Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Please tell me you aren’t just Batman’s IT bitch, now?” Jason mocked the night air, white breath illuminated by the streetlights. From the other side of the city, Barbara watched from a security camera feed. He wasn’t even wearing a mask, he didn’t look armed. He looked healthy, except for the fact that he was arguing with no one. To a passerby, he might look insane, and that might be true.

“First of all,” she laughed over the comms, “fuck you, as if,” she typed away, multitasking as always, “and second of all, I cannot be rage-baited into keeping you sneaking back into Gotham a secret from Batman. He banned you from the city.”

“I did not sneak, I drove, okay? And it's been like a year, so he's had plenty of time to cool off. Besides, he’s not some feudal fucking king, you know? He can’t actually banish anyone, and he especially can’t banish me from my own hometown. I’m more from Gotham than he is, he’s from Bristol, basically.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m from here, I’m stayin’! Gotham for life! Till the day I-nevermind. C’mon, Babs, where could I go? I can’t go move to Florida or some shit. Can you imagine that? Me, in Florida? I would be an alligator wrestler named Jimmy-Bob-Joe and I’d never wear shoes.”

“That wouldn’t work. I hear Metropolis is nice.” Jason scoffed.

“Not even with a thousand foot Kryptonite pole. Face it, I’m back and better than ever. Literally. Babs, I swear, I am better. I haven’t killed anybody in a year.” No one human, anyway. “I’m sober.”

“You’re not blaming all of that shit you did on drinking too much, are you?”

“I mean, it didn’t help.” It wasn't all just drinking, either, but he left that alone. “I’m not even doing the “crime lord” thing anymore. I’ve completely switched career paths, and at much cost to myself, by the way. The new project doesn’t pay.”

“What is the new project? I’m almost scared to ask.”

“How about we mind our business, Hot Wheels?”

“How about one more crack out of you and I make deep fakes of you murdering folks and broadcast your location to every vigilante within a hundred miles.” Jason sucked his teeth.

“Ooh, bitchy.”

“Tell me what you’re up to and maybe, maybe I don’t tell your dad on you.”

“We still going with ‘dad’? Fine. Witchhunt.”

“That’s not helpful?”

“No, I’m hunting a literal witch.” Barbara laughed. “I’m so serious! I’m trying to rid the world of true evil and this obnoxious ratfucker keeps summoning demons. It’s really inconvenient, actually.”

“Red Hood: Demon Hunter, coming to a theater near you.”

“That would be a sick movie, Babs, don’t even joke.”

“Yeah, because it’s fiction. You expect me to believe that there is a witch loose in Gotham?”

“More than one! Actually, if you can find a mirror-”

“And I’m calling Batman.”

“I take it back! Sorry, fuck! Can’t take a joke anymore.”

“I’m serious, Jay, you need to tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to stick my neck out for you based on, what? The promise that you meditate now? That you haven’t had to buy any new duffel bags lately?”

“Oracle, shh.” Jason’s tone was suddenly serious. 

“Don’t “shh” me! Jason, this isn’t a second chance you’re asking for, more like a thirty-second chance, the least you can do is be fucking honest with me so I can help you. I’m not going to be stuck in the middle, picking sides in the next Jason and Bruce knock-down-drag-out because you decide to go off the rails again just to get his attention because you two can’t just talk to each other like normal people. I know you have a plan, you always do, even when you’re mid-psychotic break, which have been some of your best plans, weirdly enough. Tell me what you’re up to. I love you for some reason, you absolute trainwreck, so just talk to me and I- AGHH!” 

Barbara covered her eyes as the screens went bright, all consumed by blinding white light, then went to static. Barbara typed away, furiously trying to recover the feeds, but the cameras were damaged. Shattered, unusable. She was completely blind. She’d never seen a weapon do that. It wasn’t an explosion. Whatever shit Jason was into, he was on his own for the moment. If he could hold on, though, she could send in backup. 

She checked the locator beacons, knowing she couldn’t use half of them, couldn't trust them to be discrete. Jason had left the city damn near dead last time, he didn’t deserve that sort of beating again, and she did not trust Bruce had cooled off as much as Jason assumed. She patched into another circuit.

“Orphan, emergency re-route. Corner of 9th and Butcher. Hostiles on scene, eyes are closed.”

“What do you want me to do?” Cass asked, already moving.

“Exfiltrate an ally, possibly injured, and report back, I’m blind.”

“Who?”

“It’s Jason.” Cass didn’t reply. She was mid swing. “Report only to me.” The order was clear. Don’t tell Batman.

“Only to you.” Cass repeated. She didn’t like keeping things from Bruce, but Barbara didn’t make requests like that often, she must have her reasons. She could play along with whatever Barbara’s plan was, for now, anyway. “Come on,” she tilted her head at Steph as she landed beside her. “We need to save Jason.” Steph’s eyebrows shot up.

“Jay’s back?” She’d been the only one to see him off last time, when Bruce ran him out of town. He’d been beaten badly, limping and with several broken ribs, his face pummeled into a bloody mess that barely looked recognizable. He hadn’t even fought back. For whatever crazy self-destructive reasons he had, he’d just sat there and let Bruce give him what he thought he deserved. Steph didn’t understand how Bruce had kept hitting him when he didn’t even raise his hands to protect himself. They had their reasons, both of them. Both of them called it love, still, fucked up as it was. That didn’t quite sit right with her.

“I guess.” 

They landed in the alley between 9th and Butcher, no evidence of a struggle besides the shattered security cameras and cracked glass. The bags of trash hadn’t even been knocked over, there was no blast debris, no burn marks. Definitely not an explosion.

“What do you see?” Barbara asked over the comms.

“Nothing.” Cass looked around, confused. “Nothing. Cameras are cracked, glass is cracked, but no clue what caused it. EMP?”

“EMP wouldn’t affect the glass,” Steph said quietly, rolling shards between her fingers. She saw a quick flash dart by in the reflection. Her head snapped up, looking around and finding only the empty alley around her. “Did you see that?” she asked.

“Not alone.” Cass said quietly. Stephanie pulled a knife from her boot. A sound like a can being knocked over was deafening in the silence around them. Cass moved quickly, pulling the dumpster away from the wall, swatting away a can thrown at her face. A small blur tried to rush past her, but Cass reacted fast, grabbing a tiny, scruffy kid in an oversized tee-shirt by the back of his neck. 

“Why’re you running?” the kid squirmed in her grasp, kicking wildly. “Stop fighting.” 

“Put me down!” the kid squeaked out, his knobby knees and bare feet exposed and dangling the air, eyes wide and panicked. 

“Hey, easy.” Steph put a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “It’s just a kid.” Cass put him down but kept a firm grip on him, holding him in place. His small bones protruded through his skin, jabbing into Cass’s hand in a way that was painful for both of them. He wriggled against her futilely. He didn’t look homeless, still mostly clean except for his feet, covered in icy mud and muck from the alley. He couldn’t have been out here long, dressed like that. Steph knelt down in front of him. “Nobody is gonna hurt you, buddy, I promise. Is that all you got on, honey?” 

She looked him over, barefoot and nearly naked but unhurt. The t-shirt was thin, barely anything and no help at all against the cold. The boy didn’t answer her, just stared at her. Stephanie unclasped her cape and reached out to wrap it around the boy, but he flinched away. 

“It’s cold. Take it.” Cass pushed him forward and he reached out slowly, taking the cape from Stephanie and wrapping it around himself. It didn’t stop him from shivering. 

“Did you see what happened here?” Steph asked. The boy shook his head. “We’re looking for our friend, he’s a really tall guy, he’s got black and white hair. Have you seen a guy like that?” The boy looked at his feet, pulling the cape tighter around himself. His lips were starting to turn blue. “We should get you home. Do you live close to here?” 

“I don’t know,” the boy said softly, his lip quivering. He looked warily up at Cass. “I think I’m lost.” That was probably an understatement.
“Well, good thing we’re here! I’m Spoiler and that’s Batgirl. We’re heroes. We’ll get you home, buddy, don’t worry. What’s your name?”

“Jason.” Steph and Cass exchanged a quick look. Stephanie looked closer. The kid had black hair, big blue eyes. Jason’s eyes had been blue, right? Before? Stephanie pulled her mask down.

“Do you know who I am?” Jason shook his head slightly. “I’m Stephanie, does that sound familiar, Jason?”

“No ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Steph laughed. 

“My mom says I have to be polite.”

“Your mama’s right, honey. Do you know how you got here?” He shook his head, agitated like he was about to cry. “Do you know how old you are?”

“Five? I don't know. I don’t know where I am, I’m really lost, I don’t remember…” his chin tensed, dimpling. Stephanie picked him up, holding him close under her cloak to keep him warm and rubbing his back. He didn’t fight back this time.

