Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’ve got some new toys,” Emerick Sheppard said. Bruce had never specifically met him before, but being one of the best surgeons in the city meant Bruce had encountered him plenty of times before.

Bruce absently nodded, looking down at the glass of champagne he’d been nursing all night. He’d only been half paying attention to Sheppard. To any of the guests at this gala, really. He’d come to this little corner to get away from everyone, but alas. He should have never expected to be left alone.

The last thing he’d wanted to do that night was go to this gala, but as Alfred so scornfully pointed out, he had to go to at least some of them. That is, if he wanted to keep his public persona up.

If he wanted to become a recluse only ever seen in public with little boys, then he could skip all the galas forever, or so Alfred had said. Bruce honestly didn’t care at that point. The tabloids would say what they would say, regardless of what evidence he put forth to prove he had Dick and Jason’s absolute best interest at heart when he took them in. As long as his boys were safe, opinions did not matter one bit to Bruce.

Attending galas was becoming more and more difficult for him. It was impossible not to look around the room and wonder, which one of these men have ever harmed a child?

Bruce definitely could have dropped off his donation to the hospital’s board directly, and skipped this whole ordeal.

“Your newest one is something else,” Sheppard added, and Bruce merely nodded again.

He’d ordered a new Ferrari a few months back. Limited run. He hadn’t received delivery of it yet, but he was looking forward to showing Jason it. He’d have to pull Jason out of school on delivery day, he thought. Or, maybe, pick Jason up from school in it.

Jason didn’t even know Bruce had ordered it.

That was going to be a fun day, he already knew it.

“I test drove it several times,” Sheppard continued, “but I never pulled the trigger and committed. I probably should have. It was the best I’d ever had.”

Bruce shifted, and flitted his eyes over to Sheppard, looking at him for perhaps the first time the entire gala. Ferraris were good cars, but they weren’t that good.

Plus. None of the new ones had been delivered yet, so where had he test drove one?

“You’ve probably broken him in by now,” Sheppard said.

Dread pooled deep in Bruce’s gut. He laser focused on Sheppard, trying to find any other way to interpret what he was saying.

But then Sheppard smiled a smile that made the hairs on the back of Bruce’s neck stand, as he said wistfully, “How do you feel about sharing? It’s so much harder to find a good night with most of the houses gone.”

As quick as the dread had crept in, fury took over quicker. Red hot and blinding.

“Are you talking about my son,” Bruce asked darkly, squeezing the champagne glass so tightly in his hand it snapped.

“No,” Sheppard said, confusion thick in his voice. He jolted, when Bruce’s glass broke, just before his eyes went wide as saucers.

Bruce dropped the shards of glass and in one swift movement grabbed Sheppard by the neck and slammed him into the wall behind him.

Behind him, Bruce heard a few startled gasps, along with at least one “Whoa, hey,” from fellow guests, but Bruce tuned them all out.

“That boy is a child,” he snarled, right in Sheppard’s face, his voice only loud enough for him to hear. It took all his strength to fight the red taking over and stop at only pulling him forward an inch to slam him back into the wall again. “He is my foster son and I will do anything to protect him from monsters like you, do you hear me?”

“I—I don’t know what—“ Sheppard started, but Bruce cut him off with another jostle.

“I never want to see you near me, my kids, or my property again, do you understand?”

“Wayne,” someone said from his right. Michael Akins, his mind supplied. “Come on,” he said, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “I think you’ve had a bit too much.”

But all Bruce did was push Sheppard back up against the wall, when he attempted to take advantage of the momentary distraction to slip away.

“Did you hear me?” he growled, tightening his grip on Sheppard’s neck. He wasn’t constricting anything, merely digging his nail into the side of his neck.

“Yes, yes,” Sheppard exclaimed, “I heard you.”

“Bruce,” Akins said softly, almost in a warning tone.

Again, Bruce ignored him in favor of saying, loudly, “In fact, stay away from everyone’s children.”

That elicited a couple more gasps from their onlookers.

“Bruce, I don’t know what you’re on—“ Sheppard started, but abruptly shut his mouth with Bruce jostled him one last time.

“I will do anything to protect my boy. Don’t forget it,” he whispered in a tone that had Sheppard turning white.

Good.

Bruce let go and took a step back, freeing his arm from Akins’ in the same movement.

“Come on, you’re way too drunk,” Akins tried again, but Bruce brushed right past him.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, dodging another hand that reached out for him as he made his way to the exit. He’d not had more than three sips of champagne all night.

Which was good, because Bruce needed the clear mind for the research he had to do that night.

As he walked, the little crowd they’d attracted started to disperse amongst a chorus of whispers. Let them talk, Bruce thought. He didn’t care.

Before he reached the exit, however, Commissioner Gordon stepped right in front of him, his face nothing but exasperation.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Gordon asked.

Bruce stopped short and flexed his hands as he took a calming breath. “Mr. Sheppard asked if he could borrow Jason for the night,” was all Bruce had to say, through clenched teeth. And really, Bruce had no idea how he didn’t turn around and bash Sheppard’s face in right then.

