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Chapter Text

When Bruce was sixteen his best (and only) friend was Harvey Dent. Harvey also happened to be Bruce’s go to confidant.
Any problem Bruce faced, any hard decision he had to make, he talked it over with Harvey. This worked pretty well for a while, but when they were eighteen Harvey was much less available than he was at sixteen. He’d done a lot of work in high school to earn college credits, and he only needed a year of classes to get his bachelors. That meant he was spending a lot of time studying for the LSAT

So when Bruce came to him for advice, Harvey had sat him down and explained the concept of rubber duckie programming. The idea was that you would explain your problem to the rubber duck in detail and while talking about it, you’d realize the solution.

The next day Harvey gifted Bruce a bright yellow rubber duck.

Four years later, when Bruce was considering dropping out of medical school, and Harvey was studying for the bar, Bruce explained to the duck the pros and cons of dropping out of school to travel the globe learning martial arts.

He debated with the duck the design of his costume. The duck stared silently while Bruce agonized about taking in the orphaned Dick Grayson. The duck sympathized as Bruce tried desperately to keep Dick from becoming a vigilante himself, and bore witness when he finally gave in. And a few months after the birth of Robin, when the man who’d given Bruce the duck suffered horrible facial scarring and a resulting psychotic break, the duck was the only one Bruce let hear him cry.

In the following years the duck was consulted after every fight between Dick and Bruce, and when Dick stormed out to form his own team, Bruce slept with the tiny duck clutched to his chest.

The duck was the first one Bruce told about his decision to adopt a little boy who tried to steal the tires off of the Batmobile. The duck was the one who heard Bruce's desperate promises to be a more receptive, more communicative parent this time, promises that too often failed in the face of an actual human child.

The duck was the one who saw Bruce's desperate gasping sobs at the loss of that child. The duck was the one who listened to Bruce's furious thorny attempts to convince himself he shouldn't kill the Joker, arguments that failed in the face of his grief only once. The duck was the one that heard Bruce’s desolate murmurings about how it might not be so bad if he failed to dodge one too many times. And the duck was also the one whose non-responsiveness allowed Bruce to talk himself out of it again and again.

And when a certain Timothy Drake demanded to be made Robin, the duck endured hours of Bruce’s ranting about what a terrible idea that was. It endured the days of despondency when Bruce realized the only way he could keep Tim even kind of safe was to accept. And the duck was there to hear Bruce’s interest and slight consternation when whispers about a vigilante/drug lord calling himself Red Hood who’d set himself up in Crime alley.

Chapter Text

Jason stalked along the rooftops, tailing the Batman. They'd had an encounter earlier in the night, both of them after the Riddler. It had gone…surprisingly well. Batman wasn't automatically opposed to new players in his city, although he was always, always wary. And the Red Hood moniker wouldn't help. Jason had known it would draw attention, but he couldn't resist the dramatic irony.

 He figured he could get the Bat to leave him alone eventually. He hadn't come back to Gotham to reconnect with his erstwhile family, he'd come to take care of Crime Alley and its residents. And to kill the Clown when he got the chance to do so without being caught. 

Anyway, the way Batman was acting was weird. Weird enough that Jason suspected some kind of trap. Hence why he was following. Batman’s path brought him to an especially deserted alley, deep in the abandoned warehouse district far from any known criminal activity. Jason felt a chill of foreboding seep down his spine. A good place for an ambush. Batman carefully scanned the alley and the surrounding rooftops. Very few people could avoid that searching gaze. Jason, Bat and League trained, was one such person. 

Satisfied that he was alone, Batman slumped onto a crate, exhaustion stealing over him. He reached into his utility belt, and Jason tensed. But Batman pulled out…a pale yellow rubber duck? 

The Bat placed the duck on a taller crate across from him and sighed. “Hey Harv. I ran into the Red Hood tonight. It went pretty well actually, but he shot a guy. It just clipped him, he'll be fine, but it sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I'm not used to allies using that kind of weaponry. Even with temporary rogue team ups, my allies don't… Not guns. Not in the field.” 

