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dehydrated-turtle · 22 days ago

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The Robin Returns to The Nest...

//warnings// mention of blood and gore, trauma, death, depictions of panic attacks

//contents// Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, angst, fluff, bruce being a good dad, dick being a good big brother - wc: 7.4k

//synopsis// What if Jason had never wandered around? What if he was planted in the Wayne family plot which is right near the manor so he just wandered home? What if Alfred had found him and brought him to Bruce? What then?

//a/n// this is totally not what I normally post so i am sorry for that but ive been working on this for a while now and i really felt compelled to write it. its not smut so dont worry, its super fluffy and kinda sad also, enjoy!!

//on ao3//

In the midst of the night, darkness finds a home in Gotham’s crevices like it feels it’s safe there, making it all the more dangerous. And rain covers the streets and floods the grass, if there is any to be found. The harsh droplets find themselves pattering atop a gravestone in the infamous Wayne family plot that has just found its new resident, the young but late Jason Todd. That certain smell of rain filled the air and the striking sound of thunder in the distance scared off small rodents and dogs in the city, miles away. A heavy feeling of dread and yet sorrow was strewn across the city, as it normally is but in these past few months the epicentre of these feelings was Bruce Wayne himself, hiding away in his palace of bats, deep underground, away from anyone that could hurt him anymore than he already was.

A small glimmer of hope shone purple six feet under that gave the young boy life once more. We all know how this story goes. With all his injuries still in place and no clue where he was, young Jason frantically awoke, screaming bloody murder and begging for his father to come save him only for no one to hear his pleas. His instincts and years of training came to good use, clawing his way out of his own casket with his belt buckle and bare hands, tearing away at the skin of his fingers and peeling back his own finger nails just to be free. The fresh air reached his hand and soon his face, the feeling of the cold rain was rejuvenating against his bloody and torn flesh as it mixed with the salty tears dripping from his eyes. Barely able to breathe, he hoisted himself out of his grave and tried to stand. Running off pure adrenaline from getting out, still in a daze and not quite sure what was happening, he went where he knew, home.

He wandered the familiar path where he once accompanied Bruce on some occasions to his parents’ final resting place just to hold Bruce’s hand as he wept. He passed Martha and Thomas’ grave while getting to the gates which were conveniently unlocked, looks like the groundskeeper had been slacking. He trudged his heavy legs along the muddy path to Wayne Manor, almost asleep and struggling to stay on his feet, falling in and out of consciousness and gripping his many broken ribs. The moon’s light illuminated his path from its place in the sky just above the manor, leading the way back home.

Of course Jason had known every way to get into Gotham’s Castle, he had his favourites as well. Finding the closest passage was not hard, for his muscle memory led the way. It wasn’t long before he had entered the manor and was met by a welcoming warmth, pleasing to the contrast of the bone chilling crispness of Gotham’s night. The low and yellow illumination from the manor’s lights welcomed him with a warm embrace and feeling of home as he walked the halls, looking for anyone to notice him and too tired and hurt to scream out for help. He eventually stumbled into Bruce’s study, hoping he’d be there but he was met with an empty room. He was trying not to cry as it simply hurt too much but the tears got the better of him as he sat on one of the luxurious sofas. He curled into himself as he bled out onto the expensive fabric, the only thing he could think before he fell asleep was how Bruce would be mad he ruined the priceless fabric on the one of a kind sofa.

* * * * *

The Bat cried alone in the solitude of his own making, cold tears falling on the keys to his comically large computer that served him no purpose other than to bury himself in his work. He had been working case after case with no end in sight for the past six months just to get away from the suffocating feeling of grief that he knew all too well. This time, it was worse because it was his son, a friend that he had grown to love in the four short years of knowing him, someone who he felt responsible for and legally was. There wasn’t a moment that went by where he didn’t feel like it was his fault; leaving Jason alone, trusting his mother that he knew nothing about, and thinking for a second that Jason would stay put. Bruce should’ve known better, taken the boy with him or made sure he was safe to leave alone. He was reckless and it was his fault that his son was dead. One of the very few people he allowed himself to love, was dead.

