#Jason then wakes up to frantic pulse checking and what not

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason, after coming back to Gotham and taking over the criminal underworld— is burnt out.

He’s exhausted, he can’t sleep, he’s pretty sure he broke some ribs somewhere along the two month mark of being the Red Hood and he just wants to go home.

So he does, entering the Cave near deliriously while Batman and Robin are out on patrol, shattering the stupid memorial he comes across while he’s at it, and— huh, well, that actually looks like a pretty comfy spot to take a nap. He’s just gonna— one minute. He just needs one… minute…..

When Bruce and Tim return to the Cave it’s to a dead boy passed out in the shattered remains of the memorial case, wrapped up in the tattered cape Bruce pulled from the rubble in Ethiopia.

#jason goes home #sleep deprivation #is nothing to sneeze at #it makes you really loopy #Jason then wakes up to frantic pulse checking and what not #Bruce definitely thought someone had the audacity to dig up his dead son’s body to mock him with it at first #before he realized that #hold on a minute #he looks older #Tim is freaking out because his favorite Robin just came back to life #and god help him he’s making sure it’s permanent #even if he has to dunk him in a pit #(joke’s on him Talia already did that part #(everyone say thank you Talia) #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood #Nightwing #Batman #prompts

[harryssweatcreaturee]

Stop your crying baby, it’ll be alright. II

a/n: grab some tissues, here we go. i am not a paramedic, things might be wrong but lets remember this is fiction. we still have one or two more parts to go. <3

here is part one

word count: 1.6k

warnings: death (not of main characters), angst

--

Just like always, Harry and (Y/N) didn’t speak after the party. They didn’t speak after the kiss. Truth be told, Harry felt a little shock go through him, the kiss lingering on his lips for a few moments right after. But Harry shrugged it off. The party went on and Harry didn’t see her anymore throughout the rest of the night.

For the first time in a while, Harry was more tired than usual and dreading to go into his 12-hour shift. He fell asleep a bit too late than he should’ve and waking up at 5 in the morning was a mission.

The first few hours we’re uneventful, thankfully. They only got a couple of calls, nothing major, things the paramedics could deal from the people’s homes.

Harry had just arrived from a ride along, heading straight to one of the beds in the little rooms they had for a quick power nap. The man slipped his boots off, throwing himself onto the small, uncomfortable mattress with a huff, quickly closing his eyes

But unfortunately, it was short lived. Harry was woken up by ring of his phone, groaning as he felt around for his phone.

“Hello?” His eyes were still half closed, voice groggy and laced with sleep, not even checking who was calling him but soon enough by the sound of the frantic voice, he knew exactly who was calling.

“Harry! I need your help, please! Mum- she’s uh, I don’t know, she started complaining of her arm, and her stomach…” A sob breaks through the phone. “Harry, she’s on the floor. She fainted; she isn’t moving. She’s – she’s not responding.”

It was certain that now Harry was wide awake. His heart was racing, and his head was pounding. Despite the fact that he has an emotional attachment to Gina, he had to maintain composure for (Y/N). She was in the worst position right now and she called Harry for help.

“Hey, (Y/N). Breathe for me, okay? Just try and breathe and I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you please try and find a pulse? Touch her neck, wrist, her chest. Let’s make sure she’s conscious.”

Harry could hear her harsh breathing and frantic sobs over the phone, they were heart breaking. He ran out of the small room, calling the attention of one of his coworkers, Jason, to haul into the ambulance and he caught on it was a personal call – they had to be quick.

“Don’t hang up please. I, I don’t know-“

“(Y/N), find a pulse. I need to know her state right now.”

(Y/N)’s breathing slowed down only a bit, hushed ‘okay’s being heard through the phone now in speaker as he drove the ambo in the direction of Gina’s home.

“I think I feel something? It’s just very slow, Harry. It-it’s slow and it soft.”

“Fuck.” Harry muttered under his breath. “Alright, listen to me carefully and follow my lead. I know you’re nervous and shaky but please, for the sake of your mum’s life, try to be calm, okay?”

“Yes, okay. I – I can do that. What do I do?”

“You’re going to do CPR. Remember how I taught you? 30 compressions, then 2 breaths. Remember the beat too, sing it if you have to.”

It was like the universe was working against Harry. Despite having the sirens on and not braking once, the roads were filled with traffic and idiots who would take forever to move out of the way. Harry was in a trance of his own, trying to keep his own composure as he drove around, almost a minute away from Gina and (Y/N).

“H? My arms hurt, please hurry. I can’t anymore.” Her voice was rushed and sounding out of breath.

“I’m almost there. Don’t stop. We’ll be there soon.”

Finally, Harry and Jason arrived, jumping quick out of the ambulance with the AED machine and rushing into the house – thankfully the door was unlocked.

Harry found them on the kitchen floor, (Y/N) tired and face puffy with tears, immediately in relief when her eyes land on Harry. “Thank god! Please help. Please. I can’t lose her, H..” Harry almost drowned out her voice, immediately moving to the ground with Jason and the AED. Jason helped him cut her top and bra off to avoid any burns from the machine, attaching the electrodes to her chest.

The moment the AED turned on, Harry kept his eyes on the screen, waiting for it to detect a beat. Nothing. Harry’s heart began to race, reaching over to click the shock button, making sure him and Jason weren’t touching Gina.

Shock.

No beat. Asystole.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

Harry huffed, placing his hands in between her breasts, starting compressions as his eyes began to water and blur his vision. This couldn’t be. She couldn’t die.

“What?! What’s going on, Harry!? Please, save her!”

Harry stopped compressions, looking at Jason suggestively, as the man reached over for the shock button once more.

Shock.

Asystole.

Harry began compressions again, huffing frustrated after each compression, stopping to look at the machine and still detected no beat. And he began once more. He could faintly hear (Y/N) crying and screaming frantically, Jason speaking something but he couldn’t make sense of it.

“Mate! Harry! Stop it. She’s gone, mate.” Jason’s hands wrapped around Harry’s wrists, stopping his movements on Gina.

“Fuck!” Harry stood up, walking out of the kitchen as he ran his hands through his hair, tears falling down his cheeks. Harry wiped the tears away, walking back to do his best to help (Y/N). He knew this wasn’t easy for her. Jason was on the phone dealing with the situation, (Y/N) on the floor beside her mother crying.

“I’m so so sorry, (Y/N). We did everything we could.” Harry’s voice cracked, kneeling down beside (Y/N) with his hand on her back. “Harry… she’s… I…” (Y/N) moved slightly, dropping on top of Harry in a fit of sobs.

“I know, love… I know…”

--

Breaking the news to his mother was the most painful thing he’d ever had to endure. She screamed and cried. She held on to Harry for dear life.

Harry suggested (Y/N) stayed over with his mum for a few weeks and they both agreed. It seemed the best idea so they can both console and help each other through their grief. Harry decided he’d stay too to help them. He’d cook and clean, wash their clothes, make them go out to the garden for fresh air.

It couldn’t be put into words how Harry felt for (Y/N). He felt like he had to watch over her, take care of her, make sure she’s okay and eating enough despite going through the worst grief of her life.

Two weeks in and Harry can tell (Y/N) is in the second stage of grief: anger. Anything Harry does seems to set her off. She’s as if a bubble about to burst.

“Harry, I told you I don’t like ham on my eggs. I just. Just move, I got it.” (Y/N) bitterly complained, almost shoving Harry away from the stove.

Harry sighed, reaching for the pan and wooden utensil. “It’s okay, I’ll do them again. Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.”

And there it was, he grabbed the needle and burst the bubble of anger.

“Stop fucking babying me! I can do my own fucking things! It’s like you’re breathing down my neck. Just leave me alone, for heaven’s sake!”

Harry stood in shock, looking at (Y/N) as a sigh left past his lips. “Alright. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” Harry turned around and left the kitchen.

Maybe he was overstepping, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how else to help (Y/N) when she barely spoke to anyone, let alone Harry.

Harry wanted to work, he did. But he knew his mum needed him at the moment more than anything. It was from one extreme to the other – at times he felt needed and others he felt like he was just in the way. It’s never a linear way of healing when it comes to grieving death. It’s a rollercoaster: it has ups and downs.

After (Y/N)’s fit of outrage, Harry made himself busy for hours. He did some yard work his mother couldn’t find the energy to do. He washed dishes, cleaned the living room, and cleaned his own room. He simply made sure to steer away from (Y/N)’s path.

Harry decided he’d take a shower, wash away worry and stress, try and forget the current situation which was inevitable to do anyway. He finished soon enough, throwing in briefs and sweats before throwing himself on the bed.

And he heard a knock on his door, then (Y/N)’s voice, soft and mellow unlike the past few days.

“H? Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

The door opened, (Y/N) coming in with fresh tears down her cheeks, almost shaking as she closed the door behind her and approaching Harry’s bed.

“Can I?” She points at the bed.

Harry nods and scoots over to give her space.

(Y/N) immediately crawled onto the bed, then right beside Harry, her arm draping around his waist. Her cheeks wet Harry’s bare chest, Harry mirroring her and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“I miss her so much, H. I can’t deal with his.”

“I know you do, my love. I miss her too.” Harry kissed her forehead that was covered in a film of sweat but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he wanted to do was comfort her and hold her as long as she needed.

“Don’t leave, please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“M’not going anywhere, (Y/N). I’m right here.”

--

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[cdelphiki]

Bruce was a mere half mile from the warehouse when it exploded.

A half mile.

At ninety miles per hour, he was less than a minute from the warehouse.

A minute.

Never in his life had Bruce felt that panicked.

The warehouse itself was entirely inconsequential. Bruce didn’t care what happened to it. The fewer abandoned warehouses in the world, the better, probably.

His problem was Jason.

He didn’t see Jason.

Anywhere.

He’d told the boy. He’d specifically told him “Stay.”

Stay with Sheila outside and don’t go after Joker.

And Jason said he’d listen.

He’d promised.

So where the fuck was he??

Dread coiled deep in Bruce’s stomach as he stopped in front of the warehouse.

Jason had saved himself from situations like this dozens of times. Bruce, logically, knew that he shouldn’t be panicking like he was, because Jason was Jason. He was competent.

Strong. Resilient. Brilliant. Talented. Incredible.

