Chapter Text
Part One: The Face of the Future (The Blood in My Veins)
“I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and his train filled the temple. Above him stood the Seraphim; each had six wings; with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew.” Isaiah 6:1-2
~*~
Nothing could describe the sheer agony of your brain coming undone and put back together with a searing, blinding light. It felt like pointed blades of lava - hotter and sharper than Michael’s sword of blue, a wayward thought whispered to him - were being jammed through his eyes, his body shaking as he fell onto his knees under the psychological onslaught, his hands clutching onto his head as he shook it violently, fingers digging through the dark hair and into his scalp as another dark haired man laid unconscious a foot away from him, terrifyingly still.
But without even focusing on him, he could feel the life still thrumming - albeit weakly - in the man’s veins. Could feel it. Like it was a part of him. Like everything was a part of him.
This couldn’t be happening. This didn’t make any sense.
Except it did. With startling clarity, everything made sense. Down to the smallest atom, up to the ball of fire that burned daily in the sky, as if he had been there to witness the birth of both.
And all he could do was scream.
~*~
Jason was honestly still having trouble believing his luck as he got the third tire off of the black Maserati. Finally, he’d hit the freaking jackpot. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere near what the tires were actually worth, but if he got all four tires off, he’d have to get at least half a grande, maybe even more, and he could eat on that for months. He couldn’t even imagine seeing all of that cash all at once let alone having it.
He grinned and whistled an old tune under his breath that his mom used to hum to him. Rich dumbasses leaving their expensive cars around unprotected. They deserved to get messed over, and it wasn’t even like replacing the tires would be anywhere close to a drop in a bucket to them, so why not benefit from it?
The tires weren’t the easiest he’d jacked in the past. It almost felt like they were put on with some fucking monster-strength super glue. But still, easy enough money considering there were only a couple other gigs that got you nearly half a grande in one night, and he wanted no part in either of them.
“Come to daddy,” Jason murmured under his breath, feeling the fourth tire finally start to give. He glanced around anxiously, a brief flittering of his eyes over the area before his head was bowed back over the tire and the tire iron in hand. “Almost there…” The promise of actual, real life, straight out of the oven food had his stomach clenching from hunger pains, that familiar empty ache feeling even stronger at the reminder.
In his anxiousness to hurry up and get done, he didn’t hear the footsteps that came up behind him or the way they stilled a couple feet away, listening.
“A-ha!” Jason cheered triumphantly as the tire came off, pumping a fist briefly into the air before he quickly began to get the tires into two piles - one for each side. Might be a bit awkward, but it’d get them from Point A to Point B.
His enthusiasm was quickly killed by a throat clearing behind him.
He lurched to his feet and whirled around, tire iron hefted up in his hand as a weapon. The man standing there was well dressed - his clothes alone looked like they could feed a family for a month - and facing him, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, which Jason wouldn’t have thought anything of except there was a white cane tipped in red in his hand.
He’s blind, Jason’s mind supplied to him, shoulders relaxing some as he realized he wasn’t any threat.
“Scram, old man,” he ordered, bending down to pick up the tires, “ ‘fore the coppers come ‘round and see you hanging around a jacked up car.” It wasn’t safe for the guy to be wandering around Gotham this late at night anyway. Easy pickings. It had Jason feeling slightly guilty for taking off, but if he stuck around, there was no way he was gonna be able to keep these tires.
And food was food. If you let yourself worry about others out here, you’d just get yourself fucked over.
“Considering that’s my car you’re stealing from, I’d advise you to put the tires down,” the blind man remarked in an even tone, making Jason pause and do a double take at him.
“How the hell do you know what I’ve got?” he retorted. “You’re blind.”
Unless he wasn’t, and he was the kind of guy that walked around with sunglasses and a cane to lure in unsuspecting victims.
Or maybe he was being too paranoid and the guy’s hearing was just really, really good, like that one devil guy he’d read about in a comic at the library.
Regardless, he threw the tire iron at him before grabbing two of the tires - all he could hold onto while running - and making a run around the car and towards the open alleyway. He cursed himself for it right away. He should’ve thrown a tire at him and held onto the tire iron as a weapon or something.
