metalogs | i was born to hold my hands up (open)

( jason's alone, until he suddenly isn't anymore. robin sits in front of him, weight resting on the balls of his feet as he squats down and rests his forearms against his knees. there's blood dripping down into his eye still, the mask has fallen off entirely, and robin suit full of tears and rips. bruises cover a substantial amount of skin that's still visible, but none of it seems to bother robin any.

his arms shift so his elbows are pressed against his knees, cushioning his chin on the palms of his hands as his head tips up to look towards jason.

a bright burst of color in an otherwise endless dark void. )

It's your fault, you know.

He hurt us. Badly.

[It's a statement but not a denial. Part of him wants to reach out to Robin but another part of him is afraid. He's afraid he'll hurt him more]

If you listened, you wouldn't be dead.

( his voice is soft, gentle almost. almost, but there's something. . darker on the edge of it. or maybe it's just a feeling, like this isn't right. )

But you're the bad Robin, aren't you? You never listen. You just fuck up everything you touch.

[Jason responds in a low voice]

It's not right. It shouldn't have happened.

[It's disturbing to see and talk to his... child self? Someone close enough to his former self? In any case, the resemblance is strong enough that Jason is just quietly accepting instead of angrily rejecting anything]

No, it shouldn't have. And it's all. Your. Fault.

( it's the only warning jason gets, before robin's lurching up to his feet and jumping up, to try and get his hands around jason's throat. if robin's dead, jason should be, too. )

[Jason's too horrified to dodge Robin. He's knocked to the floor and then quickly tries to grab Robin's wrists to pull him off of him]

N-No...

( jason grabs for him, but robin doesn't stop. he's stronger than he should be, snarling through the mess of blood that coats his teeth and shoving against jason's grip. )

If I'm dead, you should be, too.

[Jason frantically shakes his head as he keeps trying to push him off. Out of survival instinct he then tries to punch Robin in the face. He wants to run away so badly. He doesn't understand what's happening. He just knows something's very wrong]

( the hit lands, square across robin's cheek. he reaches a hand up, attempts to go for jason temporarily suspended, and--presses bloody fingers up against the place jason's fist had landed.

offers a sad little smile, before robin simply fades away. )

[Jason scrambles to get up and flee. Soon color comes back into the void and shapes are formed.

The foyer for a mansion appears. Sunlight is streaming from the large windows. A teenage boy softly steps down the grand stairs. When he reaches the landing, he looks to the side at the doorway to the library. The doors have been left open and he can hear two older men talking. He can't make out everything they're saying yet but he does hear "Jason."

He comes closer and hides besides the doorway to eavesdrops more on the men. What he hears hurts and enrages him]

( he doesn't exist. he's a fly on the wall listening to a conversation that's all too familiar and yet different all in the same breath. he listens to bruce talk about his unresolved pain, how he needs to bench him because clearly jason can't be trusted out there. he's too rough. too volatile. he's not dick grayson.

and jason's leaning up against the door frame just outside of bruce and alfred's view. he's patting at the pockets of his jacket. pulls out a box of cigarettes, and puts one between his lips. he doesn't smoke anymore, hasn't since bruce picked him up off the streets, but this isn't real and he doesn't give two shits about his lungs in a fucked up nightmare. )

He didn't know what he took on.

[The statements "a danger to himself" and "a danger to our mission" echo throughout the void. Everything Bruce said hurt but those two parts were especially painful. His own adoptive father was saying he's dangerous and can't be trusted.

The angry teenager appears again as the void shifts back to an old decrepit room. A few tires are stacked in a corner while a dirty thin mattress is on the floor]

Damaged goods. Sorry. No refunds for fucked-up kids.

[His voice is bitter. It's a defense to hide how hurt he feels too]

( the room shifts, and so does jason. he lounges on the dirty thin mattress like he belongs there, messy curls falling over his forehead and ratty old clothes that aren't the right size falling awkwardly on too-thin shoulders. he's maybe, just barely, hit double digits. the cigarette that wasn't lit before's halfway to the filter. )

He thought he'd seen the worst Gotham has to offer from up on top of his nice fancy schmancy hill in his nice manor with it's too many rooms full of ghosts. He saw Crime Alley for what it was, once, an' thought he knew it all. But he didn't. Doesn't. He doesn't know the shit kids like us have to do to survive. He doesn't know it ain't us that's the problem, ( cigarette between his fingers, brow furrowed, ) it's that his mission only works for him.

[The teenager is pacing angrily like a caged predator]

His way is the only right way as far as he's concerned. So sanctimonious and looking down at everything else from his ivory tower. He thinks he gets how fucked things can get but he hasn't seen how deep those roots can go.

He hasn't seen Gotham the way we have.

( fathers teaching their kids how to steal shit more effectively so they can have a sidekick of their own. mothers with needles in their arms, dead in the bathtub. the shit a kid has to do to survive rather than get pulled under gotham's current.

jason tips his head, follows "junior" who really isn't a junior anymore with his eyes. )

But he can't do it the way we do it. I've seen it. What happens when Bruce does decide to kill Joker after our death.

[Jason pauses in his angry fog and looks back at the "boy"]

What happens?

He kills all of them. And he doesn't stop.

( it's vague but it's meant to be. jason doesn't want to get into it, because he knows it's what he wanted until he saw how it'd turn out. and it's not even the killing everyone thing that hits the most, it's the - )

He forgets he's fighting for justice.

[Jason scowls and looks away. He's angry again]

Then it really is left to just us. No one else.

[He's so tired and frustrated by the whole ordeal. It doesn't feel fair]

( he--shifts again. he's older, looks the same as he does outside of the dream, aside from the white patch of hair that falls over his forehead. )

He can't handle it. Not like we can.

[Jason sighs]

I know. I tried to convince my Bruce before the Confluence. Shit didn't work. Do you ever get tired?

I've been tired for a long time.

( their lives are too much but it's also--not enough. he's not doing enough, he needs to do more, but he's so exhausted of trying and failing. of bruce getting pissed at him. of feeling like he needs to live up to bruce's expectations, of then feeling like bruce can fuck off because jason doesn't care but he does care. he cares so much--about gotham, about his siblings, about bruce, and it's always too much. )

[The teenager shifts and it's Jason as he usually looks outside of the dreamscape. More height and more muscles but still the same traumatized man]

It feels like it's been forever for me too.

Part of the job, ain't it. Being tired.

( watching everything continuously fall apart. falling apart just to need to pull themselves together. being dead exhausted all the time, because no matter how hard they try, there's always something else. )

[Sadly and quietly]

I wish it would stop.

[Jason simple accepts their surroundings fall apart. Isn't that how it usually goes for them? Just one thing falling apart after another. They can't even have a real mom apparently]

I do, too.

( wishes that it would all just--end. the horrible shitty things that happen in gotham. the pain. wishes he could stop, sometimes, but jason knows he can't. not until it's all over, and it'll--never get there. )

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