RP with broodingbat, mrsarcastic003/failing_civics, and basejumpingbat
[ooc: follow-up to this post]
It takes three HOURS. But he's got a lock. Bruce prints out the relevant data. "We're done.
"Finally," Tim says, relieved. He's been so bored. It's worse than surveillance, because then he at least has something to look at. It's boring in here. "So where am I from?" He hops off the table and tries to look at the printout. "Does it say?"
"Not here. We're leaving." He takes the papers and leaves. Again, expecting the Robins to follow.
The older Tim has been really good about not laughing. At all. Even though he wants to every time the kid asks a question. Bruce is going to develop an eye tic.
He takes the pair to the Cave but is quick to all but shove them in the change room.
He gets Alfred to ready a guest room.
The younger Tim pokes his head out almost immediately. "Um... clothes?" None of his older self's stuff is going to fit him.
"There are robes. Pajamas are in the room."
“Thanks." He goes back to get changed, and soon both Tims have emerged. Out of their Robin costumes, they look even more alike, if that's possible.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Oh dear. He's getting too old for this.
Bruce has changed into a pair of slacks and a turtle neck.
"Hey, you look a lot more like you now," the younger Tim says cheerfully. Part of him hadn't been completely sure that this Batman was real, but... he actually looks right now. It helps.
Bruce frowns. "Upstairs." Them staying down here is not going to happen.
He looks disappointed. "I can't look around? It's different here than it is at home." Some things are the same, but this cave looks a lot bigger.
"No." Strong hands go on the smaller boy's shoulder and steer him to the stairs.
The older Tim gives Bruce a bland look to hide his amusement. "Aww, he was just curious."
"Are you going to chaperone?" His eyes dart to Jason's apartment.
"I guess I can stay down here a few minutes to keep an eye on him," Tim says, shrugging a little. Bruce's irritation is definitely worth it.
"I don't need a babysitter," the younger Tim mutters, scowling.
Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You go with him. Everywhere."
Tim gives him a mock salute. "I'll try to keep him from getting into any trouble."
Jason is bored. Incredibly bored. Mind-numbingly, painfully, start-practicing-routines-as-well-as-he-can-in-the-frustratingly-small-room bored.
Yeah, this is going to be so much fun. He sighs, dropping what he was doing and pacing the room. Again. He still can't get access to the near-invisible panels on the inside of the door- and he's gotten shocked far more than he cares for trying, too. He can't jimmy the door open. There's no other exit. Hell, there's not even a damn window, except for the one on the door- after all, that damn thing on the wall's an LCD screen, anyways.
Still pacing, he glances over as if to confirm his own point and-
... wait, what?
He does a literal double-take, stepping backwards to look at the screen, and sees... who the hell is that kid and why is he wearing a Robin suit? Almost looks like the Little Bird, but not quite.
'Course, all the Robins look pretty much the same. Which is... kind of disturbing, actually, now that he thinks about it.
He walks over to the screen, staring at the image as the kid walks into the changing room, and walks out in pajamas and a robe.
Yeaaaaah... what the hell?
Bruce watches the boys. Watching where they go as he sits at the computer.
Tim starts looking around when Bruce stops propelling him toward the stairs. His older counterpart is shadowing him, and... okay, maybe it's a little annoying, but he can deal. "You have so much cool stuff down here. Not that we don't. It's just... kind of different."
"How so?"
"Well..." Tim looks at him, frowning as he tries to explain himself. "It just looks different. And you're organized differently. We have a lot more open space."
Bruce nods. "What else?" Yes, he's curious.
"Um... The dinosaur's the same--hey--does yours have a remote?" he asks hopefully.
Tim coughs. "I'm pretty sure you're going to get kicked out if you try to move the dinosaur."
He makes a face. "Spoilsport."
"No," Bruce lies easily.
"Oh. Well, it's cool when it moves."
"Indeed." He's hoping the boy will get distracted. Soon.
... Jason's actually not entirely sure how to get the computer to contact Bruce. He's fairly certain it involves saying Bruce's name, but is there a specific command word or something? The computer had fairly decent voice recognition last time he was here, and it's probably only gotten better in the meantime, but he's never really been comfortable talking to the damn things. Especially with how much his rather distinct inner-city Gotham accent tends to fuck up the damn commands. Give him a manual input any day.
Still, he doesn't really have that option right now, so, feeling a little ridiculous, he shouts, "Hey! Computer... thingy... whatever... connect me to Bruce." Hopefully, that'll do it.
"Connection to Cave intercom made," the friendly female voice says.
"You want to explain what the hell's going on here?" he asks. "I swear to God, Bruce, if you've managed to pick up another one..."
"Who's that?" Tim asks, frowning and looking around. "Hello?"
Bruce looks up and his eyes go to the apartment. "Temporal. Issues. Don't worry about it."
"'Temporal issues?'"
"The boy is from another Earth."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"I wish I was," Bruce says tiredly.
"Oh, you have someone down here!" Tim had forgotten until Bruce glanced over toward the interrogation cells. "Can I see?" He starts moving in that direction without waiting for permission.
"Yeah... wish I could say I'm sorry for you, but honestly, I'm not. At all. Kind of amused, though."
"Tim! Stand down!" he bellows.
Tim makes a grab for him but the kid is already out of reach.
The younger Tim pauses in his tracks at Bruce's shout. "Huh?" he asks, eyes wide.
He's not entirely sure what's going on on the other end of the intercom, but it sounds pretty damn entertaining.
"Computer! Lock down. B1 authorization only!"
"...Did I do something wrong?"
"Well, that sure as hell sounds interesting."
"You can't go in. It's not. A good idea."
"Wait, 'go in'? Go in where- oh. Oh, this is going to be fun."
"How come?" Tim frowns at him. "I just wanted to see..."
"Hey, does this thing in here have a record feature?"
"Jason! Please." He looks to the Robins.
Tim shifts a little, taking a couple of steps closer.
"Oh, like that's going to help. This is the most fun I've had in a while, especially the last few days." He pauses. “Though I'm guessing you know that."
Tim frowns at the younger Robin. "We... should probably go."
Bruce nods. "Upstairs. I'll talk to you later."
"Au revoir!"
He scowls a little. "What's wrong with looking? You said it was no one I knew. And I'm from a different universe, so it's not going to mess up time."
"'No one he knows'? Wait, which Robin is this? Or do we have a whole new one here?”
"He's the second of his Earth. But he's not you."
"... wait, what? Who the hell is he?"
Oh, screw it. No one's actually close enough to grab him, and he doesn't think they're really going to tackle him. He dashes the rest of the way toward the cell and stands on his toes to peer in through the window. "Woah. Cool place."
Jason blinks as he sees the hint of movement in the side of the screen. He glances over to the window in the door. And doubles over laughing.
"What's so funny?" Tim asks indignantly.
He just keeps laughing until he's gasping for breath. "Oh- oh God- you've really outdone yourself this time, Bruce..."
"How so?" Somehow, he thinks his going to regret the answer.
He just keeps laughing.
Bruce frowns.
Tim turns to look at Bruce and the older Tim. "Um... what's funny?"
