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Jason wandered through the house semi-aimlessly. He knew where he wanted to go, but he meandered and took his time to get there. Moonlight shone in through the large glass windows, casting soft shadows along the walls of the long and dimly lit hallways of the manor. It was quiet except for his footsteps echoing through the house. It was empty— or rather this half of the mansion was empty. Turns out that in a house this fucking big most of it is rarely used. He’d normally consider it a colossal waste of space, but he was thankful for the privacy tonight.
Patrol had ended early tonight— it was not his fucking fault. Or maybe it was, who fucking cared?
Tim had taken a bullet to the leg, and Jason being the only one with any means of transportation in the moment had sped the little fucker back to the cave to patch him up and make sure he didn’t bleed out. Not like he cared or anything, but the others would certainly be mad at him if he let his brother bleed out on a random roof— or at least that’s what he told himself.
Jason ignored the panic in his chest and the guilt that had crept up and squeezed his throat, and he’d keep ignoring it because that’s how he dealt with shit like this.
It was a dumb situation really— if he had only turned around a second sooner, he would’ve seen the fucker with the rifle on the other roof. It was his job, and he’d botched it, and now his brother was hurt.
Whatever. Red Robin was fine, and the rest of the family was likely already back by now, doting over him. Tim was fine, and he didn’t care.
Except he did.
God damn it .
He grit his teeth and stormed deeper into the manor. When did he let himself get this soft?
Fuck .
It was hard to get the sound of his brother screaming out of his head— hard to wipe the panicked looks on his family’s faces, as they stared at the blood spilling onto the roof, from his mind.
Damian’s face has caught him the most off guard— it’s easy to forget how young the kid is when you’re fighting fucking psychos on a nightly basis. Damian looked so young and so terrified , and it was his fault— damn it .
He’d made mistakes before— one’s far worse than this, and they had forgiven him. They had forgiven him and welcomed him back with open arms, and he’d fucked it up again.
Jason continued down the winding hallways, moving to reach his destination faster now. He needed to relax— calm down before he boiled over and burned everyone else in the process. He’d never been good at this whole emotions and family thing, but he was trying .
Step away. Take a breath. Reflect. Resolve.
Jason repeated Dick's advice in his head. As much as it irritated him to say it, it had been helping, though he’d never admit it to his brother’s face.
—Step away.
Jason slowed as he neared his destination. It had been ages since he’d been back here. He rounded the corner and opened the doors to a small drawing room— small relative to the rest of the manor. An elegant Persian rug covered most of the hardwood flooring, but that didn’t stop the wood from creaking under his feet as he entered. Moonlight poured in from the massive arched window that reached nearly floor to ceiling at the end of the room, which then lead out to a balcony. He wandered over to the window and pulled the giant curtains back to let in some light.
It was quiet here, and despite its vacancy, there was not a mote of dust to be found. Jason chuckled. Alfred was very thorough, after all.
He cracked the balcony door open to let in the crisp night air— it helped clear his head better than a stuffy unused room.
His goal wasn’t the balcony though, but rather what sat inside next to this massive window. An old black grand piano sat proudly in the corner of the room. He pulled the bench out and lifted the fallboard that covered the ivory keys and sat down.
He used to come here all the time when he was younger— perks of being adopted into a wealthy family (besides the vigilante lifestyle) was learning wealthy kid shit, like learning to play different instruments. As much as Jason had complained at first, he'd actually come to like playing the piano. He liked the sound the keys made, it was relaxing. It was one of the only instruments he’d learned that he bothered to keep practicing. He wasn’t a master, of course, but he considered himself to be pretty fucking good.
He tapped the keys one at a time and was pleasantly surprised to find it in tune— Alfred again, no doubt.
He cracked his knuckles and began to play a few warm-up pieces— his fingers were still sore from gripping his bike handles so tightly. He drew his brows together, thinking about the blood on the seats— Tim’s blood— his fault—
Jason banged out a few harsh tunes, slamming his hands onto the keys, notes reverberating like the sound of the gunshot that landed Tim in the infirmary.
Damnit.
He clenched his jaw and pulled his hands off the keys— he didn’t want to smash them beyond repair.
—Take a breath.
Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air was crisp and cold as the cool of the night wafted in from the balcony. His hands returned to the keys, calmer now and he began with a slower melody this time.
