metalogs | ( open ) and what's the worst you take

( the spikes fade, their job done, and jason finds himself covered in a replica of thomas wayne, but grosser. definitely not how he thought he'd meet his kind of adoptive grandfather, but there are worse ways to do it. and he's tired now; the kind of exhaustion that sets in bone deep. it doesn't stop jason from shoving thomas off and sitting himself up. he doesn't need energy, he's stubborn enough to keep going for the moment.

barely, but he manages to pull himself up to his feet even if sways a little. makes his way over to bruce and his dead not-quite-mother. bends over to grab onto the back of her shirt and yank her off. )

They're not real. They're trying to fuck you up by throwing nightmares at you.

( the shock of having his mother's rotting corpse there on him shakes bruce on a level he never thought he'd experience. it's only when jason comes into view and pulls her off him that he's able to snap himself out of it — look up to the other and slowly process what it is he's saying.

eyes slightly wide there beneath the cowl and smeared makeup, he winces for just a second before he's turning some on his side, resting on his arm, then pushing himself up. )

We need to get you out of here.

( words almost breathless, he looks up as he gets on his knee, swallowing thickly as he tries to shake everything still clinging to him. )

I'm good.

( a little beat up, but when isn't he? jason raises a hand to wipe at the blood falling down his cheek, hisses at the sting of fabric against a fresh wound, but it's no big deal. the arm might be a little more serious, but he can still move all his fingers when he flexes them, so he's taking that as a sign it's good enough not to be a major concern. and he can take a deep breath without choking on it even if it hurts, so his ribs aren't fucked up enough to warrant medical attention either.

it's the exhaustion that has his shoulders sagging, but he's still reaching out a hand--not the one connected to his maybe fractured arm--and offers it out to bruce. )

( this is going to sit with him for awhile. he knows it will. for multiple reasons, but. now's not the time, not when he's been able to shake himself from the fear that had gripped him so tightly — a sort of fear he's never really experienced before. or never thought he would [again] in a sense.

looking up, he sees jason — how exhausted he is beneath the injuries and he takes jason's hand then, pulling himself up. the second he's standing, he starts to bring jason in close — careful. meaning to wrap an arm around his back. )

I'm getting you out of here.

( and he's not going to hear about it. )

( he expects a lot of things, from bruce wayne. he expects bruce to be a hardass, expects him to be stuck in his believes, expect his upper cut to hurt like a bitch, expects him to tell jason no often, to bitch about it when jason refuses to listen because why would he? but jason doesn't often expect hugs, and it shows in the way his shoulders immediately tense up, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

a knife in his back maybe. does bruce's suit have a taser in the chest piece? jason's old one used to. except, nothing hits him. there's no pain outside of the damage he'd gotten fighting off the waynes and monsters before this. the exhaustion isn't drug-related, it's from overuse of abilities jason doesn't often use at all. he doesn't return the gesture, but jason doesn't pull out of it either. leans in a little, maybe. )

B. ( voice a little softer, because he also realizes--bruce had just watched jason mutilate his parents. or poor copies of them, at least. that can't be easy to deal with. ) I'm fine.

( he'll collapse down onto his couch for at least a few days after this. let his body rest, give shit time to heal. but now isn't the time for that. there's too much going on, too much at risk with all the civilians running around while void monsters hit from every side. they can't afford to be down another fighter. they can't afford for batman to have a breakdown either. )

You need a minute?

( he's bleeding at the neck from where his mother— where "martha" had dug her boney fingers into him, but. much like jason, it's something he'll just deal with later.

the seconds between them linger and bruce can feel his own tiredness seeping into his bones. both physical and emotional. staring to the [again] deceased corpses of his parents or things that wear his parents faces there over jason's shoulder has those blue eyes shine in a way they don't often because bruce, so very often, keeps everything he feels locked up inside. including the relief to know that jason is very much here and not there on the ground with his parents.

he pulls himself together — tells himself he'll deal with it later [or ignore it as is the other method of bruce wayne] and gently presses the palm of his gloved hand there against the curve of jason's back. just for a moment. before he's pulling back enough to look to him, hand sliding around to grip at jason's elbow instead. )

Get in the car.

