Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Just my luck.

"Why did I agree to this shit?" Jason huffed, scowling as he peered through the foggy glass of the panels embedded in the door. Rain painted the landscape, adding a faint shadow of neon to the grass and darkening the earth in the spots where it lay bare. It was too heavy to be considered a sprinkle, but too light to easily justify begging out as he now found himself very much wishing to do.

The temperature, at least, wasn't too low, but the longer Jason lingered at the door and observed the scene outside, the deeper a squirm of twitchiness settled into his muscles and the more his stomach felt just a touch unsettled, like someone had tilted it a few degrees on a seesaw.

But a wet nose was gently pushing and snuffling at his hand, and dammit, he'd made a promise.

Any other day this would've been Damian's job, but he'd agreed to head directly to a friend's house for a study group immediately after school, and once Jason had determined this was the real deal and not an unconvincing cover story—the little brat actually had friends beyond Jon Kent and Colin Wilkes—he'd readily agreed to fill in. Jason again found himself wondering why, even as he already knew why: The kid damn well needed a larger—a better—social circle, however much he might object to the idea of having to mingle with folks outside the family and the vigilante world.

Not that Jason could particularly blame him. People were, as a rule, idiots. On this he fully agreed. And family in the Wayne household was more than enough to deal with. Way, way more.

But it was also true that every last one of the Wayne kids had been victim of a stolen childhood to one extent or another, and if there was a chance for Bruce to step up and actually work on repairing some of the damage, well.

Jason couldn't blame that, either.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," he said, scrubbing a hand down his face as Titus continued dancing around the mudroom and bumping Jason's other hand in entreaty. "Wait," he added in a firmer voice, snapping his fingers sharply when a gentle hip check failed to send the message.

Titus complied at once, backpedaling a few steps and politely giving Jason more space to move.

"Good boy," he murmured, though he still felt Titus's eyes following his every movement with laser intensity as he knelt down to lace up his boots and then shrugged into the jacket he'd left hanging on one of the hooks there some time or other. It still felt…strange, sometimes: the little touches that reminded him that he li—well, that he stayed at the Manor pretty often nowadays, though of course he still had his various safehouses around the city and those were always an option if he needed a break.

But he was pretty damned sure that if he did the math, he'd find he was overnighting in Bristol far more than he was overnighting in Park Row.

Jason decidedly did not do the math.

Shoes laced and jacket on but unzipped, he straightened to regard Titus for a moment, head tilted to the side as the dog wriggled in place with pent-up excitement. Jason held the dog's gaze for a good moment. "Biā injā^{[Come here]}," he said at length, and he didn't even have time to gesture before the Great Dane was at his leg like a shot, head already ducked down so Jason could easily clip on the neon-yellow leash that also took up residence in the mudroom.

Jason chuckled, briskly patting a hand against the dog's flank as he attached the leash and checked that it and the collar were secure. "Still just a big puppy, aren't ya?"

"Mind if I tag along, too?"

Speaking of overgrown puppies.…

Jason rolled his eyes, not bothering to look up. "Was wondering when you were gonna stop hovering like a damned stalker."

"Well, you know…figured you were already getting crowded enough, right?"

Jason snorted, straightening at last to find that Grayson was indeed wearing the cheeky grin he'd already been able to detect just from the sound of his voice.

He pressed his lips together at finding that Dick was also wearing a navy scarf and a long dark-heather overcoat.

"Yeah, you were clearly waiting for permission to tag along first."

Dick's smile went a touch more sheepish, but he held his ground, hands jammed into his pockets. "It's rude to keep a guy waiting, right?"

Jason narrowed his eyes a touch. "Missed joke opportunity there, Dickie. I'm disappointed."

Dick snorted himself before loosening his posture a bit, fidgeting. "So—can I…?" He gestured vaguely at the door, and Jason rolled his eyes.

"Get your ass over here, Bird Wonder." He gave a quick jerk of his head towards the door then leaned against the wall, arms and ankles both crossed as he waited for Dick to get his own shoes on.

He wasn't entirely sure he was in the mood for Dick's chattering and smiles and, just, everything, but something in his gut settled a little at the prospect of having more than just Titus's company on the jaunt that loomed ahead of him. Not that Dick needed to know that.

"Ready?" Dick asked, after he'd laced up.

"Humans first, Grayson. Despite all the octopus DNA, they tell me you qualify by this much." He held his forefinger and thumb a half inch apart.

"Great," he replied, grinning again as he yanked open the door, letting in a rush of just slightly brisk air as he crossed the threshold.

Jason blinked, catching himself with a jerky step outwards as his balance suddenly went off-kilter. The fuck? Sinus infection? he absently wondered, giving his head a tiny shake as though the vertigo itself was something he could fling off like raindrops.

