The night was cold, even by Gotham's standards. Jason was use to it though. Living in Gotham your whole life you had to be. Jason loved patrolling alone. No bats to interfere with his job. Batman was out of town with Nightwing and robin. So far, everything was going fine. A sharp wind cut through the streets as Jason moved through the city, his boots silent on the rooftop ledge. The Red Hood had made himself known tonight, taking down a trafficking ring operating out of the East End. He was still catching his breath when he heard the low hum of approaching figures. He turned, hand already on his gun, when a blast of emerald light sent him crashing backward.

"Gotcha," a voice called.

Jason groaned, rolling onto his hands and knees just in time to see two figures land in front of him. Hawkman, wings folded but ready, stood with his signature scowl, his massive mace resting against his shoulder. Beside him, Green Lantern lowered his glowing ring, his face a mask of quiet authority.

Jason clicked his tongue. "Well, if it isn't Birdman and Glowstick. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hawkman's wings flared slightly. "You've been making a mess of Gotham."

"Who says you get to judge me," Jason shot back, rising to his feet.

John sighed. "You took out a warehouse full of criminals tonight. Normally, I wouldn't complain, but you left behind bodies. We don't tolerate murder."

Jason's fingers twitched. "They were scum. People who destroy lives, traffic kids, sell weapons to lunatics. You should be thanking me."

Hawkman stepped forward, towering over him. "You don't get to make that call."

"And you do?" Jason tilted his head. "Where were you when they were selling kids like cattle?"

Before either hero could answer, Jason moved. He reached for a smoke bomb, but before he could throw it, John's ring ignited and bound him in glowing green chains.

"Nope." John shook his head.

Jason gritted his teeth, struggling against the energy restraints. "You self-righteous—"

Hawkman swung his mace, slamming it into Jason's gut. He choked out a cough, doubling over as pain flared through his ribs.

"I don't have patience for punks like you," Hawkman growled.

Jason spat blood onto the rooftop. "Yeah? And I don't have patience for—"

Hawkman grabbed the front of his helmet and yanked it back hard. Jason's head snapped up, but before he could react, John reinforced the restraints, leaving him immobilized.

"Enough." John's voice was calm, but firm. He looked at Hawkman. "We take him in. Let the League decide what to do with him."

Jason scowled beneath his helmet. "Oh, this is cute. You guys gonna throw me in a space jail? Maybe give me a stern talking-to?"

Hawkman's eyes narrowed. "I'd like to see you smart-mouth your way through an actual interrogation."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Interrogation? That's funny, considering I'm not even the bad guy here."

"Save it," John said, lifting him into the air with the ring's energy. "You're coming with us."

Jason struggled, but there was nothing he could do as the world blurred into a streak of green light.

——

The Watchtower was sterile and quiet, the hum of machinery the only sound in the holding bay. Jason sat in a high-security cell, his hands still bound behind him. The League wasn't taking any chances.

Across from him, Hawkman paced while John stood with arms crossed.

Jason smirked. "So, what's the plan, gentlemen? You gonna monologue about justice and morality? Maybe shine a flashlight in my face until I confess to… what, exactly?"

Hawkman's expression darkened. "Funny."

John sighed. "Look, just tell us who you're working for. We know Red Hood's got connections to Gotham's underground. Who's pulling the strings?"

Jason let out a short laugh. "You two really don't do your homework, huh?"

Hawkman was on him in an instant. "Take your helmet off now!" Jason wanted to laugh but instead he did as he was told. Better for them to just get their way for now. Jason blinked as the cool air hit his face. For the first time, his captors saw him.

Hawkman stood silent. John's brows furrowed.

Jason tilted his head. "Oh, so now you're quiet.

"Just tell us who you're working with." Hawkman said

Jason rolled his eyes, wishing he was in the cave getting a lecture from Bruce. Even that was better than this bullshit. "First of all why the hell did you go all the way to Gotham? You know bats hates other heroes being there that aren't from there and second, bold of you to assume I don't work for myself."

"We don't answer to you but we noticed Batman is out of town and we like to keep a lookout for other heroes cities." John replied

Hawkman holder his arm over his large chest. "We understand you're an enemy of the bats and we can't have you running loose causing chaos."

