So, this chapter is a little short and pretty much a filler (kinda). This is just some reactionary content from the brother's.

Also: sorry for the late update, I've been trying to stick to one chapter every Thursday, but my mind kept putting up a wall that said "Muse not available at this time, please take a number" and I said "well fu*&". ^^"

Anyways, I want to thank all those that have reviewed this story, your reviews keep me motivated to actually finish this work (unlike a certain other story I've been refusing to write for the past couple months…) So thank you! Please continue to review so I know if I'm on a good track here and you would like to read more!

Disclaimer: I own nothing DC/Time Warner does.

ONWARD!

Chapter 8

Dick paced back and forth in the small area of his cell. His mind was racing. Heavy boots struck the metal of the bunk bed loudly. Tim sat there, restlessly picking at his nails.

"was what happened to Jason my fault?" Tim asked suddenly.

Dick stared at his younger brother for a moment, shocked. When he spoke his words were calm and cold. "No. What happened to Jason, how he was hurt like that… That was a failure darkening the entire family. Not you specifically."

Tim nodded, but his head fell into his hands. "I'm just… I don't understand what we can do. If he doesn't remember us…"

Dick cut him off. "We'll make him remember." The conviction in his tone held Tim captive for a moment.

Tim nodded again. "so let's see… Jason goes off to the other facility. He comes back, obviously wounded – did you see the blood yesterday? – and he doesn't remember any of us, not even Bruce…" Tim paused, "If he was tortured, that would explain why he doesn't remember."

The bed sunk don as Dick took a seat next to his little brother. "It makes me sick to think about. What exactly did they put him through?"

A shudder passed between the two. "You know the saddest part?" Dick motioned for him to continue, "A year ago we wouldn't have cared."

The room was silent and Tim stopped his fidgeting; Dick stopped shifting on the bed. Finally: "You're probably right. I'd like to believe that we would, but…"

"… but you couldn't say so honestly."

Dick shook his head.

"I never took the time to know him when he was Robin. I was too busy with my own pissing contest with Bruce…in a lot of ways Jason's death was my fault just as much as it was Bruce's. When you and I met I promised to be the brother I couldn't be with Jaybird," Dick turned to Tim, "When he came back… I still didn't make that effort, I didn't approach him, I didn't try to help him through it, I didn't try to be the older, bigger person in his life. And then it was too late again."

He laughed bitterly. "It seems like the Bats are always too late."

Tim put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "hey, we still have a chance. Jason… He was the reason I wanted to be Robin in the first place, he was my hero. I emulated him before I even knew him." He swallowed hard, "Then he came back and suddenly we were at opposite ends of the spectrum, he was the enemy."

Dick stood suddenly, his feet landing gracefully on the ground. "Timmy you're a genius!"

"Huh?"

Dick shook his head and grabbed the younger man's hand, "C'mon! You've just given me an idea. Let's go."

And with that the brothers were off.

…

Damian stood in the 'doorway' for a few moments, waiting for his father's acknowledgement. When no such action was taken, the boy made his way to his father's bunk. Bruce looked at his youngest tiredly, shifting to face the boy more fully.

This was the first time they had been able to talk since the incident with Jason… Damian opened his mouth to speak and honest apology, but his sincerity was ruined by the first words that tumbled out: "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…"

Bruce's mouth twitched upwards in a half-smile. "There's nothing to forgive, Damian. What happened with Rage… it was unavoidable. If it hadn't been you it would have been another inmate."

Damian scrambled up onto the bunk to sit next to Father. "I just don't… You're not disappointed, are you?" He held his breath.

"I am." Damian's expression fell, "At the inmates, not you," He amended. Damian sighed audibly.

The boy laid his head against the muscle of his father's shoulder. "you're sure?" He asked uncertainly.

"Absolutely."

Damian relaxed. All of a sudden he was very tired and he simply didn't want to talk about himself.

"-Tt- you know, it just figures that Todd would be the one to drag us all down." He was sure his father hadn't missed the not-so-subtle topic change.

He felt Bruce shift next to him, only to feel the older man wrapping his arms around the boy a moment later. "Jason hasn't dragged anything down. He's just… complicated the situation." He didn't sound certain.

"Well, since Todd so rudely decided to forget everything I suppose it falls to you to tell me about his tenure as Robin." Damian lifted his chin in defiance and a pout set in to his face.

Bruce smiled again. "Why don't you wait and ask him yourself when he remembers." Damian looked at his father carefully. He couldn't possibly miss the note of desperation. Father wanted Jason to remember, was giving an absolute reason why the young man had to: in order to answer Damian's questions. The boy sighed loudly and folded his arms over his chest before leaning his head back onto his father's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a few moments, then Drake barged in and ruined everything.

He stood in the 'doorway' in the exact same way Damian had been minutes ago. "Hey Damian."

"Great, what the hell do you want, Drake?"

"I just wanted to tell you that the days about to start. I'm sure Jay will be there…"

"Yes, I'm sure you are dumb enough to forget that we have the same routine every day, but do not insult our intelligence by insinuating that we are unaware of the day's schedule."

