Chapter Text
The sample needed to be analyzed and he didn’t have a lab. That was his excuse. If he went to the cave in the middle of a Friday night, it’d be empty. Jason got on his bike around one in the morning and sped towards Bristol.
He had never considered himself exceptionally lucky and his point was proven as soon as he entered the cave. Tim and Cass were both suited up. They looked up at him as he entered. There was an air of tension in the room and Jason could feel it as soon as the helmet left his head.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Cass greeted him.
Jason scoffed, “Since when did you start using idioms?”
“Since I beat your simulation score.”
Jason walked over to a monitor near the training mats. Cass was quick and, in his opinion, the best at hand-to-hand out of everybody. The monitor displayed the best times of all the kids. Cass’s name sat above Jason’s in every single category.
“I haven’t been here in a while,” Jason responded.
Cass shrugged and set herself into a starting stance. Jason eyed her before walking onto the mat and readying himself.
His opinion quickly changed. She was undoubtedly the best fighter. They sparred for over an hour and by the time Jason had been knocked to the ground for the twentieth time, he called it.
“If I had weapons, I’d beat you,” he huffed, laying spread eagle on the mat.
“Excuses,” Cass smiled as she helped him up.
Tim was still sitting at the computer, idly scrolling through databases with a soda in hand. In the spirit of familial bonding, Jason decided to annoy him by leaning his full body weight on the back of the chair causing it to bend parallel to the ground.
“What are you looking for?”
Tim’s eyes were still on the screen despite being practically supine. “A way to make a more stable chair. Why are you here?”
“To break your chair.”
Tim smiled just a little but it was there. “I’m tracking down Bane. Bruce is worried he’s planning something.”
“When is he not?” Jason rolled his eyes and let go. “I have an unknown drug I need to find the chemical make-up of.”
He pulled the dime bag out of his jacket and Tim eyed it.
“You fought Cass for a half an hour with an unsecured bag of mystery murder dust in your pocket?”
“Please,” Jason scoffed, “I’ve seen you test drugs by licking them.”
“So have I,” Cass called from across the cave.
Tim sighed and pushed back from the desk. “Come on, I’ll help. Bane’s getting me nowhere and you don’t know how to use the new equipment.”
Jason wanted to argue but he didn’t. If Tim noticed the complacency, he didn’t say it, instead, he lead him over to the lab and they got to work.
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
A few hours later, Jason awoke to find himself asleep in the lab. The machine’s beeping had woken him up. Cass and Tim must’ve left but, not before putting a blanket over him. A blanket? Really? He tugged it off his legs and threw it over the back of the chair. The screen displayed a complex chemical formula that he didn’t recognize. He took a picture of it anyway and got up to go. His watch told him that it was nearly sunrise. Which would mean that Bruce-
-walked out of the locker room. He was dressed down to sweats and wringing a towel through his hair.
Bruce looked up at him and for the briefest second, surprise glanced over his face, “Jason? Is everything alright?”
“Did you put a blanket on me?” Jason was tapping his foot like he had somewhere important to be. This was the only important place left. “And why do you look so surprised? Thought I was going to bolt? Why is it always me coming to see you and never you coming to see me? Find it hard to venture out of your castle?”
That was unnecessary and he knew it but Bruce just sighed and threw his towel into a hamper.
“The manor is more secure,” he answered carefully, “Would you like to talk down here or upstairs?”
Jason uncrossed his arms and motioned to the stairs. “After you.”
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
Bruce chose the library and Jason saw it for what it was. A precariously placed olive branch so Jason would feel more at ease. He didn’t. There was a huff from somewhere high up in the shelves and he caught the quick movement of a socked foot. Great, they had an audience.
“Why did you ask Dick to hang out with me?” Jason asked as he crashed into an armchair by the window. It calmed him down to have a quick escape.
“Who told you that?”
Jason gave him an exasperated look as Bruce sat across the coffee table from him. “Uh, Dick did? When we were fighting.”
“You fought Dick? Over what?”
Jason was already grinding his teeth, “I fought with Dick. He didn’t tell you?”
Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Dick doesn’t tell me much, you know that.”
