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He hated this. Bart absolutely despised how one little comment could throw him a panic attack in less than a minute. He had been doing so well, and now he was tucked into a ball, trying to quiet his hyperventilating. At first, he just bolted, but it was really hard to run when you couldn't breathe, so he had phased through walls until he found a safe place, curled up in the fetal position, arms protecting his head, and sobbed.
It didn't make sense to him, if he was being honest. He had only ever had a few panic attacks during all his time in the future, but after he came to the past, after they defeated the Reach, they were suddenly a common occurrence. Black Canary had said something about "You weren't safe enough to break down" and "This is a good thing, even if it doesn't seem that way," as if that made him feel any better.
Bart heard footsteps nearby, and shoved his fist into his mouth, hoping it wasn’t someone with super hearing. Not that it would take much to notice him gasping for air, even without it. For the first time, he took in his surroundings, and realized he was inside Jaime's closet. Soo not crash.
The footsteps got louder, and since Bart doubted anyone else would have come inside Jaime's room, he knew it was no use to hide his sobs. Khaji Da wouldalready have detected his heat signature.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Bart? Can I come in?”
No, you can’t, because I can’t handle someone seeing me like this. I can’t let anyone know when I’m feeling weak, because they’ll just take advantage of that. There is no way I’m going to sit in front of you and hyperventilate, because my past isn’t going to happen. We beat the Reach years ago, we changed the world, we won, we won but I’m still having nightmares, I’m still jumping at shadows, I’m still hoarding food, I’m still sobbing in a closet just because someone mentioned inhibitor collars.
“Yeah, okay.” The words just came out, in between his gasps for air. Bart winced, but he knew that despite his fear of being vulnerable, he had a desperate need for company.
Jaime slipped into the closet and ducked under the jackets hanging from the rack to sit next to Bart; close but not quite touching. It was dark, and Bart could only see the outline of Jaime’s face, gazing at him steadily.
“Hey. Can you breathe with me?” Jaime held out a hand, and Bart took it instinctively. He was rewarded with a soft smile, and then Jaime said, “Alright, we’re just going to breathe. Breathe in, two, three, four, and breathe out, two, three, four, five, six. In, two, three, four-”
Jaime squeezed his hand in time with his breaths, and Bart tried to match him, sucking in a large breath and then wheezing during the exhale. Jaime didn’t mention it, just told him he was doing well, even though he very definitely was not.
Slowly, he was able to settle his breathing into something resembling normal, and Jaime smiled gently again. “Good job.”
Bart sniffed. “If you say so.”
“I do. Panic attacks are awful. Give yourself some credit for getting through it.” Jaime hugged him tighter, and Bart abruptly realized that he had climbed halfway onto Jaime’s lap. He flushed, but didn’t move, instead resting his head against Jaime’s chest and closing his eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t. He really, really didn’t, but something about Jaime made all of Bart’s walls come down.
“I- I told you about the slave camps. In the future.”
Jaime was doing better with his guilt over moded Blue Beetle being a key figure in Bart’s trauma, but Bart still felt him stiffen. “A little bit.”
“We wore collars there. I- I couldn’t run. I was trapped. I was always trapped ”
Bart felt Jaime’s chin rest on his head, and he kept going. “We didn’t only wear them at the camp, though. Before I got captured, Wally and Aunt Dawn and I wore them, ones we had the controls for, so we- so we didn’t need as much food. Not all the time, but as often as we could.”
More tears trailed down his face, and Jaime started rubbing his back. “I know my dad wore one too, but I really only have a few memories of him and I don’t remember my mom at all.”
All the words that he had kept bottled inside for so long were spilling out. “When I was a baby, she and Nightwing, along with a lot of other people, were all killed at the same time. Bombs. After that, it was just Wally, Dad, Aunt Dawn, a few other members of the resistance, and me. I only know the others through stories. Wally told me so many stories.”
Bart was sobbing again, his breaths getting faster. “He died in my arms. And even though I came back to save the world, to save my family, he still died. Right in front of me, all over again.”
