Archive of Our Own

As well as the integration back into his family was going, there were two things Jason still refused to do.

The first was that he made it a point not to be in the same space with more than one or two of them at the same time. Out on the streets it was usually Tim or Dick and Damian, whoever turned up. Even when Bruce wasn't too busy with Batman Inc., Jason just felt like he couldn't handle working with the original Batman again. Too many memories and too much pain for both of them. Then there was the whole 'no killing' rule. So far he'd held back. Not because he suddenly believed it, but for his father, he was trying. Jason couldn't deny that he was having issues with that one.

The second – stranger of the two – was that he never slept at the manor if he knew even a single one of his brothers – anyone but Bruce and Alfred, really – was going to be there. Dick understood and didn't question it. Tim got it to a certain extent, though Jason could tell the teen didn't quite understand why it was so hard for him to just move back into his old room. Damian kept asking him about it until Bruce had to pointedly tell the boy to leave him alone. Jason had scowled at the interference, but silently he was grateful.

However, he found that he could be a brother. Not always a very good one – he was pretty sure that neither Tim nor Damian had used this kind of language this often before he'd come along – but he could work and talk to them. It was still somewhat difficult not to feel defensive around Dick. His elder brother seemed to think that just because he wore a Batman mantel that he was suddenly Bruce and thus in a position to dish out completely unrequested advice, however well-meaning. Must be hard to be so fuckin' perfect, Jason thought wryly, but he didn't take it too personally. It was just the way Dick was. Maybe he'd always been meant for the big brother role. Jason wasn't sure how applicable that was for himself, but for all the hurt he'd first felt when he saw the Robin costume on someone else, he discovered he actually liked Tim and even Damian.

And away from the masks and uniforms, he could be a son. Never out in the streets, but at the manor he and Bruce could co-exist. Most of their topics were 'safe': civilian life was fair game, as were the other former and current Robins and more extended members of the bat clan. They never spoke about the past or what Jason was doing with his second life. After the first few times that Bruce had tried, Jason pointedly disappeared for a week altogether and didn't come to the manor for another.

The one person who Jason let get away with it for some mysterious reason was Tim. A perfect example was one fairly quiet night – just two muggings and a robbery – when they returned to the cave. Red Robin had pushed away his cowl and sat behind the large computer to file an update while Jason removed the red domino mask that surrounded his eyes. He casually strode around the cave, idly noting all the new additions, but he was close enough that he heard it when Tim stopped typing.

"You need a new secret identity," the teen declared suddenly.

"What brought this on?" Jason had a feeling that Tim often said about a third of what he meant to and expected people to read his mind for the other parts. He wondered if it was a habit he'd acquired from Bruce.

"Your current one sucks." His brother gave him a look. "I know you're kind of masochistic..."

"I'm not!"

"Of course you are," The teen rolled his eyes a little as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Jason couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at being talked down to by a boy more than half a decade his junior. "Everyone in this family is masochistic to some extent, but especially you. No, but really. The Joker's old gig? I get that you were trying to make a point before, but it's way unhealthy. Nightwing's open, you know. I'm sure Dick won't mind."

"Been there, tried that." The young man waved his hand dismissively. He was fairly certain that their brother would very much mind. "I don't think I'm ever doing uniform thing again."

"What's wrong with uniforms?" Tim looked down at his own.

"Nothing, but your friend Superboy has the right idea," Jason crossed his arms. "No capes, no tights, no thanks."

"Conner's bulletproof," the teen pointed out reasonably.

"So am I," Jason grinned and tapped his chest. "Ah, the wonder of kevlar. You done here or what? Those weren't exactly high-profile baddies."

His brother took a glance at the computer and pushed the button to hibernate it. On the way up from the cave half a step behind Tim, Jason stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. Of all the souvenirs and trophies, it was still there: his old Robin suit locked inside the glass case. Tim must have heard him stop.

"I don't know why he still keeps it like that," he said a bit resentfully. "I mean, I kind of got it before, but now..."

"His son died," Jason replied quietly. "What came back was... different."

"People change, Jay." He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Not always for the better."

"Yeah, it was kind of bumpy," Tim admitted. "But you're here now."

Later back in his apartment – Damian and Tim were both spending the night at the manor – Jason wondered how much of him was really there. He knew he didn't have access to even a fraction of the resources the others did. That was fine with him, as Jason was perfectly capable of going low-tech, but he was curious about other things. So, armed with a beer and bag of chips, he plopped down into the old sofa, propped his feet up on the coffee table and began typing.

He'd heard of this new super-secret superhero network thing Bruce was creating, now Jason figured it was time to check it out. However after two and a half hours of hacking, he'd barely broken past the first fire wall. A little annoyed but willing to admit that hacking had never been his forte, Jason set the computer down and went to do other things.

He'd almost forgotten about the computer until it started beeping and a synthetic voice came out of the speakers.

"This is Oracle. Identify yourself immediately"

Crap!

He took a dive for the coffee table, almost bumping into it in the process, and grabbed the laptop. "Babs? That you?"

"Jason?" There was a momentary pause, then Barbara Gordon's image appeared on his screen. "What are you doing hacking into the Web?"

"Just poking around for the hell of it." He held up his hands. "Sorry if I freaked you out."

"You set off half of my alarms," Barbara chastised. "I thought the Calculator was trying to hack in."

"That good, huh?" Jason grinned. "What are you doing up at these ungodly hours?"

"Who sleeps anymore?" She visibly relaxed a little. "I haven't talked to you in a while. How are you doing?"

"Okay." He pulled the laptop onto his knees and leaned back against the couch cushions. "What are you up to? Still spying on all of us, I see. Must be one hell of an ego boost."

"Whatever works." She tilted her head and seemed to be trying to look at his surroundings. "Where are you, exactly? Not at the manor."

"No, I'm at my apartment. I thought you had us all tracked. Or is it just Dickie bird you have a 24/7 vid feed on?"

"No comment."

Jason threw back his head and laughed. "Tim told me about the 'Grayson cam'. Honestly, when I came back, I fully expected to hear that you two had taken the plunge."

"Things happened."

It didn't need to be spelled out what those things had been. There were many, but mainly it was the same monster that haunted them both. They had never been really close before his death. Jason was too busy trying to keep up with Bruce, and Barbara was, like the Teen Titans, more part of Dick's world than his. The tragedies that were her shooting and Jason's death had come on each others heels. Having their lives torn apart by the same madman wasn't exactly something either wanted to bond over, but there was an undeniable kinship there. Of everyone, Jason thought that maybe Barbara could understand the pain.