He feared he would be alone forever, basking in his own dungeon of horrors and trapped with his thoughts. This stupendous experience had thrown any sort of solace Bruce had out the window, he even pushed away the one person whom he had known his whole life.

“Master Bruce, I must insist you come eat or at least drink something. It’s simply not healthy. It’s late and I made tea and crumpets. Please, sir, I worry for you.”

“Well stop your worrying, Alfred. You must know that after all this time I don’t need your help. Or anyone’s.” his cold eyes drooped with fatigue and stained red by the tears as he looked his faithful friend in the eye, “Please. Leave me be.”

“I thought you might say something of the sort… I brought it all down for you. Please eat some, Bruce. I only want what’s best for you.”

With that, the old man left and The Bat began to weep once more, knowing that he is just pushing away the one person he can trust and that will love him unconditionally. He can’t stop himself, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it most of the time. He wants Alfred there to console him but he doesn’t know how to ask and thinks that pushing him away will trick his mind into thinking he doesn’t need it. He took one look at the beautiful arrangement of tea, crumpets, and fruit all laid out by Alfred with care and love for his son. Even the thought of someone loving Bruce brought him back to tears as he dropped his head on the large desk with a thud.

“Master Bruce-”

“ALFRED, I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME BE. WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE SO IMPORT- Jason?” The Bat turned to see his supposedly dead son, bleeding red in Alfred’s arms as he rushed to put him down and find medical equipment.

“I found him on a sofa in your study, bleeding out.”

“He’s alive…” he whispered, running as fast as he could away from his place at the computer and to his son instead. He couldn’t believe his eyes, “You’re alive.” he muttered softly against Jason’s rain soaked hair, kissing it as many times as he could and weeping while holding his son whose heart was beating again, slow but beating nonetheless.

“I’ve contacted Dr. Thompkins, she’s about ten minutes out. I’m sure we can keep Master Jason’s heart beating for that long.” Alfred said, confidently, taking out some medical equipment with his surprisingly steady hand and hooking Jason up to an EKG machine.

Bruce sat, impatiently waiting and watching Alfred do everything he could to help the young boy stay alive until Dr. Thompkins got there. She entered frazzled and like she had just woken up, but alert and ready to do whatever it took to get Jason back to proper health or at least something close to it. He paced the length of Jason’s med bay bed in anticipation and also just to be close while Thompkins does the best she can at saving what’s left of the boy’s life. Bruce stood wearing scrubs, for the first time in a long while he came out of his bat shaped shell, he was vulnerable, he had to be. He had a chance. A small glimmer of hope shone purple just as Jason had flatlined but only briefly before his heart rate skyrocketed then slowly went down to a somewhat normal pace.

“What was that?” Bruce’s eyes darted, looking for the source of the light.

“I’m not sure but it sure as hell saved his life.” the doctor replied, still working skillfully on patching up Jason but obviously perplexed by what just happened, “He just flatlined a second ago.”

“Well whatever it was, it wants my boy alive.”

* * * * *

Dr Thompkins had done all she could, he was alive and stable for the moment but he was in a coma. Bruce stayed by the boy’s side, leaving only to meet with Commissioner Gordon to make sure that the city was moderately safe and that they didn’t need him as he wanted to be by Jason’s side until he wakes up, if he ever does. Bruce ate his sparse meals on the floor beside Jason’s bed; he read books while sitting beside him, hoping that Jason could hear; Bruce cried while holding his hand, sometimes these were happy tears, just knowing that his heart was beating was enough.

“Master Bruce, it’s been days, please come out of there, give young Jason some space.”

“Is the world on fire? Is Joker out of Arkham?”

“Well, no-”

“Then I’m not leaving his side, Alfred. I need to be here when he wakes up. I need to make sure he knows I’m here for him.” Alfred could sense the concern and dead seriousness in his voice so without another word, he left The Bat to be with his son.

* * * * *

Speaking and yet, no words. Voices and yet, unclear. Light and yet, no shape.

Jason’s eyes started to open, almost blinded by the white LED lights directly above his head, shining violently in his retina. He struggled to lift his head but from his almost seated position in the hospital bed, he could vaguely see an outline of a person reading a book on a chair in the corner of the room. In his struggle, apparently he had caught the attention of this person because they had run to his bedside, not even stopping to put a bookmark in.

