Jason Todd is (thelazarus) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-02-07 22:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, red hood |
Who: Jack and Luke
What: Two exhausted bros hashing things out.
Where: Wren and Luke's.
When: Just after Wren went to sleep the night everyone came back.
Warnings/Rating: None.
Even shut away from the world in a dark, quiet closet with Wren at his side, Luke hadn’t been able to sleep for more than half an hour, on and off, at the most. He kept jerking himself awake, fearful that she would take off again if he kept his eyes closed too long, and he worried too that something might go wrong, that the Lazarus Pit had more of an effect on her than he’d previously thought. But she was still there every time he awakened, still peacefully asleep, and she was still sleeping when he finally gave up and carefully disentangled himself in order to slip out of the closet without disturbing her.
He let Jack know it was okay to come, since he doubted Wren would be waking up anytime soon, and tried to distract himself from the unnatural silence and the weight of two weeks spent in Gotham by making coffee. It struck him as strange, now, that he’d ever managed to live alone for so long, and had craved solitude before coming to Las Vegas and being plunged head-first into a literal blast from the past. He missed Gus’ babbling, missed the sound of paws on the floor and even the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, that this was a home and not just a house with four walls and basic necessities. MK may have been staying with them, or at least she had been, but Luke didn’t count her as part of their family unit. She was just a visitor. No, it was him, Wren, Gus... and, lately, Jack had been feeling more and more like family than just a friend. Logically he knew he couldn’t stay with them long-term, but he didn’t have to leave now, not after what Max had told him, and he worried about what he and Wren had said to each other that had apparently changed Jack’s mind.
The gurgle and rattle of the coffee machine was oddly soothing, perhaps due to its familiarity, and he found himself yawning as he slouched over at the kitchen table and tried valiantly to keep himself awake. Just a little longer, he told himself. He’d never be able to relax long enough until he knew for sure that Wren was going to be okay anyway.
Jack came back in quietly, key ring jingling softly as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The kitchen was one of the only lights on in the house, and he stepped through the doorway slowly. "Hey," he said, voice down. He didn't know where Wren was sleeping, but she had to be around here somewhere, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was wake her up.
Logically, Jack knew that Wren wasn't in her right mind. But it didn't change how convicted she had seemed in the things she was saying - how utterly sure. And her words hit a raw nerve, there was no getting around that. He'd been more on edge since Jason had been thrown into the pit, temper shorter, closer to the person he had been in Seattle than the person he had tried to be since leaving it. He didn't want to think about whether or not Wren was right. He didn't want to think about what it had been like, watching as Jason tore through the League of Shadows members he had killed. He could still feel the strange, distant warmth of blood spattering over leather gloves, the copper blood tang and dirty salt sweat of men fighting for their lives. He shoved the memory away. He'd been in Gotham too long, gotten too tired and edged much too close to Jason. Disentangling from that, and from the harsher effects of the Pit Jason was suffering from, it wasn't as easy as it ought to have been.
All Jack really wanted to do was sleep, but he knew if he stayed and waited for Wren she'd just get upset, or be accusatory, and she hardly needed him snapping at her in her current state. It wasn't fair to her.
So he'd bandaged the bullet graze Jason had suffered during his second altercation, and then gone to an all-night diner to at least get in a full meal. Jason had eaten no more than he absolutely had to, quick meals of water and high-energy rations. Rest, and a few days of decent meals, and work might help the feeling that this, all of this, was getting to be too much. Perhaps work would even be a respite, in the coming weeks.
Jack smiled faintly at Luke, but didn't try to pretend he wasn't as tired as he looked. Luke had to be even more exhausted. "You should be sleeping, not drinking more coffee," he admonished him, then paused. He looked at him for a moment, then pulled him in for a brief, tight hug. "I'm glad you're safe," he said, feeling the weight of all that worry, suddenly. That they'd all made it out alive was a miracle. Obviously, not everyone had been so lucky.
