Author's Note: Happy New Year, everyone! This chapter was a bit tough to write, especially the first part but I hope it turned out well. Points for anyone who recognizes what book Talia is reading here :) Enjoy and please review!

She allowed him to take his cup and move to one of the two small couches in the living room area, all the while watching the boy like a hawk. Bruce seemed to be under the misguided impression that Jason was an adult. Misguided, because Talia felt he truly did not appreciate the impact of death, resurrection, a year on the streets with severe brain damage, and the Lazarus Pit had. Physically Jason was about twenty. Mentally and emotionally was a different story.

She was not the least bit surprised when the first words out of his mouth were, "I don't know what you're talking about," followed shortly by, "I'm fine."

Talia barely resisted the urge to scoff or roll her eyes.

"You are a poor liar, Jason," she said mildly, sitting down on the couch opposite him with her legs tucked under her. "I imagine you are well-practiced at lying to yourself, but I promise that neither your father nor I are terribly impressed. Neither are your brothers, I imagine. Richard, at the very least."

"Dick doesn't know jack shit," he snapped, then as if realizing he'd spoken when he should not have, pressed his lips tightly shut. Talia was not about to let that be the end of it. She stared him down, and a moment later Jason finally sighed. "We had a fight. I yelled, and he left. But he was leaving anyway, so it's kind of a moot point."

"That is when you took up the name Red Robin," she concluded. "Why did he leave?"

"Because he decided his junkie friend was more important than our family."

"I do not believe that for a moment."

"Well, that's what happened. Tim had just lost his dad, and Dick left to go look for Harper."

"Perhaps you may have left out a few details," she said. "Such as the fact that Roy Harper's daughter had just been murdered or that Oliver Queen was about as useful as he typically is. Having known Richard for many years now, I believe it is safe to say that he truly believed his friend needed him."

Bruce had filled her in on the events, but hearing them from Jason's point of view made her realize that the first Robin's departure had affected him more than either of them had considered. He looked at her like he was trying to summon some amount of anger, but mostly Jason seemed tired. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his cup.

"Tim needed him, too."

"Agreed, but he did not simply leave Timothy alone," she looked at him with warm fondness. "He left him with you."

"Which makes me Dick's replacement." Jason blurted out. "Again. I'm Dick's replacement in the big brother department, Tim's replacement as Robin, and Damian's replacement in the son department because you think you can't be with him."

Talia felt ears were ringing, and if she had less self-control, the cup in her hand and all of its contents would have been all over the hardwood floors. As it was, she simply put it down on the side table and set her jaw, looking Jason straight in the eyes. He didn't seem angry, even during the outburst itself, she noted. Instead there was a sort of sense of resignation, as if Jason honestly thought that his role in the family was nothing more than to stand in place for other people.

"I want the name of anyone who dared make you feel unworthy," she declared. "No one has a right to do that to my son. You are my son, Jason, not a replacement for anyone. Whoever says differently knows nothing."

To her slight surprise, he chuckled and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, fingers interlaced before him. But even though his eyes glanced forward every once in a while, Talia had the strong suspicion that he was looking mostly at the floor, trying to figure out how to respond to her statement. Finally he nodded to himself and cleared his throat.

"I… ah… appreciate the sentiment. No one's ever offered to reign bloody vengeance on my behalf, even when I thought I wanted it." His tone was ironic. "But you can't take revenge on people who are already dead."

Of course, Talia knew that, knew Jason's history without asking, and knew that the so-called parents that influenced his early years as well as his biological mother were the biggest reasons for his feelings of low self-worth. And perhaps it was cruel to bring it up, but he had to be the one to say it: they were dead.

"I understand that trauma tends to linger," she said quietly. "In some ways, I know that Bruce still seeks validation from his parents and sets unrealistic expectations for himself believing they would be those of his parents. But however idealized they have become in death, at the very least in life they were worthy of his love and loyalty. You, on the other hand, have no obligation to put stalk in the opinions that meant nothing in life and even less in death."

"I hear you." If she was expecting an outburst, all Talia got was a slow exhale. "And most of the time I even get it. Most of the time."

She nodded. "As I said, trauma lingers, and I am absolutely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that Richard would not have left if he did not feel that Timothy was in good hands."

Jason shook his head. "I told him I didn't need him. That he wasn't there for me when I did, so now I don't."

