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Being in the Cave was always a test of Jason’s control over the Pit.
He’d been doing better with most of the family lately – he and the demon brat had bonded over knife throwing, he and the Replacement had worked together on a case and no one had wound up even a little bit stabbed, and he hadn’t even tried to shoot Dickwing the last time the menace had tried to hug him. (His and Bruce’s relationship was still a steaming pile of garbage, but Jason didn’t expect that to ever change, really.)
The point was, he’d been getting along better with most of the family for a while now (it had been months since his last murder attempt, yay!), and the Pit had been miraculously quiet around them lately – but it sure as shit wasn’t extending that same grace to his childhood haunts, it seemed.
Jason glowered at the familiar space, hating the ghost of himself that he could practically see practicing some new trick Dick had taught him on the mats, or curled up in the medbay with a stoically fretting Batman hovering over him, or being dragged away from the Batcomputer for dinner by Alfred.
Memories of happier times, but the green was all-too-quick to remind him what they’d led to, that the fate of the laughing boy in his memories was to become the scowling, angry crime lord he saw every day in the mirror.
He hated the overwhelming reminder any time he entered the Cave that he’d once been happy, had once felt safe.
And yet here he was. Because Batman had called (or, rather, Oracle had called on Batman’s behalf, because God forbid Batman actually communicate with people), and Jason knew if Batman wanted him to come for an emergency briefing in the Cave, it had to be important. He’d seen the bat signal silhouetted against the dark skyline on his way here, so he knew it must be something Rogue-related, and that spelled trouble.
“Is the world ending?” Jason asked, voice flat as he stalked towards the briefing table (or lecture table, depending on which stage of the mission you were in).
Demon Brat and the Replacement were seated, but Golden Boy and the Big Bad Bat himself were standing and almost squaring off against each other at one end, tension radiating off them in waves. Jason would’ve thought he was projecting his own wariness at being in the Cave onto them, but no – he knew those stances very well from his time living at the Manor, when those two were at each other’s throats any time they were in the same room: Bruce and Dick were arguing about something. At least they weren’t yelling this time, like they usually were in his memories; in fact, Jason could barely catch their hissed words as he approached.
(“He’s not going to like that, B.”
“It doesn’t matter if he likes it as long as he’s safe.”)
Unlike when Jason was a kid, though, Dick visibly disengaged from whatever disagreement they were having as Jason approached and turned his attention to his brother, brightening, though he still looked strained. “Jaybird,” he chirped, completely ignoring Bruce, who was still glowering in his direction. “You’re here!”
It was almost painful, how genuinely happy Dick seemed to be to see him. “Oracle called. Can’t let you Bats have all the fun,” Jason responded gruffly, almost wishing he’d kept his helmet on when he’d entered the Cave, if only to hide his expressions.
“You say, like you’re not one of us,” the Replacement muttered. Jason’s eyes narrowed in the kid’s direction, opening his mouth to refute that bullshit vehemently, but Tim cut him off. “And before you say you’re not, I’d just like to remind you – you very literally have a bat on your uniform.”
Jason resisted the urge to cross his arms over the damning red insignia on his chest defensively, but he still felt the tips of his ears burn. “What, was I supposed to turn down Alfred’s handiwork?” he demanded crossly.
Tim rolled his eyes. “Just saying. You might as well stop acting like you’re too cool for us, or whatever.”
Jason glared at him (to no effect). “I am too cool for you,” he insisted – because he had to defend his honor!
Only to be betrayed by Dick, who was probably the least cool out of all of them (Discowing, anyone?), snorting at him. Jason turned his betrayed glare on his older brother, who just shrugged. “Sorry, Little Wing, but you were the only one of us who was actually excited for school,” Dick said, sounding exactly 0% sorry. “You’re the family nerd, you might as well accept it.”
Jason gaped at him, utterly offended. He had a leather jacket! He carried guns! And Dick had the nerve to call him a nerd? “Appreciating good literature doesn’t make me the goddamn family nerd, Dickface,” he snarled, eyes narrowing.
Dick didn’t have the decency to look even vaguely intimidated, beaming beatifically. “Of course it doesn’t, Little Wing,” he agreed without a single trace of actual agreement.
Asshole. Actually – assholes, plural. Why the fuck was he even here? “Did you just call me here to remind me how much I hate teaming up with you all?” he growled – and all the amusement and levity vanished from the room like it had never existed. It was almost disconcerting, how quickly they grew solemn, and Jason tried to mask an unsettled blink.
“No,” Dick said – or no, that was Nightwing, tone clipped with concern. “That’s not why we called you.”