Tim glared at the younger boy, but quickly turned his focus to Bruce. "We need a game plan. And-"

Dick appeared by Tim's side, interrupting him, "-and we need to talk. I think I have an idea, we just need to talk to Jason."

Bruce and Damian sighed simultaneously and armed themselves for the oncoming conversation.

…

"Maybe he was just born broken and wants to stay that way," Dick said quietly. They had spent half the day trying to talk to the young man, but Jason would not stand more than a few minutes with any of them. He spoke in clipped sentences and tones, never giving them the advantage of time in a conversation. Jason had already refused to sleep in the same cell as his family members. They still had been unable to explain everything to their wayward brother. Honestly, at the rate they were going, they didn't know how much information they could trust Jason to keep. Dick had presented a plan of mentioning times in their past every time they saw the young man, but he was coming across as more stubborn than when he actually lived the instances in their memory. Hence the frustration.

"No one is born broken. People are shaped by the events in their lives. The death of his mother, the abandonment of (both) his fathers, his own murder… that's what broke him… But I know we can mend this. We can mend him. He's just being stubborn" Bruce said.

It seemed like they had this conversation too often. Worry over Jason had never been prevalent in anyone's mind but Bruce's up until they came here. Now it was the main topic of choice. Together the four-member family traveled down the stairs towards the yard, the final chance they had to get through to the young man. They had decided last night to give the man space to process everything, but time would not permit them to wait long. They needed to escape. They stepped out onto the grass – what little was left of it – and looked out into the horizon. The world had grown dark; pollution filled the air, fires burned in faraway cities, and screams and sirens echoed eerily. The alien species delighted in the scenes of mass hysteria, they used it for their own entertainment… it made Bruce's stomach churn. He put his hand on Damian's shoulder, drawing his youngest closer.

The other inmates had already arrived; most were simply stretching their legs and forming tight-knit clumps around their gangs. Jason was already there as well. He sat on the grass, near the electrified fence with his knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. His head was down and he was covered in sweat – something was off. A few snickered at his son's hunched form, occasionally kicking dust up around him. Bruce reacted with anger, glaring fiercely at the men that he caught the eye of. Jason just looked so alone.

In moments the family had formed a loose circle around the young man. Jason groaned and lifted his head weakly. Dick gasped when he saw the dark circles under the man's eyes and the clear expression of pain written all over his face. He trembled slightly, but his blue-green gaze remained steady.

"Oh great, it's the pretty boy and his gang of misfits again. The hell d'you want?" He feigned anger, but his words were spoken more slowly than they should have been.

Bruce stepped closer to his son, which, to his sadness, made Jason scoot backwards almost frantically. "Stay away from me," Jason coughed out.

"Did someone hurt you?" Bruce pressed.

"The hell do you care, asshole?"

Bruce crouched down in front of his son. He lowered his voice an octave, ensuring no eavesdroppers could overhear, "You don't understand, Jason. I'm your… your father. These are your brothers. Before you were transferred you planned an escape with us." Bruce gestured to his family.

"Transferred?"

"Yes. You were taken away from us during a riot."

"do you even hear yourself? This is crazy. I don't recognize any of you," Jason eyed the others with suspicion. "We barely look alike… sure the hair and the eyes, but otherwise?" The young man shook his head, as though to clear it, "You're bullshitting me."

Bruce's brow furrowed as he watched his son's eyes as they went in and out of focus. "Why would we lie?"

"Who the fuck knows!" He was shaking violently now, whether from exhaustion or anger, Bruce had no idea.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Nothing!" Jason practically screamed. He was on unsteady feet now.

Dick opened his mouth to say something, but Bruce cut him off, "What do you mean 'nothing'?"

The other inmates were beginning to take notice of the trouble brewing in the yard. They had stopped their aimless wandering in favor of perking their ears and stepping closer to the makeshift family. Tim and Damian as well as Barracks and Dick turned icy glares that scared the underlings away.

Jason looked around warily, he lowered his voice. "I don't know anything about… me." He ran tremulous fingers through his hair, sweat streaked as it was. That was it, fear. Bruce never thought he'd see that on his son's face. It made Jason look… as young as he was… It was hard to see when Jason was constantly emanating aggression and pain, but now… Only just twenty-one. Something squeezed his heart.

Bruce nodded, though his mind raced with possibilities. "You must have suppressed the memories while you were in that facility…" How much did he have to face that it was easier to forget all of us? My son… "We can tell you so much… you just have to trust us."

Jason's eyes narrowed, "If you truly know me as well as you claim to then you'll understand why I can't trust you." Jason turned to leave, but Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder. The Bat didn't miss the wince Jason released. His son was definitely hurt.

"I do understand. We all do. Just stay with us in our cells. I swear to you it will be safer." Jason shrugged off the offending hand and walked away without another word.

"Alright… that went well." Tim said.

"Shut up, Drake." Damian hissed too low for any others to overhear.

Thanks for reading and PLEASE review, especially if you notice any mistakes in the narrative or otherwise.