A fuzzy, almost incoherent voice said to him, “Jason! You’re awake, I thought you’d never actually wake up. It’s so good to have you back, lad.”

Must be Bruce, he thought, still not really able to see properly. He found himself at a loss for words, searching and thinking of things he would want to say but nothing came. He could think of what he wanted to get across to Bruce but no words formed. Barely an emotion arose either, he had felt nothing. Everything was all still blurry, physically and mentally for he had no clue what was going on and had no means to speak. All he did was look at Bruce with a blank stare, eyes pale and irises small.

“Jason?” He waited for a response, “you in there, chum?” Again, nothing because he couldn’t. His normally bright and illuminated eyes were lifeless and looked right through Bruce. “Oh god, something's wrong. This isn’t supposed to happen, IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred had heard the commotion, “is everything alright?”

“He won’t talk… look at him, Alfred, this isn’t my boy. I should’ve known, it was too good to be true.”

“Well let’s not jump to conclusions,” He came up and touched The Bat’s shoulder trying his best to comfort him, “We don’t know what’s wrong, maybe it's fixable, maybe it's just a matter of time.”

Bruce took a deep breath, “Maybe.”

“I’ll get Dr. Thompkins on the phone, maybe she knows what's going on.”

“Thank you, Alfred. I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Likewise, sir.” He replied with a warm, fatherly smile and headed out.

* * * * *

The news had come back from Dr. Thompkins, after not being able to properly diagnose the boy, she had come in to do a full exam. She declared he was brain dead and would not be able to go back to normal. Ever. He would be in a hazy state of mind and not be able to talk for the rest of his living days, she suggested putting him in a home or even the extreme, assisted suicide because he would be in pain and not even be able to express it. It would be a horrible way to live. Of course The Bat being The Bat, he knew there was another way. There had to be. He searched high and low, researched experimental surgery that said would cure brain death, he called all his friends and his late father’s old co-workers to see if they had heard of anything that could even remotely help. Nothing. He was at a loss, very lost and not sure what there was left to do. Then it came to him. The worst possible answer, but seemingly the only one.

Ra’s al Ghul.

He would have to call in a favour that Ra’s so conveniently owed him. He refused to tell anyone what he did that would constitute a favour from Ra’s al Ghul but apparently it was enough. It took him a lot of courage and telling himself it would be fine and gave The Demon’s head a call. Well, less of a ‘call’ per se, he showed up in his office at The League of Assassins.

“Detective.”

“Ra’s, I need a favour.”

“The boy is back I see. Pity he’s still dead, no?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Ahh, you need the pit. And why should I give you access, hm?”

“Need I remind you, you owe me, Ra’s. This is me cashing in my chit.”

“I do this, and I will no longer be indebted to you?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough. I’ll ready the pit, you get the boy and bring him here. You have two days before I change my mind so be quick.”

With a sigh of relief and gratitude, he left out the window. Thank god that worked, otherwise he would’ve had to lose his son twice in one year.

Once he got back home, apparently someone other than Alfred was waiting at the manor for him, looking immensely worried and more scared that he had ever seen him.

“Dick, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“Um, You know, I’m not too sure, B.”

“Why? What happened, chum?”

“Well uh, some kid showed up at my apartment the other day saying he knew about Nightwing, he knew everything Bruce. Even said he knew you’re Batman, he knew I was Robin, he knew Jason was Robin and that he’s dead.”

“Oh, um, about that; I’m not sure how I’m supposed to break this to you, chum,” He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “Jason came back. He’s downstairs right now but he’s not quite all here.”

“What.”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

What an emotional ordeal, Bruce brought Dick down to the Batcave to show him the shell of Jason that was still alive. The amount of tears that came from the young man’s eyes could have filled an ocean, all of this being dropped onto him so suddenly. Bruce had told him exactly what happened, word for word so he wasn’t left in the dark like he usually was. Dick really had grown to love his brother and the Titans will be the first to say that he was a wreck when he came back from space to find his baby brother dead. He could never forgive himself for not being there but now he had a second chance, a small glimmer of hope, if you will.

