Chapter Text
Screams rang out as sirens– screams and manic laughter. Black cloak swept along the scuff-marked tiles stained with blood splatters. Orange jumpsuit slammed against him, knife slicing at the dark figure. He parried it with ease, retaliating with a single strike to the throat.
The man went down, hitting the ground with a thud. The Batman stepped over him without a second thought, walking silently through the hall. Another orange clad figure stood at the end of the hall. He stopped dead, staring ahead before starting to sprint- no, limp away. The dark Knight gave chase, catching up to him easily.
He grabbed the figure, pinning them to the ground. Just as he was about to strike, the figure raised their arms to defend their face.
And he stopped dead. Fist hovering just above their face.
“Jason?” He whispered, that gruff tone that so often accompanied it cracked, breaking open into something soft and gentle, just barely heard above the fighting in the background.
The flickering lights caught the outline of a scar. Of many scars and a few deep wounds, festering and some that ooked very fresh. They spread across his face like spiderwebs, a particularly deep one across his nose and chin. Not to mention that pink burn mark, curling in the shape of a ‘J.’
“Bruce?” He whispered, lowering his arms. His muscles were almost nonexistent. Bones showing beneath his bloodstained and filthy skin. The uniform hung off of him, loose and tattered with stains to match those of his arms and face. There were tears tracks on his face that washed away the dirt, pale areas cleaner than any other part of his body. Especially his hair. Hair that was one overgrown clump of grease and blood, matts upon matts tangled up in it. He still looked so young, still a teenager. Still a boy. Just a boy with a twisted ankle and hunched shoulders. He grunted in pain whenever he shifted.
Batman backed away, staring at the boy in front of him.
“My God… you can’t-“
“What? Be here?” Jason barked out, laughing mirthlessly as he wheezed through broken ribs. “You never even bothered to look. Did you?! World's greatest detective my ass. You just didn’t care!” He shouted.
“You can’t be alive.” Bruce whispered, still staring at Jason as he tried and failed to steel himself into something stoic.
“You– what? What do you mean I can’t be alive?”
“He sent videos. Of you and he shot you. He sent me the bullet, still covered in blood. I buried an empty casket.” Bruce confessed, voice quiet and stilted as he kept backing away, eyes never once leaving Jason. Jason. The boy who was here in front of him. Jason. Alive.
“I don’t believe you. You’re lying!” He snarled, spit flew from his lips and drool slipped down his chin.
“Jason… I missed you. I can help you now. Just come home.” Bruce still spoke gently, struggling to push a single word off of his tongue.
“Fuck you!” He snapped, throwing a punch at Bruce.
A punch he caught easily. He twisted his arm, Jason crying out in pain, and then slammed his hand against the back of his neck.
Jason slumped forwards, eyes closed as he fell into Bruce’s arms. Bruce cradled him close, lifting him easily. He weighed next to nothing, and was far too light for someone his age and height. Bruce whispered an apology to him as he carried him and turned down the halls, walking back the way he came, still cradling Jason against his chest. He held his head, at first attempting to run his fingers through his hair but quickly stopped when they kept getting caught.
The Arkham chime came over the crackling intercom just as he stepped outside. The cool night air gracing his skin.
Jason started to shiver, still asleep in Bruce’s arms. He hugged him closer, grass crunching beneath his feet.
The moon reflected off the sleek black of the batmobile. Bruce carefully set Jason down next to it. He opened the passenger door and lifted him, placing him into the seat. He then moved to the driver's side, sitting down beside him. Doors shut, lowering from the top down at the press of a button. Black tinted windows hid him as he reached up and tugged off the cowl. It came off in his hand and he dropped it in his lap.
He buried his head in his hands, and shut his eyes tight as he fought back tears, a fight he had rarely come so close to losing. A fight he had only lost once since he was a child.
After a minute, he raised his head and let out a deep, elongated sigh.
A voice then rang out throughout the batmobile.
“Master Bruce. How goes the search for Joker?” Alfred inquired, an image of him being projected on a screen on the dashboard.
“It… The riot turned up some complications.” Bruce confessed.
“I see. Well it always does, doesn’t it?” Alfred replied with a wry smile.
He tried to open his mouth, to say something, anything. But all he could do was press his hand against his eyes, closing them for a moment.
“Master Bruce? What is it?” Alfred asked.
