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Damian glared up at Jason, who was trying his best to not throw the brat off the rooftop.
“You’re acting like a child , Hood.”
“That’s rich coming from you, aren’t you, like, nine?”
Jason almost laughed in his face as the kid's expression became beet red while he sputtered about how he was twelve, not nine. Of course, that didn’t exactly help his case. If you get mad at being called three years younger than you are, then you’re probably still pretty damn immature.
He made sure to hip-check Damian as he walked past him.
“Fuck off, this is my job. Go piss off your dad or something.”
If Damian was mad before, now Jason could practically see the steam coming off of him. Jason could tell he was following him anyway, probably trying to prove himself or something. He sighed, making sure Damian could hear him.
He’d been tipped off to the hideout that night after talking (threatening) one of Two Face’s henchmen. The man had been all teary-eyed as he begged for his life, even willing to give away key information. Which he did. And sadly, he lived.
Only because Jason was not in the mood to fight with Batman over ‘morals’ and how he had been ‘improving’ up until that point.
That didn’t mean he was in the mood for Damian trying to tag along, either. Apparently, he had been told by Batman to survey the outside of the warehouse, as seemingly everyone else had also been made aware of the hideout as well. Which was just great for him when he had been wanting to avoid everyone.
What the point of Damian investigating the exterior was, he had no clue. Jason guessed it was another one of Batman’s shitty tests that he gives every Robin. Mainly the point was usually something like; don’t be impulsive and always listen to orders.
Jason couldn’t be happier that he wasn’t 12 anymore.
Personally, he preferred being impulsive and not following orders, least of all Batmans.
Damian was kinda similar to him in that regard (not that he’d ever tell him), so Jason knew there was no way he was only going to survey the outside of the warehouse. This wasn’t how his patrol was supposed to go, he purposefully didn’t tell anyone (which wasn’t much different than what he usually did) so he would get the night to himself. Dick had spent the past week bothering him, trying to get him to patrol with the rest of them and to turn on his comm.
So obviously, he made sure to turn it off and book it when he saw Dick, and anyone else for that matter
He turned to look at Damian again, who was, as expected, following him.
“Are you stupid? I said fuck off .”
“Ttt. My mental faculties are in perfect condition. I am simply choosing to ignore you. Are you familiar with the concept?”
Jason threw a loose piece of piping at him, which he dodged.
Damian smirked.
Jason rolled his eyes and groaned. He finally relented, not having the energy to really argue with him.
“… If you mess this up, I’m melting all your swords and making them into bullets. Which I’m gonna shoot you with.”
“I believe I should be the one telling you not to mess up.”
Jason threw another piece of metal at him.
“There is nothing here,” Damian complains, crossing his arms in the office’s doorway.
“Well, there’s gotta be something . ‘Cause the guy I got the info from seemed pretty damn sure of it.”
“He likely lied to you so as to not be injured further.”
“Then how did Bats get the same tip? No way it’s a coincidence.”
Damian was silent at Jason’s response (he could tell that he was frowning without even looking at him), and Jason heard him shuffle into the room. The space was an office, with a thick coating of dust on everything inside of it. It obviously hadn’t been in use in a while. A box-shaped computer sat on the desk and had a modem for dial-up internet right by it. It looked as if it was straight from the 90s. Which it probably was.
Jason started opening the drawers, using his flashlight to look through the contents. They hadn’t encountered a single person in the building, raising several alarms for the two of them. After entering the eighth aisle in the warehouse and not seeing anyone, they gave up on any attempts to stay especially hidden.
At this point, they wanted to be found. Otherwise, they were poking around the warehouse for nothing, sent on a wild goose chase. The office was the last area they hadn’t searched, and Jason was making sure to be extra thorough. Rifling through the drawers, all he found was mundane office supplies. Even the papers in the many files turned up nothing, just old inventory memos for a now bankrupt cord phone company.
While he picked through the desk, Damian walked up to the computer.
He assumed the kid had never actually used one, and since the power was out, he figured it didn't even work. So when he reached to turn it on, Jason ignored him.
The room was filled with the sound of air blowing. Jason whipped his head up, staring at the beeping computer as the screen flickered to life. The words Windows 95 were plastered on it, and Damian and him glanced at each other as the blue screensaver popped up. The only thing on the computer was a small logo with no name, resembling a yellow file.
“... Do we open it?”
Damian asked, his face illuminated by the light of the screen.
Jason hesitated, his hand on the mouse as he thought. He knew it was his call. There could be anything in that file, from top-secret plans of Two Face to nothing. It could even alert the man to the fact they were even there.
“Well, I’m not leaving here with nothing,” He replies while maneuvering the mouse over the icon and clicking.
At first, nothing happened, making Damian huff and look at Jason accusingly.
“This was a waste of my time.”
