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Four minutes and twenty-four seconds.
That’s how long it took for the Bat to arrive. Jason would know — he'd been counting. Nearly five minutes in which his newly-made boss and only father figure friend was dying in an alley too far away from here. The Batsignal had been a last resort; Jason had been warned all his life of the Batman, even more so after the mysterious disappearance of his father. A creature more monster than man who disappears into shadows at will that'll beat you within an inch of your life if you're a criminal..
Jason knew the rumours weren't exaggerated when the Dark Knight stood right in front of him.
“Not what I expected,” was the first thing Batman commented on, his voice the low growl street rats like Jason heard in their nightmares. “This doesn’t seem like a fair fight.”
Jason refused to show the nervosity that bubbled in his gut, raising his chin instead. He still couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice as he spoke. “Didn’t come to fight, I need your help. Now.”
“Did Harvey send you?” Batman asked in a slow, monotone voice, instead of replying with the ‘yes, of course, lead the way’ Jason had hoped for.
“Not– exactly..”
Don’t stick ‘round to watch us die, kid, were Harvey’s exact words. Pretty clear. But then again, when had Jason ever followed orders?
“..but he’s ain’t gonna be sending anyone again if you don’t help me now,” he finished cryptically.
Batman, for all his stoicism, understood immediately and turned with a curt nod. “Where is he?”
“Crime alley, unless he scrambled off.”
Batman’s jaw clenched under the cowl. “How very fitting.”
Half a minute later, they were in the Batmobile. Jason had figured it to be a lot faster than any of Harvey’s getaway-cars, and this suspicion was confirmed by their racing through the narrow streets of Gotham City. As the buildings got more dilapidated and the alleys sketchier, the car stopped abruptly and skidded to a stop, sliding so it functioned as a perfect barricade of the alley. Show-off.
It didn’t take long to find Harvey; if anything, he stood out more as he sat slumped against the wall. The white part of his two-toned suit was stained with his own blood, and his good hand pressed against the wound uselessly. The burned one fumbled with an empty .22 as footsteps approached, faltering when he saw Jason.
“Could’a sworn we told ya to scram, kid. You don’t gotta see all this.” His voice was rough and low, and not just because of the ongoing blood loss. Two-Face.
“Harvey,” Batman said briskly, which caused Two-Face’s hand to shoot up to his gun again.
“Not Harvey—” He spat, his already ruined face contorting into a scowl. “Get the hell outta here!”
“Don’t be stupid. Your..” Batman paused, turning to look at Jason as he approached the wounded man, “..associate was concerned.”
Before Two-Face had time to call Jason a traitor (or worse), he was swiftly picked up and carried back to the Batmobile, where he was thrown in the back unceremoniously. After a moment’s hesitation, Jason joined him a little more graciously.
Two-Face remained still on his side, but he grabbed Jason’s wrist jerkily.
“Do not,” He hissed, both eyes wide and intense, “Bring him to you-know-where, and no public shit either. No hospice ‘till we’re strong enough to get up ‘n running, understood?”
“I’m not a cab to your secret base, Harvey,” Batman said dryly from behind the wheel. “I will be delivering you to a trusted ally until you are strong enough.”
Two-Face scowled at the name, but didn’t ask what happened after he was ‘strong enough’. “Two-Face. It’s Two-Face, now, Bats.”
The silence was awkward and intense, between Two-Face bleeding out and Batman being generally conversationally weak, but Jason broke the silence after a minute or ten.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured to Two-Face, not looking up from the apparently extremely interesting discovery that were his shoelaces. “I didn’t know who else to go to.”
“..you did fine, kid. ‘Sides..” He raised his voice so Batman was sure to hear, “We’re quite enjoying bleeding out on this expensive black leather.”
He did not react.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a very familiar, very famous and very imposing house.
“Wait,” Jason said. “Wait, is this– is this Wayne Manor?”
