Author's Note: And we're back to Los Angeles where Jason has no idea what's going on... I can't express how much I enjoyed writing Talia again. She really is such a wonderfully complex character that half the time even I don't know how she'll react to something until she does.

"Let's talk about something else then." Jason clasped his hands over the blue and white checkered table cloth in front of him. "We've been sitting here for an hour now and you haven't asked."

Talia raised a perfectly shaped brow over her cup as if in question. She'd ordered coffee after dinner, so Jason figured it must be good and ordered one himself. He'd watched curiously as the waiter brought a metal container with a long handle that Talia had called a 'cezve' and poured each of them a cup. The Turkish-style coffee was thicker than what he was used to but tasted as good as it smelled.

"About Damian," he prompted. "This whole time you barely even mentioned him."

"Jason," she slowly lowered the cup back onto the white saucer, "do you believe me to be invulnerable?"

The question took him by surprised so he answered in the only way he knew how. "Not without a Lazarus Pit."

She ignored the jab. "Do you think it does not hurt me to think of my son while I cannot be with him?"

"Hey, you chose not to be with him." Jason's voice rose without thinking. He could already feel anger bubbling to the surface again but tried to suppress it. "You do know your old man suspects you're alive, right? But he still promised Dad he'd leave me and Damian alone, whatever that's worth."

"He left you be because he thinks you remember nothing of your resurrection," Talia reminded him. "And he left Damian be because now that Bruce knows of him, it would cause a small war for my gather to bring him back to the League and he has no way of making Damian come willingly or stay indefinitely without my influence. To put it plainly, you are both safe because he does not believe you to be worth the trouble."

"And you being around somehow makes that... not true?"

"At least as far as Damian is concerned." She took a breath. "If they both knew for certain that I live, my son would forever be torn between your world and mine. Why do you suppose I have kept the truth about him all these years in the first place?"

"That's for you and Dad to hash out," Jason replied vehemently. "I'm not gonna lie and say that doesn't piss me off, but it's really between the two of you. I'm not getting into that. I just want what's best for my little brother and thinking his mom is dead is not at the top of that list."

"Why have you not told him the truth?" Talia tilted her head in apparent curiosity, and he hated how certain she was that he really hadn't said anything. He hated even more that she was right. Jason set his jaw.

"Because Dad didn't."

"Then, if both of his parents decided on a course of action, what makes you think you are in a position to disagree?"

"I can disagree... quietly," he objected.

"I see." Talia looked amused. "So this is not an all-out rebellion?"

"All-out rebellion didn't work out too well for me last time."

"Indeed. Does your father know where you are?"

"Dick does." He deflected.

"Comforting, but that was not what I asked."

"You're trying to distract me," the teen objected, circling back to the original point. "Look, at least talk to Dad. He already knows you're alive. What harm could that do?"

"And once more we are back to the question of invulnerability."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was all about your feelings!" Jason finally exploded. "What about Damian's feelings? And Dad's? He defended you to me, and I defended you to Harper, and now I'm wondering if I should have."

Talia frowned. "Who is 'Harper'?"

"Roy Harper. Dick's douche bag of a friend."

"Language!"

"Sorry!"

Again there was that sensation of feeling about five years old. Next to his chair, the hound who had fallen asleep after the meal raised his blocky head again at the noise. Jason patted him reassuringly, and he settled down again.

"If you think so poorly of this person to begin with, there is no cause for you to have any regard for his words." Talia waved her hand in a haughty dismissive gesture. "Words are wind."

"Yeah?" Jason challenged. "Do you care about what I think?"

Her face was a mask as she looked back at him, and for a moment he thought she wold refuse to answer. Jason was pushing the boundaries, and he knew it. This was a woman who stood up to and on par with the most powerful men in the world. She was certainly not used to answering to a sullen teenager who had the audacity to demand things of her. And, okay, Harper was probably beyond beneath her notice, but Jason had the crazy idea that he wasn't. Something about saving a life and being responsible for it... shouldn't the same rules apply when it came to resurrections?

"I care." The answer came as a surprise, and Talia straightened in her chair. "So tell me, Jason; what do you think? Truly."

