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Jason would later say he was lucky his body knew what it was doing before his mind caught up. Because if he’d been thinking with a clear head, he never would’ve gone to the Manor in the first place, and he definitely wouldn’t have knocked on the door.
A smile ghosted Alfred’s face, “Master Jason.”
Jason swallowed hard, “Is he…”
“He’s downstairs. Should I get him for you?”
No, no, no, his mind screamed. Jason didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.
Alfred nodded, opening the door wider and stepping out of the way, “If you’d like to have a seat in the library.”
Jason nodded once more. He toed his boots off at the door and hung his jacket on the coat rack. You can take the boy out of the Manor, but you can’t take the Manor out of the boy. He slowly padded down the hallway as Alfred disappeared up the stairs.
It wasn’t like it had been long since he’d seen Bruce. In fact, he’d just wrapped up a patrol where he’d run into the man. Although, Jason argued, that wasn’t really Bruce. That was Batman. Even still, despite seeing the man less than five hours before, he hadn’t been to the Manor in a very long time.
The library had been his safe haven as a boy. When he was angry, when he was upset, when he and Bruce had fought. And most importantly when he couldn’t sleep. He remembered countless nights where he’d crept down to curl up on the couch with a book. When he inevitably fell asleep, he always woke to a bookmarked page, a blanket draped over him, and a note written in Bruce’s messy scrawl: Breakfast is on the table.
Jason smiled a bit at the memory.
“Jason?” A voice came from the doorway, making Jason turn around.
Bruce was in a black shirt and black joggers. His hair still stuck up in all directions, a result of tugging the cowl off. Another memory breezed through Jason’s mind, of him and Dick teasing Bruce about his messy hair.
Bruce stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind him. His face was drawn in a troubled expression, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”
Jason shook his head, “No.”
“No what?” Bruce’s voice sounded more urgent as he ran his eyes over his son.
“No, I’m not hurt.”
“Is everything okay?” Bruce repeated
Jason paused.
Technically, yes. Everything was okay. Jason wasn’t sick or injured, at least physically. He’d eaten at least once in the past 24 hours. Technically, everything was fine.
Except it also wasn’t.
“Jay…” Bruce moved closer, his voice gentler than Jason had heard it in years, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Suddenly, Jason felt very young and very foolish, “I—” he rasped, his voice rough with tears, before clearing his throat, “I should go. I didn’t need to come here tonight.”
Jason took a step towards the door and Bruce matched it, “What’s going on, Jay? You’re scaring me.”
Another memory.
“Jason?”
Jason couldn’t breathe. Another panic attack. Mentally, he kicked himself for having one in front of Bruce.
“Jason, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
Jason reached out and grabbed Bruce’s hand.
Jason stared at Bruce’s hands, which hung at his side.
“Jay—”
“Do you hate me?”
Bruce looked bewildered, “What?”
Leave. Leave.
Jason swallowed hard again, “Do you…hate me? What I’ve become?”
Jason could hear the gears turning in Bruce’s head as he stared blankly, “I—No.”
Jason froze.
“God, no. I could never hate you, Jason.” Tears were welling in Bruce’s eyes, and in Jason’s too.
“I know I’m not what you wanted. I know I’m not who you raised me to be.”
Bruce stared at Jason with a bewildered expression that flickered off his face as quickly as it had come, “I love you, son. Always, no matter what. And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, I absolutely will. Whatever you want from me is yours. All you have to do is ask.”
Jason squeezed his eyes shut. The tears were still leaking out, despite his best efforts, and he clenched his fists as if that would help staunch them. The ball of anxiety in his chest was slowly detangling itself.
“Jason?”
Jason said nothing, didn’t open his eyes. But Bruce knew he was listening.
“Can I give you a hug?”
Jason didn’t spare a moment, falling into Bruce’s arms and letting the tears leak from his eyes. Bruce cupped the back of Jason’s head, threading fingers through his curls, and let the other hand wrap around Jason’s broad shoulders, “I’m here, Jay. I’ve got you.”