Let Go

by Only-Angst-Please

Jason has always believed that he was left to die, abandoned in that warehouse by the 'great vigilante Bat', because he was always too much work, too aggressive, too angry, too vengeful. Jason's stopped feeling. Jason is a husk of what he used to be. Jason is a ticking time bomb wherever he sits, and he doesn't care anymore.

- Based on the Let Go by Frou Frou-
- This is NOT a songfic -

---

The anti-hero sat at the edge of a rooftop, eating his food as his legs swung over the edge, his eyes scanning the city lights behind his domino mask. He glanced towards his red helmet at the sound of someone screaming followed by a gun shot-

And resumed taking another bite of the cold sandwich he bought at a convenience store earlier that day.

He chewed, his arms resting on his thighs, and just in time managed to catch the rapidly moving shadow against the night as Nightwing swooped through Bludhaven.

Jason knew that his foster-brother was going to tend to the crime far below and maybe a block or two away (he was in an area known for higher crime rates), even though they were meant to meet around this time.

The anti-hero didn't mind, taking another bite of his sandwich. He could almost feel Nightwing's accusing glare as the vigilante disappeared behind another building, swiftly taking down the criminals; sounds muted by the sound of police cars and an ambulance fast approaching.

Jason huffed, amused. They'll definitely be needing more than one ambulance.

"Something funny?"

Jason huffed, tossing the sandwich. His covered green eyes watched while it came apart as it fell 50 stories to the ground. "Hey Golden Boy." Jason ran his hands against his pants, ridding his fingers of the crumbs and condiments while he chewed what was left in his mouth.
He swallowed, running his teeth along his gums to get rid of whatever was left in his mouth as he came to a stand. "Took you long enough."

Nightwing made an irritated sound as he walked to stand beside Jason, peeking over the room. "That could've landed on someone."

Jason turned to walk towards the center of the roof, shrugging. "Then they get a free, half eaten sandwich." He could feel the older mans eyes on his back as he casually made his way to a spot where they could comfortably talk. "So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Jason stood still, turning to face the other who was approaching.

He watched as Nightwing sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head, eyeing what he assumed was the ground before the older came to a stop a few feet away.

"Hood, look," He placed his hands out in a defensive manner. "Before you go off on me, just know that I'm doing this with the best of intentions."

Jason cocked his head to the side, brows pressing. "Just spit it out already."

Nightwing inhaled deeply, then sighed, looking extremely worn out. "OK so, you're obviously in my neck of the woods because you wanna stay as far away from Gotham as possible, but can't go anywhere else because no other vigilante would spot you if the entire city tries to get rid of you-"

Jason interrupted him with a sigh. "You're rambling 'Wing." He critically stared at the other. "You only do that if you think I'm gonna shoot you." He nodded his chin toward the black and blue vigilante. "Is it that bad?"

"Well," Nightwing held his breath, mouth opening and closing multiple times, failing to articulate the words racing in his mind, then giving up and shaking his head to himself in frustration. "Agh! Look, I know you don't even wanna talk about this, since I know you have your reasons when it comes to acting out-"

"Acting out?-"

"So I don't usually judge, but-..." Nightwing takes in a breathe, goes tense as if preparing himself, then, "Batman wants to see you- well, talk, but- I mean, you get what I'm trying to say." He was looking away at this point, avoiding the obvious glare on his younger brothers face. He sighed, looking to Jason. "He wants to see you, Hood."

Jason nodded, reached for something on his belt, then aimed to the side with an unamused arch in his brow. "Bye then."

"Wait!" Nightwing lunged for the others outstretched arm before he could grapple away, not able to as Jason was able to move his arm toward himself. Nightwing stood in place sighing as he straightened himself, looking to his younger sibling. "Look, he just wants to explain himself-"

"For what?! "

Nightwing flinched away, not expecting the sudden anger. It wasn't rare for Hood to be completely calm one second, and insanely upset the next.

"I don't have anything to apologize for! So what if I'm acting out of vengeance?! So what if I'm being 'immature '?!" Jason was practically in the older mans face. "I'm sick and fucking tired of you assholes deciding on just what makes my actions good or evil, mature or childish! Can't I feel happy for once?!"

"And are you?" Nightwing was calm, keeping eye contact, watching as the question brought a questionable look into Jason's features. "Are you happy?" The younger released a huff with an incredulous smile, walking away while shaking his head. "Because you don't look happy to me, Hood. You look worn out. You look drained as hell. Whatever this is, that you're so focused on destroying? It's tearing you apart-"

Jason spun around to face the older, seething. "You think I don't know that?" His tone was low, but had a dangerous edge. "You think I don't feel that every day? I'm tired, Wing. I'm absolutely fucking miserable-..." He paused, taking in a deep breathe to control the building rage inside him, trying to resort back to what he'd been feeling these past few months- nothing at all. Not the former angry, impulsive Jason, but instead the empty hollow one who wouldn't smile or blink whenever he'd shoot someone dead.

