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Jason knows he’s fucked up the second he opens his eyes.
His body throbs and aches and his heartbeat is thunderous in his ears due to anxiety and fear but none of that matters to him right now. All he can think about is fighting with Bruce and how he, in a fit of teenage rebellion, had told Bruce that he hated him. How he had lied and promised to stay in the Manor and had snuck out anyway.
And now as he watches the Joker monologue and cackle he can’t help but regret that he will never be able to make it right.
He closes his eyes and tries not to flinch when he hears the crowbar whip through the air.
Jason shivers as he perches on his favorite gargoyle and looks out over Gotham - autumn is just starting to roll in and it’s already colder than it normally is for this time of year. He wishes, not for the first time, that he had stayed in the Manor like he promised he would instead of whipping through the city in his Robin uniform to clear his head. Bruce is going to be pissed.
Well. More pissed than he already is anyway.
Jason admits maybe he did overstep just a bit but Bruce had too and, like always, he had handled their issues by shutting Jason down and refusing to listen to him. They had been butting heads more and more as Batman and Robin as Jason got older but they seldom had major disagreements as Bruce and Jason.
Until now, anyway. And boy did Jason kinda understand why Dick didn’t come by the Manor very much anymore. His heart clenches a little at the thought of Dick Grayson but Jason covers up any of that pain with burning anger. Dick still hasn’t given him much of a chance, only spending time with Jason when it was useful for his own schedule and it rankled more than he wanted it to. Especially since Jason could really use someone to talk to right now about Bruce and Batman and what it meant to be Robin.
He doesn’t understand why Bruce couldn’t just have faith in him. Jason didn’t kill Felipe Garzonas - well at least not on purpose. He definitely did plan on roughing him up and making him suffer for what he did but he didn’t push him over the edge.
But Jason didn’t exactly try to save him when Felipe fell off the balcony either.
Bruce hasn’t taken that particularly well and Jason is pretty sure that Bruce thinks he actively killed Felipe and he wasn’t willing to listen to any point Jason tried to make to the contrary. If Jason had even tried to make any points to the contrary which, you know, he hasn’t because at this point he expects Bruce to trust his word. Regardless, it has affected their relationship outside the mask - Robin is grounded from patrol and the Cave but Jason isn't trusted any longer and Bruce looks at him like he is a stranger.
Like Bruce maybe regrets adopting him at all.
The intense quiet in the Manor that even Alfred can’t break and the stress that Jason feels had continued to build until it hit a boiling point and an argument that meant less than nothing. An argument that had a point that Jason can’t remember and had ended with him screaming that he hated Bruce in the middle of the second floor sitting room.
And then, like a coward, Jason had fled to the BatCave, stolen his Robin suit and taken a bike into the city after frying all his trackers with a Batman-Level EMP.
He sniffles, nose running and red from the cold air and he huddles tighter into his cape. This sucked and it isn’t fair and he really wants Bruce - his dad - back.
…He should probably go back to the Manor and apologize. He doesn’t actually hate Bruce at all, he loves him and he doesn't want to be mad at him anymore. Mind made up, Jason pulls out his grapple and prepares to swing back down the street to where he has stashed his bike; already dreading the cold wind that will cut through him on his ride back to Bristol. He hopes Alfred will forgive him enough to let him have a cup of his special extra-spicy chai tea.
He hopes they both will be willing to help him find his birth mother and that they won’t be too upset with him sneaking out to go back to his old apartment. He’s sure they’ve found his open files by now and he wants them both to know that finding his birth mother doesn’t mean that he wants to leave them - Bruce and Alfred are his family the way Catherine Todd is his mom in every way that counts.
He lands on the roof a few buildings over and pauses when he hears shuffling and muffled grunting from the alley below. A peek over is enough to reveal a run of the mill mugging and Jason stows his grapple back on his belt; he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t just leave the poor guy to get beat up and robbed. He’ll just stop this real quick and then head back home.
He doesn’t notice the shadowy figure hiding in the darkness until it’s too late.
The Joker laughs loudly as the crowbar cracks Jason across the temple, knocking him to the ground and blurring his vision. He tries to stand back up so that he can escape ( ‘Never fight the Joker alone, Robin, always call for backup’ ) but the metal bar swings again and hits him on the back of the head and makes everything go dark.
