Jason was still as the grave, his face pale and forehead drenched in sweat. Doctor Katz had assured Bruce they were doing everything they could to keep his fever down and fight off the infection but that it would take time.
Jason was still as the grave, his face pale and forehead drenched in sweat. Doctor Katz had assured Bruce they were doing everything possible to keep his fever down and fight off the infection, but it would take time. Time—Bruce hated that word right now. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, and there was nothing he could do except sit here and watch his son fight a battle he couldn't help with.
He ran a hand through Jason's hair and turned The Complete Jane Austin Collection to the next page. It seems they were now on Persuasion—one of Jason's favorites.
Bruce cleared his throat and began, "Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt, as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century…"
The door creaked, interrupting their reading and Bruce didn't need to look up to know it was Alfred. The older man's footsteps were as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, always a steady presence when things seemed darkest. Alfred moved to the side of the bed, his gaze flickering from Jason to Bruce.
"How is he?" Alfred asked softly, though his eyes already held the answer.
Bruce let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He dog-eared the page, something Jason would have surly scolded him for, and sat the book down on the bedside table. "No change," he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. "They're doing what they can, but the fever won't break. Katz says it could take days for the infection to clear. Maybe longer." Bruce's voice faltered slightly, betraying the exhaustion and worry that weighed on him. He stared down at Jason, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a small victory but also a painful reminder of how fragile his son had become.
Fragile was not a word he would have ever used before to describe Jason, for all that he was only four foot six, he was larger than life. He'd been smaller than that when he attacked Batman with a tire iron after stealing the wheels of the Batmobile. He faced down monsters like Two-Face, Killer Crocker and the Joker, all while wearing a shit-eating grin. No, he never would have described Jason as fragile, before.
Alfred stood beside him in silence for a moment, his eyes soft with unspoken sympathy. "Master Bruce," he said gently, "you've done everything you can for him here. Now, perhaps it's time to take a step outside of this room."
"I'm not leaving him," Bruce replied sharply, not even glancing up. The edge in his voice surprised even him, but the thought of stepping away, of not being there when Jason might need him—it was unbearable.
Alfred sighed quietly, but there was no reproach in his tone. "I understand, sir. But sitting here, watching over him, isn't all you can do. Master Dick has located our missing friend. He is keeping tabs on him as we speak."
In other words, Dick had found Willis Todd and likely stuck a tracker on him. Knowing Dick and how Bruce had trained him, probably some kind of recording device as well. It's what Bruce would have done.
Alfred tidied the blanket covering Jason. "He may have answers—answers that could help us understand what happened to Master Jason."
"I promised I wouldn't leave him," Bruce said, though the conviction in his voice was already fading. Alfred was right, and he knew it. He could feel it gnawing at him, pulling him toward the streets, toward action. It was very much unlike him to sit and do nothing.
"You aren't leaving him alone, Master Bruce," his voice calm and unyielding, "I'll be right by the boy's side while you attend to Master Dick and your friend. But you, sir, need to be out there where you can make a difference. You can do more good for him on the streets than you can in this hospital room."
Bruce looked down at Jason, his heart heavy with guilt. Every part of him screamed to stay, but he knew what needed to be done. With a slow, measured breath, he stood, his body rigid with the weight of his decision. "I want updates," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Alfred smiled. "That goes without saying, sir. Now go find Master Dick and get the answers we so desperately need. Master Jason is in good hands." And he would be, Bruce knew. For all that he was only a beta, Alfred was the most capable human Bruce knew, and he adored Jason as if he were his own grandson.
Bruce took one last look at his son, his expression hardening into the familiar mask of determination. He leaned down, brushing a hand gently through Jason's dark hair. "I'll fix this," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "I promise."
Without another word, Bruce turned and headed for the door. As he did, he could hear Alfred continue reading where he left off.
Bruce moved through the hospital corridors, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, the weight of the decision to leave Jason behind still hanging over him. He knew that being with Jason wasn't enough—that he needed to be out there, fighting to bring down the people responsible. But it didn't make the choice any easier.
As he stepped out into the cold Gotham night, the city greeted him with its familiar bite of chill, but Bruce was unfazed. His mind was already shifting into mission mode, pushing aside the guilt and focusing on the task at hand: finding Willis Todd and figuring out just how deep this went.
He couldn't help but think of Jason. The boy deserved a second chance, a chance to heal and return to the life Bruce had tried to give him. And that meant Bruce needed to believe in second chances too—even for someone like Willis Todd, who had abandoned his son years ago.
The Batmobile roared to life as Bruce sped through the streets. He'd promised himself long ago that he wouldn't let Gotham's darkness consume him completely, that he'd leave room for redemption. But this situation was testing him. Willis was part of Jason's past, a reminder of the pain and hardship Jason had endured. But now that man was back, and Bruce couldn't ignore the possibility that Willis might know something that could save Jason.
