Next chapter… posted… More will be explained in later chapters, so don't be worried if things don't come full circle yet. Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews, they keep me motivated to write!
**Also, as a side note, to the person who sent me the nasty PM… NO. I am NOT anti-homosexual. I do not portray the bats as having relationships with each other because I consider them family members, father-son, brother-sibling. I have mentioned, in my other fics, relationships with Stephanie and Barbara because those were canon… Nonetheless, if I have offended anyone, I am sorry. These are just my personal feelings and my own expression of their dynamic. Thank You.**
Disclaimer: I own nothing DC does.
Chapter 7
"Move."
The man shoved him again, Jason nearly toppled over his own clumsy feet this time. Everything seemed slowed down, his mind caught in a perpetual cycle of exhaustion. It turned out that he had been right about the bruise forming. A large blue-and-black mark formed on his face, swelling one eye almost closed. It hurt, but Jason would have to deal with it.
As it stood, he was being led – pushed really – through an oversized house, one that was larger by far than his Father's mansion. The carpet beneath his feet was exotic in decoration and soft to the touch, and he knew that because his feet were still bare. Jason decided that he hated the carpet; it was nothing like his Dad's and, therefore, it was inherently a bad carpet.
Pictures of places that Jason had never seen before – or thought he had never seen before – hung loosely on the wall depicting ancient rituals and grassy plains. As the hallway stretched on, the paintings became darker, more ominous, and, frankly, more gruesome. Eventually, Jason had to stop looking at them. Instead, he focused on the never-before-seen plants and wooden fixtures that dotted the place every which way. He didn't like it here.
A heavy hand came down on his shoulder, a grip just tight enough to be painful. It pulled him from his musings and brought his feet to an abrupt stop. Before him stood a large wooden door with intricate carvings all across it that depicted the same foreboding scenes as the paintings.
Jason was unimpressed.
The door was thrown open and the boy was thrust inside. Arif, the man that had led him thus far, closed the heavy door to leave Jason alone. Well, apparently not as alone as he thought.
The room was dark, with only the dim light cast by a fire in the center to guide his eyes to a dark shrouded visage. The fleeting light allowed him to see only minimal features of the figure. He could see carefully pricked hair, which parted in two directions; he could see the cloak that the man wore swish as he turned to face the boy.
Rather than wait for the demon to speak, Jason allowed his own words to mingle with the air. "What the hell do you want?"
In the dim environment, Jason could just make out a smile gracing the man's face. Then, the face contorted, its eyes reflecting deviously. Suddenly, the creature was knelt down face-to-face with Jason. How it had moved so quickly, the boy had no idea, but staring into its eyes, Jason felt a cold fear trickle down his spine. His face was wrinkled beyond its years and hung too loosely from the skeletal frame.
"What do I want?" The man grasped Jason's chin in a firm, unbreakable and painful hold. "I want the fruit of my struggle." He twisted the boy's face from one side to the other, as though he were inspecting a piece of meat. The jerking motion only intensified the throbbing in his head.
Jason managed to glare, struggling to pull away from the creature. "Yeah? Well, I'm not your property. I want to see my Dad."
"The detective?" The man released a high laugh and sent cold, creeping chills up the boy's spine. "He is no one's father. He's just a man placating to the emotions of children."
Jason scrunched up his face and gave one final tug, the man released him in the same instant and he fell back to land in a heap on the carpet. He gave a glare that was full of hate and anger. "I took care of my Mom, and she died. I took care of my Dad, but he left and then I had to fend for myself. Bruce is the first person that took care of me, made sure I was safe; gave me a warm home and brothers that like me too. He cares about me. He's my real Dad." He stood up quickly and braced himself for whatever came next.
