Wow, you'd think with how important 'Death in the Family' was to the Batman world I'd get more comments. *shrug* well this is the last follow up. Just to tell you, I am not a psych major so don't quote me. And though technically this is all part of the same arch, it's subtitle is LPFD. Enjoy.

Jason-12 Tim-8

Snapped In Place

It was a high class party, a charity function like many others. Or it should have been. Most of the time when the adults talked the kids would run around and find ways to entertain themselves. The night usually ended with someone covered in something sticky and another with new rips in their clothes. Someone would have a new bruise and someone had cried. Usually the youngest would be falling asleep on his feet and have to be carried to the car. As time past and they grew, they only found new ways of entertainment and had an easier time telling the stories about their adventures.

Usually. The norm hadn't happened in about three months.

Despite earlier reservations, Bruce thought it was best to bring Jason along. The boy hadn't changed. He was still silent, still listless, trapped in his never ending thoughts and trauma. While in the manor, he'd just pick a spot and sit silently. Sometimes he let people near him, other times he didn't. Bruce was the only one he always let near, the only one allowed to hold him most of the time. Alfred and Dick were close seconds but occasionally the kid had a panic attack. His younger siblings gave him distance, all but Damian knowing something was wrong. The two year old only kept his distance after Jason had one of those attacks. He wasn't well, not well at all.

It was getting to the point that Bruce was thinking of taking Jason to an Arkham psychiatrist for a full evaluation. He held off doing so merely because he hated them himself. Growing up everyone tried to take him to them and they didn't make anything better. He didn't have to take Dick to one after his time with Two-Face. He bounced back on his own within a few weeks. The man prayed Jason would do the same.

But three months since that dreadful day and he hadn't even tried to smile. His white lock of hair only became more noticeable by the day. Leslie said it was due to stress and trauma, a souvenir of that event. The boy had enough of them already. Did his body have to betray him as well?

The CEO tried to push those thoughts aside as he led both Jason and Damian through the crowds so he could do his necessary rounds. Dick was off flirting with the few girls his age there while Tim and Cass were off exploring the building and the party's dessert trays. Little Damian was already rubbing his eyes, ready to go home and get to bed after only an hour of activity. Jason though stood silently at his side, behaving perfectly without a hint of humor or boredom on his face.

"I have to say," Mr. Burnham stated, grinning to himself as he looked at Jason next to him, "that little trouble maker of yours sure has changed for the better."

"Excuse me?" A slight edge came to Wayne's voice. But the drunk speaker didn't pick it up.

"He's much better behaved I must say. I remember when he poured punch all across the floor and watched as people slipped. Then there was the year he organized a staircase race. Oh, and then there were those tag games." Burnham chuckled to himself. "If we knew a good sound beating was all he needed to behave, we would have—"

"If you'll excuse me," he cut the jerk off, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "I have to finish my rounds." Quickly Bruce picked up his youngest so he could rest against his shoulder and guided the slightly trembling preteen to their next destination. "Obnoxious prick. Hope Denton buys him out of Gotham."

He looked down to Jason as the boy looked up to him for reassurance. His father gave him a soft smile. "Don't worry about what he said. He's had three wives and sent his two sons to boarding schools. He has no idea what he's talking about."

Jason stared after him for a minute before looking down again, nodding. His actions saddened him, taking away the smile he had put on. In the past, Jay would have laughed at the insult and joined in. He also would have defended himself. The kid didn't mince words.

Bruce missed the old Jason.

Two conversations later, he noticed the boy teetering on his feet. Cassandra and Timothy had ran through the middle of the circle he was in and nearly toppled him on accident while zooming past. The two were squirting each other with boxed drinks they found somewhere. Though their dad gave them a quick glare, he was more worried about the two sleepy ones he was currently handling. Maybe it was time to call it quits for the night.

Quietly he took Jason to the side of the room and sat him down. "Tired?" Silently the boy nodded. His eyes were still unfocused. "Want to go home?" He nodded again. Bruce sighed heavily. He readjusted his grip on Damian practically asleep on his shoulder. "Alright. I need you to stay here with Damian so I can round up the others."

"What?" Some fear entered the boy's face, jerking around to see his father's in a quick panic.

"Just for a few minutes," he tried to reassure him. "It'll go faster if you and Dami are here."

"No…" the preteen whispered. He grabbed the man's sleeve desperately. He didn't want to be separated from him.

"I'll come right back for the two of you," Bruce said evenly, hoping to calm the boy. Jason shook his head fearfully, saddening his father. He sighed before giving in. "You want to come with me?" He nodded. "Alright. But stay close. I don't want to lose you in that crowd."

