Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Whoa, who’s the new kid?” You whisper to your friend who’s sat next to you in your science class. Normally word got around fast when a new student enrolled in Gotham Academy, however there wasn’t a peep about him. Dark hair, freckles, a look in his bright blue eyes that could only be described as eager.

“Dunno, but he’s kinda cute.” She whispers back with a smile. The two of you giggle behind your hands, huddling together to keep your teacher’s attention on the new student.

“Everyone,” Your teacher gets the class’ attention, “please welcome our new classmate-” She turns to him for him to introduce himself with a kind smile on her face.

He nods with a shy smile, “Jason-” he clears his throat as his voice cracks. The boy behind you snickers and you turn around long enough to send a glare his way before your attention is back on Jason. “Jason Todd.” He finishes, his smile turning tight. Your teacher gestures for him to sit in the empty seat in front of you and your friend.

“Psst.” She tries to get Jason’s attention, a hushed whisper, mischievous smile on her face. The teacher’s attention is back on the board. “Psst, Jason. Jason Todd.” She whisper hisses again. You hold back your laughter when Jason turns around, wide eyed and curious.

“Yeah?” He whispers in response. It’s obvious he’s trying to keep his attention on the board so he doesn’t get in trouble on the first day, but Summer is more persistent than the need to be a good student.

“Where’re you from? Didja just move here?”

He shakes his head, “N-no. I-.. I’m from here. Gotham, I mean. I’m from Gotham.”

“Yeah, I got that with your accent. But, like, what neighborhood are you from?”

You roll your eyes at Summer, “Shut up, dummy, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” You scold her in a whisper. She waves you off and waits for Jason’s answer.

“Girls.” Your teacher’s voice rings out causing you two to sit up straight in your seats, Jason turns around with wide eyes. “He’s a new student, not an animal at the zoo. Pay attention and leave the yapping for after class, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You and Summer reply in unison. Satisfied, she nods and turns back to the board. A few kids around you snicker at your scolding.

“You should sit with us at lunch.” You tell Jason, your whisper as soft as a feather.

“Hush.” He responds, not even turning back around this time. But you see the way his cheeks turn up, telling you he’s smiling.

Summer elbows you softly with her own smile.

And so that day at lunch, just a few hours later, you find yourself calling out to Jason from across the lunch room, earning a groan from him as he keeps from shrinking at the unwanted attention that's drawn to him. The lunch room is crowded, like always, some smaller whisperings of the new student, rumors already starting.

“So, new kid-” Summer starts, sipping her milk.

“Jason.” He corrects her easily as he sits across from the two of you. His lunch tray clatters against the table as he sits with a huff.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she waves him off. You laugh under your breath at her. “You never said where you’re from. It’s not every day we get a transfer in halfway through the year, y’know.”

Jason pokes at his food like he doesn’t really want to answer. You narrow your eyes as you look at him, head tilting to the side. You make a mental note of how secretive he is.

“You don’t have to answer her.” You tell him, kindly and with a warm smile. He looks at you and blinks once before he clears his throat. How eyes are focused back on his food.

“Uh, it- it’s okay. I was um… adopted.” He says it carefully like he’s trying to be vague. It makes your focus on him more intent, he shifts in his seat in response as he feels your eyes on him.

“Cool! I’m adopted too!” Summer smiles before she’s sucking down the rest of her milk. Jason visibly relaxes at her revelation. He smiles in return and mutters a quick “cool” before he starts eating. “My mom and dad adopted me from….” Summer drones on, talking and talking, but your focus is solely on Jason.

The way his nose scrunches when he eats, the way he mutters along to Summer’s ramblings, but most importantly your focus is on how he keeps glancing at you only to look away causing the tips of his ears to turn red. Your face feels hot in response, a smile creeping up that you try to force back.

“Hey, when is your birthday?” You as Jason while Summer is too busy eating to say much of anything else.

“August sixteenth.”

“Oh. So you’re a Leo.” You tell him. He blinks once.

“I.. what do you mean?”

“Leo. Your zodiac sign. You’re a Leo. You can tell a lot about a person by their zodiac sign.” You repeat. Summer rolls her eyes. Jason just looks at you confused.

“Oh. So what does that mean? Me being a Leo.”

“It means you’re confident and loyal. Could also mean that you would make a good leader.” You nod once.

“She’s super into astrology and dumb stuff like that.”

“Hey, it’s not dumb.” You scowl at Summer, face warm with embarrassment. Jason smiles and you look away.

“She’s always trying to read my palm and stuff.” She continues to tease you. “It’s all hocus pocus, my mom says.”

“It is not, it’s real.”

“I think it’s kind of cool.” Jason pipes up. You and Summer stare at him like he grew a third head - Summer for the way he’s agreeing with you, you for him sticking up for you. “Yeah, you should read my palm.” He places his hand in the middle of the lunch table, palm up.

An excuse to get you to hold his hand.

“Are you sure?” You ask before he nods and you take his hand in both of yours. You swallow. His hand is so warm compared to yours. You bite down on your bottom lip before you trace over a line in his palm with your index finger, it's the first time you've ever held a boy's hand. It makes your heart race in your chest. But you breathe out slowly to control the way your stomach knots.

“Uh, so… this is your life line.” You point it out to Jason. Summer rolls her eyes, again, but goes back to eating her lunch. Jason nods with a hum. “It has a break,” you lean over the table to get a better look at his palm, “which gen- generally means there’s going to be a sudden change in your lifestyle.”

Jason laughs once, almost scoffing, before he nods once. “Yeah, checks out.” He mumbles. You tilt your head again but he shakes his in response, silently telling you to continue.

“Right, um.. So, a lifestyle change. And uh, you have a circle right before the break which could mean you’re going to be injured or-”

“Or what, die? Geez, don’t scare him off already!” Summer cuts you off with a scoff. “You’re gonna have him scared out of his mind with that talk! Told ya, hocus pocus.”

You shove your elbow into her arm and she sticks her tongue out in response.

“I am not! And it’s not hocus pocus!”

“An injury?” Jason ignores the bickering, his focus is on you now - intent and purposeful. Eyebrows set, lips pulling into a frown. You turn your attention back to him and stare for a second before nodding.

“That’s what it could mean, yes. And your fate line,” you trace that one next with your finger, “is broken as well. That could mean many changes in your life from outside forces.”

“Or it could just mean he has a lot of lines in his hand.” Summer scoffs.

Jason takes his hand from yours, slowly like he doesn’t want you to let go - but maybe that’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

“I don’t know, that stuff is kinda cool.” He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant but it's obvious that what you've said has struck something in him. “Bru- my dad,” he corrects himself, “knows a guy who does magic. He's kind of an asshole though. British.” He smiles at the use of the swear. Your eyes go wide before you and Summer laugh.

“A magician in Gotham? I thought we just had killer clowns and doofuses with cheesy riddles.” Summer teases before laughing again. “I don't believe it. Not for a second. All just a bunch of hocus pocus.” She smiles.

“Oh, ha ha.” You smirk softly at Summer before you start to eat your lunch. Your hand that traced against Jason’s rests in your lap now, you can still feel the tingle of his skin against your own. “You say that a lot. Hocus pocus.” You joke.

“It's what m’mom says.” She shrugs.

“Your mom also says that Batman is a vampire, so is she really the most credible source?”

Jason bursts out laughing at that. Hand on his stomach, nose scrunching, tears in his eyes, type of laughter.

“You guys are funny.” Jason tells you two as his bubbly laughs die down. It’s obvious how much he’s relaxed, a sense of accomplishment washing over you.

And so the three of you eat lunch together that day and every day after. Thick as thieves, the three of you. Wherever one of you went the other two were sure to be close behind.

—————————

Jason ended up being in a lot more of your classes than you expected. Almost all of them, to be exact, aside from three. And the proud little smile he wore at the start of each class period made you wonder if there really was a “scheduling conflict” or “too many kids in one class” like he told you. But you didn't mind, not really, not when he made class fun - made you want to actually go to class instead of dreading it like you usually did.

“Psst, what's the answer to three B?” He whispers to you from across the aisle in your math class. His worksheet is already complete, front and back, and you know all of the answers are correct because Jason is one of the smartest kids you've ever met.

“So, wait- what year did the war of 1812 start again?” He asks in history to get a giggle out of you. He'll never admit that the way you roll your eyes at him and call him stupid makes his chest feel tight and warm in a way he's never experienced before.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” He asks in your art class. You eye the pencil on his desk and in the blink of an eye it's being tossed across the room with a smile on his face. “Lost mine,” he shrugs, “dunno where it went.” And for the third time that week you give him a smile that says you know what he's up to.

“Jason, that was my pencil.” You shake your head in amusement as his eyes go wide, as his smile falls.

“Oh shoot, it was.” The tips of his ears go red again before he's scrambling to collect the thrown pencil without getting caught like it's a stealth operation and he's the world's greatest spy.

“You're so weird.” You laugh under your breath when he makes it back to his seat.

“Mm, so I've been told. But you're still my friend.” He shrugs, holding the pencil in his hand like it's the lost holy grail.

Class drags on, the last one before the end of the day normally did. You're lost in your drawing - some still life of a bowl of fruit - when Jason clears his throat to get your attention.

“Hey, so what's this dance coming up?” He asks quietly. You hum to acknowledge you heard him before you actually answer.

“The school dance?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Did your old school have school dances?”

Jason shakes his head in response.

“Hm, they're okay. There's normally snacks and drinks and the school hires a DJ.” You tell him. He nods once and hums.

“We should go.” He finally says.

You look sideways at him, hand stilling against your paper. You never took him for someone who'd want to go to a dance.

“Yeah, we can talk to Summer after class and see-”

“No.” He shakes his head, ears red again. He can't even look at you and his voice sounds shaky, unsure of himself which is so unlike him. “Just… I mean, like.. just us. You and me.”

You blink once, twice, a third time before biting down on your bottom lip, smiling.

“Like a date?” You ask in a near whisper.

Jason looks like he's been electrocuted but slowly he nods his head twice.

“Yeah. A date. You and me, the school dance.”

Oh.

Your heart feels like it's beating so fast it's going to stop at any second. But you nod, your face warm, and there's no way you can stop yourself from smiling now.

“Um, y- yeah.” You stammer before clearing your throat softly. “Yes.” You say, more confident in your answer. “Yes, I would.. love to go with you. On a date. To the dance.”

Jason visibly deflates and lets himself smile, turning his head to look at you with a softness in his expression.

“We should totally color coordinate outfits.” He says. You laugh quietly.

“That's so lame.” You tease him. Then quickly add on, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Summer paces your room like she's trying to solve a Riddler puzzle and her life depends on it. You're sat on your bed, book in your lap, trying to ignore the way she's wearing a hole in your carpet.

“Okay, I'm still not understanding-”

“There's nothing to not understand.”

“Yuh-huh! You never go to school dances and now that Jason asks you you're all about it? Just like that? Because of some boy?”

You snort. “Like you wouldn't drop me and everything around you to follow Abigail into the sewers if she asked.” You snark back. Summer stops in her tracks and then there's a sharp sting on the back of your head. “Ow!” You rub at the spot she smacked with a smirk on your face.

“That's- I wouldn't! That's different!”

“Oh, is it?” You laugh again.

“.... Okay. Listen. I digress.” She holds up a hand, a frustrated scowl on her face. “My point is-”

“Your point is stupid. And I don't think that's how you use ‘digress’.”

“Stop interrupting me!”

You laugh again but mime zipping your mouth shut. She sighs in relief when you agree to be quiet.

“My point is that it's a date. Your first date. With matching outfits! And it's- he's… Jason. Our friend. It's just.. weird.” She crosses her arms, staring pointedly at you. “Doesn't it seem weird?”

“I dunno, I don't think it's that weird.” You shrug. She sits on the edge of your bed before dramatically falling backwards with her arms spread wide as she stares at your ceiling. There's a moment of silence.

“You're kind of making a big deal out of this.” You comment but she stays quiet.

“You feel left out, don't you?” You finally ask her softly and it takes her a second to answer. But then she nods, it's almost reluctant like she doesn't want to admit it.

“We've never gone to dances because we always said they're lame and now you're going without me. I feel… betrayed.” Summer admits. You can't help but smile fondly at her.

And then you're moving to match the way she's paying on your bed - legs hanging over the edge, arms spread wide, eyes on the ceiling.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper.

“I know.”

Another breath of silence.

