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"Starry, starry night,"
The light sound of a guitar flowed clearly from the apartment fire escape, the noise soft as Jason sat there, lightly picking the strings. The sunset was beautiful, with a mix of soft orange and pink, over a purple sky fading away to a calming blue.
"Paint your palate blue and grey, look out on a summer's day,"
His voice barely reached through the window behind him, where his brother sat quietly on the sofa in the living room of their apartment, drawing something. It had been a rough night. Damian and him had an argument about him getting into yet another fight in school. Something stupid like another kid telling him that he was pathetic. Pathetic for being "abandoned" by his mother. For an absent father. He has gotten upset at Damian for not just talking about it with Jason.
"With eyes that know the darkness of my soul,"
Damian had of course fought back, he was never one to let one such as an elementary school bully degrade him, as he was proud of his kin. Proud of his mother, who sent him off in search for a safer life away from the league, and his father, who he had not yet met. He had only been told of a man who had dark hair, soft eyes, and who was an honorable warrior. Jason of course knew the man who this had referred to. He was Jason's father as well. That man had held him when he cried, comforted him when he was ill, and cared for him when nobody else did.
"Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffodils,"
Or so Jason thought. He had always thought Bruce cared for him. Had loved him. Until he threw that batrang. Right at Jason's neck. There was no way it was a simple lapse of judgement, or a fallback on training to neutralize the threat. Because Bruce didn't have mental lapses, Batman never fell back on training. He was always two steps ahead. And besides, Batman never went that far with the Joker. Or Bane. Or Harvey. Or Penguin. Everything about it was intentional, meaning Bruce Batman wanted to seriously injure Jason.
"In colors on the snowy linen land,"
The first time he confronted death, he was brave. He died a hero, trying to save his mother Sheila, even if she sold him out to save her career. But, oh, was his death terrifying. Listening to the Tick of the clock slowly count down, time seemed to slow with the screams of Sheila (Deactivate the bomb, Jason! The door! It's locked!) and the knife of guilt slicing and twisting his gut knowing he wold not save her, and the ache of acceptance lingering in his bones like the pain the crowbar left.
"Now I understand,"
Sometimes, in the dead of night, he would jolt awake, still feeling the broken bones, the metallic taste of crimson blood, and the Joke's laugh ringing in his ears. Or, sometimes he would feel the suffocating pressure of dirt surrounded him as he lay in his bed, paralyzed by the memories. And every once in a while, he could feel his hands start to ache, and he could feel the way his skin split as he desperately crawled out of his own grave.
"What you tried to say to me, and how you suffered for your sanity,"
He didn't want to think about it anymore. Whenever he got lost in thoes thoughts he allways ended up dreaming about them. He would wake up and try to scream, to cry out for his dad, his mother, or anyone.
"How you tried to set them free-"
The sound of someone easing through the window snapped Jason back to the present, to where he was sitting against the railing of the fire escape, with his legs criss-cross and absent-mindedly murmuring the familiar song and softly picking his guitar. His momentary misplacement of attention caused his fingers to slip and the strings to buzz. He stopped playing to turn his head to look at his brother.
Damian climbed out of the window, then walked over to the railing and leaned on it, Jason watching as he did so. Neither boy talked. Just sat in silence watching the sun sink farther into the Gotham skyline. Jason rested his head on the body of his guitar.
"Its beautiful tonight, isn't it?" his voice was still horce from straining it in his argument with Damian after such limited use, but it was true. The sky was strangely clear for all of the smog and pollution. The sun's orange got more intense and the pink and purple melted away into a deep blue. The air was cool, though not cold, but just warm enough to be able to wear a t-shirt and pants without getting hot. God, he loved nights like these. If only he could stop thinking.
"It is," Damian said as he droped down to sit next to Jason, with his legs swinging off of the edge. They fell into another moment of silence.
Jason looked down to his little brother. He absently wondered if he himself was really that small at Damian's age. When he was around 10, he was living with his mother. Before his mother overdosed, but after his father was killed. Maybe it was the fact that he was now almost 6'1 that he thought anyone of Damian's height would be tiny.
Damian spoke first, "Your voice is still raspy,"
It was more of an observation than anything conversational, but Jason still replied, "Yeah, I guess," Damian eyed the bandage on Jason's throat.
"Do you still not know who the perpetrator of that injury is?" Jason internally winced, but he knew it wasn't meant to sting, just a curious inquiry.
"No, I don't know who Batman is, if that's what you're asking," A blatant lie. Jason looked away from Damian, ending the conversation. He couldn't bear to tell him that the man who he looked up to tried to kill Jason. He couldn't taint the image of his father, which Damian clung to so dearly.
If Damian had not found Jason in the collapsed building, then Jason would have bled out.
Jason couldn't do that to him.
There was another silent moment, where they both sat there, simply watching the sun set and the moon rise.
Damian turned his gaze to his brother, green eyes looking intently at him. "Jason," he cautiously started. "I am sorry that I got into another fight today," he paused, "I had a lapse in judgement and lost my temper. I will refrain from repeating my mistakes."
Jason stared right back at him. "Damian, I'm not upset at you for a mistake. I will never be upset at you because you stood up for yourself. I'm proud of you for that. But you are also 10 years old. You are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to lose your temper, or make a bad call. You're only a kid, bud, and that's alright. You don't have to be perfect. The only thing that I'm upset about is the fact that you kept that from me."
Damian broke his gaze and looked back to the now set sun. It was getting colder out, and Damian shivered.
Jason followed his gaze to the skyline, and after a moment, continued to softly sing and play the guitar.
