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thejusticelounge2014-07-19 07:21 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-07-19 07:21 pm
three-legged race
Ollie sits with his laptop at a table in the Watchtower lounge, wearing his glasses, three different drinks and a package of red licorice on the desk with him as he works. Jason wanders into the lounge, clearly hungover again and wearing the same clothes from the day before. He spots Ollie, but continues on his way to the coffee machine.
Ollie likewise notices Jason, waiting for him to get coffee before he halloos at him. “Get some greasy food,” he advises. “Nothing better for a holdover hangover.” Jason replies with a wordless grunt as he trudges over and sinks into the empty chair closest to Ollie’s desk. “Not hungry. What’cha working on?” he asks, trying to sneak a peek at the laptop. Ollie lets him see it without any compunctions.
"Doubletime," he says. "Sorting through all the emails I’ve gotten about the Green Arrow thing, and looking at the reports of Hatter’s new drug formulations and what they’re doing." He offers Jason a licorice whip, folding one over for himself and gnawing at the looped end. "And of course you’re not hungry, but that’s what the food’s for. Once you start eating and the grease sops up the liquor, you’ll be good to go." He smiles, briefly. "C’mon, kid — if you’re gonna be a drinker, you gotta learn how to avoid the hangover."
Jason glances over the screen with a faint nod. “How many of the emails just say ‘I fucking knew it’?” His brow furrows a little at the mention of the Hatter’s drug. Though his stomach shifts uncomfortably at even the sight of it, he takes the licorice without complaint. “I know how to handle booze,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Just… I dunno, haven’t been real hungry lately.”
Ollie leans back a little so he can eyeball Jason. “You need to eat,” he says. “Even if it’s just fuel, even if you don’t enjoy it. Starving yourself and boozing ain’t the best way to stay alive in that city of yours, Jason.”
Jason pointedly avoids his gaze, his own fixed on the floor. “If this is the start of a lecture about eating healthy, I don’t wanna hear it, mister red vine.” He waves the bit of licorice in his hand for emphasis, tone pointedly light, trying for a joke.
Ollie rustles his drinks around, selecting the cup with grapefruit juice. “That’s different,” he says. “I’m a grown-up. I don’t have anybody to worry about whether I’m eating healthy or not.” He drains about half of the juice and says, “Besides, what’m I gonna do if we go out on a job together and you’re busy being lightheaded because you went to sleep nursing a bottle of Grey Goose and skipped the croissandwich after?”
Jason rolls his eyes, but takes a rather large bite of the licorice. “Don’t you have kids and a company to run? Pretty sure at least one of ‘em’s gonna worry about you when you eat so many of these they hafta take your foot. And excuse you, my poison of choice is Smirnoff, I don’t drink that hipster crap. I’ll be fine, Jolly Green.”
Ollie guffaws. “Smirnoff?? And you’re /boasting/ about this? Goddammit, Jason — I woulda thought those years with Bruce’s liquor cabinet would refine your palate a little more.” He shakes his head, smiling, and says, “I’m gonna be in Gotham less from now on. I’ve been there too long. But I’d still like to work with you on some projects, when they come up.”
Jason flashes him a quick grin. “Y’know, sneaking drinks from the liquor cabinet got a lot less fun when I figured out he knew the whole time and started slipping non-alcoholic stuff in there for me to find.” A very slight frown crosses his face, before he fixes an impassive look into place. “Right. What kinda projects are we talking about here?”
Ollie shrugs. “Ahhhh, y’know — mostly to do with running down these villain-themed drugs, but there might be smaller hunts that come up that you’d be good for. I’ve been chasing down the minor Arkhamites while they’re travelling the capillaries of the country, and lemme tell you, it’s been big fun—” Ollie says this straight-faced, but his tone conveys exactly how not-fun it is, “—and while I’m capable of the job, it’s just nicer to have a running mate sometimes. Somebody to laugh at my wisecracks and witticisms and look up at me with dewy-eyed admiration.”
Jason frowns, drumming his fingers against his coffee mug. “You should know that I get a little… aggressive when it comes to drug runners, but I’ll help with whatever. Might be able to track down some of the Arkham small timers, think I still remember where most of ‘em like hiding out.” With a little snort, he rolls his eyes. “I can do the laughing at you part, no promises on the dewy-eyed thing.”
"No? I thought all Robins got an intensive course in that." Ollie makes his eyes big, shining, full of admiration for a moment, then subsides back into his chair with a wry grin. "Like so."
Jason ducks his head a little, unable to stop a laugh slipping out. “Y’know, I’m pretty sure I skipped that part of training. Think it’s more a Dick or Tim thing. So I’d look ‘em up instead if you want some bright eyed ‘holy strawberries, we’re in a jam’ kid tailing after you.”
