If someone had asked Jason what he expected when he opened his eyes he would have answered Arkham.

What he got was way worse.

The heaviness in his body told him he had been drugged. The touch under his fingers was one of bed sheets. He felt humidity. Water droplets collided with rock ground somewhere near him. He looked up and saw a group of bats hanging from the cave ceiling.

His breath quickened. The hammering of his heart threatened to break up his ribcage from the inside out. And Jason was just so tired. Tired of being afraid, of being hurt, of running and hiding and making deals with lesser horrors that those that plagued his mind and dreams and home. He had been crying so much lately that he felt hollow. The tears perpetually waiting behind his eyelids now long gone.

He was tired of being tired.

He laid there focusing on his breath, pretending to be asleep again. Maybe he was having another nightmare; maybe he had died again, never avoided that stupid fall. He heard something moving close to him and stopped himself from tensing up. A sharp finger poked him in the ribs.

"Awake." Cassandra's voice was delicate yet irrefutable. He clenched his jaw before turning his gaze to her, gulping. "I protect. No harm." She put a strand of his hair out of his face.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Cass." He smiled bitterly. He would cut his wrists and give all his blood up to Trigon if it meant he could get out of that place.

No, he didn't fear physical pain; he was fairly acquainted with it. He feared what his mind and heart knew. The truth. He would take Death by the hand again to escape the sorrow that would drag him to that obscure corner of his mind where monsters with the shapes of loved ones awaited to have their feast.

He looked at himself. Someone (Alfred, most likely) had tended to his right arm and had secured it against Jason's chest. The puncture in his left arm showed him what he already knew, he had been injected something. He didn't like drugs. They knew that.

"Jason."

Every muscle in his body tensed like a guitar string. His injuries started hurting once more. His breath stopped working altogether instead of growing faster.

No.

Every time. Every goddamned time he heard that voice calling his name in that disapproving and strained way his head went back to him being fourteen and a disappointment. It was like those dreams when you dream you're dreaming and you wake up, but don't know if you're still dreaming or back in the real world. Because you can't be sure, you can't ever be sure you escaped that dream because, oh, how many times have you dreamt such real scenarios. And then something happens and your dream turns to a nightmare, clawing at you, holding you down for so long you aren't so sure you will ever be awake again.

He realized that there was indeed a part of him still desperate for affection, for attention, for whatever that kid thought he had deserved. He still dreamed. And your deepest desires often tore you with sharp claws, destroyed your soul and hopes, because we're all masochists and sometimes we crave whatever's killing us.

Jason knew that there were certain times when you either had to kill the dream or kill yourself.

"No."

He wasn't sure he could kill the former.

"Little Wing."

Maybe Talia was right to be worried after all.

His bottom lip was trembling, as well as his hands. Cass' fingers tried to steady him when he was getting up. He managed to cover his face with the cruelest smirk he could manage.

"You brought the Golden Boy." He sneered through the lump in his throat. "You're getting really old if you need backup to beat a drugged guy."

"No one is going to fight you, Jay." Dick sounded so pacifying he wanted to punch him. Hard. Jason wasn't any kind of stray kitten you wanted to carry home with you.

"Yeah, sure."

"Jason." He couldn't look at Dick. He wasn't prepared for that shit. Not now, not ever.

"I'm Special Agent Todd, now. And you face charges of abduction and aggression." He set his jaw, eyeing the cave floor. "You better leave me alone or you'll have Amanda biting your ass."

"Master Jason."

That elderly voice, full of love and forgiveness, traveled to his ears. He almost got whiplash as he turned. He covered his mouth to stifle a whimper.

"Alfred."

It had been barely a whisper but he was sure the man heard it. He welcomed him with a gentle smile.

"My dear boy." He could have sworn he heard a tremor in his voice.

"Did you check the results, Alfred?" He-who-should-not-be-named spoke at his left.

