A/N Here it is... the second chapter. I want to thank anybody who's favorited/followed and reviewed this so far. Again, this chapter here was written several months ago when I was still getting used to the characters, but I hope you enjoy it.
I'd also like to thank Purplehood and Merritt for their encouragement and for going over this chapter when it was complete. You guys rock!
Warnings: Peril and some language.
Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still don't own DC or related characters.
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He wasn't supposed to be out here. When (and it was a when, not an if) Bruce found out that Jason had sneaked out of the manor, well… Jason suspected that he would be looking at a grounding of at least a few months. That is, if Bruce didn't just decide he was too much trouble and just kick him back out on the streets where he came from and no doubt belonged.
He didn't know why getting out of the manor had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't really thought it through, simply acted without thinking. That was something he did: act impulsively.
Jason wasn't sure he even knew what he was going to do now that he was on the streets of Gotham. Finding Batman and Robin, as he had originally planned, now seemed to him to be as impossible as it was stupid. That had been his plan. Sneak out, witness the two of them in action and get back before anyone knew he was gone. Yeah. Like that was going to happen.
Still, the whole point he had been trying to get across to himself was that it had seemed like a good idea. What kid who knowingly lived in the same house as the freaking Batman of all people would just sit back and not want to be a part of it in some way?
And after wandering the streets of Gotham for nearly an hour, he suddenly found himself here, in front of his old home. That old, shabby little apartment building he and his folks, Willis and Catherine Todd, had once barely scraped by in. Did anyone even still live here? It didn't look like it.
He had no idea why his subconscious mind decided to take him here of all places. So much had happened here. So much that he thought he'd put behind him.
Some emotion that Jason couldn't positively identify stirred deep within him and he quickly quelled it, shoving it back down where it came from.
Standing here, Jason could remember all those times his fath-Willis Todd had returned home after a particularly bad deal with the gang, looking for someone to use the belt on. All the times he had found Catherine in a drugged out stupor on the floor. He can also remember the few good times, though.
A wave of nostalgia hit him as he remembered the few earlier Christmases that had come close to being a happy celebration, and while he didn't find it altogether unpleasant, he wasn't enjoying the sensation either. Down by his side, his hands formed into fists as he briefly entertained the thought of going inside, just to see what it was like now. In the end, though, he let it go. What was the point? There was nothing there for him to see. No real memories worth dredging up.
Frustrated, he jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, glad that he'd at least at the sense to get dressed before sneaking out, and turned to go. There was nothing more for him to do now except return to the Manor and face the Batman's wrath. Oh yeah. That was going to be fun.
He'd probably be facing Alfred's wrath too, if the man had gone up to check on him and discovered him missing. And then Bruce would kill him even more for giving Alfred a heart attack.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to that with dread.
That was provided anyone had noticed his absence. No matter how much they assured him that he was wanted, that he was a part of the family, if it could even be called that, he couldn't avoid the feeling that it was all just… fake. That he'll be back on the streets the minute he screws up and Bruce, Dick and Alfred will all go back to their perfect little life without him and no one will be the wiser.
He paused, taking in the surrounding area. It was empty, bleak and desolate. The only lighting came from a few broken street lamps, two of them on the verge of dying out for good. There were voices, loud ones, shouting somewhere in the distance, coming from one of the boarded up buildings no doubt, but in his immediate vicinity, all seemed relatively quiet.
Jason never remembered it being this quiet here. This hadn't exactly been a bad part of town, no, there were places much worse, like, say, the Narrows, but there was usually always something happening. It almost felt like the silence was meant for him specifically and, although the thought it was ridiculous, it stuck in his mind and left him feeling unnerved.
He quickened his pace, letting his eyes drift along the buildings, all in various states of disrepair. The sound of a bottle shattering and muffled cursing coming from the second story apartment of one such building barely made him flinch before he continued on. After all, he'd grown up here; he was used to things like that… and worse.
He swerved in his course, taking a sharp right. An alley. A shortcut. Not really the best decision, but if you knew your way around, knew how to keep out of the way of the people you really didn't want to meet, which could be pretty much everyone, then you would most likely be okay.
