Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason was dead.

Jason was dead, Bruce was filling the cave with silent howls, as beasts were wont to do when they lost a cub, Gotham was momentarily frozen in horror and Trailbreaker was nowhere to be found.

{::Uncle Teebs?::}

{::Uncle Teebs, respond.::}

{::Teebs, where are you? I’m worried. Bruce is worried too but he still– he doesn’t speak Teebs I don’t know what to do…::}

Trailbreaker ignored Dick’s messages, even though it shattered his spark to hear the little bird’s distressed cries. Because if he answered he knew he would spill everything on his mind and reveal what he was hiding in his trunk.

And that wouldn’t do, for he had a mission to finish.

“I know you’re listening, car boy.”

“…”

“Just… hear me out, will ya? I won’t tell a soul about ya, promise. It’s not… It’s not what matters right now. Mind if I sit on your hood?”

“…” 

“Silent is assent or something. Anyways, I don’t know how long it’ll be until mister– until J notices I’m gone, so I’ll make it quick. I know where he’s hiding. I can lead you there, if you want.”

“…”

“He won’t go far anyways, I may or may not have broken his leg during an argument, so there’s that.”

“…”

“Soooo, is that engine rev a yes or–”

“Why?”

“You really asking me why, car boy? Okay okay no need to judge me with those headlights (how do you even do that, geez), but seriously, you want the full truth? I don’t hurt kids. I don’t, I don’t, it’s just… I don’t do that, okay? The bird boy, he was just a kid dammit, messing with him was cute but what this asshole did… I don’t want that, I didn’t…”

“…” 

“It’s messed up. I know I’m messed up, but it’s messed up even more. I know I’m too late, but at least I can do that. There, I said my piece, I said why. What do you say?”

“…Show me the way.”

One thing useful about forcefields, is that they protected against seawater. Trailbreaker wasn’t stupid, he knew how corrosive salt was, thank you very much.

He had driven for hours, dust swirling into places he would be unable to clean, but he didn’t care. He was bound to get dirtier either way. Guilt and exhaustion gnawed his insides, but he pushed them aside in favour of anger. Anger made a better fuel, otherwise he would have collapsed into a sobbing pile hours ago.

It was only when he arrived in front of a desolate hill, where snow mixed with ashes and the metal carcass of a warehouse lay in broken pieces, that he finally transformed, unceremoniously dumping his package on the ground in doing so. 

“Recognise this place, fragger?”

The Joker didn’t respond. He could not have, even if he wanted to, for he was gagged and bound like a stowaway to be thrown at sea. He still managed to produce a few muffled, maniacal giggles.

“Great,” Trailbreaker hissed, “because this is the place the kid died, and this is also the place you die.”

For once, just for once, there was a glint of fear in the Joker’s eyes.

Were he someone else, Trailbreaker would have probably made a grand speech about family, vengeance or a topic in-between, alongside some gloating about Joker’s imminent doom, but Trailbreaker was himself. He liked to cheer people up (when he wasn’t moping around and mumbling self-depreciating thoughts), he wasn’t used to giving epitaphs.  

It wasn’t like the Joker deserved it.

He charged his blaster, and the night was illuminated by brutal, loud flashes of light. These lightning bolts burst, again and again and again, until there was nothing left on the ground but a scorch mark.

Trailbreaker subspaced his blaster and felt nothing. No feeling of fulfilment, no vindictive glee, no sense of comeuppance. Just a silence he was too much used to.

But the silence didn’t last long. A scream resonated in the night, too close and too far at the same time, as if it rose from the ground beneath his pedes yet resonated from the other side of the world.

“Help!! Help!!! Dad, Uncle Teebs, help me!!!”

Trailbreaker never rolled out so quickly. Because that was Jason crying out for help.

He had woken up in the dark, pain clawing at his body from the inside out, and then there was green, too much green, overflowing his lungs and he coughed brutally, choking on the liquid and it burnt, it burnt so much!!

He was running, running blindly around, no knowing where to but away from the green and the darkness, away from the shadows which pursued him, hands sprouting everywhere and he was scared, so scared he didn’t understand but he kept running— 

The shadows tackled him on the ground with too many hands and he screamed, howling like an animal, he was a pup and the snake had found its snack, the demon had caught him and he didn’t want that, didn’t want to go back to the green, he struggled, snarled and sobbed he was so scared so scared— 

And then three words rang into the chaos.