( he'd protest, because fuck bruce thinking he can call jason's limits when he wants to. jason knows how far he can push before it starts getting dangerous, he knows who to call in when he needs back up or a quick lift out of somewhere, and knows that as long as his fingers can still bend without it shooting pain all the way up his arms for the attempts, clearly the arm isn't damaged enough to warrant taking a break.

but jason has a feeling this is as much for bruce as it is for jason. and given the corpses lingering behind them, giving bruce a chance to breathe is more likely to save more lives than sending him out while he's still this fucked up. and jason's the one who's here, so. he bites back the comment on the edge of his tongue, avoids telling bruce to fuck off and go to hell for trying to parent him.

instead throws him a scowl, but he starts walking towards the batmobile. )

Fine, but only if you let me stitch that up before you bleed all over everything.

( he might have something in the batmobile to do in a pinch, but. other than that, they might be out of luck until he can get them back to his place.

for now, right here, the damage has been done and the monsters don't seem to be coming anymore for them. it'll give them a chance to head out — for bruce to run over more of them through the streets as they go, but. his priority is getting jason away from this just as much as he wants to be away from this.

so, stalking over to the batmobile, he pulls open the door and winces to himself as he forces himself to drop into the drivers seat, door slamming beside him. the engine roars when he revs it up — when it comes to life there on the street. a glance to the footwell there on the passenger side, he looks to jason for just a second before he's looking back out the window. )

Might be a rag or something there.

( getting into the batmobile is--a pain and a half. he can stand up straight just fine, it's bending over to get into the seat that really pisses off his midsection. jason hisses between teeth, arm wrapped over his ribcage as he slowly sinks down. he's fine until he settles, it's relaxing that makes it all hurt worse. jason reaches for the side of the chair to pull the lever and get the back to recline a little more. it makes it worse for a moment before it makes it feel a little better. and then he reaches for the seatbelt to buckle himself in. if bruce is playing bumper cars with a bunch of fun monsters, jason should probably make sure he doesn't go flying through the windshield. )

A rag. ( he's surprised even two years in, bruce doesn't carry a first aid kit. then again, he's still in his self-destructive phase. no need to patch someone up when the goal is to rip themselves down, right?

but jason was brought up during a different era, and he pulls out a small container of what had held mints at one point. it has a few pieces of gauze rolled up inside of it, a needle and fishing line, and a small container of super glue.

it's meant more for jason than anyone else. but he's pulling out the gauze, dropping the tin onto his chest so he can raise the pack up to his mouth and tear it open with his teeth. holds it out to bruce after. )

Think it'll hold out 'til we get out of the line of fire. I'll stitch you up when we stop.

( the suit [usually] does its job in keeping him safe anyways, so. no. not much need at the moment. maybe it'd be different if he had dick with him as his partner. but he doesn't. not back in his gotham.

he watches out of the corner of his eye as jason gathers a piece of gauze for him and he stares in silence for a moment before he takes it from him between gloved fingers. a slight tilt of the neck, an internal wince he tries not to show, he presses the gauze down flat against the wound, knowing it'll be dyed red soon enough.

with that said and done, he revs the engine again — lets fingers grip the steering wheel tight, and hits the gas with a heavy boot as he peels them out of there. away from it all. but not without bruce looking up to the rearview mirror and watching as the corpses of his "parents" become smaller and smaller the further away they drive.

just another trauma to add to the ones he's already carrying.

they speed along the streets, bruce not making much effort in maneuvering around beasts and monsters that they in his way. he hits them — lets the batmobile plow them down with slight jostling around for them as they do. he's made sure the batmobile can take and give a lot. he needs it to protect him while intimidating those it comes into contact with, just like his suit.

at some point, it starts to get dark around them — just them. as if a dark cloud has dropped over them. that's when the darkness around them starts to move in a way — where within it, it has an almost sheen to it and with the way bruce keeps himself looking ahead, it's obvious then that this is his doing. that he's moving them through the shadows. )