The older patiently waited, watching Hood collect himself. He tilted his head to the side, then looked away. "Then why not stop?"

Jason's was covering the upper half of his face with his hands. "Stop what?" It was a stupid question, he knew what Nightwing was referring to, but his mind was racing with every single thing that was influencing his need to achieve his revenge.

"Hood..." Nightwing shook his head, slowly approaching the other. "Talk to Bat's. I probably can't give you the answer's you want, but maybe he can-"

"And why's that?" Jason pulled his hands away from his face, staring at the other. "Why do all of you seem to think he's the 'answer' to all of my problems?" Rather, Bruce was the reason behind many of his problems, but he didn't want to voice it, it having been said aloud hundreds of times already.

"Because out of all of us, you and Bat's share the same wants."

Jason nearly retched.

"Think about it, Hood. You both are driven on the need to get revenge."

Jason huffed a humorless laugh. "Should you be openly talking about shit like that, on a rooftop." Motioning towards the windows of the neighboring buildings with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You can risk exposing us. Wouldn't want Bat's to slap the shit out of you again, now would we?" It was a low blow, he could tell by how Nightwing tensed, but Jason didn't care.

Whatever patience Nightwing was holding with a vice grip was slowly slipping away. He glared at Hood, words low. "Of'course you'd think that was funny."

Jason hacked out a laugh, arms out as if waiting for the night sky to embrace him. "And this is why I can't take any of you seriously!" He pulled his arms towards him, though held them up as if offering something. "Because I definitely think any form of abuse is funny, huh?" He saw the look of realization dawn on Nightwing's face. "You all are fucking useless-"

Nightwing held out a hand, seeing the younger start to fall apart. "Hood, I didn't mean it that way-"

"Yes you did!" Jason felt manic, his heart was racing, blood boiling, chest tight. "Because you, Bat's, and everyone else, save for Alfred, only care about yourselves!"

"That's not true-"

"Really?" Jason dared, eyes narrowed, rendering the older silent. "Like when Bat's said that I was acting like a child ? Like when Replacement said that dwelling on the past is a waste of time ? Like when that Demon-Spawn said that I was insufferable because I couldn't act my age? Or when you said that I should," He paused, finger-quoting his next words, "'Get over it'..." He watched Nightwing, noticing how the older wasn't moving, wasn't trying to say anything, and Jason wondered why. "Did any of you ever once consider how I might be feeling? Did any of you give a shit about what matters to me the most?"

"Maybe we did, but that stopped when you started killing people!-"

"Don't act like that was the final straw for you, Goldie." Jason chuckled with mirth, shaking his head. "Don't pretend like our first meeting wasn't you literally hating my existence, even though you left the role of Robin behind." He slowly approached the older. "Me killing people finally gave you the excuse you needed. I mean, how else would anyone side with you if you said 'I hate Hood because he took my place as Robin' ? Then everyone would be calling you the childish one."

"I don't 'hate' you!-"

"Maybe not, but you find me insufferable, don't you?" Jason crossed his arms against his chest, cocking his head to the side. "There's not a day that goes by that you don't want me outta your shitty turf." He waited, and while the seconds passed in silence, Jason managed a wry smile and a hollow chuckle. "You guys are so easy to read." He started to turn away, brows arched as he observed some random windows located much higher than where they stood, muttering, "You and your fucked up family." More silence from the older followed.

If not for Jason's refined ability to hear any Robin's soft footsteps, he wouldn't have realized how close Nightwing was getting. He didn't even shrug off the older mans hand when it landed on his shoulder, not wanting to give Nightwing the satisfaction of being able to predict him.

"Our family." Nightwing's soft voice was reserved for them alone. "Our fucked up family." He stared hard at Jason's side profile, wanting the younger to return eye contact. When he knew that Hood wouldn't give him any sign of regard, he looked down, staring hard at Jason's muddy boots. "Please talk to Batman?"

Jason almost looked to him at the infliction in the older mans tone. Was Golden Boy begging him? He flexed and loosened his jaw, once, twice, three four times, then let his head fall, staring at the dirty concrete at his feet. "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?"

Jason shook his head with a tight smile, not mentioning the fact that he could hear the smile in Nightwing's rhetorical question. "Why are you begging for that asshole? Why do you still respect Bat's so much?"

Nightwing removed his hand from Jason's shoulder, taking a few steps ahead of Jason, staring off towards nowhere, crossing his arms. "I don't know myself. Honest." He tilted his head in thought. "I couldn't give you an answer, even if I tried." He stood still, neither saying a word for nearly a minute. Nightwing staring ahead towards the surrounding city, Jason just staring at him. "So, will you?" He halfway turned, staring directly toward Hood's domino mask. "Talk to Batman, I mean."