He then made the mistake of glancing back behind him, surprise causing him to freeze in place for a precious few seconds. The tire iron was in Blind Guy’s hand. He… He caught it. The crazy fucker had caught it…
This wasn’t good.
He turned, letting go of the tires as he did, and booked it as fast as he could. His heart leapt into his throat at the sound of gravel crunching under heavy footfalls behind him. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Panicked blue eyes caught onto a fire escape up ahead, and he grinned, picking up the pace and jumping up to catch onto one of the rungs on the ladder. He curled his left hand around it before reaching up with his right; however, before he could move too far, he felt something hook around his ankle and tug hard, making him lose his balance and fall back onto the ground.
A quiet oomph left him as his back hit the ground and all the air was knocked right out of him, a grimace crossing his features. Jason twisted his neck to look at the man moving to stand over him, the cane in the asshole’s hand the clear perpetrator. He narrowed his eyes before rolling over and pushing to his feet.
“You wanna go?” Jason challenged, shifting into a defensive position and raising his fists. “Then let’s go, old man. Let’s see what you can do.” Despite the rather prominent height difference, he went and threw a punch towards the man’s face, only for a larger hand to catch it. “How the hell…” he breathed quietly, fear rising as he tried to pull his hand free, but Blind Guy’s grip wouldn’t relent. The guy was blind. Blind.
Jason brought his knee up quickly to slam into his stomach, only for a groan to tear from him as the attack was turned around on him and his back hit the ground again, the blind businessman above him looking almost bored, even with the faintly raised eyebrow directed down towards him.
“You shouldn’t throw things at bystanders, especially considering the damage a tire iron could do if it hit just right,” Blind Guy remarked, his cane pressing into the boy’s chest hard enough to keep him down but not enough to cause anything other than discomfort.
Jason glared up at him. “I thought you were blind, you fucking pendejo? You go ‘round like that just for kicks, huh?”
The corners of the man’s lips twitched a little. “I assure you my eyes are pretty useless these days. That doesn’t mean I can’t see.”
He scowled. “What the hell does that paja mean? My eyes don’t work, but I can still see?” He tried to push back against the ground to swing his legs up at him, intending to kick him right in his damn perfect looking teeth, but the Mr. Miyagi wannabe didn’t let it get that far.
Just as Jason’s legs started to swing up, the cane was gone from his chest and the man moved to the side. Unfortunately for Jason, he was already in motion, which led to him landing face first in the dirt.
Blind Guy sighed. “Chum… just stop while you’re ahead before I call the police. You probably didn’t notice, but my car has a dashcam built into it, so even if you managed to get away, all I’d have to do is turn the footage over to the proper authorities.”
And Gotham cops had never been good to Crime Alley kids, that was for sure. Jason had had his own run ins with those assholes, even before his mom had bit the dust. His hands clenched at his sides, his teeth gritting together tightly.
“I already let go of your damn tires,” he snapped at last, “so what the hell do you want?”
Blind Guy was silent for a long moment, long enough for Jason to roll back over and slowly rise to his feet once more, and then a quiet, “When was the last time you ate?”
Jason frowned at the question, his gaze wary. “What’s it to you?” Though almost as if on cue, the mention of food had his stomach rumbling quietly, causing a faint grimace to cross his face before he was glaring at the man again.
Blind Guy nodded slightly as if he had assumed as much. Sightless eyes watched the young teen for a long moment before he said, “Come with me, and I’ll buy you a burger. There’s a place within walking distance.” The last part was added as assurance and assuaged some of the instant alarm that had shown clearly across Jason’s face.
“How do I know you won’t try anything funny?” he retorted.
Blind Guy raised an eyebrow at him. “I guess you’ll just have to take a chance and trust me.”
Trust the fucking blind guy that moved like a ninja. Okay. Sure.
However, what it really came down to was the fact that Jason didn’t have anything to lose - besides his life, which really wasn’t that great - so might as well take the chance at some free food.
Jason eyed him before finally nodding. “Fine. But I want fries too.” A pause. “And a drink.”
Blind Guy gave a small chuckle. “A little demanding, aren’t you?”
