Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The steady beeping of a heart monitor was enough for Jason to want to shut his eyes again, roll over, and promptly fall back asleep. Maybe the next time he woke up, he would be somewhere else.

That damn heart monitor was a sure sign he was in the Batcave, back in the mansion, back with his family. 

Jason didn’t know whether he hated the idea of himself being so injured that he needed a heart monitor or that someone had to swoop in and save him more. 

To his surprise, it wasn’t a dark, rocky cave wall that greeted him when he opened his eyes, but rather the pristine, white ceiling of a hospital. The blades of the ceiling fan spun slowly and Jason could only watch in confusion for a few seconds. 

Next to him, someone cleared their throat and Jason almost jumped at the sound. He cursed himself mentally; how badly had he been injured that he hadn’t noticed someone else’s presence?

A glance to the side revealed Bruce. 

Great.

His father watched him and Jason stared right back. It was like this too often between the two of them. A staring contest in which they tried their best to get a read on the other person and no matter what happened, neither wanted to be the first to speak. 

Right now, all he could read from his father’s expression was pity. It was more unsettling than anything Jason had seen before.

Again; he found himself thinking of how badly he must’ve been injured.

Through the haze in his mind, a quick glance at the prescription painkillers on the nightstand answered that question, before it could be asked, Jason took note of all injuries he could feel.

A slight headache, probably not a concussion at least. 

He brought his hand up to brush a piece of hair out of his eyes, frowning when he saw the bandages lining his forearm. 

Then he thought back to what happened. 

Jason had simply been on a grocery run, then, when walking home after a successful shopping spree, there’d been an explosion. It probably hadn’t even been aimed at him! But it would be enough to burn him somewhat. 

No doubt the sprained wrist was from the impact. As were the stitches that he could feel at the edge of his hairline. 

That still left him with one question; he glanced to the side at Bruce, who throughout his whole thought process hadn’t once looked away. 

His injuries weren’t severe enough for the grave expression, nor for an actual hospital to begin with. 

“Why the hospital? We both know I’ve had worse,” Jason finally said, resisting the urge to cross his arms and pout. His voice sounded terrible and Bruce was quick to pour him a glass of water. 

“How much do you remember of what happened?” Bruce asked, voice low and almost, nervous? 

Whatever Bruce was trying to hide was just making Jason unsettled. He took the glass with a nod, before drinking. 

“I was at the grocery store, then there was a bomb rigged at the street corner, then it exploded and I was too close.” 

It was a simple retelling, but it should’ve been enough to reassure Bruce that everything was fine. Still, the confusing expression didn’t leave his father’s face.

“What am I missing?” Jason asked, his brow furrowing and letting annoyance creep into his tone. He didn’t care for his father’s mind games. 

“Jay, lad,” Bruce began, quietly, and Jason wanted nothing more than for his father to just spit it out. His hand twitched, as though he wanted to take Jason’s, or maybe put a reassuring hand on his shoulder like he used to. He didn’t. 

Jason wasn’t sure whether he was glad or disappointed. 

“What?” He exclaimed with a huff, falling back onto his pillow to glare at the ceiling. “It can’t be that bad.” 

The silence that followed only served to unsettle him more. 

“When you were injured, it was as a civilian.” 

Ah, of course. He should’ve really seen it coming. 

His identity was discovered; someone knew he was the Red Hood. 

That still didn’t explain the hospital. Or Bruce’s grim expression and his hesitancy to tell Jason. 

The problem wasn’t ideal, obviously, but it was nothing a well placed bullet wouldn’t fix. Maybe that was Bruce’s fear, that Jason was going to fall off the deep end again and Bruce would have to hunt him down once more. 

Or maybe that if Jason’s identity was discovered, so was Bruce’s. Or Dick’s, or Tim’s, or Damian’s. Bruce’s hesitancy wasn’t concern for Jason; it never was. 

He shouldn’t have flattered himself to think his father cared that much. However bad his mood had been when he’d woken up to see Bruce with him, it was worse now.

“The paramedics that were called to the scene, brought you back to the hospital and the doctors…” His father trailed off, as though unsure how to continue. He wrung his hands nervously and Jason wanted to yell at him. 

He didn’t; partly because he was trying to fix whatever their relationship had come to and partly because his father, whom he had only seen this nervous so little that he could count it on one hand, was scared. That terrified Jason more than he could care to admit. 

“And the doctors?” Jason repeated. He dreaded the answer.

“They identified you.” 

There was a lull in their conversation, where Jason tried to understand what the words meant by reading Bruce’s expression. He couldn’t find anything other than sympathy. 

“Not everyone in this room is ‘The World’s Greatest Detective,’ you know?” Jason asked, not bothering to keep the scorn out of his tone this time. If Bruce was going to act difficult, then so would he. 

The expression on Bruce’s face only tightened, but no sick remark came. Jason almost wished that he could get a true reaction from his father, just once. 

“They identified you as my son, Jason Todd, who supposedly died 5 years ago.”

There was a pause in Jason’s head and then the gravity of the situation seemed to hit him all at once.

“That’s not necessarily bad, right?” Jason asked, his voice quiet and he quickly cleared his throat. He was not going to act like some scared child. “I mean as long as the information doesn’t leave the hospital--” 

His father’s grimace was enough to cut him off. 

Tears pricked the back of his eyes and Jason swallowed heavily, blinking a few times to clear them. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want to go back to being someone the public recognized. 

“The press was here before I was,” Bruce said, a hint of resignation in his tone, and Jason wanted more than anything to just lash out at him. He knew that Bruce had done his best. If he’d been given the opportunity, Jason was sure that he’d have thrown however much money was needed at the problem until it went away. 

Still, a quiet voice in his head insisted that if it had been one of his brothers, then Bruce would’ve at least arrived first. 

At the very least Bruce turned away from Jason to look out the window, letting him fight his tears unobserved. Although he had no doubt that Bruce knew.

Back when he was younger, just twelve and rescued from the slums by some billionaire, Jason had never been more excited at the prospect of being a celebrity.

He had attended galas, albeit he’d quickly learned to hate them. He’d lived in the mansion, surrounded by wealth and his father’s love. He’d been recognized in public. 

None of that was something that Jason wanted anymore. 

Nothing made him more sick than the prospect of publicly being himself again. 

Not to mention that there was no way the press would simply leave him alone. Bruce Wayne’s son returned from the dead? There was hardly a better headline. 

“What now?” Jason asked after a few seconds, once he trusted himself to speak again.

Bruce took the simple question as permission to look back at him. 

“We release a statement to the press, explaining where you’ve been for the last 5 years. Then it’s about keeping up--” 

Jason barely listened as his father spoke. The only thing that he could think of was that his life was about to change. Again. And as usual, for the worse. 

“I want to leave,” Jason said, not caring that he interrupted Bruce or that Bruce had only been talking because he was answering Jason’s questions. 

“Your doctor wants you to stay at least another 5 hours,” Bruce told him. He seemed as unconvinced from the statement as Jason did himself. 

“I’ll go AMA, get me the forms,” Jason sighed, he let his eyes slip shut for a second, simply thinking over all that happened. It was too much. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to be at home and have a chance to think things over himself. 

The door shut quietly behind Bruce. 

When the door opened again, it was a doctor wearing a frown, holding a clipboard in his hands. 

Bruce came back in, somewhere in the middle of Jason and the doctor’s argument. He didn’t say anything, but rather stood behind Jason. It wasn’t often that Jason was grateful for his father’s presence, but he definitely was when he saw the doctor’s facade crumble beneath Bruce’s stare. 

Finally the doctor relented and the form was signed. 

Bruce motioned toward the bag of clothes he’d brought with him as he turned to face the window. 

Jason supposed he should be grateful for the bit of privacy he was given. 

“Alfred is waiting with the car,” His father said, as though only to make small talk. Jason gave a quiet hum, he couldn’t say he was in the mood. 

He frowned when he saw the nice suit and dress shoes. With a too loud scoff he began removing his hospital gown. 

“Is there a problem?” Bruce asked when Jason began buttoning up his shirt. Of course that’s what his father would focus on.

“Just didn’t expect a suit,” Jason grumbled as he took a seat on the bed to tie his shoes. “You can turn around.” 

He saw his father’s expression falter for a second, before he spoke, almost too quietly, “You’re my son,” as though the simple statement was enough to fix everything. They looked at each for a few seconds longer, before the genuine worry in Bruce’s eyes was too much for Jason.

Jason didn’t want to think about how that had been the first time that Brice had called him ‘his son’ since he’d been back. He didn’t want to think about how it was only for the sake of publicity. 

“There are reporters waiting by the main entrance for you. For now it’s best not to pay attention to them and not to comment on anything they ask.”

Jason gave a nod; ignoring people did happen to be something he excelled at. 

He was proven wrong when he walked through the doors 5 minutes later, Bruce behind him and was quickly swarmed with reporters. 

Questions were thrown at him from left and right; in the noise of it all, Jason could barely understand them. He could feel people brushing against him, not keeping a respectable distance. Then again what else should he have expected?

Bruce’s hand touched his back, grazing him lightly at first and then settling between his shoulder blades. 

It was enough of a push that Jason could start moving, weaving through the crowd with great effort as he’d been taught the first time it had happened.

He molded his face into a bored expression, something uncaring, what he’d wear when Bruce began lecturing him. When he made the front page tomorrow, which he was sure he would, he wouldn’t be looking scared, intimidated. 

He’d look like this was just another day in his life. 

Jason had to suppress a frown at a thought that this most likely would be just another day. 

He supposed he could be thankful that he was older now. His shoulders had broadened out, his frame was lean and fit. He could look intimidating if he tried. The reporters went out of his way easily. 

Except one, who stood just in front of the car and was the last person in Jason’s way. 

“Mr. Todd!” The reporter called out, already shoving his camera into Jason’s face. “What did it feel like to return and find out that your father replaced you?” 

Of course luck would have it that that was the question Jason would be able to understand through all the noise. 

He paused, froze where he was standing, and he felt Bruce’s hand stiffen on his back. 

The reporter looked at him expectantly, a greedy expression on his face.

“I only need one good hand to hit you, so how about you get your camera out of my face?” Jason said, gritting his teeth as to not let his anger run freely. The man seemed taken aback, as though that was the last thing he could’ve expected. Really, he should’ve known better asking a question like that. 

Jason flexed his hand, momentarily wondering how mad Bruce would be if he did hit the reporter.

Then his father’s hand moved from his back to his shoulder in a strong grip that Jason wouldn’t have been able to shake if he wanted to. 

“Jason,” Bruce said, one word only: a warning.

With a scoff, Jason pushed past the reporter, letting Bruce guide him to the car where Alfred already had the door open. 

“Master Jason,” He spoke with a soft nod. 

No matter how pissed off Jason was, he couldn’t not at least smile at Alfred. He hoped the butler would understand.

Inside the car, he leaned against the window, content to sit in uncomfortable silence. 

Bruce seemed to have a different idea. 

“I didn’t hear what that reporter said to you, but,” Bruce began before Jason cut him off. He couldn’t take much more of this caring tone. 

“I know,” He interrupted, biting his cheek. He already knew he fucked up, he didn’t need the lecture. “It won’t happen again. It’s just…” He trailed off, briefly glancing toward Bruce. The sorry expression was enough for him to finish. “A lot.” 

Bruce nodded. He clasped Jason’s shoulder for a few seconds, an action equally uncomfortable and comforting.

The silence didn’t last too long.

A frown overtook Jason’s mouth when he watched Alfred take a wrong turn to his apartment, which could only mean one thing: they weren’t going to his apartment. 

“I’m not going to the manor,” Jason said, quickly and with a hint of annoyance. He couldn’t bear to spend time with anyone else today, especially not someone as draining as his father and brothers.