"So I'm trying out this new philosophy." He finally broke the silence. "It's called 'that shit's not worth my time'. What do you think?"

"I think it's a fantastically mentally healthy approach." The red-head smiled. "So healthy that I don't think it works for either of us for too long."

"Yeah, Timmy seems to think I'm a masochistic."

"Aren't we all?"

"Apparently. Alright, I'll let you go back to playing Big Sister to the world."

"Okay. Don't give me any more heart attacks like this. Please stay out of the Web."

"Or what?" Jason challenged, more out of habit than anything else.

"Or else. Don't make me call your dad."

"Yikes. And here I thought we were pals." He mocked hurt.

In truth Jason was only slightly annoyed that she hadn't offered to give him access. Not even every member of the bat clan had access, and he could understand that he wasn't exactly considered the most trustworthy person. He didn't have to pretend not to feel hurt about it, but he could understand it.

"We are." Barbara smiled. "But this isn't a toy for you to play with. Try to get some sleep. It'll be a much better application of your time."

"Hey, I said 'play Big Sister to the world', not me," he protested.

"Old habits."

"Yeah, well, try to curb them. I know there's a lot of us these days, but last time I checked I don't have any sisters. At least not until you and Dick make it official."

"Subtle. Good night, Jason."

"Night, Babs."

He slept most of the morning, so by the late afternoon Jason felt halfway to being a human being again. It was pretty much the most he hoped for anyway, so he figured it was as good a time as any to do some recon on that new drugs and prostitution ring that had come into town within the last few weeks. He didn't like all of his efforts going to waste, after all.

Now the dilemma: go in alone or not.

He knew Dick and Damian were up to their eyeballs in casework as it was. Anyway, if he worked with anyone these days, it was most likely going to be Tim. Some part of those underdeveloped big brother instincts demanded that he leave the teen out of the seediness that was Gotham's underworld, but it was pointless. Tim had been involved in more than his fare share of horrors, and he could probably use a hand.

"Just drop by and let's go from here," his brother's voice came from the other end of the line.

"We're gonna end up here anyway," Jason argued.

He didn't want to go to the manor when there was a very good chance not only Tim, but Dick, Damian, Alfred, and maybe even Bruce were all there at this hour. It was just too early for anyone to have left on patrol. Was there such a thing as family interaction anxiety disorder? If there was, Jason was sure he had it.

"We won't be able to go out for hours," Tim pointed out. "So come over and help me with the research."

"I thought you were the little detective. Since when do you need help with that?"

"A second pair of eyes never hurts. Stop being an ass and help. There are some shiny new bat grenades in it for you."

"Wow, did you really just bribe me with explosives? What would Dad say?"

It was only after he'd said it that Jason realized that this was the second time in a twenty four hour time span that he or someone else had refereed to Bruce as his father. Oh, he'd done it plenty of times before, but usually in the context of a sarcastic remark mid-battle or during some kind of emotional breakdown. To hear it used so casually was... good. Tim didn't seem to notice.

"Nothing." He could almost hear the teen shrug. "But our big brother would point out that I'm a lot more manipulative than anyone gives me credit for."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. You wormed your way into the short pants, didn't you?"

"I never wore those pants. Guess I'm just not as secure in my masculinity as you or Dick."

"I'm not sure if I should be faltered or insulted." He paused. "Nope, gonna go with insulted."

"Great. Just do it over here."

He could do it, Jason though as he walked up the long path to the front door of Wayne Manor. He didn't know why this time he'd taken the main entrance instead of coming in through the cave, except that maybe he thought he could avoid anyone who might be there. The exact opposite occurred when he saw Dick coming down the main staircase only seconds after he closed the door behind himself.

The original Robin appeared exasperated, wiping a palm over his face. He looked up and met Jason's eyes when he was only a few steps from the bottom. The second raised a brow.

"You look like you had either a really good or really bad night," Jason ventured a guess.

"I had a fun afternoon." The elder sighed.

"Damian?"

"Damian."

"I thought you were the one he liked. What'd you do?"

Dick let out a puff of air and rubbed his temple. "Nothing. I just... sometimes I'd..."

"...like to have a life without a homicidal ten-year-old attached to it?" Jason looked bemused.

Dick blinked. "I was going to say 'sometimes I'd like to not be everyone's big brother', but sure, that works."

"Ah, hate to break it to you, but you are everyone's big brother," Jason grinned. "Even those of us who don't need it."

"You and Tim never exhausted me like this."

"That's because you weren't..." He paused for half a heartbeat. "You weren't our Batman."

"I guess. Don't suppose you want to trade Robins?"

Jason almost asked what he meant, but then realized that for all the times he'd worked with him recently, he'd almost come to consider Tim as a partner. Not in a Batman and Robin sense; the dynamic was completely different, but there was something there. And Tim's new identity still had 'Robin' in the name… He liked Damian well enough, but trade?

"Not on your life, Grayson." He began to make his way past him then stopped short. "Oh, speaking of your booming social life outside our baby brothers and the scum of Gotham…" Dick raised both brows. "Guess who I spent all of last night chatting with?"

"Donna?"

"I wish! No: Babs."

If he didn't know better, Jason could have sworn that the slight frown that creased his brother's forehead was a very explicit, very loud, "Stay away from my girlfriend... solemate... Just stay away from her!"

He laughed. "Relax, Big Bird. We were just talking about how I think of Babs as a... a big sister. Get the hint?"

"Hey, I proposed. She said… well, basically she said 'maybe later'."

"So point out that it's later. You'll figure it out, and if not, you're a bigger moron than I gave you credit for, and I'll be very disappointed in my big brother. It might even traumatize me for life. You know how I've always looked up you."

Dick glared at him. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're a dipshit."

"Love you, too." Jason grinned, and everything was back to as normal as it got between them. "Now, if you can tell me where my Robin is…"

"Guess."

Right.

It figured the one time he decided to use the front door, Tim would be down in the cave. Passing through the kitchen he saw that Damian and Alfred were there. The butler acknowledged him with a nod and smile, and Jason almost continued walking, but then thought better of it and stopped suddenly.

"Hey," he pointed. "You. The short one." Damian raised his head and graced the man with his customary scowl. "Ease up on Dick. I know he's an easy target, but be gentle; he's fragile."