“Hey, from the looks of you, getting a fry and drink ain’t gonna bankrupt ya anytime soon,” Jason retorted with a snort. And if this guy really was a creep, well, he wanted to get the most he could out of a shitty situation then. “Just don’t go expecting anything else, got it? The burger, the fry, the drink, and then I’m out.”
“Of course,” Blind Guy replied smoothly, the faint hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth upward. “The food and then you’re free to go. Promise.”
Dick stared through dark lenses at the teen in ratty looking clothes sitting at the kitchen table, who met his stare with a sharp, defensive glare. He blinked a little. “Um, hi?” The boy crossed his arms over his chest and continued to glare at him wordlessly. Dick looked over at Alfred as the elderly butler brought in a small plate of cookies and a glass of milk. “Bruce didn’t tell me we had a guest.”
He’d kind of been planning on sneaking a few cookies out of the jar before hitting the hay for the night, honestly exhausted from how busy patrol had been as well as just the general exhaustion that seemed to surround Batman in general, but he was pretty sure there hadn’t been a kid here before he left. Almost positive.
In hindsight though, Dick hadn’t really been the most observant over the past year, so who knew? But he was almost positive that he’d have remembered an angsty kid who looked like he was ready to claw someone’s eyes out.
Almost positive.
Alfred’s lips twitched upwards wryly as he sat the plate and glass down in front of the boy, who seemed to practically wrap himself around the food like a mother bear around her cubs. It took all of Dick’s restraint not to laugh at the adorable sight. “Of course Master Bruce would neglect to inform you before your return.” Or even after, considering Bruce had met Dick in the Cave when he initially returned from patrol. Dick really wasn’t all that surprised because it was Bruce they were talking about. “Care to join me in the kitchen?”
Dick eyed the kid curiously for another moment before nodding and following after Alfred. He waited until they were both in the kitchen before asking, “So, what’s going on?” He popped a grape from a nearby bowl into his mouth.
“Young Master Jason will be staying with us for the time being,” Alfred informed him, “though I’m uncertain whether Master Bruce intends this to be a permanent change or not.”
Like Bruce had been uncertain if Dick was going to be a permanent change. Dick’s eyes flickered back towards the entrance to the kitchen, a faint frown crossing his lips. “He say why?” It wasn’t in Dick to argue to leave a kid out on the streets if he had nowhere to go, but there’d been plenty of kids before, and they’d always left them to Gordon.
If Bruce was planning on this being a thing, he didn’t understand why Bruce couldn’t have talked to them first before making that kind of decision.
Alfred sighed. “Master Bruce’s reasons are, as always, an utter mystery to me, though I’m positive that he has the best of intentions.” The corners of his eyes tightened. “And I’m not inclined to allow the boy to leave just yet either given his malnourished state.”
Dick grimaced. The kid had seemed kind of scrawny from a brief glance. “Where did Bruce find him anyway?”
“It would seem that Master Jason was the one who found him, in a manner of speaking.” Alfred’s voice turned dry. “He was caught stealing the tires off of Master Bruce’s car whilst Master Bruce was attending Gotham Central’s annual charity auction. From what he has told me, he was leaving the function early because of a message he received from you,” about the O’Donahue case, Dick added absently, remembering the message in question, “and arrived right as the young master was working on the fourth tire.”
“And that inspired Bruce to bring him here?” Dick raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint, almost sardonic grin. “He really can’t help it when it comes to troublemakers, huh?” It left a bad taste in his mouth though. It’d been just a little over a year since… everything. The timing felt off, almost like a jab at him for fucking up like he had. For taking everything from Bruce after all the man had done for him.
A hand settling on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. Alfred squeezed his shoulder once Dick met his eyes through the sunglasses. “None of that now, Master Richard. We are better than blaming ourselves for things we cannot help. It’s a lesson I failed to instill within Master Bruce, but I refuse to allow you to shoulder that same burden.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Dick replied easily, resting a hand overtop of Alfred’s and squeezing lightly before letting go and stepping back. “It’s not important. I’m gonna go talk with our guest. This place isn’t the easiest thing to get used to, so he’s probably freaking out on the inside.”
