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Jason steps into the manor prepared to leave again within the hour. Dick had insisted he come for family dinner, bribing him with Alfred's cooking.
“Good evening Master Jason, here for dinner I presume?” Alfred greeted him as he stepped through the door.
“Of course, Alfie. You know I wouldn't want to miss your cooking.” Jason replied, giving the butler a small, closed mouth smile. In truth he didn't wish to be at the manor, he rarely showed up and it was almost always at the insistence of his older brother, or the occasional holiday he actually cared to make an appearance at because he wouldn't miss an Alfred thanksgiving as long as he was alive. “How long before dinner should be ready?”
“A few minutes, Master Jason. We are simply waiting on the lamb.” Alfred responded with a nod. “The rest of the family is waiting in the study if you wish to join them.” He added before retreating back to the kitchen.
Jason decided he would go to the study. When he got there everyone was there, just as Alfred said. He made a point of ignoring Bruce's presence in the room, instead moving to sit next to Dick who was playing some kind of card game with Tim. It was always like this, Jason would show up at the manor and would ignore the Old Man who never seemed to care too terribly much. Jason didn't pay too much attention to what was going on around him, though he did enjoy being around his family for the most part there was always a part of him that felt out of place.
He sat there for a few minutes, making some small talk with his siblings before Alfred came into the room to tell everyone dinner was prepared. As soon as he did, everyone dropped what they were doing and ran for the dining room. Jason sat himself as far as he could from Bruce, meaning he was sat next to Alfred and Tim with Cass across from him.
Everyone began digging into the food, voicing their approval and thanks to Alfred who took it all in stride. Jason was mostly quiet except for some small talk with those around him. It was going well, almost too well. Until Bruce made a comment. It was an innocent enough comment but it made Jason's blood boil.
“It's nice to have you at the manor again, Jason.” was all Bruce said. It felt too familiar, too much like a father who was disappointed in the path his son had taken in life. Jason supposed that wasn’t too far off, he knew Bruce wasn’t proud of him. He didn't give a response other than a curt nod, not wanting to be the one to break Alfred's rule of no fighting at the dinner table but knowing if he spoke his might a fight was bound to happen. It did almost every time he was at the manor.
The rest of dinner went by with minimal issue, he spent most of it speaking with some of the newer members of the family like Duke, Cass, and Steph. Occasionally Tim, Damian, and Dick would drag him into their conversations but they spent most of the time speaking to Bruce.
Once dinner was over Jason offered to help Alfred clear the table like he always did, and like always Alfred declined the offer. Jason headed for the door, prepared to leave and head back to his dingy apartment in crime alley before he was stopped by Bruce. He knew tonight had gone too well, he'd just known it.
“Jason, I’d like to speak with you. Please, come to my office.” Bruce told him, his tone a mix of curt and fatherly warmth. Jason hated that tone. Bruce had no place speaking to him like he was his father, not after what happened.
“Fine.” Jason ground out, not even attempting to hide his displeasure as he followed Bruce up the grand staircase to his office. Once there the two sat opposite each other on the two couches.
“What do you want, old man?” Jason asked, crossing his arms as he stared at Bruce in front of him. He just knew this was going to be a disaster, it almost always was.
“Jason, we need to talk-” Bruce began before Jason cut him off. “What is there to talk about? We’ve both said our pieces before. You know I wont change how I work, I have done good. I have made crime alley safer in the past few years than you ever managed to! I’ve already stopped killing, what more do you want from me?”
Bruce's eye twitched but he gave no other indication of how irritated he already was. “That is not what I called you up here to talk about. I want my son back.” He ground out.
Jason snorted in response, “You gave up the role of my father when you didn't even realize I had crawled out of my own grave. You lost it even more when you let the Joker live.” He snapped. “I am not your son Bruce.”
Bruce let out a soft sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn't help that you've made no attempt to reconnect with the family. We have been here the whole time you’ve been avoiding the manor, and in turn everyone who lives here.”
