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Max figured she was safe under the bleachers when the basketball team went on with their drills instead of paying her any mind, but she should’ve known she wouldn’t be so lucky.
Jason was supposed to be in his creative writing club. Another stab of guilt straight to the gut, she knew that was his favorite class, but here he was, walking up to one of the basketball guys.
Max pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face against her legs. He was there for her because she’d caused trouble. All she had to do was pretend to be normal for a few hours at school, and she couldn’t even do that.
The players on the court must have spotted her and texted Jason. Her nose wrinkled in frustration she tried to smooth out before anyone could see it. Jason always said he didn’t really have friends at school, but he always seemed to know someone who would tell him what Max had done.
Jason made his footsteps loud to announce his approach. Max braced for a lecture or sympathy. She didn’t know which would be worse, but she knew which one she deserved.
Jason did neither. He sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit next to her on the floor.
Alfred wasn’t going to be happy with Jason for getting his clothes dirty. Max would’ve thought being Bruce’s son would mean Jason would get in less trouble for something like dusty trousers, but Max knew Alfred wouldn’t say a word to her about it.
He’s probably scared of me too, she thought bitterly. That, or he knew something she didn’t. Alfred was Bruce’s closest confidant, so if Bruce was planning to get rid of Max, Alfred would know long before anyone else did. Dirty laundry wouldn’t matter anymore if she was locked up in Arkham where she belonged.
Maybe that was why Bruce had been keeping her so close since he’d captured her, all this time, he’d just been waiting for the Juvenile Detention wing of Arkham Asylum to open.
She’d go willingly if it wasn’t for…
Her throat tightened at the thought of being near Jonathan again. All of Gotham feared his gases and poisons and plots, but she all she was scared of was him breaking out and beating her again.
Max’s eyes burned and her vision swam with unshed tears. She deserved it, she always had, and her trying to avoid being hurt herself…
Max took in a shuddery breath. “You should go back to your club. I won’t—I won’t cause any trouble.”
“I don’t think you’re going to cause trouble,” Jason said. “I think you’re upset, so unfortunately for you, that means I am obligated to sit with you till you feel better.”
Max frowned and shot him a glance, but he seemed serious.
Jason talked like that sometimes, and it kind of…she didn’t like to think about Marcus anymore. It hurt too much to miss him, but sometimes Jason reminded her of her older brother.
“I feel better,” Max lied.
Jason lolled his head to face her and raised an eyebrow. “That was the most miserable thing I’ve ever heard in my life. We can talk, or we can just sit here, but I don’t even a little bit believe you’re okay.”
Max sniffled and looked away before his calm, patient stare could break her. She knew if she told him, he’d try to make it out like she was a victim in everything that happened instead of an accomplice, but she wasn’t. That was what none of the Bats understood: Max had chosen to go along with everything Scarecrow had asked her to just to protect herself. She ruined people’s lives so she wouldn’t get hit. She helped him kill people so he wouldn’t kill her. She let him tear apart peoples’ families just so he wouldn’t hurt Marcus or Charlotte.
“The football game,” Max choked out, her throat tightening with emotion before she could choke out anything else.
Jason understood, though.
The biggest attack she’d ever been involved in had been at a Gotham Knights football game. Canisters of fear gas under certain seats had triggered a panicked stampede.
She’d watched from afar, feeling as guilty then as she did not. Back then, she could hide from the guilt by leaning into the fear. Everything Max did, she justified one way or the other, but now that she knew she was safe, there was nothing to protect her.
“Marcia,” Jason said lightly.
Max bit her lip and nodded, her stomach sinking with the confirmation that Bruce had not only known, he’d told Jason about it.
“It’s her mom’s birthday,” Max whispered. “She was talking about it at lunch.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Jason argued, just like all the Bats always did when it came to her personal responsibility. “You were, what, twelve?”
Max didn’t know. She only knew she was fifteen now because Bruce had told her when he’d signed her up for school.
Bruce, who knew everything, who knew he was putting her in a class with a girl whose family Max had personally ruined.
“I still did it,” Max argued. “They searched the stadium before the game, and I sneaked in. Jonathan would—” It made the Bats uncomfortable when she spoke about Scarecrow on a first name basis, she had to stop doing that. “—Crane never would’ve been able to pull that off if it wasn’t for me! Her mom would be alive if I hadn’t—”
Jason nudged her in the ribs with his elbow, and Max’s jaw snapped shut. She shouldn’t be arguing with any of the Waynes, especially not in public. It would be just like her to ruin one more good thing by exposing the Waynes as the Bats with a careless slip of the tongue.
Max growled in frustration and buried her face in her hands. Why was everything so complicated? She should just be in jail. That would make everything so much simpler than her sitting around every day in school pretending to be a normal highschooler who’d never been complicit in any murders.
“I killed all those people,” Max breathed out between her fingers.
Jason’s arm was warm and comforting as he draped it over her shoulders and pulled her against his side. Max choked on a sob because she had done nothing to earn this, but she couldn’t bring herself to wriggle free from his half-hug.
“You were abused for years by the psycho who murdered your dad,” Jason reminded her, but that didn’t matter. “You’re not a villain anymore, Maxine Ledger. You’re a hero. You chose to be a hero.”
Max bit her lip and clenched her eyes tight. No, she hadn’t. She’d chosen to work with Bruce because she thought he’d beat her if she didn’t, at least at first. Now she knew he wouldn’t, at least she was pretty sure he wouldn’t, so now she was just…Max was doing what she’d always done for her dad, for Jonathan, and now with Bruce: what was expected of her.
Jason made a sympathetic sound and hugged her closer. Max tried not to cry, but she couldn’t stop the sobs she muffled against his shoulder.
Jason held her while the guilt wrang all the tears out of her, leaving her drained and exhausted. It was times like this that he really reminded her of Marcus. At least how she remembered Marcus: soft and kind and there.
Their phones buzzed in unison, which meant one thing. Jason pulled out his phone and checked the text, patting her shoulder as he said, “Alfred’s here. Let’s go home.”
Max sniffled and swiped at her face with her sleeve, trying to collect herself. She wasn’t eager for the round of sympathetic babying she’d get from Alfred and Bruce about crying in the middle of school, but the sooner she went home, the sooner she could curl up under her bed and sleep.
She let Jason pull her to her feet, but he didn’t drop her hand once she was standing. He did this when she was scared, holding onto her like a parent with a small child. Dick called it Jason’s fledgling big brother instincts.
Max was pretty sure she wasn’t Bruce’s kid, so she wasn’t really Jason’s sister. Dick was just teasing, but maybe…
Maybe, in her own thoughts where she didn’t have to tell anyone, Jason could be her brother.
No one ever had to know.