He took a deep breath. Fighting with her hadn't really helped. They'd just spent a solid half hour going in circles, though he strongly suspected she had full control of the conversation the whole time. Maybe some honesty would lead to more progress.

"I think Dad's right," he said finally. "You love your kid and you honestly think you're doing the right thing and have been all along. Points for good intentions, but you're thinking about things too... objectively."

"Oh?" She crossed her arms. Jason swallowed hard but went on.

"You analyze stuff from all sides and plan the hell out of everything, and that's good sometimes. I'm pretty sure Damian and I wouldn't have made it to Gotham if you didn't, and I'm very very grateful for that. But, T, you gotta know he can't think like that. I can barely think like that and I'm a decade older than he is. It's not gonna matter to him why you're not with him, just that you're not."

"By your logic," Talia challenged. "I should allow my eight-year-old son to make decisions about his own safety."

"No, but you should take it into consideration."

There was another very long pause in which Jason had concluded that this entire so-called conversation really was nothing of the sort. It was a very complex game of Go, played in complete darkness, where he could never quite follow his opponent's moves or his own, for that matter, and therefore had no idea if he was remotely close to winning or if the entire board was already covered in black pieces and he just hadn't noticed yet.

The mildly absurd thought that she had to teach him those tricks flashed across his mind. Jason held his breath.

Finally – finally – she inclined her head ever so slightly. "I will consider it."

Yes!

"I'll take it!" A promise to consider it from Talia was as close to a win as he was going to get.

Jason's face broke out into a grin. The waiter had just dropped off the receipts for their bill, which was apparently already somehow magically paid for – Jason guessed Talia had slipped her card somewhere in there when he wasn't looking – and he lunged for the black leather holder swiped the guest copy of the receipt.

"Here." He tore the paper in two, jotted down his number on one half, and slid it across the table. Then he thrust the second scrap of paper and pen at her. "I want to have your cell phone number. I swear I won't give it to Dad or Ra's or anyone like that and I won't bug you, but really don't want to ask Timmy to hack any more satellites on my behalf."

For a moment she looked like she might refuse, then Talia gingerly took the pen, turned the receipt over, and scrawled down several digits in her elegant cursive handwriting. She extended the paper back at him with the same care as one might give a very precious, personal item. An old photo or a letter, perhaps.

The letter... Jason was about to take the number but paused. He pulled his hand back.

"I... I didn't read your letter." He couldn't explain why he felt the need to confess that, only that to do anything less would be... dishonorable. She wasn't comfortable giving him her contact information but was doing so anyway. It wasn't fair if he didn't tell her the truth. "I didn't... get rid of it or anything, but I was... angry and bitter and... I know it's important, but... I'm sorry, T."

Inexplicably she actually smiled at this. Reaching across the table, Talia took his right hand in hers and placed the receipt with the number into his palm. She closed his fingers around it and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for your honesty, Jason. You say you still have it?"

He nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Back home."

"Then would you please read it? When you return home."

"I will." He promised and meant it.

"Good. When does Richard expect you back?"

"In..." Jason looked at his watch. "Oh, sh... damn! It's late. I'll probably won't get to him till like... two in the morning." He was on his feet, then glanced down at the dog who was looking back at him intensely then back to at Talia. "Can you take care of him for me?" She opened her mouth what was definitely going to be protest, but Jason cut her off. "Please? Just make sure he gets to a nice shelter, okay? Somewhere they won't... put him to sleep or anything like that."

"Alright," Talia relented. "I will look after him. Go, least you get into any more trouble with your brother."

Another opinion she values, Jason noted to himself, though he suspected it had less to do with Dick himself and more with who raised him. He supposed that was fair enough in itself. Talia rose after him and before Jason could think to protest, gave him a gentle hug and peck on the cheek. Again, as it was that night six months ago in his old rundown apartment above Park Row, he couldn't help but think that her touch felt maternal.

"I am glad you came to see me," she said, pulling back.

"Yeah, well, now it's your turn," Jason replied pointedly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

She said nothing, but he really didn't expect her to. The promise of consideration would have to be enough for now. Jason looked down at the hound who was up and at his side once again, patted his head, then pointed to Talia.

"You have to stay with her, ace," he told the dog. "Got it? Stay."

