Fic: (Un)Tethered | DCU | Bruce/Jason, Jason/Tim, Alfred, Zatanna | R | 1/1
Title: (Un)Tethered
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Jason/Tim, Alfred, Zatanna
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,354
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Chains; For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding (Part 1) & Sensory Deprivation (part 2); For au_bingo: Historical: Victorian
Summary: Bruce doesn't trust the sorceress.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Sixteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; Follows (Un)Hinged. This one went way longer than I'd intended, and got lost in the holiday ficcish shuffle. Oops! But here, have some angst. :D (At this rate, the series will easily run to the end of January. *headdesk*)
(Un)Tethered: Part 1
He doesn't trust the sorceress.
Leading her down into the Cave is risky enough, letting her in on their nocturnal activities, compromising their identities, but telling her about what Tim is, what Jason is, it's a whole different gamble. If she were so inclined, she could use everything she learns here against him, against his... his family, have his boys taken away, have Jason killed.
But he needs her. His boys need her desperately right now. They need her talents, her skill.
It pains him to feel so vulnerable.
“Oh, oh my,” the witch says as soon as they enter the Cave and she sees Jason and Tim laid out on the bio beds in the med bay. “This is definitely not what I was expecting.” Stepping over to the space between the two beds, she lays a hand on each of their foreheads, letting her eyes drift shut, focused. “It's a psychic bond. Compounded by toxins, and-oh. Their very natures.”
Bruce holds his breath at her discovery, crossing his arms over his chest.
Straightening and smoothing down her long skirt, she looks him in the eye evenly. “A wolf and a vampire? Interesting company you keep outside the public eye, Mister Wayne.”
“Will that be a problem?”
Zatanna shakes her head, smiling softly. “Not at all. And not entirely outside my realm of expertise, if highly unusual.” Looking to Alfred then, the butler newly popped in from elsewhere in the Manor, she starts ticking off her fingers one by one. “I'll need coltsfoot, eucalyptus, hyssop, nettle, cloves to help ease the break-” pausing, she glances around at the darkness of the Cave, almost seeming amused, then continues, “and Devil pod, definitely. A mortar and pestle, too, if you have them. Thank you.”
Well then, maybe Bruce's fears have been unfounded. He hopes.
~*~*~*~
Watching the witch lay out her tools after Alfred's gone and returned with the required supplies, Bruce hangs back in the closest shadow, anxious. In the midst of her work, Zatanna doesn't seem as threatening as he'd assumed. Of course, neither did Ivy, and look how that turned out. But the sorceress... she doesn't ooze danger the way Ivy did. Quite the opposite, actually, dressed in the usual trappings of her trade, as if the world never entered the twentieth century. In a long black dress with gray lace at the wrist-cuffs and collar, her dark hair drawn up into a loose bun, and ankle boots, she looks like she could be someone's great-great-grandmother, transported from another time. Nonthreatening, demure, trustworthy, all the impressions that the Magickal Council will never admit the uniform is supposed to invoke.
But then Zatanna lights the herbs in the tiny cauldron she's drawn out of a carpet bag of other supplies, the puff of smoke filling the air with a hiss, sizzle, and sharp pops. Dropping several black and clear crystal chips in, she waits for the smoke to turn a blue hue, and nods to herself, the light from the small fire lighting up her face menacingly.
No grandmother he's ever heard of could do that, the effect lending itself more to theatrics than simple kitchen witchery. Madame Zee would look better in tux tails, a top hat, and fishnets, anyway, not that he would ever tell her that.
Uneasy, he shifts from foot to foot, waiting, observing, watching the way Jason and Tim slumber on under the effect of the tranquilizer, the boys completely unaware of what's happening.
He wonders if they were even aware of what they were doing, before.
“Dnob, eb enodnu. Nosiop, eb enog. Tel siht knil eb dereves, naelc, eltneg, dna ysae. Tel on ecrof dloh uoy, tel on tirips ni. Tel on doolb niahc uoy. Ecno deit, won deitnu. Tahw saw dnuob, won eb dnuobnu,” Zatanna chants over the smoke and the sleeping boys, her eyes drifting shut again.
It doesn't sound like like any language Bruce has ever heard, exotic, archaic, and that chills him, brings that helpless feeling back in spades. And-
And the smoke curls around them, shrouds the beds and the witch from view, her chanting going on, rising crescendo, echoing, the hair on Bruce's arms standing on end, until there's a final hiss of the burning concoction, and a loud pop.
Something feels different, like a high-tension wire has snapped, a comm line cut. It's suddenly silent in the Cave, not even the bats far above rustling in their coves, and Bruce can't help a shuddering sigh.
“It is done,” comes Zatanna's voice from the slowly clearing smoke, the fragrance of the herbs dying away. When she steps into view, she looks tired, her hair loosened from its bun and her expression one of exhaustion. Collecting her things quickly, she smiles sadly at Bruce, and pauses on her way toward the stairs, her bag held in front of her. “It may take time, but the link is broken. I can't predict the exact results, considering their natures, but both young gentlemen should recover well. Call me if you need my services again.” And with a wink, she turns to head out of the Cave.