Jaime’s arms were tight around him, and Bart focused on the pressure, trying to distract himself from the screams echoing in his ears. “That was when Aunt Dawn and I were caught. They would take the metas in for testing sometimes, and then one day, she didn’t come back. And that was- it was normal. We didn’t ask questions. We just kept going. After a few years, the camp- a friend rescued me. The two of us were on the run for a while. He figured out how to get my collar off- that’s how I escaped. But then we didn’t have anything keeping me from- I thought I was hungry before, but that was nothing compared to having a speedster’s metabolism constantly.” Bart took a moment to steady his breathing. “He cooked as often as he could, always insisting that it was better. A few times we had the right stuff for him to make chili, and he’d tell me about eating tomatoes fresh from a garden, and how different the cans tasted.”
“We only spent a couple years together before my friend was killed. And then it was just me, trying not to starve and looking for parts to build my machine. Nathaniel, the meta we got off mode when I first came? He was supposed to kill my grandpa that day. When we met, he helped me with the time machine, and I told him I was going to fix everything. And then I did. We saved the world, and the Reach is gone, and I’m safe, and that future won’t happen, but I still- it’s still-” Bart broke off, crying too hard to keep going.
“Thank you for telling me all of that.” Jaime said, running his fingers through Bart’s hair. “I’m glad you trust me that much.” He paused, and chuckled softly. “Khaji Da is basically reciting an article on the long term effects of trauma. He told me how to help you through your panic attack."
Bart smiled shakily and reached out to touch the scarab where it was on Jaime's spine. "That's really sweet," he said, despite the tears still running down his face. "Thank you."
There was a long moment where the two of them were clearly talking in Jaime's head, until finally Bart recognized the posture changes that meant Khaji Da was taking control of their body.
"Jaime Reyes worries about you. It is advantageous to take care of one’s mental health in order to operate at one’s peak." Khaji Da glanced away, the picture of indifference, but Bart had felt his arms tightening around him as soon as he'd switched in.
"Sure, sure." Bart rested his head on Khaji Da's chest. Jaime's distraction had helped, and his crying was slowing.
Even though Bart wasn't looking at him, he could easily feel Jaime coming back to his body. "Yeah, of course, ese," he said, words dripping with sarcasm. "It's not like I had to stop you from pulling a plasma cannon on Conner or anything."
Bart snickered, and was pleased to realize that his tears had almost stopped. "It's not his fault. He didn't realize it would trigger me."
Jaime’s posture didn’t change, but Khaji Da must have partially come back out, because it was his voice that scoffed. "If they paid more attention, the entire team would notice how traumatized you are."
Letting out a squawk of surprise and offense, Bart shoved lightly at him without moving away. "Rude! I work very hard to hide that. You only know because I told you guys."
"I knew you were hiding something before then," Khaji Da said. "And it certainly was not difficult to compile a list of your triggers."
“You have a list?”
“...It would be dangerous if you panicked in the middle of a mission.” Most people wouldn’t have noticed anything underneath Khaji Da’s aloof attitude, but Bart got the distinct impression that he was uncomfortable. It was kind of funny how anxious he was around people, although Bart was usually an exception.
“And you have an entire flowchart of how to help, depending on what happened, how big his fake smiles are, his breathing rate, how much physical contact he initiates, whether or not he-”
“Fine, fine,” Khaji Da said, cutting off Jaime’s smug remarks. “I view Bart Allen as my-” He hesitated, and that was rare enough that Bart looked up at them. Khaji Da’s normal stance was taking over their body, but he still seemed to be struggling for words. The tiny clicks and whirs of the scarab sorting through a great deal of data at once were familiar and comforting and Bart couldn’t help but smile.
Jaime opened his mouth to tease him again, but Khaji Da spoke instead, talking directly to Bart this time, “I view you as- as my responsibility; my charge to take care of and to protect. I will do so as long as I am able.” Khaji Da started fidgeting, a rare occurrence, and somehow managed to look even more awkward. “I was unaware that you were ranked as one of my highest priorities, along with Jaime Reyes. That should not have happened unintentionally. I will need to study my systems.”
With that, he was gone, and Jaime looked as startled as Bart felt. They stared at each other for a moment, and then burst into giggles.
“So,” Bart said when they had stopped, readjusting himself in Jaime’s arms. “What does the flowchart say right now?”
There was a long pause, and then Jaime said, “Yeah, he’s not talking anytime soon. Video games?”
Bart caught one of his hands and gave it a quick squeeze in thanks. “You know it.”