Ollie laughs out loud, the sound bursting out of him so suddenly and genuinely that it even startles /him/. “Oh, jesus, kid!” He wipes one of his eyes and picks up a licorice, flicking the tail end of it at Jason’s arm. “With material like that, it’s a shame you didn’t follow the trend.” Laughter dying down a little, Ollie pokes his keyboard with the licorice thoughtfully. “I guess you and Damian and … Cass are the ones who’re alike in the family, huh? And then Dick and Tim and Steph on the other side. It’s interesting.”
Jason blinks in surprise at the laugh, even as the corners of his mouth turn up into a small grin. “The closest I ever got was ‘holy shit, Batman’ and then I got put on time out for swearing.” With a thoughtful hum, he leans back in his seat a little. “Dunno, I mean, Tim had the dewy-eyed hero worship down, but I’m not sure he’s… plucky like Dick and Steph, think they’re the only two that are big on puns anyway.”
Ollie sprawls his long legs out under the table, folding his hands over his stomach as he regards Jason. “So you’d agree that you and Cass and Damian are in a grouping? Or is there something else going on there, too?”
Jason considers it, fingers drumming a beat on his mug. “Well… guess me and Damian kinda got some stuff in common. Think Cass is more like Tim though, they don’t really… y’know, have the ridiculous anger problems Damian and I do.”
Ollie hmmmms. “Ah, so you’re in pairs, then!” He holds up a finger for each. “You and Damian, Cass and Tim, Steph and Dick. Must come in handy during Bat-picnics when you have three-legged Bat-races. Everybody’s already paired off.”1
Jason just blinks at him slowly for a moment. “Yeah, we’re not real big on the whole ‘family bonding’ thing, and if there’ve been any Bat-picnics, I’m pretty sure my invite got lost in the mail.”
Ollie gives him a sidelong smile. “Yeah,” he says more gently, “I know. But you are, aren’t you?” He states more clearly, “—a family.” Jason looks away, suddenly finding the contents of his mug very interesting.
"Dunno," he says with a shrug. "Dick acts like we are, but he’s usually the only one…"
Ollie presses onward. “But Bruce has adopted a bunch of you, right? So legally, technically, emotionally and spiritually and in the eyes of a notary public, you’re family.”
Jason shrugs again. “Yeah, but I’m also legally dead, and that leaves Steph out in the cold.” Because he’s pretty sure she was never actually adopted by Bruce.
"Jason! You can be dead and still be part of a family, c’mon. That doesn’t stop once you croak, even if you come back after."
Jason says nothing as he continues to stare at his coffee. “It does if dying screws up your family,” he says very softly.
Ollie looks at him for a long time. “When I died,” he says, then adds, “—the second time — they had an impromptu wake for me in the back of a shitty bar called Warriors. Most of the people there, my friends, the best thing they could think of to say about my entire life and everything I’d accomplished was that at least I /committed/ to being a pussy-hound. Roy hadn’t spoken to me in years. Connor had only just found me only for me to shove him away. The woman I loved threw out everything I owned like it was garbage.” Ollie bares his teeth, looking down at some point beyond the table, eyes unfocused. “It took months before they had an actual, real funeral for me with a headstone and anybody felt sad that I was dead. So I know what you’re talking about.” He looks back up at Jason, intently. “But that doesn’t mean things can’t be better, afterwards. Once you come back.”
Jason manages to look up at Ollie as he speaks, though not for long, his gaze quickly dropping away again. For several long moments, he says nothing, gnawing at the inside of his lip till it’s raw. “Ever since I came back, everyone keeps telling me just how much me dying messed up Bruce,” he starts slowly. “And I get that. He’s changed and it’s cause… cause of what happened to me. But I dunno what the hell I’m supposed to do. I… am I supposed to feel guilty for getting murdered? Cause I can’t.” Swallowing thickly, he runs a hand through his hair, the white tuft of his bangs sticking up strangely, standing out against the rest.
Ollie taps his fingers along the table. “I think what people are trying to say, even though it might be having the opposite effect, granted, is that you were important to Bruce. You ARE important to him. Enough to have left an indelible mark and enough to stagger the friggin’ Batman when he lost you.” His eyes follow that tuft of white, that evidence of death and the Pit and lurching back into life, and Ollie says, “Nobody expects you to feel guilty, Jason. What happened to you was a tragedy and there’s nothing wrong with you making yourself the figure of central importance in it. Not Bruce, not anybody but you.”