Jason gritted his teeth and tried his best to remain calm. "As if you two are so damn perfect. You're suppose to be heroes yet you bound me and treat me like a bad guy when I did nothing wrong. Even if I did that gives none of you any right to treat me this way."

John frowned. "We have every right. You were killing people. We can't let that slide. You know we don't stand for that. Never have and never will."

"Those people were murderers, child traffickers, rapists. I might not be a hero but I sure as hell ain't gonna let those assholes get away with that shit."

"Hawkman purser his lips. "They would be better off if you turn them in. You're no better than they are."

"Yeah, what are you, a sociopath? You don't seem to show any sort of empathy at all."

Jason let out a chuckle. They couldn't be serious. "Are you fucking kidding me? Maybe if you didn't have so much empathy for rapists and murders you could actually get something done.

But before another word could leave his mouth, Hawkman's fist connected with his jaw. Pain exploded across Jason's face as his head snapped to the side.

"You want to be cocky?" Hawkman snarled. "Let's see how smart you are after a few more of those."

Jason's breathing was ragged, but his grin remained. He licked the blood off his lip. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

—

The Batwing cut through the sky, its engines roaring as Batman gripped the controls tighter than necessary. His face was carved from stone, but inside, a storm was raging.

"Still no word?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"Nothing," Tim's voice crackled through the comms. "Red hood's tracker was disabled an hour ago. He went radio silent right after a patrol in the East End."

Beside Bruce, Dick was tense, his arms crossed tightly. "That's not like him. He always checks in."

Damian sat in the co-pilot seat, frowning. "If he's been taken, he is likely being tortured." His tone was clipped, but the worry was there.

"Or something else has happened." Dick said, trying not to imagine losing his little brother again.

Bruce's jaw clenched. "Then we find him. Now."

Watchtower Holding Cells

Jason was barely conscious, his head lolling forward, blood dripping from his split lip. His ribs ached with every breath, his wrists raw from struggling against the restraints. His entire body screamed in pain. He was used to pain. But he never expected it to come from them.

Hawkman had backed off—for now—but Jason had lost count of how many punches had landed before that. John Stewart hadn't joined in, but he also hadn't stopped it.

The door hissed open.

Jason barely reacted as heavy footsteps approached. He assumed it was round two until a familiar voice cut through the haze.

"Who's in the cell?"

Jason's eyes flickered open as Superman stepped into view, arms folded, his usual warmth nowhere to be found.

"Some rouge from Gotham," John answered, rubbing his forehead. "Calls himself the Red Hood. Dangerous, apparently."

Clark frowned, stepping closer. His eyes glowed faintly as he took in the blood on Jason's face, the bruises forming along his jaw.

Then he saw him.

The breath left his lungs. His mind barely registered the way his hands curled into fists.

"Jason?" he whispered.

John and Hawkman stiffened.

Jason blinked sluggishly. "H-hey, Uncle Clark," he rasped, lips pulling into a weak smirk despite the pain.

Clark turned on Hawkman and John so fast the air crackled with static. His usual patience was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

"What have you done?" His voice was low, cold, but it boomed.

Hawkman stiffened. "He's Red Hood. We didn't know who he—"

Clark took a step forward, barely restraining himself. "You beat him while he was restrained?" His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body vibrating with controlled fury.

John exhaled sharply. "He was back talking and being disrespectful."

Clark's blue eyes were burning. "That's not an excuse."

The door opened again, and Diana stepped inside, having sensed the tension from across the Watchtower. She frowned at the sight before her. "What's going on?"

Clark turned to her, still bristling with anger. "They took Jason."

Diana's brows furrowed. "Bruce's Jason?" She looked past Clark and saw the beaten young man slumped in the cell. Understanding dawned. Her expression hardened. "What happened?"

Clark's nostrils flared. "They saw Red Hood. Assumed the worst. Took him in without knowing who he was. Then they interrogated him—violently."

Diana turned her sharp gaze to John and Hawkman. Her voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "Tell me you did not lay hands on a son of Gotham."

Neither man had an answer.

Jason let out a weak chuckle. "Don't be mad, Aunt Di. I was a bit of a pain."

