Note: So... perhaps the main reason for writing this is because I feel like there aren't a lot of stories about Bruce and younger Jason. (The reason I wrote Mending the Wounded as well.) At this point, I'm sure my affinity for the character of Jason Todd is no secret, and I've always had a love for the relationship Bruce might have had with pre-Red Hood Jason. It's something I would like to see explored/explore more myself.
I'm not entirely satisfied with the way this turned out, but I do hope that it is enjoyable. :)
I'm going to dedicate this story to my two amazing friends, Meritt and Purplehood, because they are both so incredibly encouraging and I'm not sure where my writing would be without them!
Jason was sitting on the couch.
His knees were pulled to his chest. His fingers still gripped the blanket Alfred had caringly draped over his shoulders in a tight, white-knuckled grip.
He'd been like that for the past half an hour.
Bruce stepped into the room, frowning when his approach garnered no response from the boy.
He'd been on the receiving end of Crane's toxin dozens of times. Not one of those times had been pleasant.
And how much worse did it have to be for Jason?
The boy was only thirteen.
Alfred had started a fire for the boy's benefit. Its light filled the otherwise dark room with a warm glow.
The light of the fire reflected off his face, shining on his still damp hair.
They'd had him.
He was on the rooftop, cornered.
There was nowhere for him to go.
The rain was pouring down, obscuring the scene in front of him, but even still, Batman could see the sudden flicker of red, yellow and green in the corner of his vision just fine.
"Robin, no!"
Bruce swallowed thickly, and carefully lowered himself onto the couch next to the boy.
"Jason," he said softly. Jason shifted underneath the blanket. He gave no other sign that he had heard him, or that he even was aware of his presence.
Bruce hesitated, his hand hovering in the air for an instant, and then he brought it to rest on Jason's shoulder.
A shudder ran through the boy at the contact and Jason jerked beneath his touch. A gasp escaped his lips and he stared straight ahead, eyes wide and unseeing.
It was too late.
The second Boy Wonder had already launched himself forward.
Their quarry was already as good as caught in his mind.
A small hiss preceding the cloud of gas reached Batman's ears beneath the cowl.
His blood turned to ice in his veins.
"Jason!"
Alarmed, Bruce gripped his shoulders tightly, turning the boy to face him.
"B-bruce?" Jason choked out.
"Yes." Bruce felt his shoulders slump in relief when Jason's eyes finally focused on his face and the cloud partially lifted.
He didn't miss the way Jason still shook beneath his hand.
Quickly, he took it away, wondering if perhaps he still wasn't ready to have someone so close.
Not after what he had just been through.
Who knew what he had seen? What was still haunting him?
To his surprise, Jason caught his wrist before he could fully draw it back.
Then, as if he'd been burned, Jason snatched his hand back to his chest, murmuring something under his breath.
"What was that?" Bruce asked. He leaned forward, trying to catch his son's words.
"Nothing." Jason shook his head, though the look he gave Bruce was pained.
He'd administered the antidote as soon as they'd reached the cave in safety.
Jason hadn't told him what he had seen and Bruce hadn't pressed him.
(Maybe he should have.)
Whatever it had been… it had left the boy deeply shaken to his core.
But isn't that always the case? the voice in his mind whispered darkly.
It was true.
The Scarecrow's toxin overcame its victim's defenses, delving deep into the most painful memories, the worst of fears.
It showed someone just what exactly what they were afraid of… and made it all too real. It magnified terror until all you could process was that you couldn't get away from it. That there was no escape.
Jason was no stranger to fear.
He had lived with it every day of his young life on the streets.
But to experience in its raw state...
Robin halted too late, belatedly realizing what was happening.
There was a muffled gasp as the gas cloud hit the boy full in the face.
"Robin!" Batman was already surging forward.
Robin let out a strangled cry, falling to his knees.
The Scarecrow was faster, catching him before he fell to the ground completely.
One sinewy hand twined through the boy's raven dark hair.
The other hand enclosed around his throat.
Jason (because it was Jason now, not Robin) whimpered, but he didn't resist, too lost in whatever nightmare he was seeing.
"Crane." He stepped forward menacingly, ignoring the way his heart beat painfully in his chest. "Let him go."
"Stop!" Crane ordered.
He released the boy's throat to hold up one hand. The other still gripped Jason's hair firmly.
Bruce stopped.
He had no choice.
They were at the very edge of the building.
If Crane let Jason fall...
Jason was still shaking. The trembling had lessened, but it was still there.
Bruce cautiously eased himself up.
"I can go get Alfred. He'll make you some hot chocolate."
It would help warm him up. Maybe soothe his tattered nerves. And he was sure Alfred's presence would work wonders where he couldn't.
Alfred had always been a source of comfort for both boys.
"No!" He wasn't prepared for Jason's panicked shout or the flash of terror that momentarily crossed his son's face.
Quickly, he sat back down and just as quickly, Jason seemed to withdraw back into himself, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
The blanket started to slip down his back. Bruce caught it before it could and laid it back across his shoulders.
"Jason, what's wrong?" he asked. He couldn't hide his concern. Nor did he attempt to. "What did you see?"
This was wrong.
This was Jason and Jason was noise.
Vibrant energy.
Jason wasn't supposed to be this quiet.
He was supposed to bounce back.
He was supposed to be Jason.
"I screwed up," Jason said then, so quietly that Bruce wasn't sure he had heard him. "I screwed up," he said, more forcefully this time. "I let him get to me."
Bruce was struck by the level of self-loathing in his tone. "Jason…" he said carefully.
"You died, Bruce."
He was already moving by the time Jason was over the edge.
It was all he could see.
His son falling.
Bruce dove, wrapping his arms around the boy as he fell. He shot his grappling hook at the building's roof and, for a moment before the line pulled taut, they were free falling into empty space.
For a moment, Bruce was speechless.
He had died?
That was what Jason had seen?
Jason crushed his hand against his face. His bottom lip trembled. "Y-you died. And I couldn't stop it."
His shoulders were shaking again.
Stunned, Bruce felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. He didn't give himself time to think. He gripped the boy's shoulder, pulling him tightly into an embrace.
Jason didn't resist him.
Instead, his hands fisted into Bruce's shirt and he buried his face in his broad chest.
He was clinging to him, as if afraid to let him go.
And this was wrong.
This was wrong!
Jason never should be this afraid.
Not of losing him.
Bruce rubbed one hand over his face.
He should have been faster.
Crane's toxin should never have reached Jason.
He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
He simply held on to him.