Eventually, Jason lost himself in the keys, and he tapped out melody after melody, humming along as his hands glided across the ivories like water, the tension spilling out of his body with every note and every breath.
—Reflect.
Jason hadn’t reacted in time to stop the bullet— incidents like these always left him feeling guilty that he couldn’t do more— couldn’t make it up to the family that had taken him in. Twice. The family that, despite everything he’d done, had given him a second chance and loved him again. No— they’d never stopped loving him in the first place. Jason wanted to be better— he had to be better for them, if only as a way to show them how much he appreciated them because damn it- it was too hard to just say it out loud.
Jason released another breath, hands sagging on the keys for a moment, head bent as more of his anger and guilt left his body.
Ah, fuck it.
Jason sucked in a breath and cleared his throat, resetting his hands on the keys. He let out a breath and played the first couple of notes. It was a simpler song, but that’s because it required more concentration elsewhere.
Jason relaxed his shoulders, and with his next breath, words began to spill out of his mouth in time with his hands on the keys.
Do I know better than this?
You’re a word that I can’t forget
Though the thought rattles my brain
Will you fold, or will you remain?
If I don’t get better than this man in my skin
If I don’t get better than this man in my skin
Jason’s hands continued to move along the keys in time with the melody. His chest ached along with the words.
Is it safer to just say that we tried?
Are we laughing at the danger?
Are we dancing after death, you and I?
Music poured out of him, into the drawing room, into the empty half of the house, out of the balcony, and into the night.
At some point he came to rest, the tension in his body gone, and the ache from the day had finally begun to set in. He was exhausted.
—Resolve.
The room was quiet now. The thoughts in his head had piped down a bit too.
He knew his family wouldn’t hate him— he’d get a lecture from Bruce, that was for sure, but he had to keep reminding himself that they weren’t going to toss him into Arkham anytime soon.
He was home, and his family was safe, and it wasn’t his fault. He let out another breath, this time feeling another presence in the room.
Jason sighed, not bothering to turn around, “C’mon out now, brat, I know you’re over there”.
A small presence moved from the shadows to sit beside Jason on the bench. Damian sat quietly with him, not moving to make eye contact as he spoke, “I was unaware of your musical prowess, Todd. It would seem you do possess an ounce of talent”.
Jason huffed a laugh, he was used to Damian’s attempted compliments, though they still carried a trace of that rough shell that had been slowly breaking down. He pulled his little brother into his side and smiled, “Thanks kid,” he ruffled Damian’s hair, and the boy squawked in retaliation. Jason just laughed again, “Ya know, I could teach you a thing or two sometime if you’re interested”.
He smiled at the little demon as Damian’s features briefly lit up, “Perhaps one day.” A brief yet comfortable silence settled between them.
The boy looked away and paused, “For what it’s worth To— Jason, I already think you’re a good man.”
Jason blinked in surprise, and squeezed his little brother tighter, his expression softening, “Thanks, baby bat.”
“Of course, I was merely making a statement about your character. Though, I am hardly the one you should be speaking to right now.”
Jason signed and begrudgingly stood from the piano bench, scooping Damian up with him, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get back to the others, shall we?”
Damian hummed gruffly in response but made no move to be released from his brother’s hold.
By the time they’d made it back to the inhabited part of the manor, Tim had been stabilized and moved from the cave’s infirmary to his own room.
When Jason got there, Damian was asleep in his arms, and Dick was sitting at the edge of the bed chatting quietly with Tim.
Jason knocked softly before he opened the door. Dick looked up at him with a soft smile, that softened more at the sight of Damian sleeping in Jason's arms.
Jason gestured between Dick and Damian, and Dick quickly got the message. He bid Tim good night, wrapping his brother in a hug before he walked over to Jason. Jason gently traded the sleeping demon into Dick’s arms.
Dick placed a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder, giving him a warm and soft smile before walking out of the room to put the brat to bed.
Jason stood in the doorway and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t look at Tim. Not yet. He could feel Tim staring at him from where he was sitting on the bed. Jason sighed and finally met Tim’s gaze only to find his brother staring at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
“What’s up, Jaybird? You kinda vanished after stitching me up.” Tim sat up in bed with his arms crossed.
Jason shrugged in response, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing at Tim’s injury, “Uh, sorry about the uh, leg n' shit.”
