Chapter Text
There was a goddamn baby.
Those were the first words in Jason’s mind after the flash bang grenade went off, stunning him because he’d still had his fucking night vision on. A baby was screaming and someone drove what turned out to be a fucking sledgehammer into his gut, and even with armor that shit took his wind out.
The lights in the cellar had turned on and Jason was mostly blind but he could hear the muffled shouting of children locked in the next room over.
“This really should have been the first big hint for me,” Black Mask sounded about three yards away and Jason could shoot him now, could shoot everything in this room, but he can tell the bastard's holding the baby and there could very well be other kids in here. “What kind of crime boss gives free protection to orphans he’s not pulling from? You don’t sell to them, you don’t sell them to anyone. Drug lord with a heart of gold? Not likely.”
“Put the kid down, you sick fuck. This is between you and me.” He was blinking rapidly to clear the spots in his vision, hand clutching his gun with his finger on the trigger.
“That’s what I thought, before your old man started fighting his way through my boys. Figured it was time to cut the foreplay short.” Black Mask said , ignoring the baby’s wails. “You know when you first came to Gotham, you were like some kind of mythic figure. Built yourself up right quick, and no one knew who or what you were. But it turns out you’ve got one hell of a weak point, don’t you?”
There was Batgirl in his ear, “Hood we were right, this whole place reeks of gasoline, there has to be an incendiary device around."
That hammer came down on his head from behind, knocking him further onto his knees as Batgirl’s voice gave to static.
“I feel like you’re not entirely present, Hood.”
Jason’s eyesight had returned enough to see that Black Mask was holding the breathless, sniffling baby in one hand and a pistol in the other.
“This is as good as getting you by the balls, isn’t it? Maybe better.” Black Mask gave the infant a little jostle, causing it to whine loudly. “Red Hood, champion of the poor and the pitiful. Cute.”
“Tell me you have more planned than talking me to death.”
“Well I did order some toys for us to try out, but then you went and got them impounded. So here’s what we’re gonna do.” He cocked his pistol. “You’re going to have a seat and behave. Because if you don’t, I’m going to start feeding tragic little orphans into the furnace next door. Starting with this one.”
Jason gave a raspy laugh. “I’ve already played this game before. So not impressed.”
“We’ll see.”
Batgirl’s attention would be on finding the bomb, but a cellar this size had to have multiple entrances. With a quick movement he detached the suppressor on his gun and fired at nothing. The shot echoed loudly in the underground chambers. She’d hear it. He’d keep these fuckers entertained and she’d find the kids. She had to.
One of the goons kicked the gun from Jason’s hand, forcing him up and then into a creaky steel chair. His hands were bound to the armrests, putting sharp pressure on his braced wrist.
“I thought the point of this was that I wouldn’t struggle,” Jason said, flexing his fingers.
“I’m not an unfair man,” Black Mask said. “I don’t expect you to be fully able to help yourself.”
Stephanie flinched when she heard the gunshot, because for fuck’s sake the kitchen was so swamped in gas that Firefly’s sneeze could have set it off. But Jason wasn’t responding to comms and the shot had come from downstairs, a basement.
She’d told him it was a trap. The bomb would have to wait; it was safe to assume nothing was scheduled to blow before Black Mask and his men put the orphanage in their rearview mirror. The filtration mask on her face was designed for fear toxin but worked against gas leaks just as well as she searched for a basement entrance. She found one by the food storage doors and before she was halfway down the wooden stairs she could hear the shouting, desperate voices of children. The noise came from around the bend, as did the idle shuffling of a guard.
Bare lightbulbs were placed intermittently down the cold passageways of the cellar, the wires exposed and bolted to the stone ceiling; Stephanie sliced through them with a baterang and the entire hall fell into darkness.
“God damn slums and their faulty wiring,” A gruff voice said from beyond the shadows.
“I dunno, man. This place gives me the creeps. Who knows what shit is down here.”
“Well if it ain’t haunted yet, it’s gonna be.” There was the sound of a fist banging on heavy wood. “You brats hear that? Pipe down or you’ll all be seeing some ghosts real soon!”
In letting her eyes adjust, Stephanie could see the sliver of light that emanated from beneath a doorway. It made the bulky shadows that were the guards stand out all the more.
Her takedown was quick— a silencing hit to the throat, a tazer to the gut before spraying knock-out gas in the other guard’s face like it was mace. The door they’d been watching was old and a breeze to pick.