He’s aware of very little as he’s moved - more crazed laughter, hands dragging him across concrete and then throwing him into a car, a pinch above the reinforced neck of his suit that burns through his veins. And then nothing. Nothing for an indeterminate amount of time before he actually becomes aware enough of himself again to force himself back to full consciousness.
Jason knows he’s fucked up the second he opens his eyes.
The room around him is dark and seems to be made of concrete - one bright spotlight of a bare bulb shining directly on him in the center of the room. His brain feels foggy like it does when he’s been sedated and he fights down a groan as his head throbs in time with his pulse, the little noise that passes through his lips muffled by the gag tied tightly around his head. He’s strapped to a chair; boots and gloves gone and hands and ankles attached to the arms and legs of the wooden chair with itchy rope. He pulls on it a few times ineffectually before giving up. He can’t even cut it since someone has taken his belt and all his hidden tools.
Joker. Joker took his belt and tools and tied him to a chair and is monologuing to a camera right now. Jason’s heart speeds up and he wishes he’d never fried all his trackers - how could he actually be so stupid? The Number One rule of being Robin is to always have backup and he broke it - he broke it bad.
“Well look who’s awake!” Joker cackles, all but skipping over to the chair Jason is in and shoving the camera in his (still masked, thank god) face. “The second little Boy Blunder himself! Did you have a nice nap? It’s important for growing boys to get plenty of quality beauty sleep!” Jason shivers when Joker runs ragged nails over his hair and wishes he didn’t have the gag in so he could spit in the stupid clown's face. Joker leans down so his cheek is pressed close to Jason’s and he angles the camera so they’re both in frame.
“Now that our little bird is awake, why don’t we talk about the fun game I have planned for you, Gotham!” Jason’s skin prickles as the rogue’s sour breath washes over him and he fights down a shudder, doing his level best to glare at the man. “It’s going to be so much fun for the whole family - a little game night if you will!”
He stands again, patting Jason on the cheek a couple of times condescendingly as he moves to stand a few feet away so that Jason is in the background of his shot. “Now Gotham I’ve heard the stirrings,” he says with a serious tone and a pointed finger, “stirrings of displeasure with our little bird here. We aren’t fools are we Gotham? No sir we aren’t! We know that our original Robin, our favorite little birdie was replaced by this imposter and that just won’t do, will it? We don’t like to be deceived.”
Joker waves off camera and one of his goons approaches with a tripod, setting it up and taking the offered camera to point it at Jason and Joker. Behind Jason lights turn on and a projector whirls to life, making him flinch when it flares up and blinds him. He can’t see what it says and it makes his mouth dry out in anxiety.
“So we’re going to play a game ,” Joker laughs, voice dropping a full octave as his smile splits across his face even more grotesquely than usual, cruel now instead of joking. “You, my lovely Gothamites, are going to vote on what’s going to happen with our least favorite little sidekick. Will the bird fly? Or fry.”
And Jason’s heart stops, blood chilling to ice in his veins. In front of him, another goon has turned a laptop around so that Jason can see the livestream for himself. Behind him the screen shows a generic bit.ly link and a double-sided progress bar.
It's a vote. A vote to decide if Jason lives or dies.
In the cave Bruce can only stare in horror, fingers frozen over the keyboard, as the Joker reveals his plan. Jason, white faced and with bruises blooming up one side of his face, stills as he must realize it as well before he resumes his struggles with a renewed vigor.
“Vote as many times as you want my beautiful Gothamites!” Joker urges, practically skipping back into the camera frame to stand behind Jason. His son stills again as Joker’s hands squeeze his shoulders and wrap around to his neck, the boy’s skin turning white from the pressure and his breaths coming in gasps. “You have only an hour to vote so make it count!”
Jason makes eye contact with the camera as Joker leaves the frame and Bruce wishes he could see his eyes instead of the white-outs of his domino. He wishes Dick was on planet and not off on a Titans mission. He wishes Barbara was recovered enough to help him find Jason.
“Anything?” He grits out, forcing his numb fingers to move as he tries to triangulate Joker’s signal. He’s done something to block most of Bruce’s attempts to track his IP and it's making him want to vibrate completely out of his skin.
“Nothing,” Alfred responds, his voice hoarse with stress as he hangs up on Commissioner Gordon. “They’ve got every available unit out scouring and they’re urging people not to participate but…”
But the votes are already coming in and they’re neck and neck based on the progress bar. Jason is still trying to wiggle out of his bonds on screen and is clearly trying not to look at the votes himself. The ropes at his wrists are turning red with blood and he squirms and pulls. A pop sounds and he groans as he dislocates his own thumb to try and get free.