“A likely story.”
“I’m not known for my fantastical storytelling, Jay.”
Jason stared at him trying to sparse out how to broch the subject. He knew Bruce wouldn’t readily admit to his worry but he wouldn’t lie either.
“I want to know why you asked Dick to spend time with me outside of the suits.”
“I only asked him the first time.”
“So you know about the rest?”
“Of course I do. I invited Tim to go once as well.”
“And Damian.”
Bruce pursed his lips, “I suggested it but he decided to go on his own terms. Why are you asking about this?”
Jason stood and started to pace.
“Because you sent spies! Instead of just coming around and asking yourself, you sent your child army to come eat burgers and go to parks with me! I thought that you’d finally had enough of me killing people and went to your last resort. Which, I will admit, I didn’t expect to be comradery. Imagine that. I thought it was an olive branch but it was an undercover mission to convert me to your stupid, ‘morally sound’ methods. And I drove myself up a goddamned wall trying to figure out if that was what you were really doing! It took weeks of me talking to everyone to figure out you planted everybody in my line of sight to figure out if I still wanted to kill everyone or not!
“You’ve always thought less of me. I’ve always been disobedient and unpredictable. I’ve always been the odd one out. You don’t hear from me for a month so you wonder what I could be up to. You just tracked me down like any other fucking insane piece of shit you fight on a nightly basis but instead of you doing it, you sent my adopted fucking siblings.
“I know I’m insane, ok? I know I’m weird and fucked up but that’s not fair Bruce! It’s not! You don’t get to spend the rest of your life angry at me, but not angry enough to actually tell me.”
He was aware of how jumbled he sounded but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His skin was prickling under his jacket and his face was hot, and there. There was that stupid prickling behind his eyes again.
Bruce was stock still and his face remained stoic. Jason didn’t want to cry.
“It’s not a simple disagreement, Jason. I’ll admit I had selfish reasons but that’s not why I’m… upset.”
Jason stopped pacing and scoffed.
“Pray tell then, what could I possibly have done to upset you?”
“You haven’t done anything.”
Jason groaned, “What does that even mean? Is the Riddler out again cause all you’ve done since I’ve gotten here is speak in bullshit puzzles! What did I do, Bruce? Why wont you talk to me?”
Why did he care?
Bruce frowned and Jason started for the window.
“Jay, please sit. Just for a minute.”
He stopped and turned around. Bruce was standing now, hand out towards the chair. Jason felt like he couldn’t breathe but some stupid, irrational part of his brain made his feet move back towards the overstuffed chair. He didn’t sit though. He just stood there, challenging Bruce. It didn’t work and Bruce sat back down.
“I’m not mad at you, disappointed, or upset with you in anyway. I’m worried about you.”
“Cause I’m emotionally unstable and regularly lethal?”
“No, because I worry about all of you. All the time.”
Jason sat down.
“I always have but right now I’m more worried about you than anyone else.”
“Why? You think I’m going to go off again and this is just the beginning?”
“Jason,” Bruce leaned forward as Jason leaned back. “Please don’t get angry about what I’m going to say but, I’ve been tracking all the kills you’ve done over the past year and analyzing the situations that lead up to them.”
Surprisingly, Jason wasn’t angry. He was kind of touched in some off way that only a former Bat could be.
“Before I asked Dick to go see you, you were up to five fatalities. Four out of the five had been child predators,” Bruce continued, “People who were actively hurting children. I don’t… condone what you do but I try not to question it. I understand that rage. I’ve felt it too. This last killing though... I didn’t understand it. It was a drug lord, but that doesn’t fit your usual type.”
Jason scoffed again, “Leave it to you to make a fucking spreadsheet instead of talking to your kid.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about.”
“I don’t!” Jason yelled.
“Then I’ll wrap it up,” Bruce nodded, “You become more violent towards criminals when your mental health dips. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism. When you feel you have no control or that nothing will change, you take control and change it. I was worried because the last man didn’t fit the pattern and I didn’t know why you…”
“Shot him point blank with a sawed off shotgun?”