"How infantile. You're mother died because she had to deal with a brat and a dead-beat husband, your father left because he didn't want to be saddled with a boy; and Bruce… Bruce has never cared for any of his protégés as anything other than a soldier. Blood is the only qualifier for family. It's the only thing that matters." The man said with a cruel contempt. "Now you are an experiment, nothing more. Through you, I will find the key for eternal life beyond the Lazarus Pit…"
Jason's small fists clenched at his sides, tears pricked in his eyes, but he remained strong and angry. "You're a liar." He said, though a voice deep inside him cried out that each word was true, that Jason was the poison that killed or drove everyone away … and it whispered that maybe Bruce was better off without him…
"I am Ra's Al Ghul."
"You're still a liar."
"Believe of me what you will, child. You will submit."
The conversation was just dragging out to the point that Jason could barely keep himself upright. Nonetheless, a voice inside him, one that sounded exactly like his Father's, urged him on. Keeping that whisper close to his heart, Jason hissed out the worst word he'd ever said. "Fuck you, asshole."
The man smiled; a white gleaming show of teeth that cracked across his face. "Your faith in Bruce is admirable, but misplaced. You've quite the heart, child, but I must insist that from here on in you refrain from such outbursts. You will comply with all of my regulations, and I will promise you that each round will cause only nominal discomfort."
Jason glared at him before turning his gaze to the ground. "I hate you."
"An inconsequential matter. Arif, escort young Jason out. Put him in the cell." He turned back to Jason as the door opened. "We'll chat later, boy."
Jason backed up, feeling far too much like a cornered animal. He growled, a feral sound from deep in his throat; the fear was back. His teal-blue eyes darted around in absolute focus, his body pumping with adrenaline.
He was trapped in another impossible situation.
…
"Don't worry, Bruce. We're leaving right now."
"You're fine, sweetheart."
Bruce nodded and looked between his parents, love swelling his heart. "I'm still sorry I got scared…"
His father laughed, a full and hearty thing that seemed to have a home in the air. He knelt down before his son and put his hands across Bruce's shoulders. "It's OK to be scared, Bruce. That's why you have a Dad; to protect you until you can protect yourself. I'll always be here for you."
His mother laid a dainty hand on his head and ruffled the dark locks there. Bruce found himself leaning into the touch and he smiled. Whatever fears he'd had disappeared with her hand.
"Give me all the money you got." An angry voice. Cold, cruel.
The glint of metal, a flash, nothing more. The ban, loud, deafening, painful… Cold, warmth…
Blood, everywhere. His father whispered "it will be OK," The light faded in his eyes.
His parents were bloody, neat little holes drilled into them. The monster that killed them retreated, he was alone…
Bruce screamed.
"NO!"
Bruce came awake with one startled burst that left him gasping for air. His hands shook violently, and he found he was colder than he had been in a long while. Not even the freezing gusts of Gotham had been like this. Sweat dribbled down his brow, and he breathed deeply in an attempt to calm his fractured nerves, to little effect. Distraction. That was what he needed. Bruce let his eyes wander; the jet was still in autopilot and they were still on their way to Russia, to Jason.
But his father's words still echoed ominously in the air, and Bruce could not for the life of him shake the feeling of dread that passed through the air.
In an effort to calm his scattered nerves, his gaze passed over his sons. Each looked peaceful in sleep, all three curled up on their chairs and resting to regain strength after the long day. He ran a hand through his hair. Tension relaxed from his shoulders.
He sighed. The screen before him lit up and whispered that they were approaching the compound.
He would get there in time, Jason's safety was paramount. He would keep his son safe until the boy was a man once again.
Maybe even after that.
He turned around in his seat and rested a hand on Dick's shoulder gently. "Dick? We're almost there. Wake your brothers. It's time to get Jason back."
His eldest shifted in his seat before opening his dark blue eyes. After a few tired, slow gestures Dick smiled. "Let's go get my brother."
"Our brother, Dick." The two turned to see Damian and Tim sitting straight and equally alert.
Bruce allowed a reluctant grin to transform his expression. He settled down into the seat and awaited their too-slow descent into the Al Ghul compound.