Bruce only barely manages the 'thank you' that sits on his lips for a long time after she's gone, but her slight nod as she disappears up the stairs tells him the sentiment was received.
~*~*~*~
(Un)Tethered: Part 2
“Bruce....” comes the weak plea from the bio bed, and Bruce is by Jason's side in an instant, his heart in his throat. It's taken far too long for the boys to wake up, Tim still slumbering in the next bed, and Bruce is exhausted, ignoring the swimming in his vision from being awake for so long, waiting.
“I'm here,” he replies, taking Jay's hand in his own and settling into the chair that Alfred brought over for him. “How are you feeling?”
He expects his Wolf to need water, to be disoriented, to be sore, but not the tears that slip from the corners of Jason's eyes as he squeezes them shut, his entire body starting to tremble slightly. The sight sets off a new panic that claws its way up Bruce's spine.
“Why can't I feel him?” Jason whimpers, body shuddering. He opens his eyes again, searching wildly until his gaze lands on the small, still form in the other bed, and a sob wrenches free of his throat. “Why can't I feel him? Bruce... Tim, he... it was the pollen.... Why the fuck can't I feel him!?” he finally screams, free hand curling into a claw and raking over his face, through his hair.
All Bruce can do as his panic turns to cold terror once again is wrap himself over his boy, shaking with him, trying his damnedest to calm him. “Shh...” he says, “it's okay. I've got you, Jason.”
“It's not okay!” Jay shouts between wracking sobs, clinging to Bruce. “I can't feel him!”
“You would've killed each other,” Bruce tries to explain, his own throat closing up around his voice. “You were... what you were doing to Tim.... I had to undo whatever the pollen did to you.”
At that, Jason almost stills, and he pushes Bruce off of him with a sudden snarl. “Why!?” he screams again, trying to sit up and grimacing with his agony. “Don't you get it? You broke us!” Clawing at his face and head again with hands that don't have the strength to shift, he rocks forward in the bed. “S'like I'm blind! Can't see.... How could you take that away... from-”
When Jay crumples in place, unconscious again, Bruce can't help the anguished cry that escapes him, his arms going around Jason to help ease him back into the bed.
“You should eat and get some rest, Master Bruce,” Alfred says from the other side of the bed, pulling a needle from the IV line, and Bruce only realizes then that he's administered another sedative, his presence completely unregistered until now. “Let me deal with the boys when they wake.”
Bruce can only nod dumbly, his exhaustion finally getting the better of him as he smooths Jason's mussed hair down and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. Utter helplessness washing over him, he simply doesn't know what to do, silently prays that Alfred will know.
Alfred has to. Bruce trusts him.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Jason/Tim, Alfred, Zatanna
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,354
Prompt: For 50_darkfics: Chains; For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding (Part 1) & Sensory Deprivation (part 2); For au_bingo: Historical: Victorian
Summary: Bruce doesn't trust the sorceress.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Sixteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; Follows (Un)Hinged. This one went way longer than I'd intended, and got lost in the holiday ficcish shuffle. Oops! But here, have some angst. :D (At this rate, the series will easily run to the end of January. *headdesk*)
(Un)Tethered: Part 1
He doesn't trust the sorceress.
Leading her down into the Cave is risky enough, letting her in on their nocturnal activities, compromising their identities, but telling her about what Tim is, what Jason is, it's a whole different gamble. If she were so inclined, she could use everything she learns here against him, against his... his family, have his boys taken away, have Jason killed.
But he needs her. His boys need her desperately right now. They need her talents, her skill.
It pains him to feel so vulnerable.
“Oh, oh my,” the witch says as soon as they enter the Cave and she sees Jason and Tim laid out on the bio beds in the med bay. “This is definitely not what I was expecting.” Stepping over to the space between the two beds, she lays a hand on each of their foreheads, letting her eyes drift shut, focused. “It's a psychic bond. Compounded by toxins, and-oh. Their very natures.”
Bruce holds his breath at her discovery, crossing his arms over his chest.
Straightening and smoothing down her long skirt, she looks him in the eye evenly. “A wolf and a vampire? Interesting company you keep outside the public eye, Mister Wayne.”
“Will that be a problem?”
Zatanna shakes her head, smiling softly. “Not at all. And not entirely outside my realm of expertise, if highly unusual.” Looking to Alfred then, the butler newly popped in from elsewhere in the Manor, she starts ticking off her fingers one by one. “I'll need coltsfoot, eucalyptus, hyssop, nettle, cloves to help ease the break-” pausing, she glances around at the darkness of the Cave, almost seeming amused, then continues, “and Devil pod, definitely. A mortar and pestle, too, if you have them. Thank you.”
Well then, maybe Bruce's fears have been unfounded. He hopes.
~*~*~*~
Watching the witch lay out her tools after Alfred's gone and returned with the required supplies, Bruce hangs back in the closest shadow, anxious. In the midst of her work, Zatanna doesn't seem as threatening as he'd assumed. Of course, neither did Ivy, and look how that turned out. But the sorceress... she doesn't ooze danger the way Ivy did. Quite the opposite, actually, dressed in the usual trappings of her trade, as if the world never entered the twentieth century. In a long black dress with gray lace at the wrist-cuffs and collar, her dark hair drawn up into a loose bun, and ankle boots, she looks like she could be someone's great-great-grandmother, transported from another time. Nonthreatening, demure, trustworthy, all the impressions that the Magickal Council will never admit the uniform is supposed to invoke.
