Ficlet: (Un)Forgiven | DCU | Bruce/Jason | R | 1/1
Title: (Un)Forgiven
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Jason(/Tim)
Rating: R
Word Count: 839
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding (third fill!); 50_darkfics: Darkness; For kissbingo: Body: Hands
Summary: Waking again, Jason is desperate to fight the darkness threatening to swallow him in Tim's absence.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Eighteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; Follows (Un)Initiated. Not gonna finish the series (or the bingo blackout) by the New Year, ugh. But I'm getting a heck of a lot of bingos!
(Un)Forgiven
Waking in the darkness, Jason tastes the bitter, metallic tang of panic on his tongue as soon as he realizes he's alone.
Alone, all he's been since the moment he first awoke from the tranquilizers is alone.
But no, there's a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly.
“Shh, it's okay. I'm here,” Bruce says, lying next to him in in the dark of... their bedroom?
Jason can't concentrate on anything other than the pitch black hole that Tim's absence has left enough to know where he even is anymore.
And it's terrifying, almost as bad as that first time-how long has it been? Hours? Days?
He doesn't know.
His mind is pulled back to those horrible years spent chained to the floor in the Cave, and bile rises in his throat at the unbidden memories. He can't live like that again, he can't.
“H-how long?” he manages to croak out, his voice hoarse from screaming and sleep.
“Three days,” Bruce answers quietly, turning on the bedside lamp. “Don't try to get up,” he adds with a palm extended to stay Jason's attempt to throw back the covers. “Your injuries are still healing.”
Three days. Three fucking days.
A Tim-shaped abyss tries to swallow him, beckons with cavernous jaws, death incarnate, calling him.
He doesn't realize how badly he's shaking until Bruce takes his hands, helping him to sit up. “Easy, easy,” Bruce says, lifting his trembling hands in a stronger pair to kiss them each in turn.
Slowly, with deep, shuddering breaths, Jason forces himself still. He can't get Tim back. It's too late for that; all he can do is power ahead, let Bruce try to fix him, to fix them all.
And it finally dawns on Jason what's happened, what the pollen and the feeding did to them, made them do.
He's betrayed Bruce. Turned his back on his mate, his partner, his master. Ruined the only good thing he's ever had in his entire life.
Before he knows it, Bruce has pulled him into the circle of his arms, cradling him, holding him close as sobs wrench free of Jason of their own accord. He can't breathe, can't think, only wants to let himself fall into the abyss, let the darkness swallow him.
“S-sorry,” he chokes out around his tears. “So sorry, Bruce! Didn't... mean for....” But he can't even finish his apology, his throat seizing up, thick with his anguish as he cries against Bruce's broad chest.
“I know,” Bruce says gently, his voice rumbling and warm, if rough with his own despair. “I know you didn't. It wasn't your fault. It was my fault. I should've seen what was wrong long before it got this far.”
All Jason can do is cling to his bond-mate, fingers digging in wherever he can get purchase on Bruce's body, the darkness calling him still.
And for a long time, Bruce just holds him, lets him cry himself out, safe and secure in his arms. Then, “Come on, sit up,” he says quietly, easing Jason up. He reaches for something on the nightstand, and Jason doesn't even know what it is until there's a warm mug being pressed into his hands.
“Sip slowly,” Bruce orders him, the barest hint of the Batman's training voice in there, and Jason clings to that, to the tiny lifeline his master has thrown him.
He's Bruce's Wolf. He's Bruce's.
He slowly sips what turns out to be tea, grimacing at the earthy flavor.
“Zatanna left it with Alfred this morning, said it would help ground you,” Bruce explains, laying a hand on Jason's back and rubbing gentle circles.
To Jason's surprise, calm begins to settle over him. He doesn't know where from, but it's there, drawing him away from the darkness, inch by inch.
He breathes in the steam.
“A little better?”
Nodding, Jason lifts the cup for a longer sip. It really does taste like dirt, but he's had worse.
“Good,” Bruce nods in return, looking relieved.
Jason glances up at him and actually sees him for what feels like the first time in ages. His mate looks haggard, exhausted, as if he's pulled a marathon patrol, a week with no sleep, and the sight cuts Jason to the core. It's all his fault.
A final sip of the tea, and he runs a hand through his hair-fuck, he needs a shower-heaving a breath. The abyss seems further away, but reality doesn't look so much better right now.
Taking the empty cup and setting it aside, Bruce gathers Jason into his arms again, and Jay leans into the warm, sold strength, lets it support him.
“Not your fault,” Bruce repeats, and Jay wonders vaguely if he'd spoken that thought aloud, reminded suddenly of the night they both awoke from nightmares, not long after this whole thing was set in motion. That was bad, but this is so much worse, infinitely worse.
“Just try to get some sleep, okay? We'll get you cleaned up in the morning,” his mate says then, he seems so far away.
