the far corner, across from the door, next to the window; a good vantage point to keep track of everything going on and mostly out of the way where no one would bother him. Well, most people at least. There were some of them that felt it was their duty to go over to the brooding boy in the corner to offer their condolences and tell him how it would be alright.
He didn’t want their damn condolences because it sure as hell wasn’t alright! …And he was not fucking brooding!!!
Jason doesn’t do “brooding.”
That’s a Bruce thing. In fact, Bruce was brooding right now. Just like he had been all day, sitting in the same chair he had been in all day. He was quiet; even when he’d needed to answer a question or give confirmation he’d been quiet.
Jason was getting very sick of quiet. This is why he hated hospitals. He wanted shouting, and arguing, and fighting, even if it was only verbal! Then he would at least feel like he was doing something more useful than being a damn wall fixture.
With enough noise he could drown out anything that even slightly considered resembling guilt, instead of standing here thinking, remembering.
Remembering how close he came to being worm food again. How Dick had stood between him and advancing death. How Dick’s left arm hadn’t. The fight in which Dick had claimed him as family. How Jason caught him when he fell. How Dick’s blood had seeped into his clothing. The fear in Bruce. The desperation in Tim. The ambulance that he hadn’t been able to ride in when they rushed Dick from the scene.
Damn it… he was brooding.
He blamed Bruce… and the damn hospital!
The kid wasn’t here anymore. Sure, he wanted to stay, but there was school in the morning, so he had had to go back to the manor with Alfred. Jason was so glad he didn’t have to deal with that any more.
Here came another woman. Jason’s eyes never left her as she entered the room, walked over to where Dick laid and replaced the nearly emptied bag of blood. He watched as she checked the bandages that covered Dick’s upper-body and made sure all of the equipment was working properly. His eyes narrowed as she skirted around Bruce’s chair to approach him.
“It’s ok, Honey. He’s going to heal up just fine.”
Jason didn’t even bother to give any response greater than switching his glare from stun to nightmare-inducing. Ha! She flinched. But wait… was that? She gave him a sympathetic face just before turning to leave. Damn her!
Heal up just fine?
Jason growled quietly at no one in particular.
He was not going to heal up just fucking fine! He was missing a fucking arm! So unless another one was just going to magically pop back into place he was not going to heal up just fine! Of all the bullshit to say! That biddy didn’t even bother trying to spin that crap off to Bruce!
He looked closer at the Batclan’s family head, and was surprised to find him asleep. It stung a bit to admit, but he hadn’t honestly expected Bruce to fall sleep while Jason was in the room and Dick was still helpless.
He pushed off the wall and made his way over to where his brother lay. He couldn’t find it in himself to turn down the title Dick had stuck him with.
His skin was still too pale, and the white bandages were a stark contrast to the crimson that had practically covered him when he was brought into the hospital. Jason focused on the area that had been responsible for so much blood loss. There was no nub, no little stump to signify an arm, just a flat plane. It almost looked like there had never been an arm there to begin with.
They had to wait through seven hours of surgery for a "never been there to begin with".
Jason really hated hospitals.
He raised his hand, gently resting his fingertips on the mattress next to the bandaged socket, just below the pillow. There should’ve been a shoulder there. His fingers brushed down over the sheets, the elbow should be there, this should be the pulse point, and this spot should be where a left hand was resting. His hand stilled there, pressing into the mattress right where Dick’s would be if the world was good and fair. He watched the imprint of his palm disappear after he drew back his hand, glaring at the space, damning it for being empty.
He looked up from the vacant reminder to his brother's ashen face and was surprised to be greeted by two points of gleaming blue.
Dick’s eyes were only halfway open and didn’t appear like they would remain open very long. He didn’t try to move or say anything, but the very corners of his eyes were crinkled as he looked up at Jason.
He was smiling with his eyes. He was smiling at his brother.
Jason felt like he was trapped. Dick’s eyes held a warmth that conveyed relief and genuine care, but Jason could still see the memory of their prior anguish layered just beneath them.
“It’s going to be ok, Golden Boy. You were a damn fool, but it’ll be alright.”
Damn it! When’d he give his mouth permission to start spouting that crap?
Dick’s lower lids slid up a fraction of a fraction, he was grinning with them now.
Jason wanted to smack himself repeatedly. He couldn’t take it back now!
The grinning eyes slid closed again and Jason was left alone with his thoughts once more. He’d just promised an aerialist who would never fly again that things would be ok. Promised a fighter that had permanently lost his left hook that it’d be alright! He’d just made it seem like Dick’s life wouldn’t be spun on its ear in a decidedly right-handed direction!
... Shit!
He dragged a hand through his hair as he glanced once more at the recuperating hero. There were times when he just didn’t see how ‘Wing could keep smiling. Hell, he hadn’t even had the strength to move his mouth and he still found a way to smile.
Jason sighed heavily. There was just no making this easy.
He grabbed a chair that had been pushed out of the way and swung it over to the bedside with its back facing the bed. He then proceeded to straddle the seat and fold his arms on the back of the chair so he could rest his head on them. Baby bird had been using this seat earlier in the more conventional sitting-at-a-hospital-patient’s-bedside sorta way.
He stared at brother once more. Dick seemed contented even in his sleep, even with a missing arm. ... Jason doubted he’d stay so content once the pain meds were gone and he couldn’t hold two things at the same time.
Damn it all.
He just had to go promising that it’d be “alright.”
...
.........
Well then… he’d just have to make it alright! There was no way he’d let this damn hospital make a liar out of him!
He told Dick that it would be ok, so it would be.
And that was that.
He shifted a bit to get more comfortable as he began to drift off. Taking one last glance around the room before he finally let himself fall asleep.
Things were going to be alright, one way or another.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
END.