I am so sorry that it's been over a month since I updated this story! I try to update all my stories equally (yeah not going too well) and I have to get animation done, and I have to do art and school and the list goes on. I hope you understand! Anyways, let's get riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight into the story! (news, I'm your host, Killer Keemstar here.)

(There is a self harm trigger warning in this chapter. It starts after the line "Everything was replaced with the rage" and ends with "Jason bit back a scream as he felt the break in his hands")

"You buy new carpet? You need carpet!"

"Best jewelry!"

"Fresh fish! Come get fresh fish!"

Jason ignored the shouts of people selling goods and kept his head down as he approached the streets. He was trying not to draw attention to himself; a pale, skinny boy with blood stains on his stolen rags. With hands balled into fists at his side, he swiftly walked through the streets of some city in Saudi Arabia. Any hope of communication with the locals was near impossible considering he didn't speak Arabic. Besides, he had other things to worry about. There was no plan in Jason's mind, only the desire to keep moving. If he stayed in one place too long, Bruce could track him. That couldn't happen.

Suddenly, a calloused hand gripped his wrist and Jason quickly drew back from it with a growl low in his throat. He wrenched his arm away from the unidentified person's grasp and looked up. A kind looking man with deep brown eyes took a step back, but his face wore a small smile. Jason swung his head to the left and prepared to bolt away from the man, but the delicious smell of cooking bread made him pause. With a smile still on his face, the man gestured to the small stand behind him and smiled even wider. He spoke something in Arabic and Jason slowly shook his head, he couldn't understand a word that was being spoken to him.

When the man saw that Jason didn't speak Arabic, he spoke in broken English," You… food?"

At the mention of food, Jason's stomach growled loudly. An annoying voice in the back of his head was reminding him that the last people he was around ended up dead. Dead at his hands. But the scent of the bread was too enticing. Against his better judgment, he nodded his head sharply and followed the man into the stand. Jason's eyes darted around as he slowly walked into the enclosed space; it appeared to be some kind of bakery. Before fully entering the shop he glanced back at the opening he entered through and made sure that he would be able to get out if needed.

The sound of the kind looking man's voice caused him to face forward. A younger man that appeared to be in his late 20's came out from behind a curtain at the sound of the older man's voice. He responded quickly in his native tongue, staring at Jason and then the other man with a confused look on his face. When Jason felt the pressing eyes of the man on him he stopped fidgeting and stood stock still. A surge of anger rose up in his chest when he saw the contempt in the man's face and he struggled to keep it down, he did not want his hands to be the cause of anymore deaths.

"Boy." The word was spoken harshly from the younger man's mouth and Jason fought the urge to retort back rudely. He looked up to see the man nodding toward his elder.

"Come." This time the older, kinder man spoke. He waved his large hands in his direction in a way that conveyed for Jason to come closer to him. Jason anxiously took a step forward, and was startled when the man opened a clay oven and pulled out a loaf of bread. It was golden and had seeds sprinkled on the top of it, and the smell that wafted toward him when the man opened the oven caused Jason's knees to go weak.

The old man set the bread down on a crudely crafted wooden table and Jason walked quickly over to it. He fell to his knees and tore into the loaf of bread with his fingers, his mouth watering as he ferociously ate. His weary mind barely registered the sound of hearty laughter and light conversation behind him as he dug into the gifted food. Crumbs were spilling over his lap and his chapped lips stung as they came in contact with the bread, but the small annoyances did not put Jason off.

When it felt like he could stomach no more, he looked at the now small loaf and leaned back. A sigh escaped from his lips and he felt calmer than he ever had since being revived.

The older man sat down in front of Jason, and spoke slowly," Farren." He pointed to himself, then to the younger man," Ahmed."

Jason nodded, but stopped when he saw that the men were waiting for him to introduce himself. He considered giving a fake name, but decided he owed them at least his real name. "Jason." His voice was scratchy and quiet, almost completely gone from lack of water. It shocked him how much his voice had changed; it was now low and rough. He didn't sound young anymore.

Farren smiled yet again and even Ahmed seemed satisfied that Jason spoke. The silence grew uncomfortable and he looked back down at the bread with a newfound hunger. With cautious fingers, he reached back for more food. Seconds later the bread loaf was gone, leaving only a few crumbs behind. The pause in conversation was broken by a giggle that caused Jason to jump up, adrenaline racing through his veins again.

A small girl wearing a light green hijab peeked out from behind a curtain; she had a curious look on her young face as she gazed at Jason. When he saw that she was staring at him he clenched his fists under the table, he could feel the desire to go bat shit crazy rising up inside of him. He mentally willed it to go away, willed it to hold off until he got away from these kind people. The young child, oblivious to Jason's inner turmoil, raised a small hand and gave a tiny wave. He didn't trust himself to open his hands to wave back in response; instead he just nodded slightly and tried to make his face appear less hostile. Farren noticed his confusion and turned to the girl, talking in rapid fire Arabic.

