Oh wow, this is late! Yeah. It's been a long week. I wasn't intending on continuing the flashback from a couple of chapters ago, buttttt. Yeah that's how it turned out. I've been holding on to this for a couple of days and I wanted to just do one more chapter, but there were a lot of extra things that need to happen before the end, so maybe just two or three more chapters after this, depending… Happy reading!

Chapter 13: The Paladin

Dick Grayson had no word for the emotion bubbling up in his chest, threatening to overtake him, to swallow him whole like a monster in one of those old timey films. Staring at Ra's, standing above a beaten and bloody visage of his younger brother, all that came to mind was snake. A viper in a robin's nest.

Jason, for his part, was still bleeding steadily on the ground, shivering intermittently with eyes as cold and fathomless as ice. His usually turquoise eyes had gone a sickening verdant, matching the exact shade of the Lazarus Pits. It scared Dick, to see it. To see Jason – arrogant, reckless, clever Jason – cowering in the aftermath of torture. Because Jason never just sat still, was always in constant motion. Unless he couldn't. Unless he was too injured, sick, or starved to fight back. Right now, he reminded Dick a lot of the too-thin little kid he'd first seen on a night long before Dick had even accepted the boy. A night where he had glimpsed Jason crying on the floor in the middle of his room in the manor, lost in some trauma-induced hell. At the time, Dick had barely hidden a sneer. He'd thought about how much this boy would never live up to the standards a Robin needed to meet.

He'd been wrong, of course.

And he'd regretted not going into that room, after. He had regretted not rushing to comfort a child who could have been his little brother from the very beginning. He'd followed the instinct to protect well enough with Tim and Damian, but perhaps part of that was just his guilt and shame coalescing. Unconsciously, he reached up to rub his palm over the spot where Bruce had hit him that night after Jason's funeral – when Bruce had been right on the money, accusing Dick of being resentful of the boy who had died. Of being jealous of the boy that Bruce had adopted before him.

His heart did a painful little somersault in his chest. Even knowing the that Jason hated physical contact, even knowing his brother had been through so much hell and would likely never enjoy being touched again, Dick wanted nothing more than to hold his brother. Dick had been raised in a loving family, a family where hugs were always welcomed and encouraged. Even Bruce had learned this early on, discovering that simply holding Dick could settle the little circus boy far more quickly than his extensive vocabulary. And he had soaked up that attention, learning to see Bruce as an older brother, even a father at times when the memory of John Grayson had faded far enough away.

"Jason…" He whispered.

He watched as Jason was dragged – hanging completely limp despite wide open eyes – and then dropped to the floor of a cell adjacent to them. The deep gashes along his back had slowly been closing over the course of the conversation between Bruce and Ra's, but a few of the deeper, longer ones were still trickling blood. Ubu approached, handling a small syringe filled with green-blue liquid. The instant that needle touched Jason's neck, the boy started screaming. The sound reached a crescendo as Jason writhed on the rough stone floor of the cell, arching his back as the last of the gashes knit together and healed. They left long jagged silver lines along Jason's back, generally deforming the flesh where each line met. His hair was longer than it should be, curling in an unruly mess atop his head as Jason's fingers fisted in the strands. It wasn't long before the boy let go, curling in on himself and going completely limp – asleep. It reminded Dick disturbingly of a bug, turning in the throes of death.

"Jason!" He repeated, joining in a chorus from his father and Tim.

Ra's came to stand before Bruce's cell, a sharp smile cutting across his serpentine features.

"This can all stop, if you just tell me where my grandson is."

"You will never touch my son again. Neither of them," He heard Bruce say, knowing automatically that his father was glaring like a bat.

Ra's smile widened. "We chose your boy for his compatibility with the pit's magic. You see, it's all in the blood. While he may not be royalty, he had the required genetic components we needed. He was a good first attempt, and he has shown some promise, but he is not exactly what we had hoped."

Dick clenched his fists, anger surging up and pulsing throughout his body. "You bastard," He said between gritted teeth. "You're using him. You've been perfecting this serum on mybrother." His fist connected with the glass, sending a shiver of electricity arcing through him. "My brother!"