It opened up into a boiler room where immediately the wide eyes of nearly two dozen children turned to her.
“Batgirl!” Several of them jumped up, suddenly looking more excited than afraid.
“That's me. Is everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” One girl said, even though she was nursing a black eye. “My gran hit harder than these clowns.”
Stephanie’s mouth quirked. Crime Alley kids were something else.
“But the ugly guy took the new kid!” A small boy exclaimed, tugging Batgirl’s sleeve. “And we heard a gun -“
“First thing I need to do is get you out. Do you know how many men the ugly dude came here with?” Stephanie asked.
“There was these two,” one girl said, pointing at the unconscious men. “and maybe five more? There were others too, but I think they left. They said Batman was coming.”
A pause.
“But I think you’re way cooler.”
“Yes I am. What about a guy with a red helmet on his head? Makes him look kinda like a Lego man?”
“We know who Red Hood is," one boy said with a dramatic eye roll. "He has to be coming too, right? He's made bad men go away before."
Stephanie frowned. They hadn't seen Jason, but he would have to handle himself a little longer. The kids took priority.
"Okay. Now the way I came in isn’t safe, do you know of any other exits in this cellar?”
“Yeah, that way leads to the back garden,” One kid pointed down the darkened hall. “We’ve used it for fire drills.”
“Perfect! It’s a fire drill now, so do what your matron told you to when you need to evacuate.”
Immediately the kids began to clumsily pair into buddies, organizing into a haphazard line.
“Wow. That’s adorable. Alright, here we go.”
“So what’s the deal with you anyway? Obviously you and the Batman had a falling out. Didn’t hug you enough?” Black Mask asked, lighting a cigar.
He’d passed the baby to one of his men, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable about it.
Jason spat a wad of blood onto the cellar floor.
“Didn’t get me the new bicycle I wanted for Christmas.”
“Heh. Just funny to wrap the mind around, isn’t it? Up until a few years ago Batman was a fucking cryptid. People said he came out of a cave in the hills. But I can tell you weren’t raised in any woods. Gotham boy, no question.”
“I get that a lot.”
“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Hood. Still, I’m almost sad to see you go.” Black Mask tilted Jason’s head back, pensively examining his helmet.
“Ugh, dude. Personal space.”
Black Mask ignored him.
“What do you think the Batman’s gonna do about it, huh? As much as he did for the girl? As much as he’s ever done with the Joker?”
Jason grimaced.
“Because if that’s the case, I think that’s a big, fat nothing.” Black Mask flashed his bloodstained knife against the light. “And I think you think so too.”
When the explosion erupted, Jason almost wasn’t sure it was real. The world seemed to rock with the force of it, sending plumes of dust and dirt raining down upon them. Jason’s chair was knocked back, the smell of gasoline and smoke suddenly overpowering.
“What the fuck was that!? We still had—"
Jason was fumbling with his injured wrist and three broken fingers to undo his bindings amidst the shouts. He could barely see through the smoke but he could hear the baby screaming again, god—
Unfamiliar hands grasped him under the arms and Jason’s first instinct was to struggle, but his leg was busted and the smoke was filling his lungs in an all too familiar way.
It was one hell of a time to have a panic attack, because the urge to hyperventilate only made it worse, only made his chest burn hotter. The person manhandling him wasn’t built like a tank like Black Mask’s men, but leaner, and mostly dragged Jason across the ground.
“The baby!” Jason coughed. “You have to— fucking let go of me—"
The stranger didn’t speak, didn’t comply, only forced Jason further down the corridors of the cellar. Away from the fire and a voice he could swear was calling his name.
When Jason opened his eyes, all he saw was white.
He immediately felt somewhat pissed off, because he didn’t want heaven last time and he most definitely didn’t want it now, but a few blinks later he realized he was staring up at a ceiling. An unblemished ceiling in a clean, sterile room. He was lying in a hospital bed, body blissfully numb in a way that signified very good drugs.
Hospital. How did he get to a hospital? Jason stared vacantly at his surroundings for what felt like moments to his fuzzy brain but was probably several minutes. He flinched when the door opened and a nurse poked her head in.
“Welcome back, Mr. Head. How are you feeling?”
“Mister… what?” His voice was rough and broken.
“That’s the name on your chart.” The nurse continued, unfazed. “Do you prefer Jason?”