Bruce nodded, “So my question was what couldn’t you change?”
Jason was still mad at him and screw B for using his “talking to a victim” voice and screw himself for letting it work on him. What changed?
What couldn’t be changed?
“I was alone.”
It left his mouth without a second thought and he instantly wanted to drag it back through his lips.
Bruce nodded and leaned back. “That’s what I thought too but you’re never alone.”
“I’m not talking about the bugs you had Barb put in my apartment. I mean I spend most of my free time alone and I guess it just reached a boiling point.”
Bruce tilted his head. Oh God, That was a horrible sign. For once, he was totally lost.
“I thought you and the others were becoming close.”
Jason shook his head, “I have the Bats and the Outlaws but sometimes you all feel more like coworkers than people I can actually talk to. I live alone in a shit hole apartment in the worst part of Gotham so it’s not like anyone wants to come over. If I’m not working, I’m alone. Even when I’m working, I still feel… isolated.”
Bruce looked like someone had told him they removed his liver while he was asleep. Seeing such a blatant expression on his face unsettled Jason and he squirmed a little in his chair.
“You know you can talk to me.”
Jason stared at him, “Do I?”
Bruce closed his eyes and Jason knew he was doing some kind of quick meditation thing so he sat and waited. There was another quick movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked over to see Damian hunched like a gargoyle amongst the shelves. He shot him a death glare but Damian sat unmoving, staring at them like they were rats in the gutter. He guessed it would be an hour tops before everybody knew about this conversation.
“Jaylad.”
Jason’s attention instantly shot back to B. He hadn’t called him that in years. Maybe not since he was Robin. He wanted him to say it again and at the same time he wanted him to shut up.
“I’m so sorry.”
Jason didn’t respond immediately. He had wanted to hear those three words for a myriad of reasons for a myriad of years but now that he had heard them, it hurt.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how alone you are.”
“Stop.”
“It’s true, Jay.”
“Bruce, stop.”
“J-“
“Stop saying my name! Stop apologizing! I fucked up! I should’ve reached out to fucking Tim or- or Dick before it got so bad that I blew another poor bastard’s head off! I should’ve been nicer to you when I had the chance! I- I should’ve just kept coming to family dinners and kept my goddamn mouth shut! I should’ve asked more questions and listened more and tried harder! I should’ve just been nice for one goddamn second. I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry for taking all the opportunities you’ve given me and fucking them all up.”
He was crying again. Fuck. He was crying in front of Bruce. He was so angry at him and Dick and Tim but most of all himself. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to bottle it all up and shake it until it popped? What the fuck was wrong with him?
Bruce stood and walked over to him and Jason braced like he was about to be hit.
“Please stay here tonight. Please, I don’t want you driving back into Gotham like this.”
Jason rubbed his eyes and shook his head.
“No, I fucked it up again.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jay.”
Jason turned to him, “Then what did I do right?”
“You told me what’s hurting you.”
It was silent again and Jason turned towards the door but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.
“Please let me apologize.”
Jason shook his head, “I don’t think I can handle that right now. I don’t think I’d listen.”
The door to the library opened and Alfred gently stepped in. “Master Jason, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing your old room for the night. I’ve also prepared the guest room on the third floor if you’d prefer that.”
Jason suddenly felt trapped. Alfred was giving him a comforting look, but Bruce looked like he was trying not to suppress every emotion at once.
“Just stay here tonight!” Damian called from up on the shelves. It broke everyone from their strange, triangular trance.
“I need your help picking out clothes for your Mii.”
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
Jason sat down on his old bed. It seemed giant when he was a kid and it somehow seemed even bigger now. Everything was the same. The same first editions on the shelf, the same duvet on the bed, hell, the same homework on his desk he was working on when he left for Ethiopia. It felt like a comforting tomb, suffocating and nostalgic. He opened the window and let the cool late spring breeze flow through. There was a soft knock on his door. He debated not opening it until he heard a voice through the oak.
“It’s Tim. I heard you freaked out so, I brought you a present.”
He really didn’t want to know what Tim picked out for him but he crossed the room and opened the door anyway.