"It's- ha- God, how long has the kid been here, and he's already giving you trouble? Heh- how the hell are you going to explain this to him, exactly? And can I watch when you do?"
Bruce sighs again. "No. You two. Upstairs now."
Dick uses his key to unlock the manor door. He's a bit surprised that Alfred is nowhere in sight.
"Hello?"
"Aw, but we were having so much fun!" Jason teases over the intercom.
The younger Tim frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "Explain what to me? What's going on here?"
"Oh, just a little kidnapping, nothing major..." Jason says sardonically.
Dick waits but nobody acknowledges him. He figures Bruce is probably down in the cave and he heads for the den. Now he can hear people talking down below.
"What?!"
Bruce frowns. "Jason is here so we can help him," he says in a darkly even tone. He then turns to the computer. If he doesn't give them attention maybe they will get bored.
Jason's expression darkens briefly. "Don't need your 'help,' Bruce."
Tim's frown deepens. "So... kidnapping?"
"Hello?"
"... is that Dick?"
He comes down the stairs. Stares. "Okay. I'll bite. What's with Mini Me?"
"I offered you the chance to prove that, Jason," he says, staring at the computer, not really seeing the file on the screen.
"I'm not a clone!" little Tim snaps, glaring at him.
"'Chance'? You told me if I didn't play by your rules, I was crazy. How the hell is that a 'chance?'"
He looks up at Dick's entrance and gives a nod. "Temporal anomaly."
He blinks "Sheesh. Tim, he sounds exactly like you did when we first met. Before your voice broke."
"Hi Bruce."
“I know. He's tiny."
"Jay. Been awhile."
"Dick," he acknowledges.
"My rules are there for a reason. And no, it's not to protect the criminals."
"It sure as hell works that way."
"No, you just choose to see it that way."
“Apart from the accommodations, how are you?"
Little Tim glances from the closed door to Bruce, to Tim and Dick. "Um... What are they talking about?"
"Fine, I guess. Pissed off. Bored. Tired."
Bruce's lips thin, but he doesn't move, doesn't turn towards any of them.
"Kind of amused right now."
"Jason killed people," comes the monotone reply.
"...Oh." He glances at the door again. "I thought we didn't do that."
He almost snorts. "Forgetting a few details, are we, Bruce?"
Dick lets the smile come into his voice. "Yeah. Something funny is DEFINITELY going on here."
He snickers a little at Dick's comment. "Seriously."
The older Tim shakes his head and glances at Dick. "No kidding."
"Now is not the time, Jason." He's getting a headache.
"Oh- I'm sorry, am I annoying you?" he asks insincerely.
"No. There is too much going on now for a serious discussion to take place."
"You started it."
"Very mature."
"Sheesh, Bruce. You restrict him to the cave. Then you come down and hang around IN the cave. You expect him not to snip at you? Jay, what have you got in there to keep you occupied?"
"Cable, a few books and escape attempts.”
"Ah. At this hour it's mostly news, game shows, and reruns, right?"
Little Tim wrinkles his nose. "Bo-ring."
"Not really watching it at the moment. I think there's some stand-up guy on right now?"
"There are cookies upstairs," Bruce comments mildly to Little Tim.
"Meaning what's going on out here is probably a million times more entertaining." Dick snorts. "Can't blame you."
Jason laughs a little.
His eyes narrow. "You're trying to bribe me. And I'm with Dick. This is way more fun."
"It's PG-13 rated fun, kid. Too old for you. Go have a cookie."
Older Tim snickers slightly, covering it with his hand. "That was pretty transparent, Bruce."
"I'm fourteen. I'm allowed to see PG-13 stuff."
"Wait, 14? Is it the camera, or are you just that short?"
"He's that short."
"...I'll grow."
Jason laughs.
"We'll see..."
Little Tim eyes his older counterpart and sighs a little. "Though I guess not that much," he grumbles.
Bruce carefully keeps his mouth shut. Never mind that he's read the same page four times and still couldn't say what it contains.
Jason bursts out laughing.
Bruce is NOT going to acknowledge that the corner of his lips are twitching.
The older Tim rolls his eyes a little, smiling wryly. "I'm still hopeful."
"It's all that coffee you use to stay awake on patrol. Stunts your growth. Alfred only ever let me have peppermint tea. Guess he mellowed. What'd you get, Jay?"
"Coffee and cigarettes, when I could sneak 'em." He pauses. "Aren't I taller than you now?"
"Coffee is good," both Tims say in unison, then glance at each other, smirking a little.
"Are you? Hmph. Must've been something to do with the Lazarus Pit healing you."
"... you know about that?"
"I deduced. You confirmed."
He shrugs, not that the Golden Boy can see it. "What gave it away?"
"...Don't those things make you crazy?" Little Tim frowns deeply.
"Only if you're dead when you go in. And that's temporary," Jason says, starting to get a bit uncomfortable. This- isn't one of his favorite topics.
"It's one of the few things that can explain how you're... back."
"Lazarus Pit didn't bring me back, Dickie-bird."
"Oh." Tim stands on his toes again to look in curiously. "So you're not crazy anymore?"
"I was never crazy, damn it-"
"So you were alive when you went in," Bruce says. Which makes the point about Jason being crazy as a result.
"The hell does it matter?"
"Oh? What did? I mean... I'm glad you're back whatever the reason. Just curious."
"No idea."
"As you said Jason, there is psychosis associated with the Lazarus Pit."
Dick thinks about that for a moment. "What's that line about the universe not only being weirder than we think but weirder than we can possibly imagine?"
"... yeah, I was alive when I went in. What's it matter? The insanity's temporary anyways."
“Too bad. I was wondering if you'd want to watch a movie with me at some point. I mean you don't HAVE to be crazy to do that. I just thought it might help."
"Yes, but what you think and do during it can and does have lasting effects."
"I was alive," he says, gritting his teeth. He doesn't respond to Dick's comment, too distracted by the argument with Bruce.
"I know. Now." Even though he logically understands that he couldn't have known that Jason had risen from the grave, he will never forgive himself for not knowing. For not finding him.
"Lazarus Pit only fucks you up if you're dead when you go in," he insists.
Dick sees the look in Bruce's eyes. He wants to tell him that there's no way anyone could have known, but it will have to wait. He takes a deliberate step closer to him, though.
"Jason. It still has an effect. It has to by its nature." The voice is calm but stony, resolute.
"... it was years ago. Even if you're dead when you go in, the insanity's only temporary, and I wasn't dead."
Tim glances at his little doppelganger, whose eyes are wide as he listens to the conversation. "Hey--Bruce was right about the cookies. Why don't we go and let the grownups argue, huh?"
"But the events during will always be part of you. The things done. The things you were convinced were too." Bruce looks to the boys. "Alfred is upstairs,” he says mildly, nodding at them.
Little Tim frowns. "It's still more interesting right here," he objects."
"I don't have any problems picking you up and carrying you," Tim warns.
"I could toss him overhand," Dick pretends that he's thinking aloud.
Tim grins at him, even as the younger model gives him a betrayed scowl.