He gave the nurse a long, blank look, cogs in his mind slowly turning.
Oh. Did they find his old credit cards? But he didn’t usually take those with him as Red Hood.
“… It’s pronounced ‘heed’,” he said finally, letting her shine a flashlight in his eyes.
“Ah, I see. My apologies.”
Jason reflexively checked his wrists. They weren’t cuffed to the bed.
“How long have I been here?”
“You were brought in two nights ago. You’re quite lucky. We see a lot of gang beatings in here, and most of them don’t come out of it as well as you did.”
Jason blinked uncomprehendingly, but the nurse seemed to dismiss it as him being high to the point of stupidity.
The doctor came a few minutes later, talking about a mild concussion, a broken leg, three broken fingers, a sprained wrist, fractured collar bone, mild damage from smoke inhalation, multiple lacerations and an even longer catalog of additional minor injuries. Asked him if he remembered the assault (“Not really”) and mentioned that the cops would be by to take his statement later (“Can’t wait”). He let himself pass out in the hopes of prolonging that little discussion, and woke up some hours later with a clearer head and a more persistent ache in his battered body.
When his bleary vision came back into focus, it was on the sharp points of perfectly lacquered nails tapping against crossed arms.
“Oh no,” Jason hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Please be a hallucination.”
“Wishful thinking does not suit you, Jason.”
“I’m unconscious. Go away.”
“You will open your eyes and face me like the man you claim to be,” Talia al Ghul said, unamused. “I have traveled too far and witnessed too much of the mess you’ve made to accept any less.”
“You came from Metropolis, that’s like a 5 hour drive, tops.” Jason coughed.
Everything about Talia was precise and severe, from the arc of her eyeliner to the point of her heels. She was dressed in business casual and looking at Jason like she was about to tell him why he’d failed his performance review. Maybe she was.
“I am very disappointed, dearest. All of the time and resources I invested in you, and you still go and repeat past mistakes.”
Jason gave her a dark look, anger licking through his chest.
“I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for Batman. Lives were at stake.”
“Oh I speak not for your ridiculous proclivity for self-sacrifice. I have long grown resigned to that unfortunate quality of yours,” Talia said with a dismissive wave. “I’m referring to your recklessness. You have let your emotions get the better of you, again, to the detriment of your work.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get stupid when I’m angry, I get it,” Jason said. “I didn’t need you to blow up an orphanage. Or leave a baby to die.”
“My subordinates were only following orders to save your life. The diversion was necessary,” Talia said. “In any case Batman arrived very shortly after my agents and the infant you speak of was extracted.”
Jason felt his anger deflate somewhat. “And Black Mask?”
“They are still searching the rubble for him and his men. So your distaste for my methods aside, it seems to have ended more favorably than your plan to be tortured to death.”
“What the hell else was I supposed to do? Black Mask had me over a barrel. And from the start none of this was actually my fault!”
“Fault is irrelevant. Your handling of the situation is what I take issue with. One call to me and I could have had that disgusting creature disposed of within the week.”
“Well excuse me if I don’t ring others up to fight my battles!”
Talia al Ghul had a glare that could make the devil flinch and Jason found his gaze lowering.
“You are a stubborn and sentimental boy,” she said coldly. “And I blame myself for how I’ve spoiled you.”
Jason’s head snapped up.
“Spoiled—!”
“I allowed you to work independently and unsupervised when you were nowhere near stable enough. I was emotionally compromised when I made that decision, and it was my error to allow it to stand for so long.”
Jason opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. “You— I don’t— fucking obviously you haven’t, since you have your damn ninjas in the wings to haul my ass out of burning buildings!”
“I always keep tabs on your and Damian’s progress,” Talia said flippantly. “And it was not hard to hear you were having troubles. I see you have not yet mastered the art of subtlety.”
Jason huffed, staring determinedly at the wall.
“Well, it’s done now. Black Mask isn’t going to be a problem anymore. The end.”
“Hardly.”
At that moment the door was forcefully swung open. Bruce Wayne was in the doorway, looking like his grip could break the handle off and his gaze could set fire to the pieces.
It really wasn’t fair for the universe to throw this at Jason when he couldn’t even hobble away.
“Talia.”
“Beloved,” Talia said with faux politeness. “I expected you sooner.”
“What are you doing here.”
“What I have always done. Tending to my responsibilities.”
