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Gotham was disgusting.
Every city had some level of grime—it was a side-effect of having thousands of people crammed into a small space, with all their food and trash and dirt—but Gotham was in its own class. Beyond the rotten fish-stink of the docks and the black trash bags piled along the streets across the city, Gotham was also plagued with supervillains who used vats of chemicals, the pollen of repellant Brazilian flowers, and grimy penguins to do their crimes. Jason wondered if they’d ever fight someone trying to clean the damn city.
Tonight, Batman and all of his sidekicks had ended the fight getting dunked in a tank of undefined goo. The slick black substance had seeped through their layers of armor and clung to their exposed skin.
It was sheer luck that it hadn’t been flesh-eating acid.
“You know, most houses don’t need their own decontamination showers,” Jason commented, scrubbing the bright blue disinfectant over his skin.
“Don’t forget to wash behind your ears,” Dick called from another stall.
The entire team was locked in the decontamination center at the cave entrance until Bruce determined them fully clean. He had taken a sample of the black liquid from the tank as they had escaped, and would be testing it to learn its purpose, but he was taking no chances until then. So far, none of them had felt any effects, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any coming.
They were divided among a long row of shower stalls, and steam filled the air. The privacy screens loomed around him, and Jason could only see the black walls enclosing him.
Jason had not been so terrified in the field in a long time. That feeling of liquid closing over his head… For a moment, he had been sure it was green, rather than black.
He flinched and scrubbed harder.
By the time Bruce declared they could leave the showers, Jason’s fingers were pruned and his skin was scrubbed red. Alfred was waiting for them with a stack of plush robes, each dark gray with a bat embroidered on the lapel. Bruce really never missed a branding opportunity.
“Stay in the Cave for monitoring,” Bruce instructed from his place at the Batcomputer when Jason stepped toward the elevator. “I don’t want everyone scattering until we’re sure of what was in that vat.” An analysis of the gel’s chemical compound was loading in the center of his screen, surrounded by a dozen articles of starting research.
Jason’s bare toes fisted against the stone floor of the Cave. “It’s cold down here.”
“Come sit with us,” Dick called. The other kids had gathered in the gym, lounging on various equipment. Cass sat behind Stephanie on a bench, braiding her blonde hair. Damian was sitting at the leg press, his feet dangling over the metal plate. It was set for Bruce’s workout, so the shrimp wouldn’t be able to budge the machine even if he fell asleep there. Dick sat on a folded yoga mat, leaning back against Bab’s wheelchair. She was the only one other than Alfred who was in her own clothes instead of the decontamination robes.
Jason approached the gym, but did not sit down. He paced back and forth. The cave floor was unforgiving under his heels. “Where’s Alfred?”
“Decontaminating the suits,” Dick said. Babs was running her fingers through his wet hair as she typed on a tablet with her other hand.
“Tell Alfred to be careful!” Jason called over to Bruce. “My phone is in there.”
“Wayne tech is all waterproof. It will be fine,” Tim said.
Jason snorted. “It’s a Nokia, smartass.”
“Tell me you don’t still have that thing,” Dick groaned.
“What? It works. It's like a brick. They’re built to last, not like the shit these days. Hell, it outlived me.”
“Jason,” Bruce chided. He appeared absorbed in the computer, but he was always listening. It had been a comfort and a nightmare when Jason had been a child.
“It’s a classic,” Jason continued. “I never learned to use a WaynePhone and don’t plan to start now.”
God, were they ever going to leave the Cave? He couldn't keep standing there, half-dressed and freezing.
“You can’t use the ‘I died and missed technological innovations’ excuse here,” Tim said. “The first WaynePhone came out in 2007. And they’re built to be intuitive.”
Panic and anger were roiling in his chest, clawing up his throat. He thought it might choke him. Instead, he let it out of his mouth. “Yes, please, rich boy,” Jason snarled. “Tell me more about your parents buying you the first WaynePhone when you were eight.”
“Come on, Jay,” Dick said. “We’re all tired.”
“And wet and cold,” Stephanie added. Cass tied off her braid and draped it over her shoulder. “Oh, thanks, babe,” Stephanie added, reaching back to blindly pat Cass’s head.
