Chapter Text
Jason leaned over the counter, face so close to the glass his breath left patches of mist on it, carefully examining the contents of the display case.
“Those,” he finally said, pointing at his selection. “Please.”
“Good choice, sir,” the clerk told him. “Would you like them wrapped up?”
“Yes, please,” Jason said.
“And how will you be paying today, sir?”
Sir. That word was still new and strange to Jason’s ears. Especially from people besides Alfred. “With cash,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
The clerk eyed him a little dubiously.
“It’s legit,” Jason assured him. “My name is Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne is my dad. He adopted me last year. This is, um, this is my first Father’s Day with him.” It’s real, he told himself. It happened; it’s real. “You probably read about it in the papers?”
And perhaps the clerk had indeed read about it in the papers. Or maybe it was the respectably dressed woman standing behind him and giving the clerk a nod, because he accepted the bills Jason handed him without comment. Jason thought there was even a sympathetic wrinkle to his eyebrow. Maybe.
Truth be told, Jason was pretty nervous about carrying this much cash on him—he'd never had this much money all at once in his whole life before, much less on his person—and terrified he was going to lose it somehow. But he was too young for his own credit card, and having someone come with him and pay for their gifts themselves would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it? He consoled himself with the thought that after all his Robin training, he could probably take anybody who tried to jump him for it.
He accepted the package from the clerk, tucked it up under his arm next to the wrapped box. Three down, two to go.
***
One week ago:
“I don’t know what to get!” Jason blurted out at Alfred, without entirely meaning to.
Alfred turned from the stove he’d been scrubbing before Jason burst into the kitchen. “What do you need to get, Master Jason?”
“For Father’s Day,” he said. “We started talking about in in class. But I’ve never done it.” Jason squirmed. “I used to give Mom flowers for Mother’s Day, even if it was just, you know. Dandelions from the parking lot. She loved it no matter what. But my dad…he was never around. It didn’t come up. And now I don’t know what I’m supposed to get!” He tried to suppress the panic in his voice.
“Calm yourself, Master Jason.” Alfred indicated that Jason should take a seat, and he did so. Alfred sat across from him, stripping off his yellow rubber gloves and setting them to the side. “It’s not as complicated as all that,” he said.
“It’s not?”
“It’s not, I assure you. Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, has its own set of conventions and traditions. You brought your mother flowers, which she appreciated. Traditional gifts for fathers include such things as ties, cufflinks, cologne. You can choose anything else you’d like, of course; I promise you that Master Bruce will appreciate the intent of your gift no matter what. But if you need suggestions, there they are.”
“Okay,” Jason said, his eyes watering from a combination of worry and relief. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” Alfred said, half risen from his chair. “Might I ask how you intended to purchase Master Bruce’s gift?”
“Uh,” Jason scrunched his forehead. “Well, I have my allowance.”
“Very good,” Alfred said. “But you needn’t use that for a gift for your own family.” Jason started to protest, but Alfred tutted him. “You don’t have your own income, Master Jason—or at least, I hope you don’t, anymore—so it falls upon this household to provide for your needs. Including this. No worries, young sir.” Alfred patted Jason’s hand. “For this, I can draw on the household accounts.”
“Um,” Jason said, nonplussed. “Thank you, Alfred.”
***
Six days ago:
Jason sidled into the study where Bruce sat poring over papers on his desk, knocking on the door in passing just to announce his presence. “Bruce…?” he said, tentatively.
“Hm?” Bruce looked up. “Oh hello, Jason, come on in. What’s up?”
“I need some advice.”
“All right.”
“I wanted to...get Alfred something for Father’s Day. But I’m not sure what.”
“Oh.” Bruce paused for a long, long moment, just long enough for Jason to start to think he’d made a terrible mistake. “Well. Things he would like. Things that interest him.”
“Like...tea?”
Bruce laughed. “Yes, you could...maybe a nice tea chest or something. I’m sure he’d like anything practical. Maybe things he could use for the kitchen. Although he’ll be happy with anything you give him, I promise you, Jay.”
Jason considered this, and nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to go.
“Oh wait—Jason. Hold on.”
Jason turned back. “Yessir.”