Except, maybe, the thought that Jason needed him. If he attacked Sheppard as Bruce, he’d be arrested, and he could not do that to Jason.

Even if it would be so satisfying to crush one of his abusers like the roach he was.

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly, before they refocused off somewhere behind Bruce, taking on an edge of steel. With a pat of Bruce’s shoulder, he walked off in the general direction of Sheppard.

Bruce didn’t even turn to watch Sheppard be detained.

-

When Bruce got home, nearly an hour later thanks to an accident on the freeway his driver was unable to avoid, Bruce found Alfred still awake, sitting in the den, reading a book in front of the false fireplace Bruce installed the year before.

Bruce dropped his tie on one of the side tables and dropped down in one of the armchairs adjacent to Alfred.

“Everything all right, lad?” Alfred asked, as he shut his book and looked over at Bruce.

All Bruce did was stare into the fire.

It was still a strange thing, to Bruce. To find the fireplace lit so often in the middle of summer. But that was why Alfred had Bruce install one. So he could use it no matter the temperature outside. It was fake, after all. The heat could be turned on or off independently of the fire effect.

And Alfred quite enjoyed sipping tea and reading by a fire.

Alfred hummed, when Bruce did nothing more but stare into the fire, and set his book down on the table beside him. He picked up his tea and held it, just sitting there until Bruce finally spoke, several minutes later.

“I’ve never felt this way about Gotham,” he said, still staring straight ahead, “I almost can’t help but wonder, is it even worth it? Trying to save the city?”

“Of course it’s worth it, lad,” Alfred responded immediately, his tone gentle and lacking any of the scorn Bruce felt for himself just thinking thoughts like these, “If you don’t stand up for the children of Gotham, who will?”

“They’re everywhere, Alfred,” Bruce bemoaned, “People… people I’ve known my whole life. People I went to school with. Cops. Judges. Lawyers. Teachers. Doctors.”

“What happened tonight, lad?”

Bruce swallowed. “Emerick Sheppard asked if he could borrow ‘my new toy.’” He finally looked over at Alfred, just to see Alfred sit back in his chair, looking like he’d just been punched.

“I wanted to kill him, Alfred,” Bruce admitted. He still wanted to kill him. It was a feeling he had a lot when dealing with the demons of Jason’s past.

“That is not an unreasonable reaction to a man asking if he could assault your child,” Alfred said steadily.

Or, Bruce silently fumed, to Sheppard’s admittance that he’d done it before.

“Is it—“ Bruce started, but had to pause to prevent his own voice from cracking, “Is it even right to keep Jason here? He—his abusers are everywhere. No matter how hard I try, I can’t protect him from all of them. There—there has to be hundreds of them.” Maybe. Maybe even more than that.

Bruce had to blink away the tears, at that thought. At the thought of what that precious child upstairs had been through.

In Bruce’s city.

Done by Bruce’s friends and acquaintances.

“He is settling in quite well here,” Alfred said evenly, but Bruce shook his head.

How could Jason settle in well? Once he started school? When he finally had to start interacting with the people of Gotham. The men of Gotham? How could Jason possibly be expected to handle that?

“You know,” Bruce said, clearing his throat, “the first day I met him, he asked me to put him on a bus and send him to Topeka.”

“Did he now?” Alfred hummed.

Bruce nodded. “He said that would be the best thing I could do for him. Get him far away from Gotham and everyone within it.” At the time he hadn’t given it more than a passing thought. “He was right, Alfred.” Sending him far away from Gotham and his abusers was probably the best thing for him.

Especially now that the Falcones were pretty well handled.

“He might have been,” Alfred said slowly, almost cautiously, “but that statement is no longer correct.”

Finally Bruce looked up to find Alfred regarding him carefully. “How do you figure?” he asked.

Alfred tilted his head and said, plainly, “Bruce, he is settling. I know you see it, too.”

He nodded again. It wasn’t like he could dispute that, because Jason was seeming to relax some, around them. To fall into a routine, even if that routine involved turning down all of Bruce’s offers of company and hiding away in his room all day.

“He is beginning to trust us,” Alfred said, “And he’s forming those healthy attachments to adults children so desperately need. If you send him away and cut those delicate connections he’s forming, he may never form new ones. You cannot do that to him.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred, of course, made sense. But really all it all meant was Bruce had screwed up already. When he brought Jason home and let him form those connections. When he’d been the one to offer Jason safety, in an environment where he would never truly be free from the demons of his past.

Sure, Bruce could protect him from them ever harming him again, but no matter how hard Bruce tried, it would be impossible to protect Jason from the ghosts of them, lurking around, simply being present.

“You love him, don’t you?” Alfred asked.

“You don’t even have to ask that,” was Bruce’s immediate response. That wasn’t even in question. How Bruce felt did not matter, though. All that mattered was Jason’s safety, both physical and mental.

