Bedside Manner

Roy tried. Really, he did. But once he stepped outside his bedroom -- now occupied by Jason -- and heard Alicia give him the full business in the way only a sassy Puerto Rican woman can, he couldn't help himself. He started laughing. He managed to stifle about 97% of it by biting his lip, breathing in slowly and covering his face with both hands to muffle his guffaws. But the more he laughed, the stronger they came and he had to hustle downstairs before he gave himself away. By the time Alicia had come downstairs, he'd rallied most of his composure, greeting her with a broad grin.

"Well, you definitely know how to handle him, senorita!" He chuckled, standing as she approached to shake her hand. "I heard a bit as I was stepping out. I gotta say, that was pretty refreshing; not many people know how to sit on his attitude."

He nodded as she handed over the supplies, taking careful note of every direction. It may have been his imagination, but the bottle of Oxy felt heavy in his hand. They had never been his 'poison of choice' so to speak, but they'd been the ruin of many a poor soul and he knew all too well how that road went. He set them on top of the fridge, well out of Lian's reach.

"I appreciate you coming over, Alicia. I know first aid but my knowledge kinda thins out after that. That shin and the hand had me worried." Noticing her hesitation, fiddling with the strap, he calmly added, "He's got a pretty high pain tolerance, but I know his BS better than most. I'll make sure he takes it easy, doc. You got my number, I got yours, and if all else fails have -- Liliya?" At her confirming nod, he continued, "Liliya can reach out for a check up. Not the first time I've had a telepath set up a conference call up here." He tapped his forehead with a pill bottle, making it rattle.

As Alicia knelt to address Lian, he couldn't resist the proud smile and ruffled Lian's hair. "Yeah, she's the best at taking care of people. Even gave Jaybird your plushie to get better, right sweety? She'll help hold him down if he tries to get away." He gave the med student a wink. "I'll sit on his back, she'll tickle him. That's the plan." He held up his fist for Lian's much littler one to bump it. "I'll give keep in touch, let ya know if anything changes."

After some more chatter, setting up a regular check-up schedule and profusely promising Jason would eat three square meals a day, Alicia took her leave. Roy already anticipated Lian's excited pleas to go see Jason as soon as possible. As always, she brought a smile to his face and a warmth to his heart as he started getting things out of the fridge. "Well, Lian, you heard the doctor, he's gotta get his rest too. Let's surprise him with breakfast, how's that sound?" Technically, it'd be an early lunch, but crime fighters kept odd schedules anyway. "Eggs sound good? You can bring him a bowl of cereal, how about that? You know how to get the bowls right? I'm sure he'd love it, jellybean. He's gotta be hungry and I pretty sure soon as he smells the coffee he'll be down--"

His brain ground to a halt suddenly. Holy crap, how could I have forgotten? Hell, he'd prepared for this problem to come up eventually.

This was not her Uncle Jay, not the one she knew. So far as he knew, she'd never seen him without the helmet on until tonight. This Jason had several distinctive difference from the one she called Uncle, and the most noticeable happened to be a J-shaped brand on his left cheek.

Roy knew Lian to be an exceptional 8-year old in her own right, but young kids rarely employed subtlety and tact that only age could really give. He estimated a 99% chance that the first words out of her mouth wouldn't be a good start to the day.

Setting aside the pan and various omelet makings, he crouched just as Alicia had, waving Lian over. "Hey babygirl, come here real quick." Once she stood in front of him, he held her shoulders gently. "I know this is all pretty confusing, sweety, but you know how we discussed Uncle Jay upstairs isn't really the same person as the one you know? Well, that means he's got some different things, too. Different memories and experiences, and that's why he didn't know you or me when we first met him. But he's also got some other things different about him and those things can cause a lot of pain right here," he tapped her chest, above her heart, "when other people talk about it."

His hands engulfed her little ones as he carefully planned his next words. "You remember how you got that little scar on your chin when you fell off your bike? Remember how I have scars from when I got my butt kicked? Well you were scared of your bike after that happened, right? But after a while, you stopped being scared and you started riding it again. Because even though getting scars hurt, they're not bad. Even when I got these," he tapped his own chest, this time, right above the heart where his shirt concealed the six puckered scars of bullets and the narrow seam from open heart surgery. "It scared me really really badly. Whenever I thought about going out and being Arsenal again, I would get scared. I'd get sweaty and my hands would shake. I'd start feeling this heavy weight right here again. But I got better. Scars are just reminders of things that happened but you healed after. It just takes time to heal. Like how it took you three whole weeks to start riding your bike again. Understand?"