“I can't blame you, though.” She finally says. “He is cute. And kinda funny… in a dumb way.” She smiles fondly. “And.. you're right. I'd totally push you off a bridge and follow Abigail into the sewers if she asked.”

And then the two of you are giggling, which quickly devolves into laughter that makes your eyes water, rolling into each other. It takes a few minutes for the two of you to calm down.

“You can come with us.” You finally tell her once your laughter dies down, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Summer's face is flush, she's still smiling. But she shakes her head.

“No, I'm not going to third wheel your first date. That's even weirder.”

“Are you sure?” You ask. There's still a heavy feeling of guilt in your chest but she smiles, assuring you, it helps make that guilt melt away.

“Totally sure!”

You smile again, “School dances are still lame, you know. My stance hasn't changed.” You tell her and she giggles under her breath.

“Then why did you agree to go?”

“He's never been to one before.”

“Hm.” She hums quietly. “He's kinda weird, huh?”

You nod, smiling affectionately when you think about Jason. “Yeah… a little bit.”

“Well, since it's settled - what color are you love birds wearing?” Summer asks in a teasing voice. Your face gets warm.

“He said something about red or yellow, or red and green.”

“Ew, those are the worst colors.” She remarks with a scrunch of her nose.

“They totally clash!” You agree with a laugh. “Maybe I can convince him to wear black instead.”

“Ooh, black and green!”

The rest of the afternoon is a mix of half assed homework assignments being strewn about while worrying about hair styles and make up and shoes and dresses. The golden warmth coming in through your bedroom window lets you know that it's getting late and that soon Summer would be going home and you would be spending the rest of the night daydreaming about your upcoming date with Jason.

“Black and green?” His voice rings through your phone. He doesn't sound excited about your suggestion. You lay back on your pillow, phone to your ear, a smile on your face.

“Yeah, black and green.” You echo. “I just thought it would look better-”

“Hey, if that's what you want,” he cuts you off in a light tone, “then that's what we'll do.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Wait… you're gonna agree? Just like that?” You can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Yeah. Just like that. I ain't gonna argue with you about it.” He responds like it's so simple. And maybe it is.

“You just seemed so set on red and yellow…”

Jason looks at the Robin costume in the case before he shakes his head.

“Eh, it's al’ight. Black and green is just as good.”

There's a flutter in your stomach and you're so thankful he can't see the dumb smile on your face, “O-okay… black and green.” you agree.

“So, um-” Jason clears his throat after his voice cracks. It makes you smile and laugh quietly to yourself. “I'll um.. pick you up at five on Friday? I was thinking we could go eat before.”

A giddiness runs through your veins, your stomach erupting with butterflies. It takes you a second to respond.

“Yeah, I'll let my parents know. Can your dad bring me home or…?”

“Absolutely!” He clears his throat again to curb his enthusiasm. “Yeah, yeah, he won't mind. It's no problem.” You laugh at how excited he is and you can't see it but his ears turn red again.

The two of you say goodbye and the rest of your night is spent with a smile on your face. The rest of the week was going to drag on until Friday, you just know it. But luckily for you, you have Jason and Summer to help distract you, along with the load of homework that's been assigned.

But when Friday finally rolls around, when you've finally gotten your dress settled, your hair perfect, your make up just the way you like it, you feel like you're going to keel over from nerves. Your hands are sweating and the butterflies in your stomach have mutated.

“You look beautiful!” Your mom coos, earning an eye roll from you.

“This kid better keep his hands to himself. What's his name again, Jackson?”

“Jason.” You correct your dad with a laugh.

“Jason what?”

“Todd. Jason Todd. He's nice, Dad, calm down.” You and your mom both roll your eyes affectionately at his protectiveness.

“Todd? I don't know any Todd’s-”

The doorbell rings, cutting off your dad. Your eyes go wide and you're pretty sure your entire body is shaking with how nervous you are. You try to tell yourself that you're just hanging out with Jason, the same way got donated school, only this time he'll be in a nice outfit and you'll be dancing close together and-
Your face is on fire.

When your dad opens the front door you're half tempted to yell at him to shut it and pretend this night was never happening in the first place.

But then you see Jason standing there in black slacks, a black button up with a dark green tie, hair slicked back, and everything stops. Your mind comes back online when you hear your mom whisper,

“Is that Bruce Wayne?”

Jason's dad, adopted dad, stands behind him with a polite smile before introducing himself to your parents. You have no idea who Bruce Wayne is, you don't particularly care either. All you care about is the soft smile Jason gives you and the small bouquet of daisies and baby's breath he's holding out to you. You take it with a shaking hand and Jason's quick to step inside, breezing by your dad with the grace of a cat.

“Are you okay? You're shaking.” The concern is etched in his eyebrows and the way they knit together, the pull of his lips as he takes your hand in his.

Your parents are too busy fawning over Jason's dad to pay much attention to the two of you.

You nod and swallow before you answer, “I'm okay. Just.. nervous.” You admit. Jason smiles in return, his warm hand enveloping yours.

“It's okay. I'm nervous too, it's my first dance. But I'm excited too. We're going to have fun!” And then his eyes are on the flowers that you have in a death grip.

“Hey, easy there.” He laughs softly, taking them from your hand to set them on the small table near your front door. “You look amazing, by the way..” he tells you softly. “Black and green was the right choice.”

Before leaving your parents insist on taking no more than one thousand and six photos, it was embarrassing after the first three and near the six hundredth you were trying to physically drag Jason to the car - who, to everyone's surprise, was being incredibly polite about the mini photoshoot. And, to your surprise again, Mr. Wayne was much more open and warm than you were used to from parents.

He was even nice enough to eat inside his car while you and Jason scarfed down burgers and fries together in the outside eating area.

Your pit stop for food before the dance ran longer than you expected, too busy laughing and joking with Jason to pay much attention to the time. So when you arrive at the dance it's already in full swing. The school gym was decorated in gold and black streamers and balloons, the lights dim with a cheap laser light that lit up red and green. The DJ was on the small stage playing some popular song from the radio.

And for the first time in your fourteen years you let yourself enjoy a school dance. You jump and dance to the faster songs with Jason, let him put his sweaty hands on your waist for the slow songs with your hands on his shoulders, and even drink cup after cup of the sickeningly sweet fruit punch that the school provided.

“I need some air!” You call out to Jason over the music as you can your face, the heat from the gym combined with dancing making you too warm. He nods in agreement and takes your hand in his to lead you outside into the cool air. The sun was just barely starting to set.

“Dance’ll be over soon.” He comments as he steadies his breath. It's quiet out, the noise from the dance muffled now. The two of you lean against the building while you cool down. His hand is still in yours, fingers slowly lacing together like they belong together.

“Yeah…” you say quietly, catching your breath. The silence between you two is comfortable.

“We should climb up to the roof.” Jason says suddenly and your head snaps to him.

“What? No way.” You tell him. He smirks in response.

“Oh, c'mon, I'll keep ya safe.” That smile of his makes those damn mutant butterflies start acting up again.

“It's not that, I trust you. I just don't want to get in trouble.”

Jason's heart races when you say you trust him.

“You can blame it all on me if we get caught. I'll say I kidnapped you and you had no choice.” That makes you laugh. You take a look up at the maintenance ladder on the side of the wall that leads to the roof and in a moment of innocent teenage rebellion you nod.

“Okay, let's do it!”

Jason, ever the gentleman, lets you climb the ladder first - just in case you fall, he can catch you, was his excuse. And in doing so he kept his eyes firmly planted on the ground until you made it to the top.

“Wow, nice view.” He comments when he reaches the top with you. You hum in agreement.

“The neighborhood isn't so bad. The sunset is pretty.”

“Wasn't talking about that.” Jason quips back as his hand automatically finds yours. Your stomach somersaults.

“Wow, smooth.” You tease him with a smile. There's no denying how absolutely flustered the compliment made you.

He leads you to the edge of the building and sits down, rigging you down with him. Your legs swing in tandem as you take in the sight. You feel a little uneasy as you look down.

“Don't worry, I told you I got you. I won't let you fall.” Jason assures you and you nod.

Silence washes over the two of you again, hand in hand, listening to the distant sound of the music from the dance in the building below you.

“Do you climb up to roofs often?” You ask.

Jason huffs a laugh, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He answers.

“I feel like there's a lot I still don't know about you.” You comment, leaning your shoulder into his. He looks at you and smiles before turning back to the horizon.

“I could say the same about you.” He remarks. You smile softly.

“Then let's share our secrets.” You declare, quiet in the golden hour light. Jason's smile softens and it looks like he's biting down on his cheek, holding back.

“I don't know…”

“C'mon, we're best friends, aren't we?” You ask even though you already know the answer. “And we're on a… date. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other.”

Jason inhales deeply before he slowly exhales and nods once.

“Okay.” He finally agrees. He turns on the ledge to face you, his hand tightens around yours - just enough to be grounding. “We'll go at the same time.” You nod in agreement.

“Right. Same time.”

Your heart is racing in your chest, it feels like it's either going to escape your body or stop altogether. You're finally going to tell him.

“Okay,” Jason says, and now both of you are taking shaky breaths.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three-”

And then in unison

“I have a crush on you!”
“I'm Robin!”

Your eyes go wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline, Jason looks just as shocked as you do. And in unison again,

“What?!”

Chapter Text

“You’re Robin?! Like the Batman and Robin?”
“So, you have a crush on me?” You speak over each other.

You and Jason stare at each other in shock for very different reasons. The smile that starts to spread across his face is far too cocky for your liking.

“That’s not- look-” you begin to stutter, flustered.

“I knew it.” The cocky smirk on Jason’s face got bigger, only making you huff and puff, crossing your arms. “I am pretty awesome, I don’t blame you. I’d have a crush on me too- oof - ow!”

You draw your hand back from where you’d whacked his stomach, “You did not know. No one knew. And you have an awful big head, you know that?”

He snorts, “Yeah, but can you blame me? I am Robin after all.” He acts cool, coy, subtly flexes his thin arms and you roll your eyes.

“So… you’re seriously Robin? You’re not lying to me, are you?” You ask with a note of doubt in your tone. Jason’s blustering attitude deflates and instead of that infuriating smirk he offers you a look of full sincerity.

“No, what? I’d never lie to you.” He assures you. His hand reaches for yours and he holds it gently, “I promise. No one but you knows… I can prove it, if you want me to. I swear I ain’t lying.” Your eyes narrow as you study him and finally you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I… I believe you.” And Jason sighs in relief.

“Y’sure?” He asks but you reassure him that you’re sure.

Your mind is reeling as you try to wrap your head around the fact that your friend, your crush, is The Robin. You heard rumors about the previous Robin, how scared most bad guys were of him, how angry and violent he could be.

“So you like… beat up bad guys after school and stuff?”

He hums in response, “Sure do! I don’t stay out too late on school nights, though. Bruce is pretty strict about that.”

And then it hits you.

“Your dad is Batman!”

Jason laughs, loud and light and the sound makes your legs feel weak. “Yeah, Bruce is Batman.”

“But… your dad was so.. nice.” Your nose scrunches. You think about the way Bruce was so polite to your parents earlier that night when they met, how he sat in the car and ate to give you and Jason privacy, “..an’ kinda lame. Like, he’s such a… dad.” He laughs again.

“He’s not that lame.” Jason crosses his arms and leans his shoulder into yours and your face gets hot again.

“Isn’t Batman like… really scary? I’ve heard people call him a demon before.”

“Yeah, Bruce is really scary when he’s Batman!” Jason agrees, but the smile on his face is nothing short of proud. “But he’s nice too.”

“But aren’t you adopted?”

Jason swallows quietly and then hums, “mhm.”

And he tells you about his life before Bruce and Batman and Robin. About his parents, how he lived, how Bruce found him trying to lift tires from the Batmobile. All of it. And you listen, a sympathetic listening ear for him to lean on. When he’s finally finished the sun has started to set and from the noise inside you can tell the dance is about to wrap up.

“You went through a lot.” You finally say in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry.”

He offers a soft smile, “Nothin’ to apologize for. I’m happy now. Real happy.” You give him one more study before you move closer to him on the ledge, just barely, just enough to lean your head against his shoulder. Jason stares at you with widened eyes before he slowly relaxes. He hopes you can’t feel how hard his heart is pounding at the contact.

“So… you really have a crush on me, huh?” He asks quietly with that smirk again.

“Shut it, Todd.”

