Working quickly, Bruce and Dick secure Joker's three gunmen and take down the purple jugs from the ceiling, locking them in a hallway closet. Tim simply sits there with Jason, keeping his good hand resting on Jason's arm, while Jason silently watches Bruce and Dick work.
Coming back in from the hall, Bruce immediately goes over to the Joker, hoisting the limp body over his shoulder. "Come on, boys," he says, his voice heavy.
Tim glances at Jason, who avoids his gaze. Worry encompassing Dick's face, he walks over to the two and helps them both to their feet, giving Jason's shoulder a gentle squeeze; Jason doesn't acknowledge the gesture or raise his head to look any of them in the eye. Grimacing, Dick glances up at Bruce, but Bruce just sighs and turns to the door.
They don't need to go down the hallway very far to realize that they're still in the Visitor Center. However, by the time they make it outside, they're surprised to see hundreds of GCPD officers all over the place, hauling Arkham inmates back towards the asylum's cell blocks.
Upon seeing the crowded grounds, Jason shrinks back into the shadows of the Visitor Center's overhanging roof, the nervousness on his unmasked face clear. Dick and Tim immediately move in front of him, shielding him from sight.
"Batman!"
Bruce turns his head to see Commissioner Gordon hurrying up to them, disheveled and weary in his appearance.
"Are you alright, Jim?" Batman asks.
"Yes, I'm fine." Gordon gives a quick, unconcerned wave of his hand. "As is Sharp." He glances behind Batman for a moment, his brow creasing as his gaze falls upon the boy being hidden by Nightwing and Robin. But he doesn't question it, and reverts his attention back to Batman. "GCPD arrived not too long ago, and they finally got us out of that damn cell block. Said they had to wait until all of Joker's bombs were found before they could come onto the island. Of course, all of the bombs turned out to be fakes." Gordon nods his head at the Joker. "I see you've got things under control with him."
"He's got a mild shoulder wound," Bruce says. "He'll need medical attention."
Gordon scrunches up in his nose in disgust. "He doesn't deserve it, but…" Turning, Gordon waves over some medics that had come onto the island with the GCPD. "Get him out of here," Gordon says.
The medics nod and reluctantly take the Joker from Batman, putting him on a stretcher and then heading towards the Medical Facility.
Gordon shakes his head. "Apparently some of Joker's men were loading a couple dozen crates onto a boat at the island's docks when GCPD got here. They're filled with some kind of chemical containers."
"It's called Titan," says Batman. "It's an enhanced form of Venom; Joker was making it at a lab in the Botanical Gardens. Make sure your men retrieve every sample." Batman gestures to the boys behind him. "We were able to make an antidote though." He looks at Nightwing expectantly.
Nightwing hurriedly digs into his utility belt, and lets out a small sigh of relief as he pulls out he vial. "It's the only sample we have left," he says, handing it over to Gordon.
Gordon inspects the vial with interest. "I'll make sure it gets to the right people safely," he promises, pocketing it.
"I know you will," Batman says.
"Thanks for all the help," says Gordon. "But I think we can handle the rest."
Batman hesitates. "If you need anything…"
Gordon gives a worn smile. "I know how to contact you. Thanks."
It's clear that Bruce would've liked to linger longer, to make sure that everything was truly under control, but a look back at Jason and Tim seems to change his mind, and he leads them away from the openness of the courtyard. With neither Tim or Jason having grappling hooks, they have to head back to the Batplane on foot; keeping to the shadows, they manage to get to the plane unnoticed. Soon enough they're flying back towards Wayne Manor.
Not much is said during the ride home. Jason is quietest of all, ignoring all worried looks cast his way. By the time they pull into the Batcave, it's nearly five in the morning. But nevertheless, both Alfred and Dr. Leslie are waiting for them.
"Where's Barbara?" asks Dick, glancing about the cave.
"I sent Miss Barbara home," replies Alfred. "Once you were all safely on your way back, there was no reason for her to stay at such a late hour."