“Let. Him. Go.”

The silence that followed was so different from the silence he had woke up from, it wasn’t empty but filled, filled with sparking electricity, with astounded breaths and tense muscles, it was alive and angry.

“You are the voice of the car,” the demon spoke, black tendrils of smoke curling around himself as though fear itself was terrified.

There was a crackling whine, he flinched, danger danger DANGER DANGER — 

“Hands off the kid, Ra’s. I won’t be asking twice.”

The demon hissed between his teeth but like Jason he knew the danger, he knew it could obliterate in an instant so he flicked his wrist and the hands disappeared, he was free still cornered but free. Then he felt warm, surrounded by comfort, by the strong arms of his mom but she was dead and he was not, not anymore, he was cradled by mom just like when he was tiny. And so the terror retreated, leaving him exhausted, limp between the giant fingers that didn’t belong to his mom, but their owner was family too.

He heard the distant voice of the demon as he floated away, only held back by the warm hand.

“Consider this an… apology.”

“Get slagged,” family spat, family was angry but not at him, protection he felt, and that was enough to rest, he was scared of the dark but family was here, he was safe, he could sleep.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Trailbreaker whispered, voice quivering with grief and shame and regret and relief as he held Jason against his spark, “I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner.”

Chapter Text

Soldier keep on marching on

Head down till the work is done

Waiting on that morning sun

Soldier keep on marching on… 

— Fleurie, Soldier

Bruce imagined saying many things to Trailbreaker once he came back.

All these words flew out of the window when Trailbreaker barrelled inside the cave, transformed and there was Jason, alive, in his cupped hands.

What followed was a blur of sounds and movements, frantic calls and whispers of disbelief, Leslie had come over and hooked an IV to the boy on a portable slab because hospitals didn’t accept dead people and Jason was dead except he was not, he was alive and crying like the little boy he was during a nightmare until he was pulled under. Now he slept, his face smoothed over and Bruce could hold his hand and sob in relief and brush away strands of hair without his baby bird asking him what was wrong because he was not ready to answer that.

He was not ready for many things.

“You should go to sleep, B. You’ve been awake for too long.”

He was not ready for that either, but he had to confront Trailbreaker sooner or later.

However, Trailbreaker was right. His body, fueled before by the grief and the rage with Jason’s blood mixing with his parents’, then by the adrenaline of finding his son again, was now on the verge of shattering.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to be angry at Trailbreaker. Yet at the same time he yearned for snuggling in the crook of his neck and crying his grief away, he wanted him to cradle him in his hands because he could now, he had refused before but now he could simply crash and let sweet oblivion reclaim him since reality wouldn’t taunt him with lost boys anymore.

So he did just that, and Trailbreaker caught him in time.

Bruce woke up in his too large bed, his muscles sore like he’d run an endless road, his mouth dry like sandpaper and his head blessedly empty.

He turned around. Trailbreaker’s holoform sat on a chair at his bedside, his eternal orange sunglasses hid his eyes and whatever emotion they were holding, but he hugged his knees like he did whenever he was worried, and his sunglasses lit up like a computer once he noticed Bruce moving.

“You’re awake! You look so much better now, I’m glad, you slept for two days straight!”

Two days? It explained why he felt so ravenous. It was like someone was digging a pit in his stomach.

“I’m gonna fetch Alfred and some food, you don’t move!”

“N-no.”

Trailbreaker froze. Bruce was shocked how much scratchy and painful his voice was. But he didn’t want to be alone in the too large bed. He didn’t trust his throat, too raw, too used from screaming, so he signed instead.

“Stay. Please.”

Trailbreaker put a cheerful smile on his face, gave a thumbs-up and went back to his chair. Bruce’s hesitance must have been obvious, for he asked if he needed a hug. As soon as Bruce nodded his assent, Trailbreaker crawled on the mattress and settled on his side, letting Bruce bury his face in his shoulder so he could deeply inhale his not-scent. It didn’t exactly feel like touching a ghost, but it wasn’t like touching a human either. It was tingly and warm and otherworldly and grounding — it was Trailbreaker.

Bruce relaxed as Trailbreaker began stroking his hair, his blunt not-fingers scraping his scalp so efficiently he melted in his grasp. Alfred found them like this, Trailbreaker’s curly black not-hair splayed around them like a protective halo. The butler smiled softly and deposited the tray on the night table without a sound, so he wouldn’t disturb them.