"Shit," he grumbled under his breath, "it would be today."

"Jay? You coming?"

"Yeah, hold your horses, Dickhead," he shot back, trying to ignore both the faint concern already tingeing his older brother's tone and the oddly serious expression Titus was now peering up at him with. "Don't you start, too, Fido," he added, directing these words to the canine. "Believe me, Grayson uses the puppy-dog eyes enough for both of you."

With a sigh, he tugged the jacket a little tighter around his shoulders and stepped through the doorway, beckoning the dog forward a half beat later.

He led them away from the vast patio space and on to where Dick was already waiting for them on the grass further out. Jason grimaced internally at the first step of soft, squishy earth beneath his sole. Well, mostly internally, based on Dick's reaction.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes sharply fixed on Jason even as he reached down to pat Titus in greeting, one hand cradling the dog's face and thumbing his ears while the other reached out to draw Jason under the umbrella sooner.

Jason stayed just out of reach. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Dick blinked. "Just asking," he said quickly. He relaxed subtly but visibly—to a Bat's eye, at least—as Jason stepped under the umbrella once satisfied Dick wasn't going to try an interrogation. "So, where to?" he asked brightly.

Jason gave a small grunt and strode off in answer, heading across the vast manicured lawns.

The honest answer was that he had nowhere in particular in mind. Most directions they went in would lead them to woodlands eventually—that or the Drake-Wayne property line—so Jason figured they could decide on next steps once that happened.

Dick didn't seem to object, in any case, easily keeping pace at Jason's left shoulder while Titus stayed glued to Jay's right leg.

Jason wasn't sure how to feel about it. There was something grounding about the heat he could feel radiating off his living furnace of an older brother, and the easy one-sided chatter about this and that made for soothing background noise that helped distract Jay from the way the air seemed thicker than it should have been, settling heavy in his lungs with each breath and lingering there, reluctant to come and reluctant to leave again.

But he worried that if he breathed just a little too loud or forgot to nod every so often in a pretense of listening, he'd be met with more questions again, and he really wasn't up for that any more than he had been a minute ago—not with the faint mosquito buzz of static in his ear and the effort it was taking to get his lungs to work and the way his throat felt swollen and coated with each swallow.

And standing outside the umbrella again was a bluff he would've caved to quicker than Dick would this time.

Hell, stepping out from the umbrella suddenly seemed about as appealing as a bayonet to the kidneys.

Jay shivered.

"You okay, Jaybird?"

"Fuck off, Dickie," he replied, wincing just as quick at the shaky rasp to his voice. And maybe just a little at the actual words. "I'm fine," he added in a mumble, shutting his eyes against the vague fever in his skull and acid churning in his stomach.

"Sure thing," Dick replied, wandering just that little bit closer as they walked on. He said nothing further after that, but Jason didn't miss the side eye from Dick when he stripped off his gloves, trying to compensate for the strange numbness that now coated his fingertips and made the leather suddenly feel too thick and constricting.

Jason shoved the gloves into his pockets and then shoved his hands in after them in a bid to stay warm. He pointedly did not look at the nosey bird next to him.

They at length came to a section where the ground began arcing upwards in a gentle slope, the horizon in front of them cut off. The Manor was no longer in view, only grass and trees as far as their gazes would take them.

Jay felt his knee give out a little as the land began to slope, but played it off, taking it as a good enough moment to take a knee and unhook the carabiner attaching the leash to Titus's collar. He kept his fingers pincered around the collar in its place, bidding Titus calm for a few moments before letting him go with a release command.

He was off just that quickly, leaping and bounding his way up the hill ahead like a big, long-tailed baby deer.

Jay snorted and Dick laughed, something a little misty in his gaze as he watched Titus frolic. "Damian's gonna be happy he still got his afternoon walk on time."

Jason took the opportunity to gather his feet underneath him while Dick's focus was still on the dog. "Yeah. I guess," he said briefly, hoping Dick would also miss the strain still in his voice.

He was pretty sure he caught both, based on the appraising gaze Dick turned on him once Jason was firmly planted on his feet again. Semi-firmly.

Fuck this weird, stupid air.

"Guess it's just you and me now, Little Bro."

And those words sounded like a threat if ever Jay had heard one.

Dick took the opportunity to slip an arm around his shoulders, and Jay almost pulled away at once.