Ra's' eyes flicked over to him momentarily, completely unfazed by the young man's words. "Come now, Jason hasn't been a part of your family for quite some time."

"You're right."

Dick started at the sound of his third younger brother's voice. He couldn't see Tim from his position in the cell, being completely blocked by the stalagmites of the cave wall, but he could hear from the boy's tone that his was a quiet anger. Black hatred.

"Is that so, boy?" Ra's took a step closer to Tim's cell.

"He has been on the fringe of this family since he died. Before that, even. But that's how family works. It's always been how family works. Bruce taught me that. Jason showed me that."

Dick nodded, even knowing that Tim couldn't see him. "Jason is my brother, he's a part of this family. When you threaten him, you threaten all of us."

"Well, I suppose we'll see about that," Ra's drawled, turning away to look at Ubu. "Hold out on giving him his next dose, but keep the doctors on hand." His eyes met Dick's. "We wouldn't want to lose the original before we have his replacement."

Ra's laughed as Dick cursed, Bruce fumed, and Tim remained quiet as death.

Jason woke with a nasty sore throat and a head that was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. The most startling thing to Jason was that he was able to open his eyes at all. He'd fully expected to awaken in greener pastures. There was a slight pressure on his hand and he slowly turned his neck – wincing as he did so – to see Bruce sitting beside him. His head was resting right near Jason's fingers, just close enough to touch, while the older man's hand was bent reflexively over his own. Jason twitched, shifting so that Bruce snapped upward, jarred from sleep. Yawning, the older man stretched and then finally the full weight of his stare was leveled against Jason.

The man's royal blue eyes pierced right through him and Jason swallowed thickly. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but closed it immediately as though thinking better of it. Then he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Umm… fine I guess. Killer headache though," Jason answered sheepishly. His voice didn't sound right to his ears, like he was speaking under water. His body ached and throbbed painfully, and every movement felt slower than it should be, but he'd be damned if he was going to say any of that.

Bruce looked at him skeptically, but didn't comment on his apparent disbelief. "You almost died out there, Jay. If I'd been a second slower in diving in after you, if that blow to the head had been any deeper-" He tapered off, his eyes clouding with an emotion close to fear, but that wasn't right – Batman wasn't afraid of anything.

The, after what seemed like hours, he asked "You don't know how to swim, do you?"

Jason looked away. "There was never any reason to learn. No pools around for It anyway…"

"I guess it wasn't the best idea to bring you to a place surrounded by water then."

"I guess not…" Jason said quietly, eyes still failing to meet Bruce's.

Bruce nodded as though he'd expected that response and they lapsed into an awkward silence.

It was more than a few minutes later when Jason couldn't stand it anymore. He yelled, "I'm sorry!" at the same time that Bruce said "Jason, we need to-"

They both stopped, closing their mouths and looking away from each other.

"Jason, why did you run away?" Bruce asked. He reached out and caught Jason's chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing Jason's teal eyes to come up and meet his piercing blue gaze.

"You'll think it's stupid," Jason said, fisting the scratchy bed sheets.

"No, I won't. But I think I deserve some answers. One minute you were there, the next you were gone," Bruce sighed. "You really scared me, Jason."

The boy scoffed. "You're not afraid of anything. You're…" He trailed off. "You know."

"I may not seem afraid at night," Jason caught the unspoken 'as Batman', "But I was terrified that night when you vanished. I was terrified when I saw you surrounded by those thugs, still on the ground, when you disappeared into the water. I was terrified when you weren't breathing."

Jason could feel his face redden in shame and he pulled away harshly, closing his eyes and putting all his willpower into stopping the tears he knew were coming.

"Jason…"

"I heard you, okay!" The boy snapped, folding his arms across his chest in a movement that was too defensive to be angry.

Bruce blinked at the boy. Once. Twice. Then he made a face. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you talking to Alfred. You said you… You weren't my father."

"Well… I'm not," Bruce replied.

