A/N: Hello! Thanks for stopping by! This was spurned immediately after reading RHATO #25. I got angsty feels that needed to get out and so I'll give them to Jason. It'll probably eventually become hurt/comfort fluff but who knows, I tend to stray. This is a reposting from AO3. Additional Author's Notes can be found over there, but it's really just me rambling and apologizing. Lol. Anywho, hope you enjoy!

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Jason felt himself being dragged. He didn't remember losing consciousness. Probably had a concussion if he'd been hit that hard though.

He heard a somebody land a few feet away. There was whistling sound, followed by a pop and a hiss, and the dragging stopped. Jason flinched, thinking he was about to be hit again. But instead, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he was dropped to the ground.

He cracked his eyes open out of curiosity. But there was nothing to see. Red filled his vision, irritating his uncovered eyes, so he closed them against the slight stinging sensation, suppressing a groan. He regretted not wearing the domino under the helmet for the first time in months. See, when he'd first made the upgrade to this hood, he had continued to wear one. But after a few weeks of hard hits with no signs of structural weakness, he'd decided he could forgo the additional mask. Tim had commented that it was kinda weird to wear a mask under a mask. Plus he had never been a fan of the spirit gum anyway. It had always irritated his skin.

Guess he should have known better than to get too reliant on the hood though, if tonight was anything to go by. His helmet had splintered with one kick from Batman. He knew the man was gonna be mad, but he had not expected him to come at him with enough force to shatter his fucking helmet.

There was a reason Jason wore a helmet instead of just a mask. He was a goddamn open book. He knew it. Couldn't hold his emotions back for the life of him, as much as he tried. It had been a problem since he'd been a kid. He gets emotionally attached to cases and was a slave to those emotions on an hourly basis. Not a super great trait to have in the crime fighting business. Worse when you're fighting your father because you acted on your emotions and ended up doing something...not great.

Jason had tried to start the fight off snarky and confident as a sort of defense mechanism. He didn't actually want to fight his old mentor these days. He still knew it'd been coming as soon as he pulled the trigger, and he'd tried to be ready. He'd known Batman was gonna come after him if he found out-which, of course he did. Jason hadn't missed that news chopper at the scene. He'd thought knowing the fallout would be bad was enough, but knowing hadn't helped him one bit.

He had not been ready.

His mask had shattered upon impact and Jason knew Batman would be able to see the anger and anxiety he'd been concealing. Bruce had lashed out far more violently than Jason had been expecting. And that had scared him as much as it had hurt. His anxiety had turned to fear. It hadn't been a fear of the Batman. It had been a fear rooted in the fact that this was Bruce under there somewhere. Bruce had been hitting him harder than he hit most criminals. Harder than he'd ever seen him hit the Joker. Jason had pointed this out in an attempt to regain some control of his emotions, to create a barrier, but it had only served to anger the man further.

A part of him had known it would. And it had earned him a very strong blow to his exposed face and more enraged shouts. At this point Jason had stopped fighting. He had been all kinds of confused and hurt and angry and terrified and heartbroken. He had been resigned to his fate. He had deserved this.

The man whom Jason considered a father had broken him. And then to make matters worse he had lost his best friends and probably his only allies.

Jason heard heavy footsteps coming toward where he lay. He didn't bother opening his eyes. He resigned himself to a round...three? Round four? He wasn't sure. And honestly, he didn't want to think about it.

The footsteps stopped next to him. He heard the person kneel and he winced in response, ready for a punch or a backhand or being harshly dragged up by his collar again. Then an arm slipped under his left arm and behind his back and Jason was being pulled up into a standing position.

A hand pressed on the center of his chest, steadying him.

"I got you buddy."

Jason's breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a couple beats.

"Roy?" His voice was soft and riddled with anxious confusion.

He cracked his eyes open, having to confirm what he thought he'd heard to be true, before closing them again. His face muscles contorted and his eyes burned again. He swallowed, trying to make the frog trapped in his throat go away.

"Yeah, Jaybird. It's Roy."

"Roy," he said the name again. It was only one word, but it was heavy with emotion. Full of need. It was a cry for help. Please, get him out of here.

"I know, buddy. I know."

He became lightheaded as his consciousness decided now was an okay time to abandon him once more. He had to let Roy know. He was going down. "I…" he breathed out as his knees buckled.

"Woah! Okay." The hand left his chest. And the last thing he would remember was the dizzying sensation of being swept quite literally off his feet and Roy assuring him, "It's okay. I've got you. We're getting out of here."