“That’s okay, Jason. We’re going to take you somewhere warm and safe, I know a lady who can help. She’ll know what to do. It’s gonna be okay, don’t cry.” 

Jason wrapped his arms around Stephanie’s neck, relaxing into her warmth and her safety, falling asleep on the trip to Barbara’s. They were as quiet as they could be, trying not to wake him.

“What the hell happened?” Barbara scolded as they walked in, shushed immediately by Steph and Cass. Steph pulled back the corner of her cape, revealing the sleeping child in her arms.

“It’s him,” Cass whispered, pulling her cowl off. Her hair was sweaty, sticking up. “We found him like that. He doesn’t remember anything.” 

“He’s so big, now, it’s hard to believe he was ever this little,” Steph said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Look how sweet he was.”

“Go set him down in the bedroom,” Barbara said, trying to bite the panic down. Jason hadn’t been lying. Whatever had happened to him, it was magic. It was a fucking witch, loose in Gotham and summoning demons and turning demon hunters into- what did you call a five-year old? Was it still a toddler? ‘Child’ didn’t seem to properly convey how small and vulnerable he was. He probably would have frozen to death if they hadn’t been there to get him. 

Stephanie tucked Barbara’s blanket up around Jason’s chin, marveling at his little mouth and his rosy cheeks, flush with sleep. She planted a light kiss on his forehead and he smiled in his sleep, mumbled something. He was just a baby. She closed the door behind her with a tiny click.

“We need a plan.” Cass said. “Is it permanent?” 

“I don’t know.” Barbara admitted, “we need to call in an expert, figure out how to undo this, get him back to normal.”

“Why was he here?” Cass asked.

“That’s another concern. He was working on something, tracking someone. That someone did this, probably to get Jason off their trail. Who knows what else they were planning. Cass, can you go back to the alley? Try and find anything else of Jason’s, see if you can track down his car or a safehouse or something. I’ll try to dig into his financials from here and see what we can find. We need to figure out what he was working on.”

“I’ll go, too.” Stephanie stood up.

“No, I need you to go find him clothes. The first priority has to be keeping him safe while we figure out how to turn him back.” Stephanie nodded. She shot a glance to the bedroom door. “He’ll be fine. I’ll take care of him if he wakes up. You should probably find some toys or something, too. You’re going to be on babysitting duty until we get this mess sorted out.” Stephanie looked pleased with that idea.

Barbara sighed after the two of them left, cracking the bedroom door and watching the tiny rise and fall of the blankets. She rolled closer, adjusting the blankets. They didn’t need it, but it felt good to do something with her hands.

“What did you get yourself into, Jay?” she whispered softly. He didn’t stir, but his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. She had the urge to hold him, pull him into her lap and keep him there. His little mouth fell open, drool spreading onto her pillow. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you get big again.” She just had to keep him safe until then.

The chirp of an incoming video call sounded from the other room. She left Jason sleeping and returned to her desk, pulling her headphones on.

“What?” she asked as the call connected, Bruce’s cowled face appearing on the screen. 

“Batgirl isn’t responding on comms.”

“She’s fine, working on something for me. She probably just dropped your circuit.”

“Anything I should know about?” 

“No.” Barbara said, quicker than she’d intended. “What about you, why did you need her? Need backup?”

“Not anymore.” 

“Good. You need anything else?”

“Are you hiding something from me?” Barbara tensed. 

“I’m not your personal IT bitch, Batman, I do a lot of shit that has absolutely nothing to do with you and if I wanted your help with it, I’d ask. I didn’t ask.” Bruce’s mouth was open to reply when she hung up. Bruce only had two reactions when she pissed him off, he’d either dig in deeper or avoid her for a few days. She hoped it was the latter. Protecting Jason also meant keeping him from Bruce. It was best for both of them.

A sharp cry came from the bedroom. Barbara ripped off her headphones and threw them against the desk, rushing toward the door just as Jason ripped it open, crashing into her knees and falling face first into her lap. She grabbed him under the arms and pulled him against her, cradling the back of his head into her neck.

“What’s wrong, Jaybird?” she said with an involuntary kiss against his temple as he hiccupped and sobbed quietly. “Did you have a bad dream?” he nodded. 

“There was a clown.” Barbara shut her eyes, hugging Jason tightly. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m scared of clowns, too.” 

Jason leaned against her as the hiccups subsided, sniffing occasionally and playing with her hand, fascinated by her nail polish. He must remember things on some level, some deep part of his brain. He remembered enough to dream about it. He looked up at her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice still small and shaky. 

“I’m Barbara. This is my apartment. I’m going to keep you safe until we figure out how to… um… how to get you home.” Jason pressed his lips together, setting his face into a serious expression that looked both adorable and absurd. 

“I feel like I've met you before.” He nestled further into her lap. “You don’t feel like a stranger. We’re friends, I think.” 

“Are you hungry?” She changed the subject, deciding against explaining, she didn’t want to confuse him. It wasn’t really possible for a five year old to understand that he was a grown man a few hours ago. Jason nodded. She checked her phone. Steph and Cass should both be back soon. Thank goodness Cass liked chicken nuggets, she thought as she flipped the oven on to preheat. “Go wash your hands,” she said, lifting Jason off her lap and placing him on the ground. She hoped Stephanie would get back with the clothes soon. He looked absurd in a men’s t-shirt. He’d need a bath soon, and she was hoping she could push that off to Stephanie, as well. Giving Jason a bubble bath was just too weird. She could stitch him up after a gunfight, she couldn’t wash his hair.

“Excuse me?” Jason paused, putting a half eaten chicken nugget on his plate.

“What’s up, bud?” 

“You’re really nice, but I need to go home now.” Barbara’s chest clenched. “My mom is sick, and she forgets to take her medicine if I don’t wake her up. I need to go home.” Barbara let out a long, slow breath. Catherine Todd had been dead for over ten years, but she was alive to him. She needed him. He was five years old, how long had that been his job? Barbara was suddenly struck with how little she actually knew of Jason’s life before he was Robin. Bruce controlled so much of the narrative around his life and Jason never corrected him, but she couldn’t imagine Bruce knew any more than she did. His life before the alley was a redacted line in a file, one might skip over it and focus on the words they could read, but the important bits were what was hidden, weren't they?

“I’m working on getting you home, Jay. Stephanie and Cass, the girls you met earlier, they’re out looking right now. We’re going to get you back where you belong.” Jason sniffed and nodded, reaching out to hold Barbara’s hand. His sweet, chubby little fingers wrapped around hers, his little fingernails incomprehensibly tiny. He was strong, holding onto her so tightly, like she was the only thing in the world that was solid. 

“I trust you.”

Barbara’s breath caught in her chest, her eyes burning. She didn’t have time to recover before a knock came at the door, hard and loud enough to make both of them jump. She pulled the door camera feed up, Bruce standing in her hallway in civilian clothes.

“Go in the bedroom,” she said quietly, helping Jason off the chair. “It’s okay, I promise.” Jason nodded solemnly, as if he was used to this sort of command, and he ran off to the bedroom without a word. She looked back, making sure he closed the door behind him before she answered. “What do you want?” she asked, Bruce stepped around her. 

“I know when you’re hiding something, Barbara. What is it?” his eyes landed on the half eaten chicken nuggets. 

“Judging my eating habits, now?” He didn’t buy it, his brows tightened with barely controlled anger. He didn’t like being lied to, being out of control. 

“Who else is here?” 

“No one.”

“So you’re telling me a car registered to Peter Grayson didn’t cross Kane bridge yesterday?” Barbara clenched her teeth. What a stupid cover name that was, his own middle name. Why had he taken Dick’s name? Why did he have to antagonize Bruce at every turn, leave clues, leave breadcrumbs, hoping someone would follow them? “Barbara, is Jason in Gotham? Is he here?” She shook her head. 

“I haven’t seen Red Hood in a year.” 

“I didn’t ask about Red Hood. “ Bruce stared hard into her eyes. “Jason!” Bruce called. “Get out here, be a man.” Barbara’s eyes shot involuntarily to her bedroom door, the doorknob still. She ripped her gaze away, trying to cover, but Bruce had seen. He took a large step toward the door.

“It’s not his fault!” Barbara yelled, almost begging. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” Bruce ignored her, ripping the door open so it slammed against the wall, cracking the drywall. The room was dark and empty. He made his way through the room, finding nothing until he opened the door to the bathroom where Jason was crouched and trembling in the bathtub.

