Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jason Todd was told not to come to this public event (fuck you, Barbara). But seeing as this was the closest thing to a real funeral Alfred was likely to get, he snuck past security.

It wasn’t even that hard, to be honest. The glasses, carefully applied concealer, a sombre expression that he did not need to fake and a well-fitted, expensive suit was enough to be let through. He needs to talk to Bru-Batman about the shitty security.

(Alfred’s tutted as he takes Jason’s shoulder’s measurements. “Out of everyone, Master Jason, I was not expecting finding a suit your size to be my biggest headache tonight.” His face, wrinkled and kind, softens when Jason apologises. “Nothing we cannot afford to fix.”

“Alfie, I’m not going to use his money.” He hasn’t. For a long time. 

Alfred scoffed as he rolled the measuring tape back. “Well, I am certain I can spare some of my own funds to buy you a Christmas gift, Master Jason.” 

Jason bristled, he is not gonna let a man who is his grandfather is like his grandfather spend an exorbitant amount of money on something as useless as a suit— wait a minute!

“This is what this was about?! Alfie, I told you I don’t need a Christmas gift!” He glared at the man, who innocuously packed the bag he brings whenever he visits one of Jason’s safe-houses for lunch or tea over Shakespeare. “I haven’t even celebrated Christmas since, well, since I was 15!”

Alfred only hums, already used to Jason weaponising his death to get out of sticky situations with their Alfred’s family. “Which only means I have to over-compensate for all those you have missed, my dear boy. Now, I will see you next Thursday.” 

Before Jason could get another word in, Alfred had already embraced him in a farewell hug, and Jason would have to be dead to not shut up and return it.

And if a beautifully tailored, greyish black suit with a black embroidered tie, an equally black and embroidered waistcoat and a dark red silk shirt had been delivered in his name with an accompanying ticket to the opera on the 26th of December? Well, Jason did not have the heart to complain about that)

He could feel Barbara’s glare as he sauntered past her to go stand in a corner, it didn’t have the usual heat, not that he cared that is. 

It was a good vantage point. He could see the others pretty clearly without having to move his head a lot. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne, as he was now known, did not look like he wanted to be here. How the hell did the boy ever pass off as “charming” in those stupid magazine interviews was a mystery. He looked like a nervous wreck, constantly shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. 

Damian Wayne on the other hand was dripping guilt and sorrow all over the sterile tile floors from where he stood behind Bruce. His eyes were trained to his shoes, body still as the huge statue behind them. 

Jason felt a flare of rage rear its familiar, ugly head in his chest. How dare he? After all that has happened? How dare he—

A small but strong hand with pointed and curved(?) fingernails wrapped around his bicep. Jason felt his body tense but quickly relax when he recognised the perfume. 

“Hello, kitten~”

Selina Kyle was one of the two people in Gotham who could potentially sneak up on him. She shot him a quick smile, her golden eyes taking in the suit before meeting his again. But even her smile did not reach her eyes. She might not be as close to Alfred as the others were but she recognised the importance he held in their lives. Jason appreciated her being here nonetheless, even if it was for the sake of the Bat more than the dead man. 

“Selina. You look well.”

She tugged him down (God, she felt so small now) and brushed her lips to his cheek, right near one of the concealed scars and gave him her signature smile, though it didn't have the same sparkle. 

Jason let the warmth of her hold steady him as he started scanning the crowd again. Richard Grayson stood tall, his jaw set as he, too, watched Bruce with an edge to his eye. But there was an insecurity in his stance, like he doesn't know what to do. A part of Jason was surprised and smug that the Golden Boy wasn’t tripping over himself to comfort the Demon Brat, but rather was standing quite far from him. 

Barbara Gordon though, looked tired, helpless. A look Jason recognised on her from another time, another life. Her earlier ire at him seems to have been momentarily put aside as she stared hard into the crowd from Bruce’s left. The bionic leg support doing their jobs and keeping her upright but Jason could read the slight pain that came from relying aids for too long. He once, when he was still Robin, had to use crutches for a whole month when he broke both of his legs. By the time the month was done, he hated having to get out of his bed and was reduced to tears just by the thought of using them again. He couldn’t even imagine the pain she must be in. The bullet pierced her spine, leaving her paralysed but the nerve endings were still there to feel the tenderness.