Bruce feels like he’s going to be sick.
The computer alerts him that the signal has pinged off a tower somewhere in New Jersey and Bruce grits his teeth in frustration. He needs to narrow it down more. If he can just get it down to a few blocks he can call Gordon and between himself and the GCPD they can canvas the entire area. The clock ticks down to forty-five minutes and he restarts the program with a smaller set of parameters, boosts the strength of his own signal in the hope he’ll get a result.
Alfred has answered the phone again and is murmuring into it, typing with one hand. “Miss Barbara has seen the news,” he reports. “She’s trying on her end but her home set up doesn’t have the bandwidth or the range the Cave computer does. She’ll send anything she can find and she’s connecting to the comms now.”
Bruce grunts in agreement. His location signal pings back to somewhere in Gotham and he wants to scream - it’s not good enough! On screen Jason has knocked his chair to the floor in an effort to break the wood but hasn’t been successful. His escape efforts must be at least resonating with the public though - over sixty percent of people have voted for him to live and it loosens just a little of the tension in Bruce’s chest.
Well, until Joker walks back into frame, stepping on Jason’s hand and making him choke down a scream. Some of his lackeys right Jason’s chair and quickly back away, wary of Joker’s mood swings and clearly trying to avoid being another victim.
“Well Gotham,” Joker says, hand tight in Jason’s hair, “you do disappoint me.” He shakes his head sadly at the camera in disapproval. “I’m giving you all this free entertainment and only four thousand of you have voted? Tsk tsk that just won’t do!” With a dark smirk he cruelly yanks Jason’s head back by his hair, bearing his throat and running sharp nails across it to leave bloody lines in their wake. “So I’m going to offer a little reward! We’ve got a lovely little anonymous sponsor who will be paying the next five thousand people to vote a hundred buck-a-roonies each! How’s that for incentive? And remember Gotham,” Joker says darkly, “I’ll know if you don’t vote - I have a long memory for these things.”
On screen the timer drops below thirty, Bruce’s tracking pings back in Burnley and the votes to kill rapidly start coming in.
‘Find me B,’ Jason thinks, making eye contact with the camera as he renews his struggles. ‘Find me, find me, find me.’
The voting is neck and neck with ten minutes left on the timer and Jason yanks at the ropes around his wrists. They’re slick with blood now and he tries to slip his hands through them but they’re just too tight. His dislocated thumb throbs in time with his head as he continues to pull and twist as ferociously as he can before deciding to try breaking the chair again.
He leans backward this time and is rewarded with a crack as the back of the chair cracks, splinters digging into his spine uncomfortably. He wiggles some more and feels the arms of the chair coming loose; if he can even just get one side unattached…
“Now now,” Joker says, looking down at him with a manic grin twisting up his face. “No escaping bird boy.”
He cracks the crowbar he’s still carrying down with no warning, slamming into Jason’s shoulder and breaking his collarbone with a loud, wet snap. He can’t hold back the hoarse scream as his vision whites out from the pain and all he wants to do is curl away from the agony.
Joker tuts condescendingly above him, looking down with fake pity. “You should have known better,” he tells Jason forlornly, nudging Jason’s bruised cheek with the toe of his shoe and making his face spark with pain. “Escaping would be cheating after all.”
Jason’s dizzy from the shock of pain as his chair is righted and his body hangs limp in its bonds. His head is spinning wildly and his entire right arm is throbbing in pain from the shoulder down. His vision is blurry but he can see the countdown has reached less than two minutes while he struggles. The votes are still nearly even; the red and blue sides of the bar trading back and forth as the final votes roll in. Jason closes his eyes and just tries to breathe.
“And time… is… UP!” Joker crows. “And look at that! It seems Gotham hates you little birdie!” Jason cracks his eyes open. The voting has ended in a score of fifty-one percent to kill and forty-nine to not. His breath leaves in a rush and he can’t stop the tears that are welling up in his eyes. He’s spent the last few years trying to help Bruce save this city and they… they want him dead? He knows his reception has been lukewarm after Dick but they really dislike him enough that they’d take the Joker’s bribe?
He suddenly wishes he’d never put on the cape or the mask. He wouldn’t trade his relationship with Bruce or Alfred for anything but he’d give up Robin - and gladly at that - to not be here right now.