The boy snorted and went back to the electronic gadget in his hand, and Jason continued on to the cave, smirking when he was well out of the way of the doorway. He'd covered everyone but Bruce and it hadn't sent him running for the hills yet. Maybe it wasn't too bad to interact with them more often.

Growing up after his parents' deaths, Bruce had never given any thought to being a father himself. He just assumed it wouldn't happen. So consumed by grief that he'd never allowed to heal, it was exhausting enough spending his days pretending to be a normal person at work functions and his nights as Batman, that he'd never considered trying to have a normal life that might have involved children.

Then Dick came. And yes, there were the normal – as normal as possible – growing pains and fights, but as he later realized, all things considered, Dick had been an easy child. Despite the tragedies that marred his young life, he was a generally happy and optimistic person. No mater how often they clashed, he always knew he would be alright.

Then came Jason, different from Dick as night from day. The young aerialist had been a ward, a student, a younger brother, but the orphan from the streets of Gotham was something else. Maybe it was because he was older when he'd taken him in, maybe it was because Jason needed just a little extra love, but before his death, the boy become a son. It was then that Bruce had learned just how true the old saying was:

No parent should ever have to bury his child.

The death of his son had nearly destroyed him.

His return almost did the same.

But now Jason was back. Really back, though not yet quite as with them as he might have hoped. It was still something, though. The fact that he was, however unofficially, working with Tim was a step in the right direction as far as Bruce was concerned. A short time ago he'd been worried about the youngest of his adopted sons as well, but Tim had apparently bounced back remarkably well. It was a good team up, and he was happy that neither had to be alone out there.

None of that meant that, when moment allowed, the original Batman was above checking up on them. But no need for the boys to know that, of course. He knew the pair was working on gathering intelligence on a new cartel that was trying to muscle its way into Gotham's underworld, so they weren't difficult to track down. The task was made easier by the sound of gunfire coming from a particular rooftop in the slums.

Bullets flying at his children... No matter how well trained they were or how many times they'd faced threats far worse than a couple of thugs, the thought made Bruce's stomach turn every time. The sound of someone screaming then hitting the pavement with a sickening sound of crushed bones didn't help the matter.

He was on the scene seconds later and saw with immeasurable relief that it wasn't Jason or Tim but one of the thugs lying on the ground. Batman knelt to check for a pulse. Still alive, though the damage from nearly a three story fall was extensive. He put in an anonymous call for an ambulance before making his way to the rooftop.

Whatever fight had taken place, it was over. Several other men and various weapons lay scattered around. Red Robin and Jason – he refused to even think of him as the Red Hood now – were standing at the edge where the man must have fallen. They were arguing about something, but by the time Bruce was close enough to make it out, both must have heard him.

As a father, his first words should have been, "Are you both alright?"

As Batman, they were, "What happened?"

Jason whirled, eyes clearly wide behind the red domino mask. His mouth opened then closed wordlessly. Fists balled at his sides, and he straightened. The shock on the young man's face was replaced by a hard coldness that frightened Bruce.

"It was me," he blurted.

Red Robin all but reeled. "Jas..."

"I shoved that dirt bag." The young man cut him off, his eyes locked with Bruce. "I told you before I don't play by these stupid rules of yours."

He was gone before either could utter another word. Red Robin was obviously more than a little startled, and Batman tore his eyes away from Jason's retreating form to look at his younger son. The question from earlier remained unrepeated, but there was no doubt that it hung in the air between them.

"I..." Tim pushed back his cowl as if it might help clear his head. The teen's blue eyes were wide and confused. "I think one of the other guys I punched backed into him, and he fell. I'm..."

"The man's still alive," Bruce assured him, and his son released a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry. They were better than we thought. But..." He shook his head. "I don't get why Jason freaked out like that. Is it... is it something I did? Why would he say it was his fault?"

Bruce suspected he knew, but it wasn't something he was about to share. Instead he said, "I need to go find him, talk to him. I want you to go home or, if you're up for it, find the others and see if you can help with whatever they're working on. Don't peruse this anymore tonight. Understand?"

Tim nodded, and Bruce knew that at least he didn't have to worry about that. He had to focus on Jason now. Finding the young man wasn't hard. Like most people, he ran to a place he knew best, a place that represented safety. It spoke volumes that for him it was a dirty apartment in Crime Alley rather than Wayne Manor. Again, he considered it a personal failure that Jason couldn't feel safe in a place should have been a haven.

He landed quietly on the fire escape in front of Jason's window. The site that greeted him when he peaked inside was discouraging at best. The young man was pacing in the small room, cursing, and almost compulsively running his hands through his hair, his distress evident. Bruce was almost at a loss, but he couldn't ignore this, couldn't just give him room.

"Jason." He spoke his name without anger, but the young man whirled on him.

"Are you deaf!" He spat. "I already told you what happened. What more do you want?"

Something was severely wrong. Bruce's brow creased under the cowl, then he removed the cover and looked his son straight in the eyes unimpeded by lenses.

"I want to know why you're lying to me. Tim said..."

"Leave him out of it!" Jason's face twisted in fury. "He didn't do anything, okay? You can't... you can't take this away from him. You won't!"

And there it was. Bruce had had his suspicions, but now he knew. His expression softened, and he took a step forward, which, to his sadness, made Jason instantly step back. Was that how it always had to be with them?

"I'm not taking anything away," he held up his hands in a calming gesture.

"Right." The snort was full of derision. " 'Cause none of them can do any wrong. It's just me. I'm the bastard child. Figures."

With no small amount of horror, he could see it; his son slipping away, being swallowed up by the pain yet again. He wanted to grab him and shake some sense into the man or hug him, he didn't know which. Neither of them were very good at conveying emotions through touch. In their world, it was too often a gateway to pain rather than comfort.

"That man who fell? He's not dead, and either way, I know you didn't push him. I understand you're trying to protect your brother, but there's no need. I don't want you to ever feel that you have to protect one another from me. If you do, it's my fault."

The young man blinked, some clarity returning to his eyes. "He's not dead?"

"No."

"But if he were... you would have..."

"This isn't like before," Bruce shook his head. "Not like..."

"Like when I let that piece of shit from years back have a close and personal encounter with the sidewalk?" He demanded bitterly. "Because you think that after all the women he's raped, after one of them committed suicide, he still didn't deserve it."