( running away from the battlefield is a shit move. he knows that even while the batmobile speeds away. jason's got a good few hours left in him, more if he can fit a nap in there somewhere. eventually the injuries will catch up to him and he'll need a break--bruce's battle wasn't the only one he was fighting, even if it was the one that fucked them all up the worst. the speed at which the gauze gets soaked through is concerning, but bruce is still driving and isn't falling over at the wheel, so jason takes it as a good enough sign he'll likely make it and doesn't protest.

just sucks in a breath even as it makes him wince with how it moves his body, and lets it out slow. tips his head back as the lenses on his domino mask glow a soft red as he turns on it's hud and starts--checking through trackers. checking to see where everyone's at, if everyone's still moving, what corners of excelsior are covered, who might need a hand after he gets bruce to chill out a little. he still needs to reconvene with dick later, knows he's fine because jason bugged his suit to hell and back, he's got eyes on him at all times even when dick isn't close enough to grab onto. still doesn't like that he's currently out of sight.

but that's not shit he's getting into with bruce, either. jason stays quiet for a bit, lets the silence sit between them as they drive through shadows--until it feels a little too quiet and he's opening his mouth, )

They threw my mom at me. And Artemis.

( the darkness around them shines as much as darkness can. jason speaks, and bruce looks over slowly. i don't know who artemis is very clearly written on his face before he's looking back ahead of him. into the darkness that surrounds them.

a darkness that suddenly breaks in front of them and they hit the ground hard as if having come off a ramp — bumpy landing to say the least.

where they are is dark, the engine purring around them being the only sort of sound that can be heard before it's cut off and bruce, struggling some, pops open the door of the batmobile, getting himself out with a breath that bleeds into a groan before he's shutting the door behind him.

lights flicker on then — sensors, likely, and it reveals an underground train station that's slowly but surely being remodeled into a sort of batcave; what bruce has clearly been doing in his spare time and why bruce wayne or brucie doesn't come out often.

the cowl comes off, dropped to a table, as he goes.

two bullet trains sit there around them, the engines popped with repairs clearly being done to them. tables with a couple computer screens on them, bruce's own laptop running whatever code it is — downloading or decrypting something it looks like. a bike, scattered equipment, other tables with so much stuff on them. he's been setting this up on his own looks like. having to start all over again. one screen in particular seems to be a security system with cameras linked to it. but it's over to the freestanding cabinet that he goes, pulling the doors open where a stash of medical supplies line the shelves. bruce going through them and taking what he needs. not for him. but for jason. )

( of course he doesn't. he doesn't know about jason's parents, either. doesn't know about the father he'd learned how to steal from, who ended up in jail early in his life. doesn't know about the mother he found dead in a shitty bathtub of a shitty rundown apartment. doesn't know about the mother who died with him in a warehouse explosion after selling him off to the joker. bruce is new. he could tell bruce about artemis, but what's the point? the likelihood of her showing up here is next to nothing. artemis won't mean anything to him, even if a couple years ago, she meant everything to jason.

it's all irrelevant, so he keeps his mouth shut. jason usually knows how to fill the empty space between them, how to keep his mouth running to keep them both busy. but right now, he--just lets the quiet continue.

grunts when they land and it jostles him, again. but he's fine, and he's letting the hud dim down once more after bruce opens the driver's door. jason follows after, standing up with another hiss. it hurts more now that he's not out there, not readying for another fight. the adrenaline rush is gone, and it fucking sucks. he follows bruce over to the medical supplies after noting the location of bruce's new cave in his mapping system. figures it might come in handy at some point, especially given it's in excelsior where jason doesn't have much else. and from the looks of it--bruce has some cool toys laying around.

shit he'll dig into later when bruce isn't down here. snooping is more fun when the owner of the things he's snooping on isn't around.

the look he throws bruce is more--annoyed than anything else. because he sees exactly what bruce is doing. )

I told you I'm fine, didn't I? Don't even think this shit needs stitches-- ( the claw marks on his cheek, which he's compressing the glove bit of his gear back up into the sleeve so he can reach up with bare fingers and run them over it. it's more long than deep, though it's still bleeding, soaking into the collar of his gear. )

Might need a rabies shot. Think it might've spit on me. You think void monsters could have rabies?