He laughs softly under his breath, “Why should I? I.. have a crush on you too.”

You can’t tell if it’s your heart that stops or your breathing, possibly both at the same time, but you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling like a dork.

“Really?” You whisper.

“Mhm. Since the first day of school.”

“Knew it.”

He laughs again, “Did not.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You respond with a smile now.

“So.. does that mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?” He asks, staring down at the top of your head. Your hands begin to sweat and you wring them together.

“My parents will kill me if I have a boyfriend.”

“It’s okay, I’m Robin - I’ll save you.” He reaches for your hand and slots his fingers through yours.

You’re silent for just a minute before you finally tell him, “Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” He asks with another soft smile.

“Mhm.” You hum with a giggle.

“Just… it has to stay a secret, okay? No one can know. Not even Summer.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret safe.”

“Good.” He rests his cheek against the top of your head, hesitant and slow. There’s another beat of silence.

“Your hands are sweaty.” He whispers, teasing you.

You scoff and rip your hand from his, “Don’t be rude!” Your outburst makes him laugh loudly again. You try to pull away but he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

“I’m not making fun of you! It’s cute!” He insists, still laughing as you playfully try to pull away from him. He reaches for your hands with his free hand making you laugh in return. Soon you’re enveloped by him, his warmth, and you settle against him with his arms around you. The fluttering in your stomach feels like it should hurt but it feels good.

“We should head down soon.” Jason comments after a few minutes of just holding you.

“In a minute.” You respond and he hums in agreement.

You were right about your parents because when you told them, a week later, about how Jason asked you to be his girlfriend at the dance they almost lost their minds. But the more time they spent with Jason - him visiting your house or having dinner at the Wayne Manor - the more they slowly warmed up to the idea. Jason was a perfect little gentleman in front of your parents. And the entire time you kept your promise to keep Jason’s after school activities a secret. If he ever showed up to school covered in bruises from patrol the night before, or if he was too injured to go to school the following day, you helped him back up his excuses - even though you felt awful about lying.

Weeks turn into months and slowly those months turn into an entire year of dating Jason.

“Hey, hey-” His voice is shaky as he climbs through your bedroom window which was turning into a nightly routine at this point. His cheek was bruised, a small gash across the bridge of his nose beaded with dark blood - telling you it’s been there for a while already. You grab hold of his arms to help him through the window, trying to be quiet enough to not draw attention from your parents. He looks more roughed up than usual as he stands out in your room, looking almost out of place in his torn costume. You notice the dark blood stains and you’re scared to ask if it’s his or not.

In an instant, before you can process what’s happening, his arms are wrapping around you and pulling you into him. That’s when you feel his entire body trembling and hear him sniffling.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” He whispers. You return the hug and run your hand up and down his back.

“What’re you sorry for, hm? You’re okay.” You try to soothe him but he lets out a choked sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried- I tried so hard and I couldn’t- I wasn’t fast enough-” Jason keeps cutting himself off and your stomach begins to twist with anxiety. You have no idea what he’s going on about but you’re starting to worry.

‘What do you mean, Jay? I’m starting to get scared.” Your eyebrows knit together in the soft lighting of your room. Jason’s heavy against you as silent sobs wrack his body. He’s still lean but he’s so much taller than you now, hitting a growth spurt right before his fifteenth birthday.

It takes him a good few minutes to finally answer you, “She’s gone, she’s gone and it’s my fault because I wasn’t good enough.”

“Who? Jason,” you pull back enough to look up at him, “who’s gone?

_______________________________

“No way, I can seriously patrol by myself tonight?” Jason looks up at Bruce with stars in his eyes and a wide smile on his face.

“It’s not patrolling by yourself.” Bruce corrects him. “We’ll be in the same neighborhood but.. Yes. I think you can handle patrolling a few blocks by yourself. I won’t be far behind.”

Jason was ecstatic at the thought of being given some sort of freedom when it came to patrols. Yeah he loved being with Bruce, sticking by his side, but this made him feel like Bruce finally trusted him.

“I won’t let you down!”

Bruce nods once as a proud smile pulls at his lips but he quickly schools it, clearing his throat.

“Prove it to me.” Is all he says before the two head out for their patrol.

Jason jumps from rooftop to rooftop with a new fervor, the excited grin never leaving his face. He felt grown, like he was finally coming into his role as Robin, paving his own path. Even if Bruce wasn’t far behind. His leash has finally been lengthened.

“Whoa,” Jason peers down at the sidewalk below him, sticking to the shadows of the rooftop he’s on. “What’s Summer doing walking around this late? Doesn’t she know this part of Gotham is dangerous at night?” He asks himself as he crouches down, watching Summer. She looks behind her, like someone might be following her, but Jason doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He follows along her path up on the rooftop and then she beelines for a dead end alleyway. He cocks his head to the side about to jump down and demand to know what she’s doing. He knows she doesn’t live in this neighborhood, not even close.

Then he spots the shady guys at the end of the alley. He knows this can’t be anything good.

“You got what we asked for?” One of the guys speaks up.

“Y-yeah,” Summer’s voice trembles when she reaches into her pocket. Then she’s holding out a wad of cash. “You guys have the stuff?” She tries to sound like she’s not intimidated but it fails. One of the guys snatches the cash from her hand and the men laugh when she jumps. Jason’s already making his way down the fire escape ladder.

“Hey!” He calls out, jumping to the ground behind Summer. She yelps in surprise and turns around to face him. The three men at the end of the alley are immediately on guard, already reaching for their weapons.

“Get outta here, kid. This don’t concern you.” One of them shouts at Jason who laughs mockingly.

“Sure it does! It’s kinda my whole schtick, y’know. Stopping creeps like you guys.” He crosses his arms. “What’re you doing here?” He asks Summer.

“Get outta here, Boy Wonder!” Another shouts.

Jason frowns and his eyebrows come together, “Excuse me? You’re really gonna stand there and compare me to-”

One of the men brandishes a gun, pointing it at both Jason and Summer. Summer puts her hands up in a placating gesture and takes a single step back.

“Hey, hey, okay.” Jason copies Summer but he takes a step forward, a step closer to her, ready to jump in and protect her. “Alright, I’m sorry for ruining your drug deal.” He rolls his eyes. “Which - you’re better than that, you know drugs are bad for you.” He shoots a look at Summer, disappointed. She looks at him confused, like she really can't believe he’s giving her this kind of talk while being held at gun point.

“Alright, I’m done listening to this shit.” The man holding the gun says. Jason’s attention snaps back to them.

He’s pushing Summer out of the way the second the gun goes off as Jason predicted, unfortunately accurately, how the goons would react. She slams into the brick wall as the three men move forward. Jason yells a rushed “get outta here!” in Summer’s direction. But with the two bigger guys attacking Jason he wasn’t quick enough, not agile enough, to stop the third from pulling a knife on Summer.

Jason blacks out, he’s pretty sure, because all he remembers after that is heaving with ragged breaths with the three men on the ground in front of them - all unconscious. Before his mind can register what happened his legs are pulling him towards Summer.

“Hey, c’mon.” He kneels on the wet pavement next to her, pulling her into his lap. Her eyes are closed and Jason immediately notices how cold she’s getting. “Summer, wake up. It’s not funny anymore.” He chokes, tapping on her cheek. But she doesn’t move. His hand finds the large gash on her stomach and tries to put pressure on the wound. “S-summer, stop.” Tears blur his vision.

He moves the bangs away from her face, smearing cold blood across her forehead. “Stop it. Wake up.” Jason shakes her. “Wake up, we have- we have school tomorrow!” His grip on her is tight.

“She’s gone, Jason.” Bruce’s voice rings out from the entrance of the alley, pulling Jason’s attention to him.

He shakes his head, “No. No. She can’t be. We have school tomorrow, we have to- she can’t be-” he swallows roughly.

“The police are on the way.” Bruce walks to Jason, kneeling down beside him. “Lay her down, son.”

______________________________________________________________

“So…” your voice breaks as you pull away from Jason, looking at his costume. Your bottom lip trembles and tears sting your eyes. “This is…” you look at the blood staining his clothes and your knees go weak. Jason is quick to grab you by the arms, keeping you up. “This is Summer’s blood? She’s gone? Dead?”

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

Chapter Text

Summer’s funeral service was held one week after her death. By now most of it is a blur, trying to remember anything specific was like trying to see through fog. The only things that stuck out were Jason’s constant presence, the speech you gave, and the sound of her mother’s cries when her casket was lowered into the ground - raw and ragged and primal. It was haunting. Something you would never forget, no matter how badly you wanted to.

“I keep texting her before I realize…” You’re in Jason’s bed at the Wayne household buried under a pile of blankets. It’s where you’ve been spending most of your time, even skipping school to hide away from everything, Alfred and Mr. Wayne never seemed to notice - or they just didn’t mind if they did notice. Your parents let it happen, knew you needed some way to cope. And it was easier to do it at the manor than at your own house where there were still too many memories of Summer that littered your room.

“I know.” He responds with his arms wrapped around you, one hand runs soothingly up and down your back. There’s still a hint of guilt in his voice that makes your chest ache, no matter how many times you and Mr. Wayne tell him it’s not his fault he still refuses to believe it.

You had spent the last few tells trying to figure out why she was even out buying drugs. When did she start using? Was that her first time? Did someone introduce her to it, and if so who was it? All questions that would remain unanswered. There wasn’t even a trace of her making plans with the drug dealers and they were still refusing to talk.

“I should have been there for her. Maybe I would have noticed-”

“Hey.” Jason cuts you off with a soft tone. His hand stops in the middle of your back and you can feel his fingers dig into your skin before he relaxes and starts rubbing again. “It’s not your fault.” He assures you the same way you’ve been assuring him. Each time falling on deaf ears. “It’s…” Jason trails off before he swallows quietly, “It’s no one’s fault.” and it sounds like it pains him to say, like he doesn’t believe it himself, like he’s lying straight to your face and feels guilt.

“No one knew. No one.” He reiterates for the nth time since her death.

“I should have. I’m her-” the anger that’s brewing low in your stomach makes you cut yourself off and correct yourself, “I was her best friend. I should have seen the signs.”

“Babe…” Jason keeps his voice low and calm for you. “Don’t do that… don’t talk like that.” Your sniffling makes him hold you closer against his chest, “I personally know all the telltale signs of when a person is using, or planning to use. And she never showed any signs. You gotta stop blaming yourself.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” You mumble with a scowl on your face before you’re nuzzling into his warm chest again. He doesn’t push you away, he would never, not in a million years, but what you say does hurt him. He takes a second to get a better control on his breathing.

“That’s not fair.” His hand not on your back holds the back of your head. You sniffle again.

“Sorry…” You whisper.

“I know.” His thumb rubs against your hair, “It.. it’s okay.”

But you know it’s not. You know he’s hurting just as much, if not more. She was your best friend, yeah, but Jason? Jason watched it happen, Jason could have - potentially - prevented it from happening in the first place. His survivor’s guilt ate at him every single day. Bruce told him it was normal to experience guilt with his first loss on patrol but that didn’t make it any easier.

Jason holds you, for how long you have no idea. Time seems to slow down and speed up these days. Everything happens too slow and too fast, because what do you mean it’s sunset already? Another one that Summer won’t get to experience.

“You know…” Jason finally speaks up. His voice is rough and thick, like he’s tired and trying not to cry all at the same time. “She’d be making fun of us right now.”

“Hm?” You hum, wanting him to elaborate.

“She’d totally be making fun of us.” You can hear how badly he wants to smile in his voice and that makes your chest feel a little lighter. “She’d be calling us sappy and gross. She hated whenever we’d be.. affectionate in front of her.”

You breathe out a small laugh. It’s the first one in weeks. Jason almost sighs in relief.

“Yeah, she would be.” You agree. “She’d probably make some joke about ‘if you’re going to be straight that’s fine, just do it in your home where I can’t see it’.”

Jason laughs at that followed by a quiet sniff, “Yeah, she was funny like that.” He murmurs against the top of your head.

For the first time in weeks you feel just a little lighter, like that weight sitting heavy in your chest was finally starting to dissolve - even if it was just by a little bit. Nothing would bring your best friend back, no amount of self blame or guilt, but with Jason to hold on to you, to whisper those bittersweet memories in your ear, maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to navigate. You pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him for the first time in a while. He’s paler than usual with dark bags under his eyes. You let out a sigh because even in the midst of his grief he’s still as stupidly handsome as ever.

