You all are so very patient . . . I thank you for your continued interest in this story. Remember that it is supposed to be a "happy" story for the most part, with angst and drama tossed in to mix it up a bit.

This chapter is going to give you a bit of Jason's history that, as far as I know, is unique to my AU. Part of my goals for this story is to bring the Bat Family back together again (not all roses and sunshine, but not trying to kill one another or not speaking to each other). Jason's death is a problem that prevents him from truly becoming part of the family in the way I wanted, so I tweaked it a bit. In my head, it is far more detailed than what you get here, of course, and perhaps elsewhere more will come out. This is enough for my purposes . . . I hope it makes sense.

WARNING: VERY BAD LANGUAGE!

Jason opened the door only to immediately try to slam it shut. Unfortunately, Dick's reflexes were just as good as ever as the other man's boot slid into the opening. Dick hit the door with both hands and Jason was forced to step back or gain a couple of new peepholes in the cheap hollow-core door. He would definitely have to replace it with something more substantial after this. Dickiebird probably just did him a favor by reminding him that the door sucked for security.

"That's not very hospitable, Jay," Dick said, stepping into the apartment.

"If you're looking for a hospital, I might be able to oblige you, Dickwad," Jason snarked. "Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have come to Bludhaven last week! I figured you get the wrong idea."

"What idea is that?" Dick smirked.

"The wrongheaded idea that you might be welcome to drop by whenever you damn-well felt like it!" Jason moved back over to the table and picked up his drink. He had planned to get well and truly smashed tonight until he was so rudely interrupted.

"Aw, but its Christmas, Jay! Where's your holiday spirit?" Dick walked further into the room.

Jason watched as he glanced around. He knew that part of what Dick was doing was the same thing Jason did every time he entered a potentially dangerous situation. He was assessing the room for weapons and noting various escape routes. The rest was Dick just noting the distinctly depressing lack of holiday décor. No tree, no lights, no tinsel, no presents . . . Jason didn't do holidays. At least not since he had been Robin and lived at the manor.

He had only received one gift prior to that brief period that he could remember, and that had been from his mother. He wasn't sure of the time. It hadn't been Christmas, though . . . He thought it might have been summer . . . So, his birthday, maybe? An old, battered Frisbee someone had obviously discarded. They couldn't afford gifts, and then his mom had gotten sick. The Frisbee had been someone else's trash, but Jason had treasured the toy simply because his mom had given it to him.

His eyes automatically searched out the closet that hid the Frisbee from sight. He still had it. He kept it stuffed into a backpack with a few other sentimental and essential items in case he needed to bug out in a hurry.

Jason picked up his bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey and poured himself another fingerful of the liquor. "My holiday spirit is where it belongs," he retorted. "In a bottle, with my good friend, Jack, here."

Dick tilted his head at him; the annoying smirk still plastered on his face. "Christmas is all about family as well as friends. How about you coming over to the manor to share Christmas dinner with us?"

Jason snorted as he raised his glass.

"No," he said, and finished off the amber liquid; appreciating the subtle burn of the alcohol down the back of his throat.

"Come on," Dick insisted. "You can bring your friend Jack with you if you like."

"I said, No!" Jason slammed the glass down on the table with a bit more force than he had intended. "Go on! You can scurry back home now. You can tell everyone that you tried and I refused again. They'll understand. They'll probably be thankful."

Dick stepped closer. "No, they won't."

Jason frowned at the open door behind Dick's back. The idiot had forgotten to close it. The neighbors will likely complain because he had a feeling that this invitation was about to get loud.

"Yes, they will," Jason snapped. "Everyone knows what an asshole I am. They won't question it."

"No, they won't. You are a wanted man, Jay," Dick stepped closer, cautiously. "I'm sorry, but I'm obligated to deliver you."

The punch came out of nowhere, but Dick's reflexes kept it from connecting. He dodged the second and the third as Jason tried to herd him back toward the door.

Yeah, I probably could have worded that better, he thought in hindsight. No doubt Jay thought he had meant delivering him to the authorities rather than the dining room table.

