A/N I apologize for the long wait for this chapter: I've been working on my latest story, Learning to Live Again, and several other one shots that will be published separately.

I will be working on the next chapter, but I can't promise when it will be out.

To all my guest reviewers: I've received a number of truly lovely guest reviews on different stories of mine and, since I can't respond in any other way, I want you all to know how much I appreciate you taking the time to leave a couple of kind words. They always make me smile! :)

Warning: This chapter is darker than all the others before it and deals with kidnapping, violence against a child, and attempted murder... with a healthy dose of fluff at the end of course.

Chapter Sixteen: Vengeance

Jason awoke to a cold, tile floor and a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, tongue feeling thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of his mouth.

That would be the drugs. A voice whispered in his head, but his mind was so foggy that he wasn't sure where it came from.

He moaned, curling up a little tighter, before attempting to stretch out his limbs, which felt jelly-like and unresponsive.

Jason moaned again, cracking open an eye and taking note of his surroundings.

He was in a kitchen. That was new.

He was lying on white tile, curled with his back against what felt like a cabinet or a counter of some sort. He could see what looked to be an oven and… and a sink.

A sink. He perked up a little.

Water.

He wanted water so bad.

It was so close. If he could just get his body to cooperate enough for him to move, he'd be able to make it there.

But his body had been reduced to nothing but a ragdoll, drugs rendering him nearly incapable of moving.

A sob of frustration worked its way up his throat.

"You're awake." A pudgy, balding man stepped into his line of sight. The man crouched down in front of him, squinting his eyes, and Jason cringed back as much as he was able.

The man gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. "I was worried I'd used too much on you. How do you feel?"

Jason said nothing, glaring at him instead. This man had kidnapped him, had drugged him, and now he had the nerve to act as if he were concerned?

"Nothing?" The man sighed, leaning back on his haunches. "I had a feeling you would be this way."

"Who" Jason struggled to get the words out around his thick tongue, "who are you?"

The man seemed startled by his question. "Owen Rogers," he said. "Owen Rogers."

Jason was confused, struggling to dredge up a coherent memory from the drug-induced sludge.

Was he supposed to know this guy?

The man-Owen Rogers- seemingly sensed his confusion because the next instant, his fingers had gripped the front of Jason's T-shirt, dragging him forward until they were face to face. Jason cried out, latching his hand weakly around the man's thick wrist.

"I worked for your father's company," he hissed. The sudden change in demeanor was frightening. "Until he let me go."

He released Jason's shirt, dropping the boy back down to the ground.

Jason gasped as he hit the floor, coughing.

The man stared at him for several long seconds, before shaking his head and standing up. "Water," he muttered. He stepped over to the sink and there was the sound of running water, before Rogers was crouched in front of Jason again.

Jason noticed the cup held in his hand and struggled to sit up, desperate for water.

Rogers crinkled his brow, studying Jason. "No, this isn't going to work at all," he grunted, placing the cup on the counter, and Jason's heart sank. No! What was he doing? Had he brought water just to taunt him with it.

Jason's head sank to the floor and he let out an exhausted sob.

Then, the man's hands were gripping his shoulders, lifting him up and propping his back up against the counter side.

Jason stared at him questioningly, before the man placed the water cup in his hand.

"Here," he said. "Slowly!" he warned, alarmed, as, eagerly, Jason brought the cup to his lips.

But Jason couldn't help it, greedily sucking it down as fast he could. His throat felt like it was coated in sandpaper, and the water, soothing the soreness, felt more heavenly then anything had in a long time.

He choked halfway through the glass, spewing what he had already managed to swallow all over the floor and barely missing Rogers' knees.

Too bad he'd missed, Jason thought blearily. The jerk deserved it.

Rogers jumped back and suddenly the back of his hand cracked across Jason's cheek, snapping his head back. Jason gasped, tumbling over and landing in a miserable heap on the floor.

"I told you to slow down!" he panted. Something like remorse appeared briefly on his face, before he knelt down again.

He grabbed Jason's arm in a too tight grip, setting him upright again. Jason grit his teeth as the man's fingers dug into his arm, before releasing him.

Jason slumped back against the counter, gasping.

"Try now," the man grunted, holding the cup to his lips. He held Jason's head back, tilting the cup.

Jason spluttered, water dribbling down his chin, but he managed to hold all of it down this time.

All too soon, the man pulled the cup away and stood, staring down at him as the boy coughed on the floor, before he tossed a rag to the floor.

