Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was no secret that Jason was a huge literature nerd – it was day three of his hospital stay, and he was already on his second novel. So while his formal education may have fallen behind, he was well aware of the concept of irony.

For instance, it was very ironic that the things that killed his mother – the very things he’d sworn to never touch – were now essential to keep him alive:

Drugs.

His life was depressingly full of them: a handful of pills in the morning, insulin shots before meals and at bedtime, and a myriad of other medications throughout the day via his IVs. The insulin was by far the hardest part. Every time he had to stick himself with a needle, he got flashbacks of his mother. Dr. Allen had assured him that eventually he’d be able to get an insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor, but first, he had to master diabetes on training wheels.

Despite the fact that he hated relying on drugs, he couldn’t deny that he felt better than he had in ages. Though he was still very sore and shaky, the fog in his brain had begun to lift. His vision was sharper, and the pains in his stomach had lessened. For the first time in a long time, he had hope.

Bruce had remained a constant presence. Jason still wasn’t fully convinced that the man was truly as altruistic as he appeared, but thus far, he had kept his word. Bruce answered every question Jason had, no matter the subject. No bullshit, either. Living on the streets, Jason had developed pretty keen instincts. He could almost always tell if someone was lying. So either Wayne was the best liar he’d ever encountered, or he really was being honest.

“Jason, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Speak of the Devil.

His new guardian had only been gone a few minutes. He stepped out a couple of times a day, usually to make phone calls or talk to various hospital staff. In addition to being a doctor and certified nepo baby, Bruce owned the hospital. People were always trying to get his attention. However, he was never gone for long. Jason had clearly been made Bruce’s number one priority (which felt nice, even if he’d never admit it).

When Bruce entered the room, he was joined by a woman with long, black hair. Jason had never met her before. She was obviously another doctor, based on her white coat and badge, and looked to be about Bruce’s age.

“What’s going on?” He asked warily when the two doctors pulled up chairs on either side of his bed. He’d learned very quickly that it was never a good sign when a doctor sat down.

The woman smiled at him in a way that was soft, not fake. “My name is Zatanna Zatara. I’m what’s called a forensic pediatrician. I specialize in taking care of children who have been abused.”

His heartbeat quickened. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it has come to my attention that you may have been hurt by some of the adults in your life. I’d like to ask you some questions about that. But before I do, I want you to know that you have complete control over what comes next. You’re allowed to say ‘no’, and no one is going to judge or punish you, no matter what you do or do not say.”

Jason gulped. He’d been afraid this was coming ever since Bruce had told him he’d contracted hepatitis. “A-are you gonna make me take my pants off?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” the woman assured quickly. “Nothing is going to happen without your consent. A forensic exam is one of the many tools I use to help children, but it’s not the only one. For now, I’d just like to ask you about some of your experiences.”

“W-why do you need to know?”

“When kids are abused, it can impact their health in a lot of different ways,” Dr. Zatara explained patiently. “The more we know about what you’ve gone through, the better we’ll know how to treat you. We just want to help you feel better and keep you safe.”

“I’ll stay with you the entire time,” Bruce promised, “and you can stop at any point.”

Tears pricked Jason’s eyes, and his lip trembled. “But if I tell you, you’re not gonna wanna adopt me.”

The doctor’s face fell. “Oh, honey, that’s not true at all. I made a promise to give you a safe and loving home. That’s never going to change, no matter what you’ve been through in the past. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. On that I give you my word.”

Again, Jason couldn’t find any deceit in the man’s face. He looked so sincere. It made Jason want to trust him, even if every molecule of his being screamed that no adult could ever be trusted.

But truthfully, he was so tired. Tired of surviving off of scraps. Tired of allowing other men to use his body for spare change. Tired of braving cold winters and blazing summers. And so, so tired of being alone.

“I didn’t wanna do it,” he whispered brokenly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t wanna do any of it. I was just so hungry.”

Rather than try to touch him, Bruce offered Jason his stuffed wolf. His guardian’s friend, Clark, who was a child life specialist at the hospital, had given it to Jason the previous day. It was weighted and soft, and hugging it helped Jason feel grounded when his emotions threatened to take over. He’d named her Virginia.