So many words that boiled down to Bruce shouldn’t be worried.

But something felt off.

There was a voice in his ear. A little niggle.

And it sounded like laughing.

That’s how Bruce found himself digging through the rubble frantically, screaming Jason’s name.

Not even Robin.

But Jason.

At that moment, Bruce didn’t care about anything but finding his son.

He’d give anything to go back twenty minutes and argue with Jason longer. If it meant sparing himself this panic.

This horrible, visceral feeling that he was too late.

That his son was dead.

How could anyone survive that explosion?

“He saved me,” he heard a woman say, from about fifteen feet to his left. Her raspy voice only adding to the dread he felt. “He’s a hero... he...”

“Where is he,” Bruce shouted. He didn’t care if Jason saved the entire world. He just wanted to see him. To know he was okay.

Shelia pointed toward what was once the corner of the warehouse, where a significant amount of rubble had landed.

And the panic only intensified.

Looking back, Bruce couldn’t remember what happened between. One second he was pulling rubble off as fast as he could, the next he was kneeling next to his boy, tears streaming down his face.

Somehow, Clark had gotten there.

Well, obviously he’d flown there, but Bruce couldn’t for the life of him remember if he’d called for Clark or if he’d showed on his own.

It was very possible he’d started shouting his name upon realizing how bad off Jason was.

But now that Jason was uncovered, Bruce knew they were too late.

If it weren’t for the Robin uniform, Bruce wouldn’t have even recognized his son.

“He doesn’t have a pulse,” Bruce mumbled, ripping his glove off in hopes that he just couldn’t feel it, “There’s no- he doesn’t-“

CPR. He had to do CPR.

Less than a minute.

He’d been less than a minute away.

Why couldn’t he have been faster.

But these injuries...

Bruce placed his hands on Jason’s chest, ready to start compressions, when his hand hit something jagged. Something jagged and wet. He pulled back, like it had stung him.

Because, in a way, it had.

“His ribs,” Bruce choked out, trying his best to keep his vision clear and his emotions stable. Even though his best wasn’t good enough, “Clark his ribs.”

There wasn’t a single one intact. Every one was broken. Several in a couple places. Bruce couldn’t do CPR. He’d only be further damaging the heart. The ribs. If Jason weren’t already- if he weren’t-

He had been less than a minute away.

But even if he’d been a minute faster. Even if he’d been five minutes faster. With these injuries…

Jason wouldn’t have survived them anyway.

“Bruce,” Clark said, tugging at his arm, trying to get him to stand and move, “we have to get him to watchtower.”

Watchtower?

Why would they do that? It was too late.

They were too late.

Jason was still warm. Like he were just sleeping, but Bruce knew.

He knew.

Jason was never going to wake up.

They were too late.

It wasn’t until Clark said, “no we aren’t,” did Bruce realize he’d been mumbling, “but we will be if we don’t go now.”

“He’s gone,” Bruce whispered, pulling Jason closer. Clinging to the boy in a way Jason would have never allowed.

“I’m too big for this,” Jason would have mumbled, “stop it old man I’m not a baby.”

Why couldn’t he whine about it? Whine and moan and push Bruce away. Be angry and mad all he wanted. Bruce would give anything to listen to Jason yell at him again.

“Raven is going to meet us there,” Clark said, forcing Bruce to his feet.

Curse him and his super strength.

Bruce blinked, as Clark’s words caught up with him.

“Raven?” he asked, trying to make sense of it.

Why would Clark call Raven about this?

Had the girl even known Jason? There were probably half a dozen people who needed to be told, first.

Bruce didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to sit there and hold his child. And maybe just die with him.

Why had he left Jason alone at all?

��He’s not gone yet,” Clark said, as he pulled Bruce out of the still smoldering pile of rubble, “but we only have a couple more minutes.”

- - -

Bruce was losing it.

The next thing he was aware of was Clark prying Jason out of his arms.

One moment he was on the ground, clutching his dead child. The next he was standing in the watchtower, watching as Clark laid Jason down.

Jason.

Lying on a table in medbay, while Raven started running her hands over Jason’s many injuries.

That was not something Bruce had ever wanted to see.

Neither of his boys belonged in medbay. Neither of them deserved to be hurt.

What could Raven even do? She didn’t have the power to bring people back from the dead, last Bruce checked.

Parents weren’t supposed to outlive their children.

God. He’d only had a few years with Jason.

And his boy, his tiny little boy was lying on the table, unconscious.

No.

Worse than unconscious. He hadn’t had a heartbeat since Bruce found him.

Hadn’t been breathing.

He was too small. Had Jason always been that tiny?

Bruce should have never left him alone. He was too small. Too young. What had he been thinking?

“Let her work,” Clark was saying, from where he’d apparently grabbed onto Bruce, pinning his arms to his side and dragging him away from Jason again, “Bruce you have to let her work.”

“Clark,” he said, a horrible choked off sound. Why was Clark doing this? Why wouldn’t he just let him hold Jason? He just wanted to hold his boy.

Hold his boy and die.

His entire life he thought losing his parents was the worst thing he’d ever go through, but no.

He was wrong.

He was overwhelmingly, completely, and utterly wrong.

Jason was never going to grow up. Bruce would never see-

A blinding light appeared right at Raven’s hand, where she had it hovered directly over Jason’s heart. Raven’s face pinched as she clenched her jaw. After a moment, a low moan turned into a whine, then to a scream.

And Bruce couldn’t breathe.

How could Raven do that if Jason were…

He shook Clark off of him and stumbled forward, barely restraining himself from running his hand through Jason’s hair as he watched. Prayed. Hoped.

And then, once Raven’s pained shouts reached their peak, Jason took a long, sharp, ragged inhale.

Bruce burst like a balloon.

If he hadn’t been crying before, he was now. He couldn’t even find enough of himself to care. After ripping off his cowl, he moved to stand at Jason’s head and knelt over, touching his forehead and gently as he could to Jason’s, his hands on either side of Jason’s face.

His horribly swollen face.

God. Was his skull fractured, too? His nose and cheek clearly were.

Jason started crying, then. Still unconscious. Still completely out of it. But now there enough to cry.

Bruce never in his life thought he’d celebrate hearing his child cry.

“Jason,” he blubbered, running his thumbs in circles at Jason’s temples, hoping that at some level, Jason could feel it. Could hear him, and would know he was there. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He was saying it more for himself than anything.

“Bruce,” J’onn said, and when had J’onn gotten there? When Bruce looked up, he saw Zatanna, too. Her and Raven both working diligently on Jason’s chest. J’onn looked like he was straining himself, too, with one hand on Jason.

Blocking his pain, probably.

“Come on,” Clark said, motioning for Bruce to step away from Jason, “Walk with me.”

Like hell-

“Bruce, they need access to his head,” Clark explained, tugging at his sleeve, “Once they have his chest cavity fixed, his head is their next priority.”

And that— that—

Bruce was going to be sick. Yep. He was almost completely certain.

Those were words he never wanted to hear.

“Come on,” Clark said, tugging on his arm again, this time succeeding in getting him to take a couple steps toward the door, “You need some air. And maybe some coffee.”

“I can’t leave-“ Bruce tried, but couldn’t get the sentence out. Because looking at Jason, all he could see was the broken. The horribly, terribly disfigured.

Jason… Jason might never recover from this. Even if Raven did get him breathing again. There again. He’d suffered so much damage.

They had to fix his head.

“You are distracting them, Bruce,” Clark said, pulling him toward the door again, “I need you to be Batman for a few minutes. Jason needs you to be Batman right now.”

That was what got him.

So Bruce squared his shoulders and took a breath. He had to get himself together. What the hell was wrong with him, letting it go like that? He had a level head. That was one of his strengths. Why had he lost that?

Bruce nodded once and stepped out of the room, only sparing one final look back at Jason before he let Clark lead him away from the medbay.

He needed to be Batman right now. Bruce could worry about his kid later.

At least, that’s what he wanted his head to do.

Push everything down and be strong.

But…

It was difficult. When his boy had been dead.

Bruce had held-

With a deep breath, Bruce shook his head again and tried to dislodge the thoughts. What was wrong with him. He’d never lost it like that.

He needed to stop thinking.

Stop thinking and get back in control.

The Watchtower was basically one large circle, spinning up in space. Every hall lead to every other hall, and it was possible to keep moving forward and eventually end back up where you started.

That’s what he and Clark did, for the first fifteen minutes they stayed out of Jason’s room. They took a lap around the entire Watchtower.

Neither of them spoke, that entire time, either. They didn’t have to. Bruce knew Clark was the talking type, when things got rough. When he had a bad day. When he needed support.

But Bruce wasn’t like that, and Clark knew that.

It was enough for him, just to have his best friend standing next to him. Knowing he wasn’t alone. And knowing that, since Clark hadn’t rushed them back to Jason’s room, that everything was progressing smoothly back in medbay.

That was probably the only reason Bruce could stand to leave his room.

By the end of their loop, Bruce was feeling much more grounded. His heart rate had finally lowered, and he felt like he could think again.

Jason was going to be okay. He was certain of it.

With Raven and Zatanna there, both doing everything they could in terms of healing, Bruce was confident.

Never in his life did he think he’d be grateful to Clark Kent in the way he was.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Bruce started, stopping before one of the outer windows, just before they reached the entrance for the medbay. He needed to thank Clark. Make sure he knew how grateful Bruce was that he’d kept his head on straight. That’ he’d been thinking clearly enough to know to get Jason up here. To get Raven and Zatanna and Martian Manhunter there.

That he’d even showed up in that God forsaken warehouse in Ethiopia in the first place.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Clark said, joining Bruce next to the window to look out onto the Earth with him, “It was a natural reaction.”

“I shouldn’t have let my emotions cloud my judgement,” he said, matter of factly. It was true, after all. He shouldn’t have.

But he did.

If it weren’t for Superman, it would have cost Jason his life.

There was no way Bruce could ever forgive himself of that.

“Bruce,” Clark sighed, “There’s nothing wrong with how you reacted. You love that kid.”

He did, didn’t he? Of course he did. He loved Jason so much it hurt. There was no way he could possibly live his life without that kid.

Not now.

Not after he’d spent the past three years with him. Watching him grow and learn and excel in everything he tried. His smiles and grins and the curls on his head. The way he chewed on his thumbnail while reading.