“It’s him. I found him.”
“Joker? I do hope so, sir.”
“No.” Was all Bruce said, shaking his head. “I have to go back in there. Stop this madness. Watch the car for me. Make sure no one gets near it. I can’t lose him again.” He hung up before Alfred could say anything more, and buried his head in his hands.
It took him almost a full five minutes to gather his wits. Five minutes of holding his head and sitting in silence, listening to the irregular breathing of the boy he lost so long ago next to him. The sucking in of breath, the careful way Bruce adjusted him as he grimaced in his sleep. Even unconscious he could see he felt no peace.
He pulled out a med kit and ever so carefully cleaned the wounds, trying not to aggravate the ones that were red and inflamed, or even worse, the ones yellow and swollen. In no time at all, the alcoholic wipe was completely black and had made no difference at all.
“I will be back. I won’t let him take you away from me again.” Bruce promised, pushing Jason’s hair away from his face and leaving the car.
The moonlight washed over Arkham, plants dancing across the lawn as the soundtrack of screams and manic laughter welcomed him towards the looming silhouette of the manor.
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A rumble echoed throughout the cave, car skidding to a stop. Burning rubber wafted on the air which fell silent as the rumble stopped. The doors swung open, opening upwards.
Batman stepped out, walking to the passengers side. He undid the seatbelt and carefully picked up the figure draped in his cloak. The black cloak surrounded them, hiding them from the fluorescent lights and blue neons that ran along the ground and cast shadows across every blinking surface.
“Alfred! Prep a medical area!” Bruce called out, cowl dangling off the back of his suit and resting against his spine.
“Right away sir.” Alfred responded from where he was sat at the large monitors. He rose from the oversized chair and walked down the small set of stairs, footsteps clanging against metal and fibreglass.
He pulled up a bed, setting up an IV pole next to it. Bruce walked straight up to the bed and gently lay the shivering and tiny figure down. He slowly pulled off the cloak, replacing it with a blanket as he went. Several blankets in fact.
Alfred paused, staring at the figure tucked up on the bed. “Sir.” Was all he said, hand hovering over the IV needle.
Bruce said nothing, holding onto Jason’s hand. He wouldn’t let go. Not this time. He couldn’t even bring himself to explain the situation. He was tired and hurting, physically and something far beyond. It was an ache that reawakened his soul. A pain so deep it burned him from the inside out and left him barely able to stand, and yet, an unexpected joy too. With fingers on Jason’s wrist, he felt the pulse. The albeit weak, but still there pulse beneath his fingertips. A pulse which meant a chance. A hope. Something he wasn’t sure he knew the definition of any more.
“He needs a hospital. I can’t possibly treat his wounds here.” Alfred finally managed to say, hands trembling as he still clutched onto the needle.
“I know. But I won’t do that. Not to him.” Bruce whispered. “I found him in Arkham. A mental hospital. And he confessed on the drive over that when it looked like he might die, Joker would bring in doctors to save him. I won’t let anyone take him away from me ever again.” His voice was fierce and tone dangerous as red tinted eyes locked onto Alfred’s.
“Very well sir. I’ll call Leslie as soon as I can but you should go get some rest. It has been a very long night.” Alfred said as he hooked up a line to the drip, looking at the sterile needle.
“No. I am not leaving him alone.” Bruce protested.
Alfred carefully put the needle into Jason’s arm, trying his best to avoid any cuts or bruises. A feat that was nigh impossible to achieve.
“Then at least grab a chair. You can't stand there all evening, now can you?” He said, raising an eyebrow at him.
Bruce sighed and nodded, letting go of Jason’s hand to go and grab a chair.
As he did, the cave filled with the rumble of an engine once more. This one was not accompanied by the squeal of tires, but instead by a click. The black and blue motorcycle came to a stop next to the batmobile. A figure clad in the same colours swung their leg off of it, flicking the kickstand. He tugged off the black helmet, resting it on the handlebars and gave a big grin to Alfred.
“Heard about your Arkham troubles. Figured I’d patrol Gotham while the big guy took care of it.” Nightwing said with a laugh, peeling off the black domino mask.
“I thank you for that, but you could have at least informed me.” Alfred scorned, frowning at him.
“Yeah you’re right. But I thought you had enough on your plate. So how is he? I’m guessing things went pretty badly then.” He said, nodding towards the hospital bed.
