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Chapter Text

When he fought, he felt no emotions, felt no pain or aches. It was as if his body was on autopilot, numb to the normalizes that any person had on a day to day, his legs practically moving on their own whenever he would rush towards an enemy. Sword in hand, he would attack without hesitation; his arms were like lead to him sometimes, just as his legs were; he had no control over them at times. He’d strike, cutting down opponents as often as he pleased, no matter how much they pleaded for their lives. 

Because in all the truths in the world, he did not care; he could not care.

His mind was his own, yet he lacked that ability to empathize with his foes, his Master trained him, raised him, taught him to kill without mercy. And so he did, when a task was given to him, he carried it out, no questions asks. Whenever he had a target in his line of sight he would not hesitate in charging forward, slicing at their skin, at vital organs, and sometimes if required, at their throats.

To him, it did not matter how much blood he spilled, for as long as he dealt with his target accordingly, he was satisfied. 

That was until his recent target— no not target, more like an opponent, because this man in blue had skills similar to his own, a stylized, flashy set that seemed to be a mirror of his more brutal moves, almost like they were two sides of the same coin. A domino mask covered his eyes, a blue bird-like symbol on his Kevlar. Whose voice made his left eye twitch when he spoke of leaving their home without confrontation? 

His target dodged his attacks swiftly with ease as Maigo brought his sword from every direction down towards him, the man would simply block it and retaliate with attacks of his own. Soon they fell into a rhythm, a sort of dance, half graceful and half aggressive.

It was as if they had done this all before. Many, many times before.

Yet it was impossible at the same time. 

For this was their first ever encounter. How could this feel so familiar? It had to be a trick, a mere illusion his own poisonous mind was playing on him. But as he and the man continued their battle, that feeling refused to fade. It stuck with him, even well after his master's voice rang out, causing everyone to halt mid-strike. 

"Enough!" His Master called out, and he stood in the shadows before them all. 

Like the good student that he was, lowered his weapon within seconds. As he stood there while Master Ra's talked with the intruders, that strange feeling continued to gnaw at his stomach. Through his goggles, he zoomed in closer to get a better look at this person, and the longer he did so, the more recognizable this man was becoming to him. Though the mask covered the eyes, he felt like they had met somewhere previously. 

Did they know one another?

"Ra's Al Ghul is many things, but a liar is not one of them." His foe said towards the meta-human with the bad attitude and lava powers. Maigo eyes widened behind his goggles as that one sentence sparked within him. In his mind's eye, within that little space of nothingness, Maigo saw the man he had been fighting against, only he was considerably younger than how he was now, he was smiling down at him, cackling while ruffling his hair, his voice held no sound, though he could hear it all the same—

"Alright there, bud?"

This—

This was a memory.

For the first time in seven years, he was remembering something from his past. He stood there, body frozen to the spot as he felt something in his chest; shock? Or confusion? This was all so new to him. Yet as quick as it had come, the memory faded, and he could only watch as the man boarded his ship with his comrades.

Maigo watched them leave, a new emotion bubbling to the surface.

He felt hurt ; a deep ache in his chest, he raised a hand to his chest, to check for a wound but found nothing. When the ship took to the sky, he suddenly found himself wishing to join them, to leave the comfort of his home and fly within their airship. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, question his master on what was happening to him, yet word that escaped him surprised even him, "Gray...son?"

He blinked. 

Grayson... yes, yes... that name… That was his name; the man he fought mere moments ago was named Grayson. He felt it deep within his soul. Maigo watched as his Master gazed at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, I see your memory is finally returning. Excellent." 

Before he could ask what that meant, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and he was unconscious long before he hit the ground.

As Maigo slept, he dreamed. But they weren't dreamless like they have been before, no this time, he dreamt, and he did so vividly , as though if he reached his hand out he could make contact, connect with something solid. The same figure of Grayson was standing before him yet someone else was there now, they were talking, just this quiet muffled chattering.

“Son?” 

He blinked, perplexed.  

Son?

No one, not his master nor anyone else in the League ever addressed him with that term, not even Talia, he was no one’s son, he was parentless, something that he was fine with. Grown to accept. He opened his mouth to correct the voices, to explain when he woke with a gasp, bolting upright, he choked on lack of air as thick beads of sweat trickled down his back, he wiped at his clammy skin, as his sleep shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, noticing that someone had taken it upon themselves to remove his armor without his say so. 

Wonderful

He specifically told none of his clan members to undress him without his permission. He could never explain it but his scarred body being exposed made him feel uneasy. He hated even the thought of his body being exposed, bare for all his enemies to see, giving them the perfect opportunity to strike him, causing irreparable damage which would then lead to a trip to the pit. Where his wounds would heal, yet the scars would remain. It really wasn’t a place he liked going so he always chose to avoid it as much as possible. For each scar told a story, stories of his missions and life with his clan. Master even said that scars from a mission built character; even the most life-threatening ones made a person stronger, but these ones, the ones he's had for as far back as he could remember, from as far back as the Lazarus Pit, were a complete mystery to him.

Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, Maigo lay there for a few moments; he knew that it was time to get up. To start his daily training just like he always did, but for some reason he couldn't move his legs. He felt no desire to leave the contents of his sleeping courtiers. Then a knock at his door abruptly shattered those feelings, immediately he answered. "Come in." Watching his door open, he saw that it his Master's daughter, Talia Al Ghul holding her Damian in her arms.

Upon seeing the baby, Maigo reached his arms out, silently asking to hold him. He didn't know exactly why but he really liked this tiny child; even though they had no relation, he felt responsible for this baby, protective even. And Talia to her credit, knew this for a fact, which is why she didn't hesitate in placing her son in his arms.

"Why was I sedated?" He asked, holding Damian close, allowing the small baby to grasp onto his finger.

"Your memories were returning." Talia stated simply as she took out a knife and methodically cleaned it.

”My memories ?”

Talia looked him, studied him for a moment or two and nodded.

He tilted his head to the side. "Before I blacked out, Master said that was a good thing."

Talia folded her arms, still studying him, nodding once more. "Yes, it is. But a rush of forgotten memories can even lead the strongest of warriors to break under the pressure."

He swallowed slowly, looking down at his hands. "So it was for my own safety?"

"Correct."

"Bullshit." The vulgar word left his lips before he was able snatch it back. Both his and Talia's eyes widened, shocked that he would say such a thing, but it also felt right all the same, he blinked in shocked and opened his mouth. "I—I apologize... Forgive me, I'm—"

"No, it's quite alright." Talia stated calmly as she walked over and knelt down before him. "While you slept, did you remember anything else?"

He shook his head, "Well, yes— but they don't make any sense."

"Explain." She ordered and he told her, slowly and with as much detail as he could remember, he told her what he saw in his dream and what he saw before he was knocked unconscious. "I see, father was right. You are remembering, albeit slowly."

Then Talia stood up, gently taking her son back into her arms, she made her way towards the door. "Talia?" He called after her, she stopped and stood just a few inches away from opening the door. "These past seven years I've known nothing of who I am, not even my previous name. Only the one Master has given me." He inhaled a deep breathe, and let it out through his nose. "I never asked, because I never thought you knew but... Do you happen to know what my real name is?"

" Maigo , meaning lost, or a lost child. That is what my father named you because you were no longer whom you used to be. Your memories returning are not a part of who you are now, to the League you will always be Maigo." Talia carefully watched his expression as she turned her head slightly to the right and looked at him for a brief moment. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Talia huffed, turning away from him, "Your name— your real name is Jason."

And with that she left the room, leaving a lost and confused nineteen year old in her wake. He blinked several times, trying to process what he had just been told. 

Jason.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he decided to try it out, “My name is Jason.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, that didn’t sound right, it felt incomplete, like he was missing something. Maigo bit his lip in frustration, he always thought that remembering who he used to be as a horrible thought; because why would he want to? When his master provided everything for him? He was the highest ranking member, his skills and agility were on par with even Talia herself. He was fed, clothes, and respected amongst his fellow sisters and brothers. Why would he ever question the life he now lived?

And yet—

Now that he was remembering, now that he had the chance to do so, he couldn't let it slip past him. Even if these memories weren't pleasant, he had to know.

He quickly followed after Talia. 

Maigo walked down one of the longest hallways along the compound, various other members of their unit were busy training, he passed by them, stopping only for a moment to look at them, he had this strong desire to join them, but pushed it down. No, he had somewhere else to be. Someone to find. Where had Talia gone? 

He continued walking.

"Maigo." A voice called out to him, he looked up to see two of the guards coming towards him. "The Master wishes to see you." Before he even had a chance to utter a protest, the guards maneuvered themselves on either side of him, rather quickly Maigo realized they weren’t giving him a choice as he was escorted over to his master's quarters in the opposite direction. 

They left him after that, he stood there for a moment, attempting to gather his thoughts about what he could be walking into, then he inhaled silly. Knocking once, Maigo waited.

"Enter." A voice stated on the other side. Entering the small candle lite room, his master was currently sitting in the same position that he had been a moment ago. "Ah, Maigo. There you are." The nineteen year old wrinkled his nose at the name said, still feeling slightly foreign to him, but he nonetheless took a place in front of Ra's. "Tell me, have you remembered anything else?"

He thought for a moment. "Just bits and pieces."

Ra's hummed in thought, then he pulled out a file that he had carefully hidden behind him. "Tell me." He inquired as he took out a photo and placed it in front of him, "Do you recognize this man?"

