A/N: This chapter has been in the works for easily two+ months, and I've rewritten/changed/modified it so many times (but only proofread it like one and a half times lol). I really hope it lived up to what everyone was hoping for.
Chapter 2
Crime Alley. Park Row. Whatever you called it, the area had a way of knowing when trouble was on the horizon. The streets, usually already bereft of those who could avoid them, emptied. The few police patrols that came through drove by faster. The homeless who were able, packed up whatever belongings they had to their name and booked it to a shelter. Those who couldn't get off the streets tried their damn best to find places to hide.
It wasn't that anyone ever really knew what was going to go wrong. They just knew that something was off. Tonight, even before the crumbling ruins of Black Mask's empire could start imploding, people knew. The streets were collectively holding their breath in.
(It had been one of those nights when Jason stumbled on the Batmobile, left unattended in an empty alley. He spent a lot of time wondering how different things would've been if he followed his basic instinct and hid.)
Jason was in his office, idyllically reading Pride & Prejudice – as if he hadn't memorized the lines years ago – when it happened.
The genteel silence was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, a fluttering cape, and footsteps landing on the carpeted floor.
And here I was getting worried I'd be stood up he snickered to himself.
He closed his first edition book – thank you Talia – one of the few exorbitant gifts he could stomach owning, and very deliberately put it back in the titanium reinforced, lead-lined upper cabinet at his work desk.
"You could have done me the courtesy of knocking. Damaging a charity's property is low, even for you," he said as he stowed his prized literature away.
"Jason," Bruce, no, Batman, growled.
"No, it's Jimmy," he answered sarcastically, finally casting his gaze at the intruders. Bruce stood in full Dark Knight regalia, and naturally Dick, clad in his Nightwing garb, was standing right by his side, no doubt under the misguided impression that he could play some sort of peacemaker.
As if Jason thought I don't know whose side you're on.
"There were murders carried out today," Bruce said, the accusation in his voice clear. Behind him Dick shot a glare at the back of his head, and it stirred up something familiar in Jason's memories.
Oh? These two have a fight? How nostalgic he thought, before answering the unspoken accusation. "There are murders carried out every day,"
"By League of Assassin operatives," Bruce added.
"Again, every day." Bruce grit his teeth and Jason rolled his eyes. "If you've got something to say, spit it out."
"What he means-," Dick started, hoping to head off the confrontation before it started.
"Did you order the murder of Black Mask and his associates?" Bruce asked, words coming out harsh and unyielding. After all this, did you really just come back to bathe this city in blood? Was all the progress for nothing? Is this what Talia's endgame was?
Jason glared, letting the tension ratchet up with each second that he stayed quiet. That's all that matters with you, isn't it Bruce? He felt the vaguest tinges of the pit whispering at the back of his mind, and stamped them out with prejudice.
In the Batcave, the already spiraling situation was not being well received by those watching the cowl footage.
"Are you shitting me?!" Stephanie yelled at the screen. "What kind of de-escalation is that! I've seen rocks with smoother transitions!"
"Hush Brown, some of us are trying to listen!" Damian shot back, just as Jason started to speak.
"No," he answered. "But I definitely didn't stop Talia from ordering it."
"That's not the same as ordering the hit, Bruce," Dick said, grabbing Jason's words like a lifeline and holding steadfast.
For Bruce, for the father that was desperate to have his son back, that information was more than enough. Hell, had the answer been different it still would have been acceptable. But once again, Bruce the father wasn't in the driver's seat.
Batman was.
"League operatives aren't allowed in Gotham."
"Bruce-" Dick said.
"Big talk from a guy who was literally trained by the League of Shadows," Jason shot back.
Dick turned to Jason. "Guys-"
"You know the rules-," the Dark Knight continued
"Your rules. Your rules. Not mine," Jason said, standing up from behind his desk. "I will never, ever sacrifice the lives of innocents so that I can sleep better because my conscience can't handle having blood on my hands."
"Enough!" Dick yelled. "The both of you!"