A second of stunned silence passed, ending with a huff and shake of the head. "You should've just kept your job as a cop. Might've even made a great one, with the way you kiss ass so well"

"Hey!-"

"Relax Kid, I'm not trying to be offensive." Jason tilted his head, looking towards the sky, reconsidering. "Well, not entirely."

Nightwing fully turned to him, brow furrowed. "Kid?-"

"What, you think I didn't notice?" Jason tilted his head back, taken a bit by surprise. When the older didn't say anything, Jason pointed towards his own ear. "I could tell when it's Replacement talking, even through someone else's mouth." He didn't express his satisfaction as he watched Nightwing fumble in embarrassment, turning and getting his grapple ready yet again. "Tell the kid that he should just teach you guys how to play detective, since he's really good at that manipulation shit."

"Hood, wait-"

"Relax, relax. I'm heading over to Gotham." He released the trigger on the device, the hook shooting out and latching onto solid immediately. "And Goldie? Don't ever do that shit again. You aren't a very convincing *owl." With that he rushed off the roof, letting gravity and aerodynamics take over, following along with the way he swung into open air, using what he learned as a young boy clad in green, red, and black. Who once wore an excitable grin that stretched from ear to ear. Before the crowbar, before the fire, before the explosion, before rising from a green pit with endless rage.

On the ground he is gunpowder and a heavy weight that pulls towards and into the earth, but in the sky, in the air, he's that little battered bird that died too young.

---

*Not in relation to the Court of Owls, but as in Messenger Owl

---

There's no way that Alfred didn't hear that, was what Jason first thought as he pulled off his helmet, revealing a flushed face from the heat within the protective gear. His unmasked green eyes looked towards the doorway leading to the obscenely large mansion. He looked away as the doors began to open, trying but failing to hide the lopsided smile forming along his split lips, pretending to be utterly fixated on removing his gloves.

"Master Jason."

Jason grinned, looking towards the elderly man. "Aw, Alfie." He rested his balled up hands against each thigh, the left one gripping his gloves. "I was hoping to surprise you."

"I'm sorry to say that your efforts were promptly shattered," Alfred responded with his usual unamused expression. "As I'm sure that I would have managed to hear your bike from the cave."

Jason looked towards his bike as he gripped the handles with a bemused lopsided grin, kicking the stand, proceeding to step off the vehicle. "Yeah, I don't think I was that loud."

Alfred arched a brow. "So I assume you revving up the engine was purely by mistake?"

The younger shrugged, standing before the butler.

"Welcome back home, Master Jason." Alfred nodded with a curt bow, moving to the side and motioning towards the open doors.

Jason looking away from the elder, then uncertainly gazed at the double doors. "Yeah," He started toward them. "It's not good to be back."

Alfred offered a slight and unamused smile, already expecting that. "Surely." He turned to follow Jason once he was sure the younger was already standing in the landing, glancing towards the dirty boots, but not saying anything as he turned to close the doors to securely lock them.

"So, where is he?" Jason looked around the large open room, eyes taking in every familiar detail before turning to look Alfred in the eye.

"To which are you referring to?" Alfred turned his head to a shoulder, before setting it forward again. "Master Timothy? Master Damian?"

Jason gawked, waving a hand to disperse something imaginary in the air. "Nah nah, not that Demon Spawn. Replacement is here?"

Alfred nodded. "Though I wish you would stop referring to him in that way. Yes, he's been here for a few weeks now." He looked to the ground in thought. "Came down with a rather nasty cold." Although the topic was grim, since Tim was now and forever immunocompromised after losing his spleen, Alfred managed to keep an air of aloofness.

"I was talkin' about Bruce." Jason decided to not prod at Tim's health, knowing that it was a delicate subject within them.

"Ah, yes. Your father is in the study."

Jason immediately began swiping his hand side to side in a negative fashion, grimacing at the word. "Don't- He's not my dad, Alfie. Just refer to the old man as you usually would."

Alfred perked up, though it didn't reach his usually blank expression. "And what would that be?"

"I dunno. 'Master Bruce'? 'Master Wayne'? I dunno what you call him these days."

The elder looked off to the side, towards the direction of the study. "I find myself taking a habit of referring to him as 'insane', or 'inconsiderately selfish ', now-a-days."

That managed to make Jason genuinely smile, shaking his head. He crossed his arms, observing the others features. Alfred had noticeably aged. "I've missed you, gramps."

Alfred returned a warm smile. "And I, you." His approached Jason and motioned toward the hall that led to the study room. "Now, if you will."

The smile fell from Jason's face, and he groaned in displeasure. He wordlessly nodded, knowing he couldn't mistreat Alfred. The man's been more like a father to him that Bruce ever could be.

Alfred's polished shoes reflected anything hanging off the walls, the light from the windows bouncing off the black surface. The low heels echoed every step.

Each 'clack, clack, clack' sounding like a warning bell in Jason's mind, counting down the introduction of a meeting long overdue. He wished the sound could go on for eternity, but he knew that once they stopped, their destination was met.