( with his cowl off, it's just bruce there, black greasepaint smeared across his eyes. looking back over his shoulder to jason, there's a softness— no. there's a heaviness there in his eyes that's to be expected from everything that had happened out there. yet despite how heavy his eyes seem to be, his words, when he speaks, are soft. )

Sit down.

( with his eyes, he gestures to the stool that's there by one of the tables with papers and bruce's journal. NOTES & OBSERVATIONS (GOTHAM PROJECT) Year 2 October the one from his gotham.

looking back to the cabinet, he grabs a syringe — grabs a bottle after looking through some of them. )

I have it if you want it.

( rabies vaccination, he means. )

Where'd you ge--you know what? I don't want to know how you upped your stash so quick. Keep your secrets.

( though he's fairly certain void monsters don't have rabies. so-- )

I'm fine. Got one--( how long ago was it? before new amsterdam, so. ) two years ago? 've got another year left.

( because keeping up on that shit is important when one spends a good chunk of their time getting chased by assholes who may or may not have rabies infested dogs running rampant. and there's the rats in the sewers. and manbat. and countless other possibilities he doesn't even want to think about, so.

instead, jason just sits himself down with a roll of his eyes. doesn't take off the domino mask, because he's using it to keep an eye on everyone still out there fighting. the neural implant can follow some, but it's not set up for the people here either. he'll make a note to see if tony can hack the literal chip in his head. because that's safe. )

They're scratches. They're fine. Seriously. I've taken worse from Damian waking up grumpy.

( putting the bottle down as well as the syringe, he instead opts for an astringent and some gauze, bringing it over to set down on the table as well as tension bandages that are dropped down there. taking a moment, he removes his gauntlets, hands wrapped tight in white bandages beneath them.

he doesn't look to jason — doesn't try to fight him with taking the domino mask off. instead, he busies himself with uncapping the astringent — with carefully wetting the gauze with it. hair falls in front of his face as he does, hiding blue eyes behind them. blue eyes that slowly fall shut where he sees the twisted faces of his mother and father. of martha and thomas wayne.

slowly, eyes open, though he keeps looking to the gauze he holds, watching it grow wet. )

I'm sorry. For before.

( words soft and that almost tremble, he takes a second to swallow — to collect himself before he looks up and, when he does, his eyes are a little wet there, bruce just focusing his gaze on the slashes to jason's cheek. )

( he's not expecting bruce to let up any because once he's decided on something, he doesn't let go of it. jason gets it, because jason pulls the same shit. he wouldn't say it's something he picked up from bruce. he would say it's likely it's something bruce saw in him, when he'd first found jason. gross.

bitching and complaining is useless, and as much as jason would love to bitch and complain for forever just to out-stubborn bruce, the quickest resolution here is just to let him do what he feels he needs to do, stitch up the cut on his neck, and take off. call dick probably to help bruce figure out his shit, because jason can't. jason hasn't figured out his own shit or even how to fake it effectively.

and gets pulled out of his thoughts by an i'm sorry jason hadn't ever expected to hear. it pulls at something in his chest, something he can't name right now because it's just going to fuck them all up worse and they don't have space for that. he turns to look at bruce as he moves in closer with his gauze to--clean jason's barely there flesh wound that he could just shove some superglue on, call it good, and clean it off when he gets time to shower later. like a proper gotham vigilante.

not only was there an i'm sorry but there's tears too, threatening to escape and that's too much. bruce doesn't let himself be caught when he's emotionally vulnerable. especially doesn't do it when jason's around. and yet here he is, and jason's--huffing out a sigh before he's reaching up for bruce.

pulls shit he's only ever pulled with his siblings, and--reaches over to softly hold onto bruce's forearm. jason's not one for physical affection, not often, not with a lot of people, but he's offering it here. )

Hey. ( soft, and a little wary. this is new territory, paranoia settles at the back of his head that whispers bruce is fucking with him on purpose for reasons jason can't think of but he manages to ignore it. this time. ) We've all got shit that fucks us over, yeah? It's normal. That's why we have each other's backs--this isn't the kind of shit you can do alone. I knew what I was jumping into, I knew I could handle it, and you don't need to apologize for having feelings.