"Indeed, Sir." Alfred spoke coldly, a brow arching way up his forehead. "Barely a hint of nicotine, nothing more."

Now the cold eyes turned to Jason.

But something inside him told him that was wrong.

"How long have I beenout?" He started to panic.

"Not more than an hour, maybe two or three while B and Cass were bringing you here." Dick answered. Jason looked at Alfred for confirmation. He nodded, completely sure.

But that couldn't-

"You owe us an explanation." The Brooding Champion all but barked.

"I owe you nothing." The vein in his neck was surely working hard by that point. "I broke the deal, I left your city. Found a legal job. What do you want me to explain, uh?"

"Master Jason, what your father means," Alfred paused at how Jason clenched his fists for a moment. Jason wondered if Bruce was having a similar reaction. "Is that you are working now for a woman with a reputation, something you had not seemed to be inclined to do before. Not to mention that according to Oracle's images you looked rather, ah, influenced, that night."

"Influenced."

He snorted.

"Jay." Dick approached him.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? Blaming it all on an influence. The Pit, the madness, whatever you need to not accept the truth."

"What truth?" Bruce's voice was frail.

"I didn't-" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to kill that guy. I did it. But I wasn't aware that I was doing it"

"Was someone…?"

"No, it was me. But I… I wouldn't have done it if I was conscious." He rubbed his face with his hand, sighing.

Silence fell upon the cave, all eyes trained on him and Jason just wished he could vanish into the air.

That was exactly why he had to leave. The judgment. The stares. The feeling of vindication emanating from the members of his so-called family. There just couldn't be enough motives for them to be wary of him. And he knew what would follow.

Let us help you.

You need medical attention, Jason.

You're not alone.

But he was. And they were making things worse. He needed peace and he sure as hell wasn't getting any in that household. They would stalk him like falcons and make him feel unreliable and he would doubt himself and try and escape.

"You need therapy" Bruce choked on his words. Jason knew exactly what he was thinking about when their eyes met.

When a much tinier Jason wore pixie boots – which Alfred had to alter because they were too big for him- and a green domino. When a much tinier Jason was crying his soul out barricaded in his brand new room at the manor. It had been that time of the year, too hot for the villains to stay at home, and of course, someone had kidnapped Jason in order to lure the Bat into a trap. They didn't do anything to him, it was just that they had grabbed him and tossed him above their shoulders and their hands had fallen at the upper back of his thighs to steady him and Jason…

He'd gone rabid.

Riddler, Ivy, the goons- they'd all been staring at him. A pin could have dropped and it would have made a deafening sound among the sea of silence. Jason's breathing was exhausting him and Ivy had seemed to be a fraction away from approaching him and try to comfort him.

Bruce had decided that was the moment to break a window and make his entrance. Jason had bolted out of the building and hadn't stopped swinging and running till he was safely hidden in his bedroom. Alfred had knocked on his door while he wept, rocking his body and huddled with his arms around his knees in the furthest corner of the big room.

He'd slept like that, waking up with sore muscles and a feeling of hollowness. Alfred hadn't said anything when Jason walked into the kitchen and started munching some food.

Bruce never mentioned it.

Ivy had.

He hadn't needed to tell her the story, she just figured it out. She hadn't attacked him again, retreating to her lab and telling him they could meet sometime in her greenhouse if he ever had questions about biology.

Jason wondered how different it all could have been if he had ever taken on her offer, too afraid to face the one person he had talked to about his worst nightmare. Maybe Robinson Park would have been nicer than the loneliness the empty hallways of Wayne Manor offered. Nicer than Bruce's absence.

Only Alfred as a lifeline.

"I needed a father, not a therapist." It slipped from his mouth. He hated himself for it.

He set his shoulders straight and turned around, prepared to get the fuck out of that haunting place.

"Jason."

And just one word, spoken by that bastard, made him crumble.

He was so tired of arguing and resenting and caring for people who just couldn't help but hurt him time and time again.