“Wow, you look like shit,” Tim smiled and handed him a book, “Here you go.”
He strode past Jason and sat on the window seat. Jason studied the cover as he closed the door. “House of Leaves”. The title rang familiar in his head.
“It’s about a super fucked up house that makes no sense. Plus, like, four other stories all happening at the same time,” Tim supplied.
Jason threw it softly on his bed and laid down again. “Rings a bell.”
Tim shrugged and pulled the window closed with a shiver. “Art imitating life?”
“Something like that. What did you hear?”
Tim suddenly looked sheepish. His shoulders tightened and his gaze fell to his socks.
“I know Damian was listening if that helps to get you talking,” Jason offered.
“He took notes so I got the gist,” Tim said, “You know you could’ve just texted me if you were feeling weird. Or Dick. Or Cass. Or-“
“I think you missed the point of what upset me.”
Tim rolled his eyes and stood. “You want to talk about loneliness? I am the king of loneliness.” He stood up. “You know how I grew up, you know what it was like. You know that I know what you’re feeling and sorry to pull a ‘Dick’ move, but you can tell me how you’re feeling too.”
Jason huffed, “I wouldn’t want to scare you.”
“Oh my god, shut up with that edgelord bullshit. Do you honestly think you still scare me?”
He thought it over for a minute. He didn’t like what he found. Tim stopped and stared, waiting for a reply. Damn that helmet for making him not have to worry about his expressions cause whatever he was feeling, Tim recognized it.
“Jay… I’m not scared of you.”
There was a response in his mind but not on his tongue so instead he rolled over and faced the door.
“I…” Tim didn’t finish what he was going to say. He slipped out of the room in that signature Bat style, silent and abrupt.
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
His phone was lighting up like the check engine light on a shitbox car. He read the messages and moved on. He knew the engine was broken.
That night at the manor was more like a few hours at the manor. Jason hopped out of the second floor window almost as soon as Tim had closed the door. As he climbed down the brick wall he had a flash of a memory. Climbing down that same brick wall with a duffel bag, a fake passport, and a one way ticket.
He jumped the last twelve feet.
Now, he was back “home”. In the two days since, he’d cleaned the apartment four times, reorganized his closets (weapons and clothes), and baked three dozen cookies. He wasn’t sure why he did that last task but it soothed him. He hadn’t touched the book.
When the constantly ringing phone became too much, he threw it in a closet and slammed the door. What was he doing? Everything he ever wanted was laying out in front of him within a hair’s reach and yet he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger. Dick wanted to spend time with him. Tim wanted to learn from him. Bruce wanted to apologize. There it was again. That little baby bird somewhere deep in his chest, thrashing at his ribs. He was twenty one years old. He was an adult. He was the crime lord Red Hood.
But he was Robin too. No matter what he did to try and forget, to squash it back down, he was still Robin. There was still a bird in him somewhere. He could clean his apartment top to bottom but he’d still see a shitbox with no heating and a dilapidated couch. He could shoot three men in a week but he’d still flip over them like he had a golden cape on his shoulders. He could put on the bright red helmet but it wasn’t any better than a bright red tunic.
He collapsed into the dining chair, the other one empty. It stared mockingly at him. What dining set only came with two chairs anyway? A dining set for a pessimist.
Robin would’ve loved to spend a whole day with Nightwing. He could pretend like he had a big brother and they’d fly over rooftops. Robin could have not one but two little brothers who he could teach all his tricks too. Jason could have a dad. One who fought for justice instead of fighting against it.
The other chair didn’t move.
If Red Hood was Robin then he wanted everything Robin did and now he could finally have it… but he was too scared to actually try. What happened the last time he tried? The last time he tried to find his family? It ended with a countdown.
Jason showered and got into bed, the book from Tim sat patiently on the nightstand. He reached for the lamp but stopped. “House of Leaves”. He picked up the book.
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
The spot he chose had just opened up in Crime Alley. Why a new business owner had decided to open shop here was beyond him but he was thankful. He actually recognized one of the girls working. Her name was a color but he couldn’t remember which one. However, he know for a fact that he had broken the legs of her dealer six months ago. Jason slid the coffee cup back and forth between his hands. His watch read noon. They should have shown up by now.