Diana approached the cell, her expression unreadable. "That does not justify this." She shot a glance at Clark. "We're taking him out of here."

Clark nodded, already moving to release the restraints. "Bruce needs to know. Now."

As Jason sagged against Clark, his vision dimming, he heard his uncle's voice, calm but firm, speaking into his comm telling Bruce to get there asap.

—-

Jason wasn't sure how he got here.

One moment, he was bleeding in a cell, aching and exhausted. The next, he was in a quiet room, lying on an actual bed. The sheets were crisp.

He swallowed. He had no idea what was coming next.

Clark sat in a chair beside him, arms crossed, expression softer now, but still tight with anger. Diana stood nearby, hands clasped in front of her, her gaze watchful. Jason stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to focus on the dull pain rather than the question clawing at the back of his mind.

Would Bruce even want him back?

Sure, Clark and Diana were treating him like family, but Bruce was… Bruce. He followed rules. He didn't kill.

Jason did.

He exhaled sharply and pushed himself up despite the pain. "You don't have to waste your time, y'know," he muttered. "Bruce probably won't even speak to me. Not after what I've done."

"What do you mean? You didn't do anything wrong." Clark said but Jason knew he had.

"I did. Why do you think they brought me here? I killed some baddies and tried to act like it was nothing. Just business again."

"Stop."

Clark's voice was gentle but firm. Jason looked at him, and the expression on his uncle's face made something twist in his chest.

"You're his son," Clark said. "That won't change."

Diana stepped forward, her presence warm, grounding. "You doubt him because you fear his disappointment." She tilted her head. "But Jason, his love for you is greater than his disappointment. You are not lost to him."

"I've been lost for a long time." Jason responded.

"Just because you don't see eye to eye with someone doesn't mean they don't love you or that you don't deserve their love. Clark and I don't agree with your idea of justice but we will never abandon you. Neither will Bruce."

Jason swallowed hard. His fingers twitched on the sheets. "He won't just forget what I've done."

Clark leaned forward. "No, he won't. But he forgives you, Jason. He wants you home."

Jason didn't answer. Couldn't. He didn't trust himself to.

Before anyone could say more, the door opened.

Batman stepped inside.

Jason stiffened. His breath caught at the look in his father's eyes—anger, worry, but most of all, relief.

"Jason."

Jason swallowed, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "Hey, B," he said, trying for his usual smirk but failing miserably. Bruce crossed the room in two strides, sinking to his knees beside the bed. His hands hovered over Jason, as if unsure where to touch, not wanting to cause him more pain. His blue eyes, usually so unreadable, were stormy with emotion.

Jason licked his lips. "I—"

"You're coming home." Bruce's voice was raw, firm. "End of discussion."

Jason blinked, throat suddenly tight.

Bruce turned sharply toward Clark and Diana. "Who?"

Clark's jaw clenched. "Hawkman. John."

Bruce's nostrils flared. His hands curled into fists. "They beat my son." His voice was dangerously low. "While he was restrained."

Diana inclined her head. "They did."

Bruce inhaled sharply, composing himself—but barely. "They're done," he bit out. "Suspended. A month, minimum."

Clark nodded. "Already handled."

Bruce turned back to Jason, expression softening. "Let's go home."

Jason hesitated. "Are you… sure?"

Before Bruce could answer, another voice spoke up from the doorway.

"Of course, you idiot."

Dick Grayson strode in, exasperated but undeniably relieved. He moved to Jason's side, giving him an unimpressed look. "Do you really have to ask?"

Jason looked away. "I—I don't know."

Dick rolled his eyes before leaning down and pulling Jason up gently. "C'mon, Hood. You've got a family waiting for you."

Jason let out a breath, his weight settling against Dick as he helped him stand.

Bruce placed a steadying hand on Jason's shoulder. "We've got you."

"After what I've done?"

Bruce stood firm. "It's not you who should be sorry. I don't care what you did."

Jason's throat burned. He nodded, gripping Bruce's sleeve for just a moment before letting go.

Clark clapped a hand on his back. "If you ever need anything—"

Jason huffed a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Uncle Clark."

Diana smiled. "And me as well."

Jason glanced between them, then back at his father and brother.

For the first time in a long time, he let himself believe it.

He was home.