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Chapter Text

The Batcave was filled with the soft hum of machinery and the murmur of hushed conversations as the team gathered for their mission debrief. Jason, still in his Red Hood gear, stood at the front of the room, surveying the space with a practiced gaze. Damian, leaning on the desk, was mid-argument with Tim.

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he let out a short, piercing whistle. "Damian, eyes on me," he said.

The room fell silent as Damian's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Jason's. On pure reflex, he immediately sat down on the chair next to the bat computer. Everyone in the room looked horrified, exchanging shocked glances.

"Did the brat actually listen?" Tim said, eyeing the rest of the family.

Dick, seated nearby, turned to Jason with a raised eyebrow. "How did you do that?" was the first thing he asked Jason.

Even after a year of Bruce being away, Richard had always had trouble getting Damian to actually listen without looking like he wanted to murder everyone in the room and then himself. Bruce, observing from the shadows, leaned forward, intrigued by the exchange.

Damian, realizing what he'd done, turned the chair and crossed his arms, asking, "Tt, why are all of you surprised, I listen when I want to."

Both Damian and Jason quickly acted like nothing had happened and returned their focus back to the meeting at hand. Bruce looked equally confused, clearing his throat to regain composure.

"Uhh, well, I guess we shall continue then..." Bruce said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.

The team struggled to regain their composure, exchanging awkward glances as they tried to understand what was happening. Dick leaned over to Jason and whispered, "Seriously, how did you do that?"

Jason's expression remained neutral, but a hint of a smile played on his lips.

As the meeting progressed, Damian participated without incident, though his eyes occasionally flicked to Jason.

This small action did not escape the watchful eye of bruce. During the meeting it seemed like Damian was waiting on Jason's reactions before he responded.

After the meeting, Tim sidled up to Damian and whispered, "You're freaking us out, kiddo. What's going on with you and Jason?"

Damian's response was a shrug and a smirk. "Nothing, Tim. Just showing respect where it's due."

The meeting had adjourned, and Jason swiftly bid his farewells before mounting his motorcycle and speeding off into the night. The Bat-family watched in awe as Damian's focus remained fixed on Jason, unwavering even as he departed.

Once Jason vanished from view, Damian murmured something about finishing a drawing and hastily excused himself, heading upstairs. The remaining team members waited for the door to close behind him before erupting into a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Okay, what the fuck was that??" Steph exclaimed. "I've never seen Damian listen without some form of verbal abuse spewing out of him."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "I must say that his focus was... surprising, to say the least."

Dick listened intently, nodding along with Bruce's words. "Jason didn't even say something sassy when I asked him about it, which is even weirder if you ask me."

Tim chimed in, "They barely know each other, right? I've never actually seen them interact much before."

Just as the discussion was gaining momentum, Alfred appeared to collect the dishes. "Frankly, I think this is enough talk. Come on, go upstairs so I can clean up."

The team quickly dispersed, recognizing the unspoken authority in Alfred's tone. No one wanted to argue with the seasoned butler, especially not when it came to cleaning up after dinner.

As the room emptied, Alfred's knowing gaze lingered, even he was a little confused. Not that he would admit it.

__________________________________

Damian sat in his room, staring at the wall as his mind replayed the events of the meeting. He couldn't shake off the feeling of surprise that lingered within him. Jason's command had triggered a response he thought he'd long outgrown. Damian remembered a time back when he must have been 6 or 7 where during a lesson Jason had used the same command.

The memory wasn't bad; he was mostly surprised it still worked. The memory inspired him as he worked on his drawing. After a while, Damian's gaze fell upon his drawing. He had drawn one of the lessons with Jason sitting cross-legged in front of a tree in the courtyard of the League.

He remembers how his big brother rambled on about Hamlet. He would never admit it, but it was one of his favorite lessons. Damian's eyes lingered on the drawing, a mix of nostalgia and surprise washing over him. He hadn't realized how much those lessons had stuck with him, or how much he had come to appreciate Jason's teaching methods.

As he looked at the drawing, Damian felt a sense of connection to his past, to the boy he used to be, and to the man he was becoming. The lines and shapes on the paper seemed to blur, and for a moment, he was back in the courtyard, listening to Jason's words, soaking up the knowledge like a sponge.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was chilly in the early morning hours, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes as Alfred went about preparing breakfast. The old butler moved with practiced ease, his routine well-honed from years of service. First, he brewed a pot of tea, followed by a pot of coffee, its rich aroma wafting through the air. As he expertly sliced fresh fruit.

The bats had all stayed in the manor, their decision influenced by the recent breakout of Scarecrow from Arkham and the microdosing of fear toxins. While none had suffered a severe reaction, caution dictated a thorough check-up. Jason, initially resistant, had eventually relented after much persuasion from the others, with Damian's request seemingly the deciding factor.

As the group trickled into the kitchen, Bruce was the first to join Alfred, his plate and cup of coffee already set out. "Morning, Alfred," he grumbled, still struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, his warm smile a testament to his years of dedication.

Cassandra slid into the seat beside Bruce, her head leaning gently on his shoulder in a silent greeting. She signed a warm "good morning" to Alfred, her eyes sparkling with morning affection.

Duke's arrival was marked by a flurry of activity, his face lighting up as he dug into the delicious breakfast spread. His muffled greetings, spoken around mouthfuls of food, brought a hint of amusement to the kitchen.

The kitchen had returned to a peaceful quiet, the only sound the clinking of utensils on plates. They ate in silence until the stillness was shattered by Damian's harsh words, his voice piercing the air like a scream. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU USELESS FOOL!"

Duke whispered to no one in particular, his voice laced with annoyance, "Here they go."

Tim's response was immediate, his voice yelling from another room. "FUCK YOU, DAMIAN!" The sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor echoed through the hallway as Tim sprinted towards the kitchen.

The door burst open, and Tim stormed in, his face red with rage. "Bruce, your kid is insane! I can't deal with someone threatening me in the morning!" Damian followed close behind, his katana gleaming in his hand. "Don't utter lies, I only threatened you because you FUCKING GLUED MY SHOES TO THE FUCKING FLOOR!"

Tim's face turned an even deeper shade of red as he screamed back, "I ONLY DID THAT BECAUSE YOU STOLE MY NOTES!" Damian's eyes narrowed, his mouth opening to retaliate, but before he could speak, he was cut off by Jason's low, annoyed voice. "Oy."