“What?” He asks in a whisper after letting you stare at him, his lips quirk up just barely into a lopsided grin.

“Nothing.” You answer.

“Nah, it’s not nothin’. It’s never just ‘nothing’ with you. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

“Mm, you think you know me so well, don’t you?” Your question comes out quiet but almost playful. Jason could thank his lucky stars that a small spark of your old self was finally shining through.

He nods, “I do know you so well.” he answers before kissing your forehead. You let your eyes close at the gesture before you’re looking at him again.

“Then what am I thinking about right now?”

He pretends to hum in thought, “You’re thinking ‘bout how handsome I am, huh? And smart. And funny. You’re always thinkin’ about how great I am.”

That finally gets you to laugh. Your smile almost reaches your eyes, “You’re ridiculous.” you tell him.

“But am I wrong?” He cocks an eyebrow and you roll your eyes in response, giving him his answer. His smile gets wider and he pulls you closer. “Knew it.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head now.

“Cocky.” You tease him softly. He kisses your temple.

“Yeah, sure am.” He agrees, but it’s half hearted. He doesn’t fully believe it and you both know it. He kisses your cheek and your eyes close again at the tender gestures. There’s a shift in the air of his room. One you can’t put your finger on but it makes your stomach feel weird, fluttery and warm.

There’s a nagging in the back of your head that tells you to assure Jason, again, that he did everything he could. That truly it’s not his fault. But the repetitive words don’t come out, they die out in your throat as he pushes you gently onto your back. He kisses the corner of your mouth and stops.

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. And although you’ve heard it a million times before, something about this time makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s like hearing it for the first time before but now it’s full of heat.

“I love you too.” You respond automatically. You finally open your eyes and look at Jason. He’s looking at you almost pleadingly, like he’s begging, but there’s a heat in his gaze that makes you squirm. His hand trails from the back of your head down your neck, to your shoulder, before finally landing on your hip.

“Do you trust me?” He asks suddenly and with that look in his eyes you know exactly what he’s asking and why.

The thought makes you swallow.

“With my life.” You answer and it was the God’s honest truth.

—---------

“Holy shit.” Jason pants, his forehead resting against your shoulder. Sweat beads at his temple and he swallows thickly in a vain attempt to wet his dry throat. Your hand tangles in the back of his damp hair as you hold him close to you, your chest heaving with each breath.

“That was amazing. You’re amazing.” He kisses your neck and you squirm with a tired smile. “Thank you.” He pants again.

“Are you thanking me?” You ask with a breathless laugh. He nods. “Why?”

“For.. for letting me do.. that with you.” He answers. He pulls back and gives you a grin that makes him look boyish with his flushed cheeks. You smile and shake your head.

“It wasn’t just for you, you know.” You comment.

“I know,” he lowers himself next to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling your sweaty body against his. His palm is spread flat against your stomach, his thumb rubbing idle circles against your skin. “Did I hurt you?” He asks quietly. When you shake your head he sighs. “Good.”

“I am kinda thirsty, though.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He breathes out a laugh. “Me too.”

“And hungry.” You admit shyly. His thumb stops and you almost laugh.

“Hungry? I did put you through a pretty rigorous work out.” He teases. You swat at his arm but that only makes him laugh. “What do you want to eat, pretty? I’ll have Alfred whip something up while you shower.”

“Mm….” you hum in thought, “I won’t lie, strawberry waffles sound pretty good right now.”

“Strawberry waffles coming right up.”

Chapter Text

It was a week and a half after Summer's death that you finally made it back to school. Your parents didn't push you, letting you take the time you needed to grieve, yet it wasn't nearly enough time. You begged for more, “just a few more days”, but you were already too far behind on your classwork.

Everything felt.. cold as you walked down the halls. There were stares, whispers, snickers. You felt so small but too seen all at the same time. Your heart was racing, you weren't even sure why. You knew logically that people would talk, make assumptions, start rumors. But being the center of attention - the girl whose best friend was murdered -it was all too much.

“Hey,” a voice came up behind you, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

Jason.

You almost let out a relieved sigh. Your hand found his automatically, fingers lacing together.

“Hey.” You greet him back in a near whisper as you force a smile on your face.

“How are you doing, your first day back?” His voice was so gentle when he spoke to you.

Part of you felt guilty. Jason was there when it had happened. Jason had witnessed her death, held her as she bled out, and yet he was back to school and into his regular routine after just a few days. You wondered if you'd ever be as strong as he was.

“Okay, I guess.” You shrug in response. Your focus is on the hall in front of you. It felt never ending - empty, now that Summer wasn't there to greet you with her bright smile and enthusiastic wave. Jason hums.

“Did you hear?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. The confused look on your face is answer enough for him. “There’s going to be an assembly later today. For Summer. A… memorial of some sort, I guess.”

Your lips pull down into a frown, “Are you serious? Why today?”

“Well,” he answers, “it was supposed to be last week but the school had to go on lock down because of Condiment King.” He explains. Your nose wrinkles.

“Lockdown for that bozo? Seems like overkill.” You mumble. Jason hums in agreement.

“So it got rescheduled for Friday but then - remember I told you - they had to close the school early because Killer Croc did something God awful to the sewers. It took all weekend for them to fix the damage.”

“Ugh, that's right.” you took in a breath and slowly let it out.

You and Jason stop in front of your locker, he leans against the neighboring one as he watches you pull out the books you need.

“You gonna be okay?” He asks, gentle. It makes your chest ache. You don't look at him right away, instead staring at the Polaroid of you and Summer that you raped to the wall of your locker.

“Yeah,” you finally answer, “I'll be okay…” you close the metal door and look at him, “Will you?”

“S’long as I've got you, I'll be alright.” He answers. It's so genuine you can't help but smile at him, a lopsided grin forming on his own face in return.

You take a second to really look at him. The dark bags under his eyes, the slight crease between his brows. You know he's not okay - he's about as worse off as you are. You take in a small breath and slowly let it out as you force on a smile.

Because yeah, your best friend died. But Jason had to live with the fact that she died because of him. And if putting on a smile and pretending you're not hurting as much as you really are is the only way to get him to smile again then so be it.

“That was really lame, by the way.” You tease him as he guides you down the hall with an arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He lets out a soft little laugh.

“It was not. It was super romantic.”

“Yeah, sure.” You bump your hip into his.

The memorial that the school puts on for Summer is a joke. It was held right before lunch when everyone was already ready to leave the building, ready to stretch their legs and fill their bellies and laugh with friends - no one was interested.

“This is bullshit.” You whisper to Jason. Your hands are balled into right fists on your lap, the dean just mispronounced Summer’s last night. You're fighting back tears through clenched teeth. Jason's hand is on yours in an instant and you can hear him let out a shaky breath.

“I know.” He whispers back. He hates seeing you like this, hurt and broken and angry. Something white hot and vicious bubbles in his stomach.

“Excuse me-” he stands up suddenly, your hand still in his. You stare up at him in shock, eyes wide, heart racing. What is he doing?! “Her name is rue-ball-ka-vuh.” Jason enunciates each syllable of Summer’s last name. “Rubalcava. Summer Rubalcava. Not rue-bava. Have some respect.”

All eyes are on him now.

The dean’s eyes narrow in on him, he’s flustered - angry for being called out in front of the entire school body.

“Right. Thank you, Mr. Todd. I apologize. Now, if you would please sit down.” His face is stern, set, he’s not playing around. You and Jason both already know that he’s going to get in trouble for his outburst. He takes his spot next to you, his jaw working as he clenches his teeth together.

All you can do is stare in awe, admiration, and it hits you just how much you love him.

“Thank you.” You whisper. All he does is nod once in response. Finally he looks at you sideways, as if he was checking on you, and you can see the way he visibly deflates, hearing the steady breath he let out as his anger melted away.

After the assembly the crowd leaving the gymnasium is suffocating and hot. Most of the noise is muffled together like background extras in a movie. Your head hurts, it’s pounding, but Jason’s presence next to you is steady and keeps you grounded. Part of you feels like you would float away in your daze if he didn’t have a hold on your hand. But then you hear it, somewhere far off - or maybe it’s closer than you think, you’re not sure, but you hear it all the same.

“Who cares if she died. She was buying drugs, she deserved it.”

Your head snaps up, eyes zeroing in on the girl in an instant. You knew who the voice belonged to, some girl in your grade who had a tendency to talk shit - about anyone and everyone. You kept your distance, mostly, knew she wasn’t worth it. Jason’s still lost in his world, eyes focused ahead, trying to guide you somewhere quiet for lunch - but the second your hand tightens around his he turns to look at you, instantly knowing something is wrong.

“What is it-”

And before he can get a word in you’re dragging him over to the girl, a scowl on your face, a fire in your eyes.

“What did you say?” You speak up as you push through the crowd of students. Most everyone ignores you, or mumbles something about getting out of their way, but you’re a force. No one is going to get in your way or stop you from confronting the girl.

She looks up, looks around, like she doesn’t hear you. That pisses you off even more. “Hm?” She questions innocently in a hum.

“Hey-” Jason tries to get your attention but it’s no use.

“You heard me. Now I wanna hear what you said. What was it, what did you say? She deserved it?” You’re standing right in front of her now, crowding her backwards away from the crowd. Jason pulls on your hand but you rip yours out of his. He’s been around enough angry people to know what happens next.

The girl looks around at her friends but they stay silent, looking around feigning innocence. But then she squares her shoulders and looks at you defiantly.

“Yeah, I said she deserved it. She shouldn’t have been out buying drugs. If she didn’t die then she would have just died later on down the road as a junkie.” She scoffs.

You’re not sure when it happens, at what point your vision blanks, but the next thing you know she’s on the ground crying and your knuckles are split open.

“Holy shit.” Jason lets out a laugh of disbelief and awe.

“Say that shit to me again and see what happens.” You spit at the girl who's now holding her bleeding nose.

“You’re a psychopath!” She yells at you. Her friends are surrounding her, trying to get her to sit up to assess the damage. There’s a small group of students who have stopped dead in their tracks to watch the “fight”.

You bend down, your face etched with anger, “Fuck you.” your voice comes out low and dangerous. Jason’s hand on your shoulder pulls you back but he’s not smiling anymore when you turn to look at him, to yell at him for trying to pull you away. But when his eyes dart to the side you notice what he’s silently pointing at.

The dean.
Fuck.

An entire week's suspension is your sentence after a meeting that afternoon with your parents and the dean. You didn’t care, not really. The only downside would be not seeing Jason as often. But you were too depressed, too tired recently, to really care. Everything had been weighing down on you recently and it was like you couldn’t keep up. Like a snowball rolling uncontrollably down a hill, everything continues to pile up and you keep spiraling further down the hill with no brakes. Your parents however, saw it in a completely different light. Their daughter, turning into a delinquent. Your dad tried to reason that you were going through a lot, more than any teenager should. Your mom blamed Jason. She argued that he was a bad influence on you.

“That’s such shit!” You yell as you throw your backpack down in the entry way after getting home. You can hear your dad sigh in resignation, the coward. Your mom is behind you, silent and that scares you more than anything.

“What’s shit is getting a call at work saying that my daughter attacked another student.” She finally says. Her voice is full of anger. “And I do not appreciate you using that language in this house!”

You’re seething with rage, ready to snap or throw something or punch something again. Your knuckles were still sore even with the bandages now.

“I didn’t “attack” her and she deserved it!”

“No one ‘deserves’ to be punched in the face. You broke her nose! And now we have to pay her hospital bills, young lady!”

You scoff and let out a sardonic laugh, “Oh please, she was going to get a nose job for graduation anyway - I just sped up the procedure for her. She should be thanking me.”

“This isn’t a game and it isn’t funny.”

Your mom is standing right in front of you now, toe to toe, eye to eye. You cross your arms defiantly and you swear you can see the vein in her forehead bulging even more. Your dad stands in the doorway watching. He never got between your fights, never stood up for you, never had your back. You hated it.

“I never said it was a game.” You challenge her in a low voice. “And it also wasn’t funny when she said that Summer deserved to die, to be murdered. What, you wanted me to just let her say that and go tell on her like a child?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I want you to do!”

Your hands tighten into fists again and you hold back the urge to scream at her.

“Two weeks, you’re grounded.” She finally states. Your eyes go wide.

“What?! Are you serious?”

“No phone, no TV, no computer unless it’s for school, and no Jason.”

