It had been three days since the surgery. It had taken hours. Jason had lost a lot of blood, they said. The doctor lamented that although his organs were coming in nicely, Jason may never be able to have pups, not under normal conditions.
They'd had to do extensive surgery, and the doctor was worried that the removal of genital tissue would change the microfauna in the vagina, making it less hospitable to sperm and more susceptible to infection. He warned that the botched purfication could lead to block fallopian tubes, which could cause infertility.
He seemed more concerned with Jason's fertility than his overall health. It was as if Jason was an omega now, and that was what was important. At his wit's end, Bruce had punched the doctor squarely in the face and broken his nose.
He might have been kicked out of the hospital and arrested if he'd been anyone else. But considering his father's name was on the cardiac ward and his company was the single largest contributor to the hospital's research center, it had been allowed to slide and a new doctor was assigned to the case, a female beta.
The sterile hospital room was stifling, the air thick with the weight of days spent in waiting and fear. Bruce hadn't left Jason's side since the surgery, watching every rise and fall of his son's chest, every beep of the machines that kept him tethered to the world. He couldn't bring himself to leave, not even for a moment. Jason was still unconscious, still so fragile after everything. Bruce couldn't shake the image of his son on the operating table, the doctors working frantically to save him. They'd told him it was a miracle Jason had survived at all.
The doctor's cold assessment of Jason's fertility had been the last straw, pushing Bruce past the breaking point. He had heard enough, more than enough, of the clinical detachment and sterile concern that ignored the deeper pain, the trauma his son had endured. The punch had felt cathartic in the moment, but it didn't change the reality they were facing. Jason was alive, but the damage went so far beyond what the doctors could treat. It cut deeper than any physical wound.
Now, as Bruce sat in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed, he couldn't stop replaying it all in his mind—every moment he had failed Jason, every sign he had missed. His mind kept going back to the night of Jason's disappearance, to the days he had spent in Corto Maltese while his son had been suffering. The guilt was suffocating, but he couldn't allow himself to break. Not now. Not when Jason needed him to be strong.
Bruce reached out and took Jason's hand in his own, squeezing gently. The boy's skin was pale, and cool to the touch, but his pulse was steady beneath Bruce's fingers. Jason had always been strong. He had survived so much already—surviving the streets, training as Robin, every dangerous mission they had taken on together. But this… this was something Bruce wasn't sure how to help him with.
"Jay…" Bruce whispered, his voice rough from exhaustion and emotion. "I'm here. I'm not leaving you, not again. We're going to get through this. I swear it."
There was no response, just the quiet hum of the machines. But Bruce kept talking, kept holding Jason's hand as if his words alone could anchor his son to the world.
His scent had changed these last few days. Jason's scent used to be sharper. The milky puppy scent encased behind leather and gasoline, growing stronger every day as he grew into a mature alpha. Now the smell still held the milkiness of youth, but the gasoline and leather were gone, replaced by peach blossom and brown sugar—an omega's scent. Bruce feared the loss of the milkiness was next to come, and his pup had to endure his first heat.
He'd never seen them for himself. The last omegas in his family had been a great-uncle on his mother's side and a great-great-grandmother on his father's. He'd never courted one, either. But the way Alpha's talked about them, Bruce shuttered.
Bruce turned back to Jason, his eyes lingering on his son's still form. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the machines. The need for action clawed at him. Every second spent waiting felt like a second wasted, a second Jason's attackers got away with what they had done.
Before Bruce could respond, there was a gentle knock at the door. A nurse stepped in, followed closely by the new doctor—a female beta with a calm, reassuring presence that Bruce had come to appreciate in the days since the surgery. She was methodical, focused on Jason's recovery, and hadn't once mentioned his fertility, something Bruce had been grateful for.
"Mr. Wayne," the doctor greeted softly, nodding toward Alfred as well. "I've come to check on Jason's progress. May I?"
Bruce nodded, stepping back from the bed. "Of course."
The doctor moved closer, her movements precise but gentle as she began checking the monitors, adjusting a few settings here and there. Bruce watched her carefully, his mind still restless, but there was a small comfort in seeing someone who genuinely seemed to care for Jason's well-being.
"How is he?" Bruce asked after a moment, his voice low, almost hesitant.
The doctor finished her adjustments before turning to face him, her expression serious but not unkind. "Jason's stable for now," she said, her tone professional but understanding of Bruce's concern. "The surgery went as well as could be expected, but it's going to be a long road. We're monitoring the infection closely, and while we're seeing signs of improvement, we can't let our guard down."