Damian's mouth snapped shut, and he stood frozen, his gaze fixed on Jason. "Both of you shut the fuck up," Jason added, his voice firm but controlled. "You all woke me up, and it's already bad enough that I had to stay here. At least I could do with some peace and quiet."

Damian's expression softened, and he muttered a reluctant "Apologies." The sudden capitulation was unexpected, and everyone in the kitchen experienced whiplash at Damian's rapid change in demeanor. Usually, when Bruce intervened, the argument would continue for a while longer, with the parties involved digging in their heels. But Damian's swift surrender to Jason's words was something unexpected.
Tim's complaint earned him a soft smack on the head from Jason. "The kid already stopped, so you also quit yapping," Jason said, his tone firm but amused.

"Now, go apologize to each other, and then shut up," Jason instructed, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of authority and humor. The two kids looked like they'd rather be subjected to torture.

"Jason, do I really have to?" Damian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, but so does the other brat," Jason replied, his gaze flicking between the two.

"Tim, you go first," Jason added, his tone brooking no argument.

Tim's response was immediate. "Uhh, why would I listen? You're not my dad."

Jason's response was laced with humor. "True that, but I'm the one who's with you on patrol tonight, so I could just shoot you in the back instead."

Tim looked offended, but Damian's apology came quickly, his words sounding like they physically pained him. "Drake, I am sorry."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting Damian to actually apologize. "Uhh, ye, uhh, I guess I'm sorry too," Tim stammered.

The bats watched the exchange with a mixture of shock and fascination, their heads swiveling back and forth like spectators at a tennis match. This was a rare sight – Damian apologizing without a fight.

The group's surprise was palpable as Duke whispered, "How the fuck did he do that?" Cass nodded in agreement, her eyes wide with amazement.

Bruce's gratitude was evident as he said, "Uh, thank you, Jason." Jason's response was to look annoyed and turn back to helping Alfred with the dishes.

"Now, boys, sit down and start your breakfast before it gets cold," Alfred urged, his gentle push encouraging them to take their seats.

Just as they were about to comply, “Oh” Jason's head snapped up, and he pulled something out of his pocket. "Here you go," he said, placing a gold star sticker on Damian's hand. "For being nice. Only three more to go before you get ice cream."

Tim's eyes lit up with interest. "Wait, don't I get a sticker?"

The response from both Jason and Damian was simultaneous and firm. "No."

Tim's face fell, his expression offended. "Why does Damian get gold stars? Since when is this a thing?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of resentment.

The response was silence, with both Damian and Jason keeping their mouths shut, their faces neutral.

Bruce's attempt to probe the dynamic between the two was met with a carefully measured tone. "It's good to see my kids be so close," he said, his words cautious. He added, "I never knew you guys got along," his eyes narrowing slightly as he sought to investigate the bond between the two.

Jason's response was swift and decisive. "Shut it, old man," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "No questions before I finish my coffee." The matter was closed, and the group's attention turned back to their breakfast

Chapter Text

As Jason stepped into his apartment, a wave of self-consciousness washed over him. He felt a twinge of embarrassment, realizing he'd fallen into old habits without thinking. Being a brother and, in many ways, a caretaker had apparently honed his nurturing instincts to the point where they kicked in automatically, even when they didn't belong.

He knew his family, comprised of sharp detectives, wouldn't let this slide for long. They'd notice the change in him, start asking questions, and it wouldn't take them much time to piece together what was going on. The thought made him sigh inwardly.

Jason walked out onto his small, somewhat rundown balcony, the cool air a welcome respite from the tension building inside him. He lit a cigarette, the familiar taste and smell offering a moment of calm. As he sat down, he pulled out his phone, his eyes scanning the screen with a mix of apprehension and resignation. He wanted to see just how much damage he'd done, how much he'd given away in that moment of habit. The screen flickered to life, and Jason's gaze narrowed, bracing himself for what he might find.

He navigated to the secure group chat, aptly named "Gotham's Most Dysfunctional Family," and was immediately greeted by the 99+ notification icon.

It seemed Tim had changed the name again, and the group had been busy while he was away. Jason scrolled through the chat, scanning the conversations. Most of it was routine: case updates, check-ins, and the occasional banter. He continued scrolling, his eyes landing on the messages that had come in after he left the manor that morning.

Acro(bat): where did damian get a gold star? I want one toooo.
Also did the person who gave it to him live?

Insomniac: believe it or not he did. It was jay.

Batdad: yes i was quite the spectacle but damian did earn his sticker.

Stabby: Tt, of course i did.

Waffles: wait what??? I want stickers too!

Ballerina: me too⭐♥️

Sparkles: lmao just imagine jay gentle parenting us with stickers that would be so silly (i want glow in the dark ones)

That last one earned a giggle from Jason. He took the last drag from his cigarette and put it out. His fingers floated above the keyboard of his phone, thinking about Duke's comment. Honestly, it was a silly idea, but it also could work in his favor. He could already imagine the look on Bruce's face when he could give him a sticker for once actually listening to his boundaries. He started typing. And with an evil smirk, he hit send.

Zombie: be careful what you wish for…

The group exploded.

Acro(bat): typing…
Waffles: typing…
Stabby: typing…

Alfred was the first to actually send something.

Gramps: That sounds lovely, Master Jason. I would like tea-shaped stickers.

Replacement: oh god. What have we done.

Waffles: omg this is gonna be so funny.

Bruce: Jaylad, should I be worried?

Stabby: I want to update my terms.

Barbara also joined in.

Barbie: we have created a monster. Also, I want my prize to be that you help me move some stuff in the clock tower. I need someone tall lol.

Ballerina: I want to be called Big Sis.

Acro(bat): omgg I didn't even think of a prize!! I want brotherly bondinggg!!

Jason shook his head. He should have expected this. A slight smile appeared on his face at the idea of spending more time with the bats. Yes, he had been coming around more, and there seemed to be less friction when he did. But still, he still felt like he wasn't really part of the family.

Jason got up and walked to his room. He pulled out a red hoodie and some black jeans. He quickly grabbed his wallet and took his leather jacket that was still hanging over his chair. Keys in hand, he locked the door behind him. It seemed he had some shopping to do.