And stop they did.

Alfred lightly knocked at the surface of the tall wooden door. "Master Bruce, a visitor."

They could hear the other shifting from within the room. "Yes, come in." Came the deep voice, tone heavy even though there was a barrier between them.

Alfred grabbed hold of the door knob, giving Jason a reassuring look with a slight nod.

Jason nodded back, watching as the elder man turned the knob, pushing the door open then waiting alongside it, staring ahead, glancing toward Jason when he didn't move. The younger finally relented, walking in with a sigh, eyeing the ground, then his line of vision trailing up once he passed the door and Alfred, looking toward the chairs, green eyes landing on Bruce's usual armchair.

As expected, the older man was sitting on his preferred chair, leg crossed as he rested his hand atop his knee, some form of document in his hand. He looked up toward Jason, not even smiling, just nodding before looking toward his surrogate father. "Thank you, Alfred. I'd like to speak to Jason alone."

"Of course, Master Bruce." He bowed lightly, gabbing hold of the knob. "I hope that you behave, as I don't wish to clean up any messes as a result of trivial violence."

Bruce sheepishly smiled at the elderly man. "Understood." He nodded, watching as the door closed, looking away and toward Jason once the loud 'click' indicated that they were now alone. He motioned toward the armchair adjacent to his own. "Please, have a seat.-"

"Smart ass said you wanted a word with me?" Jason ignored the mans gesture, standing in place, with a stoic expression.

Bruce's dark blue eyes trailed the younger mans vacant face, taking in the lack of anger, waiting to see if there was a twitch of impatience. Anything that was usual for Jason at this point in any conversation. He didn't lecture on the profanity, already accustomed to it from his second foster son, and instead responded with a questionable look, knowing that Jason had a tendency to refer to anyone of the former (or current) Robin's such a way. "Which-"

Of course Bruce wouldn't know. "Replacement, Red Robin, Timothy, Timbo." Jason nodded towards the door. "That one."

Bruce looked away with a smile. "Ah, yes. Apologies. I intended to send him instead of Dick, but Tim's currently fighting a nasty bug." He explained, looking back to the younger.

Jason tensed. Bruce was doing it again. He was trying to guilt trip him. He didn't take the bait, and instead shrugged a shoulder, responding with a simple "Ah." sound of acknowledgement. "So why am I here?" He nodded towards the older. "What do you want?"

Bruce stared at the other for a moment, then sighed, sounding defeated. He set the document he was reading onto the lamp table, uncrossing his legs and pushing his hands against the arm rests of his chair to come to a stand. "I've noticed that you've been on a violent rampage as of late."

"So?" Jason shrugged. "What's new? You gonna tell me to stop? 'Cause you know that's never worked." He watched as Bruce rounded the seating area, slowly making his way toward the window. "Seriously old man. If you're just gonna lecture me again, on how violence and killing people is bad, then this is the part where I say 'don't care ', and bid myself the fuck outta this mansion."

Bruce gave his a dangerous glare before looking away and out the window. "I already know that no matter what I say, you're not going to stop killing criminals."

"Then I can't think of any other reason as to why you wanna have a chat with me." Jason finally approached the sofa facing the armchairs, only willing to sit so long as he wasn't physically close to Bruce.

"You're not only killing, and you're not only taking out criminals anymore." Bruce slowly breathed out of his nose, then slightly turned to look at the younger man. "You're destroying peoples lives, innocent-"

"Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say." Jason glared, trying to maintain himself as he felt his body tremble, as if the anger was trying to release itself from the strong bindings in place. "Those people aren't innocent. Those people ruined my life." He paused, waiting to see if Bruce was going to correct him, but when he didn't, Jason continued. "They abused me, verbally, physically, sexually. For years, years, and no one did anything to help me. I was a kid born in grime. The police looked the other way. Doctors, family, even my own mother, looked away. They destroyed me from the inside out."

Bruce fully turned, facing Jason. "I gave you Robin. I listened. I cared-"

Jason shot up from his seat. "Did you now?" He didn't move, but damn did he want to rush toward the older man and grip him from the collar. "You let them release my dad from jail!-"

"On good behavior-"

"What the fuck is that even about ?!" Jason finally let his anger break through. He couldn't help it, his voice rising levels he didn't want to reach. At least he didn't move from his spot as he body expressed his anger. "How the fuck does that make any sense?! 'On good behavior'- You've gotta be shitting me!"

Bruce looked away, shaking his head. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"Oh?" Jason shook his head. "Shouldn't have told me what? That my dad was living as a free man? The man responsible for stealing my childhood? For breaking me so bad, that my minds been fucked up ever since I was a toddler? Wanted to keep that all to yourself, huh, old man?" He tsked, turning away. What was the point. "You know, if-" He slightly turned, glaring at the older. "If it wasn't for that asshole, I would've never met you." Bruce's expression softened, a brow raising. "I don't mean that in a good way either."