“I’m not your - “
Jason was silenced by a sharp look. Apparently he didn’t have a place in this conversation.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“The obvious requires no explanation. Your son’s health, his education, his financial support for the past six years did not manifest from the aether.”
Jason kept his eyes on his toes, fists clenching the sheets and willing himself to wake up from this drug-induced fever dream. Talia couldn’t be doing this, not after everything -
“For how long.” Bruce didn’t slam the door shut, but closed in a firm and controlled way that was somehow more intimidating. "How long did you keep him from me."
The temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees as Talia and Bruce stared each other down.
“I don’t know how recent it was after his resurrection that I found him,” Talia said finally. “He has no clear memory of that time; whatever unearthly force orchestrated his revival, it only truly healed his mortal wound."
"… Jason asphyxiated,” Bruce said tightly, like the words were sharp in his mouth.
“His lungs were indeed functional. His brain on the other hand, suffered severe impact trauma. He was barely responsive. I tried everything to restore him but my father grew impatient and would have sent him away. So I did the only thing left I could.”
“So it was a Lazarus pit after all.”
“Only for a moment. Unfortunately I underestimated the pit's influence: the waters go to the most pressing injury, and in healing his mind they saturated it. Though I tried to stall his bloodlust with training and teachers, the effects lingered for well over a year."
Bruce glowered at her for a long moment.
“You created the Red Hood."
Jason lurched to sit up at that because how fucking dare, but Talia stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"Don't be so quick to deny the boy credit. He is committed and driven for his cause,” Talia said. "I risked my father's wrath for his sake and it was worth the effort. Jason is remarkably gifted.”
"You taught him to kill."
"I helped him to channel the pit madness, and it was no easy task,” Talia said, utterly unapologetic.
Bruce's face became even more cold.
“So. You’ve had him since the beginning and never thought to tell me.”
“My father forbade it. And even so, I would not return him broken or rabid. By then the circumstances were not favorable, as you know.”
“If your goal wasn’t to use my son against me or return him, why? Not charity. You must have had some endgame in mind.”
“I… had modest notions that one day he could be the right hand of our son,” Talia said carefully.
Jason’s eyebrows shot up because he had certainly never heard that before.
“But that was not my goal nor motivation.” She kept a placating hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Everything that I have done, that I’ve ever done, has been out of love.”
Bruce looked at her critically, as if trying to gauge her sincerity. Talia kept her head level and maintained his gaze.
“And what will you do now?”
“I allowed Jason to leave too soon, and his lifestyle has only enabled his more unhealthy tendencies. It’s of no benefit to him to continue in this fashion.”
“I’m doing just fine.”
"I have been by your hovel," Talia said coolly. "It is even more distasteful in person, and the view from my surveillance did it no favors. I have stored all of what seems to be of value and suggest you burn the rest."
“You can’t - the past two months have been rough okay, excuse me for letting the interior decor slip a little -”
"You have more than enough funds at your disposal to keep yourself from living in squalor. I find your masochism troubling."
“I needed to live in the rougher side of town, that was the point. And any of the revenue I make from my operation either gets recycled back into it or redistributed to the community. I'm not here to make money."
"That is fortunate considering that your empire has crumbled around you in a matter of weeks," Talia said. "Gotham is no longer safe for you. Come with me, Jason. You will be safe and we can further your training if that is your wish."
"Out of the question,” Bruce said.
"And what right do you have to deny me?" Talia asked. "What reason does Bruce Wayne have to even be in this room? I have no doubt you'd concoct some passable fabrication. But once again I have made family my first priority,” Talia said. "Surely you cannot expect Jason to stay. He is targeted by every malefactor and hoodlum in the state, and more will come."
"Leaving Gotham isn't the problem. It's leaving with you and your assassins that I take issue with."
"Oh my god, will you two stop? I'm not leaving Gotham." They both opened their mouths, but Jason was done being cut off. "You honestly think I'm going to let Black Mask actually drive me out of town?”
"Jason. Red Hood served a purpose but that project is done," Talia said in a way that was firm and gentle and so maternal it made Jason's insides twist. “Even with your enemy perishing in the fire, your subordinates have abandoned you and your weakness is widely known.”
"So I'll start over."
"You have made such a spectacle of yourself that any new face that emerges with methods similar to yours will be suspected. Returning to this wretched city at any juncture is ludicrous. Your stubbornness is going cost you your life."