“Jason?” Bruce asked, his voice softened beyond recognition. “Good god, Jason, Is that you?” Bruce fell to his knees, reaching out. “My boy. Come here, come here.” Jason didn’t, couldn’t respond, his breath shaking out in pitifully short gasps. “I’m here, Jay. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you, now. Everything’s going to be okay.” He reached over the edge of the tub and Jason shrieked, his face reddening. He kicked back, hiding as far back as he could. Bruce grabbed him under the arms and he went boneless, completely limp, slipping out of Bruce’s grasp and sprinting away, hiding behind Barbara’s wheelchair.

“I don’t want to die!” he cried, tears running down his face. Barbara pulled him into her lap, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Bruce reached toward him again and he let out a shrill cry that shook the room. “Don’t let him hurt me, please, please!” he cried. Bruce grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but Barbara held on. 

“He’s my son, Barbara!”

“Do either of you still call it that?” she tightened her grip on the crying boy, “You’re scaring him, leave him alone!” Bruce tightened his grip on Jason’s arm, wrapping a strong hand around his stomach and pulling him free of Barbara’s grasp, yanking until she was pulled fully from her wheelchair, falling to the ground with a pained cry.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, looking down at her, “but he’s my son. He’s my responsibility.”

“Barbara!” Jason’s voice was desperate and shrill, his face red and covered in tears and snot. He reached out for her, but she could not help him. “Help! Help! I don’t want to die!” His face was red and he tried to wrench himself from Bruce’s grasp, but Bruce held firm. “Mommy! Mommy! Don’t let me die!” Jason’s cries got less and less coherent as Bruce pressed his thrashing head to his shoulder, muffling his cries. Barbara could only watch from the cold tile as Bruce left her apartment, Jason in his arms, begging over and over not to die, for her to help, for his mother, for Catherine, for anyone. Bruce’s jaw was set in stern determination.

This was for the best, he thought. Right?

Chapter Text

Bruce pressed his foot against the gas, flattening the pedal against the floorboard. The engine soared, not able to drown out the sound of crying. Jason was loose in the Batmobile, it wasn’t as if he had a carseat, and he had wedged himself under the back seat, wailing for his mother. Bruce shook his head, trying to clear the sound from his ears.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson with that?” Bruce muttered under his breath. “She’s not coming.” She never did. He was all Jason had. In that alley, in that warehouse, now. Bruce was all he had. Jason began to sob Barbara's name, his voice going raspy and cracking from the strain. Bruce’s jaw tensed.

He was just scared, he didn’t know any better. He didn’t know that he was safe, yet, but he’d calm down and it would be fine. He would be fine. Bruce looked back over his shoulder, barely able to see Jason’s feet. Bruce wondered what it would be like to hold him. He hadn’t thought to savor it as he carried Jason to the car. He’d gone looking for an enemy and found his son, finally truly alive. Not the broken, warped version that had climbed up from hell, his SON. He’d found a second chance. The last time he’d held Jason had been as a corpse, growing cold as he’d carried the body free of the rubble, broken bones shifting against his hands like bags of terrible sand, blood soaking his clothes and his hands. He wondered what it would feel like to feel Jason’s breath against his chest as he slept safely in his arms. That’s what he wanted to remember. Not the blood. If he could hold him just once before he turned Jason back, maybe things could be different. He pulled into the Batcave, Alfred looking up with a confused expression.

“Back so soon, Master Bruce?” he asked.

“We need to get Zatanna Zatara on the phone.” Bruce yelled over the sounds of crying. Alfred tentatively pulled the car’s back door open and lowered his face to Jason’s level.

“Well hello, there, young Sir,” he kept his voice chipper. “Quite upset, aren’t we?” Jason wriggled out of his hiding place and latched on to Alfred’s neck, grabbing fistfuls of his collar and burying his face in his neck. “Goodness!” Alfred stood, cradling the child in his arms, turning to level a hard look at Bruce. “You aren’t possibly considering another Robin, are you, Master Bruce? Where did you find this poor boy?”

“That’s Jason.” Bruce kept his voice steady, his spine straight. He said it so flatly, like he was saying that the sky was blue or the earth was round. Alfred placed a finger gently under Jason’s chin, lifting his face up. 

“Master Jason?” he asked, immediately knowing that Bruce was right. The boy was younger, but it was him. His face held the same scared expression he’d had the first time he came into this cave, in that same car, trying to look brave with his wide eyes and his lips pressed together so they wouldn’t shake. It was him. “Jason,” Alfred said softly, tracing the soft, wet cheek with the back of his finger, brushing the tears away. “Are you alright, my dear boy?” Jason shook his head, his face collapsing into hysterics again. Alfred carried him off to the manor, ignoring Bruce’s protests behind him. Bruce could be the detective, call the magicians and figure out how to set things right, but Alfred would feed and bathe and put the boy to bed. Nothing else mattered at the moment. “Are you hungry?” he asked as the elevator doors closed. Jason shook his head and sniffed, taking a deep, shaking breath to stop the tears.

“Barbara gave me chicken nuggets.” Alfred let out a gentle chuckle. Chicken nuggets hardly qualified as dinner, but proper nutrition was hardly the biggest issue at hand. 

“Yes, of course. Such grubby little toes you have, Master Jason,” Alfred said, lifting his foot into the air, tickling the bottom. “Time for a bath, it seems.” Jason almost smiled, his face still fighting tears. Alfred kept him tightly in his arms as he filled the bath, tested the temperature, added just the right amount of bubbles. “Off with that shirt, Sir,” Alfred ordered, setting Jason down onto the cold tile. He pulled the t-shirt off, handing it to Alfred who just tossed it into the hamper. ”Hup!” Alfred picked him up gently under the arms and placed him gently in the bath. His eyes lingered on Jason’s arms, where finger-mark bruises were just starting to form, running the sponge across them too slowly. They were fresh, from large, adult hands. 

“That bad man took me from Barbara,” Jason said, as if it explained everything. “He hurt her and he took me.” Alfred swallowed and slipped his phone out of his pocket, shooting a quick text message to Dick, asking him to go check on Barbara. Jason had to be confused, Bruce wouldn’t attack her. Still, he sent the message.

“He’s not a bad man,” Alfred wiped the dried rivers of salt from Jason’s cheeks. “He’s your father.” Jason shook his head, levelling a hard look at Alfred.

“He is NOT my dad. My dad is Willis, and my mama’s name is Catherine. They’re looking for me, I know they are, and Barbara was going to help me get home.” Alfred took a deep breath, his inhale stopped in his chest when Jason’s large, innocent eyes locked onto his. “I can’t stay here. Can you help me get home?”

There was no explanation to give, not one that didn’t make the situation worse. How do you tell a child their parents are dead, that they’ve been dead a decade, that he doesn’t remember his own life? Maybe it was better that he didn’t remember. There was so much pain in the boy’s life, and that would come, eventually. Wouldn’t it be best if he could stay innocent, even just for a few days?

“I will help you, Master Jason, of course I will.” Jason nodded, satisfied with that answer. He was calm, now, moving his hands through the water, his face clean with only a little lingering redness around his nose and eyes. Alfred held out a towel and lifted Jason out of the tub, wrapping him up, helping him dress in Dick’s old things. Jason was far younger and far smaller than Dick had been when he came to live with them, but it was close enough. They couldn’t exactly afford to be discerning about fashion at the moment. They walked into the empty batcave, hand in hand, just a few moments before Tim and Damian returned from their patrols. Jason hid behind Alfred’s leg, peeking his head out.

“Oh no, not again,” Tim said, pulling his mask off. “Is this one Bruce’s, too, or did he find him in a dumpster?” 

“None of that, Master Tim,” Alfred gently nudged Jason forward. “The situation is a bit more sensitive than that, and I implore the both of you not to make it worse. Say hello,” he told Jason gently. “Tell them your name.”

“Hi,” Jason raised a hand to wave at them. “My name is Jason.” Tim’s mouth fell open.

“Oh, no way.” 

“Jason, Jason?” Damian asked. “Jason Todd?” Alfred nodded. 

“How’d that happen?” 

“I think speculation should be done in private, don’t you agree? No need to cause unnecessary confusion. It could be upsetting, disorienting.”

“Yeah, okay…” Tim scratched his head. “What do you need us to do? Babysit?”

“Babysit?” Damian asked. “He ki-”

“No!” Tim interrupted. “He didn't,” he pointed to Jason. “That’s a baby, and he didn’t do anything. Tomorrow it might be different but today, you know, just look at him. You can’t blame him for anything, you can’t hate him. It’s a BABY.”

“I’m not a baby, I’m five!” Jason scowled. Tim turned and smiled at him.

“You’re right, you’re a big kid.” Tim smiled. “We don’t have any toys or anything, huh? That sucks.” 