Dick ducked under a fourth powerful blow; moving behind Jason. He was grateful that punch had not connected. It might have dislocated his jaw. Jason spun around and delivered a roundhouse to Dick's ribs that flung him back onto the coffee table. The sound of splintering wood was loud as the low, wooden table collapsed under his weight.

"You owe me a new coffee table, Dickhead," Jason growled before flinging himself onto the other man.

Dick rolled out of the way at the last minute. Using his elbow, he struck the back of Jay's head causing the younger man's face to connect intimately with what was left of his broken furniture. He sighed internally as he flipped to his feet.

I probably shouldn't have done that either, he thought, wincing at the sight of blood rushing from the other man's nose. This certainly wouldn't help calm the man down.

Jason swung his leg out and knocked Dick's feet out from under him. Dick landed with another thud, knocking what little wind he had been able to collect right back out of his lungs. He scrambled to regain his feet, however, because he couldn't afford any disadvantage when dealing with Jason. Dick's attention was diverted by movement in the hallway.

Elle . . . He saw her peeking around the doorway, wide-eyed and in shock.

True to form, Jason took advantage of Dick's momentary distraction to slam his fist into Dick's nose. The resulting crunch brought stars and tears of pain to his eyes, and forced him to stumble back.

Damn it! This made three times that Dick had his nose broken! He could feel that it was crooked as blood seeped between his fingers and dripped off of his chin. He cringed internally at the thought of Alfred snapping it back into place later.

Pushing his advantage, Jason grabbed Dick by the shirt and pulled him around. Although just breathing hurt like a mother-, Dick was able to block the next punch easily. Even through the stars, he could see that swing coming from miles away. Jason was either getting sloppy or he wasn't taking this fight all that seriously. Now that they were both bloodied, Dick suspected that the end of the tussle was drawing near.

Suddenly, Jason lurched as an unexpected weight landed on his back. Startled, Dick gaped at Elle clinging like a limpet to Jay's back. She had one arm wrapped around his neck and just slapped the crap out of his ear. Jason yelped and then cursed as he grabbed the arm and with a twist flung the weight violently over his head. Dick yelled and leapt across the distance, knowing he wouldn't reach her in time.

He watched helplessly as she connected with chrome and formica, 50's style dining table that had seen better days. The table withstood the impact as Elle's body slid across it, but then it and the chair on the other side toppled over and Elle disappeared behind the mass of falling furniture.

Shit, shit, shit! How could he have forgotten how she reacted when he and Bruce had sparred? Of course, she had refused to stay safely tucked in the car, but at least she might have stayed in the hallway while he and Jason went after each other. Crap! She must have freaked out at the sight of the blood gushing from his broken nose . . .

"Elle!"

"What the hell . . .?" Jason was yelling as they both rushed over. "That's not the replacement! You brought your girlfriend with you?"

Dick shoved Jason back as he skidded to a stop at the sight of his unmoving fiancée. He scrambled to her side. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms, but refrained at the last second. She could have something broken. His hands hovered helplessly over her for a minute as he fought to control his initial panicked reaction. Damn, he never lost it like this as a cop or as Nightwing! What was wrong with him?

"Elle, baby? Can you speak to me," he asked, crooning as he pushed back the tumble of her hair.

Her eye was swelling! Why was her eye swelling? Had she actually hit the table with her face?

Jason shoved the table out of the way and kneeled on the other side of her. "What the hell did she think she was doing, jumping on me like that?"

"She was trying to protect me from you, asshole," Dick snapped, angry in his fear.

"Protect . . .?" Jason gaped at the two of them. "Since when does the big, bad Nightwing need his girlfriend to protect his ass?"

"She's my fiancée now, idiot, and I don't! But she can't seem to help herself if she thinks I might need a hand," Dick grumbled. He lightly patted her cheek. "She decked Bruce just a couple of weeks ago when we were sparring in the Batcave."

"You're kidding! How'd B take it?" Jason glanced up surprised.