Once she nodded that she did, he continued. This was the tricky part. "Well, Uncle Jay has got a scar too. It's right there." He poked her round-as-an-apple cheek, making a kissy sound as he did. "And he feels really bad about it because it hurt him really, really, really bad when he got it. Even more than falling off your bike did. A mega thousand times more! And if he thinks other people are looking at it or if they ask about it, he feels like people don't really see him." He tapped her button nose with a fingertip, smiling. "He feels like alllll they see is that scar. And that scar still hurts him a lot. It's shaped like a J and he feels really shy about it. He doesn't like it when people ask questions about it. And he feels weird for being the only one with something on his face. So we're gonna do something to make him feel better, okay?"

Standing, Roy hustled over to the writing desk with his closed laptop on it and opened a drawer. The pack of Crayola markers proclaimed in bold letter it held no less than 48 whole different colors. Roy had yet to see a kid be over the moon to have so many colors. Once more, he knelt in front of Lian, opening the package up.

"Remember, jellybean, Jason feels like people are always looking at this J-shaped scar on his cheek, and they're never looking at him. It makes him feel really lonely. So we're gonna make sure he doesn't feel so alone anymore, okay? Now, pick out your favorite color!"

Once she had done so he approved of the choice, taking the marker in hand and holding her delicate little chin in between thumb and forefinger. "Okay, now I'm going to put an L... for 'Lian'... right there." He drew the letter on her cheek in a bold swipe of vibrant color. Then he handed her an emerald green marker. "Now put an R on my cheek right here."

He held still as possible, trying not to make silly faces at her as she worked, but in short time, he had a slightly wobbly, bold green R that took up most of his left cheek. "Alright! Now, let's think up some things we really like that start with L. How about.... lasagna? That's a good one, right? What else can we think of?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, hoping she'd get into this word game he'd concocted. There'd be no avoiding the brand on Jason's face, no avoiding its terrible origins and why it had been made.

But he'd slit his own throat before he let that letter stand for Joker for another f**king second.

Red Hood

Speedy III

Jason stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything else other than the dull throbbing pain in his bones and the swirling, unpleasant thoughts in his head, silently counting the clusters of unevenly dried paint above that made little spots and ridges across the otherwise smooth surface as if they were stars in the night sky. But still, the mind of Jason Todd was not one that ever knew quiet, no matter how hard he focused to keep it at some semblance of rest, always moving, constantly planning, and often drifting into memories he'd rather never think about again if he could help it. Maybe sleep would help instead. It had been a while since he had been forced to lay down and sit still, and Jason drew in a deeper, calming breath, causing his bruised ribs to ache like blunt knives in his chest. His brow furrowed in discomfort, but still he closed his eyes, listening to the muffled noise of the Harpers downstairs.

Sounds like they're having fun down there. he mused at the sound of the higher pitched squeal of laughter from the younger of the pair. It must be nice, to be so small, so happy, so unconditionally loved...he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy cross his heart that so many other kids would never know the same life that Roy Harper had tried to provide for Lian. That he had been denied that sort of life.

Then again, that just seemed to be the kind of luck he had been dealt.


“Thought you could slip by Falcone forever, huh?”

“N-No, no of course not! I just needed extra time to put together my next payment. You get that, right? I have his money, I swear!”

“Then pay up, Todd. This is your big moment. Surprise me, why dontcha?”

Tenth birthday, not that it really mattered. Only a shocking celebration of his parents' biggest waste of time surviving on their lack of steady income for another goddamn year. Jason hid in the room he shared with his parents, pressed against the wall next to the door so he wouldn't be seen, frozen in place as he listened to the commotion. This wasn't the first time “family” came for an unexpected visit and caused a racket like this, but something deep in the boy's gut made this one feel different. 'Just stay out of the way and keep your mouth shut' his mother would often say. 'Don't scream. Don't cry. Don't move. Don't even breathe. Let your dad do the talking.'

And boy, did his dad talk. He never stopped talking, and some of the terrible things that came out of his mouth when making excuses to Falcone's men made Jason wonder how they had lived long enough to uproot and move as many times as they had so far. This time was no different, but something just felt...wrong. Scary. Final.

“Got somethin' better than money. Cath, get over here.”

“The f**k you doing, Will?”

“I said get the hell over here, Catherine!”

“Let go of me, you sick pig!”

“She's a bit feisty, I'll admit, but give her a hit or two and she bends over, no resistance.”

His mother started screaming out a string of angry words Jason wasn't exactly sure the meaning of, but he was certain they weren't anything good. He flinched at the sound of what few belongings they had being knocked over and smashed over the sounds of adults shouting, his blood finally turning to ice at the single, sudden blast of gunfire. His mother's screams ceased all at once, followed by the slumping of weight onto the floor.

“Now you're just testing my patience. Time is money, after all, and from what it looks like, you don't have much left of either. What else you got?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “M-My boy. Take Jason. I know he wasn't much before, but he's ten now. Strong kid. Fast. Can be taught, you know? I'm sure Falcone can find some use for him. At least let him hold onto him while I get the money together!”

