"And I knew in my heart that my old life was gone, That in walking away my name was undone, So I might as well run." -The Deserter's Song by Radical Face

"Well look here, boys," a man jeered to no one as Jason shuffled out of one broken phone booth to try and find another. The subway was the only place he knew he would be safe from the Bat's prying eyes, but it was more dangerous down in the tunnels, and it was becoming harder to keep moving. He only had one quarter left from trying payphones; Jason was running out of time and options.

The stranger, a large man who looked homeless and half psychotic, turned and repeated his statement to people who weren't there. Jason paid him no attention, his face impassive as he neared another payphone. The man spun back around and grabbed Jason by the wrist as he walked by. Jason halted, eyes darkening slightly.

"Where are you going?" the man asked as he roughly pulled Jason to his larger frame.

Jason spun out of his grasp and kicked the man in the knee, dropping him to the floor. The stranger attempted to get back up, but Jason used his momentum to kick him in the stomach, propelling him into a nearby trashcan. The man refrained from getting up again, and the few onlookers passed by hurriedly.

Jason stood silent for a little while assessing, but he was starting to forget what he was down here for, so he moved to the payphone and put in his quarter.

After the first ring, Jason's hands began to shake slightly. Two rings brought a few tears to his eyes. Only one thought came to him: maybe he should just hang up.

He never got a chance to. "You have thirty seconds to identify yourself before I trace this number," a smooth voice answered, sounding calm and almost devoid of emotion.

Jason couldn't form words but he tapped excitedly on the payphone.

"Not going to speak, coward? Fine. The trace has already-" Jason heard a gasp on the other line. She had seen the call was from someone in Gotham.

"Bruce?" she asked quietly, but Jason was silent on the other line. "Damian?" Again, more silence, more hoping she'd get the hint.

"Answer me! Who is this?" Jason tapped impatiently; he felt like screaming.

"Gotham's Subway Terminal A," he heard her mumble. Then, another soft gasp. "Jason," she said, and it wasn't a question anymore. "Stay exactly where you are. I will come for you."

Jason let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but wasn't sure if it was in relief or fear.

"Okay, hear me out," Tim said after Dick joined him in the cave with Bruce and Alfred. "I think he's going to contact Talia."

"Talia trusts no one," Bruce said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "He doesn't have a private number for her, nor would she care if he did get a hold of her."

"Talia defied her father when she pushed him in the Lazarus Pit. You know how big of a deal that is, and so does Jason. He'll go to her." Tim looked to his older brother for support, but Dick shook his head.

"I don't buy it," Dick said. "Roy threw out the idea of putting him in the Pit and he flipped. He wouldn't go back."

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. "He could change his mind. Spending two weeks as a prisoner in your own body would be pretty persuasive. Besides, we can't be sure he was freaking out in opposition to the idea."

"You didn't see his face, Tim. He did not want to go." Dick glanced over at the case before turning back to Tim.

"Things change!" Tim yelled, flustered.

"Jason doesn't," Bruce said, glaring at the case. "Jason doesn't change. He ran off and disobeyed me then, he does it now."

Dick rolled his eyes but saw the truth there, the ugly truth of a street kid who could never shake his strong contempt for authority.

Tim, however, was furious. Now that he knew what it felt like to be replaced, to wear the armor but feel left out of the family, he understood Jason. It had taken him a while, but now he knew. And maybe he was the only one.

"You won't let him change. You know we actually had a nice conversation a couple of months ago? I asked if he wanted to join me for breakfast, and he said you wouldn't like me being nice to him. It's the first thing out of his mouth, it's always on his mind. You hate him, you don't care, you, you, you. He did change, Bruce. He's not that kid, he's worse than that kid. And I'm pretty sure most of that is your fault."

Tim honestly never saw the punch coming, didn't feel it in the moment, either. The only reason he knew he was punched was because his jaw throbbed and he was on the floor. Tim was hyperaware of the silence, of Dick kneeling next to him, trying to help him up, but his vision was coated in red anger. He shrugged Dick off and stood on his own.

"I came here a few years ago," he said as his voice shook with emotion. "It seems like a few lifetimes, but it's only been a few years. And when I came here, I came because you needed someone by your side. I came because Jason was dead, and you had alienated your only remaining son. I came to keep you from going insane, from dying yourself. Do you remember that, Bruce? Do you remember you were human once?"

Bruce looked at Tim, horrified at what he had done, but the silence had overtaken him. Dick and Alfred looked from one to the other with baited breath.

Tim's tears stung at his eyes, threatening to fall. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm sorry I believe in redemption. I'm sorry I believe that when someone needs you by their side, you go to their side. I'm sorry I think he's worth something more than a glass case and a tattered uniform. I'm sorry you don't think I'm worth more than a punch to the face. But, most of all, I'm sorry you can't even say you're sorry."

Tim took off running, up the stairs, out of the manor, into his car, out of the driveway, away from home. It was the only way he knew he wouldn't turn back.