Miraculously, the both of them clammed up, and Dick found himself realizing he didn't actually know what to say next. Normally, they just ignored him and continued their escalations until they finally exploded.
Alright...now what?! the first Boy Wonder asked himself as the three of them stayed like that, in a verbal Mexican stand-off of sorts.
Unbelievable, Jason thought as he moved, walking past the two vigilantes over to the corner of the office to grab something from his bookshelf.
He could feel Bruce's eyes searching across his body, looking for any sign of...what? Injuries? Weapons? It was only slightly less annoying than the hope that was practically beaming off of Dick's face.
A sadistic part of him wondered if he would enjoy it, smashing that hope to a thousand pieces.
(The way that Dick had once smashed his hopes to a thousand pieces: Hopes of having a big brother, a mentor, a role model. Someone to talk to about Bruce. Because, no matter how much he wanted to let go, no matter how much he understood the feeling of being replaced, a small part of him couldn't let go of that bitterness.)
Tonight Jason thought, we're going to run the gauntlet. Before this is over, everyone is going to know damn well exactly where they stand with me.
...
Bruce watched Jason reach behind the bookshelf and hated himself for immediately assuming he was reaching for a weapon. When he saw the liquor come out, his next thought was to scold him because you shouldn't add drinking as a vice on top of smoking .
But he wasn't exactly in a position to criticize was he?
So he just stood there, cycling through his options. Trying to filter through the situation like it was a formula, looking for the perfect answer, which always felt impossible with Jason. The ideal route had been to have this conversation in the daytime, as civilians, when the possibility of being overhead would stop tempers from blowing up.
But Jason had stopped them. Because ever since he came back, Jason always knew how to stop Bruce's first move, and so now they were here. Batman was here. And where Bruce saw a wayward son he desperately needed to bring into the fold Batman saw a dangerous criminal, reinserting himself into Gotham with the backing of an even more dangerous woman. A soldier who insisted on doing what he couldn't.
So here they were, teetering on the edge of conflict. Because he'd ignored the advice that had been pounded into his eardrums over the last few hours.
"You two are going as an estranged father and brother, trying to make things right. You are not going as crime fighters," Barbara ordered.
"This conversation is best had between Jason and I alone. Dick doesn't need to be there."
"Because that worked out so well last time?" Dick shot back, heated. "There's no chance I'm letting you be alone with Jason."
"And yes Bruce, we don't trust you. You haven't given us a reason to, not when it comes to Jason," Barbara said coldly.
"Someone's got to talk at some point," Tim muttered, watching the prolonged silence from the Batcave.
"With these three?" Steph snorted. "Silence might be better than words."
With Bruce and Jason slowly slipping into their own worlds, it was Dick who ended up trying to break the tension, again.
"So Jason, you're back in town," he said lamely.
"Perceptive as always dickface," Jason said, taking a sip of the liquor. The Pit, he'd found, gave him heightened resistance. As much as the memories of Willis tarnished his view of alcohol, he was willing to imbibe this one time just irritate Bruce.
The older brother ignored the insult. "We were worried about you."
"Worried for my health?" Jason scoffed. "Or worried what I'd be up to without all of the Bat-brood watching my every move?"
"We were worried about you. You're family and you just disappeared-"
"We are not, and never have been, family," Jason interrupted, sounding vicious.
"Mad," Cass suddenly said, Jason's tone raising significant red flags to her.
"No shit babe," Steph answered.
Cass shook her head. "No, hurt. Angry. Mad. All of it."
It was so different from what she was used to seeing around him. Before he always presented like a caged animal...cornered and ready to lash out but barely holding back. This, this was something entirely different. He was literally cornered, with no gear on and no physical route of escape, but he looked like someone on the offensive.
Dick continued relatively unbothered, having heard this line from Jason countless times before. "I don't care how mad you are at Bruce, rightfully so, that doesn't change the fact that-"
"Oh no Dickie Bird, I'm not talking about Bruce right now. I'm talking about you. And me. Us." He motioned between the two of them. "We have never been family. Hell, the Replacement is more my brother and the first time I knew he existed I wanted to bash his brains into a gargoyle."