“So you went to Ra’s? Of all people who can heal the living you went to Ra’s?”

“Yeah, maybe not my best decision but he owed me one. A big one,” Bruce looked over at what should be Jason and felt a twang in his heart, “Dr. Thompkins said the Joker must have bashed his head in with something because his skull was very fractured and there’s a lot of brain damage. You have to understand that I can’t let him live like this and something is keeping him alive so putting him back down is out of the question. The Pit was the best option I could find.”

“I understand, Bruce. Do you want me to come with you to the League? For emotional support?”

“No. I think I’ll be fine. So what’s this about the kid who knows some stuff he shouldn’t?”

“Oh, yeah he just straight up said you need help and I should come back as Robin? It was definitely weird, he was also like 13 or something. I told him I didn’t know what he was on about but I thought I should tell you just in case.”

“Thanks Dick, I’ll look into it.”

“Alright, I gotta get back to Blüdhaven. I’ve got a meeting with the commissioner. I’ll call if that kid comes back.”

With that, Dick left the batcave and Bruce was left alone with nothing but eerie silence and his own thoughts, what a dangerous place. The Bat now had a day and a half to transport Jason to the alps which should be easy enough with the help of Alfred and the BatPlane. Now physically better, Jason was easy to transport as he could walk and such so they just led him to a seat on the plane.

After an excruciating 11 hour flight, The Bat had finally made it to the League of Assassins once more where they were met by Ra’s and Talia al Ghul. The exchange between Talia and Bruce was cold and distant and very much awkward for everyone involved. They didn't even say a word to each other, God knows what happened there.

“I see the boy is up and moving.”

“What about it, Ra’s?”

“Nothing.”

The Demon’s Head led the other three into the amazing almost palace-like building where he lived. They walked down endless hallways that were filled to the brim with stunningly beautiful, intricate designs of gold and colour along the walls giving a false sense of beauty, a red herring. Soon the colour had disappeared as they entered a small, narrow passageway that had walls of stone and a winding staircase. At the bottom of this staircase, the lazarus pit lay, glowing green and sending a sense of want within the room, the pit had that effect on people.

“Detective, know that this may not work and the boy could die in there.”

“I have to try.” The Bat said, knowing that Jason wouldn’t die from it because of whatever this thing is that’s keeping him just barely alive. He turned to the boy and knelt on one knee to get down to his level, “Ok, Jason. We’re gonna try this and if you’re in there somewhere, just know that I love you no matter what happens.” he was met with nothing more than a blank stare as his head fell in sorrow and a tear made a gentle ‘pat’ on the stone floor that echoed quite loudly against the also stone walls. This has got to work.

“Does the boy want his clothes on or off, personally I like to take my dips in something skimpy.”

“Ra’s, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. The poor kid’s still a minor.” Bruce then insisted he keep his clothes on for decency. Ra’s then led the boy into the pit by hand and dunked him like he was being baptised. The eerie silence of the vast cave made even The Bat shiver, although he was scared for his son and hoped with all of his being that this would work. He watched as Jason’s head fully submerged into the green and glowing pool and stood with his heart racing. Ra’s eventually let go of the boy and backed away saying that he needs time to soak, whatever that means. Bruce could see, very vaguely, the outline of his son beneath the surface, just floating there. After a long silence, bubbles began to arise from where Jason was and there was slight movement in the water before he broke the surface tension with a splash and a scream of horror and pain that subsided quickly.

“Atta boy,” Bruce whispered to himself, not being able to contain a smile and a tear falling into the lining of his cowl.

Ra’s led the boy out of the emerald waters as Bruce knelt down and opened his arms for Jason to run to. The young boy’s body hit Bruce’s chest with a wet smack as he gave him a passionate hug but was still dripping from the pit. Luckily none of the pit water touched Bruce because he was still wearing his bat suit.

“Dad…”

“C’mon chum, let’s get you home. And a change of clothes.” He picked the boy up and carried him out into the twisting stairwell once more, now with his son actually with him.

* * * * *

“We’re even now, Ra’s. Don’t even think about using this against me.” Jason looked back at Bruce who was talking to the demon’s head as the young boy boarded the bat plane where he had been told there would be a change of clothes for him.