And how sad it was, to realize the only people who ever cared about you were the ones slowly destroying you.

But there was something liberating there, too.

"I get why you did it." He turned to face Bruce, though his eyes didn't get past the bat on the man's chest. He traced the scar on his throat, the reason why he hardly ever looked at his reflection in the mirror. "The kid you loved wasn't me. You wanted the get rid of the monster staining the memory." The low chirping of the bats in the cave was all that could be heard. "It's okay, I won't hold an adoption paper against you. I know I'm not your Jay." He shrugged.

He saw Bruce's hands turn into fists. Jason braced himself for a blow that never came, grimacing.

"Master-" Alfred interrupted when Bruce inhaled sharply.

"And I-" Jason needed to let them know. At least Alfred would need to know. "I love you. All of you. And it's so hard. It never stops hurting, loving you. And I need to stop." He looked helplessly at Alfred as if he could answer the sudden urge to be heard. "Everyone here has an idea of me inside their heads: the bad Robin, the failed son, the shitty brother, the reckless one, the street rat..."

"That's not fair, Jay." Dick looked pleadingly at him.

"You all try to make me fit in your mental versions and I'm not them." Jason sighed. "I don't even know why you all act so offended. No one has ever wanted me here."

"That's absolutely false." Alfred said sharply, eyes of iron trained in his direction.

"I know you do, Alfred." Jason reassured. "But they only see a familiar vessel. Something broken they need to fix. I'm just a glass case and a bunch of lies about how I did everything wrong as Robin."

He gulped, seeing how Alfred's hands were shaking, mouth drawing a firm line where his lips would otherwise be trembling. Alfred would always be his greatest regret.

But everyone knew Jason never stood a chance competing against Bruce for Alfred's loyalty. It was okay, at least his love didn't hurt, it rather was a warm blanket that helped Jason defeating the horrors haunting his mind at night.

"If I could have had a say on my resurrection, I would have given these wasted years to you. Because you deserve happiness, Alfred, and I wish you were immortal because a world without you in it is not one worth living in." Jason smiled a little. " It wouldn't be fair to put you in a position where you would feel bad for choosing Bruce. He's your kid, I know. God, Alfred I know. And I wish I could put up with all this and stay by your side but I've never been that strong." His voice was trembling then. "I may not believe it yet, Alf, but I've been told I deserve better."

"You do, indeed." Alfred drew a deep breath and nodded at an astonished Jason just before turning and leaving the cave in a rush.

Jason saw Cassandra following, fast and silent.

He took several steps back, wanting to create some distance between him and, well, the others.

Jason finally allowed himself to look at Bruce, cowl on place, muscles tense. His face was colder than ever before.

Jason was disappointed in some way. A pang of pain knocked at his heart's door, reminding him of everything he wasn't. All that he could never reach.

Dick was staring at him with a heartbroken expression.

Dick hadn't even blinked when Jason was pleading and shouting for him to let him out of Arkham.

A soft thud sounded behind him. The weight of steps he knew all too well. Her hand fell on his shoulder delicately, comforting yet firm. Jason opened his eyes in shock when he felt the ghost of her lips on his cheek. So fast he could have imagined it.

"Talia." Bruce spat. Teeth clenched and body ready for an attack.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Her hand made Jason's face turn to hers, her eyes searching for… something. She seemed satisfied.

"Take me out of here." the Arabic felt like the memory of something old and safe in his mouth, bringing memories of training and lessons and his peaceful focus while sparring in the league. He wasn't aware his brain was capable of remembering a language he dropped many years ago.

"As you wish." Talia looked fierce. Like a goddess of vengeance just about to rip her enemies apart and feast on their cries. "There's nothing for you here, anymore."

"No." Bruce stepped forward, hate visible on the curve of his mouth.