The café was small and quiet, fairy lights and old photos cluttered the walls. Plush sofas and armchairs littered the floor. The café sold all kinds of drinks not just coffee. When it had opened up, he did a little digging, worried that this part of town was on the verge of being gentrified. It was all home grown though. The owner was a woman who had lived in Crime Alley back when it was still called Park Row. There were no shady investments or loans. She’d bought a scratch off ticket and won a nearly half a million bucks. Sometimes good things just happened.
The door chimed and Jason shot his hand up to wave to Dick.
“Hey Jay,” he smiled, joining him at the large window booth. “This place is cool, I didn’t even know it was here.”
Jason shrugged still fiddling with his coffee, “Opened up a few months back. They hire a lot of ex-cons and recovering addicts… plus, they have cheap coffee.”
Dick nodded and looked up at the menu board. There was a smile on his face that didn’t seem worried, if anything, it seemed normal. It had been awhile since Jason saw him smile like that.
“Are we like… cool?”
Dick’s gaze shot back to him with confusion. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Because of that argument?”
Dick made a face and waved him off, “We both had things we needed to say and we said them. It didn’t even rank in my top ten worst arguments.”
Jason stared at him, gob smacked, “Dick, I was being a total fucking asshat. I made you cry.”
Dick sighed and leaned against the table, “Listen, you have gone through shit I can’t even imagine. You’re allowed to be angry at anyone you want. You know you went too far and now you just have to move past it. Besides, I had that argument coming. You were rude and so was I, but I love you Jay. I’ve missed you so much. It’s ok now. We’re good. I’m… happy.”
It felt like he was in a dream. He didn’t deserve this forgivingness. He didn’t deserve it from anyone.
“Ooh, they have refreshers!” Dick stood up with a skip and Jason watched him walk to the counter.
The bird was singing.
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
Cass, Tim, and Damian arrived half an hour late. Damian dropped his suspiciously heavy back pack to the ground where it made a suspiciously loud metallic clang.
“Dami, is your bag full of knives?” Dick whispered.
“Obviously,” Damian scoffed. Jason hid his smile behind his cup.
“What happened to ‘On time is late’?” he asked.
“Traffic, but we’re here now,” Tim sighed, motioning to the group, “What’s the mission?”
“There isn’t one?” Jason replied.
“Why’d you make us drive all the way out here?” Damian looked annoyed.
Jason risked a glance at Cass but she was relaxed. She was giving him that look like she could see directly into his brain. It was as comforting as it was scary.
“To hang out?” she supplied.
Jason nodded a thanks at her. “I just thought it’d be nice if we got drinks and relaxed. This place is small and safe thanks to our benevolent local vigilante-“
Damian groaned.
“-AND,” Jason continued, “I thought you guys might want to see what’s changed around here.”
“Good thing you brought the bag,” Tim poked Damian.
“You won’t need it,” Jason brushed him off, “Trust me.”
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
They sat at the little corner café for almost two hours. The menu was huge and they tried almost everything on it. When Damian was halfway through his third hot chocolate and Tim finished his fourth boba, Jason guided them out the door and down the street. He was nervous. Every outing had been to a nice(ish) part of Gotham, never somewhere as iffy as the Alley. He didn’t know why he worried though. If any group of people could walk safely through here, it was them.
Jason showed them the community garden first. Dick was as enthusiastic as ever and Cass seemed interested in the herb garden. He showed them the refurbished library and the new playground at the local school. He saved the best for last as he guided them towards the end of the street.
“This one I’m really excited about,” Jason grinned as they approached.
“Park Row Community Theater?” Tim read. “You’re into live theater?”
“Didn’t B ever tell you?” Dick slung an arm over Jason’s shoulders and he tried not to stiffen. “Jay was a huge theatre kid.”
“Really?” Cass asked, smiling.
“Mhmm,” Dick continued, “He was in ‘Romeo and Juliet’. I couldn’t see it cause I was… away, but B brought me back a playbill. I think I still have it somewhere.”