“He could color?” Damian sighed, grabbing colored pencils and paper out of his designated desk drawer, holding them out. “Do you want to?” Jason nodded and reached up, taking Damian’s hand to be led over to a table. Damian hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to pull his hand from Jason’s grasp, but he didn’t. He lifted Jason into the chair and sat by him, drawing his own picture and occasionally handing Jason the colors he asked for but could not reach. Damian watched him warily, not sure what to make of the situation.

…

“What do you want, Bruce?” Zatanna picked up the phone the second time he called.

“I need your help, it’s about my son.”

“Really? That’s surprising, he told me not to mention it to you, that you two weren’t exactly on speaking terms.” Bruce clenched his jaw.

“Not to mention what, precisely?” Zatanna paused.

“If you aren’t already aware, I’m not entirely sure it’s your business. If you want to know, shouldn’t you ask him?”

“I can’t, that’s why I’m calling. He’s been turned into a child, he doesn’t remember anything. I need to know how to undo it.” Bruce almost hoped she would say it was permanent, that Jason could have a second chance at growing up, that he could do it right this time. He was a better father, now. He’d learned so much, but poor Jason had been the lesson. He could do better this time. He would live. He almost let that hope bloom in his chest before she responded.

“Damn it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about Jason, it’ll wear off in a few days, he won’t remember anything. I know who did it, too. I’ll take care of it.”

“What has Jason gotten himself mixed up in?” Bruce asked.

“I wouldn’t worry about him, Bruce. He’s doing great. That boy is talented, really. He’s a natural. I understand what you saw in him.”

“Talented at what?” He'd been a natural fighter, sharpshooter, swordsman, he’d taken to every skill Bruce taught him with an equal measure of raw talent and tireless work, but he got the feeling Zatanna wasn’t talking about any of those skills.

“Your boy’s got his own magic, Bruce. He always did, you know, but he’s using it now. He’s learning, and he’s learning fast.” The blood drained from Bruce’s face. “Hey,” Zatanna stopped him before he hung up, “I have to warn you, he may not remember anything, but his soul might. Wounds that reach that deep won’t go away just because you don’t know how they happened. If anyone has a wounded soul, it’s Jason. He’ll come out of this spell in a day or so, he’ll start aging rapidly until he’s back to normal, but it's not an easy process. Strong emotions, powerful experiences, they’ll tend to stick around. Plus, his mind will be the same as it was at the time, at whatever age his body happens to be. It’ll only last a couple hours, but his teenage years might be ugly, given what happened to him. Fair warning.” 

"Is there any way... Is there anything I should avoid? Is there anything that would prevent him from going back?" 

Zatanna didn't answer him. She hung up.

Bruce ran his hands across his face. Jason would be fine, they just had to wait it out. He would be a child in need of his protection for just a few days, before all his anger and bitterness came flooding back into him. Before it got ugly. Bruce got up, he wanted to make the most of the precious little time he had with his son. Walking back to the cave, he couldn’t help but think about what Zatanna had said, that Jason was a natural. It scared him, that magic, mostly because of what it could do in hands like his, but he couldn’t help but be proud. 

His chest tightened at the sound of laughter, bouncing off the cave walls. He caught sight of Damien and Jason sitting together, coloring together, and made his way over.

“What are you guys-” Jason’s head snapped up and he dove sideways off the chair.

“No!” he yelled, hitting the ground hard and scrambling up, sprinting away before Damien could stop him, diving under his hand. Jason didn’t see the edge of the platform, falling over the edge with a shrill shriek. A loud thud echoed through the cave as he hit the rock formation below, quickly followed by a sharper, pained cry.

“Oh shit!” Tim was already climbing over the edge, gently dropping onto the rock ledge where Jason fell, but he was already crawling away, cramming himself deeper into a hole in the rock face, a tiny hiding place only he could fit into. “What are you doing, dude?” Tim asked, trying to reach in after him. He couldn’t, Jason was just out of reach of his outstretched fingertips, even if he laid on the floor and wedged his shoulder in as far as he could. Tim gave up, pulling his arms out and sticking his head in. He couldn't fit his shoulders, but he could talk to Jason this way. “Are you good?” Tim asked. “Come out here so I can see if you’re hurt.”

“Not while he’s out there.” Jason looked past Tim with an expression usually reserved for actors in shitty horror movies.

“Who? Bruce?” Jason’s lip quivered. “You don’t have to be scared of him, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

“Worse.”

“What?”

“He’s gonna kill me,” Jason whispered gravely, like he was sharing a secret. 

“No,” Tim shook his head, regretting it as it ground the back of his head against the rock.

“Something really bad is going to happen to me, I can see it. I can feel it when he looks at me.” Tim’s breath caught, his chest tightened until he couldn’t breathe. 

“Oh man... I promise I’ll keep you safe,” Tim said, “But you need to come out of there, it isn’t safe in here.” His forehead was bleeding, the fall was only a few feet but he’d need x-rays to rule out broken bones. There could be bats, they could both get rabies. “Come on out, buddy. Do you trust me?”

“No?” 

“That’s fair, I guess. Come on, Jason, you’re bleeding. That looks like it hurts.” Jason pulled his scratched hands into his stomach, hiding them.

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I get it, you’re tough.”

“I want my mom.” Tim sighed.

“I’m sorry, dude. I can't get her, right now. the best I can do is a bandaid, maybe a lollipop.” Tim backed up enough to put his hand in, extending out toward Jason. “Is that something?” Jason took his hand, following him out of the dark. Tim passed him up to Alfred, who carried him into the medbay and started looking Jason over for serious injuries. Bruce took a small step towards them and Tim put a hand out.

“You gotta give him some space, B.”

“He’s confused, I just need to show him he’s safe and he’ll get over it.”

“I don’t think so.” Damian folded up the picture Jason had been drawing and put it in his pocket. “Tim’s right. He’s not confused, he’s scared of you.”

“He has no reason to be.”

“I mean...” Tim mumbled. Bruce leveled a hard look at him. “Just leave him be.”

“No. He’s accepted the rest of you, he’ll accept me eventually. He’s being irrational.”

“Yeah, well, he’s five, Bruce.”

“You’re the one being irrational,” Damian said, crossing his arms. “Are you going to negotiate with him? Good luck with that. Would you force him? That would be cruel.” Damian stepped forward, standing next to Tim and between Bruce and the medbay. “You need to be the bigger person and walk away.”

“Get out of the way,” Bruce said. “You have no right. He is my son, this chance-”

“Chance?” Tim’s eyebrows pulled together. “Chance for what, Bruce?” Bruce didn’t answer. “It’s not his safety you're concerned about, we all know how the two of you fight. You want a re-do, is that it? One where you get him younger and you do it all better and you don’t lose his trust and he doesn’t run away and he doesn’t die? A chance to undo all your mistakes, take away his whole life just to fix it for yourself? Are you going to kill the real Jason so you can get a better version of your son?”

“Tell me that’s not what you want.” Damian looked disgusted. "Father?"

“This magic is not going to last long,” Bruce said, “I don’t have much time. I can fix him.”

“I’m calling Dick.” Tim pulled out his phone, raising it to his ear. “I know you don’t think straight around Jason, but this is too far. This is wrong, and you can't come back from this.” Bruce moved quickly, ripping the phone from Tim’s ear and crushing it in his hand. A car came speeding into the cave, tires screeching. It was Dick’s. He’d barely stopped when he leapt out, sprinting toward Bruce. He swung immediately, fist connecting with Bruce’s cheekbone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, red faced.

“That’s what we were just asking.” Damian said, ignored.

“You attacked Barbara!”

“You did what?” Bruce took a step back. They were all looking at him like he was crazy.

“No, I… It was an accident.”

“You threw her out of her wheelchair. You broke her wrist.” Bruce swallowed. It had been an accident. If she hadn’t held onto Jason so tightly… “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that Cass is in the ER with her and not here? Do you have any idea?” Dick’s clenched fists were shaking. “You are out of control. You’ve lost it, Bruce, for real this time.”

“She lied to me. She had no right to hide Ja-” Dick grabbed Bruce by the collar and hit him again, raising his fist back for another punch.

“Master Dick!” Alfred called out, holding Jason’s face against his chest and covering his eyes, “not now.” Dick dropped Bruce’s shirt and he took a single staggering step backward, rubbing his jaw before straightening up like nothing had happened at all.

“Is that him?” Dick couldn’t take his eyes off the small child in Alfred’s arms, his breath tight in his chest as he climbed the stairs towards the medbay. He didn’t reach out, just lowered his face down to look Jason in the eye as his cheek rested on Alfred’s shoulder. His forehead was cut, his arms were bruised, his hands were scraped and red. Had Bruce done this?

“Jason?” He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and touched Dick’s cheek. 

“I know you.” It was barely a whisper, barely anything, but it filled Dick’s eyes with tears. Jason leaned over, shifting his weight into the air between Dick and Alfred, forcing Dick to catch him before he fell. Dick hiked Jason up so they looked eye to eye, and Jason put a hand on either side of Dick’s face. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “I’m happy you’re safe.” Jason shook his head.