"He told people that he ran into a door trying to find the bathroom while intoxicated," Dick said, flashing him a grin.

"I'm always amazed that people buy his stories," Jason remarked.

"He's been cultivating his ineptness for decades," Dick murmured, as he checked Elle for broken bones. "Damn! How hard did she hit anyway?"

Elle groaned and swatted Dick's hand away. "Ow," she whined, struggling to sit up.

Assured that he wasn't complicating hidden injuries now, Dick scooped her up as Jason shoved his jacket and helmet off of the couch. Instead of laying her down, Dick sat with Elle in his lap. Her eyes still closed, she frowned even as she curled into him.

"Are you okay? Elle? Talk to me, Baby," Dick said as he cuddled her close.

Jason closed the door finally and then righted his table and chairs. Kicking the remains of the coffee table out of the way, he sat on the arm of the couch with a kitchen towel bunched against his face, and stared at the couple. This was so far from what he had been expecting in the way of the evening's entertainment, he was feeling a little shell-shocked himself. He tossed Dick a second hand towel.

"You're bleeding on her," he said; his voice muffled by the folds of terrycloth. The three of them looked a little worse for wear.

Dick nodded his thanks as he stemmed the flow of blood. "Elle?"

She sighed and looked up. Jason winced. The bruise was beginning to turn black and red, but the swelling wasn't actually obstructing her vision. It looked like she had hit her cheekbone and temple. Guilt swamped him. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He just hadn't realized that it had been Dickface's fiancée that jumped on him.

"I thought you were someone else," he said as a way of an apology.

She stared at him from where she was tucked under Dick's chin. Jason wiped at his nose, grimacing at the amount of blood the towel had absorbed. It was ruined. He only had the two hand towels. He would have to go out and buy a couple more tomorrow. Oh, wait . . . tomorrow was Christmas. Everything would be closed for the winter holiday. The day after tomorrow, then.

Uncomfortable with the unfamiliar feeling of guilt, Jason flared. "What were you thinking, jumping on me like that in the middle of a fight? You could have been hurt far worse, you know!"

Elle's silence was unnerving him.

He glanced up at Dick and noticed that he was walking the edge of a major freak-out. He was murmuring some kind of soft shit into her hair, rubbing her back, and generally acting like a mother bear with her cub. He snorted; earning sharp glance in his direction.

"So, are you . . .?"

Elle's voice was soft and quiet. He almost didn't hear her. Dick held her back so he could look at her now, but she just continued to stare at Jason. He squirmed a little bit.

"Am I what?"

"Are you going to come to dinner with us?"

Jason goggled at her. She just broke up a fight, was thrown across the room hard enough to knock her unconscious for a couple of minutes, and that's the first thing to come out of her mouth?

He choked. "You still want me to," he asked her, astounded. "Even after I just handed your boyfriend his ass?"

Now Elle glanced up at Dick. Amazingly enough, Dickface had calmed down after she started talking. He stopped his stupid crooning and just lifted an eyebrow.

It was Jason's turn to frown. He had the feeling those two were communicating somehow; kind of like how Batman and Robin would in the field. Hell, Bruce and Dickhead could do that across a crowded room. Jason had only just gotten comfortable enough and familiar enough with Bruce that they were developing that ability to communicate without words when Joker had killed him.

He didn't think Dick and Elle had known each other for long enough to be able to do that efficiently.

"Do you two finish each other's sentences, too," he asked sarcastically.

Elle smiled at him. She winced slightly at the pain the expression caused. "You didn't hand him his ass," she remarked. "He wasn't trying to fight you."

Jason looked down at the thoroughly-soaked towel in his hand. "Yeah, right," he snorted again, but managed to not grimace at the pain the action caused him. "If you just wanted me to come to dinner, what was all that talk about me being a wanted man and taking me into the cops?"

"I never said I was taking you to the cops," Dick retorted. "Elle wanted you to join us for Christmas, and I promised her I would try to get you to come."

Jason scowled. "That's not what you said."

Dick shrugged. The asshole. "That was what I meant. You just decided to take it the wrong way."