And Jason most certainly knew his way around.
He hadn't walked for more than six paces when a feeling has the hair standing on the back of his neck and suddenly he knew he wasn't alone.
Chalk it up to having spent years surviving on the streets alone, to having just spent the past year of his life with a man who brought new meaning to the word "paranoid," (an annoying voice in his head explains that, no, it's just being prepared, but it's all the same thing, really. Isn't it?), but Jason has never, never, not listened to his gut instinct. Not when his survival could very well depend on it and he wasn't about to start ignoring it now.
He switched gears, his pace turning swiftly into a steady jog-out of the alley, keep going several blocks and he would be in a relatively safer area.
Running. Running was bad. Running told the predators that you were the prey, but if you had no other option…
His eyebrows creased together as he frowned at the idea. Jason Todd was nobody's prey. During his entire time on the street, before the night he met Batman, Jason had always managed to avoid falling prey to the criminals and vagabonds that wandered the streets and alleyways of Gotham.
And here? Now? He couldn't see, didn't know what was causing that feeling to stir up in his gut, but he damn well knew he wanted out of that alley.
Once out, it wouldn't be too hard to evade any pursuers; he had done so countless times before.
A few more yards-maybe even two- and…oof! He felt his body collide with something or someone that hadn't been there before and the only thought that could formulate in his mind is why the hell hadn't he noticed it stepping out in front of him. Maybe his time spent living the high life had dulled his street sense because there was no way he should have been so focused on anything behind him so that he missed any potential threat ahead of him.
"Hey!" he cried out instinctively, twisting away even as he felt two strong hands closing around his wrists. "Let go!"
"Past your bedtime, isn't it, kid?" The voice that spoke was soft, yet sinister and Jason stops fighting for one brief moment to get a look at his attacker.
Well-built, he's strong most definitely. If Jason was going to get away, he wouldn't be doing so using his own strength.
"What you think you're doin' out here?" The man presses. A sneer, only slightly hidden behind the thug's unkempt beard, plays along the edge of his lips. It's the grin of a man looking for someone to hurt, who's done it before, and who hasn't been caught.
"Lookin' for your mommy, boy?" There's a second voice from behind him and Jason's fear kicks up a notch as two more men come up behind him.
"Let go!" Jason tried one more time to get free, bringing his knee up with all the force he can manage and getting the man between his legs.
"Oof!" Caught off guard, the man released his grip on Jason's wrists, doubling over, and the boy wasted no time in making a dash for freedom, only to find himself crashing straight into the arms of another.
"Where you think you're goin,' kid? We say you could leave?"
Panic seared its way through his mind and he kicked out, swinging his fists wildly at the new hands grasping for his arms. "Let go! Let go!" He got in several good hits and was all of a sudden very satisfied that he had at least had accomplished that much.
Jason raised his fist back for another strike, when his wrist was suddenly seized from behind and his arm was wrenched behind him.
He couldn't help the cry of pain and surprise that escaped him as whoever was holding his arm yanked… hard. Jason stumbled back, nearly tripping, and he clenched his teeth to keep himself from whimpering.
His arm was released, but before Jason could even begin to make a run for it, the hands had him tightly once again, gripping him just above the elbows.
Jason resisted the urge to glance up at the sky, knowing that there wouldn't be anyone there. Batman can't be everywhere at once, but it would be a lie if he said he wasn't hoping beyond hope that he would look up and see him there.
But that was something Jason had learned not to do: lie to himself. It would do no good to hope for something that wasn't coming. After years of having only himself to rely on, he wasn't ready to start trusting anyone else.
Jason stopped struggling, instead staring straight ahead at the man in front. The other one- the man he ran into- joined him.
"Shoulda stayed at home, kid," the first man sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Three men. There are three men. Three attackers. The one holding him and the two in front of him. Jason took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow its beating, but it didn't work.
One of the men stepped forward and leaned in close. Instinctively, Jason tried to back away, only to feel the grip on his arms tighten painfully, a reminder of just how serious the situation he was in was.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust-he could feel the man's breath on his face – and tilted his head away, trying to bring some distance between them.