( bruce not only guards himself physically with the suit he wears, he guards himself emotionally with the people around him. sometimes he thinks he disconnects himself from whatever he feels. other times, it feels more like he replaces it all with anger instead.

but seeing his parents again — seeing them like that and seeing his father be shot again like he was... that shouldn't have been anything he had to witness again. not like that. not when it still hurts him so much. when he still feels guilt for being unable to bring them justice.

he lost in those thoughts when jason reaches up to touch his forearm and he snaps himself from them, looking to jason as he speaks.

he's right. he doesn't need to apologize for having feelings. but for what happened to jason? for his freezing up when he should know better and being unable to turn that fear into anger... that's his fault. that could have cost them a lot more.

he stares to jason for a little longer — doesn't let the heartache there in his eyes fall to his cheeks. instead, a slow lick of his lips, he gives a faint not before he presses the wet gauze to jason's cheek, cleaning up the wound his father gave to him. )

You did what you had to.

( his voice is soft — a little trembling before he clears his throat and just lets himself focus on cleaning up that wound. hopefully it doesn't sting too much.

letting his gaze drop back to jason's face, he pauses in what he does. )

You shouldn't have had to though.

( he should have been able to handle it, but. he couldn't.

setting the gauze down, he reaches for the tension bandages, placing them in jason's hand, keeping his own there with jason's for a moment. )

Thank you.

( because he doesn't think he could have been able to. not yet. )

( it stings but it's a pain jason's familiar with. he doesn't flinch until the gauze hits a particularly painful patch of skin, and is otherwise--fairly unbothered. doesn't let his expression waver, because bruce is opening up to him and jason knows damn well how hard that is. he's saying i'm sorry and thank you and he doesn't know how to take any of those. jason drops eyes down to the tension bandages for a moment, before he's looking back up into bruce's own.

there's empathy there, but there's also the stubborn determination that he also shares with bruce. jason isn't batman, he never will be. but he's got something batman doesn't have. )

I do what you can't. ( his voice is even-toned; not soft, not harsh, just--clear. ) An' I always will. There's lines you can't cross, but mine aren't drawn the same.

( bruce couldn't kill his parents, because they were his parents. jason would have had the same hesitation, and his parents were--significantly less parental than bruce's. but even if it hadn't been void monsters, jason would have done the same thing. if it had been zombiefied thomas and martha wayne, he would have eviscerated them. sometimes the darkest path is the right one to take. jason knows that. )

( there's exceptions to things — shades of gray that can become murky if ones not careful. monsters taking on the form of dead parents and making them be dead in every way possible... seems like a gray area. yet bruce still couldn't bring himself to do it, even when that very monster wearing his mother's face was thrashing atop him, trying to kill him. he couldn't. if jason hadn't been there... he'd probably be dead.

it's funny. he's not afraid to die and yet... he'd felt fear in that moment. but for different reasons. guilt. failure. heartache. loss. they all hurt so much more than the thought of dying. of him dying.

fingers slip away from the tension bandages placed there in jason's hand, arm dropping to his side. it's hard for him — hard for both of them for him to be this... vulnerable, but. here he is. being just that. if even for the moment.

there's a sort of understanding there in his eyes — in the way he lifts his gaze up to meet jason's and he takes a moment to swallow again, licks over his lips, then looks back down to the tension bandages he'd given him. )

Still. I can't afford to freeze like that. ( having thought he'd mastered all of his fear, but. he knows there's one or two things that still destroy him from the inside. make him feel like he's ten years old again. ) Might want to wrap your arm with that. Just in case.

( there's a lot he could follow that up with. he could tell bruce that he's still new, that being batman is a lot. he could tell him that no one would expect their dead parents to approach them as zombies trying to rip their skin off. or tell bruce that, even when he's older, there are still things that fuck him up. could accentuate that they're a team because they all have weaknesses and strengths, and they work better together than apart. but jason also--he isn't part of that team anymore, is he? bruce kicked him out. tim said it's fine, bruce's forever is never forever, and jason knows that from experience but it was never as bad as the last time, and--it's complicated.

jason doesn't know what to say. he's not dick grayson, he can't give encouraging speeches or pick people up once they've fallen. jason leaves. he leaves because it's always his fault, and he always makes shit worse when he tries, so leaving is the only reasonable response. so he says nothing instead. puts the wrap up on the closest counter as he gets himself up to his feet. )

At worst it's a hairline fracture. ( his arm raises, and while it causes jason to grimace he doesn't reach a point where he can't move it. he curls in fingers, extends them out. ) Bandaging it is just gonna point it out as a weakness to take advantage of. I'm fine.