“No Jason?!”

“No Jason!”

“Dad!” You turn to him. He’s wide eyed and he looks scared. It makes you want to punch him next, or scream him to grow a fucking back bone for once.

“What, honey? She- your mother has a point.” He states meekly. You look at him in disbelief.

You shake your head but you know that whatever you say next, no matter how badly you want to say it, will only extend your grounding. So you shoot your mom one last glare before stomping upstairs to your room. You slam your bedroom door behind you and lock it. You throw yourself face first into your bed and let out a scream into your pillow that is part anger and pain all rolled up together like a tornado.

And then you let yourself cry. Ugly and unbidden, loud and gasping, ugly. You don’t know how long you lay there, how long your parents let you lay there alone, gasping for air, losing your voice. By the time you’ve finally quieted down your headache is worse than before, your face feels swollen and raw from how often you had wiped away tears and snot. When you finally look at the clock in your room it’s well past midnight. The fact that your parents had gone to bed while you were in your room hurting, needing them, made your chest hurt.

Then there’s a light knock on your window and without having to get up you know who it is.
Jason.

Recently he thought it would be “romantic” to climb up to your second story window to sneak in. Only it wasn’t really sneaking because nine times out of ten your parents knew he was there. But it was cute and silly and you loved the smile on his face every time it popped up in your window, like he was a medieval knight coming to steal you away and he was oh so proud of himself.

You’re slow to get out of bed, your movements stiff, but you finally open the window and Jason climbs in. He’s in a sweatshirt, some vintage Gotham Knights sweater, and sweatpants and you wonder if he snuck out of bed at the manor to come see you or if Bruce knew where he was.

“Hey, hi.” His tone is soft, gentle, as he gathers you in his arms. You don’t have anymore tears to cry, but if you did you would be with how soft he’s being with you.

You don’t say anything, don’t need to. Your arms wrap around him, hands fisting weakly at the back of his sweater. One of his hands is on your back while the other holds the back of your head as he pulls you into him. The two of you stand there for just a few minutes before Jason’s pulling back, cupping your cheeks with his hands. There’s a gleam in his eyes, one you’ve never seen before, but it makes your stomach twist in the weirdest way.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No. My mom says I’m grounded for the next two weeks.” Your voice comes out hoarse, raw. “Which means I’m grounded from seeing you too.”

He frowns softly but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can’t stand. He’s too good. “That’s okay, we can still see each other at school.” He reasons.

You shake your head again, “I’m suspended for the week.”

“Oh… Well that really puts a damper on things, doesn’t it…?” He hums before running his hand over your back.

You close your eyes, they’re raw and heavy, and you suddenly feel so tired. You’re completely wiped out.

“Little bit….” you finally mumble. Jason hums again in agreement before kissing the top of your head.

“So.. I guess that means you can’t come with me.” He says. You sniffle quietly before you speak up again.

“Go with you? Where, back to the manor?”

“No,” Jason shakes his head before resting his chin on the top of yours. “Uh, so… long story.”

He sits you down on the edge of your bed and goes on a long story about how Catherine really isn’t his mom, how his biological mom is in Ethiopia and how Bruce has promised to take him there to meet her.

“I know it’s a lot, after everything. And I don’t want to leave you. That’s why I came over, to see if you would be able to come with us. I haven’t asked Bruce yet but I don’t think he would mind.”

You rub your hand against your forehead as you try to process everything. “You know I would love to Jason, but… even if I wasn’t grounded my parents would never let me go to a different country with you.” You look down solemnly at your hands that are engulfed by Jason’s. He’s quiet before he lets out a breath.

“Yeah, I kinda figured….”

And then he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

“When do you leave?” You ask him in a near whisper. You really don’t want to hear the answer. You don’t want to be alone, not after everything, for God knows how long. Just thinking about Jason being that far away from you for that long sends your nervous system into a frenzy.

“Day after tomorrow.” He whispers against your hair. There’s a note of regret in his voice, part of you wonders if he’ll call the whole trip off if you ask him - but you know you can’t.

“For how long?”

“Dunno… couple weeks at most.”

There’s a sad, heavy silence that settles between the two of you. You sniffle again and your body attempts to cry even if nothing comes at.

“Will you stay?” You ask him desperately. And you both know he won’t stay, not through the night, not at the risk of getting caught by your parents.

“Yeah, I will.”

He helps you into bed, pulling back your pink duvet, covering you back up like you’re something special to be cared for. It makes your heart feel like it’s swelling. And when you’re finally tucked in and comfortable he crawls in next to you into the spot that he’s claimed as his own over the last year.

Chapter Text

“I won’t be gone that long, I promise. And I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” Even over the phone you can tell he’s trying to put on a brave front, you can hear the forced smile on his face. It’s all you can do to hum in response. “How’re you feeling?” He asks softly.

“Aside from the depression, the exhaustion, stomach cramps, nausea, and vomiting? I feel fine.” You answer quietly.

It’s the middle of the night, you’re still still grounded from him – only six days into your sentence. But he leaves for Ethiopia soon so you’re sneaking in a secret phone call in the middle of the night.

“You’re still sick?” He asks and now you can hear the frown in his voice. You want nothing more than to be able to hug his worries away. “Are you sure it’s not the flu? It sounds like the flu. You know, I can probably have Alfred make you some soup while we’re gone and –” he cuts himself off when he hears you laughing quietly.

“What?” He asks, a boyish hint to his tone.

“You’re cute.” You whisper. “I was tested for the flu, my doctor said it’s probably just a stomach bug going around.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired all the time. You said you can barely make it through the day.” Jason’s been concerned for days now, since you first told him you weren’t feeling well.

“He said that’s probably from the depression and everything.” You assure him.

Jason hums and there’s a moment of silence. You know him and you know he wants to say more, protest in some way and try to find a solution because that’s what he’s best at, he says - fixing things.

“I’m okay, I promise.” You say with a small smile and you hear him sigh into the phone.

“I know.” He finally relents quietly.

It’s quiet again when the two of you realize just how long you’ll be away from each other with little to no communication. The longest you’d be away from each other in your relationship and without Summer around…

“You’ll be okay?” Jason asks in a whisper. This time it isn’t your physical health he’s asking about. The thought makes your stomach feel heavy. It takes you a few seconds longer than he’d like for you to respond.

“I.. I think so.” The soft sadness in your tone almost makes Jason want to call off the whole trip but he knows how crazy that would be. There’s a small needling of guilt that pricks at you and you sigh to shake it off.

“I’ll be fine.” You try to sound more confident in your answer for him. “You’ll be back before I know it, you said so yourself.”

“Right.” Jason smiles to himself. “And I’d never lie to you.”

“Never.” You agree with a smile.

Because it was the truth. Jason never lies to you, about anything. Some things he would reword to soften the blow – like that one time you wore that god awful grandma sweater to school, instead of lying and saying it was cute he told you that you look like you give warm hugs and bake cookies real good. You remember how hard you and Summer laughed at him as he tried to defend himself and get out of telling you just how ugly the sweater actually was.

He can hear the smile in your voice, the way your inflection raises, happier. He smiles to himself. “That’s my girl.” He practically whispers. He’s not even in front of you and you have to look away, your stomach fluttering at the silly little expression.

“Whatever…” You mumble before laughing to yourself, quickly quieting yourself down to not be too loud.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” He teases with a small laugh of his own.

“I don’t blush!” You defend yourself, whispering harshly into the phone with another stifled laugh. Jason, on the other hand, laughs loudly on the end of the phone.

“Yeah, totally. You totally don’t blush all the time when I’m around you. It’s okay, you can admit it. I am very handsome, I don’t blame you – really, I don’t.” He teases.

This time the laugh you accidentally let out is loud and bright and Jason’s smile grows wider.

“Shh, shut up. You’re going to get me caught.”

“What, they gonna extend your sentence for poor behavior?” He jokes.

“Yeah! Probably!” You respond, still trying to hold back your laughter. “My mom is a bi-”

“Hey now.” Jason cuts you off, attempting to sound serious. “That wasn’t very lady-like.”

Silence.
And then you’re both laughing again.

“I’m going to miss you,” you tell him quietly after your giggles die down. “Like… a stupid amount.”

“I know,” he responds, “I’m going to miss you, too.”

“Can I write you letters?” You suddenly ask. “Since I won’t be able to call you an’ all.”

“And send them where?”

“I dunno,” you shrug even though he can’t see you, “the manor? They’ll be there for you when you get back.”

He hums before answering, “Yeah, I don’t see why not. That’d be nice… then you won’t have to remember everything you want to tell me when I get back.” You yawn quietly, trying to keep Jason from hearing it, but he hears it regardless.

“Get some sleep, you have school in the morning.”

“Mm, don’t tell me what to do, Dad.” You tease and he barks out a laugh that makes you smile. You’re going to miss hearing that.

“Don’t call me that!” He’s still laughing into the phone. “Seriously, though.Your parents already hate me enough, get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble before finally accepting defeat. “Call me soon, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, Jason.” Your voice is so soft and sincere that Jason’s heart does a weird little stutter in his chest.

“I love you, too.”

That was the last time you heard from Jason.

You start your first letter the following morning. Short and simple.

’Jason,
You left early this morning for Ethiopia and while I wish I had been able to go with you, I understand that you need this time with Bruce and your mom. And like I said before my mom would never let me go. I’m lucky to still be alive after everything. I’m still feeling sick today but I was able to hold down a piece of toast and some ginger ale so I’m hoping I don’t throw that up later because that will just be gross.
Mom and dad are talking about sending me back to school soon. I still don’t know if I’m ready to go back without you but I don’t have a say I guess.
Anyway I’m going to take a nap. I’m still sooooooo tired all the time. Can’t wait to see you
xoxoxoxo’

You fold the letter up and place it into an envelope, seal it, and place a sticky lip gloss covered kiss to the seal. That begins the series of letters you write to Jason. The one the following day is shorter, complaining about still being sick and how you’re being sent back to school the next day. It joins the growing pile on your desk in your room.

Two days after your phone call with Jason, despite still feeling like shit, your mom sends you back to school – saying you can’t miss anymore. You can hardly stay awake during classes and every passing period you spend in the bathroom throwing up. You can’t even enter the cafeteria, the smell from all of the different foods making you nauseous. You’re currently in the bathroom, splashing water on your face in a vain attempt to cool your flushed skin and wash away the sweat that was starting to bead at your forehead.

“You’re still throwing up?” A girl asks, washing her hands in the sink next to you. “I heard you this morning.” She explains when you slowly turn to give her a confused look. You look awful, you know it when she grimaces. You don’t even answer before she’s talking again.

“What, are you pregnant or something?” She snickers a laugh and your heart stops.

“What?” Your tone raises in an octave, an incredulous scoff coming out of your mouth right after. “No! I’m not pregnant, that’s crazy.”

Then she laughs at you, “Oh, so you’re still a virgin?” she mocks before shrugging, drying her hands. “Figured Jason would’ve tapped by now.”

“Excuse me?” You’re not afraid to be suspended again. Not when you feel like death is waiting patiently on your doorstep.

“What?” She asks nonchalantly, “I’m just saying - I figured you guys would’ve you know….” she insinuates with a smirk. “You two have been dating for forever now.”

“We-” you know you don’t have to explain yourself to her, you know how crazy this entire conversation is.

’What if she’s right?’

“We have.” You tell her, bristling slightly. “We have done.. That.” You mumble.

She looks you over almost approvingly before sighing, “Then you’re probably pregnant.” she insists again.

“I- I’m not! We were– we were careful!”

“Yeah, uh-huh. My sister said the same thing and next thing you know she has a baby on her hip at graduation.” And with that she leaves the bathroom.

And now you’re spiraling. Surely there’s no way, you tell yourself. You were careful – birth control, a condom, the works. You knew all about safe sex, you and Jason both. And yet…

After school you find yourself in the ‘family planning’ aisle at the Walgreens down the street from your house. There’s so many options. One test, two, three, four. Test six days early, seven days early. Pee on this one, dip that one. You panic and grab the cheapest box, a two pack pink box, and rush to the register. You’re thankful when the cashier doesn’t give you a judging look, doesn’t push when you say you don’t have any sort of phone number to put in, and without asking, puts your test into a bag.

You’d hug her if you could.

“Thank you,” you mumble, grabbing your bag as she tears your receipt to throw away.

“Good luck.” Is all she offers with a sympathetic look in her eyes. Christ it’s not helping the way you’re spiraling.