“Nobody’s safe.” He leaned his forehead into Dick’s chest, closing his eyes. Dick placed a hand on his back and rocked him back and forth, looking across the cave at Bruce, watching them. Their eyes locked, and Dick saw something he didn’t expect. Jealousy.

Damian pulled the folded picture out of his pocket and silently handed it to Bruce. It shook in his hand, the whisper of the shuddering paper loud in the echoing silence of the cave. A large black form stared back at him from the page, bat ears and flowing cape, white eyes, and a wide, red smile cutting through his face like a cruel joke. 

Chapter Text

Jason was asleep, but Dick refused to put him down. His arms had started to fall asleep an hour ago, but he would rather they fall off than be empty at the moment. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he thought that Jason might be getting heavier. Every once in a while, he would flinch in his sleep and Dick felt a ripple of goosebumps pass under his hands. Suddenly his hair would be a little longer and his legs would reach a little closer to the floor. Nobody else noticed, but each time Dick looked down, he looked more and more like the ghosts that had haunted him for years, following him and watching from the edge of shadows. He was becoming himself. There was no way to know who he would be when he woke up, how old he would be, what he would remember. Dick sat down on a couch tucked out of the way, Alfred silently covered both him and Jason with a throw blanket, shielding them from view. 

No one else was looking at him, anyway, focused on the trio of girls entering the cave. Barbara, who would never under any normal circumstances allow anyone to touch her wheelchair, held her freshly casted hand in her lap as Cass pushed her, her knuckles visibly white. Stephanie hung back behind them, her hoodie pulled over her face and biting her lips like she was fighting back words. The tension in the air felt heavy and oppressive, crushing. 

“I’m so sorry, Barbara,” Bruce said as they walked past him. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry, Bruce,” she interrupted him, her voice flat and hard, “We’ll be fine, I’ll forgive you eventually, everyone always does. It’s on us, right? To absorb the consequences of your shitty, selfish behavior, make you feel better?” Bruce tried hard to not look hurt. 

“I apologize for the way I reacted, and I regret so very deeply that I hurt you, Barbara, but why would you hide this from me? Why wouldn’t you come to me when Jason needed help?”

“You’re the last person in this room, in this city, I would call to protect Jason Todd.” Barbara swallowed. “And he wouldn’t have wanted me to.” Bruce set his jaw, the muscle working in his cheek.

“You should have at least told me he was in Gotham.”

“Absolutely not. The way you reacted was exactly how I would expect you to. Violent and impulsive. You always are with him.”

“If he wasn’t here to do anything wrong, why would you need to hide him?”

“Because you don’t give a fuck what he’s doing, you just want to hit him anyway,” Stephanie muttered. Bruce turned to look at her.

“What did you just say?” Tim reached out to put a hand on her arm, hold her back, but she shook him off. 

“I said that you don’t care if Jason actually did whatever he’s getting beat for, because you’re just looking for reasons to hit him. Do you know how I know that’s true? Remember last year, when you beat him so badly he couldn’t walk for two months and you threw him out of the city? Why did you do that, Bruce? Because he tried to kill Penguin?”

“He faked it, used a blank, I know.”

“But you assumed the worst and beat him half to death anyway. If it had been anyone else, you would have bothered to check if there was an actual bullet hole in Penguin’s head or not. But not Jason, right?” She stepped forward, her finger in Bruce’s face as he stood silently. “If it had been anyone else, you would have tried to rehabilitate them, get them help, understand them with that endless supply of patience and kindness you have on offer for everyone else except him, because Penguin can be rehabilitated, and Ivy, and Scarecrow, and even the fucking goddamn Joker deserves a chance and a fair trial, but not Jason.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” Stephanie ignored him.

“If it had been anyone else, you would have stopped hitting him when he didn’t defend himself, but you can hit Jason when his hands are down because it’s not even about what he did anymore, it’s about you. You are such a hypocrite, Bruce. All of your high-touted morals fold like a cheap lawn chair when Jason’s there and you don’t even see it. You don’t even know how wrong you are. You keep saying it’s for his own good, that you’re trying to get him back into the light, but you’re hurting him to hurt him because hating him makes you fucking feel better.”

“Holding that one in for a minute, Stephie?” Tim asked quietly, looking at his feet with crossed arms.

“Yeah, I’ve been holding that one in for about a year now. None of you saw him last year, after. None of you saw what he did.” 

“That’s enough,” Damien said, “This isn’t helpfu-”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it.” Stephanie looked around at the others. “I know all of you fucking agree with me, too, don’t be silent, now.” She turned back to look at Bruce. “You need someone to tell you the truth, Bruce. You need us to pull you back from the edge, that’s the point of Robin, right? Light in the darkness? I was Robin, and I’ll tell you the truth even if they won’t.”

“Is that what you all talk about on your patrols?” Bruce asked. "My descent into madness?"

“Yes.” Cass said quietly.

“She defends you,” Stephanie sniffed and crossed her arms. “Most of the time.”

“Go ahead, Cass, tell me what you really think.” 

“I think…” Cass looked down. “I think you’re really good at finding empathy for your enemies, believing they can change. You don’t hate them, and that’s good, it is, except that you do hate Jason. It makes me think you can only really hate someone you used to love, so sometimes I worry about if everything goes wrong, if you think… I worry about where that leaves us.” Cass raised her head, met Bruce’s eye. “I think that if you can hate Jason the way that you do, you could hate me, too.”

Bruce wanted to argue, to say that he didn’t hate Jason, that none of them would ever do what he did, that he would forgive them, that he loved them, but he saw the way that they all looked back at him, biting their cheeks and crossing their arms, and he knew that it wouldn’t help. 

“I love Jason.” What did that even mean? What did it count for? 

“That makes it worse,” Dick said, drawing everyone’s eyes to the corner he’d stashed himself in. Jason was heavy, now. Even under the blanket, they could tell he wasn’t five anymore. 

A gasping breath broke the tense silence as Jason woke up, pushing himself off Dick’s lap before his eyes were even fully open. Dick’s old pajamas fit, now. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked Dick, his voice deep with sleep despite the pubescent crack. Dick sat there with eyes rimmed with tears and an open mouth, unable to answer. Jason’s face was round and young, freckles splashed across soft cheeks, fluffy curls falling into his eyes. “You look bad, dude. Like, really bad. Did you fight Captain Ugly? Looks like he got a few punches in, huh?” Dick felt like he couldn’t breathe. He looked exactly like he had when they first met, when he was newly Robin and believed so fucking hard that the magic in that suit could save everyone. That hadn’t lasted long at all. “Dick?”

“You’re twelve.” 

“Yeah? Dude, are you having a stroke? Why are you looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost?” Jason looked around the cave, half of them people he didn’t yet know. “Are you guys his friends?” he asked Tim and Damien. They nodded slowly. “I’m going out on patrol, I’ll see you guys later, okay?” Jason jogged easily down the stairs and towards the memorial display, feeling around the edge for a clasp or a motion activated switch to open it. “B? How do you open this thing? You gotta stop changing stuff around here, this is not an upgrade. There’s nothing wrong with hangers, man. Not everything needs a bat gadget. This is a little dramatic anyway, don’t you think. B?” He turned to look over his shoulder.

“Jason.” Bruce stepped forward and Jason took a step back, tilting his head a little to the side. His relaxed demeanor changed, muscles tensing. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Jason, I-”

“Dick!” Dick launched himself off the couch and grabbed Jason by the elbow. Jason leaned in and whispered in Dick’s ear. “Something’s not right, why does he look like that?”

“He’s fine.”

“No, that’s not Bruce.” Jason’s breathing quickened, his fingers clutching Dick’s arm. “That’s not him, he looks so angry.” Dick turned, Bruce’s face was crestfallen, eyebrows twisted together in a pained expression. He looked anything but angry. Jason took another step back, shaking his head, breathing quicker. “Dick, he’s going to hurt us, we need to go.” He pulled on Dick’s arm. “We need to go, we need to get the others out. This is a trap, we need to leave or we’re gonna die here." Dick shook his head. "We’re all gonna die here, you need to listen to me.” 

Dick tried to explain, tried to calm him down, but Jason couldn’t hear him. A ripple of goosebumps passed over him and he grabbed his chest with a pained cry, tripping over his feet and falling backward, his head hitting the ground hard. Then he began to scream. He lifted his hands in front of his face like he was protecting himself and screamed so loudly, so desperately, that the walls of the cave shook, stalactites dropping to the floor in distant chambers. Dick was on his knees next to him, trying to offer pointless comforts he could not hear, that he was safe, that he would be alright. None of it made a difference.