Jason waited expectantly for someone to explain, but he was met with four vigilantes studiously avoiding his gaze. A prickling feeling of dread was crawling up his spine. Had something happened?
“Okaaaay,” he drawled out. “You gonna tell me why sometime today?”
There was another pause, then Batman, in all his emotionally-constipated glory, finally decided to take one for the team and start whatever shitshow this was about to be. “Boys, if you could excuse us, I’d like to speak to Hood alone.”
Dick leveled Bruce with an unimpressed look. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Batman met his gaze with a level one of his own. “Your concern is noted, Nightwing.”
Jason almost winced at the blatant dismissal, and Dick looked incensed, opening his mouth as if to argue.
“Dick, c’mon let’s let them talk,” Tim cut in, before World War III could break out in the Cave. The kid jumped up, nudging Damian to come along. Damian followed without snapping at the third Robin, and that alone was enough to tell Jason something was incredibly wrong.
Dick aimed one last warning glare at Bruce before trailing after the others, though admittedly none of them went all that far, hovering around the Batcomputer and not even trying to look like they were outside of hearing range.
“What’s going on?” Jason demanded as soon as it was clear they weren’t going any further, turning his attention to Batman. The man still had the cowl on, making him even harder to read than usual, which didn’t help Jason’s increasing sense of impending doom.
The older man hesitated. “There’s been…a mass breakout. From Arkham.”
Was that all? Arkham breakouts happened all the time. There had been at least six since Jason had come back to Gotham, and he’d even helped the Bats round up some of the Rogues during the last one. “Okay, and?” Jason pressed impatiently. “Did the Riddler forget to take his inhaler with him when he escaped again or something?”
“No,” said Batman, and there was that uncharacteristic hesitance again. Jason felt his temper fray.
“What, then? Did a lot of them get out? Are we splitting up to go after them? What, is there an uneven number of us and you need me to be the lone ranger or something?” he asked, exasperation coloring the words. It was like pulling teeth, getting information from the man.
He wasn’t prepared for the panic that spasmed across Batman’s face, the older man lurching forward in a quickly-aborted movement that looked suspiciously like he’d been about to grip Jason’s arm. Jason stared at him.
Batman stared back for a moment, jaw clenched, before he finally spoke. “No,” he said, tone even, but Jason could hear the line of tension under it. “No, I don’t need you going out on your own.” A moment, and Jason would swear Batman was steeling himself for something. “In fact, I don’t want you going out at all.”
Of all the things Jason had thought he might say, that had not been one of them. He recoiled, blinking away the surprise, before his temper started to rise to the surface. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, arms crossing. “If there’s trouble, of course I’m going out!”
Batman seemed to lose that strange hesitance in the face of Jason’s defiance, shoulders squaring as he loomed forbiddingly, a move that Jason knew had plenty of criminals quaking in their boots. “You can’t go out tonight, Hood,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Too bad for him Jason was basically immune to Batman’s looming and loved to argue. “The hell I can’t, old man!” he retorted. “What are you going to do, ground me?”
A moment of consideration, followed by a decisive, “Yes.”
Well, Jason supposed he had set himself up for that one. He scowled, rolling his eyes. “Even if you could, it’s not like that would stop me,” he sneered, anger mounting. “Why don’t you want me out there, anyway? Worried I’ll start killing again? I’ve been playing by your rules, there’s no reason to – ”
“It’s the Joker.”
Jason froze.
“Let’s try and clear this up, pumpkin.”
What did he mean, it’s the Joker?
“Which hurts more – ”
The Joker was locked up –
“ – A? Or B?”
– in Arkham.
“Tell the big man I said hello!”
Jason swallowed, throat dry. He’d faced the Joker, since he’d come back from the dead. Once. It had been part of his plan during his rage-fueled first sweep through Gotham, and that confrontation had ended with Batman throwing a batarang at his throat and leaving him for dead in another explosion.
Not Jason’s happiest moment, admittedly – but not actually his worst.
Still, it wasn’t an outcome he was eager to repeat. He and Bruce were on better terms than when he’d first come to Gotham, but he was under no illusion that Bruce was ever going to give him the green light on killing his own goddamn murderer – a man who always incited the most nausea-inducing mixture of bone-chilling fear and all-consuming rage when Jason so much as heard his name.
A rage that had become less all-consuming once Jason had gotten a better hold on the Pit’s influence.
Which left only the fear to fill in that gap, squeezing around his heart like a cruel vice.
