Prompt #28- It's not just in your head. DCU Jason angst. Violence warning (though nothing terribly graphic) and self loathing on Jason's part. Friendly reminder that most of what this author knows of DCU lore comes from fanfiction. . .

The gun weighed heavily in the Red Hood's gloved hands. He resolutely ignored the fine tremors wracking through his fingers, keeping his glare on the shadowed figure in front of him.

"What's it gonna be, old man? Him or me?"

Hysterical giggles exploded near his ear, only to cut off quickly when Red Hood tightened his grip on the Joker's neck. Batman stood halfway across the rooftop, batarang in hand. It'd be so simple; kill the Joker to rid Gotham of the cursed prince's madness. 'And avenge your death like he should have.' Poisonous green tendrils whispered in Hood's ear. Batman remained still. Hood grit his teeth, thankful the helmet hid his expression.

"Quit stalling! Or why don't you prove just what kind of man you really are?"

Once upon a time Jason had thought he knew who Bruce was. Thought that Bruce was different then every other man Jason had known in his short life. That reality had shattered even before the warehouse did.

He hadn't killed Garzonas, the vile excuse of a human being had tripped over his own drunken feet and fell. Like Jason would break the one rule that would get him thrown back on the streets faster than Bruce had taken him off them. But Bruce hadn't believed him. Typical. So here he was now; a murdering drug lord. The irony couldn't have been less stark.

Batman drew back his arm and threw his batarang. Red Hood watched it fly, noting its trajectory. He could move if he wanted. But. . . he'd told Batman to choose. The tiny remaining shreds of hope in Jason were cut with his neck.

Hood fell to the ground, losing his grip on the Joker and the gun. The madman scrambled somewhere behind him. Worry over the Joker disappeared as shadows covered Red Hood's vision. Batman towered over him, disapproval radiating off in waves.

"You never were my son."

The agony in Jason's heart flared in time with the blow to his head. Despite the helmet, Jason's consciousness slipped away.

"Wakey, wakey!" Ear piercing giggles accompanied the words.

Jason's eyes shot open, only to quickly close against the harsh light.

"Come out and play, little birdie!" Jason's breath caught in his chest. It couldn't- he wasn't- "Don't make Uncle J wait. You know I get impatient when you don't play my games." A tsking noise came from above him. "And your games earlier were hardly fun. No one likes a copycat, Hoodie."

'No! No, no, no! NO!'

Arkham had lurked in Jason's shadow from the moment he donned the helmet in Gotham. He knew that and yet. . . the tiny shreds of the boy he'd been before the warehouse hoped Bruce would at least put him in a different wing than the Joker.

A hand grabbed his chin, yanking his head upward. Jason hissed in surprise.

"There you are."

Fingers pried Jason's eyelids open. Lazarus green eyes met corpse green eyes. An unnaturally wide smile broke across Joker's face. Jason tried to pull away, but Joker's grip on his head tightened. Harsh breaths mingled with maniacal giggles. On impulse Jason jerked backwards, only then noticing the padded cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. Thick straps over his shoulders, torso and thighs belted him to the table.

"We never finished our little experiment, did we birdie?"

Joker let go of Jason's head and walked out of his line of sight. Something scraped the floor. Bile rose in Jason's throat. Joker sauntered over, twirling a crowbar.

"Which hurts worse? A," a strike to Jason's abdomen forced the air from his lungs, "or B?" The clawed end gouged into Jason's shoulder, drawing blood. A strangled cry tore from his mouth.

"B then. What about now?"

Jason's world exploded red and yellow between the blood and stars in his eyes. The Lazarus Pit flooded his system with adrenaline, urging him to fight back against his murderer. However, the rage couldn't compete with his restraints. It quickly drained beneath the despair and agony of being subjected, again, to the Joker's brutal methods.

How long it went, Jason didn't know. Just that it stretched into an eternity. Finally, one too many blows to the head put him out.

'Cold.' Cold enough to draw Jason out of the darkness he'd retreated to. He inhaled sharply, sending pain dancing over every nerve in his body. A pang of disappointment ran through Jason upon realizing he was still alive. Though not like death had stuck the first time.

Jason's own heartbeat pounded in his ears, but over the roar came a rhythmic tap, tap, tap of metal on metal. He didn't want to move, didn't want to greet the next horror (despite how deserving it might be).

"Your breathing just changed and you're laying too still."

Jason started in surprise and his eyes flew open. Of all the potential "visitors" to have, Tim hadn't been high on the list. Yet there he stood, leaning casually against the barred wall, the watch on his left hand hitting the bar a couple more times before coming to a rest.

"B showed me the report of what happened. I had to see for myself. Looks like you're finally where you belong." Jason couldn't deny the truth in Tim's words, even though they stung. "And getting the treatment you deserve."

For the first time he felt crude bandages covering most of his body under the restraints keeping him to a hospital bed. Whether it be the Joker or warden, or even Bruce, they didn't want Jason dead (again) so easily. Jason clawed for the darkness, but the presence of another potential hostile had his adrenaline keeping him too aware.