Bruce turned to look at him, the way he always did when disappointed. It only irked Jason more. 

“I figured it was best that we plan out the statement to the press as quickly as possible and then we can call a press conference this evening and be done with it,” Bruce explained in a logical way that made Jason’s jaw twitch. 

“No,” Jason cut him off, before Bruce could continue. His father only raised an eyebrow at him. “I can’t, not tonight.” 

This was all happening way too fast for him. 

“If this is about the statement; Tim or I’ll help you with it.”

“I don’t care about the statement!” Jason snapped and his father seemed to finally take the hint.

Jason slumped forward, burying his head in his hands. For once he didn’t care about the weakness he was showing in front of his father. 

“Alfred, take me home.”

“Will do,” Alfred responded, seemingly unfazed by the exchange behind him. 

Jason took a deep breath; this wouldn’t be made any better by him destroying what little he and Bruce had rebuilt. Especially in the coming weeks they’d have to work together. 

“I just need some time to clear my head,” Jason said quietly, needing Bruce to understand that he needed space. “Tonight’s too soon.”

He could imagine Bruce nodding beside him from where he was too cowardly to look at his father. 

“Alright, I’ll see that it’s pushed to Thursday,” Bruce responded, mirroring Jason’s tone. It was the way they talked to traumatized civilians and Jason hated that he was at the receiving end of it. 

Thursday would leave him three days to figure it out. That would be enough. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, almost unintelligible but he was sure that Bruce heard it.

When he risked glancing at the window, Jason could see his street sign on the corner. He had never felt more relieved.

“I’ll call you about the statement tomorrow.” 

Jason hesitated before responding, “Just have Timmy write it.” 

He didn’t care about deciding his civilian backstory and he certainly didn’t care to see his father again tomorrow. This was enough interaction for the rest of the week, as far as Jason was concerned.

Alfred pulled up at the curb and Jason couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Jay,” Bruce called out, when Jason had already exited the car. The old nickname caught his attention, if not for it then Jason probably would’ve pretended he hadn’t heard his father. “Try to keep a low profile until Thursday, alright?” 

Jason’s hand tightened on the car door, before he smiled and nodded. 

It just figured that Bruce would be more concerned with Jason’s public image than Jason himself.

Chapter Text

Jason paused before the steps of the company, looking around cautiously. Already they were setting up for the press conference that was supposed to start in two hours. The absence of reporters surprised him more than he’d let on, but it was a surprise that he welcomed.

He didn’t know if he could deal with questions right now, not when he was already this tense. Surely Bruce wouldn’t appreciate him threatening to hit a reporter. Again. 

He almost wished someone would provoke him just to annoy his father.

An amused smile worked its way onto his lips when he realized that he was quite literally there to answer questions. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a girl turn to her friend and point at him. Real subtle. Rolling his eyes, Jason stepped forward, walking up the steps until he was pushing through the unnecessarily extravagant glass doors and stood before the secretary. 

“Welcome to Wayne Enterpr…” She trailed off, the bright, frankly unnerving smile fell off her face as she recognized who he was. Or maybe it was just his grim expression that depressed her.

“Mr. Todd, right?” She asked, her voice as perky as before.

It was the former then.

“Right,” He answered, mirroring the same overly excited smile that she wore. He must not have done it with enough sarcasm as she was barely phased by it. He caught his reflection in the shiny wall behind her and it was enough to permanently knock the smile from his lips. 

Fuck he looked stupid, dressed up as he was. 

Bruce had been the one to insist he come in a suit and then he’d insisted that Jason buy a better one when he realized his $60 mall formal wear wasn’t designer. 

Apparently he couldn’t be seen wearing the same suit twice in a row either. 

“Here you go,” The woman, still in an awfully cheerful tone, said as she handed him an ID card before she stood up. Jason pinned it to his pocket, frowning when it didn’t connect immediately. 

He would definitely complain about that later to Bruce.

“Mr. Wayne asked me to personally escort you to his office,” She said and paused, as if waiting for Jason to express his excitement that his father cared to have him escorted. If anything he would give him an earful about the babysitter. 

“Thank you,” He answered instead, considering it practice for the no doubt endless and irritating press conference he was about to attend. 

“Right this way.” 

He followed her without another word, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when her back was turned and the bounce in her step matched her perky personality. What was the point if no one was there to see and be annoyed by it? 

She led him to the elevators, swiping her card at the console before holding the door for Jason. 

He stepped in beside her, making sure to stand a little behind her. Maybe it was his vigilante training; probably it was just hope that she’d catch a hint and wouldn’t try for small talk. 

Disappointment wasn’t anything new to him.

“It really was so exciting to hear about your return to Gotham,” She began, an interested twinkle in her eyes and Jason clasped his hands in front of him, if only so he’d have something else to do. “And it was in such a dramatic manner too. I mean how many years has it been since your ‘death?’ 5?”

Jason hummed in agreement, looking away to instead analyze the painting hanging on the wall. What kind of dick hung paintings in an elevator?

“What was it like? Away from Gotham and your family?” She finally seemed to have gathered the courage to ask; how, Jason would always be astounded. I mean after his overly enthusiastic answer to her first question, clearly this was something he wanted to discuss. “What did you do to fill your time?” 

God, she spoke as though it were a vacation.

“I guess you’ll have to wait for the press release later like everyone else,” Jason joked, trying to keep his tone good-natured. There would be two more hours of this later, he thought to himself with a grimace. 

If possible at all, which Jason hadn’t thought before, her smile seemed to sharpen. 

“You know we were all so terribly sorry to hear about your death,” She said with such fake pity in her tone that Jason almost laughed. Instead he gave a solemn nod. “We were absolutely devastated here at Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Wayne himself didn’t come into work for I think a week.” Jason stiffened at that; the bright smile that she still wore only made what she said even more insincere. “Personally, I would’ve thought that he would need longer to mourn a child, but you know him better than I do, I suppose…” 

She finished with an awkward laugh and Jason dug his nails into his palms. 

Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. 

He wasn’t sure whether that was Bruce’s or Dick’s voice in his head, but someone was warning him. 

“Yes, I’m quite aware of how my father handled my death,” He settled for speaking in an icy tone. It wasn’t outright hostile, but it wasn’t what his brother or father would’ve wanted. 

For a second he swore he saw the secretary’s smile falter. 

He didn’t have it in himself to feel guilty. 

She remained quiet for the rest of the elevator ride, only clearing her throat when they reached the right floor and the doors slid open. 

Between having to host a press conference and cooperate with Bruce, his mood had been shit already. He hadn’t thought it possible to worsen it. Yet all it took was one obnoxious secretary. 

As tense as he was, there was no way that Bruce and him wouldn’t get into one of their screaming matches today.

Jason followed her silently out of the elevator, eyeing the glass offices warily. He had never understood the appeal of working in full sight of other people, letting them see his every move and watch when he slacked off. 

He let his gaze drift from office to office, keeping a neutral expression when associates looked back at him. Unlike him, they didn’t hide their amazement at seeing Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, returned from the dead. 

Finally, Jason read a familiar name. 

“Mr. Tim Drake,” read the name on the door and when he looked through the door, he saw his brother typing away at a desk with a furrowed brow. 

Yeah, this would be a lot better than immediately having to see Bruce.

“You know what?” Jason said, successfully stopping the nice secretary in her tracks. She turned around, an expecting expression on her face. “You can just leave me here, I’ll find my own way to Br--my father!-- later.” 

He plastered the sweetest smile he could muster on his face as he was already stepping towards Tim’s door. 

Her expression crumbled to one of uncertainty. 

“But Mr. Wayne specifically said--”

“And I’ll make sure to tell him that you were a lovely guide, but that I wanted to stop in with my brother,” Jason cut her off, already his hand was pushing down on the door handle. 

She opened her mouth as if to speak and Jason quickly tightened his smile, pressed down on the handle, stepped back into the room, and closed the door. 

He turned around to face Tim, continuing to stand stiffly by the door. 

Tim’s hands had paused his typing, instead hovering over his keyboard as he stared at Jason with a confused expression. 

“Aren’t you supposed to meet with Bruce?” He asked, his hands already going back to the keyboard, no doubt pulling up a digital calendar with every single one of Jason’s appointments this month or some other nerd shit. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Is she gone?” Jason asked, eyes flicking to the side instead of pointing the secretary out with his head. 

“Who?” 

“Miss Sunshine,” Jason lovingly nicknamed her, pleased with himself when Tim cracked a smile. 

“The secretary?” He asked, holding back a laugh, poorly albeit. Jason gave a frantic nod and Tim made a show of craning his neck to look around his brother. “She left immediately after you came in. Probably to complain to someone about her boss’ son being a dick.” 

Jason only snorted at that. 

He turned around, not that he didn’t trust Tim’s judgment, but rather that he wanted to see for himself. He took two more steps, then he dropped backwards onto the sleek leather couch with a loud sigh of relief, letting his legs hang over the edge. Simply not having to put his weight on his feet in the new--and deeply uncomfortable--shoes was a great relief. He shifted his shoulders for a few seconds, trying to be more comfortable, which was rather hard when the couch was just trying to be uncomfortable. 

“What’s the point of having an office with a couch and all this nice shit if it’s just uncomfortable to lie on?” He complained, sneaking a glance to the side where Tim was again looking at a screen. His brother briefly met his gaze and Jason looked back at the ceiling. 

“That’s part of the trade secret. When we invite business partners over, they find it so uncomfortable here that they want to make a deal as quickly as possible, just so they can leave,” Tim answered, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. 

Jason widened his eyes comically. “Well it’s not a secret anymore if I know now, is it?” 

“You have to promise not to tell anyone,” Tim responded with a serious nod. He pressed some keys in a fast sequence and seconds later the printer in the corner spurred to life with a quiet whir. 

“Nah, I’m selling your secrets on the internet,” Jason retorted, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out. 

That did earn him a suppressed snort from Tim and Jason was almost hit with a swell of appreciation at how normal this seemed. Just him and Tim, joking around, like brothers. 

It was far off from when he’d tried to kill the other. 

“That’s your statement, if you want to go over it before you, you know, state it,” Tim informed him, ever eloquently, and gave a nod toward the printer. Then he was back to clicking away at his screen. 

Only a trained and practiced vigilante like Jason, or just anybody who had spent time with Tim, could see that the younger brother was still watching Jason out of the corner of his eye. 

Jason jumped up, it didn’t take more than three steps total to get the paper from the printer and to flop down in the chair across from Tim’s desk. He masked his smile when the chair rolled a little farther from the impact. 

Then he began reading. 

When he was done, Tim had quit trying to pretend he was working and instead was watching him with crossed arms. 

“And?” He asked quietly, almost unsurely. 

Jason hummed softly; it wasn’t perfect, but he doubted even he would be able to do it perfectly himself. Besides, he had been given the option to write a statement himself and passed on it. 

“You wrote this?” Jason asked, just for the confirmation.

Tim nodded, his expression poorly trying to hide his nervousness. 

“It’s good,” Jason said, swallowing heavily. The way the tension bled out of Tim’s shoulders relieved him as much as his brother. “I’m just not sure about the whole ‘my family moved on without me’ thing.” 

He tried to keep the emotion out of his tone, judging by Tim’s expression, he wasn’t entirely successful. 

“I thought it might be easiest to stick to the truth and the overall timeline and just correct certain things that have to do with vigilantism,” Tim explained slowly. It was a difficult subject for both of them after all. 

Memories of Jason, still enraged by pit-madness, trying to kill Tim would never leave either of them. 

He supposed it was better that they stick to the truth, but in this case that was exactly the problem. It was too much of it. It had hurt Jason to come back after years of being dead only to find out his family had moved on without him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to share that. 