“Give Tim a break,” Dick finished.
“It is nowhere near to freezing outside, much less in the Cave,” Damian pointed out, kicking his feet absently. “It could be far worse. With the robes keeping in your core heat, you aren’t even at risk of hypothermia. During my training, I stayed in the desert overni—”
“Shut up. No one gives a fuck about your training,” Jason snapped.
“It’s not my fault you’re weak, Todd,” Damian sneered, matching his anger immediately. He sat up straight against the machine, glowering at Jason.
“Please. You’re not special because of your training. It just means your mommy didn’t love you.”
“Jason,” Bruce said sharply, turning from the computer.
“Seriously, Jay, what’s gotten into you?” Dick said. He had rolled forward on the yoga mat, ready to stand if things continued to escalate.
“Maybe it’s the black stuff?” Tim wondered. “It could be some sort of aggression drug.”
Jason stumbled back a step, and the cold concrete sent another thrill of horror through him. “It’s not the goo. Jesus fuck,” he muttered, running an unsteady hand through his hair. “Is the fucking analysis done yet?”
A small hand rested on his elbow. He turned to find Cass, who had slipped silently behind him. He tensed in surprise, and then froze entirely when he saw what she was holding.
A pair of socks.
The room was quiet around him, or maybe that was because of the rushing in his ears. “How…?” he asked through numb lips.
Cass glanced down at his feet, and she followed his gaze. They were pale against the dark floor. He had been clenching his toes like a heartbeat. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stop.
“Alfred keeps extra clothes in the lockers,” she reminded him. A gentle reprimand.
“Whatever,” Jason said. His ears were burning. Still, he jerked the socks quickly, nearly toppling over on the second foot.
“I don’t understand,” Damian said, clipped and tense. He was still poised for a fight, and was looking between Cass and Jason in frustration. He had matched Jason's aggression like a mirror, and was clearly wrong-footed by the sudden de-escalation. “What is this?”
“I was cold,” Jason said. The fabric over his feet was a tether, pulling him down from the dizzying heights of his panic and grounding him. Shame was waiting to smother him. This was why he didn’t like to work on a team anymore. There were too many eyes on him, waiting for him to crack or make a mistake.
“You were in a mission in Siberia last week,” Dick pointed out, standing. “Bruce, could this be an effect…?”
“The results are in,” Bruce said, glancing back at his screen. A new green box was blinking in the center. “The substance is benign to physical contact. I believe the plan was to vaporize it to create a drug, but no one should be feeling any effects.”
All eyes turned back to Jason.
“Jesus, can’t a guy have a bad night? It’s nothing,” Jason said.
“He doesn’t like having bare feet,” Cass interjected. He turned to glare at her, any sense of gratitude vanishing. She was impassive, arms open at her sides as though he were no threat at all. “But he would not get the socks himself.”
“I didn’t need them. I was fine,” Jason lied.
Bruce crossed the room in long strides and held up a hand to Jason’s forehead. Even in just the plush robe, he looked menacing. Jason allowed the indignity for one moment—Bruce’s hand was warm and comforting—but then ducked away.
“You’re flushed, but not feverish,” Bruce said. He tilted his head to catch Jason’s averted gaze. Jason felt like a book in front of him.
“I know I’m not feverish,” Jason said, folding his arms. “We can all move on now. Thank you to Cass for causing this whole ruckus.”
“Don’t blame Cass. You nearly tore Damian’s head off,” Dick pointed out. “We’re not idiots, Jay. We all knew something was wrong. Cass was the only one to know what.” He looked down at Jason’s socks, frowning thoughtfully.
“Look, we got our answer. The goo isn’t toxic,” Jason said. “That means we can all go the fuck to bed.”
“Jason,” Bruce said, with painful calm. “There is always a chance my technology has missed something, especially if the substance turns out to be alien in some way. Or maybe there was something earlier in the night we missed that hit only you. It’s not unreasonable for us to be concerned. Your behavior has been erratic since we returned to home.”
“S’not my home,” Jason muttered, but Bruce was not deterred.
“Everyone else, go to bed,” Bruce ordered. “Jason, stay here. I’m calling Alfred down now.”
