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Yeah. [Jason starts, then stops.] I mean, I've gotten hit in the face like a dozen time, but this is the first broken nose.

[He shifts to possibly sit on the log opposite her before changing his mind to focus on the dwindling fire.]

[ Barbara doesn't let the edges of her mouth twitch.
She takes another bite of her sandwich. Nodding again. ]

First is the worst—just a kind of red haze blinding. Not saying any later ones are better, or that anyone needs more than one, but you don't worry about those smaller floating bone fragments as much. The occasional difficulty breathing during it becomes normal, and you already know to expect bloody noses. And the punch-dodging, which you're also going to need to get good at in the next two months.

If the time clock holds and our next mission is right in the middle of that.
There's no telling whether we'll have anything like medical out there.

[ She makes a mental note to have backup medical supplies for him in her pack. ]

[That's a lot of information that Jason soaks up.] Chrissy already reset it.

[Or tried to. Jason doesn't realize that he's revealing someone he trusts to a Bat he doesn't trust.]

I don't think it's too bad. It's the concussion that has me fucked up.

[ Well. That narrows one list. ]

Not really the best place for the rehabilitation of one of those, either. [ Barbara looks around the open grounds of the forest. And the little tent. Consideringly. It's shitty. But it could be worse. He got to the light-intensity activity early on getting out here, which is a good sign. Even his moving around right now is. It's flat ground. It's sunlit but with cover. (Not on fire, not being trampled, idiots won't come for him in the night here.) Before going back to him. ]

You're moving slowly but not inhibited. Your senses are still sharp.
I'm assuming the dizziness and headache are a yes, in general.

Any memory loss or changes to your vision? Taste? Smell?

Uh. [Jason feels a bit uncomfortable with saying anything that might come off at a weakness to someone who is clearly connected to the belfry that assaulted him.]

Yeah, got a headache. Some dizziness. Got some issues trying to focus my eyes on stuff. Like a single point. Can't seem to get my eyes to work together.

[ Her mouth presses for a moment.
It's not anger, but concern. ]

That's not great, Jason.

[ Her voice strives for evenness,
but she can't quite tell if it hits. ]

It usually falls under brain fog.

Do you have anyone checking on you out there? [ She raises the hand—with the sandwhich (which flops about a little)—to ward off his first response. ] I'm not asking for names or times or anything. Just—do you have someone coming by regularly to make sure you're still able to wake up while you're recovering from it?

[ Someone who has any chance of moving him if he suddenly doesn't. ]

[Jason goes quiet as he watches Barbara ask some rather pointed questions he would rather not answer. He has no one coming out here. He directs his gaze down and away before he starts properly putting out the smoldering remains of the fire with some dirt and his boot.

The answer is a no, even if he doesn't say it out loud.]

[ She's not surprised, but it's worrying.
It claims a few more of her ribs in a vice.

She takes a bite of her sandwich, and
this time, it's to keep herself from speaking.

She lets her mind turn it over,
instead of her heart lunge.

Then. ]

One. Do you think you can find someone to do it?

Two. I have an alternative idea for accomplishing it. You might not like it,
but it does offer entirely non-personal, non-interactive options.

[Jason finishes stomping out the fire and returns to his log, all to buffer his answer.]

Guess I could call Chrissy.

[Or, he supposes there's someone else. Someone he may have burned a bridge with, but he thinks would still come out to see him.]

Or Bruce. The one I like, not belfry Bruce.

[Then he considers the last message he left Bruce. Maybe not.]

What's the other option?

[ The younger Bruce probably could deal with a friendly face about now, too. But that's likely only if he's out the first one or two waves of his reaction to Damian's sudden age regression. She knows whatever the scene was, it wasn't good. But she also knows the level of dramatics that one gets up to at times, especially after living in a bubble with him for over a year now. ]

Either are a good option, if you'll ask them.