“Small pitchers. Big ears. Cookies. Now. Scoot"
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"C'mon, sport." The younger Tim rolls his eyes, but follows Tim up the stairs. Despite his arguments about wanting to stay where he was, the cookies are a pretty big draw.
"Reality. Chemistry. Experience. I've seen what happens, I've tested the Pits."
"Never been in one."
"That doesn't change the facts Jason."
"You don't know the goddamn facts!"
"I can give you the files."
"... fuck you."
"If it would help."
"Oh, go to hell!"
“You can do better then that," Bruce says to the man in the makeshift apartment. He turns so that Jason can see him in the view screen.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, that your insults are uninspired."
"He lets you talk like that?" Little Tim asks incredulously. "Man. My Batman gives me that LOOK every time I use a bad word. And Alfred's worse." He breaks off a piece of cookie and pops it into his mouth."
Dick winces. This is getting out of hand. But if he intervenes now, they're both going to blow up at him. Maybe that's not a bad idea. At least they'll agree on something. Another not-bad idea, probably a better one, would be checking if Alfred has any more cookies.
No. Better to watch the train wreck for a little longer. Or more fun. Or something
"What, you want me to get creative? Rather I call you a sanctimonious, self-righteous, arrogant, self-centered, emotionless hypocrite so damn obsessed with his own fucking rules he can't even give a damn about anything or anyone but his blind, empty, misguided fucking mission?!"
"If that's what you really think. Yes." Calm. Stay calm. Jason is wrong, but if that's how he FEELS then that's what needs to come out.
Oh boy. The little runt's cookie still has steam rising off of it Must've just come out of the oven. "Back in a sec."
"Take Timothy with you," He tells Dick without looking at him.
“C'mon, kid."
"Hey!" Tim objects. He'd slipped away from his chaperone fair and square.
"Now." Dick isn't joking. No point having the newcomer see everyone's dirty laundry.
He sighs and follows Dick back up the stairs. He's pretty sure that if he didn't do it voluntarily, he'd get carried, and just--no.
"Want to know what I really think?" he hisses, his voice going low, every word a carefully enunciated barb. "I think that you don't give a damn about any of us- not me, not the Replacement, not even the goddamn Golden Boy. I think you don't give a damn about anything, except your fucking mission. I think that you're so wrapped up in your rules that you don't care about what's right, or who gets hurt, or what some psychotic fucking clown does to your newest little meat shield, as long as you can find some stupid, naive little stalker freak with a camera to replace him. Damn justice, damn the victims, damn everything and everyone, so long as you get to play the hero, holding to the letter of some fucked-up, arbitrary code, blind to reality." His voice goes even lower. "Tell me, Bruce- do you even feel anything anymore, or are you so wrapped up in your own delusions that there's no room for anything else?"
"I feel. Everything," are the soft words. "But feeling and showing are two different things. I admit that I'm not good at the latter." He moves closer to the camera, so that his image fills up the view screen. If Jason wants, he can enhance the magnification. He can see the lines in the drawn, tired face. The sorrow in the steel blue eyes. None of it major. Never obvious. But for those who know him, it's there.
Jason laughs, bitter and wild. "Right. Sure you do."
"Tim found me. When I was in pain. He wanted to help. First by trying to convince Dick to become Robin again. But when that didn't work, he took the costume for himself. He and Alfred saved Dick and myself from Harvey. I should have been grateful, but I was furious. I had told myself that I would never put another child in that suit, I wouldn't let another child die trying to fight MY Mission." The lines are deepening as the old pain begins to slip that iron willed control.
"Funny, because that sure as hell looks like my suit on him."
"It was. He took it from the case when he came after us. I saw him in it. And all I could think of was you, lifeless in my arms. I yelled at him. Told him to get out. There would be no more Robins."
"Looks like you didn't try very hard to get rid of him."
He's trembling with fury- has been for a while, probably, but he's only just now noticed-, hands clenched in fists by his side.
"I was outnumbered."
"The hell does that mean?"
"It means that it wasn't just Tim arguing his case."
"It was your damn call."
"Dick. I didn't. Want to alienate him. Again." He looks away. It's so much more then that. But he's not ready to face it.
"... fine. Whatever. Still doesn't excuse everything else."
"No. It doesn't," he agrees. "I. Have made many mistakes. Some times I wonder how many were because of the things I allowed you and the other children to do. Sometimes." He frowns before looking at the camera. "I wonder how much is because I tried to stop you."
"... what?"
"I never knew where the line was. Between too much involvement and not enough. Worse, it wasn't the same line for any of you."
"... stop me from what?"
"I would tell you to go easy on the weights. But you'd smirk and then you'd go harder."
"... explain."
"It was. As if. My telling you to slow down was a. Challenge to your abilities."
He hesitates for a moment.
"... so?"
"So. I wasn't particularly sensitive to your reaction."
He narrows his eyes almost suspiciously. "You really think that's the biggest thing you have to apologize for?"
"No."
He says nothing, waiting for Bruce to continue.
"I am. Sorry. For all of it."
"No, you're not."
"What do you think I'm not sorry for?"
"You let him get away with it. You son of a- you let him get away with it!" He didn't even care when he died...
"It wouldn't have brought you back to me." And there have been nights when he would have done it if he had been able to get Jason back.
"It doesn't matter! You should've done it!"
"The thing I regret most. Is I never told you how much you mattered."
"Don't change the goddamn subject."
"It's the same subject."
That-
He breaks off, the words dying in his throat.
"... you should've killed him."
"It wouldn't bring you back."
"He'd have been gone."
"You were what mattered."
"I wouldn't have died if you'd killed him before. How many others have died because you didn't kill him then? You should've learned your damn lesson."
"I can't be like him."
He slams his hand against the screen. "I am sick and tired of that damn cop out!"
"You'd rather that I lie to you?"
"I'd rather you see the damn truth."
"I do. I'm not who you want me to be."
"You've got that much right."
"I'm. Sorry." He turns away from the camera.
"What the hell are you- hey! Don't you walk away, you son of a bitch!"
Bruce stands still. "I'm not who you want."
"You're a deluded damn coward."
"A coward, yes."
"... kill him. Please."
"I can't. I will give you anything I can. But I can't give you his life."
"Please!"
He turns around. "I can't." He leaves the field of the camera and heads to the door of the apartment. He opens the air lock and heads in.
He starts to protest as Bruce again walks off the field of view, until he notices where he's going, hears the rush of air in the airlock.
"... the hell? What are you doing?"
"Giving you what I can," he says, as the second door closes behind him. He steps over towards Jason, but stops just out of touching distance.
He takes a step back, suddenly wary. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm here. Do what you want." He moves his arms away from his body so that Jason can see that he has nothing on him.
He's-
What is he-
Jason watches him warily, mind racing, confusion rising.
"I- you-" he starts, then looks away. "Just get the hell out of here."
"Jason. It needs to come out. And I take responsibility for the pain I've caused."
"Then kill him!"
"I can't."
"Then get the hell out of here!"
"Not yet."
"I- that," he breaks off, taking a deep breath. "Goddamnit, why the hell are you in here?"
"Because this is all I have to give you." The steel blue eyes hold Jason's coldly. "Take it. I will not fight back.”