All his little outbursts, too. His teenage rebellion and attitude. The sass he gave Bruce, sometimes. Even their arguments.

He loved Jason in his entirety.

Without him there, he would have missed everything about him.

Had he ever told Jason that?

“Thanks,” Bruce rasped, then paused to clear his throat before attempting to finish the thought, “For…”

Why were words so fucking hard? Jason would love to hear him say that word. He knew.

“Of course, Bruce,” Clark said anyway, despite Bruce’s inability to finish the thought. Clark wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, and Bruce was going to allow it… Only because he owed Clark his life. More than his life. Jason was worth so much more than everything Bruce had.

“It’s what friends are for. You would have done the same for me, if it were my boy.”

Yes. He would.

- - -

When Bruce re-entered the medbay, he found Raven working on Jason’s head.

His face looked remarkably better. Without all the swelling, that was. He looked like Jason again. He was recognizable.

Bruce could feel the hand around his heart relax, just a little more.

Zatanna was attempting to remove Jason’s mask, but winced and stopped when Jason whimpered.

The way Bruce’s chest clenched at that.

Perhaps that was why he, without hesitation, fished out the glue relaxer from his belt and handed it to Zatanna.

Ordinarily, he would have been raising hell about anyone daring to take Robin’s mask off him. Without asking, at least. But whatever they needed. Whatever Zatanna or Raven or… or J’onn— what was J’onn doing?— whatever they needed, Bruce would do.

If it was for Jason, he’d do anything.

And actually, he would have removed Jason’s mask himself, but his hands were shaking too badly. And he couldn’t quite trust himself, yet. Not to start crying again. Not to collapse down. Not to freeze up and just stare at his child.

His child. Who was still covered in dirt and blood. Bruises and torn fabric.

Just the sight of that made Bruce want to be sick.

And every time he blinked, he saw Jason’s swollen face. His still, too small, broken body. Feel him. In his arms. Warm, but not breathing. Light, but still limp.

How could this have happened?

J’onn moved to Jason’s head as soon as Raven stepped back. It was a little disconcerting, the way they moved, as if in sync. Raven shifted down to Jason’s arms, and started working on his left wrist, which was hopelessly mangled.

Bruce didn’t want to think about it.

What had even happened to Jason? What had Joker done?

J’onn placed his hands on either side of Jason’s head, then closed his eyes. After a second, his eyes started glowing, and Bruce gawked.

He’d seen Martian Manhunter do that. Many times.

Always while in deep concentration. And always while waging psychic warfare.

While out on missions.

“What is J’onn doing?” he asked, not really sure who he was asking. Not J’onn, obviously. Or Raven, probably. She was no longer reacting to the pain Bruce knew she had to be taking away from Jason, but she was just as lost to them as J’onn was.

Zatanna grimaced as she continued to gently work the mask off Jason’s face. Her stricken look only lasted a second, however, before she put on the a face of indifference Bruce was much more used to. Professional detachment.

If Bruce hadn’t already felt like throwing up, he would have started then, for sure.

“Raven fixed the physical injuries,” she explained, still gently pulling at the last edge of Jason’s mask. She was being overly gentle. Neither of his boys had ever taken a mask off that slowly. But he supposed causing Jason even an ounce more of pain was not something any of them wanted to do.

“But he suffered a great deal of brain damage,” she continued, after a breath, “J’onn is attempting to correct the mental damage.”

Bruce heard was she said.

Obviously.

But after the words “brain damage,” his own head stopped working.

He felt himself losing it again.

Brain damage.

Of course Bruce should have been expecting it.

He’d clearly been hit in the head with something hard.

Several times.

What the fuck had Joker done to him?

Of course that would cause damage.

Not the mention the fact he’d been without oxygen for who knew how long. He’d have to review the cowl footage to figure that out.

He’d have to review the cowl footage anyway… to make up for the gaps in his own memory. To figure out how the hell Clark had gotten there, and how long, exactly, it took to find Jason.

A strong hand caught him as he stumbled backward. The grip on his upper arm the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“Take a breath,” Clark said, once Bruce had regained his feet, “They’re doing everything they can.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, running a hand over his face. His… uncowled face. How long had that been off?

He needed to keep it together. Jason was alive. There was… was no sense in worrying about… about brain damage.

They were doing everything they could.

What if it wasn’t enough?

Jason whimpered again, making Bruce inhale sharply. He sounded so scared.

Had he been scared? The entire beating?

The whole time Bruce had abandoned him to this entire ordeal?

Bruce… Bruce was never going to forgive himself for this.

And he was never going to let Jason out of his sight again.

Whimpering quickly shifted to outright crying, and Bruce hadn’t been aware it was possible for his heart to break further.

“Shh,” he whispered, only then noticing he’d made his way across the room, and was now standing at Jason’s side, one hand on Jason’s chest. Raven hadn’t fixed his hands yet. He knew touching the hopelessly mangled hands of his son would just hurt him further.

Never in his life had he wanted to hold his child’s hand more than in that moment.

And with J’onn still working on his head, he couldn’t even run his fingers through Jason’s dirty hair. All he could do was pat his chest, so that’s what he did, as he continued to shush him.

“B-br-br-“ Jason mumbled, interspersed between breathless sobs, “bru- b-”

“I’m right here,” he said, tears building in his eyes again as he rubbed circles over Jason’s heart. Right where the bones had been so broken, he couldn’t-

“Dad,” Jason begged, like he wasn’t even aware Bruce was there. He was right there.

“I’m here, Jay. I’m right here. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“He’s starting to squirm,” Zatanna murmured, and Bruce nodded.

Fidgeting would do nothing but cause Jason more pain. Healing him would be much easier if he was still, too, Bruce was sure.

“Jason, buddy,” he said, pulling one of his gloves off so he could brush his knuckles against Jason’s cheek, “Sweetheart, you need to calm down. You’re okay.”

But, again, Jason didn’t seem to notice. Bruce wasn’t sure if he were even conscious.

He hoped he wasn’t conscious.

Bruce looked around the room to see Clark standing off to the side, arms crossed as he watched Raven work. Zatanna was working on removing one of Jason’s boots, so she could heal his feet, Bruce assumed. And Raven was still working on Jason’s left arm.

No one was really paying him any attention.

Which was good.

It would make it easier…

He closed his eyes as he leaned forward, closer to Jason’s ear, because it was for Jason that he started humming. Low and quiet, as he gently stroked Jason’s cheek.

Nothing in particular. Not at first. Just sounds, for Jason to hear.

But it worked. Jason’s crying quieted. He was still whimpering, but clearly he’d noticed Bruce’s humming.

Jason loved Bruce’s singing. He’d learned that one day, a couple years back, on a road trip. He’d been singing along to the radio, and must have been much louder than he thought he was. Instead of tell him to shut up, Jason had just sat there, listening. Calm and still. Almost content looking.

Considering Jason had been pissed he was being forced to sit in the back seat, rather up front where it was too dangerous for a child of his size, Bruce hadn’t wanted to stop, so he sang along to the next several songs that came up on the classics channel he had on, and by song five, Jason had drifted off to sleep.

It’d been years, now, since that discovery. Bruce had sang to Jason a couple times since, but only when they were alone. Late at night, when Jason was too terrified to sleep. In the cave, after a particularly bad injury. Once. When Jason had the flu and was outright miserable.

They never spoke about it after it happened. Both of them just pretending Bruce didn’t sing Jason to sleep sometimes. But, not for the first time, Bruce so so glad to have the ability.

He would do anything to make Jason more comfortable. To help him along.

To have him alive.

The random melodies shifted to some of his favorite songs, until he found himself actually singing. He tried to ignore all the eyes he could feel on himself and instead focused on how Jason had gone completely still, almost relaxed, as Bruce sang a song that had particularly spoken to him some years ago, when he first heard it.

At the time it’d reminded him of Dick, but every single word was no less applicable toward Jason. He kept his eyes closed as he sang You’ll be in my Heart, as quietly and soothingly as he could.

Jason sighed contentedly in his sleep, allowing everyone around him work.

- - -

Bruce could not honestly say how many hours it took Raven, Zatanna, and J’onn to heal Jason.

The entire ordeal was a gigantic blur to him. Someone had found him a chair, at some point, and that’s where he’d sat for what felt like an eternity, watching Raven and Zatanna take turns working on Jason’s many broken bones.

“…almost every bone in his body,” Zatanna had said.

“…with a crowbar,” J’onn had revealed.

Bruce could barely listen. Barely keep up. All he could think about was Jason’s face. Broken beyond recognition.

But they finally finished healing Jason. He looked perfect, when they were done. Like he were just sleeping, like any other Tuesday. Asleep in his bed, right where he belonged. Just as 15-year-old boys should be. Safe and sound.

Bruce barely had the chance to say “Thank you,” to them before Zatanna was helping Raven out of the room and to her own quarters to rest. Her efforts had drained her.

“Thank You” wouldn’t suffice, anyway.

There weren’t words in the English language to convey how grateful he was to them all. As he twirled one of Jason’s curls around his finger, all he could think about was how he’d almost never been able to look at those curls again.

Much less touch them.

He’d come so close to never hearing his child again. Never holding him. Never talking to him. Reading with him. Playing with him.

Working with him.

Jason had almost died that night.

He had died. For how long, Bruce had no idea.

His son had died.

And now, thanks to Raven and Zatanna and J’onn and Clark…

Thanks to them all. He was back.

Bruce-He had- he couldn’t-

There weren’t words.

Bruce freed his hand from Jason’s curls so he could press his fingers into his eyes. He’d already cried a lot, he was pretty sure. Right in front of everyone. But now that he was back in his right mind, there was really no excuse.

He needed to stop.

Besides, how helpful would it be for Jason, if he woke up and the first thing he saw was Batman crying?

“He’s going to be all right, you know,” Clark said, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“But he wasn’t,” Bruce said, and he was almost proud of himself for not sounding completely torn up inside.

Even though he was.

“Yeah, but he is now.”

But he wasn’t.

How much of that was Bruce’s fault?

All of it.

Had he just been faster. Had he not abandoned Jason there in the first place. He knew his son never listened. Why the hell did he trust him this time? This was what Jason did.