"Then why do I feel like a selfish prick any time I try to make it about me?" he asks faintly, not expecting an answer. Letting out a shaky breath, he leans forward, setting his coffee down on the desk so he can rest his head in his hands. "Just want it to be over and done, y’know? Wanna… just fucking move past it… but he’s never gonna be able to and there’s nothing I can do about it." Slowly, he manages to look up at Ollie. "How d’you ever get him to talk about anything?"
Ollie raises an eyebrow. “That’s a joke, right?” He rests his folded elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Listen, Jason — it’s all hard work and perseverance and understanding that sometimes, even when it’s really /really/ important to you that he talk, he’s just … not gonna. So either you’re all right with that from the get-go, or you find some other way around it. Some other way to communicate or interpret.” He scratches one long sideburn. “Me, I’m the chatty type, so I choose words every time. But there’s others more introspective, like Kate or Cass, who go for the non-verbal interpretations.”
"Just figured since the two or you are together or whatever there must’ve been some kinda communication in there at some point. Even if it’s—I dunno—tapping morse code on his back when you’re screwing." He’s mostly joking, but he wouldn’t put it past Bruce to do something like that. "I get that he’s not big on the whole… talking about how he feels thing, think that kinda… runs in the family, except Dick." But Dick is some sort of cheery Bat-anomaly that can’t be explained. "Just… fucking pisses me off sometimes when he just says some cryptic shit and takes off." Not that he doesn’t do the same thing himself from time to time, but that’s not important.
Ollie smiles, although it’s not an entirely happy smile. “Yeah,” he agrees, “there’s some kinda communication. But we still hit snags the size of motherfucking Mount St. Helen’s.” He shakes himself out. “But, I mean — is Bruce the main aspect of this for you? In wanting to move past what happened? The Joker killing you?” At this point, Ollie can admit to himself that he’d been avoiding the subject too, what with having seen what Bruce was like when Jason died, having made his own decision about Connor based on it. Actually saying it out loud, what had happened to Jason, makes a shudder run up his spine.
"Kinda noticed that, no offense," he adds quickly, pretty sure he has a good idea what one of the most recent snags involved. The habitual tapping back in his fingers, he says nothing for a few long moments. "No." It’s sort of a shaky ‘no’, because he knows there’s going to be questions about just what else he wants to stop dealing with that he doesn’t really want to answer. "He’s part of it, but… there’s other shit."
"What’s the other shit?" Ollie lets the question hang for a while before he clarifies, "…you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. But I know /I/ appreciate a good outright question sometimes instead of polite minding-of-own-business, so you can tell me to go to hell or you can talk, whichever one you like, kiddo."
Jason shifts uncomfortably in his seat, staring fixedly at the table. It’s the first time anyone’s asked straight out, which is strangely refreshing. Answering is still not something he really wants to do though. “Just… nightmares,” he says hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper. “Lately any time I try and sleep… as soon as I close my eyes I’m back in that warehouse. Can’t get away, can’t even wake up till I’m screaming.” His expression turns a little sheepish as he picks at the ends of his sleeves. “Only thing that helps is if I drink till I just blackout.”
"Aaaahhhhh. Hence the loss of appetite, too?" Ollie shakes his head a little, but his voice is kind when he says, "Kid, you ever consider maybe just taking a sleeping pill or two to conk you out for the night? Keep the Joker at bay?"
"Tried ‘em, never works for very long," he says with a shrug. "Usually it’s not so bad, just get ‘em every once in a while y’know? But… since he got out…" Trailing off, he shakes his head.
Ollie scratches his beard, fingers moving in a ripple, back and forth. “Yeah. I wish I could tell you that kinda shit goes away in time, Jason, but it doesn’t. What you can try, maybe, is not sleeping alone.” Ollie laughs, a little wryly. “I know that’s not the most elegant advice, but hell, it usually worked for me when I had shit I needed to not think about.”
Jason makes a face as he shifts again, still pointedly not looking at Ollie. “That… might’ve worked once or twice,” he says, remembering the night he spent in a destroyed hotel in El Paso. “But see, I don’t exactly have a long list of people I can invite over for a slumber party.”
"So who needs a long list? All you need is two, maybe three friendly souls who’re willing to put up with you kicking and snoring for a few nights a week. Hell, throw your cats on in there too, if it comes to that. Just … don’t be /alone/, Jason." Ollie peers at him, unblinking, his glasses making him look unexpectedly owlish. "That’s the worst thing you can be. Especially when you’re being haunted by spectres of the past who you wish would go away."
"The only people I’d put on that list have enough of their own shit to deal with." He tries to meet Ollie’s eyes for a moment, but can’t hold it for long. "Been dealing with this stuff alone for a long time. Nothing I can’t handle, just… sucks adding that on top of all the other shit that’s been going wrong lately, y’know?"
