Chapter Text
Jason doesn’t remember much between the Shadows manifesting as if from thin air and taking him away, and the moment he blinks himself back to reality in a safe house on the outskirts of Tricorner.
This safe house is a last resort if Jason needs to fall off the grid at a moment’s notice. Nobody should know about it. Not even Talia.
But here he is, sucking in a breath of air and rubbing the soft texture of a throw blanket between his thumb and index fingers.
A Shadow is standing guard at each possible point of entry, their backs turned to Jason in silent deference to his status and mental vulnerability. And when sound starts filtering in again Jason can understand why they’re all holding themselves ramrod straight.
“-bi, Damian was quite cross with me for leaving him with Father, and I do not hold myself under false illusions that he will be able to keep him in Nanda Parbat for long. He is quite fierce, your brother, you trained him well sweet boy.”
“Mom,” Jason mumbles, brain not quite online enough to bite the word back in time.
But there’s no rebuke from the tinny voice over the phone placed by Jason’s ear.
“Jason,” Talia acknowledges, and he wonders if he imagines the concern in her regal voice, “Are you back with us?”
“Yes, I-“ Jason clears his throat and darts another look across the room. The Shadows still stand at attention, watchful and battle ready, and outside the distant lights of the city filter through the window in blurry blotches of color. “You had me under surveillance.”
Talia hums, unapologetic, “Nothing so severe, sweet boy, I assure you. But you did not truly think I would allow a child of mine to return to this wretched city without sufficient protection, no? And though I’d hoped there would be no need for their interference-“ her voice turns frosty, “It seems I have underestimated my Beloved’s penchant for self sabotage.”
Flashes come back to him, then. Snapshots. A case of glass, holding a ghost; a second tomb without a body.
“Jason?”
His breaths are coming quickly again. Too quickly. His chest feels tight, like the words etched into the plaque squeeze his rib cage until the bones splinter and burrow in his lungs.
“Jason, breathe! That’s an order!”
The command, issued in a tone of voice only Talia and Ra’s are ever allowed to use on him, overrides every other thought in Jason’s brain and the next desperate gasp for air fills his lungs and stays there, distributing oxygen to the rest of his body.
“Shadow, report!” Talia barks, and suddenly one of the assassins that had been stationed by the door is at Jason’s side, stiff backed and eyes checking him over with clinical focus.
“The prince remains unharmed. He is following your orders. The hideout remains undiscovered.”
There’s no audible exhale over the line, only a short pause before Talia hums, “Back to your post.”
“Yes, my lady.” The Shadow flows from Jason’s side and back to the door with a respectful bow.
“My son, you are quite pushing it with the amount of scares you are giving me today.”
Jason huffs, still winded but also oddly detached from his previous thoughts. For the moment. “Sorry, ‘s not exactly my favorite birthday, either.”
Talia clicks her tongue, the sound translating as a curious crackle over the speakers, “I’d imagine so. But you did well, Jason. I am very proud of you. Rest for now, I shall be by your side soon.“
He hums, allowing himself to just— drift, for a moment, to the backdrop of Talia’s calm and familiar voice telling him about the current annoyance that keeps her from hurrying straight to his side. Apparently she’d been on the way to China on an important mission when the Shadows contacted her, and the time sensitive nature of the operation hadn’t allowed for her to drop everything and change course last minute. It’s oddly soothing, to hear her recount mission details and debriefings, informing him of the incompetence of their most recent allies and potential enemies.
It’s almost peaceful. Right up until the moment Jason remembers—
“Tim!” He gasps, shooting upright, “Tim! I don’t remember- I was- did I-?”
“Timothy and Richard are both unharmed,“ Talia assures him, then pauses, “Mostly.”
A pit forms in Jason’s stomach, black and aching.
“What did I do?” He remembers the display case, he remembers pulling his gun— but he was aiming for the suit. Maybe a bit for Bruce, too. But not— but not Dick. Not Tim, “Talia, what did I do!?”
“Nothing,” Talia reiterates, calm and sure, “You destroyed that horrible excuse of a memorial. The Shadows intervened before you could harm yourself or anybody else. Richard and my Beloved were foolish enough to try and stop them.”
“Shadows,” Jason rasps, straightening his spine into a semblance of authority.
