Jason's hands sprung up from the ground at his grave. His fingers gripped the wet dirt, sliding amongst the mud and unable to get a good hold as he tried to bring his body to the surface.
It was dark.
But rain dripped down on the hands that slipped precariously over the surface, each finger digging their own tiny grave as with each motion the 19 year old grew more panicked.
The newspaper was dropped in front of him on a table. The headline gripped him and filled his vision.
Lady Bat Returns Joker To Police Custody
England.
"This is becoming quite the habit of yours," Talia mocked, a finger rimming the glass of her wine.
Bosnia.
The Joker came down to Robin's face, sticking his tongue out as he made raspberry sounds to imitate the tattered teen below him. "A little louder, lamb chop!" he loudly whispered, grabbing Robin's jet black hair and pushing his head down onto the tiles. "I think you may have a collapsed lung."
Gotham.
"Perhaps he's primping," Alfred suggested. "As I recall, Master Richard spent nearly half an hour admiring his own reflection the first time he donned his cape."
Bosnia.
"Forehand?" the abuser hit Robin yet again from over his right shoulder, "Or Backhand?" and again the ugly schlup of Robin's insides being pounded was heard.
Gotham.
An eight year old Jason took his mother's hand in his and blinked, watching her eyes roll up into her head.
"Mom, can we go out and get ice cream?"
A twelve year old Robin jumped atop the Batmobile.
"This is the best night of my life!"
That same Robin held his dead mother's hand: "When is dad coming back?"
Lady Bat Returns Joker To Police Custody
His 19 year old face finally breached the surface of his grave. He tried to suck in his first breath in years, but he got a mouthful of dirt and rain instead.
The Joker pushed his face against Robin's mud-soaked one. "That always impedes the oratory."
A 19 year old Robin picked up the crowbar and smacked the Joker's face with it. "Tell me: How does that feel?"
A 25 year old Jason threw Lady Bat's own tracer back up at her heel. She never noticed.
A newly-turned 26 Jason set his Red Hood helmet on the workbench, rolling back in his squeaky office chair and admiring the myriad of paper notes and schematics he'd written for himself on the corkboard of his own cave underneath the GPD Headquarters.
The slippery, pale skin of his atrophied arms clung desperately to the weakening ground of his grave as a 19 year old Robin tried to pull his upper body through the hole.
26 year old Jason turned his gun from the Joker to Lady Bat: "Him or me, you decide!"
The mud in his throat felt like concrete mix. He was at his grave and he was dying again.
"You'll have to speak up," the Joker laughed. "I think you may have a collapsed lung."
"You're becoming a crime lord," Lady Bat said.
"That always impedes the oratory," Joker threw his head back and laughed while Jason choked on his own burial grounds.
A bloodied 26 year old Jason armed the bombs in the apartment. Lady Bat ran to disarm them, but a freed Joker pounced on her. "No, don't spoil it! This is better!"
Lightning struck the 19 year old Robin's tombstone. He coughed up the muck in his throat and finally managed to get his chest through the hole just as the mud was beginning to collapse back into it.
He wanted to live. Determination to make that happen flowed withim him, giving him a supernatural strength and sense of purpose.
Joker grabbed Lady Bat by the throat, sitting on top of her as the bombs in the apartment continued to count down. "I'm the only one who gets what he wants tonight!"
"You want to be better than I am. You want to be a better Bat. You won't be. Not now. And not like this," Lady Bat stood firm.
"Yes! Bing bang boom, we all go out together!" The Joker continued, Lady Bat fruitlessly struggling against his grip. "Don't you just love a happy ending?!"
His maniacal laughter filled Jason's ears as he watched the bomb tick down.
He was 19 again. Alone in the warehouse.
Green eyes lowered; his postured wilted.
He thought... He thought he'd think something. But now, he thought nothing.
His mind... Surprisingly blank.
He was just...
Sad.
He let out a forlorn breath.
This was it.
This was. . .
⁰⁰⠘⁰³
⁰⁰⠘⁰²
⁰⁰⠘⁰¹
"MOVE!!" Lady Bat bellowed, the echo of her voice resonating in his ears, waking him from the nightmare.
26 year old Jason bolted his green eyes open at the voice and moved to immediately shield his face, gasping. But his arms wouldn't move to their desired position.
His heart pumped as the building exploded. As his waist finally made it out of the grave. As he finally shot Joker.
But none of those things were true. He wasn't standing up. He wasn't even sitting up. His hands wouldn't go to his face. His mouth was dry and his head was pounding. He was dizzy, and he was confused.
Dick awoke with a start, standing up from his chair once Jason came to. But as Dick was regaining his own wherewithal from grogginess, it was becoming clearer that Jason had yet to return to reality.
"Jason!" he whispered loudly, walking toward the bed, unsure if he should put his hands on the struggling patient.
"Jason, calm down!"
The second Robin growled, yanking his arms in a futile attempt to break the restraints.
Lady Bat Returns Joker To Police Custody
" . . . There, then, Jason," Lady Bat said. "Was it worth it?"
The cot began to shake as Jason's attempt to free himself became more laborious.
"Jason! It's Dick! You're safe! Chill!" He wasn't really sure what to say, and eventually, against his better judgement really, bent over and put his hands on his younger sibling, trying to hold the other's hands down so as to not allow him to break the restraints, which seemed to be weakening.
"You're at the manor! Whatever you're seeing isn't real! You're safe!"