Ollie prods Jason’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “Sorry to contradict you here, stripling, but it very much /is/ something you can’t handle. And you shouldn’t be expected to handle it on your own.” He sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, thoughtfully. “Those people you’re talking about,” Ollie says, “if they’ve got shit to deal with too, maybe they’d be grateful to have somebody to keep the nightmares away, too.”
Jason lightly kicks at Ollie’s foot. “Been handling it since I came back, old timer.” No one else has asked, so he’s fairly sure that he’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping a lid on it. He can’t completely deny the second part though, so he just stays quiet for a moment. “Maybe, but… this is my problem, not theirs, they shouldn’t hafta deal with my shit on top of everything else. I can’t ask ‘em to do that.”
Ollie slaps the table hard with his open palms. “Yes! Yes you absofuckingloutely can, Jason! That’s what caring about other people is all about, is asking them to deal with your shit even when they’re going through their own! It’s not unreasonable!”
Jason flinches as Ollie’s hands come down on the table, instinctively curling in on himself. “I can’t,” he insists, though he says it quietly, sounding almost nervous. Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair. “After the shit I’ve pulled… I can’t. Don’t deserve—” He cuts himself off and goes back to picking at his sleeves.
"You do. I know you’re gonna hate hearing this, but you’re only a /child/, Jason, you’re still a baby in the big scheme of things. You deserve to feel safe and comforted and not alone. All right? All /right/?" Ollie’s voice has gotten to a fierce level now, a rolling growl, but it’s clear he’s not angry with /Jason/. Just at the situation around him.
Jason glares at the floor, his lips curling into a grimace. “Maybe you’re right, but I’ve never gotten to be any of those things. That’s just how the world works and it doesn’t matter if I want it different, cause there’s nothing I can do to change that.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shoves his hands into his pockets and gets up out of his seat. “Getting more coffee,” he mumbles as he turns away.
Ollie lurches up from the table and grabs Jason’s shoulders, shaking him a little bit in the process. “Well, maybe you can’t, but I can,” he says. “I dunno about you but /I’m/ lonely being back in Star all by myself. If you don’t mind a change of scenery for a few days, you should come stay with me. And the dog. You can let the dog snooze on you, she’s great at that.”
Jason flinches again when Ollie grabs at him, almost expecting to be struck instead. His eyes widena at the offer. “I uh… I dunno.” Biting at the inside of his lip, he picks at his sleeves again. “I mean… guess it’d be kinda nice.” He pauses, brows knitting together. “It’s not gonna make things worse for you and Bruce if I come stay with you, is it?” Because getting away to Star sounds like just what the doctor ordered.
Ollie snorts. “Look, I can’t help what he thinks when it comes to you. In fact, the less I think about what he thinks the better, hey?” Ollie thumps Jason’s shoulder with his fist, pleased. “This’ll be nice for me too, y’know. I always think it’ll be a relief to have the place to myself, and then I get cranky rattling around in there by myself. Having you there’ll be great.”
Jason can’t really argue with that. Bruce is going to think whatever he’s going to think. “Alright. Uh… how’s your dog with cats? And can I bring my cats?” He doesn’t mind leaving them on their own for a night or too, but if he’s going to be there for a while, he’s not about to leave them alone.
Ollie wrinkles his nose but says, “Kiki’ll adopt ‘em all as her own within an hour. She’s a nannydog to the extreme. And yeah, there’s plenty of room for your kitlings — the place is pretty big and it’s kinda partitioned, so you’ll have lots of privacy but you won’t be alone. Which I think’ll be just the ticket.”
Jason manages a small smile. “Alright, yeah, I think that could work. And maybe I can actually make you some food that won’t rot your teeth.”
Ollie thumps Jason’s shoulder again. “Attaboy. Once you gather up all your kittens and kaboodle, just head back up here and we’ll zeta to the penthouse. You’re gonna love Star City, it’s a trip. Helps if you like sushi and coffee.”
"Alright. Might take a couple trips to get ‘em all there." His smile grows a little wider as he lightly punches Ollie’s shoulder. "Haven’t really had a lotta sushi, but I’ll pretty much eat anything. There was something else you told me I had to try if I ever came to Star… bubble tea or something like that?"
Ollie chortles over Jason’s memory regarding this promised drink. “Yes! Bubble tea! You’ll be able to try all the flavours, if you want.” He starts gathering up his things, the laptop and empty drink cups. “Tell you what, I’m gonna go make sure the place is ready, and then when you’re good to come over I’ll come get you. Sound like a plan?”