"Are you blaming me?" Okay, so maybe his voice was rising.

Elle interrupted what was promising to become another fight. "You never answered my question," she reminded him.

"What question was that," he asked, still glaring at Dickhead.

"Are you going to share Christmas with us," she asked calmly. "At the manor. With your family."

Now, she had his attention.

"They aren't my family," he snarled.

"Of course, they are," she insisted.

Jason looked back at Dick; this time curious rather than angry. "How much have you told her? What all does she know?"

Obviously she knew more than was safe if she had been in the Batcave.

"Most of it."

Jason tilted his head, feeling dangerously exposed and hating it. "Most of it?"

"I left out a few of the messier details," Dick replied. He might have been talking about grocery shopping for all the emotion he showed.

Anger flared anew. "What right did you have to share my story . . ."

"Are you coming," Elle asked in the middle of his tirade.

"NO!" He hadn't meant to yell, but now that he had . . . "NO! I'm not going to come over for fucking Christmas! They aren't my fucking family and we aren't going to bond over eggnog and Christmas carols!"

Elle blinked, but didn't cringe as he had expected her to. Not that he actually wanted her to be afraid of him, but . . . Damn it! He didn't want her pity or her friendship! He wanted nothing to do with the whole fucking lot of them!

"But your name is Jason Todd-Wayne, isn't it? Didn't Bruce adopt you, too?"

"What you're talking about . . . that was another life," Jason growled. "That kid is dead and buried!"

"No, he's not," Dick inserted gently.

"What the bloody fuck are you talking about now, Dickhead? Bruce buried me." Jason snapped.

The asshole just looked at him with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, not literally, obviously," he acceded, although he did so derisively.

"He didn't tell you?" Dick looked at him curiously.

Jason had only been back in Gotham for the last two years. He and Bruce hadn't exactly made time to sit down over a cup of tea. And he and Batman had barely managed an uneasy truce. In fact, Jason hadn't seen Bruce without the cowl, except on the news, since he returned. He didn't trust himself not to shoot the man.

"Guess he'll have to tell me whatever when we have our next heart-to-heart," Jason snarked.

Elle slid off of Dick's lap to sit between the two men. Dick ran his hand through his hair as he struggled with whatever he thought Jason should know. Jason crossed his arms and tried not to care about whatever revelation Dick was planning to lay on him now.

"Jay, Bruce never buried you," Dick began. "I mean, he placed what he thought was your body in the family mausoleum, but he didn't hold a funeral or announce it to anyone."

Shock made Jason's mouth drop open. "W-What?"

His anger, simmering below the surface, blew up, but this time was laced with a hurt he had believed that Bruce was no longer capable of inflicting on him. He especially didn't like realizing that Bruce still retained that kind of power over him.

"Jason, wait! Take it easy," Dick said quickly. "You don't understand why!"

"WHY?" Jason jumped up from his perch and threw his arms in the air. "I'll tell you why! He didn't care, that's why! Nobody fucking cared whether I lived or died. If Bruce did have a care, then Joker wouldn't still be alive today! I wasn't important enough for even a fucking funeral!"

Dick threw his bloodied towel down and jumped up, but he made no move toward him. Maybe the golden child was smarter than Jason gave him credit for.

"NO! That isn't the way it happened! Would you just shut up and sit down and let me explain it to you without you jumping to all the wrong conclusions?" Dick yelled back at him.

"What's there left to tell," Jason snarled back. "With me gone, Bruce was free to recruit the replacement. He and Joker could resume their fucked up dance over the corpses of a thousand Gothamites! Everyone is happy!"

"Goddamn it, Jason, that's not true and if you'd stop to think about it for longer than your two-second fuse allows, you'd see it!"

Dick took a step forward in his tirade, and Jason welcomed it. This time he would ship Dick home in a pine box and they would see how the big guy made a show of it when it was his Golden Child that kicked the fucking bucket! He was reaching for his guns before remembering he had taken them off and placed them on the kitchen table. The same kitchen table that had been knocked over. He spotted his holsters laying at the base of the refrigerator.

