Fic: The Light of Day | DCU | Jason, Bruce | R | 1/1
Title: The Light of Day
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne; (one-sided Jason/Bruce [sort of])
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,416
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Light; For hc_bingo: Nightmares
Summary: When morning comes, Jason's doubts about the mission surface.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Yet another fic that's been languishing on my hard drive! Follows The Dream and Are You In?.
The Light of Day
When Jason awoke, tangled and sweating in the luxurious sheets, he didn't know where he was. The dream... the dream was still so fresh. Bruce confessing his grief, giving in to the hard, seeking kiss Jay pressed into his mouth, snow on the rooftop. Shivering involuntarily, he waited for the freezing cold of his dingy apartment to set in.
Cold. Rats. Filth.
But it didn't.
Panic began to fill him as he searched the mostly dark room for some sign, some thing, to tell him where he was.
Wood paneling, warm air, fancy bed.
No... it was a dream... it had to be. Shivering again, he just couldn't accept what his mind was trying to tell him. I can't be here... It's not real....
Megadeth poster on one wall. Newspaper clipping about a new Robin in Gotham tacked up on another. Makeshift ashtray on the nightstand.
Jay squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that when he opened them he'd be back in his tiny apartment, surrounded by his leftover pizza boxes and empty soda cans and beer bottles. Disappointment began to fill his chest with bitterness. It's not real.
The sound of the door to his old room opening startled him fully awake, and he opened his eyes to blink against the light pouring in around the silhouette in the doorway. “Jason? Are you all right? You were screaming.”
The terror in his chest fled with the sound of Bruce's voice, and suddenly the dream didn't seem to mean anything anymore, the confusion and denial were gone. “Br-Bruce?” he managed after a moment, finally feeling the warmth of the expensive sheets around him. “I... it was just a... a dream. It was nothing. I... I'm fine.” Letting out a shuddered breath, he tipped his chin up defiantly, meeting the Bat's eyes at last. He can't know.
Bruce's brow furrowed, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”
With clenched jaw, Jason nodded.
“Fine. Try to get some sleep. We leave in four hours.”
“Sure,” Jay responded tersely.
When Bruce returned his nod and turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him, Jay flopped back down in the soft bed with a huff, his mind spinning again with all the things that had happened the night before. Bruce asking him to join the Outsiders, Bruce wanting his help taking down the Injustice Society. Luthor. Grodd. The Joker.
He still didn't believe for one second that the Bat was willing to let him pull the trigger on the Clown. Couldn't understand how he could pull such a one-eighty on his goddamn hero code. On the Mission. It wasn't Bruce. At all. And it left Jay feeling more than uneasy about their upcoming mission.
Jay hadn't killed in months.
Anxious, he tossed and turned in the silken sheets the rest of the night.
~*~*~*~
Breakfast at the Manor was Alfred's specialty. Eggs Benedict with rosemary muffins on the side and fresh, fresh orange juice. Jay hadn't eaten this well since... well, probably since he was with Talia, not that he remembered that time too clearly. Maybe since before he died.
Shuddering with the thought, and the associated memories of all the garbage he'd consumed since then-among the menu items, rat, of all things-he ignored the interested glares he was receiving from half the people seated around the long table. Katana, Grace, Metamorpho. About the only ones not staring at him openly were Bruce, Batgirl-or Cass, as they'd been introduced the night before-and Geo-Force. He wondered how many more dirty looks he would get when Green Arrow and Catwoman showed up.
But then, he'd never minded the way Selina had glowered at him when he was Robin. What could he say? She was hot, and those looks had given him plenty of masturbatory material for later.
With a smirk at the slightly better memories, he looked up from his cleared plate to find he was the first one finished with breakfast.
“In a hurry?” Grace raised her eyebrows at him, a bite of eggs halfway to her mouth.
“Fast eater,” he shot back defensively.
“Sure....”
From the end of the table, Bruce cleared his throat, and added, “Jason's got a point. We need to get moving.” After swallowing the last bite of his muffin and taking a final swig of orange juice, he pushed back from the table and stood. “I'll meet you all downstairs in five minutes. We're heading out in ten. Everyone's gear is already on the jet.”
After a round of nods, the Bat disappeared, leaving Jay alone with the other Outsiders, and wondering if any of them had the balls to take out their targets today.
~*~*~*~
The fight wasn't going anything like Jay had expected it to. It was brutal, nasty, even... gory. Not even close to the clean, precision strike he'd expected from a team led by the Bat. With a handful of low level villains already dispatched or otherwise taken down, their bodies littering the blood-soaked floor of the Injustice Society's underground bunker beneath the swamp, the team was hacking its way past the bigger guns to get closer to the real targets.
