Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Any sign?”

“Negative.”

“Our informant lied.”

“I can’t see anything in this snow.”

“I don’t care. I am not giving up.”

“It’s been nearly two weeks. We’re finding him tonight.”

“Batman. The snow is building up. You need to head back to the Cave while you still can.”

“Affirmative, Oracle. All Bats turn back.”

“She means you too, B.”

“Not without Robin.”

Jason clicked off the comm. He shook his head to rid himself of distractions. Bruce’s entire hoard was out there looking for the lost bird, Jason could afford to handle his own cases for a few hours. 

Like exploding the latest drug organisation down to the ground. Jason was gracious. Downright charitable with how many warnings he gave them (one comatose dealer), but he still caught kids running. 

Not even teenagers, but Jason came across kids as young as seven with powdered bags sewn into the seams of Barbie backpacks. It was time to dispose of their loot and annihilate their warehouses. 

They were good, he’d give them that. Jason had struggled figuring out who the main head of the organisation was. Fell into some loose ends a couple of times. But he’d finally located it. And a little bit of snow wasn’t going to stop him. 

Well, a bit more than a little. The streets were nearly knee deep. Government warnings to stay inside and hidden away blaring on everyone’s phone. Much use that was to the homeless population. 

It was obviously unnatural snow. The work of Freeze. Something that Batman should’ve figured out hours ago, but the man was a little distracted. Bruce didn’t seem to care about the weather forecast when his youngest bird was missing. 

Shaking his head once more, this time to rid his helmet of the snow, Jason snuck in.

Leaning into the shadows, Jason noted each person. Confirming the lack of kids in the room, he got to blasting. 

Rubber bullets, of course. Even he’d agree that low class thugs have a chance of rehabilitation. Most of his own men had once worked for the wrong side. 

More people filled the room. They didn’t seem to share his sentiment of rubber bullets. 

Jason ducked behind crates, throwing out a small explosive. 

Okay, maybe not small but everyone’s perspectives were different. 

Spinning across the room to dodge flying debris, Jason grabbed onto the closest conscious man. Scruffing him by the collar, Jason threw him against a wall.

“Your boss. Where is he?” He growled through the helmet’s voice modifier. 

Before the thug could crumble back to the ground, Jason grabbed his neck, pinning him against the bricks. 

“If I ask again, it’ll be accompanied with a bullet.” He said while the man tried not to choke. “Where is he?”

“Down the basement!” He cried out around his coughs. “The kid’s in the basement!”

Jason felt his anger spike. “You got the kids locked up in here?” He hissed. 

With renewed anger, Jason pulled the thug away just to slam him back against the concrete. A satisfying smack echoing the warehouse as he fell unconscious.

Jason walked through the flames and over the unconscious bodies towards the basement. A new change of plan. Where tonight’s objective was to get rid of the main head, he now had to squirrel away a bunch of kids. He’d already found housing for large groups of homeless people when the weather alert rang. He wasn’t sure where else he could put these new kids. It might even be best to stay with them here until the snow passes. 

Any little faith Jason might have had in these assholes decreased further the closer he got to the room. He reached up to turn on the filters in his helmet, blocking out the pungent smell of waste; vomit and… something nauseatingly charcoalike. 

A testament to how long they’d have kept these innocent kids holed up down here. 

With a growl, Jason analysed the locked keypad. He was tempted to blast off the door but concerned about scaring the little kids. Instead he drew out a laser, cutting out the lock painfully slow.

The lock clattered to the ground and Jason took a final breath before stepping into the pitch black room. 

“Hey…” Jason called out softly as he nudged open the door. “I’m here to help. I’m gonna get you out of here. You’re safe now.” 

Fiddling with his helmet, Jason switched on the night vision. 

“I’ll get you out of here, you’re gonna—”

He cut himself off, voice catching in his throat. Because there weren't any kids down here. But there was a kid. 

There was a Robin. 

Damian. 

“Shit.” Jason hissed and rushed forward. His brother was curled up as tight as he could get in a ball in the furthest corner of the room. His arms pulled back and tied together in barbed wire. Jason couldn’t tell if he was just asleep or unconscious. There were no seemingly open wounds, no blood gushing out. Only scrapes and bruises covering his face and neck, the only visible skin. 

Damian was decidedly conscious, because the little ball stiffened hard, obviously withholding a harsh flinch. Jason stopped at his tracks, hands raised in the air, not that this was any use, Damian’s eyes were screwed shut and the room was dark. This was so much easier when it was just some random group of kids. 

Gulping heavily, Jason recalled the putrid smell of burning. To be more specific, burned skin. 

“Robin.” Jason whispered and knelt down. “Robin, it’s Hood. I’m getting you out of here.”

There was no response. With a groan, Jason tried the next best thing and clicked off the clasps in his helmet, tugging it off. He wouldn’t be able to see without the night vision but he had to sacrifice it.  