“I can still make changes if you want. I mean we still have one and a half hours,” Tim offered, reaching for the page in Jason’s hand. He hesitated briefly. 

“It’s fine,” He finally decided, already reading the statement again. 

Admitting that he wanted it crossed from the statement would be admitting that it had hurt him. And he couldn’t do that. 

“You know you were supposed to meet Bruce, not me, right? He wanted to talk to you first and then go over your statement together,” Tim reminded him and Jason threw his head back with a sign, eyes trained on the ceiling again. 

“I know, why do you think I came here?” Jason asked, irritation in his tone. The last thing he wanted was another one of Bruce’s talks about family and the importance of public image. “It’s not because I enjoy your company,” He added as a last resort, because he couldn’t very well let Tim think he liked him. 

“Okay brother ,” Tim said, emphasizing the word sharply, and Jason let out a huff of laughter. 

“Do you think you can text him that I’m running late? Just half an hour or something?” Jason asked, kicking his feet up to lie on Tim’s desk. As tense as he was, he doubted Bruce yelling at him would make him feel better. 

“Get your shoes off my desk,” Tim responded quickly, without his gaze ever leaving his screen. Jason did have to marvel at his reflexes; he rewarded him with the middle finger. 

Tim glanced at him briefly, before frowning. “And as for Bruce..” He motioned towards the door and Jason followed his eyes until he saw his father opening the door. 

Fuck. 

He quickly turned around to share an annoyed look with Tim. 

“Ah Bruce,” Tim said with a mischievous smile that made Jason want to hit him. “Jason wanted me to tell you that he’s running late, about half an hour.” 

Scratch that, Jason was going to hit him. Just as soon as the stupid press conference was over. 

The glance that he sent his brother must’ve been downright foul for Tim to look somewhat guilty. 

“Jason,” He heard Bruce behind him and he was already mentally gearing up for a fight. 

“Present,” He answered, waving an arm up as he went back to studying the statement in front of him, trying to commit it to memory as quickly as he could. Anything to avoid having to speak with his father. 

“Cherry was supposed to bring you to my office 20 minutes ago,” Bruce said, his hand came to rest on the edge of Jason’s chair and he had to resist the urge to flinch away. It took Jason an awfully long time to realize that Cherry was probably the overly enthusiastic secretary. 

“Yeah, well Cherry turned out to be kind of a bitch so I ditched her to spend some quality bonding time with my favorite brother,” Jason answered, letting sarcasm bleed into his tone. When Tim raised an eyebrow at him, he sent him his best imitation of Cherry’s fake smile. 

He could almost imagine the conflicted expression on Bruce’s face. On one-hand Jason had childishly disobeyed him, on the other he was actively seeking out Tim’s company, rather than trying to kill him. 

Jason almost wished he had turned around to face Bruce or that Tim had a mirror in which he could see his father’s expressions. 

“I’ll text Dick and let him know,” Tim interrupted, trying to dissolve some of the tension in the room. Jason only shook his head. 

“You’ll break the poor guy’s heart,” He warned, pity in his tone. 

“Did you finish the statement, Tim?” Bruce asked instead of criticizing Jason further. In a more rough than necessary motion, he pushed Jason’s legs off the desk, making him yelp in surprise, before pulling up a chair beside Jason’s. 

“Rude,” Jason muttered as Tim smirked at him. He held out the statement he’d been staring at since Bruce had entered the room in a peace offering. 

His father took it wordlessly, instead quickly reading through it. Jason let himself slump further in his chair, knowing that if nothing else worked, at least his shitty posture would infuriate his father. He watched him carefully as he read, pinpointing the exact millisecond that Bruce’s expression switched to one of hurt, before it was carefully hidden once more. 

“Are you dead set on saying that Jason felt replaced by you and that he felt the family had moved on?” Bruce asked, the question clearly directed at Tim and Jason rolled his eyes. 

Tim may have written it, but it was his statement still.

“Yeah, I think Timmy really outdid himself with that one,” Jason praised, shooting Tim an overzealous smile. “He wanted to keep as close to the truth as possible--” There was that brief flicker of hurt again. “--and I couldn’t agree more! I think it really adds a level of vulnerability to the statement that the press would be displeased with otherwise.” 

Bruce only frowned, but stayed silent otherwise.

Why was that particular detail so painful for him? It’s not as though he were the one replaced.

“I’m only worried about the image it creates of our family.” 

Ah, of course. There it was. As per usual, Bruce wasn’t concerned with Jason’s feelings, but rather his own public image. It did make Bruce appear like kind of a shit dad. 

If Jason had been unsure in the beginning, he was completely convinced now. 

“Your public image will be fine,” Jason interrupted, snatching the statement out of Bruce’s hand before his father could respond. “Besides, I like it.”

He ignored Tim’s puzzled expression.

“I don’t want to risk the public pitting you two against one another, which will no doubt happen if we give them reason to,” Bruce explained further, his forehead wrinkling in that way it did whenever he’s concerned. Jason so rarely saw it directed at him anymore that he almost paused his antics. 

“That’ll happen anyway. Doesn’t matter what I say or don’t. And it’s my statement at the end of the day, if I want to say it I’ll say it,” Jason retorted with a shrug, hiding from his father’s no doubt angry expression by reading through the statement for the nth time. 

Even if he wasn’t looking, he could tell Tim and Bruce exchanged a look with one another. The kind of look his family frequently exchanged with one another when they thought he wasn’t looking; the kind of look that meant ‘Watch out!’ or ‘Back off!’ It was the kind of look that meant they thought he was about to snap. 

Jason hated it. If he’d been in a bad mood before, now it had positively tanked. 

There were a few seconds of tense silence and Jason couldn’t help but think to himself that this was the exact reason why he had chosen to come to Tim and not Bruce. Then Bruce exhaled deeply and turned to face him. 

“How are you feeling about the conference?” Bruce finally asked and he sounded as weary as Jason felt. Or maybe it was wary, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Fine,” He responded, not looking up from the statement which he was reading for probably the 16th time now. 

A sigh sounded next to him. Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes, lest it give him a headache. 

“I wanted to meet with you before looking at the statement to see if I could give you some last minute pointers,” Bruce began slowly, carefully. Jason hated when his family started walking on eggshells around him. At the same time, he loved the power this gave him. Bruce was scared that he was about to do something stupid, and that was a great feeling. 

“Pfft, it’s not like it’s difficult,” Jason interrupted, quiet typing briefly interrupted his train of thought as he glanced to the side to see an uncomfortable Tim continue his work. He actually did feel a bit of guilt for the first time that day. Probably that week if he was being honest. 

“I just smile a lot, do a lot of enunciating, leave dramatic pauses and room for laughter, and pretend as though I didn’t try to kill Timbers over there and my father didn’t try to kill me,” He ended with the perfect final touch: an overly cheerful smile. Really, with how often he’s used it today as a punchline, Jason should really be thanking Cherry.

His father’s expression darkened immediately and Jason couldn’t help the twinge of satisfaction he felt. If he had to be miserable, then so did Bruce. 

“Oh relax, I’ll be fine,” He groaned when Bruce looked as though he wanted to lecture him again. “When I fuck up the conference it will be an accident, not on purpose.” 

Surprisingly, the grim expression on Bruce’s face wasn’t lifted. 

“It better not be,” Bruce spoke in a deep tone that sounded more Batman than Bruce Wayne: A clear threat, if Jason had ever heard one. 

Better not be an accident?

Or what? You’ll try to kill me again?

Both remarks died on his tongue; this seemed like the wrong time to push his father further. 

Although a part of him, the deepest, darkest, that enjoyed tormenting others, did wonder how far he, as Jason Todd, could push his father, Bruce Wayne. They were in an open office building, glass walls and doors surrounding every office. 

He was untouchable. 

The thought made him smile. He never thought he’d feel safer as Jason Todd than as Red Hood.

“You can pick me up from Tim when it’s time,” Jason nodded towards his brother when he mentioned him and instead reemerged himself in his statement. He didn’t bother reading it this time; he just wanted an excuse to ignore his father. 

Bruce stood with a nod, his hand hesitated near Jason’s shoulder and Jason braced himself for the impact. It never came. 

Soon enough, he heard receding footsteps and the door closing.

He didn’t know whether he mourned that the touch never came or was grateful for it. 

Jason let out a deep sigh, setting the statement back on the desk and resting his head in his hands. Tim mimicked him. 

“Well that was uncomfortable,” His brother finally said and Jason snorted. 

“Ha, understatement of the year,” He responded, his tone empty of amusement. He looked up briefly, seeing Tim’s unsure expression and added a quiet, more serious, “I’m sorry.” 

He even meant it this time. 

“You know he’s trying,” Tim said, his tone not even attempting to joke anymore. It was in a small voice as though Tim expected to get yelled at for saying it and judging from Jason’s past reactions, it wasn’t an unfair expectation. 

“I know,” Jason whispered, “So am I.” 

“Are you?” Tim surprised him by questioning him. Jason couldn’t help but feel taken aback by it. 

Luckily for him, it remained a rhetorical question as Jason received a text and Tim went back to working on whatever it was he did. 

From Dickhead:

What do you mean I’m not your favorite brother? :(

Chapter Text

“Take a picture, it’ll probably last longer,” Jason snarked when he walked into the kitchen at 5:54 am. Damian at least had the decency to look down at his cereal, although Jason was pretty sure it was to hide his amusement. Dick continued to look right at him, his expression unreadable in a way that unnerved Jason. 

Of course the one time that he decided to actually come back to the Mansion after a mission, it would be at such an inconvenient time that 2 of 3 brothers were awake. 

He could practically see the gears turning in Dick’s head; his brother had that thoughtful expression on his face he always did when he was trying to decide how to approach something delicately with Jason. 

Jason didn’t simply ask Dick: ‘What’s up?’ No, that would’ve been too easy. Instead, Jason made a mental note to wait the hour in the Batcave for his samples to be analyzed the next time he collected something on a mission, rather than see whatever leftovers Alfred had stocked in the fridge.

“You know we love you, right?” Dick finally spat out… Okay, maybe that was the wrong word, but Jason certainly felt more affronted than if Dick had just point-blank insulted him. Dick’s expression was one of empathy, no -- sympathy? 

It wasn’t often that Jason was caught completely off guard, but at that moment, standing bone-tired in front of an open fridge in his family’s kitchen at way too early in the morning, he was absolutely confused.

“Excuse me?” He finally sputtered, hating himself for how weak his response was and how long it took him. “This is a little cheesy, even for you.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Damian added with a snort. When Jason glared at him he quickly looked back to his breakfast bowl. His posture remained intact however and his head angled towards them. 

Jason narrowed his eyes, watching Damian suspiciously. 

So he knew what was up with Dick.

“And we accept you for the person you are,” Dick continued, slowly, carefully… in an all too serious tone. 

Oh god… Jason couldn’t even begin to imagine what Dick was leading to. How could he change the topic?

“The person I am? So what? The whole ‘no more murder’ thing was just a phase?” Jason retorted with a snort. He would so much rather have a debate about his morality than whatever this was becoming. He looked at Dick long enough to see his expression falter and he turned to search through the fridge to hide his smirk.

“That’s not what I…” Dick trailed off quietly, his tone sad. But his distraction seemed to have worked.

“You really are doing a terrible job, Grayson,” Damian interrupted, his voice ever formal and his intentions hidden to the unobservant. But Jason was anything but; he could see the excited gleam in Damian’s eyes, the amusement lining his lips.

Either Jason or Dick was about to make a fool of himself.

Considering the fact that Dick had already done so, it was probably Jason’s turn next. 

Next time he was definitely waiting in the batcave.