"Clean it up," he told him tonelessly and left, footsteps receding down a hallway.

Jason remembered what the man had said earlier. Something about working for Bruce's company.

What did that have to do with anything?

He slowly reached out, shaking fingers closing around the rag, and worked at cleaning up the mess. It was significantly harder than it should have been and, when he was finished, he couldn't bring himself to move anymore.

Laying his head down on the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Maybe, when he opened them, he'd be somewhere else.

This would all be just a dream.

Jason wondered vaguely if maybe Alfred had any of those cookies left over. He'd wake up in his room, go downstairs, and Alfred would be there, ready to talk it over.

His bottom lip trembled and he pressed his face deeper into the floor. But it wasn't a dream. He was trapped here, a pathetic pile of self-pity on the floor.

But he was alone.

He was alone, at least for a little while.

And if he could convince his body to move, then he might have a chance, however small, of getting out of here on his own.

Jason struggled to push himself to his hands and knees.

"You're not looking to try anything now, are you?" the man asked. He gave Jason a sad little smile, toeing the dirtied rag out of the way. "You can't leave. Not yet. Not before things have been made right. Bruce Wayne needs to know how it feels."

Too late.

Jason let himself collapse back onto the floor, choking on a small gasp.

It was too late.

He'd lost his chance before he'd fully been able to grasp it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, wincing at how weak his voice sounded. Something about this man was… off. Circumstances aside, he came across almost as halfway decent, if you didn't consider that there was probably some kind of psychopath underneath it all.

Almost immediately, he felt like that was the wrong question to ask.

The man stiffened and his hand formed a trembling fist.

"Tell me… Jason," he said, crouching before the boy again. He grasped him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Do you consider your father, that bastard of a billionaire, to be a fair and just man?"

Not before things have been made right?

What the hell?

Jason pulled back, frightened by the intense hatred in the man's eyes. Fair and just? What was he talking about? Did he somehow know Bruce was Batman? Was that what this was about? And how did working for Bruce fit into this?

Unsure and afraid to take his eyes off the man, Jason nodded.

Rogers gave a snort of disgust, releasing the boy's chin. "Of course you would," he sneered. "After all, the man practically raised you. You wouldn't see anything wrong with him. What would you say if I told you that man cost me my family, my livelihood, my life?"

"N-no." Jason shook his head vehemently. Whatever this man was talking about, it wasn't Bruce. He was wrong! "You're lying!"

"You think I'm lying?" The man grabbed Jason's shoulders, shaking him roughly. His face had taken on a shade of red roughly the same hue as a ripe tomato. "Lying?"

Then, just as suddenly, the color disappeared and he let go of Jason's shoulders, allowing the boy to slump back against the counter.

Rogers' face crumbled and Jason wondered for a split second if the man was about to cry. No tears came.

"I had a wife once, a family." He shook his head and began to pace the kitchen. "But then Wayne fired me! He didn't appreciate me! He undervalued me! Me!" He gestured frantically at himself and the sheer outrage on his face was almost laughable. "They had me put away! For stealing from the company, they said! I had a family! Amanda couldn't take it." He went back to pacing, this time wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "She left me! My wife left me. Said I wasn't fit to be a father. Said I wasn't fit for her! She took my son with her! And when Sammy… I was in prison! I had no say! I couldn't stop her from discontinuing treatment." And then the rage drained from his face and all Jason could see was a grieving father.

"Bruce didn't make her leave," Jason whispered. There was something sad and pathetic there. "He didn't kill your son."

"He put me in jail, kid!" the man snarled, dabbing at his red, puffy eyes. He bent over, crouching again before Jason. "I can never put my life back together because of him! Sammy is gone and Amanda…" His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. "Amanda, why?" he sobbed and Jason shrank back against the counter, staring at the bereaved man with wide eyes.

There was no way this man was in any way rational, which made him all the more dangerous.

This man was broken, with nothing left to live for except revenge.

Bruce Wayne needs to know how it feels.

A strangled sob formed at the back of Jason's throat.

Rogers was going to kill him.

This was all some revenge stunt to get back at Bruce for the tragedies in his life that he needed someone to blame for.

Someone had to pay.

And that someone, it would seem, was Bruce Wayne.

And, by default, Jason.

It was starting to make a terrifying sort of sense.

And, since Batman hadn't showed up, it was likely that, if he wanted to live, Jason would have to get himself out of this mess.

He shifted, eyes never leaving the man's face, and he realized that his limbs no longer felt like they were detached from his body, which meant… he had a chance.