But then Zatanna lights the herbs in the tiny cauldron she's drawn out of a carpet bag of other supplies, the puff of smoke filling the air with a hiss, sizzle, and sharp pops. Dropping several black and clear crystal chips in, she waits for the smoke to turn a blue hue, and nods to herself, the light from the small fire lighting up her face menacingly.
No grandmother he's ever heard of could do that, the effect lending itself more to theatrics than simple kitchen witchery. Madame Zee would look better in tux tails, a top hat, and fishnets, anyway, not that he would ever tell her that.
Uneasy, he shifts from foot to foot, waiting, observing, watching the way Jason and Tim slumber on under the effect of the tranquilizer, the boys completely unaware of what's happening.
He wonders if they were even aware of what they were doing, before.
“Dnob, eb enodnu. Nosiop, eb enog. Tel siht knil eb dereves, naelc, eltneg, dna ysae. Tel on ecrof dloh uoy, tel on tirips ni. Tel on doolb niahc uoy. Ecno deit, won deitnu. Tahw saw dnuob, won eb dnuobnu,” Zatanna chants over the smoke and the sleeping boys, her eyes drifting shut again.
It doesn't sound like like any language Bruce has ever heard, exotic, archaic, and that chills him, brings that helpless feeling back in spades. And-
And the smoke curls around them, shrouds the beds and the witch from view, her chanting going on, rising crescendo, echoing, the hair on Bruce's arms standing on end, until there's a final hiss of the burning concoction, and a loud pop.
Something feels different, like a high-tension wire has snapped, a comm line cut. It's suddenly silent in the Cave, not even the bats far above rustling in their coves, and Bruce can't help a shuddering sigh.
“It is done,” comes Zatanna's voice from the slowly clearing smoke, the fragrance of the herbs dying away. When she steps into view, she looks tired, her hair loosened from its bun and her expression one of exhaustion. Collecting her things quickly, she smiles sadly at Bruce, and pauses on her way toward the stairs, her bag held in front of her. “It may take time, but the link is broken. I can't predict the exact results, considering their natures, but both young gentlemen should recover well. Call me if you need my services again.” And with a wink, she turns to head out of the Cave.
Bruce only barely manages the 'thank you' that sits on his lips for a long time after she's gone, but her slight nod as she disappears up the stairs tells him the sentiment was received.
~*~*~*~
(Un)Tethered: Part 2
“Bruce....” comes the weak plea from the bio bed, and Bruce is by Jason's side in an instant, his heart in his throat. It's taken far too long for the boys to wake up, Tim still slumbering in the next bed, and Bruce is exhausted, ignoring the swimming in his vision from being awake for so long, waiting.
“I'm here,” he replies, taking Jay's hand in his own and settling into the chair that Alfred brought over for him. “How are you feeling?”
He expects his Wolf to need water, to be disoriented, to be sore, but not the tears that slip from the corners of Jason's eyes as he squeezes them shut, his entire body starting to tremble slightly. The sight sets off a new panic that claws its way up Bruce's spine.
“Why can't I feel him?” Jason whimpers, body shuddering. He opens his eyes again, searching wildly until his gaze lands on the small, still form in the other bed, and a sob wrenches free of his throat. “Why can't I feel him? Bruce... Tim, he... it was the pollen.... Why the fuck can't I feel him!?” he finally screams, free hand curling into a claw and raking over his face, through his hair.
All Bruce can do as his panic turns to cold terror once again is wrap himself over his boy, shaking with him, trying his damnedest to calm him. “Shh...” he says, “it's okay. I've got you, Jason.”
“It's not okay!” Jay shouts between wracking sobs, clinging to Bruce. “I can't feel him!”
“You would've killed each other,” Bruce tries to explain, his own throat closing up around his voice. “You were... what you were doing to Tim.... I had to undo whatever the pollen did to you.”
At that, Jason almost stills, and he pushes Bruce off of him with a sudden snarl. “Why!?” he screams again, trying to sit up and grimacing with his agony. “Don't you get it? You broke us!” Clawing at his face and head again with hands that don't have the strength to shift, he rocks forward in the bed. “S'like I'm blind! Can't see.... How could you take that away... from-”
When Jay crumples in place, unconscious again, Bruce can't help the anguished cry that escapes him, his arms going around Jason to help ease him back into the bed.
“You should eat and get some rest, Master Bruce,” Alfred says from the other side of the bed, pulling a needle from the IV line, and Bruce only realizes then that he's administered another sedative, his presence completely unregistered until now. “Let me deal with the boys when they wake.”
Bruce can only nod dumbly, his exhaustion finally getting the better of him as he smooths Jason's mussed hair down and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. Utter helplessness washing over him, he simply doesn't know what to do, silently prays that Alfred will know.
Alfred has to. Bruce trusts him.
~*~*~*~