Jason's heart dropped into his stomach as soon as his name left his father's lips. It swirled and tightened as this attempt at a deal desperately continued spewing out of his mouth. Shaking, he frantically looked around the room.

“Jason! Get your ass out here!”

He needed to hide. He needed to run away. Closet? No, no way to run if he was caught. Out the window? His parents kept them locked tight – it would make too much noise to risk right now to try and pry them open. Panicking, he scrambled underneath the bed, pulling the blankets down towards the floor enough to hide him from searching eyes and tucked in on himself tightly, pressing as close to the wall as possible.

“You're really something else, Todd,” the other man's voice said in disgust in the adjacent room, another single shot firing, the pleas of his father snuffing out just as swiftly and suddenly as his mother before. “Find the kid. Leaving orphans will only cause the boss more trouble later on.”

Several footsteps started to creak around the tiny apartment. Jason held his breath, clamping his hands over his mouth and nose to suppress the sounds of terrified breathing and muffled sobbing, watching the space between the floor and the blankets with frightened eyes.

Don't scream. Don't cry.

Shiny black shoes passed through his field of vision, entering the bedroom, pacing, searching. They stepped slowly towards the bed, and paused.

Don't move. Don't even breathe.


Jason tightened his eyes shut and shook the memory from his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his one good hand that wasn't wound up in splints and gauze. The sound of giggles and chattering downstairs drew his attention once more, and slowly he sat himself up on the edge of the bed. He was often left alone with nothing but his thoughts for company, but this time his entire body forbade him from trying to take out that rage and loneliness in the usual manner of taking down crime in the streets. Even moving this much sapped him of a lot of energy, agony tearing through him at each too quick burst of motion, and he stared at the crutches left for him with angry determination. He had gone through this before, far worse even, at every stage of his short life so far – an asskicking from an alien monster wasn't going to keep Jason Todd down either, nor any other ghosts that decided to creep back into his life from Gotham City.

Just one...step at a time. he assured himself, carefully stepping one foot down to the floor. Sharp knives shot through his foot and up his leg, slicing through every vein, muscle, and nerve ending, and he grit down on his teeth as hard as he could to swallow the pain. “Okay....not....so bad...” Jason grimaced in a small, shaking whisper, setting down his other foot to the same dance of electric pain and grabbing tightly to the nightstand for support, curled over it in torment. “C'mon Jay...you've gone through way worse...than this.” He managed to grab the crutches, intent on remaining standing in some semblance or another, but every step felt like shards of glass crunching into the soles of his feet. His head tightened and spun, threatening to cave in on himself, but still, he kept moving. The sooner he was able to walk properly on his own, the sooner he'd be able to leave.

Jason kept telling himself that with each small shift and hobble, up until he reached the top of the stairs leading down towards the kitchen. Dammit. he thought, the six small stairs appearing so much steeper, larger, more precarious than the last time he had been in this building. Okay...one step at a time... Shoving both crutches under one arm, he carefully leaned them down against the first step and gripped his hand on the banister, putting more weight on both as he very slowly hopped down the stair on his good leg, more excruciating pain ripping through him as he landed on the lacerated foot. Jason's whole body tightened and shook, and he nearly passed out right there. See? Not...so hard... he chided himself, despite his shaking limbs and spinning vision. Just gotta do that again...five more times. Ugh. Here we go. He managed to jump down another stair, but held tightly to the banister for longer this time, trying to pull up the strength and energy for the next jump, already finding there was very little left from the first two. But he was already partway downstairs and visible by Roy and Lian, who were in the midst of some sort of word game. He couldn't stop now, but all he could do right now was will his body to remain upright.

He closed his eyes tight for a moment to summon more strength, taking in a deep, ragged breath. Finally, he opened them again and looked down at this hosts to assure them he didn't need help.

Blue eyes opened painfully wide in shock at what he was greeted to. His left cheek started to burn white hot. He couldn't move another inch, even if he wanted to, frozen in place by the bright pink and green lettering on the Harpers' faces. Mocking him. “What...” Jason started, his throat dry but his voice quietly seething with bubbling rage and embarrassment. “...what the hell is going on here?”

Arsenal  Speedy III

Children are a miracle and a blessing and a joy. Anyone that says otherwise is ass.

For a moment, he thought he'd flubbed it. Well and truly given the Harper Flop, Jason's unrelenting glare of seething fury and shame going on and on. Until Lian spoke.