The guards all turn as one and kneel, “Yes, general.”
“Walk me through what happened back at- that place.”
One of the guards shuffles forward, head still lowered and not meeting Jason’s eyes, “Yes, general. We kept watch as instructed and interfered only when it became apparent that the situation devolved into violence, as per request. We had the advantage of surprise and three Shadows engaged the Batman while two others moved in to apprehend you. Your mind was not sound, general. We made the decision to move you out of potentially hostile territory. At this point Nightwing likewise attempted to aid the Batman in getting to you. Amir intercepted him and suffered minor electrocution and a concussion. Nightwing received shallow slashes to collarbone and thigh, the blade laced with a mild sedative. No lethal injuries, full recovery expected within one week. The Batman was… more difficult. We distracted him long enough to safely remove you from the premises.“
“Robin?”
“Did not interfere and slipped away while Amir was engaging Nightwing.”
There’s still a lingering sliver of worry for Dick, but with the assurance that none of the Shadows had done serious harm to either him or Tim, Jason has to actively stop himself from slumping with relief.
“Good. You did… well.”
All Shadows incline their head in acknowledgment, preening visibly. It’s still a bit strange after all this time, to see assassins twice his age and experience bow to him. He knows, logically, that his status as general is to thank for that. To disrespect him would be to disrespect the al Ghul family‘s decision to raise him to the status of general despite there being much more capable individuals.
The Shadow Jason faintly recognizes as Aysha raises her head slightly to draw his attention. Her eyes are deep and dark, and there’s a nick at the edge of one eyebrow where Jason remembers a dagger catching her off guard. She nearly disemboweled her opponent right after.
“General, we advise against leaving this space for the time being. The Batman and his acolytes are scouring the city as we speak, and they are… surprisingly relentless.”
“Indeed,” Talia drawls, prompting Aysha into lowering her head again, “The attempted infiltration of the League servers is also becoming quite tedious. As are the increasing number of calls I have to decline.”
Jason grimaces, “He’s that pissed about trying to shoot him?”
“I dare say it is less about what you did, and rather about what the Shadows did.”
“What, rescue me like a damsel in distress?”
“I doubt they viewed their interference as a ‘rescue’, habibi.”
Oh, right. They still think Jason got kidnapped and tortured by the League.
“That’s because they’re fucking stupid.“
“’Yes, that is the picture I am also getting,“ she agrees easily, “Now, I fear I will be out of contact for a few hours. But I expect you to lay low until I arrive in Gotham, do you understand?“
“Yeah, sure.“
“Good. There is no reason to provoke my Beloved any further until I have the chance to show him the error of his ways,“ not ominous at all, “and furthermore, the Court has been concerningly active in your part of the city lately. Please refrain from doing anything rash until we have that under control.“
Jason frowns in mild confusion, “The court? What are you talking about?“
Talia makes an inquisitive little sound, “Why, the Court of Owls, of course. You have been investigating them as far as I know, no?“
“The Court of Owls is a myth, Talia.“
She laughs, “Oh sweet boy, they say the same thing about us, no?“
Tim grits his teeth as another firewall slams into place and blocks him from accessing the servers.
He almost had them. Almost. Just one more minute— no, thirty seconds, and he would have known.
But Tim underestimated them. He underestimated them and now he’s locked out once again. Shit.
Still, if Tim is right— if he’s right—
The comm unit crackles, Nightwing’s winded voice filtering through the speakers, “No sign of Hood or the League anywhere in the Alley. Circling back now.”
Dick shouldn’t be out at all with the laceration to his thigh. Much less jumping rooftops. But trying to stop him proved about as effective as stopping a hurricane in motion.
“Copy,” the sound of a grapple gun being fired is a faint susurrus below Batman’s severe growl, “Hood’s lieutenants refused to talk, but I located a possible safehouse. Robin?”
“Cameras are empty,” Tim recites dutifully, pulling up the feed on another screen “I called up Babs to have a look, but she’s still busy with the Birds of Prey.” He doesn’t mention the League servers, because there’s still a chance that he’s wrong.
But if he’s not…
“Keep looking,” Batman grunts, at the same time that Nightwing chokes out a devastated, “B, we can’t- we can’t let Ra’s—“
Tim feels sick.
