Jason smiled at the next person to enter the room. Dick had left ten minutes ago, and now it was someone else's turn.

"Alfie," Jason got up to give the old man a strong hug, one that was returned just as fiercely.

"Master Jason," the butler greeted kindly, letting go of their embrace so they could sit down together. "Are you well?"

The second son opened his mouth, then sighed, "I'm doing better," he said quietly, "It's easier now that I can talk about it with you all openly. That I don't have to hold it in anymore."

"Except for around Miss Cassandra and Master Damian," Alfred immediately intuited.

"Yeah. Except for them. I'll tell Cass eventually, either when she learns enough speech to understand or when we can find a telepath we can trust. J'onn, probably," Jason rubbed the back of his neck, "As for Damian…well, I've told the others this already, and I'll tell you too. When we were staying with the All-Caste, Damian figured out pretty quickly that there was more to the situation than what I and Talia were telling him. Obviously, with his young age, I was reluctant to tell him everything outright, so instead I gave him the challenge of figuring out what's going on. If he got it right and presents enough evidence to support it, then I would tell him."

"A prudent solution," Alfred nodded approvingly, "I applaud you for your ingenuity, Master Jason."

Jason shrugged, though there was a light blush on his cheeks, "It was nothing, Alfred. I've had a lot of practice dealing with kids, and I know Damian well enough, no matter what age he is."

"Still, it is quite an accomplishment. You could certainly teach Master Bruce a thing or two." Because, while Bruce liked and got along with children well enough, he certainly wasn't the best at raising them.

(Jason had a lot of practice reading between lines.)

He narrowed his eyes, "Oh, I plan to."

"Please do so," Alfred nodded, eyes crinkling in mirth.

The time traveler looked up at him, and beamed. "I've missed you, Alfred."

"I can see that," the butler tilted his head, "You didn't replace me after I died, did you?"

Jason shook his head. "Didn't have the heart to," Jason explained, rubbing his arm, "You were more than just our servant. You were family. Even after Damian died, you stayed with us to the end. No one else could ever compare to you, so I never bothered to try and find anyone else. Cass agreed with me, before you ask."

"Well then, I'm glad you both thought so highly of me. I shall endeavor to live up to that in this timeline as well."

"Just keep doing what your doing, Alfie. That's more than enough."

And now, it was time for the last conversation. The hardest conversation. The one Jason had been dreading for months.

Bruce.

There was Clark as well, but Jason would wait until the man himself sought him out. There wasn't much else Jason had to say to Clark that he hadn't said to Diana already; but he did have plenty of questions that he himself needed answers for. Whatever Clark said would affect the plans he had for his family, especially Damian.

But still…

Might as well get it over with.

"Come in Bruce. Avoiding this any longer isn't going to do us any good."

For this one, Jason didn't bother to sit at all. He instead stood in front of Bruce's desk, opposite the door where the man himself would appear. As much as Jason would love nothing more to be submissive and let Bruce take the lead in the conversation, he knew that he couldn't, not if wanted Bruce to take everything that he said seriously.

He had to be seen as an equal. Regardless of his current physical appearance, Jason was a grown man. He had been Batman like his father, and had raised children like his father. He was in the unique position of being able to empathize with Bruce more than any other person in the world, the only person who could honestly say they knew what it was like to be Bruce Wayne, to be Batman. The sooner that Bruce recognized it, acknowledged it, and most of all, accepted it, the better it would be for both of them.

When Bruce finally did enter, the already tense atmosphere turned absolutely rigid. If Jason had to describe it, would have to be something like a weird cross between a western stand-off and a father-son duo awkwardly trying find common ground for bonding time. They were supposed to have a mostly calm, emotional, but ultimately rational discussion, and yet it felt like they were two opponents who were sizing each other up for fight night. Which was ridiculous, because they weren't going to fight.

At least, Jason hoped they weren't going to fight. His and Bruce's relationship had always been…explosive, to say the least, so it was a valid concern. Admittedly, his much more magnanimous return from the dead in this timeline might negate that, along with Jason's relative maturity, but you could never be too sure…

I'm digressing. I need to focus. There was so much he needed to say to Bruce, and while there was no way they would be able to get through all of it tonight, that didn't mean Jason couldn't say the most important things he right now. The things that Bruce desperately needed to hear.

The silence persisted. Father and son just stared at each other, neither knowing where to really begin.

Finally, Bruce conceded, for as bad as Jason's guilt complex could get, his father would always be the ultimate champion of blaming one's self.