Dick nods, though he can't help but look slightly disappointed.
"Boys, sit on the hospital beds," instructs Dr. Leslie. Alfred comes forward and prods them all towards the med bay, keeping his hand gently pressed to Jason's back as they walk over together. Dr. Leslie looks over at Bruce as they follow, concern in her eyes. "Are you injured?"
"No," replies Bruce. "Just focus on them."
Her expression grim, Dr. Leslie goes over to the cabinets lining the wall of the med bay and pulls out the necessary supplies. She tends to Tim first, wrapping his wrist in a cast and giving him an ice pack for his black eye. Dick's burns are re-lathered in healing ointment and then covered in new bandages. As for Jason, at first he doesn't give her very thorough answers to her questions, seemingly more content with just being left alone. But after heavy persuasion from both her and Alfred, and her insistence that the obvious limp he had come in with is something needing checking, Jason finally gives in and peels off his boots and pants, allowing Dr. Leslie to inspect his hip.
"Well," she finally says. "Luckily it's only been bruised, and not fractured. Severely bruised though, so I'd rather you keep off of your right foot as much as possible for the next few days."
"Sure," Jason mumbles.
Alfred hands the boys pajamas to change into, and Dr. Leslie takes a blood sample from each of them before finally moving onto Bruce. Fortunately, all he has is some dark bruising and a few deep cuts, so it doesn't take long to tend to him. Even so, by the time they're done, Jason has already fallen asleep, covered by a thick blanket and being watched by both Dick and Tim, who sit on the middle bed together.
Dr. Leslie folds her arms, frowning at Bruce. "I want all three boys to stay in the med bay tonight."
Dick and Tim glance at each other, and Tim gives a small shrug, absentmindedly running a hand over his cast.
Not responding, Bruce rubs a hand across his forehead, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
Dr. Leslie's frown deepens. "Bruce, I'm serious when I say they cannot go on patrol until they are fully healed. They shouldn't have even been allowed to go out in the first place tonight. Dick's burns haven't even begun to heal –"
"I had them wrapped up," points out Dick.
"You shush," Dr. Leslie says, jabbing a finger at him. Dick snaps his mouth shut obediently, looking a tad flustered. Dr. Leslie continues, her annoyance at Bruce evident. "Tim's wrist has taken severe damage due to the abuse it underwent after it had already been broken. And Jason," Dr. Leslie looks absolutely furious now. "It's a miracle his hip wasn't fractured, again. Not to mention the smoke inhalation from yesterday, the antibiotics I gave him, Crane's toxin, Titan, the antidote…it's far too much for the body to handle in such a short timeframe. I'm shocked he stayed conscious for as long as he did. Truthfully, he should be monitored at a hospital."
"No," Bruce says firmly. "He's staying here."
"Then you're staying down here with them, for the rest of the night," snaps Dr. Leslie. "You are going to watch them, and do exactly as the instructions I leave with you say."
Bruce frowns. "I had no intention of leaving them alone."
"Good." Spinning on her heel, Dr. Leslie goes over to the med bay's counter and snatches up a piece of paper, which she all but thrusts into Bruce's face. "These are the directions I've written down, along with the medication designated for each of them. Follow it exactly." She looks over at Dick and Tim. "Dick, you are not to go on patrol for two weeks; your burns should be mostly healed by then. Tim, in six weeks we'll check on your wrist's progress and make a decision then. If you two try anything before then, so help me…"
The boys smile nervously. "We won't, Dr. Leslie," Tim assures her. "We promise."
Dr. Leslie watches the two of them for a moment, her eyes softening in obvious affection. But she quickly sobers as she glances over at the sleeping figure in the bed next to Dick's. "And Jason…" She hesitates, her shoulders sagging somewhat. "For now, Bruce…keep him off of patrol. I'll check up on him later this week, and we'll talk then."
An uneasy expression crosses Bruce's face as he looks at Jason.
Dr. Leslie lets out a sigh and walks up to Bruce, laying a hand on his arm. "They'll be fine," she says gently. "I just…don't want to see you or the boys taking unnecessary risks."