"And you think that would dissuade him? As I have stated before, you are a poor liar. I have no doubt he knows what a pile of garbage that was. Would you turn your back on Timothy or Damian if they shouted at you in anger? Of course not, therefore give Richard and yourself a little more credit."

They were both quiet for a long moment, then the side of Jason's mouth pulled into something of smile. "You know for someone who doesn't have any siblings, you sure get a lot of this stuff."

"I 'get' people," Talia said. "As for siblings, I know my father had other daughters but none that I have ever known, and it hardly matters. Blood is but the beginning of family, a sampling that would wither and die if left unattended. On the other hand, that same plant will undoubtedly grow and thrive in a different garden if nurtured properly."

Jason stared at her for a moment, then blinked as if shaking off a daze. He was still smiling though, possibly wider than before. "Did you ever read to Damian when he was a baby?"

She did not understand the purpose of the question, but replied nonetheless. "Of course. Mostly epic poetry in Arabic and Farsi."

"That… doesn't surprise me, like, at all. Did he just stare at you the whole time?"

"Babies generally do whenever someone gives them undivided attention. Why do you ask?"

"Because you have this… I don't know, ability to make people listen. Like half the time I'm not sure what you're talking about when you're saying it, but I want to hear more and it sinks in eventually."

"As long as it does. You have many who love you, Jason. I want you to understand that not only intellectually but also feel it here." She reached forward and tapped the space over his heart. "I recognize that it is not always easy. It is very possible that you will struggle with these scars for the rest of your life, but if there is anything I might do to ease that…"

"Come back to Gotham with us," he blurted out immediately, sitting up straight. Talia opened her mouth, but he went on in a rush. "I know you and Dad have some issues, but you obviously care a lot about each other, and I know you love Damian…"

"...And you." Jason needed to hear it.

"...And me," he agreed a little too dismissively, but Talia decided to let it go this time. "And Ra's isn't likely to be in the picture for much longer, so what's stopping you?"

"The demon's head is still very much alive." She pursed her lips. "As you said, your father and I are far from reconciled."

"Oh, please!" He rolled his eyes as dramatically as possible. "There's nothing there that you guys can't deal with, and you don't get points for martyrdom or masochism. And at the risk being hypocritical, I'd really love to know what's up with you and Dad and Dick and Babs and intentionally making choices that keep you from being happy. If I had what you all have... I'd never let her go. Not for anything."

His impassioned speech done, Jason sat back against the couch exhaling as if that proclamation had taken everything he had. It reminded Talia of their lunch in Los Angeles when Jason had pleaded on his little brother's behalf, but what he was asking now was so much bigger and - if she was honest with herself - more frightening than anything else. Unable to answer him directly, Talia instead propped her head on the heel of her palm and smiled softly at her son.

"One day," she said warmly, "you are going to become an amazing husband and father. When that happens, I hope you grant me the privilege of knowing a woman rare enough to be worthy of you and your children."

"Sure," his tone clearly said that he was humoring her, which Talia didn't appreciate but again decided to take on another time, "and until that happy day in some very distant - possibly alternate - future, you are more than welcome to hang out with us in Gotham."

There was not a single part of her that did not long to agree, to be able to be with Bruce and hug her baby for the first time in almost a year. But she could not promise him that, no matter how much she or her eldest wanted it. Jason must have read it in her expression because he slumped back into the cushions, unsurprised but clearly disappointed.

"A falsehood will not ease your anguish," she said, then in an attempt to rectify the situation if only a little, repeated. "Tell me of another way I may do so."

Jason sighed and, looking around their immediate surroundings, picked up a tattered paperback from the side table next to his tea. Without even looking at the cover, he thrust the book at her.

"Read to me."

Trying hard not to smile, Talia took it from him. She was about two thirds of the way through this one, but for Jason's benefit, she opened it to the first page, made herself more comfortable on the couch, cleared her throat, and began to read.

"We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault, or mine…"

Not used to feeling like he had nothing to do, Bruce checked in at the manor. Tim picked up the phone, and it was pretty obvious from the tone of the teen's voice that he couldn't quite decide if he should ask about his brother or pretend Jason wasn't in Metropolis. Deciding to put the boy out of his misery, he asked.

"What exactly has your brother told you?"

"Err… you're going to have to be more specific. I have three of those."

"Timothy…" The tone was a clear don't-play-dumb-it-doesn't-suit-you.

"Okay, fine," the teen lowered his voice. "He might have mentioned he dropped by to see you… and Talia?"