"I'm sorry."

Jason groaned, lifting one hand to rub his temples. "Oh, Bruce—"

"I've hurt you—"

"Bruce. Stop. Dick is right, the self-flagellation act our family gets off on really is getting old," Jason cut his father off before any more could be said. Bruce gazed at him helplessly. It seemed without the self-deprecating rant, he was lost.

"I won't deny that in the timeline I came from, you weren't the best father. To be honest, you were kind of a shitty one, but at least you tried, and I'm grateful for that," Jason started, "but in this one, you haven't done any of that yet. And if you listen to me, to Dick, to Alfred, to your family and your friends, you never will."

Bruce blinked at him, but he looked receptive, almost desperate really, to Jason's words. Jason sighed, and beckoned the taller man over to the couches, where they could sit across from each other. This conversation was going to be a long one.

Luckily, Bruce complied, which meant he really was handing Jason the ball on this one. Now it was Jason's job to make sure he didn't fumble it.

Once they were seated, Jason leaned back into the couch, taking comfort in the plush. His eyes never left Bruce's face, which caused the other man to fidget a bit. He really was completely out of his depth. Any other time Jason might've enjoyed it, heckled him over it, but not now. Not with this.

"Our relationship back then…it wasn't the best, I'm not going to lie. And as much as I want to assign all the blame to you, the truth was that it was me too. I just didn't understand and worse, I didn't know there was anything to understand. Not until I started losing people myself."

"Jason—"

"Tell me, Bruce, how bad was it? How much did you want to die, after I did?"

Bruce clamped his mouth shut, his face falling into an even more pained expression. It was obvious that he didn't want to answer that question. He didn't want to hurt Jason anymore than Jason wanted to hurt him.

"You don't want to answer?" Jason didn't really sound surprised or angry. "That's fine. I already know. After Damian died, I read the reports. Then I talked to Alfred. He told me everything."

His father didn't say anything. Jason continued on.

"For years, I was angry at you for not avenging my death. For not killing him. And because of that I thought…I thought it meant you didn't care."

"No, Jason, no," and Bruce couldn't stay silent at that, "Your death destroyed me. And God — I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him so much but I couldn't, because he'd win. He'd make me into a murderer, and I couldn't let him make that your legacy."

Jason paused. He stared at Bruce for a long moment. There was so much he needed to say, but it wasn't the time. Not yet. So he'd say something else.

"So you tried to kill yourself and let that be my legacy instead."

Bruce flinched.

"It's okay, Bruce. I understand," Jason knew he was repeating that phrase a lot lately, but if it was the only way to get Bruce on his side, then he'd say it a thousand times over, "After Damian, that was it for me. I wanted to die too. I wanted it so badly. You were gone, Dick was gone, Tim…Alfred didn't have much longer either, and we all knew it. It was just Cass left, and if I had lost her too…" The rest went unsaid.

Jason didn't like thinking about that time. It was the worst period of his life. At the same time, however, it was what finally put things into perspective for him. What finally allowed him to just let go, forgive, move on, from everything that happened since he came back the first time around. It may have been his lowest moment, but it allowed him to finally change himself for the better, for good.

And now, now it was time he did the same for Bruce.

"Someone finally got my head on straight though. Her name was Carrie. Carrie Kelley."

"Who was she?" Bruce couldn't help but ask. A friend? A lover?

"My eldest daughter," Jason said instead, shocking Bruce. "My first Robin. She saved me, like how Dick saved you." He looked at Bruce right in the eyes. "Like how Tim saved you."

"How did she become your Robin?" How did she find her way to you?

Jason grinned fondly, "I saved her as Batman once, from a mugger while she was lugging around girl scout cookies for her troupe. She was…inspired, to say the least, and within a week she had bought a Robin costume and was running around trying to fight crime."

"I didn't want her running around like that, obviously, but she was persistent, and then one day she saved my life. And after that…after that I knew I couldn't stop her. All I could do was train her, watch over her, so that way she couldn't get herself killed. She made me want to live again, and for a little while I hated myself for that. For moving on, because I thought it would be dishonoring the memory of my family, for trying to live my life again," Jason smiled bittersweetly, "But it wasn't, was it?"

"Of course not, Jason," Bruce rushed out, "It's what we all would've wanted." If this girl, his granddaughter (And God, wasn't that a strange thing to think about?) saved his son's life, then he would always be grateful to her for that. Would be glad to welcome her into the family, if she were here.