"It's not about what any of them deserve! It's about you, Jason. What you deserve. And it's not this, son. You don't deserve to be in this... this darkness."

How could he explain it? How could he get through to this poor lost child?

"I was born here." No matter how quietly he said them, it hurt to hear those words. "Maybe it's just where I belong."

"You belong with your family, with us." Bruce insisted. "I want you home. And your brothers... Tim is wondering what's going on. He doesn't know what this was for you. He thinks it was something he did."

The young man's head snapped up. "No! You'll tell him it's not, right?"

"I think it'll be better coming from you."

Jason wiped a hand over his face, his exhaustion apparent. His eyes were shining in the dim light. "Can I do it later? I... I don't want to go back tonight. Don't want them to see me like this. Dad, please..."

"Alright," Bruce nodded.

At least some of the anxiety ebbed away. Despite the fact that it usually came out at times of extreme stress, he liked being 'Dad'. Maybe he should mention it to Jason at some point... but not now. Now was not the time.

He left without another word, but remained on the rooftop across the street and watched through the still-open window as his son paced for a little while longer, then sat on the old couch with his head in his hands, and finally lay down on the mattress on the floor. He didn't know if Jason slept at all, but Bruce remained there for most of the night.

When he finally forced himself to return to the manor, he found the rest of his children gathered in the kitchen. All three were busy pretending to work on breakfast. Dick quietly handed out plates to his brothers, while Tim pointedly took away a butter knife Damian had been fiddling with. The boy huffed and jumped up to sit on the marble counter. Bruce took a deep breath and cleared his throat before entering.

"Did anyone sleep?" he questioned, knowing full well it was unnecessary.

"Overate," Damian sniffed. The proclamation was somewhat weekend by the yawn the boy tried to stifle. Bruce smiled a little and wrapped an arm around his youngest. For once the ten-year-old didn't protest; there was no way he could have spent so much time with Dick and not learn to tolerate at least a limited amount of affection.

"Tim told us what happened." Dick said. "Is Jason okay? Where is he?"

"He..." Bruce chose his words carefully. "He needs some time."

"That's bull!" Tim protested. "He needs to be here. He's better when he's here."

"I completely agree with you, but I can't force him."

"Of course you can." Damian scowled indignantly. "You're Batman.

Okay, so bullshiting his way through this whole family thing hadn't worked. Baiting Dick, working with Tim, and trying to play big brother to Damian had all come crashing and burning because he was a mental case who was so ready to think the worst of the man who raised him.

A few nights had passed. Bruce didn't call, apparently giving him the space he'd asked for, but he had no such luck with the others. Dick had reached out a few times but stopped on the second day after he refused to pick up his phone. Tim was far more persistent, to the point where Jason had felt guilty enough to answer.

"I'm sorry!" The teenager blurted out before he could get in a single word. "That thing from before..."

"Is not your fault." Jason assured him.

"But..."

"Kid..." He leaned back into the couch and switched the cell to the other ear. "Seriously, little brother, you have no idea how much not about you that was."

The 'little brother' part seemed to finally make him stop. He could hear Tim take a deep breath on the other end. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Do I ever?"

"Maybe... okay, fine. After all, it's the bat-family way to bury feelings in a deep dark hole and only bring them out to pick at the scabs. Wanna go on patrol with me?"

"From heart to hearts to butt-kicking in one breath. I think you're officially my favorite."

"So we're going? I promise Bruce won't be there. He won't even know."

"He's the goddamn Batman. All seeing, all knowing." He sighed. "Look, it's cute that you're willing to cover up this very illicit affair of ours, but fyi, that never works. He always finds out. And that's not the point. I'm really not up for company, Tim."

He was actually trying to sleep with some degree of success when something buzzed again. A fleeting thought of "Damn, kid just won't give up" crossed his mind before he realized that it wasn't his cell that was buzzing. Swinging both legs over the side of the couch, Jason leaned forward and tapped his laptop to wake it.

"Oh, so I can't hack into your network but you can come into my place whenever you like?"

Barbara's face was far from amused. A look of clear worry lined her features. "Jason, I need your help. It's Dick and Damian..."

She had his attention instantly. "What happened?"

"Tunnel collapse near fifth and west, and they're not answering on any frequencies. I called Tim but I can't get a hold of Bruce, and you're closest..."

"Give me red bird's eta and the dynamic duo's last coordinates." He was moving, reaching for his jacket and discarded domino mask. "I got 'em, Babs. Don't worry."

From the outside everything looked almost normal as Jason surveyed from a rooftop near the entrance to the old abandoned subway station. No fires were certainly a good sign, but he could see dips in the pavement where the support structure below had caved in. The whole thing could collapse even further at the slightest bit of motion.

Some sounds from below caught his attention, and Jason cursed when he saw several squad cars pull up to the scene. Great. Gordon and his people. The commissioner meant well, but explaining his way through a bunch of cops was the last thing Jason needed right now. Another sound of someone landing on the rooftop came behind him, but he'd become accustomed enough to Tim that he didn't even look away from the scene below.

"I did some quick checking." Red Robin was all business as he approached. "Those tunnels were condemned for demolition a few months back, but the support structure was already weak."

"Damn good place for a trap," Jason muttered, more to himself than his brother. He didn't even ask who it had been. It didn't matter now.

Tim nodded. "I figure we can try to go in through the south entrance. It's the most stable..."

"No." Jason cut him off. "I'll go, but I need you to find Bruce and bring better equipment."

"What? No..."

"Yeah. We don't know what kind of condition they're in..." He wasn't talking about the tunnels. Jason took a deep breath. "If someone needs to be pulled out, I'm bigger and stronger. How many grappling hooks do you have?"

"Three."

"Give me two."

"This is a bad idea, Jay." But Red Robin was already unhooking them from his utility belt and handing them over. "Notoriously bad. You…"

"I know what I'm doing." He certainly hoped so. His brothers' lives might very well depend on it. "Don't argue. Just go."

He hopped over the ledge and made his way down to street level before Tim could protest again. Landing a block away from the scene, Jason made his way in quick strides not bothering to keep himself hidden even when half a dozen officers trained their weapons on him. He held up his hands defensively and moved into better view even before any of them had a chance to yell, "Freeze!"

"Relax," Jason scowled. "I'm not looking for a fight."

The commissioner stepped forward, eyes stern behind his glasses. "Red Hood."

"No." The young man shook his head. Not tonight. "The mask's just throwing you off. You probably don't recognize me, but I'm... I was the second Robin."

