It can't be helped. I've come so far. I won't lose you again!
Much taken aback by the boy's tears, Bruce made a gesture to comfort him, though briskly, Jason pushed him away. In a moment, the air in the room grew thick with tension as he steadied his green, teary-eyed gaze upon the older man. Now, it was no longer sadness that lingered there, but rather, an intense anger, backed by a scorn so harsh, it could only be harbored by one who has been betrayed. The erratic, vacillating emotions displayed by the boy troubled Bruce though, and while he did not feel threatened by Jason's glare, he was confused and concerned. The boy's presence was enough to send his mind reeling. The months he spent dwelling in his own grief, which quickly escalated to madness, made his presence before him seem all the more unbelievable. The pain of losing Jason was so real, the insanity that his loss soon ensued still evident in his daily work; there was no way Jason was still alive and all that pain was for naught. He had been there when they buried him! In a moment, Bruce's mind was as clouded as Jason's, and a million questions began to surface. How did he survive? Where has he been? What has he been doing? Mostly, he wondered, who was he with?
These questions hardly had time to solidify in Bruce's mind before Jason reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to withdraw a pistol, which he tossed him. Dumbfounded by the weapon, Bruce narrowed his eyes at the boy when he made his demand. "Why don't you just shoot me, Bruce? Right here," Jason provoked, gesturing to his chest. "It's clear it doesn't make a difference to you whether I'm dead or alive! Why is it that you're perfectly okay with letting that coldblooded psycho go free? Why is he's still alive when I had to die?" As he demanded answers, his voice cracked, emotion blatantly tinting his every word as his hands trembled.
Finding the boy's request absurd, Bruce tossed aside the gun. Now, Jason could see the other side of the man he loved; the Batman has woken. Quickly closing the distance between them, Bruce drew Jason in by the collar of his hoodie, and for a moment, his eyes were cruel and foreign to him as he glared into the boy's fearful green eyes. The boy struggled for a moment, clearly startled by his mentor's reaction, since he had expected him to not lose his cool. Jason has never seen Bruce like this before, not to him. He fixed his gaze upon him with the same cold accusation with which he used to address only the lowest of scum in Gotham. The look was unfamiliar, and the notion of being regarded as such by Bruce momentarily caused him to flail. So close, Bruce saw the panic behind his gaze, and he could only imagine the terror that must have flashed through those pretty green eyes as the time on the clock started to tick away his life. It was undeniable. It was no villainous imposter, and Bruce knew so. While the questions of how remains, he was not presently concerned with it. It was a matter of why. His grasp loosened until he finally let go altogether, and taking one step back, he examined the quivering frame of the boy that stood before him.
"You don't understand. You'll never understand, Jason. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, but-"
"But what? Avenging me wasn't worth your time? Or no, don't say it, don't you dare say it! Your morals wouldn't allow it!" Angry tears began to stream down his damp face once more as he struggled to steady his quivering voice. In an attempt to keep from losing his voice to the violent sobs that threaten to escape his throat, he gritted his teeth together, before inhaling a sharp breath and starting in a quiet, sincere tone. "I couldn't remember anything except for your name, and how I died; my fractured bones reminded me. But do you know what my first, lucid memory was, Bruce? That headline! Joker returned to Arkham! Do you know how I felt reading those four words, Bruce? It was worse than dying. It was dying and knowing that the person you love most in the world won't do a damn thing about it!"
"That's not true, Jason!" Bruce fervently denied, knowing the reason for his own actions, or lack thereof.
"Oh yeah? Then tell me this, Bruce! Is it not true that I am your greatest failure? That I was always second best? You would have gone out of your way to avenge Dick if he were the one to die, I'm sure!"
