Chapter Text
Jason’s helmet hit the floor with a bang. He cursed internally. And externally.
Of course right when he had had those brainless lowlifes practically inches from his grasp, his bike decided to malfunction and screw over the whole mission. With rain muddying the tracks and the criminals having more sense than he accounted for, he lost them.
Those grotesque excuses for human beings had been targeting children. Thugs of that kind made Jason wonder if they were really human at all.
The life of crime fighting wasn’t a glamorous one; never had been, never will be. But something about an innocent child being the victim made some threads in Jason’s head snap. Screw Bruce’s stupid ideology. Those bastards deserved hell.
For a moment he was pulled from his trance as thunder crackled from outside, another bout of sleet tumbling against the side of the building.
He let out another exasperated groan and paced around his room twitching his head. His boots tracked mud and grime all over the decaying carpet, but he couldn’t bother with taking them off.
Those bastards deserved hell.
He wrestled his breathing to a regular pace.
Those bastards deserved hell.
He swallowed the gaping lump in his throat.
Those bastards deserved hell.
And they got away.
Jason glanced out the window, Gotham’s horizon blurred and blocked by the monsoon. He bitterly remembered Bruce’s voice.
“Good effort,” He’d say. “You did your best.”
Jason dropped down heavily onto his bed and bounced his leg agitatedly, sweat dripping down his neck despite the heatless room.
“We all have bad days,” Jason’s chest tightened.
“You can’t save everyone.” He shoved his head in his hands.
Then what’s the point?
He glanced at the clock. 3:42. Sleep would probably be best, but damn it all, how could he possibly relax after tonight’s royal failure?
His jaw ached as he grit his teeth. Always falling short, always too late and never enough. Dick probably would’ve caught them. Tim probably would’ve caught them. Hell, even Damian would’ve. Classic Jason, missing the mark. He scrunched his face in rebellion against the growing emotion.
The hell with any participation award Bruce might give him, both of them knew effort didn’t matter if the bad guys got away. He was a smart man. He’d think rationally about the situation. Deep down, he’d be so disappointed.
Jason swallowed the shame burning in his throat. Why did he feel his father’s disappointment when he wasn’t even there?
Jason stood up and stalked towards the shower as a last resort for distraction. Leave it to stupid Bruce to get in his head.
Now he would need to start all over again. Back to unlikely leads and probably a trail of victims along the way. There was no excuse. He had been trained better than this. But then again, if he really had lived up to his training, he probably wouldn’t have d-
A creak on the windowsill caught his attention.
He whipped his head around. Narrowing his eyes and suppressing a growl, he reluctantly recognized the black silhouette so perfectly perched on his balcony.
Speak of the devil.
If he was anyone else, he’d be quite surprised, but by now he’d learned he couldn’t escape Bruce’s shadow, in life or death.
Praying the shakiness of his hands was due to anger and not apprehension, he gave Bruce a good glare.
He was tempted to do a 180 and go right back to the shower, letting Bruce see exactly how much he cared. He’ll probably just force himself in anyways, Jason realized with a sigh. Better now to just get it over with and see what the guy wants.
He stomped over to the windowsill, each footstep oozing with the snarkiness of a preteen and shoved the window open with slam.
“What the HELL are you doing here, B?” He snapped immediately. Jason liked getting the first word in. And the last. And all the middles ones too.
Bruce’s white lenses were fixed on him, simply staring for a moment. Jason never felt more exposed than when he was under his gaze.
If on a normal night he had zero patience, tonight it was in the negatives. “Bruce, oh my gosh, either get your ass in here or don’t, the rains getting all in my room!”
Bruce grunted and Jason took that as his cue to step aside and let the man crawl through.
He slammed the window closed once again and turned to scowl at his father. Better to take control of where the conversation’s headed before Bruce gets the chance to.
“Listen, I have no clue what you’re here for, but this better be an emergency, because I am not in the mood right now for whatever shit you have to spew.” He spat, his chest suddenly even tighter than before.
“It’s nice to see you too,” Bruce said, deadpan.
“Get to the point,” Jason hissed. He was so tired. So incredibly tired. And dealing with Bruce didn’t exactly energize him.
Bruce sighed and pulled something from his cape. A folder full of crinkled documents.
Jason eyed them suspiciously as Bruce held them out to him. “The hell are these? You rescinding my adoption papers or what?”
Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Jason rolled his eyes and snatched the folder away a little harsher than necessary. He flipped open the folder, grumbling under his breath at the thought of this turning out to being some stupid busy work or an incoming lecture.