Jason laughed, and the manic pitch of it threatened to send him into hysterics. Full circle, huh? “Bruce, fucking drop it. Trust me, you don’t want to get into this. You’re the one who gets all pissy when I talk about when I died.”
“What?” Bruce asked, quiet and dark.
“You want to drag this out? Fine. Fuck you. I was barefoot when I died, okay? I had on my whole uniform, and even my mask, but that fucker took my shoes. I don’t know why, but it was cold, and weird, and then— Well.” Jason sneered at Bruce. “I’m sure you remember the rest.”
“Jesus,” Dick murmured.
Jason looked around at his siblings, who had decidedly not gone to bed. “Happy now?” he snapped. “God, can’t anyone keep a fucking secret in this family? You have to pry it out of them?”
“Jay,” Bruce said, voice choked.
“Don’t,” he said, holding up a hand to Bruce. “Don’t say anything. It’s fine. I said it was fine. I just need you to leave me alone. You all need to leave me alone.”
He stalked to the elevator. The cave floor was slick, and the socks threatened to make him slip, but he did not take them off. There were murmurs behind him—maybe even some voices calling him back—but he could not stop.
In the elevator, he leaned his forehead against the cool metal and sighed. It was shaky, too shaky.
Would he never be over this?
#
He considered finding spare clothes and hopping on his bike to go back to one of his safehouses, but his energy left him once he reached his usual guest room. It was stocked with clothing in his size, and the comforter was a forest green. Alfred referred to it as Jason’s room, but he ignored that. This wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his family. It wasn’t, it wasn’t. The past couldn’t hold him down, no matter how hard it clung.
He would leave and not come back until everyone had forgotten about tonight. He didn’t need to put up with any of this.
He would leave…in the morning.
When he pulled off the robe to change, his bare skin pebbled in the air. His teeth chattered. It was absurd. It wasn’t that cold, especially not here in the manor. And yet.
He normally slept in a plain shirt, pajama bottoms, and socks, but tonight he pulled on one of the ridiculous matching long button-downs tucked in the drawer beside the pants. They were simple and black, but still.
Matching pajamas. Only Alfred would would bother to buy them for Jason.
Only Alfred could guess that someday, Jason might want them.
He pulled his arms up into the sleeves, feeling like the kid he had not been in so long, and shuffled to the bed. It was a different mattress than he had slept in at the manor in his youth, and unrecognizable compared to his cot growing up. It had the size and plushness of a hotel bed, with Alfred’s cozy touches of embroidered pillows Jason tossed on the floor and soft blankets he pulled over the comforter for extra warmth.
His teeth were still chattering as he lay in the dark. Frustrated with himself, he took a sharp breath through his nose, and then breathed out slowly. The shaking faded, and his body fell still.
Finally, he fell into a restless sleep.
#
Jason jolted awake when his bedroom door opened. It was as quiet as any other door in the manor, constantly attended by Alfred, and the intruder was equally silent, but Jason had developed an instinct young to know when someone was in his space.
He pushed aside one of the blankets, which had crept over his face, and sat up. He squinted in the dark. “Cass?”
The girl climbed onto his bed and stretched alongside him, throwing an arm over his chest and pressing her face against his shoulder.
Jason held still, and then finally relaxed under the heat and weight of his sister.
She was silent so long that Jason thought they would not speak at all, but she finally said, “Sorry.”
“I’m glad you brought me the socks,” Jason muttered. “I’m just an ungrateful dick.”
“I shouldn’t have told everyone,” she said into his shoulder. “You worry me.”
He snorted and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
There was a long silence.
“Bruce is sitting outside your door, you know.”
Jason was glad she couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t sure what expression he was making. “That’s…” Sweet? Unexpected? Overbearing? He didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Cass never expected him to have a grip on his words.
“We’ll all help you,” she told him. “If you tell us. We want to help.”
“I don’t need—”
She shushed him. “We want to. You would, for us.”
He would. He had.
Instead of answering, he hummed and closed his eyes. He pulled a hand from under the comforter to twine his fingers with hers. Cass melted against him, smooth hair brushing the bottom of his chin.
With her quiet breathing slow and steady beside him, he fell back to sleep.