Batman rubbed his forehead. “I know my thing with guns is irrational. I know I handle deadly weapons every day. I know I could kill easily enough with a batarang. You thought it was silly even back before Batman was a daydream. Took me to a range, made me shoot. Everyday for a month, remember?” The duck, being an inanimate object, did not respond. Bruce smiled though, a sad sentimental smile. He patted the duck on its tiny head and continued. “Lots of decent people use guns. Commissioner Gordan uses guns, and I’d trust him with my life. I guess the difference is that I don’t trust Hood.” 

Batman scowled at the duck. “Don’t give me that look Harv. I know, I don't trust very many people. Hood is hardly unique in that. But between Spoiler and Robin I don’t know if I have the bandwidth to mentor another vigilante, much less one that kills. You know how strongly I feel about that.” Jason stifles the urge to snort. He sure knows how dear old dad, no not his father, not even facetiously, how the Batman feels about killing.

 “And with that incident. Well you know the one Harv. I just… If I try to take Hood on I don't know if Nightwing would be comforting coming to town. Not around another renegade vigilante who kills. I don't…I don't think Hood would do what she did. Obviously I don't. I wouldn't consider working with him if I thought… But things don’t have to be analogous for it to be triggering.”

Dread seeped into Jason's stomach. What, what happened to Nightwing? To Dick? He didn't want to see Dick again, didn't want to be brothers, not that they ever were. But he didn't want something awful to have happened to him. 

Bruce scrubbed a hand down his face. “This isn't working. This isn't good enough. I need to talk to you Harv. The real you.” Bruce, no not Bruce, Batman. Batman leapt to his feet, tucked the duck back into his utility belt, and strode out of the alley. Jason carefully skulked after him, tailing him all the way to Arkham. Batman checked in with the prison warden, got a dorky little nametag and everything. Jason couldn’t follow him into the asylum, but luckily he knew where Batman was going. And there just happened to be a window in Two-Face’s cell. Probably Batman’s attempt to help out his friend , Jason mused as he settled in next to the barred window. Most of the rooms in Arkham had windows. It was supposed to be a place of mental healing, and natural sunlight was good for mental health. Two-Face, though, was dangerous enough that he really should be in one of the more secure interior quarters.

 Jason was a little surprised really, that enough of Batman’s affections for Two-Face remained that he hadn’t been able to deny the man who had once been his closest friend access to the sun. Batman crept into the room on silent feet, settling in front of the bars separating Two-Face from the rest of the facility. 

Two face laughs, and it reminds Jason too much of the Joker. A jolt of fear shot through him, and he viciously clamped it down. He doesn’t have time for this, he can’t alert Batman to his presence. Two-Face is talking, and he needs to be listening. “-see your old friend huh Bats?” “Yes I would. Care to oblige me Dent?” Batman’s voice is smooth, controlled. But Jason knew better. He’d lived in the man’s house for three years, and he knew perfectly well that Bruce was only that casual, that controlled if he felt like he didn’t have a handle on the situation. He always clamped down hard on his emotions when he felt unbalanced. 

Two-Face shrugged. “We’ll have to consult the coin.” 

Batman nodded, and watched the coin soar into the air and plummet back into the man’s palm. Two-Face flashed the coin at Batman. “Good side. You get to talk to Harvey.”

 Two-Face shifts so the unscarred half of his face is angled at Batman. “What’s going on?” 

Bruce’s entire body untenses. Jason has quite literally never seen Bruce that relaxed. Not with Jason, not with Dick, not even with Alfred. “Harvey.” Bruce says it like he’s letting go of a breath he’s been trying to hold for too long. “I need advice. There’s this vigilante. Goes by Red Hood.”

 Harvey snorted, “Bet you just love that. What with how your son died.” 

Batman hacked out a laugh. There’s no humor in it. “You got that right. The first time I heard it, I almost blacked out I was so mad. But he isn’t like the Clown. He’s…Kind. Takes care of Crime Alley, the way I should have been doing. Good with kids. Like.” Bruce chokes, “Like Robin was.” 

Harvey sighed. “So what's the hang up? It isn’t like you haven’t mentored vigilanties before. What's the rest of the story here Batman?” 

A corner of Batman’s mouth quirked up. “Never could get anything past you could I? Well for one thing, he’s a drug lord. It’s not that big of a deal really. I mean you were always in favor of legalizing drugs for better regulation anyway. And he is regulating them, helping keep kids from getting hooked, helping adults get what they pay for.” 