Katana cut left in front of Jason, swords flashing as she cleared a path and dropped two more enemies, and finally he could see him, the Joker, cackling and swinging a tire iron-his eyes stung with blood and tears as the crowbar came swinging down at him again. No!!-at Metamorpho. Jason blinked hard to shake off the memory, and a harsh growl ripped from his throat as he charged the Clown, rage spurring him on.
Metamorpho shifted into a gaseous form just in time, and the tire iron slashed through swirling smoke just as Jay reached them and brought the handle of his bloodied kriss down on Joker's arm, sending the crude weapon clattering to the ground.
Shouting with a flash of yellowed teeth between cackles, the Clown tried to leap back, but Jason was already on him, grabbing a bony wrist with one gloved hand to twist it behind his back and slam him to the ground, knife at his throat.
“Should'a killed you when I had the chance!” he spat, digging a knee into the Joker's back until the cackles finally sputtered to a halt. “Used that crowbar to finish what I started!”
But the Clown only grinned that nasty grin again, glaring up at him with blood-shot eyes, so Jason yanked his knife away and sheathed it, pulled his gun and pressed the barrel to Joker's temple.
Now or never, he thought, body thrumming with searing hate. The cacophony of the fight faded into the background, and all he could see was the sick leer of the bastard that had killed him. He deserved to die. Horribly. Tortured. Flayed open, drawn and quartered. Grin sliced up his face permanently. But-
But.
Jason had come so far since his dunking in the Pit, his sanity returning by inches for so long now. He wasn't the same man that'd paid the Clown back with a sound beating, that'd threatened to blow Joker's head off if Bruce didn't stop him first. He'd taken down enemies today but hadn't killed them. He-
Fuck.
A strangled growl, and he reared back and slammed the butt of the gun into the back of Joker's head, knocking him unconscious.
Sitting back on his haunches as he sheathed his gun and zip-stripped the Clown's wrists extra tight, he breathed in the acrid, smoky air of the fight finally winding down around him and caught the Bat's eyes from across the main room of the compound, where Bruce had taken down some unfamiliar rogue. There was a nod in return, and Jason couldn't help a shiver as the thought occurred to him that this had been a test, that Bruce had set him up to pass or fail on the Joker's life alone.
But as disturbing as the thought was, even if it hadn't been a test, he'd at least be able to face Bruce tomorrow, not to mention himself. He could go home with his damn dignity and honor intact, for whatever that was worth these days.
He might even tell Bruce all the shit that'd been boiling under his skin for so long, and if he was lucky, the damn dreams-the nightmares-might fucking stop, the most important part finally brought to the light of day.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne; (one-sided Jason/Bruce [sort of])
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,416
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Light; For hc_bingo: Nightmares
Summary: When morning comes, Jason's doubts about the mission surface.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Yet another fic that's been languishing on my hard drive! Follows The Dream and Are You In?.
The Light of Day
When Jason awoke, tangled and sweating in the luxurious sheets, he didn't know where he was. The dream... the dream was still so fresh. Bruce confessing his grief, giving in to the hard, seeking kiss Jay pressed into his mouth, snow on the rooftop. Shivering involuntarily, he waited for the freezing cold of his dingy apartment to set in.
Cold. Rats. Filth.
But it didn't.
Panic began to fill him as he searched the mostly dark room for some sign, some thing, to tell him where he was.
Wood paneling, warm air, fancy bed.
No... it was a dream... it had to be. Shivering again, he just couldn't accept what his mind was trying to tell him. I can't be here... It's not real....
Megadeth poster on one wall. Newspaper clipping about a new Robin in Gotham tacked up on another. Makeshift ashtray on the nightstand.
Jay squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that when he opened them he'd be back in his tiny apartment, surrounded by his leftover pizza boxes and empty soda cans and beer bottles. Disappointment began to fill his chest with bitterness. It's not real.
The sound of the door to his old room opening startled him fully awake, and he opened his eyes to blink against the light pouring in around the silhouette in the doorway. “Jason? Are you all right? You were screaming.”
The terror in his chest fled with the sound of Bruce's voice, and suddenly the dream didn't seem to mean anything anymore, the confusion and denial were gone. “Br-Bruce?” he managed after a moment, finally feeling the warmth of the expensive sheets around him. “I... it was just a... a dream. It was nothing. I... I'm fine.” Letting out a shuddered breath, he tipped his chin up defiantly, meeting the Bat's eyes at last. He can't know.
Bruce's brow furrowed, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”
With clenched jaw, Jason nodded.
“Fine. Try to get some sleep. We leave in four hours.”
“Sure,” Jay responded tersely.
When Bruce returned his nod and turned to leave, pulling the door shut behind him, Jay flopped back down in the soft bed with a huff, his mind spinning again with all the things that had happened the night before. Bruce asking him to join the Outsiders, Bruce wanting his help taking down the Injustice Society. Luthor. Grodd. The Joker.
