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When Jason was two years old, Dick taught him how to do a basic tumble. He, of course, was filming the first attempt when Jason face planted on the mat. Dick rushed over when Jason began crying.
“It's okay, Jaybird. It's okay. You're okay. See? You're okay,” Dick reassured the distressed toddler.
After a few moments Jason calmed down to just sniffles. Dick looked him over and determined that Jason was, indeed, okay.
“Did it wrong,” Jason finally declared.
Dick allowed himself a chuckle. “Yeah, little man. You went splat.”
Jason threw his hands in the air and then slapped them back against his thighs, “Splat!” he giggled, “Show me 'gain.”
Dick placed Jason back on the mat. He knew that Bruce didn't really like to have Jason in the cave unless it was necessary. But Jason wanted to learn. He was so deeply curious about... everything. He was smart. Dick suspected that he recalled a lot from his previous life, but he needed occasional reminders of the hows or whys before he made connections.
Jason watched as Dick rolled on the mat head over heels. Jason chewed on his lower lip as he tried to maneuver his body into the same form as his big brother. Dick could see that Jason was about to faceplant again and quickly caught him before he hit the mat.
“Okay. Jay? Try this,” Dick positioned Jason's head down and guided the rest of his little body into a rough version of the tumble.
When Jason stood up, he wore a big smile. Dick couldn't help but smile back at the boy.
Jason tipped his head back down and jumped forward. He landed on his back. Dick felt panic rise in him, only to have it swiftly cut short by the sound of Jason giggling. He quickly bounced back to his feet, only to launch himself into a sort of half somersault. Dick stopped him from doing it a third time in fear that he would hurt his back if he kept landing on it.
“Hey, hang on, Jaybird.”
“I did it!” Jason raised his arms in victory.
Dick chuckled at Jason's enthusiasm. “You are so close, little man. You have to try to keep the momentum going so you land on your feet instead of your back.”
“'Kay.”
Dick and Jason practiced for hours. Rolling around on the mat and just having fun. Dick thought Bruce might yell at him for keeping Jason down in the cave for so long.
“Dada, 'ook,” Jason yelled when he spotted Bruce coming down from the stairs.
Bruce paused as he watched Jason execute a perfect tumble. Jason tucked and rolled on the floor and came to land on his feet. Dick had shown Jason how gymnasts end their routines with a flourish. So Jason threw his arms in the air and yelled, “Ta-da!”
Dick held his breath as waited for Bruce's response.
“Bravo. I give you a ten,” Bruce smiled.
--
Did you know that Jason was allergic to bees. Neither did Bruce.
Jason squealed with delight as he ran through the sprinkler that Alfred set up in the backyard. Bruce sat on the patio with the business section of the newspaper and a coffee enjoying the midmorning sun. Jason had wanted to play outside and Bruce indulged him.
Soon however, the screams of fun turned to one of terror and Bruce was up out of his lounge chair faster than the Flash.
“What's wrong?”
Through Jason's cries he managed, “Sumtin' bit me.”
Bruce pulled Jason from the path of the sprinkler and brought him over to the patio. He was about to ask him where he got bit, when he noticed some very red swelling on Jason's left cheek. Bruce gripped Jason's face and tilted it to get a better look. He felt Jason's pulse beat erratically and heard the raspiness of his breathing.
“Alfred!” Bruce called out with alarm.
“Daddy?” Jason asked through shaky breaths.
“It's okay, chum. I got you,”Bruce scooped Jason up and carried him into the manor meeting Alfred at the door.
“Sir?” Alfred questioned, taking in the sight before him. He quickly assessed the problem and instructed Bruce, “There is a child's dosage of epinephrine in the cave. Hurry.”
Bruce quickly made his way through the manor and to his office. Descending the stairs quickly with his precious bundle much too lax in his arms. Bruce felt his heart pound against his chest as he neared the medical bay where Jason died less than three years ago. He placed him on the same gurney where he was reborn. Bruce's senses were reeling from the fact that his boy was struggling to breath again.
Alfred appeared at his side and jabbed the autoinjector into Jason's thigh. Bruce held his breath while he waited for Jason to take an unobstructed one. Alfred placed a pulse oxygen meter on Jason's index finger and placed a nasal cannula when he didn't like the reading. Bruce never thought to stock the med bay with child appropriate supplies. But once again, Alfred proved that Bruce would likely be lost without him. Alfred had maintained a host of medical supplies suited for each of his children. A fully stocked cart labeled 'Jason' was next to the bed and ready to go if needed.
Bruce watched as Jason's oxygen saturation numbers began to rise and his breathing became less wheezy. Bruce hadn't realized that Alfred had sat him in the chair as he was focused solely on Jason's face. He stroked the side of cheek where he had been stung and felt the bump of the embedded stinger. Alfred was at the ready with a pair of tweezers and with one quick motion, pulled the stinger out.
Jason's face would continue to swell till his left eye was swollen shut. But he was breathing. As he began to stir, Bruce pulled Jason off the gurney and into his lap. It didn't matter that his bathing shorts were still damp, or that Jason immediately began to cry. His boy was alive. He was allergic to bees and that was a new thing, but he was alive.
--
One thing that Alfred did not miss about the adult Jason was his colourful vocabulary of curse words. Growing up the way he did, it was part of his regular vernacular. However Alfred had not grown up with such language and knew it was not befitting of a young master in the Wayne household.
The first time Alfred had heard the reborn version of Master Jason swear; he had been so dumbstruck by the toddler that he laughed.
“Oh my goodness gracious, Master Jason, wherever did you learn such a word?” Alfred asked after regaining his composure.
Master Jason chewed on his lower lip for a moment and appeared deep in concentration when he finally responded, “Mah bwain.”