A chance if he would only just take it.

Jason straightened his spine, feeling slightly more confident as he watched Rogers.

He'd been trained by Batman, hadn't he?

Surely, he could manage to get himself out of this scrape.

"Wayne doesn't know what it's like to feel pain," Rogers spat. He was still too caught up in his own pain and rage, too confident that everything was going the way he wanted it to, to pay much actual attention to Jason. "And he won't. Not until I show him."

Now or never.

Jason lurched forward, scrambling to his feet, bare feet slapping against the tile as he made a dash for where he assumed the door would be.

Rogers shouted for him to stop, but Jason ignored him.

He was getting out of here! He was home free…!

Except… whatever drug was in his body still hadn't completely left his system and he felt his legs crashing underneath him before he'd even made it halfway.

Rogers' hand grasped his shirt collar, yanking him back before he could hit the floor, and Jason choked, hands automatically flying to his throat.

Roger flung him back and Jason crashed to the floor with a cry.

No, no, no!

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, pain and desperation mingling inside him.

So close!

He'd been so close, making defeat all that much more painful.

Bile rose in his throat and he coughed it back down as Rogers towered over him.

"Thought you could run?" Rogers snarled, grasping the boy by his shirt lapels and hauling him back to his feet.

"No!" Jason gasped, hands latching onto the man's thick wrist. He kicked out and immediately, Rogers' face crumpled in pain and he released his hold, dropping the boy back to the ground.

Jason rolled over onto his stomach, hoping to crawl away before Rogers had a chance to recover.

Rogers was instantly upon him, hands grasping his shoulders to pull him back.

Jason thrashed, kicking out in a futile attempt to get away from the much larger man.

"Help!" he called out, twisting in the general direction of the door. Rogers flinched. Oh please, let there be someone else in this building. "Hel-mmph!"

Rogers clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth, muffling the boy's scream.

"None of that!" he hissed, but the glance he shot in the direction of the door gave Jason hope.

He was nervous. Which meant there were other people in this building.

Other people who might hear him.

Jason squirmed, twisting his head, fighting to get away.

If he could make more noise, something that would guarantee someone would hear him…

Rogers climbed to his feet, hauling Jason up with him and dragging him back into the kitchen.

Jason fought with all he was worth, which, considering the drugs still in his system, honestly wasn't saying much, still struggling to make a sound.

It wasn't long, however, before Rogers deposited him on the kitchen floor, before rummaging through a storage drawer off to the side.

Jason coughed, scrambling to sit up, before Rogers was suddenly upon him again, a roll of duct tape in his hand.

Jason's eyes widened and he moved backwards. "N-no!"

"Shut up!" Rogers snapped, eyes blazing. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

He tore off a piece of tape, reaching for Jason and Jason thrust himself backwards. "No!"

Rogers grabbed him anyways, straddling him to hold him in place, as he forcefully pressed the tape tight over his lips.

Jason instinctively reached for the tape, striving to pull it off, but Rogers catches hold of his wrists before he can.

Jason fought to remember to breathe through his nose as the big man transferred both his wrists into one meaty hand, still holding the duct tape with one hand.

"I don't think so," he hissed, releasing his hands long enough to roll him onto his stomach, before yanking them both behind his back.

Jason struggled violently, realizing what he intended to do.

The thought of being completely helpless with this man was terrifying.

Rogers pressed a knee into the small of his back and Jason cried out, the sound muffled through the gag, as Roger wrapped the tape several times around his wrists.

Then his arms are released, and the pressure is gone from his back.

Jason groaned, rolling over onto his side, and allowed his head to droop down to the tiles.

Something banged on the door. "Rogers! I know you're in there! Open up!"

Jason's eyes widened, and he glanced at Rogers, who'd frozen like ice.

This was what he'd been hoping for, but, now that it was happening, he was terrified at what it might mean for him.

Rogers stayed where he was for a moment, as if he were debating whether or not to go to the door. Would opening the door allay any suspicion or heighten it?
"Rogers! Open up or I'm calling the cops!"

Fire flashed across his face for the briefest of instants, but, with his decision made for him, Rogers had no choice but to go to the door.

"Burt, what…?"

"The screaming. What's going on?"

Jason perked up, hope alighting in his chest. Someone had heard him!

He heard a nervous laugh from Rogers. "You know me, Burt. I like to keep the TV on a little too loud."