When you get home no one else is there yet. You breathe out in relief and rush to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you before locking it. Your hands shake when you pull the test out of the bag. You don’t think your heart has ever beat this fast. Not when you found out Summer died, not when you punched that stupid girl at school in the face, not when you and Jason first- you shake your head with a groan.

“It’s now or never.” You tell yourself quietly. Steeling your nerves you head to your bathroom and lock that door too. Just in case, you tell yourself.

Inside the bathroom you set the box on the counter and take out the instructions. Your eyes go wide in disbelief as the paper just keeps opening up.

“What?” You breathe out in shock. “Why is there so much?” You whine. “Don’t I just pee on it?”

This cannot be happening.

“Okay. Okay.” You take in a breath to calm yourself down. Another wave of nausea builds up and this time it’s not from your stomach bug.

“Pee for a few seconds, then put the stick in the stream, pee on it, wait three minutes. I can do that. Easy. It’s.. so easy.” Your voice cracks. You aren’t sure if you’re going to pass out or throw up. Either way your nerves are shot. You don’t even know if you can pee at this point. But nonetheless you know it’s something you need to get done to have some peace of mind.

So you uncap the test, stare at it like it’s a piece of alien technology out to ruin your life - because let’s be real, it kind of is - sit on the toilet and pee.

And then you wait. Three painstakingly agonizing minutes.

At one point your anxiety got so bad you did end up throwing up while you waited for the test. You rinse your mouth out in the sink and wash your hands and out of the corner of your eye you look over at the stupid little pink and white stick that’s going to dictate the rest of your life–

Positive.

Chapter Text

Postive.

That awful white stick stared back in your face for what felt like an eternity. Mocking. You’re pretty sure it would point and laugh at you if it could. You’re almost waiting for it to happen until nausea bubbles up in your stomach and you’re throwing up your lunch into the toilet next to you.

Today wasn’t the day to pick the corndog for lunch at school.

You can only imagine how your parents are going to react.

“Oh, God…” you groan into the toilet, holding onto the cold porcelain to keep yourself steady.

And then there’s Jason - Jason who’s still in Ethiopia and won’t find out until he gets back in a week.

“Oh, God.” Your groan gets louder, followed by an almost silent whine.

You slump down onto your knees and lean your back against the tub. The cold helps ground you, helps keep your nausea at bay for now. Your hand instinctively goes to your stomach and a shudder runs down your arms. You opt to grip at your knee instead. The thought of a little, actual living person being in your stomach makes that small shudder turn into a full body shudder.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What am I going to do?” You ask yourself out loud as panic starts to set in. Hot tears are pricking your eyes, big and wet. You’re trembling now with adrenaline but you can’t even feel it.

“I need to tell Summer-”

A choked sob leaves your mouth before you slam your hand to keep from wailing out.

No Summer, no Jason, and parents that are going to kill you - if you’re lucky and they take mercy on you.

And the next thing you know, you’re laying on the cool tiles of your bathroom floor, curled into yourself. You can’t remember the last time you’ve done this, it’s been a few years. Just a little girl curled up on her bathroom floor feeling sick, waiting for her mom to bring her water and crackers to feel better. And that’s when it hits you. The realization makes you sob silently into your hands.

You’re just a little girl who wants her mom, needs her mom.

“Mommy–” leaves your mouth, muffled by your hands, your voice trembling as you cry.

“I’m sorry Mommy, ‘m so sorry.”

You lay on the bathroom floor for hours, crying until your eyelids are swollen, congestion sets in, and a headache is starting to form. You’re practically working on autopilot when you pull yourself up off the floor and wipe your face with a small bunch of toilet paper. You make sure to grab the pregnancy test and hide it deep in the bathroom’s garbage can.

“They can’t know…. Not yet….” You sniffle.

Then you trudge your way to your room and sit at your desk. You barely feel alive when you pick up your favorite pen, pink and full of glitter with a small sparkly puff ball at the end.

Dear Jason,
I’m pregnant

And the tears start again, splotching the paper beneath you. How is he going to take it? Will he leave? Will he support you, ask you to get rid of it? Everything worst possible thought runs through your head before you finally start to calm down.

“No, he wouldn't." You speak out. It really just feels like you’re lying to yourself, like you’re trying to make yourself feel better and convince yourself that everything will be okay.

You’re too tired to write anything else, what else is there to write? So you seal the tear stained paper in an envelope, address it and sloppily press a stamp to the corner, leaving it ready to mail on your desk. You stare at it like it’s going to explode if you move an inch. Nothing will ever be the same, you know this.

The letter is mailed the next day.

Almost an entire week goes by without incident. You’re more tired than usual, but that has already been happening. You’re finding ways to get through the school day without falling asleep in class, despite how difficult it’s been. Taking a nap as soon as you get home from school until your parents get back from work, only to act like you had been studying the entire time.

“See, you’re focusing more on school without Jason distracting you.” You hear your mom say in passing one evening while you’re at the kitchen table, eating dinner. It’s unappetizing, the smell alone makes you want to vomit.

“That’s not fair, Mom…” you mumble quietly under your breath.

“When does he come back, honey?” Your dad speaks up before your mom can say anything else. You still think he’s a coward.

“Tomorrow. Supposedly.” You answer. You toy with your food on your plate, moving the mashed potatoes around with your fork.

“Ah, bet you’re excited.”

And you are, deep down. But the piles and piles and piles of existential dread are burying that excitement right now. Because tomorrow Jason comes home, and tomorrow Jason is going to read the letter that you’re pregnant. Tomorrow is the day you find out if Jason is going to leave you or stay with you, if he wants to keep the baby or get rid of it.

“Yeah,” you put on a tired smile, “I’m excited.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Your mom asks after agonizing minutes of tense silence.

“Hm?”

“You’ve hardly eaten any of your food.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just tired. I’ve been studying all day.” You let out a yawn, unintentional but it helps with the half lie.

“Well hurry up and eat and you can go to bed early.”

The thought of eating dinner makes you want to cry.

“Can I just be excused, please?” You do your best to keep your tired frustrations out of your voice.

“Of course, honey.” Your dad answers in a soft voice. The thought of telling him that his baby is pregnant, breaking his heart, makes you want to cry. It takes everything in you to give him a shaky smile before retreating from the dining room to your bedroom.

“You spoil her.” You hear your mom whisper behind your back.

“She’s a good kid-”

“Keep babying her like that and it won’t prepare her for the real world.”

You’re in your bed looking around your room. Everything feels too surreal, like you’re not even in your own body anymore. You stare up at your ceiling and those stupid glow in the dark stars that Summer helped you put up four summers ago. Your hand goes to your stomach again and you swallow back tears.

“I’m so fucked…” you whisper into the dark of your room.

You sleep through your alarm the next day, waking up late in the morning. Thank God it’s a Saturday. Your eyes barely open, swollen from crying the day before, and your head feels like it’s full of cotton. You blink once, slowly, and realize just how dry your eyes are. All you want to do is stay in bed where it’s warm and safe, where the outside world doesn’t exist - not yet.

’Jason comes home today….’ you remind yourself. Your body starts to tremble again, barely there shakes from anxiety. You could almost forget about the little parasite in your stomach, the one draining your energy and making you so sick you can’t eat, long enough to be excited by the fact. Almost.

You decide to wait in bed for Jason to call you when he gets home, he promised to call as soon as he and Bruce got back to the manor. You can’t wait to ask him how it was meeting his mom, you already have a million questions to ask him. Does he look like her? Is she nice? Does she love reading the way Jason does? Would she kill you for being pregnant, for ruining Jason’s life at fifteen? You exhale slowly. You would cry if you had any more tears to cry but you don’t.

You wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.

But the call never comes.

When you call the Wayne household no one picks up the phone. Not even Alfred, which is weird, you think to yourself. But maybe they’re not back yet, maybe their plane got delayed or something happened. You try to not let it bother you, you know you don’t need anymore anxiety added on to what you’re already dealing with. So you’re back in bed, sleeping on and off. It’s like you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

Your dad, being the only one home at the time, knocks softly at your door.

“You doin’ alright, honey?” He pokes his head into the room. You barely wake up to the sound of his voice and give a groggy hum in response.

“Yeah, jus’ sleeping.” You mumble.

“You aren’t going to see Jason? You’ve been in bed all day.” He almost sounds concerned.

“..not home yet.” You yawn and you can hear him hum in response.

“Okay well.. don’t sleep for too long, okay? You’ll be up all night.”

You almost laugh at him.

“‘kay, Dad. I’ll get up soon.”

The following day shows up in a blur. You hardly remember talking to your mom when she got home the night before, dinner was a foggy long forgotten memory by this point. You were absolutely drained. But your anxiety was at an all time high when you still hadn’t heard from Jason or anyone else in the Wayne household. So you ask your dad to drive you and drop you off. He’s probably just jet lagged and exhausted, you reason with yourself.

The Wayne Manor is intimidating on a good day, but today? Today it feels like a dark cloud hangs over the massive estate and the dark gray clouds that seemed darker than usual for Gotham didn’t help. You walk up the stone steps to the front door, your dad already leaving down the driveway. You watch him leave from the porch of the manor, swallowing thickly, heart hammering in your chest, before ringing the ornate doorbell by the front door.

You wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.

There’s been a lot of that happening lately.

You’re about to chase your dad down, surely he’s not far away enough yet that you can’t catch up to him if you start running. Every instinct in you is telling you to run, that something bad is going to happen, but the front door opening pulls you from your thoughts.

“Ah, hello, Miss.” Alfred greets you. And while he’s not usually an overly cheerful person there’s something in his voice that sets off every nerve in your body.

“Hi, Alfred. Um, I was just wondering if Bruce and Jason are back from their trip?” Your voice comes out small and hesitant, like you feel like an inconvenience for even asking.

The quiet that settles over the two of you makes you swallow.

“Right-” a loud crash comes from inside the manor. You peek around Alfred, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and worry.

“Miss, I have to tell you-”

And then he’s there, Bruce, looking like he hasn’t slept in weeks. The stubble on his face is patchy, his hair a mess like he’s been running his hand through it, and the bags under his eyes are as dark as the clouds that litter the sky.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, almost pushing Alfred out of the way. His voice is cold and angry and so unlike the kind warmth you remember. It makes you feel like a child. You are a child, you remind yourself.

You blink once and then twice as you find your voice again, stammering lightly.

“Spit it out.” Bruce snaps.

“Master Bruce-”

“I came to see Jason.” Finally spills out of your mouth.

Bruce stands there staring at you, like he’s trying to suck your soul out of your body by glaring at you. He almost looks like hes about to snap - snarl - before he’s telling you through clenched teeth;

“Jason is dead.”

Everything stops.
Your breathing.
Time.
Your heart.

“W-what?” Your voice cracks.

“Jason. Is. Dead.” Bruce’s chest heaves with every heavy word. You almost think you catch his voice craving the same way yours did, but surely you’re imagining things. Like how you’re imagining him telling you that Jason is dead.

“That.. no. That can’t- no. No.” You shake your head in denial. Bruce’s hand grips the door handle so hard you can hear it creak under his hand.

“It can be. And it is.”

“You do not have to be so cruel, Master Bruce.” Alfred scolds quietly. Bruce stays silent.

You’re pretty sure your knees are going to give out, and then maybe after that your heart will give out too. Your vision gets blurry, a little fuzzy at the edges, and you know it’s not from tears since you’re still struggling to produce those.

“I’m sorry–” you gasp out, trying to catch your breath. Your hand comes up to the door frame to steady yourself. You hardly feel the cold stone under your palm. You can’t feel anything for a second as shock sets in over you. Your breathing picks up – on the verge of hyperventilating which makes something in Bruce soften if only a little.

“Take it easy–” he starts before you’re staring up at him with big wet eyes.

“I’m pregnant.” Tumbles out of your mouth like word vomit. Before the actual vomit starts to rise in your throat.

Chapter Text

You’re sat on the overly plush couch in the sitting room of Wayne manor with a cool rag to your forehead and a cup of tea on the table in front of you. Alfred stands near the fireplace, almost directly in front of you, Bruce sitting in the chair next to you in a clean shirt.

Nothing feels real. Everything around you has blurred to near nothingness as you stare at the delicate cup in front of you. Your mind is completely blank, all you can really focus on is the intricate pattern of the teacup.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.” You’re pretty sure Alfred says - it sounds muffled and far away.