Jason nods, hands back in his pockets. “Alright. Shouldn’t take me too long to get my stuff ready to go, I’ll text you when the cats are all packed.”
"See you then, kiddo." Ollie gives Jason a one-armed hug, then trundles off.
Ollie likewise notices Jason, waiting for him to get coffee before he halloos at him. “Get some greasy food,” he advises. “Nothing better for a holdover hangover.” Jason replies with a wordless grunt as he trudges over and sinks into the empty chair closest to Ollie’s desk. “Not hungry. What’cha working on?” he asks, trying to sneak a peek at the laptop. Ollie lets him see it without any compunctions.
"Doubletime," he says. "Sorting through all the emails I’ve gotten about the Green Arrow thing, and looking at the reports of Hatter’s new drug formulations and what they’re doing." He offers Jason a licorice whip, folding one over for himself and gnawing at the looped end. "And of course you’re not hungry, but that’s what the food’s for. Once you start eating and the grease sops up the liquor, you’ll be good to go." He smiles, briefly. "C’mon, kid — if you’re gonna be a drinker, you gotta learn how to avoid the hangover."
Jason glances over the screen with a faint nod. “How many of the emails just say ‘I fucking knew it’?” His brow furrows a little at the mention of the Hatter’s drug. Though his stomach shifts uncomfortably at even the sight of it, he takes the licorice without complaint. “I know how to handle booze,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Just… I dunno, haven’t been real hungry lately.”
Ollie leans back a little so he can eyeball Jason. “You need to eat,” he says. “Even if it’s just fuel, even if you don’t enjoy it. Starving yourself and boozing ain’t the best way to stay alive in that city of yours, Jason.”
Jason pointedly avoids his gaze, his own fixed on the floor. “If this is the start of a lecture about eating healthy, I don’t wanna hear it, mister red vine.” He waves the bit of licorice in his hand for emphasis, tone pointedly light, trying for a joke.
Ollie rustles his drinks around, selecting the cup with grapefruit juice. “That’s different,” he says. “I’m a grown-up. I don’t have anybody to worry about whether I’m eating healthy or not.” He drains about half of the juice and says, “Besides, what’m I gonna do if we go out on a job together and you’re busy being lightheaded because you went to sleep nursing a bottle of Grey Goose and skipped the croissandwich after?”
Jason rolls his eyes, but takes a rather large bite of the licorice. “Don’t you have kids and a company to run? Pretty sure at least one of ‘em’s gonna worry about you when you eat so many of these they hafta take your foot. And excuse you, my poison of choice is Smirnoff, I don’t drink that hipster crap. I’ll be fine, Jolly Green.”
Ollie guffaws. “Smirnoff?? And you’re /boasting/ about this? Goddammit, Jason — I woulda thought those years with Bruce’s liquor cabinet would refine your palate a little more.” He shakes his head, smiling, and says, “I’m gonna be in Gotham less from now on. I’ve been there too long. But I’d still like to work with you on some projects, when they come up.”
Jason flashes him a quick grin. “Y’know, sneaking drinks from the liquor cabinet got a lot less fun when I figured out he knew the whole time and started slipping non-alcoholic stuff in there for me to find.” A very slight frown crosses his face, before he fixes an impassive look into place. “Right. What kinda projects are we talking about here?”
Ollie shrugs. “Ahhhh, y’know — mostly to do with running down these villain-themed drugs, but there might be smaller hunts that come up that you’d be good for. I’ve been chasing down the minor Arkhamites while they’re travelling the capillaries of the country, and lemme tell you, it’s been big fun—” Ollie says this straight-faced, but his tone conveys exactly how not-fun it is, “—and while I’m capable of the job, it’s just nicer to have a running mate sometimes. Somebody to laugh at my wisecracks and witticisms and look up at me with dewy-eyed admiration.”
Jason frowns, drumming his fingers against his coffee mug. “You should know that I get a little… aggressive when it comes to drug runners, but I’ll help with whatever. Might be able to track down some of the Arkham small timers, think I still remember where most of ‘em like hiding out.” With a little snort, he rolls his eyes. “I can do the laughing at you part, no promises on the dewy-eyed thing.”
"No? I thought all Robins got an intensive course in that." Ollie makes his eyes big, shining, full of admiration for a moment, then subsides back into his chair with a wry grin. "Like so."
Jason ducks his head a little, unable to stop a laugh slipping out. “Y’know, I’m pretty sure I skipped that part of training. Think it’s more a Dick or Tim thing. So I’d look ‘em up instead if you want some bright eyed ‘holy strawberries, we’re in a jam’ kid tailing after you.”
