"The Spectre." He knew what they were talking about. He'd run into the Spectre before and it had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life.
He shook his head, and sat there, elbow on the arm of his wheelchair, rubbing his chin, gaze cast down to the floor. Alina pressed a little kiss to his cheek, thoughtlessly in the way children did in how they showed love to their family, and got off his lap, walking over to Paco and Brenda to show them the picture, too, and play with her Barbie again.
Bianca Reyes walked over, standing behind Jaime, a hand resting on the back of his chair and looked down at him. She looked like she wanted to say something, wanted to beg him to turn his back on this, tell him that he owed nothing to anyone, but she knew that wasn't her right to say, not while he was thinking it over for himself. So she stood there and watched, and Alberto sat there and watched his son, his grip on his cane tight. Paco and Brenda sat and watched, waiting for Jaime to make up his mind. Where Milagro sat on the floor at the foot of couch, she stared at her brother and looked like she was possibly holding her breath.
For all Bianca and Alberto clearly were the masters of this household, when it came to matters like these, matters of life and death and the protection of the innocent, Jaime was the center of the little solar system of their family. They were the satellites that spiraled around him waiting to see where the pull of gravity he exerted would take them next. The Reyes household was its own little universe, with its own physics, and the fundamental force behind those physics was very clearly and very obviously love.
"So, you want me to help you after Batman wouldn't help me, after everything I've lost, after all the people I've seen die. You barely have a plan and it depends on a ridiculous number of things happening at exactly the right time and your backup plan involves calling down the literal wrath of God, when the Spectre's basically entirely uncontrollable. Which is a stupid plan. That's an idiotic plan. I'd be a moron to want to help you."
He looked up at his mother, looked at his father, looked at Milagro where she sat on the floor, at Paco and Brenda. Then he looked at Alina, playing with her Barbie and babbling happily, not fully understanding what she had lost, too young to understand what else she might lose in the world that Superman would make.
"Good thing, then, that I'm a superhero," he said, and his voice was still filled with bitterness and something like self-mockery but it was starting to slough away. The rough edges were smoothing out and the darkness could no longer keep its hold, like it was trying to cling to some slick surface, too smooth and bright to smother entirely. Even as he sat there, he sat up a little taller and his eyes, though sharp and still filled with something that burned with intensity, looked a little less haunted.
"Baby, you don't have to do this," Bianca said to him. "Just because they're asking for help -"
"I don't have to," Jaime said, gazing up at her. "I want to. I haven't stopped wanting to. Every day I watch them doing worse and worse things on the TV and can't do anything to stop it. But this is our chance. Batman never would manage it alone, even if I helped, but -" He gestured to Nightwing, to the newcomer who clearly had his priorities straight.
Compassion. Empathy. Understanding that the hard choices were the last ones that anyone should consider making.
"This. This is different. This is luck or fate or God or something helping set things right and we might actually have a chance." He shook his head, his expression growing firmer. "I'm not leaving the Titans wherever they are if they're still alive and they can be saved. I'm not letting these people die trying to fix our world's problems. I'm not letting those murderers get away with killing good people like Guy and Black Canary and Green Arrow and the Posse - or even not-so-good people like La Dama - or hurting me and Traci, or causing Paco's family to die because they don't care about collateral damage..."
He finished, "And I'm sure as hell not sitting by while Milagro and Alina grow up in a world where Superman and his people get away with all that, and turn everything into a nightmare where they control everyone." A pause, then he corrected, realizing his mother might get on him for cursing, "Sure as heck. I am sure as heck not sitting by while that happens. That's what I've always fought against, people trying to control people, like the Reach. That's why I fought the Spectre, because he wanted to take away those prisoners' chances of redemption. That world, where people control people, is not a world I want to live in, either. That's not a world I can live in."
His mother looked like she was going to weep and his expression matched hers.
"You understand that, right? If I don't do this now, Superman and his people will cross a line someday in the future, something I can't just turn away from, only I won't have people to fight side by side with then." Especially given that he couldn't trust that Batman and his people had his back. "I will fight them alone, and I will die. Alone. That's what's going to happen."
For a moment, he and his mother just stared at each other, while Bianca tried to figure out what she was going to say, tried to find the words. Then, perhaps emboldened by what she saw in her son's eyes, she jutted out her jaw and gently caressed her son's cheek.
"No, mi hijo, that's not what's going to happen," she said firmly. For a moment, it seemed as if she was unable to accept that truth, that future that would probably come to be. For a moment, she seemed to be saying that it wouldn't happen because she was in denial. But then she made it clear that wasn't the case, by saying, "because when you go to help these people -" She nodded at Nightwing and Danny "- fight Superman and his monsters, you're going to kick. Their. Asses."
She reached down to hug her son and as she did, she turned to the rest of her family, her voice now steel. "It's time to get our emergency bags, we're leaving."
Alberto stood up and walked over to his son and wife, holding her, pressing a hand against his shoulder, just for a moment. Then he turned to Paco and Brenda and the kids. "You heard her. We planned for this, everyone. Emergency bags now. Milagro, go pack your toys that you don't have packed in your emergency bag. Brenda, you get Alina's things. Paco, call Ernesto and tell him we have a family emergency- "
"We can say my mother is sick," suggested Bianca, as she jumped into action with the rest of her family. "I'll call her, tell her not to worry if we don't talk to her for a while so she doesn't call the shop or the hospital asking about us. She said we could use her as an excuse, if we ever needed to. She knew we might, that Jaime might change his mind."
Alberto nodded. "Tell him Bianca's mother is very sick and might be close to passing and that the family's traveling to Mexico City to be with her, that he's in charge of the shop until we're back."
