Five (Short) Things Jason Does in the City
I.
Danny fights with fluidity, an unbroken brushstroke of liquid violence that puts people down with every contact he makes. Jason will never have that kind of acrobatic eloquence; he's a brawler faster and more agile than your average street fighter, but a brawler still and Danny was made for better things.
II. Franz Kafka is dead. He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you’ll stop asking for me."
Nicole Krauss
It's Christmas and the cat wants to sit on him (god only knows why, since he ignores it 99.9% of the time), but he needs to go out. If they're looking for him, they can't find him. If they're not looking for him, he has to understand and accept that things are as he always thought they were, and that he will be fine, even if it's cold and snowing.
He gives the cat more chicken and locks the door behind him.
III.
On New Year's eve he kisses Ivy because he likes to complicate things sometimes, Starfire because he likes to remember things sometimes, and Suzi because she said she'd watch soap operas with him when she didn't even know who he was. She still doesn't, but that's probably a good thing. In fact, he's not sure any of them knew who he was. But that's also probably a good thing.
IV.
He is never more grateful for life than when he has the chance to kill a rapist. He never does it in front of the would-have-been victims. There's no reason to upset them more. Once upon a time, Batman coached him on how to handle these things, and it had worked better when he was just a kid in shortpants but he tries his best now. Soft voice, no quick movements, give them a card with numbers for the police and psychiatrists and clinics, accompany to safe location if possible, carry if necessary.
Then he goes back and slices that bastard navel to adam's apple and for a moment, it's all okay, because maybe he's not the best man in the world and maybe everything is fucked up left right and sideways, but he made a difference to that woman and this man will never, ever, do it again.
For a moment, he is free.
V.
Every now and then, he sleeps like the dead. It's difficult to wake him, difficult to see that he's breathing or feel that his pulse is going. He dreams in shades of quicksand and cotton. Death is dry. There is no shade. He can't wake up. He searches for a speck of darkness, but he can't wake up. He screams for Bruce, but he can't wake up. Until he does, with one big gasp, heart pounding painfully, alone in the dark he wished for.
It's just every now and then.
Danny fights with fluidity, an unbroken brushstroke of liquid violence that puts people down with every contact he makes. Jason will never have that kind of acrobatic eloquence; he's a brawler faster and more agile than your average street fighter, but a brawler still and Danny was made for better things.
II. Franz Kafka is dead. He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you’ll stop asking for me."
Nicole Krauss
It's Christmas and the cat wants to sit on him (god only knows why, since he ignores it 99.9% of the time), but he needs to go out. If they're looking for him, they can't find him. If they're not looking for him, he has to understand and accept that things are as he always thought they were, and that he will be fine, even if it's cold and snowing.
He gives the cat more chicken and locks the door behind him.
III.
On New Year's eve he kisses Ivy because he likes to complicate things sometimes, Starfire because he likes to remember things sometimes, and Suzi because she said she'd watch soap operas with him when she didn't even know who he was. She still doesn't, but that's probably a good thing. In fact, he's not sure any of them knew who he was. But that's also probably a good thing.
IV.
He is never more grateful for life than when he has the chance to kill a rapist. He never does it in front of the would-have-been victims. There's no reason to upset them more. Once upon a time, Batman coached him on how to handle these things, and it had worked better when he was just a kid in shortpants but he tries his best now. Soft voice, no quick movements, give them a card with numbers for the police and psychiatrists and clinics, accompany to safe location if possible, carry if necessary.
Then he goes back and slices that bastard navel to adam's apple and for a moment, it's all okay, because maybe he's not the best man in the world and maybe everything is fucked up left right and sideways, but he made a difference to that woman and this man will never, ever, do it again.
For a moment, he is free.
V.
Every now and then, he sleeps like the dead. It's difficult to wake him, difficult to see that he's breathing or feel that his pulse is going. He dreams in shades of quicksand and cotton. Death is dry. There is no shade. He can't wake up. He searches for a speck of darkness, but he can't wake up. He screams for Bruce, but he can't wake up. Until he does, with one big gasp, heart pounding painfully, alone in the dark he wished for.
It's just every now and then.