His grumbling stopped instantaneously.
“Wh- these- you- what???” Jason spluttered. Right there in the folder was practically everything he needed to solve the case. To find the men. To give those bastards hell.
Jason flipped frantically through the papers for a moment before he looked up at Bruce, unsure of how to approach conversation. “Where did- no- how did you know I needed these? Have you been stalking me?” He growled.
“Is tracking considered stalking?”
“Yes!”
“Then only partially so. I’ve been trying to get a hold of these guys, but Tim told me you were on it, so I left it to you,” Bruce started. Jason ignored the leap in his chest at the thought of his father having trust in him to begin with.
“I was in the area, hence why I got here so fast. Unfortunately, I noticed a little too late that the targets had hacked into your bike systems, but I managed to scrounge up any additional information I thought would prove useful in the event that they escape capture.” Bruce stated.
Jason stared back at him, almost curling his lip. Gratitude and annoyance nearly tore him in two. Of course Bruce had done miles better than he did, and this wasn’t even his priority case like it was Jason’s.
“So you, what, planned for them to get away?” Jason challenged. You planned for me to fail?
“Of course I did. I also planned for them to retaliate. I also planned a dozen other possibilities. I plan for everything. You know that, Jason.” Bruce added, letting a hint of lecture leak through his voice, effectively patronizing Jason.
Jason stared at him again, once again at a loss for words. He so badly wanted to avoid acknowledging the fact that he messed everything up. Bruce didn’t seem to be in a lecturing mood thankfully. Part of him didn’t even want to take the folder. I can figure it out in my own. I think I saw enough flipping through the pages. I could just… give it back. I don’t need this. I don’t need your stupid information.
I don’t need you.
He glanced down at the folder.
Ugh. Who was he kidding. Dammit all, he really did need this information. How stupid was he to just reject free help, even if it was from Bruce? Everything he needed basically fell from the sky into his lap. The sky being his adoptive father whom he has a troubled relationship with, but still.
He scrounged around for things Bruce could want in return. A reason, a motive, a price.
“So… why did you even give me these? You know I’m not gonna handle it the way you like,”
“This case is an exception. You need these men alive for longer than just a quick interrogation,”
“…So you don’t care how I interrogate them?”
Bruce sighed. Jason almost did too. Sometimes he got tired of his own stubbornness.
“The fact is you can’t harm them too harshly, or the case will fall apart.” He paused for a moment. “I know not getting to… give them ‘what they deserve’ can be upsetting to you, Jason. I can take the case if you-“
“Like hell you will!” Jason snapped. “Contrary to your belief, I can control myself just fine. I know I can’t kill them. That’s fine. I don’t need to. Delivering justice isn’t about my feelings, Bruce, it’s about the punishment they’ve earned. It’s called being fair.” He said, not fully believing himself.
By the looks of it Bruce didn’t believe him either.
Jason couldn’t stand it. Any of it. He hated how Bruce just knew. How he could see right through him. He knew it. They both knew it. A second longer under his gaze and he might snap for real. “If that’s all the business you have with me, the windows right there.”
Bruce still stood, for a moment, seemingly contemplating saying something, but ultimately giving a nod and heading back towards the window. He soundlessly tugged it open before looking back at Jason’s petulant face.
“I’m not gonna say thank you, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” Jason blurted.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,”
“Cool, then you’re good to go,”
Jason looked at the floor, the ceiling, anything but Bat-Freaking-Man a couple feet in front of him. Uh huh, the walls were just so much more interesting to look at. Actually they kinda were. Yeesh. I need a new paint job.
Jason snapped out of his trance when Bruce spoke.
“Just so you know, Jason,” He started, his voice low. “If you want to work on it with Tim, he said he’d be happy to help. Dick, too. Or Damian. Or m-“
Jason almost flinched at the thought. His face threatened to tug in awkward directions.
Hell no.
“Yep, awesome, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed again. He seemed to do that more than ever nowadays. “Goodnight, Jason. Stay safe,”
“Night,” Jason reluctantly mumbled back, still staring at the floor. Anything to get him to leave.
With that, the second he looked back, the window was closed and locked tight, and Bruce was gone again.
Jason huffed and slapped the folder onto his night table and walked briskly to the shower, practically begging for a task to think about instead of whatever that interaction was.
He forced himself to focus on the steady drip of the shower, on the pitter-patter of droplets made on his roof.
He scrubbed his arms and face restlessly as the warm water covered him.
He still felt cold.
God.
I’m such a dick.