Without the filter, the acrid stench hit even worse but Jason didn’t wince. Instead, now without the voice modifier, he tried again. “Robin. It’s time to get you home now. Let’s head back.”

The stiffness in Damian’s bones decreased slightly but other than that there was no response. Taking this as a sign, Jason inched forward, his hand barely brushing over Damian’s shoulder. 

The boy couldn’t hold back his flinch this time. He threw his body back, hitting it against the wall and burying himself into the corner as much as he could. 

In contrast, Damian also bared his teeth in a snarl, near growling and trying to scare the man off like a caged feral animal despite holding himself tightly together. 

“Robin,” Jason tried again, knees on the floor now. “Open your eyes, kid. It’s me. It’s Red Hood.” There was little he would be able to see if he opened his eyes, the basement lacking any sources of light. Sighing, Jason lowered his voice. “Damian. It’s me, Jason. Let me get you to safety. All the people that hurt you? They’re gone. They can’t hurt you anymore. I’m not gonna let them. C’mon, Robin. You have any idea how worried you got ‘Wing? Don’t get me started on the big Bat. His grey hairs are growing grey hairs. Let’s show them they have nothing to worry about, yeah?”

Whether it was the muscle fatigue or Damian coming to trust Jason, he went limp. His snarling seizing and his stiffness leaving him.

Jason didn’t have much time. The dickheads upstairs would be waking up soon enough. He regretted not shooting them with real bullets now. With speed and precision, he pulled the laser he’d used earlier back out, using it to slice through the barbed wire tied to Damian’s wrists. He then peeled it off the boy’s skin, fresh blood spilling out. Jason cursed at the sight of the skin, even in the dark he could tell it was infected.

“I’m gonna put my helmet back on, Robin. Then I’m going to pick you up and get you out of here.” He narrated as he clicked the red helmet back on. 

Remembering the cold outside, Jason pulled off his jacket. Slowly, he gently laid it over the small body. Despite the care, Damian still winced under the weight of it. It had Jason wondering once again about the burning stench wafting off of the kid. 

Carefully, Jason lifted the bundled up child, covering him as much as he could with the oversized jacket. 

“Shh,” he found himself saying as the boy began to tremble in his arms. “I’m taking you to safety, kid. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tucking Damian into himself as closely as he could, Jason pulled out his gun - the one with the real bullets - and unlocked the safety. He wasn’t taking any chances this time. 

The lucky bastards were still on the ground by the time he’d made his way back up. Stepping over the bloodied unconscious bodies, Jason cursed not being able to just use the front door, the snow would’ve blocked them in. He made use of his grapple to pull them up to a higher window. 

“Heads up, kid.” He said. “Freeze is at it again. We got a snowstorm up top.” 

Giving Damian a moment to process, if he was even awake at this point, Jason smashed through the glass. Immediately, the chill was biting despite being covered and Jason mindfully adjusted his jacket over Damian. 

The build up of the storm was worse. At this rate his bike was probably buried under. With his nearest safe house too far, he’d have to break into one of Tim’s. Even then he’d have to take the roofs to get there, the ice and snow making grappling too dangerous. 

“C’mon, kid.” He reassured the trembling bundle in his arms. “Let’s get you someplace warm.”

As he trudged through the snow, he planned his revenge on Freeze. This bullshit was annoying at first but it was a full on inconvenience now. 

The moment he cracked the locks on the safe house, an apartment high enough that the window was thankfully not blocked by the snow, Jason let out a sigh of relief. Having Damian inside a safe place to rest took a significant amount of weight off his shoulders. An even greater blessing was it seemed as though Timmy kept the heating running in his safe houses. The lil’ socialite not held back by budgeting like Jason was. 

Making sure the window was shut and locked again, Jason lowered the boy down onto the couch. “There you go. Alright, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You hang tight there.”

Damian kept his face, along with the rest of his body, buried under the jacket. The only sign of life was the jacket shaking.  

Jason rushed to grab the first aid kit, stripping his helmet and gloves off on the way. He also paused to fill up a bowl of warm water and fetch a washcloth. 

The back of his mind reminded him to inform the rest of the Bats where their missing Robin was but he felt like that could wait a little longer. Instead, Jason knelt down beside the couch and picked out the glue dissolver that was in all of their first aid kits. 

“Kid? Damian, I’m gonna move the jacket out of the way. I need to see your face.” Despite the warning, Jason was slow to tug down the jacket, revealing the grime covered face. In better light, dark bruises were visible on his cheeks. Blood crusted over his forehead, trailing up and hidden behind his dark hair. “Let’s get that mask off.” 

With deliberately slow and exaggerated movements, Jason pinched the edge of the mask that was fighting to stay onto skin, squeezing out the dissolver. The mask came away easy, revealing the sweat, dirt and dried up tears that had been building up underneath overtime. 

And also revealing Damian’s eyes. Green wide eyes stared up at Jason. Raw enough that he felt his breath catch in his throat but hoped it hadn’t shown on his face. Damian’s pupils were dilated, indicating a concussion and further injury buried beneath his hair. 