As the city blurred past, Bruce's thoughts shifted to Dick's report. Willis had been found at Ma Gunn's School for Boys—a place steeped in corruption, a breeding ground for Gotham's worst criminals disguised as a sanctuary for troubled boys. Willis had gone there for help, and that meant Ma Gunn was likely involved.
Bruce parked the Batmobile a few blocks away, choosing to approach silently. The run-down building that housed Ma Gunn's operations loomed in the distance, its dilapidated exterior barely hiding the rot within. The place had always been a front for crime, and if Willis had gone there, he was deeper in trouble than Bruce had initially thought.
Perched on a rooftop near the school, Bruce spotted Dick, standing vigilant in the shadows, watching the building below. Nightwing didn't turn as Bruce approached, but his voice carried clearly in the cold night air.
"Willis is inside, talking to Ma Gunn," Dick said, his gaze still locked on the building. "He's desperate, Bruce. You can hear it in his voice. I don't know if he's looking for help or running from something bigger, but he's scared."
It had to mean something: Willis was going to Faye Gunn for help. She'd told him when he first left Jason with her before taking him in, that there was no love lost between her and her son. They hand't spoken since Jason was barley more than a toddler. He had to be desprate to reach out to her.
Bruce nodded, his jaw tightening. "He should be scared," he said quietly, though there was no malice in his tone—just the cold, hard truth. "But I need to believe he's trying to make things right. For Jason."
Dick glanced at Bruce, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. "You really think he can help? After everything?"
"I believe people can change," Bruce replied, his voice resolute. "I have to. If I stop believing in that, I stop being able to help anyone. Including Jason."
Dick didn't argue. He understood Bruce's philosophy, even if it wasn't always easy to follow. They had seen it before—people like Selina, Harvey, even themselves. Gotham could break people, but sometimes, they could come back from it.
"We go in quiet," Bruce said, his mind already calculating the next steps. "We find out what Willis knows, and we make sure Jason's not caught in the crossfire again."
With a silent nod, Dick followed Bruce as they descended toward the building's back entrance. The shadows seemed to cling to them, making their approach almost invisible. Inside, the stench of decay and neglect filled the air, but Bruce's focus was singular. They moved through the hallways, their footsteps silent on the cracked floorboards.
As they neared the central office, they heard voices—familiar ones. Willis's voice trembled with desperation, while Ma Gunn's was calm and cold, filled with the casual cruelty she had perfected over the years.
With a silent nod, Dick followed Bruce as they descended toward the building's back entrance. The shadows seemed to cling to them, making their approach almost invisible. Inside, the stench of decay and neglect filled the air, but Bruce's focus was singular. They moved through the hallways, their footsteps silent on the cracked floorboards.
As they neared the central office, they heard voices—familiar ones. Willis's voice trembled with desperation, while Ma Gunn's was calm and cold, filled with the casual cruelty she had perfected over the years.
"So much for motherly love," Dick whispered.
Bruce's lips tightened as he and Dick moved closer to the office, carefully staying within the shadows. Willis Todd's voice echoed faintly through the cracked door, thick with desperation.
"You have to help me, Ma," Willis pleaded. "I didn't come back for redemption, but Jason's in trouble, and I can't fix this alone."
There was a long pause, followed by the sharp sound of Ma Gunn's bitter laugh. Bruce heard it clearly, a cruel edge that made his blood simmer.
"Help you? After all these years, you come crawling back to me for help?" Ma Gunn's voice was harsh, mocking. "You couldn't even keep the boy safe yourself, and now your asking me for help?"She laughed again. "You were a lousy son and looks like you're a lousy father. You're just as useless as ever, Willis."
Bruce's heart hardened, watching Ma Gunn's words twist like a knife. For all her faults, her cruelty wasn't wrong about one thing: Willis had left Jason. Left him to fend for himself in the streets where so many things could have happened and might have happened if Jason hadn't decided to steal Batman's tires.
Despite that, Bruce still believed that people could change. He needed to believe it, especially for Jason's sake.
Willis's voice cracked. "I know I left him. I know what I did. I couldn't keep him safe but at least I can get revenge. It's like you always said, Ma. If you can't catch the rat before he double-crosses you, you can make sure he pays for it afterward."
Revenge wouldn't heal Jason, and it wouldn't undo the damage that had already been done.
There was a long pause, broken only by Ma Gunn's disdainful voice. "Revenge, huh?" She chuckled darkly. "You think revenge is gonna fix what you broke? There's no going back from a bitching Willis and there's no cure for that drug. Either. Kid's a lost cause."
Bruce had heard enough.
He stepped forward silently, the cracked door creaking open as his imposing figure filled the doorway. The room went cold as the air thickened with tension. Willis froze, his back stiffening as he recognized the presence behind him without turning around. Ma Gunn, seated behind her desk, narrowed her eyes, her mocking grin faltering at the sight of Batman.
"Batman," she greeted, her voice attempting to regain its biting edge. "You've got a knack for showing up at the worst moments."
Bruce didn't respond immediately, his gaze burning into Willis's back. "You want revenge, Willis?" Bruce's voice was like gravel, low and full of restrained anger. "You think that's going to protect your son?"
