Jason and Tim's first meeting
Warnings: non-graphic depiction of torture, clinical discussion of the aftermath, and Tim being creepy as all hell.
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The world is fire, fire and blood, death in a trash strewn alley. The world is narrowed down to that single point of agony, fever heat against the blood heat of the black vehicle. Jason is going to die. He laughs, cracked and helpless. Not now. Please, not now.
The fire bleeds into the world, carving a bright arc to consume the man in black. They howl, the man and him, and suddenly hands thin as bone entwine with his. “Run!” A voice commands. Jason runs, blind and helpless, following where the hands chose to lead him.
***
With waking comes numbness, and an impossible creature watching him from the chair besides his bed. Pale, pale eyes watching him, impossibly still, eyes so bright and lifeless, set in the face of an unwanted child. When it moves, Jason thinks he can hear rustling as the colorless skin stretches over an emaciated frame, bone and sinew wrapped in delicate veins and choked in a flesh devoted to devouring itself. It presses boney fingers to his throat, and delicately lifts his arm, examining the white mold that has consumed his hand.
“The dose will go down tomorrow,” It says, baring the emptiness of its insides.
***
Waking is difficult- the waves of agony from his arm are a good argument for fainting again. Eventually, though, he levers his eyes open. The ceiling is dark blue. There are little glow in the dark stars attached. The room smells faintly of fresh paint.
“I’ve pain killers. You should probably take them now that you’re off the morphine,” A dry, flat little voice offers. A thin, pale little hand comes into his field of vision, followed by a thin, pale little boy. “Your metacarpals and carpus in your right hand are all broken. Primarily comminuted and greenstick fractures. The proximal phalanges in your middle and index fingers are also broken, as well as the intermediate phalange of your index. Those are oblique fractures. Also, the flexor tendons of your ring and pinky fingers were severed. Would you like some water?”
As Jason stares blankly, the boy seems to come to some conclusion and nods to himself. He disappears, and Jason can faintly hear the soft padding of feet across the floor, growing softer and then louder. The boy returns with a glass of water in one hand and two small yellow pills in the other.
“Open,” he orders. Jason blinks, hazy, and obeys. “Good. Here. Small sips.” After a few more moments, the boy pulls away again, placing the cup down on a table Jason can’t see. “Due to the usual response to one of the Batman’s victims, circumstances dictated I take you to more discrete medical service than available at the public clinics or emergency rooms. Prior experience seems to imply that the treatment may have been inadequate for the level of damage sustained. If you begin to experience numbness, burning or sharp bursts of pain in conjunction with movement of the affected limb, inform me immediately.”
***
And that was Tim.
[a/n: Jay doesn’t know enough to tell, but the glow in the dark stars are totally arranged in accurate and proportional representations of the constellations. That could be seen from Jason’s old window. Because Wee!Timmy was a freak like that.]
______________________________________________________________________________
The world is fire, fire and blood, death in a trash strewn alley. The world is narrowed down to that single point of agony, fever heat against the blood heat of the black vehicle. Jason is going to die. He laughs, cracked and helpless. Not now. Please, not now.
The fire bleeds into the world, carving a bright arc to consume the man in black. They howl, the man and him, and suddenly hands thin as bone entwine with his. “Run!” A voice commands. Jason runs, blind and helpless, following where the hands chose to lead him.
***
With waking comes numbness, and an impossible creature watching him from the chair besides his bed. Pale, pale eyes watching him, impossibly still, eyes so bright and lifeless, set in the face of an unwanted child. When it moves, Jason thinks he can hear rustling as the colorless skin stretches over an emaciated frame, bone and sinew wrapped in delicate veins and choked in a flesh devoted to devouring itself. It presses boney fingers to his throat, and delicately lifts his arm, examining the white mold that has consumed his hand.
“The dose will go down tomorrow,” It says, baring the emptiness of its insides.
***
Waking is difficult- the waves of agony from his arm are a good argument for fainting again. Eventually, though, he levers his eyes open. The ceiling is dark blue. There are little glow in the dark stars attached. The room smells faintly of fresh paint.
“I’ve pain killers. You should probably take them now that you’re off the morphine,” A dry, flat little voice offers. A thin, pale little hand comes into his field of vision, followed by a thin, pale little boy. “Your metacarpals and carpus in your right hand are all broken. Primarily comminuted and greenstick fractures. The proximal phalanges in your middle and index fingers are also broken, as well as the intermediate phalange of your index. Those are oblique fractures. Also, the flexor tendons of your ring and pinky fingers were severed. Would you like some water?”
As Jason stares blankly, the boy seems to come to some conclusion and nods to himself. He disappears, and Jason can faintly hear the soft padding of feet across the floor, growing softer and then louder. The boy returns with a glass of water in one hand and two small yellow pills in the other.
“Open,” he orders. Jason blinks, hazy, and obeys. “Good. Here. Small sips.” After a few more moments, the boy pulls away again, placing the cup down on a table Jason can’t see. “Due to the usual response to one of the Batman’s victims, circumstances dictated I take you to more discrete medical service than available at the public clinics or emergency rooms. Prior experience seems to imply that the treatment may have been inadequate for the level of damage sustained. If you begin to experience numbness, burning or sharp bursts of pain in conjunction with movement of the affected limb, inform me immediately.”
***
And that was Tim.
[a/n: Jay doesn’t know enough to tell, but the glow in the dark stars are totally arranged in accurate and proportional representations of the constellations. That could be seen from Jason’s old window. Because Wee!Timmy was a freak like that.]