No, they couldn't.
Bruce didn't ask about Jason's mental state; he already knew. He had seen firsthand what the drug did—how it stripped away everything, leaving its victims with nothing but their most primal instincts, running on autopilot.
The doctor didn't need to explain what would happen when Jason woke up. Bruce had seen it in the other victims. Jason's mind, his brilliant, sharp mind, had been reduced to a shadow of itself. All that was left would be fear, confusion, and instinct.
As the doctor finished adjusting the machines, she gave Bruce a measured look. "He's stable for now," she said softly, "but this will take time. His body is still fighting the infection, and we'll keep monitoring him closely."
Bruce gave a stiff nod, his jaw clenched. He appreciated the updates, but the truth was, he was waiting for something that went beyond physical recovery. The Jason who would wake up from this wouldn't be the same boy he'd raised, and that thought gnawed at him more than any report about infection or healing.
The door opened again, and this time, Dick walked in. He looked rough—his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion and worry. He moved toward Jason's bed, his eyes going wide as they fell on his brother's still form. For a moment, he just stood there, staring, unable to speak.
"Dick," Bruce greeted him quietly, stepping back to give him space.
Dick nodded his head. He walked over to the doctor and held out his hand. "Dick Grayson," he said, "Are taking good care of my little brother."
The doctor flushed a little and ducked her head. Dick has that effect on people, voted in 17 Magazine's Top 10 Hottest Betas since he was 16 years old. She quickly composed herself. "I'm Doctor Katz." She said. "And I'm doing my best."
Bruce cleared is throat. "Doctor Katz," Bruce said, a hint of authority in his voice. "Can you give us a moment? We need some privacy." Dr. Katz Nodded.
She didn't ask questions; she knew the pain this family was dealing with and that sometimes, space was the best medicine.
"Of course, Mr. Wayne," she said quietly. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."
With a final glance at Jason's vitals, she gathered her things and exited the room, leaving Bruce and Dick alone with Jason.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the weight of everything they'd been holding back seemed to settle even more heavily on their shoulders. Bruce turned to face Dick fully, his jaw clenched tight, eyes flicking between his eldest son and the unconscious boy on the bed.
"How's he doing?" Dick's voice cracked slightly as he stepped closer to Jason's side, his hand hovering above his brother's still form. He didn't dare touch him yet, afraid of disturbing the fragile peace of the room. "I mean… physically?"
Bruce exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with a tired hand. He hadn't slept properly in days, and it showed. "The surgery went well. They managed to stop the infection and repair the worst of the damage. But he's not out of the woods yet. His body's recovering, but it's… slow."
Dick nodded, though it didn't seem like the news gave him any comfort. He kept his eyes on Jason, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. "And… mentally?" He didn't need to ask more than that—both of them knew what the drug did to its victims, reducing them to nothing but their primal, hindbrain instincts.
Bruce's face hardened a grim acknowledgment of the truth they were both struggling to accept. "When he wakes up… he's not going to be the same, Dick. The drug… it's taken almost everything from him. He'll be scared. Confused. Operating on nothing but instinct."
The words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on both men. Dick turned away, running a hand through his hair, frustration boiling just beneath the surface.
Dick took a deep breath, trying to shift his focus from the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. "I've been digging around, like you asked. About the drug."
Bruce's eyes snapped to him, the ever-present tension in the room sharpening as Dick shifted the conversation to their mission. "Anything useful?"
Dick nodded but looked grim. "A few leads, but nothing concrete. The people we caught at the docks were just the bottom rung.
The drug itself is probably being manufactured somewhere in Gotham. We just have to find where. Whatever this stuff is, it's not like anything we've dealt with before. It's a synthetic compound—bioengineered to suppress cognitive functions and leave only the most primal instincts. That's why the victims are all…"
Bruce's jaw tightened as he filled in the blank. "Reduced to nothing but their hindbrain."
Dick nodded. "Exactly. It doesn't just target the mind, though. There's a hormonal component, too. From what I gathered, the drug affects alphas and omegas differently. For alphas, it increases territorial aggression and of course, the sex drive. With omegas… it amplifies their instincts, reducing them to a hyper-reactive state. That's what makes it so dangerous in traffickers' hands. You could either get a fighter ring or adding a heat inducer, a brothel."
Dick took a breath, already knowing that Bruce was aware of the connection between Jason and Willis. "You know they targeted Jason because of Willis. What I've found just confirms it."
Bruce nodded, his gaze never leaving Jason's unconscious form. "The thugs made it clear they were using him to settle a score with Willis. But is there anything new?"