"They did not listen they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now,"
And if Jason felt Damian's head fall to his should he ignored it, and focused on the chord progression.
"Starry, starry night,"
"....Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"What is our father like?"
Jason paused, then said, "You have to know him to understand him. Sometimes, he would do something that would make you feel like he never cared about you. But if you knew the way his brain was wired, you knew that he only wanted to do what he thought would turn out to be the best possible way.
"He didn't have many facial expressions, but if you could see his eyes then you would know instantly what he was feeling. He would never smile, but you could see a fond look in his eyes instead.
"Our father was kind, and he cared for me and our brother as much as he could. Sometimes, though, it was hard to tell." Jason thought back to the last time he saw Batman. Was he really that kind? Had he really loved Jason?
That night, Jason didn't see the same man who looked upon him with a soft expression. Bruce's face looked like shattered glass that was barely put back together. It was sharp, but flimsy. In the cracks he saw a broken man. His actions were ruthless, but his eyes. Bruce's eyes were the worst part.
They were focused, but glossy. Attentive but absent.
Jason couldn't say any of that out loud so he said, "Our father and I would sometimes get into arguments. Same with our brother and him. Sometimes Dick, our brother, would leave for a night or two and stay with his friends. Sometimes I would just go out. Either to the house I lived in with my parents, or just to walk the streets. But eventually Dick and I would come back. Bruce depended on us as much as we depended on him."
"....Dick? What is the purpose of insulting our brother and calling him a dick?"
Jason laughed and looked at Damian, "Dick is an old nickname for Richard. English wasn't his biological parent's first language, so I guess they didn't really know what it meant."
"Was our brother not raised in America? I assumed since Father was raised and lived in Gotham than so had Richard." Damian questioned.
"No, before Dick ended up with Bruce, he and his parents traveled around the world in a circus." Jason answered.
"So then how did he end up with Father?"
Jason looked back to the skyline. "Dick's parents were in an accident. Faulty equipment or something."
Damian tensed. "Oh"
Jason sighed and put an arm around his brother's shoulders, "It's alright, bud. You should know about our family anyways,"
When Damian relaxed, Jason started singing again, his fingers soon falling back into rhythm.
"For they could not love you, but still your love was true,"
Jason was somewhat guilty of his brother not knowing anything about Bruce or Dick, but as of late it had been a complex topic. Damian deserved to know what his family was like. But Jason no longer knew if he could call Bruce his father anymore. Or if Dick was his brother anymore. The way Batman carried himself, his mannerisms, were unfamiliar. He was so different from when Jason was 15.
"And when no hope was left in sight on that starry, starry night...."
And Dick.....
Jason didn't actually know. Based on some of the files Ra's kept on him, he knew that at some point Dick had rejoined the circus, then became the co-owner. From there he moved on to become Nightwing again, but this time with a different costume. It was....How did Jason want to put it? It was way more stealthy than his previous one.
He also knew that at some point he had an encounter with Nightwing on Infinity Island, before he regained his memories. From what he knew, Dick was the leader of the Young Justice league, but took a break after Kid Flash died.
Jason wondered if he would ever see his brother again. He hoped he would. He could feel the hands of longing pull at his heart, yearning for just one more chance to talk to the closest person Jason had for an older brother.
"You took you life as lovers often do, but I could have told you, Vincent,"
Damian's head lulled, and he was fully glued to Jason's side. Jason smiled to himself, despite the circumstances. Damian looked so peaceful, his face relaxed and calm.
"This world was never meant for one as beutiful as you."
By the time Jason finished the song, Damian was already sleeping quietly on his shoulder. He carefully set down his guitar, careful not to disturb his little brother.
Jason scooped up Damian, with one arm under his brother's knees, and the other under his shoulders. He climbed throught the window into the warm living room, which was now dimly illuminated from a burning candle that smelled like caramel.
Jason turned into the hallway that led to the bathroom on the left and two bedrooms to the right. He entered the first, which belonged to Damian, and was decorated in paper with mostly sketches of various animals, but also some with Jason or Talia.
There was a twin sized bed peppered with miscellaneous stuffed animals in the far left corner of the room, and where Jason gently layed his sleeping brother. Jason carefully tucked Damian in, then turned on his night light, which was a birthday gift from Talia.
He turned off the big over head light and turned to walk to his room when Damian softly called out for him.
"Can you stay for a little bit?" he asked drowsily.
Jason laughed to himself and pulled up a chair from Damian's desk. "Sure, bud"
He sat at the edge of his bed and started to card his fingers through his sleeping brother's black hair, which made Damian fall asleep almost instantly. Despite this, Jason wanted to just sit there and watch him.
It was rare he was this relaxed when sleeping. In the league, he would be restless, and on edge. After they escaped, Damian's insomnia and night terrors only worstened. Jason supposed it was the paranoia of them getting caught and brought back, which he couldn't blame him for. The torture in disguise as training was almost as bad as the punishments they had to endure. If Ra's were to ever find them, it would be bad.
Luckily as time had gone on, Jason had noticed him getting more peaceful sleep, with less nightmares plaguing him. They weren't completely gone, but progress is progress.
"....Jayyy..." Damian said, one of his eyes barely open.
"Yeah, Dami?"
"Tusbih ealaa khayr ya 'akhi, 'uhibuk"
Jason smiled and closed Damian's eye. "I love you too, now go to sleep."
He sat there for a while, with his hand in his brother's hair, listening to Damian's soft breathing. A sudden sence of peace welled within his bones, flooding his muscles, and tranquelizing all the anxieties from before. They were truly safe. As long as they were together, they would be alright.