Personal Warfare

A cry for help?

Jason's POV

I watched Damian's chest move up and down slowly, but only because of the ventilator he was hooked up to, pushing and pulling air to and from his lungs.

The wound on his chest had been cleaned, stitched and bandaged, but I could still see him bleeding out in my arms when I closed my eyes.

Why didn't I just talk to you sooner?

I groaned, rubbing my face with my hands as I leaned down, resting my elbows on my knees.

When I finally looked back up, I felt my eyes watering with tears. My chest ached and I felt hopeless, knowing I could've done something to help him, but didn't.

"God, Damian, I'm so sorry. I've been such a shity brother to you and you deserved so much more." I reached out, gently grabbing his hand.

His skin was now paler than mine and it made my stomach churn. Instead of dark Arabian skin, he looked like a pale sick kid.

Which I guess at the moment, he was.

I shook my head, just squeezing his hand softly. "Lesie said that-that you're stable. Which is good. Dick and Bruce are um, well they're dealing with this in their own ways and Alfred made cookies. Lots of cookies."

I chuckled then sniffled and looked down for a moment, trying my best not to start crying. "Jon is um, well he's finally asleep. He didn't wanna leave your side for a long time. He's so good to you, kid. He loves you so much. I do too."

I heaved in a shaky breath, holding his hand in both of mine now. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. If I had been-...just please come back to us okay? Please."

I watched him for a moment longer till I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Jay, baby, let's get some rest."

I looked up at Tim, swallowing down against all the guilt I felt. "I should've just talked to him, Tim. Why the hell didn't I?" I let out a soft sob, covering my face as I looked down.

I felt both of Tim's hands on my cheeks and opened my eyes to see he had moved in front of me. "Jason Peter Todd, don't you dare do this to yourself."

His voice was unusually soft, but I heard the desperation in it as he held eye contact with me, his own tears threatening to fall.

"If I had only-" He cut me off, shaking his head and he pressed his thumb to my lips, still keeping his hands on my face.

"No, Jason. This is not just your fault. We all could've done something. We're all around him and I for one know that I must be a shit detective if I can't even see when my baby brother is hurting."

He heaved out, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at me, tracing his fingers over my features then up into my hair before taking a deep breath.

"But I can't fully blame myself either. Damian was trained from birth to keep his feelings out of the way. Remember what he used to say?" He glanced over at Damian then back at me.

"Pain is an illusion." I sighed out slowly, moving my hand up to his cheek before leaning my forehead against his.

I wanted to argue about this, tell Tim that if I hadn't just shrugged off the feeling that Damian was hiding something, maybe it wouldn't have been this bad, but I knew it was pointless.

Tim would just have more facts and points to hold up his end of the argument and he could easily go for hours.

So instead, I just nodded and dropped it, feeling the weight of my exhaustion finally hitting me.