A/N: I kind of manipulated this upcoming scene from RHaTO, so… let me know what you think. ^^

I originally planned on releasing the following events in a huge single chapter, but since decided to break it up into two or three parts… BTW, Alfred will play a more major role later, I haven't mentioned him much in here so… here's an introduction of sorts; the next few events are going to happen a bit quickly.

Leave a review and let me know if you like where this story is going… Please?

Chapter 10

He could hear the bats overhead easily. They screeched their disapproval at his presence, each moment growing more and more upset. His head spun, each second pounding away at his skull like a jackhammer. He couldn't feel it, but he knew he should. His head felt like it had been stuffed with pounds of cement and every nerve ending felt hypersensitive. Again, he couldn't feel it, but felt he should, like there was some disconnect between memory and reality.

Still, outside of himself, yet not, Jason made his way up a set of stairs where an elderly man waited for him. He was glad to be out of the cold, hollow cave, but the unfamiliarity of the expansive mansion was no less daunting. The room was beautiful; an Arabian rug stood underfoot to catch each step, a mahogany coffee table sat just before a plush white cough that seemed to be calling to him. His feet moved in a familiar rhythm towards a seat. He sat down heavily, shivering somewhat violently. The old man left the room and moments later the scent of…. Chicken noodle soup his mind supplied.

"Here you are, Master Jason." He set down a tray of the delicious food. "Shall we see what's on the tele?" The elderly man lifted the contraption from the table.

Without any control over his mouth, a horribly rude comment slipped out. "I can take care of myself!" He yelled.

The elderly man turned on his heels and left the room, turning back only briefly to shoot back, "Then I wish you would master Jason."

He merely lifted his legs up and curled his body around them. Everything felt painful, each movement scratching his skin irritably. The feeling still wasn't his own, but he felt it indirectly nonetheless. That's when the older man appeared.

"Taking a night off every once in a while isn't a crime, Jason." It was him, the man from the prison, the one claiming he was Jason's father. Looking at him now, the older male seemed much younger; like he'd seen less pain, experienced fewer heartaches, and had less time to gain worry lines. Still, the faces matched up in his mind's eye. "So what are we watching?" His smile was infectious, and Jason couldn't help but feel the emotion inside him bubble up. It was something akin to admiration, yet stronger. His mind identified it as love, mutual and completely familial in nature.

Bruce wore a batsuit which immediately drew a connection to the cave downstairs. Batman. Looking down at himself he saw shocks of red and green and yellow. Robin, his mind did not fail him.

He jumped a little when the older man plopped down beside him gracelessly. He flipped the controller from the table and turned the television on with one fluid motion. Bruce smiled at Jason, waiting for his input.

"The Godfather's a classic," Was all he said.

"So is How about The Sound of Music?" Bruce smiled slyly.

"Right.. how about shoot me now?"

"Alright, alright, compromise: Hamlet- I mean, Lion King?" Jason grimaced.

"Let's pick something where the dad doesn't die…" Jason felt himself look downwards. Then he felt an arm wrap around him.

"I'm sorry." Simple.

He could be sure that the next words out of his mouth were solely influenced by the fever. "Sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose my dad for the second time…" but he caught a thought passing in his mind I'm afraid I'll lose a home again…

Flashes of being on the streets filled his head; the cold, the hunger, the pain… He could see the images clearly, but none of the memories were complete; just fragmented pieces of a broken picture frame.

"you'll always have a home here, Jason. Don't ever think otherwise." They turned to look at each other and in moments Jason was in movement. He put two heavy hands on the older man's shoulders, even though his focus was shot and his limbs clumsy, Jason had something important to say.

"I need to know right now." His vision was becoming blurry. Still, he had to know where they stood. "Do you.." He blinked to regain some clarity of mind. "Do you care about me?"

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Bruce let out a small chuckle, as though his words were absolutely foolish in nature. "Jason, what is this about?"

"I'd like to think that you're like a dad to me, more so than Willis Todd ever could have been... I need to know if those feelings are…" He had to search for the word. "Reciprocated."

Bruce simply stared for a moment. He cracked a smile, then wrapped his arms around Jason. "Reciprocated?" Feeling Jason go completely stiff, Bruce sobered. He let out a deep breath. "Jason, you're… How do I say it?" He paused again, "You're like a son to me… You… you are my son… If- if that's what you-"

"Yes." Jason stuttered out. "I- I mean… That would be nice… You could be… a good dad." He finished.

Bruce smiled and ruffled his hair. "Then it's settled. We'll watch Pink Panther. The originals, not the remake." The moment ended, but Jason couldn't help but feel something deep inside him mend. Like some dark abyss that was starting to fold in on itself. Like becoming whole, he thought. Yeah, he was totally out of it tonight.

A ripple passed along his consciousness and suddenly he was gasping for air with that same man standing over him. His face was etched with worry.

Jason clutched onto the solid mass beside him and let his breath out in a single word; "dad?"

…

When Tim had walked into their cell carrying a very unconscious Jason, Bruce had nearly lost it.

"What happened?" He growled.

"some idiots attacked him, gave him a nasty burn…" Bruce took Jason from the boy's arms, cradling him easily. Jason was coated in sweat, obviously not all from overexertion. "It… um… it looks like he's got some nasty cuts that have started to… well, they're getting infected. He's not going to last much longer without some antiseptic. And some serious rest." Tim watched as Bruce gingerly laid the young man down on the bottom bunk.

Bruce swiped at the stray strands of white tangling up on his son's face. Finally able to see the man up close, Bruce was horrified. His jacket had been removed, the white shirt utterly ruined. Wounds swiveled all over his body, leaving large stains where the gashes lay festering. His quick analysis was over in minutes.

Anger boiled up in his system, anger and guilt. He should never have left the man alone. This was his fault just as much as it was the alien creatures'. Some deeply buried instinct awoke and shook him to the core. He felt a protective surge that was – if he was being honest – paternal in nature.

"Bruce, what happened?" His eldest appeared in the doorway followed closely by Damian.

"He was attacked. We weren't there." Bruce didn't look up from Jason. "Dick, I need you to get everything ready. We're getting out tonight."

Dick nodded with all the seriousness before placing a hand on Damian and pulling the boy along quickly. He turned back momentarily to look at his father-figure. "Keep him safe and sane, please."

Bruce blinked past the sudden blurriness in his eyes. Jason shifted on the bunk slowly, but surely. His brow wrinkled and he began to mumble feverishly. Bruce left his side to rinse a cloth in the small sink of their cell. Returning to the boy, he passed the cool press over his son's head.

"Br-Bruce…"

His name.

"Dad?" the voice came through small and fragile. There were no pretenses of aggression, no ego to get in the way. At the moment Jason looked supine and very childlike. A shudder passed through the young man and his dark lashes fluttered open to reveal twin teal orbs that were equally unclear and feverish. His son's hands flashed out and clasped onto the first thing they came in contact with – which was Bruce.

Bruce stiffened at first, but soon encircled his son in a protective embrace. Jason let out a tremulous breath and held onto his father even after obviously realizing the situation.

Jason let out a painful cry and in the same breath let out the words Bruce had wanted to hear for so long. "I-I remember." He took in a gasp of air and sobbed softly, clearly in a state of delirium. "My father…"

Following his instincts, Bruce let his hand rest on his son's head in an attempt to soothe the boy. The words struck painful memories in him, but he refused to acknowledge them, refused to allow the Dark Knight the opportunity to ruin this. The wall in his mind came down, no longer having a use.

The prodigal son had come home at last.