Alfred nodded, apparently content with Bruce’s answer. But he said, “I love him, too. We can raise him here to be happy and healthy. His past…” Alfred paused, and let out a deep sigh before pressing on, “His past is going to follow him no matter where he goes. He will always carry this trauma with him. We can shield him from the men of Gotham, if necessary. We can send him to school in Metropolis, for instance. I do not mind making that commute for him.”

“I hope that won’t be necessary,” Bruce mumbled. That drive would be hell on both Alfred and Jason. If they did that, Bruce would have to consider just moving them all to Metropolis, and he being the one to commute to Gotham, to do his business.

Alfred smiled, and leaned forward enough so he could reach out and pat Bruce on the knee. “Jason is safe, lad. He’s in his room right now, likely reading or playing with his legos if he is not asleep.”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile a ghost of a smile at that. Because Jason was being a kid.

Just like he deserved.

“And he will continue to be safe because of you,” Alfred continued, “so why don’t you go downstairs and find evidence on this Sheppard fellow so the commissioner can lock him up so he does not harm any other children.”

Bruce nodded determinedly. “You’re right,” he said, as he pushed himself to his feet, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“Of course, my boy,” Alfred replied, picking his book back up off the table, “Do let me know if you need anything.”

Getting all of the abusers in Gotham locked up was most definitely the best plan. Bruce could keep Jason safe no matter where they took him, but all the other little boys and girls in Gotham?

The only way Bruce could protect them was by weeding out the monsters within the city, because Alfred was right. If Bruce didn’t protect them, who would?

And the next morning, mere hours after Batman delivered a folder full of dirt of Emerick Sheppard, guaranteeing him a life sentence behind bars, Bruce sat across the table from Jason and didn’t even tell him.

Another one was behind bars, and Jason was safe.

That was what mattered most.

Chapter Text

Parent’s day at school was a little annoying, Jason had to admit. Sure, he’d known it was going to happen weeks before it did, but he’d been completely ignoring the fact it would.

Completely.

Most of the kids had parents that worked, so it wasn’t like there would be a ton of parents there, right?

Jason had hoped, at least.

But it was fine. Like half the kids had parents there, and for the most part it didn’t affect Jason’s day at all. They still had all their classes, and the parents didn’t even attend all the classes with them.

Which was great.

But during tech lab, the stupid parents were there, and they were judging them, Jason was quite sure.

At least that’s what it felt like, with his lab partner’s dad standing off to the side, chatting up the other four parents visiting and occasionally laughing.

“He’s so annoying,” Sadie, his lab partner, whispered to him, “you’re so lucky your parents didn’t come.”

“My foster dad is busy,” was all Jason said. He hadn’t even invited Bruce, because of that. It felt kind of selfish to ask him to come to his school and stand around all day, when he had so much going on. Jason already stole enough of his time.

“I wish my dad was,” Sadie said.

Jason smiled a ghost of a smile, and finally hit start on their computer lesson.

Tech lab was such a cool class, Jason had to admit. Each week they had different partners at different stations, and got to go through computer lessons with hands-on projects. He especially liked that he didn’t get stuck with one partner all year. Sadie was a good partner, but she was a rare. Most the other kids were highly annoying.

This week was also one of the more exciting modules, because they were building co2 dragsters. At the end of the year, once everyone had theirs built, they were going to have a big race, too. Which just sounded so cool to Jason.

Plus he liked Sadie well enough. She was his permanent partner in science, and she was always super nice about him not knowing things. Whenever they hit something Jason should have learned in 7th grade, she’d ‘remind him.’

“I changed schools last year,” she told him near the start of the year, “so I get how annoying it is to change curriculums like that.”

Jason had merely smiled, keeping the fact he’d had no curriculum for the past several years to himself.

That was no one’s business but his tutor’s.

Today they were supposed to start using the power saw, but half way through the class period, they couldn’t even figure out how to turn it on.

“Maybe we should ask Mr. Masker,” Jason said, when they followed the instructions the computer laid out for the third time. They were both wearing safety goggles and gloves, and had done all the design work on their blocks of wood. All that was left was doing the major cuts, so they could then file and sand.

But the stupid saw wouldn’t start.

“Maybe my dad can help,” Sadie said, “he’s a mechanic.”

“Sure,” Jason said. Though he wasn’t sure if mechanic necessarily meant able to start up the saw table.

“Dad,” Sadie called, sticking her head out of the little shop area in the tech lab.

It was enclosed probably to keep the sound and dust and stuff from the rest of the classroom, he assumed. Jason wasn’t quite sure. What it really meant was the teacher forgot about them a lot.

“What is it, dear,” Sadie’s dad called back, and Sadie stepped outside as the two of them went back and forth about the saw not working.

Jason clicked forward in the module to see if there was anything else they had to do that period, but apparently all they were doing was cutting.

“Maddie says Mr. Masker has to put in a key,” Sadie said, poking her head back into the little room.

“Oh,” Jason said, “That makes sense.” It would have been helpful had the computer told them that.