He knows what almost happened to Dick. Knows what probably did happen to Hood— to Ja-
No. First, Tim has to be sure. If he tells Dick, if he tells Bruce, and it turns out to be false then it would destroy them so much more than it already does.
“He won’t,“ Bruce‘s growl is so deep the comm crackles with the effort of picking it up and Tim shivers involuntarily. He‘s not sure Bruce realizes how scary he sounds when he‘s well and truly on his way to being angry, “Nightwing, I’ll do another sweep of the Bowery and then meet you at Tricorner. Robin, keep watching the cameras. They can’t leave Gotham City without triggering at least one of them.
“Copy.”
Tim silences the comms on his end and slides away from the batcomputer, heading straight for the bikes.
Like hell is gonna stay in the cave.
No. If hacking the League servers doesn’t work then he’ll do this the old fashioned way and go out looking himself. He’ll turn over every goddamn brick if he has to.
But there’s a good chance he doesn’t have to. After all, Tim’s always been exceptionally good at sniffing out Robin in the darkness of Gotham City.
“‘S all good now. We got Jones all bandaged up an’ McKenzie’s takin’ ‘im home now. Nothin’ a good night’s sleep and a few days rest won’t fix. But he ain’t tellin’ the Bat nothin’, told the bastard to damn well screw ‘imself.”
“Get him checked out by an actual doctor in the morning,” Jason orders gruffly, “I’ll cover the expenses. He got you too?”
“Copy that, sir. And nah, ‘m good. Got in a coupla hits but nothin’ I ain’t had b’fore.”
“Have that signed off on by a doctor,” Gods know brain injuries can be tricky and Dave is prone to downplaying his, “Tell the others to stay indoors until the situation’s cooled off.”
“Understood. Anythin’ else you need doin’?”
“No. But have someone keep making the rounds discreetly, I don’t want Black Mask trying to get back inside the Alley. And… tell the rest to shoot any bats on sight.”
Static crackles over the phone, Dave choking on cigarette smoke no doubt, “S’cuse me, what?”
Jason doesn’t laugh. It’s not funny.
“I said to shoot the Bats.”
Another staticky sound, “Boss, I- even Robin?”
Jason takes a deep breath, “Yes.”
“But, uh, sir, Robin’s a kid, are you-“
“He’s sixteen,” Jason snaps, “I was fifteen when I die-“ He cuts himself off, breathing deeply.
On the other end of the line, Dave is silent.
“He’s not a kid,” the words burn in his throat, “You don’t get to be a kid in those colors, Dave. Just fucking do as I say.”
“…Yeah, I- okay, boss. I hear ya.”
Jason cuts the call and pretends the wall he punches is Bruce’s face.
“General, would it not be wisest to await the Daughter’s-“
“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” the overhead lights flicker as if in agreement, “Now get out.”
The Shadows look at each other, conflicted.
“General, we have strict orders to-“
Green surges through Jason, climbs up his throat, and when Jason turns on the Shadows they all go rigid simultaneously.
“You have new orders now,” he says coldly, hands balling into fists, knuckles aching, and Jason can see the sickly glow of his eyes reflected in the stained glass behind them. It’s a butt ugly building under reconstruction on the border between the Bowery and Otisburg, but it serves well enough for a quick debrief and temporary base of operations. “Now get out. By the end of the night I want every single freak with a bird mask gone from the Alley.“
When he next looks, the Shadows are gone.
He knows they’ll tattle to Talia first chance they get, but even if she’s making good time she won’t be making it to Gotham for another thirty hours at least. And Ra’s will be too busy rallying his demon of a grandchild to get involved.
It’s strange. Jason felt so stable, lately. The green rarely more than a flicker at the edge of his vision, a warning whisper in his ear. He hadn’t even noticed its absence.
Only now that it’s back does he realize how quiet it’s been.
How stupid of him to think it was all just a misunderstanding. His homesickness really got the better of him. Home is Nanda Parbat now. Home is the desert oasis where he taught Damian how to hold a flat leaf between his thumbs and make a whistle. Home is the awkward dinners Ra’s insists on having once a month.
Home used to be quiet movie nights nestled into Bruce’s side and Dick’s stupid swooning noises at any remotely romantic scenes.
Jason shakes his head.