"Again, you mean." Jason snapped, turning on Bruce. "So what? If I don't go with her, what hole are you gonna toss me into to keep me out of trouble this time?”
Bruce paused, clearly trying to choose his words carefully.
"Your estrangement from the family has everyone who's ever been slighted by us seeing you as an ideal target.”
"Thanks for the cliff notes detective, any other great insight to share?"
"If you were to come back..."
"No. Fuck no. We've established that I'm a screwup, okay, fine! But if you think that I'm going to come crawling back to the nest for daddy's protection so you can all treat me like some rabid pet, you can get fucked!" Jason didn't care if the entire ward heard him.
"I know this is difficult for you," Bruce said sternly. "But no matter what, I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety, even as you insist on sabotaging it for your pride."
"Pride!? You—"
“Have been chasing you up and down the city trying to preserve your wellbeing."
Jason scoffed. "Is that what that was? Because from where I'm standing it looked a lot like pity because everyone found out I spent my formative years whoring!"
"I will not permit you to speak that way about yourself," Talia said dangerously.
"I let perverts fuck me for money.” Jason hissed. "I'm pretty sure that's the definition of a whore."
"Jason," Bruce stepped forward, resting a tentative hand on the bed. "You are not staying in Gotham unless it's as an integrated member of the fold, and that's not happening unless you follow the rules. As a vigilante, not a crime lord."
"Why." Why don’t you just cut your losses already. “I’ve already broken your rule a hundred times over.”
Bruce's eyes were intense.
"Because you are my son. No matter what else has happened.” Bruce turned to Talia. “There are still things we need to talk about.”
“Understood. But perhaps it is not a discussion we should have in front of the boy.”
Bruce’s gaze flickered to Jason, softening in that awful, guilty way as they passed over his injuries.
“Very well.”
“Hey, you can’t just...!"
“We will return to you shortly.” Talia patted Jason’s unbandaged knee. “You and I must still rehearse your cover story before the authorities arrive.”
His cover story was that he'd been a good samaritan investigating the burning orphanage, only to get his ass beat by Black Mask’s men. It was humiliating, but Talia curtly replied that it was no more than what he deserved.
After the officers left Jason let the hours pass in a haze of drugs. One minute he’d close his eyes, the next there’d be a food tray and a paperback on his table. It was one from his childhood collection, and thumbing through the worn pages he could see all of the little scribbling notes he’d made in the margins. He wasn’t really sober enough to retain anything he read, but his chest clenched up all the same. He pinned it on the smoke damage and put the book aside.
There was only a brief knock on the door before it opened, too quick for Jason to feign unconsciousness.
“Um, hey.” Dick gently shut the door behind him. “Doctors say you’ll be released soon.”
Jason said nothing.
“I’m not here to chew you out. I mean, I’m really pissed at you, frankly, for running off but... I just want to talk.”
Dick took a seat at a respectable distance from the bed.
“I know we never really got along when you lived at the manor. That you think I didn’t care about your death—"
Christ, he was actually trying to continue their conversation from that night on the roof, after Deathstroke. How fucking long had he been rehearsing this?
“Of course you cared, Dick. Same as you care when any schmuck dies within a ten mile radius of you.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I so don’t want to be having this conversation. Look, fine, you’re sorry. I release you from your fucking guilt or whatever, geez.”
“Jason, that’s not…” Dick pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “It’s not fine. You were— you’re family. I didn’t mean to make you feel like anything less. It was just the timing; Bruce and I weren’t speaking, my own life was a mess and to be painfully honest… I think I was a little jealous.”
Jason blinked uncomprehendingly.
“Of what?”
Dick shifted uncomfortably, waving his arm in a vague motion. "I mean, geez it's— I know Bruce doesn't have favorites—"
Jason snorted.
"But a guy could really be forgiven for thinking it’d been you.”
"The fuck are you talking about."
Dick groaned, running a hand roughly through his hair.
“That’s how it felt. He was so excited to have you, everyone could see it. Practically glowing when he talked about you, how eager you were, how savvy, how quick you learned and how hard you worked. You made him laugh on the anniversary of his parents' deaths for god’s sake; you were the best and you would have been the best and he’d have given you everything. While I just faded out of his life.”
Jason shifted uncomfortably. “Oh please. He never let me out of his damn sight because he didn't even trust me to handle shit alone."