“She’s in shock.” Bruce mumbles. Mumbles. You’ve never heard Bruce mumble in the years you’ve known him.

“I’m sorry about your shirt…” your own voice sounds foreign to yourself. You’re not even sure if you really said it outloud or if it was just a passing thought that was too loud.

It’s quiet before Bruce finally speaks up again, “It’s fine.”

The silence that follows after eats at you.

Dead.
Jason is dead.

That’s what Bruce had said. It still wasn’t completely registering in your head that Jason was gone.

You hear Bruce clear his throat.

“You’re-”
“Jason-”

You both speak at the same time.

You don’t notice the tear that rolls down your cheek as your eyes stay trained, unblinking, on the table.

Bruce tries again, “Do your parents know?” His voice is quieter now. He doesn’t sound as hostile, defensive, angry. That was the worst part, having an angry man talking to you like you were no one important.

“No.” You answer in a barely there whisper. It’s hard getting words out past the constriction of your throat. You swallow and it’s almost painful. You don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve blinked but when you do you notice how horribly dry your eyes are, causing more tears to form.

“How?” You ask.

You don’t want to know. Not really. You don’t want whatever image of Jason that Bruce is going to paint in your mind to be the last way you think of him. You want to remember his bright smile, wide and dimpled, the way his eyes crinkled and nose scrunched. But you know you need to know. Your entire world has just been flipped upside down and you need every detail possible.

“Explosion.” Is all Bruce answers. Your eyes dart to him, silently asking for more details than just ’explosion’. It’s not enough and he knows it. “The Joker…” He adds on with a sigh before he’s scrubbing at his stubbled chin.

You’ve never been so angry in your life, you’ve never felt so much pain and anger and hatred before. Your face begins to twist in a snarl, tears rolling down your face, when Bruce speaks up again.

“And it’s…?” He trails off.

“Yes.” You snap, eyes narrowing at him. You don’t need him to finish his question to know what he’s asking – you’re a pregnant fifteen year old with a dead boyfriend, not an idiot. “Of course it’s his baby.” Your hand instinctively rests on your stomach and both Bruce and Alfred take notice.

Bruce holds up a placating hand, “I had to make sure.” His voice is a little softer now but still guarded, cold.

“How far along?” He asks.

Your silence and confused expression makes him sigh, this time in frustration.

“I believe Master Bruce is asking how far along in your pregnancy you are, how many weeks.” Alfred pipes up. Your head snaps to him, you had almost forgotten he was there. Your hard, defensive expression softens when you see the gentle look in Alfred’s eyes.

“I-... I don’t know.” You answer quietly, your voice a little raspy before you clear your throat. “I dont….” You inhale deeply and shake your head. “I just took a test and came over here to tell–” You cut yourself off as your stomach sinks.

Bruce’s jaw visibly clenches, you can see it from the corner of your eyes. It has you feeling defensive again. Your hand on your stomach fists at your shirt. You’re so, so angry.

“And you’re keeping it?”

“Yes!” You glare at him. You’re not sure why the question sets you off but the thought of getting rid of the last piece of Jason that you have makes you feel like a cornered animal.

“Your parents need to know.” Bruce stands as his expression hardens again. “Any doctor visit, medical bill, I’ll take care of. You won’t have to worry about any expense.”

“I don’t want your charity-” comes out of your mouth before Bruce is turning to you.

“It’s not charity.” He snaps at you. “Jason is my son.” You swallow and use your free hand to wipe at the tears that have started drying on your face.

“Now.” He starts again, “It’s best you get home and have a long talk with your parents. I’ll have Alfred drive you.”

And the next thing you know you’re in the back of a sleek black car making your way through the busy streets of Gotham back home. Alfred tries to make small talk with you but after not getting a response he stays quiet the rest of the drive. It’s dark by time the car pulls up at the end of your drive way, the street quiet, your parents still aren’t home. You thank Alfred before exiting the car. You feel like you’re living on autopilot when you unlock the front door and step inside the dark house. Your feet automatically carry you to your room, your shoulder bumping the wall of the hallway on your way - you don’t even notice.

Inside the safety of your room, flicking on a small lamp on the dresser, you fall face first into your bed and let out a scream.

Raw. Gutteral. Primal. Full of pain, heartache, and something deeper – something no one should ever have to feel. It’s deep and heavy, like your entire soul has been ripped from your very being, torn to shreds in front of you, and it hurts. It hurts so goddamn bad it feels like you can’t even breathe. Tears soak the pillow that you’ve shoved your face into to muffle your cries, saliva and snot staining the fabric.

Pulling your face away from the pillow you take in a deep breath before screaming, “Fuck!!”. High pitched, unbridled. Your throat feels raw and scratchy when you’re done. You use the back of your hand to wipe at your face, cleaning it off on your shirt without a single care. That was the last thing you had to worry about.

You vaguely recall the stages of grief, your parents explaining it to you briefly years ago when your grandmother had died, and right now it’s like you’re feeling too many stages at the same time. Denial, anger, numbness, depression. You swing wildly between “no, no, not my Jason” to “that mother fucking clown is going to fucking die, even if I have to kill him myself” to “it’s not real” to “I’ll never be happy again without him in my life”.

And then your arms wrap around your stomach and you remember there’s something growing in there. The cry you let out is quieter, soft, but you feel it deep in your bones. You’re so caught up in everything that you don’t hear your bedroom door open, you don’t hear the soft steps of your dad walking across the carpet towards you, and you barely register as he sits down at the foot of your bed. He doesn’t say anything, not at first, placing a warm hand on your ankle – supportive, loving. Your eyes squeeze shut as you curl into yourself.

“He’s gone…” You manage, mumbled and wet.

“Honey,” Your dad’s tone is so soft it makes you cry even more.

Everything is fucked.

“He’s gone, Daddy. Jason’s dead.” You choke out between cries.

Warm arms wrap around you as your dad pulls you into him, your head lying in his lap – the same way he held you when you were a little girl when your grandmother passed. His hand strokes your hair, pulling most of it out of your tear and snot filled face.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He whispers, he almost sounds choked up like he’s holding his own emotions back.

“It’s not fair.” You sniffle.

“I know it’s not.”

“I want him back.”

“I know you do.” You feel him move, swiping at a pesky tear in his own eye. He clears his throat gently to keep his tone even.
“I'm so sorry.” He whispers as he rubs your arm.

You want to tell him everything, the same way you used to do as a little girl, every little secret threatens to spill out of your mouth. Your dad always knew all the gossip from elementary school and junior high when you were growing up but somewhere along the way… things changed.

But now? Now you want to tell him about how Jason is was Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, the Joker killed Jason, how you're pregnant – but nothing comes out. Instead, you bite at the inside of your cheek and curl into yourself.

Part of you basks in the comfort of your dad, something you haven't had in years, another part is now mourning for the fact that once he and your mom do find out that you're pregnant things will change even more.

Your mind is spinning, your head breaking, and your head feels like it's full of cotton as you cry.

“He was a good kid.” Your dad says quietly and God does that make you want to cry even worse. You nod in agreement.

“He was smart,” your dad reminisces.

“An’ funny…” you chime in. Your voice is scratchy now from your earlier screaming. He breathes out a small laugh.

“Very funny.” He agrees. “Polite. Had a good head on his shoulders.”

Your bottom lip trembles as it pulls down into another deep frown, your tears now staining your dad's jeans.

“And he treated you well.” His grip on your arm tightens comfortingly. “He loved you… a lot. Anyone with eyes could see it.”

You can't tell if he's making you feel better or worse yet, all you can focus on is the pain in your chest.

“Mom always says it was puppy love. That it didn't count.” You comment without thinking.

Your dad is quiet for a minute before he hums, “Yeah, she does say that… your mom is full of shit.”

That makes your eyes open, finally. You've never heard your dad say anything like that about your mom, not once.

“What?”

“I never agreed with her.” He answers like he didn't just drop another bombshell on you. “We were high school sweethearts, just like you and Jason. She's just…”

“Cynical.” You finish for him and he huffs a laugh.

“Yeah. Cynical.”

You hear the front door open and you close your eyes again.

“Speaking of…” your dad trails off.

You don't want to have this conversation all over again. All you want to do is go to bed and wake up to all of this being a shitty dream or some elaborate prank that you'd scold Jason for.

“Can you talk to her?” You ask your dad in a raspy whisper. His hand squeezing your arm is answer enough.

It doesn't take long for her to find the two of you in your room and you can feel her presence as she stands in the doorway.

“What are you two doing, hm?” She asks before she's walking in. You can hear her grabbing clothes off your floor. “It's laundry night, you said you'd get it started before I got home.” She says to your dad before going into your bathroom.

“Sorry, honey.” Your dad apologizes. “I need to talk to you-”

You don't even think about it until there's a stillness to the air that makes your heart stop.

“What is this?” Her voice is icy, deadly.

You immediately bristle at the tone. You don't notice the way your body is shivering with anxiety and dread. You don't need to look to know what she's found. You were certain you'd buried that damn pregnancy test deep in your garbage.

“Honey….” The note of hurt, disappointment even, in your dad's voice kills you. Your stomach drops again.

’No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening’ You think to yourself.

“You're pregnant?” Your mom asks.

“But Jason…” your dad trails off as he slowly moves his hand away from your arm.

You're quick to sit up and look at the both of them with red, swollen eyes.

“It's– I–” you stammer.

“I knew he was a punk. Just wait until I get my hands on him-”

“Claire.” Your dad snaps at your mom, cutting her off, when he sees the new tears in your eyes.

“Don't ‘Claire’ me, Daniel!” She's raising her voice now and you flinch, “Our daughter is pregnant! At fifteen! Like I said, I know that Jason is a no good punk but I didn't think we were raising our daughter to be a- a- a whore!”

“That's enough.” Your dad stands from your bed and faces your mom. You watch the two with wide eyes. Your mom looks shocked, your dad has never stood up to her before – especially not on your behalf.

“I'm not saying I'm happy with this, but I will not let you speak to our daughter that way.” He's finally putting his foot down, standing up for you, and it feels like you can breathe out some sort of relief after everything.

Then his voice lowers, angry but with a hint of the gentleness that you're used to from him, “We will figure this out. Later. But right now?” He takes a step closer to your mom and all of his bravado disappears like that, “Jason is..”

“Dead.” You finish. “Jason is dead, Mommy.” You sniffle, your bottom lip quivers again.

Something in your mom softens, something you haven't seen in a long time from her. And as quickly as that softness showed itself it was gone.

“Well… he wouldn't have been much help anyway.” The words sound forced, like even she doesn't fully believe them.

Your eyebrows come together as your frown deepens. Your dad scoffs and you see him shaking his head in disappointment.

“Get out.” You tell her, the only warning she got before you're raising your voice when she doesn't move. Your dad is quick to take her by the arm, leading her out of your room. “I said get out! Get. Out! I hate you!”

You throw a pillow at the door as it closes behind them.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Chapter Text

Your days slowly turned into weeks. They dragged and dragged, stuck in a vicious cycle of school, homework, avoiding your parents, and sleeping. If there was one that was certain it was that the baby was draining every ounce of energy that you could muster. You hadn’t spoken a word to your mother since she had found out about your pregnancy. The tension in the house was so thick it was suffocating. Your dad tried, really he did, but you could see the disappointment in his eyes every time he so much as glanced at you – and you couldn’t handle that pain, not on top of everything else.

Bruce had stayed true to his word, so far you hadn’t had to worry about a single doctor bill. Granted you’d only had one appointment so far, to confirm the pregnancy and determine a due date – December 13th. Your dad had taken you to the appointment, your mom refused to even look at you when you brought it up.

You felt like you were drowning.

Then came the day you had fallen asleep in your chemistry class. You’d been doing well, not falling asleep during school, aside from the small naps you would take during lunch in the library away from everyone else. The librarian never questioned you, never bothered you, but her eyes made you wonder if she knew. Your chemistry teacher warned you that there would be a phone call home but your pregnancy riddled brain didn’t register that the phone call would be going to your mom.

All Hell broke loose when you got home from school that day.

“You fell asleep during class?”

You’d barely made it through the front door, exhaustion already pulling at your eyelids. You let out a yawn, covering most of it with the back of your hand. She was sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of paper in front of her.

“It was just–”

“Don’t.” She snaps when you try to defend yourself. You sigh out quietly, your stomach churning with anxiety. The last thing you want to deal with is a fight.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble meekly as you step further into the kitchen.