"We love you too, Dr. Leslie," Dick says teasingly.
Dr. Leslie shakes her head at Dick, her lips curving upwards in amusement. Then she gives Bruce a pat before pulling away. "Alfred," she says, walking over to the Batcave's staircase. "Make sure they don't do anything stupid."
"As I always do, Dr. Leslie."
Once Dr. Leslie is gone, Bruce sets the paper she had given him on the small table between Jason and Dick's beds. "Alfred, get some sleep," he says. "We'll be fine here."
Alfred hesitates, but then gives a small nod. "If you need anything, sir…"
"Thank you, Alfred. But just get some rest."
As Alfred heads upstairs, Bruce pulls the computer chair over to the med bay, letting out an exhausted groan as he sinks into it.
"Bruce?" asks Dick.
"Go to sleep, you two," says Bruce tiredly.
Exchanging a glance with Dick, Tim finally crawls off the middle bed and climbs into his own. Sleep comes to the boys soon enough, leaving Bruce to quietly watch over them in their slumber.
/
A few hours later, Bruce is dozing in his chair, his head propped up by his hand. His cowl and cape had been dropped to the floor earlier, though he had neglected to change out of the rest of his Batman suit. When the first moan reaches his ears, he twitches awake, blinking sleepily at the fuzzy outlines of the beds in front of him.
Wincing at the pain his stiff neck gives him as he sits up, Bruce frowns into the darkness, trying to place where the sudden sound had come from.
"Pl…se…"
Jason. He's not surprised, but it bothers him all the same to hear the familiar sounds brought on by Jason's nightmares. Grimacing, Bruce stands and groggily makes his way across the cold floor, squinting into the dimness as he approaches the bedside.
Jason's forehead is scrunched up, his eyebrows drawn together in an expression of discomfort. Twisting beneath the sheets wrapped around his legs, Jason lets out another low groan, pressing the side of his face into the pillow.
"Jason?" Bruce says in a hushed voice.
Jason jerks suddenly, as though startled or…receiving a blow. He begins to toss restlessly, and his breathing starts to escalate, his panic evident.
Bending over, Bruce reaches out, laying a hand on Jason's arm. The moment Bruce touches him, Jason's eyes shoot open. Snapping his head up, Jason sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the dark figure standing above him. A second passes, and upon recognizing who it is, he seems to calm somewhat.
Bruce sits on the edge of Jason's bed, concern on his face as he brushes Jason's forehead with the back of his hand. "You're alright, Jason."
Jason nods, his breathing evening out as he glances about the med bay. Embarrassment brings a slight redness to his cheeks, and he turns so that he's partially facing away from Bruce.
For a moment, Bruce is unsure what to say. He's hesitant to push, for fear of Jason's reaction, but he can't sit there and not speak at all. "Jason, do you…want to talk about it?" He finds he's not certain if he's asking about the nightmare, or about Jason's actions at the Visitor Center.
Jason bites his lip. They simply sit for a while, with Jason staring into the darkness and Bruce resting a hand on the boy's arm. Dick rolls over in his sleep, and the rustling of his bedsheets suddenly seems oddly loud. Besides the gentle hum of the computers, the only other sounds filling the air are the soft breathing of Tim and Dick, and the faint scuttling of bats deep within the shadows of the cave.
"I wanted to kill him."
The whispered confession catches Bruce off-guard. When it finally registers, a chill runs down Bruce's spine.
"I tried," continues Jason. He doesn't move, doesn't turn to face Bruce. "I was aiming for his heart, but…Scarecrow's toxin, Titan, the antidote…I couldn't think, couldn't focus." Jason pauses. "I wanted so badly to kill him. I still do."
Unease pools in Bruce's stomach as he sits there; Jason still has not moved to look at him, as though fearful to do so.
"Bruce," he says quietly. "Do you…regret taking me in? Do you regret making me Robin?"