Instead, the man grasped his chin, forcing him to look up at him. Jason's heart rate spiked rapidly, but he chose to ignore the feeling of dread forming in his gut in favor of glaring directly into the man's eyes.
Whatever this man wants, he won't get fear from him.
"Didn't your momma ever tell you, you shouldn't be out after dark?" the man sneered. "It's not safe."
"Look who's talking," Jason growled, kicking out with his leg in a failed attempt at defiance.
The man tightened his grip on Jason's face and Jason couldn't keep himself from struggling, trying to get away from him. But, crap, that grip hurt. He already felt like there were going to be permanent imprints from this guy's fingers in the side of his face.
Something that sounded like it was somewhere in between a whimper and a growl escaped him.
The man dropped his hand to his side, releasing his grip on Jason's already very sore jaw. Jason let out in involuntary hiss and jerked his head back, glaring venomously. "Go to hell," Jason spat, just as the evil glint of steel flashed upwards towards his face.
He squirmed, panic rapidly growing in him as he realized that what was now in his attacker's hand was a knife. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair, slamming the back of his head against the chest of the thug holding him tightly so that he had no choice but to look at him.
"Looks like we might need to teach the kid a few things," the man with the knife said his companions.
The initial terror Jason had felt was gone, replaced instead by a pool of dread that formed steadily in his stomach. His breathing hitched when he felt the edge brush gently against his throat. Press harder and it would likely draw blood.
"Lesson one," the knife blade pressed harder, "we own the streets around here."
An object flew through the air, black, shiny and shaped like a bat, embedding itself in the hand holding the knife and the thug drops it, clutching at his now bloody hand and screaming
"Wrong," a voice snarled and Jason was dropped, stumbling back as the two remaining thugs turned their faces to the new threat.
The Batman dropped from the rooftop above them, landing silently in the center of the alley. "This is my city."
For a moment, no one moved, and then, like an enraged bull, one of the men, Jason couldn't tell if it had been the one holding him or not, flung himself at Batman. He swung a punch, but Batman sidestepped it easily, catching his arm and bringing an elbow down on the thug's back.. The man went down with a cry as the second man snarled, lunging forward with a switchblade.
"Damn bat, teach you to…" He didn't finish, the rest of what he was going to say lost as he thrust the knife forward. He didn't even come close to making contact, but when Batman turned to deliver a strike, the thug managed to dodge.
Jason stumbled back a few steps, mouth agape, as he watched the proceedings. He hadn't seen the Batman in action before. Not like this and, well, living with the guy for his guardian really did nothing to lessen the awe he felt.
Still, something felt… wrong. He frowned, watching as Batman took down the second man. That made two, but there had been… three.
Jason yelped suddenly as a hand closed around his shirt collar, dragging him backwards into a headlock. A hand clamped itself over his mouth, muffling any further sound, and something cold, hard and most definitely a gun buried itself into his hair. A lump of fear quickly settled in his stomach. Since when did the man have a gun?
"Hey!" the man shouted, waving his gun in the Dark Knight's direction. "Hey!"
Batman turned, dropping the now unconscious thug to the ground. Beneath the cowl, Batman's face twisted into an expression of unmistakable anger. "Let him go," he growled, taking a step forward.
Instantly, the man backed away a step, the gun once again buried in Jason's hair, and Jason couldn't hold back a whimper. "Don't move, Batman!" the man shouted. He was obviously trying to sound confidant and in control, yet he was nervous, maybe even afraid. It was clear in the way his grip tightened considerably on Jason, on the way the gun was pressed against his skull so hard it was starting to give him a headache. "I'll kill the kid." As if there was any doubt to that.
The hand over his mouth tightened painfully and Jason couldn't stop himself from whimpering.
"I said let him go!" Batman snarled. He didn't make a move though, watching the man through narrowed slits in the cowl.
The man backed away a step, barking out a short laugh. "Like that's going to happen. I know all about you freaks. The kid's the only thing I got keeping you from doing me in like those fellows," he gestured at the now unconscious bodies of his buddies, "and handing me over to the cops."