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As Jason parked his motorcycle in front of the Gotham Mall, the afternoon crowd bustled around him, oblivious to the dark aura that seemed to follow him everywhere. The mall's entrance was a hive of activity, with shoppers laughing and chatting as they went about their day. But as Jason stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. People parted like a river around a rock, their eyes darting nervously to his imposing frame. Jason's gaze fell, his eyes clouding over with a familiar frustration. He hated being feared, hated being seen as a monster.

Before his death, he'd been just a scrawny kid, not the hulking figure he was now. People had smiled at him, talked to him, treated him like a person. Now, everywhere he went, suspicion and wariness followed. His tattoos, meant to cover the ugliest of his scars, only seemed to make things worse. In the summer, when he wore short sleeves, people gave him a wide berth.

As he made his way through the crowded mall, Jason's eyes scanned the storefronts until he spotted the arts and crafts store. Inside, the store was a riot of color and creativity, filled with grandmothers and hobbyists searching for the perfect yarn or paint. Jason navigated the aisles, his eyes adjusting to the cheerful chaos.

Just as he was about to find the stickers, a soft voice piped up behind him. "Young man, could I ask for your help?" Jason turned to face a tiny, elderly woman, her eyes shining with kindness. She pointed to a bundle of red yarn perched precariously on a high shelf. "Would you mind grabbing that for me?" Jason's face softened as he reached up, his long arms unfolding like a crane. He handed the yarn down to her, and her face lit up with gratitude.

"Thank you, you're such a kind young man," she said, adding the yarn to her cart. Jason smiled, feeling a small warmth in his chest. "No problem, ma'am. Have a nice day." As he watched her shuffle off, he was glad some people could still see through his hard exterior.
With renewed purpose, Jason made his way to the sticker aisle.

Jason's eyes scanned the sticker shelves, and his cart quickly filled with goodies for his family. First, he snagged waffle stickers for Stephanie, knowing she'd light up with excitement. He could already imagine her beaming smile as she stuck them onto her faourite stanley cup.

Next, he picked up Bi-flag stickers for Tim, hoping they'd help his brother feel more supported and loved. Tim had only recently come out, and Jason knew he was still navigating the complexities of being true to himself in a world that didn't always understand. These stickers might seem small, but Jason hoped they'd be a reminder that he was loved and accepted.

For Dick, he chose elephant stickers, reminded of Zitká, the elephant Dick grew up with in the circus. The memory of Dick's stories about his time in the circus brought a smile to Jason's face.

For Cass, a mix of moon and ballerina stickers seemed perfect. She had a whimsical side, and Jason knew she'd adore the delicate designs and soft colors. He imagined her sticking them onto her journal or decorating her room with them.

Barbie, of course, got Barbie stickers – what else could possibly compare? Jason chuckled to himself as he added a few extra stickers of barbie puns, knowing she'd appreciate the humor.

Duke's glow-in-the-dark stickers were a no-brainer. Jason knew he wanted them.
Damian, on the other hand, got a set of animal stickers, which Jason hoped would make up for the non creative star stickers he had used before.

Alfred's tea stickers brought a smile to Jason's face. He imagined the butler would appreciate them.

But Bruce... oh, Bruce. Jason's eyes landed on a set of Green Lantern and Green Arrow stickers, and he couldn't resist. He knew Bruce would lose it. Jason's chuckle echoed through the aisle as he added them to his cart, already looking forward to the exchange.

As he got home, he laid out the goods. He had brought one extra thing. He called them his "pissed off stickers". One big sheet of Red Hood stickers, his favorite ones on the sheet depicting him aiming at a target.

He had been invited to dinner, which for once he was excited for. He knew the chaos his stickers would cause, and the thought brought a hint of a smile to his face.

Chapter Text

The cold air bit at Jason's skin as he rode his motorcycle toward the mansion, the roads still slick from the earlier rain that had cast a gloomy shadow over the city. As he drove, he mentally prepared himself for the chaos that the evening would bring. He hadn't really joined the family for actual meals before, only grabbing a quick bite after Alfred had insisted, usually in a rushed and somewhat awkward atmosphere. Now, he was facing a real family dinner, followed by a mandatory movie session, which Jason had tried to refuse. His siblings had guilt-tripped him into at least trying, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

Jason was worried that being close to Bruce would trigger his pitrage, and their tense interactions wouldn't help. The weight of his past actions still lingered, and Bruce's disapproval of his methods only added fuel to the fire. He hadn't had an attack in a while, but when he did, it was almost always because of Bruce. The fact that he never tried to avenge him still stung, like an open wound that refused to heal.

As he entered the manor grounds, his shoulders started to tense up, the familiar feeling of unease settling in. It wasn't just Bruce he was nervous about. Tim was still intimidated by him after the tower incident, and the others had been scared off by his reputation as a crime lord after his revival. They didn't truly see him as a brother, and their wariness made him feel like a stranger in his own home. Dick was the easiest to get along with, but even that relationship was strained, despite Dick's apology for how he had acted before Jason's death.

Damian was his one true brother, the one person who seemed to understand him without judgment. But now, that came with its own set of problems, like keeping their secret meeting in the League from the others. Jason's jaw clenched at the thought of the delicate balance he had to maintain.

As he parked his bike in front of the mansion, Jason's tension had spread to his jaw, his muscles tight with anticipation. However, he was prepared. His secret weapon; he had his sticker collection in his pocket, carefully selected to gentle parent the hell out of his ridiculous family. The thought brought a small, wry smile to his face.

_________

Jason stood at the entrance, shivering in the cold, before knocking on the door. The sound echoed through the hallway, and after a moment, Alfred opened the door with a warm smile.

"Master Jason, I'm so glad you could join us today," the older man said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Jason chuckled, "Thanks Alfie, I just hope I'll make it through the evening," his tone laced with a mix of humor and apprehension.

As he followed the butler to the dining room, the aroma of food wafted through the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation. The others were already seated, their faces lit up by the soft glow of the chandeliers. Jason's arrival was met with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Jason mumbled a greeting, his eyes scanning the table as he took in the familiar faces. Damian was the first to respond, "Good evening, Todd," his voice cold but welcoming.

Bruce's greeting was more cautious, "Welcome, Jaylad," his tone measured, as if unsure of Jason's mood.