Bruce shook his head, confused. He lifted a hand, as if offering it. "Jason-"

"No, nah. It's true. My dad ruined my life, my mom, everyone involved when I was a kid ruined my life. You coming along and giving me comical role as your useless fucking sidekick, which got me prematurely killed by the way, by the psycho lunatic who has a grudge on you , but decided to take it out on me." Jason wore an incredulous smile as he realized something. "And you know who led me there? My own fucking mother. It was all somehow connected in a way to say 'fuck you kid, you'll never escape your cursed shitty life' ."

"Then why step back in?"

The question was so sudden, carried swiftly and gently by the calm, deep timbre in Bruce's voice. Such a simple question, seemingly weightless, and yet-

Yet...

"You know I can't ignore it, old man." Jason responded, shoulders sagging, defeated, exhausted with this merry-go-round.

Bruce looked like he had figure something out, looking to the younger with determination. "Why not?" Jason shook his head. "Jason, why can't you ignore it? Why resort to vengeance, when you could easily never step back in."

"Because he doesn't deserve to live a happy life after what he did to me!" Jason snapped, his voice was shaking. He wouldn't cry, not again, never again over that garbage father of his. "Because I shouldn't live on suffering with the memory of what he said, of what he did to me, while he gets to move on and be happy with his new found life!" He took a sharp inhale, trying to calm his breathing after rushing his words.

"And what will that accomplish?" Bruce dared. "You getting reeled back into this? You'll only do more damage to yourself instead healing. Those dormant emotions you've managed to heal as Red Hood, working alongside Tim, Dick, sometimes Damian, and your own group. All that effort, wasted?" He took a step toward his foster son, who looked like he was about to go weak in the knees as collapse back onto the sofa beside him. "You managed to move on once you became Robin. You managed to move on and find yourself when you became Red Hood, and now, after fighting us nearly to the point of killing us, you're finally working alongside us . For a moment you even stopped killing criminals, and resorted to rubber bullets, or shooting sedatives... Jason... Don't you see what this is doing to you?" The younger looked up from the rug and into Bruce's steady gaze. "It's destroying you. It's tearing down all the achievements you've managed to accomplish despite everything." Bruce rest a hand onto the younger's shoulder.

Jason shrugged the hand off. "I don't care." Jason shook his head to himself. "I've stopped caring. I don't care who gets hurt along the way. I don't feel bad about it either."

Bruce's brows pressed together. "And it hurts me to hear you say that." He searched for Jason's green eyes that remained averted. "It really does. But if you 'feel nothing' as a means to distance yourself from doing what you're doing, then that's real. That's a logical response."

"Look Bruce, I don't wanna hear your psychological bullshit-"

"That's not what I'm trying to do." Bruce's tone edged towards impatience, causing the younger to meet his gaze. Bruce sighed, calming himself. "I'm trying to talk to you without fighting. I'm not arguing or lecturing you right now. Trust me when I say I've been where you are right now. Trust me when I say that I sometimes slip back into where you are right now, whenever I remember that I'll never truly find those behind my parents murder."

Jason shook his head. "It's not the same. Your parents loved you. You were raised like a spoiled brat. You had everything, and in a way you still have everything. Hell, Bruce!" Jason threw his hands up in frustration. "I mean you're a billionaire philanthropist with Alfred as a surrogate father who cleans up after you! You're angry because you're bored, because you've lost 2 things you considered precious to you, but you were never broken apart like I was!"

Bruce nodded. "You're right. I will never know or understand your pain, but Jason." He rested his hand on the younger's shoulder, then gently pushed against it, nodding towards the two-seater sofa beside them. He continued once they were seated. "You know, ever since I met you as that kid trying to steel the hubcaps off my car, I always say something in you." He looked away and toward his preferred arm chair, then toward the one beside it, separated by the lamp table between them. "And then when I brought you in, I saw just how much your intelligence was wasting away. I remember the days I'd sit there," Bruce motioned toward his preferred armchair ahead of him, he then motioned to the one beside it. "And you'd sit there." He brought his hand back to interlace his fingers between his parted thighs. "We'd just sit in this room, silently reading for hours."

Jason looked to the older at the sound of light laughter, staring at the mans face as he was lost, reminiscing the past.

"Alfred would rush in, angry, demanding we put our books down and eat a mixture of forgotten lunch and a late dinner."

Jason nodded, looking away, staring at the arm chair ahead of him, the one he preferred to slouch or curl up into.

Bruce dropped his head, staring at his interlaced hands. "I knew that I had to do everything, anything possible to show you just how remarkable you are. How intelligent you are." He lifted one hand as if presenting something, looking off toward the distance. "Hell, you could've been the CEO to your own company without my help by now if you wanted. You could've been a millionaire out of your own inventions and ideas. You could've been your own version of a billionaire philanthropist..." Bruce stilled for a moment, then nodded as he lowered his hand, interlacing it again. "But I failed you. I couldn't save you. I didn't get the chance to be the one you'd depend on."