Normally Finch would have alerted him to the fact that someone was coming in through the front door, but both pets were still elsewhere, just like Gus, and Luke was too preoccupied with trying to keep himself from dozing off to notice until Jack was actually in the kitchen. Even then, he was slow to react, and when he did manage to get to his feet it was with an equally faint smile. “Hey,” he echoed. He knew he should be sleeping, but he was too keyed up for it to happen, and so he just shrugged. “I know,” he began, prepared to explain, but the hug, however brief, caught him off guard. While it was unexpected, it wasn’t unwelcome, and he returned it just as tightly as he let all the fear and worry and weight of the past two weeks, and even before, wash over him for just a moment before tucking it away again.
“I’m glad you’re safe too,” he admitted, taking a deep, steadying breath and stepping back. “We all could have died in there. Some of us almost did.” He looked over his shoulder, an instinctive thing, towards the hallway and bedroom where Wren slept. “She’s asleep in the closet,” he explained, which he was aware sounded a little strange. “Gus is still with Will and Evie.” The coffee machine beeped to indicate that it was finished, and Luke took that as his cue to start digging up coffee mugs-- no milk or sugar, thanks, he needed the caffeine. “How are you feeling? I know you’re probably tired, but other than that,” he said, no less concerned just because Jason hadn’t gotten sick.
In the closet. Well, it made about as much sense as anything else. "I'm glad she was able to sleep," Jack said. Maybe by the time she woke up, her mind would be in better order. They could only hope. The news that Gus was still out of the house was no surprise, but a reminder of his fight with Wren earlier, and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I assumed so."
Jack watched Luke pull out the mugs and get the coffee. "Fine," Jack said with a shrug. "I at least managed to get a decent meal. I wouldn't call what Jason was eating 'food', exactly." Once Luke poured the coffee he reached for a mug. He didn't wince as he reached, but there was a little stiffness there, a little care. No need to pull out the few stitches he'd had to put in. "It's going to be hard to sleep," he said, holding the mug with both hands, staring a little past Luke. God, he was tired though. "There's still so much to do." He paused. "I hear you talked to Max?" he said, with a faint smile. He wasn't angry with Luke for letting spill what Jack had told him, but now Max had given him one more thing to worry about - that Luke might get the wrong idea, and try to sacrifice himself to get Jack out of the organization. That wouldn't do anyone any good, nor was the situation anywhere near dire enough to merit it, but Max had planted the thought there, and now it nagged at him.
As tired as he was, he hadn’t yet reached the point of exhaustion where he would miss what was right in front of him. What Wren had admitted to telling Jack would upset anyone, and on top of everything he already knew, all the concerns Max had merely added to, Luke knew it had to have gotten to him. Why else would he change his mind about meeting them at the house? “She told me what you two talked about. What she said... about not really living, and leaving Gus with someone else,” he said, watching carefully for a reaction, even though it took a bit of effort to focus properly.
He made a noise of assent, since Bruce hadn’t exactly eaten properly either, but he couldn’t even think of food just then. “There wasn’t much time for things like food and sleep, I guess. They left those for us.” Maybe he was a little bitter; sure, he understood that Gotham and the world had been in trouble, but losing weeks of his life wasn’t something he was overjoyed about, and it seemed the cost became steeper each time. He took a sip of coffee, testing it, and then gulped down more, a little desperate to stay awake. The stiffness in Jack’s movements barely registered, and was ultimately dismissed as lingering effects of whatever had gone on in Gotham. Everyone through that door collected bruises like prizes. “There is a lot to do,” he agreed. “But we all need a break. You have to sleep. Ignore how hypocritical that is, coming from me,” he added. “It’s still true.” As for Max, he’d hoped she wouldn’t mention anything to Jack, but it was a foolish hope to begin with. Of course she would tell him. Lately, it seemed, Luke was doing a really bad job of keeping things to himself, and the lack of secrets wasn’t working out as well as he’d thought. “Yeah,” he admitted, with more than a little guilt present. “I didn’t mean to-- I accidentally let it slip, and backtracking didn’t work.” Jack didn’t seem mad, but he might have just not wanted to show it. As for taking stupid risks to save him from a life with the CIA, well, it was tempting, but he had too much to lose these days. He’d throw himself in the line of fire to keep Wren from joining, but Jack was already in, and while he didn’t like it whatsoever, he hadn’t been able to think of a viable way to fix the situation.
