The Arkhamite's Kid

Family Bonding

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Bruce's POV

I can still save him.

That was all Bruce had been thinking since Harley told him she was the one who killed the Joker. I can still save Jason. Save him from Harley and Ivy and Bane and Two-Face and the Riddler. Save him from whatever was in his head.

Save him from Bruce.

Bruce was lying on his back staring at the green of the plants above his head. It was overwhelming, vines as thick as Bruce's arm pushing through the walls. He didn't know how long he'd been there.

"Batman," Kate shouted, voice distant. Bruce didn't know if the echo was from the distance between them, or from the cracks running along his brain. When had she gotten there?

"Oh, God," Dick said. Blue came into Bruce's vision. Dick's head snapped towards where Kate's voice had come from. "He's over here!" he screamed, screeching like a bird of prey. Bruce recoiled, the sound echoing through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying in some vain effort to push the tiredness from his eyes. He squeezed them until he saw red–red like the paint on Harley's bat, red like that glossy helmet, red like the blood that had burst from Jason's neck.

Bruce felt the sting of a palm on his cheek. "Hey, hey just stay awake," Dick said. Don't sleep with a head injury. Bruce wasn't sure if he'd said that or if his brain had filled in the blanks.

They helped him up, holding him by the shoulders. Kate asked, "Can you stand?" He couldn't, but that didn't stop him from trying. Bruce took two steps on his own and pitched forward, his feet not agreeing with where he was trying to put them.

"Okay," Kate said, catching him by his shoulder. "Okay. Help me."

Dick took his other side, helping him towards the door. Bruce wanted to tell him everything, about what Harley said, about how Jason needed help, about how he didn't do it.

I can still save him, he thought dizzily. And then, even better: there is something left to save.

^—^

Leslie waved a light in front of Bruce's face. This was in the Belfry. Bruce was sitting on the tiny cot they'd turned into a med-bay. He could guess from the tutting sounds Leslie was making that he had a concussion–now it was just a matter of how bad it was.

Leslie sighed, putting away the flashlight. "A concussion," she said unnecessarily. "It looks bad, but it could have been worse." She eyed him as she packed up the first aid kit. "You're not going to listen to me if I tell you to stay off patrol, are you?"

Bruce shook his head, ignoring how it made the pressure behind his skull feel like it was about to explode out. "It's too busy," he said. "Between the Arkham breakout and Ja–Red Hood–I can't take a break. Not now."

Leslie peered at him, then shook her head, muttering something Bruce couldn't quite hear. She left, exchanging quick niceties with Alfred on her way out. Bruce sighed slowly.

Dick was hovering nearby. He had been since they'd gotten Bruce back to the Belfry. He had a look on his face Bruce couldn't read. Bruce missed when he was a kid, when he'd just spit out every thought as it came into his brain instead of hiding it all.

"I heard her," Dick said suddenly. Bruce glanced up at him. He was bouncing on his feet, a stim Bruce recognized all too quickly. "Harley," Dick clarified. "I heard what she said over comms." He was silent for another moment. Bruce couldn't stand the sound of silence.