Jason stared at Bruce for a moment before looking away, staring at the detail on the woodwork along the wall a fair distance ahead of them and behind the armchairs. "What does that have to do with me ruining my dad's life?" He asked in a flat tone.

"Everything."

The sudden and simple statement made Jason look back towards the other, somewhat caught-off guard when he was staring into angry dark blue eyes.

"It has to do with all of it. If I got to you in time, if I managed to save you from the warehouse, I would have shown you what I mean. I would have guided you the way that I hoped that I could have. I would have sent you to prestigious academy's, an Ivy League college, and I would have been here to support you every step of the way, just so that you could prove your pathetic excuse of a father that he was always wrong about you." Bruce looked away, eyes moving from side to side as if though he just realized something himself.

Jason stared at him for a moment longer with a frown, looking away. "Sorry to have disappointed you."

"In what way?"

Jason glanced at Bruce, giving him an incredulous expression before looking away and raising a fist before himself. "Well let's see. I died," One finger rose. "I came back as a crazed teen," Second finger. "I created my own group of Outlaws, squatting in disgusting abandoned places before stealing our own headquarters," Third finger. "I came back and tried to kill Replacement," Forth Finger. "I then tried to kill you," Fifth finger. "I continued on a war path of killing criminals, or henchmen to notorious criminals- Oh, ran out of fingers." He began to raise another fist, but was prevented from doing so, Bruce's hand covering it and keeping it from moving further.

"Would you believe me if I told you that none of that was your fault?"

Jason shrugged. "Wouldn't care if you did." He retracted his hands, leaning forward, elbows resting against his thighs. "Look Bruce... I get what this is, I see what you're doing, trust me, I do. But there's nothing that you, or anyone could say, to stop me from doing this."

Bruce sighed. "To what end?"

The younger cocked his head to the side. "Does that matter?" He rested his palms against his knees, pushing himself to a hand. "Maybe there's no end in sight to this. Maybe by successfully putting that bastard behind bars, I'll open a Pandora's box that'll follow me to the end of my time." He stretched, arms reaching toward the ceiling as he yawned. "Maybe this shit doesn't make you or the rest happy, but in some sick twisted-as-fuck sorta way, it makes me feel better."

Bruce nodded, staring up at Jason, then tilted his head in curiosity. "You don't intend on killing him?" When Jason looked back down to him with a small 'huh', he nodded and repeating that his foster son had said. "'Putting that bastard behind bars', that's what you said, instead of killing him."

Jason folded his arms against his chest with a snide grin. "And let that piece of shit off easy? Nah, death would be too good for him. He deserves to suffer and rot until he shits himself because he's too old to walk on his own."

Bruce frowned at that, looking like he lost all hope. "There's nothing that I can say, that would stop you from going forward with any this?"

Jason shook his head. "Nope."

"Not even if the repercussions are great?"

"Nuh-uh."

Bruce nodded his head, lowering his gaze in though. "I see."

Jason cocked his head to the side, confused. "Huh?"

"I know that once you're set on something, there's nothing I can do if reason has little to no effect."

"Uh..." Jason's brow furrowed while the other arched. "Thanks?"

Bruce pushed himself to a stand, a slight smile on his lips. "It wasn't an insult." He shook his head. "It's just something I've always noted in you as well. Your intelligence, your determination." He furrowed a brow. "And your stubbornness." He added with an amused tone. Bruce's features relaxed with a sigh. "Just know that if you need anything, anything at all, we're here for you." He searched Jason's eyes as soon as he saw that his son was loosing interest, resting a reassuring hand on the younger man's broad shoulder. "That I'm here for you, son."

Jason looked at him with disinterest. "I prefer Alfred, to be honest."

Bruce took that as a positive sign. He dropped his gaze, eyes closing as an amused smile reached his lips. He looked up to Jason, his foster child, patting the shoulder his hand rested on. "Or Alfred. Whichever one of us you prefer."

Jason looked down, giving a curt nod in understanding, watching as the older glanced at the face of his wrist watch.

"It's almost time for dinner. Will you be staying?"

Jason scoffed. "You already know Alf is preparing a plate for me. He'll have my head if I leave before eating the food he meticulously made just to suit my taste."

Bruce gave him a warm smile. "Well then, after you. I've got to gather something I was looking into. I'll meet you at dinner."

Jason's brows arched. "Where? At the Cave, or the actual dinning room table?"

Bruce was already walking away to collect the documents he was previously absorbed into. He gave the younger a sarcastic laugh. "Dining room." He rolled his eyes, turning away as Jason waved him off while making his way to the door. He paused while leaned over to pick up the discarded sheets of paper on the floor, pointing toward Jason with a document in hand. "Oh! And don't eat my dinner."

Jason stood at the open door, holding the edge with one hand while the other was placed at his hip. "When did I ever?"

