Chapter Text
Bruce had had this dream before.
After Ethiopia, it had taken some time for him to realise what had happened. It had taken even more time before he stopped expecting Jason to be there when he turned around. He'd face an empty room, confused for a second, before it would all come crashing down, the room suddenly colder and more menacing-looking than it had been a second ago.
The nightmares had come later. And every time he'd woken up, he hadn't been sure which one was worse. His nightmares or his reality.
When Jason first came back, angry and mentally unstable, Bruce hadn't immediately realised it was real. He'd kept a file on the Bat computer, one he could re-check when doubt took over. Surveillance had helped, too.
Sometimes he still thought it was all a dream.
Sometimes at night he dreamt Jason hadn’t come back at all. He'd be walking down one of the manor's corridor unable to find him and realisation would hit him that his son was still dead. Then he’d wake up terrified and peruse recent photos to reassure himself.
In those cases, waking up was a blessing.
The clinical part of his mind, the one too well-trained to do anything but constantly analyse his environment and draw resulting logical conclusions always seemed to get it quicker than he himself did. Usually, that was fine. He could just let it take over and only allow himself to realise what had happened when he had a moment alone. It was part of what allowed him to be Batman. Compartmentalisation.
Sometimes, though, he didn’t want to listen to that part of him.
Bruce stared at the billowing smoke in the distance and waited to wake up from this particular nightmare.
He didn’t.
–––––––––
The first thing he became aware of, once the light settled down, was the suffocating pressure on his back.
Then the pain washed over him, every single one of his nociceptors activating with a vengeance.
After that, it was the heat's turn, wave upon wave of boiling hot air and dust entering his lungs.
Jason opened his eyes. Everything hurt too much to do much more than that.
The world flickered, heat deforming the air around him.
There was a shredded plank next to his head. He stared at it for a second, vaguely fascinated, not quite grasping where he was or what had happened yet.
What had happened ?
Jason tried to think back. He could vaguely remember freeing his hands just a beat too late to .... Not talk to Bruce ?
He frowned, wrinkling his nose. That didn't make sense. How were hands connected to Bruce?
By his arms. Jason would have giggled if he could.
Okay, his brain was officially on vacation. Everything was really hazy, too, and surrounded by a halo of light. Pretty. Was the world an angel?
Back on track. Free hands and then what ? Something about sunshine, which was stupid because Gotham was always dramatic and cloudy. Then something about trying to walk on a bad ankle.
He frowned again. Alfred didn't like it when they were being stubborn and aggara...graveta...aggreva.... Made their injuries worse. Jason didn't want Alfred to be mad.
Even if walking had seemed pretty important at the time.
Why?
He remembered walking. Not far. Three rooms? It felt had like a running a marathon.
Then Bruce again. Nothing about hands this time, though.
Wait did Jason have hands?
He flopped like a fish. He did. Good.
Ow. Explosions sucked. Moving did too.
A rush of adrenaline brought a bit of clarity back to Jason's brain.
Fuck. He had been exploded. And judging by the way his sentences were going and how the world looked, he was cussed.
That didn't seem like the right word.
He remembered Bruce. Was Bruce alright or had he been exploded, too ?
Jason hoped not. He had important things to tell Bruce.
And he had questions. Questions only his dad could know the answers to.
Did he mean what he said? Was he alright ? Did he know why blonde women Jason had barely met always tried to kill him?
Sound came rushing back all at once, overwhelming and all but unintelligible to his tired brain.
He could hear a noise, past the roaring in his ears, like something a dying animal would make. It pierced through his left ear and drilled into his skull. It barely sounded human.
He realised it was his name.
Reiterating: Ow. Explosions really sucked. They blew.
The weird noise came back.
He blinked his eyes open again. Something told him he should probably move, or make a sound, or do something actually constrictive. Wait, no.
That wasn’t right either.
Everything really hurt, words were awful and Jason kinda wanted to cry. He tried and found out he couldn’t. His eyes were really, really dry.
He looked at the shredded plank again and felt a certain kinship for it. It looked sad and dry, too.
The dying sound had stopped and been replaced by grunts and clangs.
What was his ear doing?
Wait no he had his comm in it, didn't he?
That made more sense.
His name rang out again. Jason decided to be productive. He tried to roll over.
It didn’t work.
Screw you too, body.
Maybe if he called, Bruce ? That seemed like a good idea. Maybe his dad could help things get better again.
“Br’ce? Words are mean. ” He slurred.
The noises in his left ear stopped for a second. Then there was a painful sounding breath -Jason could relate. He'd had to cough at least ten times before speaking. Coughing with broken ribs hurt.
“Jay?” Bruce's voice was very small. Jason's brows furrowed again. Bruce was not supposed to be small. He was too much muscles.
He informed the other man of that.
There was a shaky sob-laugh-thing. Barbara? Why was Barbara crying? She was not supposed to cry, ever. Did he need to kick Dick's ass again? He hoped not. He was too tired to do that now.