“No Master Dick. Things went very well for Bruce. Some minor cuts and bruises, but nothing that requires specialist treatment. That is for a very different reason altogether.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He sauntered over to the bed, a smile on his face. A smile which fell almost immediately. “What is this?” He whispered, dropping the blanket he had lifted.
Alfred opened his mouth to respond before closing it and pressing his lips into a line.
“No, no no no, this has to be a joke. This has to be. He can’t— he can’t be here.” Dick muttered, dropping to his knees. He grabbed Jason’s hand tightly, pressing his forehead against it. “I’m hallucinating aren’t I? I got hit in the head too hard and now I’m seeing things. It can’t be him.” He spoke through sobs.
“As far as I can tell, it is. I have yet to run any tests, but evidence suggests that it is. Joker held him in a secret cell under the asylum this entire time. He was alive, this whole time. I found him trying to escape in the chaos of the riots.” Bruce said, voice loud and carrying throughout the cave as he approached. He carried a folding chair with him, much to Alfred’s disapproval.
“God… thank god you found him Bruce. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t.” Grayson said, lifting his head to look at Jason. “Look at him. He’s so small. He shouldn’t be this small. I’m not leaving until he eats his entire weight and more in pizza.” He let go of his hand, walking away as Alfred advised against the pizza plan. The soft whir of the cave entrance opening could be heard.
The chair made a soft tink as Bruce set it down and unfolded it. He then sat down in it, grabbing the hand Dick had let go of.
Moments later Dick returned. He had a wet cloth in his hand. He carefully started to wipe away some of the dirt. As much as he could anyway without hurting Jason.
“Look at him. This is all my fault.” Bruce said, pushing Jason’s hair away from his forehead.
“Don’t. Don’t say that. This is no one but the Joker’s fault. He’s the one who took Jason. He’s the one who hurt him. This is all on him.” Dick said.
”Please, please don’t hurt me again, please, no more.” Jason whispered, head rolling to the side, eyes still shut tight.
“Shh it’s okay. It’s okay son. He isn’t here. You’re safe. You’re home, Jason. You’re home.” Bruce whispered, voice low and gentle as he rubbed circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. That pain in his chest tripled, something he hadn’t even thought possible until now. The guilt hit like a tidal wave, dragging him down with it as Bruce heard the pleas.
Jason went still after about a full minute and a half of reassurances, shifting to be on his side.
“That’s good. That’s good. Whatever makes you comfortable, son.” Bruce said with a small smile, despite knowing that Jason wouldn’t see it.
“Bruce! His back! It’s… It’s bleeding. Badly. Alfred! Quickly!” Dick yelled, waving Alfred over.
He hung up the phone and sprinted over, looking at where the blood was starting to seep through the orange and brown material. He grabbed a pair of fabric scissors, slicing the back open. There were multiple whip marks and cuts from a blade that had reopened. Including parts where the skin had been completely shredded, some snapped off sections of barbed wire still embedded in the skin.
“Hold him still. I need to disinfect and stitch the wounds.” Alfred instructed.
Bruce had leapt to his feet as soon as Dick shouted his name. Now he grabbed Jason, holding him steady and on his side.
“What of the foreign objects? Can you get them out?” He asked.
“I’m not sure. I’m not confident I can, not without tearing the skin further. I called Leslie and she said she’s on her way.” Alfred said, pulling out a bottle of iodine. He poured it onto a cloth, and started to dab.
A scream erupted from Jason’s throat, eyes snapping open. He started to try and thrash, Dick and Bruce holding him still.
“Don’t! Don’t you dare fucking touch me again!” Jason shouted as Alfred continued. “Oh come on, aren’t you at least going to laugh? You fucking psychopath!”
“Shh Jay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’d never hurt you on purpose. Alfred is just tending to your wounds, okay?” Bruce said gently.
“Alfred? Why is he here? Is he in on this too?” Jason whispered, staring up at Bruce with wide eyes brimmed with tears.
“Hey little-wing, it’s okay. You’re okay. Alfred would never hurt you. You know this. You’re safe.” Dick said with a warm smile, looking down at Jason.
And Jason just laughed. Cold and mirthless. “Safe? I’m not safe! He’ll be back any second! And you’re gonna let him right back in!” He shouted, snapping his head towards Bruce. He started to scream a string of curses at him, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His skull hit the pillow and his body stopped shaking.