Standing upright, Bruce sighed and arched a brow. "How about when you argued that a growing boy needs his fill of nutrition-"

"Yeah yeah, alright alright." Jason interrupted, walking out and roughly closing the door without intending to.

Jason walked down the hall, heading back toward the entrance, eyes immediately landing on the grand staircase. He stood at the foot of the stairs, hands in his jacket pockets, and then took a step forward, ascending the staircase with as much speed and weight as he did when he was just another kid who lived within the manor.

He kept walking, heading towards what used to be his room. Standing before the closed door, he didn't bother knocking, opening it to be greeted with a familiar sight.

"Hey there, Replacement." He smugly stated from the doorway, staring at the bundled up body of misery. "Heard you were taken down by a little cold."

Tim rolled his eyes, dropping his head back down onto the pillow and tilting it to the side, looking away from the older. "What do you want?" Tim's sounded congested, and he wouldn't stop sniffling. "Are you even allowed in here?"

Jason's brows pressed. "What'dya mean? 'Course I am." He rolled eyes, walking further in.

Tim turned his head to look at him. "I mean are you clean? Wash your hands? Shoes still on-"

"Woah woah," Jason's brows arched, holding his hands up in a defensive manner. "Will you let me back in if I do?"

Tim sniffled. "Just take your shoes off, and wash your hands in the hallway bathroom."

"You do know this used to be my room-"

"Used to be." Tim glared. "I'm serious, Ja-" He was cut off by a serious coughing fit that left him gasping for breath.

Wide-eyed Jason promptly left, removing his shoes, and resuming down the hall to wash his hands at the nearby guest bathroom, not wanting to get an earful from Alfred or Bruce for making Tim worse.

Once done he returned, this time knocking against the open door. "Alright," He brought up his hands, presenting them. "Washed them."

Tim rolled his eyes, dropping his head against the pillow again, letting out a miserable moan. "What do you want?"

"Hey now. You're under quarantine for a cold," Jason's green eyes scanned around the full-sized mattress. "And I don't see any devices near your bed. So you must be bored outta your fucking mind."

"And ?" Tim sniffed. "What are you gonna offer?" He looked away, muttering a, "Nothing interesting, I bet."

"Come now, Replacement!" Jason sat himself down in Tim's swivel chair, spinning it so that he could face Tim with a radiant shit eating smirk. "I'm always interesting!"

Tim stared at him, unamused. "Uh-huh..." He started to force himself into a seated position, struggling. He still managed on his own, too stubborn to ask for help on something so frivolous. "So, did you talk to him?"

Jason folded his arms against his chest, leaning back into the chair. "Talk to who?"

The younger gave him a pointed look, daring him to continue the pointless game of 20 Questions.

"Fine," Jason relented with a sigh. "I did."

"And?" Tim arched a brow, eyes scanning along Jason's body language, but failing to find an answer there, since Jason was usually so well-guarded.

"And nothing." Jason shrugged. "I'm still doing what I gotta do until I'm satisfied."

Tim's brows pressed against each other, a short cough shaking his slouched figure. "And Bruce is alright with that?" He reached for the cup of lukewarm water, trying to rid of his raspy voice. He grimaced as he swallowed, his throat too sore and sensitive.

"I mean, he wasn't alright with it. He just kinda gave up on trying to convince me otherwise." Jason explained, slightly turning the swivel chair left and right. "But you guys did a grand job at bringing me here, so I'll at least you you that." He gave the younger a smug grin. "So, points for effort. Can't really give you the satisfaction of a good score for only managing to achieve half your goals."

Tim coughed into the crook of his elbow. "Honestly, would've been freaked out if it did work out swimmingly."

Jason's brows arched. "Oh really?" He stilled the chair. "This isn't you trying to feel less embarrassed that you failed? I mean I get that you gotta reserve that pride of yours, Mr. Genius, but-"

"It's not that." Tim interrupted, irritated.

It wasn't unusual for Tim to lose his cool, but Jason reasoned that it was probably because he felt like shit already, and knowing that he failed in keeping Jason from killing people was definitely not a good feeling.

Tim sighed, resting back into the pillows, sliding down so that he was laying face up, staring at the ceiling. "At least you're back. Pretty sure that made Alfred happy."

"But not you?"

Tim gave him an amused smug smirk. "Don't push it." He looked away, expression relaxing as he took to staring at the ceiling again. "But seriously. Welcome back, J."

Jason pushed himself up, patting Tim's comforter-covered ankle. "You're the second one to say that, so I'll let you guess what I told Alfred as a response."

Tim let out a raspy laugh. "I don't even have to dwell on it."

"So, you coming down to eat dinner with us?" Jason wondered, resting his hands against the wooden board at the end of the bed.

The younger arched a brow. "You're staying for dinner?"