Dick recoiled, as if slapped. "What are you talking about?"
Besides him Bruce felt the urge to intervene, to warn him to stop , that this was pointless, that twisting emotions is where Jason plays best, but he kept quiet. That was Batman talking, and Batman had already failed in his appearance tonight.
"You need to listen Bruce! Listen because that goddamn thick skull of yours is half the reason we're in this mess!" Dick practically yelled at him.
So he stayed silent.
"You know, I always hated hearing you talk about how we're 'brothers'. How it's important for us to have 'open lines of communication' because we have to 'look out for the younger ones'. Because after all, we're 'family'," Jason continued, using aggressive air quotes.
Bruce, still watching silently, noted the absence of green Lazarus tint that usually came when his second son started talking about those Robin days. In the dark lighting of the office, it would have been impossible to miss. He filed it away for the no doubt painful report he would have to write later tonight.
"I meant all of that!" Dick insisted.
"That's really rich coming from the guy who could barely stand my presence when I was here," Jason sneered. "Or did you forget?
Dick flinched. "I admit, I messed up in the beginning."
"Oh, you've got a forgiving ass memory Dickhead. You hated me. Hated the fact that I was here. Hated that Bruce gave me Robin. You damn well let me know every time you felt like coming by the Manor to bitch at Bruce for taking in another kid, and trust me, I get what it feels like to be replaced, but man, it didn't excuse my shitty behavior to Tim and it fucking sure doesn't excuse your crap. Hell, you couldn't even hide it from the other heroes!"
Dick felt the taste of shame on his tongue, memories of his behavior flickering before him, like they had so many times in the aftermath of Jason's death.
"So wait, how exactly is he dishonoring the Robin uniform?" Wally asked, confused.
"The fact that he's wearing my colors, my uniform, what my mother gave to ME is dishonoring it enough. Fuck Bruce, and fuck his new partner."
"I was angry with Bruce! Once I grew up and saw that I was taking things out on you I changed!"
"Changed? Yeah, maybe for a little bit, but it didn't stick. Or did you already forget?"
"Little Wing, I,-I was immature and wrong. And I thought I had time to change that, but then you died and then-"
"God, if I had a dollar for every time since I've come back that some random hero told me how heartbroken you were to lose your little brother and how grateful they are that I came back. Not because I'm back, but because you were so traumatized. "
He turned to Bruce. "And you. Ugh, I've heard it all. About how my death destroyed you. How you were reckless. Suicidal almost. Timmers says I'm 'too blinded by my own anger and trauma to understand that you were also traumatized', whatever that means."
In the Batcave Tim grimaced, remembering that exact conversation and how dangerously close Jason had come to suplexing him off the roof right after. But he was more engrossed with the overall tone of this conversation.
Dick had told him that his relationship with Jason hadn't been the best but like with most things Jason-related, he'd never gone into details.
"Apparently I'm supposed to understand why your guilt complex over losing a kid is exactly why you had to let another, smaller, emotionally constipated night stalker put on the Robin colors," Jason continued.
"Your death destroyed us!" Dick said, a pleading note in his voice. "You have no idea how I felt, how guilty I feel , coming back and Bruce had already buried you!"
"And what do you think it did to me!?" Jason yelled, finally raising his voice. "I'm the one who died. I'm the one who got tortured to death by that sadistic clown, waiting for someone, anyone to come. I'm the one who had to crawl out of my own grave. I got thrown in the Pit. I had to deal with controlling that, a voice in my head begging for blood. I'm the one who had to breathe the same air as my murderer, while my so called father protected his life. Even at the cost of my own."
Dick closed his eyes, tears sliding out. "You don't know how guilty I felt, feel. "
"You felt guilty because you were wrong," Jason snarled, tone unforgiving.
"Yes!" Dick snapped. "Yes damnit I was wrong! I spent every day of the last few years looking back on everything I did wrong with you. And damn it all if the Titans, the Team, all of them weren't ashamed of it too. Because they let me get away with it!"
"Forgive me Dickie, or don't, because I don't give a shit, if I'm not interested in hearing about how it affected you."