Damian’s bloodshot, swollen eyes followed Jason’s every move. His breaths were short and quick, his body still shivering and tense under the jacket. 

Smiling as reassuringly as he could, Jason dunked the cloth into the water. “I’m going to clean your face. Is that alright with you?”

No response. Damian didn’t even blink. His stare not budging off of Jason.

“Here we go, let’s get that dirt off.” Jason’s own arms nearly shook from how tense they were but he was desperate to stay gentle. He wasn’t good with this kid. He barely knew him. Even damn Timberlina would’ve been easier to play nurse with. Damian was usually thrown into the arms of Daddy Bats and Golden Boy. Jason wasn’t used to caring for the wild gremlin. 

But at the end of the day, Jason could only see a beaten up kid. A little boy who had been thrown away in a dark room tied up in barbed wire for weeks. 

So with the utmost care, he wiped the grime off his brother’s face. Rinsing out the water over and over. If it had been up to him, Jason would dump the kid in a bath. The stench wafting off his body was enough to make a garbage worker flinch. But he had to prioritise Damian's mind and it appeared to be ready to break. Dropping him into hot water when he was half aware didn’t seem all too clever. 

Tilting Damian’s chin up, Jason dragged the cloth downwards. By the time he reached the collar of the Robin suit, he glanced up to check on Damian’s expression. 

Only to see his eyes sharpen momentarily. Not with clarity. But with something worse. 

“Damian, it’s me—”

Jason didn’t move away fast enough. With a torn growl, Damian shot upright. A hand, still stiff from being disused because of the wire, swiped towards him. 

“Agh!” Jason fell backwards. Broken nails had clawed his face, cutting into his skin. “Shit!”

Moving backwards and out of the way, Jason stood, not waiting to be clawed apart. Damian reached towards him. 

In his feverish, delirious state; boy hadn’t realised where he had been laying down. The couch fell short and Damian fell forward, tumbling onto the carpet with a cry. Jason hadn’t been quick enough to catch him. And in all honestly, he wasn’t sure if it would have made things worse. But he still winced when Damian landed and yelled in pain from the injuries Jason couldn’t see.   

Even worse, he’d fallen onto the bowl of water, the liquid spilled over, soaking the carpet and Robin’s clothes. 

Shrieking, from pain; fear and confusion, Damian scrambled backwards frantically. Tangled in Jason’s jacket, his back hit the foot of the couch and he still tried to get further back, kicking the contents of the first aid kit over the floor. 

“Damian.” Jason tried. “Damian, it’s okay. You’re okay!”

The eleven year old desperately screeched, tears spilling down his now clean cheeks, breaths panicked and wild, eyes darting everywhere as his body pushed through the pain to find safety. 

Jason crouched down, hands raised placatingly. “Damian, kid, you’re in a safe house. It’s me, Jason. Your big fucking asshole of a brother. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear. You’re safe, Damian. You’re safe.”

Gasping through his sobs, Damian shook his head. 

Jason grasped onto that sign of coherency. “Yes, you are. You're safe. You’re with me, Jason. It’s safe here. With the soft carpet, the couch, and there’s light here too. No one is gonna hurt you.” He bit his lip. “You know what, I still need to call the rest. Shall I do that now? Call Dickie? Your dad? I’ll phone them. They…” it was still snowing. They couldn’t come over. “We can talk to them. Okay? You’re safe, Damian. Breathe in. Like this…”

It took way longer than Jason would have liked, with Damian sitting in soaked clothes on a cold, wet carpet and shivering. But he did calm down. His eyes thankfully keeping clear. 

“Well done. You’re doing such a good job.” 

Damian gasped a dry sob. 

“You are. In… out…”

A whimper slipped through in between his efforts. 

“Good.” Jason kept his voice low. “Do you want to get back onto the couch? Shall I grab you a blanket?”

Damian stared at Jason. As if calculating each word like it was a trick. Jason nearly sighed in relief when the boy gave a quick nod. 

“Okay, I’m gonna lift you up. Here you go.” 

Once more exaggerating his movements, Jason crawled closer, not minding his knees getting wet, and slipped his hands under Damian’s arms. 

Mindful of potential broken bones, because those earlier cries of pain were not normal, Jason hefted him back up onto the couch. He moved to leave but was cut short when a little hand shot forward, this time clenching onto the sleeve on his forearm. 

Startled, Jason looked down but Damian kept his head ducked down.

“Hey,” Jason whispered, unused to the meekness coming from this particular Robin. “Okay, it’s okay. I’m still here.” He settled himself down on the couch, keeping close to Damian. He picked the jacket back off the floor and wrapped it back around the kid. “It’s okay. I’m gonna call the others now, yeah?”

He pulled out his phone instead of using the comms, deducing that they’d have reached the Cave by now. He pondered over Bruce or Dick, he settled on the former. Bruce never missed a call from him. 