Jason flinched as though he'd been struck. There was an overwhelming sadness that took hold of the boy and Jason's eyes glittered with unshed tears. He stopped trying to hold them back and suddenly it was like a dam had burst. Jason released a low, mournful sound and tried to curl as far away from Bruce as possible on the small hospital bed, but Bruce was right there with a hand on the boy's shoulder, pulling him back.

"No! That's, I mean…" Bruce sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, drawing them closer than before. "Jason, I don't want to presume to take the place of your father. I don't want to push that on you. With Dick I…" He trailed off at the sour look Jason gave him at the mention of his elder brother.

Bruce shook his head. "Jason, a son is not always born of his father, and I love you like my own blood. I just know your past, I know you don't have the best track record with fathers. I don't want to dredge that up by becoming the one thing you don't want me to be. A parent."

Jason sniffled, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his cheek against them. "What if I want that?" He asked in a voice so low, Bruce had to strain to hear him.

"Want what?"

"You? To have a parent again, I guess?"

Bruce lowered his eyes. When he looked back up, Jason's eyes were shining with tears and, to his surprise, so were his own. "I think we can work something out, son."

With those words, the spell was broken – Jason launched himself at the older man, holding on tight and pressing his face into the crook of Bruce's neck. Bruce returned the embrace just as tightly, though he was careful not to jar him.

"Thank you for saving my life," Jason said after a moment, his voice far raspier than it should be. The words themselves were spoken with no small amount of reverence – and Bruce knew that Jason wasn't just talking about his near-drowning. The fear was still there in the boy's voice, in his heart, and Bruce tightened his grip.

"It's going to be alright, son." Bruce said quietly into the boy's hair. "It's all going to be alright."

Jason woke with the echoes of those words in his mind, like surfacing after a long time without air. He gasped, coughed, and then curled in on himself as the bone-deep agony splintered his psyche. It had become habitual to stay closed off, reign himself in, until he could think coherently again. These days, it had become progressively more difficult to come back to himself, especially as they had waited longer and longer between doses – testing his limits even as he went mad.

The blackouts were lasting for longer periods, only waking when the pain started, or perhaps when the pain became too overriding. He felt more than saw the blood pooling around him, as his fingers slid through crimson slickness, and it all made him gag uncontrollably. His stomach was in knots, ready to upheave anything that came down, but Jason couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. He knew he was in his cell, could feel his hair stand on end, even if he didn't remember getting there.

His eyes snapped open at the thought, great big blue-green orbs glowing in the half light. Bruce, he thought. He felt the tsunami of emotion rolling through him, washing over him, and he released a breath of air as it tore away at his heart. The pace of his heart picked up, like a galloping horse and he tilted his head as he heard the subtle noise of the cave wall being worked away at.

"Jason?"

NO, his mind screamed. This had to be another nightmare, another hallucination. Because if that voice was here, that meant… God, what had he done? Jason could feel a silent tear track down his face, like the tidal wave had finally hit, like the dam was leaking at the edges. No, his mind repeated.

"Jason, don't you dare ignore us now, not after everything."

Tim.

"Little Wing, please, just let us know you can hear us."

Dick.

"Jason!"

Bruce.

More tears escaped until Jason was sobbing softly behind the weight of water in his chest. He knew this was his fault, that his former family would suffer now because of him. The very thought made rage, white-hot and obliterating, filter through his veins, setting the water to a boil.

Jason Todd had never been a quitter, and he wasn't about to start now.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Jason pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the voices of his family calling his name, ignoring the flakes of dried blood as his flesh moved beneath it. He stared at the jagged cave wall before him, knowing that the doctors would return momentarily to inject him once again with the Lazarus Serum. His eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath.

"Do you remember what you said to me all those years ago, after I woke up in the hospital in Miami?" He said, very quietly.

"I do. But Jason-"

"Well, just remember what you said." Jason closed his eyes. "It's all in the blood. In the blood. In the blood."

And then he started to punch the wall.

There was a stunted thud as his flesh hit the wall, but Jason just wound back up and hit the wall again.

And again.

And again.