“Don’t yessir me, son. Here,” Bruce pawed through a desk drawer. He pulled out a fold of bills and held them out towards Jason. “Use this, all right?”
Jason took the money, feeling slightly numb with the sheer weight of it. He didn’t even have to count it to see that it was hundreds of dollars. Far too much for this, far too much for him. “Okay,” he said, anyway. “Thanks, Bruce.”
***
Four days ago:
“Robin to Batgirl! Robin to Batgirl! Over!”
“Excuse me?” came the indignant voice out of the communicator. “Who is this? How did you get this frequency?”
“Shhh!” Jason said. “Not so loud, he’ll hear. This is Robin...um, Robin 2.0? I got it from the Batcomputer, Ms. Batgirl.”
The line went quiet for a long moment. “All right,” the voice said, eventually. “What’s going on? And again, who exactly are you?”
“Well, the thing is, Ms. Batgirl—”
“—it’s just Batgirl.”
“Sorry, Batgirl. I’m the new Robin. I got hired last year.”
“Oh, did you.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Batgirl. Sorry.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I sort of need a ride.”
“A ride?” Jason could hear the surprise in her voice.
“Yeah.”
“To...where?”
“The mall,” Jason said. “I need to go shopping for Father’s Day presents and no one can know.”
For a minute or two, all Jason could hear on the line was the faint sound of keys tapping. Then Batgirl laughed. “All right, Jason,” she said. “I’ll drive you to the mall.”
Jason sucked in a breath. “I—I didn’t—that’s not my—”
“Relax, kiddo,” Batgirl said. “I know your name. I know everything. Batman knows that I know everything. Or at least, he put it in your file, which is the same thing. I’ll pick you up at 10am at central HQ this Saturday, okay?”
“Okay,” Jason said into the comm, faintly awed. “Thanks, Batgirl.” He heard the click of her disconnecting the line, but he clutched the comm to his shoulder for a whole five minutes anyway.
Batgirl had talked to him.
***
Earlier today:
“...so all in all, I’m pretty much retired from the night life these days,” Barbara said, putting the car in park.
“Oh. I didn’t know that. I read your file,” Jason said, glancing over at her as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “It didn’t say that.”
“Bruce is in denial,” Barbara said, sliding out of the driver’s seat. “Do you want me with you? I can come along, or just hang out here.” She waved at the coffeeshop at the entrance of the mall.
Yes, please, I don't know what I'm doing, Jason thought. He shut the passenger door carefully. “Uh. You have a dad, right?” Of course she does, you moron, she’s the police commissioner’s daughter!
Barbara just seemed amused. “Yeah, I have a dad.”
“If you wouldn't mind coming along—I mean, I want to choose things myself, but I've never done this before, and I just want to make sure I pick good things.”
“You’ve never bought anything for your father before?” she said, her voice light and skeptical, as they walked towards the mall entrance.
“Not really, no. Never for my dad—I mean, my bio dad, he wasn't around much. And there wasn't money to buy stuff for my mom.” His eyes dropped to his feet and he felt shame burning inside at the things he had bought for Mom. He'd never wanted to, but he couldn't stand to see her in so much pain, so he always broke down and went back to her dealer in the end.
The thought of explaining this to Barbara Gordon, to Batgirl, nauseated him.
“Jason,” Barbara said, and there was something off about her voice. “Has anyone ever given you a present?”
“Oh sure,” he said. “When I was a kid, I got a Wonder Woman doll. Mom said she was worried I wouldn't want it because it was a girl toy, but you know, who cares? Wonder Woman is awesome. And Emmy, she was my babysitter when I was little—she knitted me mittens and a hat. Oh, and I used to have a jacket Mom got from a charity drive. I outgrew it, though.”
He suddenly wished he still had the doll, even if it was an ancient, little kid toy from when he was a baby. He'd left it at their old apartment. He hadn't really been thinking clearly when he left, and he'd never been able to bring himself to go back to look for it.
It was probably in a landfill somewhere now.
“And this Christmas, wow. I, um, I got a LOT of stuff.” It had freaked him out because he hadn't thought to get anything for Bruce or Alf. To be honest, the things he'd been most excited for about Christmas were the big dinner and the unbelievably huge and beautifully decorated tree. The presents from Mom and the Christmases they’d celebrated together had been a long, long time ago; he'd all but forgotten that exchanging gifts was even a part of the holiday. Other people did that, not Jason. But he was determined to make up for it now.