Looking at the photo, he saw that it was a man dressed in a black batsuit. Suddenly, his left eye twitched, and pain traveled across his forehead and down the back of his neck. The more he looked at the photo of the man before him, the worse it got, it was as if his mind didn't want him to know, as if his mind was trying to protect him from these memories of his past. "I— I..." But he couldn't give a coherent answer, squeezing his eyes shut, he all but dug his fingers into his left eye to relieve some of the pressure there.

"This man," He heard his master begin, and he tried his best to listen intently, but the pain was still making it difficult to do so. "Is one of my greatest enemies. In this suit, he goes by the name of Batman."

Maigo’s eyes widened.

He's heard of this man, his Master has mentioned him in passing and only ever as 'The Detective' nothing more. But as he looked at the photo, trying his best to ignore the pain in his head. He didn't look like much of a detective, and more so someone from a circus. "Why are you telling me this? What does he have to do with my memories?"

Ra's looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it, "Nothing, I merely informing you to be aware in case you ever cross his path, him and his former protege."

Margo inclined his head. 

His master nodded, "Yes, that young man you saw in blue, was his former protege, now known as Nightwing.

"That's a shitty name, dude."

"That's a shitty name."

Unlike his daughter, Ra's merely snorted softly at his vulgar comment, "Regardless, I have a mission for you." His Master began, voice calm and even. "But as you still are recalling your past, which will most undoubtedly be a painful process, and will therefore will be a liability then an asset to your comrades, it will be reconnaissance only and nothing more. And no heroics; the last time you risked your life to save a comrade, you almost cost us the entire mission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." He stood up and gave the man a respectful bow. "I will do nothing more than watch and record on your order."

Ra's gestured for him to straighten himself. "Excellent, you leave in three minutes."

He began walking to the door.

"Also." His master's voice halted him just mere inches from the door, walking forward and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Though you are remembering your past now, and as such now know your real name. Know that to me, you will always be my dear Maigo."

Closing his eyes, Maigo could do nothing more then nod as his emotions were suddenly hard for him to contain; he felt his lip twitch upward at Ra's kind words. "Of course, Master."

Maigo was currently biting his lip so hard he was starting to taste blood. How had everything gone so wrong? How had a simply reconnaissance mission for him and his team turned into this? His fingernails dug into his skin as he watched his comrades engage in combat with the intruders they had been previously fought back home. They weren't losing persay but they weren't winning either, especially not without his assistance. Unsheathing his sword, the nineteen-year-old took a step forward.

"It will be a reconnaissance mission only and nothing more."

“I'm sorry, master.” He murmured, praying that by some chance his Master will hear and forgive him. “But they need my help.” Scanning his various targets, his eyes immediately fell on the young man that his Master had addressed as his greatest enemy's former partner. He stared at this man, Nightwing as he was called, for all of a few seconds before suddenly the acrobat abruptly stiffened where he stood and wiped around, looking right up at him.

Their eyes locked; even through his goggles he could tell that Nightwing was staring right through them. Then a split second later Nightwing rushed towards the building and Maigo waited for him. Remembering his Master's advice, "Let the enemy come to you, let them make the first move, and then counter." Dodging one of Nightwing's attack, he used his sword and swung at the man. Who also blocked and dodged it with ease. That same feeling came back again as they once again fell into the same rhythm as before.

Block

Dodge

Attack

This went on for a few more silent minutes until Nightwing finally spoke, "Fancy meeting you here." The older man commented lightly, with a small smirk, as holding one his sword with his escrima sticks as he kicked Magio square in the chest. Doubling backward for just a second, he straightened himself and continued, a grin on his face. "How does someone as skilled as you end up with someone like Ra's Al Ghul?"

His left eye started twitching. "My background with my Master is none of your fucking business."

He watched as Nightwing's let out this high pitched laugh. "Ohhh, you kiss your mother with that mouth."

Chuckling, he charged forward. "I dunno, I don't have any. What’s it to you, Bluebird?"

The expression that formed on Nightwing’s face was pure horror, his voice dropped a few octaves, barely above a whisper, "What did you—?" Taking advantage of having caught the man off guard, he jumped at his opponent. Mimicking Nightwing's earlier move, he delivered a swift kick to the man's chest but he didn't stop there, in a moment of cockiness that hadn't been there previously, he rushed forward, using Nightwing as a springboard, and leapt into the air. He spun around several times before landing on the ground perfectly behind him. 

He grinned behind his mask. 

Where had that come from?

“That move—” Nightwing rubbed at his chest, then he jerked his head up, mouth hung open in shock, “You..."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Nightwing's comrades coming to his aid, the female that could change her aura, the one who could not be killed; Halo. He thought, Her code name was Halo. Maigo let out a deep growl from in his throat, raising his sword at her. Suddenly, he felt something wash over his shoulders; it was like his body was being covered in waves, vibrations. 

Look out, It warned him, Look out!  

He wiped around with just enough time to see Nightwing rushing at him, charging at him. Maigo tried to maneuver his body to dodge, but there wasn’t enough time, their bodies collided. They rolled around in the dirt for a few seconds, one trying to escape, the other to subdue.

He fought like a feral cat to break free; he bared his teeth and snarled and tried to kick the man in the groin in a desperate attempt for freedom, but Nightwing simply held his leg down. No… He didn’t like this, No! He didn’t like being confined; he didn’t like being forcefully restrained. He let out a choked noise when he felt Nightwing going for his mask, Maigo shook his head, letting out a whine; revealing one’s identity to the enemy was the worst thing one could do, it brought dishonor to the clan, and even resulted in death. 

With his face fully exposed, their eyes met once again. The rest of the world, the battle around them seemed to fall away as they stared at one another. Nightwing opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out; the man just stood there above him, gaping at him like a koi fish. "... Jason?" 

The nineteen-year-old blinked at the sound of his real name falling from the man's lips. Maigo felt something bubbling in his stomach. But he didn't know what that feeling was, still his mouth opened before he had a chance to stop himself. "You know me?"

Nightwing's face contorted into an expression of hurt. "I—"

A split second later, Maigo saw a fist collide with Nightwing's cheek, sending his opponent flying off of him. Sitting up, he saw one of his brothers reach forward and pull him to his feet. "Ra's will not be pleased you disobeyed direct orders, Maigo."

The young assassin knew this, knew deep in his soul that his Master would be displeased, but Maigo also knew that he didn't care. For the first time, he didn't care about what his Master thought; all he cared about, all he could think about, was the man on the ground a few feet away, rubbing at his cheek. This was the enemy, a man who his Master has fought against for years, a man that should be his enemy by default but still somehow knew him.

He wanted answers; no, he needed answers.

Maigo took a step forward towards Nightwing. Only to be pulled away by more of his brothers, quickly coming to his aid, defending him with their swords drawn. "We need to retreat." One of them spoke, and then smoke filled his vision.

"Come, Maigo!"

But he wasn't moving, why wasn't he moving? He was just given an order to leave so then why— His eye twitched and his head was throbbing, he felt like he was being pulled in two different direction, he felt like he was being ripped down the middle as two different voices called out two very different names—

"Jason!"

"Maigo!"

He vaguely felt someone grab him by the arm and yank him backwards. Dragging him away, as the final bits of smoke faded away.

But as he looked onward, he saw that despite how thick that smoke bomb was, Nightwing was still chasing them. "Stop!" The man cried out, his friends joining him in his pursuit. Above him, he heard one of his brothers let out a cry of agony, and Maigo felt himself falling… falling from the treetops onto the ground below. Instinct took over and he tried to land accordingly, but there was enough time he hit the ground and a jolt of electric pain shot through his entire leg, he bit his lower lip hard enough that he tasted iron in his mouth. 

"Maigo!”

Blearily, he saw his brothers were coming back for him, he shook his head frantically. "Leave me!" His eyes still stung, locked onto his comrades, the very group that took him under their wing and had been there for him the moment he gained consciousness, he watched, witnessed his brothers stare at him, equal hurt in their eyes for a moment, only for a moment, then take off through the trees, leaving him behind.

Maigo watched them go, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, he tried not to feel betrayed by the abandonment, because he had been the one who told them to leave, that has been his choice, they were just following protocol. But still, there was a sting in his chest as he watched them run away, and out of sight.

Nightwing landed on the ground a few feet from him. He turned to him and snarled. Anger erupted from deep within him; this was all his fucking fault. Because of him, he was alone now; because of him, he was now at the hands of the enemy. He glared at the man, willing him, wanting him to perish from his stare alone. 

But it seemed that Nightwing wasn't fazed by his deadly glare; he just slowly walked towards him. "Jason..."

Shaking his head frantically, he backed away from Nightwing, to get as far away as possible. His desire to know about his past, he completely tossed all that to the side. He didn’t care anymore. Right now, all he wanted was to see his Master, he wanted to see Talia and little Damian again, he just wanted to go home. For the first time, he felt something that he thought he was long devoid of; fear, he was scared, he was terrified. Because who knows just what was going to become of him if he let himself get captured? He felt his back hit the solid oak of a tree behind him, he tried desperately to look for a way of escape. 

Then he remembered his sword, his eyes went to it, a thought came a crossed his mind—

"If captured, it is your life you must take in order preserve our secrets." His Master's words echoed in his head.

Nightwing must have somehow knew his intentions because an expression of dread spread across his features and he rushed slightly forward with his arms held out in surrender. "Whoa! No, no! It's okay, it’s okay…."

But he swallowed, shaking his head. 

No, this wasn't okay at all, it wasnt okay at all

If the enemy wasn't going to let him take his own life honorably. Then what was supposed to become of him? Closing his eyes, he did something that he hadn't done since he woke up to agony seven years ago. Curling into himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and hide his face within his knees.