But Jason would rather be beat to death again than admit that, so he called on every bit of bravado he had and wrapped it around himself, trying to summon the righteous fury from underneath choking terror. “So I was right, you are worried I’ll kill again,” he retorted, and was proud of how angry he sounded. “I can’t believe after everything, you’re still trying to protect that piece of shit!”
“I’m not,” Batman denied steadily, and Jason felt – oh, look, there was some of that good old Pit anger he’d been missing. Jason welcomed it with open arms, let it fill him with the reminder that Bruce, his dad, preferred Jason’s murderer to him.
“You are,” he spat. “You picked him over me last time, and you’ll do it again!”
“I’m not picking him over you, Jason,” Batman said evenly, though there was the slightest strain to his tone that Jason ignored entirely. His anger was rising steadily, and Jason fed into it, let it grow and grow until it could push the terror into a small corner of his mind where he could pretend it didn’t exist.
“Yes, you are – or I guess you’re trying to keep yourself from having to make the choice in the first place by telling me to stay here. Because that’s what Batman does, right? Finds a way around the problem?” Jason sneered. “Too late for that, we both already know who you picked.”
Batman was silent for a moment, then apparently decided to just fucking ignore everything he’d said. “I need you to stay here tonight,” he said calmly, implacably, like it was just a fact that he expected Jason to sit and stay like a good little boy.
“Too fucking bad,” Jason snapped, spinning on his heel, prepared to march off. A strong grip at his elbow stopped him, and Jason would’ve smacked the hand away, but Batman was already letting go when Jason spun towards him.
“Don’t – ” Batman faltered – but Batman never faltered, and the drawn lines of worry around his lips were all Bruce. It was enough to draw Jason up short for a moment, but the worry lines smoothed away quickly, the smooth mask returning. “Don’t go, Jason.”
But it was as if the crack in the mask had opened Jason’s eyes to the rest of the flaws in the façade; he could see the thrumming tension in Bruce’s shoulders, the way his fists kept clenching and unclenching, the too-stiff way he was holding himself, as though afraid of what he’d do if he let himself go.
“Why not?” Jason demanded, needing a reason that wasn’t a betrayal.
“Because – ” The older man was faltering again, and Jason didn’t think he’d ever seen him struggle this much to gather his thoughts. “Because – I can’t…I can’t do it again.”
“Can’t do what again?” Jason snapped, eyes flashing. “Watch me try to kill the Joker? Let me get rid of the man who murdered me?”
“No, I – ”
“Because you can fuck right off, no one’s asking you to interfere – ”
“Jason, that’s not – ”
“Just stay out of my goddamn way and let me take care of this once and for – ”
“Son, I can’t lose you again!”
There was silence in the Cave, with only the remnants of raised voices echoing through the cold interior. Jason and Bruce stared at each other, chests heaving, Jason’s eyes wide with shock, and Bruce staring straight at him with something that appeared horribly close to desperation.
“I can’t do it again,” he said softly, a plea for understanding. “Not again.”
Jason shook his head, as though that would clear the confusion buzzing around. “I don’t – you can’t just – ”
“Please, Jason.” If he’d had the capability to do more than twitch, Jason thought his jaw probably would’ve dropped in surprise at hearing Bruce beg. The older man took a step toward him, and Jason was too frozen to even it out with a step back. Bruce seemed to take that as blanket permission to close the distance, clasping Jason’s shoulders tightly, like he was afraid Jason would disappear beneath his fingers if he let go. “I need you to stay far away from him,” Bruce said, intense and tight. He drew in a ragged breath, and even beneath the cowl, Jason thought he saw the man’s expression fracture. “I can’t – if he took you from me again, it would break me.”
Jason stared at him, his thoughts somehow simultaneously frozen and tumultuous, one word rocketing around and obliterating all others in sight in the face of the worried, desperate man in front of him.
“Dad.”
The word slipped out of him without his permission, shock loosening his tongue at this display of – of what could only be concern. After everything – returning from the dead only to find that he’d been replaced oh-so-quickly and easily, his murderer roaming practically free, the showdown when he came back to Gotham, the batarang, the pain and abandonment and had Bruce ever even loved him, ever actually considered him a son at all, or was he just one more parent who’d never wanted Jason Todd – Jason had thought he’d never use that word again.
And yet he couldn’t find it in him to take it back when Bruce crushed him to his chest, holding him like he was something infinitely precious. Jason clung back, hiding his face in the armor when he felt his eyes prickle.
Maybe they stayed like that a bit too long, given the danger the city was facing – but Jason couldn’t bring himself to let go, not when every second felt like he’d finally come home.