"Jason, stop . . . Please . . ."

Elle voice was soft; pleading . . . And he found himself turning to look at her.

"Please," she repeated, this time holding out her hand. "Don't do this . . ."

The sharp edge of his anger dulled, and he hesitated for a moment.

"There is more to the story than you or I know," Elle was saying. "Please. Sit down long enough to hear it. Don't you want to know the truth?"

His anger eased somewhat. Her voice was calming, but he didn't want to listen to either of them anymore. The stabbing pain in his chest erupted once more.

"I know the truth," he growled. "Time for you to leave now or else have to be removed later."

"Assumptions are not the truth," Elle said. "If no one truly cared, why would we be here?"

Jason paused for a second and then sneered. "Because Dickhead over there is wrapped around your finger."

"Jay, she's right. You don't understand what happened after you were gone."

Dick was calm again. It pissed Jason off that he was the only one raging and out of control. It was Dick's turn to take advantage of the momentary lull.

"Bruce was devastated when you died," Dick told him. "All of us were."

"Yeah. So much so that he tossed my coffin into a tomb and forgot about me." Jason swept a hand over a shelf, sending DVDs and books flying everywhere. "I bet my name's not even listed on the brass plate. Am I right?"

Dick's mouth tightened. "Yes. You're right."

"Fuck!" A second knife joined the first. He turned away from them. He wasn't sure he could control his expressions well enough. Anger was fine, but the pain . . .

"Jason . . . Jay, he couldn't admit you were gone."

"Didn't want to admit he had failed again and this time Robin was the one who paid the price . . ." He was proud and relieved that his voice didn't shake. He sounded angry; only angry.

"No! He . . . If he buried you; if he gave you a funeral, announced it in the papers and in the news, it would have made it real. Too real. Despite what you think, Jay, Bruce loved you; loves you still in his own screwed up way. He told people that you were going to school abroad as a way to explain your absence. It was only supposed to be temporary, though; until he could work through the worst of his grief . . ."

"I was gone for almost three years," Jason reminded him.

"Jay, this is Bruce we're talking about here," Dick retorted. "He doesn't handle grief well. Hell, he doesn't handle grief at all! I mean, look what happened after his parents died."

Elle's quiet voice broke the silence that followed that statement. "He became a bat."

Jason's bark of laughter came from nowhere and startled all three of them. She was right! Bruce handled grief and pain so badly that he dressed up like a fucking bat every night and has been terrorizing criminals for the better part of two decades!

Jason looked behind him and saw Dick smiling. Their eyes met and both of them started laughing.

"He became a bat," Dick repeated when he could catch his breath.

Jason hooted. "He became a goddamn bat!"

When things calmed down, Jason had to admit he was feeling a little bit better. The pain and anger were still there. It took more than Dick's revelation to erase the hurt that had been festering for the past five years, but the sharp edges of it had dulled. The fight, the yelling, and especially the laughter; it had helped. He no longer felt the urge to kill the golden child anyway. He was pretty sure it would return soon enough, but at the moment, Dickiebird could live to see another day.

Elle smiled at him when she asked yet again, "So, are you coming with us?"

Jason had to admit that he missed Alfred's cooking almost enough to shove his hard feelings into his back pocket just for a chance to eat one of his meals, but to give in after all of this . . . He sighed, rubbing his neck.

If she didn't look so damned hopeful . . .

Where did Dick find this chick?

"Not tonight," he said, finally. "No really," he assured them when both opened their mouths to protest. "Not tonight. Maybe . . ." Was he really going to say this? "Maybe tomorrow."

"Really?" Dick's mouth dropped open in shock.

Jason smirked. It was almost worth it to see that look on Dickface.

"Really?" Elle looked happy. She was apparently taking his 'maybe' for a 'definitely'.

"I said, maybe! No promises," he grumbled. He rolled his eyes at their hopeful expressions. "Honestly, how's it going to look to have some nobody showing up on Christmas Day?"