The others murmured their greetings, their voices blending together in a gentle hum. Jason's eyes landed on the empty chair next to Bruce, the one he used to occupy before his death. He felt a pang of unease as he walked towards it, the memories of his past flooding back. He wondered if they had done it on purpose.

It was weird to sit there again. So close to bruce. He remembered the dinner they had enjoyed together. Jason had often been reading at the table while Bruce worked on some case.
The last time he had occupied the seat was only a week before his fatefull fight against a crowbar. The one he had lost.

As he sat down, the room's conversations washed over him, but Jason's mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of the past. It wasn't until Dick's voice pierced the air that Jason's attention snapped back to the present.

"Jaayyyyy, help me out," Dick whined, his face scrunched up in a pleading expression.

"Sorry, what?" Jason asked, his eyes focusing on Dick's animated face.

"Please tell me you agree that an elephant would win over a hippo. Elephants are way smarter," Dick said, his voice filled with conviction.

Tim jumped in, "Nooo, a hippo has those teeth and their bite power is insane," his face set in a determined look.

Jason thought for a moment before responding, "Depends. We talking about one vs one or a whole group of the animals?"

"One on one," Tim answered, his eyes locked on Jason's.

After a brief pause, Jason said, "I agree with Dick, elephants are smart asf."

Dick's face lit up, "Yess!!"

Tim shot back, "You traitor," his voice laced with mock outrage.

The food was amazing, not that Jason had expected anything else, but Alfred had made some of his favorites. He hadn't had those since he was 15. The dinner continued on, his semi-siblings sometimes inviting him into the conversations, asking for opinions. Jason took on a more quiet and observing role, watching the vigilantes in such a family setting. It was weird, a big change from his usual solitary dinners in silence. He was slightly overwhelmed by the amount of voices that filled the room.

Once the dinner concluded, he helped Alfred with bringing the dishes to the kitchen. The older butler had tried to convince him to join the others in the TV room, but Jason had insisted that he could help the man before he returned. Once he was done helping, he moved toward the TV room – a name that was an understatement, since it was more like a cinema, complete with plush chairs.

"Fucking rich people," Jason thought to himself as he picked a chair next to Damian and sat down. The others were arguing about who should pick the movie. "But you picked it last time," Steph argued to Tim. "Yes, but I got the best taste," he had answered.

"No, it's my turn, it's been the longest since I've picked. So it's only fair," Duke said. Dick cut through the discussion, "If we use that logic, then it's Jason's turn. It's literally been years since he picked." Everyone winced at what the words had accidentally implied.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," Dick defended. Of course, it had been years since he had been dead. "Nice going, Dick," Jason thought.

"I think that's fair," Bruce ended the discussion. "What do you want to watch, chum?" Bruce asked. Jason was surprised and took a moment to respond. "Uhh, let's do Pride and Prejudice, I guess?" he answered awkwardly.

Tim had the remote in hand and searched for the movie. "Which one?" he asked after seeing three versions on the screen. "The 2005 version with Keira Knightley," Dick answered before Jason could. "Uhh, yes, that one," Jason confirmed. Jason was surprised Dick had remembered, but on the other hand, when he was a teenager, he hadn't shut up about it.

This was the perfect opening. "Dick, gimme your hand for a sec," Jason said. "Uhh, why?" Dick asked cautiously. "Just do it," he countered. Slowly, Dick moved his hand toward Jason and eyed what he was doing.

Jason took his hand and slapped on a sticker that had an elephant standing on a circus ball. Dick's eyes lit up. "OMFG, I'M THE CHOSEN ONE!" he yelled out, eyeing the sticker as a prize. The room turned into chaos, with everyone eyeing the sticker with jealousy that they hadn't been the first.

"So this is actually becoming a thing?" Duke asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Jason responded cockily, "What can I say, gentle parenting sounded fun."

"Oh god, that was supposed to be a joke," Duke said, seemingly embarrassed at the idea that his silly joke had become reality.

"How many do I need before I get my brotherly bonding?" Dick asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

"10," Jason replied, but then added, "But I don't usually give them out this easily. This was a one-time thing, cuz I needed the intro."

Damian suddenly whispered to Jason, "This reminds me, can we spar before patrol? I want your advice on a move."

"Sure kiddo," Jason said, his voice low.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to them, their faces etched with surprise. "He didn't attack you," Bruce whispered, his tone laced with wonder.

Jason wasn't sure if he should find it funny or absurd that he had managed to break bruce's brain once again.

They continued watching the movie, mostly in silence except for a few gasps at the hand stretch and when Darcy was being handsome as fuck.

_________

As the movie finished, Bruce, Damian, Dick, and Jason geared up for a patrol. Before they headed out, Jason had to make good on his promise to Damian – a sparring session. While Dick and Bruce moved to the batcomputer to discuss a case, Damian and Jason made their way to the sparring mat.

The dimly lit cave was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of machinery in the distance. The sparring mat was a large, padded area, surrounded by dark stone walls. Damian and Jason faced each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze.

"So, Father and Dick have taught me some new moves, but I need you to confirm they taught me right," Damian said, his voice filled with determination. "You're the best fighter of the family, after all." Damian's words were laced with admiration, and Jason felt a twinge of embarrassment.

Jason rubbed the back of his head, feeling a bit self-conscious about being put on a pedestal. "Uhh, sure..." he replied, trying to downplay Damian's praise.

Dick's head snapped back, his eyes wide with surprise. "Wait, what...," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Jason shot damian a warning glance, hoping to keep the other bats clueless about their past.

As they began to circle each other, the air was charged with anticipation. Jason assumed a relaxed stance, his hands up in a guard position. Damian mirrored him, his eyes fixed intently on Jason's movements.

The sparring session began, with Damian launching a series of swift kicks and punches. Jason parried each blow with ease, his movements fluid and practiced. Damian was fast, but Jason was faster, his reflexes honed from years of combat training.

As they sparred, Jason couldn't help but notice the new kicks and flips Damian had obviously learned from Dick, and the stability in his stance had improved, clearly thanks to Bruce's training. The sparring continued, with Jason offering words of encouragement and correction.

Damian was a quick learner, and Jason could see him improve during the match, his confidence growing with each word of praise from Jason. As they finished up, Jason nodded in approval. "You're getting better, kiddo," he said, offering Damian a nod of respect.

