Nightwing: Heartache

Part 51: Connection

February 12, 9:37pm
Gotham City

Willa opened the box of cereal and hopped onto the counter, swinging her feet and reaching into the box. Dick had left earlier and he wasn't home yet. She wore one of Dick's sweatshirts, grateful she was getting over the lingering effects of her brush with hypothermia.

The sliding door to the balcony opened and Jason walked in. They both froze when they saw each other and Jason raised his hands, backing up slowly.

"You don't have to go," Willa called out before she could stop herself.

Jason stopped moving, but he shifted uncomfortably. "Um, it's fine, I can leave, I don't want to freak you out..."

She took a deep breath, "it's fine." She held out the box of cereal, "hungry?"

His lips twitched, "that's my cereal."

"Oh," she looked at the box, "sorry."

"It's cool," he shrugged and took a tentative step towards the kitchen. Slow, in case she freaked out again. "I, um, I think I owe you anyway."

Willa thought about it. "Well, in that case," she took another big handful of cereal, spilling some on the ground, then held out the box to Jason.

His mouth raised in the closest thing Willa had seen to a smile on him yet. When he didn't move to take the box, Willa shook it impatiently. He hesitantly took it, backing up to the opposite counter and shaking some pieces into his hand.

"You were out on patrol?" Willa asked. She saw him nod. "Don't you have a concussion?" Another nod. "You're not very talkative, are you?" She finally asked.

She had hoped to make him laugh, to try and ease some of this tension. Maybe if she could ease the tension, she could get rid of the knot in her stomach that formed every time she got close to Jason. She thought that maybe if she knew him, the actual him, not the brainwashed assassin the League of Shadows created, it would calm her nerves.

But when he looked at her, there wasn't a trace of humor in his face. The opposite, in fact. His expression was the picture of anguish. "Willa, I..." he swallowed and looked away, "I'm so sorry."

She tensed for a moment, then popped another piece of cereal in her mouth. "I know."

"What I did... or what I didn't do..." he took a steadying breath. "I remember it. I'm remembering a lot as time goes on, and I remember being there, watching you. And I didn't do anything to-" his voice cracked.

"What were you supposed to do?" She just stared at him when he looked up in confusion. "That's a serious question. Did you have any control over your actions?"

"I-well-Dick broke through to me. That's how they got me back. So it was possible."

Willa nodded, "how did Dick break through to you?"

He paused. "I don't-I don't know, it's like his voice, or something triggered a feeling...like I knew him. And then he hit me really hard. And then M'gann..."

She ate some more cereal, "so it was really M'gann that gave you back your mind."

"I guess so."

"Jason, you had no control over anything, for years. You didn't make a single decision. And it would be unfair of me to hold you to the assumption that you did." It was harder to see him as the same assassin in that hellhole the longer she looked at him now. Like the scared, traumatized kid in front of her, who had literally died.

Jason shook his head, "you can't let me off that easy, Willa."

"The way I see it is we were both captives. And I would appreciate it if you chose to look at it that way too." She took another bite. "That way we get a trauma bond rather than a trauma response every time we see each other."

"There's no way you're just...cool...with me."

"Oh, I'm not," she added hastily, "honestly, my skin feels like it's crawling right now and I think my body is trying to go into flight or fight-"

Jason flinched a little, "same."

"But it's getting easier," Willa continued, "and I think you need help." Jason looked up at that. Willa kept talking, "I think you live an already dangerous life, and if you aren't careful, you're going to die again."

"I don't need your input," Jason snapped.

Willa jerked back and saw Jason's face soften in apology. "I think you're still trying to make up your mind on whether you want to be alive."

Jason scoffed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do. Trust me."

There was a long pause after that where Jason just stared at his boots.

"The difference," Willa said quietly, "is I don't think you realize how many people love you, and have already forgiven you."

"I'm not like you!" Jason flung out his arms, "I'm not some perky cheerleader that everyone loves! Even before I died, people barely tolerated me!" He took a step towards her, "I died and Bruce replaced me in under a year! I came back to life and nobody noticed for four years! So you can't sit there and tell me how much people love me!" His face was red but Willa didn't move from her place on the counter.

"You don't have to be likable to deserve love, Jason," she said evenly. Slowly, the assassin was disappearing before her eyes. In its place was a broken little boy, unable to talk about any of this with the people who mattered the most, "you don't have to be nice to deserve to be alive."

"Well maybe I don't," he snarled, but Willa could see his eyes turning glassy, "everytime I close my eyes I see the people I hurt. I see you. I think about the lives I ended and somehow I'm still alive? How is that fair?!" He backed up, his back hitting the counter, and he gripped his hair, "it's not fair," his voice cracked again, "it's not fair," he slid down until he was sitting on the kitchen floor, head in his hands, "it's not fair."

Willa hopped off the counter and sat down beside him. She gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in until he let his head fall on her shoulder. "I just wish I stayed dead," he sobbed against her neck.

"Shhh," she stroked his hair, "let it out." She wasn't sure if Jason had ever allowed himself to fall apart like this, if he'd really grieved his life yet. She loved Dick, but he didn't come from a family that routinely talked about their feelings. And she guessed that all this had been building inside Jason since getting back, he just never had an outlet.

"Jason," she said when he had calmed down a little bit, "if you give up now, if you go out as a vigilante without a will to live, how will that help anyone? How will that honor any of the people you hurt?"

"Trust me, they all want me dead too."

"Not true," she raised his chin so he was looking at her, his tear stained face still flashing with anger, "I'm one of the people you hurt and I promise you it helps no one to let your guilt swallow you."

He wiped his nose, "I can't take back what I did-"

"Then spend the rest of your life making up for it," she finally snapped. "Stop wallowing in self pity and start living again."

"But-"

"-I swear to god if you make Dick go through losing you again, I will bring you back and kill you myself."

He opened and closed his mouth, shocked into silence. "Did you just threaten me?" He managed.

"Get over it."

His lips twitched again in an almost smile. "You love him enough to be sitting on the floor consoling someone who hurt you?"

She handed him a paper towel to blow his nose. "I do love him that much, but I'm here with you because you need someone, and everyone deserves someone."

He stared at her, shocked, and he wiped his eyes, silently leaning on her again, letting her hold him. And Willa wondered when the last time someone just held him was.

"Okay," he said softly.

And the knot in Willa's stomach started going away.