characters and relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne - platonic, random gothamite citizens
warnings/additional tags: like one swear, Jaydeath flashbacks, character caught in explosion, physical hurt/comfort, collapsed lung, field medicine, scalpel and the use of, Jason being good with kids, sort of cuddles, good dad Bruce, somewhat awkward ending line
@ailesswhumptober Day 1: Collapsed lung | Contusion | "Well, that shouldn't have happened."
Day 4: Frostbite | Heat | "I can make it all better."
Day 10: Blood poisoning | Hypoxia | "What were you thinking?"
Day 27 alt 7: Memory trigger
Jason and another explosion.
notes: HAPPY WHUMPTOBERRRRR! True to my me, starting off with some Jason whump because he's my special little guy
Jason brushed burning embers off his jacket before it could catch fire and kicked through a smoking door to find the last child stuck in the building. Goddamn cheap and lazy Crime Alley flat construction had made it just that much easier for it to go up in flames in the first place, but at least that also made it easier for him to hack his way through walls in search of the kid.
Panicked cries from the hall to his left made him swerve in that direction instantly, and he barged into the apartment next door to find the little girl wedged in a corner of her bedroom, as far away as possible from the smoking wreckages that cut her off from the door.
“Hey! I’m gonna get you out, okay? Don’t panic.” Jason scanned the room, then shrugged off his jacket and held it away from the fire as he shouldered past the ruined roof beams. It was uncomfortably warm, but fortunately his suit protected him from the worst of the heat.
He stepped into the bathroom and tested the taps. Still working. At least the Gotham plumbing was functioning, if nothing else in this building. He doused his jacket in water, then returned to the bedroom. Closing the bathroom door, he knelt next to the kid, wrapping the wet jacket around her. “Easy. We’re getting out of here, okay? What’s your name?”
“T- Tenille,” she answered, visibly shaken. “You’re… Red Hood.”
“That’s right. Your mom’s waiting for you outside with all the firefighters, so we have to go this way, okay?” He picked Tenille up and started to edge past the beams again. She whimpered and tucked her face into his shoulder, and he moved so she was as far from the fire as possible. “We’re okay. Almost past ‘em, I promise.” A few more steps, and they were out of the bedroom. “See, all done. Not so hard, right?” She nodded, sniffled, and clung to him as he strode back to the other side of the building.
He knocked the remaining glass from a stairwell window and leaned out to see the firefighters gathered around a huge air cushion. “Look, there’s your mom.” Tenille peeked and let out another sob at the three-storey height.
“How- How are we gonna get down?” She stared up at Jason in terror, and her grip on him might have bruised if not for his armour.
“You’re gonna hold onto me real tight, then we’re gonna jump and land safe on that big pillow the firefighters blew up for you, okay? We’ll be perfectly fine, I-” The building shuddered, and Tenille wailed as Jason grabbed the wall to steady himself. “It’s okay, we’re okay.” But there was another loud boom, the gas mains finally rupturing and spraying fuel onto the already raging fire. Oracle had given him a generous estimate of 10 minutes, and he’d already used 7 of them.
In the next few seconds, before the child could protest or Jason could second-guess himself, he threw Tenille out the window.
He watched her scream as she fell, but it seemed like slow-motion as he tensed his muscles to jump after her. She would land straight into the cushion they’d prepared for her. He knew he’d aimed right, and she’d be safe. His own safety was a different matter.
The flames reached him first as if in slow motion, licking at every part of him that wasn’t covered by armour, lighting up his cargo pants and gloves and eating into his skin.
Milliseconds later came the concussive blast, hitting him like a train at high speed, slamming him through the flaming wall and dropping him down into thin air.
As he fell, he recognised the feeling of burning alive, and he thought he could feel his bones shatter and hear a madman’s laughter resounding in his ears. He thought he could feel himself gasp for air but only receive smoke as the ruined warehouse crushed painfully down on top of him.
As he fell, he thought he could remember hearing Bruce call his name, but the life ebbing slowly from his body left the hollow shape of a boy far too young and weak to call back. He thought he could remember his last breath, the soft light that carried him gently away from his suffering and pulled him up into eternity as it called his name.
The light hadn’t sounded that scared.
He cracked one eye open to see Bruce hunched over him, the feed through his helmet glitchy and barely coherent, but undeniably Bruce.
“Jason, wake up. Please wake up.”
He tried to say something — anything — but it came out as a thin, wheezing gasp as his battered lungs refused to pull in any more air. Bruce moved to take off his helmet, then started scanning him for injuries.
“Jason, it’s okay. I’m here.” Practiced fingers prodded experimentally at his ribs, and Jason let out a strangled cry of pain. “I know, Jaylad. I’m sorry.” Bruce continued checking him over, furrowed brow the only sign of concern or fear that made it through his dark cowl, as Jason continued frantically trying and failing to breathe.
“You have a collapsed lung. I need to let the air compressing it out of your pleural space.” Bruce dug out a small kit from his utility belt and opened it to take out a small scalpel. Jason was still gasping for oxygen as darkness started to cloud his vision and his struggles weakened, consciousness slowly slipping away.
“It’s okay, Jaylad. I’ve got you.” Bruce sliced deep and steady into Jason’s chest, then pushed a small tube in, and Jason gasped desperately as the shadows receded and air came flooding back into his lungs.
“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re okay.” Bruce sat back, let out a controlled breath, then gently pulled Jason into his arms. He let out a whine of pain but burrowed into the warm hold instinctively, rapid, panicked breathing beginning to slow and even out. “I know, I’m sorry. You’re going to be okay.”
“Ten- Tenille. The girl. She-”
Bruce smoothed his hair back from his face, gently shushing him. “She’s safe, with her mother, and probably breathing better than you are. Let’s get you back to the Cave, okay?” Jason let out a faint sound of assent and leaned against Bruce, his head thumping softly onto his father’s shoulder.
His feet wouldn’t obey when he tried to get up, and Bruce practically lifted him off the ground, steadying Jason against him. Jason let out a strangled cry as his ribs, leg, and chest — and almost every other part of him — seemed to cave in on itself with sharp, stabbing pain. His vision blurred, and he grabbed weakly onto Bruce, breathing laboured and desperate.
“I know, Jaylad, I’m here. I’ve got you.” Bruce adjusted his grip so he half carried, half supported Jason.
He blinked the spots in his vision away, trying to stabilise his breathing, and caught sight of Tenille clinging to her mother halfway across the bustling lot, a near-perfect mirror. Then the crowd closed around them, and Bruce pulled Jason away. “Come on, sweetheart.” They would have their own family waiting for them at home.
As he fell asleep in the backseat of the Batmobile, he knew he would not wake up alone, choking on the soil for his own grave or the water of the Lazarus Pit. He knew that he would rest as his body slowly knit itself back together again. He knew that they would be right next to him, watching over him and keeping him safe until he recovered. He knew that they always would be.
