Fic: Alive | DCU | Dick/Jason | R | 1/1
Title: Alive
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Dick/Jason
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,186
Prompt: For this prompt at comment_fic: Jason Todd/any, he cuts himself just to feel alive
Summary: Dick knows exactly what the marks are.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Follows Like It or Not and precedes Up in Flames. This one's been sitting unfinished on my hard drive for entirely too long.
Warning: Discussion of cutting.
Alive
Dick doesn't see the marks until Jay is getting ready to check out of the hospital, changing out of that god-awful gown back into clothes actually meant for a human being. The moment Jason strips off the gown, exposing that long, lean back that Dick always found fascinating, his eyes are drawn right to them, thin scars lined up neatly on Jay's side.
He mistakes them for the result of a fight gone wrong at first, a tangle with the wrong clawed villain, the marks of Jay having been dragged over something with sharp, parallel edges, but... but he knows what they are. He's seen them on enough people to know them on sight. On enough of his friends.
“Jason?” he starts tentatively, stepping close enough to brush a finger over the raised lines.
Jay doesn't actually startle at the touch, pulling back just enough to get in a glare as he tugs his black t-shirt over his head. It's a warning, for sure, but Dick has learned from spending nearly a week here while Jay's leg slowly heals that there's only so much bite to his warnings, and he can handle it.
“You gonna tell me what happened, or what?” he asks, sitting next to Jason on the bed.
“Not so much, no,” Jay shoots back, smoothing the t-shirt down over the old scars.
Dick can see his hands start to quiver just slightly as he reaches over to the table for his bottle of water. “All right, I suppose I'll just have to guess then. Let me see... you came back to Gotham, things weren't how you left them, and after Bruce gave you this,” he says with a light touch to the old scar on Jason's neck, making him flinch, “you couldn't handle it, so you decided cutting seemed like a pretty good idea. Am I getting warm? Or maybe you've always done it, and you had to make up for lost time, replenish the marks that the Pit stole from you. Or maybe Talia got you so wound up that it was the only way to get her undivided attention for longer than ten min-”
The roar that Jason looses catches Dick off-guard then, and the crack of a fist against his shoulder sends him sprawling off the bed, the sudden sharp pain definitely more than a warning.
“You have absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about, Dickie,” Jason spits at him, rising up from the bed to stand unbalanced on mismatched legs, one in a blue boot over his cast and the other bare and pale, his pants still draped over the back of the nearby chair. His hands curl into fists before he has to reach for the bed rail to get that balance back and stay upright. “I've been putting up with you for a damn week, and I've had it up to here with your holier-than-though narcissistic bullshit! You wouldn't know the first thing about these, so don't even bother.”
Dick pushes himself up off the floor, not exactly cowing to Jason's authoritative tone, and plants himself on the edge of the bed again, this time gripping the foot rail should Jay try to knock him out again. “Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “So, sit down and tell me.”
Jay runs a hand through his hair, and after a long moment of wary looks, finally sits, propping his leg up on the chair like he's supposed to. He doesn't even glance at Dick, seeming suddenly smaller than he ever has. It's disconcerting.
“I woke up from the Pit whole. Not a scratch on me. Everybody thought it would make me well again, but it didn't.”
That much, Dick's known for a long time now. After Jason came back... things were bad. Really bad. But everyone with half a brain knew it wasn't really his fault.
A long breath, and Jay goes on, “I felt... dead. Like I might as well have not even come back from the goddamn grave. Like I was still rotting in that fucking coffin.”
Dick nods, not daring to put a supportive hand on Jay's shoulder or murmur something encouraging, settling instead on, “All right.”
Turning his gaze on Dick, Jay frowns. “All right? You gonna tell me you get it, now, too? Is that it, Dickie?”
“No. Just, all right. That's all.”