“I just want you to know that we love and support you no matter,” Dick hesitated for a few seconds, making Jason raise an eyebrow, “whom you love…” 

Jason stood still a while longer, almost frozen. Did Dick mean--? No, he couldn’t… Could he? 

“Demon-child?” Jason summoned; he had waited too long and needed someone who wasn’t trying to break this delicately to him.

“Dick just found out you’re gay.” Damian said, raising his hand to cover his lower face as he spoke with his mouth full. Before Jason had a moment to process the news, Damian continued: “You made the front page.” 

He flipped the magazine he’d been reading shut and slid it towards Jason. 

Sure enough, on the front page was a picture of Jason… and his date, sitting in a decently lit bar. They were in the corner booth, several empty drinks sat on the table. Jason was laughing, playing with the glass in his hand and his date had a hand on his bicep…

He looked happy, they both did.

And below was the caption: “Jason Todd’s Love Life: An All Exclusive from an Insider!”

So yeah… Jason didn’t think he needed to read the article to know what it was about. He curled the article in his hand, grasping it, before briskly walking out of the kitchen

“What do you mean ‘just found out’?” Dick’s voice sounded in the background, clearly annoyed.

“It was obvious.” Damian said with a scoff and Jason’s hand tightened on the magazine. 

Fuck the sample. Someone would send it to him when it was done analyzing… Or someone else would take over the case, Jason didn’t really care at the moment. 

What he does care about, is that the one time in his life that he actually went on a date (and it actually went well!) it was all some elaborate scam to write an article on him. 

Fuck… He needed some time to nurse his wounds in private. Preferably with a bottle of something old. 

“Jason,” Bruce’s voice stopped him, his hand lingering on the door knob for just a second longer. 

Fuck. He had hoped to avoid this talk for at least another hour.

“Would you please come to my office?” Bruce asked. Jason resisted the urge to scoff at the question; they both knew it was a demand. A demand that he would follow, because apparently keeping the peace always fell on him.

He pushed past Bruce, up the remaining stairs and down the hallway until he dropped into the chair in front of Bruce’s desk. It was littered with papers, contracts and most importantly, one shiny, celebrity lifestyle magazine.

With a huff, Jason sunk down further and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“First of all,” Bruce began, his voice strong, so unlike how Dick had attempted it. 

Jason cut him off before he could get any further.

“Dick already gave me a whole speech about how the family loves and accepts me for who I am, so you can save yours,” Jason snarked, raising his head slightly so he could barely cross his eyes and take a peek at Bruce’s expression. 

He looked taken aback and Jason repressed the smile that warmed him at the thought.

“I wasn’t going to--” Bruce quickly corrected and Jason rolled his eyes.

“This is about the tabloid?” Jason interrupted once more; he really didn’t care for any parenting attempts from Bruce today. 

“You need to be more careful with what you say and who you say it to.”

Jason bit his cheek, trying to push down the resentment that his father didn’t care enough to say anything. Even if he had gotten a “speech” from Dick, which you could barely call a speech by the way, it still would’ve meant something to him. 

Even if he would’ve never admitted it.

“Isn’t all press good press?” Jason asked instead, sitting up to glare at Bruce. “Or are you worried some homophobic business partner is going to drop the company because of your queer son?” He sneered, tossing his copy of the magazine on the desk for dramatic effect. 

His own smile taunted him from the magazine cover.

Normally, Jason would feel some remorse for speaking to his father that way, but not now, not today. Today, he had a right to be angry.

“I’m worried it’ll reflect badly on the family and the company when my son is quoted saying, ‘My father probably wishes I stayed dead so he wouldn’t have to deal with the PR mess and I definitely wish I stayed dead, so I wouldn’t have to deal with him,’” Bruce spoke, his tone icy and quickly putting Jason back into his place.

Jason averted his eyes, not bearing being able to look his father in the eyes. He at least had the decency to feel somewhat ashamed.

But his anger was still close beneath the surface. 

If Bruce wanted to argue, then they would argue.

Why shouldn’t he say things like that, when the most interest that Bruce had taken in him of late was fixing his messes, fixing his image? The only thing that Bruce had done since Jason had returned was criticize him. 

Jason was already gearing up to throw Bruce’s words back in his face, but his father beat him to it.

“I know you didn’t want to return to public life as my son and I’m sorry that you weren’t given a choice.”

That was unexpected. Jason’s words died in his throat.

“And I know that our relationship has been… rough, since your return, but you can’t afford to be this reckless with what you say; you can’t afford to have so little self-control,” Bruce reminded him, gently but firmly. 

Silence engulfed the two, only interrupted by Jason swallowing heavily.

“I know, I’m…” Jason hesitated, “sorry.” 

He hoped Bruce understood that he didn’t just mean for not watching himself in public, but rather for what he had said as well.

“I wasn’t even thinking… I thought it was just--” Jason trailed off.  “ A date ” remained on his tongue. 

He still couldn’t believe he’d been that stupid. It was worse than he had expected. 

“It’s alright, we all make mistakes,” Bruce said, in what he was probably aiming for to be a reassuring tone, but came out more awkward than comforting.

They sat in silence again, Jason’s eyes trained on the edge of the desk. Anything was better than having to look into his father’s eyes. 

“You do know that no matter the PR headaches you give me, you are my son. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

Jason did look up at that, so fast he was almost sure he gave himself whiplash. 

His father wore a strangely sincere expression. Jason could barely remember the last time they were this open with one another. 

“I’m sorry,” Jason repeated himself, hating how insincere his apology came over in comparison with his father’s.

“I didn’t even mean it, we were drinking and he kept pushing and I don’t know why I said it…” Jason trailed off; he didn’t know how to excuse his behavior.  He didn't know how to pretend that there hadn't been some truth to his confession.

“Thank you,” Bruce replied. Short and formal. As though this were any old business meeting, not a heart-to-heart with his son. As though he didn't believe Jason.

It stung more than Jason would've liked to admit.

“What now? Do I have to make another statement?” Jason asked. If Bruce wanted to keep this professional, then so would he. He finally gathered the courage to look up from where he'd been avoiding Bruce's gaze for the larger part of the conversation.

He couldn't ignore the anger he felt, when he realized that Bruce was no longer paying attention to him. Already his eyes were trained on his desk monitor, his mouse clicking away at something and his lips set in a frown. Whatever gratitude Jason had felt to Bruce for his meager apology ebbed away as Bruce made blatantly obvious what a lie it was.

“I think it’s best we ignore it for now.”

A small mercy.

 “Come to dinner with me sometime this week, somewhere public,” Bruce suggested, or rather ordered, instead. "And we'll put these rumors to rest once and for all."

Rumors. Were Jason in a more foul mood and less desperate to be released from Bruce's dingy office, he might've scoffed.

“Okay,” Jason simply agreed and clenched his fist with such strength his knuckles turned white.

“I’ll have someone send you the details,” Bruce continued, not acknowledging Jason's lack of enthusiasm. 

“Okay,” Jason repeated, already standing up. It seemed to him as though everything had been cleared up. He'd be communicating with Bruce's assistant since his father didn't give enough of a damn about him to try and talk with him.

He'd almost made it to the door, but of course Bruce had to get the last word in:

“And for the record, I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about your sexuality and if anyone of my business partners were to have a problem with that, then I would be the one ‘dropping’ them.”

Jason, who had almost forgotten the reason he and Bruce were sitting here, wished more than anything that Bruce hadn't said that. The sincere expression on his face only made it worse.

All he wanted (and all he struggled with) was to be able to hate his father with a clear conscience. 

Jason gave a small nod, a simple show of acceptance and ignored the pang of relief he felt deep inside his chest. 

He didn't care about his father's opinion; a fact he often had to remind himself of.

Then he closed the door and was finally released from the progress he and Bruce had made.

Chapter Text

“Jason!” Dick called his name out, relieving Jason from his fears that his brother wasn’t coming to save him. The fear that he would actually have to spend an entire evening alone with Bruce.

“You made it after all,” Jason said, trying to hide the way his anxiety and stress both seemed to ebb away at the sight of his brother. He took another drag of his cigarette, breathing in just a little too long, so it burned the back of his throat, before sighing out. 

“Did you have any doubts?” Dick asked. He raised an eyebrow playfully and Jason only scoffed and looked away. 

“Would be stupid not to,” He replied, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.

“C’mon, put that out and let’s go.” Dick began fixing his tie with his hands, last minute alterations, before looking toward the entrance of the building. “Bruce is probably already waiting.”

“Only been 6 minutes,” Jason said, taking the time to let the ash fall from his cigarette. He stared wistfully at the grandiose doors, dreading the moment he would have to step through them.

“You counted?” Dick raised an eyebrow at that.

“Watched him go in.” Jason shrugged, taking another draw and looking away. Yeah, anything seemed better right about now, than having to meet Dick’s eyes. 

“Any particular reason you didn’t think to join him?” Dick asked, as though the answer weren’t obvious in the fact that Jason had begged Dick to join them tonight. 

He didn’t state the obvious logic, that even someone as dense as Dick should be able to put together, instead he merely sighed wistfully. 

“We’re already going to end the night with an argument, why start it with one too?”

“You’re unbelievable, you know?” Dick said and he actually sounded disappointed for once. Terribly unfortunate that Jason’s immediate reaction to disappointment was to scoff. “Have you maybe tried just, oh, I don’t know, not provoking him at every opportunity?”

“If anything, he’s provoking me.” Jason retorted, raising his voice just slightly. Yeah, this was a smart move, starting the evening with an argument with Dick (who was here on a favor for Jason) and ending with an argument with Bruce.

Should be fine.

“You ever think that maybe if you backed off, so would he?” Dick asked, a most genuine question if Jason ever heard one. 

You ask him that as well?

Even Jason could tell that the response was petty and childish. He bit his tongue instead and followed Dick inside. 

Still, he couldn’t hide from the guilt he felt, even if it was only a smidge. Could he be doing more to better his relationship with his father? Did he even want to?

Jason could already feel the familiar annoyance creeping up on him, whenever he thought about Bruce’s and his ‘relationship’ for too long. It was so much easier to just be mad and leave it at that. 

He ended up just following Dick to their table, pushing his anger down so he could at the very least try to be civil. He clocked in Bruce immediately, looking so out of place and yet so very in his element. 

On the outside, he was in his Bruce Wayne persona. A man with no worries, with enough money to pay them all off. A man completely at ease in the social scene here. 

Then of course, there were the smaller signs; the way his eyes flicked from exit to exit (the same exits that Jason had clocked when he’d walked in) the way his one hand remained below the table, no doubt in preparation should he need to surprise someone with a weapon. 

The smaller signs that no one outside of their line of work recognized.

“Jason, Dick,” Bruce began, a gentle, almost parental smile on his face. Jason tried his best to suppress a smile at the thought of Bruce trying this late to be a father to him. 

(The memories from when he was younger, the first time that his father had taken him to eat here, let him keep the smile for himself.)

Instead Jason nodded politely and sat down, his eyes scanning the room for his target. 

With one ear he listened in on Dick and Bruce’s conversation. About vigilante work. As usual. And Dick had said not to provoke him.

Yeah, that would be impossible now.

“So Jason…” Bruce started, slowly, calm, almost nonchalantly. Jason could tell it was a ruse, he couldn’t think of another reason Bruce would address him so carefully. “Gordon has told me the Red Hood has been pretty inactive the last few days, the police precinct in Crime Alley have actually had to do their jobs for once.” His lip quirks up with the attempt at a joke, Jason doesn’t humor him. 

Instead he scoffed, letting his disdain for the police openly show. Bruce’s weak attempt at solidarity wouldn’t be enough to win him over. 

His eyes continued to wander around the room, until finally, he made eye contact with the man he was looking for. 

