2014.04.14 - Visiting Hours

The saying 'a little bird told me' didn't bring a smile to Jason's face anymore. Not much did beyond the good work he was doing in the streets; Tesladyne tech was mostly off the streets, Bruce was aware was in town but hadn't put the peices together, and Jason had relative freedom to do what he needed to do. But then a little bird put a word in his ear about a man in a hospital, and he dropped everything to go see him.
Slipping past security was child's play. Drearily boring, honestly. Not even a challenge. He came into the room late at night; the room was dark by the halls outside were not. 
He approached the bed and the man within it. He pulled off his gloves, tucking them into a pocket, and then reached up and undid the Hood.
"Hey Dickie-bird. See you got your wings clipped."
It's enough to make the man in the bed stir. Bruised, broken but healing, and whacked out of his gourd on the IV painkillers he'd been receiving since he was brought in a couple of days ago. His eyes flutter open and stare at the man before him. His eyes widen, then soften. Surely, he's hallucinating. Makes perfect sense under the circumstances. He tries to respond, but with his jaw wired shut, it's just a series of muffles.
"Don't bother trying to talk. You look like what goes into sausage casing, Dick," Jason said, leaning over the elder Robin. "You look like death warmed over. And why? Cause that goddamn clowns still running around."
He pulled up a chair to the edge of Dick's bed and sat down in it, folding his arms at the edge of Dick's bed and leaning on it.
"Don't try and look at me. Don't try and move. Just listen, Dick, okay?" He took a breath, considering briefly, before he said, "I'm going to get him. I want you to understand that. He's going to die, and I'm going to kill him. And after, I'm probably going to kill Bruce. And I know that's going to break your heart, Dick, but... well. Clawing your way out of the grave has this ability to put things into perspective for you. Joker has to die. Bruce has to go with him. That cycle has to end. There are better ways to control crime --really doing it. And the capes and the masks, the revolving doors at Blackgate and Arkham? They... just aren't doing it, Dick. He needs to be stopped. Both of them... need to be stopped."
Dick Grayson raises a hand, he shakes his head, if one could translate muffles he'd say "I killed him though, Jason. I killed The Joker.." but it just sounds like a man in a gimp suit coming from Dick. He lowers his hand and looks up at Jason, trying to make sense of what he's saying. He's doing it right. He's been Robin. He's Nightwing. He's a Detective. There's not many more ways he can try to do it right.
Jason reached out to catch Dick's hand, grip it right. The other came to rest lightly on a bruised shoulder.
"What did I say, Dick?" He dares to chide him, like Dick was the one who was younger, less experienced. "Look at you. He nearly caved your skull in with a crow bar. I know how that feels. The only difference is... I died. He kept you alive /for a laugh/."
He gripped him for a moment, before he relaxed it. "By the time you get out of here, he'll be in the ground, Dick. I promise: the Joker isn't going to live to see Easter."
Bruce... was another story entirely.
Dick Grayson tries to speak again, but it's just too much for him to attempt right now. All he can do he squeeze Jason's hand. No matter what he did, he was his brother. He was family. That love is there, regardless. He gasps softly, "nooooo.." but it is a weak, mewling sound. Nothing like Dick himself would be like normally.
"Hey. Trust me. It'll be okay. The clown is never going to hurt anybody again. You just--rest and heal."
He'd make no promises about seeing him again, or about where he'd been or when. Just that he was absolutely going to kill the Joker. There was nothing more sure in Jason's mind -- the clown had to die.
He worked to extract his hand from Dick's, apologetic. "Get some rest. I have work to do."
Dick's eyes flutter closed again and he falls unconscious once more. Will he remember this? Maybe. It's hard to say. Honestly..it's too soon to tell what he'll block from his mind and what he won't.
Category:Log