“What happened? What did you just do?” Bruce asked Alfred, voice raised slightly.
“I assure you Master Bruce, I have done nothing. It’s likely that his body is too weak to handle this much pain and anger and he has simply exhausted himself.” Alfred replied, voice calm and even.
“I am done with the iodine. But not the stitches. I couldn’t safely do them whilst he was thrashing about.” He then lifted a needle and started to stitch the skin together.
Bruce and Dick sat next to him, neither one letting go of Jason as Alfred worked as carefully as possible. Almost half an hour later, Leslie turned up.
“Out of the way. I need to examine him.” She said from behind them, walking up to the bed. She then paused, staring at Jason. “You didn’t tell me it was this bad. He needs a hospital.”
“No. No hospitals.” Bruce replied gruffly, grip tightening on Jason’s hand.
“And why not? I can treat him there far easier than I can here.” She glared at Bruce.
“I found him in Arkham. Imagine what that would do to him if he woke up inside a hospital.” Bruce countered, matching the glare.
They continued the staring contest for a moment, eyes locked with one another, before Leslie conceded. “Fine. I’ll help him here. But you have to give me space.”
Both Bruce and Dick reluctantly backed up, leaving Jason and Leslie alone. They returned to the large computer, looking at the screens.
In bold lettering were the words, “match confirmed.” With an image of Jason as Robin.
Dick ran his hand through his hair, laughing softly. “I can’t believe this. I knew it was him but to really know? This is just… God Bruce. And he was there the whole time? Almost three years. With Him.” His laugh was mirthless as he spun on his heels. “Wait. What about Tim? What’re we gonna do about him?”
“Hm.” Bruce frowned, glaring at the screen. “Perhaps Barbra can keep him occupied. I have a case for him to work on. So long as we can keep him away until we can assess Jason’s mind-frame.”
Dick sighed and shook his head. “You should just tell him as soon as you can. Jason deserves to know the truth. But for now, I guess I’ll call Babs.”
Bruce nodded.
“You do that. I’ll go see what’s going on with Leslie and Jason.”
“Okay just don’t interfere. She’s the doctor. She knows better than you do, Bruce.” Dick called over his shoulder as he started typing on the computer.
Bruce walked away from him and back to Leslie. She was scrubbed up, carefully pulling barbs from his skin, and apologising under her breath as she went.
“How’s he looking doc? Do you have a report for me?” He asked, arms crossed.
“Not good. I’ve identified at least thirteen broken bones so far. And that’s without an X-Ray. Not to mention the fact that his muscles have atrophied and the ligaments in his upper back are torn and damaged. There are also several wounds that have become infected. I’m starting him on a round of antibiotics as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not doing this for you. He was just a child, Bruce. He never should have been involved in this in the first place.” She said, throwing a barb onto a tray. It clattered, the sound ringing out on the last word.
“I know.” Bruce sank into the chair, fingers pressed into his forehead as he shut his eyes. “I thought I was helping him but I’m not so sure now. What if he never met me? I thought I could save him from a life on the streets, instead I just handed him to a psychopath.”
Leslie said nothing, just continued to silently treat his wounds. Neither Bruce nor Leslie said anything for hours.
Jason opened his eyes, looking over at Leslie.
”Leslie? Did he take you too?”
Leslie smiled sadly and shook her head, grey hair falling in her eyes.
“No, Jason. The joker isn’t here anymore.”
”Not him. Batman.”
Bruce shot upright, looking at Leslie. She slightly shook her head, holding her hand out to Bruce, smiling sadly at Jason. “What do you mean by that Jason?”
”Batman. It’s all his fault. He gave me over to the joker.” He shifted, trying to sit up. But Leslie quickly stopped him, pushing him back down. ”I shot him. I killed him but he keeps coming back.”
Dick and Alfred had joined Bruce, standing behind him as he held a hand to his chin, as if merely observing Jason.
“Why did you shoot Batman, Jason?” Leslie asked calmly.
”Joker made me. He put a gun in my hand and I shot Batman. Killed him. Then I saw him in Arkham. He came back. He came back and I’ll kill him again. I have to.”
“You have to? What do you mean by that? Why?”