“Anything big you’re working on?”

And of course, as per usual, this was the moment Bruce chose to ruin their dinner. There was no way he was asking that question for any reason other than to take control. 

“Why were you in contact with the police precinct?” Jason asked, absentmindedly, as though he didn’t care. He raised his glass to his lips, making sure to send the man who had already noticed Jason’s attention a smile and polite nod. 

“Jason--” And right on cue there was Dick, ready to reprimand him for being an ass, as always.

“Don’t.” Jason cut him off. Bruce had started it this time. He was justified. He turned his attention back to the man who tried too late to be his father. “I bet you aren’t spending your spare time checking in with the police force in Bludhaven?”

Bruce looked confused, for a second only, then ashamed. “This wasn’t--” 

Then Jason was saved from an argument he didn’t care for. By the man from across the room.

“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt--” Mr. Stinton said, a slimy look on his face. 

That was a blatant lie.

 “--truly--” 

And another so quickly. Jason could feel the bile rise in his throat. 

“But how could I not notice Bruce Wayne with his two eldest sons?” 

Jason already dreaded every moment more he’d have to spend with this man. But alas, he had a mission ahead of him.

He could see the same annoyance he worked well to hide reflected openly on the faces of his brother and Bruce. And then the switch flipped.

“Mr. Stinton,” Bruce said, donning a bright smile, his posture forcibly relaxing, no doubt ready to ask the gentleman to leave. “If--” 

He didn’t get that far.

“And Jason,” Stinton cut him off, flashing a dazzling smile that could’ve rivaled Bruce’s. He looked absolutely fuming and Jason, well Jason found it quite hilarious to be honest. “I’m so glad you’ve made it back home safely, although I will be pestering you for a private interview soon. I’m sure you’ve got quite the story to tell.”

Yeah, Bruce was definitely pissed. It was only gonna get worse, if Jason got what he came here for. 

Really, all that was left to do, was throw on his best Bruce impression, a bright smile that would confuse anyone who knew him and talk:

“Mr. Stinton, great to see you again! As for the story, maybe buy me a drink first and I’ll open up.”

He added a wink, expecting the awkward silence that followed. 

Bruce… well he looked confused, annoyed too, but mostly confused. Jason had long since gotten used to that calculating look, where his father was trying to figure out his end goal. Hell, he had seen it just a few minutes earlier, when Bruce had asked about the Red Hood’s absence.  

Dick just looked annoyed. He probably thought Jason was entertaining Stinton solely for Bruce’s discomfort. He was only half wrong. (Talking with Stinton had been planned, Bruce’s annoyance was an added bonus.)

And Stinton… well the man was eyeing him up and down. Unlike Bruce he had no experience in hiding his emotions and his confusion was open on his face for the world to read.

Considering his past, he was probably debating whether Jason’s offer had a weird sexual component to it.

Finally the awkwardness ended when Stinton cleared his throat.

“We’ll have to make our schedules align then. I assume you’re following in your younger brother’s footsteps and working alongside your old man,” Stinton asked, clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he spoke.

Jason almost broke character, just so he could take a picture of Bruce’s expression.

“I certainly keep trying to convince him!” Bruce joked, subtly shrugging Stinton’s hand off of his shoulder with a forced laugh.

The question in Bruce’s eyes was clear: What are you playing at?

“I think it’s a little soon for me to be jumping into work,” Jason responded, nodding respectfully at Bruce, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to step on Timmy’s toes.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation and Jason almost believed he’d been too vague.

The implication stood in the room, all the idiot had to do was take it.

“Well, when the urge to actually start living your life again finds you, then feel free to contact me.” Stinton took the bait. Finally. He reached into his jacket, taking out a small card and offering it to Jason. “That’s my personal card, not just the one that links you to my secretary.”

He mirrored Jason’s wink from earlier. Oh god, did he actually think there was a weird sexual component to this?

“You think you could have a position for me?” Jason asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise as he reached out to take the card. He hesitantly flipped it over, carefully reading the fine print. 

“Only one?” Stinton asked with an obnoxious laugh, my god, was he trying hard.  “We might not be as big of a company as Wayne Enterprises--” he glanced at Bruce briefly, “--but for that we can manage our departments better.” He was almost doing a better job of upsetting Bruce than Jason. “We’ll find a place suited to you.”

“I’ll be glad to hear it,” Jason answered, giving a definite nod. Hopefully Stinton would catch the hint and just fuck off now.

“There’s actually a new real estate project we’re trying to introduce. Should be right up your lane, or rather,” He could barely hold back his laugh as he continued, “alley.”

When Bruce, Dick and Jason all didn’t make a sound, he continued. 

“We’ve invested in some property in Crime Alley, you see. Trying to turn the neighborhood around, offer some culture, maybe raise the value of the place. Just some old residential buildings that no one except hookers or junkies were using to squat. You as someone who was born there, but managed to claw their way out, could be perfect for the position.”

He sounded almost nonchalant as he spoke. If Jason had been annoyed before, he was enraged now. 

In hindsight, this plan of his actually explained a lot.

“What do you say, expert?” Stinton asked, setting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. 

Bruce’s strained expression earlier made so much more sense now.

All that was left to do was grit his teeth and seal the deal.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity to do some good in this city, I mean, at some point, we gotta stop relying on masked furries and acrobats to save us, but rather invest our money in real change.” At least he had had one last opportunity to take a dig at Dick and Bruce. “When do you have time for me to swing by?”

“How does tomorrow sound for you? 14:00?”  Stinton asked, almost eagerly. Yeah, he definitely had this planned out. No way did he just happen to have time in his schedule tomorrow.

“I’ll see you then.” Jason reached a hand out and they shook on it. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his dress pants.

When he looked back at his brother and Bruce, he was met with equally appalled faces.

“I didn’t realize you were looking for a day job. You should’ve told me, even if you don’t want to work at Wayne Enterprises, I can at the very least find you a better job than working with Rayner Stilton,” Bruce said, his disgust with Jason thinly veiled.

If Jason had cared at all for Bruce’s opinion, then it may have stung that he thought so little of Jason’s character to assume Jason had not just been playing at something.

“I’m aware,” Jason merely responded, waiting for them to stop fucking around and finally ask him outright what he was doing.

“You know his projects are shit as well as I do.” 

Dick criticizing it as harshly as he did made Jason pause for a second. 

“It’s gentrification at the highest level, not to mention how he talked about the residents that he’s probably forcibly evicting,” Dick continued, not bothering to hide his disgust. 

“I’m aware,” Jason repeated, this time adding a sigh for good measure. 

Dick and Bruce, having most likely said all they wanted to say or perhaps they didn’t think as terribly of him as he’d originally thought, looked at him expectantly.

“You wanted to know what I’m working on…” Jason explained with a shrug.

“You’re working a case? On Stilton? Seriously?” Dick asked, his exasperated expression immediately replaced with an amused smile. 

“I agree with Dick.” No surprise there. “The man’s an asshole. But other than tax fraud, he’s as clean as they come,” Bruce countered him and Jason rolled his eyes.

It’s not like Bruce underestimating him was anything new.

“For now maybe, but in my experience, ‘clean’ business men don’t hire assassins to kill the vigilante protecting the neighborhood he’s trying to improve,” Jason explained, not bothering to keep the edge out of his tone.

“What?” 

It almost sounded as though Bruce were concerned for him. That only pissed Jason off more.

“I know he paid, it’s actually why I’ve been so inactive. I paid the assassin double and have been keeping a low profile ever since,” Jason continued, trying to keep the proud smile off his face.

“I found out he was coming here tonight as well, so I bid my time, did some research and realized that I don’t have to work too hard, if I just let him come on to me.” Jason said nonchalantly with a shrug. At this point, he was past caring what his brother and Bruce thought. “The dinner was an added bonus.”

Bruce’s expression fell briefly, if only for a second and the disappointment shone through. It made Jason feel a certain way he couldn’t explain, but certainly didn’t like. He got the feeling that he’d revealed his cards too soon. 

“So all of this was just vengeance to you?” Dick asked, his expression appalled. It almost sounded as though he were talking about more than just this case.

“You said it yourself; his projects are shit,” Jason defended himself, although even he could tell it was a poor defense. 

Dick’s disappointed expression didn’t let up. This time, Jason did at least feel some guilt.

“Jason. We had a deal,” Bruce warned him. 

Yeah, that’s enough to pull the metaphorical trigger.

“I’m not going to kill him. I’m just going to snoop around his office and figure out what kind of shady shit he’s involved in that requires the Red Hood dead,” Jason snapped. 

Leave it to his father to always think the worst of him.

“But of course your mind always goes there, doesn’t it? Tell me again, why were you in contact with the Crime Alley police precinct? We were interrupted before.” Yeah, this was good. Anger, rage, it’s manageable. It’s something he’d always been used to. “Or would you rather lie about it? Tell me you weren’t checking up on me? Making sure I was still playing by your rules?” 

Bruce cut him off, donning an apologetic expression.

“Jason, please.”

It was a little late for sorries. 

“Please what?” Maybe Dick was right. Jason just couldn’t stop himself from provoking Bruce.

A quiet ping interrupted their argument and the silence of anticipation engulfed them. 

Of course, Bruce got the easy way out. No doubt, whatever ping had sounded from his phone was vigilante business.

“Probably better that way. Imagine the headlines, the public scandal, when I storm off from our PR dinner. But sure, you go,” Jason dead panned, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. 

Bruce’s expression was truly one of guilt now. 

Jason hated how he couldn’t bear to look at it.

“Go help whatever villain’s using Arkham’s revolving door this time,” He said instead, pushing down the guilt he was starting to feel himself at his words.

“We’ll talk about this again,” Bruce warned him. Then he was rushing off once more. 

Jason only sneered to himself, not bothering to look up from the table. 

“You owe me a really big fucking favor.”

When Jason did look back up, Dick looked fucking pissed. It was enough to make Jason short circuit.

He had been so caught up in his rage, that he had forgotten Dick was even there.

“I know you and Bruce have your issues, but he was excited for this dinner. To actually spend time with you normally, without having to bring up every moral problem you have with one another,” Dick spat at him. He was really seething at the mouth, and yeah, maybe Jason did have it coming this time.

Dick reached for his coat, shrugging it on and then he left without another word.

And Jason… well Jason felt fucking guilty, which was really not something he felt too often. 

Had he been the one provoking his father this time? Had Bruce asking about his work absence really just been out of concern and not a means to control him?

The fact that he felt this conflicted only served to anger him more. He finished the rest of his drink and followed Dick out. 

Chapter Text

“Jason!” Bruce called his name barely 3 minutes after Jason had entered the hall. 

Fuck, he had hoped that he would have a few more minutes of adjusting to the gala atmosphere, before he would be confronted with Bruce.

 “I didn’t realize you were coming,” Bruce said, once Jason had taken a deep breath and walked over.

The witty and sharp remark was on his tongue automatically, then Bruce’s expression softened and Jason reminded himself why he was here. As a favor to Dick. 

And to apologize.

If given the chance. 

“But, I’m glad you could make it,” Bruce spoke, almost as an afterthought.

No. As though he were correcting himself.  

Bruce smiled, awkwardly at that. This wasn’t his usual Brucie Wayne persona. His hand twitched and Jason remembered back when he’d gone to galas with Bruce willingly and Bruce would keep a hand on his shoulder everytime he became anxious. 

At the very least, he could find solace in the fact that Bruce was just as uncomfortable talking to him as he was himself.

“Well, I still owed Dick a favor and he called it in,” Jason answered, instantly wincing when his answer hit his ears. 

Of course, only Jason would fuck up an apology this badly.

Bruce’s reaction was quick, the corners of his mouth dropping down just slightly and for a second, Jason found himself worrying about how much sleep Bruce had been getting lately that he allowed that expression to slip through.