Trailbreaker was crooning a lullaby in his own language, a mix of hums and clicks and whistles which soothed Jason and helped him sleep. Whatever was in the Lazarus Pit, it certainly didn’t erase pain, as the boy whimpered every now and then like a wounded animal. He had calmed down after Bruce gave him some painkillers, and Trailbreaker’s song was the last encouragement he needed to doze off.

It was an adorable sight to witness, and Bruce hated to end it, but it was time to break the ice.

“We need to talk, Trailbreaker.”

He must have known it wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, for the mech’s smile was so strained Bruce could hear hydraulics press painfully.

“I’m happy he’s back too, B.”

“It’s not about that. You know it.”

Trailbreaker deflated like a pierced balloon. Because if there was something he had never manage to master in his long life, it was the art of the poker face. It was hard to be angry at him when he looked so sad. 

“Come on. We’ll be better outside.”

So we won’t bother the boy hung in the air, but Trailbreaker understood nonetheless.

The garden was quiet, the forest ahead thick enough to hide the mech who sat cross-legged on the grass, green and wild and fresh, as he waited for Bruce to speak.

“Where is he? Where is the Joker? You were the last one seen with him. Trailbreaker, what did you do?”

He knew. He knew before Trailbreaker even answered the question, but maybe he had thought… what, really, had he thought?

“I killed him, Bruce.”

There it was. The confirmation of his fears. He sighed deeply. He didn’t even have it in him to be angry, he was just tired. And afraid of what this decision might entail. 

“Why do you think I have a rule, Trailbreaker? Not just for me, but for everyone else around me. No, don’t answer that, that was a metaphorical question. I can’t give justice if there is an executioner behind me. What will happen, next time you want revenge? I don’t want that, I don’t want a hitman. What would be stopping you then?”

“Bruce, I’m just a soldier.”

That made him pause, which encouraged Trailbreaker to add, “It’s lil Harley who helped catch him, you know?”

Of all the things Bruce expected from Trailbreaker, this was not even on the list. And he must have lost his composure somewhere during his sleep, for Trailbreaker noticed his surprise and carried on.

“You outta give people some credits, Bruce. The lines the Joker crossed, the others, they wouldn’t touch it even with a fifty-feet long pole. Remember when Barbara was in the hospital, all the flowers she received? Lotta ‘em were from Harvey boy.”

Were he someone else, Bruce would have asked if Trailbreaker was messing with him. But he didn’t. Back then he had been so consumed with rage, he hadn’t bothered to pick up the little details and the small acts of kindness. 

“I know when someone is messed up, and when someone is a fragging freak. I mean, we were all messed up, a war will do that, but then there’s the psychos, the monsters we don’t even whisper about ‘cause that’s bad luck and we know what they do, they know what they do and it’s slaughtering people in the most gruesome, violent, and traumatising way. Four millions years after I still can’t forget Overlord or the… the DJD…”

The last words, he barely whispered them, and a violent shudder went through his frame.

“Point is, I killed him because he was just like the aftholes back home. They wouldn’t stop hurting my friends, he wouldn’t stop either, I couldn’t protect Pipes and Roller and Rewind and all the others, but I can protect Jason, I can protect you, I can make a difference. I’m done with the war, I’m done with killing poor mechs who didn’t ask for anything. I’m sorry for breaking your rule, but I’m not going on a murderous rampage, not now not ever, I’m not like… like them, I just wanna stay. You guys are my family, Bruce. That’s all I ask.”

Sometimes, Bruce forgot how ancient Trailbreaker was. This was a being older than humanity itself, whose scars and history were so deep no living being would ever scrap the bottom, yet here he was, opening his spark to Bruce with all the trust in the world.

He understood Trailbreaker’s logic. He didn’t like it but… he understood.

“Alright,” he nodded, and the Trailbreaker startled.

“Wait, what?”

“I said alright. I trust your word, Teebs.”

And he didn’t want to lose this trust. Not when he had already lost so much.

Before the mech could react, he crawled on his lap, climbed his torso and settled in the crook of his neck. Trailbreaker went very very still under him, until Bruce scratched the cables of his throat, and he unwinded slightly.

“Thank you,” Bruce murmured, hoping his voice would carry his gratitude, “for bringing him back.”

Trailbreaker didn’t respond, but his engine purred and he brought his hand around Bruce, a safe cocoon where he could relax at last.