"Okay yes, he did smother you a little. And again, maybe the way he and I left things off had something to do with it,” Dick said. "Look, my relationship with him was a wreck so seeing you two made me feel, I dunno, like I was the trial run. The lead-up to the real son. And officially you were his son before I was."
"That doesn't mean anything. The fact that he still adopted you when you were a grown ass man just shows it," Jason said, avoiding Dick's gaze. "You were the one who could do no wrong. I was always fucking up."
"Jason, you scared him. A lot. He couldn't understand why you were always throwing yourself into dangerous situations without thought or care for your safety. Making light of life and death like… like you were expendable.” Dick sighed. "I really am sorry I wasn't there more. I've been sorry for years. After a point I figured that you and Bruce were all the two of you needed and that I'd be the interloper. All the stuff that was happening in my own life made it easier to stay away."
"And then I was just a tacky plaque and a cautionary tale, I get it."
“That’s… yeah the memorial is really terrible, I hate that thing." Dick ran a hand through his hair. "And we didn't cope in the healthiest or most respectful of ways. And then were back, completely different and threatening my loved ones… I didn’t want to make the connection between Red Hood and the boy we lost. It was easier to go on like you were…”
“Like I was what?”
“I don’t know. Someone else! Something else. I don’t know.”
“You’ve still been mourning me. You and the old man, both. Mourning the boy that died, with Red Hood as some nightmare here to make you miserable.”
“Jason-“
“That’s how you see me, isn’t it? I’m the ghost that’s insulting that dead kid’s memory." Jason sank into the bed. "Was hearing about what I used to do what shocked your system? Big, bad Red Hood is still just that stupid, broken kid he always was.”
“Don't say that. What happened to you doesn't make you lesser. And maybe I'm the last person you want to talk to about it but... you can. You might find me a better listener than you think." Dick sighed. “Losing you changed me too. Afterwards, I couldn’t go a day without obsessing over keeping the others safe. Then you came back, guns blazing and people were dying— what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t take a chance with lives at stake. We would have wanted nothing more than to have you home, me and Bruce and Alfred— and god, Jason, Tim thought the world of you.”
Jason refused to lean away as Dick stood up.
“It isn't always easy for us, either. Following the rule. We’ve all lost, we’ve all been hurt—”
“Then when is it enough, Dick? Because I wasn’t enough. So tell me what is!”
“It isn’t about what’s enough.”
“Bullshit! If someone killed you, he would cross the line.”
“I would never want him to do that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But he would.”
“He wouldn't. You only think that because that's what love means to you. It's not universal.” Dick grasped Jason by the shoulders. “Bruce loves you. He’s let you run wild across this city on account of loving you. I had to be the one ready to stop you when he couldn’t! I had to be ready to take that burden, and maybe I couldn’t do it without pretending that you weren’t the same brother I lost. And for that, I am sorry.”
Dick sank back into his chair. For a long moment they sat in silence.
“It didn’t help, you know. Killing the Joker.”
Jason froze.
“I’m sorry. What?”
Dick had the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.
“He hurt Tim. And then he mentioned you, and I just. I lost control. He was resuscitated, but. I did it. He was dead.”
Dick sighed heavily and Jason lay back in the bed. The tension seemed to ebb from the room, leaving them both empty and tired.
“I’m not proud of it, even if the world would be better without him. You know it’s what he wants, don’t you? To push us over the edge. He was the winner that day. He wins every time we break on his behalf.” Dick lowered his hands and his eyes were bloodshot, but dry. “Maybe it’s worth thinking about, Jason. Did you remake the Red Hood? Because from where I’m sitting, it’s still got the Joker’s signature all over it.”
He got up, only to hover at the door.
“I heard about Talia. I don’t have the full story, but going by experience… you know she’s using you, right?“
"Sure.” Jason used her too.
"And you trust her?"
"Talia's a lot of things. But no matter what, she's never given up on me. And yeah, maybe she helped make me into what I am now, which isn't all good, but… there's something to be said for being enough for somebody."
“You've always been good enough, Jason.”
Jason huffed humorlessly. “Not even close."
When Jason was released from the hospital no one even mentioned the bill. He shook his head as he stiffly hobbled his way through the lobby, the old paperback weighing down his jacket pocket. He did not want to imagine Talia and Bruce playing at who could throw their money down the fastest. When he saw the swarm of people standing outside the hospital, it simply didn’t connect in his brain that they might be there for him.