“Listen… About dinner last week,” Jason began, gearing up his apology. He didn’t quite know how to start. 

Luckily, Bruce picked up on the topic.

“I wanted to talk to you as well,” Bruce said, sounding almost relieved that Jason mentioned it first.

That had to be good, right?

They stood in silence for several seconds, before a waiter walked by and Jason snatched a glass of champagne from him. He really should’ve started drinking before this. 

Finally, Bruce cleared his throat and spoke.

“Great job taking down Stinton.” 

Oh god, is that all Bruce wanted to say? Is that all he had to say for that evening? Because Jason was fine apologizing, but he deserved one as well.

Bruce smiled at him, an almost proud look on his face. Jason wasn’t sure whether this was directed at him or himself. 

But he could feel his opportunity slipping through his fingers. 

“Thanks, but…” He started, desperate to get out what he wanted to say. If he didn’t say it now, he doubted he ever would.

“Bruce!!” 

He was cut off. As expected. 

The change in Bruce was direct. The dazzling smile, airy expression and open posture as he hugged the interrupting woman; there was no sign of the serious conversation he’d been trying to have.

Watching some woman flirt poorly with Bruce in front of him was definitely better.

“And is that Jason?” The obnoxious lady exclaimed, her bright smile being directed to him. 

Fuck.

“It’s been so long!” 

And apparently he knew her.

She went in for a hug as Jason tried to scrape his mind for some memory of where he knew her from. Had to be from before he’d died. He tried not to wrinkle his nose as he was doused in her perfume and pulled away quickly.

“Moira, always a pleasure,” Bruce said happily as he grabbed two champagne glasses off a nearby table, handing one to her.

Moira, Moira, Moira… The name sparked no memories. Who was she?

“Do you remember me?” Moira asked him and Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. How well could he fake this? “I remember the first gala we met, I think it was also in the Museum,” she continued.

No sense in not trying.

“Of course, the one for the funding of… oh what was it again?” Jason asked, matching her energy and trying his best to pretend the thought eluded him. He raised his hand to his mouth as though he were thinking.

“The dinosaur exhibit?” Bruce corrected him, an amused smile on his face that told Jason that Bruce saw right through his bullshit. 

“Exactly!” Moira and Jason exclaimed at the same time, both falling into laughter afterwards, although Jason was pretty sure only he was overplaying it.

It’s almost funny how quickly Jason managed to don the persona of a perfect son when he tried.

“I do hope you’ll save a dance for me later,” Moira said, a suggestive twinkle in her eye.

And now she was flirting with him. Okay, great, that’s weird. She had literally been flirting with Bruce seconds earlier.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything otherwise,” Jason promised, swallowing back the bile rising up in his throat. 

With another laugh, she walked away. 

“Will I have to?” Jason asked, quickly turning to Bruce with a raised eyebrow.

This hadn’t been disclosed as part of the favor he owed Dick.

(Then again, neither had him yelling at Bruce over dinner.)

“If anyone talks to you just say you need to check on your younger brother. Damien will be happy if he gets to escape outside for a bit,” Bruce advised him with a chuckle, raising his glass to his lips.

“Good hack,” Jason merely commented. His eyes wandered around the room, finally landing on Damien who appeared to be trying his hardest to avoid attention from an older couple. Judging from the clenched fists behind his back, he needed a break just as badly as Jason did.

For another minute or so silence engulfed him and Bruce. Jason ran through every scenario he could think of approaching the topic.

None seemed to fit.

“You really don’t remember the gala?” Bruce finally asked, a weird expression in his eyes, as though he were expecting something from Jason.

Jason couldn’t quite blame him; he couldn’t remember the last time they had been in the same room this long and hadn’t fought with one another. 

“Should I? Anything big happen?” Jason asked, testing the waters carefully.

This was uncharted territory for his and Bruce’s relationship.

“Not much,” Bruce answered him, but Jason could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. It was funny almost, being able to speak to Bruce without him trying to hide every emotion he felt. “Other than you knocking down one of the dinosaur models.” 

Jason winced at that, the memories coming back to him all too quickly. He’d been young, eleven at most, running around the gala too quickly and then he’d slipped. And slid another few feet for good measure on the waxed floors.

“How much do I owe you for that one?” Jason asked, grimacing when he thought of how much money Bruce must’ve donated to fix his mistake.

“It was a fake model, besides, it meant we could leave early,” Bruce laughed, clapping a hand on Jason’s back. For the first time in a long time, it was a comforting gesture. “I think there was a robbery taking place at the gallery nearby that we went to take care of together.” 

He smiled as he took another sip of champagne, no doubt reminiscing about old memories. Jason felt similar. For once it seemed easy between them, like the conflict of the last 5 years hadn’t happened.

“I remember at one point I was in the other room and when I went to find you,” Bruce broke off, starting to laugh before he’d even finished the story.

Jason remembered when Bruce had done that when he was younger, how annoyed he had gotten every time.

“What?” He asked, this time nothing but eager.

“Three perps were tied up and you…” Bruce had to bite his laughter back again, “You were standing on the other side of the room, criticizing a painting that was supposed to represent one Shakespeare play or another.” 

Jason smiled again, a warm, honest smile that was mirrored on Bruce’s face as they both basked in the strange nostalgia. 

“Well yeah, it was a shit painting and did the story no justice,” Jason countered as he remembered exactly what Bruce had been talking about.

This was nice. Almost too nice. Jason hadn’t realized how much he’d truly missed his dad.

“I’ve missed--”

For a second, Jason was almost delusional enough to think his father would say he missed his son.

“Working with you.” Bruce ended, apparently as emotionally constipated as ever.

Jason bit his cheek, trying his best to hide how much that stung. But what else could he expect from Bruce, the man had always been more Batman than his father.

There was a reason his memorial named him a soldier, not a son.

“You used to be so happy,” Bruce continued, the happy expression on his face replaced with sadness.

Jason really couldn’t take a lecture on his change in morality right now.

“Yeah, well that was a long time ago,” Jason responded, emptying the rest of his glass, before he walked off.

He didn’t stay to see Bruce’s reaction. He didn’t think he could bear it. 

Maybe he was stupid to think Bruce would ever see him as anything other than a living memory of who he had been. 

“Jason!” 

Someone called his name and Jason bit back an insult.

“I’m sorry, I should really be checking up on my brother, I’ll find you later,” Jason instead gave an empty promise, remembering Bruce’s advice last minute.

He stepped outside, letting the cold wind hit him and blinking back tears. This was not the time to start crying.

He instead lit a cigarette and found the nearest bench to sit on. It was exactly 43 seconds before he was interrupted; yes, Jason had counted.

“Todd.”

Jason didn’t grant Damien the pleasure of looking at him.

“Demon-spawn.”

Silence. He took another draw of his cigarette, relishing in the way the nicotine calmed his nerves.

“If you are going to use me as an excuse, you could at the very least take me with you,” Damien said. 

Other than that, he just stood there. God, this kid was weird.

“Didn’t realize you needed someone’s permission to leave,” Jason said instead of every other mean thing he could. 

The conversation with Bruce had been draining enough, he didn’t need to argue with his brother as well.

Damien only clicked his tongue in response and Jason counted that as a win.

“Father wants me to keep up a good image for the media,” Damien explained and when Jason looked up at him, Damien was staring back at him.

“Funny,” Jason responded in a dry tone. “B gave me the same lecture.” 

He brought his cigarette back to his mouth. Damien followed the movement closely with his eyes, his expression hiding nothing.

“Are you aware that smoking is terrible for--” 

“You got something you want to say or you just going to sit here and criticize?” Jason asked, finally having enough of Damien’s offstandish way. 

His brother froze for a second.

“I am exceedingly good at multitasking,” He finally answered.

“You’re exceedingly humble too,” Jason said, rolling his eyes as he put his cigarette out on the bench.

“I noticed you and Father finally spoke.”

Ah, great, dissecting that conversation was just what he wanted to do. And here he thought the demon-spawn couldn't possibly worsen his mood.

“And?” Jason asked nonetheless. If Damien wanted to open that jar, then they’d open it.

“I would like to know if you have apologized for the scene you caused at dinner,” Damien said, so casually that Jason almost gave himself whiplash when he turned to face him.

“How about he apologizes for being a shit dad instead?” Jason snapped, before he had half a mind to think of his words and their implications. 

He was sure he’d regret this tomorrow. 

Damien clicked his tongue once more.

“I was not aware that you still wanted a father,” Damien finally said.

It was a good thing Jason had put his cigarette out when he had, because if not he was sure he would be burning his hand with it right now.

Why did that upset him so much? That he still wanted Bruce to be his dad despite their personal differences? It was something he hadn’t realized until tonight. 

“How do you even know about dinner?” He settled for saying.

“Father has been brooding around the mansion more than usual.” 

Well that made two of them.

“Well I haven’t been having the time of my life either, so thanks for asking,” Jason sneered, already taking another cigarette out. 

There are a few more seconds of silence, only broken by the sound of Jason’s lighter and Damien’s thinking.

“I don’t understand how you two plan to resolve your issues if you spend all your time either avoiding or screaming at each other,” He finally said, making Jason still.

It was surprisingly insightful to be coming from a five year old and unsurprisingly the last thing he wanted to hear today.

“You have 5 more minutes until the guests become suspicious. After 10 there’ll be a gossip column.”

There was another click of Damien’s tongue and then Jason was alone again. 

Chapter Text

“You Jason Todd?”

Jason only raised an eyebrow, looking up from where he was standing outside the gas station. Ever since the first headline detailing his return from the dead, he’d been getting recognized more and more often.

It did not, however, have to mean that he had to respond well to his new celebrity status.

“What’s it to you?” Jason asked in the most pissed off tone he could manage at the moment. The way he saw it, the worse a reputation he had, the less people would try to speak with him.

“I’m going to need you to come with me,” The man said, clearly not picking up the hints that Jason had been lying down.

It actually took Jason a few seconds to realize that this wasn’t just a fan account, but rather a shit attempt at a kidnapping.

“Or what?” Jason asked, tilting his head to the side to provoke further. Even as Jason Todd, he was not going to be intimidated by some idiot in a parking lot. 

“Or this?” The man said and before Jason could make another joke, he felt the cold steel of a gun poking his lower back. 

His first instinct was to laugh. 

Then he remembered who he was. He wasn’t the Red Hood, he was Jason Todd: The spoiled son of a billionaire who had probably never worked a day in his life and who would arouse too much suspicion, by suddenly beating the 2 (maybe 3?) guys who were trying to kidnap him.

Oh god, he was going to have to let himself be kidnapped, wouldn’t he?

Jason had enough memories of “rescuing” Tim from amateurs who wanted to ransom a billionaire’s son; he wasn’t keen on the situation turning around and losing his blackmail material. 

The man behind him nudged him with the gun and Jason bit back a sigh. 

“Alright, alright,” He finally exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. 

He followed the man the few steps to his car, almost sighing in relief when he realized that if they were taking him to a second location, or better yet, if they were just uncareful after closing the door, then he’d be free more quickly than thought.

And better yet, Jason wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment of being rescued by either the cops or one of the bats. 

It was a rather good plan if he thought so himself.

It was also a plan he was forced to toss aside the second he felt the stab of a needle in his neck.

Fucking fantastic. 

The drug set in quickly, clouding his head, weakening his limbs and making his vision go hazy before him. 

Jason was shaken out of it when cold water was splashed across his face; a cold shock that finally pulled him back to reality.

A hood covered his face now, trapping the water in it and making Jason choke on the drops that had managed to come through. When it was pulled off, it seemed like he’d been injected all over again. The world spun before his eyes, the lights blurring together until the entire room was too bright for him to make out.