Predictably, Bruce answered on the first ring. “Are you out of the snow?”

Jason scoffed. “I’ve found Robin. We’re safe.”

There was a pause for breath. Immediately, Jason rolled his eyes when the phone alerted him that Bruce was requesting a video call. 

Accepting, Jason lowered the phone, putting Damian into frame. The boy’s head was still ducked down, hiding his face behind the jacket. 

“Damian.” The relief in Bruce’s sigh was transparent. 

Damian’s head jolted up at the sound of Bruce’s voice. 

The action revealed the fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. Bruce could also no doubt see the cut, dehydrated lips and the bruised skin. Jason was proven right when Bruce’s expression twisted sympathetically. 

“Oh, Damian. I’m so glad you’re safe now, son—” 

“Damian?” There was a sound of feet thundering, crossing a room. “Is it really—”

“Jason found him.” Bruce filled Dick in when his eldest barrelled into him. Bruce looked over the phone with a tired smile. “Tim, alert the others. The search is over.”

“Hey, Baby Bat.” Dick smiled wide though Jason could clearly see the distress in his eyes. “We never stopped looking for you, not for one second.”

Damian responded with a sniff, shoulders rising up before they got caught in the motion, pain flickering over his face. 

“I’m coming right over.” Dick declared loudly. “I’m—”

“Fucking how, Dickhead?” Jason cut him off. “You can walk through snow now?”

“You think I’m gonna just—”

“The brat is safe here with me. You try to trek through the blizzard then you’re the one dead.” Jason reasoned, annoyed. 

Bruce frowned. “We could manage. If it came to it.”

There was a blanketed silence. Reasoning was sound but what was common sense when a family member was scared. 

“No.” Dick shook his head. “I’m coming. I’ve been searching for too long to just—”

“Don’t.”

Jason startled. His head whipped down besides him and he looked towards Damian. Frozen and stunned from hearing the kid speak for the first time since rescuing him. “Damian?”

“Don’t. Get hurt.” Damian croaked out through a jagged throat. 

Dick’s face looked like he had bitten into a fresh lemon. “I can and will come to you now if you need me to, Damian. Just say the word.”

Out of sight from the camera, Damian’s hands twisted together tightly. Jason was the only one to see it. 

Having seemingly met his own word limit, Damian only shook his head, letting it fall down and not so subtly leaning into Jason in exhaustion. 

It cracked something in his zombie heart. Jason swallowed roughly and glanced to the others who were watching through the phone. “Only until the snow clears out. And now that Batman has no other priorities…”

“All focus goes towards ending this storm.” Bruce nodded. “We work on getting Freeze tonight.”

Sensing the call was about to be cut, Jason quickly snapped, “wait.” He glanced down to Damian who was impossibly making himself smaller. “If you can spare him, I need Dick to stay by a phone.”

Jason may have bitten off more than he can chew. His face was still stinging from the scratches. He was only here because of bad luck. He didn’t know this kid. 

“Of course,” Dick said before Bruce could, understanding Jason’s predicament. “I’m right here, Baby Bat.”

“Actually,” Jason readjusted the jacket that was falling off of the brat. “Damian’s pretty injured. Think you can convince him to lemme help him out?”

Damian let out a cut off whine. Jason only placed the phone into his bruised hands, pretending like the sound didn’t slice right down to his heart. He got up, already hearing Dick begin to reassure the kid as he headed to find what emergency foods Tim had stocked up in this safe house. He also needed to rummage around for kiddie meds.

Emptying a can of soup into a pan, Jason made sure to keep an eye on Damian. Aware that dilated green eyes were doing their best to keep track of him as well. Dick’s voice echoed in the background that Jason ignored, too distracted by how tense Damian grew when he turned on the stove. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Jason could still smell wafts of burns waving off of the little boy. Instead he turned the stove straight off, deciding on making use of the microwave while he already made mental preparations to change out all the gas stoves they had in each property for electric. 

Few minutes later, Jason sat himself back on the couch next to the brat with a steaming bowl of soup. From the way in which Damian’s hands were shaking from the weight of the phone alone, it wasn’t rocket science to figure out he’d need help in eating. 

“—okay, Dami?” Dick’s voice asked softly. 

With a sniff and red eyes, Damian nodded, torn lips pursed together in an effort not to make a sad sound. 

“I got it from here, Dick.” Jason reassured. 

“Right. Keep me updated.” Dick said back tersely. 

With no reply, Jason hung up, turning back to Damian. “C’mon, kid. The sooner we get some food in you, the sooner we can get you feeling better. Okay?”

Damian glared stubbornly at the spoon Jason lifted up to his mouth. 

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. C’mon.” Jason tried not to snap. 

Somehow glaring even harder, Damian opened his mouth. 

Despite his annoyance, Jason was careful not to spill the lukewarm soup, unsure as to Damian would react to hot substances on him. 

At the second mouthful, Damian’s eyes refilled themselves. “I want Richard.”