Harvey scoffed. “We all know you don’t approve of drugs, but that's clearly not the real problem. Out with it.” 

“He kills people.” Bruce’s voice is blunt. Cold. 

Harvey sighs. “Yeah, that would do it. You always were such a moralizing sanctimonious prick.” 

Bruce laughs, a real laugh this time, deep and resonant. “You bet your boots I am. I should get that on my tombstone ‘here lies a moralizing sanctimonious prick.’ Then everyone who comes by the graveyard will know right away what kind of person I was.” Batman closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. “They'll know I tried.”  

Jason smiles a little, before he notices and shuts it down. Batman doesn’t laugh at himself very often. Or, ever really. He takes everything so seriously, and himself most of all. 

Harvey makes a face. “Let's not go there today. Tell me more about Hood. Why does the killing worry you so much? You do temporary team ups with some of the greyer rouges all the time, and they all have blood on their hands. It's not like you're adopting the guy. He wouldn't be one of yours, just an ally.” 

Bruce sighs. “I just… worry. Worry so so much about Robin. About who he interacts with, who influences him. I, I know it’s good for him to have more contacts, a bigger support system. If.” Batman’s voice cracks, “If the second Robin had someone else to go to, someone to talk to, maybe things wouldn’t have, wouldn’t have escalated the way they did. I want the current Robin to have that. To be safer. Because I can’t go through that again Harvey. I just can’t. Fathers are supposed  to die before their sons. Mine did! And I thought nothing could be worse than losing him. Losing them. But I was so, so wrong. Because losing my son was the most horrible thing that ever happened to me. I just want Robin to be safe. I just want him to be safe. I never wanted my children to be soldiers. I never wanted…”

Harvey grunts. “You know they used to call me Apollo?” 

Batman appears taken aback by the non sequitur. “Uh, no.” He lies. “I was a little busy establishing myself as a vigilante when we met. Not a lot of time to internet-stalk my new acquaintances.” 

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Well they did. They called me Apollo, because I was untouchable. I was young, handsome, brilliant. I had a name, a career, everything. And now look at me. Just another psycho in a cell.” Batman tried to interrupt, but Harvey ignored him. “My best friend. From before I mean. Bruce Wayne. His parents were the richest people in this city, some of the richest people in the world. They were powerful, charismatic, kind. If anyone in this city should have been safe it was them. And they were gunned down in an alley by a two bit  mugger. Nobody in this flipping city is safe. Nobody. Your kids are soldiers? Yeah they are. But we live in a warzone. Better to be a soldier than just another civilian casualty. Your kid was murdered by the Joker? Join the club. There's no shortage of members.”

Two face’s neck spasms, and the scarred side of his face angles towards the Batman. “Speaking of the Clown of, have you made another attempt? Come on, don’t you want to? I remember the night you came to us, soaking wet, convinced you’d left him to drown. I remember the look in your eyes, and I was sure, I was sure you’d join us on this side of the bars. Wouldn’t it be perfect Batman? We could paint the town red together. Both of us just a little too far to the left of righteous.” 

Bruce laughs, but it has returned to humorlessness. “It would be perfect. More than you know. The dramatic irony of it all… Robin would be proud. My little literature nerd. But I can’t. A different little bird forced his way into my home, and I have to take care of him. Sorry Harvey, but that’s more important than literary parallels.” 

About half of Jason's mind was busy contemplating that yes, from a purely artistic standpoint, it would make a fantastic tragedy. Bruce and Harvey starting as idealistic teenaged friends trying to improve the city in their own fierce way. Each of them being slowly corrupted by the city they fought to save, Harvey succumbing first to its insatiable rot, leaving Bruce to fight alone. The small starbursts of companionship and strength Dick and Jason brough, only for them to be stuffed out, Dick following his own calling outside the city, and out of Bruce’s reach. And Jason. Jason finding a more permanent end. Finally unable to resist the city’s darkness, Bruce too, succumbed. The friends united again, ‘a little too far to the left of righteous.’ as Two-Face put it. The other half of Jason's mind was screaming at the implication that Bruce had tried to kill the Joker. Because if, if Batman had tried.. If the only reason he wasn’t still trying was because he had a kid to take care of, a kid he needed to be a good example for.. 