Why had he made Jason Robin to begin with…

Maybe that was the real problem here.

Why had he made Jason Robin to begin with.

What made him look a kid, barely 4 feet tall, and think “yes. He should be Robin.”

No. Dumb question.

Bruce knew why.

He’d wanted Jason. Not as Robin, necessarily. But just… Jason.

Jason Todd. The sassy, funny, strong, resourceful, arrogant, confident little kid he’d met. The brilliant street child with a heart of gold who desperately needed help.

All he had wanted to do was help Jason. Take him home and keep him.

And the only way he’d seen to do that was by making Jason Robin. By giving him a job and a purpose and a place.

Maybe he should have just told Jason straight up… Been honest with him and told him he just wanted to adopt him. Because he’d adored him from not even ten seconds into knowing him.

But that would have scared Jason off, he just knew it. Jason had been so skittish.

By making it about Robin, it had been far easier to integrate Jason into the family. To convince him to be adopted.

To make him his son.

That’s all Bruce wanted.

But look where that had gotten them…

Would Jason have faced death, had Bruce just never even met him? Had he just let Jason be? Report him to social services? Get him into a good boarding school?

Maybe. There was no telling.

He could have also just been murdered by the gangs. Starved to death. Kidnapped…

Bruce spent he had no idea how long just sitting there. Clark left after a while, with little more than a pat to his back and Jason’s knee.

How was he going to move past this?

Every time he looked at Jason, all he could see was his injuries.

If there was anything this entire ordeal had taught him, it was that firing Jason had been the right call.

Now he’d just have to find a way to enforce that.

Honestly. Bruce was going to have a hard time going back out, himself. The panic that still gripped at his mind would need to recede, a little, before he could even consider going out. Right now he didn’t want to even leave Jason’s side.

Some ten minutes passed, as Bruce just sat there, focusing on keeping his breathing steady and not thinking about anything. He kept his face buried in his heads, so he wasn’t looking at Jason and thinking. It was enough to just hear his son breathe. Deep and clear. Like nothing had happened. Like he were just asleep, after a long day.

It was comforting.

But that stopped abruptly, when Jason took a deep breath and shifted, a little, on the cot. Bruce looked up at him through his fingers, and saw Jason staring right back at him. With his beautiful blue eyes.

Alert and alive.

“Bruce?” he asked, furrowing his brow as he propped himself up on an elbow, “Are you crying?”

“No,” he said, smiling a little as he sat up and brushed Jason’s curls back, away from his beautiful eyes Bruce never wanted to look away from.

Jason didn’t buy it, even though he should have. Because Bruce wasn’t crying.

Although he kind of felt like doing so. Because so far, Jason seemed fine.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, leveling Bruce a quizzical look when Bruce stood and gently pushed Jason back into a lying position.

“Never mind that, Jay. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Jason said, frowning deeply now, “Really stiff, too. Where are we?”

Raven had mentioned something about stiffness. It would wear off, after a few days.

“Watchtower.”

“Why are we…” Jason started, then it seemed to register what Bruce actually said, because his eyes went side and he added, “Really? I’m in space right now?”

Bruce laughed. A little hysterically, maybe, as he set his hand at the top of Jason’s head so he could plant a kiss on his forehead.

He was just so…. Relieved.

Because he was still Jason.

J’onn hadn’t been sure he’d be able to fix the damage, but he was still Jason.

“Stay down,” Bruce said, gently, as he used his hand not combing through Jason’s hair to prevent him from sitting up when he tried, “I’ll let you explore later. Rest, now.”

“What happened, Bruce?” Jason asked, a little suspiciously, “Why are we on Watchtower? Why have you been crying?”

With a sigh, Bruce pulled his chair closer and sat down, then took one of Jason’s hands in his own.

Jason looked down at their hands, then backup at Bruce, with a spark of fear in his eyes. “Bruce?”

Bruce squeezed, then asked, “What do you remember?”

Not much, was Bruce’s hope. J’onn said he took Jason’s memories of the event, claiming Jason didn’t need the trauma associated with it. Not remember would be easier on him, he’d claimed. Bruce hoped he was right.

“I-“ Jason started, looking back down at his hand in Bruce’s, then back up in confusion as he continued, “I got on the plane. To Ethiopia.”

When all Bruce did was nod, Jason continued, “I was going to meet my mother.”

Bruce waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He just sat there, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared off at the wall behind Bruce.

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted, “I don’t even remember landing. Did the plane crash?”

J’onn took more than Bruce thought.

“No, it landed.”

“Why, then,” Jason asked, trailing off as he just stared at Bruce. Waiting for the answers he obviously knew Bruce had.

So Bruce sighed, and explained as plainly as possible, “Joker was there, Shelia wound up being involved with him. It had been a trap.” Perhaps it was a blessing he didn’t remember meeting his mother. He’d been trying to figure out how Joker knew where Jason was, and the only explanation he could come up with was Shelia sold him out. Even after Jason offered to help her, she sold him out.

She had to have. There was no other explanation.

“What?” Jason asked, clearly startled.

Before he could panic over any of that, Bruce quickly said, “But it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What about my mom?” Jason demanded, trying to sit up again, which Bruce prevented, “Is she okay? What did that bastard do to her?”

Bruce… wasn’t entirely sure. He had no recollection of what happened to Shelia after she said Jason saved her. He barely remembered what happened to himself in those minutes. Clark… Clark was there. He wouldn’t have let a random civilian die.

“She’s alive. She told me you saved her.”

Jason eyed Bruce for a good long second, before he finally nodded, and asked a little shakily, “What- what happened to me?”

Shaking his head, Bruce went back to playing with Jason’s hair as he did, “All that matters is you’re okay, now.”

“Bruce.”

Yeah. He didn’t think he’d get away with that.

Sighing, Bruce sat back up and said, “It- I’m not entirely sure. There was an explosion. I found you- I-“

How was he supposed to tell his fifteen-year-old son he found him dead on arrival?

He wasn’t.

That was not something Jason needed to know. All that mattered was he was fine, now.

“You were pretty hurt, but Raven, Zatanna, and Martian Manhunter fixed you up. Superman is the one who got us up here once I found you.”

Jason nodded, as he absorbed that information. “How did you know I was there?”

Bruce could cry, from the relief that Jason accepted that as explanation enough. “I followed you, Jay. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I-“ Jay started, but faltered. Averted his eyes and sighed. Like…

Like he honestly thought Bruce wouldn’t follow him.

“God, Jason,” he exhaled, squeezing Jason’s hand still in his while he rubbed at his own face with the other, “I love you, so much. You’re my son, I would do anything for you. Please- please don’t do this to me again. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“But-,” Jason started, a little tearfully as he did, “But you-“

When he didn’t elaborate, Bruce pressed with, “But what?”

“You fired me.”

“How does that contradict anything I just said,” Bruce asked lightly, shaking his head some. Because of course Bruce fired him. Any sane person would have tried to protect their child the way Bruce had.

Any sane person would have never let their child out there in the first place…

Jason sat up, then, swatting away Bruce’s hand before he could even attempt to keep Jason lying down. “You-you-,” he said, a little desperately, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“No,” he almost growled, standing so he could pull Jason to his chest. Hug him tightly and squash that horrible, awful thought. “How could you think that? Jay there will never be a day I don’t want you anymore.”

“But-“ Jason started, but Bruce wasn’t going to hear it.

He pushed Jason back, grabbing onto his face with both hands. “I’m serious. I love you, Jason Peter. I fired you because I love you. You’ve been too reckless, lately. Getting hurt too much. I can’t lose you, son. And tonight, tonight-“

“Why didn’t you tell me that,” Jason asked, crying some as he pulled his face out of Bruce’s hands so he could bury it in Bruce’s chest.

Bruce wrapped his arms back around his son and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said, which got Jason to laugh, a little. But he added, more seriously, “I thought you knew.”

“I can’t stop being Robin.”

“Jason. You almost died, tonight.” You did die, he thought bitterly.

“Can you stop being Batman?” he asked, his head still resting against Bruce’s chest as he did, “I’ll- I’ll do whatever you want. To make it safer. But I can’t quit.”

“Okay,” Bruce sighed. He still had no intention on allowing him back out any time soon.

If ever.

But he was done arguing about it. That was something they could do later. After Bruce had worked through everything. Looked through the footage and figured out what, exactly, happened.

In that moment, all he wanted to do was hold his son. The could worry about everything later.

“Just, get some rest, son,” he said, hugging Jason a little tighter before he reluctantly let go, so Jason could lay back down, “Raven said you need to rest for a while.”

Jason let go of Bruce and slowly lowered himself back onto the cot. After he rolled onto his side, he looked up at Bruce and said, “You’ll stay?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling his chair back so he could sit there again and caress Jason’s hair again, “Always.”

“Were you singing earlier?” Jason mumbled, already closing his eyes.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure if he was happy Jason remembered or not.

“Can you sing again?”

“Anything for you,” he whispered, before giving Jason one last kiss on his forehead before he sang his little boy to sleep.

“Anything for you.”

#Jason doesn't die AU #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Robin #Batfamily #Superman #Clark Kent #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #near death experience #bruce is a panicky mess #6k words #cross posted to ao3 #c writes

[awhitehead17]

Whumptober 2020: Day 23 - What’s a whumpee gotta do to get some sleep around here?

Prompt: Sleep deprivation

Summary: When Tim gets hit with Poison Ivy’s new toxin, he’s forced to stay awake until an antidote is created. Normally it would be easy however since he’s already pulled two all-nighters prior to being affected, it becomes a whole lot more difficult.

Enjoy! :D 

“Okay, so, don’t be mad, but something’s happened.”

It takes all of Bruce’s self-restraint to not let the sigh slip past his lips upon hearing his eldest son’s words. He knew the night had been going too smooth to be true, nothing has happened up until Dick called him through the comms.

“B? You still there?” Dick’s concerned voice travels into his ear.

“Yes, Nightwing, I’m still here.” Bruce answers evenly, waiting for his son to get to the point.

Nothing good ever follows the words ‘something’s happened’. 

“In simple terms, Red Robin’s been hit by Ivy’s new toxin. He’s fine, except not if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately Bruce does know what he means. Tim is fine physically and not injured however he has a poisonous toxin running through his veins.

