Bruce loosed his tie and then, right after that, his belt buckle. He sighed, leaning back in his chair already feeling that heaviness that always overcomes a person after a giant Thanksgiving dinner. In the living room Bruce could hear that Dick, Tim, and Damien had turned the TV onto a football game and knew if he went over there he'd see them hunkered down with slices of pumpkin pie, staring intently at the screen. From a side hallway Alfred emerged, carrying an empty plate with the residue of grease and turkey gravy.
"I hope you weren't feeding that to Titus, Alfred." Bruce joked. "Damian spoils that dog enough as it is."
"Not quite, Sir." Alfred cast a pointed glance down at the untouched table setting left on the table, napkin still lying neatly folded on top of the plate. "It seems all of our young masters are having a filling Thanksgiving dinner tonight."
Bruce rose out of his seat, eyes gravitating towards the hallway Alfred had just come from. "You mean—"
"When I left him he was devouring a turkey leg. I doubt he's left yet."
Bruce raced down the hall, only barely aware of Dick's questioning call from behind him. The change in temperature and the smell of cigarette smoke told Bruce all he needed to know before he even saw Jason nestled on the window ledge, Tupperware container balanced in his lap.
"Jason."
Jason looked up sharply from the turkey leg he'd been going to town on. He promptly dropped the leg back into the container and wiped the grease off his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at Bruce taking a moment to inhale another breath of smoke before finally answering him.
"I'd say this wasn't what it looks like, but..." Jason shrugged.
He flashed one of those toothy grins that he seemed to hold in reserve just for Bruce. Though, Bruce barely ever saw him nowadays so it was almost impossible to tell. Still, Bruce liked to imagine that there was a part of Jason that remembered how Bruce would do anything to make his second son smile.
Jason's eyed him up and down, stopping with a smirk at Bruce's loosened belt buckle.
"Better watch it there, old man, or the Batsuit won't zip up."
Bruce stared out the window behind Jason where the smallest flurry of snowflakes was starting up again, adding to the couple of inches already covering the ground. "Come inside, Jason? It's freezing out there and I'm sure Dick and Tim would love to—"
Jason cut him off with a wave of his hand. Cigarette smoke floating out the window behind him with the gesture. "Come on, Bruce. We both know they don't want to see me anymore than I want to see them. It's the holidays, let's not make things uncomfortable."
"Jason, don't say that— please just—"
"No, really it's cool." Jason snapped the lid closed on the Tupperware container and slide off the sill into the snow. His boots crunched in the icy whiteness as he shuttled his feet. "I should head out anyway."
Bruce knew that family situations were a touchy issue with Jason. He remembered Alfred telling him to lead Jason into it slowly, not to come on too strong, but he couldn't stand having Jason alive and not have him in his life. How was he supposed to let Jason leave when he was standing right in front of him? When he was close enough for Bruce to pull him into his arms...
"I know you want to come in." Bruce gestured behind him. "Why don't you just—"
"No, I don't." Jason said, automatically refusing anything Bruce assumed. It was probably second nature by now. Jason never was one to let Bruce get his way.
Bruce grunted, his patience snapping. Forget what Alfred said. There was no sane way to reason with Jason. "Why can't you just admit—"
"You know what? This was a mistake." Jason flicked his unfinished cigarette onto the sill and turned away from the window. He yanked his hood up over his head to block out the snowfall.
Jason threw his hands up in the air and called out over his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself, Bruce. I just came here because Boston Market was too depressing. I don't need you or this family, so stop treating me like your lost sheep."
He faded into the snowy, blackness and Bruce debated throwing on a coat and following after him, but knew it would do no good. That anxious feeling Bruce held within himself whenever he thought about Jason out there on his own had dissipated a bit after seeing him tonight, but he knew it wouldn't take long for it to rise again. Bruce brushed off the cigarette and watched it burn a hole into the snow before fizzling out.
It was a few months later when he got the call.
"Bruce?" The voice was hard to identify at first, shaky and full of unsaid emotions, definitely not sharp and bitter as it had been the last time he'd said his name. But Bruce knew it all the same.
"Jason?" Asked Bruce. Upon hearing the name, Dick stopped so suddenly in his sparring session with Tim that Tim's roundhouse kick hit its mark. Dick absorbed the impact like it was only a minor distraction, eyes still fixed on Bruce.
"Hang on." He spoke distractedly to Tim and made his way over to Bruce.
"Jason?" he asked, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Sometimes Bruce forgot that Dick missed Jason just as much as he did. "Is that—"
"Shh," Bruce shushed him for Jason seems to be whispering is a rushed, hiccuping, manner that unsettled Bruce to his core even though he couldn't understand any of the words being spoken.
"Jason what's wrong? Speak clearly." Bruce used his Batman voice and it seemed to trigger something in Jason for he took a raspy sounding breath and started again.
"I was shutting down a human trafficking ring but— but things didn't go as planned. I got the women out before going after the traffickers but I didn't know there were kids there. Little kids, Bruce! I went back in and— and they were just lying there on the floor."
Bruce's chest constricted at the picture Jason painted in his head. "It okay, Jason. You didn't do anything wro-"
"Please come get me." It was whispered so softly that Bruce thought he must have imagined it at first. But no, Dick had picked up the other phone in the cave and had been listening in on their conversation. His oldest son's stricken expression was all the confirmation Bruce needed.
Bruce turned towards the batcomputer. "I'm coming, Jason. Tell me where you are."
"Kremenchuk, Ukraine."
"Can you give me a street name, Jason?" Bruce pushed.
"I— no, I don't remember— I—" He sounded so confused that it tore at Bruce's heart.
"That's alright, Jason. I can track this call, I just need you to stay on the line with me."
Bruce gestured insistently at Dick who started honing in on the signal. After that was the hustle of loading up the Batwing and the long flight across the Atlantic Ocean where Bruce had nothing to distract his mind from thinking of Jason. Was he alright? Was he safe?
He was alive. But that just made the scene in front of him so much more painful for Bruce. Jason sat in the field behind a warehouse with his knees pulled up against his chest, covered in dirt and blood. Around him were the freshly dug graves, and they were too small to be for anything but children.
Bruce picked his way through the torn up field and crouched down in front of Jason. He rubbed at Jason's back. At his touch Jason lifted his head out of his arms just enough for Bruce to see the trail marks of fresh tears before he dropped his face back into his hands.
Bruce planted himself down next to Jason, his hand never once leaving him, continuing to sooth him as best as he knew how. "It's okay, Jason. I'm here."