It didn’t matter. Jason didn’t miss his family, no, he corrected himself firmly, his former colleagues. He didn’t want to go back. All he wanted was to make Crime alley a better, safer place. But he’d thought… He’d thought he hadn’t mattered. And everything Bruce had said about him, or things related to him made it seem like he had. It was weird, that was all. It certainly didn't change anything. It was just…weird. Bruce and Harvey sat for a few more minutes in companionable silence, before Batman climbed quietly to his feet. “Goodbye Harvey.” Two-face grunted and waved, snarling, “ Get out of here, Batman .” Bruce flashed the criminal a sad smile, and slipped out of the cell. 

Hood just sits and stares for a moment. By the time he'd come into Bruce's life, Harvey had been a rogue for years. He'd known intellectually that they used to be friends. He'd even seen it sometimes when Two-Face came crawling out of the woodwork, a particularly desolate look in Batman’s eyes, the briefest stutter in his stride. But never anything like this. 

He'd never… Never even imagined Bruce having a friend like that. A real friend, the kind you told your secrets, and your struggles. The kind you let see you cry, the kind that made you smile if only because your heart was breaking. 

Someone who wasn't a son you had to protect, or a father you needed to avoid worrying, or an ally you couldn't let see you as weak because your life depended on them trusting you. 

Jason shook off the thoughts and plunged into the night. Friends were for the weak anyway. 

Chapter Text

A few days later, Batman approached Hood about a ‘non-equity strategic alliance’, (because anyone who told you Batman wasn’t a nerd either didn’t know him very well or was lying). “I’m not asking for us to be proper allies,” Batman explained, “Just to try and stay out of each other's way, and to function as emergency backup in dire situations.” And Jason accepted, because this way Batman would stay out of crime alley of his own volition, and the Clown would definitely warrant emergency backup. It was a win win for Jason, even if it did mean that he had to keep any killing solidly on the down low, at least until he got a chance at the Joker. 

And he had to admit, it was nice, having a Bat or two in his back pocket, just in case. He never called on them, but still. It reminded him a bit of when he was Robin, and Batman was at his back. When he was letting Jason handle it, but hovering, ready to step in if necessary. A bitter part of Jason’s brain whispered that when Jason really needed him, Batman wasn't there. But the more practical side of Jason acknowledged that this was Batman's stomping grounds, and barring JLA interference (overseas missions, or worse, Space missions.) there wasn’t a chance that Batman wouldn’t deal with threats in his own city. So if he called? B would answer, if only for Gothams sake. 

Batman for his part, actually did call Hood in on a few more dangerous missions, and the trust did not make him feel warm and floaty. Definitely not. How stupid would that be? So stupid. And Jason wasn’t stupid. 

This meant Jason wasn’t terribly surprised when his Bat issued communicator went off with a request for aid. He was a little more surprised to see that the alert was for Two-Face. He’d been trying to ignore any thoughts of Two-Face or what he’d witnessed that day. It was all too strange. 

Two-Face was holding up a nightclub. There were a lot of hostages involved, which is why Jason’s help had been requested. Crowd control was going to be important. Also, there was a kid. In Bruce’s words, “A kid who’s imbecilic, worthless excuses for parents brought their child to a nightclub . And then they let him get taken hostage by Two-Face.” The child in question was one Timothy Jackson Drake, aka Robin the third, aka, Bruce's son. He still technically belonged to the Drakes, but Jason didn't think that would last. Especially not after this incident.

 Personally Jason thought that Batman’s absolute horror at the idea of a child in a nightclub contrasted with his willingness to take a child crime fighting was absolutely flipping hilarious. To borrow Dick’s childhood lexicon, holy skewed priorities Batman! Although on the other hand, Bruce had been raised by an ex military butler, who was so obsessed with manners that he still called the man he'd raised for the last thirty years Master Bruce. Alfred was far more comfortable with violence than impropriety. In fact Bruce had once told him a story about how upon joining the British Marines, Alfred had been so horrified by his squad's crassness, that he'd immediately taken it upon himself to become squad leader, and whip them into shape. And by shape, he meant into paragons of good manners and respect. And of course actual physical shape. Nobody ever accused Alfred of being unable to multitask. 