No. Somehow he must have gotten them mixed up. His sentimentality, getting the better of him.
No matter. By this point, Alfred will have told them. The gig is up. Joker is long dead. And there’s nothing in Gotham City for Jason but the echo-image of a little boy in a ratty hoodie lifting the tires off the batmobile.
But that’s not right, either. Jason can’t just go and abandon the city. The power vacuum the Red Hood would leave behind is too large, and the people in the Alley depend on him and his men for protection. Jason carved out a space for himself in this gods forsaken place and he’s not abandoning his people to the clusterfuck of a gang war sure to follow his absence.
Not to mention the friggin Court of Owls, who apparently aren’t as much of a myth as everyone likes to think.
“Hood?“
Jason doesn’t stop to think. He twists on the spot and snaps the hidden blade hiding in his sleeve into the palm of his hand, slicing clean through the as the green sings and—
Tim’s eyes stare up at him in shocked surprise, large and blue, unconcealed by the white lenses of Robin’s domino, and Jason’s blood freezes in his veins as he jerks to an abrupt stop but his momentum is too—
A line of vibrant red wells up from beneath the knife’s cutting edge and Jason drops the blade, breath coming in sharp, crackling pants as Tim’s hand flies up to clutch at his throat.
“What the fuck,” Jason hisses, knuckles clanking awkwardly against his helmet as he tries to run a hand through his hair, “What the fuck, replacement. I could have killed you.”
The kid just blinks down at the smear of blood on his fingertips, “But you didn’t.”
“Maybe I should have.”
“Maybe you should have,” Tim agrees readily, tilting his head much like a curious little bird, “But you don’t hurt kids, right, Jason?”
Jason flinches, and Tim’s expression morphs from contemplative to triumphant, “I was right.”
Jason takes a step back.
“I was right,” Tim exclaims, a blinding grin overtaking his face, crinkling the skin around his domino, “Oh my- Jason, Jason.”
He could pull his gun. He could pull his gun, end it right here. Put a stop to the joyful glint in Robin’s eyes.
“You’re Jason.”
Make Bruce pay for real.
“Alright, okay, oh my god, okay, look, please let’s just go back to the manor, okay? Please, that stupid case was a mistake. You know Bruce and emotion doesn’t work. Alfred told him to get rid of it but-“
He could snuff that light right from those baby blues and leave the little bird gift wrapped for his cohorts to find.
“-e didn’t. And trust me D- Nightwing’s ripping him a new one every other second about it but Jason we really need to go back, I don’t-“
The line of red spanning Tim’s throat is still weeping blood in a sluggish stream.
“—how you got away from them but it’s not safe here. If- if you don’t want to see Batman we can totally work that out, too! Me or Dick could take you to the Tower. Kon’s there most of the time and nobody’s getting past him-“
Jason feels sick.
“But we really need to go, like, yesterday. Ra’s is probably sending more people and I don’t know how long I can stall-“
He can’t hurt Tim. He can’t. Much less shoot him at point blank. That ship’s gone and sailed. He had one chance to beat his replacement into the ground, back before he’d bought the kid milkshakes and burgers, and he blew it.
“-the bike’s stashed just around the corner. Oh my god Jason they’ll be so, so happy you-“
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jason tells him tonelessly, fighting against the flickers of green dancing across his vision.
Tim stops, blinking owlishly, “What? Oh, yeah. Of course, you probably have a contingency plan for this, right? But I promise that-“
“Did Alfred tell you?” Jason cuts him off, curious despite himself, “No, no you figured it out on your own, didn’t you?”
There’s doubt creeping into his expression now, doubt and a sliver of apprehension. Fear?
“Wait, Alfred knew? But- oh, that’s why he suddenly- no, I figured it out myself. And agent A refuses to talk to any of us. I think he’s currently planning to give B salmonella, and switching all his soap bars with peeled potatoes. I don’t know, we were all a bit busy trying to track you down-“
There’s a drop of blood sliding down Robin’s throat, over the skin tight fabric of his suit, and pooling in the hollow of his jugular notch.
Jason frowns and reaches out to cup the replacement’s throat, smiling ruefully. He can fit his entire hand around the kid’s neck. It would be so easy to just— twist. Bird bones are fragile like that.
