A/N: For the record, I blame ScaryScarecrows for this (check out her stories if you love Jason and/or Jonathan Crane. McStaken is also recommended if you like Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane)... We were talking and... Well, motivation + feeling angsty = this, apparently. So here you go! Make of this what you will, and I hope you... like it.

Italics are memories.

Don't forget to Review! :)

Here I go in my feelings again, I can feel it again

So I lay in my bed, in my cell with the pen

And I dwell on my sins, I keep wonderin' when

Time to open the the door is, they don't know who I am.

- Outcast, NF

I need somebody I know I can trust (yeah)

I mean, I'm being honest

- You're Special, NF

Memories and Gravestones

Gotham City. It was a beautiful city, if looked at from afar. The tall buildings, the skyscrapers... All of it's beautiful twinkling lights. Funny, isn't it, how each little light represents life, when there are so much more who don't have a light to represent themselves in Gotham's streets. Her jewel, he had to say, was Wayne Tower. Maybe he's biased, maybe not, who's to say? Not like much anyone cared. For most other inhabitants of Gotham, today was just another regular day. A regular night.

Well he hasn't been a regular inhabitant of Gotham and her streets for a while now.

Jason sighed, watching as his breath billowed out in front of him. No, he wasn't smoking. Not right now, at least. When he got back to his apartment, however, Jason might smoke a whole pack. One thing was for sure, though: there would be no sleeping tonight. Or tomorrow night... Maybe not even the night after.

Doesn't matter. S'not like anyone really cares. Today, everyone avoids him. Actually, the entire week he's avoided like the plague. Hm. Jason wonders if they think they're being courteous, leaving him alone with his thoughts. To be fair, tonight he wasnt getting shit-faced drunk in some bar in the Bowery like he'd normally be. Nah, tonight is much more... quiet.

Graveyards tend to be like that, he'd heard. Nah. Like he remembered.

Jason let himself relax against his headstone, his legs stretched out on the grass. His upper body was propped up on the headstone, and he let his head gently 'thunk' against the smooth surface.

Half-lidded acidic green eyes gazed up at the star-sprinkled night sky, dazedly. How long had it been since he'd visited this place? Jason couldn't remember.

He sighed, sliding his eyes shut; allowed the memories of that day to wash over him. This would be the first time Jason tries this tactic. Huh. Wonder if it works.

|~oOo~|

Jason took a deep gasp, his eyes snapping open. The last thing he remembered was searing pain engulfing him, then... Nothing. How hadn't he died? That explosion should have killed him!

His heart skipped a beat. That means Bruce saved him! He got there in time! But... Where was Bruce, then, and why is it so dark?

Why can't he breathe? Where is he?

Jason tried to move, but his arms met resistance.

Oh no.

Jason, refusing to allow himself to panic yet, lifted his arms stiffly. Why do they hurt so bad? Why is he so sore?

Testing the area around him, Jason finally allowed himself a few seconds of panic when he realized that he was in a coffin. That meant Bruce hadn't saved him. Why was Jason alive then? What was going on?

How can he get out.

Jason didn't have any of his tools or gagets since he'd been buried as Jason Todd and not Robin. All he had were his hands, and... And his belt buckle.

Slowly, Jason began removing his belt, hacking away at the lid to his coffin with a frantic pace. The air was getting suffocating, and Jason was about to have another panic attack.

No. No, he wouldn't let himself deal with another one yet. Once he was out, maybe, but not now.

It took longer than he'd have liked, but bleeding and broken fingers later, that strangled gasp of fresh air almost made all the pain worth it. Then everything went black.

Next thing Jason remembers is opening his eyes to see nothing but fiery green swim in his vision.

Oh the pain. It seared throughout his body, consuming it in it's bitter embrace. He surged upwards, feet finding traction against the ground which was surprisingly close to his body.

For the second time he could remember, Jason took a deep gasp of much-needed air. But the clarity was only there for a second, before Jason remembered getting this... this urge to kill. And he did. Three assassins before he was subdued and Talia spoke to him.

He remembers hating the bitch. Hating her for keeping him from his father.

Gradually, his memories become much, much worse. They get nothing but darker as they progress.

|~oOo~|

Jason continues breathing. The breaths come rasped and irregularly, but that's fine. Panic attacks are frequent this week. The week he clawed his way out of his grave.

