Getting back to his base was no easy task for Jason, with Damian in a fit the whole time. Where he found Damian was a good mile into the city, and the nearest base was a healthy three blocks away. It wouldn't have been that bad, if he didn't have a screaming eleven year old in his arms. He tried to keep to the alleys and rooftops with him, but people started to take notice and that wouldn't do if he had the GCPD on his ass. No, he had to keep this on the down-low until he could figure out what to do with Damian.
So, he did what he had to.
He thought about stuffing his mouth with the arm of his jacket, but he was afraid that if he set him down he'd bolt.

He remembered vaguely how he felt coming out of the pit, a lot of it was a legitimate blur, but he could remember feeling his bones snap, his body re-forming itself as his mind scrambled to put two and two together. Jason had been dead longer than Damian, so the after effects were worse, but now...he had nightmares about the now.
His body in silent tremors, his mind racing through thoughts and memories he'd never had, sounds sharper, colors violently vivid. It was horror..days blurred into weeks, hours felt like years, and just a gentle breeze felt like razorblades.
The thought of everything, the memories of everything snapped him back to Damian. He wouldn't wish what he had gone through on anyone. So, he did what he though anyone would have done. He knocked him out. He panicked slightly at how limp he got, almost afraid he'd melt away with the rain, maybe then he'd wake up from this nightmare. But no. His small head rest carefully against Jason's wet chest, his chest rising and falling with urgency.
Collecting himself briefly, Jason continued on a straight run to his apartment.
It took him almost no time to make his way up the stairs and kick in the unlocked door. He set Damian down on the couch and jogged over to the bathroom to get dry towels. Well, a dry towel...well..a damp towel after his shower this morning, but it was all he had. Worried it wasn't enough, he ran over to his bedroom and ripped the sheets off his mattress, cocooning Damian in blankets.
Finally satisfied, Jason collapsed onto a questionable looking chair, his eyes locked onto Damian.

What the hell was going on. What the hell was he going to do? There were waves of emotion rippling through Jason that he'd never experienced before. Concerns, thoughts, feelings. Sure, he was destroyed when Damian died, everyone was. Sure, the kid was a brat, but death was nothing he'd wish upon him. He skipped the funeral and got drunk, and had barely spoken to anyone since. Not that he was sure any of them knew he was gone. But he'd done what he always did, and stepped off.

Bruce had apparently taken off to pursue business, but now this? Did Bruce know? What about Dick or Tim? Would they even tell him about it? He needed to really think about this. The effects of the Lazarus Pit were nothing to be messed with. He'd been through it, so he vaguely knew what Damian was going through, and what he would have to go through. If he sent him back to the Manor they wouldn't have an idea what they were doing..No, it wasn't an option. Damian had to stay here, he was going to stay and Jason was going to help him get through this.

Side effects of the Lazarus Pit included increase of strength and temporary insanity. He couldn't clearly remember how got through it all, but he knew Talia was there, ironically. It took him a few years to get his shit together, and he had to train all over again, regain his bearings, and if Damian's stubbornness meant anything, this wasn't going to be easy.

Jason reached over to the table in front of him, grabbing his pack of cigarettes.
Unlike the struggle in the rain, it took him seconds to light it. He took a deep haul and watched Damian sleep. It wasn't a sight he was used to, the tiny demon looking peaceful, not a scowl on his lips, his eyes resting, his mind wandering through whatever dreams they thought important. It was almost like looking at different person, a different child, and just the fact that Jason now knew that there was no reversing Damian being in the Lazarus Pit, that he would have to go through hell and back just to face some sort of normalcy again caused his heart to clench. What the hell was happening. Was he going soft?
Jason scoffed and got up, clomping his way to the kitchen.
His gloved hands shook slightly as he reached into his questionable fridge for a beer. He hadn't even taken the time to un-mask. He figured Damian would sleep for a few hours at the very least, if the nightmares didn't wake him up.
Jason reached to the back of his neck, and pulled at the back of his helmet, allowing it to free his head. He took a deep breath of the stale air around him, before tearing off his domino mask. His body screamed for a shower, but he couldn't be sure Damian wouldn't wake up and run off. No, he would have to stay awake for the next god knew how long. Exhaling a puff of nicotine, he took a long swig of his beer.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into,", he wondered out loud.

The next few hours allowed Jason to plow through twelve beers and fight with his inner thoughts. He never thought in all of his years that he'd fight so hard with himself over keeping the kid safe. To be fair, he never thought he'd die either. He finally allowed himself to conclude with his original decision. He was going to take Damian under his wing, so to speak, he wasn't going to allow Damian to go through what he did.

If they had to leave Gotham then so be it.

A/N Sorry this got a bit wordy! I just wanted to properly capture Jason's emotions! Hope you enjoy!