”Because it’s all his fault! There are two people in this world that ruined my life. One is a stupid fucking clown and the other is the worlds greatest fucking detective! He never even looked for me, cause he wanted me there! Under Arkham! Why do you think he replaced me so easily? He wanted to! He wanted me gone!” Jason shouted, trying to bolt upright, with Leslie again preventing him.
Both Bruce and Dick suppressed a gasp, Jason’s words like a shotgun to Bruce’s chest. Did he really think he never cared, that he actually wanted to get rid of him?
“I see. If Batman wanted to get rid of you, then why would he bring you here? Why would he rescue you from Arkham?”
”So he can torture me himself?” He phrased it like a question, but there was a certainty and finality to his tone.
“God Jason, no. No. I would never hurt you.” Bruce said, sitting forwards, reaching out for him.
“Oh fuck off old man! This is all your fucking fault!” Jason snapped, surging forwards.
Leslie grabbed him, holding him back.\“Bruce. You need to go. Give Jason at least a week alone to adjust.” She said, turning a glare towards Bruce.
Jason fell back into Leslie’s arms, the strain far too much for him.
Bruce did not rise from his chair, muscle in his jaw twinging as he gritted his teeth.
“I will remain here with him, Master Bruce. He shall be cared for.” Alfred said.
“And I’ll have Babs come down and talk to him.” Dick said, patting Bruce on the shoulder and grinning.
“I also recommend calling in a psychiatrist. He needs professional help. Help I can’t provide. But you must be patient with him. And remember that he may never get better or improve. He is first and foremost a victim.” Leslie said as Bruce finally rose to his feet. He sighed deeply, gaze lingering on Jason. He was reluctant to leave him. Very reluctant. But eventually he acquiesced, studying Jason the entire time he walked away until he physically could not look at him any longer.
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Jason turned his head towards the sound of something scraping the ground. He had shaved his head to get rid of the matts, a thin fuzz growing back in and covering paper thin scars. Pink little spiderwebs on the back of his skull that caught the light when he moved. His legs were folded under the covers of the bed, hand searching for a weapon that had long since been confiscated.
A wheelchair came into view. Barbara smiled at him sadly, repressing a gasp as soon as she saw the scars. Particularly the brand.Her red hair fell across her shoulders as she wheeled herself over to the bed.
“Christ Barbie. The fuck happened to you?” Jason said, eyes scanning her up and down.
“I could ask you the same thing.” She laughed humourlessly. “Joker happened.”
Jason flinched, looking away from her and squeezing his eyes shut. He breathed deeply, trying to shut out the memories pushing at the forefront of his brain. The loudest of which was laughter. Endless deranged laughter that frankly got on his nerves.
“Right. Same here.” He said, waving a hand over his entire body. “But you probably knew that already, huh?”
She smiled again, this time far more genuine. “Yeah. I did. Dick told me. It’s why he asked me to come. And thought I wanted to see you for myself. Which I did. God Jason, I missed you so much.”
He snorted. “Me? Why? Why would you even care about me when there’s plenty of other robins for you to choose from.”
“What do you mean? You’re the only Robin h—“
“—Bullshit!” Jason cut her off, slamming a fist into the bed. “I know about the replacement, okay? Joker would torture me with pictures. That was probably one of the worst parts. All that psychological shit. And knowing then and there that I meant nothing to Batman? That was its own kind of hell.”
“You’re wrong. He lost you. He loved you. He still does.” She said, reaching out to grab his hand.
He ripped it away, glaring at her. “Don’t fucking lie to me. He doesn’t love anything. Especially not me. He just left me there, to rot!”
“He almost killed himself because he lost you.” A voice said from behind them.
At the entrance of the cave stood Tim, arms crossed. He wore an orange hoodie and had his hair cut short.
Jason growled, shooting to his feet and nearly ripping out the IV line in the process. Just the sight of that face before him, here, was enough to nearly throw Jason right back into Arkham. Into that basement. Just him, the photos, and the joker. He was meant to be Robin and all it took was six months for everyone to forget that. Especially this smug shit-stain. Standing there as if he owned the place. Well, he kind of did now, didn’t he? After all, Jason belonged to the Arkham basement and this imposter who stole his life took everything that was his. As he knew would happen.