When Jay snorts and shakes his head, Dick thinks that'll be it, and he won't get another word out of him, but after a drawn-out moment, Jay scowls and starts again, staring down at his hands. “You couldn't possibly know what it's like to have your entire history ripped away from you like that. Every scar I'd earned were just gone. The stripe on my thigh where I'd been grazed in a drive-by at ten, the slice across my back where I'd taken a knife in an alley at eleven. Every little mark I took as Robin. Every single thing the Joker fucking did to me. All fucking gone. It was like my whole life had never happened. But it did. I was fucking there.” Pausing, he pushes his hand through his hair again, and turns to Dick. “I might as well have never existed. And that was even worse than feeling dead. I had to... I had to do something.”
The sudden intensity in Jay's eyes catches Dick off-guard then, and he can't help offering, “I'm sorry.”
“Right,” Jason huffs. “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”
“But I do,” Dick insists, and this time, he doesn't hold back, reaching over to clasp one of Jay's hands. “I'm sorry everything went so wrong that it made you feel that way. I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you were Robin. I'm sorry you died. And I'm sorry your history was taken away from you. You didn't deserve any of that. Nobody does.”
Glancing down at their hands, Jay suddenly shivers, his whole body seeming to quiver with it, but he doesn't move to shake off Dick's touch. When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet that Dick almost doesn't hear him. “Nobody... nobody ever said that before that actually meant it.”
“Well, I mean it. Every word.” And God help him, he does. Catching Jay's gaze, he goes on, “I don't want you to hurt, Jay. Why do you think I stuck around all this time?”
Jay raises a brow. “To torment me?”
And just like that, the tension is broken, a grin spreading over Dick's face. “That's just a side benefit. So, you gonna let me take you home so you can finish healing up without having to go it alone, or just sit here in your underwear, brooding?”
A snort, and Jay shakes his head. “You seriously can't seem to take 'no' for an answer, can you?”
“Nope. Now put on your pants and shoe and let's go. We can pick up a pizza on the way.”
At Jason's twitch of a smile, Dick knows for sure he's made some headway. He'll just have to remember to hide all the sharp objects in his apartment for a while. And find some other way for Jay to feel alive. It's a challenge he's more than willing to accept.
~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Dick/Jason
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,186
Prompt: For this prompt at comment_fic: Jason Todd/any, he cuts himself just to feel alive
Summary: Dick knows exactly what the marks are.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Follows Like It or Not and precedes Up in Flames. This one's been sitting unfinished on my hard drive for entirely too long.
Warning: Discussion of cutting.
Alive
Dick doesn't see the marks until Jay is getting ready to check out of the hospital, changing out of that god-awful gown back into clothes actually meant for a human being. The moment Jason strips off the gown, exposing that long, lean back that Dick always found fascinating, his eyes are drawn right to them, thin scars lined up neatly on Jay's side.
He mistakes them for the result of a fight gone wrong at first, a tangle with the wrong clawed villain, the marks of Jay having been dragged over something with sharp, parallel edges, but... but he knows what they are. He's seen them on enough people to know them on sight. On enough of his friends.
“Jason?” he starts tentatively, stepping close enough to brush a finger over the raised lines.
Jay doesn't actually startle at the touch, pulling back just enough to get in a glare as he tugs his black t-shirt over his head. It's a warning, for sure, but Dick has learned from spending nearly a week here while Jay's leg slowly heals that there's only so much bite to his warnings, and he can handle it.
“You gonna tell me what happened, or what?” he asks, sitting next to Jason on the bed.
“Not so much, no,” Jay shoots back, smoothing the t-shirt down over the old scars.
Dick can see his hands start to quiver just slightly as he reaches over to the table for his bottle of water. “All right, I suppose I'll just have to guess then. Let me see... you came back to Gotham, things weren't how you left them, and after Bruce gave you this,” he says with a light touch to the old scar on Jason's neck, making him flinch, “you couldn't handle it, so you decided cutting seemed like a pretty good idea. Am I getting warm? Or maybe you've always done it, and you had to make up for lost time, replenish the marks that the Pit stole from you. Or maybe Talia got you so wound up that it was the only way to get her undivided attention for longer than ten min-”
The roar that Jason looses catches Dick off-guard then, and the crack of a fist against his shoulder sends him sprawling off the bed, the sudden sharp pain definitely more than a warning.