Tim stills, a flicker of something in his eyes Jason cannot put a name to. But he doesn’t shake him off. Doesn’t try to twist out of the hold despite its precarious placement.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Jason.”
Tim’s silhouette is lined with green.
“Are you sure about that, Replacement?”
Robin sets his jaw, defiance and surety radiating from the way he squares his shoulders and presses further into Jason’s hold.
“Prove me wrong then.”
They’re locked in a stare down for several seconds, face to mask. But even when Jason hardens his grip, Tim doesn’t back down.
The green hums in his ear, low and seductive, hooking its claws behind Jason’s rib cage, but Jason just closes his eyes for a second and then shoves his other hand abruptly into his pocket to pull out a wad of gauze and slap it grudgingly against the kid’s throat.
Tim splutters with the force of it, hands going up instinctively to grab it. Jason takes a step back with a crackling exhale as he pulls off the helmet, leaving him completely bare.
“Happy now, Replacement?”
Tim’s brows furrow, mouth opening and closing for several seconds before:
“You’re an asshole.”
Jason sneers, “Astute observation skills.”
“You’re an asshole,” Tim repeats, lips pulling into a thin line, “That time with the fear toxin— and with Ivy— that was you.”
“In my defense,” Jason says dryly, “You all just kept assuming shit.”
“I thought it was the coffee-“
“Which you shouldn’t be drinking so much of in the first place.”
“Or not sleeping-“
“Point.”
“Dick-“ he blanches, “he told us. He told us, but we thought- he too-“
“Ain’t exactly a paragon of mental health. Any of you. We’re all fucked to high heavens, Replacement. It ain’t news, get with the program.”
“You’re an asshole,” Tim reiterates, his face going through a myriad of expressions before settling back on determination with a little shake of his head, “Just- you definitely deserve a bat lecture for that but first we need to go, Jason. The League—“
“Kid, what exactly do you think is gonna happen here? Yeah, you got me. I’m not gonna kill you, or Dickwing. But this? This is over,” he stalks forward, circling the kid slowly, “You know what my original plans entailed, Robin? I was going to sneak into the Tower, and I was going to break every single bone in your body for taking my suit.”
“But you didn’t-“
“I didn’t,” Jason agrees, stopping once more in front of him, “I torpedoed all my plans. I killed Joker myself. Only to find out Bruce kept the suit I died in and framed it with a huge fuck you plaque.”
“Jason, please, you got it all wrong, he didn’t-“
“Good soldier,” he recites, tapping a rhythmic beat against the helmet under his arm, “Y’know, at least with the League I’m a general.”
“The League is evil!” The wad of gauze flutters through the ground with the force of Tim’s incredulous gesticulation, splotches of blood already fading from bright red to a rusty brown, “They took you! They— Ra’s he-“
“Talia took me,” Jason interrupt him idly, casting a quick look out the building’s window into the black sky beyond. He wonders how angry Talia will be when she arrives and finds Jason didn’t listen to her. Very, probably.
He wonders if she will abandon him too. He’s not had the best of luck with mothers so far.
“And she just stood by while Ra’s—“ Tim looks horrified, “Yes, of course she did, didn’t she? Holy shit… Jason, please, we can protect you. Please. You don’t have to go back-“
“Okay, it’s been fun and all, but this is a matter for the adults, shrimp-“
“You’re like one year older than me-“
“And unless you’ve been asleep these past few minutes, I ain’t some damsel in distress that needs saving.“
“But the League-“
“Appreciates your efforts,“ Jason drawls, pulling himself up to his full height until he’s towering over the kid, “Now scram, Replacement.”
Tim, the stupid, suicidal dumbass, just laughs right in his face, “You don’t actually think I’m going to do that, right?”
“I think I’m not gonna give you choice in the matter.”
Tim’s lips purse, eyes narrowing slightly, “You’re not going back, Jason. They hurt you. I know it’s- it’s probably hard to understand right now, but what they— that’s not kindness, okay? That’s not helping. I don’t know what Ra’s or Talia told you, but you don’t owe them anything. I swear, Jason, he’ll never- we won’t ever let him-“
“What is this, some kind of victim talk?”