Tim’s eyebrow only arched further, if that was at all possible, “What are you apologizing for? You got me home, patched me up, and now I’m fine. Just a short recovery period, that’s all.”
“Yeah, but—“ Jason moved to protest, but was cut off by Tim’s smirk turning into a stern look.
Tim shook his head at him, “No buts! It wasn’t your fault Jay— heck if anything it was mine for not spotting the sniper when I was scouting.”
“Yeah, ok, well I don’t fully agree with that, I could’ve been quicker too—“
“Didn’t I just say “no buts”?” Tim uncrossed his arms and beckoned for Jason to sit with him.
Jason still disagreed, but he wasn’t going to argue any further with an injured and stubborn teenager at 3 in the morning on a weeknight. He was too exhausted to be his usual combative self. He moved to take Dick's spot on the edge of the bed.
“Jason, tonight wasn’t your fault. Stuff like this happens, it’s part of being vigilantes. Sure, getting shot in the leg sucks, but it’s one of the risks we all take every time we go out there.”
Jason huffed. He didn’t like being lectured by his little brother, but he made a good point— not a perfect one though, “Ok, fine. But you also gotta tell me that you know that this wasn’t all your fault too, ok baby bird?” This time Jason raised his eyebrow at Tim who shrank back a little at the comment but didn’t disagree with him.
“Ok, so neither of us is at fault here— fine. It was a mistake, and we can promise to do better so that it doesn’t happen again, deal?”
Tim reached a hand out to him, and Jason batted it away, and in an odd yet familiar display of affection, pulled his brother in for a hug, being careful of his wounded leg.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, baby bird. Now get some rest. Those eye bags of yours are atrocious.”
Tim huffed, “Ok, yeah it is pretty late. G’night Jay.” Tim smiled and pulled Jason in for another hug before he could protest.
Ugh. Family.
Jason let his mouth move into a small smile before pulling away, “Night baby bird.”
Jason switched off the lights before closing Tim's door quietly behind him. He pulled his shoulders back as he entered the hallway, mentally preparing himself for a lecture should he run into Bruce and made a beeline for the kitchen.
He hadn’t had a chance to eat after patching Tim up and fleeing to the drawing room, but he found his dinner waiting for him, still warm under a silver tray. He’d have to remember to get something for Alfred, the man does his job too damn well sometimes.
He sat down heavily to eat, exhaustion seeping into his limbs as he enjoyed his warm food. He probably wouldn’t sleep perfectly tonight (because who does in this family, honestly) but he was certain he’d be out like a light once he hit the bed.
A familiar set of footsteps echoed through the hall heading towards the kitchen, and Jason would've fled to his room if he wasn't so damn tired. He turned as Bruce entered the kitchen.
Jason mentally prepared for the earful he was about to get, but instead, Bruce walked over to him sleepily and planted a soft kiss on his head before moving to make some sleepy time tea.
Jason short-circuited.
What. The fuck.
Jason still hadn’t recovered by the time the kettle was screaming and the tea had been steeped. Bruce slid Jason his Wonder Woman mug and sat down at the kitchen table across from him, content with sipping his tea across from his second eldest son.
“You did a good job tonight, Jaylad.” Jason was caught off guard when Bruce spoke, but he made no move to flee, and Bruce took that as his sign to continue.
“You patched up that wound really well. And I want you to know that Tim’s injury wasn’t your fault— there were five of us in the field tonight, and none of us could’ve stopped that bullet.“
Jason nodded silently in response, slowly scraping the remainder of his dinner off his plate. He’d come to that conclusion himself, but it helped to hear it coming from Bruce.
Bruce hummed in acknowledgment standing, mug still in hand, “Of course, we’ll all have to talk about it tomorrow, but for now get some rest.”
Jason groaned in response and Bruce chuckled, ruffling Jason’s hair on his way out of the kitchen, “Good night, sweetheart.”
“G’night, B” Jason called back, turning his attention to his own mug, once again letting a smile cross his face.
Jason took the mug with him to his room and downed it before hitting the shower and flopping into bed. It wasn’t long before the tendrils of sleep began to claw at his brain, and he began to drift off feeling far lighter than he had in weeks.
Maybe he wasn’t used to this whole family thing yet, but he was getting better, and he wanted to be better because he loved his family. He slept peacefully with the knowledge that they loved him too.