He could see Stephanie and Duke leaning in a corner near Tim. Their faces morose but nothing to write home about. Jason did not know their relation with Alfred that well but they seem to be here more for Tim and the others. Standing next to Stephanie though, was the Black Bat.

Who was staring right at him. 

Jason held her gaze, her dark eyes piercing even through the sunglasses and the sizeable 

distance and between them. He knew about her, of course he did. Daughter of David Cain and Lady Shiva was a formidable warrior and probably more stealthy than Selina herself. Trained by the Orphan since birth, she held herself sharp and still, you would not even know she was around until she made herself appear. Jason would never admit it to anyone, but when he first learned about her, he had been excited to meet her. That was until he realised her aversion to killing rivalled the Bat himself. 

It was a disappointment to say the least. The daughter or the great Lady Shiva, one of Jason’s favourite teachers, didn’t kill. Perfect daughter of the Batman.

Cassandra turned away from him, towards Bruce. 

Jason turned away as well.

Bruce finished his speech and the crowd slowly started mingling, gravitating towards refreshments. Jason, being the gentlemen Alfred taught him to be, picked up flutes of champagne  for himself and Selina. They gently clinked their glasses together and took a sip. 

“It is a beautiful statue~” Selina began.

“He would have hated it.” Jason took another sip, before levelling her with a pointed look. “Just like he would have hated me losing those cufflinks. They are my favourite, you know.”

Selina, honest to god, pouted at him. She then tried to flutter her eyelashes, but he didn't budge. As good as the Catwoman is, the street kids from Crime Alley has jaded Jason to the puppy eyes attack. He half expected her to stomp her legs next but instead she put her glass down and slowly pulled the ruby cufflinks out from— somewhere? Honestly, he didn't know, with the backless black dress she was wearing and a faux fur draped across her shoulders, he had no idea where she hid them. 

But, nonetheless, Jason took another sip as she gently fastened one of them to his free hand. He had just relinquished the other hand to her when Barbara Gordon decided to grace them with her presence.

“Barbie.” Jason greeted.

She ignored him and focused one Selina. Rude.

“I hope you have everything in order for tonights. Since I wont be running the comms.”

Selina finished with the cufflink. “Yes, yes, Barbara. We have everything ready for the patrol.”

“Patrol?” 

Selina reached out to gently smooth Jason’s tie— and pocket his tie clip, oh well, that one was thrifted so he didn't feel the need to ask for it back. “Mhm, me and the others are gonna patrol while you all share a nice family time together tonight.”

They are not my family.

Instead all that comes out is, “Huh?”

“Oh Barbara didn’t tell you?” Selina raised an eyebrow, her smile suspiciously innocent. “No worries, I’m sure with all the hectic planning, this must have slipped her mind~” 

Jason turned towards Barbara, trying so hard to quell down the hurt. Of course, why would they invite him? Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to attend this event. A wake for the only person in the world who still considered him family. Alfred was dead and of course they would not invite him. There is no connection left. 

But no matter. Jason thrived on crashing parties. He always had trouble with rules and boundaries. And he wasn’t going to start respecting them now. 

“We are going to a bar.” Barbara said slowly, her face looked like she had swallowed a lemon. “To reminisces Alfr— him. ”

Jason gave her a smile full of teeth. “I’ll stick around then.”

He didn’t have to wait long.

Selina kept him company until It was time for her to leave, though she did make him promise about meeting her more often. Apparently helping her steal some rich assholes’ expensive artwork once in a while wasn’t enough time-spending-together as she would have liked.

Signal, Spoiler and Black Bat accompanied her out. Cassandra only stopped near Bruce once, raising herself to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Jason watched as Bruce gently cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to her forehead before letting her go. 

Jason looked away after that. 

A part of him did wonder why they were not coming with them. But then he shrugged it off, not my circus…not my monkeys.

Tim had found a spot in an overlooked corner of Gotham. A sleazy bar off the beaten path in the Cauldron, neighbourhood even Gotham’s colourful villains avoided. It wasn’t under Jason’s territory, but looking around he did see some things he would like to change. Maybe he can talk with his lieutenants later. He shot an encrypted text to one of them, telling them to handle business in his absence tonight.

They paid for the night in cash, and Tim established a blackout zone that would make all recording devices useless in the vicinity. 

Jason towered over all of them easily as he brought the rear of the group. Really, all of this seemed like the start of a bad joke.

