The Batplane landed hard, harder than Bruce liked. His gloves were slick with blood, not his, never his. The med bay's sterile light was harsh against the gash on Jason's abdomen, already starting to clot, but too deep, too red.

Jason was unconscious.

Bruce hadn't spoken a word since they loaded him in.

(Later)

The batcave was silent, save for the mechanical rhythm of the medical monitor.

Jason lay in the bed, bruised, bandaged, and bored out of his goddamn mind.

He shifted.

Bad idea.

A low voice came instantly from the dark corner of the room. "Don't."

Bruce.

Because of course he was there.

He hadn't left since he carried Jason into the cave, bloody and limp in his arms. Hadn't changed out of the lower half of the suit. Still wore the black compression shirt, sleeves rolled, cowl long since peeled off, the lines under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

Jason shifted again.

"Jason." Bruce's voice got even flatter “If you try to get up, I will sedate you.”