A minute later, Mr. Masker appeared in their room with Sadie’s dad behind him. “Katie and Tina are having a crisis,” he said, as he inserted the key into the table saw, “So I’m leaving Mr. Santiago to supervise.”

“Okay,” Jason agreed, while Sadie simply nodded.

Mr. Masker leveled both of them with a serious look as he said, “Be safe, be careful, Sadie pull your hair back, and you two watch each other for potential dangers. This is a real saw, and I want both of you to finish with the same number of fingers you started with.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie said, pulling her hair back into a bun.

Jason just nodded.

“Roll those sleeves up,” he added, pointing at Jason before he turned and went back to help with whatever crisis was happening. Jason pulled his gloves off and started rolling his sleeves up one at a time, the best he could.

“It might be easier if you just take the hoody off,” Sadie’s dad said, but Jason ignored him.

He’d gotten much better at rolling his sleeves up himself.

“I’ll go first,” Sadie said, and Jason nodded.

Sadie took forever to get hers all cut, and ended up having her dad do half the cuts for her. By the time it was Jason’s turn, they had less than ten minutes left in the period.

“Sorry,” Sadie said, “but I bet you can finish it in time. Or maybe Mr. Masker will let you use some of study hall to finish up.”

“Nah,” Sadie’s dad said, setting a hand on Jason’s back, “I’m sure Peter here is plenty capable of getting it done right now.”

Jason froze, his hand half way to the power button on the table saw. He tensed, but thankfully the asshole didn’t leave his hand there long.

“His name is Jason, Dad,” Sadie said.

Jason looked back over at the dude, but he honestly had no clue who he even was. He’d never seen him before.

Right??

Why would he call him Peter???

The asshole cocked his head and gave Jason a look from head to toe.

His gaze made Jason’s blood turn to ice as a chill ran down his back. 

“Oh,” Santiago said, “I’m sorry, I must have mixed you up with another kid.”

“Peter Yocum looks nothing like Jason,” Sadie said with a laugh, “how could you mix them up?”

“Well, I’m sure Jason here can handle the table saw,” the asshole said again, patting Jason on the back again.

“Stop touching me,” Jason snapped, thought it felt half hearted. He was trying his best to shake himself of the freeze.

The guy paused, and gave Jason an annoyed look, but he retracted his fucking hand and kept it to himself.

Jason tried to focus, he did. He had to focus and finish his car, but he couldn’t.

All he could think about was the fact there was an asshole in there in that tiny room alone with him and Sadie.

He—Jason. He wanted out. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly navigated to his textline with Bruce. ‘Come get me,’ he texted, before pocketing the phone again.

“Are you okay?” Sadie asked, but Jason shook his head. He walked over to their little cubby and put his car away, then grabbed his literature textbook and notebook. That was his next class, but there was no way he was going.

No way.

“Jason?” Sadie asked, and Jason finally paused and looked at her.

“Sorry,” he said, “sorry, I have to go.”

“Go?” she asked, giving him a truly quizzical look, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he said, but quickly shook his head, “I mean yes. I just have to go. I... Forgot. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Sadie said uncertainly, but she stepped out of his way, and Jason exited the room and quickly as possible.

“Whoa,” Mr. Masker said, from across the room just before Jason was able to escape, “Where are you going?”

Jason waited for him to cross the room, then turned to face him and said, “I have to go,” he paused, for a moment, then added, “My dad is coming to get me.”

Mr. Masker’s face quickly changed from annoyed to something far more concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, as he bent over a little to be closer to Jason’s height.

“Yes, I just have to go,” Jason said. He was so fucking close to crying, he could just feel it.

“Come here,” Mr. Masker said, hovering a hand behind Jason and leading him out into the hall. As soon as the door was shut again, he bent back over and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Bruce is coming to get me,” Jason said, instead of answering, “Please.” The very last thing Jason wanted to do was fucking cry in front of a random teacher. At school.

And he was like two seconds away.

“Okay. Go to the counselor or front office to wait for him. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Jason agreed quickly. He turned around, and booked it right out of that hall.

The very second he was out of Mr. Masker’s sight, though, he turned and went down the adjacent hall, where he knew there were empty classrooms. Because his vision was already blurring and he couldn’t fucking think and he didn’t even know if Bruce was actually coming.

All he could think about as he slipped into an empty classroom and collapsed down against one of the walls was he didn’t even recognize the guy.

Why didn’t he recognize him?

Chapter Text

Bruce’s blood went cold when he received a solitary ‘Come get me’ text from Jason.

Way back on the first day of school, Bruce had told Jason he was allowed to text Bruce at any time for any reason to come pick him up. Jason had been attending school for months, already, and he’d yet to take Bruce up on that offer. So whatever it was, Bruce knew it was serious.

Jason often texted him throughout the day, though, sharing silly things classmates or teachers said, or observations he had about various things around him. It was school policy that cellphones remained in lockers, but Jason had special permission to keep his on him, only if he didn’t abuse the privilege and text during class.