Alfred tried to stifle a small chuckle. “I would advise you not to say anything of the sort around Master Jason if you wish to endear yourself to him.” The old man’s eyes were still concerned as they rested on Dick, however, well aware of the man’s tendency to shoulder everything quietly. Far more alike to Bruce than either party was ever keen on admitting. “I would send for Master Bruce now, but I don’t wish for the boy to feel bombarded on all sides.”
A good idea, Dick couldn’t help but think, remembering the look in the kid’s eyes as he’d come in. It was the look of a dog who’d been kicked around one too many times. No kid should look like that.
It also told him that if Alfred was right and this kid really was sticking around, they were in for a time of it.
Which brought with it another issue that was a little more pressing.
“What do I tell him about, you know.” Dick motioned towards the sunglasses covering his eyes, his lips curving into a grim line. It was a pretty big thing to miss. Eventually, whether it was tomorrow, a week from now, or a month, Jason was going to realize that Dick never went out of his room without them on.
Never.
“Pretty sure he won’t buy the excuse we give to the public, that the accident that blinded Bruce did the same to me.”
Alfred sighed quietly. “While I have always been an advocate for the truth, I recognize that this is a matter where the truth is likely to be ignored or treated with a - rather natural - suspicion.”
“Naturally,” Dick said dryly, snorting and shaking his head some before leaning back against the counter. He clutched onto the sides of it, his head tilting back with a groan. “Why did things have to get so complicated, Alfred?”
The butler’s lips curved into a small smile that was tired around the edges. “That’s an unfortunate characteristic of life, Master Richard. Mortal, immortal. At the heart of it are complex creatures, and where such complexity exists, so will complications. Looking at it from a different perspective, one could even argue that it is this sole fact that creates the grandest of wonders this world has to offer.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as the pretty boy from before came back out of the kitchen with the butler guy, Alfred. He shifted in his seat when he looked at him again - or he thought he was looking at him, anyway. It was hard to tell with those freak glasses on his face. What kind of douchebag wore sunglasses inside? Besides Bruce, but that particular douchebag had an excuse, he supposed.
Pretty Boy smiled at him as he took the seat across from him. “Jason, right? I’m Dick. It’s nice to meet you.”
“So nice you had to talk about me behind my back in there? Yeah, I’m not buying it,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into the ripped, threadbare pockets of the jacket, the tattered red hood resting over his head. He watched with a small amount of satisfaction as the man’s smile faltered a little on the edges. Good.
Dick sighed and offered him a smaller smile than before, clearly trying to figure out the right way to approach him. Kinda made Jason want to laugh. “We figured you wouldn’t want us talking about you in front of you. Seemed kind of rude, acting like you’re not sitting right there, you know?”
“Rude to talk behind people’s backs too, pendejo,” Jason shot back. He arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. “And what kinda name is Dick anyway?”
“Mine,” he replied with a brief, amused chuckle. Jason already didn’t like the guy. He was too happy which was way too fucking suspicious in his opinion.
“It’s a stupid name.”
“Really? I think it suits me pretty well.” Dick grinned.
“Because you’re a dick? Seems ‘bout right.”
Dick shrugged good naturedly. “Can’t really deny that.” He reached across the table to snag a cookie off the plate but before his hand could come anywhere near it, it was off the table and on Jason’s lap.
“Alfred said they’re mine,” he said bluntly, grabbing one and pointedly biting off a large chunk in front of him. He purposefully chewed it with his mouth open to drive his point home - something Dick couldn’t help but laugh at because it was such a childish move.
Which Jason didn’t take too kindly to, glaring at him and possessively eating the cookie. It was sweet. Really, really sweet. Too sweet, but he didn’t care because they were his. Alfred said they were, and if they were his, then he was damn well going to eat them.
Who knew when he’d get to eat next since he was blowing this popsicle stand at the first possible chance. Because it was too perfect, too fucking orphan Annie being taken in by Daddy Warbucks perfect, for it not to set off the BS alarms in his head.
And the only way he’d survived so far was listening to those BS alarms with full attention.
“What about sharing is caring?” Dick asked.
“That only works if I care,” Jason retorted. He just wanted to get out of here and go home, even if home was no specific place beyond Crime Alley. At least he knew the rules there.
Here, though… things were different. No one had said anything to him, but he just knew the rules were different, and he’d rather be somewhere he knew what was expected of him than in this farce.