“Really?” Jason whispered. Dick remembered the play and kept the playbill?
“Who’d you play? Mercutio?” Tim laughed.
“I was Tybalt.”
Tim thought about it for a second as they passed the building. “That actually fits.”
Jason slung the arm off and kept walking, “Anyway, Red Hood is helping the funding but there’s still some roadblocks to get over.”
“He’ll figure it out,” Dick shrugged, “He always does.”
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧
Tim came back the week after the walking tour. He knocked on Jason’s door for the first time. For an hour and a half, they talked about the book. It went by surprisingly fast and when the sun started to come up, Tim left with a smile and a new book on his Kindle. Jason thought he’d like “I am the Messenger” and he was actually looking forward to their next talk. After that, Dick started coming over with Tim and he always brought some kind of take out and a new chick flick to watch.
Damian stopped by too but always during patrol. He led Jason back down to the gutters and made him catch the big fat rat they had named “Batrat” so they could check on her. Her ear was still missing but her lungs sounded fantastic. Jason kept an eye out for her every patrol since. Cass actually persuaded to come back to the manor which is how he got the recipe to Alfred’s alfredo and his name back up on the leaderboard.
The months after those first few normal weeks were wonderful. Jason actually found himself being more forgiving to criminals. He still broke bones but it was fingers instead of hands, a slash instead of a stab. His mood was improving too and his work was getting faster, being completed more efficiently.
It was nearing the end of July when Jason had just finished up the case that brought him back to the manor. The substance was an inhaled powder laced with arsenic and a bunch of other crap with fifteen-letter names. It was a Thursday night and slow-going. On a whim, he swung over to the theater still gathering dust. They were almost ready to go but had just run out of money. To put on a published play or musical, they needed licensing money and they didn’t have it. Not if they wanted to pay the employees at the same time.
He stared at it. The bulbs on the marquee sign were all still there and the chain around the door handle was untouched. The marquee proudly read “Opening Soon!”. He was getting more pessimistic about the word “Soon”.
“I heard they were renovating the theater down here.”
Jason heard him coming, but still didn’t turn around. “It’s not the one you’re thinking of.”
Batman walked up to ledge to stand with him. “I know. They tore that one down years ago.”
Jason wasn’t sure how to respond, he ached for a cigarette and twenty feet of personal space.
“You funded it, right?”
Jason shrugged, “As much as I could get away with.” He didn’t want to be here. “I got stuck at the licensing.”
The Bat was looking off into the distance now. Jason had a good few inches on him but he still felt like he could hide under his billowing cape if he really tried. No matter how large Jason got, he always felt tiny next to Batman.
“I heard they got the rest of the funding last night,” Batman said.
Jason looked at him. “Charity? Really?”
“An anonymous donation actually,” Batman started to fiddle with his gauntlet, almost as if he was nervous. “I heard it was Bruce Wayne. Apparently, the paparazzi took a photo of his kids outside the theater, he saw it in the paper, and he put two and two together.”
There was a beat of silence. Jason wasn’t sure what to do.
“One of his sons is a fan of theatre. I heard he donated the money they needed. It was supposed to be an unspoken apology. Maybe he thought it would be good for him. That it would make him happy.”
He wanted to cry and punch him and hug him. He wanted to scream at him for coming into his territory and hug him tight enough that he couldn’t leave. Bruce… tried. Sometimes he messed it up but sometimes, miraculously, he succeeded. That was the one thing about him Jason always related to the most. His hot and cold demeanor masking his earnestness.
“I’ll make sure to thank him when I see him.” Jason mumbled.
Bruce didn’t smile but he finally looked up at Jason. “I’ll get out of Crime Alley now. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll always be on your side.”
Jason stared at him again, thanking god for the helmet. The unmoving, red metal hid the tear streaks running down his cheeks. He watched as Bruce flew off into the night. The theater below suddenly looked less dusty and abandoned. “Soon” sounded hopeful.
He ripped off his helmet and shakingly shoved a cigarette between his lips.
He’d quit tomorrow.
⛧°.⋆༺🦇༻⋆.°⛧