If Bruce's issue was turning off his emotions when it came to family, then Dick's weakness had always been letting himself get too overwhelmed. It couldn't have been contrasted better by the image of Dick collapsing to his knees, his resolve pulverized by Jason's words, while Bruce stood there, silent as stone.
"Is that, is all of that true?" Tim asked aloud.
"Surely not," Damian said, but his voice wasn't as haughty as normal. "Grayson has never displayed such absurd behavior to any of us, and if anyone is deserving of it surely-"
"No!" Cass said, smacking Damian on the top of his head before he could turn on Tim. "No attacking each other."
Damian glowered at her, and Steph turned to Alfred. "Is what he said true? Were things really that bad?"
"I'm afraid Master Dick was young and his better judgement...misplaced for a time."
Tim looked grim, Damian looked crestfallen. "Do not hold it terribly against him," Alfred continued. "He was a young man, and I assure you his regret was immense. There is a reason why Master Dick is so attached to his role as your older brother."
"I always wondered why Jason seemed to have an easier time standing me than he could Dick when I'm the one that he calls 'Replacement'," Tim mused.
Back in his office, Jason spoke up again. "Do you remember our last conversation Dick?"
"It was right before you headed back to Titans tower, not long before your space mission. Do you remember? Because boy, I remember."
"Yes," the older brother whispered back shakily, still on his knees.
"Hey Bruce, do you remember? You weren't in the Manor when Dickie visited me, but think about the timeline. A couple of weeks before Ethiopia. I was benched, we weren't talking. Think hard old man."
Bruce didn't have to. "Garzonas," he answered, voice monotonous.
Garzonas. A disgusting waste of human space. How many nights Bruce had stayed up, wondering how things could have been different if he and Jason had never stumbled across the man.
"Felipe Garzonas," Jason answered, a crooked, and thoroughly unpleasant smile spreading on his face.
"Who is Garzonas?" Damian asked, looking to Tim.
"No idea. There's a file on the Batcomputer with that name but Bruce had heavily encrypted, and I never thought to ask. Alfred do you-" Tim stopped when he realized Alfred was trembling.
"Alfred?" Damian asked. "Who is Garzonas?"
"A piece of human filth, whose existence was not worth the stain he left on this earth, nor this family," the stoic man answered, the sheer hatred on his voice flooring everyone else.
"No, Alfred," Barbara cut in through the computer speakers. "Blaming everything that happened on Garzonas is too easy. We all carry some blame for that."
Sitting in the clocktower, she was as engrossed with the events unfolding as everyone else was. Her initial anger at Bruce had turned to sympathy for Dick, even as she knew Jason's blame wasn't misplaced. Now though, at the mention of Garzonas, there was a sick feeling growing in her stomach.
She hadn't accused Jason of killing Garzonas...but she never told him she believed in his innocence.
"You didn't ask me if I did it Babs," Jason said, the statement more a question than a fact. She glanced up from her book and eyed him, taking note of the defensive posture lacing his entire frame.
"Bruce asked. He didn't believe my answer. Dickhead didn't even bother to ask. Alfred doesn't look me in the eye the same anymore," the moody teen continued, sounding as edgy as his early days in the Manor.
"Do you want me to ask? I thought it might upset you," she said, picking her words carefully.
"You told me you don't like to ask questions you already know the answer to. Is that why you haven't asked?"
"I didn't ask because there's no evidence to tell me you did anything."
He stared at her for a long time, face scrunched up.
"That," he said, getting up, and she got the feeling she had misspoke, "isn't the same thing as believing I'm innocent."
"Jason-"
He stormed out, and Barbara groaned. She'd make it up to him when they meet for their tutoring next week.
Space. Space is what he needs, she told herself.
(He was dead next week)
Back in the room, Jason continued. "You remember don't you Dick? Storming back to Wayne Manor, when you knew Bruce was gone of course, to try and strip me of the uniform. That was a nice little talk about disgracing your family's heritage and all that. Remind me again, wasn't this after you were trying to make amends?"
Dick didn't say anything.