He screamed.

It was raw and loud, and it hurt his throat, but he screamed because he could no longer contain them anymore. His emotions were choking him, drowning him, dragging him down into an abyss of nothingness he wanted to escape from.

"Oh, Little Wing." 

A small gasp escaped his lips. 

That… felt familiar, that name… it felt like something from a dream. Slowly, he lifted his head towards Nightwing, the expression on his face was nothing short of agonizing as he reached up and peeled off the mask from his face, revealing these deep blue eyes, filled with tears. Blue Eyes, that Maigo knew. "It's okay, Jason. I'm here."

"I know it hurts, buddy. But I'm here."

"I-I don't—"

Nightwing nodded, smiling sadly, as he bent down and held his eye level, when had he gotten so close? "I know, it's okay."

"Where's B—?"

"He'll be here soon."

His eye twitched at the voices in his head, his stomach churned, feeling disoriented and pained yet Nightwing’s voice tried to soothe them away. "It's going to be alright; I'm going to help you."

But the voices were persistent.

"When?"

"What? Tired of me already, lil' bro?"

A laugh.

"Screw you, Dickie."

His tears flowed freely, but for a different cause. 

A heaviness gripped his chest, as if his heart were being squeezed, and his throat felt parched and raw. It wasn't a sudden flood of memories triggered by Nightwing's voice or face. No, that's not how this worked. He still didn't remember everything.

Only a few memories, fragments of his old life, but what he did know, was that his name had been Jason, he had been homeless for a good chunk of his life, before he suddenly wasn't anymore. And that this man… this was him, this was Grayson . Richard Grayson. Nightwing and Grayson were one person, his big brother. 

"D-Dick?"

Nightwing's face morphed into one of broken relief.

He felt Dick grasp the back of his neck and disgracefully tugging him forward, and he fell willingly against his chest, both of them dissolved in a mess of sobs, arms tightly wrapped around the other. "I don't... I don't know what's happening!" He sobbed out, clenching his fingers at Dick's Kevlar-covered back. “Who am I!?”

"Hey, listen to me, Little Wing." Dick pulled back away from him, just enough for their eyes to meet. "You and I are going to figure this out. We have to stay traught, remember? It's going to be okay, I'm right here, I got you."

He nodded frantically, his head falling back against Dick's shoulder; all he wanted to do was cling to Dick and never let go. His tear-filled eyes wondered over to the rest of Dick's comrades, his heart hurt when he looked at them, saw their reactions to him; their look of shock, confusion and realized that he didn't remember any of them. They were Dick's friends and therefore his, right?

But yet he didn't know any of them. 

One of them, the Martian with pasty white skin, smiled at him, tears in her eyes. Don't worry. A feminine voice inside his head stated, the voice was kind, and he felt like he could trust her. I'll help you.

He believed her.

Chapter Text

Dick had but one thought in his mind as he stared at Jason's sleeping form as the boy lay gently against the Bio-Ship walls. How ? How was Jason here, how is he alive? He died seven years ago, both him and Bruce watched as they lowered Jason's casket into the grave below. Watched as dirt was piled on top of his little brother. Dick’s soft yet mournful cries, almost falling to his knees if Bruce hadn't grabbed ahold of his elbow to keep him steady.

He and Jason hadn't been the most affectionate towards each other through the years; there was a jealousy on both sides fighting for Bruce’s attention and approval, yet when Jason had died Dick completely fell apart in his grief. Even now, others could tell the significant difference between how he treated Jason back then and how he treated Tim now.

And Bruce made it his mission in life to gave Tim ten times the amount of training that Jason was ever given. The others, even some of the League Members at the time, felt like Bruce was pushing Tim way too hard, but honestly Dick agreed with his father. Jason, for as talented and gifted as he was, had been reckless, had been too naive. To quick to anger and above all had put his trust into the wrong person. Sheila Haywood had betrayed him, her only son, and Jason paid that price with his life.

For his own safety, they both agreed that Tim needed to be better than Jason had ever been.

Dick watched as Jason's facial features contorted into a pained expression. A nightmare, which was a common occurrence in their family. He moved towards Jason. Kneeling down, he gently carded his fingers through Jason's white hair, and down his back in a soothing motion.

That was the one thing he took the most notice of. 

When Jason had his breakdown. His black hair had turned white. The color had slowly shifted in his bangs then as the breakdown increased, the more the highlights formed in and around the black tones from root to tip, making Jason’s hair look more of a Moonstone shade, before it finally settled on white. 

Dick doubted that Jason even noticed himself. 

Once Jason's face relaxed, he stepped back, and noticed that everyone was staring at him. 

Most specifically, Connor and M'gann. They were giving him mirrored expressions that were mixed; happiness, and confusion. They were wondering the same thing as he was. How had Ra's gotten his hands on him? More so, if Jason has been alive this entire time, how had no one known about it, how had he and Bruce not known about it?

The answer?

Simple.

Ra's was extremely good at keeping secrets.

"Nightwing?" Halo said softly, as if hesitant.

"Yes?" He sighed, dropping back down onto his seat.

"That boy, he is the one we saw in Infinity Island, yes?" The girl asked, choosing her words carefully.

"He is." He didn't know what else to say to that.

"And you know him, you called him ' Jason '?"

Running a hand through his hair, Dick turned around in his chair and looked down at his hands. "He's my brother, different parents, same adopted father." Dick paused as he glanced at his brother, whom thankfully wasn't having another nightmare. "He died seven years ago or at least we thought he died seven years ago."

M'gann interrupted him, softly. "Well he did die actually. That day, I felt everything Joker did to him... I—" 

She didn't finish; she didn't have to.

"When it all happened, I heard his heart stop." Connor placed his hand on her shoulder. "He was a hardass, sometimes hard to get along with, but then again, so was I. When he died, I... didn't take it well either."

"You two definitely hit it off when it came to your tempers." Dick chuckled gently, remembering all the times that Connor helped Jason manage his anger issues the kid had developed over his years on the streets. “If I remember correctly, you punched a wall and we had to restrain you from going after the Joker.“ 

Connor smirked, nodding his head. Then he looked down, as thought he was thinking about something important. "We don't need to ask the question, 'How is he back?' We all know how, so then why ?"

The Lazarus Pit, that was obvious.

Dick crossed his arms and thought, closing his eyes. "Ra's said that he wasn't part of the Light anymore. So what purpose could he use Jason for? What could he gain from bringing Jason back?"

"If I may?" Brion interjected, suddenly, having been quiet the whole entire time. "When my sister went missing, there was once a time where someone had claimed they had found her, they had stated no ransom for her return. My parents offered them a reward, payment, anything to get her back. And when the person had almost every treasure in the vault, he revealed that he was simply lying, deceiving us from the very beginning. They merely wanted gold and the satisfaction of hurting my family more than we already were."

Dick noticed that while Brion said all this, the young prince was looking directly at Jason, not in anger as he once had been when they were trying to escape Infinity Island, but with a look of understanding, of sympathy. Slowly, Brion looked at the rest of them. "My point is that maybe the man that brought your brother back is trying to hurt you and your family in a different way than just making him a villain."

"He has a point; people like Ra's tend to do this type of thing a lot." Jefferson stated, crossing his arms.

Dick blinked, looking back at his brother. Brion has a solid point. What could be worse than the loss of a family member?

Simple, having that family member be brought back by the enemy, with no memories, and being apart of a top secret villainous organization known at the League of Shadows?

God, he didn't know how to feel about all of this. 

On one hand he was relieved, overjoyed to have Jason back, because damn did he miss him... but on the other, what exactly had his brother gone through in those years of being with Ra's, what had happened for Jason to be so deeply loyal to the man? And worst yet, would it have been better if his brother stayed dead? The mere thought made him want to vomit as the shame bubbled over.

"M'gann, Jason doesn't remember everything quite yet; could you— maybe help him with that?"

M'gann nodded, "Of course, but it has to be his decision." 

Everyone looked at her, confused and Nightwing looked torn between demanding why in frustration and remaining calm. "I've done so much wrong with my powers, made so many mistakes, forced them onto people, hurt people." She looked at Connor as she stated this. "I don't... I don't want to do that again, especially since Jason's mind is already fragile enough, if I go in without his permission, his mind might break completely."

Dick gave her a sympathetic look; as much as he wanted Jason to remember, he understood M'gann's reasons.

His gaze again turned to Halo, Forager, and Brion, who somehow had managed to get closer to Jason without him noticing.

"He is... broken?" Halo inquired of both Dick and M'gann.

Dick wanted to argue against that claim, but honestly, how could he? The past seven years have possibly been hell for Jason, he probably was, in fact, broken .

"Forager sees that Jason is small, too small to be such a good fighter or able to place an explosive on Forager's back, Forager is impressed."

Dick chuckled, silently agreeing with Forager; as brutal as Jason was, he always managed to impress almost anyone he met. "He has that effect on people."

"The look on his face reminds me of Gregor whenever he slept after a nightmare." Brion said, his voice filled with a nostalgia that showed Brion missed Gregor back home.

Dick couldn't help but smile at the sight of those three crowding around his brother. As if they were already friends.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. 

Dick took out his communicator, the one that was strictly for his family in Gotham and held it in his hand. Bruce has told him to strictly use it when it is an emergency. Seeing as they were both secretly a part of their own code of operation without telling the rest of the team or the League. They needed to be sure they had contact with each other when it was absolutely necessary. 

But didn't this count as necessary?

Jason coming back from the dead, has been back from the dead for possible years, and neither of them knew it?