“Red’s on his way back in the Batmobile with Robin, not the smartest move I know but Robin was there when Red got hit.”

Bruce finally gives in and lets out that sigh. He wish he could have been out in the field helping to find Poison Ivy, however he’s stuck in the cave behind the computer because of a damaged hip he acquired 3 nights ago, he was in no shape to go out and fight villains.

Ivy has recently conjured up a new toxin one of which takes affects when the body is asleep. When the body is relaxed the toxin begins to shut down the organs, eventually killing the affected in their sleep.

This new toxin appeared two nights ago and has been a headache since. Bruce has had to split the family up into two, one half going out on patrol to find Ivy herself and the other half is mixed between working on an antidote (since it’s new they have not yet got one) and working out what Ivy’s other motives are as there’s reason to believe this toxin is simply a distraction for something bigger.

The fact Tim has now been hit with the toxin brings a new urgency to creating an antidote.

Bruce is disrupted from his thoughts when a familiar engine could be heard echoing throughout the cave. He waits patiently and observes as the batmobile pulls to a stop and two doors open up. The bickering could instantly be heard and Bruce takes a deep breath in order to help prepare himself to be deal with his two youngest.

His sons immediately head over to him at the computer and stand a couple feet away. Damian was scowling, he had his hood up and arms crossed over his chest. Tim had his cowl down and Bruce could see the way his eyes were dilated and how sweat was coating his skin.

“Father,” Damian demands his attention after a moment, “Drake has once again proven that he is incompetent in the field.”

Next to him Tim grits his teeth and Bruce could see how the boy was holding himself back from making the retort he desperately wants to.

“Damian, you’re finished for the night, go get changed and head for bed.”

“But father-”

Bruce’s glare stops his youngest from voicing the rest of his protest. Once Damian is heading for the changing rooms, he turns to Tim. “Tim, I want you to go to the medical bay, let Alfred take a blood sample and then get yourself washed and changed. Once you’re done, we’ll talk.”

Tim wordlessly nods and heads for the medical bay where Alfred was waiting for him. While he waits for Tim to sort himself out he turns his attention back onto his other family members still out in the field. He updates them with the situation and gets reports back in return. By the time he was all caught up Tim had retuned to the computer.

“How are you feeling?”

Tim sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair. “I’m fine, I don’t feel like I’ve been poisoned or anything. Nothing is hurt, well maybe except my pride. It was a stupid mistake and I messed up.”

Bruce leans forward as much as he can in the chair and pins Tim with a firm look. “You do understand the seriousness of this situation don’t you Tim? You may not feel anything right now but under no circumstances, as much as I hate to say it, you cannot go to sleep. We’ll be having a conversation on your performance once we know you’re safe and toxin free.”

Tim rolls his eyes in that typical defiant fashion that teenagers seem to have. “I know Bruce, I’m not stupid. I can help create the antidote. Also, I’m pretty experienced of working without sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“That's great except you’ve already pulled nearly two all-nighters prior to tonight.” A new voice joins their conversation. The two of them look over to see Dick walking towards them, glaring at Tim as he does so.

Upon hearing this Bruce rubs his forehead. So it’s going to be much harder to keep Tim awake than he thought because his son was already sleep deprived as it was. Keeping him awake for another 24 hours or so was going to be difficult.

Tim glares at his brother. “I’ve handled worse. I’ll be fine.” With that he storms off and heads towards the stairs in order to go up to the manor.

Bruce shares a look with Dick. “We’ll rotate people to keep an eye on him at all times. He can’t be allowed to sleep until we can clear the toxin from his body. It’s nearly done now anyway, another day then it should be complete, hopefully.”

Dick nods slowly. “Yeah, like I said he’s already running on fumes so it’s not going to be long until he crashes for good. If you and Alfred focus on the antidote then the rest of us will keep Tim awake. Please finish it soon.”

------

The day that follows is interesting for everyone. Much to his annoyance Tim was being watched like a hawk, anytime he even closes his eyes for more than two seconds someone was there either calling his name or physically shaking him.

This of course leads Tim to being snappy with anyone who was around him at the time, his tiredness was quickly coming through and it was clear he wanted to rest but could not do so.

Dick watches as Tim floats about the manor, going between the kitchen, library, bathroom and his bedroom. They’ve banned him from any form of training, saying that the exercise will tire him out quicker. In result Tim is working on WE reports and case files to fill up the time while the antidote gets made.

Dick joins Tim in the library and silently works on his own files while keeping an eye on his brother. It doesn’t go unnoticed on how Tim sometimes pauses as if he’s forgotten what he’s writing, or the way he stares at the page for a good five minutes before carrying on with the task.

Dick was getting worried because the sleep deprivation was clearly getting to Tim now and it’s only a matter of time before he crashes.

The two of them work in companionable silence until Tim groans and stands up to stretch. He looks over at Dick, “I’m going to get some food, want anything?”

Dick shakes his head. “No thanks.” He watches as Tim nods and begins to head for the door. He’s glad he had been watching Tim because after a couple steps Tim swayed on his feet and without even thinking about it, Dick jumps out of his seat and lunges for his brother. He reaches Tim just in time to catch him before he hits the ground.

Dick lowers them both to the ground and checks Tim over. “Tim, you okay? What’s wrong?”

Tim blinks at him owlishly for a moment and frowns, “I uh, I don’t… God the room just spun like crazy then and I lost my balance I guess.”

“That's the sleep deprivation, it’s really hitting you now. You just need to stay awake a little longer bud. Bruce is nearly done with the antidote.” God he hopes he is. Without any other words, Dick picks Tim up and takes him to the couch, putting him down gently.

Tim slumps into the cushions behind him and Dick feels terrible because he looks so wiped out and awful. He wants his brother to be healthy again. When Tim’s eyes close, Dick reaches out and roughly pats his cheeks. “Hey, none of that, not yet Tim okay.”

Tim noncommittedly hums as he pulls himself into an upright position and leans over his work again. Dick studies him for a moment before deciding to return to his own workstation. As he settles into the seat he sends Tim a look. “I’ll text Jay and see if he can bring in some food for us, perhaps a drink as well.”

When Tim doesn’t respond Dick shrugs it off and sends Jason the message. After that he cracks back on with his own work.

Time goes by and Dick soon realises he hadn’t checked on Tim for a while. He looks over to where the teenager was sat only to feel his heart stop inside of his chest. For a second time, Dick is lunging across the room to get to his brother, who was lying down on the couch with his face pressed into the cushions.

With one hand Dick reaches out to check for a pulse and with the other he scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket. Thankfully there’s still a steady beat underneath two of his fingers but he has no idea how long Tim had fallen asleep for. This was Dick’s fault, he should have been paying closer attention to his brother.

“Dick?” A voice calls for him through his phones speaker.

Dick frantically shouts into the phone while desperately trying to shake Tim awake. “Bruce please tell me you have the antidote ready! Tim’s fallen asleep and I have no idea how long he’s been like it!”

“Yes, it’s just been finished, we’re prepping a needle now. Where are you?”

“We’re in the library. Bruce hurry!”  

“Alfred is on his way. There are precautions however because it hasn’t been tested-”

“Fuck the precautions Bruce! Tim is dying we need to save him!”

Bruce continues to speak on the phone but Dick wasn’t listening. He was too focused on his sleeping brother, worrying about how his body is going to shut down if he doesn’t wake up. Tim wasn’t waking up no matter what Dick tries.

“Master Dick, please allow me.” Dick looks up and is relieved to find Alfred approaching them. Dick shuffles to the side to make room for the butler and watches with an intense stare as Alfred takes Tim’s arm and injects him with the antidote. As soon as it’s administered Dick is asking questions.

“How long until it takes affect? Will it work? What if it doesn’t Alfred?”

A gentle hand on his arm stops him from rambling. “Master Dick, unfortunately all we can do is wait and see. Master Bruce is still in the lab triple checking it over but an estimation will be a few hours or so, especially considering how exhausted the lad is.”

Dick nods his head and takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down and trust Alfred’s words.

The next few hours were awful. Dick could feel all of the anxiety, the anticipation and worry storming inside of him as he paces around the library waiting for Tim to wake up. In that time, Bruce had now joined them in the room along with Alfred and even Jason.

A small gasp soon gets his attention and Dick abruptly stops walking to stare at the couch where Tim was lying. Sparks of hope travel through him as he watches Tim stir and joy explodes in him when Tim’s eyes open up. Before anyone else could react, Dick was moving, making his way to the couch and pulling Tim into a fierce hug.

“God I was so worried! Never do that to me again baby bird.”

Tim’s only response is to loosely hug Dick back while he tries to wrap his head around what happened. Dick ignores it all, loving the feeling of having his brother back and mostly out of danger, they can deal with everything else soon enough.

#Whumptober2020 #day twenty three #sleep deprivation #Tim Drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Damian Wayne #big brother dick #worry #bit angsty #poisonous toxin #panic #fanfiction #batfamily #sorry for the terrible summary

[red-jaebyrd]

Fight or Flight

Whumptober #1 Hanging

Gotham Girl wouldn’t stop screaming. Bruce followed her line of sight to the three prone figures hanging in the Cave. All the air left his lungs as Bruce took in the scene before eyes. His sons were beaten unconscious and hanging by their necks. The words ‘I AM BANE’ written on their bare chests with what Bruce hoped was not their blood.

“No!” Bruce roared, scaring a colony of bats.

He quickly ran to Dick, Jason and Damian and checked for pulses. They were all alive, but barely. Damian’ good eye blinked open at the contact. The other eye was red and swollen shut, blood dripping from his nose and busted lip. Bruce’s heart sank as his eyes locked with his youngest boy’s face.  Fear filled the teen’s eyes, his gaze remaining on Bruce as he clutched at the rope around his neck. Tears were pouring down Damian’s face as he struggled to breathe and stay conscious. He was quickly losing the fight. Both Dick and Jason remained motionless.

Without a word, both Bruce and Alfred worked quickly to free Damian first. Once freed, Alfred carried him to the medbay and laid him gently on a gurney. Damian’s wheezing and choked sobs echoed in the Cave.

“My dear boy, you’re safe now,” Alfred comforted.

“Neck…hurts,” Damian croaked, tears still falling down his cheeks.