"Did Father and Grayson teach me well?" Damian asked, his voice quiet, seeking validation.

bruce turned to dick and shook his head "i used to have a son" he joked.

“Definitely, you made their moves your own.” Jason said beaming with pride.

Damian grinned, his face flushed with excitement. "Thanks, Ahki. I couldn't have done it without your help." Jason smiled back, feeling a sense of pride at his little brother.

But his heart dropped at the realization of what Damian had just said. "Ahki." The word hung in the air, and Jason's eyes locked onto Damian's. The gig was up.

Bruce and Dick had turned toward them, their faces expressionless, but their eyes betrayed their surprise. They said nothing, but their gazes lingered on the pair, clearly calculating the implications of Damian's slip-up.

The air was thick with tension as Bruce and Dick weighed the significance of Damian's words. Jason could almost see the gears turning in their minds, piecing together the fragments of information.

Jason's eyes met Bruce's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Jason knew that Bruce had figured it out, and the weight of that realization hung heavy in the air.

Dick's eyes darted back and forth between Jason and Damian, his expression told Jason that Dick had also figured it out.

But for now, the four of them stood frozen, the only sound the soft hum of the cave's machinery in the background.

Chapter Text

.
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The silence was oppressive, weighing heavily on Jason's shoulders. He glanced at Damian, who looked just as stressed, yet a hint of relief flickered across his face. Jason's curiosity was piqued; he would have to ask Damian about that later.

As Bruce and Dick began to recover. their faces regaining their usual composure, Jason knew he had to act fast. He didn't want to be stuck answering the questions he knew the bats had. There was only one thing he could do.

"Wanna patrol the alley with me? It'll be fun," he said, his tone casual, but his grip on Damian's arm was firm.

Damian didn't hesitate, following Jason's lead as he was pulled toward the bike. Jason's question was more of a statement, and Damian clearly wanted to flee as well.

As they made their way to the bike, Jason could feel the weight of Bruce's and Dick's gazes on them. He knew they were suspicious, and he needed to get Damian out of there before they started asking questions.

"Let's go," Jason said, straddling the bike and starting the engine. Damian climbed on behind him, his arms wrapping tightly around Jason's waist.

As they sped out of the cave, the cool night air hit them like a slap in the face. Jason felt a rush of adrenaline as they hit the streets, the city lights blurring together in a colorful haze.

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The drive was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the bike's engine and the occasional splash of water from the wet pavement. Both Jason and Damian were lost in their thoughts, their minds racing with the implications of Damian's slip-up.

As they arrived at the garage, a small, dusty space within a warehouse, Jason sped up, the bike's tires kicking up mud as he navigated the narrow streets. He pushed the buttons to open the garage door, and as they rolled inside, Damian jumped off the bike, his face set in a determined expression.

The air inside the garage was stale and musty, filled with the scent of old boxes and forgotten memories. Jason killed the engine and turned to Damian, his expression grim. "Well, that was a shit show," he stated.

Damian's face darkened, and he shot Jason a defensive look. "Accidents happen," he said curtly.

Jason's eyes narrowed. "You're full of it, and you know it. You'd never slip up with important information. This was a calculated decision, and I want to know why."

Damian's jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, his voice rising. "Akhi, I know you wanted to keep it a secret, but I think this is for the best."

He took a step closer to Damian. "Why?" Jason demanded, his voice rising. His eyes seemed to light up with a fierce intensity, a hint of green gleaming in their depths.

"Why would you do that?" Jason's voice was near shouting, the words tumbling out in a burst of emotion. Damian took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise. The Jason he knew had never once shouted at him, and the sudden outburst caught him off guard.

Seeing Damian's reaction, Jason immediately took a step back, his anger deflating. He lowered his volume, his voice softening. "Sorry," he said, taking a deep breath. "But why?" he asked again, his tone more measured.

Damian's gaze dropped to the floor, his small hands balling into fists. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if searching for the right words. When he finally looked up, his eyes were brimming with tears.

"Because I hate acting like you're not my brother!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. "Everyone keeps talking about the League like it was hell on earth, and it wasn't. Because you took care of me. You made sure I was loved and I got to be a kid. But no, I couldn't even tell them that."

Damian's voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, his words spilling out in a rush. "Dick keeps saying he's my favorite brother, and I couldn't even defend you. I'm proud to be your little brother, but it seems like you don't view me the same way."

Jason's expression softened, and he looked at Damian with a mix of understanding and vulnerability. "No, Damian, I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. You mean the world to me. And it's not like I'm not proud of you." He paused, struggling to find the right words. Jason took a deep breath. He refused to be like Bruce so even though it was hard he continued.
"Damian, I'm scared. I'm scared that if the Bats find out about my past, they'll see me differently. They'll pity me or judge me, and I don't want that."

Damian's face was streaked with tears, and his lip still wobbled as he spoke. Despite his vulnerability, his eyes shone with determination and sincerity. He took another step closer to Jason, his small frame trembling with emotion.

"Akhi, I don't care," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I care about you, and I want us to be able to be ourselves around each other, without secrets or lies. Can't we just be brothers, without hiding it from everyone?"

Jason wrapped his arms around Damian, holding him tightly as he cried. The familiar feel of his little brother's small frame shook with sobs, and Jason's heart swelled with love and compassion. He remembered the countless times he had comforted Damian in the past, and this moment felt like a continuation of those memories.

"Habibi, if that's what you want, I'll do it for you," Jason whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. "I only wish you had told me sooner about how you felt."

As Damian's tears continued to flow, Jason held him close, offering what little comfort he could. He knew that sometimes, all someone needed was to be held and understood. Jason's own emotions swirled beneath the surface, but for now, he focused on being there for his little brother.

In the year Damian had been at the manor, he had not broken down like this, and Jason realized that now he just needed his big brother. Jason's heart ached with empathy as he held Damian, feeling grateful that he was finally letting his guard down.

"You did so well, you've been so strong for so long," Jason whispered into Damian's hair, his voice full of affection. He knew that Damian had faced unimaginable challenges, and it broke his heart to see him hurting. But he also knew that Damian was resilient, and with time, he would heal.