[ Except. Jason—at least the one she knows—hasn't been good at that.
The requirement to admit fault. The flaw of seeing it as admitting weakness. ]

The other option is—I will set a time, whatever time you prefer, when a message, symbol, or, again, whatever you choose, will be delivered on your personal HUD system daily. Open the message and tap your earbud; it'll respond with a positive ping, indicating that you are still conscious. It doesn't have to be words, and I won't use it as an excuse to barrage you with them, either. However, I can set it up to repeat once if you don't answer within an hour, and if two pings go unanswered by the end of that next window, it can notify Aurora and the medical bots of a potential emergency.

Edited 2025-07-06 01:23 (UTC)

[Is it bad that Jason would rather answer some mechanical ping than talking to anyone in person? Because Jason would rather answer a mechanical ping than talk to anyone in person. He's emotionally exhausted and he'd rather not bring the belfry down on him again.]

Sure, I'll do the ping thing.

[Jason settles on his log, but he also looks quite a bit desolate.]

[ She's not surprised he jumps for that one, and getting that right makes her want to reach for something else—like telling him he could ask her to send supplies or food—and while it makes her want to press, she bites it down, bites it back. She just said she wouldn't use it as leverage. For even a single byte of data in a message.

She has to honor that.
Even right now.

It's a step.
Half of one.

In some ways, a bigger one than she thought of heading out here.
Even if it'll be seconds, it'll still be seconds each day.
She can ensure that he's safe every day. It's a start. ]

I'll set it up tonight, once I'm home.

Sure. Cool.

[Jason feels a bit like a kid that's been caught doing something wrong, but he supposes he could be better about reaching out for help.

Nah. That'll never happen.]

You said you knew Dick? My Dick?

[Or maybe he heard it in a dream. His dreams have been wild since the concussion.]

I did.

[ It's easy, and fast.
There's the smallest smile. ]

I miss him, as weird as it is to miss people here.
When you wouldn't wish them to be stuck here, all the same.

I don’t. [Miss Dick, that is. He doesn’t like the Dick back home. Or the Bruce. Or really any of the Titans outside of Gar.

Even then, it’s a stretch.] As much as I hate this place, I never want to go back.

He felt the same way about that.

[ Barbara took a sip of her water. She didn't agree with wanting to be here, or wanting her family here, but she'd heard about their world to understand completely why they wouldn't want to go back. The chance at something new and accepting, somewhere you might be able to grow and be more, would be immediately more appealing. ]

Maybe he was different here than you remember.
Maybe this place will give you the chance to be, too.

I doubt it. So far I've gotten jumped twice by the same kid and accused of something I didn't do.

[Yet.]

I'm done with the whole belfry.

[ Barbara's brow knit together, instantly. ]

That wasn't the first time?

He jumped me the first week I got here. Back when he was taller.

[ Yeah. That sounds like him.
There's a frown more than a sigh. ]

I'm sorry for that, too.

He's a different version of himself—somehow— [ Barbara doesn't like contemplating it, but then she's now dealing with it with a new, younger version of Damian and Dick, with the addition of another Bruce. Who, at least, is the right one, but now comes from beyond her, too.

It's a lot.

But it's also not Jason's problem.
And she's not here to ask for his sympathy. ]

It doesn't make it better, but he won't remember that now at all.

Doesn't fucking matter. [Jason crosses his arms.] I got dropped on twice by that fucker. I don't know how much more 'you're not part of the family' that can get.

Damian hardly speaks for everyone.
Either version of him was a child.

And the current one is ten.

[ It's too ludicrous to parse even as an insult. Damian thinking he gets to make everyone's choices is. Anyone else assuming a child leads them around by the nose, or the pointy-ears really needs to a small reality check. ]

He doesn't make my decision for me.

Just like Dick—and especially your Bruce—don't get to make yours.

Well you know what? Don't want you as family anyway, whether it's up to him or not.

[Jason is about to storm back to his tent. The pain makes him angry, ease to incense.]

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