"That's in the past," Bruce said, coming to his son's defense as he tried to gage where this was going. You've never mentioned Garzonas before. Always the Joker, always the moral line, always Robin. Why now? Why here?
"No, no it isn't. Because really, that's where it all started. And for as much as I'm shitting on Dick, that's entire fuck up was really your fault Bruce. Your fault for not believing in me."
"Did you kill him?" Bruce asked harshly, the two standing on the edge of the roof. Below them, Garzonas lay splattered on the pavement.
Jason's silence was deafening, smothering the howling Gotham wind as he stared blankly past Bruce.
Finally, he said, "I guess I spooked him...and he slipped."
"For the record, I didn't kill him. As much as I wanted to, I didn't, and the suspicion on your face, on all of your faces, ate me alive."
"I never said you killed him," Bruce said. "I never told anyone-"
"You never said he didn't. " Dick cut in harshly. "And that was after weeks of talking about how he was getting too violent, too reckless."
"And you benched me, and then you told me I was getting fired," Jason added. "So you didn't have to say I killed anyone. Your actions said enough."
"I only ever had suspicions. Suspicion does not equate guilt."
"It does when it comes to us. It does when we were supposed to be family," Dick said.
"Heartwarming," Jason deadpanned. "For what it's worth, I thought about using the lasso of truth to prove you wrong."
That was back when Wonder Woman was still like his aunt. Someone he could confide in unconditionally. That too had been tarnished by the rage of the Pit.
(Maybe if he'd called her before Ethiopia...another what if that he tried not to dwell on.)
"Why didn't you?" Dick croaked, looking at him incredulously. "That could have, it could have changed everything!"
"No, no it wouldn't have. You both obviously thought I was capable of killing in the Robin uniform and lying about it. I realized you'd just make the assumption again, the next time. You didn't trust me, so I couldn't trust you."
In those words, Bruce heard the echoes of a smaller, wild eyed 12 year old boy that flinched every time he touched him and carried a knife in his waistband for his entire first month at the Manor.
"What's in it for you? No one does things outta the goodness of their heart an' all that, so just be honest."
"It was the main reason I went after Sheila. And boy, I couldn't trust her either."
"What does that mean?" Bruce said, attention focused back at the mention of the woman that Jason had died looking for. The woman that he'd decided was more trustworthy than Bruce.
"Who is Sheila?" Damian asked.
"His birth mother," Barbara said over the Batcomputer.
"Crap," Steph answered. "That can't be good."
"No. Very, very bad," Cass added ominously. She didn't know the story, but Jason was letting his emotions display like an open book - to her - tonight, and Sheila was clearly a dark chapter.
"You didn't even investigate did you?" Jason asked. "Just assumed that I went off half-cocked ignoring orders. Tell me Dick, what did Bruce say happened?"
Dick hesitated, and Jason kept talking. "Don't bother, I've read the file he wrote up, because of course he wrote up a case file of my death. It goes a little something like this: Sheila was on Joker's payroll, and probably being blackmailed into continuing to work for him. I attempted to rescue her instead of waiting for backup. The Joker caught me because I'm an idiot, and we both ended up dead."
He levelled another cold stare at Bruce, who was starting to feel more and more uneasy. Like he was missing something, something very big and he couldn't put the pieces together fast enough. "Is that what you think happened old man? Greatest Detective my ass."
"What are you talking about?" Dick asked shakily, afraid of the answer. Because we didn't get that wrong too did we?
"Oh I definitely tried to save her when I found her. She wouldn't come with me, because why would she? I was just some punk kid. So I came back as Robin. Revealed my identity."
Bruce suppressed a frown because we don't reveal our identities. Ever.
Apparently not well enough, because Jason noticed. "Oh shove it old man. She was supposed to be my mom. I was supposed to be able to trust her."
"Supposed to?" he asked, the question coming reflexively.
Jason sighed. "You'd think I would have learned my lesson about parents by then. She told me that the Joker was gone. That we had time. She needed to get her things."
Horror creeped into Bruce's mind as the pieces started to click into place. No no no no. Not like that.