All of this was very much for him, after all he basically just came back to life fully. He had a lot to think about and a lot to ask, his curiosity definitely did not die with him. He found the change of clothes that were left out for him on one of the seats in the first row. He went to pick them up but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a note from Bruce atop the pile of clothes. He picked it up and it read: “I know this is going to be hard chum, please understand and keep an open mind. -Bruce Wayne” and signed with his signature. How ominous and very concerning, what happened while he was gone?

He picked up the clothes and took them to the rather large bathroom for an airplane in the back of the cabin and quickly got changed as his clothes were still wet and very uncomfortable. Amongst the pile, there was also a towel, how thoughtful so he dried off and put the fresh set on. They smelt like home, like Alfred’s favourite laundry detergent and dryer sheets, like his ironing board that always broke, like something familiar, it was comforting. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw himself, perfect and pristine but that’s not what he felt like. He still felt ragged on the inside, like he wasn’t sure of what he was doing or who he was. Maybe that’s normal for someone who just came back to life, how was he supposed to know, he’s never died before. He looked down at his hands and couldn’t help but think, ‘I should be dead, I should be rotting away in a casket… and yet I’m here. Why?’. Why was he alive? Why on earth should this boy be the one to live?

He heard Bruce call for him from the front of the cabin and he snapped out of it, unlocking the stall and walking toward the cockpit. Bruce stood there while taking off the cowl, tall and menacing yet somehow soft; his eyes followed the boy as he walked down the narrow aisle and he felt a smile creep across his face and tears well up in his eyes.

“Bruce, you ok?”

The large man knelt down, “Just c’mere, kid,” Jason, now a little bit taller than Bruce remembers, hugs him with a squeeze that was long awaited for, “I’ve missed you, Jaylad. Never ever even think of doing anything like that again. I don’t think I can handle losing you twice. Hell, I couldn’t handle it once. I’m supposed to die before you do.”

“How about we deal with that once we get there.”

“Sorry… I just love you, kid. You’re my son after all. Now, let’s get moving, I want to spend as little time here as possible, I can feel the evil sinking in already.”

They fly back to Gotham, out of the beautifully constructed artwork that is the League of Assassins, what a shame they use it to train murderers. Jason watched as the large buildings became small and distant, like he once felt not long ago. He could still see what was happening and remembered what was going on but he had no control, like he was seeing his life through a tunnel where he couldn’t reach the end, grasping and running and trying to catch up but never succeeding. As his mind wandered, the terrain completely disappeared below him, turning into white and fluffy clouds that he wished he could live on. What a childish dream but wouldn’t it be nice to get away from all of it? Get away from the terrors of the real world and live on a cloud where no one could bother you and no one could harp on about things you don’t care about. No one would ever interrupt his reading time to do the dishes, no one would ever have to even do the dishes as they were made from clouds.

Jason was abruptly snapped out of his daydreaming as a stewardess came and tapped him on the shoulder, asking what he would like for dinner. He told her that he didn’t care, whatever was easiest on the chef. After she had left with a smile, he took the time to look at the menu, for no reason in particular because he had already ordered but he saw on the dessert section that there was sticky toffee pudding, which he remembered was one of Alfred’s favourites. He thought maybe he could have one with Alfred when they got back after the long flight. He remembered waking up briefly in Alfred’s surprisingly strong arms before passing out again, he hoped he hadn’t scared him after all he was basically a zombie.

After a while, the clouds started to get dark and harder to see with the lack of sunlight but before long, the stewardess came back with his food, a simple burger and fries with some assorted vegetables, nothing special at all. The young boy thanked her politely and told her to have a nice rest of the flight with a smile before she left. A couple bites into the burger, he noticed he was actually very bored with nothing to do and the only other person on the flight, Bruce, working endlessly and typing furiously in silence on the other side of the aisle. Jason looked to his left only to see what he expected, Bruce’s eyes glued onto his laptop which was perched on the tray table and the screen illuminating his face. Not knowing what to do with himself, he went back to eating in silence and looked out the window of the plane again to see nothing but darkness.