They stood there for a few minutes, Damian's sobs slowly subsiding into sniffles. His small hand, which had been clenched tightly to Jason's shirt, began to relax its grip. As the silence between them grew more comfortable, Damian finally spoke up, his voice still shaky.

"I'm sorry, Akhi. That was unbecoming of me," he said, trying to compose himself.

Jason's smile was warm and gentle as he looked down at Damian. "Don't be like that," he said, his voice soft.

Instead of lecturing or scolding like the kid was used to, Jason offered a different kind of comfort. "Wanna get some ice cream and then kick some criminal ass?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Can I get mint chocolate?" Damian asked, his voice still a bit shaky but with a hint of excitement.

"Course you can," Jason replied, ruffling the kid's hair as they walked off together. Damian's hair was mussed, and his eyes were still a bit red from crying, but he looked a bit more like himself now. Jason's smile was warm and affectionate as he led the way, his arm resting on Damian's shoulder.

__________________

They sat on the roof above the ice cream shop, the cool evening breeze carrying the sweet scent of waffle cones and chocolate. Damian was licking his mint chocolate ice cream cone, a look of bliss on his face. Jason sat beside him, his own cone in hand, watching the stars twinkle to life in the night sky.

The shop was a quirky little place, known to be a vigilante hangout. The owners, sympathetic to the nocturnal creatures that protected the city, kept a skylight open for them. The vigilantes would swoop in, scoop their own ice cream, and leave money in exchange, a silent understanding between them and the shop owners.
Jason and Damian had finished their patrol. They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying their treats and each other's company, the city spread out before them like a dark, pulsing canvas.

The patrol had been mostly quiet but it was still a good distraction from their talk. They had stopped some low-level drug runners, kicked some robber ass, and saved a girl from a rapist who had not gotten away alive after he had said the girl deserved it.

Jason's expression was thoughtful as he gazed out over the city. He tried to limit the violence Damian witnessed, but the boy had grown perceptive and understanding of the harsh realities of their world. When the rapist's vile words had crossed a line, Damian had offered Jason his own katana.

Jason shook the thought from his head and focused on the moment. He looked at Damian, who was enjoying his ice cream with a look of bliss. It had become a sort of ritual for them to go on patrol together and then grab ice cream at this shop. Jason had mentioned it to Damian before they returned to Gotham, and he recalled Damian saying he wouldn't go with anyone else.

"So, habibi, did you go here before?" Jason asked, curious to see if Damian had kept his promise. Damian's response was confident and straightforward.

"No, of course not. I promised I'd only go with you," he said.

Jason's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Really? How did you manage that with Dick?" he asked, trying to get more information.

Damian's face lit up with a smirk. "He was very offended. I told him I was waiting for Bruce to come back."

Jason chuckled, intrigued. "And what did you say to Bruce?"

Damian's smirk grew wider. "Told him I'd go with Dick."

Jason felt honored and touched by Damian's loyalty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of stickers, selecting a cute one of a momma cat playing with a kitten. With a gentle touch, he pressed the sticker onto Damian's cheek, earning a sneer from the boy.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit longer, gazing up at the star-studded sky. The night air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city. After a while, Jason stood up, brushing off the dust from his pants with a soft swishing sound.

"It's time I drop you off," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Damian's face fell, and he looked up at Jason with pleading eyes. "Can't I stay with you?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of longing and apprehension. It was clear he didn't want to face the consequences of the night's events, and Jason understood his reluctance.

Jason's expression softened as he looked down at Damian. "They barely see me as something different than a crazed killer, so I don't think they would allow it," he said carefully, his words measured. "Especially since I ended that creep tonight." Jason's tone was matter-of-fact, but his eyes betrayed a hint of understanding for Damian's fears.

"Sorry, kid, I also don't wanna go, but delaying it won't do anything. It's time to face the music," Jason said, shaking his head as he gazed at Damian with a mix of understanding and resignation.

Damian nodded solemnly, his eyes cast downward, and then he too stood up. Together, they made their way to Jason's bike, the darkness of the night enveloping them as they walked. The bike's sleek lines loomed before them, its chrome gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Without a word, Jason swung his leg over the bike and settled into the seat. Damian climbed on behind him, wrapping his arms around Jason's waist as they had done countless times before. The engine roared to life, and they sped off into the night, the wind whipping through their hair as they headed back to the manor.

Chapter Text

The sound of the motor echoed through the cave, startling the bats that roosted in the upper reaches of the cavern. They fluttered and squeaked, their wings rustling against the rocky ceiling. Jason parked his bike in its usual spot, the engine's rumble dying down into silence. He and Damian dismounted, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they walked toward the computer station.

Tim was seated in front of the Batcomputer, his gaze fixed intently on the case he was working on. His eyes were glassy, a testament to the long hours he'd spent staring at screens. "Hello, replacement," Jason said, his voice low and amused.

Tim startled, his eyes snapping back into focus as he took in Jason and Damian. "Oh, when did you get there?" he asked, his gaze drifting back to the screen. The area around him was cluttered with cups of coffee and energy drink cans, a testament to his marathon work session.

Damian raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with amusement. "Drake, this amount of coffee is ridiculous, even for a peasant like you." Jason chimed in, "Do have to agree with him, when was the last time you slept?"

Tim turned, looking up at them with a far-off expression, as if calculating. "Umm... I think Wednesday?" Damian's eyes widened in mock horror. "It's Saturday now, you freak of nature!"

Tim shot back, "Shut it, demon brat." Damian's retort was immediate, but Jason intervened before things escalated. "Nah, you both brats, so both of you shut it." The warning was delivered with a calm authority, and the pair subsided, though Tim muttered under his breath, and Damian rolled his eyes.

"By the way, Bruce was looking for you two," Tim said, his eyes still fixed on the screen as he typed away.

Jason's gaze suddenly shifted, his focus snapping to the wall as if he could see through it to the floors above. "Thought so," he answered, his tone neutral.

Damian merely nodded in response, his expression unreadable. Jason's eyes met his, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Jason nodded slightly. "Guess we should go upstairs," he said, pushing off from the console.

_________________________

The manor was shrouded in an unsettling chill, the grand halls and rooms feeling more like an unoccupied mausoleum than a warm, welcoming home. Usually, Alfred kept the fires crackling, imbuing the space with a cozy warmth, but tonight it seemed he had been preoccupied with other tasks, leaving the fires to dwindle.