When Jason died, Dick hardly registered anything else but his own pain of that loss. He cried and grieved for months, even after Tim came along and grounded both Bruce and himself on a path of healing. Dick still silently mourned for Jason, he felt like scum, no he felt worse than scum; he felt like it was all his fault. All Jason ever wanted was to be a part of a family, seeing as his own parents weren’t great with Catherine’s drug addiction and Willis Todd being one of Two Face’s goon, he only ever wanted to belong somewhere, have a purpose, and what had Dick done? Sure, he had moments where he bonded with Jason, but there were plenty of others where he’d resented Jason, and where Jason resented him. And then he was taken away from him, and Dick was left with nothing but ‘what ifs’ and ‘too lates’, sinking into the abyss that was grief. 

The only people who were able to really bring him out of it, to get Dick back to being somewhat of the man he once had been, was Kaldur, Wally and Roy.

Kaldur meet Dick with understanding and stability

Wally meet him with comfort and reassurance

And Roy met Dick with a smack upside the head and a hand to lift him up.

They stayed with him as he grieved for Jason. And stayed well after the tears stopped flowing and his heart felt a little lighter. It wasn't until months later, did Dick finally recognize Bruce's pain. Where he caught the man gazing at Jason's suit displayed in the Batcave on multiple occasions, as guilt riddled his face, his eyes misty.

He thought back to when they had buried Jason in the graveyard of Wayne Manor, when Bruce held Dick up as they lowered the coffin in the ground. Dick remembered seeing tears glistening in his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Jason's death may have broken him.

But it destroyed Bruce entirely.

Alfred had once told him on a day when Dick stopped by to see how Tim was doing in training. Bruce was putting Tim through the ringer, constantly putting him through test after test to see his overall improvement. Dick knew why, because Jason was the first person Batman couldn't save. The first and worst loss he's had since the death of his parents. And Bruce didn't want to go through all that again with Tim. Something that Dick felt the exact same way about. 

A lump appeared in his throat; he closed his eyes and tried to focus.

Bruce deserved to know. 

As they landed back in Happy Harbor, Dick placed his comm in his ear and turned it on, leaning against the wall of the garage. "Nightwing to Batman, do you copy?"

He waited.

And waited

Three minutes later, Dick finally heard feedback.

" This is Batman. What is it, Nightwing ?" Came the gruff reply.

Nightwing opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just simply stood there, looking very much like a fish out of water. Now that he had contact, now that he could tell Bruce what was going on, he realized; how ? How could he even begin to explain that Jason was back, how could he tell Bruce that the last seven years of grieving and healing had been for nothing? 

"Bruce, I—" He began but trailed off seconds later.

Batman seemed to sense something was wrong and sensed the emotion in Dick's voice because his own tone dropped and sounded more gentle, sounding more like Bruce. " What is it?"

But Dick couldn't get the words out, for some reason, it seemed that everything that had transpired, the knowledge of it all was just suddenly hitting Nightwing straight in the gut. It left him reeling, he felt almost dizzy.

Jason was alive

His emotions were raging in a swirling storm inside his heart; relief and guilt. Happiness and shame. Dick felt like he couldn't breathe, and he didn't know why. "You— You need to come here."

Bruce's voice sounded like a mix between the Man and the Bat. " Where are you? "

"Happy Harbor."

The line went dead after that, not even a second later. Nightwing looked up and saw the Zeta Tube come to life. He barely registered the voice announcing who had arrived. The minute he saw the silhouette of Bruce, his legs were moving before he could stop himself. Ungracefully, Dick didn't hesitate as he hugged Batman around the waist, feeling like a child all over again. Back when he first lost his parents, when the world didn't make sense anymore and he could hardly even breathe, the pain was too much. 

"Bruce." He whispered; his voice sounded small and fragile, despite the fact that he was a man in his 20s. " Dad ..."

Bruce's arms encased around him in a matter of seconds. "What's wrong?" He inquired softly, in a tone he ever used for his children, carding his fingers through Dick's hair. “What is it, chum?”

They stayed like that until Dick's breathing leveled out. Then Bruce pulled away just enough to remove both their masks while simultaneously wiping away the tears on Dick's cheeks, knowing that right now, in this moment, this was not the time to be either Batman or Nightwing. Right now they needed to be just Richard and Bruce. 

Slowly, Dick opened his mouth. "Jason's alive."

Chapter Text

He dreamt again.

The same people appeared in front of him again, but this time they weren't as identifiable or as indistinct as they had been before. Dick was in full view as a scenario unfolded in front of his eyes. 

A scene, a dream, a memory from long ago when he had still been Jason.

"I bet you can't do six spins in 4 seconds."

He had challenged his brother because Dick was better than him, always had been better than him, and he always wanted to see if he could outmatch him. Knowing that Dick was superior to him, the original Robin, the golden child, it frustrated him. 

" You do know I'm from the circus? Six spins is child's play. "

Dick was always testing him. Always pushing his buttons, "Well, then, prove it, Dickwing!" 

But Dick had beaten him with ease, and Jason pouted; frustration surged through him, feeling inadequate compared to his big brother.

A hand ruffled his hair.

" Aw, don't be like that." 

" Fuck you. You cheated."

He glared at Dick, arms crossed over his chest.

Dick scoffed, rolling his eyes in mild annoyance," Dude, I'm a professional acrobat."

"You still cheated."

Dick sneered, a grin on his face, "And you're still a sour loser." 

His mind was foggy and disoriented as he blinked his eyes open, a beam of sunlight streaming through the curtains. Then he sat straight awake, realizing he wasn't in his room on Infinity Island, but somewhere else.

But where?

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move; his instincts kicked in and jerked his head to his right, and he saw Nightwing sitting in a chair by his bed, fast asleep.

"Easy, don't try to move just yet." A low voice stated gruffly, but for some odd reason Jason didn't flinch, even at how unexpected and abrupt it was.

Blinking, he searched around for the source and noticed a man standing in the shadows in the corner. Maigo stopped breathing when the person appeared and revealed himself. For he knew who this was, even if the guy in front of him was dressed in a suit. For his Master told him about his greatest enemy, the Bat, the Caped Crusader of Gotham City.

The Detective himself 

Shit...

Fuck

His heart was racing at a million per minute. Because not only had he been apprehended, but Maigo had been apprehended by Batman himself. His thoughts were a frantic and fractured mess about what was going to happen to him now.

Stupid

Careless 

I had my sword right to my throat! He berated himself angrily. Why didn’t I follow protocol!? 

Why hadn't he just listened to his Master? None of this would have happened if he had done what he was told. 

Maigo hurriedly looked about frantically looking for something anything to protect himself with or perhaps a viable escape path or even something sharp enough to bring to his—

Then he felt a touch on his shoulder, and though it was gentle, Maigo jerked, his instincts on overdrive as he felt the impulse to punch whoever was holding him.

Fucking let me go—!

"Woah, hey. It's okay." Then Dick's face came into his field of vision. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe." Dick's voice was smooth and calm, just like his memories always showed him. Closing his eyes, he did as he was instructed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. When he opened them again, he saw Dick smiling at him. "Hey." He greeted cheerfully, his face showing more emotion than he probably wanted to. "You remember me, Jason?"

Jason, that's right.

His name was Jason, and Dick was his brother. That’s what was true, wasn’t it? And Maigo had been the name his Master had given him, as his past had been erased from his mind.

Slowly, he nodded his head. "Dickie."

If it were possible, Dick smiled even wider. "Hey, Little Wing. How's your memories?"

He thought for a minute or two, "I once bet you couldn't do six spins in four seconds."

Dick chuckled lightly. Though Jason saw him flinch the slightest bit, a frown twitched his features before smiling, "Yup, and I totally won, and you pouted."

Before he could even open his mouth to argue, that he has never pouted in his life, a light cough interrupted them both. They both turned and watched as Batman slowly took a step forward, and Maigo instinctively tensed up. He felt Dick grasp his hand. "Hey, remember to breathe, alright? It's okay, it's just B."

"He thinks I'm going to hurt him." Batman announced without hesitation. "Ra's must have taught him to see me as a threat."

Upon hearing his Master's name, Maigo shook his head, looking a little angry that Batman dared speak his Master’s name. Honestly, how could his brother have ever been his former protégé? "No, he just said you were his greatest enemy.” He sneered dryly, “He never told me to fear you."

"But you do?"

Maigo actually let out a laugh, "Not a chance." Then he looked at Batman, eyes narrowing, "Who am I?" He watched as Batman turned his gaze towards Dick, they shared a look, a silent conversation happening between them, and it frustrated him even more because they were acting like he wasn’t there. " Who am I?" He repeated, feeling frustrated. 

"Little Wing..." 

Batman took the smallest of steps forward. "Your name is Jason Todd. Catherine and Willis Todd were your parents. Your mother died of a heroin overdose when you were young, and your father was murdered by a man named Two-Face, for whom your father had been working for.” 

Dick stepped forward, his expression apprehensive. “B, I don’t think—”

Batman ignored him, steeling himself,  “You became homeless on the streets of Gotham City, even trying to steal the tires off my car. I took you in, and gave you the Robin mantle.” Batman looked him dead in the eyes, there was an emotion there that he couldn’t identify. “I trained you, adopted you, and provided you with a home." 

The silence that followed was so deafening that a pin dropping on the floor would most likely shake the entire room. 

Beside him, Maigo heard Dick sigh, sounding exasperated, "Did you have to unload literally everything, B? You're gonna fry his brain with that much info, especially since he doesn't remember any of it." Dick raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, "Leave it to you to be so blunt in a situation like this."