"But you're not some nobody," Elle argued. "You're family!"

"Jason Todd is dead," he reminded her, albeit gently this time.

"No, he's not," Dick said. "Jason Todd-Wayne is still alive. You can walk right back into your old life without any problem! Bruce never got around to declaring you dead. He kept putting it off longer and longer, as if by not admitting it, he could pretend you weren't gone."

Jason blinked. "I'm alive . . ."

Dick was grinning now. "Yep! And you're still one of Bruce's adopted sons."

Elle grinned next. "So, you two really are brothers!"

Jason gaped at her. Brothers?

"Wait! What?" He goggled at them.

Dick shrugged. "Bruce adopted me three years ago. He adopted Tim the year before that after his parents were killed. You have brothers now."

"And that demon brat that's wearing that weird-ass version of the Robin costume? His name is Wayne, too, I heard. Bruce adopted him as well?" Jason hadn't cared to look too deeply into what was happening at the manor. He had assumed that his replacement had sucked so badly that Bruce went looking for another kid.

"Actually, Damian's the real deal," Dick smirked. "His mother is Talia."

Jason choked. "Bruce and Talia . . . as in Talia al Ghul?"

Dick laughed. "Obviously you need to find better sources of information."

Jason frowned at him. "I do alright. I just wasn't interested in learning all about my replacement's replacement."

Elle looked thoughtful. "If Dick was the first Robin, wouldn't that make you his replacement? Then Damian would be the replacement's replacement's replacement."

Jason stared at her. Turning suddenly on his heel, he marched into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of extra-strength pain relievers out of the cabinet.

"This is giving me a headache," he muttered. Brothers . . . "Does Bruce even know you're here?"

"He gave us his blessing before we came," Dick smiled conspiratorially at Elle, but Jason's back was still turned so that he didn't see it. "We'd better be going. Alfred's going to have a fit, holding dinner for us for so long. You sure you don't want to come with? We set a place out for you."

"Nah! I'm fine here," Jason muttered. He dug out a carton of milk to take his aspirin with. He'd probably choke on them if he took them dry after the day's revelations. He needed to think about this, and he couldn't do that at the manor.

"Please. I hope you come tomorrow," Elle told him, and then added, "I bought you a gift."

Jason blinked. She bought him a . . . He glanced at the clock. He couldn't imagine she had had the time to buy one today.

That meant . . . she had planned to see him at Christmas before now. Must have been after they had been introduced last week, he decided. But he hadn't been at the party long enough for her to get to know him. Jason couldn't help wondering what kind of gift she could have possibly picked out for him.

Maybe Dickweed had helped her pick something out . . . Of course, he wasn't the same person he had been five years ago.

"Uh, yeah, sure . . .," he stammered.

When she brightened visibly, Jason quickly added a "maybe," caveat. The light in her face dimmed, but only slightly.

She seems to radiate light just like the golden child, he thought as he closed his door behind them and their ridiculous Christmas wishes. He wondered what everyone's reaction would be when the two of them showed up for the dinner sporting a broken nose and black eyes. He almost wished he had went with them to witness it. He moved into the kitchen to retrieve his guns. He might need them later if the rest of the family took exception.

Jason walked back over to the couch and picked the remote off of the floor. He finished kicking the coffee table remains to the side and sat down; flicking on the television as he laid his weapons beside him. Some lame Christmas movie was playing, but it could have been anything for all that Jason was aware of it.

He had brothers . . . Damn.

REACTIONS? I really, really want to know . . .

Ages in this: Alfred is 64; Bruce is 40; Dick is 24; Jason is 21, Tim is 18; Damian is 11 . . . Elle is 23.

A big thank you to all my readers! We have now hit 30,000 views as of 10-12-15 (The date that this chapter was published!) How exciting! You guys make it all worth while . . . To think this story would have sat in my computer without anyone reading it but me if not for Fan Fiction and all of you! But we aren't done yet - Not by a long shot! I've got enough plot for two more sequels; and this story has many more chapters to go yet as well.