"Next thing I know I hear the click of a gun, her gun, aimed right at me. And then the clown came."
Dick looked horrified. "No. No ," he whispered.
"She smoked a cigarette while he beat me to death. And then she was surprised when he turned on her."
In the Batcave, the ever stoic Alfred forced himself to sit down, his face aghast. It was the palest any of them had ever seen him.
"Boy, I was quite literally out of my mind when I woke up in my grave. But even then, when I saw who I was buried next to…" the glass in Jason's hand started to crack. "Did you know, Bruce, that you buried me next to the lady who sold me to the devil?"
Batman, Bruce, was out of words. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, because Jason's own mother had been the one to hand him over to The Joker. Because he'd blindly, stupidly missed that. Because he made assumptions, never make assumptions about how Jason had died and made so many decisions from those assumptions.
Because it was another bitter failure, adding to a list that should never have existed.
"But I guess it's ok right? Because I didn't listen. I didn't follow orders to wait, and risk my so-called mom's death. I acted, like you trained me to, like you drilled into my head, to save the civilian. But because I died, it must've been my fault."
"Jason-"
"When you look at me, all you see are the mistakes you've made. Both of you. Regret, guilt, and a kid that got blown up in Ethiopia years ago. You don't see me."
"This isn't about the Red Hood & Batman. This is about Jason and Bruce," Barbara warned.
The words struck something in Bruce, and he reached up to take off his damned cowl. Jason immediately latched on with eye contact, because that's who he was, never one to back down.
"I see you, son." Bruce said, firm. "I see a young man, my son, who has gone through so much. Who, yes, I have failed, but who has overcome despite those failures. Who I desperately want to come back home , to your family. If not to me, then your siblings." He added, hesitantly, "To Alfred, who misses you dearly."
Invoking Alfred was a low blow, he knew, but he was desperate and it seemed to have temporarily stunned Jason, so he continued. "This, we can work this out. I can, I will be better, but I need you to come home. Where we can talk openly. Where you won't be manipulated by Talia."
"Is that right?" Jason asked, something dangerous in his tone that raised alarm bells in Dick's mind.
Bruce must have missed it, because he kept winding up. "She took you from me. Subjected you to the Pit. Twisted your perception, and then set you loose with no help. On top of that, she kept Damian from us for years. That's two sons she hid from me, and they've suffered for it."
Jason smiled, and it was off-putting because it wasn't an evil smile, but it certainly wasn't warm. "Bruce, the next time you see Talia, you should get on your knees and thank her. And then beg her forgiveness."
"I should ask her for forgiveness? For stealing my own sons from me!?" Bruce sounded offended by the proposition.
"For protecting both of us, where you so clearly would have failed. For finding me on the streets when you were too busy drowning in guilt to do that. For nursing me back to health, under the creepy watch of her murderous zombie dad."
The words were coming faster, angrier, like body blows going through Bruce's armor. "For killing said zombie dad when he was planning to turn me into a guinea pig and steal Damian back from you because even Ra's pit-addled brain knew you wouldn't do what was necessary to protect your children. For saving my life, when you slit my throat. "
He inhaled deeply. "But really, you should thank her a million times for stopping me from killing you when I came back."
A trick Bruce immediately thought. Jason was always testing his limits, pushing the boundaries and speaking with hyperbole. As if I could believe you would do such a thing.
"I'm not going to thank her for something you'd never do," Bruce answered.
"Really? Because I vividly remember rigging the Batmobile with a nice little IED in the undercarriage, right next to the reinforced fuel line, to blow with you and Timmers in it. Now I know you didn't miss that during the next inspection."
Bruce and Dick looked shocked. The bomb they both thought. The one they never managed to explain.
"The hell do you mean there's a bomb under the batmobile?!" Dick asked.
"We've disassembled and removed it," Bruce answered tersely.
"Can we trace it back to the trigger?"
"No, either because it's out of range or because it was destroyed," Barbara said, typing furiously at the Batcomputer.
In the cave, Damian was shooting daggers at the screen, while Tim looked sick.