Instantly, Jason felt a stab of irritation. He mindfully kept it off his face and kept his muscles loose. The kid was exhausted, he reasoned with himself, hurt and traumatised. If he wanted the dickhead who was the first to look after him instead of Jason who was right fucking there then it made sense. 

“Do you want me to call him? Have him come over? You know he will.”

Damian shuddered. “Snow?”

“It’s still going.”

His lips trembled and his gaze fell, but Damian shook his head. 

Jason’s irritation ebbed away in sympathy and he refilled the spoon, quietly feeding Damian as much as the boy could manage. Until finally Damian pulled away, panting from the exertion of eating. Before he could refuse, Jason was already filling the tablespoon with a child-friendly fever reducer.

“Alright,” Jason set aside the bowl, wondering how to approach the topic. “Okay, Dames, look. I know this isn’t fun but before you can rest we have to take a look at your injuries.”

Predictably, Damian leaned back further into the couch. 

“Just a check.” Jason promised and winced. “And a clean up. Not a full bath yet if you’re not up for it but at least a wipe down. Some disinfectant.”

Damian huffed, looking away. But Jason spotted his shaky fingers picking anxiously at his clothes. 

“Your call, Dames. I know you’ll make the right choice. You’re the only one in this room who knows the full extent of your injuries. You’ll be responsible here, I know it.” Jason couldn’t help but smile at Damian’s scowl. Watching his manipulative words take effect. 

Jason was broken from his thoughts when Damian said something, lost in a mumble. Jason leaned forward. “What was that?”

“…burns,” Damian repeated. “Mostly. Blunt trauma. Ribs. Concussion.”

Jason nodded. “Good. Noted. Let’s lay you down, yeah?”

Getting off the couch, Jason let Damon shuffle down at his own pace. Readying the first aid kit and a fresh bowl of soapy water as Damian winced his way onto his back. 

Based on the last time he tried, Jason thought it would be safer to avoid vital areas like the neck, so he knelt back down and reached out towards Damian’s hands. “I’m going to take off your gloves, okay?”

Damian tutted and turned his face away towards the back of the couch. But he didn’t refuse, but Jason was still slow and careful as he took hold of the smaller hand. 

Waiting for any refusal, he eased the glove off, keeping any hint of emotion off his face when he saw broken nails and bruised skin. 

“I’m going to give it a little wipe.” He said instead of what he really wanted to say. Bringing the soapy cloth and running it over Damian’s hands before drying and applying plasters to the worse off nails. He also wrapped up the cuts on his wrists from the wire after cleaning them. 

He repeated the same with the other hand before leaning back. “Do you think we can take a look at your ribs now?” Jason asked. 

Even with his face turned away, he could tell from the way Damian’s shoulders rose that he was growing defiant again. 

“Please, kid.” Jason sighed. “You’re in pain. Have been for weeks. You know it better than I do that the quicker we look at your injuries, the quicker you’ll heal.”

Damian still stayed quiet and Jason tried not to grow impatient. Tried to remember he was still a kid even if he was a lil’ shit. 

“Why don’t we start with your legs then?” He suggested, glancing over to them. He was hoping to work his way down, well aware of the burned smell coming from Damian’s lower body. 

“No!” Damian suddenly snapped, his voice high and jarring. He flinched into himself, curling in a ball and startling Jason. Wincing once more at the pain in his ribs. 

“Okay!” Jason raised his hands placatingly even though Damian was facing away. “Okay, let’s take a minute. Jeez.”

The kid’s shaking restarted itself with a vengeance. No doubt in more pain from the action. 

“Okay,” Jason reached for his phone. Glancing down at the text from Dick asking if Jason had left the bastards alive for him to hurt. “I’m gonna phone Dickie.” He informed softly.

Damian whined. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I am being childish.” He muttered into the fabric of the couch. He stretched out his legs slowly. “Proceed.”

Now Jason hesitated. “If you wanna give it a few more minutes until you’re ready—”

“I am being childish.”

“You are a child.” Jason said firmly. “I don’t know if you noticed but you’re like ten. Even Dickie has issues with check ups when he’s been really beaten down.”

That gave Damian pause, but only for a moment. “Proceed.”

Shaking his head, Jason came closer. “Fine. I’m guessing there's some burns?”

“…yes.” Damian said breathlessly. 

“Okay. I’ll start taking your suit off now. Okay?” Jason blinked away the images flashing in his brain. Of Damian tied up in the pitch black basement. Being held down while he struggled and screamed. Of being able to see absolutely nothing in the darkness except a glowing fire coming closer. 

Damian said nothing but this time Jason insisted. “Okay, Damian?”

“Yes.” He snapped out but still shrunk into himself as much as he could with his injuries. 

“Okay.” Jason reached to unclasp the buckles and unzip the Robin suit apart when his fingers faltered right before he could. 