Ollie laughs out loud, the sound bursting out of him so suddenly and genuinely that it even startles /him/. “Oh, jesus, kid!” He wipes one of his eyes and picks up a licorice, flicking the tail end of it at Jason’s arm. “With material like that, it’s a shame you didn’t follow the trend.” Laughter dying down a little, Ollie pokes his keyboard with the licorice thoughtfully. “I guess you and Damian and … Cass are the ones who’re alike in the family, huh? And then Dick and Tim and Steph on the other side. It’s interesting.”
Jason blinks in surprise at the laugh, even as the corners of his mouth turn up into a small grin. “The closest I ever got was ‘holy shit, Batman’ and then I got put on time out for swearing.” With a thoughtful hum, he leans back in his seat a little. “Dunno, I mean, Tim had the dewy-eyed hero worship down, but I’m not sure he’s… plucky like Dick and Steph, think they’re the only two that are big on puns anyway.”
Ollie sprawls his long legs out under the table, folding his hands over his stomach as he regards Jason. “So you’d agree that you and Cass and Damian are in a grouping? Or is there something else going on there, too?”
Jason considers it, fingers drumming a beat on his mug. “Well… guess me and Damian kinda got some stuff in common. Think Cass is more like Tim though, they don’t really… y’know, have the ridiculous anger problems Damian and I do.”
Ollie hmmmms. “Ah, so you’re in pairs, then!” He holds up a finger for each. “You and Damian, Cass and Tim, Steph and Dick. Must come in handy during Bat-picnics when you have three-legged Bat-races. Everybody’s already paired off.”1
Jason just blinks at him slowly for a moment. “Yeah, we’re not real big on the whole ‘family bonding’ thing, and if there’ve been any Bat-picnics, I’m pretty sure my invite got lost in the mail.”
Ollie gives him a sidelong smile. “Yeah,” he says more gently, “I know. But you are, aren’t you?” He states more clearly, “—a family.” Jason looks away, suddenly finding the contents of his mug very interesting.
"Dunno," he says with a shrug. "Dick acts like we are, but he’s usually the only one…"
Ollie presses onward. “But Bruce has adopted a bunch of you, right? So legally, technically, emotionally and spiritually and in the eyes of a notary public, you’re family.”
Jason shrugs again. “Yeah, but I’m also legally dead, and that leaves Steph out in the cold.” Because he’s pretty sure she was never actually adopted by Bruce.
"Jason! You can be dead and still be part of a family, c’mon. That doesn’t stop once you croak, even if you come back after."
Jason says nothing as he continues to stare at his coffee. “It does if dying screws up your family,” he says very softly.
Ollie looks at him for a long time. “When I died,” he says, then adds, “—the second time — they had an impromptu wake for me in the back of a shitty bar called Warriors. Most of the people there, my friends, the best thing they could think of to say about my entire life and everything I’d accomplished was that at least I /committed/ to being a pussy-hound. Roy hadn’t spoken to me in years. Connor had only just found me only for me to shove him away. The woman I loved threw out everything I owned like it was garbage.” Ollie bares his teeth, looking down at some point beyond the table, eyes unfocused. “It took months before they had an actual, real funeral for me with a headstone and anybody felt sad that I was dead. So I know what you’re talking about.” He looks back up at Jason, intently. “But that doesn’t mean things can’t be better, afterwards. Once you come back.”
Jason manages to look up at Ollie as he speaks, though not for long, his gaze quickly dropping away again. For several long moments, he says nothing, gnawing at the inside of his lip till it’s raw. “Ever since I came back, everyone keeps telling me just how much me dying messed up Bruce,” he starts slowly. “And I get that. He’s changed and it’s cause… cause of what happened to me. But I dunno what the hell I’m supposed to do. I… am I supposed to feel guilty for getting murdered? Cause I can’t.” Swallowing thickly, he runs a hand through his hair, the white tuft of his bangs sticking up strangely, standing out against the rest.
Ollie taps his fingers along the table. “I think what people are trying to say, even though it might be having the opposite effect, granted, is that you were important to Bruce. You ARE important to him. Enough to have left an indelible mark and enough to stagger the friggin’ Batman when he lost you.” His eyes follow that tuft of white, that evidence of death and the Pit and lurching back into life, and Ollie says, “Nobody expects you to feel guilty, Jason. What happened to you was a tragedy and there’s nothing wrong with you making yourself the figure of central importance in it. Not Bruce, not anybody but you.”
"Then why do I feel like a selfish prick any time I try to make it about me?" he asks faintly, not expecting an answer. Letting out a shaky breath, he leans forward, setting his coffee down on the desk so he can rest his head in his hands. "Just want it to be over and done, y’know? Wanna… just fucking move past it… but he’s never gonna be able to and there’s nothing I can do about it." Slowly, he manages to look up at Ollie. "How d’you ever get him to talk about anything?"