Then the cameras started flashing, and he regretted everything.
Security personnel herded the press out of his way as Jason started scanning the area for his cab. Instead a gleaming black limousine was pulling up at the curb, presumably to cart him to an even deeper ring of hell. He climbed in, fully prepared to spear someone with his crutch.
Bruce was sat opposite of him, hands folded in his lap.
“What the fuck is this.”
“See for yourself.”
There was a folded newspaper beside him on the seat, which Jason tore open with a vengeance. The second he saw the author was Vicki Vale he felt his mood worsen.
On late Tuesday night Talia Head came to Gotham after her nephew, Jason Head was rushed to Gotham General Hospital. The 21-year-old had taken notice of the fire at Park Row Orphanage, which was the latest casualty in the power struggle between Gotham crime lords Red Hood and Black Mask, and was subjected to a brutal gang assault.
Head, acting CEO of LexCorp since the success of President Luthor's campaign, made the trip from Metropolis in record time to assume control of her nephew's care. Curiously enough, she was met at Gotham General by the city's own Bruce Wayne.
Ever since becoming the primary sponsor of the Justice League, Bruce Wayne has made the notable transition from wealthy playboy to philanthropic family man, accompanied less and less by Parisian supermodels in favor of the rotation of dark-haired, blue-eyed children under his care.
However Wayne’s ardent past returned to public attention two years ago in the form of Damian Wayne, whose arrival in Gotham brought to light his scandalously clandestine (and stunningly short-term) youthful elopement with Head. Unfortunately, this most recent reunion between old flames was less than serendipitous.
"They went into one of the empty offices to talk,” claimed an anonymous member of hospital staff. "I couldn’t make it all out but it seemed very much like they were arguing about how the boy had been raised."
Could this be yet another ghost of our resident billionaire's licentious youth? When asked on the matter, Wayne declined to comment save for the request that the Head family be granted respect and privacy at this time.
"Declined. Comment." Jason's voice was dangerously low and he could feel the newspaper tearing under his fingers. "Are you fucking joking."
“Talia was adamant,” Bruce said, infuriatingly calm. “That your lack of personhood was making you… irresponsible. And frankly I agreed that it wasn't a healthy way to live.”
“Well it wasn’t her decision, or yours! Now you've backed me into a fucking corner with this shit!"
Jason threw the article off his lap, the papers airily drifting to the floor.
"She did this on purpose," Jason said. "She fucking - I know she did. I know her. Always trying to 'handle' me while letting me think I'm in control like I'm not gonna notice. Tying me up with this civilian bullshit and making a media circus out of it to boot - like I really want to spend my life being suspected as your secret bastard lovechild—"
"Denying will only make it worse. I've gone through this before."
Jason scowled. Shortly after Tim was adopted the papers had started coming up with all sorts of ridiculous theories about the potential affair between Janet Drake and Bruce Wayne, digging up photos of every time the two of them had been within ten feet of each other. He remembered having a good laugh about it.
"This wouldn't be a problem if you diversified your taste in tragic orphans," Jason said, brushing paper scraps off his knee. "And if the media could distinguish between different shades of skin.”
Because really, anyone who thought he could pass as Talia's blood was insane. He and Bruce had a similar build, but come on. Surely that couldn't be enough.
“She made some good points, Jason. Even with Black Mask out of the picture, you can’t go back to how things were. No cartel is going to fall under the command of a former Robin, and no police force is going to cooperate with a crime lord. You either work with the family, or leave Gotham.”
“And if I leave with her. You’re fine with that.”
“No.” Bruce admitted. “But I can’t really stop you.”
“I thought you always could. That’s what you said.”
Bruce looked at Jason, steel blue eyes too resolute and too earnest.
“I lied.”
Jason breathed deep, unable to maintain that eye contact.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. And I don’t appreciate the two of you making plans for me behind my back,” Jason said. “You want me to play by your rules when I’m in Gotham… fine. But you’re not my boss. I don’t report to you, I don’t check in every hour and relay all my comings and goings. And if I change my mind then that’s my choice too.”
“Alright.”
“Alright?” Jason asked skeptically, eyebrow raised. “I haven’t promised you anything.”
“You’ve declared the willingness to cooperate. To try,” Bruce said. “It’s enough.”