The suit’s buckles weren’t closed correctly. Unprofessional in a way that nearly every Robin but Damian could’ve gotten away with. Or maybe they had been undone and closed back improperly but Jason couldn’t picture the damaged fingers he’d just tended to be able to do so at all. And from the smell of things, Damian hadn’t been able to do so for hygienic purposes when he typically would’ve been able to even in the dark circumstances. 

Someone else had undone the suit’s clasps. And the implications made Jason’s blood boil. 

“Damian.” He was unable to keep the gruff tension out of his voice. “Did someone remove your clothes?”

From his peripheral vision, he caught Damian lifting his head up to look over. “What?”

“Did someone—” he forced in a breath. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t snap, not now. “Did someone take your clothes off?” He found strength to look up and back at Damian. “You can tell me.”

He watched as a blush grew, covering Damian’s bruised cheeks.

“You’re not in trouble.” He tried to emphasise. “You can trust me. I’ll deal with it.”

“Todd.” Damian’s frown hardened, his voice croaked in embarrassment. “My legs are burned. Yes, they removed my suit but not for whatever idiocy you have conjured up in your dead brain. I don’t know if you recall but the Robin suit is fire retardant, you imbecile.” He hissed, skin brightening more in humiliation at what Jason implied. 

A rush of relief flew through Jason. It made sense, Damian’s argument along with his reaction. 

Though it still bothered Jason. 

He’d been Robin. He’d also been a street kid with no protection. He knew that Damian was more than old enough to be aware of the cruelty of the world. Jason knew that had he’d been in Damian’s place, he’d have been afraid when the strange men took the clothes off. Even if he knew it was for a different reason. 

And Jason also knew those men. Was aware of their organisation and the kids they took. Just because it was based on running drugs didn’t mean the bastards didn’t dabble in other crimes. Damian could easily be lying. At the very least the men might’ve taunted him. Plenty of kidnappers would mock Jason when he was a kid tied up in a dark room, threaten him, insinuate horrors, even if they didn’t actually do anything. Or they could’ve very easily touched Damian in passing with a wandering hand and the kid just didn’t want to share it. 

The possibilities made Jason feel sick. 

He should’ve looked for his brother harder. 

“If you say so,” Jason said in hopes to calm him down. “I believe you. But if—”

“I know.” Damian’s head fell backwards in a thunk. “Stop talking.”

“Right,” he felt bad to make the kid carry on despite his tiredness. “I’m going to—”

“Yes.” Damian groaned. 

“Right.” Jason, now even more unsure of himself, moved to undo the suit, pulling off the pants as carefully as he could manage over the burns. 

He didn’t react to the now worsening smells from the lack of hygiene or charcoalike burns. Having enough training and empathy to do so. But Damian’s face wobbled sadly. 

Jason stayed quiet, not overdoing comforting words and quiet hushes like Dick might have done. He didn’t cup Damian’s face and reassure him like Bruce would have. Instead, he stayed robotically on task. More than aware that his relationship with the kid wasn’t as solid. They weren’t close and Jason didn’t give as much of a shit usually, but it didn’t help when he needed the brat to trust him. It wasn’t a big deal most of the time. Jason wasn’t a guy that people trusted too much and he was fine with that. 

His breath caught as the burns were revealed. Fuck. 

“Damian.” His voice didn’t shake but it was close. “Kid. I’m gonna clean these and dress them but kiddo—”

“I know.” Damian interrupted but didn’t look down to see. Jason didn’t blame him, feeling it was enough. 

“Once the snow blows over then Leslie—” 

“I know.” His voice trailed off, a small whine. 

“Alright. I’m gonna get to cleaning them now.” Jason narrated. “It’s gonna hurt.” Despite the lack of reaction, he still hesitated. “Damian. I’m phoning Dick.”

“I don’t need—”

“I do.” Jason cut off, already ringing the eldest brother. The burns were absolutely horrible and with the lack of anaesthetic on hand, he wasn’t prepared to touch them without some form of comfort for Damian. 

Dick picked up on the first ring. “I’m here.” 

Jason tried to ignore tears building in Damian’s eyes at Dick’s tinny voice. 

“We got no real pain relief and I’m gonna be cleaning up some nasty wounds. For the sake of my conscience, will you chat to the kid?”

“Of course,” Dick’s voice near cracked. 

“I’ve been through worse.” The boy’s voice croaked through a closing throat, but his words were ignored. 

Switching the voice call to a video, Jason handed over the phone to Damian’s wrapped hands and he focused back on the open, blistering, infected injuries. He ignored Dick’s sugar-coated stories and questions towards Damian. Instead, he grabbed the soapy water, uncaring of the couch, and carefully dabbed the sponge over skin around the burns. Once they were good enough, he dipped antiseptic into cotton and readied it for cleaning. 

Not a single sound came from Damian. Not even a tense muscle from the definite pain. Instead, he stared off elsewhere while Dick rambled on. Allowing Jason to finish with cleaning and bandaging. 

