Author's Note: Last chapter, folks! I can't believe how was this story got finished. It's probably the longest completed work I have. Special thanks to my best friend Chris for enduring hours of character discussion on skype and to 8sword and dungeonwriter and all my amazingly awesome reviewers. Please enjoy the last chapter of 'The Changeling'. See you over at 'Young Justice'!

Dick didn't think he'd actually do it, of course, which is why when the fire on the barbecue really got going, he kept looking up at the sky as if it might fall at any second. Bruce tried not to feel insulted though he knew his eldest had every reason to doubt him. Damian seemed in much better spirits. The youngest was sitting under the shade with Dick looking at school brochures. Whether or not it was a good idea Bruce had yet to decide. Nothing could move forward until the legal paperwork was complete. In this case, his reputation as a notorious playboy helped. No one was surprised the papers bounced he had a child from 'some secret foreign affair'.

Jason's resurrection would be much more difficult to explain to the outside world. Finally it was Tim who suggested using the explosion and the fact that Jason had died on foreign soil to their advantage. He sat to his left at the outside wooden table, opposite of Jason at his right.

"Just tell everyone the Ethiopian government made a mistake when they returned the body," the teen suggested. "The explosion was really bad and Jason was in the area, but he wasn't in the warehouse. They found a body that sort of matched the description, but it was so badly burnt that a conclusive identification was impossible."

"And I didn't come back for years because I kept trying to find my birth mother not knowing she died in that explosion," Jason agreed. "I'll look like a brat, but... well, I did skip town and run away to another continent."

"It should hold," Bruce nodded. "We'll have Barbara set up a digital trail in case anyone goes digging. The only outside person at the funeral was Gordon, and I don't expect any issues there."

Because Jim knew. He was certain of it.

Bruce – or Batman, when it mattered – might have been the world's greatest detective, but Jim Gordon was a great one too. He's all but told him years ago and in the same breath said that he didn't want to know. Bruce understood and nearly breached that line when he'd asked for his help in finding Jason, but in the end, the status quo held. When he had come to see them, he'd nodded to Jason and smiled at him.

"I'm happy for you," the older man had said with genuine warmth. "Glad you found him."

Bruce didn't miss the slightly different phrasing. The story had been that Jason had returned on his own, but Batman had asked for his help looking for a young man of the same description less than a week ago.

Barbara had come earlier, the day after Jason's return. No one knew what they talked about behind the closed door of his room. Bruce was just within earshot when they emerged more than an hour later, the woman was wiping away tears and Jason bent to hug her.

"Talk to Dick," his son had advised. "And try to be happy."

"Are you?" Barbara wondered.

"Yes," Jason nodded. "Not every single second, but now more often than not."

He sat alone with him in the study that evening – something that had become a tradition since then – and looking at him, Bruce believed that.

But it was getting warmer and the outside air would do them all some good, so today was a day for that barbecue Dick had joked about. Having established their story, Jason rose and went to help Alfred while Tim wandered over to where Dick and Damian were sitting. Bruce regarded his family for a moment, then rose and disappeared back into the manor. He wouldn't be long, but there were still a few details to look into.

The passports and remainder of money lay down in the cave on the computer consul. He'd meant to do this days ago but had refused to let it take up time when his children were not fully healed. The currency was of little interest, but the passports were a different story. The documents themselves looked clean but upon careful study, he discovered something interesting on the insides of the leather-bound cases.

Micro transmitters.

He recorded the frequency before destroying them and checked it against all the ones in his databases. No match, not even on the ones Ra's al Ghul frequently used. Bruce looked at the items on the consul, deep in thought. Suddenly his back straightened.

"I dislike this habit of yours to barge into my home."

He didn't bother turning, though his guest would more than likely take it as an insult. Bruce didn't care. In fact, it was somewhat of an effort for him to get his anger under control. He'd been expecting something like this ever since Jason and Tim explained how they were sure the pair had been followed, but this was not the time he felt like playing nice.

When he did finally turn, his blue eyes glared daggers at the seven-century-old-immortal.

"What is it you want?"

"To the point, Detective?"

"I think that would be easier on both of us. I don't really care why you're here, but you will not take Damian. Or Jason. Or any of my children. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly. As it happens, I am interested in what happened to mine."

