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Jason knew from the moment he woke up that he would be leaving that day.
Tensions had been high for quite some time, but they were rising to a fever pitch with Ra’s visiting more and more. Despite Talia’s assurance to him that Jason was performing adequately and was an exemplary assistant and guard, he still eyed Jason with suspicion. Jason was a liability and he knew it, he was someone Talia and Damian cared about, and that was not allowed. If he wanted to survive his time with the League, Jason was going to have to leave, and he needed to be careful.
He started packing that morning, folding robes the way Alfred had taught him, stacking them into the small suitcase he had. Damian had asked him why he was packing and it hurt everything in him when he lied that it was for a mission. In a sense, it was, just a very long one that he wasn’t coming back from - a mission to escape. It still felt like a lie on his tongue, burning his throat as he promised he’d be back soon and knew it was as hollow as every other promise in his life.
He tugged the suitcase behind him under the harsh sun, dragging it through the palace’s back garden with Damian at his side.
“Why are we taking it back here?” Damian asked, helping him push aside the long hanging plants and slip the suitcase behind them.
“Because, ‘amiri,” Jason said, “this is a stealth mission. I have to leave without being noticed. If they know I am gone before I’m properly away, I fail the mission.”
“Why would they have you do that?” Damian patted down the plants, a mimic of Jason’s actions, glancing at the hidden gap they were standing next to. A tree grew in front of it, close enough that the crack in the old stone wasn’t visible, but far enough for a person to slip through.
“It helps when you need to get away unseen,” Jason answered, and it did, in a sense. This was going to be the most difficult test of his training he could have experienced. “After missions, if something goes wrong, you want to be far away before they even notice you. Plus, it helps with getting places unseen.”
Damian nodded thoughtfully, and Jason thanked his lucky stars that the boy bought the explanation. He hummed, looking up at his servant-brother. “To evade grandfather… Is this your final test?”
Jason nodded back. “In a sense, yeah.” He knelt down, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair with a smile. He hoped it was convincing enough. “After this, I’ll have no more training. Once I’m back, we can spend as much time together as we want. So don’t worry about me, okay? Just think about all the fun we’ll have after.” He stood up, holding out a hand for Damian to take, leading him back down the path. “C’mon, it’s almost lunch time. Let’s go find your mama.”
Talia slipped him the note during the meal, under the rim of his plate. He slipped it into his sleeve when he picked up his fork. No words were exchanged; they weren’t needed, and there was too much risk in saying anything out loud. The meal was quiet, as always, but he felt Talia’s eyes on him as he ate, like this was the last time she would ever see him. It might as well have been. Tonight was the night, after weeks of knowing it was coming, it had to be tonight. This was his last chance.
He did not dare to retrieve the note for many hours, instead, he spent the next few hours with Damian. They walked through the gardens, down to the stream and to the swing he’d set up so many years ago. He watched Damian paint and smiled when he was handed a canvas for himself, hands shaking on the brush. They skipped rocks, laid in the sand and watched the clouds and the birds, snuck back through the brush with wet clothes and managed not to drip on the carpet. Jason watched the sky through the windows and wondered what would happen.
He pushed open the door to the kitchen, bee-lining for the pantry as Damian followed him in. “C’mon, sit,” he said, gesturing to a chair at the counter. He carried over a bag of flour, a carton of eggs, some sugar and cocoa powder, among other things. “I’ll make you something good.”
Damian eyed the collection of ingredients, tilting his head as Jason started to portion things out. “Mother would not allow us so much sugar this late.”
Jason hummed, walking over to the kitchen door and locking it. “It’s alright, I’ll take the blame. They won’t be using the kitchen for a few more hours anyway, we’ve got enough time.”
“What’s it for?” Damian asked, leaning forward to track Jason as he moved around the room.
“Your birthday,” Jason smiled. “It’s not every day you turn nine, and I won’t be here for the actual day. C’mon, it’s my treat.” He flipped on the oven, before dumping the dry ingredients into a bowl and beginning to mix. “It’s Alfred’s famed devil’s food cake recipe. You’re gonna love it.”