This seemed to startle Two-Face awake from his drowsy half-sleep half-faint, and he tilted his head up to frown at Batman. “Your trusted ally is Bruce Wayne? Seriously?”
Batman stayed silent, which neither Two-Face nor Jason took offense to. The back doors of the Batmobile opened automatically, and Jason helped Two-Face out — after which he promptly drove off.
“Jackass,” Two-Face grunted.
Jason stood there for a second, perplexed, before slowly starting to trudge his way up to the large doors of Wayne Manor, one of Two-Face’s arms slung around his shoulders for support.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jason used the door knocker, stepping back as he waited.
The door opened, revealing a tall, old man. His eyes widened a fraction when he saw Two-Face’s head lolling down as he leaned heavily on Jason, but that was the only thing that revealed shock on his otherwise impassive face as he stepped aside to let them in. “It’s been a while, mr. Dent.”
Easier than expected. Maybe Batman already let Wayne know they were coming?
They made it four steps in when the staircase creaked, and Jason’s head whipped around as far as it could without throwing Two-Face off. Sharp, icily blue eyes crinkled in the corners, age bringing crow’s feet amongst other creases with it, and there was more grey. It was the billionaire himself — a grey towel was wrapped around his shoulders and he was in casual sportswear, slightly out of breath.
Unprepared, then.
Jason let Bruce take his burden, carefully putting a half-conscious, wriggling Two-Face on the coffee table as gently as he could. He examined the wounds under the kid’s careful eye, expertly disinfecting and bandaging, stepping back when satisfied as he looked at his work with a critical gaze.
“I’m only going to remove the bullets when Harvey’s fully conscious, so he can tell me if something goes wrong,” Bruce said by means of greeting. “If I pluck them out now, they could damage his body from the inside and cause internal bleeding. I’m not sedating him, either, because he might roll over and hurt himself in his sleep.. Although he might do that sober anyway, I believe the nerves on his damaged side have been burned off.”
“Which means he’s gonna be fine?” Jason asked, anxiety slipping into his voice despite his best efforts.
Bruce was silent for a few seconds, before replying, “He should be. Harvey is tough, but not an idiot.”
After another small pause, he turned to Jason and continued, a little sharper: “Which brings me to my next point – would you like to explain why there’s a child running with him? What’s your name? Where are your parents throughout all this?”
“That’s none of your business,” Jason said immediately.
“Which is an answer to which question?”
“All of them.”
Bruce exhaled through his nose, but it might as well have been a laugh. “I see he has a bad influence on you. How’d you meet, then? Or is that confidential, too?”
Jason lifted his chin and straightened up. “I stole his car tires and broke his leg.”
That startled an actual laugh out of Bruce. “And he decided to let you join his gang?”
“He flipped for it. Good heads twice,” Jason shrugged, as if it had been just another Tuesday. “He took me in.”
“Ah. How fitting.” Bruce’s expression fell slightly at that, but he kept his tone light. “..I’m keeping Harvey overnight for observation. Do you have a place to go?”
“Does it matter?” Jason said defensively. “I’m staying with Twos. You can’t make me go anywhere!”
Bruce’s eyebrows twitched, and Jason couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at the nickname or at the home situation. “No place to stay? Not even with family–?”
“I already said he took me in!” he exclaimed, frustration seeping into his voice. “You gonna make me spell it out?!”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Bruce said, raising his hands placatingly. “Living with Harvey. Got it. You can sleep here, if you want, there’s plenty of guest r—”
“I’m sleeping where Two-Face’s sleeping,” Jason insisted. “You might be trickin’ me.”
“Tricking you?” Bruce repeated.
“You’re a trusted ally to Batman. Who’s to say you won’t let him break in and arrest Two-Face at night?”
“If Batman was going to arrest Harvey, he would’ve done so when he was bleeding out in an alley,” Bruce said dryly.
“..I guess that’s fair.”
In all his distrust, one significant question flew over Jason’s head; how did Bruce know where they found him, if Batman hadn’t told him?