“That's where you’re wrong.” Jason replied with an empty laugh. “You’re the one I avoid, not the rest of the family. See, they all make me feel wanted and like I am part of the family.”
Bruce’s expression tightened at Jason’s words, the underlying pain in his eyes barely visible but undeniable. He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward, but still choosing not to escalate the situation with anger. "I never meant for you to feel unwanted, Jason," he said quietly, his voice strained. "You have always been a part of this family, no matter how much you push us away."
Jason scoffed, running a hand through his hair, an unamused smile curling on his lips. "That’s funny, because I sure didn’t feel that way when I was alive, let alone when I was dead. But, hey, you were too busy with your other kids to notice, right?"
Bruce’s jaw clenched, his hands resting on his knees as if he were physically fighting to hold back the words he wanted to say. He knew that Jason’s resentment was rooted in years of feeling abandoned, and while he’d failed to reach out when Jason had needed him most, he couldn’t undo that.
"I never wanted you to feel like that," Bruce said, more firmly this time. "But you can’t just keep shutting us out, Jason. You can’t keep pushing us away because of what happened in the past."
Jason’s eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to grow heavier with the weight of unspoken words. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The silence between them was thick, but it was Jason who broke it first.
"You don’t get it, do you?" Jason’s voice dropped, the anger simmering beneath the surface now replaced by something raw, vulnerable. "You think it’s just about the past. It’s not. I’m not some kid you can just—" His voice faltered, and for a split second, the facade he’d built up cracked. "I died, Bruce. I came back, and nothing's the same anymore. Not for me. Not for you. You don’t get to just reset everything and pretend like everything's fine."
Bruce’s eyes softened slightly at the admission, a small part of him recognizing the depth of Jason’s pain. "I’m not pretending everything is fine," Bruce said gently, leaning forward just a little. "I know I can’t undo what happened. I can’t make it right, but I want to try. I’ve been trying, Jason."
Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, the vulnerability becoming too much to bear. "Trying?" he spat, eyes flashing with frustration. "You think showing up with some platitudes is trying? You think that after everything that’s happened, we can just talk and suddenly everything will be okay?"
Bruce sat back, his posture tired but resolute. "No, Jason. I don’t think everything will be okay. But I want to be a father to you again, even if we can’t go back to how it was. I can’t be the father you lost, but I can still be someone you can rely on."
Jason’s chest heaved with the weight of his emotions, the battle between wanting to be angry and wanting to let his walls down raging inside of him. He wanted so badly to tell Bruce to get lost, to walk away and never look back. But part of him wanted to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was something left to salvage.
"Don’t make promises you can’t keep," Jason muttered, staring at the floor, his voice low and hesitant.
Bruce didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on Jason, understanding how difficult it must have been for him to hear those words, let alone speak them. But Bruce had never been one to give up easily, and he wasn't about to start now.
"I’m not promising anything, Jason," Bruce replied after a beat. "I’m telling you that I’m here. Whether you want me to be or not."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with the tension of everything unsaid. Then, with a sharp exhale, Jason pushed himself off the couch, the movement abrupt. He stood, his posture stiff as he stared down at Bruce.
"Maybe one day I’ll believe you. But that day’s not today." His voice was quiet but resolute, and it carried an ache that neither of them could ignore. "But I’m not walking away this time. I’ll stick around for the rest of the family... but I’m not your son, Bruce. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
Bruce nodded slowly, a quiet understanding in his eyes, though the hurt was still there. "I’ll take whatever you can give, Jason. Even if it’s not everything."
Jason lingered by the door, his hand resting on the handle as if contemplating whether to say anything else. But after a long, pregnant pause, he simply gave Bruce a glance over his shoulder, his face unreadable.
"Don’t hold your breath, Bruce. But I’m not running this time."
With that, he left, leaving Bruce alone in the office, a fragile thread of hope still dangling between them, uncertain and fragile but there all the same.