“I will give you something for the pain before I check you over,” Alfred replied, promptly fitting Damian with an oxygen mask. The effort to keep his voice calm and even was not lost on Bruce.

Bruce continued to help free Jason as he looked the worse for wear between him and Dick. Deep red bruises were peppered along Jason’s bare torso. Both his hands were swollen and blooded especially along the knuckles.

Bruce was able to get Jason free from the ropes and carried him gently to the medbay setting him down gingerly on a gurney. He removed Jason’s helmet and brushed his hand along Jason’s cheek. Instantly Jason’s eyes fluttered opened and he gasped for air.

Jason didn’t say anything; instead he swung a weak punch at Bruce’s face.

“Jaylad, it’s me. It’s Bruce. You’re safe,” Bruce said gently, holding Jason’s wrists to avoid getting hit. Jason’s eyes were glazed over, staring at Bruce without seeing; his fight response automatic and unrelenting. Bruce’s words fell on deaf ears.

Without a word to Bruce, Alfred quickly administered a sedative into Jason’s thigh.  Jason whimpered and his body slowly stilled. His eyes briefly flickered to Bruce before they closed. Bruce put an oxygen mask on Jason to help him breath, and then he heard it.

“Ack.”

It was the strangled sound of his eldest regaining consciousness and trying to breathe.

Both men rushed over to Dick as he thrashed and clawed at the rope around his neck. Bruce lifted Dick so Alfred could remove the rope around Dick’s neck. Dick continued to cough and gasp for breath as Bruce lowered him to the ground.

“’m sorry, Bruce...,” Dick whispered hoarsely, tears filling his eyes. Deep red bruises lined his cheeks and jaw.

“Shh, Dick, don’t talk,” Bruce soothed.

“We-we were…gonna go…after him, after Bane…but…,” Dick continued, each word dragged out painfully between breaths. “…he was waiting…for us. It was…an ambush.”

“We’ll talk later. We need to look at your neck and you need oxygen.”

Dick reached up to touch his neck and winced. The rope had rubbed it raw.

“D-Damian, is Damian…,” Dick asked, frantically looking around the Cave. “…and Jason? He got it the worst.”

“Shh. They’re resting. Alfred is tending to them.”

“I’m so sorry, Bruce.” Dick apologized again and then passed out.

“Dick,” Bruce panicked. He immediately placed two fingers at Dick’s neck and felt the steady rhythm of a pulse.

He carried Dick to the medbay and set him on a gurney between Jason and Damian. Alfred promptly fitted an oxygen mask over Dick’s face and checked over his vitals.

He knew this would happen if they stayed in Gotham, that’s why he told them to leave. Bruce practically begged them to pack up and leave town. But of course, they didn’t listen. Of course they were going to stay and stand their ground against Bane. There was no way that his sons would willingly walk away from any conflict. They were too loyal to him, to Gotham, and to his mission to leave this fight for Bruce alone.

It took some time, but both Bruce and Alfred were able to clean the wounds on each of the boys’ necks and various other contusions on their bodies. While Dick and Jason slept through it, Damian kept waking up despite the heavy painkillers but settled once Alfred the cat curled up by his hip.

When they were done, Bruce collapsed in a chair next to Damian’s bed and took his small hand in his. The adrenaline was wearing off and he could feel the soreness in his bones seep in. The relief of his boys’ survival greatly outweighed the anger Bruce felt at their clear defiance of his order. The fear of losing them tonight nearly did him in. This couldn’t happen again. The only way to guarantee his sons’ safety was to make sure they were far away from Gotham; because if they stayed they’d continue the fight and Bane wouldn’t hesitate to take his sons away from him for good.

The thought of having to bury another one of his boys was too much for Bruce. He’d already lost so much over the years and while he did get two of his sons back, it wasn’t a gamble he was willing to risk. Not with Bane out there wreaking havoc in Gotham.  He knew his boys could handle themselves out there, but this latest confrontation with Bane was way out of their scope. Even without the venom, Bane was still a formidable fighter. The thought of losing any of them to him or any other maniac remained a constant fear of his. Bruce couldn’t bear that pain or loss again, especially so soon after losing Tim.

No, he needed to be proactive and intentional with their safety. His boys were going to hate him, but if it kept them safe and away from danger, away from Bane, he’d endure their anger toward him.

“What shall we do now, Sir?” Alfred asked, gently carding his hand through Damian’s hair.

“We stabilize their condition. Keep them sedated, and send them somewhere safe for them to recover.”

“And where is that, Sir?”

There was only one place on Earth that Bruce trusted his sons would be safe and far away from danger.

“The Fortress of Solitude.”

Part Two - Best of You

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #Hanging #batman #fic #near asphyxiation tw #near suffocation tw #survived hanging tw #batfic #Bruce Wayne #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Batman 16 #my fics

[truxblooded]

Jason Todd and Reader knowing each other on the streets then they loose touch with each other when Bruce takes him in. that is until the day Batman finds and saves the reader, taking them In too and making them the newest member of the vigilante family

[Goddamn, this one got away from me lol ENJOY!]

He felt like he’d known her since forever. 

That’s just how it had been since day one. The streets were a cruel, hard world where only the strong survived and the deviously cunning ruled. And it was while learning this lesson that Jason Todd met Y/N. It was while on the receiving end of a massive ass whipping that Jason Todd met the one person he felt he could truly rely on for possibly the rest of his life. 

Y/N had come in out of nowhere, brandishing pipe and fist, taking no mercy on every grown man who had decided it was worth their while to beat a clueless kid who was only trying to survive in a place that no one taught him how. She’d been the one to carry him off to some place safe, nurse him back to health, and ultimately begin teaching him the ways of the streets to stay safe and to survive. Y/N stuck close to Jason and he to her, and for a good long while they stayed that way.

That is until, Jason decided to try and steal the tires off the most infamous vehicle in all of Gotham.

That had been almost thirty years ago. 

The last time Jason had ever seen Y/N was when he was being swept off by the Batman and she was left to stand there in the middle of the street watching after the leaving Batmobile like an abandoned puppy. The last time Jason had ever thought about Y/N was when he was left tied up and beaten to within an inch of his life by the Joker inside a warehouse. As he stared down the bomb that was rigged to explode in less than ten, his final thoughts were about her. About how grateful he was to have known her, to have had her in his life, and how miserably sorry he was for never tracking her down to see her. 

The last time Jason had ever thought about Y/N had truly been the last and final time… that is until now.

He stared dumbstruck in almost frozen surprised horror at the sight before him. Laid out on the medical table in the Batcave covered in too many cuts oozing blood that mixed with grim, and looking both just like the last time he had seen her and not at all, was the last person he ever thought he would find back in his miserable chaotic life. And now that she was suddenly back in his life, she teetered on the very verge of leaving it all over again.

Batman had called in as he raced back to the Batcave, ordering everyone into high gear and prepare for an emergency medical situation immediately. Alfred had been ready as soon as the Batmobile came roaring into the cave, slamming to a tire screaming halt that kicked up burned rubber and smoke. He and Selina assisted as soon as the canopy of the Batmobile slid back and Batman was vaulting up out of the driver seat shouting instructions and detailed information that Barbara started inputing into all the machinery that Jason had zero fucking clue over.

Watching from the sidelines, his nose crinkled at the sight of the mangled and beaten body that was carried to the table and laid out. Some poorly beaten woman had the extreme luck of being found by the Batman, and instead of dumped off at Gotham General, she was in the Batcave being treated. From what Jason caught in between medical jargon being shouted the infernal racket of the hospital equipment squealing high pitched here and there, the bloody victim had been at the mercy of Victor Zsasz. How she had gotten into that position was unclear, but from what Bruce had learned in the short span of time he had had, she’d put up a huge fight against more than just Zsasz himself.

It was only when Bruce had rambled off further details, including her name, that Jason nearly hit the floor. Shoving his way between Selina and Alfred, earning a cuffing to the ear for his mannerisms and chastising words, Jason stared wide eyed at the face of the one person he truly never thought he’d see again.

Reaching out a shaking hand, he gripped her arm closest to him and gave a squeeze. “…. Y/N?”

“Jason, you need to back up.” Bruce’s regular voice ordered as he watched the sudden and very rapid eye movement beneath closed lids, the machines they had hooked up to the woman suddenly speeding up in their readings as her pulse and heart rate were quickly climbing.

“Y/N?!” He was almost frantic, leaning in over her abused face that had aged much like his own and yet… there was something that was just as young as it had been the day he looked up at her in relief. “Y/N!! FUCK YOU!! DON’T YOU FUCKING DIE ON ME!! OPEN YOUR EYES!!”

 “Jason, back up!” Selina gripped his shoulder and tugged, not gaining more than him roughly shoving her off with a heavy shrug of his shoulder.

“Master Todd, please, you need to—!”

The noise volume grew chaotic. The hospital machines squealing loudly in alarm and the lights overhead suddenly starting hum as the intensity in wattage the bulbs were giving out were starting to grow. Bruce was the first to notice the environment reacting to the sudden chaos, and in his long years of experience it was never nothing good.

“Y/N OPEN YOUR GODDAMN EYES!!”

“JASON! BACK UP! NOW!”

Without any further warning, the world suddenly seemed to just erupt about the small gathering with an ear splitting noise that was almost ungodly in its high pitched density, the sound almost comparable to the Canary Cry. Screen glass shattered while light bulbs of every varying degree exploded alongside the filaments inside, casting the Batcave into a darkness that wasn’t uncommon but unexpected. Bruce, Selina, Alfred, and Jason all threw their hands up over their ears and groaned in pain as the sound tore deep into their hearing with unforgiving relentlessness. 

For thirty seconds the sound held reign before suddenly dying as quickly as it erupted, leaving all four of them perplexed and momentarily deaf. Only the cast off glow of the computer screens further back away from the medical bay that hadn’t been directly impacted by whatever had just happened, illuminated the cave along with the emergency track lighting switched on by backup generator power.

As soon as he had his bearings, Jason’s immediate instinct was to check on Y/N, his fingertips seeking her pulse and holding his own breath in minute terror that maybe something had happened to her in turn. But right there beneath the tremble of his fingers, he felt the steady rhythm of her pulse and he exhaled a hard sigh in relief. 

“What the hell just happened?!” Selina shouted, more from a lack of not having the control of her volume thanks to the lack of hearing.

