Batfam Week Day 4 – Hurt/Comfort (my fave tag XP hehe)

Jason was on the floor, bleeding and staring at his phone.

Against his better judgement, he had indeed memorized their numbers.

He didn't really send them much of anything.

He only ever sent antagonistic messages.

These in particular where his last messages to them, right before he knew they'd ditch the phones.

Fuck you.

I hate you.

Hey, Dickface.

Suck it, replacement.

You little shit.

However, the true messages he'd written but never sent even when he knew it would fail to send were repeatedly overwritten and saved as drafts.

I'm sorry.

I don't hate you.

You did good.

Hey little bro.

And his most frequent and most overwritten one.

I miss you.

I want to go home.

Jason stared and stared at his phone, holding it close as he tried to breathe through the pain.

He had open a message. One he knew he should send. One he knew that he could send. But he couldn't help but be afraid it wouldn't be read.

Wasn't that why he only ever sent what he really meant when it wouldn't reach? When he knew ahead of time that it would never be read?

The cursor continued blinking. When the screen would go black, he'd give another tap to wake it. And then once again stare at his words.

He was slowly blacking out himself now.

What do you even have to lose? a voice in his head spoke up. It sounded awfully close to how he did at fifteen.

You're running out of time.

Jason felt his hand shake as he gave a tap on his phone. And then he lost track of everything.

The first time he woke up, Jason heard voices.

He wasn't sure what they were saying but it was too loud and made his head hurt. So when the pull to sleep came, he just gave in.

"-can't believe…doing that."

"…read it?"

"Tt...stubborn...on par with father."

"…you know."

Jason could hear words now but he still wanted to sleep.

When he felt cool hands stroke his head, he gave a sigh and went back to dreaming.

Everything felt warm and nice when he dreamed. No pain and somehow he didn't feel as alone as he usually was.

It was quiet and dark when Jason finally woke up properly. No voices could be heard. But it wasn't totally silent either.

Frowning, he tried to listen harder. Tried to wake up a little more.

Opening his eyes wider, he let them wonder. The walls and ceiling weren't of his apartment. There were no bookshelves lining the wall. No paintings from Miss Hayes, their resident artist. He loved her work as did his neighbors.

Turning his head was difficult but he managed to look to the one side. There were no table and chairs. No kitchen island beyond it.

Yep. He definitely wasn't in his apartment. The room he was in was wide but not wide enough to be his one bedroom flat.

And while he was processing that, he finally took in what was there. Dark wood paneling, a large closet. A desk and chair...that wasn't unoccupied.

Jason had to blink. He had to be dreaming. But the dull pain from his body told him no. So he stared at the not-apparition.

Dick Grayson, and all his abnormal flexibility, was curled up asleep on the chair while using the table as a pillow. His neck was gonna hurt so bad when he woke.

Jason smiled. Good. Goldie being here was annoying enough that he felt vindicated knowing the acrobat was gonna be uncomfortable even if just for a while.

Looking around even further, he felt his heart nearly stop as he stared at another chair, a pair with the loveseat on one side of the room. Both were occupied but all he could look at was the occupant of the chair that had clearly been moved to his bedside.

Bruce was looking at him quietly. Face frowning. Jason blinked and suddenly felt small, dwarfed by the room and the bed he was in. Seeing Bruce made him remember why he was here. Why he'd taken so long, bearing the pain before realizing he needed help. And then now, he recalled how close he'd come to dying. Again. He felt like crying. It was too much. He knew he'd gone into this long sleep in incredible pain. And that it was his fault. And now he just had to wake up with his…with Bruce's disappointment staring at him.

Jason choked back a sobbed.

Bruce grew alarmed and reached for him. "Jay. What is it?"

"I," his voice cracked. His throat hurt. It was so dry but still he had to say it. "I...Sorry. S-sorry. 'msorry."

"Jay. Why are you apologizing?"

"You're mad. Don't be mad."

"Jaylad. I'm not mad. I'm not." Bruce held him and made soothing noises as Jason leaned in to cry. This couldn't be good for him. He could already hear how pained his cries were. And not just the emotional kind.

His son was still healing from the knife wounds that they'd found him in.

Bruce had learned afterward that Jason had stopped an attack on his neighbor. Said neighbor had been sent by Jay to the hospital for some cuts from the attack. The assailant had been picked up by the GCPD who came via an anonymous call.

It had been foolish but Jason must've thought to fix himself. But judging from the pool of blood from his fire escape window to where he'd laid down on the living room floor, it had been deeper than he'd thought.

What Bruce didn't understand was why Jason had taken so long to call for help. He'd been dangerously low in blood and had already gone into shock.

He was ashamed to have stood frozen while his son lay bleeding (Not again. Not again. Not again).

Dick had to shout and shove him before he got moving. He moved quickly then and they did what they could before bringing him to Leslie.

Bruce continued to soothe as he waited for Jason to stop. He needed to stop soon or he'd end up opening his stiches.

"You were hurt, Jay but you're okay. You're okay." Bruce kept on. He paid little attention to Dick waking up and seeing them. Didn't mind it when Dick woke his brothers and sister. When he herded them outside. When they gave a last look before leaving them.

He tried to not recall reading the messages that had occupied Jason's phone. Messages he'd sent. Messages Jason never meant for them to read. Messages Bruce wished he'd sent. His son's apartment when he'd gone back to investigate what happened had surprised him.

An open-plan layout that gave a good feeling of space. The light colored walls gave the room light. He had his books on one side and a few lovely paintings were hung.

His bedroom had been meticulously neat, just like his room at the manor had always been. The only addition here was the decorative swords and tea set.

It was so very clearly not a safehouse. But a home for Jason.

But as clean as it was. As nice as it was. In the early morning light, all that it looked like, was lonely.

No photos like there was at his other children's. At his own rooms even. No other personal items that made up his son. No little notes in his brothers' writing like it was at Tim's. No discarded clothing that hung on chairs or tables like Cass was won't to do in all their places. No birthday cards, greeting cards, or quirky drawings on the fridge or living room wall…Jason's home was a quiet and lonely place. And his son had chosen to live in it.

It had hurt so much to see.

When Jason was finally only sniffling, Bruce took the chance to help him sit up on his own before reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table. "Take little sips."

His son did as he was told and then he helped lay him back against the pillows. Making sure his IV was still in place, the blankets tucked close enough, Bruce moved to sit by the bedside and stroked Jason's hair. His fever had finally gone down earlier but they'd worried it would come back.

"I'm right here, Jay. And I'm not going anywhere. Not because I'm mad. But because I'm glad."

Jason looked at him in confusion.

"Because you're here."

"Oh."

Bruce gave him a smile, continued stroking. And finally, he said what he'd realized he'd waiting a long time to say to his wayward bird.

"And also, I was waiting to say it."

Jason blinked. "Welcome home."

The surprise was expected. But then Jason smiled and Bruce couldn't help but smile even wider.

I am such a sucker for that line. And it doesn't even only apply to Jay. Home is where the heart is. And no matter how much these idiots fight each other, they're still family.