Almost. He needed to figure out what was up with the air first. Or maybe it really was his lungs. And what the fuck was wrong with—

It was at the crest of the hill that Jay saw it. A large expanse of uneven ground, the grass torn away and the earth left raw and exposed underneath, like a large, muddy gash in the landscape. The rain had soaked through the wounded earth and turned the hard ground to mud, and bits of it were upturned where Titus had been—and oh, fuck, he was still digging, he was still digging in it and Jay stumbled backwards and felt whispers of a lunch he hadn't eaten pressing against the back of his teeth, and now the air wouldn't come in at all and the faint ache in his bones and in his head became a thundering pain, and the noise in his head was roaring and still it wasn't louder than that fucking rain.

His world went sideways and he heard a muffled voice nearby and registered something wrapped tightly around his arms even as he fell. The landing was slower and softer than it should've been, but the confusion fled before terror as his hands met the wet chill of grass prickling against his palm and dirt sliding underneath his nails. Jay yanked his hands away and still the burning chill didn't leave and when he looked down at his hands for answers, his fingers looked wrong. They looked mangled and bent and twisted, and most of his fingernails were gone and the ones he had left were black and red with mud and blood and they hurt so much.

Everything, everything did.

And how could he fight without his hands? How could he do anything without his hands? He couldn't type and he couldn't fix things and he'd never fly again, and Bruce wouldn't want him anymore and Dad wouldn't want him anymore and he'd be back out on the streets, or worse, in a home somewhere where bad things lurked in the corners even in the daytime and the monsters didn't have to stay under your bed at night because they were in it.

"Jay. Jaybird, I need you to listen to me."

"I'm sorry. Please. I know I was stupid, and Dad's gonna be mad I didn't wait."

"No, Jay, no," came the fierce whisper. "He's not mad at you for that. Never."

"But—but my hands, Dickie. My hands," he whispered, holding them up so his brother could see.

"I've got you Jay, I've got you." Strong hands wrapped firmly around his own trembling ones, and it should've hurt, but instead the ache from the fractures went away just a little, and the brutal burn of cold that coated his skin peeled away, leaving behind rawness but less agony.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I was, I was scared and I couldn't breathe and I thought, I thought he'd forgotten me. And I called him, I tried calling him. But he didn't come. He didn't come, Dick."

And Jason was no longer sure which time he meant. He'd been alone twice. His hands had been shattered twice. He'd called for his dad more times than he could count.

He'd called for his brother, too.

The sand and the mud and the sand again and it just left him cold and hot and dizzy and empty and filled with pain and hollow with hate.

And he knew his dad hated what he'd become. But he'd still called.

"I screamed for him, Dick. I tried. But then I don't, I don't think I could breathe, and.…" He remembered when half of his chest felt like it had caved in and he remembered when all he could taste was dirt and blood and he remembered when all he could hear was deathly quiet and when all he could hear was the ticking of a timer.

"Oh, Jaybird."

"I tried. Can you tell him not to be mad? I'm not good enough, but I tried." I didn't want to go back. "I didn't want to go back," he sobbed. "It hurt so much, Dick. So much."

"I know, Jaybird. I'm so sorry, kiddo."

"And they wouldn't stop."

"…They?" The whisper came to his ear, something cold and lethal in it, and Jay hoped he hadn't just fucked up, because he couldn't take Dick being angry at him, too.

"I just wanted them to stop and I asked at first and they wouldn't, they said if they'd paid—"

"Fuck, Jay." The hands encircling his own let go as he was folded back in a full embrace, Dick's cheek pressed against the crown of his head as he murmured words of love. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, sonechko^{[little chick]}. You never should've had to deal with that. They had no right. They had no right." His voice trembled with anguish. With fury.

"But they were—I was—"

"You were a human being. That's all it takes. You don't use another person like that. Ever. Paying doesn't make it okay." Dick squeezed him tighter, pressing lips to the crown of his head. "You're worth more than anything they could pay," he whispered into his hair. "Always."

Jay swallowed, words burning inside to tell Dick how wrong he was, that Jason was every bit the piece of street trash everyone saw when they looked at him. Nearly everyone, but Dick was so blind. Jason knew what the scales would say if his soul were weighed.

But he was too scared to say it. No. Too selfish to say it. That was the real word. He wanted Dick to believe in him still, even if that would've been his mistake. He knew Bruce could see through him and would one day, but Dick.… He always wanted to believe the best of people, and Jason was not for a second above taking advantage of that fact.

Just another thing Dick had failed to realize about him.

But he hated himself for it still and Dick's comfort left him feeling sicker than he had before. He bowed his head, trying to summon the courage and find the right words.

His brother found them first. "You were a child." His own voice sounded raspy and hollow now, like the words hurt to say. Maybe they did.

And Jay wanted to argue, but…but if it didn't matter with him, it didn't matter with any of the other kids in the Alley, did it? The ones he'd sworn to protect. The ones he'd chosen to kill for, and with still not a moment of regret for that.

