Return of the Wayward Son
Chapter 5: Welcome Home
Bruce's POV
Bruce couldn't even begin to count the number of times he'd dreamt of bringing his son home again. He'd always known it was impossible of course, but still the dreams had brought some comfort in the months after the tragedy. Now those wishes, by some miracle, were coming true.
It wasn't how he'd expected it would go.
In those dreams Jason would come running up the driveway, a cheeky grin in place whilst reminding everyone that the Boy Wonder wouldn't be defeated by a clown of all things. It would be a loud, chaotic, and cheerful celebration with the family back together again. Instead, here he was; carefully carrying the unconscious teen through the Batcave to the med bay. Alfred was already waiting inside, medical supplies neatly organised and ready to use. They worked together in relative silence, both lost in memories while they patched up the long-lost member of the family. Once they were finished Alfred tended to Bruce's own wounds and then retreated to the manor to tidy up Jason's old room. Bruce didn't have the heart to tell him that he had no idea if Jason would choose to stay or not.
Alone with his thoughts for now, he'd began to think over the night's events. The way Jason had behaved had felt erratic, unhinged. He couldn't blame the boy for that. He knew Jason had suffered terribly at the hands of The Joker and who knew what the last four years had been like. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling there was more going on. He knew from Ra's that Jason's return had been thanks to the Lazarus Pit. Perhaps that had played a part in all of this? He decided to call Zatara. If anyone could possibly help Jason, it would be the magician.
Giovanni Zatara had arrived within the hour, always happy to help a friend in need and had readily agreed to examine Jason. Sure enough, it hadn't taken him long to sense the darkness surrounding the sleeping youth. "I must warn you old friend. While I will do what I can to reverse the effects of the Lazarus Pit, I cannot guarantee it will work. This kind of pure, dark magic is not easily disposed of and there could be unforeseen side effects. It could even be fatal."
Bruce looked to the man laid out on the bed. Even unconscious his son still looked uncomfortable. It was as if there was something haunting him that couldn't be escaped even in the deepest of sleeps. He looked so young in that moment; Bruce felt his heart twist. The decision was obvious. They had to try but the thought he could lose his child again so soon after getting him back was far scarier than any of the criminals that called Gotham home. He sighed, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I understand but we have to try."
Zatara stared at him imploringly, as if looking to make sure the Dark Knight had indeed been paying attention before replying. "Very well. I will ask you to leave so I…"
"No," Bruce growled, surprising even himself with the outburst. "I let him down once already. I'm not abandoning him when he needs me again. I'm staying."
Zatara placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "I understand Bruce. However, I cannot afford distractions. This spell requires immense concentration to have any hope of working. I must insist you wait outside."
Alfred stepped forward, having returned to the med bay upon the arrival of the magician, casting a solemn yet hopeful look at his honorary grandson whilst gesturing for Bruce to follow "Come Master Bruce. I do believe it would be wise to get some rest before Master Jason wakes."
Zatara nodded agreeingly, eyeing his friend's dishevelled appearance disapprovingly. "He will be out for a day at the least, though I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps for three. He will need the rest to recover. I dare say old friend, you could benefit from some sleep yourself. If anything happens, I'll let you know."
Bruce gave his son one more look before relenting. As he left the room to allow Zatara to do his work, he felt his shoulders sag in exhaustion. The road ahead was going to be a long one, but it would be worth it in the end.
…
Jason's POV
Not much had changed in the Batcave since he'd last been here. Same computers, same vehicles, same trophies from past cases. The only obvious new edition he could locate was also not new to him at all.
The Robin costume, his Robin costume, there on display on a raised platform not far from the Batcomputer.
It had been a week since he woke up in his old room in Wayne Manor; a surreal experience to say the least. For a few wonderous seconds he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the hellish past four years had been some horrific nightmare. Perhaps something Scarecrow had concocted to try and break him? It was all too easy to believe as well. After all, he couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up with a clear mind, free from the green fog that had been his constant companion for nearly half a decade.
It was wishful thinking but had been nice while it lasted.
A clear mind meant there was nothing to block out the memories of the warehouse, of the Lazarus Pit, of the lonely years travelling the world, of the horrible things he'd done upon his return to Gotham. The memory of nearly shooting his adopted father. The resulting panic attack wouldn't be the first he would experience over the week. Anxiety attacks, night terrors, flashbacks; he'd experienced it all more than once.
He wasn't sure if the fact he didn't need to go through it all alone was something he was more relieved at or frustrated by. Each nightmare, each panic attack, each hallucination; there was always someone there by his side. Bruce, Alfred, even Dick, who had insisted on coming back for a while as he recovered. His pride wanted to tell them all to back off but a bigger part of him was honestly grateful for the comforting words and warm hugs. There had been a lot of changes to get used to over the past few days but even if he struggled at times to admit it, the familiar faces helped a lot.
