Jason Todd x OC
Word Count: 2,426
Summary: A fateful night in Gotham City sends a young girl spiraling as she discovers a part of herself that could spell disaster for those around her.
A/N: This one is a bit longer, sorry about that… But I just couldn't seem to stop writing when it came to this one. I had to take a hiatus for a while after the death of a close family member, so I didn't get back to this one till now. Sorry to have kept you all waiting, but here we are! Back on track!
/
Bruce sat in his personal study, hunched over in the oversized wingback chair. His elbow dug into the chair's arm as he rubbed small circles over his temple, his other hand holding an old philosophy textbook. If he were being honest, he had only grabbed the book as a distraction. He hated getting into arguments with anyone in the family, especially Jason.
"Yes, they are my rules. My rules are there to keep us alive, and if you want to stay in this house, and on this team, you will abide by them!"
Sure, their treatment of the criminals they apprehended was vastly different, and they would butt heads over it more often than not, it wasn't the actual argument that bothered Bruce. It was always the aftermath of the fallout. After their tempers hit their peak and all that was left between them was silence, Jason had this look in his eyes.
"What are you trying to prove Jason?"
Like he wanted to be understood, like he needed to be heard out. It was a pleading look, but instead of saying anything more, the younger man had stormed out of the living room, slamming the wooden door behind him. He had most likely locked himself in the library, as it was harder for Jason to just forgive and forget, something Bruce had become accustomed to after the other had decided to return to Wayne Manor.
A knock on the door startled Bruce from his thoughts, his mind now on full alert as he sat up in the chair. He closed the philosophy textbook, having not even made it a quarter of the way through, and tossed it down onto the small end table that sat between his and another chair. Glancing up at the clock, he was shocked to see the time was nearing eleven thirty. Had he really spent the past three hours locked away in his study?
"Are you still awake in there Master Bruce?"
Alfred's steady tone eased Bruce's nerves, as he settled back into the chair, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath before glancing up at the study door, calling out to the elder man waiting outside, who no doubt already knew what Bruce was doing. He was most likely checking in on him to see if he had fallen asleep again, as he had done several other times.
"You can come in Alfred."
"Very well Master Bruce."
The door opened and Alfred silently stepped into the dimly lit study taking a careful glance around as if assessing the situation before him. The fireplace was lit, however it was burning low, desperately needing more wood added to it if it were to keep out the rainy chill. The older butler's gaze landed on the old textbook that had been tossed aside, then to Bruce's neatened appearance, raising an eyebrow. That look Bruce had seen many times over and would probably keep getting no matter how many times he thought he could fool the elder man. Letting out a sigh, Bruce locked eyes with his butler hoping he wasn't about to get a lecture of his own.
"What is it Alfred?"
Not to add to your undoubtedly troubled mind, however, it appears that Master Jason is no longer in the manor, nor is he anywhere on the estate. I went to check on him, however the library was open and unoccupied. Moreover, Master Dick has been unsuccessful in trying to contact him. Both his personal and the manor's phone were used, and any attempt from the bat computer sets off the locator in Master Jason's room.
Bruce's heart skipped a beat, practically stopping as the anger and guilt bubbled up in the pit of his stomach again. If it wasn't bad enough that they had fought and ended on a sour note, Jason had to be reckless enough to take off without a single word, not even to Dick. Although he couldn't necessarily say it was out of character for the younger man, it most definitely left Bruce feeling disappointed in him. Standing up from the chair, Bruce aggravatedly strode out of the study and down the hallway towards the foyers double staircase where he could hear the voices of the other boys below.
"Think about it Tim, if he isn't answering any of my texts, or even Alfreds calls then why would he answer yours?"
"I was hoping he would more or less just give up and answer…"
"Come on Tim, does that really sound like Jason to.. you…. Bruce."
The debate between the two boys died down as Bruce rounded the corner and booked it down the stairs. Damien was sitting on one of the steps at the base of the staircase, glancing up at his father, while Tim looked up from the phone in his hands and Dick stopped pacing in the middle of the foyer. Dick caught his eye and for a minute it looked as though he might say something, but he just shrugged his shoulders and sighed, shaking his head as he casted his gaze to the floor.
"Still nothing? …It's alright Dick, we'll find him. Even if I have to spend the rest of tonight out on the rooftops."
Bruce gave a reassuring nod to Dick, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder before pulling out his own cell phone. He sent a quick text to Lucius Fox, informing him of the situation and asking him to keep an eye on the security feeds for Wayne Tower, in case Jason had decided to spend the evening there, as unlikely as it was. He wasn't taking any precautions; however, Jason was always the more unpredictable of the group after all. Wanting to keep all bases covered he thumbed through his contacts, stopping at Jasons, his thumb hovering over the 'call' button. Not that the boy would even answer him as pissed as he most likely was, but still, Bruce hit the button and listened to it ring.
"…."
Bruce held his breath as the line kept ringing, repeatedly hoping the other would answer. After getting five almost six rings, instead of getting a beep signifying that the call did not go through, the other line picked up, crackly and patchy, most likely from whatever reception less spot Jason had holed up in, but at least he answered the phone this time.
"Jason? Where the hell are you? We've been trying to reach you for the past hour. You just disappear out your window, not caring to say anything to even your brothers? I'm disappointed in you Jason. I thought you knew better. When you get back here, we are going to have a talk about this."
Bruce didn't wait even a fraction of a second before laying into the younger man, his guilt, panic and anger all coming out into what was probably the worst timed miniature lecture possible. Jason however, didn't hang up on him like he normally would, he wasn't even saying anything. It was unusually quiet on the other end, to the point Bruce thought perhaps they had lost the call. Just as he was about to speak up again, Jason spoke. His tone was soft, just above a whisper, and it trembled.
"She's dying… Bruce she's not gonna make it…"
That single sentence hit him like a ton of bricks, and in that moment the rest of the world could have been set on fire and it wouldn't have mattered. Closing his eyes for a second, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose then walked towards the coats hanging by the front door, digging into the pocket of one for the keys to his sports car. After rummaging around for a second he found them, answering Jason on instinct.
"On my way. Stay there and don't hang up."
Turning around, the rest of the family were all on their feet, Bruce's change in mood meant something was up and it wasn't good. So they were ready for whatever they were needed to do. The thought would have made him smile if the situation weren't as dire as Jason had made it sound.
"Alfred, call Gotham General and tell them Bruce Wayne will be there in five minutes with an emergency patient. Dick, you're in charge while I'm gone. Keep an eye on Damien."
Alfred had already made his way over to the manor's phone, dialing the hospital's number; they practically had it on speed dial at this point with the number of times they paid a visit. Before Bruce could even say anything, Tim had already sent Jason's phone location to his phone, holding the older man's coat out for him as the garage door opened. Bruce offered him a soft smile and nod before heading out to the Lamborghini that sat there, waiting. Bruce plugged the coordinates into the cars gps, tearing out of the garage with a squeal, the rear end dragging till it caught traction on the driveway.
The drive out flew by as his car was easily doing close to a hundred on the outer streets of Gotham, Bruce's only thought was hoping that his son hadn't gotten himself into something extremely serious. He had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach though, a feeling that this wasn't going to end well. And that feeling didn't get any better when he pulled up to the street that branched into a smaller alleyway. The image of a broken Jason and a lifeless woman flooded his brain, urging him to move faster as he practically leapt out the Lamborghini, racing down the alley. Checking his phone, the dilapidated building just before him was the right place. Looking up, sure enough there was a flickering light, most likely a fire. Bruce hung up his phone and used his back up grappling gun to propel himself into the building. It probably wasn't the smartest of plans with how unstable the building seemed to be, but it worked and that's all that mattered.
Looking around the landing, there was a dead man by the only remaining door, a girl in a bloody, dirty and torn whitish colored dress, presumably a bridal gown, and holding her hand, was Jason. He looked exhausted yet relieved, his face and hair were dirty, his jacket dark as it had mostly gotten soaked in the rainy weather. Without saying a word, Bruce walked over and picked the girl up, knowing Jason wouldn't move until she was settled into the car. She would have to settle in the back seat as her thigh had a long gash running down it. Once he knew for sure she was safely resting in the back of the Lamborghini, Bruce turned around and ran back to the building, Jason being his top priority. The boy hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, leaving the older man to grab his gun from where it had been dropped then help the other off the rotting floorboards. The subtle grunts made it obvious he was hurt but that would have to wait.
"What happened."
The two settled into the black sports car, tearing off towards Gotham General Hospital. Jason was silent, staring out the window at the street. It seemed like the male hadn't heard the question, so Bruce asked once more, a bit more seriously this time, hoping he'd get a response. Although it came out less like a question and more as a demand.
"Jason I need to know what happened so I can figure out what to tell the hospital staff."
Once again all he got was silence, however just when he thought he was going to have to improv a whole situation, Jason spoke up. Talked about how he heard a muffled scream and ended up finding the girl tied up. The dead man in the building was going to kill her, but he interrupted him, and they got into a scuffle. A scuffle that ended with the girl grabbing Jason's gun and shooting the psycho. Twice. Jason always got in way over his head with these kinds of situations and tonight was no different, except Bruce was able to dig him out of this one pretty easily.
Pulling into the emergency zone of the hospital, a huge mass of staff, doctors and nurses alike were ready and waiting, a stretcher, kits and lights, covered in rain gear as they rushed out to meet the car. Bruce quickly tucked Jasons gun under his seat before her and Jason got out to help get the girl out of the car. She was as pale as a ghost, her lips a shade of purple. Her forehead was coated in a layer of sweat, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the doctors checked her over, rolling her away into the hospital.
A male nurse had stayed behind, asking for the girl's name, history and emergency contact information. Having none of her information made it hard, but they listed Bruce as her emergency contact since the possibility that she would wake up was small. Occasionally Bruce would cast his gaze over to Jason, checking on the unusually quiet male. Just as he had finished filling out the paperwork and had turned around to head back to the car, he watched the younger male's footsteps falter. Racing forward on instinct, Bruce caught the male, looping his arm around his son's waist. He studied him quietly not wanting any more attention for the night, his gaze resting on the sliced shoulder on the leather jacket. He had seen it earlier, however in the time since then the sweatshirt underneath had soaked with blood and was seeping out of the cut leather.
"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier Jason, I wouldn't have had you get out of the car. We can have Alfred look at it once we get home, but I have to know now, are there any other wounds I need to know about?"
The younger male didn't respond, his gaze flitted around briefly before locking onto Bruce's. He had this far off look on his face, he had paled considerably from when Bruce had come to grab him out of the rotting building, and his mouth moved like he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. Placing a hand on the side of his face in hopes to ground him, Bruce watched as Jason's eyes rolled back into his head and his legs gave out.
"Jason!"