Batman's gaze dropped down to Jason, as if reassuring himself that the boy was okay, and, though his expression was unreadable, his lips pressed firmly into a thin line, Jason got the feeling that there was meant to be some kind of a promise, a promise that everything was going to be okay.
When Batman didn't immediately respond, the man continued, clearly feeling that he was the one in complete control of the situation, "Now," he sneered, "you're going to let me go. And you're not going to come after me. Otherwise…" He let the threat hang unfinished in the air between them. Nothing else needed to be said.
They both knew what would happen.
"Mm-mmph." Jason twisted his head enough to bite down on the flesh of his captor's hand.
"Gah!" The man screeched in agony and the hand quickly slid off his face. Jason gasped, choking violently as an arm looped around his throat, coming dangerously close to cutting off his air supply. "Little shit," the man hissed and, suddenly, the man's gun hand drew back, before the butt of the gun slammed into the side of Jason's head.
Jason cried out as the world around him exploded in a bright flash of light and then all he could see were fuzzy black dots that danced around in his vision.
` A snarl escaped the Dark Knight as he instinctively lunged forward to intervene, but the gun was instantly trained on him. "Stay back!" the man shouted again. "I told you what would happen." The gun was pressed back against Jason's temple, stopping Batman in his tracks.
Jason clawed at the restricting arm holding him hostage, fighting back the tears that loomed threateningly in the corner of his eyes. His temple throbbed where the butt of the gun had struck home and he was sure he was going to have a world class migraine when he got out of this.
The pressure on his neck, combined with the moisture that had managed to escape, was starting to make his vision blur. He was sure Batman had said something, but he couldn't make out the words. Same thing applied when the rumbling thunder over his head let him know that his captor was replying.
Jason could see Batman, standing, tense, at the ready, no more than three yards away from them. One hand was clenched, but the other… was he preparing to throw a batarang?
Jason wasn't the only one who noticed the movement. Instantly, the gun was away from Jason's head and pointed it directly at the Batman. "Don't move…!"
Then the man was shouting something unintelligible, the gun was no longer in his hand, and Jason wasn't sure just what exactly had happened.
The arm was no longer around his neck and he stumbled forward, pressing a hand to his sore throat, only for his legs to give out on him and he landed in a heap on the ground. Jason swallowed, trying to blink past his fuzzy vision. Pushing himself up to his hands and knees, he scrambled away, desperate to put as much distance between him and the creep, as the Batman lunged forward.
"You're over," the Batman growled, catching him by the lapels of his jacket. The man might of have begged. He might have pleaded, like the coward he was, but Jason didn't know.
He didn't know how long he sat there, on the cold, damp concrete, watching as Batman took down the last of three thugs with several well-placed blows to the jaws. It might have been several seconds or several minutes that he sat there. He didn't know.
Then… someone was beside him, hands were on his shoulders and a voice was speaking to him. "Jay, you okay? Jay?" Jason jerked, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding with a startled hiss. He turned suddenly, shoving away the hands that were touching him, only to find himself staring into the masked eyes of his older brother.
He blinked. "Dick?" he whispered, surprised.
Nightwing shook his head. "No names on the field, remember? You don't know me," he reminded him. His face, what Jason could see of it anyway, was serious, even though his lips gave way to the faintest hint of a smile. "You okay?" he asked again, his voice concerned.
Jason nodded numbly, eyes briefly flickering over to where Batman stood securing the thugs, before returning his gaze to Nightwing. "I-I…" He couldn't stop his body from beginning to tremble and he didn't protest when Nightwing tightened his hold on him, drawing him close.
"It's okay," Nightwing said softly. "You're okay. I've got you now." For a moment, neither one said anything, simply absorbing the warmth of each other's company and, suddenly, Jason realized that he didn't ever want to let go. A rustling of fabric and then he was there.
Behind Batman were the three thugs, lying in a heap and looking like they weren't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, but all Jason could see and feel were Batman's eyes burning holes in him from behind the lenses of his cowl.
He pulled away from Nightwing and found he couldn't bring himself to meet the Batman's gaze, so he settled for staring sullenly at the filthy ground, barely aware of his brother giving his shoulder a supportive squeeze.