“He’s dying,” Stephanie cried, trying to rush to his side but held back by Tim.

“That’s exactly what’s happening,” Damien said flatly, his eyes glued to Jason, whose voice had started to crack and fail, wheezing out scratchy screams that sounded like they hurt. Stephanie began to cry and Tim pulled her in, hugging her and hiding his face in her hair. He’d forgotten how young Jason actually had been. The pajamas were too tight and short, now, ankles and forearms exposed, a sliver of stomach, but they still fit. He had been so small. 

Bruce stood stunned and still, his arms hanging limply by his sides, his blood frozen in his veins, completely unable to move. He’d only felt this helpless twice, both times holding the bloodied bodies of those he loved. This was what Jason had felt, this fear. He’d left him alone, he hadn’t been there to protect him, to help him, to save him or die with him like he should have. This fear was the last thing Jason knew. He had died alone and afraid and Bruce had been too late. Did he give up, in the end, or did he die fighting? Did he hear the motorcycle in the distance or did he think Bruce had abandoned him? He could wager a guess at that one. He walked up and sank to his knees, pulling Jason’s head into his shoulder. He struggled and screamed but Bruce held tightly. He would not be alone again. Bruce could take it, he would bear witness like he should have done, do his job. Just as quickly as the fit had started, Jason fell silent, limp, too still for it to be sleep. Bruce held him there for a moment, unable to breathe. It felt sickeningly familiar. He slipped an arm under Jason's knees and lifted him as if he weighed nothing, his arms hanging down and swinging with each step. After all that had happened, after all that terrible hope, he’d only ended up holding him the same way as before. He laid Jason down on a hospital bed in the medbay, gently cradling his head and placing it on the pillow with tender care. Alfred silently grabbed a pair of surgical shears and cut the tight pajamas off of him, dressing him in a hospital gown and laying a blanket over him, tucking it tightly around him. Bruce brushed his hair off his forehead, looking down at the face of a boy he had said goodbye to almost a decade earlier. It didn’t get easier, but he said goodbye again. He passed Barbara in the doorway as Cass pushed her in and she took Jason's hand. 

“It’s almost nightfall,” he said, clearing his throat to shake the tension from his voice. “You all need to get ready for patrol.”

“Not tonight,” Tim said. “I’m gonna stay until he wakes up.”

“Me, too.” Damian sat down on the couch. 

“There’s nothing you can do. You think he’ll want you here when he wakes up? He doesn’t want any of us. The mission comes first. Get dressed.”

“Maybe the mission coming first is why he doesn’t want to be around you,” Tim said, a little more harshly than he’d intended. “He’s not going to be alone when he wakes up this time.” 

“Fine.” He sat down at the batcomputer and pretended to work on a case, making himself look busy, but keeping the medbay door in the corner of his eye. Dick and Barbara were in there, quietly talking with Alfred. Jason would wake up as himself again, soon. He’d probably try to kill them all. 

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he took a huge, gasping breath that lifted his chest off the bed before falling silent again. He sat up stiffly.

“Jason?” Barbara asked. His hand slipped from her grasp as he walked past her, not looking at her or at anything at all. She thanked Alfred silently for using wrap-tie medical gowns. “Jason?” He didn’t react at all, just walked right out of the medbay, stopping in the middle of the room. They followed him tentatively, not sure what was happening. 

“Hey,” Damian asked, getting closer, “are you okay?” He placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and Jason grabbed him, flipping with ease and throwing him across the room, slamming into a wall. Bruce jumped up, ready to fight, but Jason didn’t move again. He didn’t attack or defend himself, he just stared ahead with his shoulders slumped. He didn’t react at all until Tim walked up to him, then he moved faster than should have been possible, kicking Tim in the chest with incredible force, leaving him gasping for air on the other side of the cave. 

“What is wrong with him?” Dick asked, “Why is he just…”

“How old does he look?” Alfred asked. “Sixteen? Seventeen? He told me once that he was in a sort of coma when he first came back, that it took a long time for him to heal, walk and talk and get all of his memories back. I think that's what this is.”

“We’re a threat,” Damian said, half remembering tales from his childhood, told in reverent whispers, about an undead general in the All-Caste who had spent a year alone and without a mind, surviving on whatever instincts his body remembered before his soul was reunited with his body by the lazarus pit, nursed back to full health by Talia. He had been a legend, a story. It couldn’t be Jason. “He’s just protecting himself. He doesn’t know who we are. It’s not his fault.”

“Let me try,” Barbara said, rolling herself slowly forward with one hand.

“Don't,” Bruce said. “He’ll hurt you, too.” Barbara waved him off and slowly rolled forward until she was inches from Jason’s legs. She raised her hand, reaching up towards his face, but didn’t touch him.

“Jason?” she asked, “can you hear me? It’s time to come home.” His gaze shifted slowly down, landing on her hand. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He reached out to touch her hand, their fingertips brushing together, the others waiting with baited breath, ready to jump in and protect her if he struck.

“Aa-ah,” he managed, his voice cracking like he hadn’t spoken in a year. Tears slipped down Barbara’s cheeks. “Baah.” She nodded.

“That’s right. Barbara.”

“Baarrr…” Bruce turned away, holding his breath. “Baarrbrr…” A shudder passed through Jason and he blinked, recognition flooding his eyes. “Barbara.”

“Hey, Jay. Welcome back.”

“Babs?” he looked down at her, at himself, at the others looking at him with heartbreak he mistook for pity, at Bruce’s back turned to him. “What did I do?” She shook her head.

“You didn’t do anything.” He was in the batcave, the last place he would ever go willingly, with some of the last people who would agree to help him. Something had clearly happened.

“Did I do that?” He gestured to her cast, squatting down so he could talk to her without the others hearing.

“You didn’t.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead into her armrest as she put her good hand on his face. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“I don’t remember how I got here.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “I really was sober. Please tell me what I did. I don’t remember. Did I hurt someone again?” she shook her head. “Nine months, and I don’t even remember what I threw it away for.”

“You didn’t throw anything away. That witch hit you with some sort of spell, that’s all. You didn’t do anything to anybody.”

“Why is everyone looking at me like I did?”

“Jason, are you okay?” Tim asked. Jason sniffed, standing up. 

“Better than you. Why’s Steph crying, what’d you do?” Steph pushed off of Tim and crashed into Jason, wrapping her arms around his stomach. He hugged her back. “Good to see you, bud,” he whispered into her hair.

“My car keys are in my jacket pocket,” she whispered against his ear. “All your stuff is in the backseat. Take the car and go back to your safehouse, I’ll come and see you, explain everything.” Jason hugged her a little tighter and slipped his hand into her pocket, hiding her key fob in his fist. 

“Jason,” Bruce said, and Stephanie felt the flinch in his stomach before he pulled away from her, standing tall and facing Bruce. They stared at each other, trying to size each other up, read the intent in the others’ face, in the twitching of their muscles. Bruce wanted to reach out and pull Jason in, but it didn’t feel right. He had to get the hell out of here, Jason thought, something bad was about to happen. Again. He spotted Stephanie's car out of the corner of his eye, parked right next to the entrance and facing the right way. He thanked her silently, she’d set up his escape from the start. Dick hadn’t been so forward thinking, his car parked haphazardly, the door left ajar, blocking in the batmobile and a row of motorcycles. Alfred and Dick stood close to each other, watching silently. Dick looked tired. They locked eyes for a moment, and Dick held his gaze with a tight lipped smile, giving him a small wave. He waited, but Bruce didn’t say anything else, just kept staring at him with an expression that was completely unreadable. It made him anxious, not knowing. He didn’t even know what he wanted to happen. 

“Am I free to go?” he asked. “Or are we going to fight, again?” 

“You’re fr-” Bruce didn’t get to finish before Jason leapt over the railing, down to the parking lot and slammed the door of Stephanie’s car closed, peeling out of the batcave as fast as he could. 

He took one last look back into the rearview. For the first time, Bruce wasn’t chasing him. He breathed a sigh of relief even as he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He’d always thought that the day Bruce stopped coming after him would be the day that he fully stopped loving him, that he gave up. As long as he kept being mad enough to leave bruises, he still cared. They were a lot of things to each other, family and enemies, but they weren’t strangers. Seeing Bruce always left him with fresh scars and new nightmares, but that pain and fear was kinder than apathy. He took one more look back as the cave grew more distant, the city coming into view.

He wasn’t coming this time.

Chapter Text

Jason pressed his foot on the gas, the pedal flush against the floorboard as Stephanie’s car strained up a hill. None of it mattered, it was okay. He’d be fine, he’d been fine for a year, now, and alone. He could handle that. Alone was… it was okay. It had been nice, though, seeing Barbara and Stephanie. Even the little smile from Dick had been something, at least. It had been nice that Tim hadn’t hit him, or Damian. He wished Bruce had. That would have been better than whatever the look on his face had meant. He knew what fists meant.