“You’re the one who decided to come, brat. I didn’t want you to, you were supposed to look around the parameter.”
Damian opens his mouth to make a rebuttal, but they’re both distracted when the computer screen turns black.
They stare at it for a few seconds with bated breath.
Suddenly, an image starts to load slowly. From the top, chunks appear, forming an image. They lean in, trying to make out what it is.
When the picture loads, they recoil back at the glitchy sound emitting from the computer.
The Joker’s frozen grinning face covers the screen. His laughter fills the room, and even with how disjointed it sounds, Jason freezes, a mix of fury and paralyzing fear flooding through him.
Boom
They stumble forward as the building shakes, Damian falling heavily onto the desk, making a sickening crack as his face hits the edge. The once-dark room was illuminated by a bright orange as wires caught light. Jason can feel his chest tightening as the roof starts to groan. In the far corners of his mind, he can still hear the Joker laughing, and the endless pain blooming where the crowbar had hit him years before. His breathing becomes rapid, his eyesight blurring.
He snaps out of it when he feels a small hand pulling harshly on his arm.
“Hood, we have to run.”
Jason lets himself be pulled through the doorway by Damian, whose nose is gushing blood, leaving a red trail behind them as they run for the exit. They were deep in the warehouse, at the very opposite side of the exit. There weren’t any windows, not even in the office. Their only chance was the two large metal doors. They had entered in the first place through a trapdoor in the roof, and from the noise it was making, Jason would be surprised if it would even hold their weight at this point.
The adrenaline pumping through him had cleared his head, and his only focus now was on getting out.
They jumped down the stairs that led up to the office, and looked in horror at the state of the building.
Toppled-over racks blocked their path, and the many cardboard boxes they had been carrying were now burning. He wasn’t sure how many bombs had gone off, but it seemed as if everything had sustained some sort of damage. The middle had been hit the worst, and the smoke was making his vision blurred. The walls hadn’t been hit, meaning no easier escape for the two in sight.
“The sides!”
Damian shouted, and Jason followed him closely, leaping over the carnage and skirting by flickering flames. He didn’t know how they would even be able to find the exit in the mess, not before the roof fell on them at least. The roofing beams creaked again as if trying to reaffirm Jason’s assessment.
They kept going like that for a minute, climbing over the rubble and taking detours where the fires burned too hot.
Finally, he could make out the door, even through the smoke.
“It’s right there!”
He yelled back at Damian, who had fallen behind slightly, still dripping blood. Jason’s heart was beating faster than ever, and his paranoia had never been higher. Every noise sounded like The Joker to him, causing him to run faster. Damian, whose legs were much shorter than his own, wasn’t keeping pace as much as Jason would have liked.
He keeps his eyes on the door, not slowing down.
A loud crash sounds out behind him, followed by the slightly quieter noise of objects smashing into the floor. Something heavy hits Jason's arm, and he yells in pain as he feels it snap. Still, he charges on.
The scream is what makes him turn back.
The blood leaves his face.
Damian was struggling under a pile of debris, half his torso pinned under a metal beam.
Jason cursed, and without a second thought, ran over to him. He pulled at the wreckage with his good arm, and the metal only groaned further as Damian shifted. He watched as Damian coughed on the dust clouding his vision.
His breathing had started getting even more intense when he glanced back at the door, only 20 feet away. Damian was gasping, and tears fell from his eyes, leaving a trail on his sooty cheeks.
Jason swore and turned his comm back on.
Dicks cheery voice came in, and Jason was never more grateful to hear the man.
“Hey! I thought you said you were avoiding us-”
“Robin’s down, Robin's down. We need backup right now, this place is about to collapse.”
“ What!? What happened, what place, where are you, wh-”
“Warehouse, one Robin was told to go to, it was a trap. There were bombs, and it’s collapsing right now, Robin got pinned down by debris. The roof is gonna fall on us,”
He says, while still trying to pull the metal off Damian. It was barely moving, and Damian only whimpered in pain in response.
“What was that?!”
He didn’t reply and ignored the clamoring voices in his ear (everyone had now joined the comm channel) as he focused on getting the metal off.
A shaky voice interrupted his concentration.
“Hood, leave.”
“I’m not letting you die, we’re getting out of here.”
The debris barely budged. Jason growled in frustration, and he started desperately using his uninjured legs to move it. He didn’t care how much damage he could be doing to Damian, the only important thing was getting him out before the roof caved in.
The roof made an eerie sound, prompting Jason to push harder on the metal.
“It’s no use. LEAVE.”
“No fucking chance,” He replied, before shoving the rubble again. Damian coughed again, and Jason made the quick decision to pull off his helmet and put it on him instead. The smoke filled his head, making it hard to think straight, but he ignored it.
Damian weakly swatted at Jason’s uninjured arm.