Your mom crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Her tone is tight. “Sit down.” And you do, your hand instinctively going to your stomach. You don’t miss the subtle look of disgust on her face before she starts talking again.

“Read this.” She slides a stapled stack of papers over to you, the word Contract written across the top.

“A contract?” You hold the ‘packet’ in your hand with a questioning look on your face. ‘She can’t be serious’, you think to yourself. “What is this?”

“Read it.” She repeats herself. Her tone makes you flinch.

So you read it, “To keep living in this house I agree to the following.” You recite with furrowed brows. Your mom nods once as you read the paper.

Skimming through the bullshit you read aloud some of the various ‘agreements’. “No grade below a C, no falling asleep in class, chores and homework done before seven every night. Finding a part time job?” you look up at her, “Are you serious? On top of everything else, you want me to get a job?”

“You’re not going to be a freeloader here and you need to start saving up money for your.. baby.” She says the word like it’s acid on her tongue. You have to blink back tears.

“And if I don’t agree?” You ask.

“Keep reading.”

There’s a moment of silence before your eyes widen in shock. Your heart is racing at this point, blood pumping through your veins, now your arm is practically trying to wrap itself around yourself in a hug - bringing yourself some sense of comfort.

“You’ll kick me out?!”

“Mhm.”

She’s so nonchalant about it that it makes your anxiety even worse. You think you might be sick. Your breathing labors, just slightly, just enough for the edges of your vision to get fuzzy.

“You’re not serious…” You manage to mumble.

“Dead serious. This is real life now.” She leans forward and you’ve never been scared of your mom before but at this moment? At this moment, she’s more terrifying than the Joker. “It’s time to grow up if you want to keep that thing.”

“My baby.” Your voice shakes.

“Right. Your baby.” She finally leans back in her chair. “You choose to keep it, you choose to reap what you sow. There are consequences to your actions.” She slides a pen over to you.

It feels too surreal, like some nightmare that you’ll wake up from. It’s like things keep piling onto you, never giving you a chance to catch your breath and just breathe for one second. You slowly reach a hand over the table and grab the pen with your shaking pen. You set the paper down and with tears in your eyes you sign the last page, not even bothering to read the entirety of it. It’s too insane, absurd, asinine.

Everything after that feels like a fever dream that you’re not even sure you’re physically present for. The next thing you know you’re in the living room working on calculus homework, since you’re no longer allowed to do homework or study in your room – per the contract. Always having to be in the eyesight of one parent or the other. Your mom sits in the recliner beside you with the news playing quietly in the background. It all sounds muffled, like you’re listening with water in your ears. You’re moving on autopilot when something finally does catch your attention–

“Batman was spotted last night with Robin for the first time in several weeks. Robin was seen sporting a new costume-”

Your eyes snap to the TV so quickly it makes you dizzy.

A new Robin?

The pencil falls from your hand, your heart feels like it’s breaking. There’s no way Bruce has replaced Jason that quickly, not after everything.

After that night it takes you another two weeks before you finally make your way to the Wayne manor. It’s getting warmer, making you even more tired than usual. You’re risking a lot coming here, not going straight home like that stupid contract stated. But you have to see him, you have to talk to Bruce and figure out what’s going on.

The heavy door to the manor opens after you’ve rang the bell and the boy who answers is someone you’ve never seen before. He’s your age, maybe a year or two younger, a scrawny little thing. You know in your gut it has to be him – the new Robin.

“Who are you?” You ask before thinking. Your pregnancy brain has been making you do that a lot.

“Tim.” He answers like it’s no big deal in the world, leaning his weight against the handle of the door. “Who are you?”

“I-”

“Oh, I know who you are.” He cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. You’re pretty sure he’s holding back a cocky smirk. “You look different from your pictures. You’re the pregnant girlfriend.”

Your mouth falls open in subtle shock. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, Jason’s pregnant girlfriend. I know all about you. B pays for your doctor bills, pretty sure he’s already got a college fund set up for the little leech.”

“It’s not a leech!” Your hand is on your stomach as your eyebrows knit together in offense. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Right, right. Sorry.” He apologizes but it’s half assed and you both know it. “The little one.” He corrects himself.

There’s a moment of silence as you eye each other up, taking the other in, “So… you’re the new Robin?”

He nods with a hum. “That’d be me.”

“You don’t seem bothered that I know.” You point out and he almost laughs at you.

“I know that you know. I’m not worried about you blabbing the secret to the tabloids. You would’ve done it already if you really wanted to.”

‘This kid is smart,’ you think.

“Is Bruce here? I need to talk to him.”

“Sorry, he’s out at Wayne Enterprises. For the first time in weeks.” Tim rolls his eyes like Bruce’s actions have annoyed him to some degree. “Whaddya need to talk to him about?” He crosses his arms over his chest now.

“.. You.” You admit. “How he replaced Jason.” The words almost catch in your throat but you push through.

Tim’s head cocks to the side before he finally straightens and shakes his head in disagreement.

“It’s not.. It’s not like that.” The cockiness has left his voice, it’s softer now and he lets out a breath.

“What do you mean? That’s kind of how it seems…” You hold in a scoff.

“Yeah, I know.” Tim agrees quietly. “Look, come in? I’ll-... I’ll explain everything.”

You hold eye contact with him before finally agreeing. And he does explain everything over the next hour. He explained how Bruce was struggling, which you had guessed. The last time you saw him, when you had thrown up on his shirt, he wasn’t looking so great. He explained how he found out about Nightwing and Batman, piecing together their secret identities and your earlier assessment of him being smart seemed underwhelming now.

The kid was practically a genius.

“So you… took over as Robin so Bruce wouldn’t… ”lose his mind”?” You ask as you sit on the couch in the sitting room of the manor.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tim shrugs before taking a sip of his drink. It grates on your nerves as he slurps through his straw. You just know the exhaustion is starting to take over. You also know that you need to get home, hours ago, and you’re going to be in deep shit if you don’t get home before your mom.

“That’s…..”

“A lot?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

Tim shrugs, unbothered, “It’s not so bad.”

“Being Robin is a lot. I saw first hand what it did to Jason.”

“I’m not Jason.”

If looks could kill then the glare you shoot at Tim should have stricken him down at that moment.

“Sorry.” He apologizes quickly. “You’re so sensitive.” He adds on under his breath. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or strangle him. Instead you run your hands over your face and sigh.

“Look, you look…” he trails off, trying to find the right choice of words he should use.

“Like shit?” You throw out, unamused.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say you look… tired.”

“That’s the same thing.” You deadpan at him. There’s a small smile on his face.

“Okay, yeah… you might be right. Maybe you should head home.”

You let out a yawn and nod in agreement. He’s right, you do need to get home and get some rest. You still had time to make it home before either your mom or dad got there. So you give Tim your thanks for taking time to talk to you and say your good byes.

You make it home with twenty minutes to spare before your mom shows up, putting on the dutiful act of the responsible daughter – sitting in the living room finishing up your homework for the day. She makes some offhanded comment about how it should have been finished, how you’re not working as hard as you should be, but thankfully leaves it at that.

After that day two more weeks pass and things seem to plateau at home. No fighting, no one bringing up the stupid contract and you’re almost certain she’s forgotten about it. But, of course, you know your mom better than anyone else ever could, even your dad. And with graduation from sophomore year around the corner she brings it up.

“I’ve been quiet this long.” She brings up one night at dinner. Your dad looks like he’s physically shutting down before she continues. “When will you be looking for a job?”

Shit.

“Oh, um…” you clear your throat. You hadn’t been looking for a job at all, spending all of your energy on school. The stupid rule had slipped your mind. “I’m going to have my guidance counselor help me with my resume.” you lie through your teeth.

“Good. You’ll have more time to work with summer coming up.” Your mom mentions.

Your dad finally clears his throat and speaks up, “Why not let her just focus on school until summer comes around? Then she can get a job–”

“No. She signed the contract. She agreed. She should have found a job weeks ago but I’ve been lenient this long.”

The silence that falls over the dining table is thick. You’re no longer hungry, pushing your dinner around your plate with your fork. Thick, hot tears well up in your eyes.

“I’ll get one soon. Promise.” You tell your mom softly, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking.

“Good.”

Your lips threaten to pull down in a frown, wobbling as you stare at your half eaten dinner. You manage to keep it together long enough to help your dad clear the table and wash the dishes before going to bed. You wish, as you lay under the covers, that you had someone to help you. That your dad would stick up for you, that Jason would come back from the dead somehow to steal you away from the hellscape that you’ve found yourself in. But you know that’s all a fantasy, all silly dreams that will never happen.

You let yourself cry yourself to sleep that night. Heavy, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as your emotions flood out of you. Your emotional dam has finally broken and it hurts. It’s heavy and makes your chest ache, it makes your lungs feel like they’re being crushed.

“This is your fault.” You say quietly into the room, your hand on your stomach. “Stupid baby.” You know it’s not true, deep down you know it’s not the baby’s fault. But part of you can’t help but feel resentment towards it.

You spend the night crying, not falling asleep until well into the early morning – causing you to miss your alarm for school.

“You’re late!” Is what wakes you up the following day. Your head pounds, your eyes raw and swollen. You know in your groggy state that it’s your mom yelling at you from your open door.

You groan as you realize you must’ve slept through all of your alarms. “Sorry, I’m getting up.” You mumble, throwing your blanket off of you. The torture from the cold air was less harsh than the yelling from your mom.

“No. I’m done!”

“Claire–” You can hear your dad from the hallway.

“Don’t start with me! I’ve been easy on her! We had an agreement, all of us.”

“I didn’t–”

“You’re done. You overslept, you’re late for school, and I gave you weeks to find a job and you still haven’t.”

“We talked about that last night.” You pipe up. Probably not your best idea lately.

“Talking back?” Your mom crosses her arms. Your vision is fuzzy as you try to focus on her, even with the haze in your eyes you can see how pissed off she is.

“No, I’m not–”

“You’re. Done.” Her voice holds a hint of finality that makes your stomach sink.

“No, Claire-”

“Mom-”

“No! Done. You’re done. You’re out. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

If you weren’t so dehydrated you might’ve started crying again.

“Mom, please. Where am I supposed to go?”

“Figure it out!” She snaps at you. “You had your chance. Chances!” She corrects herself, like giving you nine hours was a chance. “Go stay with the Wayne’s since they’re paying for your life ruiner anyway.”

“Mom, I can’t just show up on Mr. Wayne’s doorstep–”

That’s how you found yourself on Bruce Wayne’s doorstep with a single suitcase and backpack.

You stood on the front porch in shock. Your parents didn’t even have the decency to drive you, paying a cab to drive you out to the manor. Your arm feels heavy and foreign, like it’s not connected to your body, as you ring the doorbell.

“Oh, pregnant girlfriend is back!” Tim greets you with a smile. You almost ask where Alfred had gone, why he was suddenly answering the door every time you showed up. Instead you were too numb to say anything right away. That gave Tim a second to look over your state, the suitcase, the backpack.

“Oh….” He says softly, putting the pieces together. He was a genius after all. Part of you wonders if you’d be better off laying in traffic.

“C’mon.” Tim mumbles, opening the door for you.

Your feet shuffle inside, Tim taking your suitcase from you as you step by him. You don’t have the strength or energy to snatch it back from him as he rolls it inside.

“I’ll get B.” He assures you, leaving you in the foyer.

“Kicked you out?” Bruce asks, sitting across the kitchen table from you. A steam cup of tea sits in front of you, your eyes are focused on the swirling steam as you disassociate.

“They had you sign a contract? That can't be legal. On so many levels!” Tim pipes up beside Bruce, arms crossing. At least someone is getting defensive on your behalf for once.

“Yeah.” Is all you answer in a whisper.

Bruce is quiet for a long while before he talks again.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here at the manor. There are plenty of rooms. I…” He exhales slowly, quietly. He wants to say that all he’s wanted was you and the baby – the last piece of Jason he has – to stay close. Instead he says, “You’ll stay as long as you need. You’ll finish the school year and next year we’ll get you set up in a private school. Something that will be easier on you and the baby.”

A tear rolls down your cheek. You can’t remember the last time someone had shown you any ounce of kindness. Not since he had promised to pay your doctor bills for the baby. Weeks. Months.

Tim looks away awkwardly but you can feel Bruce’s gaze stuck on you.

“You and the baby will be safe here.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe him.