Like the past three months, Jason said nothing. He just nodded and stood back up to move along with his father. It was another few minutes before he let go of the man's sleeve.

They didn't even make it any more than twenty feet before someone stopped them to talk. "Brucie darling!" One of Bruce's many ex-girlfriends. "I was hoping to run into you!"

"Marie! What a pleasant surprise." The unfortunate thing about being the 'crown prince of Gotham' was having to be polite and cordial to nearly every member of the elite class. Which meant participating in small talk even when all he wanted to do was brush off the woman without a second thought. So as per social requirements, Bruce started the usual subjects with the lady, all while trying to give her the impression that he was in a rush.

"Brucie you really need to come by and talk to Daddy. He's been dying to meet you."

"I'll try to put it on my calendar, but at the moment I'm a bit swamped with work. You know how it goes." From the corner of his eye he spotted two of his children, still running around trying to squirt each other with those juice boxes. Where did they find them?

"Oh I do. Daddy tells me you're expanding into the space program. More than just satellites. Are you thinking of going to the moon in the near future?"

"Well, you know how it is. There's always money in land and there's plenty of that there."

"And why would you want any on such a lonely, barren wasteland?" Marie came closer to him, giving him bedroom eyes. The girl was an amateur. "I hear your mansion is lonely enough as is without a woman's touch."

"I wouldn't say that necessarily." He shrugged a shoulder, indicating the sleepy Damian nearly out cold on him. "It can be quite rowdy. This one's all tuckered out and I really should be putting him and the others to bed."

"Oh I understand," she tried again. "But wouldn't you like some help with that? I can be quite… good… you know. With children and the like."

"Well— Timothy!"

Nearly out of no where Tim popped up next to them and squirted Jason in the face with his juice box. The preteen just stared at him in surprise, blinking as the sticky substance ran down his face. His eight year old brother just grinned impishly before running off into the crowd. Cassandra was covering her mouth, grinning too, before also disappearing into the crowd.

"Jason, are you alright?" Bruce placed a hand on his still shocked son. Jason didn't make any move to wipe his face, or had any expression except surprise. He just blinked, staring off to where his little brother had run off to. Worry played on the man's features while confusion came from the people around them. "Jason?"

He finally responded to his name, looking up at his dad for a moment before something changed on his face. A familiar spark kindled in his eye. He took out a handkerchief (Alfred insisted everyone carry one at these parties) and wiped his face off.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go kill my little brother. Timmy!"

And just like that, the kid was off running through the crowd to clobber his assailant. Bruce stared after him in shock, trying to keep an eye on his children's heads but at the same time amazed at what had just occurred.

In an instant, just one instant, it looked like Jason was back to being his old self.

Relieved laughter nearly escaped the man as he looked on and watched his second child running in between people to get at the one who splashed his face. He knocked into Dick (who was still flirting) and took his drink from his hands to splash the liquid towards his target. Jerked out of his little world, Dick watched the two in surprise for a minute or two before breaking into a broad grin and laughing himself. Tim was sliding under the food table to escape punishment by this time but was still being chased by what was once a near catatonic Jason Todd mere minutes ago.

Best of all, his own impish grin was growing across his face with each passing second.

"Ah hell," one of the guests cursed nearby. "Those brats are acting up again."

"Thought the kid calmed down."

"Knew it was too good to last."

"Aren't you going to stop them?" Marie asked, just as irked as the other guests by the kids' chase.

"No," Bruce stated flatly, a very pleased smile on his face. "Not yet."

"COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE TURD!"

"SAY PRETTY PLEASE!"

The event ended like the norm. Dick had tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard that night, and Cass had accidentally taken out the hem of her dress. Tim had a new bruise on his shoulder from a punch and Jason was still sticky from the drink the kid had squirted on him. And of course, Damian was asleep before they even reached the car. Now all back at the manor, getting dressed for bed, each were too tired to do much of anything.

Well anything but give Jason quick hugs for his much anticipated return.

The boy was getting annoyed by the sudden splurge of affection and was glad to be alone in his room to change into his pajamas once more. He dug out his Batman ones he had Alfred make for him earlier that year and had changed bottoms before there was a knock at the door. He raised an inquiring eyebrow before tossing his now ruined silk shirt (courtesy Tim, he was going to tell Alfred about this one) and answering the door. He blinked twice when he saw who was there. "Dad!"

"Mind if I come in?" Jason nodded and stepped aside, letting the large man in without any apprehensions. A smile graced his face, earning a curious look from his son. "How are you feeling?"