He was housebound for now while Bruce thought of a way to reintroduce him to Gotham. There was a lot of debate over whether he would need to adopt a new identity or if they could find a way to let him keep the name Jason Todd. That would involve coming up with a believable story to explain how he'd been declared dead for four years. Needless to say, it was going to be a delicate process no matter which route they took. Understanding as he was, he wasn't used to being stuck indoors all day, even in a place as expansive as Wayne Manor, and the cabin fever was already setting in.
He'd met Timothy Drake, the new Robin, as well two days after waking up. Truthfully a part of him had wanted to hate the kid but it hadn't taken him long to see that was nearly impossible. Tim was kind, a little shy and self-deprecating, but no doubt a hard worker with one hell of a sharp mind. Admittedly, he was a very good Robin and if Jason had had to pick someone to take up the mantel of the Boy Wonder, it would have been him. Tim also had the knack for realising when Jason wanted company and when he needed space, something he greatly appreciated.
Things had been a bit tense between him and Bruce for the first few days. Neither of them was usually the emotional type so it made follow-up conversations after the Red Hood ordeal awkward to put it mildly. Eventually, after three days of stilted discussions skirting around the major issues at hand Bruce finally suggested they talk, most likely at the behest of one of the other occupants of the manor if Jason had to guess.
"Do you remember much about that night?" his adopted father had asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the room. Jason didn't need to ask which night. He knew.
"Bits and pieces. It's a bit of a blur now. I remember kidnapping The Joker, beating him with the crowbar. I remember some of the fight we had, not a lot. I remember most of what you said to me. Or at least I think I do. Don't remember anything after I dropped the gun though. Dick told me the building blew up?" Jason asked, raising his cast slightly to emphasise the point.
Bruce nodded grimly. "Yes, we were lucky to get out of there alive."
Jason hesitated, not sure if he wanted his next question answered or not. "And The Joker?"
His father met his gaze, expression unreadable. "Yes, he survived. He was taken back to Arkham."
Jason hummed distractedly. He honestly wasn't sure how to feel about that but decided in the end it was perhaps best to leave that be for now. Still, this had reminded him of one crucial detail from that night he had been meaning to ask.
"You were hiding something from me that night." Bruce frowned, confused. Jason elaborated. "When I asked you why you couldn't kill him. You were going to say something but held back. Why? What was it?"
It was the biggest question, the one they both knew held the power to bridge the divide between them or make the rift irreparable. Bruce sighed but turned so he was facing Jason head on. "I couldn't kill him because there would be no coming back from that. Taking someone's life, that changes a person Little Wing. I've never been more tempted to do so in my life. Every encounter with the man took every ounce of willpower I had to stop myself crossing that line. I had too though."
Jason frowned; he'd already been told all this. "Why?"
Bruce smiled sorrowfully. "Because I couldn't tarnish your memory like that. I wanted to hold onto the memories of all the good you did, to remember the hero you were. I couldn't stand the thought of letting myself become a killer in your name, to live with the knowledge that any time I would think of what drove me over that line, it would be my son's face I'd see. I loved you too much to do that to you. I still do."
Jason didn't remember much more of that conversation. He knew there had been a lot of tears. He hadn't realised at the time just how much he'd needed to hear that. All of his childhood had been spent having to fight for any kind of attention. Love had never been the rule but the exception, something to be hard won and easily taken back. Even now, years after he'd left that life behind, it was still difficult to believe at times that he could be accepted so easily. That he didn't need to go out of his way to prove his worth. That he could mean so much to his family was almost unbelievable.
It was these musings he found himself yet again contemplating as he stood before his old uniform with a duffle bag at his feet, the sound of bats fluttering overhead the only noise in the otherwise empty cave.
"Would you like me to take that down, Master Jason?"
Or perhaps not so empty.
The young man looked over his shoulder to see Alfred approaching, holding a tray with a cup of tea and some biscuits. Smiling gratefully, he took a biscuit before answering. "No thanks Alfred. As a matter of fact…" Jason stepped up to the glass display case, opened it and moved his old Robin costume to the side. Crouching down, he opened the duffle bag and removed the Red Hood costume he'd worn only just a week ago. It was tricky with only one arm, but he managed. He could see Alfred's surprised look from the corner of his eye and smiled cheerlessly but didn't say anything. Instead, he set about placing the costume in the case beside the other one. Two key parts of his life now displayed side by side.