His eyes narrowed. "My only information comes from Jason, so it's probably nothing new to you. I'm sure you've already investigated the fire."

"I have," the man confirmed. "And the results were... inconclusive. No hint of arson but also no reason for it to have been an accident."

"I can't help you," Bruce said bluntly. "Right now I'm trying very hard not to break your jaw for not telling me about my sons."

"I told her this would happen." The immortal pressed his lips into a thin line. He seemed... if not remorseful, than at least somewhat resigned. "She wished to return your partner to you, but I warned her that you would wage war upon us for keeping him away for so long. Very well then; we withheld one, and now you have my daughter's child as well. A son for a son."

They aren't yours to give away! Bruce wanted to shout. Neither was Talia. Not like that.

"Then any businesses we have is over," his tone was clipped.

"For now," Ra's agreed. "If you hear from her, I expect the courtesy of being informed."

"I make no such promises." Bruce set his jaw. "You have two minutes to leave my property."

His father was in a foul mood that he tried unsuccessfully to hide, but Jason knew better. He had plans for tonight, had hoped everyone would be in better spirits after the barbecue so he could ask for what he needed. But something had happened to put Bruce in this mood, and he still had to ask or Jason was afraid he might lose his nerve and it would never get done.

"Dad?"

He pushed open the door to the study. His father was looking at something on his laptop but closed it when he entered. Jason gave him a look.

"Are you okay?"

He looked like he was considering his answer for a moment. "Ra's was here."

Alarm bells went off in his head. He finally caught up with them! After a week? Was he after Damian? Where was he now? Why weren't they doing something about it?

"He was here," Bruce repeated with emphasis. "During the barbecue. He's long gone now. Don't worry."

Jason exhaled. "What did he want?"

"To know what happened to Talia. I told him we don't know anything."

Which was the truth, as far as Jason knew. Of course Bruce often kept his own confidence. He could have found something he had not yet shared with the rest of them. They haven't shared their suspicions with Damian yet, and Jason didn't know how to begin to approach it. He didn't want to give his little brother hope only to tear it away. Besides, he didn't know which was worse, because, if Talia was alive, she'd chosen to remove herself from her son's life.

He knew all too well what that felt like.

He must have looked too deep in thought because Bruce frowned. "What's wrong?"

Jason shook his head to shake himself out of it. "I'm wondering if you would... come with me somewhere. Well, actually, you'd just drive. There's something I need to do. Alone. But I... I could use some... moral support."

His father was already rising, closing the lid of the laptop. "Which car?"

Jason smirked. "Do we have something... beat up?"

Less than a half hour later the black Infinity – Jason easily believed that it was the cheapest car they owned – stopped at the mouth of Crime Alley. He sat in the passenger seat for another moment, gazing out at the accursed street through the tinted window. He could feel his father looking at him.

"You don't have to do this," he told him gently.

"Yeah, I do," Jason sighed. "I have to... make peace with this place, find a way to leave it behind. This isn't just the place I spent half my life in; I can move on from that. But it's also the place I fired a gun at my father. That's not nearly as easy to forget."

A hand fell on his shoulder, and when he turned to look at him, Bruce's eyes held nothing of pity, only resolve.

"This is the place I lost my parents," he said. "But it's also the place I found my son. Twice."

Jason gave him a small smile and opened the door. "Keep the car running. I'll be right back."

He kept the headlights in his peripheral vision, trying not to feel anxious as the rest of the vehicle faded into the darkness. It felt like it was always dark here. He stepped across places that were all too familiar, spots on the ground where he huddled near vents to keep warm in the brutal Gotham winter. Walking further into the alley felt like walking into the past. He had to glance back at the car once or twice to make sure his father was still there.

Of course he was.

He rounded the corner and looked at the entrance to the run-down apartment building where he spent most of his youth. It was locked, but Jason knew if he twisted just right... applied pressure in just the right direction... There! The knob gave way, and he stepped inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way up and seconds later found himself in front of the door to the small apartment he'd shared with his parents. Jason knocked and when no one responded on the third try, twisted the knob.