Jay blinked a few times before looking away. He hurried to get his pajama shirt on now. "Better, I guess. I'm not sure."

"You sound better." Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, just watching his boy move around the room anxiously.

"Yeah, I know." He wasn't really looking at anything specific in the room, but it was like his mind couldn't focus on one thing in there. "I… I feel like… I've been asleep this whole time and just now… woke up. I don't know how to explain it."

His eyes locked onto Bruce's, baffled, but focusing. He was looking for answers and now could understand them. The boy wringed his hands nervously as he tried to put what had happened into words. "Like… everything was in a fog and then… suddenly it was all clear. Like everything just happened around me and I wasn't really there. Then suddenly I was. I… I really… I can't figure out why, or how."

"Tim squirted you in the face."

"Heh, yeah." He smirked, looking away as he remembered it. "It…I dunno. It just felt real. Like… I dunno… like how Damian screams bloody murder when someone suddenly drops a ton of books next to him. Everything around me, it just didn't feel real for the longest time. Like everything was just some hallucination I was having while being…"

His voice trailed off as he remembered that incident again. For a brief moment he felt like he was there again, trapped in a warehouse with Joker, being beaten over and over again with a crowbar, in front of his mother who sold out on him. "I had a few of them back then. Trying to escape it I think. But nothing felt real unless he was…"

Bruce was about to stand and help him calm down when Jason took a deep breath and handled it himself. "I guess I just needed someone to treat me normal or something. Someone who wasn't out to… to hurt me. Maybe I just needed to be attacked somehow, reminded that not everything that touched me was dangerous. I'm not sure. I really don't know."

He took another deep breath before looking back to his father, smiling slightly. "Guess I'll have to thank Timmy later. He woke me up."

The man smiled graciously in silence, soaking in the young man's return to confidence. "Maybe." He looked over his son for a minute or so as he shifted nervously where he stood. "Do you want to talk about it?"

To this Jason froze. After another minute or so he shook his head. "N…no. Not yet."

"Alright." Bruce pushed himself off the bed and placed a hand on his boy's shoulder, giving him a confident, warm smile. "When you're ready, I'm here. We're all here for you."

The boy smiled again, answering softly. "I know."

The man's smile grew some before letting his boy go and heading towards the door. He would have given him a hug, but he saw the annoyance in his eyes when Dick attacked him with affection earlier that night. One step at a time. "Better get some rest. You still have some physical therapy in the morning."

As he turned the door handle Jason spoke up, slightly desperate. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Bruce blinked, then looked over to his boy in mild surprise. Some fear played with his features but not the same terror he experienced for the past three months. It had been a long time since Jason made that request. Three years? Possibly longer. It didn't matter. Occasionally Dick still snuck in. So he smiled and nodded once.

Relief and joy entered the boy's face. It was almost a shame to disturb it. "Bringing Bat-Bear?"

"Pft, no." Jason darted to the man's side as he left the room. "I don't need a ridiculous stuffed animal to keep me company at night. I'm not a kid and I'm not Dick."

"Hm. Interesting requirements," Bruce commented, then gave an impish smirk. "Too old for a teddy, but not too old to sleep with your old man." The kid stuck his tongue out at him earning a laugh. After a moment, the kid too started to laugh as well. And it was so good to hear it again.

A/N: Awee... alls well that ends well. Like I said before, I'm not a psychiatrist. or a psychologist. I have no idea if that really works for trauma victims. Just thinking that there's a snapping point, some kind of trigger that people in certain states need before they can start moving forward again. There's gonna be at least two more instances like that where someone will just snap out of their not so good mental state in the future because of what someone did, what was said, who appeared, or what they themselves did. It's great for dramatic effect so I'm using this method. Does it work in reality, can't say for certain. After all, in another fic I had at least two non-conventional ways of disarming a bomb that may just blow you up instead.

As for why Tim was the one who woke Jason up, I thought he deserved a role since he was key in getting Batman out of his dark place after Jason died in the comics. Plus little brothers do things like that to annoy people, don't they? Mine's a little off the beaten track. And I just wanted Jason to politely tell people he was going to kill his little brother. Best line here.

Dick's getting away with flirting because Bruce is distracted with Jason. And anyone who knows parties that aren't meant for kids knows this is what happens typically at those things. Can't say how many times we had to drag our parents out of those things and ended up like that, and how often I've watched kids at them and saw what trouble they got into.

Well, that ends this arch. Next one's still in the works and won't start being posted until it's entirely done (and it's a long one). Plus I've nearly used up all my stocked piled shorts so don't expect too many daily updates. I'll do what I can though. ;] laters.