"I think I'm going to throw up," the third Robin said.
"Is he lying?" Steph asked, looking at Cass.
She could only shake her head somberly. "No lies."
"You put that bomb under the batmobile?" Dick asked, still shocked.
Of course Bruce thought, pieces starting to click in place. Who else would know exactly how to get past all the safety mechanisms. Outside of the computer software, I didn't update the Batmobile for years.
(Didn't update it because he couldn't bear to change something Jason loved so much.)
"Yea, lemme tell you, it was a bitch to get past all those fucking safety mechanisms, but it's really amazing how much patience the Lazarus Pit gives you when you're plotting a murder."
But you beat it," Dick said, standing back up and grasping for something, anything. "You held out."
"Not really. Talia stopped me right before I blew the better dynamic duo half-fucking-way to heaven, or hell, or wherever."
"I don't care what Talia did or didn't do," Bruce said, another flicker of anger because of course Talia was there. Of course she was somehow involved. "She took you from me."
"The Joker took me from you." Jason spat. "He beat me to death. He blew me up in a warehouse. And when you had the opportunity, not to kill him, but to just let me do it, let me rid the earth of one of the worst pieces of scum, what did you do? Tell me Bruce, for all your apologies and pining about how much my death destroyed you, what did you do? "
He lowered his shirt collar, making the nasty scar of the Batarang visible. "You made your choice."
Jason laughed, again. It was bitter. "I should be dead from that. I would be dead, if not for Talia."
Bruce thought he was ready for this. He wasn't, he couldn't, and it was too much. Too much hurt, too much shame, too many wrongs, too much and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'M SORRY but the words weren't leaving his mouth, instead burning in his throat.
Once again, he stood silent under his son's gaze, feeling the full brunt of his biggest sins. Silence his mind supplied, the damning silence of guilt.
With Bruce faltering, Dick tried, tears falling from his eyes, to sway his brother. "As much as I despise Talia, you're right. I owe, we all her owe for saving you that night. From what Bruce did, and from what we let him do. If we had known...God, if he had even thought he was capable, Alfred himself would have stood in between the two of you."
"That night, that isn't anyone's fault but his Dick," Jason said. "You know there's a saying: 'Love is giving someone the ability to destroy you, but trusting them not to.' I trusted you Bruce. Even after dying for the reason I died, I still trusted you. When I had the Joker, I could have shot him myself. Hell, I should have. But even then, with fucking pit screaming in my head, I wanted to believe. I wanted family. I trusted you."
"You have family!" the man croaked, and this was Bruce, Bruce the Father who wished he could burn the cowl and keep his children off the street forever.
"For my trust, you shattered me into a million pieces, and here you are now, asking why I've got so many jagged edges."
Bruce wanted the words to stop. He just wanted them to stop, but he knew he didn't deserve it.
"What he did was unforgivable, but don't walk away from us because of him or even me," Dick pleaded. "What about Tim, and Damian, and Steph, and Cass? What about Alfred? You have a family."
"Yes, I do," he said chillingly. "I have a mother who'd burn the world down for me."
"She isn't your mother," Dick said, but Jason ignored him, ignored that utterly stupid stataement, focusing back on Bruce.
"Look me in my eye Bruce," he demanded, and waited for the man to comply. "The both of you can say what you want, but actions...actions speak the truth. And the truth is, Talia's more my mother than you were my father. I want you both to understand, right here, right now, the idea that we can kiss and make up and move on is some figment of your imagination. It's not that I hate you. In fact, when it comes to you Dick I'm actually proud. As big of an asshole as you were to me, you learned from that. You became better, for Tim and Steph and Cass and Damian. You're the big brother they need."
"I'm your big brother too," Dick offered weakly.
"No," Jason shook his head in disagreement. "I don't know if it's the trauma of everything that happened, the Pit itself, or some hellish mixture of both, but maybe one day I can stomach the thought of really being around you. Getting to know each other. And even then it wouldn't be as brothers, but as strangers who just met each other because let's be honest, that's what we are."