The Joker is still talking but all Jason can hear is the roaring of blood in his ears until the gag is yanked from his mouth roughly enough to nearly take a tooth with it. “Anything to say to your un-adoring fans before we start kiddo?”
Jason stares at the camera, looks deep into the lens like he can see through it into the BatCave where Bruce is probably watching and (hopefully) trying to find him and he can only think of one thing to say and one person to say it to.
“I’m sorry B,” he forces out hoarsely. “I’m so sorry.”
“Awww ain’t he just the cutest?” Joker teases as he takes Jason’s chin in a grip tight enough to mash his cheeks in and rocks his head back and forth hard enough to make the room spin. “Now I just have one question for you little bird: which hurts worse? Forehand or backhand?”
The countdown has reached just under ten minutes when Bruce is finally able to narrow down his search radius to a two block section of abandoned apartment buildings and warehouses in Burnley that’s slated for demolition and he’s sent the information to Gordon and is speeding out of the Cave seconds later. The drive itself will take up at least half the time Jason has left and, even though it makes him ache to think about it, he hopes the Joker draws this out. Gives him the time he needs to get to Jason. The screen in the Batmobile is showing the stream and it takes everything in him not to watch as Jason flips his chair back and struggles to get out.
“We’ve shut down the street,” Gordon says in lieu of an answer when Bruce calls him. “SWAT is already starting to clear buildings - we’ll find him Batman.”
Bruce just grunts in reply, whipping the car off the bridge and then driving through the gap in the barrier the police have left open for him. On screen the timer has ticked to just under four minutes and his hands tighten on the wheel as he watches Joker smash his crowbar into Jason’s shoulder. It pains him more than just about anything he has ever felt, but Bruce shuts down his emotions as much as possible. His panic is not going to help Jason.
Beating the Joker black and blue before tossing him in the deepest pit Arkham has to offer will though.
Jim Gordon is standing in the middle of the street in a kevlar vest with a walkie talkie in one hand and his phone in the other, barking orders to the hoard of SWAT members that are raiding the buildings. Some unis are herding the few squatters that have been found out of the immediate area for questioning and Bruce stops next to Gordon, dropping his encrypted tablet on the hood of the squad car.
“Less than a block left,” Gordon tells him, eyes fixed on the tablet and the countdown clock on the stream - less than two minutes are left.
Bruce growls and pulls out his grapple. “I’m starting in the middle.” He doesn’t wait for Gordon’s response before he fires the grapple and swings off. He stops in the middle between the two SWAT teams and makes a split second decision to start by going to the left side. He kicks in doors, dropping scanning drones for Oracle and Alfred to pilot remotely and continues on. In his left ear he’s patched in the audio from the stream even though the ambient circus music the Joker has chosen for his soundtrack is making him even angrier.
“Last building,” Gordon shouts over to him as he converges with the police, handgun drawn and ready. In his ear Alfred whispers “Bruce,” just as the Joker announces the end of the vote and he risks his sanity to peak over at the stream again.
Fifty-one percent. Fifty-one percent of Gotham’s citizens would rather see Jason dead than alive. He doesn’t feel the ache in his muscles as he kicks in the last door, flooding into the vacant warehouse with the majority of the GCPD and the commissioner behind him.
The warehouse is full of colorful balloons and banners reading ‘Ha Ha Ha’ in red, dripping lettering and a single glitter-covered poster board that says ‘Nice Try Batsy!’.
“He’s not here,” Bruce growls angrily into his comms, sweeping out of the room and leaving stunned silence in his wake. “Joker tricked us. Oracle I need you to find him- ”
Furious typing interrupts his rant as he slips into the Batmobile. “The signal’s clearing up,” Barbara’s shaky voice says through the comms. “It’s not blocked anymore… I just have to run the program and I’ll know where he… is…”
“What?” Bruce shouts, hands tight on the wheel and body nearly trembling in the need to be given an address, hell a general direction he can point the car in. He needs to go, Jason’s life is on the line. What's taking so long?
Alfred gasps as the information Barbara found fills the screen of the Batcomputer seconds before it shows on his car screen. She has found Jason.
He’s not even in Gotham.
He’s not even in Gotham.