So maybe Bruce’s values made perfect sense in context. 

Jason wondered as he ran across the city’s rooftops, what things about him only made sense in the context of the people who raised him? Well, other than the whole vigilante thing. That was low hanging fruit. Not what Jason was talking about. He meant more like…like the way he found enigmatic people more trustworthy. Most people felt more comfortable with expressive people. People who you could read. Not Jason. Because Willis's moods could change in a flash, and when you could easily tell what Bruce felt, it usually meant he was affecting his Brucie persona. It meant he was lying. Jason felt more comfortable with people whose emotions and moods he had to tease out, had to look closely to catch. Because that was Bruce and Alfred’s natural state, because Catherine’s emotions were buried under a haze of drugs, and you had to dig for them. 

And then he doesn’t have any more time for thinking, because the nightclub is in sight. He flung himself off the roof, and dove towards the nightclub, catching himself with a grapple at the last second and crashing through the window. Everyone turns to look, and Batman who had  apparently been locked in a staredown with Two-Face takes advantage of the other man's distraction to snatch Tim. Once Tim was safely out of the way Bruce flung himself at Two-Face. Jason was on crowd control. Two-Face always had plenty of goons on hand, and they could be plenty dangerous in their own right. Jason leapt into the fight with practiced ease. 

He always had mixed emotions when he fought Two-Face’s thugs. His father had been one of these men. Not Bruce, of course not. Willis. Willis had been in Two-Face's employ for years, and if he ever got out of jail, he'd probably end up right back there. It was…strange to fight men just like the man who sired him.  He could never decide if the thought thrilled him or sickened him. After all, Willis had not always been kind. Sometimes it felt like retribution to fight these men, vengeance for the way he'd been mistreated. Sometimes all he could think of when he looked into their eyes was that maybe they had kids at home too. Kids that they loved even if they were too tired and too drunk to be a good parent to them. Willis had loved him.There had been good days where they watched baseball together on the couch, or even played that quintessential father son game of catch in the park. There had also been days where Willis yelled himself hoarse at Jason, days when he’d spewed insults and curses. And even though Jason had been safe, he hadn’t felt that way. But Willis… He'd done a lot of things, but he'd never physically harmed Jason, or let anyone else harm Jason. And that was something. Especially as an alcoholic that was something. 

Jason always thought about Willis when he fought Two-Face’s goons. And for the first time he wondered if Bruce thought of Harvey the same way. Except for Bruce it wasn't men like his friend. It was his friend.

Jason subdued the last of Two-Face's lackeys and turned to watch the Batman and Two-Face. Bruce and Harvey fought with vicious savagery. Harvey Dent put up one heck of a fight, for a man who had been a lawyer.  As far as Jason knew law was not the most athletically demanding job in the world, but was very time intensive. Jason would have helped, but honestly he was pretty sure distracting B would do more harm than good. Once, back when he was Robin, he would have been about to slip in effortlessly. As familiar to the Bat as his own mind, their movements perfectly in tune. Now, he simply had to wait. Had to watch. And it hurt . 

Jason was considering just disappearing into the night, and leaving Batman to finish the fight on his own. Because Jason didn’t want to see. Before he could follow through with the thought though, Batman got Harvey off balance, and delivered a truly devastating kick to the face. Harvey went down. Bruce got the cuffs around his wrists, and the tension bled off the both of them. It was over, and everyone knew it. Two-face didn’t bother resisting as he was packed away into police custody, although the scarred side of his face jerked to angle at the cops, and spit insults. Batman for his part, made his way over to Jason. “Are you injured?” There is a subtle undercurrent of worry in the older man’s voice, and something in Jason's stomach tightens. He remembers that voice. It's the voice Bruce always used during after patrol check-in. The voice he used on Robin and Nightwing. On his allies. And Jason hadn't expected to hear that voice directed at him ever again.