He began hyperventilating and Jason screwed his eyes shut tighter, slowly bringing his knees up to his chest and bracing his arms around them. He lied on his side, still half-leaning on the headstone as he hid his head in his legs. Violent shudders began controlling his body as Jason succumed to the panic attack. Sweat beaded his forehead and Jason's eyes screwed shut tighter.

Yeah he's used to waiting out the attack. What? He does it a lot. S'not like there's anyone who'll be there by his side.

While he coped with the panic attack, Jason allowed himself to feel. He allowed himself his emotions.

The heaviness in his chest threatened to swallow him whole coupled with the emptiness and pain he held inside on a day-to-day basis. The sadness, the despair...

The lonliness.

Jason allowed it all to run it's course on him. He whimpered, at first, clutching his legs tighter and closer to himself; burying his head further in his legs. Soon, he was sobbing hysterically. It was too much for him to bear alone, but... Alone he was.

And, really, could he blame them?

When he came back, Jason was nothing shy of hostile and volatile. Yeah, yeah, Pit madness and whatnot, but that's hardly an excuse for what he did to Repl - to Tim. His adoptive little brother. It was no excuse for what he did overall. He'd been aggressive towards anyone and everyone who dared to near him.

It was okay if they let him be alone. It's...

This is all on him.

Y'know, for all Bruce claims to have surveillance on the grave, it's awfully quiet (aside from his hysterical sobbing)... Huh. And t'think, Jason had come here specifically hoping Bruce would be there. Hoping Bruce would come for him.

Maybe it was too much to hope for. Like he'd previously mentioned, Jason had wronged the Bat-Clan so much the last few years...

Maybe this is Bruce getting back at him. Y'know, giving him what he deserves.

Mayb- "Jason."

Oh. Bruce?

Jason heard the rustling of a coat, and he quieted his sobbing to whimpers and sniffles. "Bru-uce?" Wow, his voice was pitiful. All pleading, hoarse, low and shaky.

"I'm here Jay-lad." A gentle tug on his arm.

Jason didn't budge, the tremors still wracking his body as he continued to muffle his sobs. Another tug on his arm and Jason loosened the death-grip he had on his legs. Another, firmer tug on his arm and Jason allowed Bruce to move it away. "Jason, look at me."

So he did. Jason opened his eyes and looked up slowly. Bruce was in full Batman garb, kneeling next to his wayward son.

Bruce pulled Jason against his chest, holding him close and wrapping the cape around their bodies as Jason clutched at Bruce tightly and began sobbing even harder into Bruce's - into his Dad's, uniform, once again screwing acidic green eyes shut. He may look desperate, clingy, and needy, but that's just... What he was.

"Shh, Jason, it's alright. I'm right here. I won't let you go. I won't leave you, son, ever again. Never, okay?" Bruce continued to murmur reassurances to Jason as his brothers arrived.

Jason noticed them, of course he did, but he couldn't bring himself to care about them witnessing his weakness. It was... liberating, if that made sense.

Dick was the first to move, kneeling beside his father and hurting little brother. He wrapped his arms around the two when Bruce shifted the cape aside. Jason nearly had another panic attack because to Jason, Bruce's cape shielded him - protected him from all the dangers he was otherwise exposed to. Then Nightwing embraced him too, and Jason couldn't help the twinge in his chest or the sob that escaped his lips and he curled tighter into the two. Dick's eyes watered at the pain he couldn't protect his Little Wing from and tears silently dripped down his cheeks.

Tim soon moved to kneel on Jason's other side, hugging him tentatively at first, but relaxing when Jason rested his forehead on Tim's shoulder.

Jason lifted a trembling hand and clutched Tim's vest as tightly as he was the back of Bruce's. With a twist in his own chest, Tim held Jason tighter, assuring the older he was there.

Damian was the most hesitant of the brothers, but moved to kneel beside them when Grayson held out an arm, beckoning him forward with tear-streaked cheeks and tear-glazed royal blue eyes. Glancing at his father, Damian saw glossy tears in Bruce's own eyes, though he never saw one slip down his father's face. Damian kneeled opposite to his father and wrapped his arms around Todd slowly; carefully.

Jason leaned into Damian's hold, feeling the youngest of his brothers snuggle against him tighter, and his heart squeezed painfully when Bruce's, Tim's, and Damian's capes covered the family huddled around their suffering bat - protecting him from the harshness of his life; protecting him from anything that dares even think of harming him.

He recognized the gesture and it made his heart stutter and twinge... In a good, warm way. Jason felt... Safe.

And this...

Jason needed this. To be comforted. To...

To feel loved.