The way Barbara was looking at him was making him feel weird, though. Pity, sure, he recognized pity, but there was something else there, too, and he didn't know what it was.
“Okay, then,” Barbara said. “Let’s go pick out some cool presents for your dad.”
“And Alfred,” Jason said, holding the door open for her.
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that why you didn't ask him to drive you?”
“Well, yeah,” Jason said. “Bruce was the one who adopted me”—it was cool, his voice was firm and steady—”but Alfie takes care of me, too. I can't get something for Bruce and not get something for Alfred.”
“No,” Barbara said softly. “Of course not.”
***
“Wow,” Jason said, staring up at the sign. “That’s perfect.”
“Really? Hand-made aprons? Are you kidding me…Jason?” Barbara audibly sighed as she followed Jason into the store.
Jason ignored her, and approached the man behind the counter. “Excuse me, sir, do you have anything in this size?” He pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, flipping past a couple of pages, and pushed it towards the man.
The man glanced at the page, leaned over an inventory book for a minute, and then smiled at Jason. “You’re in luck, kid.” He disappeared into the back room.
He reappeared a few minutes later, and laid his selection on the counter. Jason ran his hands over it tentatively. He glanced up at Barbara.
She stroked her forefinger over it. “This is good quality,” she told Jason. “If you think he’ll like it, I say go ahead and get it.”
“He’ll like it.” Jason nodded at the man confidently. “I’ll take it.”
***
He hardly knew where to look. Every wall was filled with instruments of gleaming stainless steel and rubber handles. Salt shakers filled with pink salt; pepper shakers filled with colors he hadn’t known pepper could be. Everything was so specific. Empty lemonade pitchers and avocado slicers and eight million different kinds of Tupperware. An endless array of cutting board and gadgets that Jason wasn’t even sure how to use.
What the hell did you even do with all of this? Who knew there were so many different kinds of cooking equipment?
If Barbara hadn’t been there next to him, he’d probably have given up and cried already.
“Excuse me,” he said faintly, to the first red-vested store attendant he saw. “Do you sell grilling tongs?”
***
He eventually emerged with a pair of rubber-handled stainless steel tongs, two spice rubs --mesquite and brown-sugar-bourbon--and a lingering sense of shock. Barbara patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go for those cufflinks, okay?”
***
It had taken a few hours, but Jason finally had everything he needed—well, not quite everything, but everything he could get at the mall. Now that he had all his packages, safely wrapped in paper, everything with Barbara’s seal of approval, his anxiety was subsiding and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He’d had a hearty breakfast, courtesy of Alfred, but it was well past one, and his stomach was protesting the lack of lunch.
Barbara must have heard it growling, or maybe she was hungry, too, because she glanced at him and said, “Do you feel like hitting the food court?”
“Yes, please,” Jason said. “You won’t tell Alfred if I get a chili-dog, will you?”
Barbara’s mouth quirked. “Your secret is safe with me,” she said, crossing her heart.
At the court, Jason sighed happily and practically inhaled his first dog. He made a noise of pure bliss.
“Alfred doesn’t let you have junk food all that often, huh?” Barbara said, and took a hearty bite out of her own veggie pizza.
Jason shook his head, and swallowed. “He says he’ll instill healthy eating habits in at least one of us, even if it kills him.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, even though he was just going to get messy again when he ate the second one. He didn’t want Barbara to think he had bad manners.
She laughed. “Well, in my opinion, a salad at the mall food court is a wasted opportunity.” She sipped her soda. “Okay, Jason. I don’t know that much about you, except for what Bruce put in your file. What do you like to do for fun?”
Jason blinked. “Aside from, you know,” he mouthed the word Robin, “uh, I like to read. And mess around with cars.”
“Ahhh, the cars.” Barbara arched an eyebrow at him. It was almost like Alfred’s eyebrow. He wondered if she learned it from him.
Jason’s ears turned red. “Did he put that in my file?” he hissed.
“He did indeed.” Barbara’s eyes twinkled. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” She chuckled, and dropped her voice by half an octave. “You got moxie, kid.”