So, the Bat-family and the most feared Crime Lord of East Coast walked in the Bar.

“This place is filthy.” Damian sniffed.

“You have no idea.” Tim replied shrugging off his coat. “ Be grateful you didn’t have to scour the place for bugs. I saw things under the tables that I'm never going to unsee.” He shuddered.

“Don’t you think that’s overkill, Tim?”

Tim gave Barbara a long look. “No, I don't. It’s important we all talk freely.”

Jason scoffed. The last time he truly talked freely ended with a slashed throat and betrayal. Scars of both he still wears, physical or not.

Tim continued, “The rest of you saw him up there tonight, right? How rough he looks? He doesn’t have anybody looking after him anymore.”

Ahh yes. Poor Bruce Wayne. Nobody to wipe his shit anymore. Nobody to right his wrongs. Fucking grown ass man.

“If we’re going to get right into the heavy stuff, I’m going to need a drink.” Jason said instead. He leaned against the bar counter and looked at the rest of the Bat clan. “Think a billionaire could afford a bartender.” He scoffed.

Before anyone else could snap at him. Golden Boy Dick Grayson stepped in. More like flipped himself over the counter like it was nothing and started rummaging around the glass bottles. A part of Jason, part he had long since pushed down, felt jealous at the ease in which Dick always flipped himself around. Something young Jason always dreamed of learning. Something older Jason knew he could never do.

“Got it.” Dick says, pulling out glasses and putting them on the counter. “What do you want, Jason.”

For you to shove your stick up your ass— “Right…Y’know the old Dick wouldn’t have been so eager to serve me.” 

Old Dick could barely stay in the room when Jason was around. The only reason he sometimes did was because of— well not like he was here to admonish them, anyway. That was the reason Jason said it. He could see the moment it hit Dick, his jaw tightening and his eyes hardened as he finally looked at Jason. 

“Look, I’m not here to fight.” Dick started, forcing the words out. Yeah, as if any of them, bar Cain had any chance against Jason. Especially with how the Pit was thrashing in his veins right now. “Alfr— He helped me a lot. Okay? Even when he was just the butler. So I’m not going to—“

“The butler?” Jason could feel his eyes burning as his vision was tinted green. They were the reason he was wearing these shaded the whole day. People would question if his eyes started glowing with the maniacal green. Nothing to do with the bags he was carrying under his eyes ever since he got the news. “Show some fucking respect. If that’s all he was to you then why the hell are you even here?”

Before Dick could reply Barbara snapped at them. “It’s not like either of you were in the city when things really went down with Bane, so don’t pretend like wither of you has a leg to stand on!”

“Don’t fucking give me that bullshit, Barbara. I was steering clear because Bane said that he’d kill Alfred if any of us entered the city!” Jason snapped back. He might not be a bat anymore, but he still wore the symbol, even if just as a mockery. He instead used that opportunity to extend his empire to the majority of the east coast. Alfred would be fine, he had told himself, he would be fine because the others would protect him. Jason should have known. 

He pointed at Damian who was staring at the floor. “Not everybody listened.”

“Low blow, Jason.” Barbara hissed at him. “You know Damian isn’t responsible…”

“Enough.”

Silence immediately fell across the bar. Bruce Wayne stood by the door, eyes hard as he took every one of them in. Mouth pressed in a thin line and brows furrowed, Jason suddenly realised how… old Bruce looked. To him, Bruce always looked timeless. But today…

“This isn’t what Alfred would have wanted.” He said, his voice tight and controlled. Everyone, but Jason, watched guiltily as he walked all the way to a table and pulled a chair. It wasn’t until he had sat down that everyone started moving. 

“Hey, Bruce.” Tim starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I liked the speech a lot…”

“Brown-noser.” Jason muttered under his breath, only to be elbowed hard in the chest. “Don’t be such an ass!” Barbara hissed.

“Tt. If none of you is going to say anything of substance, Ill go first. I was the last to see Alfred alive… It seems… fitting.” Damian looked down at his clenched fist before his face hardened and he turned towards the bar counter. “Richard, a glass of ginger ale, if you would.”

They all waited as they took their respective drinks, everyone except Bruce. Jason dropped two ice cubes in Barbara’s drink before handing it to her, pointedly ignoring the slight wonder in her face.