The dog whined, and when he moved towards the Dodge, began padding after him. Jason sighed, feeling horrible, but he couldn't realistically take the hound with him. Dick wouldn't be thrilled, and it was going to be a very long drive back across the country after San Francisco.

"Stay," he repeated to the dog. "Talia will take care of you."

This time when he moved to the car, the hound sat back down by the woman's side. Jason hoped she'd keep him. The dog was clearly in need of a good home, and even if she'd never admit it, life in hiding must be a lonely one. Maybe she'd call one day or just show up at the manor, but until then Jason was glad he'd made the decision to come to Los Angeles.

Driving up the coast to San Francisco was pleasant. For the first time since Los Vegas Jason felt light and happy. Against all expectations, he'd done what he'd set out to do; he'd faced Talia and felt reconciled with her for the first time since his return to sanity. No, she hadn't exactly promised to come to Gotham any time soon, but he hadn't really expected her too. Just the fact that she'd promised to think about it was enough.

And in the course of this little adventure, he'd saved that dog.

Not a bad day's work, all around, Jason thought. Definitely worth having to suffer through another lecture from Dick when he got to San Francisco. Besides the worst of it should have been what he got the first time around on the phone. Now that his brother knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, there was no reason for Dick to do any more than reiterate about how he shouldn't have left without talking to him first.

With that happy thought, Jason rolled down the window, blasted the radio, and hit the accelerator.

He was in such a good mood that even the looming structure of Titan Tower on the horizon of San Francisco bay five and a half hours later didn't feel as intimidating as he expected it would at the beginning of the trip. Jason rarely felt like being social with people outside his family, and his short run with the Titans before his death left him feeling like they saw him as nothing more than Dick's little brother at best, replacement at worst. But he was determined to try this time. For Dick and Dad at least, because he knew they worried about him, and who knew? Maybe lightning would strike twice.

The tower was ominously dark except for a few lights on the top floor, but he supposed it was close to the middle of the night. Jason parked in front, rang the bell, but even after several attempts there was no answer. Perhaps he wasn't expected. Maybe Dick delayed leaving Vegas and was still in transit somewhere. Well, there was always the indirect approach. Mask or no he was still, as Damian liked to point out, the son of Batman. Sneaking into supposedly secure buildings was second nature, and really, it hardly counted.

Same system as the Batcave. Jason grinned as he looked at the security panel at the tower's back garage entrance. He was inside in under a minute, making his way through the dark lower corridors, expertly avoiding alarms and bobby traps, and enjoying himself probably more than he should have. The darkness wasn't a big problem, but the thought that the high-tech red domino mask that Tim had designed for him would have come in handy here flashed through his mind.

Within a few minutes the corridors ended, and Jason found himself in a large open space. He was about to move for one of the doors on the opposite end that he could make out by the shaft of light under it, but within a second of him stepping the large room several pillars of light along the perimeters of the room came to life. Suddenly Jason knew exactly where he was.

The illuminated statues of Donna Troy, Aquagirl, Dove, Hawk, and many others he didn't recognize lined the perimeter of what he now recognized to be the Hall of Fallen Titans. Slowly, Jason circled the room to stand before each one. He didn't know most and even those he had briefly worked with he hadn't known well, but each and every one was a hero in his or her own right. Donna's statue loomed before him last, and Jason stopped. Dick probably thought his reaction to learning of her death back in Texas was because he'd had a bit of a crush on her, but that wasn't it. Of course she was beautiful and courageous and kind to him. What fourteen-year-old boy wouldn't have liked that? But even then Jason knew realistically it wasn't a serious notion to entertain. He'd just hoped...

He'd hoped she could be a friend.

Suddenly the hall's main lights flared to life, and Jason turned to the second door just in time to see it open and Dick striding toward him flanked on both sides and behind by Titans, old and new. He recognized Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy and had just enough time to make out the stylized red S on the t-shirt of a boy who had to be Conner Kent before Dick was in front of him. Jason opened his mouth to great his brother, but something in Dick's eyes made him pause. He looked angry, downright pissed off, and... had he been crying?

Before Jason could ask what was wrong, he felt Dick's fist connect with his jaw.