“'Kay,” is all Jason gets out, his body relaxing as Bruce eases him back down into the bed, and a more blessed darkness comes for him.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Bruce/Jason, Jason(/Tim)
Rating: R
Word Count: 839
Prompt: For hc_bingo: Forced Soulbonding (third fill!); 50_darkfics: Darkness; For kissbingo: Body: Hands
Summary: Waking again, Jason is desperate to fight the darkness threatening to swallow him in Tim's absence.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Eighteenth in the (Un)Familiar-verse; Follows (Un)Initiated. Not gonna finish the series (or the bingo blackout) by the New Year, ugh. But I'm getting a heck of a lot of bingos!
(Un)Forgiven
Waking in the darkness, Jason tastes the bitter, metallic tang of panic on his tongue as soon as he realizes he's alone.
Alone, all he's been since the moment he first awoke from the tranquilizers is alone.
But no, there's a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly.
“Shh, it's okay. I'm here,” Bruce says, lying next to him in in the dark of... their bedroom?
Jason can't concentrate on anything other than the pitch black hole that Tim's absence has left enough to know where he even is anymore.
And it's terrifying, almost as bad as that first time-how long has it been? Hours? Days?
He doesn't know.
His mind is pulled back to those horrible years spent chained to the floor in the Cave, and bile rises in his throat at the unbidden memories. He can't live like that again, he can't.
“H-how long?” he manages to croak out, his voice hoarse from screaming and sleep.
“Three days,” Bruce answers quietly, turning on the bedside lamp. “Don't try to get up,” he adds with a palm extended to stay Jason's attempt to throw back the covers. “Your injuries are still healing.”
Three days. Three fucking days.
A Tim-shaped abyss tries to swallow him, beckons with cavernous jaws, death incarnate, calling him.
He doesn't realize how badly he's shaking until Bruce takes his hands, helping him to sit up. “Easy, easy,” Bruce says, lifting his trembling hands in a stronger pair to kiss them each in turn.
Slowly, with deep, shuddering breaths, Jason forces himself still. He can't get Tim back. It's too late for that; all he can do is power ahead, let Bruce try to fix him, to fix them all.
And it finally dawns on Jason what's happened, what the pollen and the feeding did to them, made them do.
He's betrayed Bruce. Turned his back on his mate, his partner, his master. Ruined the only good thing he's ever had in his entire life.
Before he knows it, Bruce has pulled him into the circle of his arms, cradling him, holding him close as sobs wrench free of Jason of their own accord. He can't breathe, can't think, only wants to let himself fall into the abyss, let the darkness swallow him.
“S-sorry,” he chokes out around his tears. “So sorry, Bruce! Didn't... mean for....” But he can't even finish his apology, his throat seizing up, thick with his anguish as he cries against Bruce's broad chest.
“I know,” Bruce says gently, his voice rumbling and warm, if rough with his own despair. “I know you didn't. It wasn't your fault. It was my fault. I should've seen what was wrong long before it got this far.”
All Jason can do is cling to his bond-mate, fingers digging in wherever he can get purchase on Bruce's body, the darkness calling him still.
And for a long time, Bruce just holds him, lets him cry himself out, safe and secure in his arms. Then, “Come on, sit up,” he says quietly, easing Jason up. He reaches for something on the nightstand, and Jason doesn't even know what it is until there's a warm mug being pressed into his hands.
“Sip slowly,” Bruce orders him, the barest hint of the Batman's training voice in there, and Jason clings to that, to the tiny lifeline his master has thrown him.
He's Bruce's Wolf. He's Bruce's.
He slowly sips what turns out to be tea, grimacing at the earthy flavor.
“Zatanna left it with Alfred this morning, said it would help ground you,” Bruce explains, laying a hand on Jason's back and rubbing gentle circles.
To Jason's surprise, calm begins to settle over him. He doesn't know where from, but it's there, drawing him away from the darkness, inch by inch.
He breathes in the steam.
“A little better?”
Nodding, Jason lifts the cup for a longer sip. It really does taste like dirt, but he's had worse.
“Good,” Bruce nods in return, looking relieved.
Jason glances up at him and actually sees him for what feels like the first time in ages. His mate looks haggard, exhausted, as if he's pulled a marathon patrol, a week with no sleep, and the sight cuts Jason to the core. It's all his fault.
A final sip of the tea, and he runs a hand through his hair-fuck, he needs a shower-heaving a breath. The abyss seems further away, but reality doesn't look so much better right now.
Taking the empty cup and setting it aside, Bruce gathers Jason into his arms again, and Jay leans into the warm, sold strength, lets it support him.
“Not your fault,” Bruce repeats, and Jay wonders vaguely if he'd spoken that thought aloud, reminded suddenly of the night they both awoke from nightmares, not long after this whole thing was set in motion. That was bad, but this is so much worse, infinitely worse.
“Just try to get some sleep, okay? We'll get you cleaned up in the morning,” his mate says then, he seems so far away.
“'Kay,” is all Jason gets out, his body relaxing as Bruce eases him back down into the bed, and a more blessed darkness comes for him.
~*~*~*~