Jason almost rolled his eyes at that. The man at the door couldn't be that dumb, right? Honestly, maybe he had been watching a bit too much TV if that was the best he could come up with.

"Right," whoever was at the door snorted. "I call bullshit on that one."

There was the sound of a body being pushed aside.

"Wait!" Rogers shouted, and footsteps pounded after the other man. "Don't do this, Burt!"

A man's face suddenly appeared over the counter. "What the hell is this, Rogers?" the man demanded angrily, but then there was a loud thwack and the man crumpled to the floor.

Rogers stood behind him, a sizeable book in his hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered. Rogers stormed around the counter, coming to a stop when he stood before Jason. "Your fault!" he growled. "Your fault this is messed up!" Jason cringed back as the man reached for him. He let out a muffled cry of pain as the man grabbed his upper arm, fingers digging painfully into his flesh.

Rogers lifted him up off the floor and Jason's shoulders screeched painfully at the unnatural position they were forced into.

He kicked out, catching Rogers' knee with his foot. The blow wasn't nearly as hard as it would have been had it not felt like half his strength had been forcibly drained from his body, but Rogers still cried out, dropping Jason in surprise.

Jason fell to the ground. Pain jarred his elbow, lancing its way up the rest of his arm, and he stiffled a cry.

Any second now, Rogers might recover and…

There was a sound of crashing glass, and Rogers flinched, jerking towards the sound.

Jason clenched his eyes shut.

"You!" Rogers snarled. Something shattered, presumably as Rogers swung at someone and missed. "You don't know!" Another crash. "What he's done!"

There was a grunt as something pounded onto soft flesh. And then a muffled "thud" as a body hit the floor.

Jason remembered the neighbor who'd heard his screams and closed his eyes tighter. Had Rogers killed this man too?

He pressed himself against the cabinet, trying to make himself smaller.

Maybe Rogers was the one who'd been killed.

The thought briefly entered his mind, before footsteps sounded on the tile floor.

He cringed, refusing to open his eyes.

"Jason? Jason, it's me." A familiar voice carrying a sense of urgency and a hand on his shoulder.

Jason opened his eyes, feeling his muscles begin to relax, as some of the tension left him.

Batman-Bruce- was there, kneeling in front of him and Jason could almost sob with relief.

He was safe.

"It's okay, Jason. You're safe," Batman said. His gloved hand reached for the tape across Jason's mouth, pulling it off with a gentleness nearly unknown to the Batman.

"Are you okay?" Batman asked, using a Batarang to slice through the bonds on Jason's wrists. "Did he hurt you?" He helped Jason to sit up, keeping a steadying hand on his arm.

Jason shook his head quickly. "N-no." He could feel himself beginning to tremble and clung to him, burying his face against Batman-Bruce's- chest.

Bruce held him tighter. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay," he soothed. "You're safe."

The man who'd done this lay unconscious in the living room, hands bound.

Batman sent a furious glare in his direction.

Tears leaked from Jason's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered frantically. "Shouldn't have gone… should have stayed with Alfred, but…" he half-hiccuped, half-sobbed and shook his head, "I wanted to see the comics. Then he was there. I'm sorry!"

Bruce threaded his fingers through Jason's hair. "It's okay, Jason," he reassured him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

XxX

Bruce made his way down the hallway towards Jason's bedroom. Owen Rogers, former employee of Wayne Enterprises, had already been arrested. He was going away for a very long time.

Bruce paused directly outside of Jason's door.

He'd almost lost him today.

The realization was like a punch to the gut, leaving him shaken to the core.

He'd taken both Dick and Jason in with the knowledge that he would do everything in his power to protect them.

The fact that he almost failed to do so was weighing heavily on his chest.

He stepped in the room, not sure what he was going to find, but stopped when he noticed the scene in front of him.

Jason was on the floor, head resting on Ace's stomach, asleep, even as the dog curled protectively around him.

Ace lifted his head when Bruce entered the room, tail thumping slowly against the floor, but the dog didn't move when Bruce entered the room and crossed the distance to them with a number of steps.

"Good boy, Ace," Bruce whispered, crouching down next to them. He carded his fingers slowly through Jason's dark hair. The boy stirred, whimpering in his leap, and Bruce froze, wondering how exactly things would go if Jason awoke to find him hovering above him.

Jason didn't awaken, however, and Ace went back to resting his chin on the floor, though the dog's eyes never left Bruce.

Bruce moved his hand, giving Ace a quick scratch under his chin.

"Thank you," he told him, "for taking care of him."