Jason and Dick stood silently beside the counter as the others sat down and Damian began his speech. “To Alfred, who kept me and Father from tearing each other apart in the beginning…” 

He told about a time when he was early into his Robin days about how close he and Bruce were arguing about orders, how he still disobeyed them, how Alfred took him home and kept his secret. Jason watched as for the first time since morning the boy relax, his face suddenly as young as his age. His voice clear, strong, and drenched with affection for a man they all loved. And Jason… Jason felt the Pit quiet, this was familiar in ways that others don’t know. 

For a second, he remembered a flash of memory. His scarred hands gently combing out the knots from a boy’s hair. Boy who was babbling to Jason about his classes, his weapons, a bird he saw outside, not caring if his caretakers told him Jason was dangerous. He talked, with no expectations of Jason responding. The only expectation was that Jason would listen. And he did. Speaking was hard then, his mind too scrambled to even recognise words, but the little boy trusted him to listen, so he did. 

It was a nice memory, of a time when both of them were lonely. Stuck in a place that was both healing and damaging, wishing for better things. 

After the Pit brought him back, Damian avoided him like the plague. And then when they met in Gotham again, he pretended to not know him. It hurt. A lot. But it was fine. Damian had a real family and Jason… well, Jason had his freedom, that’s all that mattered, really. 

“I’l..I’ll never forget him.” Damian whispered. His voice no longer holding the strength it did before. Jason felt a pang of something when he watched a tear run down his cheek. ”He was a good man. He deserved…more.”

Damian suddenly looked up, eyes directly at him. “I know what you all are thinking.” He said, his voice hard. “You think this is my fault.” It is. It is. If only he had listened and not gone in… Jason gritted his teeth but stopped when Damian said, “And you’re right.” 

“I forced Bane’s hand, and that hand snapped Alfred’s neck. I can—“ Damian inhaled like oxygen was escaping him, then he whispered. “I can still hear it.”

“I should have been able to stop him. I should have been more.” Damian spat. His face back to the angry Robin Jason knew well. “I don’t see the point of all of this. Don't follow me.”

And then the demon brat stomped towards the door. Only…

“Damian.”

Damian whirled around and glared at him. His face splotchy with tears, anger and grief etched across his eyes. Everyone else had also turned towards Jason. It took a second to realise that it was him that said the brat’s name. Well, in for a penny…

“Stop.”

Damian bared his teeth, mouth already opening to call him names…

“Stay.”

It promptly closed. 

League dialect wasn’t common. An amalgamation of regional languages, sometimes with words that were not present anywhere else, older than generations of people. This was one of them. There were many words for ‘Stay’. One for animals like a dog that one of Jason’s teachers took perverted pleasure in using. ‘Stay’ like the one Talia used when she helped him dress his wounds, demanding complete stillness, and silence. ‘Stay’ like Ra’s used, when talking about Jason’s physical stay in Nanda Parbat.

But this one was different. It was ‘Stay’ for partners, equals. ‘Stay’ to stick together in time of need. ‘Stay’ because you are needed, wanted. ‘Stay’ because you trust this person and want them there, because otherwise they may be in danger. ‘Stay’ to keep you safe at home and hearth.

Damian fell back into his chair like someone had cut a puppet’s strings. His face screwing up as he tried not to cry, but tears still flowed. 

“Well…?” Barbara looked at Bruce.

“Damian knows he’s welcome here.” Bruce said, not even looking up from where his hands are resting on the table. "He know’s there’s… no blame.”

Jason almost chucked his glass at Bruce’s head.

“He clearly does not understand that!” Barbara snapped, pointing at Damian who sat listlessly staring at the ceiling, tears flowing down his cheeks sluggishly. “You’re his father for God’s sake!”

“Barbara…” Dick tried, eyes shifting to Damian who gave no reaction to the words spoken, but it was in vain. 

“It’s one thing with the rest of us, Bruce, but you have a greater responsibility to him than all of us—"

“Sorry.” Tim said loudly. He flashed a particularly charming and fake smile to Barbara. “I need to butt in. Let’s get this back on track.”

“To Alfred,” Tim raised his glass of orange juice. “Our secret agent man.” 

Tim entailed a different story than Damian’s, but no less drenched with affection. He told about the time he tried to take on Firefly and was reckless, lost his Shurikens and Electroshock Bolas. Only for Alfred to break into the evidence locker at the GCPD and gift them to Tim for Christmas. 