“Oh!” Bruce exclaimed, “Jason, I almost forgot, I brought you a book. God, you must be bored out of your mind.” He continued to look in his laptop bag for the book he stashed there. “I took it from your room, I hope you don’t mind, but It’s the one you were reading before… well you know. I thought you might like to continue with it? I made sure to keep your page.”

“Oh, B, thank you.” He took the book gleefully, hoping he remembered where he had left off in the story. Maybe reading could take his mind from going too close to what happened. He got back to his seat and took a quick glance at the cover, it was in fact the book he left, The Colour Purple. He actually hadn’t read this one before so he was still on his first read but so far, it was a really good read.

He spent a while reading before it quickly came to 11:00 PM, in Gotham at least and Jason’s eyes were struggling to keep themselves open. He decided to use one of the beds near the back of the very bougie private plane that might as well have Bruce’s face printed on the side. He made his way down the aisle of a couple rows worth of very large–and dare I say comfortable–seats before he got to the two beds that had been set in the back. They were almost like a small room finished with a small TV, pre prepared snacks, and very comfortable looking sheets and pillows. The boy, with his book, went and laid down on the surprisingly soft and comfortable bed for an airplane. He turned on a small light beside his bed and began to read once more, however his eyes grew dreary so he put the book down and turned off the light.

His mind soon caught up with him as it started to race. As soon as his eyes closed, the darkness behind his eyelids only became darker with images of a ghoulish grin with bright red lips and yellowy stained teeth. And that laugh. That dreadful and ghastly laugh, sure to haunt anyone’s nightmares let alone the boy of whom it killed. He could faintly hear the sound of metal scraping on stone in the distance while the haunting smirk came closer, as did the sound. He looked down and saw his disfigured body, bloodied, bruised, and broken but it all felt numb. His breath began to quicken out of fear as his eyes started to well. He heard footsteps now, growing faster, faster, faster, and the grinding on the pavement getting louder, louder, louder.

Jason awoke with a gasp, upright, in a bed he did not fall asleep in. He looked around frantically, realizing quickly he was in Wayne manor once more. His breathing slowed once he discerned he was somewhere he knew, somewhere familiar. The room was almost pitch black, save for the dim lamps from outside the enormous window, shining in through the gap in the curtain, enlightening small parts of the room. The corners were dark and Jason was unable to see where the wall had stopped which made his heart beat just a little faster. The thought of not knowing what could be there, the possibilities were endless. His mind began to fill in the blanks for him, starting with that grin. He could just ever so slightly see the outline of a man standing in the corner and the outline of his mouth, creeping ear to ear, farther than any human’s mouth should go. He scrambled to turn on the lamp beside him on the bedside table and when he turned back, it was just a corner, perfectly normal with the pattern of the wallpaper continuing. He let out an exasperated sigh of relief knowing that he was truly alone in the room. Being able to see the entire room put his mind slightly at ease and he slept the rest of the night with the lamp on.

* * * * *

“Rise and shine, Master Jason! Oh it is great to have you back sir, I missed waking you up bright and early. Though it isn’t really early anymore as I let you sleep in. Master Bruce said it would be best. You know he carried you in last night, even tucked you in. I’ve never seen him so affectionate.” Alfred went on, talking about nothing in particular and just being cheery which is rare for him these days.

Jason’s eyes opened gradually as they adjusted to the light that had suddenly hit his retina so abruptly. He groaned as stirred and sat up to see Alfred walking back to the door from his window.

“Alright Master Jason, get up and get dressed and join Master Bruce, myself, and Master Dick down in the kitchen for breakfast. Sound good, sir?”

“Yeah, thanks Alfie.” Alfred began to leave, almost shutting the door, “Wait! Did you say Dick is here?” All the man did was smile and shut the door.

Jason leaped out of bed as fast as he could, not even bothering to get dressed save for putting on his slippers and ran at top speed down the halls, surpassing even Alfred’s brisk gate, sliding down the banister and slipping on the newly waxed hardwood floors before he reached the kitchen, bursting through the door.

“DICKIE-BIRD!”

“LITTLE WING!”