“It’s not your fault, Jason,” Bruce assured. “It was never your fault.”

“Yes it is. They never held me down or nothin’. I let ‘em use me like that. I charged ‘em for it, even.”

“Bruce is right,” Dr. Zatara echoed. “You are twelve-years-old, Jason. Legally, you cannot consent to any sexual contact with adults. It doesn’t matter if they gave you food or money in exchange for your body. It was abuse, and you hold zero responsibility for it.”

He squeezed Virginia Wolf tightly. “Y-you mean that?”

She nodded. “I do. And I think it’s brave of you to share that with us.”

“Extremely brave,” his guardian agreed emphatically. “You’re so much stronger than you realize, Jason.”

Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d fully expected them to turn their noses up at him and call him out for being a whore. He took a moment to wipe away his tears. “W-what questions do you wanna ask?”

They spent the next fifteen or so minutes talking. Dr. Zatara kept her questions blessedly non-graphic and never asked Jason to provide any explicit details. Eventually, her questions became more medical in nature. She asked if he had any burning or bleeding anywhere or pain while using the bathroom. He answered each one honestly, despite his shame and embarrassment. Bruce remained by his side the entire time, offering soft encouragements and reminding Jason he could stop at anytime. Honestly, knowing he had the option to stop made it easier for him to keep going.

“Thank you for answering my questions, Jason,” Zatanna said. “Since your last instance of abuse was so recent, you’re on a couple of medications for potential infections you may have incurred. Did Bruce explain those to you?”

Jason nodded. “He said I was on some antibiotics and something to prevent HIV?”

“Exactly. Luckily, your blood test showed no current HIV infection, and the PEP you’re on will help prevent one from developing if you were exposed. We will retest you in a few months just to be sure. We’ll also start your oral hepatitis treatment in the next day or so, once your diabetes has stabilized a bit more. I’m sure Bruce has told you, but hepatitis C has an over 95% cure rate with medication. You won’t be sick forever.”

That was a relief. He’d believed Bruce, but it was still nice to hear it from an additional source. Now, he could move on to his next biggest concern.

“When can I shower?”

Since he’d been so sick, the nurses had given him wipes to clean himself off the past couple of days. But after spilling his darkest, most shameful secrets to the two doctors, he wanted nothing more than to take a real shower. He felt so dirty.

Bruce smiled gently. “I think you’re stable enough now. I can ask your nurse to wrap up your IVs, and then you can pick out what you’d like to wear.”

Along with his books, Bruce’s butler, Alfred (whom Jason was already obsessed with), had dropped off a whole suitcase full of clothing. Brand new, clean, soft clothing. When Jason had put on the first pair of pajamas, he’d almost cried. He’d never worn anything that felt so nice. It made him even more excited to try on the rest.

Jason’s nurse Kara (who happened to be Clark’s cousin) set up a shower chair in his bathroom then unhooked him from his fluids. She then wrapped his IV sites with plastic to protect them from the water. Bruce took the fresh pair of sweats and boxers Jason had picked out and placed them in the bathroom along with his toiletries.

“I’ll be sitting right out here in case you need me,” Bruce told him, “but I promise not to come in without your explicit permission unless there’s an emergency. You can even lock the door if that helps you feel safe. Does that sound okay?”

He nodded, feeling relieved.

In a fantastic feat of strength, Jason was able to walk to the bathroom by himself. He’d been getting progressively stronger every day, though he still felt pathetically weak. Just walking a few feet left him breathless.

The door locked with a satisfying “click.” While the water warmed up, Jason shed his clothes, placing them in the plastic hamper Alfred had brought. A twang of guilt and hesitation hit him. Washing his clothes after only wearing them for a day felt wasteful. Especially since all he’d done was lay in bed.  On the streets, he’d usually go weeks between washes.

Then again, Bruce had told him it was important to stay extra clean while he was sick. That included changing his clothing and sheets after his wipe down or shower. So surely since Bruce said it was okay, he wasn’t being too wasteful. That’s what Jason told himself, anyway.