“C’mon, kid, you’re getting out of here. Don’t give up on me.”
“ Please, save yourself. He can’t lose you again. It’ll push him off the edge.”
“He can’t lose you again, either. I can’t lose you like this. It’ll fucking kill me.”
“And so will staying. Go!”
He hit Jason again, and Jason once more ignored him. There were still voices yelling in his ear, which he turned down on his comm. The metal shifted with his next push, and at the same time, the roof creaked. Blood started to leak out, pooling by Jason's feet.
Damian’s arm stopped hitting Jason’s, instead falling to his side. Jason hissed. He never thought he’d want the kid to be trying to hurt him, yet that was his wish at the moment.
This was too similar. The warehouse, the explosion, The Joker, Robin. Despite what he was saying, the fear clawing at him was pleading with him to run. To live.
But the limp arm and silence of his youngest brother trumped all of his fear.
“Shit shit shit-”
He made his decision as the roof gave another warning sound.
Using both his arms, even the broken one, and legs, he gives one last push. His eyes glow green, contrasting with the orange of the surrounding fires. It seems as if the Lazarus Pit itself was giving him its strength.
The metal rolls off, unearthing his little brother's mangled form.
The roof cracks and a deafening crash echoes through the crumbling building as it starts to fall. Light from the moon shines in as Jason lifts Damian as carefully as he can, and sprints with him in his arms. He leaps over fallen beams as the roof falls behind him, destroying everything in its wake.
He crashes through the door with his shoulder, not slowing down his pace as he runs.
A cloud of dust consumes them as the building behind finally falls, and Jason dives behind an alleyway. The succeeding explosion from the mixing fire and building structure causes his ears to ring, and he holds Damian tightly to his body to shield him from the bits of rock pelting down on them.
“Red hood? Red Hood? Do you copy!?”
Dick’s alarmed yells somehow are discernible, even through the explosion. Jason starts jogging away as he turns up his comm.
“I’m here-”
“Robin, is he -”
“In my arms right now.”
Dick’s sigh of relief is audible.
“Physical condition?”
Jason bites his tongue at Bruce’s voice.
“... Legs are probably broken, floating ribs too, and he’s bleeding pretty heavily. Lotta smoke inhalation too. Get the car here right now, he needs medical attention as fast as he can get it.”
There’s a pause, and then Bruce asks,
“And you?”
“What about me?” He replies, agitated.
“Are you injured?”
Jason frowns. He doesn’t answer for a few seconds.
“Are you-”
“I’m fine. Arms definitely broken, but otherwise, I’m good,” He says tersely.
Thankfully, Bruce seems to get the message.
“The car will be there in a minute.”
Jason stared at his arm.
The cast was red, going up to just above his elbow. He had a couple of other bandages too, but none of his injuries, besides his arm, were more than surface level.
He sighed and looked up.
The med room was the same as he remembered it being when he had lived in the manor attached to it. The gray walls, cabinets filled with painkillers and poison antidotes, and the ominous feeling it gave him all brought him back to his past.
Sleeping in the bed, Damian’s face was obscured by a face mask pumping impure oxygen. Even after giving him his helmet, Damian had still inhaled enough smoke to where he might have injured his respiratory tract.
Jason didn’t even really know why he was still there. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was lying to himself.
He had been convinced to get his arm fixed up only because he was at the cave anyway. And now that that was done, he was sitting by Damian’s bedside.
He did know why he was there. It wasn’t just because Dick had begged him to sit there in case the kid woke up while he was gone, getting patched up for his own injuries he had gotten on patrol.
The emotions he was feeling, having had to watch as Damian, Robin, almost died in an explosion in a warehouse…
And he should’ve died. Because it was a pure, honest-to-god miracle that Jason was able to push the metal off his legs. He should’ve been crushed and then exploded into bits to where there wouldn't be anything left to box up while Jason watched the carnage.
Yet the boy lay in the bed, not a child-sized coffin.
Jason could feel his stomach churn.
“... Thank you.”
He didn’t look up, he knew who it was.
“For what?”
He asked, slightly annoyed and mostly confused. He didn’t have the energy to get angry, to fight, to really do much of anything but wait for an answer.
“For saving him.”
Jason stood up, and for the first time in a long time, looked at Bruce with no emotion.
No anger, no fear, sadness, and definitely not any sense of joy.
“...”
“You did what I couldn’t. Thank you.”
He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t respond, he didn’t know how. There was too much to say, and too little words he could find.
Walking by Bruce, the man watched him go with unreadable eyes.
Jason picked up his helmet, still sitting on the med bays table, and pulled it on.
He grabbed the keys to one of the many motorcycles, and hopped on, stepping on the pedal almost immediately. He drove away fast, letting the wind blow the smell of smoke away.
If his eyes were wet, no one knew.
The night swallowed everything.