“It’s okay, Jason. None of this was your fault,” Tim continues, entirely unperturbed, hands raised like he’s approaching a spooked animal, and it’s getting real damn hard to fight back the swell of green because the kid isn’t listening. He still thinks this is a case of some type of abuse or some shit, and that Jason’s just misguided. Perhaps he was right after all. Maybe his replacement really is just an entitled little brat with a hero complex.
“We can work this out. And we’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
“You sound like a broken record, Robin,” he advances on the kid, finally fed up with going in circles. He’s got shit to do. And he’s on a tight schedule with Talia’s arrival only thirty hours away, “Didn’t they teach you any other songs?”
Tim dances out of reach, correctly interpreting in the change in Jason’s mood, gaze calculating as it tracks the way Jason stalks towards him.
“They did,” he quips, ducking under an abrupt swipe that would have put him in a blood choke, “They taught me how to sing for backup. And stall for time.“
Jason stiffens, spinning around when he catches Tim’s eyes focusing on something behind him and—
“Little Wing,” Dick breathes, face sheet white and hands trembling where they’re wrapped around his escrimas, “Little Wing.”
Jason curses, looking around wildly for the telltale shadow of the Bat, but the rafters are empty. For now.
“Robin,” Dick chokes out, not looking away from Jason, eyes wide and pleading and terrified, “Robin, am I-“
“He’s real,” Tim confirms, smug as a cat that got the cream and the canary, “It’s Jason.”
Dick staggers, escrimas slipping and hitting the floor with a resounding clang, “Little Wing.”
Jason snarls, throwing one last look at the empty shadows, just to be sure, and starts backing away slowly.
“Fuck you,“ he hisses, itching to draw a gun. But he’s only got live rounds on him and as much as he currently loathes them, he doesn’t want them dead. And the green is starting to get insistent enough that he doesn’t dare try for kneecapping these idiots. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your little anything.“
Dick’s expression fractures much like Tim’s had earlier, but Nightwing doesn’t stop his slow advance. He just makes a subtle sign at Tim and tries to move to Jason’s right, trying to box him in.
Like he wasn’t the one to teach Jason that move.
He stays rooted to the spot, hyper aware of any stray movement from the shadows that might indicate the arrival of the truly monumental pest Jason has no desire to deal with, and weighs his options.
The Shadows are gone, sent away to deal with Hood’s usual patrol route and root out any Court members. Guns and knives are out until the green stops urging him to slit Tim and Dick’s throats. He could try to jump out the window and grapple away, but Jason is realistic enough to know that Nightwing would have him cornered before long. He knows that look in Dick’s eyes, and nothing short of two broken legs would get the vigilante to back down from this particular hunt. No, he needs a distraction. A good one. Large enough to draw even the Bat’s attention— wherever the bastard may be, because Jason’s about ninety percent sure he’s watching this shitshow go down from a distance— long enough for Jason to disappear. He needs—
Jason stops and looks down at his helmet, at the glowing white lenses of the HUD.
“Jason,“ Dick tries again, creeping ever closer while Tim closes in from the other side. “Please, please come home.“
It could work. It will work. It’s risky, but they all survived worse.
Well, Jason didn’t. But it hadn’t stuck so it doesn’t count.
“Jason,“ Dick’s voice is soft, reverent, and the desperate hope in his eyes makes Jason grit his teeth. It’s the same expression he’d given Jason back on that rooftop with Tarantula, when Jason couldn’t help but grapple over to make sure she hadn’t— that he wasn’t— “Little Wing, please.“
Jason holds his breath, watches as Dick reaches out a hand, slowly, like he thinks Jason is going to disappear—
And then Jason throws his helmet in the air and waits only a nanosecond for the telltale beep-beep-beep of the countdown to echo through the stillness before he lunges past Dick and straight into the window
The glass shutters, cracks, and bursts with the impact, a hail of shards exploding outwards and shearing straight the less protected parts of Jason’s suit. Behind him, he can Tim and Dick exclaim in alarm, scrambling to get away.
He counts the seconds in his head even while he deploys the grapple watches it catch on the adjacent roof. Five seconds.
The spool reverses, pulling him up and away from ground zero with a whine. Two seconds.
From the corner of his eye he can see two blurs of color grappling away.
One.
The blast knocks Jason into the side of a nearby building, and he has half a second of dizzy shock to think that he definitely misjudged the amount of explosives he put in the helmet before he feels the line of his grapple go slack, and then he’s falling.