He didn't recognize any of the other cops on the scenes who eyed him suspiciously. Gordon, of course, had a good idea of who he was, though Jason didn't know just how much the commissioner knew about his death and resurrection. He had a feeling the old man knew a lot more than he ever let on. Either way he didn't seem surprised by the declaration, but it did nothing to thaw the hard look on his face.

"Oracle sent me," Jason tried very pointedly. Gordon frowned, but his expression betrayed very little. "Check for yourself if you like, but you have to let me through. We haven't been able to reach Batman and Robin. There's a pretty good chance they're in trouble down there."

The commissioner's face softened. "We'll bring..."

"Red Robin has it covered," Jason cut him off. "You have to let me go."

Gordon appeared to waver for another half a heart beat, then holstered his gun. "I let you do this," he said in a low voice, "out of respect for your father."

Jason wondered if he really knew or, like many people, just tend to think of Batman as a father to all the Robins. He suspected it was the former. "I know. Thanks."

He went through the south entered as Tim had suggested. The first few steps were fine with the benefit of some added light from the street lamps outside, but as Jason got further in and was forced to switch to a flashlight, he saw that the damage had been extensive. The escalator that went down to the lower levels was almost completely caved in when he stopped at the edge. Pulling a flare out of his pocket, he lit it and dropped the glowing stick into the large blackness. It took a while for it to hit the ground – at least two stories, Jason thought – but when it finally did, he was revealed to hear a high pitched yell from below.

"Robin?" No matter what Gordon might have known, there were other cops outside, and Jason didn't dare use real names. "Hang on. I'm coming."

He looked around and spotted a column that looked like it was still stable enough to support quite a bit of weight. One of the grappling hooks Tim had given him served for the trip down. Below it was almost completely black, and even when he finally landed the ground was still uneven. Jason looked around, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust.

"You need to talk to me, kid," he shouted. "Give me a hint."

"Here!"

Damian's voice came from somewhere ahead and to the left, and Jason began to make his way across the uneven terrain all the while counting the steps and direction from where he'd released the grappling hook. He suddenly remembered a story Donna had once told him a long time ago before his death. Something from Greek mythology about a labyrinth and a monster and a hero trying to save his friends with a golden thread. He was no hero, but it was something like that.

Jason found the youngest of his brothers a few yards away and lowered the flashlight when the child had to shield his eyes from it. "You okay?"

"Cuts and bruises," the boy waved his hand. "Batman's a lot worse off."

He looked to the right and saw that Dick lay half buried beneath several large chunks of the collapsed wall. Even the utility belt had nothing that could be wedged under something that heavy, and Damian was just not strong enough to lift most of it. He knelt next to Dick.

"How bad is it?"

"Broken left femoral," the elder hissed through gritted teeth. "Maybe a few ribs, but that's the worst of it."

"That's pretty damn bad," Jason noted grimly. "How's the pain?"

"A little anesthetic injection does wonders."

He looked around then, pushing himself up, turned back to Damian. "If I can loosen those chunks for a few seconds, can you drag him out?" The boy nodded. "Okay. We don't know what kind of condition that leg is in, but since he didn't bleed to death yet, I hope that means it hasn't nicked anything major. Still, I don't want to even try to move that thing until we get some help down here."

"Our coms are scrap," Dick said.

"I know. Mine isn't. Red bird's bringing in the big guns."

Dick nodded, taking a few deep breaths through his nose to ease some of the pain, and Jason sat back down trying to move as little as possible. He motioned for Damian to sit as well. The boy huffed, a little annoyed at being ordered around, but did as instructed. Good. He had enough to deal with. Raising his eyes to what remained of the support structure, Jason slowly passed a glance over it, surveying every detail.

"Jay." Dick's voice came out quiet, weak. "Are you okay?"

That snapped him out of his thoughts. "I'm not the one buried under a ton of rubble."

"Jay, your hands..."

He looked down at where they rested on his bent knees and saw that they were shaking. Jason cursed and made two tight firsts. It wouldn't do any good to throw up in front of his brothers.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

Damian frowned. "What's wrong with you?" The child demanded. "Batman, what's wrong with him?"

Jason was saved from answering when his com-link buzzed. He listened, then nodded, and began to rise. There was a lot of debris, and he had to clear some of the smaller pieces before even attempting to lift the big one that held Dick. With Damian's help and through gritted teeth, the eldest pushed himself out of the rubble while Jason held the largest piece of fallen wall. He let it drop seconds after Dick was clear.

"There's a grappling hook hanging about thirty steps in that direction," he told them, helping Dick up and slinging one of his arms around his shoulders so that his brother could lean most of his weight on him. "Kid, you're going first. Red Robin and Batman should meet you topside. Once you're up, make sure that line's still secure and attach this one," he handed Damian the second grappling hook, "to the same pole. I think that opening is wide enough for us to try and go up together."

He watched the boy ascend, careful not to disturb any of the extremely unstable structure, and breathed a sigh of relief when he made out the silhouettes of Bruce and Tim helping him up. A moments later, two lines were being lowered back down. Jason caught them and held on to one while he handed the second to Dick.

"Let's go."

It was more than a little awkward making their way up slowly. Dick held onto the grappling hook, but Jason still had one hand wrapped around his waist. He wasn't about to take the chance that the other man's strength wouldn't hold out. The light from above was getting more and more prominent, but just as they made the half-way point, the whole structure shook. Jason cursed, holding on tighter, and waited for the swinging in their lines to stabilize a bit. Then he looked up. Both lines were still well in tact, but they had been thrown back down at least a meter. That could only mean one thing: the lines were holding, but the column wasn't.

"New plan," he gasped. "You're going alone and you're going first. Think you can hold on?"

Dick nodded, though he clearly didn't like this idea. Jason released him and immediately let go of his own line, dropping back down to the ground. It was a hard landing but not too painful. When Dick was almost to the top, he reached for the abandoned line, anxious to get back up as soon as his brother was clear. Jason never got the chance.

He didn't have time to think, didn't have time to check if Dick had made it, as the ground shook again. A rain of soil and cement descended down on him, and Jason had just enough instinct left to run for cover under a fallen, but solid-looking piece of wall. All the while, all he could think was, Not again!