As Dick got up from his stool at the kitchen counter, little Jason ran to his big brother. They’ve had their ups and downs but at the end of the day, they’re brothers and after losing him, Dick was very content to see Jason. He may be a little salty but all of that was thrown out the window as soon as he found out he was gone. Now that he’s back? He’s vowed to himself to be a better brother, a better role model. Jason’s chest hit Dick’s with a thud while the older of the two lifted the younger off the ground and spun him around a couple times before putting him back down.

“Oh, kid you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Not joking when I say I was haunted by you.”

“Trust me, I know. You also cried for like 3 hours straight when I was out of it.”

“Oh my god you remember that?”

“Yeah. I’m so gonna use it against you, loser.”

And they’re back. Dick brought the boy in for another hug before he went to sit down at the place left at the counter, a plate already there for him full with food. He sat down, beside Dick and dug into his serving like it was his last meal, as he does with all of Alfred’s food, it’s just that good. They talked about what Dick’s been doing in Blüdhaven and the Titans, his plans for the city and whatnot, little things. Bruce didn’t say very much but he smiled, and that’s enough from him, either way those boys know he cares, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

“Alright, boys, I’ve got a meeting in Metropolis. I should be back for dinner, if not, I’ll be back for patrol tonight. Dick, are you joining us?”

“Well, when in Gotham, do as Batman does.” He looked over at Jason with a joking smile and they had a laugh together while Bruce left.

“Do you think he’s going to see Clark?” Jason asked, kind of wishing Bruce had taken him along if that was the case.

“Probably, you know, they got really close while you were gone.”

“Like- close close?”

“Yeah, I think so. But don’t say anything about it, I’m not sure he wants us to know. That is if anything really is going on. Anyway, since Bruce is gone… wanna take the Batmobile for a spin?”

“DO I?”

They raced each other down the stairs, all the way across the manor to the grandfather clock, opening the glass and setting the time to 10:48 before it opened. They ran down the steep steps of the narrow hallway to the batcave. Jason’s adrenaline was pumping through his veins as they reached the bottom, searching now for the keys to the damn car when he found the glass case with his suit in it. His heart dropped abruptly into his stomach when his mind comprehended what it was, seeing the suit he died in without a drop of blood, not even a tear in the seams. The memories came, flooding his mind with the blood and tears and fear. A ringing in his ears filled the room and everything was gone except for him and his suit, in a dark void, spiraling. He collapsed onto his knees, struggling to breathe evenly as the tears began to fall from his eyes and his hands clutching as much hair as he could, pulling out of desperation. He was brought back to reality by a hand on his shoulder and a soft voice asking if he was ok.

“Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m so sorry.” Dick apologized, getting down on the floor with Jason, careful not to touch him too much as to not overstimulate him, just sit there with him for company until he was ready. Jason’s breathing slowed down and he wiped his tears away, thanking Dick for being there between hiccups. They both sat there for a couple minutes in silence save for Jason’s sniffling and occasional hiccup, but it was a comfortable silence and when he was ready, Jason put his head on Dick’s shoulder.

“Ok, I think I’m good now.”

“Maybe we should stay in then? We could have a movie marathon or something. I’m sure Alfie would play some board games with us.”

“Yeah that sounds good. Again, thank you, Dick. You’re the best brother a boy could ask for.” He replied, giving him a hug.

* * * * *

In the middle of a heated game of Clue–Alfred’s favourite– Bruce pulled up the driveway in one of his classic cars. He was later than he said he would be but when is he ever on time? He came in through one of the back doors and into the study where the others were planning, scheming, and thinking hard of what could be in the envelope.

“Alright, boys, let’s get ready for patrol.” Bruce announced as he entered the room. Jason shot Dick a worried look then looked down with shame. Dick instantly got the message and tried his best.

“Uhh, Bruce, why doesn’t Jay stay in tonight? He seems a bit tired. I’ll come with though, for old times sake.”

“Oh, uh, ok then.” He looked at Jason with a concerned look on his face, worried his son had something else going on. Maybe he should just cut him some slack, afterall he just recovered from being brain dead.

“Here’s my cards… good luck, little wing.”

