[Jason realizes belatedly that he's trembling, that the beginnings of tears have already traced down his face as he tries to smear them away with one hand. Breathe. He's got to breathe. He feels the dip in the mattress and a part of him is grateful that Bruce is telegraphing his movements, letting Jason know exactly where he's at.]
Yeah, just a dream. Just a fucking dream. [He's angry, but mostly at himself for showing such a weakness. He wants to scream at Bruce like he did Molly, like Dick.
Except it's not just a dream. He remembers what Leslie said about trauma, about how the body stores it far longer than one would ever expect. And if he could talk about it, he might be able to release its hold, bit by bit.] I...
no subject
Yeah, just a dream. Just a fucking dream. [He's angry, but mostly at himself for showing such a weakness. He wants to scream at Bruce like he did Molly, like Dick.
Except it's not just a dream. He remembers what Leslie said about trauma, about how the body stores it far longer than one would ever expect. And if he could talk about it, he might be able to release its hold, bit by bit.] I...
[Where does he even start?]
Fuck.