Fuck, is the only thing he can think while he plummets, stomach swooping with the sudden loss of gravity.
This is… fucking embarrassing. He’s going to die. Again. Because of another explosion. That’s just fucking awkward.
Somewhere further away, someone is screaming. Jason would like them to shut up please. They’re not the one about to die. Screaming never helped anybody.
Shit, Talia is going to lose it. She’s going to be so, so angry. She invested all that time and resources in him-
And- fuck, Damian. Damian is going to-
Something slams into Jason’s side, plucking him clean out of free fall and into a strong, broad chest as they descend for another couple feet and then go tumbling through a construction tarp and into a rundown apartment.
Jason just— blinks for a moment, staring up at the mouldy ceiling while he tries to get his lungs functioning again.
“Jason!“
He’s… alive. He didn’t go splat on the pavement. Huh.
“Jason!”
There are hands. On his chest, on his shoulders, his neck, his face, turning him this way and that. Shaking him.
There’s a crack in the ceiling. Jason can see the rotting wood behind it, hear the rats scampering away from the sudden noise.
“Jaylad, look at me. Look at me!”
There hadn’t been any rats in Nanda Parbat. Only mice, culled by a colony of cats roaming the halls of the palace grounds.
“Please, Jaylad, look at me.”
The cats all had shiny fur, and they loved to nap in the rays of light falling through the archways serving as windows, hewn into the very mountain range. Jason only half remembers the time before the pit, but he thinks— Damian put a cat in his lap, one day. Jason remembers how it purred. He remembers being taught to be gentle, how to stroke its silky fur until the feline fell asleep in his arms.
“Jason!”
The cats in Gotham all look half starved and mangy.
Jason blinks, and there’s a face swimming into focus right above him.
“Jaylad…“
A face.
And a cowl.
Jason tries to sit up and push Bruce away but promptly collapses back on his side with a groan, curling around what is definitely a broken rib or two. Shit.
“Don’t move!“ A hand on his shoulder, on his back, stabilising him. Restraining him. Jason wants to scream.
“You’re hurt, don’t move, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay, Jaylad. I promise.“
Jason grits his teeth, swatting blindly in the general direction of Batman’s face. He wants the man gone. Fuck, he would have preferred going splat. Fuck this.
“Jason, stop- you’re hurt. Please, son, stop moving-“
“I’m not your son,“ Jason spits, finally managing to get a good grip on the floorboards to draw his knee back and drive it into Bruce’s stomach, dislodging him. Then he pulls himself to his feet in one painful motion, stumbling only slightly when the momentary pain from his ribs radiates up into his skull to let him know there’s something really fucking wrong with his skeletal integrity. But it’s fine. He’s had worse. He just needs a moment to breathe.
Bruce rises slowly to match his stance, palms out placatingly. The lower half of his face looks haggard, a mean shiner blooming along his jaw in all the colours of the rainbow. Jason makes a mental note to commend the Shadow that got the hit in.
“Okay,“ Bruce says quietly, slowly. A forced calm that sets Jason’s teeth on edge. “Okay, just— you’re hurt, Jaylad. Let’s go back to the cave-“
“Jason!“ A blur of black and blue shoots past Batman, too fast to dodge, and suddenly there are hands on either side of his face pulling him into an awkward crouch as Dick frantically begins inspecting every inch of his face, fingers probing along his hairline for… oh.
“He caught you, right? You didn’t— there’s no blood— B-“
Tim climbs through the window at a more sedate place, hanging back with a fearful hunch to his shoulder as his eyes flit between them.
“Yes,“ Bruce assures immediately, voice rough, “I caught him. Some blunt force trauma from the impact with the wall, suspected broken rib-“ Nothing about suspecting there, his ribs are fuckin’ busted, “Minor cuts from the glass. Dazed, but eventually responsive. Possible concussion.“ Nope, Jason was just busy contemplating life and death. Mostly death.
“Oh thank god,“ Dick breathes, tears shining in his eyes as he jerks Jason into an abrupt embrace, somehow curling his entire body around him even though Jason has well outclassed Dick in both size and bulk, “You’re alive. Little Wing. You’re alive.“
Jason stands there, frozen, arms half raised in indecision.