"I don't- that's not what I- goddamnit, kill him!"
"I can't," he repeats, taking a step closer. Just one step. "I can give you this."
"I don't want this! I want him dead!"
"I can't give you want you want. But I will try to give you want you need."
"I need him dead!"
Bruce takes a second step. "No Jason, you don't. you want it. And I understand why. I do. So very well. But I can't."
Jason steps back. "Then let me do it."
"I won't lose you . Not to him. Not again."
"Then let me kill him!"
"If you kill him, I lose you.”
"What the hell is there to lose?"
Another step and he's grabbing Jason's shoulders. "YOU! Everything that YOU are."
He jerks out of the grip instinctively, breathing hard.
Bruce lets go but stays close, watching him. "Your home is still here. You are wanted, Jason."
"Not home anymore."
"It can be. You just have to let it."
"I can't. Not while he's alive."
"Yes, you can. The only one stopping you, is you."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. You are strong enough." He reaches out for the man's shoulders again.
He shoves the man away. "Don't-"
Well, that was a start. He reaches for the man's hand. "Jason. You can. Don't give him the power to stop you."
He jerks the hand away. "You don't know anything about it."
"So tell me."
He laughs wildly, reaching his breaking point. "You think I can just tell you about it? How about you let yourself be beaten to a bloody mass, you die- fucking die-, you dig your own damn way out of a coffin, you spend years as a goddamn zombie on the streets, you suffer through the hell of the Lazarus Pit, you realize that the only- the Only. Goddamn. People who were supposed to give a damn didn't even care that you died, and then- then you stand there and listen to someone tell you to fucking get over it, and tell me how it fucking feels!"
Bruce lunges, trying to grab him in a hug, to pull him close. "I cared. I cared. I lost a piece of myself when you died. Dick. You were his little brother. Alfred. We all cared."
Jason stumbles backwards, not quite fast enough to evade the hold. "Don't-"
Bruce holds tight.
He can't move. He can't move, he can't breathe, he can't- oh God, he can't do anything, he can't-
He opens his mouth soundlessly, panic written in every inch of his face.
"You're here, you're safe Jason." One hand moves to stroke the man's back. "You're safe."
"... don't," he says quietly, weakly. "Please..."
"Why?"
"Let go of me."
"Why?"
"Please."
"Tell me why."
"Don't do this to me."
"What am I doing to you?"
"Please, God, don't-"
"It's alright Jason. Tell me. Help me to understand."
"... I'm sorry," he whispers, barely audible.
"You are so strong. Always so good." The man keeps stroking slowly, steadily down the man's spine. Again, and again and again.
He shudders violently. "God, no..."
"You are. You might have forgotten, but it's still who you are."
He can't- goddamn it, he has to do something, he...
"Don't."
"I have to," the man breathes. He can't let go, he can't stop reminding Jason of who he was. And could be again.
"Let go of me."
"I can't."
"Please! It's not- damn it, let go of me!"
"I can't. I can't lose you again."
He twists ineffectually against the hold. "Let go of me!"
"Jason. Be still."
He struggles harder, reality starting to fray at the edges.
("Now, Birdboy, you should know- this is nothing personal...")
"You are my son. Always. Always, Jason."
"Get the hell off me!"
"Not. Not yet."
("Not going to sleep on us already, are you?") The voice echoes through his head. He continues to struggle.
"Look at me," the Bat Voice commands.
"Let go of me, you sick son of a bitch!" he screams without meaning to.
Sick? That's. He frowns. "What's my name?"
"Let go of me!"
"Tell me my name."
"Get OFF me!"
"Jason!" He gives the man a sharp shake. "You're in the Cave! You're safe!"
He wrenches himself backwards, throwing his weight down.
Bruce falls with him, trying to twist them so that he takes the brunt of the impact, holding Jason against him.
He lashes out at his attacker's face, movements wild and desperate.
Bruce lets go. He knows that Jason isn't seeing HIM. But rather something else. And his hold is too flawed. He will regain it. Later. Now, he just takes the strikes.
Jason twists out of the hold, rolling onto his back and throwing up an arm to defend himself, as if from a blow.
Bruce sits back on his heels, his fist held forcibly against his thighs. "Jason," he calls as calmly as he can.
/No, God, please- /
He braces himself, shuddering, and-
... nothing.
He stares in confusion at the space behind his arm, reality slowly resolving itself.
/What-?/
"Jason," he calls again, refusing to let himself reach out to the man. To the suffering he can see.
Startled, he jumps, dropping his arm and starting to crawl backwards.
... Bruce?
He blinks, and suddenly, memory comes rushing back.
That-
He-
... oh, God.
"Jason." The voice is firm, but patient.
"... Bruce."
"Yes," He says calmly. " Do you know where you are?"
"... yeah," he says, fear slowly giving way to shame, and anger.
"Tell me." He needs to know, he needs to be sure.
"... the Cave."
Bruce nods. "Where did you go?"
If looks could kill, Bruce would be dead a thousand times over right now.
"You need to talk about it," he says, his face remaining passive.
"Go to hell."
"You need to talk," he repeats.
"Get the fuck out of here."
He pushes himself up, watching the other man warily.
"No. You need this, Jason."
“Fuck you! You think you know what I need?"
"Yes. Given what just happened."
“Wouldn't have happened if you'd fucking let go!"
"You know that's not true."
"Fuck you!"
“It will keep happening. Unless you talk about it. Deal with it."
"Or maybe you could keep your damn hands to yourself!"
"And what about the dreams?"
Jason makes an aborted start forward, bringing his fist back, but stops abruptly, turning away slightly and clenching his hand by his side. "They're just nightmares,' he says through gritted teeth. "It doesn't mean anything."
“They mean much. They always will."
“Get. Out."
"Jason. Talk to me."
“Now."
"Talk to me, about where you went, and I'll leave."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Jason. Just talk. Just about where you thought you were. Then I will leave."
“I don't have to tell you anything."
"Would you rather tell, Dick?"
"It's not his goddamn business, either!"
"Then it'll be J'onn."
"Fuck you!"
"Later."
"Get! Out!"
Bruce sits back patiently, just looking at the man.
Jason's trembling with rage, determinedly not looking at the man. He grits his teeth, clenching his fist tighter. He doesn't say anything.
"I. Still have the nightmares," he offers.
"Get out," he says again.
“Some are old. Others are new. All of them refer to something that my sleeping mind has decided I must face."
"Shut up."
"I used to try to shut them out. But that made them worse.
“Shut. Up."
"I write them down. I have 17 journals that are full and in storage."
"I don't care! Just get out!"
"I. Do. I can't stop caring."
"Go. Away!"
"Just. Tell me something."
"No. Get out."
"Just a little thing."
He hesitates.
"... it was the Joker, okay? Now get the fuck out."
Bruce nods and stands silently. "Do you need anything?"
"No. Out.”
Bruce turns and leaves, giving Jason his back the entire time.
Jason waits until he hears the rush of air in the airlock, then walks over and collapses to sit on the bed, shuddering and holding his head in his hands.
God damn it.