When Luke told Jack that Wren had already explained what they'd talked about, Jack's face fell. There was a hint of the exasperation he’d felt in talking to her, and more exhaustion, the bone deep kind. He shrugged. "She's not in her right mind right now," he said. "...And no. I don't think it's a good idea to send Gus to live with people who aren't his parents because of what's happening through the door. Not permanently." As for not really living, well, what else was there to say? He didn't want to think about it, let alone discuss it. He had to keep going, whatever happened now. If he spent too much time thinking about it, that would become a difficult prospect. "There's no point in dwelling on it," he said, finally. "Not when she's not well." It was easy enough to dismiss everything she’d said as the ramblings of someone who had been dosed with the waters of the Lazarus Pit. Hopefully Luke would take that at face value, and leave it be.
"I know," Jack consented. That much he had to admit to. He wouldn't be able to make it much longer without some rest, and undoubtedly he'd feel better once he'd gotten some. "It's fine," he said. "I already talked to her. She's not happy, but it wasn't much worse than that." Admittedly, part of that seemed to be because Max was distracted by some problem of her own. She kept dodging him when he asked about Bangladesh, and it didn't sit well. The fact that she hadn't seemed interested in seeing him, offering a call in a few days instead - that didn't settle either. “I’m worried about her,” he said. “That mission she was on shouldn’t have taken a month.”
No, she wasn’t in her right mind, but to Luke that sounded more like an excuse than an explanation. Obviously what she’d said had an impact, a negative one, and he wasn’t sure that simply letting it go was the best course of action. “No, you’re right,” he agreed, because Gus was the easy topic. “It’s not a good idea. She’s wrong about that. Gus isn’t going anywhere, and once she’s herself again, I’m sure she’ll realize all the reasons why giving him away isn’t going to help. Things will be different with the doors from now on.” They had to be, since he wasn’t sure Wren could take another prolonged absence without snapping entirely, to the point where there was no coming back. As for not dwelling on it, he was torn between pushing the subject and backing off. He thought, maybe, discussing the implications of not really ‘living’ and what had set off a nerve about Gus in the first place might be good, but at the same time, there was an equal chance it could be a complete disaster. “I know she’s not well,” he began, cautious, “but that doesn’t make what she said easy to hear. Doesn’t make it right either. I just... don’t think you should dwell on it, that’s all.” He knew that if it hadn’t been true, it wouldn’t have made such an impact; if someone were to tell him now that he was a dead man walking, it wouldn’t bother him half as much as it would have a few years ago, when he had been. The last thing Luke wanted was for this to be the thing that pushed Jack over the edge.
He was relieved, but only for a moment, as it occurred to him that not happy was a tame reaction for Max, considering how strict she was about secrecy. Jack wasn’t usually one to get too angry, but Max’s reaction had been almost underwhelming. “I don’t even know what her mission was,” he admitted. “She didn’t tell me. All I know is that it went bad, whatever it was. They didn’t get what they were after, or something, and she said she was a little banged up but nothing worse than that.” He tipped his head to the side. “You think she’s lying?” It would be like Max to hide just how badly things had gone, he realized that much.
"I don't intend to," Jack said. And he didn't. If he could possibly help it, he would avoid thinking about it as much as possible. What good would it possibly serve if he dwelled? At least if he continued to self-propel, to try to just move forward without thinking, he could be there for his friends during difficult times, like right now, when things were such a catastrophe. "And I hope you're right." It was difficult to say anything about the door. Making sure no one was caught in there for weeks again would mean preventing another such catastrophe from taking place. They had been powerless to stop this one, and if another one occurred, he couldn't imagine that anyone could keep someone like Bruce out of the door, if Jason's experience with him was any indication. He didn't say that, though, of course. No need to bring Luke down. Perhaps he would be wrong.