"No!" Bruce yelled, his voice so firm and authoritative that Jason actually fell awestruck. Studying the surprise in Jason's eyes for a moment, his brows furrowed as he repeated, "no… you have it all wrong, Jason. Had it been Dick who died, everything would have still been the same. The truth of the matter is that there isn't a single day since your death that I do not think about finding him and killing him with my own bare hands. But, two wrongs will not make a right, and revenge would not bring you back. Do you think I have forgotten you because he is still alive? You're wrong, Jason. His life is a constant reminder of your loss. How could I ever forget…?" Continuing in a low voice, he confessed, "There were several occasions on which I had nearly killed him, and I won't lie to you- if I had thought I could have you back, I would have killed him a thousand times over."
"Bullshit!" Jason spitefully and animatedly retorted. "I meant nothing to you! You were quick to replace me!"
Frustrated by the youth's stubborn conviction, Bruce silently fumed for a moment before abruptly reaching to grasp him by the wrist. Regardless of Jason's protest and struggle, his hold did not give, and roughly, he dragged him out of the room. As they entered the corridor leading to Bruce's study, Jason's furious protest gave way to nostalgia, and he calmed to savour the familiar hall way, marveling at everything he had once took for granted. The walls, the ceiling, even the floor he walked were all pieces of sacred memory, and should he never return again, he wanted to make certain that this time he took the time to take them all in. Entering Bruce's study, his eyes widened as he found nothing has changed, and when the older man dragged him over to the bookshelf, he knew where they were going. Making their descent into the Bat cave, Jason felt ill, his reality and dreams confused, as he had never imagined ever walking those steps again, save for in his bravest fantasies. As they reached the bottom, Jason's wits finally returned to him, he started to thrash and curse again, though this time, Bruce willing released him. Cursing under his breath, he glared at Bruce before turning his attention to what was before them.
His rebellious green eyes shone with surprise as he gazed up at the glass case before them. Seeing his reflection in the glass, his expression vacillated between anger and profound sadness as he recalled the days he had donned the costume on the other side. Overwhelmed and awestruck but this wordless declaration of his love, the anger in Jason's eyes slowly dissipated as he listened to the solemn silence between them, which he knew conveyed much more than anything either of them could have said. That case, polished and well-guarded, that uniform, preserved and true to form, the sad way that he gazes upon it even now with Jason presently before him, those were sentiments that Bruce Wayne had never disclosed to anyone else, he was sure of it. In a moment, his heart ached so sharply, that it rendered him off his feet. Collapsing to his knees, Jason keeled forth to bury his face in his palms, ashamed and frustrated at their ill twist of fate. Bruce quietly dropped to one knee beside Jason, and wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders. Jason, enticed by the warmth that he has long yearned for, slowly entrusted himself to his hold, gradually settling his weight against Bruce. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a sharp whisper, "he took me away from you, Bruce," still unable to let go of his engraved loathing. Closing his eyes, he lowered his hands and turned to hide his face in the crook of Bruce's neck.
Taking a moment to consider his words, trying his best to be considerate of the boy's fragile state, Bruce wrapped his other arm around him. Gently stroking his back, he exhaled a soft breath and wondered what circumstances had put them where they were now. Hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to the top of Jason head, frowning lightly when he caught a whiff of tobacco smoke from his hair, though somehow, this pleased him because it confirmed that it was the same boy he had lost once. "I always think about you and what I would endure to have you back…" He started, though when his voice, much to his own surprise, was quivering and emotional, he paused to composed himself. "You weren't there, Jason. You didn't see what your loss did to me."
The room was silent and still for several seconds before a small sob cut through the air. Arms desperately encircled around Bruce's waist, hands clutching at the velveteen material of his blazer coat, Jason's body quietly shook before another sob was heard. It was happiness, but of some painful caliber that he did not comprehend. At once, he resented Talia for keeping him from Bruce for nearly three years, and had he not sought him out himself, would still be keeping him from Bruce. It shamed him, and at the same time, angered him to think that all his resentment had been wrongly placed for the past few years. It had been that woman's fault, she who had led him to believe he has been forgotten and replaced; she who led him to believe that he was as insignificant to Bruce as she was. As his tears continued uncontrollably, Jason's mind took up forgiveness for Bruce, and found a new hatred for Talia.