[ooc: next part over at mrsarcastic003]
It takes three HOURS. But he's got a lock. Bruce prints out the relevant data. "We're done.
"Finally," Tim says, relieved. He's been so bored. It's worse than surveillance, because then he at least has something to look at. It's boring in here. "So where am I from?" He hops off the table and tries to look at the printout. "Does it say?"
"Not here. We're leaving." He takes the papers and leaves. Again, expecting the Robins to follow.
The older Tim has been really good about not laughing. At all. Even though he wants to every time the kid asks a question. Bruce is going to develop an eye tic.
He takes the pair to the Cave but is quick to all but shove them in the change room.
He gets Alfred to ready a guest room.
The younger Tim pokes his head out almost immediately. "Um... clothes?" None of his older self's stuff is going to fit him.
"There are robes. Pajamas are in the room."
“Thanks." He goes back to get changed, and soon both Tims have emerged. Out of their Robin costumes, they look even more alike, if that's possible.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Oh dear. He's getting too old for this.
Bruce has changed into a pair of slacks and a turtle neck.
"Hey, you look a lot more like you now," the younger Tim says cheerfully. Part of him hadn't been completely sure that this Batman was real, but... he actually looks right now. It helps.
Bruce frowns. "Upstairs." Them staying down here is not going to happen.
He looks disappointed. "I can't look around? It's different here than it is at home." Some things are the same, but this cave looks a lot bigger.
"No." Strong hands go on the smaller boy's shoulder and steer him to the stairs.
The older Tim gives Bruce a bland look to hide his amusement. "Aww, he was just curious."
"Are you going to chaperone?" His eyes dart to Jason's apartment.
"I guess I can stay down here a few minutes to keep an eye on him," Tim says, shrugging a little. Bruce's irritation is definitely worth it.
"I don't need a babysitter," the younger Tim mutters, scowling.
Bruce raises an eyebrow. "You go with him. Everywhere."
Tim gives him a mock salute. "I'll try to keep him from getting into any trouble."
Jason is bored. Incredibly bored. Mind-numbingly, painfully, start-practicing-routines-as-well-as-he-can-in-the-frustratingly-small-room bored.
Yeah, this is going to be so much fun. He sighs, dropping what he was doing and pacing the room. Again. He still can't get access to the near-invisible panels on the inside of the door- and he's gotten shocked far more than he cares for trying, too. He can't jimmy the door open. There's no other exit. Hell, there's not even a damn window, except for the one on the door- after all, that damn thing on the wall's an LCD screen, anyways.
Still pacing, he glances over as if to confirm his own point and-
... wait, what?
He does a literal double-take, stepping backwards to look at the screen, and sees... who the hell is that kid and why is he wearing a Robin suit? Almost looks like the Little Bird, but not quite.
'Course, all the Robins look pretty much the same. Which is... kind of disturbing, actually, now that he thinks about it.
He walks over to the screen, staring at the image as the kid walks into the changing room, and walks out in pajamas and a robe.
Yeaaaaah... what the hell?
Bruce watches the boys. Watching where they go as he sits at the computer.
Tim starts looking around when Bruce stops propelling him toward the stairs. His older counterpart is shadowing him, and... okay, maybe it's a little annoying, but he can deal. "You have so much cool stuff down here. Not that we don't. It's just... kind of different."
"How so?"
"Well..." Tim looks at him, frowning as he tries to explain himself. "It just looks different. And you're organized differently. We have a lot more open space."
Bruce nods. "What else?" Yes, he's curious.
"Um... The dinosaur's the same--hey--does yours have a remote?" he asks hopefully.
Tim coughs. "I'm pretty sure you're going to get kicked out if you try to move the dinosaur."
He makes a face. "Spoilsport."
"No," Bruce lies easily.
"Oh. Well, it's cool when it moves."
"Indeed." He's hoping the boy will get distracted. Soon.
... Jason's actually not entirely sure how to get the computer to contact Bruce. He's fairly certain it involves saying Bruce's name, but is there a specific command word or something? The computer had fairly decent voice recognition last time he was here, and it's probably only gotten better in the meantime, but he's never really been comfortable talking to the damn things. Especially with how much his rather distinct inner-city Gotham accent tends to fuck up the damn commands. Give him a manual input any day.
Still, he doesn't really have that option right now, so, feeling a little ridiculous, he shouts, "Hey! Computer... thingy... whatever... connect me to Bruce." Hopefully, that'll do it.
"Connection to Cave intercom made," the friendly female voice says.
"You want to explain what the hell's going on here?" he asks. "I swear to God, Bruce, if you've managed to pick up another one..."
"Who's that?" Tim asks, frowning and looking around. "Hello?"
Bruce looks up and his eyes go to the apartment. "Temporal. Issues. Don't worry about it."
"'Temporal issues?'"
"The boy is from another Earth."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"I wish I was," Bruce says tiredly.
"Oh, you have someone down here!" Tim had forgotten until Bruce glanced over toward the interrogation cells. "Can I see?" He starts moving in that direction without waiting for permission.
"Yeah... wish I could say I'm sorry for you, but honestly, I'm not. At all. Kind of amused, though."
"Tim! Stand down!" he bellows.
Tim makes a grab for him but the kid is already out of reach.
The younger Tim pauses in his tracks at Bruce's shout. "Huh?" he asks, eyes wide.
He's not entirely sure what's going on on the other end of the intercom, but it sounds pretty damn entertaining.
"Computer! Lock down. B1 authorization only!"
"...Did I do something wrong?"
"Well, that sure as hell sounds interesting."
"You can't go in. It's not. A good idea."
"Wait, 'go in'? Go in where- oh. Oh, this is going to be fun."
"How come?" Tim frowns at him. "I just wanted to see..."
"Hey, does this thing in here have a record feature?"
"Jason! Please." He looks to the Robins.
Tim shifts a little, taking a couple of steps closer.
"Oh, like that's going to help. This is the most fun I've had in a while, especially the last few days." He pauses. “Though I'm guessing you know that."
Tim frowns at the younger Robin. "We... should probably go."
Bruce nods. "Upstairs. I'll talk to you later."
"Au revoir!"
He scowls a little. "What's wrong with looking? You said it was no one I knew. And I'm from a different universe, so it's not going to mess up time."
"'No one he knows'? Wait, which Robin is this? Or do we have a whole new one here?”
"He's the second of his Earth. But he's not you."
"... wait, what? Who the hell is he?"
Oh, screw it. No one's actually close enough to grab him, and he doesn't think they're really going to tackle him. He dashes the rest of the way toward the cell and stands on his toes to peer in through the window. "Woah. Cool place."
Jason blinks as he sees the hint of movement in the side of the screen. He glances over to the window in the door. And doubles over laughing.
"What's so funny?" Tim asks indignantly.
He just keeps laughing until he's gasping for breath. "Oh- oh God- you've really outdone yourself this time, Bruce..."
"How so?" Somehow, he thinks his going to regret the answer.
He just keeps laughing.
Bruce frowns.
Tim turns to look at Bruce and the older Tim. "Um... what's funny?"