Damian perked up at that, he’d heard stories of how good Alfred’s cooking was, but Jason was hardly ever allowed to cook his own recipes for Damian instead of whatever Ra’s decided.
Jason was just glad that Damian seemed happy, and unaware of the tension spreading throughout the palace. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day. These were the last hours of Feather’s life, and Jason wasn’t going to waste them hiding away.
When the cake was done, they ate in quiet peace, until the sun was beginning to set and the cake was half-gone. Jason wrapped the rest in plastic wrap and they tiptoed through the halls back to Damian’s room, where they hid it in a small crawl space in Damian’s closet, cold enough to keep.
Jason opened the note then while Damian was sliding the floor boards back into place, breathing carefully calm. Tomorrow he will kill you. A message as simple as it could be, but too dangerous to let exist for long. He crumpled the paper the moment he finished reading it, then walked over to the fireplace and discreetly tossed it in. It would be burned when the furnaces were opened for the night, and unable to be reached until then. The danger would be gone, and everything would be fine. No punishment for anyone but himself.
That night, he sat on the edge of Damian’s bed, fidgeting absently with his collar. “Goodnight, my prince.”
Damian stared up at him for a long moment, but for once did not order him into bed. Perhaps he knew something was happening. “Goodnight, Feather.”
Jason leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead, rubbing the small boy’s shoulder until he fell asleep. Jason stayed even after then, breathing slow and quiet, watching that soft, peaceful face. He had to leave tonight. Leave this place behind, this life, and disappear into the wind. He had to leave his prince here, alone. The lies burned his stomach.
He leaned down, his body hovering over Damian’s, and for a moment he laid like that, holding the boy close. Damian’s body was warm and soft, his breathing slow and peaceful, his heartbeat a steady drum. Jason let his ear press to the source of that sound, reminding himself of why he needed to do this. It wasn’t just for himself, it was for his prince; he had to protect Damian, and that included protecting him from the backlash of what Jason was going to do.
No matter how much the lies hurt, Damian couldn’t know what Jason was doing. He would be in so much trouble if he did and didn’t tell anyone. Yes, Jason trusted him to keep secrets, but he was still young and not the best at keeping his reactions satisfying to the adults. Jason didn’t know what would happen to him if anything got out. This was the League of Assassins, after all. Jason wasn’t going to let Ra’s come close to even scaring Damian. So the lies were necessary, even if he knew it would break Damian when he found out. Jason had to go.
He knew how much pain it would cause. Feather was going to die tomorrow, whether Jason did or not. Damian would be devastated. Jason had no idea if they would ever see each other again, and if they did, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. Jason barely had any idea of where he was going to go once he was gone, but some money from Talia and a suitcase of clothes was more than he used to have. He could survive.
His hands went up to his neck, and for the first time, he slipped the leather from the metal buckle on his own. He laid the collar flat on the top of the nightstand, and stared at it for a long, long moment.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured to his sleeping prince, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Damian’s lips. “Goodbye.”
The suitcase was waiting for him when he reached the edge of the garden, and he shifted it through the gap ahead of himself. There were no guards out here, largely because the path to the stream was old and mostly gone. The gap that had once been a doorway had been patchily filled in some time ago, and then the stones had fallen, but by that time most had forgotten the door had existed at all. Jason still looked both ways and stayed very quiet before he finally stepped out, but there was no more sign of life out here than before.
The path was worn and covered, but he felt it out with his toes, dragging the suitcase through the soft ground behind it to muffle the wheels. He never took a step until he was sure of the stones beneath his feet, flat and smooth all the way down to the sand. He made his way to the wet sand at the very edge of the river, lifting the suitcase so it wouldn’t drag. He let the water soak his shoes, following the edge against the rush and letting the water wash away his footprints.
His prince was still sleeping. Come morning, the palace would be in chaos. Ra’s would be furious, Damian distraught, and Talia withdrawn once more.
Come morning, he would be gone.