When had he been moved from the car to the room? 

Not ideal that he couldn’t remember.

“You know why you’re here?” 

The same man’s voice spoke and it took Jason an embarrassingly long time to realize the man was standing before him. 

Fuck. That wasn’t great.

“Because of my charming personality?” Jason replied, raising his head to look the man in the eyes and feign the impression that he was alright and didn’t need his full brain capacity just to focus on the guy.

He should be able to escape. The binds around his wrists only tied him to the chair he sat on. All he’d need was to throw himself backwards with enough force to break the chair and then he was sure that he could beat his captors with tied hands.

It should be possible.

But then you had to account for the fact that Jason couldn’t see properly. That his ears were ringing from he didn’t know what, that his head was pulsing with pain, that water rested in his throat, threatening to choke him and that his limbs felt like gummy.

He was in no condition to escape. At least not until the sedative wore off. 

A hit to the jaw cut his thoughts off (and any hope of escaping with it). He would grant the guys one thing; they knew how to pack a proper punch. 

Then again, maybe Jason should worry about the lack of pain instead? That all his jaw did was feel numb and that the throbbing in his head was a lot worse?

He thought the man in front of him said something new. 

Try again? Maybe? 

Jason didn’t understand him and from the way the world was teetering in front of him, he doubted asking the man to repeat himself would help.

His head fell to the side and when Jason jerked it back up, anything not to appear weak, there was a camera stationed in front of him.

He’d blacked out. Again.

Oh god, he really would have to wait to be saved, wouldn’t he? How much time had passed since they’d taken him? How often had he been drugged? 

Jason glared at the camera with all the strength he could muster.

This better not be some weird fetish porn that he was pulled into.

His eyes finally focused on the guy behind the camera, who’d seemingly noticed that Jason was alive as well. 

“Be a good boy and tell Daddy to come save you,” The guy spoke, a wicked smile on his lips.

Oh god, this definitely was weird fetish porn.

Finally the pain in his head allowed him a coherent thought. 

He was Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne. They wanted to ransom him. 

The thought was so obvious that Jason couldn’t help but laugh, whether it was because he found it funny or because he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it first, he wasn’t sure. 

Jason should probably figure out whatever they’d drugged him with. If only his head would let him connect the thousand dots running around rampant. 

Beside him a gun clicked and all Jason could do was slowly turn his head and line himself up directly to it. 

Had that been there the entire time? He really was fucked, wasn’t he?

“Beg,” The man spoke again and this time Jason could hear annoyance in his tone. It made him smile all over again. 

The ‘or else’ remained unsaid.

Jason only continued laughing and yeah, this was definitely the drugs that were fucking him over this badly.

“Took the wrong son,” Jason finally answered, ignoring the way his eyes were starting to burn. “He’s not coming.” 

He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he was sure that if he were anyone else, then Batman would’ve already come for him.

Jason was hit again by a punch strong enough to swing his head to the side and when he turned back, the camera was gone and he was alone.

So another black out. Great.

He tested the binds around his arms again, wincing when it hurt to move them. His arms were sore, legs too. He’d been sitting there a long time. 

The realization that Jason didn’t know how long scared him. He didn’t know what time it was, what day even.

A lot of uncertainties that Bruce Wayne was supposed to fix.

The thought made him laugh out loud, a genuine laugh that started in his chest and built itself up until it almost sounded like a sob.

Bruce Wayne was supposed to swoop in and save him.

How could he when even Batman had failed?

He told himself that the wetness on his cheeks came from the previous attempt at waterboarding.

Eventually Jason’s eyes began falling closed once and when he blinked them open, there were blurry figures in front of him

“You still with us?” A strangely distant voice asked him.

Maybe there were fingers in front of his face, snapping at him; Jason couldn’t quite place the weird clicking noise.

“Apparently Bruce Wayne needs some incentive,” The man said and yeah, no shit. It’s not like Jason hadn’t warned them that he was the wrong son to take.

Then the guy was waving something next to his head and Jason needed an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a bomb.

Jason did know enough to know that the following beeps were the guy setting the bomb and that the weight in his lap meant he was carrying it. 

When his vision finally stopped swimming, Jason was alone again.

All that filled the quiet around him was the ticking of the bomb in his lap.

Silent tears dripped from his cheeks and he stared at the locked door in front of him. 

He was in that warehouse all over again 

He could hear manic laughter in the background and it took him a while to realize it was his own. Ironic, wasn’t it?

Bruce--

Batman--

His father would be too late to save him a second time. He would be failed once again.

This time when Jason cried, he didn’t lie to himself about it.

His tears clouded up his vision and by the time he could see again, a hood had been slipped over his head.

When had the beeping of the bomb ceased?

“You’re in luck, Daddy’s finally paid up,.”

The words barely registered.

His hands were unlocked and logically, Jason should be able to escape. He should be able to fight back now.

He couldn’t and when they dragged him out of the room, his feet scratched over the tiles.

Vaguely, Jason thought about how annoying this must be for them. He’d built up muscles over the years and he’d always been on the taller side; he must weigh a lot. The thought made him chuckle and he was rewarded with a swat over his head. 

They finally stopped outside, Jason could feel the drop in the temperature and the wind whipping against him. The hood was ripped off of his head and the lights were blinding to him.

In the distance he could barely make out a figure standing in front of a dark car.

Not a very relieving sight. 

Then Jason was shoved forward. He almost managed to catch himself from falling. 

Quite a feat if he was gonna be honest, considering how terribly he felt.

“Walk.” 

Jason was at the end of his fucking line. For a second he considered how funny it would be if he were to just lie down. If he just put his head to the ground and didn’t move.

How badly would their plans be foiled? 

Apparently Jason did have some will to live left as he got up painstakingly slowly. First moving his knees under him until he was kneeling, then he got his hands under him and up from the floor. Step by step he removed himself from the ground and began tottering forward.

Walking really couldn’t be used to describe what he was doing. 

He counted the steps and when looking forward made his head hurt, he closed his eyes.

He finally stopped when a hand was set on his shoulder and Jason just hoped that whoever wanted to kill him would get it over with quickly.

He didn’t have the energy left to protect himself.

Instead, much to his surprise, he was pulled into a tight hug that seemed to last an eternity. It was the only comfort he’d gotten in he didn’t know how long. 

Then the comfort was pulled away, although hands were still holding Jason up. Probably a good thing, considering Jason didn’t know how long he would be able to keep standing on his own.

“Jason?” 

It took him a few seconds to place his father’s voice. “Can you hear me?” 

Jason wanted to say so many things at once; that he was fine, it was really nothing, the guys were amateurs at best, it was a normal Tuesday for him.

That he was sorry for getting caught, next time he’d be more careful.

That he just needed to sleep it off, he’d been drugged, he maybe had a concussion.

“You came,” was all that Jason’s drug-induced mind could conjure up. 

“Of course,” His father said and he almost sounded sad.

“You weren’t too late.” 

His fear was almost revealed by the cracking of his voice, but that could be attributed to his containment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had something to drink. 

“I’m sorry, Jason,” His father whispered. His voice sounded worse than Jason’s. “I’m so sorry.” 

Was he crying?

Jason’s mind started going hazy again, before he could find an answer to his question. But he felt his father’s arms tighten around him as the blackness took over once again. 

Chapter Text

A hospital (maybe batcave?) monitor beeping in Jason’s ear was the first thing he recognized when he began to regain consciousness. Wasn’t that strangely reminiscent? Again; he didn’t know which option he preferred.

He cracked an eye open, breaking the suspense. 

Batcave it was. 

Jason really didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he avoided the hospital with its annoying staff and pushy paparazzi who’d be waiting outside. On the other hand… well… Bruce. 

Speaking of whom, the man was sitting beside his bed. 

Dark circles rested beneath his eyes and waves of exhaustion were practically radiating off the man. Now, Jason doubted he was in any kind of position to pass judgment, but considering the mere fact that his father had still failed to notice that Jason was awake, he was clearly off terribly. 

“You paid the ransom?” Jason finally asked, if simply to break the silence. It was a vague memory he had, something his captors had maybe whispered to him? All his memories were still blurry.

All he clearly remembered was the hopelessness he had felt, the fear that his father would fail him again. 

“I did,” Bruce answered, turning to look at Jason. The sad expression, mixed with the hunched over posture unnerved Jason. It wasn’t like his father to show weakness before him. It wasn’t like him to show vulnerability in any sense.

“Why? They were amateurs and that’s me being kind,” Jason joked, hoping to avoid whatever lecture Bruce would no doubt throw at him.

It wouldn’t have been difficult for Batman to take them down, even his brothers would’ve been capable on their own.  

Bruce didn’t laugh. Then again, that wasn’t unusual for him.

“You’re my son,” He finally responded. As if that explained everything. As if that were enough to explain away all of Jason’s doubts.

There was really only one explanation Jason could think of, one he’d rather not entertain for too long. The explanation that it was for his public image. For the family’s, as it had been the last time Bruce had referred to him as “his son”. 

It would look terrible for the richest man in Gotham, probably the United States, to deny paying his son’s ransom. Jason could almost imagine the headlines. 

Then there was the other option; that there wasn’t anything more to it than a father saving his son. 

But Jason’s head hurt too badly for him to consider that any longer. He didn’t want to.

And he had long stopped being Bruce’s son. 

“So you keep saying,” Jason answered finally, his voice more unsure than he would’ve liked. He didn’t dare look back at Bruce, instead letting his gaze wander over the bed, settling on his hands and torn up wrists. 

“They sent us the video and we tried to figure out where you were, but there was a problem with the signal and the traffic cameras in the area weren’t active.” Bruce audibly exhaled, as though to steady himself. “We couldn’t find you.” 

The thought of Bruce worrying about him was painful for reasons Jason couldn’t explain. Why did it make him this angry? He dug his nails into the palm of his hand before he could lash out.

“Then we received a second message, that they had a bomb set to two hours and…” Bruce trailed off, as though it hurt him to continue, “I still remember the last time you were waiting for me to save you.” 

At that Jason did look up. Just in time too, to see a single lone tear make its way down Bruce’s cheek.

He didn’t know why he was like this, but he knew that the urge to destroy every nice thing he had had existed long before he came back. And so Jason spoke with barely a second thought.

“I didn’t think you would come.” 

In return, he got to watch the expression on Bruce’s face turn to one of anguish. An expression of absolute heartbreak. He watched a thousand emotions cross the man’s face within a second.

Jason didn’t know whether it gave him pleasure or pain to know that he was the cause.

“Jaylad…” Bruce began, in that caring tone of his that meant he was about to explain why Jason was wrong, why Jason didn’t understand the situation, and why Jason didn’t need an apology.

Of course Jason had to dig the knife in. It was what he did. It was all he knew how to do.

“I expected you to fail me again.”

The silence that followed was all-consuming. Like most things Jason said to his father, he found himself quickly regretting it. He didn’t know why he said what he said, but Jason did know he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the fallout. Not right now.

“I can’t be here. I want to go home,” Jason said, sitting up before he could see Bruce’s reaction. Clearly a bad idea, considering the way his head began to spin the second he sat up and removed the monitor from his index.

“Jason, lie back down,” Bruce ordered, his voice exhausted, as though dealing with a petulant child. The memory of his days as Robin only served to enrage Jason more.

“I’m going.”

Whatever dizziness he’d felt sitting up was magnified by 20 once he actually stood and Jason leaned forward to clutch at the bedframe. His pride would not survive him collapsing now. 

“Jason!” Bruce yelled. The mixture of anger and sadness in his tone made Jason pause. He wasn’t used to seeing Bruce this emotional.

At least not about him.

“I’ve apologized more times than I can count--” Bruce began anew.