He opened his eyes to complete darkness. The shaking seemed to have stopped, and he didn't feel injured, but to his utter horror, Jason found himself trapped. Trapped beneath God-knows how many feet of ground within a space so small he could barely curl half-way out of fetal position. Everything that he'd tried to suppress since coming here suddenly washed over him in a flood of terror. There wasn't enough air for it, but Jason's mind was beyond such reasoning.

He screamed.

"Dad!"

It kept Bruce up many times when he was trying to get what little sleep he could. The images of Jason waking up in that coffin, digging his way out, all the while wondering where he was, why he wasn't there with him. He was there this time, and it made Bruce realize that what he imagined paled in comparison to reality.

It didn't take long for them to reach him, but he didn't think Jason knew that. He didn't think he was aware of much beyond his own terror. The young man just kept sobbing and screaming, every muscle in his body locked tight with tension. Seeing him like that made Bruce feel like he'd just been stabbed in the gut. Tim and Damian stood by Dick, and he could tell they were distressed to see their brother in such a state.

When all five of them were finally at street level and far enough away from the collapsed station, he made a motion for the other three to get back, and lowered to the pavement, cradling Jason's body against his low.

"Breath," he commanded. "The air is not going to run out."

"Dad..."

"Yes, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Take a deep breath, son."

Somewhere in the reaches of his lost mind, he must have heard him because after a few short gasps, Jason began to breath somewhat normally again. Bruce pulled off his right glove and pressed a cool palm to Jason's forehead. The flesh to flesh contact seemed to relax him a bit, though his death-grip on Bruce's cape didn't loosen. The man had to maneuver to reach for the sedative in his utility belt. He would be waking up in a panic later, Bruce knew, but there was no reason not to give him some relief from the horrors now.

"Relax," he whispered. "It's going to be okay."

He heard someone coming behind him and glanced away from Jason only for a second. Gordon was approaching, and Bruce didn't need to look to see how grim his friend was. Whether or not the G.C.P.D. knew anything about Jason's real identity was questionable, but they knew the Red Hood was a criminal.

"Batman..." The commissioner began, but he cut him off.

"Jim, please," His tone was sad but even. "He won't cause you any more trouble, I promise. Please let me take my boy home."

There was an intake of breath behind him, but out of his peripheral vision, he could see the older man nodding. "I was just going to suggest that."

No matter how many times he did it, it was a daunting task coming home with one or several of his sons in need of medical attention. Dick's leg needed to be set in a cast, and when the initial light dose had worn off, Jason had woken screaming and had to be sedated again. He and Alfred worked side by side at the two medical beds, while Tim helped Damian clean up his own cuts. The air in the cave was grim at best.

"How bad do you think it is?" he heard the boy ask.

"I don't know," Tim replied. "After what he went through the first time, I can't even imagine... I should have gone with him."

"If you had, I might not have reached them in time," Bruce said. He didn't need the teen to feel guilty about this, even though he was sure he would anyway. "He'll be alright."

Tim's expression clearly screamed, "Yeah? In what universe?" but it was Dick who spoke.

"Bruce." He pushed himself up slightly on the other table where Alfred was still tending to his leg. "I hate to say this, because I know you're right and we can't force him, but something has to be done. You told Gordon he wouldn't be a problem anymore, but this is exactly the kind of thing that usually sends him running for the hills and back into trouble. He's not okay."

"You think I don't know that!" But he instantly regretted snapping at his eldest.

Dick straightened as much as he could and returned the hard look. They'd known each other for too long for him to cower. "I know you know. I know you beat yourself up for it like everything else because you're you. But it's counterproductive. He doesn't talk to us, Bruce. He bullshits his way through every single conversation or just ignores it. You're the only one he really talk to, so do something. Stop walking on eggshells around him. Make him talk about the bad stuff. It's the only way he'll make any kind of movement forward."

Bruce didn't move. "Are you done?"

"That depends: are you going to do something?"

Alfred raised a brow slightly but said nothing. Tim and Damian exchanged a look, no doubt wondering if their brother was about to need more medical care. Bruce said nothing, his hands resting on the edge of the table where Jason lay, still sedated. Then he was moving, scooping up Jason with no effort, and heading towards the stairs that lead up to the manor.

"I'm taking him to his room," he said without turning. "When he wakes up, we'll talk."

He knew Jason had noticed that the room hadn't changed since he'd last been in it as a teen. Neither had said anything about it. When he adopted Tim, he'd offered him Dick's old room. Not that there weren't others at the manor, but he knew Tim would like that and Dick, who'd thought of him as a brother for years, wouldn't mind. He didn't have the heart to touch Jason's things, and Bruce didn't know if it was out of hope that his wayward son – he'd known for a few short weeks then that he was alive – would come back or if he just couldn't let him go. Considering he hadn't touched the room in in all those years, it was probably the later.

It was a little breezy inside with the open window, but still warmer than the cave. Bruce gently placed his son down on the bed, removed his boots, and hung the leather jacket on a chair. He brushed back a few strands that had fallen into Jason's eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. Asleep like this he looked almost peaceful, save for the slight crease that refused to leave his brow. Bruce only wished he could find a little of that peace when he was awake.

Jason didn't remember much after the cave-in, and what he did remember was broken into a million disjoint peaces. Some were obviously from the past – the Joker, dying, waking up in the coffin – while others he knew had just happened. He remembered crying, but this time his father had come for him. This time he made it.

It didn't stop the nightmare though. He didn't know how many times the it repeated, but he had vague memories of Bruce holding him in the street, then waking up screaming and soaked in sweat in his room at the manor. He barely made it to the bathroom before emptying what little was in his stomach into the toilet. It was another set of long minutes of dry heaving and sobbing with his hand clenched in Bruce's shirt, before he finally regained enough strength to let his father lead him back to bed.

Through all this he payed no attention to anything beyond his immediate surroundings, but when Jason finally awoke for real, his head more or less clear, and found that Bruce was not there, he braved a trip down Wayne Manor's massive staircase. As usual, the mansion was mostly quiet in the morning, but when he ventured into the family room, he saw to his horror that all three of his brothers were there, still asleep. Tim was curled up in one of the massive lazy boy chairs, while Dick lay on the couch, right leg hanging off the edge while the injured left, now encased in a cast, was supported by an extra cushion. Damian was using his big brother as a mattress, no room for pride in his sleep.

Jason was incensed.

"The fuck are you three doing here?"

Tim shot up and was on his feet in seconds, while Damian rather gracelessly hit the floor when his resting place was jolted awake, but the boy bounced back quickly. Dick winced as he pushed himself up and blinked at Jason.