“Jason! It’s okay! Tim won’t hurt you. And he’s right. He was making careless and stupid mistakes. Throwing himself headfirst into situations he wouldn’t have. In those first few months, he got injured more than he had over his entire vigilante career.” Barbara said, putting a hand on his arm.
“Fuck off! I’ll gut both of you like a fucking fish. Especially you, replacement.” Jason snapped, ripping his arm away. The rage inside was so strong, it possibly could have outdone Bruce’s guilt.
Tim stood up straight and sighed softly. He grabbed the handles of Babs' wheelchair and pushed it along.
“I’m here whenever you need me. No matter what. And you can trust Tim too. He wouldn’t ever hurt you.” Barbara said softly, reaching a hand out for Jason but changing her mind when he snarled at her.
As soon as he heard the whirr of the elevator, he collapsed back onto the bed, a deep sigh, followed by the customary wince. Pain spread through his back and ribs as they were jostled around. The muscles in his shoulders were still torn.
A laugh came to his lips as memories of Alfred and Bruce instructing him on proper posture came to mind. What would they think now? Bruce would definitely kick him to the curb, just another no good street kid that can’t even sit up straight. Alfred, well who knows what he would do?
Jason thought he was the one person in his corner but he allowed him to be replaced. They all let him be forgotten and replaced and left to rot. And he would make sure they all paid.
Hot, sticky blood rolled down his palms. He looked down, noticing the stitches in his palms split.
“Shit.” He muttered, grunting as he rose to his feet. He cried out as sharp pain shot through his ankle. Limping, and dragging the ankle behind him, he moved forwards, to where the needle and thread was.
That’s why he was still in the cave, he decided, Bruce didn’t want anyone to know he’d found his wayward robin. That the little failure Jason Todd isn’t gone. He knows this now, that he was never welcome in the manor. It was all just for public image and now that he’s no longer a charity case, just a broken man, that public image would be ruined. It’s why he’s here after all, to make sure no one else knows Jason Todd is still alive.
His hands shook and equipment clattered to the ground as he swore under his breath, trying to hold the needle still.
“Master Jason, what do you think you’re doing?!” Alfred, in a moment very uncharacteristic for him, exclaimed.
“Go away Alfred. I’m busy.” Jason muttered, hissing as he stuck the needle into the wound.
“No you’re not. Hand it over now, young man.” Alfred scolded, holding out his hand.
“I’m not young anymore! Do you know what a year with Him does?” Jason shouted, cradling his hand and retreating away from Alfred. He couldn’t even say the name. Just hearing it brought back that awful laugh, the laugh that always meant pain worse than he ever could have imagined. A laugh that to a normal human’s was a coyote’s to a wolf’s howl. This twisted facade of what should have been joyous but was more like someone being mauled while high on laughing gas. A laugh that always froze him to his very core, even before he was his captive.
“I do not. You never should have known that either. Now sit down and let me patch you up/” Alfred said and took the needle from him as Jason stared at him. Jason slowly sat down on the bed. “I may not be able to fix the horrors you went through, or everything he did, but I can fix this.” Alfred started to wipe down the wound, eyes locked with Jason’s.
“So that’s why I’m here. Because you want to fix me first before broken, disappointing, disgusting Jason Todd goes anywhere someone might just see him. Don’t want to ruin Bruce’s perfect family image now do we?” Jason sneered. “This is who I am now. Maybe I don’t need fixing.”
“Are you happy with who you are?”
“That’s not- that doesn’t matter now does it. I can’t just change who I am. Who I had to become.”
“Of course not. I don’t expect you to. I just wish I could take away your pain. Even enough so you can sleep at night would be something I would settle for.” Alfred started to stitch the wound. “You are down here merely because you have been kept underground in darkness for a long time. Bringing you up into the mansion would overwhelm you and your body I’m afraid. Tell me, where do you sleep at night and why?
“Okay fine! I can’t sleep lying down because I’ve been standing or sitting for the past whoever the fuck knows?!” Jason yelled, throwing his hands up in the air, much to Alfred’s chagrin.
“Language, Master Jason.” Alfred chided softly. “That is not what I wanted to hear, but do you see my point now? The light and warmth would be a shock to your system. Now. All done. Please do not tear your stitches again.”
Alfred rose to his feet, before planting a kiss on Jason’s forehead before leaving him alone in the dark, only the cirp of the bats and the soft hum of technology to keep him company.