A shudder ran through his body and a large scar appeared on his neck, a rip through both his throat and his heart, healing even as it tore open. He felt adrenaline pour through his veins, blood like ice and lips numb. He cried out, his ears rigging and his vision fading out to stark white pain. He couldn’t control the car and the ground under the wheels changed, bumpy and uneven. He slammed the brake down, bruising his lips against the steering wheel before shifting into park with practiced muscle memory, falling out of the door and vomiting onto the grass on the side of the highway, his whole body shaking. He clutched handfuls of wild grass, trying to breathe the nausea away, but the earth in his nose only made him gag again. Why did all Gotham dirt smell like a graveyard? 

“Buddy, are you okay?” A voice asked. He pressed his head into his fists. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Don’t,” he said, spitting the last remnants of burning acid into the dirt, “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” He looked up at a business man in a crisp white shirt with neat hair, freshly showered and brushed just so. He had a phone in his hand, and he looked at Jason like someone would look at a creature stuck in a trap, tragic but damn dangerous. It might gnaw off its own leg and come after you, next. Rabid. He looked down at himself, the open door of a purple PT Cruiser, him on the side of the highway on his hands and knees in a hospital gown.

“I’m just having a weird day.” He stood up, wiping his mouth on the side of his hand, leaving a bloody smear from his split lip. The scar on his neck throbbed like it wanted him to remember it was there. It could shut up, he fucking remembered. “I’m alright.” He got into the car, clasped the seatbelt, about to slam the door. “Thank you for stopping,” he said, his hand on the handle, “You’re a good person, probably.” 

He drove off, the burning in his neck and his eyes fading as he crossed the Kane Bridge into Gotham. Home. It never got easier, leaving, and, despite everything, it always felt so right to be home. The city pulled him in, like it had a magnetic force only he could feel. He pulled into his safehouse, hiding Steph’s car in the garage. Walking inside, everything was a mess, tables flipped, couch cushions askew, like someone had searched through his things. His meds were sitting in the middle of the floor, upright in their orange bottle, staring at him. He snatched them up, shaking them like dull music, tipping one out into his hand. Harley had said to just pick up again if he missed a dose, not to double up. The girl was a train wreck and a criminal, but she’d been to med school and he hadn’t, so he listened. He got dressed and started putting the apartment back together again, packing as he went. He would have to skip town, more than likely, but he came here to do a job, he couldn’t leave it undone. He pulled out his phone, starting to talk as soon as the other line clicked.

“Hey, Z. You got any clue why I just woke up in my dad’s house in a hospital gown?”

“Are you injured?”

“No.”

“Well that’s sweet, I suppose, I didn’t expect to hear from you for a few more days at least. You do heal fast. Interesting that it translates to magical wounds.”

“Magical wounds? Z, what the hell happened? The last thing I remember was tracking that witch…” He’d been talking to Barbara. He’d slipped an earpiece in and called out to Oracle and she'd answered, the benevolent god of Gotham, who heard all and saw all and made miracles and answered prayers. They’d been laughing.

“You got too close, I suppose. She hit you with a spell to keep you off the map for a few days. Wasn’t meant to hurt you, just knock you off the trail. She skipped town, after. Left her demons to cover her trail, make a mess. I sent Constantine after her, you’re off the hook.”

“Constantine? Come on, I thought demons were my thing. Nobody does demons like I do. I can clean up the ones she left behind.”

“Your swords are a cute trick, honey, but Constantine has been holding his own against demons since you were punching purse snatchers and wearing pixie boots. Don’t worry about it, we’ll handle it, just take care of yourself for once. You should get out of Gotham.” Jason’s back tensed.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, because reunions with Daddy always land you in intensive care? He’s emotional. You should hit the bricks, kid.” Emotional?

“If he wanted to hurt me he would have.”

“The family is holding his reins. The grip is pretty weak, though, time’s running out. Don’t push your luck. Call me when you’re set up again, I have a demon hotspot you can settle in Seattle once you're ready, if you still want to help.” 

“Seattle?” He looked at the bags already beginning to be packed, and suddenly felt a knife turn in his gut. He didn’t want to leave. There were demons a-plenty where he was, he could make himself useful, here. Valuable, even? 

“Honey, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to get hurt.” 

“I can take it.” She paused for a beat on the other end, sighed heavily

“You shouldn’t. Make your own choices, I can’t stop you. You can call me, though, you know? If you need help.” Jason bit at the dried blood on his lip, tasting iron as it bled again.

“Yeah, Z, I know. I will call you, okay? When I’m set up.”

“Please do.” 

His phone dinged a few seconds after he hung up, a notification for a bank transfer from Zatanna, lots of zeros. The memo said ‘Runaway fund”. 

He finished clearing out the house and piled his bags up by the door, sitting on the couch with his laptop. He’d had a few backup safehouses in mind, one of those would have to do, he couldn’t stay here. He researched social media posts and newspaper clippings, looking for the telltale signs of demons in Gotham. It wasn’t hard. There was, more than likely, a hotspot down by the docks, he narrowed it down to a few derelict warehouses. He could handle that. It was beginning to get dark.

He looked up at the sound of an approaching car, slamming his laptop closed and pulling a katana from its sheath, listening from the doorway as the door handle turned. 

“Jay?” Stephanie called. He sheathed the katana and stepped around the corner. Stephanie jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You good?” she asked, pulling back as he set her down. She poked his lip. “Fighting already?”

“Yeah, with your steering wheel.” He winced. “I might have run your car off the road a little bit, but I didn’t hit anything.”

“Oh, that’s not the first time Polly’s gone off-roading.” She waved her hand dismissively. “She’s a tough one, she can take it.”

“Do you know where my car is, by any chance?”

“It’s in an alley on Butcher Street.” Cass said, as she pushed Barbara in and closed the door behind her. 

“Leaving town?” Barbara asked with a glance towards the bags piled up by the door.

“Do I have a choice?” Jason led them to the living room, sitting down. 

“That depends. What do you want to do?”

“I’d rather stay, to be completely honest with you. I still have some work to do, but if he makes me pick between leaving and keeping my teeth in my mouth, I’ll go without a fight.”

“Stay.” Cass said firmly.

“Okay.” Jason swallowed. “What actually happened?” Barbara explained the best she could, how they’d found him, handing him her phone with a picture of a sleeping kid on the screen, messy black curls and drool spilling across a pillow. He didn’t have any pictures of himself this young, all the ones his mom had taken had been lost or destroyed over the years. He remembered, though, being that small and able to fit in her lap while she played with his hair and read him stories. Over time, she’d gotten harder, bonier, her hips and ribs making painful jabs into his back as he tried to read the stories for her when she got too weak to hold the books herself. She got better and then worse again, and she died, but there was a time when he was this little and she was soft and warm and everything could have been okay. 

“Bruce came looking for you. He knew I was hiding something, and he saw you like that,” she gestured to the phone and swallowed, “He lost it.” 

“Bruce broke your wrist?” Jason almost didn’t believe it. 

“It actually was an accident. He was trying to take you with him and I didn’t want him to. He wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Stephanie turned to Jason. “He wanted a do over, Jay. He wanted to hug you and hold you like nothing ever happened. He kept calling you his son, saying he loved you and he could do it right this time, fix everything. Tim said he would have kept you little if he could have, so he could raise you again, but you got old enough to look like you again and then…” Jason paled, swallowing down a sudden wave of nausea.

“We wouldn’t have let that happen. Neither would you, you wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.” Barbara took her phone back. 

“He called me his son?” Barbara looked at him sadly and Stephanie looked at the floor. The doorbell rang, making them all jump. Cass slid from the couch and opened the door, Dick strolling in with a pizza and a six-pack of beer, the neck of his Nightwing suit just barely visible under his collar.

“Hey! I bet you want one of these after a day like that, huh?” he tossed the six-pack to Jason, who caught it and set it down gently on the floor.

“I don’t drink anymore,” he said softly. Dick’s face fell.

“Sorry, I…” Dick picked up the beer and dropped the unopened cans into the trash with a loud thud. “Sorry. I saw the bags by the door, are you on your way out of town?”

“I’ll stay.” Jason cracked his knuckles nervously. “If I can.”

“I won’t stop you.” Jason and Dick looked at each other for a moment. 

“I wasn’t worried about you.”

“Yeah. About that, can I ask-” Jason stood up, turning away from Dick.

“Okay. Thanks, guys, for coming by. Sorry for all the trouble, I appreciate the, you know, babysitting.” He took his car key off the ring, tossing the rest of the keys loudly on the table. He wouldn’t be back here. “It’s getting dark, I gotta go. You guys do, too, probably. I’ll see you around,” he picked up his bags.

