Chapter Text
Jason’s face hurt, and head hurt.
“Jason…”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, Old Man.” Getting Bruce all riled up was an art he perfected.
Wait a second. It was too bright for them to be in the cave. And– he sniffed– yeah, it smelled like cigarettes and smog. They were not in the cave. They were on the streets of Gotham. Jason sat up, “We got booted out of the reality? How?” His stomach twisted as he vaguely remembered hearing his younger shriller voice scream stop, “Is Jay–”
Dick switched stood from his squatting position to stand, and offered his hand to Jason, “He’s fine? I’m pretty sure. He was verbally going off on all the Batmans in the room before we left.”
Jason took Dick’s hand, and was pulled to his feet. The world started to spin a bit, but he blinked the stars from his eyes. Bruce placed a hand on his arm to steady him.
Just then, maybe 12 police cars passed by them, along with a newscar following their tail. And as if Jason’s feet weren’t attached to his brain, or maybe his brain wasn’t attached to his body, he started running in the direction the police cars were going. There were people running in the opposite direction, screaming something about–
Jason almost tripped when his eyes landed on the scene everyone was running away from. Alfred in a mask, unconscious, head bleeding against a building in the Tenniel Estates. Robin stumbling back because of a blow. His attacker?
Batman.
The Robin was maybe 14, 15? It didn’t matter. Jason pre-death never knew the other end of Bruce’s fist, and he never should.
Jason broke into a sprint, as Robin ran towards the corner of a building, about to use it as a vault, “Batman! Snap out of it!” He threw a kick for Batman’s solar plexus, but Batman caught it and threw Robin to the ground. Robin started to get up to actually run away, “Hatter? Hatter! You’re a fucking coward! Fight me yourse–ACK!” Batman grabbed his cape and slammed him to the ground again. Batman pinned Robin, grabbing his right arm– “Batman?” –and began to pull. “Br–atman, wait– listen to me. I–” he started twisting, “B! You’re hurting– you’re hurting me! B– stop! BRUCE!” the deafening crack of a bone snapping out of place. Batman's hands moved to Robin’s elbow. “Please.”
As Jason neared closer and closer to the pair, he caught the tears stained eyes of Robin’s that were causing the edges of his mask to peel off. “I've lived long enough to have learned; The closer you get to the fire, the more you get burned; But that won't happen to us; 'Cause it's always been a matter of trust” and Jason tackled Batman off of Robin.
Obviously, Jason singing gave away his element of surprise, but maybe Madhatter behind the wheels of Batman’s body had a slower reaction time, because Batman had barely pulled something out of his belt before Jason got the jump on him.
Batman threw a punch at Jason’s chest, causing the wind to be knocked out of him, but Jason didn’t let it distract him. He put all his force into a shot to where his ear would be under the mask, and used his kris (oh how he’s missed his baby) to cut off the right bat ear, hopefully destroying the signal that Hatter was using to hack into Batman’s cowl.
Like a puppet with its strings snipped off, Batman collapsed to the ground.
Like clockwork, the world went white and… they were once again in the batcave. With the normal age versions of Barbra, Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke and Damian. Dick and Bruce had landed closer to everyone else than Jason had.
“You’re back!” Causing everyone to engulf Bruce and Dick in a hug. “Who hit the home button?”
Jason let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and— huh. That didn’t feel right. He took a breath in, when a sharp wet pain tugged at his lungs.
Jason looked down at his chest.
A giggle escaped his lips, but he had to hold himself back because the sharp wet pain seemed to not like that. Oh! Wait! He knew how to fix that!
Jason grabbed the end— wing? Of the sharp thing in his chest and pulled it out. Now it wouldn’t poke him while he laughed.
Why was he laughing again?
Oh.
Oh.
Yeah, maybe not a laughing matter, but he was probably the only person in the room who would appreciate the irony in this.
“Hey.. B…remember Crane?”
“Yeah?” But Bruce was in the center of a group hug so Jason doesn’t think Bruce could see him.
“This whole thing was caused by Black— Mask…” Babs trailed off when she laided eyes on Jason, “Fuck.”
At that all eight sets of eyes in the room were on him. “Fuck indeed. I left my… jacket in the uh… the other universe.” He locked eyes with Babs, as Steph, Tim and Cass moved towards the direction of the medbay, “but no, I wasn’t talkn’ ‘bout Jonathan.” A wheeze whistled from his lungs as he locked eyes with Bruce “Stephen. A man said to the universe—“
“Motherfucker do not finish that fucking poem or god help me I will—“
“Ow!” He doesn’t remember when Dick crossed the room to put his hands on the wound. “[Sir, 1 exists!]” Jason broke off into a heap of coughs that tasted like metal.
“Yes Jason, you do exist, and you better continue to exist.” Jason felt another set of hands roll him into recovery position. “I told you– I told you that I couldn’t– not again–”
Jason kept coughing and coughing, and the more he coughed the more wet his lungs felt. The less space there was for air. So he stopped trying to cough. “[However] replied the universe….” it came out as less than a rasp. “The fact…has not… created ‘n– in me… a sense ‘f obligation…”
Bruce had shown him that poem after Gloria Stanson had hung herself. He was sitting in the seat closest to Jason’s papasan chair. Reading the poem in his deep timbre. After he had finished, he’d looked at Jason over his newly acquired reading glasses, “Did you like that one Jay?”
“No. No. That was a horrendous poem because that means all the horrifying things in life for no reason at all. That there’s no reason for life or- or death.”
Bruce just smiled at him, “I had the same reaction at first.”
“I feel like this is the part where you’re about to give me some words of wisdom I would expect more from Alfred.”
“It’s supposed to make you angry. You’re supposed to choose your path in spite of the poem. Higher beings, or God, or the Universe doesn’t create some predetermined road for you. You make it yourself.”
There was a warm hand on his face and– this wasn’t how that memory went. Bruce’s hair was darker back then. His eyes were more blue back then. But, he was still the same Bruce. He didn’t die with Jason. They were just buried together. Jason had made his way out, but it had taken Bruce a little more time. “Dad…” He tried for a smile, “I d’nt l’ke tha one. God’s r’l.”
“Jason. Son. You don’t die here.”
The edges of his vision started to fade, "it's ok. ‘M r’dy th’s time. ”
And the world went bright one last time.