"Maybe," Jack said, grim. He drank a little more coffee. All this talk of deadness was making him feel dead - the exhaustion didn't help. "I never know, with her. When things go wrong, she tends to downplay them because she doesn't want to look weak." He shrugged. "I'll say that she didn't seem to want to see me in person. Which isn't to say that she ought to, but it was a little strange, considering how long she was gone, and everything that's happened."
After a long moment of silent internal struggle, Luke relented and nodded. No, he wouldn’t push. Not when Wren had pushed enough. He would wait. Later, maybe, they could discuss it, or never. “Good,” he said, looking down at his mug of coffee. Resisting the urge to say more, he turned his attention to the subject of the doors, and somehow he doubted that Jack had much faith in them avoiding another weeks-long catastrophe regardless of promises made. “I have to be right. I have to be, because we can’t keep leaving Gus, and I don’t think any of us can handle not living for weeks and weeks at a time like before.” Yeah, Bruce was Batman, and Batman needed to be there when Gotham was in crisis, but not 24/7 for days and days. It just wasn’t going to happen anymore, even if he had to fight tooth and nail to make him cross through. It was either compromise, or the threat of them leaving Vegas entirely, with the risk of Bruce not coming back at all.
He mulled over what Max might possibly be hiding as he drank his coffee, and decided it was entirely plausible that things had been worse than she’d let on. “She can’t avoid you forever,” he said decisively. “She can’t avoid either of us. Sooner or later, we’ll find out what happened.” Luke paused. “She said she saw Thomas. I know... I know how you feel about him, but I don’t think he would’ve just sent her back here if she was really hurt. Maybe it’s like you said-- she doesn’t want to look weak.” Now he wished he would have pushed just a little more, instead of readily accepting what she said as the truth.
Jack nodded, and didn't contradict Luke. To a certain extent, he was right. The people on the other side of the door had to have learned by now that if something like this happened again, they might not get to go through the door anymore. Or, at the least, it would be considerably more difficult for them. He just knew that they would likely take that risk if things went as bad as they had in the past few weeks again.
Jack smiled faintly. "She sometimes tries," he said. He didn't know what he and Max were anymore, or if they were anything. He was fairly sure she had attributed the sex they'd had to him being straight from the pit and left it behind. Maybe he ought to try to forget it. The mention of Thomas, though, drew Jack's gaze up, sharp and intent, in a way it hadn't otherwise been so far. "Really? She hadn't mentioned that. Luke was right, of course, everyone knew how he felt about Thomas, and if they hadn't, it still would have been perceptible in the quick flicker of emotions that crossed his face when he realized Max had avoided mentioning she'd seen him. Surprise, kneejerk dislike and anger (what was he doing, getting in contact with her?) and the realization of how ridiculous that thought was. He was the father of her child. She'd been in New York. He knew she avoided seeing him, though, so why the change? "Maybe," he said. He didn't have Luke's faith that Thomas wouldn't have sent Max back to Vegas if she was badly hurt, since he also had no faith that he cared about her beyond, perhaps, her functional necessity in his life as Amanda's mother. Luke didn't need to hear that, though. Nor would he likely want to.
Normally, what Jack was feeling would be called jealousy. But he had no right to be jealous, did he? And he was exhausted, and at the end of his rope. He ought to leave it be. There was little doubt he'd be able to treat the whole thing more sensibly in the morning. Despite the fact that he intended to go lay down after this conversation, he drained his coffee, and moved to set the mug in the sink. The caffeine would make little difference to his sleep deprivation. "How long do you think Gus will be staying away?" he asked. He might as well address that directly, and change the subject in the process. He wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer, and that was still worrying him after his conversation with Wren.