Bruce let out a mildly frustrated sigh, but wasn't really surprised. "And?"

"Well, I told him 'I told you so', because I did. Babs and I both did. Actually we just said, 'Bruce probably has a girlfriend'. We didn't really know who. Not surprised though… not that we spend a lot of time speciplating about your love life." He took a gulp of air. "Okay, I'm done now."

"Good," Bruce felt a headache coming on. "Who else did you or he tell?"

"No one!"

"Alright, the three of us will talk about it tomorrow when we both get home."

"Three meaning you, me, and Jason?"

"Yes."

"Just checking. Okay, I'll keep the home fires burning. Have fun… I mean…."

"Good night, Tim."

"Night." Obviously relieved to be off the hook, the boy hung up.

Bruce slipped the phone in his pocket but didn't have time to contemplate what to do next before he heard a knock. Odd, he thought since the sound came from the balcony and he was on the last floor of a highrise. Of course there was at least one resident of Metropolis who both knew where he resided and could get there in such an unconventional way. Wondering if his headache was about to get worse, Bruce sighed and opened the balcony door.

"You know you stick out like a sore thumb," he complained.

The man who was arguably the most powerful being on the planet grinned at him in a way that reminded Bruce he was still in many ways just a farm boy from Kansas.

"I don't criticize your wardrobe," Superman commented. "Hello, by the way."

He floated a few feet into the loft, landing softly on the carpet, then before Bruce could even blink, he was Clark Kent again, khakis, dress shirt, and glasses. He smiled again. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Nothing special. You've been coming to Metropolis on and off for the last few months, and I haven't heard so much as a 'Hi. Nice to see you.' If it was me dropping by Gotham so often, I'm pretty sure I'd be getting the full third degree from the world's greatest detective by now."

"That's because you're nicer than I am," Bruce replied without missing a beat, then pointedly added. "You'd never poke your nose into my business."

"I'm curious," Clark shrugged. "Part of my day job. So?"

Realizing that he wasn't getting rid of his friend that quickly - and privately willing to admit that he didn't necessarily want to - Bruce walked over to his kitchen area, pulled out two bottles of beer from the fridge, and wordlessly handed one to Clark. The Kryptonian looked at the label, and Bruce got the distinct feeling that he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"I can't even begin to pronounce this," Clark making a face of mock annoyance.

"Jahrhundert-Bier," Bruce said, opening his own bottle and taking a sip. "It's Bavarian. Imported."

"Of course it is," his friend smiled. "Why can't you drink normal beer?"

"Because I can have better."

The news was running on the tv on mute in the background, and Bruce listened while his friend told him about the recent developments with the Justice League that hadn't required Batman's presence and also some more civilian stories from the Daily Planet. He was only half paying attention, his mind playing back parts of the entire day, since Jason's arrival but always coming back to his argument with Talia. Clark must have noticed the absent look.

"Watchtower to Batman." He waved a hand in front of his face. "You're a million miles away. Is something wrong?"

Bruce shook his head without meaning the act as an outright denial. He didn't really want anyone to be involved in his affairs, but it had been a long time since he could talk to a friend. Taking another sip of his beer, he asked.

"What's the worst thing your wife has ever said to you?"

If he was surprised by the question, Clark didn't show it. His expression was thoughtful, until he made a face and replied, " 'You sound just like my father!' "

Knowing General Lane, if only briefly, Bruce winced on his friend's behalf then nodded. "That sounds about right."

"Why?" The Kryptonian sounded amused.

"Apparently I sound like Ra's al Ghul."

Clark chuckled, then seeing that he was serious, sobered. "Talia's back, huh?"

"She never really went anywhere."

"But you haven't seen that much of each other for a while," Clark tilted his head slightly in question. "For the last… decade or so, I'm guessing? Did something change?"

"She cut ties with Ra's. I think it's permanent this time."

"Really?" The Kryptonian raised a brow, clearly skeptical. Bruce couldn't blame him. An uncomfortable number of people knew he and Talia had an unhealthy pattern.

"She did it for our sons. Children tend to… put things in perspective."

"And now you're wondering if there's a chance you can convince her for more."

"I thought there was, but… I screwed up. We both did, but mine was more recent and pretty memorable." His friend laughed again. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how rare it is for… well, anyone to hear you admit you were wrong about something? I'm guessing you conveniently forgot to say this to her?"

Bruce honestly couldn't remember, but he suspected his friend was right.