"You were my Robin, you know." Yes, Jason did know- though he didn't remember how. "They say never meet your heroes, right?" Tim's hand drifted to his neck. A thin scar from Jason's attack on him at the Titan's Tower could still be seen. Tim's face twisted in a scornful smile. "Doesn't feel so good to get your throat slit, does it?"

"I'm sorry!" Jason tried to cry. The words stuck in his throat. He'd long since recognized his Pit fueled anger shouldn't have been taken out on the kid, but that didn't change the fact it had happened.

"You really thought Bruce would want a screw up like you back?" Not really, even before Jason's murder spree through Gotham and attack on Bruce's newest Golden Boy. Now he had less than no chance. But Tim kept talking, "Your mother wanted her fix over you, your dad could have cared less about you, and your biological mom sold you out to the Joker. Impressive track record you've got there. Even Dick didn't want anything to do with his replacement. What makes you think you deserve a family?"

Tim's words fell like physical blows. The truth suffocated Jason. He'd been born wrong and the so-called 'gift' of his resurrection only brought him back worse.

"Maybe here you'll finally mean something, even if it's just being the worst Robin ever. Tell Joker I said hi." Tim gave a mock salute and sauntered out of view.

Familiar laughter drifted through the bars, followed by the scrape of metal on concrete.

"Jason! Jason please wake up!"

Wasn't he already awake? Stuck in a nightmare of his own creation. Jason shied away from the voice, which only brought him back to the Joker lurking outside the room. This time when Jason tried to drift away, he succeeded.

Fingers carded through Jason's hair as his awareness trickled back. He was lying next to someone, the side of his face pressed against someone's chest. Jason involuntarily hitched his breath, waiting for the hand to start pulling and yanking at his scalp. The hand froze on his head.

"Jason?"

'No!' Jason couldn't deal with Bruce now. Couldn't take any more condemnation. He'd already tossed Jason away in Arkham, couldn't he just throw away the key and leave Jason to wallow? Coming back, either in this faux kindness, or with more attacks, would only break what little reserves Jason had left. A deep sigh came from somewhere above Jason. He tensed, recognizing Bruce's 'I'm disappointed' sigh.

"It's okay, Jason. Whatever you're seeing, it's just the toxin. Come back, please."

'Toxin?' But Jason had tried to force Bruce's hand with the Joker. And Bruce attacked Jason rather than kill that psycho. That had nothing to do with fear toxin.

The hand resumed its ministrations. "I'm sorry, Jason."

Definitely a dream or hallucination then. Well, as long as no one was hurting him, Jason would take this fake kindness as long as it lasted.

Footsteps came from somewhere to Jason's left. "Any change?" Again, Tim's voice shook Jason.

"I thought he was waking up, but it looks like I was wrong. The fever's broken though and he's resting more peacefully so I think the toxin's mostly out now. I haven't had a chance to run a tox screen to verify."

Because he was offering comfort to Jason instead? What. . .? Memories slowly began to trickle back.

"I can." Crinkling of paper came nearby.

"Don't even. . . think about it." Jason growled.

"Jason?" Bruce had a cautious note in his voice, "Are you back with us?"

"Tim coming. . . after me with needles. . . might say otherwise."

Tim let out an indignant squawk, but Jason felt some of the tension leave Bruce's muscles. He cracked his eyes open, making out the familiar features of the Cave's medbay. Jason then noticed weight on his legs. His eyes trailed down to see Dick snoring softly, half sprawled across Jason's body and the chair at the foot of Jason's bed.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Jason curled his nose at Bruce's question but grunted an affirmative. "Went on patrol not feeling super great, and. . .  some of Scarecrow's goons managed to gas me when I took off my helmet to. . . blow my nose."

"Truly a spectacular failure on your part, Todd."

Jason blinked, seeing Damian for the first time, partially hidden behind Bruce's bulk, sitting in a chair with his sketchbook in hand. Normally Jason would rise to the challenge in Damian's tone, but he didn't have the energy to care. Plus he couldn't deny the feelings of safety and security being swathed by Bruce brought. Jason told himself it was only because his mind was still out of it from the toxin.

"I might recommend remedial lessons on when it's okay to take a night off of patrol." Bruce said lightly.

"Oh, you're one to talk." Jason felt a slight rumble in Bruce's chest from a laugh that didn't audibly come out.

"Touché."

The room fell into a companionable silence outside of Tim putting away the blood draw kit and finding a seat somewhere to Jason's right. Jason contemplated asking if he'd said anything out loud, or shoving Bruce off and heading out to one of his safe houses for the principle of the matter. Neither sounded very appealing to his shaking muscles. The bridges Jason had been working to build back up with his. . . family. . . also protested.

Grumbling, Jason did not snuggle closer to Bruce, he just needed a better position for his neck. At least, that's what he told himself.

"I love you so much, Jason. I'm sorry if I ever made you think I didn't." Bruce's voice was full of feeling.

Jason assumed he had spoken of some of his fear hallucinations, but that would be a conversation for another time. For now, Jason had his dad and brothers- which meant so much more now than it ever had in the past.