Luke didn’t see anything he wasn’t expecting to see in Jack’s reaction. There was no surprise, just a resigned sort of calm as he watched without saying anything. That sharpness, dislike that likely bordered on hatred, anger; all things he wished he could feel himself without the tether of caring, even after all this time, that just reopened old wounds and prevented them from healing properly. He suspected Max had only mentioned Thomas because she knew he would never ask himself, as much as he might have wanted to know. But telling Jack that seemed unnecessary, and he thought about what she said, that Thomas had helped clean up whatever mess Max’s job had become, which was added incentive to keep quiet. He’d spilled enough secrets on both sides; if Max wanted to tell him, then she would. He was too tired to make any informed decisions about what he should and shouldn’t disclose. “I didn’t get much else out of her,” he shrugged. “You’ll probably have more luck. Just give her time.” Normally he might have pushed, but neither of them were really in any condition for that; they were both practically ready to fall over, coffee aside. Besides, he was still ‘kid’, and kids were left out of the loop more often than they were in.
But for what it was worth, if anything at all, he thought Max deserved better than Thomas. He thought, too, that Jack deserved to be happy, and it was one of those unfair things that he couldn’t find that happiness with Max, and her with him.
He looked down at his coffee mug before downing the rest, not that it was going to do much to keep him awake either. “Until Wren is back to normal,” he said simply. “It’s not good for him to be around her when she’s like this. Once she stops saying things she shouldn’t say and talking about giving him away, we’ll go pick him up from Will and Evie’s. They’ll look after him until then.” Aside from Jack himself, there was no one else he trusted more to watch his son.
Max was keeping a lot of things from him, it seemed. When had that started happening? When had Jack become someone she needed to keep things from? He ran a hand through his hair. He knew full well that his exhaustion and all around shortness of temper lately was behind his paranoia, but it didn't help the feeling that something was very wrong. "I guess."
Jack almost asked if Luke could know how long that would be, but stopped himself. That wasn't fair. It hadn't even been a full night yet. Gus couldn't stay away forever, so they could only hope the effects of the lazarus pit weren't as harsh if one hadn't been dipped in it. Gus hardly needed another abandonment, another sudden change in situation with no warning. It was a miracle he managed to develop any sense of security with anyone. "Alright," he said. He didn't know Will and Evie, but Luke seemed to trust them, and that was what mattered. He shook his head. "Sorry," he said honestly, for the monosyllabic responses. "I think I just need to sleep." He glanced toward the doorway. "It is alright for me to stay?" He still wasn't sure how good an influence on Wren's recovery he would be if he did, but he didn't look forward to trying to find a hotel at this hour.
Luke felt as though he should say or do more, somehow, but this was one of those times where words seemed to do more harm than good. They were both worn down, worried, and not exactly in the best state of mind; maybe things would come together a little after a few hours of sleep. He almost offered to check in with Max on impulse, despite not holding out much hope for success, but let it be and sighed instead. “If I had it my way, he’d be back tonight,” he said of Gus, too tired for anything but honesty. “But you’ve talked to her. Wren, I mean. Imagine what she might say to him.” The little boy had been through enough, and was still adjusting to calling them Mommy and Daddy; he didn’t need anything else turning his world upside-down all over again. He shrugged off the one-word replies, and while he hadn’t expected Jack to stay, not with everything that had happened with Wren, he was relieved that he asked. While he’d never say it aloud, knowing Jack was staying in the house rather than elsewhere always made him worry just a little less. “Yeah, of course it is,” he said. “You’re always welcome here.”
"I know," Jack said. He didn't want Gus traumatized by what Wren might say in her current state, but he didn't want the boy to feel as if his parents had abandoned him, either. No route was easy, and none was simple. If it went on too long, he could bring it up again.
"Thank you," he said. It might be best to move out (again) if Wren didn't seem to be improving, but for now it seemed right to stay. Luke was obviously exhausted, and someone ought to keep an eye on him if he was going to have his eye on Wren, at least until things were calmed. "We can talk again when we've both slept," he said, with a small smile. "Night." He took the surreal walk back to the room he hadn't slept in in weeks, and hoped only that he wouldn't dream.