He gazed at Batman, and the man before him stared back. Neither of them blinked, and the rest of the world fell away and it was simply just the two of them. Maigo narrowed his eyes, as he searched for the truth in those eyes, but was unable due to the cowl covering them. "Take off your mask." He said in a more commanding tone. Because if he was going to have this type of conversation, if he was going to be given the truth, from the Batman himself, then Maigo preferred to see the Man behind the mask and not the Bat. He watched Batman raise his hands and yank off the hood that covered the top of his face.

His heart leapt into his throat as he saw the face presented to him, and an immediate rush of pain shot right through his mind. His hand clung to his temple and his face crunched up in pain as he tried to breathe through the pain, through clinched teeth.

Then a memory faded inwards, appearing out of thin air within his mind's eye.

"Why the long face, lad?"

"Bruce, are you sure I'm ready to be Robin?"

A soft chuckle rang out.

"My overall opinion doesn't matter, Jason. What matters is, do you think you're ready? Are you ready to help people, to save them?"

"Well, yes of course but—"

"Then there's no need for further discussion. If you believe you're ready, then you are."

"But Dick was such a better Robin than me..."

"You aren't Dick, Jason. And I don't expect or even want you to be. You are you and that's enough."

"I know that but—"

"But if it makes you feel any better, I do believe you are ready for this. If I didn't, I wouldn't have had Alfred sew you your own suit."

A strong hand gently ruffled his hair followed by a soft smile.

"Trust yourself; that's all I'll ever ask."

"Okay."

The memory faded and the pain subsided long enough to slip his hands away from his temple.

When he looked up, he noticed that both Dick and Batman were staring at him. Concern ran across their features as they moved closer to the bed. Seeing them standing there, knowing who they were to him, meant more to him than words could express.

He wasn’t aware he was crying until he felt the sting of tears streaming down his cheeks. When he glanced at Batman, even through blurry vision, he noticed that the Caped Crusader, had now vanished. No longer was he Batman, but Bruce Wayne. He opened his lips to speak, but all he got was a sloppy hiccup as tears streamed down his face. "I wasn't ready." His voice hitched in his throat as he said those words. "I wasn't ready."

Even though he couldn't recall why he hadn't been ready to be Robin, Jason raised a hand and clinched it to his chest, this feeling of deep dark abyss of remorse and self-hatred overtook him. He hadn’t been ready, and something happened. Something bad. These feelings tore at his heart like a thousand rusty nails, what had he done as Robin to make him feel like this?

"No, you weren't."

Maigo watched as Bruce leaned forward, his palm rising to cup his cheek, wiping away a few tears with the pad of his thumb. They looked into one other's eyes once again, and shame flowed there with them like a tangled web. Jason saw guilt in Bruce’s that was even more severe and soul destroying than his own. "But that wasn't on you, it was me . I'm the one who failed you, I'm sorry."

His throat became excruciatingly constricted, as he leaned into the older man's touch. Distantly, it felt so nostalgic, that simply the motion of affection Bruce offered made him feel more safe just as safe as he felt in the League of Shadows. 

"I know you don't remember, not truly . But I need you to know that I'm sorry." Bruce's voice sounded hoarse and rigid, like he was trying to choke back his emotions. "I'm so sorry, son."

Something seemed to crack deep within his chest, the walls he so carefully had placed around him shattered, his body moved without meaning too and he leaned forward, practically falling into Bruce's chest.

He clung to Bruce, desperately clinging firmly as if he believed the man might vanish at any moment and that the sheer intensity of his grasp would prevent this. As he screamed, his fingernails dug hard into the Kevlar-covered suit.

He felt strong arms encircling his body, drawing him closer to him with each passing second, then a delicate kiss was put on the top of his head, a choked wail erupted from his throat at the gesture.

He still didn't know what was going on, he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Was he Maigo or Jason Todd? Nothing seemed certain anymore. But as Bruce threaded his fingers through his hair,  a calm washed over him, he was safe. For now, he chose to anchor himself in that sense of safety.

Right now, this was good enough.

Chapter Text

When Dick had told him he needed to meet him at Happy Harbor, Bruce had expected a lot of things. Most of them had been the worst case scenario, scenarios of  someone on his son’s team having passed or been gravely injured where they were clinging, grasping at the final threads of their lives. They were such dark thoughts to have, unhealthy ones, but ones he had reasons for assuming.

The moment Dick called him, he knew something was wrong. The was able to hear the telltale signs from his oldest son. The slip of his name, the emotion and hesitation within Dick's voice and the overall conversation itself, how his son seemed at such a loss for words, which was another red flag in of itself because Richard has always been a chatterbox. Words never ceased to fail him unless something was wrong. 

The way he pleaded desperately for him to come to Happy Harbor, to meet face to face. 

He did without a second's hesitation. He ran to the Zeta Tube, leaving behind a very confused Tim and Barbara in his wake. Because Dick’s voice sounded on the edge of tears and the worst possible scenario popped into his head, if he was right and someone had passed, then he knew that Dick needed him. 

So when he arrived at Happy Harbor, his eyes locked with Nightwing’s, they stared at the other for a moment. Bruce watched  Dick’s movement as he slowly walked towards him, and saw the look on Dick's face even with the domino mask on. The father in Bruce went into overdrive as he met Dick half way. And when his son hugged him without any hesitation, and Bruce had to fight the overwhelming concern down as Dick let out a small whispered

"Bruce..." Bruce couldn’t help recall the moment he had just taken in Dick, after his parent passed away, where after a full week of silence from the boy, finally cracked under the grief that was consuming him and sought Bruce out, to keep him from falling, reached out to him desperately so that he wouldn't be swallowed up by that abyss. " Dad ..."

And just like back then, Bruce embraced Dick tightly, running his fingers through that mess of black hair and down his back, as his shoulders shook with a storm of emotions.

"What's wrong?" He asked, gently, his heart pangs a little when instead of answering, Dick let out a muffled sob.

Bruce decided to stay silent, and let his son cry it out, wait until Dick was ready on his own terms. Luckily he didn't have to wait very long before Dick's breathing leveled out and the sobs turned into hiccups. Gently, Bruce pulled away just enough to slip both their masks off their faces. As much as it was against protocol, Bruce knew that they needed to be themselves for just this moment. No masks, no code names or brooding persona. 

Just a father comforting his son.

Yes, Bruce had been expecting a lot things, but the words that Dick uttered next was something he hadn't been expecting.

"Jason's alive."

His entire world of reality shattered with just those two simple words. He choked on the air he breathed, stiffened his shoulders, his heart leaped into his throat. 

Because it wasn't possible, it just couldn't be possible.

He buried Jason, he saw to it himself, watched as his casket was lowered into his grave, he buried his boy seven years ago right next to his parents, after the Joker took him away from him, after he failed to save Jason from himself . Jason couldn't be alive, not after what happened, not after he failed him, Bruce didn't deserve a second chance. 

But Dick wouldn't lie about something like this, Jason's death may have shattered him but it also did equal damage to Richard as well. And the look on Dick's face, his overall reaction was all the proof enough he needed.

Could it be possible that Jason, his second child, the boy that he thought he lost years ago was alive?

His blank expression must have genuinely worried his eldest, Dick embraced him once more. However, it was clear that the embrace was meant to comfort him . The roles had reversed, with Dick now offering solace instead of needing it. "C'mon B, breathe . Don't go passing out on me, you know I can't carry you." His son's teasing words didn't mask over the tremors still there, the faint auras of disbelief.

Bruce held Dick to him tightly, Dick had always been a pillar of stability in his life and right now he felt like he was drowning in the abyss of his own demons. “How?" He asked after a minute, his voice sounding uncharacteristically small. 

Dick let out a hollow laugh, gently pulling away, meeting Bruce's gaze. "How do you think? C'mon Bruce, I know your scatter brained right now but who else do you know that has the means to come back to life?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed in a knowing look. "Ra's."

Dick nodded.

Of course it was Ra's. 

His son was right, who else would it have been other then him? The question wasn't who, no the question Bruce wondered was why? Why did Ra's al Ghul feel the need to bring Jason back to life, what did he have to gain for doing such a thing? Bruce closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself, "Before we go any further, tell me how all this happened?"

They stood there, seconds ticking by into minutes as Dick explained how this all started. The very first moment was back when Brion had taken Forager and Halo and ambushed Infinity Island in search of his little sister. Where Dick accompanied by M'gann, Artemis, Superboy and Jefferson all staged a recuse operation for the wayward prince. While they were trying to escape Dick recalled fighting with one of Ra's assassins while wearing a red hood, with a mask and goggles that covered his face.

Dick pointed out that when he clashed with this assassin, there had been something familiar about him, his son stated that as they fought it was almost nostalgic, like they had done so before. But he merely thought that was the adrenaline rush coursing through him. 

Then a few hours previously, on a mission with his team Dick meet this assassin again, they fought again and Dick was hit with that same feeling of nostalgia. Then in the chaos going on around them; his opponents mask and goggles were thrown off and his identity was revealed.

"When I realized it was Jason, the other members of his team tried to make an escape but they ended up leaving Jason behind." Dick explained as they both leaned against the wall mere inches away from the Zeta Tubes. "Bruce, you should have seen him. When his teammates left him, and he realized he was alone, I think… he thought that he was captured, that we were going to imprison him or something and he tried to—" Dick abruptly stopped, looking down at his feet, his eyes looking misty again as swallowed hard.