Yeah, he had really screwed up this time.
"Get in the car." And there it was. Jason winced involuntarily, but forced himself to meet Batman's eyes anyway.
It was impossible to read anything in Bruce's face, not with the cowl in place, and his voice gave nothing away, but Jason would bet he was angry.
"Bruce." It was Dick who spoke, breaking the rule, using names on the fields, but who was there to hear it? "Batman… mayb-"
Batman turned. "We're going," he said, cutting off anything else Dick might have been trying to say. There was no room left for argument and, even if there was, what was there to argue about?
Dick looked helplessly at Jason and then stood, following the example of their sometimes mentor, sometimes father-figure. There was nothing left for Jason to do, but the same.
To his surprise, the Batmobile wasn't actually that far. Made him wonder if Bruce had a remote for the thing somewhere.
He probably did. He was Batman after all.
He had everything.
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"You want to tell me what you were thinking?"
Jason looked up from his seat in the Batcave. Dick, still dressed in his Nightwing uniform, minus the mask, stood before him.
Bruce was currently downloading files onto the Batcomputer, for which he considered himself lucky.
One less angry bat to deal with.
Jason shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unable to meet his brother's gaze. What was he supposed to say?
"No, seriously, Jay, what were you thinking?" Dick continued, cutting Jason off before he had even begun to speak. "You, of all people, should know what it's like out there! You could have been killed!"
Jason scowled. "I can take care of myself just fine, Dick."
"Yes, because tonight proved that."
Jason stiffened defensively.
Dick sighed, sitting down next to him. Jason scooted away, putting some distance between the two of them and Dick raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at that. "You know, you nearly gave Alfred a heart attack," he said. Jason looked up at him, startled, and Dick couldn't hold back a laugh. "Seriously, how do you think Bruce and I knew you were gone?"
Jason had the good grace to feel ashamed… for Alfred's sake if not Bruce's. "Sorry?"
For a moment, Dick just stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line, before, suddenly, his arms were around him and he was pulling him into a tight embrace.
Jason jerked in surprise, but didn't pull away. "Look, whatever happens, I'm glad you're still alive, Jay," Dick whispered in his ear, before pulling away and giving him a light shove on the shoulder. "Now go say you're sorry to Alfie. And then to Bruce when you're done. He's going to want to talk to you."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Lucky me." But inwardly, he cringed.
That was something he wasn't looking forward.
Especially when he already had a good idea of what "talking" to him was going to entail.
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"Jason?"
Jason had prepared himself mentally for this encounter since his time in the cave with Dick, but he couldn't keep himself from starting.
Turning around, he spun around to face Bruce, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
A quick, sideways glance at the digital clock on the bureau showed that it was 1:15 AM.
Late.
Well, actually, it was still early for Batman but late for everyone else.
"Yes?" he asked, cautiously, although, when it came down to it, Bruce Wayne was much easier to deal with than the Batman.
"I want to know what you were thinking." His tone didn't change, but the words still made him wince.
"I… needed air?" He shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, but knew that he had failed miserably.
"That's not a good enough excuse, Jason." Jason opened his mouth to retort, but Bruce beat him to the punch. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there, Jason. Regardless, of how you lived your life before coming here, those streets are dangerous." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling briefly and Jason decided it was now or never.
"So… this is it then?"
That seemed to freeze up Bruce for a moment, and he stared at Jason, who stood stiffly, hands by his side.
"What?"
Jason swallowed, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants, but keeping his hands down. "Finally decided I'm too much trouble? What the papers said is true?"
He backed up, sitting down on the bed, and studied his feet.
There was a moment of silence and he wondered if Bruce was trying to think up a way to say things nicely, but since when did the Batman ever say anything nicely?
A heavy hand rested gently, but firmly, on his shoulder and Jason looked up, surprised. "Jason," Bruce said firmly, "I don't care what you've heard or where you've heard it from, but I do not want you thinking that I would ever, ever throw you back out on the streets. Is that understood?"
"But…"
"I said, is that understood?"