“Oh my god,” Jason said.
“So you like to read? You’re a boy after my librarian’s heart. How about we hit up the bookstore on the way out?”
Jason grinned at her, embarrassment wiped out at the prospect of book shopping. “‘Kay.”
***
Barbara wasn’t in a hurry, apparently; she seemed content to wander after Jason as he scoured the science fiction and young adult shelves, occasionally pausing to flip through something herself. Jason felt a pang of guilt when he realized he’d have to use the money Bruce and Alfred had given him for Father’s Day gifts if he wanted to buy any books, but he told himself he’d make up the difference from his allowance before he returned the leftover cash. He couldn’t very well ask Barbara to lend him the money when he had a wallet stuffed thick with twenties.
He’d assembled a pile of books about three feet high, but felt guilty looking at it, and put back half. When he’d gotten it down to something he thought he could carry along with his packages, he made his way up to the counter. Barbara was already there, slipping something into her purse as she turned towards him. He thought she was going to say something, but she just smiled at the sight of the stack.
“All set?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, pushing the books towards the cashier, who also smiled at him.
“Someone’s a big reader, huh?” The cashier took one of the science fiction paperbacks from the stack and smoothed a hand over the cover before scanning it. “Great choice. I love her.”
“Thanks,” Jason said. As the cashier continued to scan the books, Jason pulled his notebook out again, and said to Barbara, “Hey, on the way back can we swing by—” he checked his notes. “—Maroney’s Meat Market?”
Barbara laughed. “I had a feeling that was where this was going,” she said. “No problem.”
***
Barbara walked him to the front door. Alfred opened the door before either of them could. “Welcome home, Master Jason,” Alfred said. He nodded at Barbara. “Lovely to see you as always, Miss Gordon. It’s been too long. Won't you come in?”
“Just for a minute,” Barbara said, leaning forward to hug Alfred, then following Jason inside.
“Thank you for driving me,” Jason said. “And for all your advice.”
“It was my pleasure, kiddo,” Barbara said, with a smile on her face that made her words sound genuine. “I had fun hanging out. Give me a call anytime, okay?”
“Okay,” Jason said, smiling back.
“You should go get those wrapped, in case someone,” she raised an eyebrow, “gets curious about them.”
Jason had a feeling she was shooing him away so she could talk privately to Alfred—adults always seemed to want to talk privately when Jason was around—but he went anyway.
It was sheer coincidence that his shoelace came untied just around the corner, prompting him to dump his packages on the floor and kneel to tighten it. Honest.
He was close enough to the front hall to clearly hear Barbara say to Alfred, “You’ve got a terrific kid there.”
“We’re well aware, Miss Gordon,” Alfred replied, with—was that pride in his voice?
“Take good care of him, okay?” She lowered her voice a little, but Jason could still make her words out. “...know that he’s hardly gotten any presents ever? He's what, ...most thirteen now?”
“...wasn't aware of that precise fact, no.” There was a long pause. Jason held his breath. “That might explain the...intensity of his reaction at Christmas, though,” he heard Alfred say.
“I can only imagine,” Barbara said ruefully, and oh god, if either one of them realized he was eavesdropping on them now, he was gonna die. He scooped the packages up from the floor as quietly as he could and tiptoed down the carpeted hallway, hoping to have escaped Alfred’s preternatural senses just this once.
***
Later, when he came down for dinner, Bruce caught him on the way to the dining room. “Oh there you are, Jay. Alfred asked me to give this to you. Barbara forgot to give you this before she left this afternoon, and she asked him to pass it along.” He handed Jason a smallish rectangular package, wrapped in the paper of the very same bookstore they’d been in earlier.
Jason blinked, surprised. “Thank you.” He tore off the paper to reveal a yellow-and-brown paperback with a soulful looking rabbit on the cover. The title read Watership Down.
He could feel a slight thickness under cover. He flipped to the title page, and found a slender paper bookmark tucked into the book there, the letter J printed in pale blue on a white background with a tan border, as elaborately illustrated as an illuminated manuscript.
She’d written a note underneath the title.
Dear Jason,
I think you’ll like this. It’s about a journey that ends in a new home.
P.S.
My friends call me Babs.