"And it's what I should have wanted too, when I died the first time," Jason spoke with self-loathing, "But I didn't. And I didn't feel any guilt for it until you were long gone. And I hated myself for it, Bruce. I did. And it took her, again, to make me realize that's not you would've wanted for me in the end."

His eyes shifted. His gaze turned towards to Bruce's desk — no, to above Bruce's desk. To the portrait that had hung there ever since Bruce finally had finally found it in himself to make this study his own.

"Don't you think your parents would've felt the same about you?"

No Jason, Bruce thought to himself, as he gave his second son a pleading look, Don't got there. Please.

"You've never really recovered from their deaths. No matter how many people came into your life, you let them shackle you, hang over you, cloud you. And I get that, I do," Jason's voice hitched, but he pressed on, "But Bruce, the reason you couldn't be a better father is because you tried to help us without helping yourself first. You've never moved on from them. And if you couldn't move on, how could you have expected any of us to move on too?"

Bruce felt his eyes began to water. The onset of tears, and he wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. Not at Jason. Not when his son was trying to help him.

"They loved you Bruce. They wouldn't want you punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault," Jason reached forward, and took his father's hand, "Just like how I don't want you punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault," He took a deep breath, "What happened to them, to me and…and to you, all of you — it was horrible. There is no denying that. But all of that, those tragedies, it's a part of life, and how we react to those losses define who we are. We need to accept it, to learn from it, but we can't let it rule us. Because then all the pain we put ourselves through will be their legacy, and that's not what any of them would've wanted."

Another period of silence fell over them. It seemed Bruce was finally beginning to realize that his intended verbal torture of his own character really was completely unnecessary. Because, regardless of how much Jason had missed him, loved him, that didn't change his nature. Jason never bullshitted anyone when it came to matters like this, and just because it was Bruce didn't mean it was going to be any different.

Jason already knew how screwed up he was. He just wanted Bruce to finally work through it.

"Do you know why I chose to die by lung cancer?" Jason asked suddenly, startling Bruce out of his thoughts, "Why I didn't fight it? Because I could have. Talia even offered a dip in the Pit. I'm not sure I would've been able to handle it, but the offer was tempting at times."

"You wanted to see us again," Bruce replied slowly after some hesitation, drawing from the memories of the previous night, "You wanted to make peace with us."

"Yes. That was the main reason, but not the only one," Jason swallowed and continued, "Another reason is because I wanted time to settle my affairs. To spend what I had left with my loved ones without the world on the line. I didn't want to leave them behind with any questions or regrets."

"I'm not saying there's nothing noble or selfless about sacrificing yourself in the heat of the moment — of dying in the line of duty. But it happens so quickly, before your loved ones can comprehend it, let alone process and accept it. I didn't want that for my family or my friends. I wanted them to know how much I loved them, how happy they made me and that even though I would be gone, I would still be there with them. I didn't want to leave them doubting anything. I'm not quite sure I succeeded completely, but certainly enough to be satisfied."

"Jason," Bruce's voice was hoarse, "Are you asking me to give up Batman? To choose family once and for all? Because I can't Jason, no matter how much I want to. And God knows I've wanted to, especially after last night."

How could he not, after learning what this life would do to this family? What it did to Jason and Cassandra both? It would kill him, kill three of his sons, and leave another son and his sister behind to try and navigate and protect this frankly wretched city in their stead. Not because they cared about it (even though they did), but because they considered it their greatest connection to the family they lost.

It wasn't worth it. Not anymore. But Jason was right too—Bruce had been too shackled to his parent's deaths to give it up sooner, and now he had worked himself into a corner. Because Gotham needed Batman, and if he left now the already encroaching darkness of the city would finally swallow it whole. He couldn't afford to let that happen, because he had as much a duty to Gotham as he did to his family. Hell, thanks to his teachings, they would never let that happen, and would've never forgiven him if he tried otherwise.

"I know Bruce. I know you can't," Jason smiled bitterly, "I was Batman too, remember? I tried to give it up more than once, but I couldn't because my morals wouldn't allow it. Gotham needs Batman, will always need Batman, and what kind of people would we be if we abandoned it just like that? What kind of example would that set?"

One that I would've wanted none of you to follow. Because as much as Bruce wanted his family to be safe, to be happy, he also wanted instill good in them. To use what they had to help others, like his parents had. Unfortunately, what they had were money, detective skills, and about a thousand ways to inflict harm on others. Bruce supposed that was his fault.

It was always his fault, really.