Roy couldn't help the wide smile spreading across his face as Lian chirped up behind him, nor could he resist glancing at her over his shoulder to see her poke two little fingers at her dimples. He chuckled, feeling a little light headed, knowing his heart was hopelessly wrapped around one of those fingers, and that he looked like an idiot. But he honestly didn't care. She brought so much joy and direction to his life, he wondered how he'd ever managed to get by without her. Life before Lian had been like living beneath a starless sky. No moon, no sun, no north or south. Just an empty to place to wander. He'd still wander, now and then -- it was in his name, after all. His other name. But even then, her keen insight brought his heart and mind back home, every night.

No carefully picked words or structured implications could've done the job better. Like he'd known and said from the beginning, kids have a way of just plowing through social graces with a blunt honesty that can be just as refreshing as it can be damaging. Thankfully, his little girl seemed to know just what to say to bring about the former more often than not. He couldn't hide the gleam of pride in his eyes if he wanted to. "That's right, babygirl. You said it better than I could've. That's a great picture, peanut!"

The best explaination he could offer Jason came with a shrug. "She is right, you know. All those things start with J. And we do just want you to be happy. Happier, at least."

The word had no place with Jason, he'd known that even back home. Jason Todd was not a happy man. He survived. Jason Todd did not have a home. He had safehouses. Jason Todd didn't let anyone get too close. He had guns to reach out to people.

Until Roy had cheerfully plowed through all that and started whittling down those wary, wolfish habits. Lian had been a blessing then, too. Jason Todd liked kids. He protected them, related to them, and treated them with respect. Small wonder she had been the angel to oversee this first, vital step to real trust. As the younger man's hand solidly slapped into his own, Roy could almost feel an invisible weight slide off, something that'd been mooring Jason in a doldrum of misery. They still had to get through a sargassum of untold trauma, but at least he no longer stayed in one place.

But happiness? No. As Jason finally made eye contact again, looking every inch the uncertain, terribly abused young man he was, Roy knew that state of mind still lingered beyond the horizon. They had a long way to go to real, unquestioned trust. Jason had a long battle to real, undimmed happiness. Holding in a mental sigh, he carefully helped Jason down one more step on his good foot. He'd earned that rare trust once. He could do it again.

As he looped Jason's arm over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back to take most of the weight on his own shoulders, he spoke quietly. "Didn't bandage it up because you don't have to hide it. You shouldn't have to, period. And we've got an honesty policy around here. Nothing to hide from one another."

For once, he did not make any attempt to sound light-hearted or breezy about it. He couldn't be more serious. He made a promise to his daughter that he'd be honest with her about everything (child appropriate), including the dangers of his calling as a Titan and the things her mother had done. Honesty came in a two-way street and with it, peace of mind.

Then he shrugged and added, as an afterthought so obvious it really shouldn't bear mentioning, "Besides, how are you going to feel comfortable and recover if that's what you're worried about? Alicia would skin me alive if I enabled your supermodel habits and Lian and I don't care anyway. You're a lot more than one scar, Jaybird. Gonna take a step down now, you ready?"

Once Jason had given the okay, he slowly lowered them both to the second step, waiting until the pained gasps white-knuckled hands regained some color before repeating the process another three times. It took one look at Jason's white face to guess why the pain had him shaking so badly. "I take it you skipped the painkiller. Alicia gave me some more, I'll get you some soon as you're at the table."

Before Jason could respond, Roy spoke louder, to Lian. "We got all kinds of blue, right? She's got 48 whole new colors," he said, quirking a brow. This was clearly Serious Business. "She's got four shades of blue. Bring the markers here sweety, and you can get some color on his face. He really needs a tan, right?"

It took several more agonizing, slow steps, but Roy didn't rush him, didn't withdraw any support unless told to. Jason felt far too thin somehow, like the pain had withered him out, leaving a brittle husk. It didn't feel right he slowly lowered his friend into a chair. He chatted as he went to grab the bottle of painkillers off the top of the fridge and started pouring a glass of milk -- he'd have to stock up on some stuff, crawl through is memory of protein-calcium shakes. It actually did go a long way into helping broken bones heal.

"Lessee... Juniper starts with a J. And jasmine. You remember jasmine, right peanut?" Cheshire would always wear jasmine in her hair, either the actual bloom or fine, handmade enamel and golden pins in her dark hair. "It's your mommy's favorite."

He shook exactly three Oxy into Jason's hand -- he knew the man's tolerance and if it was bad enough to have him looking like a wet log getting down the stairs, it was really bad. He settled a hand on Jason's shoulder after the pills were swallowed. "You feel hungry at all? Any special requests?"

I wish I could help you feel better, his helpless half-smile said. But I couldn't smuggle morphine out of the ER, so this is the best I can do.

Though, come to think of it, if Jason really needed it, he'd be tempted to give it another shot. He knew the lay of the land better now. There'd surely be some supplier somewhere he could bust....


Red Hood

Speedy III