Alfred sighed. He knew that Master Jason had remembered some aspects of his previous life, he had hoped the foul language would not be among those memories.
“Now, my dear boy, I would appreciate it if you would not use words like that again. That word and all its variations are very naughty.”
Master Jason looked up at him and nodded, “‘kay,” and toddled away with his toy truck.
After a few moments he heard a very loud thunk followed by an equally loud exclamation of “Fuck!”
Alfred rolled his eyes and dried his hands on his apron. He found Master Jason sitting on the bottom step in the foyer. He was working to repair his toy truck that appeared to have a broken axle. Jason struggled to align the wheels on the truck and secure them back in place.
Master Jason took notice of Alfred standing in front of him and held the broken pieces of his toy out to him expectantly.
“Fix please Granpa. Fix please.”
Alfred knelt in front of the boy and took the broken toy and set it aside. He took Master Jason’s hands in his and looked him in the eye. “Now, Master Jason, I believe I asked you not to use that naughty word and I just heard you use it.”
Master Jason chewed his lower lip for a moment and pouted. “You gotta say da word.”
Alfred tilted his head at the quizzical request. “Whatever do you mean, dear boy?”
Master Jason looked exasperated and rolled his eyes. “If I say da bad word, you hafta say da good word.”
Alfred searched his memory for what Master Jason may have meant and could only reach one conclusion, “Language?”
“Oops. Sorry Granpa. I’ll put money in da swear jar next time,” Master Jason said smugly.
Alfred's eyes widened. Many times had he heard Master Jason respond with a near word for word statement when he’d been caught cussing within earshot. The adult Master Jason that is. This small child who wears Superman pyjamas and can watch SpongeBob for hours if he were allowed, recalled the back and forth of his prior life. This astonished him. To remember a face or a name or even an event was one thing, but to remember the specific back and forth wasn’t expected.
Master Jason looked at him expectantly. He reached down and picked up the pieces of his toy. “Fix please Granpa.”
Alfred gathered the boy into his arms and pulled him into a warm embrace. Master Jason hugged him back and gave him a wet sloppy kiss on his cheek.
“Oh my boy,” Alfred said. He left unsaid the feelings that would betray him and allow the tears that welled in his eyes to spill.
--
Jason was supposed to start school at Gotham Academy but he refused to be far from Bruce. He mourned Fiona and cried often. He had nightmares and had started wetting the bed. Bruce felt he was failing Jason again. He didn't know how to make Jason feel safe again. He didn't want him to grow up sheltered. He didn't want to hide Jason away like he was a priceless work of art that Selina might steal away. He didn't want Jason to grow up scared.
Dr. Thompkins had recommended counseling for Jason. He had been traumatized by his kidnapping. It was to be expected. She would have made this recommendation to anyone who had gone through what he went through. She had put feelers out many times over the years to find someone who she felt Bruce could trust. She always circled around to the same person. A psychologist named Dr. Keith Green. He specialized in childhood traumas. After giving Bruce the referral, he dug into the good doctor himself. Only once he was satisfied, did Bruce finally make the appointment for Jason.
Bruce had been allowed to sit in on the first half of the session before wanting to speak to Jason alone. Jason hadn't understood what was going on. Bruce just told him to answer whatever questions the doctor asked.
Bruce had listened while Jason described what happened between Joker and Harley. He hadn't been able to get Jason to talk to him about it, but Jason told the doctor while he colored a picture of his family. Bruce felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his little boy explained how scared he was when he watched a henchman push Fiona out of the car.
When it was time for Jason to have his one one one with the doctor, Bruce sat in the waiting room with his legs bouncing from second hand anxiety. He hadn't been out of Jason's sight since the kidnapping. He didn't hear any immediate crying or panic coming from the other side of the door, but that didn't mean that Jason didn't need him.
He stood up.
He clenched his fists.
He sat down.
Bruce exhaled and closed his eyes.
He ran his palms up and down his thighs.
When did his palms get sweaty?
Bruce stood up.
He took three steps toward the door separating him from Jason.
He clenched his fists.
He walked back to the chair.
Bruce unclenched his fists.
When did his hands start shaking?
Bruce sat down.
He picked up a gossip magazine from the table in front of him.
He thumbed through a few pages.
He threw the magazine back on the table.
Bruce stood up.
The door opened and Dr. Green led Jason out into the waiting room.
“Jason, would you wait here for a moment while I talk to your dad?” Dr. Green asked.
Jason smiled and skipped over to the chair that Bruce had just sat in. He climbed into the seat and started swinging his legs.
Bruce followed Dr. Green back into his office. He left the door open and Bruce could see his son sitting contently. Bruce felt an air of confusion. Jason looked happy. He knew therapy was a good thing, but he didn't expect Jason to respond so quickly.
“Mr. Wayne, I would like to see Jason once a week for at least the next two months. Is that amiable to you?”
Bruce watched as Jason continued swinging his legs back and forth in the chair. His little boy who had been witness to so much.
“I also think that it would be a good idea if perhaps you scheduled a few sessions yourself.”
Bruce thought about how close he had come to losing Jason in the past. Actual deaths and close calls. How could Jason just be sitting there swinging his legs back and forth?
“Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce snapped from his reverie and his eyes landed upon the doctor. The doctor smiled a bit and he repeated his statements.
“Oh, I'm just here for him,” Bruce insisted.
“Mr. Wayne? His trauma is your trauma. Yes, he should have counseling because he is a child who doesn't know how to handle those traumas. But, you should have some therapy too, because you can't help him to move past this, if you can't.”
Bruce inhaled deeply. He looked back out into the waiting room and saw Jason looking back at him. Jason smiled and waved at him. Bruce waved back but could not bring himself to smile.
“I will do anything for him,” Bruce said without looking at the doctor, “even face my own demons.”