"Hey..."

They'd spent the whole night here, Jason realized. There was a good reason he never slept over if even one of them was there. No matter what anyone knew or suspected, Jason never wanted them to witness the night terrors. To know that they must have heard one of the worst yet... He felt vaguely ill again and had to force the bile back down.

"What the hell?"

In response he was bombarded with several variations of "Are you okay?" from Dick and Tim and a "We live here!" from Damian. Dick made a very Bruce-like motion for the other two to be quiet. He reached for the crutches that were resting against the couch and rose with a little effort.

"Jason," his brother said calmly, something in his tone attempting to sooth. "We're worried about you. You suffered a terrible trauma, but it's not your fault. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Oh, God, they really had heard everything!

"I saved your miserable life," he hissed, low and dangerous, "and this is the thanks I get? Pity? You can shove it up your ass, Grayson! I hate your fucking guts."

The look of shock then hurt on his brother's face almost made him take it all back. The two younger ones looked mildly horrified at the harsh, bitter words. A hand fell on his shoulder, and Jason spun to face Bruce who must have been drawn buy his yelling. He didn't look angry, just sad and exhausted, but glanced past him for a moment.

"Dick."

"Yeah," the eldest apparently got the unspoken request. "Come on, guys."

That just made Jason angrier. "Don't leave on my account," he spat. "Far be it from me to make you move in your own house."

He pushed past Bruce and began to make his way towards the front door in long strides. How stupid was he to think that he could just come back here as if nothing had ever happened? As if nothing was ever wrong between him and Bruce and he and Dick had always been the best of friends. As if he hadn't died... Maybe it would have been better if he'd stayed dead. At least then he wouldn't have to see their pity.

Bruce intercepted him when he was almost at the door, blocking his way.

"Please do me a favor and go upstairs," he said. Jason snorted in derision. "I know you're a grown man, and this must feel like I'm sending you to your room, but I want us to talk, openly and honestly, but only if you're in a state where you'll listen and actually hear me. I think you need a little more space and rest, but I want your word that you won't leave until we talk. Fair?"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" He realized how close he sounded to whining but was too tired to care.

"I can't." Bruce shook his head. "You're not just asking me to give you space; you're asking me to give up on you. I won't do that."

Some of the anger left him with those words. Jason's shoulders sagged a little, and he felt overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden, unsustained by the outrage and fury that had filled him seconds before.

"I wish you'd taken me back to my apartment," he said quietly.

"I took you home," Bruce's tone was just as hushed. "I can't help you in that place."

"And them being here? That's not helping!" He must have known how much Jason would hate it. "They could have gone to the Tower, Dick's apartment, a million other places."

"They refused. They're your brothers, Jason. They're worried about you."

"I don't need their pity. I don't want it!"

"It's not pity." Bruce placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "It's something that you have a hard time understanding, but we'll talk about it. After you've rested. Please do this for me, Jason. Not because you have to; because I'm asking you to."

Jason made a face. "You have this guilt trip thing down."

The corner of Bruce's mouth turned slightly. "It's a parent thing. I just haven't had a chance to practice much with you." Jason snorted. "Will you do it?"

He was still in his room hours later – there was no way he was going downstairs again – and doing his best to think of absolutely nothing. Jason was lying atop the covers, hands clasped over his chest, unmoving. He briefly wondered if that's what he'd looked like when they buried him, when Bruce closed the lid, but that thought brought about another wave of nausea, and he quickly got up to at least open the window.

The knock came then. Most likely not Bruce, because he wouldn't have knocked. Jason still didn't feel up for visitors, but he felt guilty enough about his behavior earlier to reply.

"Yeah?"

The door opened slowly. He both hoped and dreaded that it might be Dick, but instead it was Tim who poked his head through. "Can I come in?"

Jason nodded once. At least the teen didn't make him feel quite so anxious. Tim entered, pushing the door closed behind him, but it didn't click shut. Jason wondered if he should ask him to do that, but the teen spoke before he had a chance.

"I wanted to say thanks. For getting to Dick and Damian."

"Yeah," Jason said somewhat absently.

"Are you staying?" Tim asked, apparently unable to do the whole small-talk thing.

"Kid," Jason ran a hand over his face. "I... I don't know."

"Okay." To his surprise, the teen nodded. "'I don't know' is better than 'no'."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You're a glutton for punishment, Timmy."

"I'm really not. I just... I like having a partner again." Jason looked up at him. "Dick and Damian are off doing their thing, and yeah, I work with Bruce sometimes, but he's pretty busy with Batman Inc.. I don't mind going at it alone, but it's nice having someone else out there."

Ouch! Guilt trip, take two. "I'm a really lousy choice, kiddo. Just ask the old man."

"Are you kidding?" Tim looked honestly surprised. "After what you went through for Dick and Damian, I'm pretty sure there's no one I'd rather have watching my back."

Jason could think of a few people, but he didn't say it. "Thanks, kid. Guess if I had to come back from the dead and find a little brother I never knew I had usurped my place, it could have been worse than you."

"Could have been Damian," Tim asserted without missing a beat. Both laughed.

"I heard that!" The child in question pushed his way into the room through the still-ajar door. Tim might have been content to remain leaning on the wall next to it, but Damian was not nearly as passive. He strode directly up to Jason, then climbed onto the bed next to him. The young man was amused by the bold move.

"You're a hypocrite, Todd."

"What?" He was too surprised to be offended.

"I said you're a hypocrite." The boy repeated, glaring. "You berated me for telling Father I hated him, but you said the same thing to Dick."

"That's different." Jason returned the glared. "You should never tell your dad you hate him."

"He knows I don't mean it."

"It doesn't matter. You never know when or even if you'll get a chance to apologize, especially with our line of work, so you should never say it."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Tim grinning. It was a 'Gotchya!' grin, either because he'd said 'our' or because he could guess what Damian was about to counter with. The boy didn't disappoint. Give him credit, but he was smart and persistent.

"And this is different how exactly? Because he's your brother, not father? Or because you really meant it and you do hate him?"

Jason cursed silently and looked to Tim for help, but the teenager just shrugged as if to say, "He's got a point." He supposed he walked into that one and sighed.

"No, Damian, I don't hate him. You're right: I shouldn't have said it."

"Good." The boy nodded sagely. "Now you can go and apologize. You don't want to be a bad example, do you?"

