Bruce woke to the sound of terrified screaming. He was out of bed and in the hall in a matter of seconds. Dick's head poked out of his room, an alarmed look on his sleepy face.
Bruce caught the sound of Jason's door cracking as he threw it open. He flicked on the over- head light to find Jason in the middle of what was clearly a horrific nightmare. Bruce was immediately trying to wake up his foster son.
"Jay, wake up!" Batman said, loudly. He shook Jason by the shoulders.
Jason's blue eyes flew open. He raised his arms to protect his face from any fist that might come his way. His legs shot out, kicking Bruce in the stomach as hard as he could. "I'm sorry," he yelped. "I'll be quiet." He was blinded by the bright light and couldn't remember where he was. The only thing present in his mind was there was someone else there and they were sure to be mad.
Bruce backed away slight. "It's alright. You were having a bad dream." Boy, was that an understatement. He was trying to ignore the pain in his gut. Who knew such a skinny little kid could kick so hard. He'd used his heel, so that was why it hurt as much as it did.
Jason sat up, watching Bruce and Dick. Everything came back to him and he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. "Sorry," he muttered, trembling. His body shook, making him feel weak and sick inside.
"It's fine," Bruce told him gently. "We all have bad dreams. Do you want to talk about it?" Had he been dreaming about his mother, his father, or Cathine's death? Or had it been one of the other many terrors he'd been through?
Jason shook his head, violently. It had been bad enough. He didn't want to relive it. He was surprised Bruce didn't seem annoyed at all. No one liked getting woken up at five thirty by a screaming kid after all.
"We all should probably go back to bed," Bruce said. He wasn't sure what to do really. Jason seemed more unnerved by him, which wasn't what he needed at the moment, nor was it what Bruce wanted.
Jason didn't want to be left all alone. There was no way he was going back to sleep after seeing his mom's and Kate's bodies rotting in the apartment, with his dad standing next to them. It ended with Peter killing him, too. It played through his head most nights and whenever he let his mind wander, he'd find himself in that living horror.
"I'm going to go work out," Dick said, quickly. It was only thirty minutes earlier than he usually got up, and he had seen a look on Jay's face that he knew well from his own experiences. "You want to come?" he asked Jason, who jumped at the opportunity to get up.
"Try to keep it down," Bruce told them. He wanted to get a few more hours of sleep if he possibly could.
Two hours later Bruce went down to the gym to find Dick sitting, cross legged on a mat, looking like he had barely broken a sweat and Jason lying on the floor, panting.
"Do you do that every day?" Jason asked. He hadn't thought about what Batman and Robin had to do in order to fight crime.
"Kind of. We haven't done any hand-to-hand combat training, yet," Dick answered, hesitantly. Jay had done a pretty impressive job keeping up with him, all things considered.
Jason groaned. "You're insane!" He felt like he'd been beaten up, and then run a marathon. What was wrong with these people?
Dick laughed, his musical laugh. "Well, I do run around Gotham in a costume and a mask. Most people who do that are in Arkham."
"Dickie, Jay, it's almost time for breakfast. Go get cleaned up. Alfred won't like it if you're late," Bruce said. He hated to interrupt them. They seemed to be getting along, which was what he'd been hoping for. Richard had a cheerful and kind spirit that was sure to bring Jason up.
"Kay," Dick said, obediently. He held out a hand to help Jay up. "Come on, Kid."
Jason accepted Dick's offered hand. "Who are you calling 'Kid'? You're only a year older than me."
Dick shrugged. "You're younger, so that makes you 'Kid'." When he was six or seven he'd asked his parents for a little brother. They had said maybe someday. Now they were gone, and he had his little brother. That was a painful way of thinking about it. He knew better than to take even a moment for granted. Jason was going to know what it meant to be loved and wanted just as he knew what it meant.
The two of them started to walk out of the room, but Bruce stopped Jason with a hand on his shoulder as he was passing him. He cringed internally when he felt every bone of the thief's small frame. Jason flinching under his gentle hand didn't help either. "Would you be interested in training with Dick on a regular basis?" It would give them something to bond over and do together.
Jason was surprised by the offer. He knew he'd only slow Dick down, and he couldn't really afford that. "Could I learn how to fight?"
Bruce nodded. "That would be part of it. Why do you ask?"
"So, no one will be able to beat me up like Peter did," Jason answered.
Bruce couldn't help but notice that Jason avoided calling his father 'Dad', especially when he was talking about what Peter had done to him and others. It was 'my old man' or 'Peter' for the most part. Batman understood why. Jason was trying to distance himself from his dad and calling that man something that was supposed to mean safety and love was just wrong. He had held a living treasure in his hands and he'd broken it without a second thought. The fact that Peter's hands were shattered did make Bruce feel better about the whole thing, but it wouldn't take away Jason's nightmares or his fear, but maybe the knowledge that he could protect himself would do some good.