"Yeah," Dick said, stepping closer. "It's not just about settling old debts. It's bigger than that. From what I've heard, they wanted to break Jason specifically because he's Willis Todd's son."
Bruce's jaw clenched. He had already guessed that Jason was caught in the middle of a larger scheme, but hearing how deliberate it was, how methodical, stoked the fury simmering beneath the surface.
"He was the perfect target, given his background. Not just because he's your son, but because of Willis and what that name still means to certain people."
Bruce's eyes darkened. "Willis's enemies wanted to hurt him, but they hurt Jason instead."
Dick nodded. "They thought they could destroy Jason—break him down until there was nothing left. And they thought it would break Willis in the process to see what happened to his kid. Willis has a big mouth and liked to brag about his alpha son."
Bruce was silent for a long moment, his thoughts churning. He had already been furious at what was done to Jason, but knowing the full extent of the plan only deepened his resolve.
"Any other leads on where the drug is being manufactured or distributed?" Bruce asked, shifting into mission mode.
Dick hesitated. "I'm tracking down a few leads. There's talk of off-world components, which would make sense given the complexity of the compound. It's bioengineered, designed specifically to target alphas and omegas differently. But as for the source? Nothing solid yet."
"Keep digging," Bruce said, his voice cold and deadly. "I want to know who's behind this. And when we find them, they'll regret their drug had anything to do with this. Operations like this won't be tolerated in Gotham."
Dick's eyes hardened. "You can count on it. I'm not letting this go."
The silence between them hung heavy with the weight of what had happened and what was to come. Dick placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, a quiet show of solidarity.
"I'll keep looking for Willis too," Dick added. "If he's alive and involved in this somehow, I'll find him. I'll make sure we get to the bottom of all of this."
Bruce nodded, his gaze returning to Jason. "Whatever it takes."
Something flickered in the air. Static. The sweet scent was souring. Fear! Both Bruce and Dick both immediately turned their heads toward Jason.
Jason's eyes shot open, wild and unfocused, his body stiffening as his instincts took over. Bruce had prepared himself for this—he knew what the drug had done, reducing his son to little more than primal instinct. But even knowing didn't make it any easier to watch.
Bruce leaned forward slightly, his voice low and calm, but there was no expectation of recognition. "Jason, it's okay. You're safe." He knew the words meant nothing to the boy in this state, but speaking them felt like the only thing he could do.
Jason's body trembled, his muscles twitching in response to stimuli he couldn't process. His breathing was shallow, rapid, as though every breath was a struggle. His eyes darted around the room, not seeing Bruce, not understanding the safety of the sterile hospital environment. The fear that emanated from him was palpable, raw, as if every nerve in his body was on edge, ready to react to a threat that no longer existed.
Bruce kept his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to reach out. He knew touching Jason now would only frighten him more. This was what the drug had done, and Bruce had been warned about this moment. He knew Jason would wake up with nothing but his hindbrain—no rational thought, no recognition, just the pure, primal drive to survive. And right now, his body thought it was in danger.
"It's okay," Bruce repeated softly, though his words fell flat in the room's thick silence. He had expected this reaction, but that didn't lessen the knot of frustration and helplessness tightening in his chest. The boy in front of him was a shadow of the Jason he knew—a Jason who had been sharp, sarcastic, and full of life. This Jason was reduced to little more than instinct and fear, stripped of the mind that made him who he was.
Dick stood by the door, watching with a pained expression, unsure of how to help. He had been bracing for this moment, too, but seeing Jason like this in person was far worse than any warning could have prepared him for.
"Do we sedate him again?" Dick asked his voice tight with concern.
Bruce's heart raced as he watched Jason thrash in the bed, his body trembling uncontrollably, the terror in his eyes only growing. His son was lost in a storm of instinct and fear, his mind ravaged by the drug. The thought of sedating him had been out of the question, but now, watching him like this, Bruce couldn't stand the idea that Jason might hurt himself. His breathing was shallow, his pulse erratic. Every moment felt like it could be the moment something went terribly wrong.
Bruce clenched his jaw and made the difficult decision. "Dick, go get Doctor Katz. Now."
Dick hesitated for a brief second, torn between staying and following Bruce's orders. But he saw the urgency in Bruce's eyes and nodded sharply, turning on his heel and heading out of the room without another word.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Bruce moved closer to Jason, fighting the urge to reach out and restrain him. "Jay, it's me. You're safe. I need you to calm down."