He didn't know how to argue without sounding like another Willis Todd.

"So what, he's a kid?"

A bitter echo still lodged deep in his brain.

Willis hadn't cared he was a kid.

Sheila hadn't cared he was a kid.

And too many nameless faces in between had only been happy in the worst way to know he was a kid. That had been the only way it mattered.

He didn't want to think about it.

He balled his fists up in his brother's coat, grounding himself in the feeling to keep the other memories at bay. The body-warmed and just slightly rough fabric didn't feel anything like the satin lining of the casket or the slippery sheets where he was always in reach of a monster. And underneath the shampoo and a whisper of cologne were the metallic whispers of the Kevlar-Nomex blend and a sharper metal tang of blood itself, scents that every member of the family carried in their skin no matter how much they scrubbed or shampooed or showered. If Lady Macbeth had been more of a saint and less of a sinner. It screamed belonging and camaraderie and family and that the arms around him were safe. He was held but not trapped.

And the voice calling him "sweetheart" now meant it the same way his mom had—his real mom—and not the ugly, twisted ways he'd heard words of affection slip from filthy mouths like sewage and slime and poison.

Jason breathed in the blood and let the words echo in his heart and didn't resist when the threads of the coat were replaced by damp, sleek fur, because that was different, too. He'd wanted a dog for the longest time, no matter how much it wouldn't have made sense back then. He'd thought it would make his mom happy, too—that maybe the dog could protect them both and get the bad guy like Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin and Benji and Wishbone. And in the years where Catherine was gone and a teddy bear and picture were all he had left of her, that want had grown into a fierce ache at the promise that maybe he wouldn't be alone and maybe he could feel another beating heart without his soul being ripped out and torn to pieces and thrown underfoot each time in payment.

So he didn't mind when a big, wet tongue lapped the tears from his chin and a buck-fifty pounds of oversized Batpuppy tried to cram into his lap before taking a different tack and curving around Jay's back with only his head wedged in the space between the two brothers. Jay cradled Titus's head obligingly, fingers still trembling but warmer now as he stroked the dog with careful motions, guilty for cutting short the walk. "I'm sorry, boy. You're supposed to be playing, yeah?"

"I don't think he minds, Jay," came the murmur from where Dick was still nuzzled against his hair. "This is how he helps Dami, too."

"Yeah?" Jason rasped.

Dick hummed. "Sometimes I can't pry him off."

Jay let out a trembling breath and tried to release the guilt with it, but his chest was still just a little too tight.

"Liūliai dukrelė liūliai rutelė

Užmik mano aušrele."

Jason stilled as he strained to make out the words over the sound of the rain. "Dickie?" he whispered.

"Shh." His voice lifted just a little. "Aš greit suverpsiu plonai linelius.

Išausiu tau drobelės." ¹

Jason recognized it then—a lullaby, a favorite of Mary Grayson and then a favorite of Richard John Grayson.

And now, maybe for years, a favorite of his, even though loving the song as fiercely and needingly as he did seemed like treading on sacred ground where he shouldn't be welcome.

His parents' memories were an area even Dick would get possessive about.

But he didn't have to say anything here, didn't have to admit to Dick the way he'd secretly laid claim to the song in his heart. So he let the lullaby wash over him, the melody carrying him on its waves, the lilt of Dick's voice bringing the meaning back to him, but he let it go again just as easily. "You're safe, you're loved, you're precious"—those were the words he craved the most, and those were the words he heard in the softness of his brother's voice and the warmth of his arms and the gentle, rueful worry written in every line of his body.

Footnotes: 1. I left the words untranslated in the chapter proper, to suit the context where Jay first isn't quite sure what he's hearing and then, once he remembers, the lyrics matter less to him than the fact and meaning of his older brother singing to him. So I saved translation for the footnotes here. The lines Dick sang are the first four lines of a Lithuanian lullaby:

"Lullaby daughter, lullaby rue
Go to sleep, little dawn

I will spin fine flaxen thread
I will weave you some cloth"

It took more than a small bit of digging to locate the words for this. The song was recorded for what seems to be a historical-preservation project of sorts, and unfortunately it was simply listed as "Lithuanian Lullaby," versus a more specific name that I could search up.

However, by the grace of God, I was able to eventually find exactly what I was looking for.

Here is where you can listen to the actual song, "Liūliai Dukrelė," performed by folk singer Veronika Povilionienė: https://youtu.be/pvuonOuE0Gc

And here are the full lyrics, in both English and Lithuanian: http://songbat.com/archive/songs/latvian-and-lithuanian/liuliai-dukrele [ ↑ ]