He kept at it, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm with each thud. The spray of blood when his knuckles tore. He kept going until his bones crunched and he physically could not continue.

And then he waited.

Tim watched in abject horror as his brother, the one he'd become closest with in the past year, tore himself apart. He could see a sheen of sweat covering his brother's exposed back, dripping down his nose, clinging to his fevered red cheeks. He looked sick, trembling only slightly between hits as Jason wheeled back, punching the wall like it had insulted his mother. He paused for only a moment to yell at the older boy, pleading with him to stop, but it did nothing to slow Jason's pace. He could hear a soft crack as the knuckles to Jason's right hand tore open. He'd watched Jason long enough to know that he could hear them, could tell by the subtle shift in his tactics whenever Dick or Bruce called his name. Jason and Tim both had the personality of cats when it suited them, but Jason took it to a new level at times. Tim could remember when Jason would pointedly ignore a question, like a cat disregarding you when you called its name. It was a special kind of annoyance to know unequivocally that someone had heard you, and yet receive no answer. Tim could see by the minute reactions Jason was giving off that he'd heard his father, his brothers, calling his name.

And yet he was ignoring them.

To punch a wall.

Tim cursed under his breath, abandoning his efforts to draw Jason's attention from his self-mutilation. And then he was digging at the wall, rushing to get through the rock standing between him and his brother. He didn't even notice when the Batarang ripped into his fingers and drew blood, his entire being was focused on getting to Jason. He cried out in frustration, working harder as he heard Bruce and Dick screaming for help, trying without hope to get Jason to stop.

Jason just stared straight ahead, not even grunting as an unsettling thud, thud, thud echoed from his cell. It was a macabre parallel to their father's actions at seeing Jason.

Then, just as suddenly as the episode had started, it stopped. Jason sat abruptly, curling into a small ball opposite of the wall he'd been hitting, clutching his ruined hand to his chest. His eyes were unblinking, blank, dead, as he stared straight ahead, rocking absently back and forth.

Blood dripped down the walls, hit the pool of water below.

"Jason?" Tim asked, tentative.

The older man didn't even blink.

A snap-hiss rang out, and the door to the room slid open. A man and a woman, both wearing lab coats, rushed into the room. The woman held a silver tray which held three syringes on it. She set the tray down on a long gray table on the far end of the cavern before lifting a single syringe for inspection. Inside was a deep green liquid – almost as deep and vibrant as Damian's or Talia's eyes. She flicked the syringe twice before approaching the electrified glass of Jason's cell.

"He's broken," She remarked.

The way she said it, like Jason was simply a toy that had fallen apart in the hands of a three-year-old – not a living, breathing boy, made Tim's lip twitch into an angry scowl.

"Perhaps we were wrong about this one. We'll have to see if the master can still acquire the little one," The man said.

Bruce let out a roar in the cell next to Tim and he heard Dick curse venomously. Tim kept digging, growling in frustration at the slow work.

The glass slid open.

The woman set a single foot into the cell.

And then Jason was moving.

Tim only registered the motion because he'd been trained by the best. Or perhaps it was how much time Jason and he had spent together, learning one another. He'd seen the subtle shift of muscles, even if his mind hadn't caught up with what the older boy was doing until he was standing upright, flipping over the doctor, landing just behind her, and then wrenching her head to the left until a loud crack echoed through the cave. The sound, the abrupt violence of the motion, made Tim flinch bodily. But Jason was still moving and in a flash, he was on the other side of the room, grasping the lab coat of the other doctor, pulling him back even as he'd almost reached the panel by the door.

"Please!" The man cried. "Please I –"

A loud snap rang out as the doctor's neck was broken between Jason's fingers.

"Jason!" Bruce screamed, and Tim heard the glass shake when Bruce hit it.

But Jason wasn't listening, was still moving, dragging the man behind him and using the doctor's limp finger to open the door.

He didn't look back or hesitate as he walked away, melding into the darkness like the bat he was.

Ouch. Poor Jason. Oh wow, looks like the fluff didn't make it into this chapter. Sorry ya'll. This stuff needed to happen first ( _)

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