Bruce slams his foot down on the gas, heading to the highway that will take him to Bludhaven. “Oh Batsy,” Joker croons, the audio from the stream loud in his ear and pulling his attention. “You know Batsy I didn’t even offer them the money to hurt the birdie, only to vote! Your precious Gotham was the one who decided that he needed to die - and after all you’ve done for them too! Oh well,” Joker sighs, “we support democracy here and I’m nothing if not a man of the people! The show, as they say, must go on.”
Through his connection with Alfred and Barbara, Bruce can hear the swing of metal through the air and the meaty thumps as it hits skin followed by grunts then whimpers then screams as Joker tears his Robin, his son, apart. He knows he’ll be hearing that and the sound of laughter in his nightmares for the rest of his life and he pushes the car to its very limit.
He will save his son. Failure isn’t an option.
By the time it’s all over, Jason can only tremble on the cold floor and pant through the pain.
His vision is blurry at best, the domino ripped jaggedly and the white out lenses cracked to the point it fractures what little is left of his vision. He can’t quite tell what hurts more - his body in shock and pushed to its very limit and he decides it's probably a bad thing that he can’t feel too much pain right now. There’s movement around him that he can’t follow and noises that are difficult for his pounding brain to process and he tries to collect himself enough to plan an escape.
Black shoes with white spats stop close enough to his face for him to make them out with minimal effort and he forces his eyes to follow the purple pants leg up to a matching jacket and a bloodless face split into a rictus grin. “Well kiddo I’ve got to go! I’m quite a busy little bee you see and I’ve babysat you for far longer than I agreed to.”
Joker leans down to get close to Jason’s face and Jason uses the last bit of his strength to fill his mouth with bloody saliva that he hocks right into Joker’s face, pride welling up in him and his own lips stretching into a sanguine smirk.
For just an instant Joker looks positively incensed before he calmly pulls out a polka-dotted pocket handkerchief and wipes the blood off his face. He takes that same hand and carefully grips Jason’s head, pulling it up before slamming it roughly back into the ground and making his vision swim and white out to nothing again. The clown is quiet long enough for Jason’s hearing to come back before he leans back in close. “That was really quite rude, you know? This is why Gotham wants you dead kiddo - they don’t need a chain-smoking little Crime Alley rat protecting them when they can have the original Dynamic Duo.”
Jason groans as his face is pushed harder into the cement, his broken cheekbone grinding beneath the skin of his face. “You won’t get away with this,” he chokes out in a broken whisper. “Batman’s going to come for you.”
“Oh but why would he?” Joker teases, running long fingers through Jason’s hair in a parody of comfort and making Jason’s skin crawl at the gentle touch. “I didn’t choose to kill you - his beloved Gotham did! And besides, Big Daddy Bats has had your location this whole time and he hasn’t even bothered coming to get you!”
“That’s not true,” Jason forces out even as his heart clenches in pain. “Of course he’d come for me! He’s Batman and I’m-”
“Just a dead. Little. Birdie,” Joker smiles back. “A dead little birdie who couldn’t even free himself from some rope. A dead birdie who his city hates. Why would he come for you?”
It’s not true. Jason knows it’s not true but he’s alone with the Joker and he hurts and aches and he wants Bruce to save him. He needs his dad.
A single tear, the first he’s allowed to fall, cuts through the blood and dirt on his face and Joker catches it on one finger, staring at it in wonder. “A broken dead little birdie,” he says with absolute glee as he stands back up, kicking Jason in the side one last time. “I’ll be leaving you now. Until never Boy Blunder!”
His footsteps echo in the room and the metal door closes with finality, leaving Jason alone. He takes a couple short moments to try and catch his breath before he forces himself to flip onto his chest. His lungs seize but he doesn’t let that stop him from pulling himself forward on broken and bloody fingers. The door is only ten or fifteen feet away - he can pull himself that far. He just needs to get out of the building, get in front of a security camera or something so Bruce can track him. Dr. Thompkins and Alfred can fix anything - he’ll be fine if he can just get out of the warehouse.
It takes him longer than it should to reach the door and he can’t quite catch his breath when he gets there. Blood bubbles out of his mouth in rivulets that nearly gag him, his chest spasming sharply. It takes everything he has left to pull himself up to the doorknob, balancing on shaky knees and trying to grip the handle with trembling fingers. He pulls it down and pushes it only for it to open two inches and get caught.
The Joker has chained the door shut.