“I'm fine.” Jason’s response is gruff. He hesitates. “Can we talk?” Batman casts a glance at the nightclub, which is still full of cops and patrons. “Not here. And not now. There’s someone I need to check up on. Meet me on the roof of the bank in an hour.” Jason wants to laugh. Of course he wants to check on Tim. Jason can't imagine that his death improved that tendency and it was strong even before. Even if the kid technically had parents, B clearly felt responsible for the child. 

By the time Jason actually gets to the bank, he is seriously reconsidering this whole talking to Bruce plan. It seems like an awfully risky idea, now that he's had a second to think. It was a heat of the moment decision, because Bruce was talking to him like an ally and Jason just wanted to understand. But before Jason could bolt, Batman swung onto the roof. The man seemed to have a supernatural sense of exactly when to show up in order to keep Jason from losing his nerve and slipping into the shadows. Batman hummed in the way that meant, ‘you should start talking now.’ Jason considered pretending he didn't know what it meant, but really, what was the point? Batman wasn't going to let him get away without an explanation, not after he requested this meeting. 

Jason clears his throat. “So ah. I um. Saw you. A few weeks ago. Heading to Arkham. And I followed you, and heard your conversation with Two-Face, and it was like…Like you guys were friends. And then tonight. You tried to tear each other apart. And I get, I get Two-Face being able to do it. That's like his whole deal. Duality and all that crap. But that's like, the opposite of your whole deal. Because your whole thing is never giving an inch. Always firm, always strong. So how does that translate to just, hanging out with a criminal? And then how can you bear to turn around and hurt him? ” 

Batman laughs, and it is a hollow dead thing. “ You're right Hood. ‘My whole deal,’ as you put it, is standing in the face of impossible odds. It's fighting a losing battle to my last breath. It's shielding any light I can find in this world with my own body and letting the darkness carve out pieces of me trying to get to it. It's trying to keep my edges sharp and my lines crisp while everything around me tries to wear them away. It's trying to stare into the abyss and not have it stare back. It's a war to keep from becoming the monsters I try to fight, and it's knowing, that one day I will look in the mirror and have lost. And it's getting up every day and saying, one day, but not today. Today I still fight.” 

Bruce closes his eyes, and tips his head towards the night sky. “When I first started doing this, being Batman, I wanted it to consume me. I wanted to be the personification of justice. I am vengeance, I am the night. I am not a person. Not human. I am a crime fighting case solving machine. An algorithm. A wind up toy. No face, no soul, just a mask and a mission. It was easy back then. Easy to follow the rules. Nobody seemed real . I didn’t feel real. And then one day, there was a kid. And for a split second, I saw the world reflected in his eyes, and everything was real.” 

B laughed, and this time there was a tinge of real amusement in the sound. “I ran from that feeling. Bolted. Left that little boy in the clutches of the Gotham foster system.” A jolt of shock rippled through Jason. What? He’d thought, he’d thought that kid was Dick. He’d always pictured Bruce taking one look at perfect, golden, newly orphaned Richard Grayson, and adopting him on the spot. Bruce continued his story. “I checked in on the kid a few weeks later, and they’d stuck him in juvie. Juvie! Couldn’t pretend he didn’t need me  after that. Couldn’t turn my back on him. Took him home with me, and well. An algorithm can’t raise a child. So I had to be human again.” A smile plays at the corners of B’s mouth. “And following the rules was suddenly far more difficult. Everything becomes so much more personal when you have a child to protect.” 

Jason huffed. “That doesn’t explain your weird friendship with Two-Face. In fact I think it supports my point about it being super flipping weird! You follow your rules? Okay. What's that got to do with Two-face?” Batman sighs. “Why the no-kill rule of course. The one you don’t follow.” Jason sputtered. “You know about that? Why aren’t you trying to stop me?” B snorted. “Of course I know. I’m Batman. Knowing is my whole purpose in life. As for your more illicit escapades, the day that I have the bandwidth to worry about a few of the worst of the worst never walking back out of a dark alley, I will certainly endeavor to bring you to justice. In the meantime however, I have more pressing crimes to worry about.” Jason is floored. It is as good as permission. Because Jason very much doubts there will ever be a day where the highest priority crime on Batman’s list will be the murder of the kind of men Jason kills. Not in this city. It’s a warning too of course. Don’t kill too many people. Don’t kill anyone who’s directly Batman’s responsibility, which means no Rouges. Jason can deal with those limitations.  Except for the Joker. He’s still going to take that lowlife snake out as soon as he gets the chance, and deal with whatever fallout there is. But he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. 

