Character(s): Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Thomas Elliot,
Genre: AU weridness
Rating: PG/K+, currently.
Notes: This was inspired by Vespertilia story Masquerade (http://vespertila.livejournal.com/
His head hurt.
His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. Slowly he yanked himself up into a sitting position. This was a bad idea, as he threw up.
“Fuck.” He swore.
“No.” Came the response from outside the room, soft and feminine. “Then we will both be late.”
Cassandra came into the room, an Oriental robe over her nightgown and a cup of something hot in her hand. Her hair was still messy from the bed. She smiled at him.
“Here.” She said. “Drink.”
He took the cup and forced a couple of sips down. It did seem to help calm his stomach.
It took him a minute or two to realize that he was in his room at the mansion. And that Cass was wearing one of his T shirts.
“You should have a shower.” Cass observed, and he realized for the first time that he was still in his Halloween costume. He grinned up at her and grabbed her around the waist.
“I can think of something more fun to do.”
Cassandra regarded him for a moment, and then planted a kiss on his nose.
“Shower first.” She said, firmly.
The beeps came soft and steady, as they had for all the whole night.
Elliot ran his hands through his hair. He should go back to the mansion, make sure Cass was O.K, actually see her before she went to school. But he was still there. Sitting by the bed.
The door opened and Dr. Dundee entered. He had known them both since they were boys, had brought Elliot into the world, and patched them both up over the years. He wasn’t Bruce’s normal doctor. That was Dr. Tompkins, but she was out of town at a medical conference.
“No change.” He said, looking over at the charts. Elliot nodded.
“We’re running his blood through toxicology.” He paused, “Thomas, I’m sorry, but I have to ask...”
“No.” The word was all but spat out. It was taking all of his self-control not to lapse into Aristotle.
Dr. Dundee nodded, moving closer.
“Thomas, no one is suggesting that you violated_”
“no. They’re just suggesting that Bruce is doing drugs.”
“An idea you yourself proposed.”
Elliot hated the way Dundee could appear so calm in the face of his own overwhelming anger.
“I suggested that there might be some toxins that Bruce could have knowingly taken that might affect him. Bruce works with chemicals all day. There are several that might have been absorbed through the skin, or inhaled or...” he shook his head. “Bruce would never do drugs.”
“Thomas, I understand that Bruce is a friend, but...”
“No.” Elliot interrupted. “Bruce is too much of a control freak to do drugs. And besides...” he ran his fingers through his hair. “How much do you know of Bruce’s personal life?”
Dundee shrugged. “Just what I read in the papers.”
“Bruce has three sons, currently. The middle one’s Jason.” He paused, uncertain. “Kid comes from a bad background. Bruce and I suspect, though we’ve limited at best proof that he was abused and that his parents were addicts.” He paused. “About four, no it’d be nearer five years ago, social took Jason away. Bruce’s adoption had been slightly irregular, and they weren’t keen on a teenage boy staying with a man with a reputation as a playboy. Jason didn’t like this, so he took off.” He shivered slightly at the memory of what had drawn him back to Gotham, Bruce’s voice on the end of the phone begging him to save his son. “Jason was attacked while he was on the run, beaten almost to death with a crowbar of all things.” He paused. “We patched him up and as soon as he was fit to leave the hospital, Welfare took him back to the juvenile home.” He lifted his head to look at Dr. Dundee. “Jason still had massive trauma, along with fractures to most of the long bones in his body, but he still took off almost as soon as they got him out of the car. He’s perfectly capable of surviving on his own, if he felt threatened. And he would take off, if he thought Bruce was doing drugs.”
“So what’s your explanation?” Dr. Dundee asked, his tone leaving no doubt that he didn’t share Elliot opinion. Elliot fought the desire to laugh.
“Doctor, did you read the guest list?” he asked. “It’s virtually a who’s who of people who’d want to hurt or humiliate Bruce Wayne.
Alfred took a brief pause for a cup of tea at eleven every morning without fail.
This morning was no exception.
He had fed the boys and Cassie their breakfast, and persuaded Dick to give them a ride to school. He had called the hospital to confirm that there was no change in Master Bruce’s condition and cleaned up after the party.
There was less than there usually was, as no one had stayed long after Master Bruce’s collapse.
He had fielded eight phone calls, seven personal calls and no less than 10 flora tributes, along with a call to Wayne Industries to advise them of the situation. Mr Fox had been extremely helpful.
The kettle boiled and he made tea.
If he was lucky, and Master Jason managed to stay out of trouble, he could pop over to the hospital after lunch. Carefully he opened the Gotham Times.
“Oh My.” He said, gazing at the main article.