Bruce could tell he broke that rule, sometimes.

Like with this text Bruce received, with a single request to ‘come get me.’ Bruce knew it was in the middle of fourth period.

‘Okay,’ Bruce shot back instantly, ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Bruce’s imagination could run wild with coming up for reasons Jason would want to leave school in the middle of the day, but he was trying to practice restraint, and wait for Jason to reply before he jumped to conclusions.

It took him several minutes to get fully ready to leave the house. He’d maybe gone back to bed after dropping Jason off at school that morning, so he hadn’t been dressed yet. But it didn’t take long, and he was headed out the door within five minutes of Jason’s text.

On the way over, Bruce checked his textline again, only to see Jason hadn’t replied yet. Or even opened his texts. ‘Everything okay?’ Bruce texted anyway, all in hopes Jason would reply before Bruce got there.

He’d like to know what he was about to deal with.

But all that was wishful thinking, because by the time Bruce arrived at Jason’s school, ten minutes later, Jason still had not even read Bruce’s texts.

Bruce parked as close as he could. The school’s lot was fuller than normal, but Bruce didn’t think too much of it. Security at the school was top notch, so Bruce wasn’t at-all concerned that someone might sneak in and snatch Jason.

In fact, the school had extra security procedures for Jason specifically. When Bruce had gone to register Jason, the principal had been the one to bring up the subject, before Bruce even got to it on his long list of things to address.

‘Bruce Wayne’s kid,’ the principal had said, ‘he will likely need a little more security than the average student.’

‘Yes,’ Bruce had agreed, ‘and for more reasons than that I’d rather not get into.’

So as a result, Jason was allowed to keep a phone on him, and staff was not allowed to release him to anyone but Alfred or Bruce. Which meant, in the afternoons, they typically had to walk into the building to get Jason, since the security guard would not allow Jason to leave unless he could physically see one of the two of them were present.

Bruce had assumed such strict measures would chafe Jason, but thus far he’d not said one word of complaint about it.

It was very possible the measures made him feel safer attending school, Bruce wasn’t quite sure. Until that day, Jason hadn’t seemed to dislike a single thing about school.

Getting through the front door was a breeze, since the security guard knew him quite well at this point. All it took was a quick pass through the metal detector and a quick exchange of pleasantries.

Then Bruce found himself in the front office, talking to the receptionist and secretary there.

“Jason texted me asking me to come get him,” he told Janice, the receptionist, “but he isn’t replying to any follow up texts, so I’m afraid I’m a little in the dark about what’s wrong.”

Not that Bruce would tell them specifically what was wrong. All the school knew was Jason was a foster child, and he got pulled out of school every Friday for his therapy appointment. They’d actually fixed his schedule so he wasn’t missing anything other than gym during his appointment, which Jason highly appreciated.

Jason had expressed concern that he’d miss out on school too much by going to therapy, and Bruce was not keen at all on letting Jason choose school over it. Therapy helped Jason, Bruce knew it helped.

“Hmm,” Janice said, “I’ve not seen him. Let me call his current teacher.” She started typing at her computer, looking up Jason’s class schedule, Bruce assumed.

His current teacher would be Ms. Swift, his literature teacher. Bruce heard her name a lot at dinner each night. Jason absolutely adored his literature class, which came as a shock to absolutely no one.

Janice spoke on the phone for a few seconds, and from the sounds of it Jason hadn’t even showed up to class. As soon as she hung up, she frowned and said, “Ms. Swift says he isn’t in class.”

Figured.

Bruce really hoped that was just because he was hiding somewhere, upset about something. And not because anyone had got hold of him…

He wasn’t letting himself consider that possibility yet.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and quickly pulled up his custom GPS program. That had been another discussion before Jason started school. Him allowing Bruce to track him.

Jason had been surprisingly okay with it. Bruce had expected some pushback, but instead Jason had offered none.

It took a second to load, but Bruce relaxed just a touch when he saw Jason was inside the building still.

“I’ve got a tracker on his phone, mind if I go find him myself?” Bruce asked Janice. Visitors were not allowed to roam alone, he knew. It was yet another security policy the school had.

“Of course, Martie can go with you,” she said, waving over at the secretary.

Bruce wasted no time heading through the halls to where it appeared Jason was.

Martie didn’t say much, but commented, “This whole wing over here is new this school year. We haven’t made use of a lot of the classrooms yet, but all our science and technology classes are out this way.”

“It’s quite nice,” Bruce said. He’d already been given a grand tour of the whole school, along with Jason and Alfred, before the year started. He’d also asked if the school needed anything and had been told ‘no, we’re doing quite well right now.’

They had to turn down one last hall, where the lights were actually only half on. According to his tracker, Jason was in a classroom to the right, so he started peering into the windows on each door until he saw Jason’s signature red hoody.

“There he is,” Bruce whispered, pointing inside the classroom.

Martie stood up on her toes to look inside and said, “Oh dear, the poor thing.” It was a little hard to miss that Jason was curled up in a ball and crying into his arms.