As he got into the shower, Jason avoided looking in the mirror. He’d almost thrown up the last time he’d caught a glimpse of himself. His body just looked so gross – his skin was an icky shade of yellow, and his ribs were far too prominent. His hair was thin and brittle and had fallen out in patches around his head. It was a wonder anyone had paid for his services with how disgusting and ugly he was.

The feeling of the warm water hitting his skin was almost euphoric. It had been so long since he’d had a proper shower. The soap and shampoo Alfred had brought him were amazing: they were lightly scented with eucalyptus, but not in a way that felt too rich or overwhelming. He scrubbed his skin as hard as his feeble strength allowed, trying desperately to wash away the months of dirt and trauma. It didn’t feel like enough. Would he ever feel truly clean again?

Phantom hands skimmed his bruised skin, reminding him of every touch he wished he could forget. He hurriedly finished his shower after that. As good as the hot water felt, Jason was suddenly desperate not to be naked anymore.

The sweat suit he picked out was just oversized enough to be comfortable. The tags had been removed, but Jason could tell they were expensive. The quality of the material was much better than anything he’d ever owned. That seemed to be a trend with Wayne, though. The guy spent money like it meant nothing. Part of Jason hated it and felt like he was betraying himself; the rest of him was just thankful to have clothes without holes.

“Do you feel better now?” Bruce asked when he opened the door.

Jason shrugged. He had washed himself, yes, but he wouldn’t say he felt fully clean. More like raw and exposed.

His guardian didn’t yell at him or call him ungrateful trash like Willis would have. Instead, he gave Jason a warm, encouraging smile. “I changed your sheets while you were in there. Your nurse brought your lunch tray in, too. Are you ready to eat?”

Because Jason was so malnourished, his portions of food had started out very small. Bruce had explained that they had to be very careful not to do too much too fast, or else Jason could get very sick. Today, his lunch looked a little bit bigger: half of a turkey sandwich, a few apple slices, and some carrot sticks with ranch. They’d also started giving him protein shakes with each meal.

As he got back into his hospital bed, Jason shoved his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t shake. He was eager to eat, but eating meant more needles.

“I’m ready,” he finally whispered.

Kara came in with her computer cart within a minute of Bruce calling for her. She let Jason pick which finger to poke and even let him hold the lancet. Doing it himself was slightly less terrifying. Slightly.

“Okay, Jason, it’s time to do some math now,” Kara explained. “Your meal is 45 grams of carbs, and your blood sugar is 237. So based on this sliding scale, can you figure out how much insulin you need for your sugar correction?”

The diabetic educator had given Jason a paper copy of his insulin regimen earlier that morning. Bruce had patiently explained everything and even gave him a few practice scenarios so he would be ready for lunch. So this time, Jason was determined to do it all by himself.

“It’s between 200 and 249, so I get one unit for my blood sugar. Then I get one unit for every thirty grams of carbs, so I would get 1.5 for that. So total, I would get 2.5 units?”

He tried to keep the hesitation out of his voice. He’d always been good at math, even if he vastly preferred the humanities. But his brain had been so foggy lately, it was hard to think sometimes. 

Bruce smiled, which told him he’d answered correctly. “You nailed it, kiddo! You’re gonna be a pro at this.”

“Absolutely,” Kara agreed. “Now, you can practice dialing your pen to the correct dose.”

When the vials and syringes had proven to be too much for Jason’s PTSD (he’d had a massive panic attack the first time he’d been presented with one), Bruce had advocated for his regimen to switch to insulin pens instead. The pens were a lot less scary, especially since they looked nothing like what his mother had used to overdose herself. And turning the dial was a lot easier than drawing from a vial.

He screwed the capped needle onto the pen then primed it with two units, just as he’d been shown at breakfast. Then, he turned the dial to 2.5 and showed his nurse.

“Looks good to me,” she confirmed. “Now, where would you like to do it?”

He ended up choosing his right leg. Bruce stayed close while also giving Jason plenty of personal space. It was hard, but he managed to stick himself without fully panicking.

Now, it was time to eat.

Bruce always made sure to eat at the same time as Jason. He wasn’t sure why at first, but then he realized that his guardian did that to make Jason feel more comfortable. He didn’t have to worry about Bruce taking his food because the man had his own. It was a small, stupid thing that shouldn’t have meant as much to him as it did.