Dick didn't think it was possible to feel more emotional pain, but tonight was proving to be a truly educational experience. He looked even more crestfallen than before.
"You on the other hand," Jason said to Bruce, "You've still got a long way to go. I gave up trying to explain away your issues Bruce. You're a grown man and a father, and you owe it to your kids to be more than an emotionless general. Be better, because they deserve it, even if you don't deserve them."
Jason took a deep breath, and walked back over to his desk. "But you're right Dick, it's cruel to punish them for your mistakes." he said as he practically fell into his chair, revealing how much energy this conversation was draining from him.
He looked at Dick, who still had his cowl on. "Hey, kid, Damian, if you're listening in now or if you're watching this cowl footage later, and I know your punk ass is going to, you should know your mother loves you."
Damian stilled.
"I know, logically, that you understand why she sent you to Bruce. That it was safer. But let me tell you kid, because I know she's almost as bad as Bruce when it comes to this stuff, leaving you hurt her more than you can imagine. She killed your asshole grandpa to keep me alive, but she was ready to run a sword through him the second you were born. Don't ever forget that. She loves you more than anything. Enough to make sure you never have to pick between her and Bruce. So for God's sake, answer your phone the next time she calls."
He paused, before continuing. "Oh, and I'm sorry I didn't remember you after the Pit." He tapped on his head. "That shit really did a number on my brain, and it took me a long ass time to figure out why the hell you were so damn familiar. Some of it still comes back to me in bits and pieces, but I remember enough now to know that I owe you a few cooking lessons."
Damian would deny the gasp that left his mouth, despite the fact that it was recorded on camera/
"Stop by when you get time. In civvies of course, Akhi, " he said, hoping that in their shocked state, there would be enough of a gap between now and whenever the Bats started grilling Damian about just how much interaction he'd had with Jason before either of them came to Gotham.
He drowned the last sip of his liquor, wondering why he'd even bothered with it because it didn't do a damn thing. "Tim, sorry about all the trouble I've given you. I'm not happy you were Robin, but that's because no kid should be in that role, not even Damian. That said, you did a damn good job even though Dickhead was dense enough to unceremoniously replace you. Sucks ass, I know, and you should make him work for your forgiveness."
"Though it was nice having Steph in there for a bit. People were starting to get ideas about Batman and his young dark haired boys. Sorry you had to get fired too blondie, if it helps you should know it seems to come with the job." He chuckled deeply. "Horrible turnover rate."
"Amen to that," Steph agreed, but her words lacked their usual bite. Jason had the closest background to her, and she felt a loss that she'd been deprived of what could have been an epic partner in mischief.
"I still think Cass would have been the best Robin out of all of us, but she was too smart to dress up like a traffic light," Jason said, chuckling again at the image of Black Bat in bright Robin colors. "Anyway, Cass, Steph, Tim, feel free to stop by whenever. I'd love to get to know you guys better, as civilians. I haven't done the best job at that, but all that time away gave me time to...own up to some of my mistakes. So I'm sorry about that. Someone's gotta keep an eye out for all of you because these two dickwads are doing a shit job," he said, gesturing lamely at Bruce and Dick's direction.
"Babs, you know I could never be mad at you. Well, other than the fact that you're dating a total idiot, but when you know where to find me when you dump him." He smiled wryly. "I think, out of everyone, if I'd met you first when I came back to Gotham, maybe things would have been different. You're the only one who could have told me the shit I needed to hear without sounding like a total hypocrite."
"Alfred," his voice trembled a bit, "It feels weird to give you a formal invite, because in my head you're not someone that ever needs permission to stop by, but seeing as how I just kind of disowned your son and first grandkid, I know your British manners would assume you're on the list. You aren't, because even the Pit couldn't stain my memory of my grandpa. So yeah, stop by when you get a chance. I swear my pantry isn't as terrible as Dick's."
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again, and steeled his features before he opened them again to look back at his ex-adoptive father. "Bruce, put the family before the cowl first. Or I won't be the only child you lose."
No, you won't Bruce agreed internally.
"Now get the hell out."
A/N: Thanks for reading!