Ahmed kept a firm watch on Jason, rarely ever blinking. As Jason watched the older man converse with the young child and shoo her back to wherever she came from, he felt a homesick pang in his chest. With a scowl he focused on driving it away, he couldn't go back home because he didn't have a home anymore. He was a monster. A murderer.

"Jason." His name sounded foreign and awkward in Farren's thick accent and it caused a shiver to go down his spine. It felt like forever ago that someone had actually called him that.

He got to his feet and gazed longingly back at where the bread used to be before looking at the man. Immediately, a pair of old leather sandals were thrust into Jason's arms, along with a satchel made of similar leather. Farren's face was smiling sympathetically at him as Jason wrapped his fingers around the gifts, bewilderment evident on his face as he looked from the objects to the man. Farren nodded when he saw Jason's hesitation and prompted him to sit down. He did as he was told, and took a seat on the sandy floor, displaying the gifts out in front of him.

The sandals, despite being too big, were adjustable and Jason was able to slide them onto his beaten feet. The leather was well worn and battered from years of use, but it held together fine. The satchel seemed to be crafted from the same hide and it too was weathered. But, inside was what shocked Jason. The bag held two loaves of bread, neatly wrapped in paper, and three different kinds of circular exotic fruit. His mind reeled; the family had gotten together a bag of food and sandals for a stranger like him. A smile was forming on his face, the first real smile since before he died, and he stood up with the new shoes on.

Farren and Ahmed were looking at him as he got to his feet and tested out the shoes. His feet welcomed the protection from the rough ground and the sores were not as painful as before. Jason carefully slung the bag of food over his left shoulder and looked up at the men. Without warning, Farren strode forward and wrapped his long arms around Jason's thin body. He tensed up with surprise and did not return the embrace. It was too familiar, too nice. It reminded him of whenever he got back from a particularly tough mission and Alfred would hug him.

Alfred.

Mission.

Robin.

Batman.

…Bruce…

Jason abruptly stepped backwards, wrenching himself away from the man's kind embrace. His face hardened into a mask of fury and he barely had the control to push himself through the opening of the stand. He heard Farren shout at Ahmed, maybe it was a call to chase after Jason, and maybe it wasn't. He didn't care. The people in the street yelled curses at him as he elbowed his way through the thick crowd. He needed to get away from them; he couldn't bear the thought of hurting more innocent people.

The faces began to blur together as he picked up speed, the sandals were certainly helpful when it came to running over rocks and broken objects. Irritated shouts turned to angry yells as more and more bystanders were disturbed by Jason hurtling himself through the masses of people. A siren was sounding now; Jason could hear the annoying whine of the loud horns. It was getting closer, how it was getting through the crowds of people was a mystery. But one that he couldn't dwell on, the only clear thought in his mind was to run away. Run for the sake of these people.

It seemed like forever before Jason got away from the sea of people and found a quiet spot. His head was down and he didn't even notice that the sounds of people had faded away into the quiet Arabian night, until he almost ran headfirst into a pole. His feet skidded to a stop in front it and despite the running, he still felt the rage. The rage that was like a fire burning inside of him, consuming all other thoughts and needs. Everything was replaced with the rage.

His fist slammed into the pole with enough force to break a normal person's fingers. Instead, it just caused his hand to throb with pain. Pain, not just rage now. Pain was there too.

Slam.

Slam.

Slam.

Blood trickled down his closed fist as he pounded the pole over and over again. The fog in his mind was beginning to clear as pain cut through it like a knife.

Slam.

Slam-crack!

Two of his fingers emitted a loud cracking noise after they hit the metal pole. Jason bit back a scream as he felt the break in his hand. He collapsed against the now bloody pole, and cradled his fist close to his chest as tears cascaded down his face. The pain in his hand was not near as bad as the pain in his heart was. He was trying to deny the fact that he missed Bruce and his family, but whenever he thought about how they might welcome him back, the image of him murdering, replaced their happy faces.

After his tears dried, Jason took an unsteady breath in. His mind was clearing and his stomach was growling again. With the hand that wasn't injured, he reached toward his fallen satchel. It took him a few tries before he was able to undo the strap, but eventually he got it.

The smell of fruit and bread wafted upward and Jason sighed shakily as he reached for the bread. His teeth sunk into the crust and he remembered the kind look on Farren's face as he gave the food to him. The look of pure, undamaged joy on the young child's face. Ahmed's fierce, but protective nature toward his family. They were so trusting toward Jason, so ignorant to Jason's struggle. He was glad that he got away from them without doing anymore damage. He didn't think he could bear the look on their faces if they saw how dangerous he was.

If only they knew…

I really need to eat something. All this talk about bread makes me hungry. Sorry about how short this is, my brain felt like it went through the toaster (bread puns, I'm on a roll.) I seriously could not brain today, but I forced myself to write. School starts tomorrow, and I just can't wait (sarcasm) to jump back into the fire of stress and worry. Don't you just love the school system? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave a review or even drop a favourite or a follow. There is so much more to come!