Otherwise, all that was left were speculations, and he could speculate pretty damn well what a rich guy would want with a kid off the street…
“I’m sure you care about something,” Dick replied, trying not to be too obvious with his probing. “Everyone cares about something.”
Jason bit into another cookie with a raised eyebrow, trying to figure out if this guy was seriously for real or not. He swallowed the piece of cookie before clearing his throat, hoping to get some answers out of him since the other two hadn’t really told him a whole lot besides they ‘wanted to help him.’
Just as he opened his mouth, however, he was cut off by the sound of footsteps and the tap of a cane against hardwood floor. He closed his mouth and looked towards the entryway into the hall, the tapping growing closer until the man from earlier that evening - Bruce fucking Wayne - appeared.
“I’m sorry I had to take off like that as soon as we returned, chum, but I had some business I needed to attend to right away. Alfred and Dick have gotten you settled in, I hope?”
Jason really wanted to know how the hell the guy was able to just know who was in the damn room. It was creepy. If it wasn’t for the fact that the sunglasses were gone, and he could actually see the eerily pale blue of Bruce’s eyes, he’d still be thinking the asshole was faking it somehow. “Yeah… Alfred got me taken care of.”
Bruce leaned on his cane and nodded. “Good. I’m glad.” He moved to a seat, and Jason watched alertly as the cane tapped away at the ground before it finally hit against a chair leg. He’d moved so self assuredly earlier, self confidently, that it was weird, watching the slow movement. Jason frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “Have you thought about what I asked you earlier, about staying here, at least for now?”
He looked back down at the plate of cookies and sat it back up on the table, a frown on his lips. “Yeah,” he said at last. “I’ve thought about it.” He didn’t say anything else on the subject, though, and Dick glanced at Bruce over Jason’s head, even if the man couldn’t return it.
“And?” Bruce inquired, probing carefully. “What do you think about the offer?”
Jason tapped the side of a cookie on the plate, his jaw clenching faintly. “You really wanna know what I think? I think it sounds too good to be true. You and the chico bonito over there, you’re both rich, and rich guys ain’t that interested in kids like me unless they’re wanting paid back.”
“Paid back?” Dick asked slowly, the hidden eyes beginning to eerily glow as his lips pressed together, centuries of righteous fury building up within him that he had to force down. He could make an educated guess as to what that was a euphemism for.
“Yeah,” Jason repeated dryly. “Paid back. Sexo. Sex.”
“You’re, like, ten.”
“Twelve,” Jason retorted, “and kids get propositioned all the time out there. In case you haven’t realized, Gotham’s kinda a shit fest, and it’s not like the cops or Batman do anything for Crime Alley. We’re just swept under the rug.” His eyes hardened. They weren’t even worth it to the precious heroes that saved the rest of Gotham on a daily basis.
Bruce let out a quiet sigh, though his sightless eyes never left Jason’s face, causing the boy to shift uncomfortably. He knew Bruce couldn’t see - that much was freaking obvious, even if there still felt like something was up - but in that moment, it felt like the man was staring right through him.. “That’s never been the intent of either, I’m sure. Gotham has never been small, though that’s no excuse since you’ve clearly felt the absence of the system.”
“Damn straight it’s no excuse.” Jason snorted. “If Batman wasn’t such a solitary fuck and Wonder Woman was allowed to work in Gotham, I bet she’d have the crime rate all the way down to zero within a week. Maybe less.”
Bruce blinked, a single eyebrow raising slowly as he lifted his head to face where Jason was sitting. “I don’t know about that,” he said slowly. “I think you’re underestimating one and overestimating the other while overall underestimating Gotham herself.”
“Hold on there, Bruce,” Dick said, a considering look on his features, though it was quickly overtaken by a grin that he just couldn’t keep back. He needed to change the current mood hanging in the air before all that righteous fury caused some serious damage. “Kid might be onto something. Superman could probably clean the whole city up in a day or two.” Bruce sent a look in his direction that said he was unamused, and Jason felt like he was missing out on some kind of silent joke here.
“Is that so?” Bruce remarked dryly. “I’m glad to see that you and Jason have found something you share in common.”