“You have absolutely no fucking idea what you're talking about, Dickie,” Jason spits at him, rising up from the bed to stand unbalanced on mismatched legs, one in a blue boot over his cast and the other bare and pale, his pants still draped over the back of the nearby chair. His hands curl into fists before he has to reach for the bed rail to get that balance back and stay upright. “I've been putting up with you for a damn week, and I've had it up to here with your holier-than-though narcissistic bullshit! You wouldn't know the first thing about these, so don't even bother.”
Dick pushes himself up off the floor, not exactly cowing to Jason's authoritative tone, and plants himself on the edge of the bed again, this time gripping the foot rail should Jay try to knock him out again. “Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “So, sit down and tell me.”
Jay runs a hand through his hair, and after a long moment of wary looks, finally sits, propping his leg up on the chair like he's supposed to. He doesn't even glance at Dick, seeming suddenly smaller than he ever has. It's disconcerting.
“I woke up from the Pit whole. Not a scratch on me. Everybody thought it would make me well again, but it didn't.”
That much, Dick's known for a long time now. After Jason came back... things were bad. Really bad. But everyone with half a brain knew it wasn't really his fault.
A long breath, and Jay goes on, “I felt... dead. Like I might as well have not even come back from the goddamn grave. Like I was still rotting in that fucking coffin.”
Dick nods, not daring to put a supportive hand on Jay's shoulder or murmur something encouraging, settling instead on, “All right.”
Turning his gaze on Dick, Jay frowns. “All right? You gonna tell me you get it, now, too? Is that it, Dickie?”
“No. Just, all right. That's all.”
When Jay snorts and shakes his head, Dick thinks that'll be it, and he won't get another word out of him, but after a drawn-out moment, Jay scowls and starts again, staring down at his hands. “You couldn't possibly know what it's like to have your entire history ripped away from you like that. Every scar I'd earned were just gone. The stripe on my thigh where I'd been grazed in a drive-by at ten, the slice across my back where I'd taken a knife in an alley at eleven. Every little mark I took as Robin. Every single thing the Joker fucking did to me. All fucking gone. It was like my whole life had never happened. But it did. I was fucking there.” Pausing, he pushes his hand through his hair again, and turns to Dick. “I might as well have never existed. And that was even worse than feeling dead. I had to... I had to do something.”
The sudden intensity in Jay's eyes catches Dick off-guard then, and he can't help offering, “I'm sorry.”
“Right,” Jason huffs. “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”
“But I do,” Dick insists, and this time, he doesn't hold back, reaching over to clasp one of Jay's hands. “I'm sorry everything went so wrong that it made you feel that way. I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you were Robin. I'm sorry you died. And I'm sorry your history was taken away from you. You didn't deserve any of that. Nobody does.”
Glancing down at their hands, Jay suddenly shivers, his whole body seeming to quiver with it, but he doesn't move to shake off Dick's touch. When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet that Dick almost doesn't hear him. “Nobody... nobody ever said that before that actually meant it.”
“Well, I mean it. Every word.” And God help him, he does. Catching Jay's gaze, he goes on, “I don't want you to hurt, Jay. Why do you think I stuck around all this time?”
Jay raises a brow. “To torment me?”
And just like that, the tension is broken, a grin spreading over Dick's face. “That's just a side benefit. So, you gonna let me take you home so you can finish healing up without having to go it alone, or just sit here in your underwear, brooding?”
A snort, and Jay shakes his head. “You seriously can't seem to take 'no' for an answer, can you?”
“Nope. Now put on your pants and shoe and let's go. We can pick up a pizza on the way.”
At Jason's twitch of a smile, Dick knows for sure he's made some headway. He'll just have to remember to hide all the sharp objects in his apartment for a while. And find some other way for Jay to feel alive. It's a challenge he's more than willing to accept.
~*~*~