So freakin' creepy. Jason thought as he headed down the hall. Manipulative little brat. It was downright creepy how much that kid reminded him of himself. Hadn't he just used that same tactic on Dick just a day ago? Maybe it was an instinctive little brother thing...

The door to Dick's room was open, so all he had to do was knock on the frame. The older man looked up from the laptop that was resting on the bed in front of him. He didn't look angry, but Jason detected a sort of even coolness in his expression. Usually talkative, Dick didn't speak, apparently waiting for him to announce why he was there.

"So I've been guilted by the little birds into apologizing," he said without preamble. His brother's expression didn't waver, and he sighed and dropped the facade. "Sorry, man. I really didn't mean it. The only thing I have in my defense is an insanity plea, 'cause... you know I'm pretty fucked in the head."

"Jay," Dick closed the lid of his computer. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you have a pretty bad case of post traumatic stress. And at the risk of getting cursed out again, it's really not your fault. You know I'm more than willing to let you have it when I think you deserve it, but it really isn't."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Everyone might have a point." His brother shifted on the bed to put the broken leg in a more comfortable position. "Look, I'm not saying none of it's on you. There's a hell of a lot of stuff I think you screwed up, but so did we. Me and Bruce especially. When you came in, we were having a massive pissing contest, and you kind of got caught in the crossfire. And then you... you were murdered, and we never really got a chance to be brothers."

Jason sighed and closed the door behind him. The bed sagged as he sat down next to Dick, hands hanging in his lap. "You would have been a good big brother, I think."

"I still can be."

"Yeah."

"You gonna talk to Bruce?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Good. He loves you, you know."

"I know."

"We all love you. Even when you're a pain in the ass, we still love you."

"Why does that feel rehearsed?"

"Because I say the same thing to Damian on a daily basis."

"Oh, so that's why you really want me here! The little demon's all on you, man. I told you before I'm not trading Robins."

"Not even on a temporarily basis?"

"Timmy's one of the sanest people here. You think I'm giving that up?"

"Can't blame a me for trying."

"I guess not. 'Sides, you're the only one who can keep that little monster on a leash."

"Hey, Damian's not a bad kid once you get to know him. Hang around and you'll see."

"Maybe..."

"Jason..."

"What?"

"You're stalling. Go talk to Bruce."

He didn't have to look for his father. When he returned to his room, Jason found that both of his younger brothers were, and Bruce was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was something in his hands, a piece of paper rolled up into a tight cylinder. Jason didn't know what it was, but he could tell by the tattered edges that it must have been pretty old. Bruce must have seen him enter, but he didn't look up. In fact it was Jason who had to look down now. It felt odd; he'd always had to look up to see Bruce.

"I think... I know I would do it differently if I had a second chance." The older man mused. "With you especially, but probably even with Dick. I would teach my sons that being a man isn't about being tougher than someone else. It's about caring, always about caring. I know you care about your brothers. You knew the risk of going down to those tunnels and you went anyway."

"I..." He hadn't really thought about it. "I didn't have a choice."

Bruce smiled slightly. "There's always a choice. You chose to help."

"An instinct instilled in me at an early age." Jason quipped.

"Maybe, but I obviously didn't teach you everything," Bruce finally looked up at him. "Why is it that you can risk life and sanity to help them, but they're not allowed to be there for you?"

Jason was at a loose. He was too tired and too surprised by the question to be angry. "I..."

"I know you have a hard time understanding this concept, but the people who care for you, love you, they also worry about you. It can't be helped. It goes hand in hand. That's not the same as pity."

"It's fucking humiliating!" He finally found enough voice to protest. "For God's sake, the ten-year-old doesn't wake up screaming and crying the middle of the night!"

"Yes," Bruce pushed himself up. "He does. Damian cries for his mother, because she turned him away for choosing a life here. He thinks she doesn't love him; I think she doesn't know how to show it. Tim sometimes cries for his parents, his friends. So does Dick, and he cries for a life with the woman he loves but who thinks she's too badly broken. Demons, Jason; we all have them. Some are worse than others, but all are better fought together."

He looked down at the papers in his hand and slowly unrolled them. "I wanted to show this to you before, but you... you were out of reach."

Bruce held the sheets out to him, and Jason took them with some apprehension. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. They were old, but there was no doubt about what they were.

"Adoption papers?" He looked up at Bruce knowing that disbelief must have been written all over his face. "These are from... from before I died."

The older man nodded. "I had them drawn up for a while, but... I don't know what this means to you now – I know you're a grown man – but I want you to know that while I have regrets about both of our actions during your tenure as Robin, I never, not for one moment, regretted taking you in."

"What it means to me..." Jason had no words. He wanted to cry, but a good kind of cry. "Dad, it means everything! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Bruce sighed a little and gave him a small smile. "I'm not good with words. It was an odd time, legally speaking. Somewhere between Dick and Tim the laws regarding wardship and adoption were changing. Then the issue with your biological mother came up... I didn't know what you would have wanted..."

"Here!" He blurted without a second thought. "I wanted... I want to be here. With you. You... you've always been dad."

His father was smiling in earnest now. Hell, he was practically grinning! "You know, I really like hearing that."

And suddenly Jason found himself pulled into a hug, warm and loving. Nothing in his life had ever felt so good. When he finally pulled back and placed both hands on his shoulders, Bruce was all determination.

"We'll make it happen." He promised. "If that's what you want."

"It is, but... legally? I've been dead!"

"You've been... away." No one else would have believed it, but there was definite mischief in Batman's eyes. "And things get lost in legal overturns, especially old-fashioned paperwork."

Jason laughed. "Why do I get the feeling Babs is about to get a call?"

Bruce chuckled, but his face turned quickly serious once more. "Last question: your name."

"Jason Wayne." The young man declared without hesitation. "Unless... unless you object..."

"No, never, but you do have a choice. Tim concatenated his parents' name with mine."

"That's different." Jason shook his head. "He had parents. Him and Dick both. I... Willis was no kind of father, and don't even get me started on Sheila Haywood."

"What about Catherine Todd?" Bruce asked gently. "She might not have been your biological mother, but..."

"I'll remember her," Jason replied grimly. "But I... I need a fresh start."

"Then you'll stay?" There was hope, but still some uncertain in his father's question and visible relief on his face when he nodded. "Good. It'll be different this time. I swear."

I know. Jason thought proudly when Bruce squeezed his shoulder and left to call Barbara. I have a big name to live up to.