He still didn't believe for one second that the Bat was willing to let him pull the trigger on the Clown. Couldn't understand how he could pull such a one-eighty on his goddamn hero code. On the Mission. It wasn't Bruce. At all. And it left Jay feeling more than uneasy about their upcoming mission.
Jay hadn't killed in months.
Anxious, he tossed and turned in the silken sheets the rest of the night.
~*~*~*~
Breakfast at the Manor was Alfred's specialty. Eggs Benedict with rosemary muffins on the side and fresh, fresh orange juice. Jay hadn't eaten this well since... well, probably since he was with Talia, not that he remembered that time too clearly. Maybe since before he died.
Shuddering with the thought, and the associated memories of all the garbage he'd consumed since then-among the menu items, rat, of all things-he ignored the interested glares he was receiving from half the people seated around the long table. Katana, Grace, Metamorpho. About the only ones not staring at him openly were Bruce, Batgirl-or Cass, as they'd been introduced the night before-and Geo-Force. He wondered how many more dirty looks he would get when Green Arrow and Catwoman showed up.
But then, he'd never minded the way Selina had glowered at him when he was Robin. What could he say? She was hot, and those looks had given him plenty of masturbatory material for later.
With a smirk at the slightly better memories, he looked up from his cleared plate to find he was the first one finished with breakfast.
“In a hurry?” Grace raised her eyebrows at him, a bite of eggs halfway to her mouth.
“Fast eater,” he shot back defensively.
“Sure....”
From the end of the table, Bruce cleared his throat, and added, “Jason's got a point. We need to get moving.” After swallowing the last bite of his muffin and taking a final swig of orange juice, he pushed back from the table and stood. “I'll meet you all downstairs in five minutes. We're heading out in ten. Everyone's gear is already on the jet.”
After a round of nods, the Bat disappeared, leaving Jay alone with the other Outsiders, and wondering if any of them had the balls to take out their targets today.
~*~*~*~
The fight wasn't going anything like Jay had expected it to. It was brutal, nasty, even... gory. Not even close to the clean, precision strike he'd expected from a team led by the Bat. With a handful of low level villains already dispatched or otherwise taken down, their bodies littering the blood-soaked floor of the Injustice Society's underground bunker beneath the swamp, the team was hacking its way past the bigger guns to get closer to the real targets.
Katana cut left in front of Jason, swords flashing as she cleared a path and dropped two more enemies, and finally he could see him, the Joker, cackling and swinging a tire iron-his eyes stung with blood and tears as the crowbar came swinging down at him again. No!!-at Metamorpho. Jason blinked hard to shake off the memory, and a harsh growl ripped from his throat as he charged the Clown, rage spurring him on.
Metamorpho shifted into a gaseous form just in time, and the tire iron slashed through swirling smoke just as Jay reached them and brought the handle of his bloodied kriss down on Joker's arm, sending the crude weapon clattering to the ground.
Shouting with a flash of yellowed teeth between cackles, the Clown tried to leap back, but Jason was already on him, grabbing a bony wrist with one gloved hand to twist it behind his back and slam him to the ground, knife at his throat.
“Should'a killed you when I had the chance!” he spat, digging a knee into the Joker's back until the cackles finally sputtered to a halt. “Used that crowbar to finish what I started!”
But the Clown only grinned that nasty grin again, glaring up at him with blood-shot eyes, so Jason yanked his knife away and sheathed it, pulled his gun and pressed the barrel to Joker's temple.
Now or never, he thought, body thrumming with searing hate. The cacophony of the fight faded into the background, and all he could see was the sick leer of the bastard that had killed him. He deserved to die. Horribly. Tortured. Flayed open, drawn and quartered. Grin sliced up his face permanently. But-
But.
Jason had come so far since his dunking in the Pit, his sanity returning by inches for so long now. He wasn't the same man that'd paid the Clown back with a sound beating, that'd threatened to blow Joker's head off if Bruce didn't stop him first. He'd taken down enemies today but hadn't killed them. He-
Fuck.
A strangled growl, and he reared back and slammed the butt of the gun into the back of Joker's head, knocking him unconscious.
Sitting back on his haunches as he sheathed his gun and zip-stripped the Clown's wrists extra tight, he breathed in the acrid, smoky air of the fight finally winding down around him and caught the Bat's eyes from across the main room of the compound, where Bruce had taken down some unfamiliar rogue. There was a nod in return, and Jason couldn't help a shiver as the thought occurred to him that this had been a test, that Bruce had set him up to pass or fail on the Joker's life alone.
But as disturbing as the thought was, even if it hadn't been a test, he'd at least be able to face Bruce tomorrow, not to mention himself. He could go home with his damn dignity and honor intact, for whatever that was worth these days.
He might even tell Bruce all the shit that'd been boiling under his skin for so long, and if he was lucky, the damn dreams-the nightmares-might fucking stop, the most important part finally brought to the light of day.
~*~*~*~