Jason's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with shallow, rapid breaths. His limbs twitched, and his eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, not registering anything around him. His hindbrain was in control, and it didn't understand safety—it only knew fear, only knew survival. He was running from something Bruce couldn't see, something that wasn't there.
Bruce had faced down the worst Gotham had to offer, but seeing his son like this—reduced to nothing but a shell of the person he'd been—shook him in a way nothing else had. Every instinct in him screamed to protect Jason and help him, but there was no enemy to fight, nothing to stop.
"Jason, I'm here," Bruce said softly, his voice low and steady, even though inside he was unraveling. He reached out slowly, carefully, and took Jason's hand in his, applying just enough pressure to try and ground him, to keep him from hurting himself. "I've got you. It's okay."
Jason's body tensed, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps, but Bruce didn't let go. He kept his voice calm, even as his heart pounded in his chest. "Listen to my voice, Jay. You're not alone."
Bruce knew the words likely meant nothing to Jason right now, but he had to keep talking, had to keep trying. He could see the strain in Jason's body, the way his heart was racing, and the terror in his eyes. He was afraid Jason's body wouldn't be able to handle it much longer—he couldn't lose him now, not like this.
He scented him again. Running one wrist down the scent gland on Jason's neck and, with the other hand, running fingers through Jason's sweaty hair. "Easy Jay Lad. Easy…"
Jason sniffed the air. He was still whimpering, but his thrashing at the very least, had stilled. At least he wouldn't pop any stitches. Bruce forced a smile, forcing out the fatherly love and protection in his scent like he might after any hard patrol.
"That's my Jay-Lad," he said, leaning down to Jason's ear and whispering, "Good job, Robin."
The door opened, and Doctor Katz entered with Dick close behind. Her face was calm, but there was urgency in her movements as she quickly approached the bed.
"Mr. Wayne," she said softly, assessing the situation. "We need to sedate him before he exhausts himself."
Bruce gave a tight nod, stepping back just enough to give her space but still holding Jason's hand. "Do it," he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Dr Katz nodded and walked over to the IV. Jason inclined his head. The heart monitor beeped heavily as his heart rate increased. He started to thrash. Bruce gently grabbed his son's chin and forced him to look at him.
"It's okay, son. It's okay."
Dick walked over. He grabbed one of Jason's hands, rubbing his wrist against his brothers—the faint beta scent of hazelnuts and fresh earth of brother and safety filled the room.
Doctor Katz was able to draw the needle out of her pocket and push the medication into Jason's iv. She smiled. Dr. Katz finished her checks, ensuring Jason's vitals were stable, and then she turned to Bruce with a soft, understanding expression. "He's resting now," she said gently. "If anything changes, don't hesitate to call me. I'll be close by."
Bruce nodded, not really looking at her, his entire focus on Jason. Dr. Katz didn't linger. She quietly gathered her things and, after one last glance at Jason, left the room. The door clicked softly shut behind her, leaving Bruce and Dick alone with Jason.
The silence stretched for a moment before Dick cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. "Bruce… how are you holding up?"
Bruce didn't look away from Jason, his hand still resting on his son's head. "I'm fine," he said flatly, though the exhaustion and strain were evident in his voice.
"Doesn't look like it," Dick said softly, stepping closer to the bed. He looked down at Jason, his brother's still, fragile form tugging at his heart. "This… it's not your fault, you know."
Bruce clenched his jaw, his eyes dark, shadowed with guilt. "I should've been there, Dick. I should've known. He's my son. I should've protected him."
Dick shook his head, his tone gentle but firm. "You can't be everywhere. You did everything you could."
"That's not enough," Bruce snapped, the sharpness in his voice surprising even him. He immediately softened, his face crumpling under the weight of his own emotions. "It's never enough."
Dick reached out, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "We're going to get him through this, Bruce. We're going to find out who did this and make them pay."
Bruce's grip on Jason's hand tightened. "When he wakes up… he's not going to be the same. You saw what that drug does. He'll be… reduced to nothing but his hindbrain, Dick. His instincts. Fear, confusion… I don't know how to bring him back from that."
Dick's expression hardened. He knew the truth of Bruce's words, but he refused to let despair take root. "We will. We'll find a way. Jason's strong—stronger than most people give him credit for. And he's got us. He's not alone."
Bruce swallowed hard, the weight of the responsibility settling on him like a crushing force. He wanted to believe Dick, but the fear gnawed at him. Jason wasn't just hurt; he was lost in a way Bruce had never seen before.
But Bruce knew one thing with absolute certainty: he wouldn't give up on his son. Not now, not ever.