"Hey, no self-flagellation, remember?" Jason snapped out, frowning. Bruce looked at him, and nodded slowly. "Good. And no, Bruce, I'm not asking you to give up Batman. You and I both know that ship has already sailed. What I want…"

He got up, and walked around the table to sit next to Bruce. He laced their fingers together, a comfort to hold them both steady.

"What I want," Jason said with authority, "Is for you to forgive yourself. But I know that it will be a long time before you're ready to try. So, all that I ask is that you let yourself be happy," He placed another hand on top of his father's, looking up at him imploringly, "That you don't push us away. That you let us in, Bruce."

"You always took for granted that you would die in that goddamn suit, not once thinking how it would affect all of us. And if you're going to keep on doing that, then at least do what I did. Spend time with us, show that you care. Don't leave us doubting," and now Jason was crying too, "Because if you do, then I will never forgive you."

"Oh, Jason," Bruce pulled his son forward into a hardy embrace, "I won't, Jason. I promise you — all of you, that I'll be there for you."

Clark was right. Diana, Alfred…they were all right.

They just stayed like that for a long while, only pausing for a moment so he could shift Jason so he was tucked into his side. It felt comfortable and familiar and Bruce was so, so grateful that he got to have this again. The silence was no longer awkward — instead, it was now comfortable, the weight of it slowly siphoning away.

"We still have a lot to talk about."

"We do."

"But not tonight."

"No. I've said the most important thing. Everything else can wait."

"That's fine. I can live with that," that burning desire to know had been tempered by every word Jason had spoken to him. Bruce wasn't sure he could handle much more right now. So he'd wait. "You've gotten wise, Jay. Wiser than me."

"Not wiser, B," Jason rebutted, letting go of the embrace to really look at Bruce again, "Just…older. More experienced."

"Oh, that's right. You're older than me now."

Jason blinked and began to sputter, and Bruce couldn't help but smirk. Revenge is sweet.

"You're fifty, Jay. Maybe not in body, but certainly in mind and spirit. I, meanwhile, am not even forty yet."

"God fucking shit."

And there was the Jason he knew. That familiar foul mouth of his was like music to his ears. Diana was right; this Jason might be older and wiser and infinitely more scarred, but at his core he was still that same street smart boy he had picked up from Crime Alley. The boy who had been his son.

And his son, his son…

I know I'm not the Bruce he lost, but looking at him now—I couldn't be more proud. And I'm sure that Bruce would be too.

For the first time since all this had started, Bruce felt happy.

They had spent more time talking, though it was more about Jason's future knowledge and logistics. It was odd, being treated like an equal in that regard too. Bruce had listened to his opinions instead of forcing his own on Jason, didn't get angry whenever Jason disagreed with him, and had even been willing to compromise on certain things. It seemed Jason had succeeded in proving to Bruce that he was Batman; the only other person in the family that Jason had ever seen Bruce treat with equal regard was Dick, and not to that extent until Dick himself had his own stint as Batman.

After that, however, Jason decided it was time to turn in. Tonight had been as equally emotionally exhausting as last night. He needed sleep. He stretched his arms as he navigated towards the family wing, only to stop when he spotted someone walking towards him. Two someones, in fact.

"Clark, Diana!"

"Jason," Clark reached him first, and pulled him into a hug.

(Jason had been getting a lot of hugs lately. He liked it, more than he cared to admit.)

"How are you doing?" Clark asked after ending the embrace a few moments later. Jason beamed up at him.

"Great. I just finished talking with Bruce."

The other two thirds of the Trinity exchanged startled looks. "And how did that go?" Diana asked carefully.

Jason's face, if possible, turned even brighter. "Well. Really well. I said what I needed to say, he listened, and…he got it. I know it won't be completely smooth sailing from here on out, but…" His smile was full of hope, "We'll get there."

Diana and Clark exchanged another look, this time much warmer. "Good."

"So, I take it you guys are here to watch over Gotham again for B?" Jason asked, changing the subject.

"We are," Clark confirmed, "Bruce figured that he and the others still needed more time to process everything, so Diana and myself offered to help out again."

"Great, because right now I have questions, and you're the only one who can answer them."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Ask away then."

Jason cleared his throat. "How long have you and Lois been married?"

Both superheroes blinked, not expecting that. "For eight years," Clark replied slowly. Where was Jason going with this?

"And do you two have any children?"

"Jason, what kind of question is that? You've met Jon. You even babysat him once!"