The question brings both surprise and sorrow to Bruce. "No," he says, his voice heavy with sincerity. Reaching out, Bruce lays a hand against the top of Jason's head, stroking the boy's hair. "No, Jason. Don't ever think that."
Jason shifts, wiping a hand across his eyes in a swift motion.
A sharp aching tugs at Bruce's chest, and he moves closer, dropping his hand so that it rests on Jason's back. "Jason, no matter what happens, you'll always be my son. Don't ever doubt that."
Jason doesn't say anything, nor does he turn to face Bruce. Not sure how to continue the conversation, Bruce lets silence fall between them. It seems like a long time before Jason finally falls back asleep; even then, the tenseness in his body does not lesson much. Too conflicted to feel very tired anymore, Bruce stays by Jason's side for hours after.
/
"I don't know what to do, Alfred."
It's late afternoon. The boys had woken a little after noon, and once they had eaten a large lunch provided by Alfred, were prompted by the butler to get some fresh air. They're in the grounds behind Wayne Manor now, all occupied by various activities. Tim sits in a lawn chair, working on his school research paper, though his usual ferventness given to his projects seems to be lacking. Kneeling in the soft soil of the gardens, Dick pulls out overgrown weeds with an unusual quietness. Jason sits further away from the two, leaning against a tree trunk and reading a rather thick-looking book.
Bruce and Alfred stand on a balcony branching off of one of the Manor's higher floors, watching the boys intently. A pained expression takes on Bruce's face as he talks, and his eyes do not leave Jason. "Jason's rage, his unruly emotions…they worry me. Now more so than ever."
Alfred glances down at Jason sadly. "Considering all that the boy has gone through, they are not surprising to see in him."
"But they are concerning nonetheless." Bruce gives a sigh. "His indifference to killing is…unsettling. Nothing I've said has been successful in changing his mind, and I doubt it would be any different now. He tried to murder the Joker, Alfred. He shot him."
Alfred hesitates. "Though I do not agree with Master Jason's actions, we must try to see this from his perspective. What that madman did to him, along with all the horrors he's witnessed, prior to him meeting you, and after –"
"Are you saying that me making him Robin is a part of this?"
"Taking the boy in and giving him structure was something Master Jason desperately needed," Alfred says carefully. "However, I do believe that being surrounded by so much constant violence is weighing too heavily on him. He cannot continue on like this, Master Bruce. He needs to heal, emotionally and mentally, and allowing him to go back to the Gotham Knight will not help accomplish that."
"He'll never give it up willingly," says Bruce. "His hip will be fine in a few days, and then nothing short of me locking him up with stop him from going out there. He's almost…obsessed with getting rid of the scum poisoning Gotham's streets, no matter how much it wears on him."
Alfred raises an eyebrow. "Rather like his father, is he not?"
Bruce shoots a frown in Alfred's direction. "We're not talking about me, Alfred. This is about Jason."
There's a beat of silence before a sigh escapes Alfred. "Though I do not enjoy suggesting it, perhaps…it may be best for him to get away from the city in its entirety."
His brow creasing, Bruce looks over at Alfred. "What?"
Alfred shifts, reluctant to answer. "Gotham is slowly destroying the boy – his growing ruthlessness is proof of this. Getting away from it all…perhaps it will lift some of the darkness embedded so deeply within him."
Bruce's hand curls over the edge of the balcony railing. "But…he needs me, Alfred."
Stepping up to Bruce, Alfred lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "He needs relief, and I do not believe that is something Gotham can give."
For a long minute, Bruce does not say anything. A deep sadness settles into Bruce's eyes as he watches Jason, and he finally draws in a low breath. "I'll talk to him. Not today though. Not…not yet."
"Of course, Master Bruce." Alfred withdraws his hand. "I should go prepare supper; I'll inform you when it's ready."
Bruce doesn't reply. With a slow shake of his head, Alfred turns away and heads inside, leaving Bruce alone on the balcony. Running a hand through his hair, Bruce closes his eyes, vainly trying to think of alternative to the solution put before him.