It looked like no one had lived there since his departure. Jason circled the place slowly, gingerly touching the cupboard shelves that were barely hanging on by a hinge, running his fingers along the shelves and leaving paths in the dust. In the far corner he spotted the old mattress on the floor, the one with the few springs poking through, and hunched down by it. There was even a half-empty pack of cigarettes wedged between it and the wall. Jason picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He waited for the nicotine craving to come, but it didn't.

There were so many memories here, a few happy, most painful.

"You've come a long way, child."

At the sound of that smooth accented voice, Jason rose slowly. He wasn't really surprised, but he hadn't been expecting this now. In some ways the intrusion on his farewells was offensive, but in others it felt right that she was here. Another loose end to come to terms with. The more of them he could tie up, the better his new life would be.

"I'm not a child," he said, turning. "And definitely not your child. I got enough 'mommy' issues without adding you to the mix."

Talia looked back at him unapologetically. She was dressed far simpler than he was used to seeing. Just a jacket thrown over a black turtle-neck, form-fitting jeans, and boots. Still, in this part of town – probably in most places in Gotham – she would have stuck out like a sore thumb. The city rarely let beauty remain untarnished, though in this case he suspected she already had quite a collection of scars underneath the surface. They all did, after all.

"You're wrong." She said mildly. "What is a mother if not one who gives life? Did I not do that for you, Jason?"

"You kept me prisoner for six months!" He exploded. "Not even counting the year before!"

"I restored your mind and gave you the means of reaching your father," she countered calmly. "I helped keep you safe every step of the way. When you needed papers and funds, I provided that. I had my man follow you and drive you to flee when my father was closing in."

Jason was about to argue that, but suddenly he realized that the man he'd bumped into in Shannon had been with Talia every time he'd seen him. He'd just assumed that they all reported to Ra's. And she had given them the passports and money. Of that he no longer had any doubt.

"You were tracking us. How?"

"Bugs in the passport covers," she smiled coyly. "They transmitted on a frequency known only to me."

"And you started the fire." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Jason blinked, confused. "If you really wanted to take us back to Gotham, you could've just flown us over yourself. Why this elaborate setup? Why the deception?" Why are you letting your son think you're dead?

"Because of my father. I disobeyed him once by restoring you through the Pit. Had he known I returned you willingly against his orders and taken Damian as well…"

She's telling the truth, Jason realized. She's really afraid of him. It felt like such strange concept. He couldn't really see Talia being afraid of anything, almost… almost in the same way he couldn't see Bruce afraid. But that wasn't true. Even his father was afraid of losing them. If Ra's had discovered her, could the punishment have been Damian's life? Or his own?

"So you bought us time." He looked at her. "And yourself deniability."

"At the cost of loosing Damian, yes." Her voice was full of sorrow. "You were right, Jason: he would have grown to hate me as much as you do."

"I don't hate you." He surprised himself when he realized the answer was honest.

She smiled sadly, then stepped forward and cupped his cheek with her right palm. And, yes, there was something undeniably maternal about the touch. "My darling boys. Born to be brave. Thank you. For everything, but most of all for keeping him safe, for bringing him here. I know how badly you've both wanted this, how happy it must have made you and your father."

"That doesn't mean Damian suddenly doesn't need you." Jason protested. "It's a really shitty thing, to lose a mom. Trust me, I know. Twice over."

"As do I. I wish I could spare him that, but for now this is the way things must be."

The touch withdrew leaving him cold. She at the door by the time Jason snapped out of it enough to call after her. "Bruce knows you're alive."

She half turned, unconcerned. "But he has you and your brothers to focus on. I'm not longer selfish enough to think that I should be the center of his attention. Be well, Jason. I imagine this is good-bye for quite some time."

Damn, he thought as he watched the door close behind her. Why'd she have to decide to grow a conscious now? He'd been perfectly happy to hate her for the rest of his life, both on his own and Damian's behalf, but maybe things had never been as black and white as he'd liked to have believed. The decision about whether or not to tell the boy ultimately lay with their father, and Jason was glad for it. He didn't want the responsibility for that one.

And speaking of which, he decided, time to get going. The tiny dirty apartment held no warmth, no more memories with which he couldn't part. It was simply the past, another life. His real one was waiting for him outside in the car. Jason couldn't help but chuckle.

Wasn't that how it all started?