Rather than answer, Jason closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "Fuck. I was worried about that. I knew it was possible after I saw how old Damian was, but now…"

"Jason," Diana finally entered the conversation, "What's going on?"

Jason sighed. He suddenly looked very, very tired. "I've already discussed this with Bruce, and we're going to tell Tim and Dick together tomorrow before Dick leaves. But, well—you know the multiverse theory, right?"

"Are you trying to say that you might be from a different universe instead?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. It's probably more like—you know how there are reality warpers? And how sometimes the changes they make stick?" Realization began to dawn on both their faces. "Yeah, it's like that. There were a lot of reality-breaking events over the course of my lifetime thanks to reality warpers and other assorted beings with enough power to affect the fabric of the universe. Combined that with the Flashes constantly changing history, and it made the timeline a huge mess. I have so many memories of so many different versions of certain events that it's hard to keep everything straight."

"So…?" Clark trailed off, interested but not really seeing where this was going.

"It means that whatever sent me back most likely broke reality again. Either that or messed with the timeline. I know for a fact that back in my timeline, Damian was only six years younger than me. Now he's ten years younger, which was quite a shock to see. And as for Jon—how old is he?"

"Six. He's about a year younger than Damian."

Jason exhaled. "Yeah. That seals it. The Jon in my timeline was three years younger than Damian. Didn't stop them from being best friends, though."

"Oh?" And now Clark and Diana looked delighted. That was pleasing to hear. "You want to arrange a play date?"

"Sure. Though not without you present."

"I take it they took after their fathers?" Diana asked, amused, as Clark blinked.

"Yup. From what B told me, they started wailing on each other within five minutes of their first meeting. B convinced Clark to put them in a situation where they would have to work together, and it worked, but…" Jason shrugged his shoulders, smirking playfully.

"I see." The current Superman was clearly starting to regret making the offer, but didn't have the heart to rescind it. Jon needed friends, after all. "We're getting off topic. These changes to the timeline — does that mean your future knowledge isn't usable anymore?"

"No," Jason shook his head, "Before I came here, Talia gave me a manifesto of all the major events that have happened since my first death. They're all similar to what I know did happen while I was gone, just with minor changes — mostly cosmetic, like ages, outfits, that kind of thing. I'll need to review some more recent history, but from what I can tell thus far is that these events are still happening, just at different times, in different places and at different paces. Which brings me to my next question: when do you think is the best time we can bring the Justice League into this?"

Diana pursed her lips, "You and Bruce are both okay with doing that?" Batman, after all, was the most paranoid vigilante on the planet, and Jason and Bruce had both been him. Keeping Jason's status as a time-displaced vigilante merged with his much younger body certainly seemed like a secret they would want to keep on the downlow as much as possible.

Jason shook his head, "There's too much important shit happening in the next couple of years to make that feasible. We can't give out the intel I know without eventually revealing the source — there's simply too much of it for that to go on, because people are going to start asking questions eventually. Bruce and I, after some discussion, agreed that it would be better to at least bring the League in, since they're the most influential heroes in the world."

He grimaced. "Especially Wally West. There are some things he needs to know about Barry Allen—the real Barry Allen, not Eobard Thawne—and he's in the best position to deal with that situation when it finally happens."

"What? But Barry—"

"Has been dead for years, I know," Jason gave Clark a pointed look, "But you and I both know that death rarely ever sticks for people like us."

Everyone winced at that. "If that's the case then, yes, it probably is best that we bring the League in soon. You and Bruce will tell us when you're ready?"

"After I get most of the reports done. Anything I know of that could be even remotely relevant will be logged into the Bat-Computer. If it's pressing enough Bruce will inform you and anyone else it concerns immediately; remember, however, that I don't know everything. Just the most significant events of this time."

"…You really were Batman, weren't you?" Clark stated after a long moment of silence, Diana nodding along side him.

"I swear you're like the fourth person today that's said that," Jason puffed out his cheeks, "Am I really that obvious?"

"Just to someone who knows how Batman operates," Diana assured him, which…wasn't really assuring.

"Like every criminal in Gotham," Jason deadpanned.

"…Yes," she had to reluctantly concede, wincing.

"Well then, maybe it's a good thing I won't be patrolling any time soon. Last thing we need are rumors about another Batman running around."

Last thing, indeed.

After finishing with Clark and Diana, Jason finally went back to his room. He changed into his pajamas, grabbed a book, then laid in his bed and relaxed. Or at least tried to.