Batman continues. “There are a lot of reasons for the no kill rule, and it’s a long and complex discussion. I’m not going to get into it now. But one of those reasons is that they’re all people. They have family. Friends. People who care about them. Who mourn the person they could have been. Maybe some of them don’t, but they deserve to don’t they? Doesn’t even the most horrible person in the world deserve someone who knows they could have been something else? Someone who mourns the fact that they weren’t?” 

Batman sighs “I think they do. I think Gotham deserves a vigilante that sees every criminal clogging her streets as a tragedy. Not just because of what they do to other people, but also because of what they’ve done to themselves. And Harvey helps me remember that. Because as much as I try to be that person for every criminal I meet, I really am that person for him. Harvey is the reason I know what it feels like. He was my friend. We met almost a year before his accident. I was a brand new vigilante, with almost no credibility. The police were still set on apprehending and arresting me, and public opinion was that there was a real possibility I was some kind of embryonic serial killer. But Harvey gave me a chance. Believed in me, believed I could do good for the city. We worked together.” 

Batman laughed wetly. “And then in an instant we went from allies to enemies. In an instant he was gone. It’s a special sort of torment seeing someone you care so much about right there. And you can’t reach them. They’re right there. And they’re trying to hurt you. They’re trying to hurt you, and hurt the people you have to protect, and the only choice is to let them or to hurt them in return.” 

“And so you fight him.” Bruce gives Jason a small tired smile and agrees. “Yes. So I fight him. I can’t keep from fighting him. For a long time, I tried to pretend that he was truly dead. That I’d lost my friend literally rather than 

metaphorically that day. Hard to do when he kept trying to kill me. And then one day something awful happened, and I just needed someone to talk to. I’ve only spoken to him a handful of times, but, it helps. It helped. It was. It was the new Robin’s idea. Told me it might help me remember who I was. Why I do things the way I do.” Bruce's mouth twists up in some twisted approximation of a smile. “Help me put an end to the Bad Days.” 

Jason tilts his head. He’s heard of the Bad Days, but no one will tell him anything. They all refuse to talk about it, except in brief whispers and no details. “The bad days?” Batman grimaces. “I guess you wouldn’t have been around for those huh? Well if you heard me and Harvey… You know that my son.. My son was killed. And after…Well. It was hard to prioritize the safety of criminals when my son was dead. Hard to care about the wounds I inflicted on their bodies when all I could see when I closed my eyes was his ruined form. I hurt a lot of people more than they deserved Hood. Those were the Bad Days. Robin helped a lot, obviously, but he thought reconnecting with a friend who was also a rogue would help too.” 

Jason bit his lip. “Did it?” Batman shrugged. “Some. Wouldn’t have been enough without Robin, but it did help. Robin needed me to be Batman again. Not vengeance. Just like the first time, I had to be real again. It was harder that time, but I had to.” Jason feels a twinge of jealousy curl in his gut. Apparently both Dick and Tim had ‘made Bruce be real again’. He was the odd man out. “Sometimes I look at Harvey and all I want is for him to come back. To be my friend again. Sometimes all I want is for him to go away and stop hurting me.” 

Jason can’t keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. “What if it was your son. The one who died. What if he came back somehow, but he was like Harvey? Would you rather he'd stayed dead?”

Bruce’s mouth twists in a way that Jason can’t read. “ What can I say to that, Hood? Of course I want my son back. But to imagine my son, hurting innocent people attacking his brothers, trying to hurt them. Harvey hurts my children. He's tried to kill them before. I. I don't know. Maybe if it was me, just me, I'd rather he be here. No matter what, no matter who he chose to be. But can you imagine what that would do to Nightwing? To have the brother he feels he failed to save go after his other brother? And Robin! The kid already has self esteem issues, for his hero to turn on him? No. I can't.. I don't…”  “Okay.” Jason interrupts, “Not as bad as Harvey. How about me? What if your son was like me? What if he killed people, and was involved in the drug trade.” 

Batman tilts his head. “Why do you ask?” 