Ollie raises an eyebrow. “That’s a joke, right?” He rests his folded elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Listen, Jason — it’s all hard work and perseverance and understanding that sometimes, even when it’s really /really/ important to you that he talk, he’s just … not gonna. So either you’re all right with that from the get-go, or you find some other way around it. Some other way to communicate or interpret.” He scratches one long sideburn. “Me, I’m the chatty type, so I choose words every time. But there’s others more introspective, like Kate or Cass, who go for the non-verbal interpretations.”
"Just figured since the two or you are together or whatever there must’ve been some kinda communication in there at some point. Even if it’s—I dunno—tapping morse code on his back when you’re screwing." He’s mostly joking, but he wouldn’t put it past Bruce to do something like that. "I get that he’s not big on the whole… talking about how he feels thing, think that kinda… runs in the family, except Dick." But Dick is some sort of cheery Bat-anomaly that can’t be explained. "Just… fucking pisses me off sometimes when he just says some cryptic shit and takes off." Not that he doesn’t do the same thing himself from time to time, but that’s not important.
Ollie smiles, although it’s not an entirely happy smile. “Yeah,” he agrees, “there’s some kinda communication. But we still hit snags the size of motherfucking Mount St. Helen’s.” He shakes himself out. “But, I mean — is Bruce the main aspect of this for you? In wanting to move past what happened? The Joker killing you?” At this point, Ollie can admit to himself that he’d been avoiding the subject too, what with having seen what Bruce was like when Jason died, having made his own decision about Connor based on it. Actually saying it out loud, what had happened to Jason, makes a shudder run up his spine.
"Kinda noticed that, no offense," he adds quickly, pretty sure he has a good idea what one of the most recent snags involved. The habitual tapping back in his fingers, he says nothing for a few long moments. "No." It’s sort of a shaky ‘no’, because he knows there’s going to be questions about just what else he wants to stop dealing with that he doesn’t really want to answer. "He’s part of it, but… there’s other shit."
"What’s the other shit?" Ollie lets the question hang for a while before he clarifies, "…you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. But I know /I/ appreciate a good outright question sometimes instead of polite minding-of-own-business, so you can tell me to go to hell or you can talk, whichever one you like, kiddo."
Jason shifts uncomfortably in his seat, staring fixedly at the table. It’s the first time anyone’s asked straight out, which is strangely refreshing. Answering is still not something he really wants to do though. “Just… nightmares,” he says hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper. “Lately any time I try and sleep… as soon as I close my eyes I’m back in that warehouse. Can’t get away, can’t even wake up till I’m screaming.” His expression turns a little sheepish as he picks at the ends of his sleeves. “Only thing that helps is if I drink till I just blackout.”
"Aaaahhhhh. Hence the loss of appetite, too?" Ollie shakes his head a little, but his voice is kind when he says, "Kid, you ever consider maybe just taking a sleeping pill or two to conk you out for the night? Keep the Joker at bay?"
"Tried ‘em, never works for very long," he says with a shrug. "Usually it’s not so bad, just get ‘em every once in a while y’know? But… since he got out…" Trailing off, he shakes his head.
Ollie scratches his beard, fingers moving in a ripple, back and forth. “Yeah. I wish I could tell you that kinda shit goes away in time, Jason, but it doesn’t. What you can try, maybe, is not sleeping alone.” Ollie laughs, a little wryly. “I know that’s not the most elegant advice, but hell, it usually worked for me when I had shit I needed to not think about.”
Jason makes a face as he shifts again, still pointedly not looking at Ollie. “That… might’ve worked once or twice,” he says, remembering the night he spent in a destroyed hotel in El Paso. “But see, I don’t exactly have a long list of people I can invite over for a slumber party.”
"So who needs a long list? All you need is two, maybe three friendly souls who’re willing to put up with you kicking and snoring for a few nights a week. Hell, throw your cats on in there too, if it comes to that. Just … don’t be /alone/, Jason." Ollie peers at him, unblinking, his glasses making him look unexpectedly owlish. "That’s the worst thing you can be. Especially when you’re being haunted by spectres of the past who you wish would go away."
"The only people I’d put on that list have enough of their own shit to deal with." He tries to meet Ollie’s eyes for a moment, but can’t hold it for long. "Been dealing with this stuff alone for a long time. Nothing I can’t handle, just… sucks adding that on top of all the other shit that’s been going wrong lately, y’know?"