The two men stood together in silence for a few minutes before Alfred broke the sombre atmosphere. "Are you certain, sir? I can imagine these costumes may carry some rather….unpleasant memories."
Jason simply nodded, eyes not moving from the red helmet. "They do, and a part of me would like nothing more than to burn them both. I can't though. As much as I would like to forget some parts of my past, I need to remember." He finally tore his gaze away from the clothes, leaning down to remove the final item from the bag. The crowbar that started this all. "I need to remember who I was and what I nearly became." He stepped forward, laying the weapon down at the bottom of the case in between the two costumes. "I can't be Robin ever again; he died that day in Ethiopia, and I don't ever want to be what the Red Hood turned me into again either. But whether I like it or not, I can't ignore that they were a part of me. I just need to figure out now what that'll mean for me going forward."
He turned to the butler who gave him a warm smile. "Wise words, young man. It's easier to run from our pasts then confront them, but the easy way is unfortunately rarely the right one." Jason dipped his head in agreement. It certainly wasn't easy.
The two turned away from the case, crossing the room to where a table was setup. Alfred placed the try down while Jason grabbed another biscuit. Sensing Alfred had more to say, he waited patiently for his pseudo-grandfather to gather his thoughts. "If I may ask sir, what do you plan to do now? I imagine remaining housebound for long wouldn't be to your liking?"
Jason took a seat on the railing behind him, looking down at the wide array of trophies and confiscated items from past cases on the platform below, some of which he recognised he himself had added to the collection. He took the cup of tea, allowing the warmth to ground him as he explained. "Definitely not. Dad thinks I should see a therapist. He said he'd speak to some friends, see if he could find someone in the know so that I could get the best help possible. Therapy probably isn't all that effective unless you can be completely honest, I'd imagine."
Alfred took a biscuit for himself, taking a seat on the one chair next to the table. "It would certainly be helpful. I dare say you wouldn't be the only one in this place who could stand to benefit from speaking with a professional." The teen chuckled, knowing exactly who Alfred was referring to. "You said this was Master Bruce's suggestion. Do you plan to take him up on the offer?"
Jason closed his eyes for a second, thoughts wondering to all the terrible things he'd been through, all the horrible things he'd done. "Yeah, I think I will. I already told him I'm taking myself out of the field for now, though judging by the look he gave me when I said that I doubt I would have been allowed to work on any cases without one hell of a fight, even if I had wanted to." He blinked, looking down with unfocused eyes at the giant penny on display below his feet. "Don't get me wrong, I hate the idea of sitting on the sidelines while people are out there getting hurt, but I know I'm not in the right mindset right now to be out there. I'd only be putting myself and others in danger. I have a lot I need to sort through before I'm ready to be a hero again."
Alfred nodded sympathetically. "I understand. It's not easy to have to take a step back and let others do the work. However, you're making the right decision. One cannot help others if they don't first look after themselves."
Jason grinned, sipping at the tea contentedly. "Exactly."
Finally, Alfred asked the question they both knew he'd been wanting to ask. "Will you be staying here?"
The former Red Hood frowned uneasily, placing the now empty cup back on the tray. "Yes, if Dad allows it. I….." He hesitated, embarrassed but also wanting to tell someone what had been weighing on his mind for the last few days. "I don't really want to be alone right now."
He stared at the floor; shoulders hunched in shame as he remembered all the reasons he surely didn't have the right to ask such things of anyone. A hand on his shoulder drew his gaze to Alfred's sincere grey eyes. "I think I can easily speak for your father when I say you'll always have a home here, Master Jason. Whether you choose to go back to vigilante work or wish to lead a more normal life from here on out, that won't change." Ah, trust Alfred to have successfully figured out what was really worrying him. How the old man did it, he'd never know. Still, he was eternally grateful for it, nonetheless.
While a large part of him wanted to go back to saving people and stopping criminals, another part of him was afraid. Afraid of the darkness he could still feel lingering at the back of his mind surging forward, afraid he would slip back into his role as the Red Hood, afraid to find himself once again at the non-existent mercy of some psychopath. It was going to take time to figure it all out, he knew that. It was a relief to know though that no matter what he chose, he'd still have his family by his side.
Sensing the conversation was over for now, Alfred made his way back to the steps up to Wayne Manor. Pausing at the first step, he looked once more at Jason with a half-amused and half-sincere smile on his face. "I don't believe I've had the chance to say this yet Master Jason but better late than never. Welcome home."
A/N – Well, that's it. The final chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it. If people would like, I may add the opening scene from Under the Red Hood but otherwise this story is finished. Fear not though, I am putting up the first chapter of my Harry Potter / Batman / Teen Titans crossover tonight. Keep an eye out for it. Anyway, thank you for reading!