Jason scoffed. “I guess you remind me of my old man. Similar morals. I wonder what he'd think of me. If he'd want me back now, or if I'm too broken for him.”

Bruce sighed, “I can't speak for your father, but if it turned out you were somehow my son it would be such a miracle that a few back alley murders and some drug dealing would pale in comparison. I just want my son.” Bruce’s voice cracks.

 B loved him? And missed him? And had tried to leave the Joker for dead? If all those things were true, what flipping reason did Jason have not to go home?

Jason took a deep breath. “Okay B, I'm going to need you to think about all the weirdest, most out there things that have happened to you as a Vigilante, okay?” Batman grunted, but didn't object. Jason reached up to the clasp of his helmet, and gently levered it off of his face. “Hi dad.” 

Bruce's face pales so dramatically that Jason is almost worried he isn't getting enough blood to his brain. “ Jason? ” Batman's voice shakes. “Jason?”  He reached a trembling hand out to his son, “J-Jaylad? Is it really you? ”  Jason hesitated, and then leapt for his father. B swept him up in a hug, clutching him like the world would end if he let go. Jason couldn't stop the tears that slipped down his cheeks, and based on the tears dripping into his hair, neither could Bruce. “What happened?” Bruce demanded, voice still tremulous. “You were dead . I held you in my arms and felt your pulse and there was nothing. I ran every test there was to run before I surrendered you to the ground. You were dead. So how? Is this real? Are you real?” 

“I'm real.” Jason insisted, “I'm here. I'm real. I don't know what happened exactly, just that I woke up, and dug myself out of my grave, and then I got hit by a bus, and then Talia found me, and dumped me in the pit, and sent me back here.” 

“Why didn't you tell us?” B whispered, his voice barren, “Why didn't you come home .”

Jason shrugged “It's not like you missed me all that much. You left the clown running around right as rain despite what he did to me. You put your new little birdie in my suit.  Dickiebird treats him like a real brother instead of an interloper, and I bet nobody whispers about his origins at galas.” 

That last one startles a laugh out of B. “And who the flip cares what they say at galas? As long as it makes us look silly and incompetent, we're winning. The whole point of going to those is to distance us from our civilian selves. And to donate to and raise money for various causes of course.” Bruce pinched his nose. “Sorry, I know you have more important concerns. I did try and kill the Joker, the first time he appeared after your death. Left him to die, but of course he didn’t. And by the time he came back, I had too much to lose to go after him again. Not in the least because he would think it was hilarious to trick me into killing someone else thinking it was him. Can you imagine? He’d think it was such a laugh .” 

And Jason could imagine it. It was exactly the sort of thing that the Clown would do. Exactly the sort of wound he liked to inflict.

“That's not the only reason,” Bruce continued, “The no kill rule is a very complex moral debate, and we can get into it later if you want. As for Nightwing and his treatment of the new Robin, a large part of that is that he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes he made with you. It’s unfortunate really, Tim can tell. He knows that half the things Dick does for him are actually for you. He deserves affection in his own right, and we’re terrible at giving it to him. I know you're mad at me for letting him be Robin, and probably mad at him too, but I hope you'll give him a chance. He's going to be so happy to meet you, y'know? Nobody bought into what I was trying to do with Batman and Robin more than he did.” B smiled, a fond, sad smile. 

“To the point that when I wanted to let it all burn, he flat refused. He doesn’t deserve to have that held against him. Be mad at me all you want. I deserve it. But Tim? I don’t know Jay. Whenever I start to think this world is beyond saving, these people, this city is beyond saving, she sends me one of you. And you are all so, so bright. So full of life, so much light and potential, and I can’t give up. Not on a city you live in. Not on a world you inhabit. Tim’s such a sweetheart, and I just… Don't want him to suffer for my mistakes. My failures.”

“Yeah, fine.” Jason grumbled, “I'll give the kid a chance.” 

Bruce sighed and tangled his fingers in Jason's hair. “I can't believe you're back, Jaylad. I. I wanted you back so badly. More than I've ever wanted anything. I didn't think anything could be more painful than losing my parents, but that was before I lost my child. I just. I missed you, son . 

Jason hummed and tucked himself into his father’s side. “I missed you too old man. ”