"It's- ha- God, how long has the kid been here, and he's already giving you trouble? Heh- how the hell are you going to explain this to him, exactly? And can I watch when you do?"
Bruce sighs again. "No. You two. Upstairs now."
Dick uses his key to unlock the manor door. He's a bit surprised that Alfred is nowhere in sight.
"Hello?"
"Aw, but we were having so much fun!" Jason teases over the intercom.
The younger Tim frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "Explain what to me? What's going on here?"
"Oh, just a little kidnapping, nothing major..." Jason says sardonically.
Dick waits but nobody acknowledges him. He figures Bruce is probably down in the cave and he heads for the den. Now he can hear people talking down below.
"What?!"
Bruce frowns. "Jason is here so we can help him," he says in a darkly even tone. He then turns to the computer. If he doesn't give them attention maybe they will get bored.
Jason's expression darkens briefly. "Don't need your 'help,' Bruce."
Tim's frown deepens. "So... kidnapping?"
"Hello?"
"... is that Dick?"
He comes down the stairs. Stares. "Okay. I'll bite. What's with Mini Me?"
"I offered you the chance to prove that, Jason," he says, staring at the computer, not really seeing the file on the screen.
"I'm not a clone!" little Tim snaps, glaring at him.
"'Chance'? You told me if I didn't play by your rules, I was crazy. How the hell is that a 'chance?'"
He looks up at Dick's entrance and gives a nod. "Temporal anomaly."
He blinks "Sheesh. Tim, he sounds exactly like you did when we first met. Before your voice broke."
"Hi Bruce."
“I know. He's tiny."
"Jay. Been awhile."
"Dick," he acknowledges.
"My rules are there for a reason. And no, it's not to protect the criminals."
"It sure as hell works that way."
"No, you just choose to see it that way."
“Apart from the accommodations, how are you?"
Little Tim glances from the closed door to Bruce, to Tim and Dick. "Um... What are they talking about?"
"Fine, I guess. Pissed off. Bored. Tired."
Bruce's lips thin, but he doesn't move, doesn't turn towards any of them.
"Kind of amused right now."
"Jason killed people," comes the monotone reply.
"...Oh." He glances at the door again. "I thought we didn't do that."
He almost snorts. "Forgetting a few details, are we, Bruce?"
Dick lets the smile come into his voice. "Yeah. Something funny is DEFINITELY going on here."
He snickers a little at Dick's comment. "Seriously."
The older Tim shakes his head and glances at Dick. "No kidding."
"Now is not the time, Jason." He's getting a headache.
"Oh- I'm sorry, am I annoying you?" he asks insincerely.
"No. There is too much going on now for a serious discussion to take place."
"You started it."
"Very mature."
"Sheesh, Bruce. You restrict him to the cave. Then you come down and hang around IN the cave. You expect him not to snip at you? Jay, what have you got in there to keep you occupied?"
"Cable, a few books and escape attempts.”
"Ah. At this hour it's mostly news, game shows, and reruns, right?"
Little Tim wrinkles his nose. "Bo-ring."
"Not really watching it at the moment. I think there's some stand-up guy on right now?"
"There are cookies upstairs," Bruce comments mildly to Little Tim.
"Meaning what's going on out here is probably a million times more entertaining." Dick snorts. "Can't blame you."
Jason laughs a little.
His eyes narrow. "You're trying to bribe me. And I'm with Dick. This is way more fun."
"It's PG-13 rated fun, kid. Too old for you. Go have a cookie."
Older Tim snickers slightly, covering it with his hand. "That was pretty transparent, Bruce."
"I'm fourteen. I'm allowed to see PG-13 stuff."
"Wait, 14? Is it the camera, or are you just that short?"
"He's that short."
"...I'll grow."
Jason laughs.
"We'll see..."
Little Tim eyes his older counterpart and sighs a little. "Though I guess not that much," he grumbles.
Bruce carefully keeps his mouth shut. Never mind that he's read the same page four times and still couldn't say what it contains.
Jason bursts out laughing.
Bruce is NOT going to acknowledge that the corner of his lips are twitching.
The older Tim rolls his eyes a little, smiling wryly. "I'm still hopeful."
"It's all that coffee you use to stay awake on patrol. Stunts your growth. Alfred only ever let me have peppermint tea. Guess he mellowed. What'd you get, Jay?"
"Coffee and cigarettes, when I could sneak 'em." He pauses. "Aren't I taller than you now?"
"Coffee is good," both Tims say in unison, then glance at each other, smirking a little.
"Are you? Hmph. Must've been something to do with the Lazarus Pit healing you."
"... you know about that?"
"I deduced. You confirmed."
He shrugs, not that the Golden Boy can see it. "What gave it away?"
"...Don't those things make you crazy?" Little Tim frowns deeply.
"Only if you're dead when you go in. And that's temporary," Jason says, starting to get a bit uncomfortable. This- isn't one of his favorite topics.
"It's one of the few things that can explain how you're... back."
"Lazarus Pit didn't bring me back, Dickie-bird."
"Oh." Tim stands on his toes again to look in curiously. "So you're not crazy anymore?"
"I was never crazy, damn it-"
"So you were alive when you went in," Bruce says. Which makes the point about Jason being crazy as a result.
"The hell does it matter?"
"Oh? What did? I mean... I'm glad you're back whatever the reason. Just curious."
"No idea."
"As you said Jason, there is psychosis associated with the Lazarus Pit."
Dick thinks about that for a moment. "What's that line about the universe not only being weirder than we think but weirder than we can possibly imagine?"
"... yeah, I was alive when I went in. What's it matter? The insanity's temporary anyways."
“Too bad. I was wondering if you'd want to watch a movie with me at some point. I mean you don't HAVE to be crazy to do that. I just thought it might help."
"Yes, but what you think and do during it can and does have lasting effects."
"I was alive," he says, gritting his teeth. He doesn't respond to Dick's comment, too distracted by the argument with Bruce.
"I know. Now." Even though he logically understands that he couldn't have known that Jason had risen from the grave, he will never forgive himself for not knowing. For not finding him.
"Lazarus Pit only fucks you up if you're dead when you go in," he insists.
Dick sees the look in Bruce's eyes. He wants to tell him that there's no way anyone could have known, but it will have to wait. He takes a deliberate step closer to him, though.
"Jason. It still has an effect. It has to by its nature." The voice is calm but stony, resolute.
"... it was years ago. Even if you're dead when you go in, the insanity's only temporary, and I wasn't dead."
Tim glances at his little doppelganger, whose eyes are wide as he listens to the conversation. "Hey--Bruce was right about the cookies. Why don't we go and let the grownups argue, huh?"
"But the events during will always be part of you. The things done. The things you were convinced were too." Bruce looks to the boys. "Alfred is upstairs,” he says mildly, nodding at them.
Little Tim frowns. "It's still more interesting right here," he objects."
"I don't have any problems picking you up and carrying you," Tim warns.
"I could toss him overhand," Dick pretends that he's thinking aloud.
Tim grins at him, even as the younger model gives him a betrayed scowl.
“Small pitchers. Big ears. Cookies. Now. Scoot"
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"C'mon, sport." The younger Tim rolls his eyes, but follows Tim up the stairs. Despite his arguments about wanting to stay where he was, the cookies are a pretty big draw.