Jason’s eyes flickered between them for a moment before standing. “Can I go to my room or whatever?” This felt too much like a damn family dinner, even if he was the only person eating, and this was just too weird for him. He didn’t want any part of that. Even if they were telling the truth and weren’t planning on doing anything freaky, this wasn’t the kind of place he belonged.
Willis had made damn sure he understood that they were gutter trash, and that’s all they ever could be. Todds were street people.
Bruce seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded and stood. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t hafta. I remember where it is,” Jason said warily as he pushed his seat in, teal eyes narrowed on the blind man.
“I insist.”
Jason watched as Bruce started to take a step away from the table before pausing to feel behind him for his cane. Kinda like he wasn’t used to having to have one on hand. Granted, he was pretty sure he’d heard that blind people didn’t usually carry canes around their homes if they were used to where everything was and all that.
But there was something about the way that Bruce made himself still grab it that had him curious, even if he wouldn’t admit to it. Especially when paired with the way the fucker had moved earlier.
Because that sure as hell hadn’t been normal.
“Feel like I need a whistle or something,” he muttered as he followed Bruce into the hallway, causing the older man to sigh but leave it alone anyway. Good because being able to joke was the only fucking way Jason was able to keep from booking it out the door.
“Jason… I told you before, I want to help you, and this house is far too big for just myself and Alfred now that Dick - for the most part - lives elsewhere.” Bruce turned sightless eyes towards where he knew a small family portrait hung on the wall of his parents and himself, even if he could no longer see it. “My parents created a home here when they married. I want to continue that tradition, but I don’t plan on getting married in the foreseeable future, and to be honest, I’m not much of a fan of the thought of it either.” Jason wasn’t sure why Bruce was telling him this, but he listened anyway, watching him.
“I’m even less of a fan of the way children slip through the system’s cracks so easily. That’s why taking Dick in was such an easy choice, and that’s why I’m offering you a chance to stay here as well. You can’t stay on the streets, and children your age… Unfortunately, they don’t tend to be adopted. A grave injustice, but the truth.”
It wasn’t exactly news to Jason. It was just an accepted part of life. Kids on the streets didn’t get shiny new homes or even lackluster ones that were milky or cloudy, imperfect but still a home, a safe place. They got the kind that had cockroaches between the mattresses in rooms with four other mattresses all crammed together while abusive foster parents collected a pretty check every month.
And that was if you were lucky.
Jason clenched his jaw and looked away, having a hard time looking him in the eye, even if he couldn’t exactly look back. It still felt too damn much like the asshole could see right through him.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he said at last, voice quieter. “Things like this… They don’t happen to kids like me. There’s gotta be some kinda catch.” And Bruce dipping into the kiddie pool was the only thing he could think of that made sense.
“There isn’t,” Bruce replied firmly. “That’s not to say there wouldn’t be expectations. As a Wayne, you would have to attend public functions in dress clothes Alfred will personally choose for you. In addition, you’ll go to school on time five days a week. If Alfred asks you to help around the house, you’ll assist as needed too. Is that understood?”
Jason started to nod before catching himself, a small scowl crossing his lips as he turned sideways to look at him fully. “I didn’t agreed to anything yet, okay? Don’t be getting ahead of yourself.” He shoved his hands into threadbare pockets again, his eyes slipping around absently once more, though they lingered on the wall, where the family portrait was resting. He looked at it for a long moment, a small frown crossing his lips, before he finally looked away and scuffed his shoe against the polished hardwood floor.
“Just a day or two, okay?” he finally said, though his tone was almost short, like he wasn’t happy with his decision, even though it was his decision. “Long enough to show you I can’t take care of myself. And then I’m out. Got it?”
Bruce’s lips curved upward a faint fraction. “Got it.”
Dick crept into the library quietly a couple weeks later, the sole occupant of the room curled up on the couch and facing towards the fireplace with a book. Jason’s attention never wavered, his fingers tracing each line with the pad of his index finger, teal eyes following every word closely with such raptness the quiet creak behind him didn’t even register. The fingers on his other hand gripped tightly onto the edge of the book, hard enough for the paper to crinkle some as it wrinkled.