“I’ll handle it,” he murmured, “can I take him straight home?”

With a nod, Martie said, “I’ll go get you the check out slip and bring it back.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, just as he quietly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Jason looked up the second the door opened and Bruce peeked his head inside, but immediately buried his face again when his eyes landed on Bruce.

“Hey, buddy,” Bruce said, “Can I come in?”

All Jason did was nod, so Bruce shut the door behind him and made his way across the room, to where Jason had sat down against the far wall. He sat down near him, but not completely crowding him, either. Just close enough to be there.

And he just sat there, for several long minutes.

In fact, he sat so long, Martie came back with the slip before Jason even said a single word. She quietly opened the door and waved at Bruce before she set it down on a shelf near the door. Bruce merely nodded in thanks, and went back to waiting on his boy to calm.

He wished he hadn’t had as much experience dealing with Jasons… he wasn’t even sure how to classify them. Breakdowns? Panic Attacks? Both? But, unfortunately, Jason had them frequently enough, Bruce knew that it was best to just stay near and let Jason calm on his own. Then, once he was calm, offer whatever support he needed.

It was possible Jason’s therapist had given Bruce those instructions, too…

Finally, though, a couple minutes later, Jason mumbled out, “I didn’t recognize him. I don’t recognize him.”

“Who?” Bruce asked immediately, but Jason was back to being silent.

He had to take a deep breath and fight down the instinct to ‘turn to Batman,’ as everyone called it. He wanted to know who and what happened, and how did it happen.

Jason was at school. He was supposed to be safe at school. How did anything happen?

And who did he not recognize? They’d been over the list of all the workers at the school before Jason started, and he’d confirmed he didn’t know any of them.

… Had someone recognized him?

Bruce had so many questions he wanted to ask, but Jason clearly didn’t need an interrogation right now.

That’s what Liz, Jason’s therapist, had told him at least. Some months ago when she was giving him more advice for handling Jason. Don’t demand information from Jason. He was Jason’s caregiver, not the cop on his case.

Jason didn’t need Batman when he was talking about his trauma, she’d then specifically said, he needed Bruce, his supportive caregiver.

As far as Bruce was aware, Jason had not told her who he was, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she knew anyway…

Regardless, Bruce was doing his best to follow all her advice, so he sat there quietly for several long moments as Jason continued to cry his very quiet, heartbreaking cry.

“Sorry,” Jason eventually said, as he uncurled a little and scrubbed at his face.

“You don’t need to be,” Bruce replied. Jason really needed to stop apologizing for crying. He apologized every single time, and really that was the only thing Bruce was upset about.

There was no reason for Jason to be sorry he felt however he felt.

“Were you at work?” Jason asked, after sniffling a little. He rested his arms on top of his knees, still in a bit of a ball, but much more relaxed looking. He still hadn’t looked over at Bruce, though.

“No,” Bruce replied honestly, “I was at home.” He wasn’t going to share he’d maybe been napping. Jason didn’t need any reason to feel guilty.

Jason nodded absently a few times before he asked, “Can we go there?”

“Of course.” Bruce would never get over Jason calling the manor home.

Never.

Or the fact Jason considered it safe and comforting to be there, when he was hurting so bad.

“Are you ready now?” he asked, when Jason didn’t move as much as a twitch.

“I need my backpack,” Jason whispered, after scrubbing his face again.

Figured Jason would want his homework.

“Do you want me to get it for you?” Bruce asked, “We can leave through the door in here.” He was fairly certain the door would be unlocked from the inside, at the very least. The room they were in looked like a science lab, so it was likely meant as a fire escape.

But Jason shook his head. “It sets off an alarm.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, “Take your time. We’re in no rush.”

Jason sat for another couple minutes, but he eventually pushed himself to his feet and said he was ready. Bruce grabbed his little pile of textbook and notebook before Jason could, and held an arm out for Jason to lead the way.

So Jason pulled his hood up and did so.

The halls were still empty, with all the children still being in class, so they thankfully did not run into anyone in their trek to Jason’s locker. Bruce was relieved Jason did not have to face any of his classmates with his splotchy, clearly-been-crying face.

He was thirteen, Bruce remembered what it was like to be thirteen. Other kids could be cruel.

Jason was sluggish as he opened his locker and put a couple text books into his bag, but he did get everything put how he wanted it. He took the books out of Bruce’s hand and shoved them onto the shelf, then grabbed the bag and shut the locker .

Bruce held a hand out for the bag and slung it over his shoulder when Jason handed it over.

They left the building without another word to each other. The security guard waved away Bruce’s attempt to show him the check-out slip he had, and simply opened the door for them both to exit.

“Thanks,” Jason mumbled, then waited for Bruce to pull open the second set of doors leading directly outside.

On the drive home, Bruce’s itch for more information only intensified.

There were so many questions burning in his mind. So much he needed to know. But somehow, he kept his mouth shut, and let the ride home be quiet as Jason leaned against the passenger’s side window, staring blankly outside at all the houses passing by.