He doesn’t have the heart to push Dick away. Not with the way the vigilante is sobbing into the top of his head, not when he remembers the way Dick had smiled when he thought Jason had come to guide him to the friggin afterlife. Fuck. This- this isn’t fair. It’s not. They weren’t supposed to- They still allowed that godawful suit to just stand there-
(His room, suspended in time.
“I don’t think he’ll give it back anytime soon, chum.”
“You didn’t see how bad it was, Hood, I- Batman needs a Robin.“)
They all hallucinated him to the point where Jason could keep this half assed charade going way past its due date.
Bruce allowed a known murderer to interact with his family, all for the sake of the “good soldier“ that died for his cause.
(“It has become apparent that you remain under the impression that this family no longer feels your absence like a gaping wound. My dear boy, Bruce has never been the same since you left us, and I think you’re beginning to understand the depth of master Richard’s acute distress in regards to that, too. Nevertheless, I shall agree to your terms under one condition.“
“And what’s that?“
“Talk to them. To master Bruce and master Richard, and allow them to share their memories and feelings about you.“)
“…Yeah, Dickie. Guess I am. Why, you miss me or something?“
Dick heaves another great sob, soaking Jason’s hair with what is probably a disgusting mix of snot and tears. Jason sighs and finally allows himself to return the hug, albeit much more tentatively. It feels… strange. Dick’s hugs still feel like they did before Ethiopia, for some reason. Warm, and safe.
“Jaylad,“ Batman murmurs, and when Jason flicks his eyes to him warily he’s surprised to see the cowl gone, only Bruce Wayne remaining in the dim light. “Please, come home.“
He swallows around the lump in his throat, fingers flexing awkwardly in the fabric of Dick’s suit
He was home. And home showed him a relict of his death day, on display like a goddamn trophy; a badge of honour.
But Bruce... he’d been willing to accept a complete stranger— a murderer— into his home, his life, simply because he claimed a connection to his late adoptive son. Willing to compromise his stupid morals just to so he wouldn’t lose that last tie to a dead boy.
It scares him. It scares him so much, to consider that maybe— maybe— the home he used to have could still be here after all.
But he can’t— he shouldn’t—
“Talia is coming,“ Jason says desperately, grasping at straws, “She’ll be here soon. And she’s not going to be happy-“
Bruce’s eyes flash.
“That woman,“ he growls, voice dropping all the way past cold straight to sub zero, “Will never lay a hand on you ever again, Jason. I promise.“
“Ra’s-“
“Over my dead body, Little Wing,“ Dick says wetly, squeezing tight enough that Jason can feel the broken ribs shift. Over his shoulder, he can see Tim and Bruce exchange a grim look bordering on murderous, “Over my dead fucking body. Never again.“
Jason exhales.
Thirty hours. He can do this. Thirty hours, and Talia will get him out of here. Maybe beat some sense into him if he asks real nice.
“Fine,“ he rasps, sagging into Dick’s hold as Tim comes up to press himself cautiously against his good side. And when Bruce lays careful hand on his shoulder, Jason doesn’t shake it off, “Fine, let’s go back.“
“Jason, love, it has come to my attention that you are being well taken care of.“
“Get me out of here. Now.“
“Well, you see, there’s this awful little situation over in Germany that really needs my attention—“
“Talia-!“
“And as I’ve been informed, my Beloved has finally managed to dislodge that unfortunately placed stick of his-“
“Don’t you dare—“
“I shall be over in… a week’s time. I still think a good chat is in order. Perhaps even a bit of a stabbing, I am quite cross with him still…. He has caused you much distress.“
“No, no, no, no, get me out of here now-“
“Please try not to break any more bones in the meantime, habibi. Father always gets so awfully cross when the family line is threatened. Oh, and he has insisted on accompanying me. But do not worry about informing my Beloved, I wish for it to be a surprise.“
“Talia!“
“Hm, I think there was— oh! Yes, due to your recklessness, your brother has elected to run away and is due to arrive in Gotham any day now in his endeavour to come to your aid.“
“WHAT-!?“
“Yes, I think that is all. Be safe, sweet boy. I shall see you in a week’s time to have that chat with your father.“
“Talia!….. Talia?…. Fuck.“