Damian must not have hidden it so well on his exhausted face at some point because Dick’s ramblings cut off. “Shhh, you’re doing so well, Dami. Jay’s taking such good care of your injuries. You’re going to be okay, darling.”

“I am fine.” Damian insisted in a hoarse voice. 

“I know you are, hun, I know you are.”

Jason remained focused on his task, trying not to sag in relief when the last bandage was taped on. “Alright, kiddo.” He murmured lowly. “That’s your legs done.”

“No more.” Damian mumbled, looking absolutely shattered. “Done.”

“You can go to sleep, but lemme take a look at your ribs—”

“Done.” He insisted in a near whine. 

“Why don’t you guys take a break?” Dick suggested. 

Jason picked up the phone that had slipped away from Damian’s hand who was occupied covering his face in an attempt to hide. “The quicker he’s checked, the quicker he can rest.”

“If Damian’s had enough—”

Jason knew Dick felt like shit. That the eldest wished he could be here, damn the snow. But he wasn’t and so it was Jason’s call. “Look,” Jason turned to Damian, the boy hiding his face in the cushions of the couch. “Let’s get your tunic off and wrap your ribs. I know they’re hurt. Then I’ll drop you off in the bathroom to let you look after yourself there and fetch some new clothes. Then you can sleep. Promise. That’s just two more things and I know you’re strong enough to do it.”

It was quiet for a moment while Damian thought. He sniffed and revealed his face. Pushing himself up a bit and reaching one hand to the clasps of his top. 

Propping the phone up on the side table so Dick’s face was visible, Jason slowly stretched his hands forward to help. Letting Damian nod his affirmative before handling the tunic. The kid glanced at Dick who was quiet but watching the scene unfold. Jason knew he was an annoying comfort to the brat. 

Peeling away the dirty Robin uniform, Jason and Dick both hid their reactions to the deep bruising that was visible. Jason let the outfit lay on Damian’s lap considering he still had no trousers on, a distraction as he tried to gather his thoughts. 

“I’m going to prod around.” Jason warned. “Check that it is only just bruised ribs.”

Damian exhaled heavily out his nose and kept his eyes on the ceiling. 

Once more, there was no reaction from the boy as Jason felt around the area. As soon as he had determined that nothing was broken, Jason reached for the soapy water and bandages. “You’re gonna have to sit up, Dames.”

“Bit of an update,” Dick’s voice came through the phone. “Bruce and Tim are face to face with Freeze right now.”

“Thank fuck.” Jason grumbled as he tenderly sponged the dirty grime off of Damian’s back. Drying it before wrapping a supportive bandage around. “Leslie’s gonna have—”

“To X-ray. I am not daft.” Damian sniped, his voice a whistling hiss as he spoke through the pain.  

“Sure, kid.” Jason muttered, holding back the urge to tighten the bandage unnecessarily as a retort. Had it been Roy, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but maybe he should be a bit more patient with the literal ten year old. 

Finally, he finished off the knot. “Okay,” Jason sat back. “Let me take you to the bathroom. I’ll find you a set of clothes and you can look after yourself there. Got it?”

Damian looked up at him through his lashes, heaving in pained breaths. “Then?”

“Then rest.”

Nodding, Damian shifted towards the edge of the couch. Jason didn’t even let him try, standing up and slowly approaching, slipping his arms beneath Damian’s bandaged body and lifting the young boy up. “Be right back, Dickface.” Jason called to the phone and took Damian into the bathroom. 

He sat Damian onto the open toilet, clothes still on. “Just two secs, alright? Grabbing you some clothes.”

Not waiting for a response, Jason rushed to the chest of drawers he spotted in the safe house’s bedroom. Predictable as always, the dumbass pretender had stocked up soft, sensory-friendly pajamas in everyone’s sizes. The smallest set, obviously designed for Damian, was sat ready in the lowest drawer. Jason grabbed it and made his way back to the toilet where Damian was gasping in small pants, hand bracing against the wall next to the seat.

“Here,” Jason set the clothes down on the surface closest to Damian. “You clean yourself now. I know you didn’t have any access to a toilet while you were in there. I can help if you want, I’ll never mention it to anyone, I swear.”

But Damian was already shaking his head no. 

“Fine,” Jason agreed easily. “But shout if you change your mind and I’ll hear you. Take as long as you need. You don’t need to be completely sparkling clean right now. Just enough. Once we get some painkillers and some sleep in you, you can clean yourself better.” He stood up, backing away towards the door. “Don’t get your bandages wet.” Jason reminded him and left, shutting the door in respect for Damian’s dignity. 

Immediately, Jason made a beeline back to the drenched couch and slumped down onto it, grabbing his phone as he went. “The fuck am I doing, Goldie?”

“You have no clue how grateful I am.” Dickhead praised, worry lines covering his face. “You’re doing great, Jay.”

“Shut up. I don’t even know the kid.” 

