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It was early in a night warm summer when the Red Hood, doing a regular sweep of the roofs of Crime Alley, saw him.
“Damian?”
Because it was Damian, dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and sitting on the edge of a roof, not Robin.
The last Jason had heard of the brat was two weeks ago. When Robin had helped the Red Hood take down a drug ring.
A lot can happen in two weeks.
“What are you doing here?”
Damian didn’t seem to hear him, or was ignoring him for reasons unknown. Jason was betting the latter.
Jason walked over and sat next to him, placing his helmet behind them.
“Kiddo…” Jason’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.
Damian’s eyes flickered to him for a second before going back to staring into space. In his hands, he rolled a lit cigarette around in his fingers.
Before Jason could comment on/take away the smoke, Damian said his first words of the night.
“I haven’t had any. I just… lit it.”
Jason knew that was a lie. He had seen the slivers of smoke drifting out of the kids mouth and the night was warm. But Jason didn’t think he was in any place to call him out on it.
Stupid street kid addictions!
The silence was heavy, in a foreboding sort of way.
“Damian,” Jason tried again, “you, okay?”
“Okay is a relative term.”
Jason wished the heavy atmosphere would allow him to laugh because, damn, Damian finally picked up a sense of humor and he just had to get it from Tim, of all people.
“That’s not an answer, Dami.”
Damian took a shuddering breath and glanced at him again. His hand came up to his face, as if to take a breath of the cigarette, but dropped it before he could finish the movement.
“I-,” another shaking inhale, his fingers clamping down harder on the cigarette, “I don’t know.”
Where those- where those tears? Was Damian Wayne crying? Jason was officially out of his depth.
Jason could see that Damian was spiraling. He didn’t know how to help, though (some brother he was). He had heard about how Bruce had spiraled after his death and had seen the after effects on Tim during the time that Bruce was… gone, but he had never been there to face one head on.
Jason didn’t know what to do and… and he was scared.
Utterly terrified.
Usually he could handle kids crying. Hell, he would go as far as saying he was great at comforting kids during distressing times! But Damian? The kid that only ever showed emotion other than pure loathing to his pets and sometimes Dick? That Damian?
Jason didn’t have a fucking clue.
Not one.
So he went with his gut.
“…”
And said nothing.
“I need to go,” Damian was saying, he made a move like he was going to get up, saying, but just shifted a little farther away from Jason.
“You need a ride home?”
It wasn’t an offer, exactly.
Damian didn’t look like he could even stand, much less make it back the manor. Jason was already planning different ways to get the kid on his bike and to stay still enough that they could get to the manor in one piece. But the kid’s consent would make it a lot easier.
Damian stares at the cigarette in his hand, the cherry glowing a bright, pulsing red.
“I-…”
He brings up his free hand to rub at his eyes.
”-…I need to put this out,”
They both stare at the cigarette. Damian not moving to put it out and Jason not knowing what to do.
Finally, Jason takes initiative. He reaches over and pulls the cigarette from Damian’s grip, the kid doesn’t even fight it, just mournfully watched it go, and grinds it into the roof.
“Let’s go kid.”
Jason pulls himself up off the ledge and holds a hand out to Damian. He takes it, but doesn’t pull himself up.
So, Jason does it for him.
As it turns out, the kid doesn’t seem to be able to hold himself upright after all. Jason ends up having to carry him.
All the way down from the roof and to his bike.
Three blocks away.
Then, Jason has to figure out how to keep him on the bike while he drives it to the manor.
He settled on driving one handed, the other wrapped around Damian. It wasn’t the safest way, but it would have to do. To make up for the danger, Damian wore his helmet and Jason drove as carefully as he could.
Jason doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see the manor than he was when he finally arrived.
For a second, Jason debated going in through the Cave, but he wants to minimize the chance of running into the others as much as possible. He didn’t think he had the energy to explain why he had Damian.
Damian had fallen asleep during the drive, so Jason, once again, picked him up and carried him.
They got half way before they ran into a haggled looking Bruce. He was on the phone when he saw them.
“Hold on a second, Dick. He’s back, Jason brought him home.”
Bruce exchanged a quick goodbye with his eldest before coming up to Jason.
“He’s been missing for the past few hours. It’s his night off and I was doing my rounds before I suited up.”
Bruce explained, but Jason could hear the silent questions.
What happened? Where was he? Why couldn’t we get a hold of him?
“He needs to go to bed.”
Jason’s voice was brittle, ready to snap.
I can’t say right now, he tried to convey, I need to get my thoughts in order.
Luckily Bruce seemed to understand.
“I’ll get some tea.”
And he was gone.
Jason got to Damian’s room and laid him on his bed. He slips off the kids shoes and proceeds to tuck him in, not bothering with pajamas.
He thinks about going and meeting Bruce in the kitchen, just to make sure he doesn’t ruin the tea, but one more glance at Damian curled in on himself stops him.
The kid just looks so small, laying in the middle of the bed like that. So, sighing all the while, Jason strips himself of his armor until he is clad in only a tank top and his shorts and climbs in next Damian. Jason curled around him and let out a shuddering breath.
God, the kid was barely even thirteen.
Jason was not ready to deal with tonight. Not in the slightest.
The creak of the door and the slight rattle of two mugs being put down on the nightstand were the only warnings that Jason had before Bruce was crouching at the edge of the bed. He slowly reached out a hand and took one of Damian’s.
Jason avoided eye contact.
“Jaylad,-“
There were so many emotions waring in his head that the endearment that usually stung like acid, had Jason wanting to break down and start to sob because he just really needed his dad right then.
“-what happened?”
Bruce’s voice is soft, afraid of waking his sleeping son.
“A breakdown.” Jason starts, running his fingers through his little brother's hair, “I think I caught the tail end of it. Just before he could do something stupid.”
A sharp intake of breath tells Jason that Bruce got what he meant by, ‘something stupid’.
“How-,”
Bruce cuts himself off, but they both heard the silent question.
How close was he to letting himself go?
“He was just staring off when I arrived.” Jason answers,”I couldn’t get him to say anything, but I could tell he was close. He needs someone to talk to. Preferably, a professional.”
Bruce casts his eyes down and nods mutely. Jason wasn’t done talking, though.
“B… he was so close. So fucking close. Like Tim or you close. I was fucking terrified. I didn’t know what to do, and I was so convinced that I was going to lose him. But then he let me put out the cigarette and didn’t protest coming home. I was so scared. So, so, so, so scared. He’s only thirteen, B. only thirteen-,”
Jason just continues to talk, but it all amounts up to the fact that he was fucking terrified and he didn’t know what to do.
He doesn’t even stop when Bruce climbs into the bed with them and pulls them both into his arms.
And Bruce just lets Jason talk.
In the morning, there will be more talking, but of the kind that had a point and direction. Not what Jason’s spouting.
But right now, Jason was rambling. Repeating himself and trying to absorb everything.
In the morning, Jason will have some tea that will help with his frayed nerves.
Right now, two mugs sit on the nightstand. Cold and untouched.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Tonight was a night Jason wasn’t ready for in the slightest to deal with. And he doubts he will ever be when he comes upon one again.