Two weeks.

Y/N was unconscious for a little over two weeks and monitored at all times by someone in the family, whether it was Alfred or even Damian (much to Jason’s dislike). In those two weeks Bruce had found out through scanning and testing that what had occurred in the cave the night he’d rescued her from a death at the hands of Zsasz was a result of Y/N being meta-human. What kind and what powers she held were unknown for the time being, and for that, Bruce labeled her ‘dangerous’.

Jason was in and out of the recovery ward, whether it was only for a few minutes or lengthy stay, he was in and out watching her with the hope she would wake up and that he could have back something in his life from the very beginning. He never did more than silently sit and stare, brooding as Dick called it more than once, but he did it at her bedside all while silently willing for her to wake up.

It was going on three weeks when Damian, who was on current bedside watch, stuck his head out the ward door and shouted that “THE FREE LOADER IS AWAKE!”

Jason was the first in the room and unceremoniously shoving Damian out the door and slamming it shut in his face, much to the shortest member of the family’s disdain and hollering protest. A reunion was long over do. And while it took a few seconds longer than Jason enjoyed, Y/N’s eyes went wide as recognition flickered within them.

“Jason?” Her voice was a little deeper than he remembered, rasped and broken from a lack of not using it while unconscious, but the familiar tone and lilt were there. 

He nodded, licking his lips out sheer nervousness while his hands flexed at his sides, the way she was looking at him punching a hole straight through his chest. It was… broken… a broken expression that mixed relief and anger and heartache all in one alongside who knows how many other emotions, but it was the way her brow buckled and her bottom lip wobbled that got to the rather emotionless ma who knew anything but rage and anger.

“You’re alive.” 

In less than two he was at her bedside, face buried in the crook of her neck while he awkwardly stooped to hug her fiercely, holding on with a desperation to not lose what he’d lost for the last decade. Jason took in short, shallow, and ragged breaths as he tried to keep himself from falling apart. He refused to cry in front of her back then, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to do it now. But that refusal crumbled the moment her arms encircled him and gave a weak squeeze, and Jason Todd broke with a heaving sob.

“The fuck was he thinking when he designed that?!” Jason squawked, irritation clearly scrawled on his face to make up for the fact that the sight before him was entirely too arousing.

Half-heartedly rolling her eyes, Y/N shook her head as she turned about in front of the dressing mirror in her room, glancing over her shoulder to look at herself from every angle possible. “I like it. It’s comfortable and I can move in it without a problem.” 

“You look like Selina’s mini-me… if you weren’t an inch taller than her.” Screwing his face up into a semi-scowl, Jason crossed his arms and attempted to look not happy as possible. 

“How? I’m entirely zipped up and covered!” Y/N returned while turning to face Jason with arms held wide as she cocked a brow at him. “Is it because of the black? Because I hate to break it to you, Jay-bird, but every one in your family has a thing for black of bordering on extremely dark colors. Including yourself.” 

She watched his brow twitch, the way his gaze darted to dance over her figure and then away just as color started to touch his cheeks. And then it dawned on her, expression holding a look of surprise for just a few seconds before a Cheshire grin began to curve her lips. 

“Jason Todd… are you turned on by the way I’m dressed?”

“Fuck you, I’m out of here.”

#Friday night blurb night #Friday Blurbs #Jason Todd x reader #skymoonandstardust

[multifandom-damnation]

Check her pulse

He wakes up in a cold sweat, quickly-but-carefully sitting up so he didn’t hit his head on the bunk above him and grabbed his hair, tugging the black stands and threading it through his fingers to ground him to the now. Slowly, his hands stop shaking, his fingers stop twitching, his brain stops screaming, his chest stops the rapid rising-falling of a man’s last breaths and his heart stops hammering away behind his rib-cage.

He drums his fingers against his scalp, blinks away the last of that night’s sleep, breathes in for 8 holds for 4 and out for 7. He places a hand over his frantic heart and tries to still it. He counts until his breathing and heartbeats match and then he starts counting the beats between the two. The images started to fade from behind his eyelids, the black and red swirls fading into an afterimage of fear and death and pain.

He opens his eyes and is greeted by the cool darkness and safety of his cabin. Every nook and cranny recorded to memory, every and any sound as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror. Although, that was becoming less and less familiar to him as time went by. He often wondered how long it would take him to forget his old face, his old smile, the way his eyes lit up and crinkled when he laughed and how his skin was free of pale scars and fading burns.

He lowers his fingers and licks his lips to get rid of the acidic taste of the nightmare, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. He feels the heat from beside him, a heat that’s become as familiar to him these past few months as his cabin has. He gently racks his fingers through the blond locks as he smiled down at her sleeping face. Unmoving and cold, her face was the one thing he knew he would never forget if he tried-

He stopped. His fingers ceased their path through her hair, his heart motionless beating and his breath froze in his lungs. Cold. Unmoving. That’s not right. She kicks and she mumbles and she snores. She was never so… still. She was colder than the arctic ocean and her face had lost some pallor to it. She was burning, always a burning star to his cold depths, but right now their roles were switched and only one thought ran through his head like a holy mantra.

Check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse.

With shaking fingers, he gently lifted her arm and put two fingers to her wrist. He waited, his held breath burning his chest, and nearly cried when he felt the jump of life against his fingertips. He tried to rationalise to quiet his screaming mind. The room was cold, he realised then, the parts of her body out of the bed were cold because the room was icy. He could feel her legs kicking gently beneath the covers and soft snores escaped her mouth. She was alive.

But when he brought his hands to his face and saw them trembling like an earthquake, saw his vision go blur with fear and the memories of too much loss made his mind numb, he gently covered her with the rest of the blankets and slipped out the side. He quietly padded across the wooden floor, careful to avoid the objects hidden in the dark and reached the door. His mind was still screaming and his heart was still roaring but he carefully opened the door, cautious of the slight squeak. He watched for the harpies to fly to the other end of the camp, then he gently closed the door behind him when he made his way out and ran.

He ran like Nyx was on his tale, the darkness of memories about to consume him. He ran with his eyes closed, he realised and he was running through the camp with muscle memory. He ran past the Zeus cabin and the mess hall, headed in a beeline for his safe place.

He collapsed in the sand, gasping and squeezing his eyes closed so tight he could see sparks. He gripped the sand in his fists and focused on the course feeling of it on his palms, running through his fingers and over the back of his hand. It was soft sand, smooth sand, not the black shards of the beaches in Tartarus. He gripped the sand so tightly he bled, rocks indenting itself in his palms.

He heard screaming, his name. “Percy. Percy. Percy.” And she was on her knees, begging for him to get up, to help her help Annabeth! but he couldn’t move. He watched the blood run in rivulets and turn into a flood, and he was drowning, drowning in fear and pain and sorrow. How can a son of Poseidon drown? He of the often asked himself. Now he knew the answer.

A hand on his shoulder and Percy’s breaths were coming in ragged gasps, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the blood. He opened them and tried to blink away the tears before they could fall, but he was too late. They were already falling down his face and landing in the sand.

“Percy,” He heard again, but it wasn’t Annabeth’s cries of anguish, it was… who? “You alright man? Should I call Will?”

What was Jason doing out this late at night? “N-no,” Percy said, quickly rubbing the tears from his face, but he couldn’t stop more from brimming in his eyes. “I’m ok. I’m fine. What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing but I feel like I already know the answer,” Jason said and Percy could hear Jason running his fingers through his hair. “I saw you running past the Zeus cabin. I thought I’d come out and see if you needed anything.”

Percy bit his lip, knew when it turned red. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want Jason to see his face. “I’m good man. Thanks though.”

He held his breath, hoping to hear his footsteps fade away into the sand. But Jason hadn’t moved away, only sat down next to Percy and put his arms around his knees. Percy stared down at the sand and watched his blood and tears mix together in the grains.

“What happened, Perce?” Jason asked finally, watching the waves come in. “What spooked you so badly?” Percy didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want Jason to think he was weak, didn’t want him to know. But his shoulders started shaking and his lungs started to burn and he knew that Jason would see and know he was lying or holding something back or keeping a secret- and that was almost as bad as telling the truth.

“I thought she was dead.” He whispered, letting the tears fall. He felt Jason look at him. Percy didn’t think he could meet those piercing blue eyes, not when he knew that Jason would not stop until he found out what was wrong. “Why would you think that?” Jason asked, an exhale of breath that curled on the wind. It must have been cold. Percy could feel it. “It wasn’t a nightmare was it?”

“It was but… it wasn’t. I woke up from a nightmare, but she was next to me and I thought she was dead.” Percy rubbed the back of his head, tugging at his hair.

“You said you weren’t having nightmares anymore.” It wasn’t a question. “You said you hadn’t had one in months.”

“Yeah, well. I lied.”

Percy could hear Jason sigh. He extended his legs, grunting at an old injury in his knee, and watched the water wind itself over Percy’s knuckles. “Did you lie about being ok as well then?”

Percy didn’t feel like an answer was needed. He brought his hand up in front of his face and made the water run down his palm, clearing away the blood and mixing it with the clear water.

He pointed out towards the sea and the water shot out from his hand, an arrow of liquid back where it belongs. Percy watched the waves rising and falling, eventually deciding he was sick of the constant in and out rush of the water, he changed the pattern into a heartbeat. Annabeth’s heartbeat he realised, closing his eyes.

“What did you do?” Jason asked, breaking the silence. “When you woke up and thought she was dead?”

Curling his fingers into a fist, Percy tried to force the tears back. Jason waited for him patiently “I- I panicked.” Percy admitted, struggling to find the right words “I grabbed her wrist, I turned it over and I- “

Check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse….

Percy gripped his ears, rushing water suddenly filling his head to the point of bursting. Shaking his head, he tried to dislodge the water but blood only made rivulets down his face like tears.

Check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse….

He tugged at his hair and when he pulled away, the raven black turned into the shadowed form of Nyx and her horses, looking down at him

Check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse, check her pulse….

“Percy.” Jason’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he snapped his eyes open wide to stare bug-eyed at the pulsing waves. “I checked her pulse.” He whispered and Percy could feel the make-believe tears of blood being replaced with actual tears that left tracks down his face. “I needed to know if she was alive, so I checked her pulse.”

