Family Isn't Just Blood

Injured, Angry, and Alone.

Jason:

          This day can't get anymore humiliating. First I get kicked out of my own apartment because my only two friends decide to fuck in the living room, then I get shot while trying to break up a drug bust because I forgot my bulletproof vest on my rush out, and now the closest place where I can get medical supplies is none fucking other than my old bedroom from before I was killed. It's been a great fucking day.

I use my grapple gun to help heave myself up to my window, luckily Alfred never locks this window in case I ever need to steal something or get patched up, (ok fine he frowns upon me stealing stuff but sometimes I need parts for my weapons and it's not like Bruce can't pay for more, I mean he is the billionaire), so I easily push it open and haul my ass inside. I wince as my side brushes against the window ledge, I was able to manage the pain before, with the help of a painkiller (ok maybe it was more than one), but they were wearing off. Fast.

Once I'd gotten the bullet removed and the wound cleaned, thanks to the multi purpose medical kit I kept under my bed, the only thing I had to do was stitch the fucker up and maybe put some duct tape or a bandage on it and I'd be good to go. No I'm not actually going to put duct tape on it, I only did that once. It hurt like a dick, so I've learned my lesson.

          By the time I was halfway don't stitching up my side my hands were shaking and sweat was dripping down my forehead and my back. I was probably running a fever and definitely overexerted, I needed water and sleep but I was probably only going to get one of those things here. This room is filled with too many memories, too much nostalgia, plus I kind of bled all over the sheets.

I heard footsteps outside the door and forced myself to ignore the instinct to jump out the window so no one would catch me, if I moved too much the stitches would rip open again and then I'd be tired, feverish, and bleeding. I couldn't ignore the instinct to grit my teeth as I heard the door handle turn and the sound of the door creaking open. I didn't look up, I couldn't face the prospect of possibly looking into Bruce's eyes when he caught me sewing myself back together in his house.

"Jason?" Tim squeaked from the door, thank the greenish pits of hell.

"Oh, hey Tim." I couldn't hide the shakiness of my voice as I continued stitching myself up, not looking up at my brother who was no doubt confused and concerned.

"What are you- oh my god are you ok?!"

"Sure kid, never better." I'm sure he heard my voice breaking as I tried to push the pain down so he wouldn't hear it in my voice. I swallowed hard and finished the last stitch before I tied it and cut the thread.

"What happened?" Tim's sweet voice carried through the room. He sounded so cautious, like he was worried I'd run if he got too close.

"Oh you know just another average day. Don't worry I'm ok."

"You don't look ok Jason you look-"

"Gorgeous I hope." I glanced up at him, his expression was so innocent and worried.

"I was going to say you look like shit."

"Shame. Just uh don't tell the old man about this will ya?" Tim nodded and stepped towards the bed I was sitting on.

"I can't stay, I've got to help Roy with a thing." My lies got worse the more delirious I got. I stood up and turned to Tim to say goodbye when I got hit with a wave of dizziness, I closed my eyes for a second trying to blink away the blurriness. I felt exhausted, like every bone in my body weighed twice as much as they actually did. I only realized what was happening when my body broke into a cold sweat, I looked over at Tim, his lips were moving and I knew he was talking but I couldn't hear anything. The ringing in my ears was too loud. My eyes met Tim's just as my body gave up fighting, I held his gaze for a few seconds before my body tipped forwards and I collapsed helplessly on the ground. I met unconsciousness before I met the floor.