When they got home, Jason dropped his backpack on the ground beside the door to the garage, then retreated straight to one of the living rooms.

“Oh dear,” Alfred said, appearing through the door from the kitchen, “what happened?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Bruce replied, as he took his coat off and hung it up on the rack next to the door.

Alfred hummed. “Then I will fix you two some tea and biscuits.”

Bruce nodded and went on down to the room Jason escaped to. Inside, Bruce saw him collapsed down in one of the armchairs, his hood pulled down low over his face.

Quietly, Bruce walked on inside and sat down on one of the couches, content to just sit with Jason for a while. If Jason hadn’t retreated to his room, it meant he didn’t want to be alone.

So Bruce wouldn’t leave him alone.

Alfred came in a little while later and served each of them a cup of tea with two cookies on the plate, saying, “Here you are, lads,” as he did.

“You are a saint, Alfred,” Bruce said.

Jason mumbled, “Thanks,” and sat his down on the table next to him without taking a sip. He did, at least, pick up one of the cookies and started nibbling on it.

And Bruce just sat there. Sipping at his tea, and trying to occupy himself on his phone until Jason was ready.

Finally, finally, what felt like an eternity later, Jason shifted in his seat and said, “I didn’t recognize him.”

Bruce nodded, because Jason had said that earlier, too.

“He- he recognized me,” Jason added.

“Who was it?” Bruce asked. Who had recognized him and what had they done and how fast can Bruce get them locked up?

That was what Bruce wanted to know.

“S-Sadie’s dad,” Jason said, wrapping his arms around himself as he did, “Uh. Sadie Santiago.”

Making a mental note of the name, Bruce asked, “What was he doing at school?” How had Jason encountered a random parent in the middle of the day?

“It was parent’s day,” Jason said, “Like half the kids’ parents were there. I didn’t-I didn’t think anything of it. The kids aren’t ultra rich, y’know? But. But Sadie’s dad recognized me.”

The more Jason talked, the less shaky he sounded, but that wasn’t saying much.

Clearly this entire thing had shaken him tremendously.

“What did he do?” Bruce asked, as gently as he possibly could. He had a feeling he would have to restrain himself in just a second, depending on Jason’s answer.

Because if anyone had touched his boy after he’d promised Jason—

“Nothing,” Jason said quickly, shaking his head, “Nothing bad, I mean.”

It didn’t really reassure Bruce.

“He called me ‘Peter.’”

Bruce dropped his shoulders and sat back in his seat. On the one had, he was glad Jason’s abusers made it so damn easy to identify them, but on the other…

He really wished Jason didn’t have to deal with things like this.

“And,” Jason continued, “He put his hand on my back a couple times.”

At that, Bruce had to take a steadying breath, trying his best not to seem angry.

Because he was angry that anyone dared touched Jason without his permission.

But for someone who had apparently abused him in the past to think he had the right to lay even a finger on him?

Bruce. Bruce really wished he’d been there.

It was parent’s day, apparently. He should have been there.

But. It was probably better for Jason he hadn’t been. Because Bruce would most definitely have failed to keep his rage in check, had he been witness to someone calling his kid by his working name and placing a hand on him.

“I told him to stop,” Jason said shakily, with a watery smile.

“Good job,” Bruce said immediately. He was so proud Jason was at a point where he could do such a thing.

Instead of how he was six months ago, where he would have endured anything someone did, simply to avoid making them angry with him.

“How did he respond?” Bruce asked, even though he was afraid of the answer.

Jason shrugged and said, “He rolled his eyes but backed off.”

Thank goodness for that, Bruce supposed. “Do you want me to take him down?” Bruce asked.

He was going to anyway, but it was probably nice of him to ask.

It took Jason a moment to answer, but eventually he nodded and said, “What if he’s hurting other kids? What if he’s hurting his own kids?”

“I’ll look into him,” Bruce promised.

Jason nodded and sat back, allowing his hood to fall back some so Bruce could finally see his face. He looked like he was on the verge of crying again, and Bruce didn’t blame him.

It had to be terrifying to realize he might not recognize all his rapists.

But Jason took a deep breath and sat up even more before he mumbled, “Sorry I freaked out.”

“You didn’t freak out,” Bruce said, instead of trying to convince him to stop saying sorry, “Do you want to try and see Liz sooner?”

Jason shook his head, as he always did when Bruce asked that question. He’d yet to say yes, but Bruce would keep asking it regardless.

“I can wait until Friday,” Jason said.

“Okay,” Bruce said. He supposed it was Wednesday already.

“I’m proud of you for texting me,” Bruce said after another minute had passed, “and for standing up for yourself against this man.”

Jason nodded, but didn’t react any further. He honestly looked exhausted.

“I didn’t recognize him, Bruce,” he said again.

Bruce frowned and said, “I know.”

“I’m—I’m not going to recognize them all,” he said with a wavering voice, “I’m not going to recognize most of them.” He paused, and after a moment whispered, “There were so many.”