Jason and Damian walked through the halls in silence, the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath their feet the only sound breaking the stillness. Neither of them felt like talking; they both knew what lay ahead, and the weight of that knowledge hung heavy in the air.

They checked the common areas where Bruce might be, but he was nowhere to be found in the family rooms or the library. The rooms seemed to echo with emptiness, their usual warmth and comfort absent. As they reached the kitchen, they heard the soft clinking of dishes and the gentle hum of the kettle, signaling someone's presence.

As they opened the door, they were greeted by the familiar figure of Alfred, busily putting away the last of the dinnerware and preparing a final cup of tea. "Good evening, young masters," the old butler greeted, his voice warm and soothing.

"Hi, Alfie," Jason greeted, his tone a little softer than usual, perhaps in response to the chilly atmosphere of the manor.

"Mr. Pennyworth," Damian nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. The kid still had a habit of addressing people by their last names, a quirk that had been a source of gentle teasing and frustration. Alfred's eyes flicked to Damian.

Alfred broke the silence, his voice calm and soothing. "I know that Master Bruce had asked for you both, but I think it's better that all of you have a good night's rest first, before all those...annoying talks. So, I sent Bruce to bed. For now, you both can hide a little longer."

The boys looked surprised at Alfred's words. Damian's head tilted to one side, his voice filled with skepticism. "And he agreed?" he asked, clearly not buying that Bruce would go quietly into the night.

Alfred's response was matter-of-fact, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Do not forget who truly holds the power in this house," he said, his tone dripping with subtle authority.

They sat down for a moment, and Alfred gave both of them a cup of tea. The warm liquid was a comforting respite from the chill of the manor, and they sat in silence for a while longer, savoring the quiet moment. Once they finished their tea, Alfred efficiently cleaned up, his movements practiced and precise.

"Now up to bed you go," the butler commanded, his voice firm but gentle. The boys followed his orders, reluctantly leaving the warmth of the kitchen behind as they headed upstairs.

As they climbed the stairs, Damian turned to Jason with a questioning look. "What now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Jason shrugged, his expression uncertain. "For now we sleep, I guess?" he replied, his tone laced with doubt.

Jason's mind began to wander as they walked, his thoughts drifting back to the conversation that had to happen. He had been avoiding it since his return to Gotham, using humor to deflect questions and keep people at bay. It was a coping mechanism he had honed over time, allowing him to maintain a sense of control and normalcy in the face of the extraordinary circumstances that had befallen him.

He knew that the others were aware of the basics – he had died and come back, and there was something wrong with him. The anger, the curse, the darkness that lurked within him – they had all noticed the changes in him. But he had never revealed anything more, content to keep them at arm's length with his quick wit and sarcastic remarks.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Damian's eyes widened in surprise. The door to his room was open, a warm glow spilling out into the hallway. Jason's gaze flicked to the room, and for a moment, he felt a pang of guilt for not being more present in the moment. But his thoughts were still consumed by the conversation that loomed ahead, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was running out of time.

_________________

As they approached the open door, they saw Dick sitting on Damian's bed, staring at the ceiling. When he heard them, he turned and straightened up. "There you are," Dick said. Jason greeted him with a casual "Hi, Dickie."

Damian's eyes narrowed slightly. "Grayson, what are you doing in my room?" he asked, his tone laced annoyance. Dick glanced nervously before answering, "I need to know what's going on. Both of you have been acting weird, and what you said in the cave wasn't just an accident."

Jason stepped inside and sat down beside Dick on the bed. "You're right," he admitted, taking a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"

Dick's gaze shifted to Damian, his eyes piercing with curiosity. "What happened in the cave, why did you call him Ahki?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of concern and intrigue. Damian's expression remained calm, his eyes never leaving Dick's face as he replied, "Because he is." His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion, but laced with a deep-seated conviction.

Jason's eyes rolled heavenward, and he interjected, "He's gonna need more than that, Dami." His voice was tinged with a hint of warning, and his anxiety began to simmer just below the surface. The air seemed to thicken, and the shadows in the room appeared to grow longer, as if the very atmosphere was responding to Jason's unease.

The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words. Jason's head began to fill with anxiety, and he could feel the familiar green glow of the pit creeping in, like a slow-moving fog. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions, and he struggled to find the right words.

After a few beats of silence, Jason's voice broke the stillness. "We met in the League," he said, his words barely above a whisper. The sound seemed to hang in the air, like a challenge, or a promise. Damian's eyes met Jason's, and for a moment, they were back in the darkness of their past, bound together by the secrets and the blood of the League.

After a moment of silence, Dick turned to Jason and asked, "How did you even get there?" Jason cut him off, his voice firm. "Not important."

Dick's expression turned determined. "You never talk about what happened; you only make jokes to avoid it. Tell me," he demanded. "We all know something happened, so why do you keep hiding it?" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You have that weird green eye thing – what's up with that?"

As Dick spoke, Jason's vision began to fill with a green hue. He stood up abruptly, pacing around the room as he struggled to control his emotions. His breathing quickened, and he felt the green fire inside him surge with anger. Being confronted about the past and forced to confront his secrets was suffocating him.

Just as it seemed like Jason might lose control, he felt a gentle touch on his arm. Damian had placed a hand there, a calming presence in the midst of Jason's turmoil. Jason's breathing slowed slightly as he focused on the warmth of Damian's hand, finding a small measure of peace in the touch.

Damian's voice was firm but calm as he addressed Dick. "Grayson, we will clarify our relationship, but you have no right to force Jason to reveal his trauma." His words hung in the air, a gentle reprimand that spoke volumes about his protectiveness towards Jason.

Dick's eyes widened as he took in Jason's anger, and he realized his mistake. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening. "I didn't mean it like that. I want to know, but not if it's too hard to say out loud."

Damian's gaze lingered on Dick for a moment before he turned to continue the story, seeing that Jason was still struggling to compose himself. "We met in the League," Damian began, his voice measured. "After my mother brought Jason to Nanda Parbat and helped him regain his memories after his… accident."

As Damian spoke, his eyes seemed to drift back to that time, his expression a mix of reverence and gratitude. "After Jason regained his memories, he became my guard and teacher, and he shaped me into the warrior I am now. However, above all else, he is my brother. He has protected me from harm and made sure I didn't have to stain my hands with blood." Damian's voice was filled with emotion, and his words painted a vivid picture of the bond between him and Jason.