( but he does gesture towards his neck, while he moves to sift through the rest of bruce's shit. )

Sit down. I'm not gonna listen to Grayson bitch 'bout how I let you get an infection 'cause you're being stupid.

( dick probably wouldn't bitch. but he's as good of an excuse as any. )

I meant underneath.

( under the suit he has on, like how bruce himself wears bandages around his hands beneath the gauntlets. kids.

this is a sort of deja-vu all over again for him. jason insisting on patching him up lest dick get on his case about leaving him in such a state. it's strange— maybe he'd find some sort of dark humor in it if he weren't still so shook up from having monstrous versions of his parents trying to kill him. sleeping tonight is going to be... difficult. he might have to force himself to with something.

regardless, he takes a seat on the stool there — slow in doing so and grimaces a bit as he cranes his neck. it's nothing serious. nothing that needs him to be hospitalized or the like, but. it's angry and it's oozing and it hurts. typical of him to just rely on his own natural adrenaline and focusing on jason instead to try and ignore his own pain.

eyes falling shut for a moment as he sits there, he slowly opens them up again, watching jason from where he sits, the heel of a boot resting against the silver edge of the stool. )

Who's Artemis?

( no. he didn't forget. he never does. )

( his gear's not nearly as--loose or thick as jason's usual shit. it makes moving easier, but it also makes hiding shit under it harder. he supposes, under the suit and under the jacket would probably be enough to hide it. unless he loses the jacket, which, given the amount of times he's been stripped of his toys before, he won't discount the possibility.

but it's irrelevant, because jason's not going to bother with it right now. first aid on non-urgent wounds can wait until later when the mess is over. jason's arm'll be fine in the meantime. bruce sits, and jason takes out a bottle of painkillers. counts out a few and tosses them into his mouth to swallow them down dry. may as well, while he's taking a breather.

since they're not in the batmobile with bruce's very few supplies, he goes for proper supplies for stitching someone up: a needle driver, sterilized needle and thread, a cup which he fills with water to rinse out the wound first. bandages are for scrubs, but he grabs some surgical tape.

it'll stick better and bruce is less likely to tear it off when it starts irritating him. )

Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, she's an Amazon. ( it's part of an answer. and it's all bruce is getting for the moment. jason grabs onto another stool and pulls it up close to bruce's side so he can sit down on it and--lean forward into bruce's space. puts fingers against bruce's chin to get him to tip his head up so jason can get a better look at the wound. ) Strong as hell, doesn't take anyone's shit. Didn't take mine, ever. We worked together.

( he lets jason do whatever he needs to do right now — sits there and waits. he's probably going to head back out— he should do that, soon as he can shake off everything from before — get stitched up a bit. a shot of adrenaline to the leg wouldn't have helped much. it's exactly what it's called: adrenaline. it doesn't magically heal him. just makes him numb to it until it all wears off.

it's the sound of the stool tapping down beside him that has bruce pull out of his drifting thoughts — has him look over to jason before his chin's being tipped up. even so, those blue eyes within the smeared greasepaint look over to him. )

Just worked with?

( just like he's just working with selina. right. )

( he gets the implication there. jason could lie, but lying to a family of liars is stupid as shit, he knows better.

so instead he takes the cup of water and slowly tips it over the wound to flush it out. there are less messy ways of doing this, bruce didn't make a mess, but jason doesn't give a shit. bruce can live with it. jason talks while he opens the rest and threads the needle. )

She kissed me. Right before jumping into a black hole. I would've gone with her, but some asshole in a cowl insisted on bashing my skull in, so.

( needle ready, jason puts the end of it between lips so he can reach forward and pinch the wound closed with a hand. raises the other to take the needle back, and starts sewing bruce up. )

Could've been worse. I doubt a black hole's enough to take her out.

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