Still, even Bruce’s gestures couldn’t completely make up for months of food insecurity. Halfway through his meal, Jason got the overwhelming urge to stop eating. His instincts kept telling him to save some for later; it didn’t matter that he knew he’d be brought an afternoon snack in a couple of hours, or that dinner would be served later that night. His body was sure that unless he stowed away the rest of his meal, he’d have nothing to eat later. The thought of possibly going hungry again made his heart rate skyrocket.

“Jason, is something on your mind, bud?” Bruce asked, his voice calm and gentle.

“I-I can’t eat anymore.”

His guardian took a look at his half-finished plate. “Okay, if you’re no longer hungry, we can make up the carbs you dosed for with some juice so your blood sugar doesn’t plummet. But are you really not hungry, or is there something else bothering you? Either way, I promise I won’t get mad.”

Virginia Wolf was beside him in bed. Jason squeezed her paw for emotional support. “It’s stupid.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

“I’m just… scared,” he admitted reluctantly, “that if I eat all of this now, I won’t have anything for later.”

He expected Bruce to laugh at him. Or maybe roll his eyes and tell him he was being silly. But the man did neither of those things. Instead, he nodded. “I thought that may be the case. And I have something that I think may help.”

Jason watched warily as Bruce got up and walked over to the closet. He took out a red backpack and brought it over to the bed.

“I put this together this morning while you were still asleep. I was waiting until the right time to bring it up.” He unzipped the bag and handed it to Jason so he could see what was inside. “What you’re feeling right now is very normal. You’ve had to go without food far too many times, so it’s going to take some time for your body and brain to believe it won’t happen again. These snacks are yours to keep with you, wherever you’d like, so you always have access to food.”

Jason couldn’t believe it. A whole bag of food for him? There had to be a catch.  “What about my diabetes? Don’t I have to take insulin before eating anything?”

Bruce nodded. “You’re right that usually you would have to have insulin before meals and snacks, but I chose these options because they have little to no carbs in them. You can eat any of these without taking insulin first.”

Jason took a closer look at the backpack’s contents. There were different kinds of meat sticks and jerky, nuts, and even some low-carb protein bars. They were all what the diabetic educator had described as “free” foods.

“When we get home, you’ll be able to have a mini fridge in your room with more options, like cheese and pickles and such, but hopefully this will help for now.”

Jason started tearing up. God, he felt like such a baby. He frantically started wiping his eyes. “I’m not crying,” he protested, even as his cheeks became wet. “I’m not.”

“It’s okay if you are,” Bruce assured softly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed at times.”

“I just don’t get it. You’re being so nice. And you say you don’t want anything from me, but how am I supposed to believe that when no adult besides my mom has ever given me food for free, let alone the clothes and books and other stuff? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Bruce’s face softened. “It’s okay not to trust me yet, Jason. I wouldn’t expect you to. Truthfully, part of the reason I’m taking you in, and part of the reason I adopted Dick, is I lost my parents, too, at a very young age. They were shot and murdered right in front of me.”

The man’s face filled with grief as he spoke. Jason’s eyes widened. With how rich he was, he’d assumed nothing bad had ever happened to Bruce Wayne.

When he didn’t say anything, his guardian continued. “When I became an orphan, I was lucky enough to have Alfred there to protect and take care of me so I didn’t fall through the cracks. I recognize you didn’t have that luxury. So while I know nothing will ever make up for the suffering you’ve gone through, I’d like to be there for you from here on out.”

The words were said with a solemn conviction. There was no way Wayne was that good of a liar. Even a heart as hardened and jaded as Jason’s recognized that.

In a moment that surprised even himself, Jason blurted, “C-can I have a hug?”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly recovered.

“Of course, buddy,” he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened his arms, allowing Jason to initiate the physical contact.

It was stiff and awkward at first. Jason hadn’t hugged anyone in what felt like a life time. But Bruce was patient, and he held his arms wrapped around Jason in a way that was comforting without making him feel trapped. It felt nothing like the harsh grips of those who had used him.

“Thank you,” he whispered tearfully into his guardian’s shirt.

Bruce tightened his embrace just a bit. “Always, Jaylad.”