"Reality. Chemistry. Experience. I've seen what happens, I've tested the Pits."
"Never been in one."
"That doesn't change the facts Jason."
"You don't know the goddamn facts!"
"I can give you the files."
"... fuck you."
"If it would help."
"Oh, go to hell!"
“You can do better then that," Bruce says to the man in the makeshift apartment. He turns so that Jason can see him in the view screen.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, that your insults are uninspired."
"He lets you talk like that?" Little Tim asks incredulously. "Man. My Batman gives me that LOOK every time I use a bad word. And Alfred's worse." He breaks off a piece of cookie and pops it into his mouth."
Dick winces. This is getting out of hand. But if he intervenes now, they're both going to blow up at him. Maybe that's not a bad idea. At least they'll agree on something. Another not-bad idea, probably a better one, would be checking if Alfred has any more cookies.
No. Better to watch the train wreck for a little longer. Or more fun. Or something
"What, you want me to get creative? Rather I call you a sanctimonious, self-righteous, arrogant, self-centered, emotionless hypocrite so damn obsessed with his own fucking rules he can't even give a damn about anything or anyone but his blind, empty, misguided fucking mission?!"
"If that's what you really think. Yes." Calm. Stay calm. Jason is wrong, but if that's how he FEELS then that's what needs to come out.
Oh boy. The little runt's cookie still has steam rising off of it Must've just come out of the oven. "Back in a sec."
"Take Timothy with you," He tells Dick without looking at him.
“C'mon, kid."
"Hey!" Tim objects. He'd slipped away from his chaperone fair and square.
"Now." Dick isn't joking. No point having the newcomer see everyone's dirty laundry.
He sighs and follows Dick back up the stairs. He's pretty sure that if he didn't do it voluntarily, he'd get carried, and just--no.
"Want to know what I really think?" he hisses, his voice going low, every word a carefully enunciated barb. "I think that you don't give a damn about any of us- not me, not the Replacement, not even the goddamn Golden Boy. I think you don't give a damn about anything, except your fucking mission. I think that you're so wrapped up in your rules that you don't care about what's right, or who gets hurt, or what some psychotic fucking clown does to your newest little meat shield, as long as you can find some stupid, naive little stalker freak with a camera to replace him. Damn justice, damn the victims, damn everything and everyone, so long as you get to play the hero, holding to the letter of some fucked-up, arbitrary code, blind to reality." His voice goes even lower. "Tell me, Bruce- do you even feel anything anymore, or are you so wrapped up in your own delusions that there's no room for anything else?"
"I feel. Everything," are the soft words. "But feeling and showing are two different things. I admit that I'm not good at the latter." He moves closer to the camera, so that his image fills up the view screen. If Jason wants, he can enhance the magnification. He can see the lines in the drawn, tired face. The sorrow in the steel blue eyes. None of it major. Never obvious. But for those who know him, it's there.
Jason laughs, bitter and wild. "Right. Sure you do."
"Tim found me. When I was in pain. He wanted to help. First by trying to convince Dick to become Robin again. But when that didn't work, he took the costume for himself. He and Alfred saved Dick and myself from Harvey. I should have been grateful, but I was furious. I had told myself that I would never put another child in that suit, I wouldn't let another child die trying to fight MY Mission." The lines are deepening as the old pain begins to slip that iron willed control.
"Funny, because that sure as hell looks like my suit on him."
"It was. He took it from the case when he came after us. I saw him in it. And all I could think of was you, lifeless in my arms. I yelled at him. Told him to get out. There would be no more Robins."
"Looks like you didn't try very hard to get rid of him."
He's trembling with fury- has been for a while, probably, but he's only just now noticed-, hands clenched in fists by his side.
"I was outnumbered."
"The hell does that mean?"
"It means that it wasn't just Tim arguing his case."
"It was your damn call."
"Dick. I didn't. Want to alienate him. Again." He looks away. It's so much more then that. But he's not ready to face it.
"... fine. Whatever. Still doesn't excuse everything else."
"No. It doesn't," he agrees. "I. Have made many mistakes. Some times I wonder how many were because of the things I allowed you and the other children to do. Sometimes." He frowns before looking at the camera. "I wonder how much is because I tried to stop you."
"... what?"
"I never knew where the line was. Between too much involvement and not enough. Worse, it wasn't the same line for any of you."
"... stop me from what?"
"I would tell you to go easy on the weights. But you'd smirk and then you'd go harder."
"... explain."
"It was. As if. My telling you to slow down was a. Challenge to your abilities."
He hesitates for a moment.
"... so?"
"So. I wasn't particularly sensitive to your reaction."
He narrows his eyes almost suspiciously. "You really think that's the biggest thing you have to apologize for?"
"No."
He says nothing, waiting for Bruce to continue.
"I am. Sorry. For all of it."
"No, you're not."
"What do you think I'm not sorry for?"
"You let him get away with it. You son of a- you let him get away with it!" He didn't even care when he died...
"It wouldn't have brought you back to me." And there have been nights when he would have done it if he had been able to get Jason back.
"It doesn't matter! You should've done it!"
"The thing I regret most. Is I never told you how much you mattered."
"Don't change the goddamn subject."
"It's the same subject."
That-
He breaks off, the words dying in his throat.
"... you should've killed him."
"It wouldn't bring you back."
"He'd have been gone."
"You were what mattered."
"I wouldn't have died if you'd killed him before. How many others have died because you didn't kill him then? You should've learned your damn lesson."
"I can't be like him."
He slams his hand against the screen. "I am sick and tired of that damn cop out!"
"You'd rather that I lie to you?"
"I'd rather you see the damn truth."
"I do. I'm not who you want me to be."
"You've got that much right."
"I'm. Sorry." He turns away from the camera.
"What the hell are you- hey! Don't you walk away, you son of a bitch!"
Bruce stands still. "I'm not who you want."
"You're a deluded damn coward."
"A coward, yes."
"... kill him. Please."
"I can't. I will give you anything I can. But I can't give you his life."
"Please!"
He turns around. "I can't." He leaves the field of the camera and heads to the door of the apartment. He opens the air lock and heads in.
He starts to protest as Bruce again walks off the field of view, until he notices where he's going, hears the rush of air in the airlock.
"... the hell? What are you doing?"
"Giving you what I can," he says, as the second door closes behind him. He steps over towards Jason, but stops just out of touching distance.
He takes a step back, suddenly wary. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm here. Do what you want." He moves his arms away from his body so that Jason can see that he has nothing on him.
He's-
What is he-
Jason watches him warily, mind racing, confusion rising.
"I- you-" he starts, then looks away. "Just get the hell out of here."
"Jason. It needs to come out. And I take responsibility for the pain I've caused."
"Then kill him!"
"I can't."
"Then get the hell out of here!"
"Not yet."
"I- that," he breaks off, taking a deep breath. "Goddamnit, why the hell are you in here?"
"Because this is all I have to give you." The steel blue eyes hold Jason's coldly. "Take it. I will not fight back.”
