Return of the Wayward Son

Chapter 4: Picking Up The Pieces

Bruce's POV

This wasn't the first time in his life Bruce Wayne had woken up in the charred remains of a destroyed building. It was never a pleasant experience that usually consisted of cuts and bruises at best, broken bones and charred skin at worst.

One experience like this ended with him holding the mangled body of his 13-year-old son.

He hoped like hell this wouldn't be a repeat. He didn't think he could handle it if it was.

Pushing bricks and wooden planks off his back, noting in relief he appeared to have no serious injuries, Bruce got to his feet. He was out on the street now, some of the debris having spilt out onto the road. To his right he could see the abandoned apartment building they had been in was partially collapsed; definitely not stable. He shouldn't linger here for long.

He put a call through to emergency services as he began searching the area. The building had been uninhabited as far as he knew, and the streets had been mostly deserted. He doubted anyone else had been caught in the crossfire, but he couldn't be sure. Better to be safe than sorry.

Satisfied that the situation would be handled soon, he started climbing through the piles of burning wood and scorched stone. Jason couldn't be too far away. He'd held onto the teen as long as he could once the bomb went off, sending them both flying out the window.

He found The Joker under a pile of stones and dust. The clown was still, even now, chuckling weakly. His arm and legs were broken though. Bruce was content enough that the madman wasn't going anywhere. The GCPD were on route. They'd deal with him. Batman was done for today. Leaving him where he was, Bruce continued the search for the one he really wanted to find. He only had to look for two minutes until he spotted a prone arm sticking out from under a pile of bricks. There was no sign of movement.

Dread began to take his breath away as he found himself back on that snowy hilltop, small fires and tangled metal surrounding him as he knelt on the frozen Earth. His little boy cradled to his chest, skin still warm but far too pale. So much blood….

Bruce shoved the memory aside. Not now.

Racing over, he began hurling debris aside as he freed the trapped body beneath. Finally, he could get a proper look at his son's condition.

Shaking, sweating, bleeding, breathing. Injured and terrified; but alive.

Alive.

Oh thank God.

He quickly pressed a button on his glove, summoning the Batmobile to their general location. Crouching down by his son's side, he did a quick check to see if it would be safe to move him to the car. He could see that one arm was definitely broken and the instant whimper when touching his ribs suggested heavy bruising at best. He'd been knocked out and a bloody head wound could point to a concussion. Other than that, there was nothing that would suggest he was in immediate danger.

Carefully sliding his arms under the teen's upper back and hips, he slowly stood, intending to carry him to the spot where the Batmobile had parked just around the corner. However, as he moved, Jason's eyes slowly blinked open, a pained groan escaping his scratchy throat.

Bruce paused, waiting for the confusion and fear to ease as he slowly registered what was happening. "Wha…?"

Bruce smiled slightly, reminded of all the time's he'd come back from a patrol to find the young boy zonked out in his chair in the BatCave. No matter how quiet he was Jason would always wake up, blinking owlishly as he pulled away from the throws of sleep, eyes immediately lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning when he saw his father was home and safe. "Hey Little Wing. Are you alright?"

Jason finally seemed to wake up enough to remember what happened. Bruce could see the confusion and unease fading and the dawning memories taking hold as the body in his arms began shaking uncontrollably, terror flooding from his eyes in streams. The explosion, it seemed, had been the breaking point for the 17-year-old. The confident, cocky Red Hood was gone, all that was left was the shivering, crying boy who first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Bruce quickly moved to the shadows beside a still standing building, sliding down the grimy wall and hugging the panicking boy as close as he dared while still unsure of all his injuries. If any of the Rogue's Gallery were to see him now, it would no doubt be a massive blow to his reputation as the fierce, shadowy protector of Gotham. He could not have cared less. Right now, his son needed Bruce Wayne, not The Batman. The rest of the world could wait.

Most parents would agree that it didn't matter how old your children were, didn't matter how many years passed; you never truly stopped being a parent. Bruce found himself slipping back into the role of a comforting father as if it had been only yesterday that he had to comfort his distraught child. He subconsciously began rocking the body gently, one hand reaching up to soothing comb through the strands of raven hair. "Shhhh, I'm here Little Wing. You're safe."

His thoughts wondered to all the time's they'd wound up in this same position, one memory in particular drawing him in.

…

A bone-chilling scream pierced the peaceful quiet of Wayne Manor, waking the home's owner instantly from the first restful sleep he'd had in weeks.

Leaping from his bed in a single bound, he didn't waste a second racing down the hall to the room the wail had come from. A powerful mixture of rage and terror immediately chased away any lingering tendrils of drowsiness. Whoever had made his son scream like that was going to pay.

Reaching the room in record time, Bruce threw open the doors, ready to beat down whatever monster or villain had dared launch an attack in his home. However, there was no one there.

No one except a hysterically wailing nine-year-old in the middle of the bed.

The fear, rage and adrenaline ebbed away; replaced by sorrow and guilt as he took in the scene before him. He hears rapidly approaching footsteps behind him. Turning around he sees Alfred, dressed in his night clothes as well rather than his usual immaculate suits, looking just as panicked but determined as Bruce had been. Spotting his ward standing in the doorway with no signs of an intruder in sight, the butler quickly puts two and two together. He offers Bruce a sad smile and offers to go get some hot chocolate and tea. Grateful as always for his closets companion's quick thinking and thoughtful nature, he quickly turns back to the crying child in the room.