“Alfred was always listening even if you didn’t think he was. Always ready to be of service as he always said. Always ready to help.” Tim smiled fondly. “Somehow. Someway. From the biggest gestures to the smallest. Alfred was there to make them.”

Probably for the first time in his life, Jason felt a surge of affection for Replacement. He would have almost cracked a smile but of course Tim never knew how to shut up.

“I came into your life when you were in a place like this Bruce. You’d just lost Jason,” Fucker did not even turn to look at him. But at the sound of his name, Bruce looked up and stared at Tim. “And you were pushing yourself way too hard. You were going to such extremes that you were going to die on the job.” 

Jason bristled, Alfred had told him all of that but it was hard to shed his doubts off. Especially since every action that had come from Bruce after his return had said nothing about care or love. (Not that he deserved it) All of these were empty words. Empty. Promises. 

“I joined the family and put on the “R ” to save you.”

Grown ass man needed saving from a 13 year old, yeah, Jason rolled his eyes, sure.

But Tim wasn’t done, of course he wasn’t. “And now I see you at it again. You’re putting your time and energy into this ridiculous rebuild of the city. Rather than prioritising the people Alfred left behind, you built a hospital and a statue with his name on it. 

Alfred would have hated that fucking statue.

“I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting, I want to help you right now, more than anything. But this is the trap our family falls into over and over again.” Tim carried on, voice colder. Jason didn't like it, he wanted to tell Tim to cut it out, bruce doesn’t need this right now, but another part of him, the part that fed the Pit relished in the micro emotions emitted by the Bat. All hurt, all guilt, helplessness.

“You push us away,” Tim commented, like he was talking about the weather, clinical. “ And Alfred pulls us all back together. I don’t know if that’s going to happen this time. This time you need to do it yourself.”

Jason blinked. 

“You need to fight through the demons and be the adult we all need you to be.”

But they were adults. Sure, case could be made for Damian, but all of them last time Jason checked were adults. 

“It sucks. I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I kind of knew. When we lost Alfred, we lost you too.”

This is unfair. Jason thought suddenly. Was Tim wrong? No. Absolutely not. He was right but this brutal honesty was anything but welcome. What Bruce needed right now, more than anything was compassion, someone there for him. Sure he was older but this man was not the best picture of mental health out there. For fuck’s sake he adopts children like changing his clothes because of a weird empty nest syndrome and dresses as a furry trying to be the “vengeance”. Asking this man to ask for help was counterintuitive at best. And this almost felt like abandonment. 

The Robin in Jason, the part that still cared for Bruce like a father, wondered if this happened when he died.

“You know…” Suddenly the eloquent Tim had vanished, leaving behind the ball of nerves that Jason recognised as Tim from before. 

“I…I could set up in the Cave for a while. Move back into the manor. Work the computer, help with the little things… Im as willing to help you as I was then. But I need you to want the help…Otherwise, I don't know what good it would do.”

This was good, Jason reasoned. Bruce could definitely use some reprieve. They all knew he wasn’t going to stop dressing as a bat so this was the best option.

But bruce, Stupid, hurting, introvert ass Bruce only said. “No, Tim. Im not going to ask you to do this."

Tim sighed and put his glass down and started walking towards the door. 

“The fuck you mean you are not?! You need help, don't you?” Jason blurted out. “Sit. Down.” He hissed at Tim, who quickly obeyed.

Bruce shifted in his seat. “I mean, no—“

“You’re telling me you’re planning to go out without major comms assist?” Jason put the glass on the counter and shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how hard he was clenching them. “Or are you planning to put more work on Oracle here who is already wrangling a daycare worth of vigilantes?” 

Jason leaned forward. 

“Or are you telling Timbers here he is no longer welcome in the Wayne Manor.”

“Of course not!” Bruce said hotly, glaring at Jason. It was the most emotion he had shown all night. Jason felt a weird delight gather in his chest. God, he preferred this version of Bruce, angry at Jason, so much to the weird woe-is-me, miserable Bruce. “He is my son!”

Oh. 

This was fine. 

He can… he has to work with this.

“Mhm.” Jason gave bruce an easy smile, loving the shade of red he was turning in anger. Just a bit more. “ So… why do you not want him around? Too old for you?” 