Bruce knew what it meant to have a loving father, and he knew what it meant to be that kind of dad. What Peter had done was horrific, but maybe Bruce would be able to make up for some of it. The thief had never had a real dad, and he needed someone to trust and latch on to. He needed an anchor in this wild and uncertain world, and Bruce knew he could be that if Jason would let him.
Jason went upstairs to get cleaned up like Bruce had told him. He wasn't an obedient kid by nature, so he was a little startled how he wasn't questioning his foster dad at every turn. That title 'foster dad' felt a bit odd to him. He was at this place and this person had agreed to let him stay there for the time being for some reason. He didn't understand Bruce at all. He knew that billionaire would get good press for this, but no amount of press was worth having him around. No one in their right mind would let a thief into their home.
Batman walked into the kitchen to see Alfred standing watch over the French toast. "Morning."
"Good morning, Sir," Alfred answered as he prepared three plates. "I trust Master Jason is alright now."
"He is. How did you know it was him?" Bruce asked. Too many nights were disturbed by tortured cries from the members of the Wayne Manor.
"You and Master Dick both have a very distinct scream. I was coming to help, but it seemed that you had the situation well in hand, Sir," Alfred explained. He had been in the hall when he heard Bruce and Dick voices. His presence was unnecessary.
"Didn't seem that way to me," Bruce sighed. "I think Dick has a better grasp of what to say than I do."
"Well, Master Dick has always been more adept at dealing with people than you, Sir," Alfred said, drily.
"Thanks," Bruce answered, sarcastically. He wasn't bothered in the least by what the butler had said. He knew it was true. Dick was the good cop, he was the bad cop. It was how they worked off each other. Plus, he loved his son's friendly and open personality. Bruce's mother would have called him a 'social butterfly'. He wished so much his parents could have met his children. They would have loved them. Come to think of it, when had Jason become his child?
"I strive to be honest, Master Bruce," Alfred told the Dark Knight.
"Would you mind if we eat in the kitchen?" Bruce asked. He may own Wayne Manor, but Alfred ran it. Tradition and ceremony were very important to the old Englishman.
"May I inquire why the change, Master Bruce?" Alfred's eyebrows were up.
"Jason's uncomfortable in the dining room, not to mention most of the house," Bruce answered. "The kitchen doesn't seem to be as intimidating to him. If he's scared it's going to make it hard for him to eat, and he needs to eat." Dick had had the same trouble when he'd first found himself in the Manor.
Alfred gave in. "Very well, but I assume things will return to normal once Master Jason becomes used to the Manor."
Once breakfast was over Bruce went into his home office to get some work done before Mrs. Felter got there. Things like this made him more nervous than he'd like to admit. He needed to get back to Wayne Tower, but that could wait for now. He had taken a few days off after this had all started, but he wanted to show Jason what he could someday be a part of if he wanted it.
Alfred walked into the office at that moment, holding the morning paper. He didn't look very pleased. "Sir, it appears someone hacked into social services main office last night and stole part of Master Jason's file. Unfortunately, the pictures of his injuries were printed in the paper." He was fuming. How could some hooligan invade the privacy of a child like that? It was monstrous!
"What!" Bruce snapped. He snatched the paper from Alfred and sure enough, right on the front page was Jason. The camera was focused on the bruises on the right side of his face. It had caught the wild roughness and fierce will in his big sea blue eyes.
The headline read: 'Wayne Foster Abused Street Kid' in large black letters. Bruce almost tore the paper in two, but refrained from doing so. Why would they print the pictures? What was wrong with people? A sudden terrible thought struck him. Had they found out about what Jason had told the Dr. about Peter and Kate. He quickly read the article, but there was about the murder or even how Jason had gotten his injuries. He sighed in relief.
"I would have disposed of it, Sir, but I thought you would want to see for yourself," Alfred said shortly.
Bruce sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead, where a headache was forming. "You were right." He threw the paper in the trash. "I'm suing Gotham Journal. They'll be ruined by the time I'm done with them. Did any other papers run the pictures?" This had to be illegal. He was a minor and a ward of the state. Heads would roll for this. And what about Peter? His parental rights had been revoked when he'd gone to jail, not that anyone had bothered to find out where his son was, but now that monster would know where Jason was and Bruce was positive his foster son didn't want that.
"Not that I'm aware of. Are you going to tell the young master about this, Sir?" Alfred asked. He was going to hear about the theft one way or another, and it would most likely be better coming from Bruce than someone else.
"I will later," Batman answered. "I'd rather he not be upset right before Mrs. Felter gets here."
"From what you said Mrs. Felter seem to think, you will take good care of Master Jason," Alfred commented. Going through the system with Dick had been terrifying. Never knowing if he was going to be taken away at any moment had been emotionally exhausting.
"I hope so, but I'll keep having to prove that to her and Jay," Bruce told Alfred.