Kill himself . Bruce finished silently, he closed his eyes, trying to remain focused, "Ra's has trained his assassins to take their own lives whenever they believe to be captured by the enemy." Saying out loud, as logical as it was, didn't make it any easier on his heart. The fact that Ra's had morphed Jason into one of his soldier's, had brainwashed him, mentally altering Jason’s mind to the point where he would actually follow that protocol of conduct. Bruce felt like his insides burned with anger towards Ra's, whatever motive the man had for bringing Jason back, Bruce will be damned if he was going to let Ra's get his hand on his son again.

Heart clinging in his chest, his mind racing a mile a minute. Bruce took a minute to breathe, gently he place a hand on Dick's shoulder to steady him as well as he spoke with a voice he only used for his children.

"Take me to him."

From the moment he became The Dark Knight, the second he dawned his cowl Bruce trained himself to be prepared for anything. He broke his mind and body to the brink no human should ever go, spent millions building the best equipment and technology so that it would always be ready for any scenario that came his way.  

But this was something he hadn’t expected, even though he knew Jason was alive, seeing him was something entirely different, for first time in his life his mind just couldn't process what was happening.

For Jason was in his arms, face pressed against the armor of his kevlar. Jason was solid and real ,  smelling like sweat and peppermint. This was all real, not one of his many dreams, Jason was here , right here encased safely against him. He reached over and ran a hand through Jason's now fading white curls, thankful as the boy slept on. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, silently vowing to himself that he was never going to let Jason out of his sight again. "Does he have any injuries?" He murmured to his eldest as they both sat by Jason's side while the rest of Dick's team patiently waited outside.

To his relief, Dick shook his head once before speaking. "Apart from a sprained ankle, nothing serious, but those were Artemis' words, not mine." Yes, Bruce knew that he and Artemis both had different definitions when it came to what was and what wasn't a serious injury. He just hoped right now that she was right and a sprained ankle was all that Jason had.

A comfortable silence fell between them after that. Just them absorbing the fact that this was actually happening. That by some miracle, even if that miracle had been Ra's, Jason had been returned to them, they had a second chance.

”His hair… it’s—“

Bruce nodded, running his fingers through Jason’s hair absently. “Marie Antoinette Syndrome.” It was the first thing he noticed upon seeing Jason, those pure white curls. “Seems to only happen when he’s stressed which is actually common, plus given the fact he was likely put in Ra’s Lazarus pit didn’t help matters.” 

Dick nodded, looking at Jason a moment before averting his eyes and looking at the floor, he smiled. "Timmy’s gonna lose his mind ."

Bruce let out a low chuckle at that statement. "Yes, he most likely will." Jason has always been Tim's hero, he been a fan of Dick for years, still was, but when he heard about Jason, something seemed to shift, whenever he talked about Robin, it was always Jason he wanted to know more about, when Tim had assumed the role as Robin, Bruce had caught the boy staring at Jason’s display case. Bruce knew that seeing Jason alive with his own eyes was probably going to short circuit the boy’s brain.

The thought alone, made him smile.

"Bruce?"

He tore his gaze away from Jason's sleeping face and looked at Dick, "Yes?"

"His memories... Jason doesn't remember everything?" There was a time in his eldest' voice that Bruce couldn't quite place. But Dick's expression all but gave it away, hesitation.

"It appears so." Bruce answered.

He watched as Dick took a breathe and slowly lets it out, the hesitation still there, the guilt still there. Bruce felt the urge to ask him what was wrong, why he was so hesitant to say what was obviously troubling him. But he shoved down that urged and waited, "I can't believe I'm even suggesting this. Since I promised him that I'd help, but… would it be so bad if he doesn't ever remember everything ?" Bruce stared at Dick for a moment, contemplating. He understood why Dick had been so reluctant to say what he was thinking, because the suggestion of never letting Jason remember his past even the memories that weren't so nice was something he never thought Dick of all people would think about.

"Keeping those memories from him would be wrong."

Dick let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I know that. God , I know that. But… if they are just the bad ones? Like do you really think Jason would benefit at all with the knowledge that he was murdered ?"

Bruce breathed, pressing his lips into a thin line. His heart knew that Dick was correct,  Jason wouldn't gain any satisfactory in knowing that he was killed by the Joker. He knew Jason would get no closure remembering that his own mother sold him out. But it still doesn't change one important factor. "If he finds out we kept it from him, he'll resent us for keeping it a secret. You know that he's never liked to be kept in the dark." The look in Dick’s eyes, the desperation and heartache, made his chest ache. 

"But if he does remember? Bruce, it’ll break him, who knows what he’ll do. What he’ll become." Dick argued weakly, his eyes moving towards Jason's form. "We lost him once, B. I don't think I can handle that again." Bruce's heart pangs as he looks at Dick, and sees that for the first time in a long time. Dick looked lost, uncertain and desperate. He hasn’t seen him look this upset since the day they had lost him. “Is it so wrong of me to want to protect him from the pain when I couldn’t before.” 

Reaching forward, he grasped his son's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "No one wants to take away his pain more than I do." Bruce said in a calming tone. "But we can’t risk it, by keeping his memories, even the bad ones a secret, we're denying him a part of his past that he deserves to know. Those are his memories and his alone, we don't have the right to keep them from him, no matter how good our intentions are." Moving his hand upward, he wiped away a single tear that slid down Dick's face, before staying as a steady pressure against his son's cheek. "And even if you're right and those memories do break him. We will be there for him, to help him, and put him back together."

Dick sniffed, nodding his head as he leaned into his touch for a few seconds before pulling away and straightening. Closing his eyes, Dick took in another deep breathe. "Should I call M'gann here then? She told me already that she could help, but she has something to tell you."

"Yes."

Dick heard him, heard his approval to get Miss Martian here, but he didn't stand up immediately like he would have if this had been any other circumstance. Eventually Dick did leave the room and he wasn't even gone for more then a few seconds before the younger man walked into the room with M'gann following behind him.

"Batman." The Martian greeted softly. 

"M'gann." He returned as he watched her walk around to the other side of the bed Jason was laying. "Nightwing said you had something to tell me?"

She nodded and looked down at Jason and then back to him. "Yes, as I told Dick, I can help Jason regain his memories. But only when and if Jason allows me too." The white Martian paused for a moment to gaze at her hands, "I did a lot of things with my powers that I'm not proud of. Things I'll never stop feeling guilty about. And asking for permission is the only way no one will get hurt anymore.”

The guilt in M’gann’s eyes were prominent, a guilt Bruce understood all too well. Still he had to cover all the bases, “There’s no way for you to do it now?”

M’gann shook her head, “Jason's mind is too fragile right now. If I were to force my way in without his consent, then his mind might see me as an immediate threat, and he could go into a state of shock, which in turn could damage him even far beyond my repair and then there would be no saving him."

"Is it possible to block out some of the bad memories now so that they don't cause him pain later?" Dick asked his voice curious as well as holding on to a bit of hope.

M'gann looked at Dick thoughtfully, and Bruce deducted that she didn't need to read his mind to know exactly what his son was talking about. "If that is what you both want, I can put up a barrier around his mind to block out that specific memory but there is also a danger to that as well."

He gave her a hard look, "Explain."

M'gann crossed her arms, took a breath before continuing. "As you know, if I were to block the memory of his own death and the matter of his resurrection, there would still be a high risk of him remembering them anyway. A trigger, a sound or smell, anything that would remind him of it. And if that were to happen the barrier would shatter instantly, tearing at his mind entirely and leave him in a catatonic state."

The atmosphere felt indescribably thicker than it had before, it felt dizzying and deviled of light.

Glancing at his eldest, Bruce saw that Dick had grown considerably paler than a few moments ago. He realized then, that Dick hadn't truly thought the risks to save his brother from his own inner demons would be that severe and now that he knew, Dick didn't know what else to do. 

But Bruce did. 

If he were any other parent, he knew what option he’d choose. Any parent would make that choice, to spare their child from that kind of pain. But this wasn’t about him. It wasn’t even about Dick. This was about Jason, he had a right to those memories, as painful as they were. And he wasn't going to risk Jason’s mind, he couldn’t. 

"How long should we wait before asking his approval?"

Chapter Text

Driving back to the Batcave felt strangely unreal to Dick after all that transpired mere moments ago. Everything felt so foreign; it was like everything was encased in tar, and no matter how hard Dick moved his limbs, he just kept getting caught in the thickness.  It was one of the reasons why he suggested they take the long way back to Gotham instead of the Zeta Tubes, something Bruce suggested at first seeing as it was the faster option, but Dick offered— or in that moment practically begged Bruce to remotely bring the Batmobile here.

It was such an outrageous request, as well as tedious and unnecessary.

But he needed time to process everything, between this and the ongoing battle with the Light and the knowledge that he was now leading a new team after years of refusing to do so? His nerves were all shot to hell and back. He just needed to take a moment, to fully take it all in and just get a few seconds to just breathe . Thankfully, Bruce didn't object to them taking the long route back to Gotham. His father simply looked at him for a moment before placing Jason in his arms and activating the Batmobile's autopilot location.

And as they drove back to Gotham, Dick watched from his peripherals, the various times Bruce looked in the rear view mirror at Jason's still sleeping form.  He knew he wasn’t the only one that needed time, Bruce was a man of many talents but even he had his limits to what he could take. He needed this too. Just a moment, even if it wasn't for very long, he needed to comprehend everything that happened, process the information they were given.

Gently, Dick leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose and out his mouth. He pressed the back of his head against the cushion of the headrest. Blinking, his eyes fell towards the window, he gazed out at the scenery that passed by. The sunset that lit up the backdrop of the buildings and street lamps as dusk was approaching fast made him feel just the slightest moment of peace, the blurred colors of yellow, orange and purple hues all just added to the warmth he felt, or maybe that was from the heater kicking on in the car.