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He shook his head, and sat there, elbow on the arm of his wheelchair, rubbing his chin, gaze cast down to the floor. Alina pressed a little kiss to his cheek, thoughtlessly in the way children did in how they showed love to their family, and got off his lap, walking over to Paco and Brenda to show them the picture, too, and play with her Barbie again.
Bianca Reyes walked over, standing behind Jaime, a hand resting on the back of his chair and looked down at him. She looked like she wanted to say something, wanted to beg him to turn his back on this, tell him that he owed nothing to anyone, but she knew that wasn't her right to say, not while he was thinking it over for himself. So she stood there and watched, and Alberto sat there and watched his son, his grip on his cane tight. Paco and Brenda sat and watched, waiting for Jaime to make up his mind. Where Milagro sat on the floor at the foot of couch, she stared at her brother and looked like she was possibly holding her breath.
For all Bianca and Alberto clearly were the masters of this household, when it came to matters like these, matters of life and death and the protection of the innocent, Jaime was the center of the little solar system of their family. They were the satellites that spiraled around him waiting to see where the pull of gravity he exerted would take them next. The Reyes household was its own little universe, with its own physics, and the fundamental force behind those physics was very clearly and very obviously love.
"So, you want me to help you after Batman wouldn't help me, after everything I've lost, after all the people I've seen die. You barely have a plan and it depends on a ridiculous number of things happening at exactly the right time and your backup plan involves calling down the literal wrath of God, when the Spectre's basically entirely uncontrollable. Which is a stupid plan. That's an idiotic plan. I'd be a moron to want to help you."
He looked up at his mother, looked at his father, looked at Milagro where she sat on the floor, at Paco and Brenda. Then he looked at Alina, playing with her Barbie and babbling happily, not fully understanding what she had lost, too young to understand what else she might lose in the world that Superman would make.
"Good thing, then, that I'm a superhero," he said, and his voice was still filled with bitterness and something like self-mockery but it was starting to slough away. The rough edges were smoothing out and the darkness could no longer keep its hold, like it was trying to cling to some slick surface, too smooth and bright to smother entirely. Even as he sat there, he sat up a little taller and his eyes, though sharp and still filled with something that burned with intensity, looked a little less haunted.
"Baby, you don't have to do this," Bianca said to him. "Just because they're asking for help -"
"I don't have to," Jaime said, gazing up at her. "I want to. I haven't stopped wanting to. Every day I watch them doing worse and worse things on the TV and can't do anything to stop it. But this is our chance. Batman never would manage it alone, even if I helped, but -" He gestured to Nightwing, to the newcomer who clearly had his priorities straight.
Compassion. Empathy. Understanding that the hard choices were the last ones that anyone should consider making.
"This. This is different. This is luck or fate or God or something helping set things right and we might actually have a chance." He shook his head, his expression growing firmer. "I'm not leaving the Titans wherever they are if they're still alive and they can be saved. I'm not letting these people die trying to fix our world's problems. I'm not letting those murderers get away with killing good people like Guy and Black Canary and Green Arrow and the Posse - or even not-so-good people like La Dama - or hurting me and Traci, or causing Paco's family to die because they don't care about collateral damage..."
He finished, "And I'm sure as hell not sitting by while Milagro and Alina grow up in a world where Superman and his people get away with all that, and turn everything into a nightmare where they control everyone." A pause, then he corrected, realizing his mother might get on him for cursing, "Sure as heck. I am sure as heck not sitting by while that happens. That's what I've always fought against, people trying to control people, like the Reach. That's why I fought the Spectre, because he wanted to take away those prisoners' chances of redemption. That world, where people control people, is not a world I want to live in, either. That's not a world I can live in."
His mother looked like she was going to weep and his expression matched hers.
"You understand that, right? If I don't do this now, Superman and his people will cross a line someday in the future, something I can't just turn away from, only I won't have people to fight side by side with then." Especially given that he couldn't trust that Batman and his people had his back. "I will fight them alone, and I will die. Alone. That's what's going to happen."
For a moment, he and his mother just stared at each other, while Bianca tried to figure out what she was going to say, tried to find the words. Then, perhaps emboldened by what she saw in her son's eyes, she jutted out her jaw and gently caressed her son's cheek.
"No, mi hijo, that's not what's going to happen," she said firmly. For a moment, it seemed as if she was unable to accept that truth, that future that would probably come to be. For a moment, she seemed to be saying that it wouldn't happen because she was in denial. But then she made it clear that wasn't the case, by saying, "because when you go to help these people -" She nodded at Nightwing and Danny "- fight Superman and his monsters, you're going to kick. Their. Asses."
She reached down to hug her son and as she did, she turned to the rest of her family, her voice now steel. "It's time to get our emergency bags, we're leaving."
Alberto stood up and walked over to his son and wife, holding her, pressing a hand against his shoulder, just for a moment. Then he turned to Paco and Brenda and the kids. "You heard her. We planned for this, everyone. Emergency bags now. Milagro, go pack your toys that you don't have packed in your emergency bag. Brenda, you get Alina's things. Paco, call Ernesto and tell him we have a family emergency- "
"We can say my mother is sick," suggested Bianca, as she jumped into action with the rest of her family. "I'll call her, tell her not to worry if we don't talk to her for a while so she doesn't call the shop or the hospital asking about us. She said we could use her as an excuse, if we ever needed to. She knew we might, that Jaime might change his mind."
Alberto nodded. "Tell him Bianca's mother is very sick and might be close to passing and that the family's traveling to Mexico City to be with her, that he's in charge of the shop until we're back."