Hook, line and sinker. 

Bruce jumped to his feet, jolting Damian who Tim pulled out of the way, shoving the table away before pointing at Jason, shaking in anger. “How dare you—“

Jason raised an eyebrow. He was good at hiding his fear. With how many jumbled feelings he had of the league this one was nice. Even though the scar on his neck felt prickly. 

“How dare I? I am not the one pushing everyone away!”

“You don't get it!”

“Get what?” Jason snarled. Anger coming back with vengeance, oh Talia would be proud. “Losing people? Hurt? Guilt? News Flash, old man, everyone here has lost people. You, are not special. So stop acting like your grief is the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air as Bruce stared at him. 

“You need people around you.” Jason said simply. “And you are pushing everyone away because somewhere you think that it is gonna protect them.” 

“Bruce,” Dick interrupted. “Sit down. Hood is just antagonising you.”

Jason shot an irritated glare behind is shoulder and grabbed his forgotten glass.

Silence permeated through the room as everyone digested the words. After a minute or so, Jason could not stand it. 

“I guess that means it's my turn, huh?” He raised his glass. “To Alfred, my favourite pain in the ass.”

He told them about the third time Alfred came to visit him. How he went grocery shopping for him because Jason could not be bothered and was living off Mac and cheese. Very unlike him, Alfred had said, since Jason loved to cook. He told them about their conversations and Alfred’s advices. 

Looking at them, it was clear that no one knew Alfred was visiting him. Or spending such significant time with a Crime Lord completely unscathed. Bruce had returned to his earlier position of staring at his lap but the others were staring straight at him, hanging on every word he said. 

“Alfred told me these…” He took out one of his guns, Emma. He also pointedly ignored various sharp inhales around the room at the sight of her. “Will fail me in the end. Considering what has happened, my weapons are the only things I can count on.”

Bruce flinched. 

“He was right, of course. Alfred had to rescue me once.” Jason tucked his gun away. “I wasn’t really expecting any backup, to be honest, didn’t have my guns, only thing I had left was my helmet. But then there he was. He ran the Batmobile through the wall and incapacitated my kidnappers. Apparently the cave radio scanner picked up some chatter about the Red Hood. He figured out the location from there. Didn’t know he was looking out for me.”

“He told me I could always count on my family, on him.”

Jason gently thumbed the grooves along the glass he was holding. Bruce was holding his hands together, almost like a prayer. His fingernails digging in his skin. Shoulders shuddering so slightly that they would be completely unnoticible by human eyes. But Jason was far from human. 

It was Bruce’s eyes that solidified his decision of coming here. They were misty, staring right at Jason. Pleading, begging for something. So blue it hurt to look at them because Jason recognised them as his own. Or what they used to be. His eyes took a various shades of teal now. Acidic green when the Pit took over, but he rarely saw the blue again. 

He remembered being proud of it. When he was younger. Sure, he had black hair and was pale like Bruce but they were not similar enough. He was too small, too gaunt, too cynical to be like Bruce. His eyes though? Exact same shade. It pleased him knowing that even though, he would never be as tall as Bruce or as strong or as charming, he still had that one physical connection to his adoptive father. And no one could take that from him.

What a joke.

But even then. He could not do this. Even after everything, Jason could not hurt Bruce in a way that mattered. He wouldn’t.

He looked away.

“I wont be a part of this.” Jason said softly, directing it more to the larger room than the man sitting at the table. “This weird crucifixion of Bruce, when he is hurting so much more than the rest of us.” 

 “Tim always talks about coming in and saving Bruce after I died, but maybe that wasn’t the right call. Maybe Bruce needed to work throughout that all on his own. 

He looked at each of his so-called siblings pointedly. “Someone he loved died.” He reminded them. “And he wasn’t there to save him. We all know what that feels like. Right now we are all feeling it. 

None of them met his eyes.

“But I am not letting you off the hook entirely, Bruce. I am not angry.” He told Bruce, voice as gentle as if he is talking to a kid he rescued. “But you need to see how angry the rest of them are, and put that incredible brain of yours to fixing it. Or there wont be anything left to fix.”

Jason drained the glass in one go. The whiskey burning at the back of his throat in a pleasant manner. He gently placed the glass back on the counter and walked towards the door. 

“Yeah, thats all I've got. I am out of here.”

With those words, Jason left.