Maybe Bruce thought they were cold?

Either way, the action caused Dick to feel a sudden rush of nostalgia. Moments, memories from long ago when he was young came rushing back to him. Those nights heading home from patrol when he was younger, the side of his temple pressed against the cool glass from the window, knees curled up to his chest as he fought between dozing off or staying awake because he feared the nightmares from that day's patrol would come back to haunt him.

The memories then, fast forward to a few years later where on the occasions where he'd join in on Batman and Robin's nightly patrol as Nightwing, they both just ended up in a car ride back to the manor, the heater warming their cold bodies, as they both sighed, letting exhaustion pull them into sleep.

And here they were once more after all these years; Bruce at the wheel completely focused, while Dick sat in the passenger's seat and Jason was curled up in the back.

Worn out and slightly older then last time they were all in the car together. With Dick now in his twenties and Jason...

Huh

Dick blinked in a sudden realization.

Besides the obvious muscle he's gained since training with the League of Shadows, his brother has not aged hardly in these last seven years.

When Joker had gotten a hold of Jason, his body was near unrecognizable.

But thanks to the effects of the Lazarus Pit, his brother may stay sixteen forever, or at the very least, he'll physically look sixteen forever. When Jason does remember everything, when his brother is back to his normal self, he can see Jason having a problem with that. He always did hate it when people saw him as a child.

The thought alone made Dick smile. Adjusting himself and letting his mind wander through nostalgic memories as a sign said " Welcome to Gotham City " passed by before Dick had a chance to blink.

As he leaned back in his seat a little more, Dick felt the adrenaline he had been running on ever since he found his brother again morph into extreme fatigue as well as a soreness he hadn’t noticed until now. With another sudden realization, it occurred to him that amongst all the chaos of today, he never had been looked at for injuries once he and his team had returned to Happy Harbor.

He had just called Bruce over and from that point both of their focus were on Jason. 

But now that he was winding down, the exhaustion from the events previously engulfed him as his eyes dropped shut. The expression he felt must have shown in his face because Dick felt a gentle hand pat his head.

Sleepily, he opened his eyes to find Bruce, one hand still on the wheel while the other gently carded through his black hair, Bruce's gaze never broke from Jason's sleeping form. Dick let himself chuckle softly, as he leaned into Bruce's hand. Underneath all the black Kevlar and gadgets, no one would ever dream that the great Dark Knight himself was actually a huge softie when it came to those he truly cared about.

His inner circle.

His children

Alfred

Leslie

Hell, even some of the League members were like family. But Bruce had an image to keep and the only people who knew of his soft side, those that he could trust genuinely were the only ones really allowed to see it.

And whenever it happened it always was either the most sweetest thing anyone has ever seen or the most bizarre. Because Batman and affection were two words that no one thought would ever be in the same category 

Regardless, since the age of eight years old, Dick has grown use to Bruce's affection, welcomed it even, especially whenever the stress of their job became far too much for him to bear in certain moments. Because Bruce was warmth , was a comfort and safety and as a young boy who just recently lost his parents, that's what Dick needed , and still needs no matter how old he gets.

But Jason had been different since the beginning.

He'd adored Bruce as much as Dick did, but at times it felt far more deeper. Jason needed Bruce in a way that Dick hadn’t. For he grew up with a loving family, with his parents and the Haley’s Circus until Tony Zucco came around. But Jason hadn’t had that life, his mother, a drug addict and his father, murdered by Two-Face. He truly had no one in his life, he was alone and unwanted. And Bruce had filled that whole in his life, gave him exactly what he had been wanting, made him feel loved and valued. 

Thinking back on it now, it made so much sense why Jason had clung to Bruce so deeply. Most times Jason would be so desperate to earn Bruce's approval, it breaks his heart now knowing that all the times Jason acted reckless he was merely trying to earn Bruce's love and affection, because he'd thought that what love was , having been taught that from biological father, when in reality Jason had it since the very first tire he popped off the batmobile. His brother had been angry, hurt and alone on the streets for so long, yet he was determined and that determination had saved his life and brought Jason into their family. 

Then there was Robin. 

Robin to Jason had been the best days of his life. Dick recalled the moment Alfred told him of the very day Jason first dawned his suit, running around cheerfully exclaiming that being Robin “gave him magic”. Childishly, thinking that being Robin made him invincible. 

And then the Joker…

Dick winced visibly. 

Bruce noticed this and carded his fingers through his hair, "What's on your mind?" He asked softly, eyes never leaving Jason's form that was still asleep in the backseat.

"Nothing." Dick said solemnly, wanting so badly to let it end there. Let his thoughts just fade away so that he could get some sleep, but they wouldn't and Dick found quite quickly that he didn't give a damn, "It's just... I was just thinking about how desperate Jay was to earn your approval. How much he loved being Robin. Even more then I did back when I was his age. And I loved it a lot back then.”

Bruce hummed in thought, not saying anything for quite sometime, resuming his caress of Dick's hair, "You needed to be Robin to get closure for what happened to you. Closure that I couldn't get from never catching my own parents killer. I knew I could provide that for you."

Dick let out his own hum of thought, "It wasn't just that, though."

Bruce nodded, "Yes, you also wanted to help people, bring justice to those who couldn't get that same closure." Dick watched as Bruce jerked his head to the right, behind them, where Jason laid. "For Jason it was different. He needed to be Robin to help curb the pain in his heart. Jason told me time and time again that being Robin was the best thing that could ever happened to him. For him, being Robin wasn't just a job, wasn't just about helping others, though that was a bonus — his words not mine.” Bruce let out a chuckle and Dick smiled softly, because yeah that would be something Jason would say. “Even from that start it was his way of feeling whole . Feeling that he was worth something, something more than who he had been before I found him, more than the life he was given after Willis was killed and Catherine died of an overdose."

Dick had no idea.

He knew the bare minimum of how much Jason loved being Robin but never knew the full extent, Jason had never talked about it and Bruce had never elaborated. "And to think that I was angry and resentful when you gave him my suit."

Bruce flinched, ever so gently, "You were young. Robin was important to you. You created it. You had ever right to be angry."

"Doesn't mean I had the right to take it out on Jason." Dick retorted back softly, "All he ever wanted was to be something more than the words said to him when he was on the streets but I was too angry to see that until it was too late."

“I did the best I could to give him that, tell him that but... I could have done better to show how much I did care for him, but I think I brought you up too often and he assumed I was comparing him to you and I’m ashamed to admit that there were times I did because he was so drastically different to you. And I—"

Dick could see the pain in his father's eyes as he trailed off. And he immediately felt guilty for bringing it up. "You missed me, I was gone more often with the team then you were used to."

"That doesn't make it okay." Bruce argued firmly, but quietly. "I caught myself wanting him, wishing he was you on occasion because he was so stubborn and you had been more respectful, but I had to force myself to stop. Because I was wrong, it was wrong . I never should have done that to him or you. I should have gotten him counseling, anger management before I let him anywhere near that suit.”

Dick sighed, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall. "You were going through empty nest syndrome— yes that's a thing . And I wanted to be out of your shadow. I wanted to be on my own, needed or at least I thought I needed to be alone in order to make a name for myself and help others in my own way. We both could have done better, been better for him. But you loved him, I loved him even if it took me a while, he's family, wasn't that enough?"

Silence was met with that question.

In the pit of his stomach even Dick knew the answer to the question, though he wanted to deny it. Regardless of how much they had loved Jason, protected him, tried to show him how flawed and dangerous his ideals on criminals were, Jason always fought back, with such intensity, he was still so stubborn and angry. Reckless, was the one word that described his little brother perfectly. Always risking his life to prove a point, always thinking he was invincible simply cause he wore that yellow R on his chest.

Loving Jason hadn't been enough.

Being Robin hadn't been enough, because while Dick had dealt with his own trauma, while he still retained a sense of justice, of fairness that his parents and Bruce instilled in him at a young age. Jason hadn't had that, he grew up in a world of unfairness, stealing either to survive or get revenge on others that wronged him. It was cruel and harsh, but that had been Jason's reality for years until Bruce took him in. Robin had been Dick's outlet, but for Jason it was his life . The mantle had been enough for Dick until he was ready to let it go, but what they all realized too late was that it hadn't been for Jason.

No matter how much Jason had loved having the mantle of the Boy Wonder, being by Batman's side, doing good and feeling like he was worth something, in the end, he hadn't been ready.

"This time it'll be different." Bruce said firmly, in the tone he normally used for a case, when he was at his most serious and determined. " I'll be different. We'll get him the help he needs."

Dick licked him chapped lips, "When he does remember... Bruce, you know he's not just gonna stay home, right? He'll want to fight, want to help. And if we say no, if he feels at all trapped here, there's a possibility that he'll—"

"Go back to the League of Shadows, because there he had freedom, there he hadn't been a prisoner." Bruce finished for him.

"And if that happens?"

For the first time, Bruce looked at him, eyes tired and worn. "If that happens we'll need to let Jason decide for himself. Give him an option, reasons, ways for him to stay but... allow him to leave if he wants.”

Dick couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “You’re being serious?”

”Despite his physical appearance, Dick. He's not a child. You said it yourself, if we force him to stay he'll just run. Like he did that one time I benched him for a few days for getting hurt on patrol. He'd leave and return to that apartment I tracked him to when he was young."

Bile rose in Dick's throat at the mere suggestion. "We just let him leave . Go back to them? How can you even—!"