Sighing, Jason shuffled closer to Percy and put his arms around his shoulders. “It’s going to be alright.” He mumbled as he gently pulled Percy closer, wrapping his arms around him like a chest plate. “It’s going to be alright.”

“No Jason.” Percy sobbed, holding tight to Jason’s t-shirt like it was his only anchor to reality. “It won’t be ok. I’m a monster.”

“No, no, no” Jason soothed, lightly stroking his fingers through Percy’s hair. Strands fell out around his fingers from where Percy had been pulling at it. “That’s not true.”

“Annabeth think’s I’m a monster.”

Taken aback, Jason’s hand stopped moving. “No, she doesn’t. Why would you ever think that?”

Percy went still. “You didn’t see her face in Tartarus.” He whispered, his voice sounding as broken as his heart.

Jason remembered the talks he had with Annabeth, the fear she felt when Percy had consumed Akhlys in a fountain of her own poison and corruption, the haunted look to his face, the sickening green his eyes would glow and the twisted grin on his face as he watched her writhe in pain.

Looking down at the sad and broken man weeping into his chest, Jason couldn’t ever imagine that they were the same person. But he knew. And he hated that he knew.

“It’s going to be alright, Perce.” Jason whispered “I promise that I’ll help you get through this. I swear on the River Styx.”

Jason held Percy until the sun started to rise, and when it raised high enough that the waved shone and the tide tickled his feet, Percy raised his arms and circled them both in a shield of water.

They were gone by the time Annabeth frantically burst through the doors of the Poseidon cabin, only for her to see Percy’s smiling form at his table, waving her over.

Nothing like the man he was last night. And as Jason watched them from his place at his father’s table, he realised that that was the most frightening thing about Percy Jackson.

Hi! This is for the lovely @goggles-mcgee , who turns 20 today! Happy Birthday, Lizza, I hope this is good enough. If it isn’t I’m sorry, you’ll just have to actually tell me when it is next time! I love you! For everyone else, here is a little Percy/Jason bromance! Bye!

#pjo #hoo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #jason grace #tartarus #my writing #i hope its ok #i really really tried

[ughigottaheadache]

CPR and Jaytim? I love some good angst~

1, 2, 3, 4, I found you lying on the floor:

Of all places Tim would have thought he needed to do this, he didn’t think it would be here.

He’s resuscitated people on beaches, on sides of roads and in the middle of battle, this shouldn’t feel different. Yet, as he checks Jason’s pulse and checks for breath, holding a batarang underneath Jason’s nose, to see if any breath fogged the shiny surface of the metal, it feels like he’s been shot in the stomach.

His pulse is there, but it’s so weak.

He’s not breathing. He isn’t breathing and Tim’s training flies from his mind for a split second.

The process runs through his mind. He needs to get Jason out of his armour and on his back. The comm.s are turned down in his ear, and he turns them up as he unzips Jason’s jacket, it was unnerving to see him so still.

It sounds like the fight in the chemical facility is coming to an end, he can tell because Steph is taunting someone, she only really taunts if she knows she’s in complete control of a situation.

“Spoiler, Hood is down, wrap it up and get to my location.”

“What’s his condition?” She asks, out of breath, just as Tim finds the clasps that keep the torso armour in place. His hands are shaking.

“Unresponsive, he’s not breathing.” Tim thinks back to when he found Jason in the control room, on his side, the man they were tracking down across the states sprawled over the controls, a shard of metal dug into his thigh and a bruise over his head, it was clear Jason was able to get the job done, what wasn’t clear was what happened to him.

Stephanie swears and the sounds of a nose crunching are easy to hear through the sensitive comm.s.

Jason’s left hand had been poised around his throat, the other reaching for his Hood, like he needed it. Things like filtration, comm.s and vitals were programmed and built into the Hood.

Was he attacked by a gas that immobilised lungs?

The victims of this chemical engineer gone insane had similar states, died of suffocation yet they had no bruises that said that something strangled them.

Tim finally got the armour off and pushed the front of Jason’s jacket to his sides. He felt for a heartbeat.

Still there.

He had to start compressions.

Thirty compressions, then three breaths through the mouth, make sure to keep the compressions to a third of depth of the chest, and keep the nose pinched when supplying breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Stephanie barged into the room when he hit ten, her heavy boots stomping as she ran to them, already talking to Babs on her personal direct line, near frantic but clear.

Eleven.

“We’re in the chemical facility up North of Gotham, West of Amusement Mile. Hood is down, unresponsive, not breathing, and we need a transport, all we have are our bikes.”

Twelve.

“Get the perp, make sure he isn’t dead.”

Thirteen.

His arms would get tired by possibly the sixth or seventh round he’d do if he needed. Stephanie lifted the perp from his armpits and lowered him to the ground, checked for a pulse.

Fifteen.

The halfway point. Sixteen. Seventeen.

He chances a peek at Jason’s face. It’s slack, almost like he’s sleeping, only, this time, he might not wake up. Tim’s so used to seeing his face, be it contorted with intensity or smooth with peace, his groggy, adorable confused face whenever he wakes up after Tim, or that face he pulls whenever Dick pulls by to ‘chat’, even though they all know Dick still doesn’t trust Jason, because, like Bruce, he holds onto the past a lot of the time.

Twenty three. Twenty four. Twenty five. Twenty six.

Jason’s lips are parted, and his lower lip is busted, blood only just starting to crust with the platelets and oxidisation.

Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Thirty.

Tim stops the compressions and bends down to Jason’s face, taking hold of his nose and chin, angling his head so his neck was open, better for air to get through. He took a deep breath and exhaled, doing his best to dispel as much carbon dioxide from his lung as possible, and he started with the breaths, after each one making sure that there was a rise and fall in Jason’s chest.

Locking lips this way felt so scary, scarier than the very first time they’d kissed, Tim on his own motorcycle, about to ride off to the Manor to meet up with Cass since she’d recently returned from China, and Jason standing there with a stupid blush over his face with his dumb constellations of freckles, rubbing the back of his neck, Hood held by the other hand, propped against his hip.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

“If you wanna ask me out on a date, you might want to do it before I pass out.” Jason had sputtered at Tim’s ease, almost dropping his Hood.

While Tim himself was freaking out a bit too, he was too tired to process it into an expression.

“I was! Going to ask you, I’m just thinking of what...”

“To do? Okay, how about this; you have my number, text me any ideas you have, that way you don’t have to trip over your words. Sound good?” Jason obviously looked a bit put out, so Tim ticked a little idea through his head.

“C’mere a sec.” He beckoned Jason close with a finger and when he was close enough, Tim stood enough to be face to face with him. He caught Jason’s lips in what was probably the shortest kiss he’s ever given.

Jason’s lips were soft and full, and while Tim wanted to stay to get to know them better, he had to get back in time to meet his sister.

He pulled back, and tugged his helmet on.

“Take that as encouragement to not ghost me, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh,” Jason breathed dumbly, standing still, eyes dazed.

“Gotta blast. Text me!” He shouted through his helmet and over the roar of his engine coming to life.

Twenty two. Twenty three. Twenty four.

Tim remembers that he freaked out after a nap because he just kissed the guy he’s literally been chasing after for years.

Twenty six. Twenty seven.

Footsteps thundered up the metal stairs that led to the control room, Duke burst in and stopped at the sight of Tim doing CPR on a very still Jason.

“Signal, anyone with you?”

Breaths.

One. Two. And three.

“Yeah, Batwoman’s outside with one of the Batmobiles.”

“Help me get this guy down the stairs, he’s the mastermind behind all of this.”

“Got it.”

Four. Five. Six.

He should be up by now. Tim can feel his heart still beating, getting stronger, since the compressions act as a faux heartbeat, but his chest isn’t rising.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

There’s frustration burning in his eyes, like several small pins have been jammed into his tear ducts. Tim’s resuscitated Jason twice before, both times involved water, not chemicals or gas. Jason came to both times after the second run of compressions.

Right now Tim was doing the third run.

“Come on, wake up, you have to wake up.”

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty one.

The silence in the room was killing him slowly, the only noise being his own stuttering breath with the sounds the compressions made.

Twenty four. Twenty five. Twenty six. Twenty seven. Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Thirty.

—

Edit: April 2, 4:48 pm- I am keeping this post up due to it being an entry to the badthingshappenbingo, I will not be writing for a Jaytim request again.

Thank you for the request!!

@badthingshappenbingo

#tim drake #jason todd #dc comics #jaytim #red hood #red robin #badthingshappenbingo #CPR #angst prompt

[ghost-bxrd]

Jason's reaction when Talon!Dick is hurt, please?

We all know Dickiebird is gonna completely lose it if his owlet gets hurt, but what about the other way round?

Yeah, Talons are tough, but there are things that can hurt them too... Some angst with Jason? Maybe a presumed dead fright, given Talons' heartbeats are so slow it can easily be missed if the one checking is panicked?

Ah, yes!

So there was definitely one instance during their time on the streets when Dick underestimated the insulation of the clock tower and his body just— shut down during the night. Jason didn’t notice until early the next morning because Dick, panicked, heaped every single blanket onto his owlet to keep him warm.

Jason wakes up and Talon— isn’t moving. He’s cold. And when he checks his pulse… there’s nothing. For a kid who had to find his dead mother earlier in his life this was… doubly traumatic. Jason was frantic at first, trying to wake Talon up despite knowing there’s no use. And eventually he just… curled up against Talon’s side and cried.

That’s pretty much how Dick woke back up, with his owlet clinging to him and sobbing into his shoulder, and much too cold from cuddling him.

Jason got the fright of his life when Talon jerked upright and just started heaping the blankets back around him. And then he cried even harder because Talon kept his promise, to not leave him alone, after all 🥺💚

So yeah, but once they start living with Bruce, Jason finds out a lot about Talon physiology and that they’re.. essentially immortal. Which really goes a long way in keeping Jason calm. Of course he still fusses a lot when Dick ends up injured, but seeing as that mostly happens because Dick is being a self sacrificial idiot, Jason is mostly pissed. And those instances largely result in angry cuddle sessions in the nest with Jason ranting at Dick.

Dick finds Jason’s rants weirdly soothing and usually falls asleep halfway through lol 🦉

#owl song #talon dick grayson #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam