Jason Todd x OC

Word Count: 1,709

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: Not much to say for this one, I'll let the hurt speak for itself.

/

"Jason!"

Bruce lightly shook the boy, hoping for any sign of movement before looking around the empty space of the hospital parking lot. Seeing that no one was left in the empty lot but himself and Jason, that sinking feeling in his gut grew. The older man weighed his options, quickly choosing to head back to Wayne Manor. They were well equipped for these kinds of situations in the Batcave and Bruce trusted Alfreds judgment more than any doctor when it came to his boys. Slinging the boy's arm over his shoulder and adjusting his grip on his waist, Bruce half walked, half dragged the limp boy back to the car. Getting him settled in the passenger side, Bruce spent no time in getting in the car himself, smoke rising from the back tires as he took off, calling the Manor from the car.

"Master Bruce I am assuming this is you."

"Alfred, we are leaving Gotham General now, headed back home."

"Very good Master Bruce. However, I feel like there is more that you haven't said yet."

"It's Jason, Alfred. He has an injury to his right shoulder, his jackets torn. He passed out just as we were headed back to the car. Have Tim ready the station in the Batcave and tell Dick to meet me outside the front of the manor, I'll need his help to get Jason inside."

"Very well. We shall be ready for your arrival sir."

Bruce could hear Alfred relaying the instructions before he hung up the phone, easing his nerves if only slightly. Glancing over at Jason, memories from years ago flooded into his head. Clenching his jaw, Bruce pushed his thoughts aside and placed the next call of the night as they zipped down the streets of Gotham, en route to the Manor. Lucius Fox picked up, his voice low and groggy as he had most likely been asleep when Bruce had sent the earlier message.

"Mr. Wayne, have you managed to find Mr. Todd?"

"Yes. He was in a brawl with a deranged kidnapper on the outskirts of Gotham City. Things didn't end very well; the man is dead, and Jason is… Well we will know more after Alfred has had a chance to fix him up. I'll be taking the next few days off from the office."

"Very well Mr. Wayne. I will take care of everything and await future updates."

"And Lucius…"

Bruce paused wanting to thank the man but he couldn't seem to figure out the right words to say.

"Yes Mr. Wayne?"

"Get some sleep."

Bruce hung up from the call as he pulled into the estate driveway. As he raced closer to the manor he could see the silhouette of Dick in the doorway, running out to meet them. Hitting the brakes in his usual fashion, the back end of the car swung around, spraying gravel as it did. Putting it in park, The older man got out, opening the passenger door and pulling Jason out of the car, easily scooping him up like he were a doll. Dick shut the car door behind them, rushing back to the Manors front door to open it for the pair.

The trio made their way through the house, heading down into the Batcave where Alfred, Tim and Damien were waiting for them. Alfred was without his normal suit coat, the sleeves of his white button up shirt rolled to his elbows, an apron tied around his waist. Medical tools were lined up beside him on a blue cloth, the bright white lights reflecting off the table in front of him. Bruce sat Jason down on the table, steadying him so Alfred with Dick's assistance, could peel both the leather jacket and sweatshirt from the man's body. The wound on Jason's shoulder was a deep triangular shape, the skin around the edge of it violently torn. The back of his shoulder was the same where the blade had pierced all the way through, the blood trailing down the wound had tiny chunks of flesh with it, cluing the three in as to what had happened. Dick shot a look at Bruce and Alfred who were already on the same page, Bruce glancing at Tim and Damien who were struggling to get a view of what was going on.

"Tim. Take Damien upstairs."

"But we wa-"

"Do not argue with me, Tim. Now take your brother upstairs!"

Alfred tossed a cloth over Jason's wound, keeping it out of sight from the younger boys, placing pressure on both sides of it hoping to ease the bleeding while he could. Bruce knew the boys had good intentions, they wanted to make sure Jason was alright, but this was most likely going to be a long and bloody surgery to fix the damage, if they could. Dick watched the two younger boys make their way back to the manor, slamming his fist down in outrage when they were out of sight. Bruce placed his hand on Dicks, knowing it was the only real comfort he could offer at the moment.

"A god damned serrated blade?! What the hell was he thinking hiding this?!"

"Dick you know as well as I do Jason has too much pride to admit he needs help. At least to us."

Bruce then casted his glance to Alfred, who he knew had patched Jason up on several occasions when he wouldn't go to anyone else. Years of sleepless nights left Bruce to roam around the Manor, usually checking in on his boys, however he most often than not, would find Alfred and Jason. Usually in the kitchen with the first aid kit, pulling out a bullet, stitching up a hole. The old butler had patched each of them up a fair many times and this would be no different. Alfred himself was grabbing a pair of forceps before removing the cloth from the wounds once again. He inspected it, moving the light to where he'd need it, before his blue eyes glanced up locking onto Bruce's.

"Master Dick, I need you to help hold Master Jasons's shoulder. That way I am free to use both hands. Master Bruce, sit on the table behind him, let him rest against you. We are going to need to move rather quickly, he has lost enough blood as it is."

Silently nodding, Bruce and Dick moved to where they were needed and Alfred began working, using a bottle of alcohol to flush out the wound. As more small chunks of flesh came seeping out from both sides, Jason let out a low groan that shifted into a harsh cry, his body tensed and he instinctively tried flailing away, however with Bruce behind him it wasn't possible. Turning his gaze from the boy in his lap, he watched Dick as he held a death grip on his adoptive brother's arm. His back was turned towards the younger man, with the other's arm held to his chest, keeping it in place. Not sure what else he could do, Bruce tightened his grip on the boy's body, lowering his head to whisper in his ear.

"Jason… If you can hear me, we are home. Alfred is patching you up so you've got to hold still. I know you're in pain, but it will be alright."

It felt like an eternity, but Alfred had been able to get both sides of the wound cleaned, and was putting in the last set of stitches that were needed on the back side. All that would be left was the bandaging, and three people weren't needed for that task. Bruce appreciated Dick's help tonight however he needed his sleep, they all did.

"Dick, Alfred and I can finish things up down here. Let your brothers know how he's doing and get some rest. Also… If Damien is still awake please put him to bed."

The younger man didn't argue, didn't sigh, just nodded and headed up the stairs. It had been a long night with way too much excitement. Bruce turned back to Alfred as he began to pad and wrap the closed wounds with gauze. They worked silently, setting the younger male down on the table to rest. Alfred took off his gloves and placed a hand on the tray covered in bloody tools, cloths and pairs of gloves, rolling it away to give Bruce a moment alone with him. He could hear the older man's footsteps stop for a second, and turned to look at him, knowing something was going to be said.

"What is it Alfred?"

"Don't take it out on yourself Master Bruce. And try to get some rest. If not for yourself, then for Master Jason."

Bruce nodded, turning his gaze back to the unconscious boy beside him. He was still incredibly pale but he looked peaceful. Whatever pain he had been in earlier had either faded, or his brain was blocking it out for the time being. Seeing the other like this brought back memories, a bruised and broken Jason, sprawled out on the table, covered in concrete dust and burn scars from the explosion. That had been a long night too. The only comfort Bruce was offered is that this time Jason had a chance to bounce back. He wasn't dead on impact.

Knowing he most likely wouldn't be sleeping much tonight, Bruce turned away from his son and pulled the roller chair from its place in front of the Bat Computers desk. On his way back the older male snagged the spare blanket he kept down here for late nights, and sat down beside Jason's bed, laying the blanket over him just below the shoulder. Sitting in the quiet cave he had plenty of time to think over how things had gone wrong and all of it stemmed back to their argument. If had been more understanding, if he hadn't said what he did, if he had been a better father then perhaps Jason wouldn't have snuck out. The only nonsense to his thought process was that if Jason hadn't snuck out another innocent life would have been ended without any consequence. Bruce slumped back into the chair rubbing his temples, it was going to be a really long night.