As Damian spoke, his words filled with care and love, Jason's turmoil began to dissipate. The green hue that had clouded his vision slowly receded, and his breathing steadied. Dick, noticing Jason's calm demeanor, decided to try again, his voice softer this time.

"So... Jason, how did you come back?" Dick asked, his eyes locked onto Jason's face. Jason took a long, deep breath before responding, his voice measured.

"I don't know... I just woke up. And it was dark, and I was trapped. I had to break myself out with my belt buckle." Dick's eyes widened as he processed Jason's words, his face pale.

"Wait, are you saying—?" Dick's voice trailed off, his question unfinished as he struggled to confront the horror of Jason's implication. Jason's expression was somber as he filled in the blanks.

"Yes, I had to dig my way out of my coffin." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of Jason's experience. Dick visibly winced, his face contorting in shock and disgust.

"Little wing, I'm so, so sorry," Dick said, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. Jason felt a wave of discomfort wash over him, overwhelmed by the empathy Dick was showing. He had never been good with people's pity, and the look in Dick's eyes made him feel queasy. The green glow began to seep back into his vision, and he knew he had to escape.

"I'm done," Jason said abruptly, turning to leave. He quickly exited the room without looking back, the weight of Dick's sympathetic gaze too much to bear.

Chapter Text

Damian's gaze lingered on the door, his eyes narrowed in concern as he watched Jason disappear from view. He knew his brother wasn't exactly the most emotionally available person, but with him, Jason had always made an effort to be open. It was one of the reasons Damian admired him so much.

The fact that Jason had just bolted out of the room, leaving him and Dick behind, was unsettling. Damian's brow furrowed as he turned to Dick, who sat on the bed, his expression a mixture of hurt and confusion.

"That was something," Damian said, his voice laced with a mix of emotions. He walked over to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, and sat down beside Dick.

Dick's eyes were fixed on the floor, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Why did he?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. The question hung in the air, filled with a deep concern and a sense of helplessness.

Damian's eyes locked onto Dick's face, searching for answers he didn't have. He knew Jason's past was a complicated one, filled with pain and trauma. But he'd never seen him react like this before. "I don't know," he admitted softly, his voice filled with a sense of uncertainty.

Dick's gaze drifted up to meet Damian's, his eyes searching for answers. "What happened to him?" he asked, his voice laced with a deep concern. Damian hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal. But something about Dick's expression told him that he needed to know. Needed to understand.

Damian took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the floor as he began to speak. "Jason's past...it's complicated. He's been through a lot, Dick. Things that no one should ever have to go through." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Damian's eyes seemed to cloud over, his gaze drifting into the past as he continued the story. His voice was low and measured, each word carefully chosen. "Since Jason wanted to tell you this, I shall continue in his stead," he said, his eyes locking onto Dick's.

"After he crawled out of his grave, he wandered the streets of Gotham, catatonic," Damian's voice cracked slightly as he spoke the words. Dick's eyes widened, a small whimper escaping his lips as he processed the image.

Damian's gaze never wavered, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "During a street scuffle, one of my mother's men recognized his fighting style, and my mother took him back with us." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"After that, she started training him. After a while, he became good enough to become my guard. While he couldn't speak and was still mute, he cared for me." Damian's voice faltered, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Dick's face was etched with concern, his eyes filled with compassion. "But how?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damian's gaze dropped, his eyes welling up with tears. "I'm getting to that," he said, his voice cracking. "My grandfather grew annoyed at the fact that he wasn't making enough progress, so he wanted him gone." The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

Dick's face contorted in pain as he listened, his arm wrapping around Damian's shoulders. "Instead, my mother threw him in the pit," Damian continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And after seeing that he was now functional, Ra's let it go for a while. During that time, he truly became my brother, but also my teacher. He was always there for me."

The room was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. Dick's eyes were filled with tears, his face etched with compassion. "Oh, Dami, why didn't you guys ever say anything?" he asked softly, his voice filled with emotion.

Damian's gaze dropped, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to contain his emotions. "Jason didn't want to reveal his past," he said, his voice cracking. "At first, it was easy because he was the Hood, but when he came back to the family, it turned out to be harder than expected."

The silence that followed was oppressive, the weight of Jason's past hanging heavy in the air. Damian took a deep breath, his voice shaking as he continued. "Anyway, then Ra's wanted to take over my body, and so Jason took me to Gotham on my mother's orders...and well, you know the rest." The words hung in the air.

Dick's eyes were closed, his mind reeling with the weight of Jason's story. The silence that followed was oppressive, yet comforting. He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs, and then let it out slowly. "Thank you for telling me, Damian," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

The words hung in the air, a testament to the trust that had been placed in him. Damian's eyes met his, and for a moment, they just sat there, the silence between them a reminder of the bond that had grown between them.

________

The wind whipped through his hair as he ran, the world a blur around him. Running was his escape, his sanctuary. Ever since he was a kid, he'd believed that if he ran fast enough, he could outrun the pain. If he was fast enough, the belt wouldn't hit him. If he ran hard enough, he'd make it in time to call the paramedics for his mom. If he'd been quicker, those hands wouldn't have touched him. If he'd been faster, the Joker wouldn't have caught him. If he'd been faster to open the door, the bomb wouldn't have...

He stopped at the top of the hill, gasping for breath, his lungs burning. Why had he left his bike at the manor? He cursed himself, frustration and anger boiling over. He'd finally told Dick what had happened. Not everything, but enough. Enough for Dick to look at him with those eyes. Those pitying eyes.

Jason's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He hated that look. Hated it more than anything. He'd seen it in the eyes of social workers, in the faces of strangers who tossed him a few coins on the street. It was a look that said, "Poor you." A look that came with empty promises and false hopes.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he thought about Dick's tears. Dick, who'd had never been there for him, who'd never tried to understand. Why did seeing him cry hurt so bad? Jason's eyes stung, and he turned away, not wanting to give in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't let anyone see him cry. Not even Dick. Especially not Dick. Jason's face twisted in a snarl as he pushed away the weakness. He'd run from this feeling, just like he always did. He'd run until the pain was gone, until the only thing he felt was the rush of the wind in his face.