Ollie prods Jason’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “Sorry to contradict you here, stripling, but it very much /is/ something you can’t handle. And you shouldn’t be expected to handle it on your own.” He sucks on his bottom lip for a moment, thoughtfully. “Those people you’re talking about,” Ollie says, “if they’ve got shit to deal with too, maybe they’d be grateful to have somebody to keep the nightmares away, too.”
Jason lightly kicks at Ollie’s foot. “Been handling it since I came back, old timer.” No one else has asked, so he’s fairly sure that he’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping a lid on it. He can’t completely deny the second part though, so he just stays quiet for a moment. “Maybe, but… this is my problem, not theirs, they shouldn’t hafta deal with my shit on top of everything else. I can’t ask ‘em to do that.”
Ollie slaps the table hard with his open palms. “Yes! Yes you absofuckingloutely can, Jason! That’s what caring about other people is all about, is asking them to deal with your shit even when they’re going through their own! It’s not unreasonable!”
Jason flinches as Ollie’s hands come down on the table, instinctively curling in on himself. “I can’t,” he insists, though he says it quietly, sounding almost nervous. Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair. “After the shit I’ve pulled… I can’t. Don’t deserve—” He cuts himself off and goes back to picking at his sleeves.
"You do. I know you’re gonna hate hearing this, but you’re only a /child/, Jason, you’re still a baby in the big scheme of things. You deserve to feel safe and comforted and not alone. All right? All /right/?" Ollie’s voice has gotten to a fierce level now, a rolling growl, but it’s clear he’s not angry with /Jason/. Just at the situation around him.
Jason glares at the floor, his lips curling into a grimace. “Maybe you’re right, but I’ve never gotten to be any of those things. That’s just how the world works and it doesn’t matter if I want it different, cause there’s nothing I can do to change that.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shoves his hands into his pockets and gets up out of his seat. “Getting more coffee,” he mumbles as he turns away.
Ollie lurches up from the table and grabs Jason’s shoulders, shaking him a little bit in the process. “Well, maybe you can’t, but I can,” he says. “I dunno about you but /I’m/ lonely being back in Star all by myself. If you don’t mind a change of scenery for a few days, you should come stay with me. And the dog. You can let the dog snooze on you, she’s great at that.”
Jason flinches again when Ollie grabs at him, almost expecting to be struck instead. His eyes widena at the offer. “I uh… I dunno.” Biting at the inside of his lip, he picks at his sleeves again. “I mean… guess it’d be kinda nice.” He pauses, brows knitting together. “It’s not gonna make things worse for you and Bruce if I come stay with you, is it?” Because getting away to Star sounds like just what the doctor ordered.
Ollie snorts. “Look, I can’t help what he thinks when it comes to you. In fact, the less I think about what he thinks the better, hey?” Ollie thumps Jason’s shoulder with his fist, pleased. “This’ll be nice for me too, y’know. I always think it’ll be a relief to have the place to myself, and then I get cranky rattling around in there by myself. Having you there’ll be great.”
Jason can’t really argue with that. Bruce is going to think whatever he’s going to think. “Alright. Uh… how’s your dog with cats? And can I bring my cats?” He doesn’t mind leaving them on their own for a night or too, but if he’s going to be there for a while, he’s not about to leave them alone.
Ollie wrinkles his nose but says, “Kiki’ll adopt ‘em all as her own within an hour. She’s a nannydog to the extreme. And yeah, there’s plenty of room for your kitlings — the place is pretty big and it’s kinda partitioned, so you’ll have lots of privacy but you won’t be alone. Which I think’ll be just the ticket.”
Jason manages a small smile. “Alright, yeah, I think that could work. And maybe I can actually make you some food that won’t rot your teeth.”
Ollie thumps Jason’s shoulder again. “Attaboy. Once you gather up all your kittens and kaboodle, just head back up here and we’ll zeta to the penthouse. You’re gonna love Star City, it’s a trip. Helps if you like sushi and coffee.”
"Alright. Might take a couple trips to get ‘em all there." His smile grows a little wider as he lightly punches Ollie’s shoulder. "Haven’t really had a lotta sushi, but I’ll pretty much eat anything. There was something else you told me I had to try if I ever came to Star… bubble tea or something like that?"
Ollie chortles over Jason’s memory regarding this promised drink. “Yes! Bubble tea! You’ll be able to try all the flavours, if you want.” He starts gathering up his things, the laptop and empty drink cups. “Tell you what, I’m gonna go make sure the place is ready, and then when you’re good to come over I’ll come get you. Sound like a plan?”
Jason nods, hands back in his pockets. “Alright. Shouldn’t take me too long to get my stuff ready to go, I’ll text you when the cats are all packed.”
"See you then, kiddo." Ollie gives Jason a one-armed hug, then trundles off.