Jason frowned, eyebrows furrowing together, as he studied Bruce, unsure if he really meant that.
Bruce's hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. "What you did tonight out there was stupid, dangerous and unacceptable, and… I'm going to want to know why you did it, but do not for one second think that I would ever throw you back on those street after pulling you off them. Do you understand that, Jason?"
"I… what?" Jason blinked. "But I… I thought…" He trailed off awkwardly, suddenly finding his shoes extremely interesting.
Bruce sat down on the bed next to him. "Jason, no matter what you might think or what you do to disappoint me, you will always have a home in Wayne Manor, but I think we need to work out a system. I want you to be able to trust me, but, in return, I need to be able to trust you. That means no more late night excursions. Is that something you think you'd be interested in?"
Jason nodded, a little too vigorously. "Yeah, um…. I mean… yeah…" He looked up at Bruce. "I think… I think that would be nice."
"I'm glad you think so," Bruce smiled, patting his shoulder, getting up and heading for the door, leaving Jason stunned and still seated at the edge of his bed.
"Just… one last thing," Bruce said, pausing at the doorway and turning to face Jason once more. "You're still grounded."
Jason nodded, biting his lip. After all, as much as he hated it, he supposed it was only fair. And he should count himself lucky.
Bruce was letting him stay, wasn't he? So there wasn't much to complain about in that department.
Bruce was still in the doorway, watching him. Jason wasn't sure if he was waiting to see how well he would take the punishment or what.
Jason swallowed, drawing his knees up to his chest and traced the Superman symbol on his bedsheets with one finger.
Really, he was getting too old for stuff like this.
Maybe he should have Alfred change it…
"Jason?"
His attention snapped back to Bruce and he realized the man was staring at him with concern.
He blinked and his mouth fell open and shut and then open again as he gaped up at him, unsure of what the big man wanted.
"Are…" Bruce began, but then seemed to think the better of whatever it was he had been about to say. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" he amended.
"I…" Jason was still confused. Hadn't they already talked? He hugged his knees tighter to his chest.
Bruce sighed, running a hand through the back of his hair and glancing momentarily up at the ceiling. "I… That was a stupid question, I know. I'm sorry."
Jason still stared, blinking owlishly. Bruce was apologizing? To him? He didn't understand.
Sensing his confusion, Bruce took a step closer to him, stopping just short of reaching the bed. "Jason… what happened tonight… you can talk about it." He paused and it occurred to Jason that the man really felt just as helpless as he did in these kinds of situations.
The thought was oddly consoling, though he wasn't sure exactly why it felt that way.
Bruce cleared his throat. "If you… feel like you need to that is." Another brief pause. "That's all."
Jason was silent for what felt like a long moment. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He'd always thought of Batman-of Bruce-as someone who didn't give much thought to feelings. As someone who didn't really care. But no, the tiny voice in his head whispered, he took you in, didn't he? He wouldn't have done that if he hadn't… hadn't cared.
Jason shifted somewhat uncomfortably, his eyes drifting back to Bruce.
"Bruce…" he whispered finally. He kept his knees drawn to his chest as tightly as he could possibly manage. "I…" He swallowed thickly, his tongue suddenly feeling swollen and dry. "Can you… can you stay? With me?" Please. I don't want to be alone.
It felt silly. It felt stupid. But… he needed it. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to.
He couldn't, no matter how weak, or silly, or stupid it made him feel.
He didn't want to be alone.
Jason didn't even dare a glance at Bruce, too afraid of what he'd find there to do even that.
Bruce was suddenly at his side again, heavy hand resting gently on his shoulder. Its presence was so impossible to ignore that Jason found himself forced to look up, reluctantly meeting Bruce's eyes.
Instead of holding any of the contempt or disdain that Jason had been expecting, Bruce's eyes hold something akin to sympathy, something Jason did not expect and was not prepared to deal with.
"Always, Jason."
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A/N Just a quick little note before I sign out here... I had hoped to be able to do weekly updates for this story, but I'll be having a very busy week starting next Sunday, so I'm unsure if I'll be able to post the third chapter.
Anyways, please review! I'd love to hear what you think!