"You've heard what the boy said, beloved. You are not worthy of being Jason's father." Talia's words froze the air between them all. "You cannot even tell where our Damian is half of the time. I am the one who has stopped four assassination attempts against him in the last two months. And I won't let you harm Jason any longer." She hissed and set her shoulders straight "From now on, Jason is my son. He's mine to protect, to take care of, to be proud of."

"This is just a way to get back to Bruce." Dick said with disdain.

"Oh, believe me," She scoffed arrogantly "I won't have anything to do with a man," She scrunched up her nose. "Who drives the children he swore to protect and love nearly to suicide."

"Talia." Jason tensed.

"You forfeited the right to claim him as yours the very moment you had your child within arm's reach and chose to slit his throat instead of killing his murderer." She turned to Dick. "And you, Richard, so mighty and heroic," She looked like a wild animal about to strike. "You didn't hear his cries when you threw him in that hellhole. When you knew he wasn't mentally unstable. When you had him trapped with his killer. The same psychopath his own father had chosen over him."

"How dare you speak of-"

"Tals, c'mon, they aren't worth this." Jason sighed tiredly. There was a lump threatening to choke him.

Please, take me away from here. Wherever. 'Cause home will never be an option.

Her beautiful eyes pierced his soul and cleansed the doubt in his heart. She would be with him through this.

Jason would be lying if he said he didn't feel the excitement of the possibility of a new beginning.

"Are you hungry?" Talia's fingers drummed on the steering wheel, glancing at him from time to time.

"No."

"Water?"

"Nuh-uh."

She sighed.

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"Do you want-?"

"Talia, please."

"What do you want me to do, then?" Her brow furrowed in concentration as if she was stopping herself from looking at his slouched figure.

"Just- drive."

"You are aware we are not Thelma and Louise, do you?"

He snorted a little despite the dark turmoil in his head. He swore he saw Talia smirk. Jason leaned back once again to admire the world he was leaving behind at high speed, streetlights projecting shadows on his face and the hand he dangled out the window. At that distance, the police sirens were almost forgotten and he could hear the calming whistle of the wind in his hair, the white streak dancing before his eyes in rebellion. He almost wished he had a cigarette to match the aesthetic.

Jason paused and looked at the stars, almost invisible due to the contamination, before training his eyes on the woman beside him.

"Hey, Talia?"

"Yes, my dear?" She was paying attention the lane she had to take to head towards Metropolis.

It was almost a miracle, not being followed by any bat. Things had gotten bad in the cave, so much so that Jason believed they would chain him to the wall to hold him down. It had been Alfred, the saint, who had stepped up to defend Jason's wishes to go. And if his eyes had been redder that when he had left the cave, no one dared to comment on it.

Least of all Jason.

"Can I trust you?"

"Yes." Her right eyebrow rose to the line of her dark hair.

"It's time you be honest with me, Tals." He said pointedly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Her expression betrayed nothing, which was as much as Jason needed to make his point.

"It's funny, you know." He spoke slowly –deliberately- absorbing the city that saw him grow up and fall and do it all again. "Because Alfred made some tests, taking a sample of my blood."

He turned and saw her stone-like expression.

"Imagine my surprise when he told me I had but a small trace of nicotine," He hummed, his heart pumping on his ribcage like the fluttering of a bird's wings. "When you know that nicotine takes at least a week to fade out of one's system, and I've been smoking like a truck driver."

The sharp edges of her face seemed to cut the night apart as her jaw clenched and her long hair moved in the wind from the open windows.

"I always knew you hid things from me, but if this is what I think…" He wiped his face with his right hand in frustration. "This is enhanced regeneration, metahuman capabilities, Talia."

He increased the volume of his voice with each word. How could she not have told him before?

"Talia." She finally looked at him. "Am I ever going to die?" He opened his eyes at the sudden epiphany. "Am I ever going to age?"

The silence fell on the night, driving them apart, pushing them into their most troubling trains of thoughts.

It wasn't until they were reaching the outskirts of Metropolis that Talia replied in a soft voice.

"We are not sure, my love."