Jason shrugged. "I'm hungry, and I don't wanna deal with a forlorn Alfred. So," He curiously tilted his head, eyes scanning the cocooned body. "Are you gonna eat with us or, I mean, I can carry you-"

"No!" Tim moaned, annoyed. "No, just-, Alfred told me I need bed rest, and that he'll bring the meals up to my room."

Jason held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Oooh, sorry, didn't know I was talking to royalty -"

"It's just to keep my safe. Not having a spleen means that if Demon-Brat coughs my way, I'll be in a hospital." Tim sighed, coughing slightly, eyes drooping shut. "Ugh , I'm so tired. I hate this."

"Rest will do good for you." Jason made his way to the door. "You hardly sleep, if ever. Consider this a brain-vacation. Your body's catching up on all the sleep you wouldn't allow it, you know, because you're self-destructive, borderline masochistic-"

"Jason?"

"Yeah?"

Tim stared pointedly at him. "Can you please get the fuck out of my room?"

The older gave him a weak salute. "Yes sir. Have fun being sick." He grabbed for the door knob, slowly pulling the door with himself as he entered the hall.

"Have fun eating dinner with Bruce and Demon-Brat." Tim bit back.

Jason chuckled. "Will do." He responded, satisfied with having the last word as the door clicked shut behind him.

Stuffing his hands back into his jacket pockets, Jason made his way down the hall and toward the staircase, pausing from slight surprise at the sound of a small familiar bell ringing in the distance, echoing throughout the manor.

The sound of a door opening from farther back down the hall made Jason look behind him in curiosity, dismayed when he watched an equally dismayed child slowly closing the door behind him.

Jason sighed, looking away as Damian approached, then past him.

"What the hell are you doing here, Todd?" Damian spat, nearing the stairs.

Jason wondered what Bruce would do if he pushed the little shit down. Jason shrugged. "None of your business." He knew providing Damian with no answer was more effective at pissing the kid off, then actually providing an answer. Now the brat would spin like an angry mini-tornado within the confines of his fucked up egotistical mind.

Damian tsked , descending the stairs. "Father no doubt chewed you out for your recent rampage." He paused, looking over his shoulder, glaring and giving another 'tt' before muttering a 'pathetic' under his breath.

Jason really wished he pushed the little shit down the stairs. He instead took a deep breath, trying to cool off before following the Demon Spawn down to dinner.
He had to keep reminding himself that he was staying for Alfred, just for Alfred.

Tonight he'd eat a well prepared and nutritious meal, something he hadn't experienced since his last day in the Wayne Manor.
Just for this night, he'd be Bruce's Robin, and Alfred's foster grandson.

Tomorrow he'd resume his revenge. Tomorrow he'd make sure his father would get everything he deserved. He'd deal with the hellish tide of endless repercussions later, but tonight, just for tonight, he was Jason, the second Robin, foster brother to Richard Grayson, Tim Drake, and [unfortunately] Damian Wayne, foster grandchild of Alfred Pennyworth, and foster son to billionaire philanthropist vigilante Bruce Wayne.

Just for tonight, he'd feel at peace.

But he knew that when the sun would rise tomorrow, the feeling would fade, and it will be replaced with limitless anger, with vengeful determination.
He'll store his emotions away. He won't care about how cruel his actions are. He'll store himself away during the beauty of his breakdown, and return to himself once his father gets what he deserves.

Jason sighed, running a hand along the side of his face. They were right, this was wearing him down.

"Jason?" Bruce's voice echoed all the way from the dining room, the sound of Damian protesting following suit.

Nodding, Jason muttered a near silent, "Alright alright , I'm on my way." As he descended the stairs.

He knows that they're right. He knows that when shit hits the fan, and it will, he won't be able to settle his overwhelmed mind.
But he couldn't let go. As fucked up as it was, revenge was what would help him heal. He was healing knowing that his biological father was suffering in a cage among monsters.

Now that the man was out and leading a proper life, Jason himself was becoming the monster.

That's just it though, isn't it?

People speak of healing when they don't understand-, when they can't possibly relate to the series of traumatic events that led to breaking the individual. The verbal abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse. A mixture of traumas, so deeply rooted into the body.

A feeling so thick that no type of therapy, medication, or sharing could help get rid of it.

'But you haven't tried' They'd say. 'You don't know if you can heal, because you're too scared to try, that you give up.'

That wasn't it. It never is. It's more damaging to assume that that's the reason.

But those who only experienced one or two traumatic events think they have all the answers, like those piece of [and full of] shit internet gurus.

Jason had to live with the reality that no one would understand him.

And maybe that was alright.

Maybe it's alright to be misunderstood-

So long as it gives him the strength to keep moving forward.

---

So, let go,
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, yeah let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

---

A/N: I'd be lying if I said I thought I'd finish this fic in one sitting. I'm not much of a writer.

This one was inspired by a conversation I had with someone. I never wrote in the perspective of Jason, but I felt like this topic was better suited for him.

Thanks for reading. A review would be nice.