“Maybe. But you know kids in general. You have practice in being there for others. That’s all Dami really needs. Someone to be there. To be careful with him while he’s down.” 

“Shit.” Jason rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Shit. Dick, he was tied with wire in some dark basement this whole time. They literally burned the flesh off his legs. His recovery time is about to be insane.”

Dick was quiet for once. Expression tight. “Thank you. For finding him.”

A flare of agitation lit in his chest. “Y’all keep saying that like I’d leave the brat there. Like I’d have battered him in some more instead of fucking helping him. Is that what you think of me?”

“Jay.” Dick cut him off sternly. “Cool it. Do you even know how much I’ve searched? What I’ve done these past two weeks? I wanted to find him and I failed, Jason. I fucking failed him. He probably gave up hope and it’s my damn fault so that’s why I’m thanking you, you dipshit. I’m saying thank you for finding him even if you weren’t even fucking trying, you piece of shit.”  

Jason let Dick heave out a couple of first breaths. “You finished your tantrum?”

“Fuck you.”

“…now?”

“—Todd?” 

“Shit, Dames is calling me. I gotta go.” Jason scrambled up.

“I’m hanging up, call me back once he’s settled.”

Jason ignored him, dropping the phone on the couch. He knocked once on the bathroom door for the sake of the kid’s privacy and eased the door open. Preparing himself for any scenario. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d help the kid through any messy issues. 

But Damian was clean and settled in his new soft clothes. Well, he was sat on the floor my, leaning heavily against the bathtub wall and eyes half-lidded, gasping in shaky breaths with cheeks flushed from exertion and fever. But clean and clothed. He definitely should give the brat more credit. 

“Hey,” Jason said in a gentle tone. “Hey, let’s get you into bed now.”

Damian’s only reaction was his lower lip wobbling. 

“No, you’re not walking. I got you. Here.” Jason moved, once again slipping his arms under the boy. “Easy, now. One, two, three - there we go.” He left the lights on as they made their way through the flat, knowing a thing or two about a post-torture brain. 

There was a nice ready-made double bed. No sign of muskiness, a fresh cover having been placed recently. Tim must’ve been around not too long ago. 

“Here,” Jason cautiously lowered Damian, mindful of his injuries and pain. He set the child on the bed, pulling the blanket over him. He noticed Damian’s arms firmly staying at his sides and made a note of the therapy Damian’s shoulders would need, having been tied for who knows how long. 

Not knowing where the instinct came from, Jason brushed away some overgrown hair away from Damian’s face. The kid’s eyelids fluttered from the gesture. 

“Go to sleep. We’ll get you to a proper doctor as soon as possible. I’ll let you get some rest.” Jason promised, moving away.

Damian inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the gesture. 

“…or I could just sit right here.” Jason amended and sat down awkwardly at the end of the bed. The boy still so young that he only came about halfway down anyways. 

Green eyes darted towards the shut windows anxiously. 

“Kid. No one’s getting through Timbo’s security. And if they somehow manage, I swear to you I’ll shoot them straight in the head. Capisce?” Jason raised a brow. “I’m here. Lights on. Go to sleep. You’ll see your dad and Dick in the morning.”

“…and Titus?”

Jason blinked. “Yes, and your stupid dog. Now sleep.”

With a shaky breath that definitely stung his ribs, Damian’s eyes finally flickered closed.

Damn, did he need a real drink after this. 

Jason allowed himself to lean back until he was laying down at the end of the bed, his combat boots still flat on the cream fluffy carpet. He closed his eyes and just breathed, not falling fully asleep. He keeps his promises. 

And he was right when he said no one would come through the windows. Hours passed by the time he heard the click of the front door’s lock. He didn’t move, knowing exactly who it was. 

Still, he pulled himself up, slouching with his elbows on his knees when Bruce finally showed his ugly face. 

He rubbed a hand over his sleepy eyes. “Took you awhile.”

“Hn.” Bruce grunted, gaze fixed on Damian. His cape was drenched from defrosted snow. “Dick complained you were supposed to call him back.”

“He’ll live.” Jason forced himself up, joints cracking. “Well, it’s been fun. Get the kid to a real medic. See you around.”

Jason made his way to the door, nearly chopping Bruce’s hand off when it came to grab his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “How was he?”

Jason ripped his shoulder away, straightening himself up in irritation. “Fragile as fuck. They did a number on him. Humiliation seems to have won over the leg burns and bruised ribs.”

Bruce hissed, “burns?”

“Horrible ones. Recovery will be a bitch. Have fun with that.” Finally free, Jason left the room. “Oh yeah, kid wants his dog!” He called back, not staying to watch Bruce trail his fingers through his youngest boy’s hair. 

Grabbing his helmet and damp jacket, Jason slipped them on. Definitely not feeling any sort of unease from leaving the brat behind. And there was no way he’d check in on him. Wouldn’t keep tabs. Nah. Not at all. 

Not. At. All. 

…fuck’s sakes, he’s attached now, isn’t he?