“For now, maybe. You’re treating me like a work in progress.”
“I’m treating you like the son I want to come home. Whom I have nearly lost again because he doesn't believe I love him.”
Jason's breath caught and he became suddenly fascinated with the stitching of his cast.
The rest of the drive was silent. As they proceeded up the long, winding road to the estate, Jason couldn’t help but note that it was the first time in years that he’d approached the manor from this direction. He’d been in the cave, but not his former home. The grounds were flush with autumn and he was immediately hit with the familiarity of it all.
“I don’t need to be here.”
“Talia sent your things this morning. And Alfred insisted on seeing you,” Bruce said. “He would have visited in the hospital, but was otherwise occupied.”
“Really. With what? Don't tell me someone got hurt on Drake's audit for white collar crime.”
"Not exactly." Something about Bruce seemed stiff and uncomfortable in that moment. "Anyway. Your effects are in the garage, and you're more than welcome to stay for dinner."
Jason then watched as the man all but fled before they were more than a few paces into the entrance hall. Weird. Jason shrugged to himself and let memory guide him through the halls and into the kitchen— the room he had probably spent the most of his time in, after the library.
Alfred was at the counter, the apron around his waist so pristine Jason wondered why he needed it at all.
“Master Jason. I’m very glad to see that you’re here, if a little worse for wear.” Alfred switched off a whirring food processor and circled the island to put a paternal hand on his shoulder. “I apologize for not being available earlier.”
“Yeah, no problem. I know you do the work of ten men up here. And it's not like me getting battered is anything new.”
Alfred frowned in that instantly guilt-inducing way. “Which is not something I personally find amusing, young man.”
“Right. Sorry. So what was the emergen—" Jason jumped at the sudden shriek that rang through the kitchen.
It was emanating from the baby monitor on the counter.
“… What is that.”
“Master Jason,”
“No, Alfred, what the fuck is that?”
“Language, sir. We still enforce the swear jar in this house.”
“That— no. He didn’t. Tell me he didn’t.”
The crying dissipated in favor of what sounded like Stephanie and Damian softly bickering about bottle temperature.
“I’m afraid that this week's incident almost completely destroyed the Park Row Orphanage.” Alfred continued. “The children had to be moved, and the young sir in particular needed some rather expensive medical care. Master Bruce took it upon himself to oversee it.”
“Alf. Bruce cannot be allowed to raise an infant. And I know picking up the slack when he’s being useless is what you do, but with a baby? I mean, don’t take this wrong but… how old are you now anyway?”
Alfred's eyebrow ticked.
“Your father assures me that Master Terry’s stay is quite temporary.”
The wry tone in the butler’s voice told Jason exactly how much he believed that.
“Well. At least I’ll be old news once this gets out.”
“Most happy for you, sir.”
Jason took a perch at his old stool at the counter, the whole experience feeling thoroughly dream like. There must have been sedatives in the cocktail his nurses gave him.
Alfred ladled some of the fresh baby food into a small bowl.
“If you would be so kind, Master Jason.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” He took the bowl, even though the absolute last thing he wanted right now was to get within pouncing distance of Damian.
“And while you're upstairs you might as well rest in the bed I've prepared. We will wake you for dinner.”
“Real slick, Alf. I'm probably not staying that long.”
Alfred hummed disapprovingly as Jason took the service elevator. He was halfway to his destination when his phone rang.
“You’d better be calling to apologize.”
“I will not. I’m making contact to apprise you on a completely different matter.”
“Then I’m busy.”
“I require your assistance in relation to LexCorp.”
Jason groaned. It wasn’t common, but neither was it strange for Talia to call on him on occasion for little errands or jobs that she needed to keep quiet, even within the Assassins’ League.
“Absolutely fucking not. Did you miss the memo I sent out that clearly stated how I don’t fuck with those mad science richboy cases? Because it’s still valid.”
“You will censor your vulgarity in my presence,” Talia said sharply. “As you know, I have been made responsible for Luthor’s assets while he entertains himself with politics. I may have discovered something that will need delicate handling.”
“You know I’m the most delicate guy around,” Jason said cautiously. “What’s the deal?”
“We will talk more about this later, when you’re well,” Talia said. “But there is a certain project scheduled for destruction that could prove a valuable asset. However, saving it would require a most… unfortunate theft.”
“Ah." The elevator rattled to a stop. "Well I might know a half decent thief.”