He told them that too, only to get yelled at. Rude. Being tired wasn’t a crime.
Not everyone was fine with, like, three hours of sleep a day. Didn't mean he was a bad vigilante.
Well, at least Bruce was coming to help Jason roll over now. He had said so. Multiple times. Between yelling at him about not sleeping and asking too many questions. Which felt unfair. Why was there so much yelling. He hadn't even moved. He didn’t deserved to be yelled at.
He was tired of staring at the plank. It made him think too much. He closed his eyes again so he wouldn't see it.
It was a very boring and painful ten minutes before the sounds could be heard by both his left and his right ears.
Did he have another comm he didn’t know about ?
The pressure on his back disappeared. Jason groaned in relief. Then in pain.
But it was alright. Bruce was here. He would fix things. Even if he usually fixed things in an ass way.
Bruce did not want to help him roll over, though. Something about his spine and not moving it. Traitor. He didn't really want to move, anyways. He just wanted to not be still.
Saying that didn't convince his dad either. He probably just didn't get the dissension. No. Distinction.
Ha. Take that, word.
There were hands carding through his hair and down his neck, which felt pretty nice. Good distraction from the killer headache.
Jason closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to pass out.
––––––––
When he woke up again, it was to lights stabbing his right eye, then his left.
Hadn’t he suffered enough? Did they have to torture him more?
He glared at whoever was doing the medical check.
There was a chuckle.
Nurses were sadists. Very competent and amazing people, but sadists all the same.
“Mr Pennyworth ? ”
Alfie ? No. There was nobody else know the room. Probably the alias they had checked him under at the hospital.
Jason slit his eyes open again in the direction the sound had come from.
“Now, let's see if you're back with us. You've been intubated and won't be able to talk. Don't panic, that's normal and temporary. I'm going to ask you a few questions. You can nod your answers, alright ? ”
Jason nodded. The questions were simple: Did he know his name? ( he did). Did he know where he was? (More or less). Did he know which day it was? (“How am I supposed to know, lady, I've been unconscious.” Did not translate well over nod). Did he have any siblings?
Jason would have snorted at that one, had the tube allowed it. Luckily, they didn't ask how many he had. He just hoped Bruce hadn't adopted yet another one while he was unconscious.
“Good. Now follow my finger with your eyes, if you please. ”
He did.
“Could you grip my hand, Mr Pennyworth ? ”
He did that, too.
“Good. Now the other one ? ”
The tests continued for a few long minutes.
By the time the nurse left the room, Jason was dizzy and just wanted to sleep again.
He could hear shards of conversation just outside the room. Words like “Glasgow score ”, “Sulfatan” and “Heparin”, and “FIO2 and PEEP low enough to extubate” were thrown around.
He went back to sleep. Someone else could worry about all that.
––––––––
The third time he woke up, he was in another room, the tube was gone and Bruce was sleeping on his hand.
A future case of pin and needles to look forward to. So great. He really needed that, on top of everything else.
God, but he felt like shit.
Still, alive topped dead. And it probably hadn't been too long. He could still move his arms and legs, even if it left him exhausted. He even still had muscle tone. Yay for him.
He glanced around. They apparently were having a sleepover in his hospital room. Wonderful.
Also, Dick's hair was a rather traumatising shade of blond.
Which, no.
Of course, it was probably just a matter of secret identities, but still. That was downright painful to watch.
He'd look like an ABBA reject if he put the Discowing suit on.
Jason kind of desperately wanted a picture. But he also didn't want to wake everyone.
Oh well. It was for a good cause. They could always sleep more later.
He reached for the phone on the nightstand.
Bruce woke up with a start when Jason's hand slipped from his. He took his surroundings in quickly and efficiently before his gaze focused on the bed's main occupant. (And it was supposed to be his bed, damnit, not Sibling Central )
“Jay” He breathed.
Then there were arms around him, holding him tight. His ribs protested loudly, making him flail.
The sudden movement woke the others up, but Bruce didn't let go nor seem to care the slightest. He did alleviate the pressure a bit, though.
Jason hugged him back.
The minutes that followed were a complete mess of hugs, tears and insults.
It was the happiest he'd been in a long time.
–––––––
Later that night:
“She lied to me. ” he realised, looking at Bruce. “ When she had me. Before the explosion. She told me you were on the other side of the city. But you got there in under twenty minutes. ”
“She did. I was–” a choking sound “ close enough to see the smoke. ”
“Oh.” Jason gulped. “ Did you...Talia always said... She always told me you didn’t care. Back then. Did you. Did you react the same way ? ”
Smooth. Real smooth. Dig up painful memories, why don't you.
“I did. The Joker barred you from seeing it. ”
Jason did a double take.
Bruce looked vaguely horrified with himself.
“Did you just–?”
“No.”
Gleefully. “You totally did.”
“No.”