His mind drifted, thoughts swirling into a huge mass. There was so much to do still, so much they didn't know. Jason had barely scratched the surface of everything that happened in those thirty years, and he still wasn't sure if he wanted to say anything at all. But he had to, because they deserved to know everything, and it was killing him not to say anything more than he already had.

How was he supposed to tell Bruce about Helena? About Terry and Matthew? Bruce was already feeling plenty enough guilt, regardless of how much Jason just wanted him to let it all go and move on. Learning that in his death that he had left behind not five children, but eight, would just pile on more. To say nothing of the circumstances behind his youngest two's conception.

Jason himself was still dealing with the guilt over that. By now, he was sure Terry knew the truth. And while Terry hadn't cared then, would he still feel the same once he realized how much Jason had hid from him? The sheer manipulation that was involved with his life? Would he think that Jason had simply taken advantage of Michaels' actions, to have a successor to mold to his image?

Because that wasn't the truth. That had never been the truth.

He supposed it didn't matter in the end. Terry wasn't here. He wasn't even sure if Terry even still existed. That future, it was gone, it wasn't coming back, and Jason would have to live with it. What mattered now was taking care of the family he still had, the family he never expected to have back. There were things they needed to know, to learn.

Dick was still being an idiot who obsessed about crime-fighting, yet rarely ever asked his friends for help despite literally being the most well-liked superhero on the planet. To say nothing of his refusal to take care of himself. Jason wasn't lying when he said that he'd rather have Dick back in Gotham, but Dick was an adult in his own right and none of them had any control over him.

Tim — just one look at him terrified Jason. The boy was competent, skilled, but he still needed so much training. If he had been one of his Robins, then Jason would've never let anywhere near the streets yet. Crime might not have evolved to the level it had when Jason was Batman, but that didn't make things any less dangerous. Tim was getting by, but for how long?

Cass barely spoke a lick of English. Scratch that, she barely spoke a lick of anything. She was illiterate, and while a speech therapist might help with that, how would it affect her fighting abilities? Because he knew Cass, he knew that no matter what he wanted for her, she would somehow find her way into this game. Her guilt over that one kill wouldn't allow otherwise, and once that happened, then she would inevitably draw Shiva's attention. And after that…

It took all of Jason's self-control not to throw the book away. The thought of that woman going near his sister, near any member of his family, it brought out a rage in him that he, more than once, had to squash down before he broke the Rule again. There were few he despised as much as he did Sandra Wu-San; whatever sympathy he might have had for her past was overwhelmed by how she had tried to ruin his sister. How she had dogged Cass to the ends of the Earth, tried to force her to commit the one thing that she could never forgive herself for, and to her own mother no less.

In some ways, Cass was all he had after Damian was gone, after Alfred was gone. He had loved his children more than anything, and the rest of the family certainly meant more to him than most, but Cass was his sister, his only remaining sibling. There wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't have done for her. And now he had her still, except she was more vulnerable than ever — no matter how skilled she was.

He hadn't failed her, like he had the others. He wouldn't fail her now.

Then there was Damian. Perhaps the hardest of them all. Jason had made decent progress thus far; Damian saw them as family already. It took losing Bruce and Dick's ever-persistent optimism for that to finally take the last time. Compared that, Jason supposed he should be thankful. But there was still other things they needed to deal with. His morality, for one, though there was decent headway already there. More important was his social development.

Jason was under no illusion that school would help, as much as he insisted on it (no brother of his was going to be a delinquent). Damian was far too ahead of his peers for him to really connect with any of them. He wouldn't accept the opinions of someone any less exceptional than himself, an unfortunate side effect of his upbringing. That's why it was imperative that he meet Jon. If anyone could get Damian to open up, it would be him. They might not be the same boys as Jason knew them, but Jason had seen few bonds stronger than their friendship, and if they managed to connect, then all his worries for Damian would be laid to rest.

So, so much to do.

But it would be worth it. Them, all of them, they were worth it.

Jason wouldn't waste this gift.

I had to rewrite the talk with Bruce to be less exposition and more a talk. There's going to be more next chapter, but it will gradually taper off as the chapters go on and we move into the plot.

Of course, we've kind of already touched on the plot right now. The differences in the timeline are becoming more evident to Jason, and there are only more to come. I won't say more, but let's just say that all of this will be very important later on. Jason is too concerned with his family and other immediate things to investigate it in full right now, but he hasn't forgotten how suspicious this all is.

I don't have much more to say right now. Next chapter, more bonding!