“Well you keep apologizing for the wrong fucking things!” Jason interrupted before Bruce could get any further. 

He didn’t need another apology for his death or another explanation of why the Joker still lived.

Silence engulfed the room, only broken by Jason’s angry gasps for breath. 

“What do you want me to apologize for, if not letting you die? Failing to save you? Because I will never forgive myself for that,” Bruce asked, angry himself now.

“I’ve forgiven you for that. I forgive you for letting me die,” Jason spit out through gritted teeth, needing to get his point across once and for all. He couldn’t keep having the same conversation. “Hell, I even understand that you didn’t kill the Joker,” He added with a bitter laugh.

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?” Bruce asked, his voice switching so quickly from anger to sadness that it gave Jason whiplash.

And Jason… Well, he didn’t quite know how to answer that question. So he did what he did best; he deflected.

“How long did it take you to find me? No. How long did it take you to realize I was even missing?” Jason asked, keeping his voice quiet this time, his anger carefully controlled for when he’d need it. 

“You’re avoiding my question,” Bruce answered. This time he at least had the decency to look sorry, to look guilty.

Good.

“And you’re avoiding mine,” Jason echoed. A moment of silence, then Jason raised his voice again: “How long?”

“When we got the ransom video,” Bruce answered, the sorry expression being overtaken by confusion. “Six days.”

Ironic, wasn’t it? The self-proclaimed “World’s Greatest Detective” couldn’t see where Jason was going with this.

It’s funny enough to make Jason laugh a bitter laugh that was terrible to even his own ears. Did he still have any of the drug left in his system? Maybe that’s where his new found courage came from.

“So a week? It took you a fucking week to realize your son was missing?” Jason asked and he sneered the word like it was an insult. 

It was to him. 

Bruce opened his mouth, probably to respond, to defend himself. Jason didn’t give him the opportunity.

“How long would it have been if it was Dick?” Jason finally asked, reaching his point. The reaction was instantaneous. 

Bruce’s expression fell; the guilt clearly written across it.

It felt good in a way Jason couldn’t explain and he finally uncurled his fingers from where they’d been grasping the frame.

“Or Tim? Or Damian?” He asked just to drive his point home. 

Bruce stayed standing where he was, silent and poorly hiding the emotions he was going through. He said nothing to defend himself, then again, how could he?

Jason took a deep breath and sent a prayer that he had enough strength to get himself home (or at the very least find Alfred and beg him for a ride). 

“I think we’re done here,” He said, when Bruce remained quiet. He’d already turned around when Bruce finally spoke. 

“No.” 

To say the least, Jason was surprised. When he turned back around, there was a grim determination set on Bruce’s face. 

“You’re right, I would’ve noticed sooner if it were any one of your brothers.” 

That caught Jason off guard in a way he wasn’t used to. He didn’t get unnerved easily. But Bruce admitting that Jason was right? That was reason to be wary.

“But that’s your fault as much as mine. Ever since you came back, you’ve been pushing me away and I’ve tried to give you your space. I stopped asking about your personal life after you didn’t answer the first hundred times. I stopped inviting you to family dinners when you didn’t respond to a single invite. I keep myself and your brothers out of your territory; I don’t interfere in your business, like you asked. You can’t blame me for not being part of your life, when all you do is tell me you don’t want me in it,” Bruce finished speaking and he didn’t yell. His tone was calm, collected, like he knew he was right. That what he said was reasonable.

Jason could feel himself losing the high ground. Bruce wasn’t entirely wrong. And now Jason had a whole lot of anger that he didn’t know where to put.

“Ah, so this is my fault now? Like always? Is that easier for you to say, than to simply admit you hate me and can’t stand to see what I’ve become? That I’m your worst failure?” Jason yelled back, his voice raised and posture tense as he waited for a response. This was familiar. This was good. 

His rage echoed around the room.

“Is that what you think I think of you? Is that what you want me to say?” Bruce asked, sincerely asked, looking almost disappointed. And he was still not yelling. 

It made everything so much worse.

“You are my son, Jason. Whether you want to accept that or not. You will always be my son,” Bruce continued.

All Jason felt was the urge to scream, to tell his father what he thought of him, that he wasn’t his son. He could feel his anger rising, boiling deep inside him until it was seething over--

“And I miss you.” 

And just as quickly his anger was gone. It felt as though he’d been hit in the chest, every emotion he’d been feeling beaten out of him, leaving him empty and confused.

Bruce had to be lying to him. He had to be trying to deceive him, manipulate him. But for what purpose? To what end?

“You miss me,” Jason echoed, his mind completely blank. It made him chuckle, anything to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“You don’t miss me. You miss who I used to be. When I didn’t run around killing people, when I didn’t question you. When I was a good soldier,” He motioned to the memorial in the corner, the same memorial that haunted him every time he visited. 

Bruce couldn’t miss him, he could barely tolerate Jason on their good days. 

If Bruce had been simply giving Jason the space Jason had asked for, if he had been missing Jason all this time and been waiting for Jason to return home on his own accord, then that would mean that it was Jason’s fault. All of it; their fights, their arguments, their strained relationship. 

Was it all his fault? It couldn’t be. 

Bruce treated him differently ever since Jason had come back. He didn’t treat Jason as his son anymore, not the way he had before Jason’s death.

A look of understanding slowly began to dawn on Bruce’s face and it only served to piss Jason off more, because he didn’t understand whatever was happening right now.

But he got the feeling that he’d lost whatever highground he’d had, that he’d lost the argument they were having.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce finally apologized. And Jason had no idea what for. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel that way. I think I understand it now.” 

His voice, his expression, the open stance, it all appeared genuine. 

“Well you want to share with the fucking class?” Jason asked and he meant for himself to sound pissed off, angry, not as broken and pathetic as he did. He wiped frantically at his eyes, hoping to hide his tears before Bruce noticed them.

“I love you.”

Jason swore his heart stopped for a beat.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with your moral philosophy, I never will, but I understand it. I could never hate you, even when you were at your worst, I still held out hope that my son would return to me.” 

Jason could see his own hurt clearly reflected on Bruce’s face. He could see his own tears mirrored. 

“You were always more than just a good soldier. You have always been more than just a good soldier to me.” 

He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to hear that.

Jason didn’t bother to hide his tears any longer, letting them flow freely as Bruce did. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to cry in front of Bruce, just like he couldn’t remember the last time Bruce had allowed himself to show this much emotion in front of Jason.

“I do miss that kid that you used to be. The one that was full of hope and that doesn’t exist anymore because of my actions,” Bruce continued and it hurt. But Jason couldn’t pretend that he didn’t miss that kid as well. “But I wouldn’t risk anything in this world to lose you again.

“When you came back to Gotham, all I wanted was for you to come home. It’s still all I want. But you’re stubborn, you’ve always been, and you were so angry. I thought that if I gave you your space, if I didn’t call, didn’t ask, then you would come to me when you were ready. That you would come home when you were ready.

“I understand why you didn’t,” Bruce ended his apology. 

And Jason? Jason didn’t know how to respond. He was truly overwhelmed by everything Bruce had said. 

“All you did was criticize me,” Jason finally settled on. Bruce’s apology didn’t erase everything that had happened between them, but his anger was gone. 

“I know you don’t approve of what I do, of my ‘moral philosophy’ or however you want to call it. I don’t need you to.” Jason took a deep breath, before he continued, “But did you have to be such a dick about it?”

It was a poor attempt to lighten the mood, but it worked anyway. Bruce gave him a sad smile as he waited for Jason to continue.

“Everything I did, you had something to complain about. That I was too brutal, too messy, too careless. It didn’t feel like I was your son. It didn’t even feel like we were on the same side.”

It was… weird, to say the least. He didn’t remember the last time he had been this honest and open with Bruce. Maybe directly after he’d come back, when he’d set Bruce the ultimatum, but even then he’d been fueled by rage. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Bruce had spoken this long without interrupting another, without starting a screaming match or without one of them storming off.

Then again, Jason had tried to storm off. It was Bruce who hadn’t let him.

Maybe Jason just couldn’t remember the last time his father had fought for him instead of against him.

“It still feels like that. Every time you ask about a mission and immediately there’s a warning in your voice, a threat. You can call me your son all you like, but it’s clear you don’t trust me the way you do the others,” Jason stopped when he had nothing left to say. 

Bruce looked hurt, truly hurt, like Jason’s words had physically pained him to hear. For the first time in a while, the thought didn’t make Jason feel any better. It didn’t give him any kind of satisfaction, any kind of feeling of righteousness. 

All he felt was raw, vulnerable, like he’d laid all his cards out open on the table. Like he’d taken his heart out of his chest and was offering it up to his father on a silver platter, simply awaiting his next move.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you--” Just 15 minutes ago, Jason would’ve interrupted Bruce then and there; cut him off or at the very least scoffed. Now he just let his father explain.

“--I’m worried about you. I don’t ask about your work to provoke you or pick fights, I ask because I need to know you’re okay. That you’re not putting yourself in unnecessary danger,” Bruce said, sounding genuinely worried. He sounded almost scared, but what did Bruce have to be wary of? 

Maybe that Jason would take this the wrong way like every other thing Bruce had said to him since he’d come back? Maybe that Jason would take this the wrong way like every other time Bruce had asked about his work?

He didn’t quite know what to do with his feelings, where to place them. He didn’t know how to handle his father’s concern when his anger had always been so much easier.

“We’re vigilantes, our entire job is unnecessary danger,” Jason finally joked when he didn’t know what else to say.

Bruce cracked a smile at that, briefly, then he continued in the same genuine tone as before:

“I trust you to do the right thing or at the very least not break my rules in Gotham. I know if I crossed the line that you have crossed countless times by now, then I wouldn’t be able to come back from it. Sometimes I worry that you’re more similar to me than you think.”

“So do I,” Jason answered. He didn’t even mean it as an insult this time.

It seemed as though they’d finally come to a mutual understanding, almost a resolution. Maybe it was stupid to think that everything that had happened between them could be resolved in one conversation. Maybe too much had happened between them for the conflict to ever be resolved. 

Then again, maybe for tonight it would be enough to simply know that his father loved him and was willing to fight for him.

“Will you please lie back down? You can leave in the morning if you still want to, but at least stay for the rest of the night?” Bruce asked and he sounded desperate.

“Fine,” Jason responded, telling himself it was just because of how exhausted he was. Then again, he knew that about 10 minutes ago he would have rather collapsed on some street corner on the way home than stayed here with his father. “But if I’m staying, I’m occupying the theater room.” 

There was a beat of silence and then Bruce laughed the way he used to when Jason would refuse to go to bed after patrol because he had an essay to finish.

“Deal.”

Jason smiled at that. They’d finally met a compromise.

Dick would be so proud of him. 

Jason took a deep breath, before he pushed himself away from the bedframe. Or rather, tried to push himself away. Then the wooziness returned tenfold and one thing was made painfully clear to him: There was no way he was getting up those stairs himself.

“Help me up,” Jason said and he spoke the words like an order, not the peace offer they actually were. He extended his arm towards Bruce, beckoning him forward.

Bruce laughed, well not quite, he poorly tried to hide his laughter, then he was at Jason’s side, slinging his arm over his shoulders and wrapping one around Jason’s waist; accepting his peace offer for what it was. 

Then Bruce was helping him upstairs, slowly, one step at a time and Jason was reminded of his time as Robin; of the few nights when he had overdone it and Bruce would help him up to his bedroom rather than make him spend the night in the batcave. 

Even then Jason would try to convince his father to let him watch one more movie before he was sent off to bed. And Bruce had let him succeed every time. 

At least, considering everything that had gone down between the two of them, that hadn’t changed. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to hope it could be like that again.