“Hey, dumbass, Don’t you need a ride to your car?” Stephanie leaned back and grabbed a piece of pizza. Jason’s shoulders fell.

“I’ll take you.” Dick stood up and followed him, grabbing a bag from his hand. “Come on.” Jason sighed. He didn’t want to answer the questions he knew Dick would ask. There are things you just don’t talk about, things that aren’t supposed to be said aloud. Jason tossed his bag into the back and slid into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

“Butcher Street, Cass said. Somewhere near 9th, I parked it in an alley.” Dick nodded, pulling out. They were silent for a few minutes before Dick opened his mouth to speak. “How have you been?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.” Dick snuck a quick look over at Jason, tearing his eyes away to focus on the road. “So? Magic, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m really good at it.” 

“Do you remember,” Dick’s face broke into a wide smile, “when you were Robin and you used to say that it gave you ma-”

“I remember.” Dick’s smile dropped, he bit at his lip and checked his blind spot over his shoulder. Jason felt bad. Dick was trying. “What was I like?”

“As a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“At five? Really fucking cute. Really cute, sweet kid. You sucked your thumb.” Jason huffed out his nose, fighting off a smile. “Then, later, when you were twelve again, I was freaking out because you looked exactly like the day I met you. You know what you said to me?”

“Hnnn?”

“You said I looked ugly.” Jason laughed, throwing his head back. Dick joined in, and they laughed together until their sides ached and they were out of breath. “I missed you.” Jason sobered instantly, coughing to cover the way his eyes watered.

“I… I missed you, too.” Dick stole another look at Jason. “Hey, that’s it!” he pointed to a sleek black 70’s model Shelby. “She’s still got her tires, that’s nice.”

“She’s nice.” Jason smiled as Dick parked alongside his car and they got out.

“Thanks. Piece of shit when I got her. This was my project car last year. I got her for fifteen grand at a scrap auction and fixed her up while I…” He trailed off. While he recovered, he would have said. While his ribs healed and the soft tissue damage mended itself. It took two months for him to get back on his feet, two more before he could call himself healed. That was better left unsaid. “Anyway.” He popped the trunk and pulled out his half mask, strapping it to his face and putting a domino over his eyes. Dick followed his lead, slipping his domino on and stripping down to his Nightwing suit, pulling his escrima from his glove box and holstering them across his back, tossing his civilian clothes in the passenger seat. He looked at Jason, strapping dual Katana’s across his back, pulling his hood down low and over his eyes. 

“No guns?” Jason sighed, closing the trunk.

“They don’t really fit with my lifestyle anymore,” he said. “The guys I fight now don’t stop for bullets. Besides, I have better weapons now.” He wasn’t talking about the swords on his back. Dick didn’t respond. They climbed the fire escape, hoisting themselves onto the top of a tall building, looking out over the city in the darkness. The bat signal illuminated the clouds. “I stopped because I wanted to." Jason said softly. "It wasn’t for him. I didn’t come back for him, either.”

“Okay.”

“I just don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired, I can’t keep running and losing all the time. I’m sick of being so angry all the time and nothing ever changing. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder. I’m tired of being on the road all the time and doing odd jobs and favors for a living, hoping my luck doesn’t run out.” Jason swallowed. He hadn’t realized any of that was true until he said it. He had been fine until he came home and realized just how perfectly this place fit into the emptiness inside him. It hurt, but it filled the space. He felt raw, but whole. “I just want to do something that matters.” 

“Okay,” Dick said again. “Can I ask you a question?” Jason closed his eyes, sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling. He unsnapped the side of his mask, letting it hang off his face by one end as he dug in his pocket for a cigarette. He put it in his mouth and lit it.

“Go ahead,” smoke curled out of his mouth and into his nose. 

“Give me one.” He held his hand out.

“You don’t smoke, Dick.” He shook it again, insistent, and Jason slammed the carton and lighter into his hand. Dick took one inhale and coughed, turning his head away. “Christ, just ask your question.”

“Are you scared of Bruce?” Dick asked, straightening. That wasn’t what he expected. He brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled hard, the ember glowing furiously, consuming the paper as it ate down to the filter in one pull. Jason blew out, flicking the cigarette into the abyss below him, taking Dick’s cigarette from him. He let him have it.

“Why would you ask that?” 

“You were so scared of him when you were little. You wouldn’t let him touch you, you cried when he got close, you kept begging us not to let him hurt you. You told Tim he was going to kill you.” Jason stared at the smoke. “You drew this.” Dick held his phone out, a picture of a child’s drawing on the screen.

“I drew that?” his hand shook, ash raining onto his lap. 

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, I was five. I was probably scared of everything. Monsters in the closet, too. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Joker's smile on Bruce doesn't mean anything? It wasn’t just when you were five, you know. When you were twelve, you couldn’t look at him, you thought it was an imposter and we were all in danger. Why? There has to be a reason.” Jason shook his head. “Come on, can’t you trust me?”

“It won’t change anything. You’ll still… you know.”

“What?”

“You’ll always be a little bit Robin,” Jason said. “Loyal, dragging him back from the edge. You still believe in him. You’re still protecting him.” Naive. Codependent. He didn’t say that part out loud, but he thought it.

“I do believe in him, in what we’re doing.” Dick said softly. “I have to. I want to protect both of you, but I have to protect the others, too. Tim and Damian, even Cass and Steph and Babs, everyone. I need to know what actually happened between you and him. If I can make it right-”

“Can’t.”

“Okay.” Dick looked over at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around a lot. Back then.”

“Don’t do that.” Jason took another drag.

“Jason, you were so scared, and I couldn’t protect you from him, I didn’t know how. I need you to tell me. Please?" It was the please. Jason nodded.

“I was scared around him,” Jason said, his voice small and cracking. “But I wasn’t scared of him. Not at first.” Dick sat silently, not moving, just waiting so Jason could talk at his own pace. “I was scared of going into foster care, or juvie, then of not being good enough. I thought if I couldn’t be a good enough partner, as good as you, he might cut me loose, send me back where I came from. I was so scared of disappointing him, but he lied to me all the time. He never trusted me, and I never really, um, never felt safe, you know? Like it was unconditional.” Dick wanted to argue, tell him that he was wrong, that Bruce had loved him so much, from that very first day, but he stayed silent. This wasn’t it. There was more. “Then everything happened, and it only felt like a few days for me, those years. I went to sleep scared and in pain, the last thing I saw was his face, and the crowbar, and the ticking clock, and my mom… It doesn’t matter, actually.” He was wrong. It mattered. “And I woke up again, and I was older, and bigger, and my brain was so loud, and everyone I knew had moved on with their lives and most of them pretended I’d never been there at all, nobody even grieved me in any sort of way I could feel. I couldn’t even go home. There was no home for me anymore, it had been too long, but it was instant for me. I had just seen Bruce the week before and he was mad at me, and then some other kid is wearing my suit and sleeping in my bed and… fuck, that doesn’t matter either. It wasn’t Tim’s fault.” Jason sniffed.

“What happened?”

“It was his eyes.”

“Jason. What happened?” Jason looked into the darkness of the city beneath them with a look like longing and Dick grabbed the back of his shirt, white-knuckling a fist full of fabric in case he jumped.

“When I died, when he was hitting me and laughing at me, he had this look in his eyes all of a sudden, like he knew. He knew he wasn’t hitting me just to hurt me, anymore. He wanted me to die, he was making me die and he knew it, I saw that killing look. I saw it again, that night when he threw that battarang at me. When it left his hand, he knew it would kill me.” Dick straightened. He wasn't talking about Joker anymore. Bruce hadn’t mentioned anything about a battarang, he’d said Jason and the Joker had escaped when the building collapsed. “I was bleeding and I was getting cold, and he was just standing there, watching me with that killing look in his eyes, and I couldn’t…” Jason swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat. “I couldn’t look at him. I didn't think he would do that. I didn't think I'd see that look again, and not on his face. He wants me dead, again. I know he does. Is it even murder, at that point? Killing a guy who's supposed to be dead? Does that count, if I come back?” Jason looked up at him, his eyes red. "I'm still scared to die, Dick."

Dick’s eyes traced the scar across Jason's neck, the carotid artery pulsing underneath. He remembered Bruce’s lectures. Arterial spray meant uncontrollable bleeding, a person could bleed out in under two minutes. It was a kill shot. How many times had he warned Dick to avoid it? How many drills did he fail when his throws accidentally nicked a dummy’s neck? Jason had run the same drills, faced the same punishments and stern glares when he messed up. Dick’s blood ran cold.

Jason was right to be scared.