“Thanks, Dickie-bird.” He thanked him not only for the luck but for helping him dodge a bullet and a whole lot of embarrassment if he had another panic attack down there in front of the Bat, also saving him from having another in the first place. The two men left the room, walking down the halls that Jason had traversed with Dick earlier that day. He was now left to finish his game with Alfred, although he was certain it would end soon as he was pretty sure he knew what was in the envelope. He let Alfred have his turn and move his piece, Mrs. White, six paces forward but not into a room yet. Jason only had two paces until he was in the room he suspected, so he rolled and got a 4, perfect. He was now in the ballroom.

“I accuse… Mr. Green in the ballroom with the wrench.” As his hand reached for the envelope in the middle of the board, his mind shifted the pieces in the ballroom. Mr. Green’s mouth morphed into a blood red smile and the wrench beside him became a crowbar. Jason blinked a couple times and the pieces went back to normal. His eyes flashed back to the goal at hand, being right. He opened the “classified file” and pulled out the three cards, the moment of truth. Ballroom. Check. Mr. Green. Check. Crowbar. Check. Wait, that’s not right. His brows furrowed in confusion as his breath quickened.

“Are you alright, Master Jason? You seem a little green under the gills.”

He looked up at Alfred then back at the cards, wrench. He was right.

“I was right, I win.” He put the cards down on the table and tried to force a smile and suppress the feeling of throwing up. “You’re right Alfie, I do feel a little off. I’m going to go to bed.”

“Very well, I’ll bring you some tea?”

“Thank you, mint if we’ve got it.”

Alfred nodded as he got up from his spot on the floor at the coffee table in the middle of the study and silently walked right out and down the halls to the kitchen. The young boy looked around the room for a second, taking in the familiarity of it all and the couch he was on mere weeks ago, dying again. Something on the corner caught his eye, against the pattern there was a splotch of brown, old blood, his blood. He let out an uneasy breath, then turned around and left the room with a speedy gate, trying to get to his room before he started to cry or throw up, whichever came first.

He almost ran down the halls, speeding to his room and shutting the door behind him. He stood there, back against the door, for a while just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down before the tears started to fall. There weren’t many but enough to make him feel better for getting something out. There really was no reason to be having a panic attack and yet there he was, crying over nothing. He slid down the door, curling up in a ball to cry into his kneecaps, trying to be as small as he felt in that moment before he was tremendously startled by a knock on the door. He wiped his tears the best he could and got up to open the door.

“Master Jason, your tea. Shall I bring the cart in?”

“Um… sure.” He said, sniffling and wiping his nose with his sleeve, trying to be discreet.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Alfred inquired as he rolled the tea cart into the young boy’s room.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just need some sleep. Thanks Alfred, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, my boy.” and he shut the door with a light click and thwang of the old brass door handle.

Jason obviously did not go to sleep, he instead sat at his desk, facing the window out to the yard of Wayne manor with his tea and book which was almost done by now. Every so often, he would look up from his book to peer onto the distant sight of Gotham’s busy streets and bright lights, contrasting the heavy darkness that loomed over the manor. The last time he looked up was not because he wanted to but because he heard the sound of the batmobile’s engine coming down the long and winding driveway. He saw the headlights coming closer, glinting off of the glass of his window. He went back to his book, however, after a sip of tea. A couple pages went by before someone else was knocking at his door. This time it was Bruce. He got out of his desk chair and hurried over to open the door once more.

“Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Jason responded, not quite back to reality yet but opening the door more, nonetheless.

“C’mon kid, sit down.” Bruce said as he pulled up Jason’s desk chair closer to the edge of the bed where he had sat down. He spun it around and straddled it in true detective fashion, although he was trying to be funny and lighthearted, trying to show Jason that he’s someone he can talk to without being scolded or lectured. “Dick told me about what happened with your suit earlier today. Wanna tell me what was goin’ on in your head?”

“Well, I dunno, it just brought me back. I got scared. I don’t think I can ever put that suit on again, Bruce.��

“And that’s ok. You don’t need to. If you ever want to stop the whole crime fighting gig, that’s your choice and I won’t stop you.”

“No, no. I still want to fight with you, I just think it might be time for some change.”

“Oh?” Bruce sat with a puzzled look on his face, “What kind of change?”

“Like a whole new suit, a whole new name. Like Dick did when he left. Well, when I became Robin.”

“Well, have you got an idea?”

“Yeah, Red Hood.”

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