Harvey woke up in the dead of night four hours later, disoriented with sleep. He sat up and winced, the bandages (bandages?) around his aching chest and shoulder scratching his skin uncomfortably. He rubbed his good eye with his undamaged hand, trying to piece the gaps in his memory together.
Jason.
His eye shot open again, and he ignored the pain as he sat up straight. Where the hell was he? This room — a bedroom, he deduced from the fact he was lying in a bed — was way more luxurious than any base or hiding place he had.
“Jason?” Harvey called out. His voice was a little uneven, but it carried the weaponised smoothness Two-Face lacked.
He startled (ouch) when a small, boyish head popped up next to him in the dark. Stopping himself from punching Jason in the face instinctually, he said, “..don’t sneak up on us like that. Where are we?”
“Wayne Manor,” Jason mumbled, his voice low and quiet.
“Why are you whispering?” Harvey asked.
“Because Bruce said you needed rest and silence.”
“By which he means ‘don’t interact at all’, Jason,” Harvey said dryly, freezing when his foggy brain processed the words. “Bruce? Bruce Wayne? Bruce is here?”
“Yes,” Jason said. “This is his house, hence the name.”
“Don’t get smart with me, kid.” Harvey tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, but a sharp stab of pain made him fall back down onto the cushion. “Okay, fill us in. What the hell happened?”
“We were robbin’ the Second National Bank, but then the guys with the purple bowties broke in after us and started shootin’.”
“The Penguin,” Harvey grumbled. “Cobblepot needs to learn to keep his crooked nose out of our business.”
Before Jason had time to respond, the door creaked open, and a broad figure blocked the light from the hallway. “Harvey?”
“In the flesh, or what’s left of it,” he said, sitting upright with a wince. “Wanna tell us why we’re not in Asylum yet? Don’t tell us you still think we're too nice to look at, Bruce.”
"Nicer to look at in bed than behind bulletproof glass, but don't flatter yourself,” Bruce retorted without faltering. This was a familiar, easy rhythm to fall back into; back-and-forth without break, just like in college. “I kept you overnight to see whether or not you were going to be stupid and try to escape, and also to find out why you have a son.”
“He told you that?” Harvey said sharply, sending a glare towards the kid.
“No, but you just confirmed it. When? How come I didn’t know?” Bruce demanded.
“Well, we haven’t had him for long.”
“He’s twelve,” Bruce said.
“That doesn’t mean– oh, for God’s sake, Bruce. You think we fathered him?” A spark twinkled in Harvey’s good eye, and the scarred skin pulled taut as he grinned.
“I don’t think that’s a very crazy assumption,” Bruce replied, but embarrassment bled into his voice.
“We’re pushing fifty.”
Instead of responding, Bruce pulled back the covers to peer at the bandages, dirty with dried blood and exudate. Dissatisfaction scrunched up his face. “It’s like you tried to bleed harder to be even more of an inconvenience.”
“Oh, you’re the victim in this story?” Harvey muttered, but he let Bruce do his thing with only a little bit of squirming as Jason watched, as quietly as he had already been so far.
“Well,” Bruce said finally, getting up with a small grunt as he threw the used bandages into the doorway, “I’m keeping you here for at least half a month.”
When Harvey opened his mouth to protest, Bruce cut in quickly: “Your body doesn’t heal as quickly as it used to, Harvey. You need time.”
“What we need, is for you to drop dead,” Harvey said. “You want us bedridden for two weeks? Are you insane?”
“Not any more than you are,” Bruce said wryly. “Two weeks is all I ask, Harvey.”
He nudged Jason, who put on big eyes, held Harvey’s wrist and whispered, “If you die, I have no-one and I’ll be all alone.”
“Traitor.” Harvey narrowed his eyes at him and tried to force them not to soften. He stayed silent for a few seconds. “..only because you said two, Bruce.”
“Two weeks is all I need,” Bruce promised.
Two weeks that just might blend into a few more stolen years.