Jason’s heart sinks deeper into his chest and he collapses back to the floor. If he could stand or if his fingers weren’t broken and numb or if he could actually see without his vision swimming he’d be able to pick or break the lock and get out. He can’t do that now - he’s stuck here and completely unable to even consider finding a ladder to escape through one of the broken windows.
He lets his head rest on the door as he flips cautiously to sit against it. Bruce knows where he is - he has to. He’ll find Jason and all Jason has to do is hold on until he does. Something flickering red catches his eye and Jason has to force his vision to focus.
A bundle of C4 is sitting on top of a pile of fuel barrels and the countdown clock it’s wired to has only nine seconds left.
Resignation floods Jason suddenly and he lets his muscles relax and droop as the seconds tick down. Bruce isn’t going to find him; he’s going to die because Gotham wants him to and the Joker thought it’d be a fun game. He’s not going to find his birth mom or finish high school or get to go to college or actually have a brotherly relationship with Dick. He’s going to miss tea time with Alfred tomorrow and quiet moments with Bruce as they both work on their own things in one of the Manor libraries on Sunday afternoons.
He’s going to die here in this cold warehouse alone in a suit he’d give up for more time with his family. He’s going to die for a city that doesn’t love him in return.
Jason lets his eyes lose focus and close. He hears the alarm when the clock reaches zero but doesn’t feel any more pain as the explosion overtakes him.
The stream has long since ended when Bruce hits the outer ring of Bludhaven, speeding through the streets and swerving in and out of traffic. He’s so close - less than a mile out from Jason and he can see the dilapidated roof of the building he’s aiming for. He guns it faster and sets the car on autopilot, handing the controls to Alfred as he swings the door open and disengages it so it flies off and aiming his grapple at the nearest building and firing. He hits the street at a run but is thrown almost immediately back when the building in front of him explodes.
He hits the asphalt hard and rolls a few feet before he’s able to catch himself and push back up into a crouch.
“No,” he whispers, staring at the mass of rapidly dissipating fire in front of him in horror for only a heartbeat before he scrambles up and runs into the ruins with no care for himself. The brick and concrete building blocks are crumbling and the bits of metal and wood and other detritus that were left behind are melting or ash already. Bruce coughs as smoke fills his lungs and he looks frantically through the mess for his son.
There.
A bright spot of yellow and green beckons him and Bruce runs over to it, moving dust and planks and metal until he uncovers Jason.
The boy is absolutely still, his face almost unrecognizable from the severe beating and burns and Bruce pulls him into his lap, fingers groping at Jason’s throat desperately to try and feel a pulse.
There’s nothing. No flow of blood beneath his fingers and no movement of Jason’s chest to signal life. He can feel bones grind beneath skin as Bruce hefts his boy higher in his arms, resting Jason’s rapidly cooling skin in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and burying his shaking fingers in his son’s dark hair.
Bruce doesn’t know how long he sits in the ruins before he notices the sound of sirens in the distance and he swallows thickly. “It’s okay Jay,” he whispers, gently and carefully adjusting the boy in his arms so that he’s cradled close with his head resting on Bruce’s shoulder. He’s so light when Bruce lifts him, his arms and legs limp and his head trying to tip back but Bruce adjusts his hold to keep Jason rested comfortably in his arms.
He needs to take his Robin home.
When he gets back to the Cave, he and Alfred will have to prepare Jason’s body and change him into his civvies. They’ll stage a car accident with one of Bruce’s cars and make it look like Jason lost control and crashed before the car caught fire. He’ll have to plan a funeral that almost no one will attend and that Dick won’t even know about until he and the Titans return from space. In a few days he’ll reach out to the commissioner and the GCPD and tell him that Robin is going to make a full recovery but will be retiring the mask. Jim will pretend to look relieved and act like he believes Batman even though he suspects what’s actually happened.
In a month, after Superman has thwarted his attempt to kill the Joker at a UN summit, Batman will hit the streets again more ruthlessly than ever before. He loves Gotham but it’s betrayed him more deeply than he ever thought possible and he’ll tear a bloody swath through the gangs and kingpins and even the petty crooks until everyone with a brain is locked up tight well before the sun goes down.
In a little over a year he’ll watch Tim Drake take down one of Two Face’s men efficiently with his bo staff and something in him will start to heal just a little.
But now? Now Bruce will cradle his son close and pretend he can’t hear Alfred’s silence and Barbara’s sobs over the comms as his own tears finally fall.