That made Bruce’s heart shatter into a million tiny pieces.

He’d known. He’d already known such a thing was likely. That the number of abusers Jason had was likely staggeringly high, but to hear it.

To hear Jason come realize it.

Before Bruce could do much more than frown harder, Jason said, his voice sounding absolutely broken, “What if—what if they’re just around?They’re around and they’re looking and. And I don’t even know! I can’t even know. Because I don’t recognize them.”

“Jason,” Bruce said, though he wasn’t even sure what he could say.

What could he say?

“It’s not your fault,” he said, already knowing his words were entirely insufficient.

“I know that,” Jason cried, “I just. I don’t even know. I can’t do anything.”

“Do you want to keep going to Gotham schools,” Bruce asked suddenly. He’d not even mentioned such an option existed, since thus far Bristol Middle School had seemed perfect.

But if Jason didn’t feel safe there, anymore…

“What do you mean,” Jason said, scrubbing at his eyes furiously, even though tears were still streaming down his face, “where else would I go?”

“Any of the neighboring cities,” Bruce explained, “You can’t go to public school outside Bristol, but you can go to any private school you want anywhere.”

Jason somehow looked even more upset when he asked, “You mean like boarding school?”

“Well, no,” Bruce said slowly. He didn’t want to send Jason to a boarding school. That would be a horrible idea for a whole list of reasons. “I meant just a day school. Alfred mentioned to me he’d be willing to drive you elsewhere for school.”

“Can,” Jason started, but paused to take a shuddery breath in, “Can I finish this year first? See how it is?”

“Yes, of course. I’m not saying you have to change schools, just that it’s an option, okay bud? Homeschooling is always available to you, too.” Bruce just wanted Jason to be happy and feel safe, everywhere he went.

“I like going to school,” Jason whispered, as he pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly.

Bruce frowned, but nodded. “I know you do.” And Bruce would never get in the way of that.

“I’m just—I’m not going to recognize them,” Jason whispered again, hugging his knees even tighter, “They. They could be anywhere. In any city.”

Bruce nodded slowly.

“People travelled, you know,” Jason said, his breath catching as he spoke, “they came to Gotham for the-the- houses.”

And Bruce… hadn’t known that. His heart sank even further. He should have known that. He knew some men travelled to other countries where child prostitution was legal just for that—it was the obvious conclusion that people would travel to Gotham…

He’d just. He’d been blind.

Maybe purposely blind.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. He really had no other words to offer.

No words could possibly convey how horrible Bruce felt about the entire thing, and how badly he wished he’d just seen what was going on years ago.

Somehow, though, Jason started laughing. A heartbreaking, raspy laugh as he dabbed his eyes dry again.

“It’s not your fault, either,” Jason said, “You’re—you’re the best. I—“ but he cut himself off.

Bruce didn’t need him to finish that thought, though. He knew exactly what Jason was saying.

But the words escaped Bruce as he felt his heart go into his throat. Jason meant everything to him. And the fact that Jason was at this point, of being able to accept and reciprocate positive feelings.

I love you, too, he wanted to say, I love you more than I ever thought possible.

All Bruce could do was hold an arm out, offering Jason a hug, even though he was sitting alone in an armchair, in a clear sign to everyone he didn’t want to be touched.

Incredibly, as it always surprised Bruce when Jason eagerly accepted physical affection, Jason got up immediately and sat down right next to Bruce, letting him wrap his arm around his shoulders and pull him close.

Jason absolutely fell apart in his arms the very second Bruce had him there, so he simply leaned backward and held Jason tight, for however long he needed.

Bruce honestly had no idea what he was going to do about this entire situation. About the fact Jason would have to encounter his abusers far more often than Bruce wanted. Far more often than he deserved

What Jason deserved was to never see one of them ever again. Bruce had no clue how he would make that happen, but he was going to dedicate his life to tracking down every single one of them anyway he could. And every other man who had ever touched any of the other kids at the brothels, too.

No child deserved the torment Jason was being forced to endure.

At least, Bruce thought, as he held Jason close, was Jason had this. Jason was ready and able to accept this.

That was more healing than Bruce had thought possible, way back on the first day Bruce had known him, and Bruce had had to deal with a little boy who thought his body belonged to everyone but himself.

Jason deserved adults in his life that cared for him, and he deserved to feel cared for, especially in moments like those.

Eventually, after Jason had stopped crying and had been sitting there for several long moments, Bruce squeezed him a little tighter and said, “You know, you could have invited me to parent’s day.”

He had no clue why he hadn’t heard about it until after it happened, but he just wanted to make sure Jason knew. Bruce would always, always be there for him, no matter what it was.

Jason shifted, but didn’t try to free himself from Bruce’s arms.

“I would have come,” Bruce added.

With a nod, Jason settled back down and said, “I will next time.”

“Okay,” Bruce agreed. He really hoped Jason actually meant that.

Because he was serious.

He would always be there for his boy. To protect him, and to give him anything else he needed.