"I don't- that's not what I- goddamnit, kill him!"
"I can't," he repeats, taking a step closer. Just one step. "I can give you this."
"I don't want this! I want him dead!"
"I can't give you want you want. But I will try to give you want you need."
"I need him dead!"
Bruce takes a second step. "No Jason, you don't. you want it. And I understand why. I do. So very well. But I can't."
Jason steps back. "Then let me do it."
"I won't lose you . Not to him. Not again."
"Then let me kill him!"
"If you kill him, I lose you.”
"What the hell is there to lose?"
Another step and he's grabbing Jason's shoulders. "YOU! Everything that YOU are."
He jerks out of the grip instinctively, breathing hard.
Bruce lets go but stays close, watching him. "Your home is still here. You are wanted, Jason."
"Not home anymore."
"It can be. You just have to let it."
"I can't. Not while he's alive."
"Yes, you can. The only one stopping you, is you."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. You are strong enough." He reaches out for the man's shoulders again.
He shoves the man away. "Don't-"
Well, that was a start. He reaches for the man's hand. "Jason. You can. Don't give him the power to stop you."
He jerks the hand away. "You don't know anything about it."
"So tell me."
He laughs wildly, reaching his breaking point. "You think I can just tell you about it? How about you let yourself be beaten to a bloody mass, you die- fucking die-, you dig your own damn way out of a coffin, you spend years as a goddamn zombie on the streets, you suffer through the hell of the Lazarus Pit, you realize that the only- the Only. Goddamn. People who were supposed to give a damn didn't even care that you died, and then- then you stand there and listen to someone tell you to fucking get over it, and tell me how it fucking feels!"
Bruce lunges, trying to grab him in a hug, to pull him close. "I cared. I cared. I lost a piece of myself when you died. Dick. You were his little brother. Alfred. We all cared."
Jason stumbles backwards, not quite fast enough to evade the hold. "Don't-"
Bruce holds tight.
He can't move. He can't move, he can't breathe, he can't- oh God, he can't do anything, he can't-
He opens his mouth soundlessly, panic written in every inch of his face.
"You're here, you're safe Jason." One hand moves to stroke the man's back. "You're safe."
"... don't," he says quietly, weakly. "Please..."
"Why?"
"Let go of me."
"Why?"
"Please."
"Tell me why."
"Don't do this to me."
"What am I doing to you?"
"Please, God, don't-"
"It's alright Jason. Tell me. Help me to understand."
"... I'm sorry," he whispers, barely audible.
"You are so strong. Always so good." The man keeps stroking slowly, steadily down the man's spine. Again, and again and again.
He shudders violently. "God, no..."
"You are. You might have forgotten, but it's still who you are."
He can't- goddamn it, he has to do something, he...
"Don't."
"I have to," the man breathes. He can't let go, he can't stop reminding Jason of who he was. And could be again.
"Let go of me."
"I can't."
"Please! It's not- damn it, let go of me!"
"I can't. I can't lose you again."
He twists ineffectually against the hold. "Let go of me!"
"Jason. Be still."
He struggles harder, reality starting to fray at the edges.
("Now, Birdboy, you should know- this is nothing personal...")
"You are my son. Always. Always, Jason."
"Get the hell off me!"
"Not. Not yet."
("Not going to sleep on us already, are you?") The voice echoes through his head. He continues to struggle.
"Look at me," the Bat Voice commands.
"Let go of me, you sick son of a bitch!" he screams without meaning to.
Sick? That's. He frowns. "What's my name?"
"Let go of me!"
"Tell me my name."
"Get OFF me!"
"Jason!" He gives the man a sharp shake. "You're in the Cave! You're safe!"
He wrenches himself backwards, throwing his weight down.
Bruce falls with him, trying to twist them so that he takes the brunt of the impact, holding Jason against him.
He lashes out at his attacker's face, movements wild and desperate.
Bruce lets go. He knows that Jason isn't seeing HIM. But rather something else. And his hold is too flawed. He will regain it. Later. Now, he just takes the strikes.
Jason twists out of the hold, rolling onto his back and throwing up an arm to defend himself, as if from a blow.
Bruce sits back on his heels, his fist held forcibly against his thighs. "Jason," he calls as calmly as he can.
/No, God, please- /
He braces himself, shuddering, and-
... nothing.
He stares in confusion at the space behind his arm, reality slowly resolving itself.
/What-?/
"Jason," he calls again, refusing to let himself reach out to the man. To the suffering he can see.
Startled, he jumps, dropping his arm and starting to crawl backwards.
... Bruce?
He blinks, and suddenly, memory comes rushing back.
That-
He-
... oh, God.
"Jason." The voice is firm, but patient.
"... Bruce."
"Yes," He says calmly. " Do you know where you are?"
"... yeah," he says, fear slowly giving way to shame, and anger.
"Tell me." He needs to know, he needs to be sure.
"... the Cave."
Bruce nods. "Where did you go?"
If looks could kill, Bruce would be dead a thousand times over right now.
"You need to talk about it," he says, his face remaining passive.
"Go to hell."
"You need to talk," he repeats.
"Get the fuck out of here."
He pushes himself up, watching the other man warily.
"No. You need this, Jason."
“Fuck you! You think you know what I need?"
"Yes. Given what just happened."
“Wouldn't have happened if you'd fucking let go!"
"You know that's not true."
"Fuck you!"
“It will keep happening. Unless you talk about it. Deal with it."
"Or maybe you could keep your damn hands to yourself!"
"And what about the dreams?"
Jason makes an aborted start forward, bringing his fist back, but stops abruptly, turning away slightly and clenching his hand by his side. "They're just nightmares,' he says through gritted teeth. "It doesn't mean anything."
“They mean much. They always will."
“Get. Out."
"Jason. Talk to me."
“Now."
"Talk to me, about where you went, and I'll leave."
"Go fuck yourself."
"Jason. Just talk. Just about where you thought you were. Then I will leave."
“I don't have to tell you anything."
"Would you rather tell, Dick?"
"It's not his goddamn business, either!"
"Then it'll be J'onn."
"Fuck you!"
"Later."
"Get! Out!"
Bruce sits back patiently, just looking at the man.
Jason's trembling with rage, determinedly not looking at the man. He grits his teeth, clenching his fist tighter. He doesn't say anything.
"I. Still have the nightmares," he offers.
"Get out," he says again.
“Some are old. Others are new. All of them refer to something that my sleeping mind has decided I must face."
"Shut up."
"I used to try to shut them out. But that made them worse.
“Shut. Up."
"I write them down. I have 17 journals that are full and in storage."
"I don't care! Just get out!"
"I. Do. I can't stop caring."
"Go. Away!"
"Just. Tell me something."
"No. Get out."
"Just a little thing."
He hesitates.
"... it was the Joker, okay? Now get the fuck out."
Bruce nods and stands silently. "Do you need anything?"
"No. Out.”
Bruce turns and leaves, giving Jason his back the entire time.
Jason waits until he hears the rush of air in the airlock, then walks over and collapses to sit on the bed, shuddering and holding his head in his hands.
God damn it.
[ooc: next part over at mrsarcastic003]