The emotion in Bruce's eyes switched from frustration to anguish, and gave Dick a look crossed between Batman's scowl and Bruce Wayne's frown, Dick clamped up at the sight, "I don't . But it maybe something we'll have to stomach, so we don't lose him all over again.” Bruce closed his eyes, for a moment, looking as though he aged another ten years, he looked so exhausted. “We have to realize that Jason has been this Maigo for the past seven years. Even if he does remember his old life. There may come a time— may come a day where he needs to choose between who he had been as Jason Todd or who he became as Maigo."

Dick's heart began to beat fearfully. "And if he chooses the other?"

Bruce turned his head and adjusted the mirror, looking at Jason once more. "Then we save him. And if we can't save him..." Bruce's fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly until his knuckles turned white. "Then we have to let him go."

Tears strung to his eyes, Dick could do nothing as a small, choked sob escaped his lips. He covered his mouth with a hand to stifle the noises. They couldn't, he couldn't...

They couldn't just let Jason go after just getting him back. Jason’s death had destroyed them enough but loosing Jason to the League of Shadows, to Ra's and Talia?

It was a kind of dread and agony Dick didn't know he'd be able to handle. 

Through his sobs, the ringing in his ears, Dick faintly heard the familiar telltale signs of the Autopilot being engaged. And before he had time to look up, he feels Bruce lean forward in his seat, curled his fingers on the nap of Dick's neck and drag him forward. He went willingly because he needs something to clung to, Dick buried his nose into Bruce's shoulder and just trembles. "We can't lose him again. We can't..."

He'd been expecting Bruce to give him a determined speech on how they wouldn't lose Jason again, that they'd fight for him, claw tooth and nail to protect whim, even from himself. But the dread in his stomach didn't cease when Bruce let out a choked and broken noise deep within his throat.

"I know, but we may not have a choice."

Chapter Text

From the moment he gained consciousness an immediate sense of dread filled him, he opened his eyes and that feeling only skyrocketed when he didn't recognize the ceiling above him. His once oak wooden decorative ceiling was now replaced with a light tan hue with a brown trim. Red flags immediately blared loudly in his ears, his survival instincts kicking in because this wasn't his room, this wasn't the League of Assassins base. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air felt heavy, suffocating even. 

He struggled to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his head, he winced, his eyes blurred. Maigo blinked the haze away and surveyed the area around him; The room was fully furnished,through the dim light he could vaguely make out a small bookshelf along one wall, posters seemed to be pinned with tacks along another. The light from the lamp casted eerie shadows on the walls. The air felt heavy, suffocating even. As his gaze followed along the room, his eyes fell on someone sitting in a chair near the corner. Maigo looked, strained his eyes against the light and realized it was Bruce Wayne.

His head throbbed, as confusion washed over him as he tried to recall what had happened. Memories seemed to blur together, forming an indistinguishable mess. It was as if a thick fog had settled in his mind, clouding his thoughts. 

As if sensing his distress, Mr Wayne blinked his eyes open and he found him instantly. Those blue eyes widened just a fraction when he realized he was awake, He stood up, "Good morning." He greeted, slowly, offering him a small smile before falling silent. They stared at each other for a moment, then the moment faded as something seemed to register with Mr Wayne, his expression grew wide with realization and concern, "Do you remember me? What happened at Happy Harbor?"

It took him a moment to fully register what the man was saying, he recalled flashes, images of memories. 

A recon mission gone wrong, 

His identity being revealed. 

Nightwing

Batman

His name was Jason Todd. 

Heart still beating, body still tense, he managed a small nod. A memory of him sobbing into the man’s chest flashed in his eyes and looked away, embarrassed. 

"Good, that's good. When I saw your... Well I didn't know if you remembered anything.” Bruce gave him a small smile, “How are you feeling?”

Jason moved his ankle around and checked himself for injuries, “Sore, I guess. My ankle feels a little better.” 

“What about emotionally, Jason? Yesterday was… it was a lot.”

He blinked, his voice felt like lead, being called by that name while his head ached was making him dizzy, “Sorry. I… don’t …”

A flash of sadness filled Bruce’s eyes a moment then it was gone and he gently reached for his hand, held it tightly. “I understand.” Bruce looked like he had aged twenty years right before his eyes. “Would you prefer to be called Maigo?”

He made a face, biting his cheek again. That name did not sound right coming from Bruce. Maigo had no association with Bruce Wayne, the Batman. That name was what the League called him, what his master and Talia called him, his assassin brothers and sisters. He glared at hands, frustrated. Just who was he now anyway? Was he the boy Bruce had lost or the assassin Ra’s made him? 

Bruce pulled him back to reality by cupping his cheek. “It’s okay. Take your time.” 

He breathed in through his nose. “I… it’s not that I… I just don’t know who to be .” 

The look Bruce gave him made guilt creep into his chest. He stroked his thumb along his cheek, “Oh Jay.” 

He blinked, that… that felt familiar, that felt right . Jay was warmth, it was comforting, it was sitting in a library and listening to Bruce read him a story by the fireplace. It was taking him to his first baseball game, holding him close on the anniversary of his mother’s death. It wasn’t just a name, it was Bruce’s way of showing how much he loved him. 

A lump formed in his throat. “Jay…?” 

Bruce moved, sitting on the bed, reaching an arm around his back, pulling him in close. “Yes Jay. That’s you . It’s always been you.” Tears burned his eyes as he pressed his face into Bruce’s shoulder. He felt safe, warm, this was familiar to him and he clung to it. “God, I missed you.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, holding each other. Before Bruce let go and stepped out of the room to get him some breakfast. Once the man was gone, he reached out with his hand and turned the lamp on. The bookshelf stood proudly against the wall, adorned with a collection of literary treasures. Amongst the rows of novels and famous series, his eyes caught sight of familiar titles; Oliver Twist. Murder on the Orient Express, along with others the Hobbit and Mice of Men . 

He remembered them. 

These were the many books Bruce had hand selected along the shelves when he constructed his library for him. On his thirteenth birthday he’d asked for a book, he didn’t remember what one but it was the only thing he wanted, he didn’t want to come off as greedy. Yet imagine his astonishment when Bruce instead of getting him one book, made him his own personal library in the manor. Amongst them, these had been his favorite and he brought them to his room, as they were now off limits to anyway else. 

With a slight turn of his head, he noticed a guitar leaning against the corner of the room. It’s polished wood was dyed a deep crimson red and well-worn strings beckoned to him. He could hear distant echoes of laughter in his ears, as he got the feeling that Bruce hadn’t been a fan of this instrument. He pushed himself off the bed and strode over to it, now that he was closer, he saw the layer of dust that covered the paint and strings. 

Once on an unusually serene day, he savored his morning tea while Talia gracefully settled across from him, gently placing his little brother in his arms. They shared a quiet moment before Talia opened up a discussion about Damian's musical future. As a brief silence enveloped them, he pondered for a moment before offering a suggestion.

“A guitar?”

Talia blinked at him, giving him a pondering expression, “ Too modern. Perhaps a violin.” 

He tilted his head to the side, holding Damian close to his chest. “Modern? Wasn’t the violin made in the 16th century? That would make a guitar older as it was crafted in the 15 century.”

Talia laughed, setting her tea down on the saucer, “ Depends on the version. Every instrument evolves over time. The violin in its present form is significantly older than the guitar in its present form. Let alone an electric one.”

“I… never said anything about an electric.” 

She gave him a look, her eyes studying him. “You didn’t have too.”

He didn’t realize back then, why she gave him such a look, it was a knowing look, he had unknowingly suggested something from his past. Hesitantly, he reached for the instrument letting his fingers glide over the strings delicately, the note that played was a high note followed by a low in octave. It felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. A feeling he couldn’t quite place gripped his heart and behind him he heard Bruce let out a strained noise. Turning, he saw Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed, looking old and worn. Bruce shoulders slumped, one hand covering his face, “You’d play that as loud as you could, playing it at all hours of the night, it’d drive me crazy, but that was half the fun for you, you used to tell me the music ‘spoke to you’ and that—“

“You wouldn’t understand how freeing it was.” 

He remembered.

Bruce looked up, eyes misty. 

They stared at each other for a moment, as silence filled the room. He stared and looked at Bruce, really looked at him and noticed that his features were etched with a deep chasm of grief, he remembered reading a book at the League, he has went to their library to search for a book on how to care for infants when came across one that was one about recognizing the telltale signs of grief, and Bruce held all the signs. It was clear that Bruce had mourned for him deeply, him and Dick both, and it had to be the reason why he had no memories of himself for the past seven years. 

Jason could feel it, deep within his soul. He wanted to ask, to question his father for answers yet the look on Bruce’s face told him he shouldn’t, he looked too compromised to give him anything solid. 

Slowly, he walked over, sitting down next to Bruce, before gently laying the side of his head on his arm, “I don’t fully recall it all yet but I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Bruce let out a wet chuckle, draping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close, “Oh Jaylad, you are the sweetest, most reckless child I had ever met. You fought hard for the innocent, yet were always rushing into battle without much thought. You are cocky, headstrong, stubborn and different from Dick in so many ways, and still so full of potential.”

He fidgeted under the description; all of that sounded like him even now and he didn’t know how to feel about it, “I’m… sorry?”

Bruce tightened his hold, pressing his chin on the top of his head, “Don’t be, I wouldn’t trade it for anything, you were such a light in my life, Jay and when I…” Bruce trailed off, his voice pained. “When you—“

“Bruce?”

They both jerked their heads toward the voice, and saw Dick standing there in the doorway. 

“What is it, chum?”

Dick gave Jay a tight smile, before looking at their father, “Tim’s on his way back.”