Willis finally turned to face Bruce, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination. His voice trembled. "I don't know what else to do. I can't change the past, but I can make them pay for what they did to him."
And who's they?" Bruce asked sharply, his tone cutting through Willis's despair.
Willis swallowed, hesitating before he spoke. "I've been hearing things—about a guy named Rico. He's tied up in some nasty business. They're pushing that new drug, Venari. From what I've heard, it's not just any drug—it changes people. My son, Jason… he got caught up in it. All because of me."
So the drug had a name! Venari. And this Rico was one of the players. Bruce's fists clenched at his sides, holding back the frustration that threatened to boil over. Venari—a drug that had not only harmed but fundamentally changed Jason. Willis's words hit hard, and Bruce struggled to keep his composure, knowing that every moment Jason remained in the hospital was a consequence of Willis's involvement.
Willis stood there, his face pale and filled with guilt, completely unaware of the man beneath the mask. "I didn't know, Batman," Willis stammered, his voice cracking. "I tried to stay out of his life. Thought it would be better if I wasn't around. But when I got mixed up with Rico's people… they went after Jason to get to me. They bitched him, and then they drugged him up with that Venari stuff. They did all of it to hurt me through him."
Bruce stood still, his cape barely moving in the dim light of the room. The fury in his chest burned hotter with every word. Willis had abandoned Jason, and now, because of that abandonment, Jason had been dragged into something far darker than either of them had anticipated.
Ma Gunn let out a sharp laugh, interrupting the heavy tension in the room. "You're just figuring that out now, Willis?" she sneered, leaning back in her chair with a knowing look. "Of course, they went after Jason. Weakness is a liability in Gotham. You left him vulnerable, and Rico played his hand."
Willis flinched at her words; guilt etched deep into his face. "I know I failed him."
Bruce's eyes flicked to Ma Gunn for a brief moment, his patience thinning. She'd always been one to twist the knife, and right now, Willis didn't need her cutting remarks. He stepped forward, looming over Willis, his voice low and controlled.
"You want to help Jason?" Bruce said, his voice cold, each word like a hammer. "Then give me everything you know about Rico. Where he is, who he's working with, and how we take him down."
Willis's head jerked up, and he nodded quickly, eager to prove he could be useful. "Rico's running his operation out of The Viper Pit on LeMaire Avenue. It's a strip club. He's got a lot of protection around him, and he's not just a small-time dealer. There's talk of him working for someone bigger—someone with power."
Dick, who had remained quiet through most of the exchange, spoke up now. "Who's pulling the strings?"
Willis hesitated, glancing nervously at Batman and Nightwing. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, "I've heard Black Mask's name mentioned a few times. I don't know if he's involved for sure, but if Rico's working for him, it means Jason's tangled up in something way bigger than I realized."
At the mention of Black Mask, Bruce's jaw tightened. Roman Sionis was one of Gotham's most brutal and dangerous crime lords, a man with no moral boundaries and a vast criminal empire at his disposal. If Black Mask was behind this Venari operation, Jason's life—and many others—were in even greater danger than Willis could possibly imagine.
Ma Gunn's grin widened, her voice dripping with amusement. "Black Mask, huh? Oh, Willis, you've really done it this time. You've dragged your boy into something that even I wouldn't want a part of."
Dick shot her a sharp look. "You seem to know a lot about this, Ma. What else aren't you saying?"
She shrugged casually, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I've heard whispers, that's all. Rico's been getting bold, and people say he's getting the backing he needs to expand. You take down Rico, and you might find yourself facing something much worse. But hey, I'm not in the business of charity work. Whatever happens, it's your mess now."
Bruce took a step closer to Willis, his towering presence making it clear that this was far from over. "You're going to help us take Rico down. This isn't about your redemption or your revenge. This is about stopping the man who's responsible for what happened to Jason—and preventing it from happening to anyone else."
Willis nodded, his face pale but determined. "I'll do whatever you need."
Bruce turned toward the door, and his decision was made. "We hit The Viper Pit tonight. Rico can't stay hidden forever."
As Bruce moved toward the exit, Ma Gunn called out after him, her tone still dripping with mockery. "Good luck with that, Batman. Gotham's a place where second chances don't come easy. Even for the great Batman."
He ignored her, his mind already on the next steps. He motioned to Nightwing, and they stepped out into the cold Gotham night, leaving the bitter shadows of Ma Gunn's domain behind.
As they reached the street, Bruce glanced at Willis, his voice hard but measured. "You want a second chance to help Jason? Don't get in my way."
Willis gave a small, determined nod, understanding the weight of what was at stake. This wasn't just about fixing his past mistakes.
As the Batmobile roared to life, Bruce knew the next move was critical. Rico needed to be stopped. But if Black Mask was involved, this wouldn't be a simple takedown. Jason's life was on the line, and Bruce would do whatever it took to keep him safe.
And no one—not Rico, not Black Mask, not even the city itself—would stand in his way.