A grin crossed Dick’s lips before he raced forward and flipped over the back of the couch right beside Jason. His grin only grew at how the kid jumped sharply, even if faint guilt tempered the amusement in his gaze. He hadn’t meant to scare the kid as much as he had. “What book are you reading?”
Jason scowled and pulled his legs closer to him. “Fucking pendejo.” His heart was jackrabbiting in his chest, something Dick could faintly feel through the air, one of those sometimes convenient sometimes distracting abilities that had woken up within him when Remiel had.
“I scare you?” he asked with a grin, even though he already knew the veracity of that from the way Jason’s shoulders squared back and that stubborn chin jutted out.
“No,” the boy retorted defensively. “In your dreams, maybe. I just thought your fat ass was gonna crush me is all.” He sat the book down to the side, and Dick was quick to sweep it up.
“The Complete Poetry of Anne Sexton?” he read out loud. He flipped it around to look at the back cover. “She any good?”
Jason snatched the book back from him. “Don’t,” he warned lowly.
“Don’t what?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just… don’t,” Jason muttered. “Don’t pretend to be interested when I know you’re not.”
“How do you know I’m not?” Dick asked. The seriousness in his tone had darker blue eyes flickering up towards him quizzically, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as they furrowed. “You’re my little brother,” the man continued in response to the look. “Even if the papers aren’t signed yet, they will be pretty soon. I care about what you like.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“But I’m trying to.” Dick knew better than anyone how lonely this place could get. Bruce was great, but he was still Bruce, and there wasn’t much getting around that. And while Alfred was the best, Alfred was also running an entire household on top of making sure Bruce didn’t try to sneak out onto the streets as Batman or slip into anything even remotely resembling self pity.
Jason looked at him for a long moment. “Why?”
“Because you’re my brother,” Dick repeated patiently. He gave Jason a small smile. “And I remember what it’s like to come into this from a completely different world.” Something he knew doubly now, he guessed, even if the second time might not exactly classify.
Jason rested his chin on his knees, and while he pointedly didn’t comment on the brothers piece, the frown he was wearing made it clear he didn’t know how to take what he was saying. “Bruce said something about taking kids in who’d fall through the cracks,” he said slowly, and Dick’s smile grew a little.
“Yeah, that’d be me to a T,” he agreed. “I grew up in a literal circus, and after my… after my parents passed away, I got thrown into an orphanage that was more than a little sucky. Before I was there too long, though, Bruce came by and took me in.” He had to be careful with how much he said. Bruce had made it clear that he didn’t want Jason to know anything about their nighttime occupations, at least until the kid was a little more settled, and Dick couldn’t have agreed more.
Especially because letting Jason in on that secret meant letting him in on others.
“A circus,” Jason repeated. “Like a for real circus?”
“Nope. Completely fake. The LSD must’ve been flowing pretty heavily because we managed to convince entire towns that they saw actual elephants,” Dick replied. He received a small kick in the leg for the joke, but it was worth it to catch the eye roll from the younger teen. Good. The kid was too tense.
“Cabrón,” Jason retorted. He rubbed a thumb anxiously along the edge of the book, able to think better when he had something to do with his hands. “How old were you?”
“Nine.” A simpler time that Dick missed some days and was glad to be past on others.
Jason was silent for a moment before asking quietly, “Does it ever, you know, hurt less?”
Dick reached out to rest a hand on the small shoulder. When Jason didn’t immediately pull away, he gave it a comforting squeeze. “It does,” he said quietly, “a little. But that’s just because of time, and… I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” The way the pain became more manageable as more distance was placed between then and now. “But it stops feeling like a punch in the gut after a little while. That I can promise.”
He watched as Jason nodded slowly before setting the book down on the coffee table and standing up. “I’m gonna go get ready for dinner,” the teen said awkwardly after a moment. “So I’ll see you in a few?” Jason wouldn’t look at him.
Dick’s eyes softened. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Still not looking at him, Jason left the room, and Dick smiled. His eyes moved to the book resting on the table. A closet bookworm, huh? At least that would make Christmas and birthdays pretty easy.
He bent to pick up the book, though he stiffened just as his fingers brushed the cover. A wave of heat washed over him, his only warning before he was pulled out of the physical world and into the one within his head full of dark, harrowing possibilities.