He carefully and quietly approaches the bed, not wanting to scare his son any more than he already was but making just enough noise to let the kid know he was there. Sure enough, as he finally stands next to the bed, Jason's tear-streaked faces shoots up to meet his. A split-second of alarm flickers through his eyes before he figures out who is standing in front of him. "D-Dad?"

Bruce nodded, "Did you have a nightmare Little Wing?" he asked gently, lowering himself to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Jason nodded, sniffling unhappily as more tears threatened to spill.

Bruce immediately opened his arms for a hug, smiling as warmly and comfortingly as possible. "It's okay bud. Come here."

He didn't need to offer twice. In a matter of seconds he had his arms full of a sobbing child. Shuffling around so he could lean back against the headboard while still holding his son close, he began to rock the small boy soothingly while humming some nameless tune. They stayed like that for several minutes while Jason slowly began to calm. When the sobs eventually petered off into small sniffles he spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jason seemed to contemplate this for a minute before slowing speaking, words hitching and shaking with hiccups and whimpers. "I-I was b-back in my old h-home. My f-father was mad at me f-for something and was g-going to b-beat me f-for it. M-mum was j-just watching. I t-tried running b-but I couldn't and t-the door was l-locked and then y-you were there but y-you didn't help me! Yo-you said I d-deserved it and I was s-scared and you l-left me b-behind with th-them and-and…"

Hearing enough, Bruce hugged the shaking boy closer, tucking the small head beneath his chin and reaching up to rub soothing circles in his back. He forced down the ever-present rage he felt whenever he was faced with the consequences of his son's abusive 'family'. Jason needed him right now. "It's okay Little Wing. It was only a nightmare. I promise those monsters will never be able to hurt you again."

Jason tilted his head up to look at his newfound guardian miserably. "You-you left. I called for you an-and you left me be-behind."

Bruce's heart broke at the uncertainty and fear in his charge's eyes. He had to fix that. "Jason, I want you to listen to me very carefully okay because this is really, really important."

The child nodded, still wary but nonetheless cuddling closer. Bruce made sure he had Jason's full attention before speaking. "Jason. I promise you that no matter what happens, no matter what you say or do, no matter where you are; I will always, always, help you if you need me. There is nothing that will ever make me abandon you or turn you away. You're my son and I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

Jason's eyes filled with tears again, but the shaky smile suggested the words had helped ease those fears, at least for now. "You promise?"

Bruce smiled, leaning down to place a kiss to his son's head. "I promise Little Wing, and I never break my promises."

Alfred arrived soon after with a mug of hot chocolate for Jason, cooled slightly so it was safe for the young boy to drink, and a cup of green tea for Bruce. The effects of the nightmare still had his child spooked and the boy asked, once their drinks were done, if he could stay here tonight. Bruce readily agreed. He'd do anything to help ease the bad memories, even if it were only for the night.

He held the child close, cradling him protectively in his arms even as he drifted off to sleep, with more soft reassurances whispered to the cool night air.

"I've got you bud. You're safe. I promise. It's all going to be okay. I've got you…."

…..

"…I've got you" he murmured as the sobs slowly eased. "You're safe, I promise."

As the memory faded away, he found himself pulling the young man just that little bit closer. Whispered words, so similar to those he'd spoken to his son all those years ago, filled the space between them. He didn't make any promises he couldn't keep. He didn't tell him it was all over, that it would all be okay now. Truth was, this was nowhere near finished and he doubted either of them would be okay for a very long time. But Jason was finally home and they could pick up the broken pieces together. That was all that mattered.

A/N - So, hope you all enjoyed it! This was supposed to be two chapters. This and one more I haven't written yet. It just kept getting longer and longer though so oh well.

There will be another chapter taking place in the BatCave following this. I may also add a chapter detailing the opening scene from the movie (you know the one) if people would like to see that.

A few notes:

1. While I like the idea of Jason's hair actually being red I decided to go with the more common design for the character, black hair.

2. My headcannon is that the Lazarus Pit did change Jason to a degree, making him more angry and prone to violence. However, the pit only built on the emotional trauma that was already there. None of what Jason did or said was fabricated by the Lazarus Pit. He was always capable of it to a degree but if it wasn't for the pit's influence, I doubt he would ever have gone as far as he did.

3. I'm not 100% familiar with the DC comics. I've never read then and the bulk of my knowledge surrounding Batman comes from the movies and cartoons. I did some research into what happened to Jason following his resurrection but still don't know enough to have gone into proper detail. Instead I went with the idea that Jason set off on his own and sought training from various places to build his skills. He did figure out it was Ra's al Ghul responsible for his revival but didn't confront him on it.

4. I hope the impact of my writing style choice was clear enough. I tried using more shorter sentences to capture how disjointed and desperate Jason's thoughts were. The bolded phrases were his subconscious trying to break through.

5. The title. Well, I really hope some of you get the reference.

I am considering expanding this story to be part of a much bigger work. If it gets enough support I'll either go with a Harry Potter/Batman: Under the Red Hood retelling or a Batman/ Teen Titans (2003 cartoon)/Harry Potter crossover story featuring Harry and Robin as siblings. If you'd like to see either of these, make your voices heard! :)