Happy New Year! I hope you had a wonderful year and the next one is greater!
The news hit hard, leaving Jason and Roy reeling. Batman was dead. Panic took hold, and everything around them seemed to blur as the weight of the loss settled on their shoulders.
Roy's mind raced with worry for Dick, one of his closest friends. How could he support him through this? Batman wasn't just a mentor; he was Dick's dad. The thought of Dick facing this grief again, losing another father figure, left Roy feeling helpless.
As Roy struggled with his own turmoil, Jason was dealing with his own emotional storm. He had purposely distanced himself from Batman, steering clear of the cape and cowl. Yet, Bruce's death hit him harder than he expected. He was flooded with questions, none of which he could answer. Why did this hurt so much? How would he cope with the void left by a father he had consciously avoided?
The conflicting emotions inside Jason felt like a storm. The decision to keep his distance from Batman had been a way to protect himself from their complicated relationship. But now, faced with the reality of Bruce's death, the walls Jason had built seemed to crumble. The grief he thought he had moved past hit him with a force he hadn't anticipated.
Roy's words landed heavily on Jason as the reality of Batman's sacrifice set in. The room felt thick with grief and disbelief, with each of Roy's words digging deeper into Jason's heart.
"Bats… he went out fighting," Roy said, his voice a mix of sorrow and admiration. "They were up against Darkseid, and things went south fast."
Roy went on to describe the events at Command D, and the tension in the room grew thick. Jason's jaw tightened as he listened, picturing Batman breaking free and using the Radion bullet with the kind of determination only the Dark Knight could muster.
"He got Darkseid with that Radion bullet," Roy continued, his gaze fixed on Jason. "But Darkseid wasn't going down easy. Used his Omega Beams. It was quick. Batman took one for the team."
The finality of Roy's words lingered, leaving Jason struggling with a wave of emotions. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he faced the reality of Bruce's death. The internal battle escalated, pushing him close to a panic attack. The vulnerability he felt was intense, and the realization that Bruce was gone made Jason question his own emotional defenses.
"But his sacrifice… it wasn't for nothing," Roy added, nodding solemnly. "Wonder Woman took down Darkseid, finished what Bats started. Not sure Bats would have liked her killing in his name… but at least Earth is safe from Apokolips. Superman brought his body back to Wayne Manor."
Jason's gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of loss and the stark reality of a world without Batman. The void in Gotham, in the Justice League, and in Jason's heart felt more pronounced than ever.
Roy, sensing Jason's turmoil, offered a supportive look. "I'm here for you, Jay."
The sound of a ball hitting the floor broke the heavy silence in the backyard, catching Jason and Roy's attention. They turned to see Damian standing there, his grip on the ball slack. Shock mirrored in Damian's eyes, reflecting the disbelief that Jason and Roy felt. Billy and Lian stood frozen, confusion and concern etched on their faces. Damian, however, seemed to bear the weight of the revelation most acutely. His small frame shook, and his usually sharp eyes were filled with a vulnerability that struck deep.
"Father can't be dead," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with denial. His gaze locked onto Jason and Roy, searching for confirmation or reassurance that this was all a terrible mistake.
Roy exchanged a pained look with Jason, their shared understanding clear. They had shattered Damian's belief in his father's invincibility. The mix of emotions on Damian's face—disbelief, grief, and a touch of betrayal—was almost too much for Jason to handle.
"Dami," Jason began softly, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual strong demeanor. "We didn't mean for you to—"
Damian's reaction was immediate. His face twisted, and he turned away, his emotions threatening to overflow. It was rare to see the young Zamurad on the verge of tears, and it weighed heavily on Jason.
"I don't believe it," Damian muttered, his voice raw and reflecting the depth of his emotions.
Lian, sensing the somber mood, took a careful step toward Damian, her small hand reaching out in comfort. The myth of Batman's invincibility had been shattered, and the reality of loss pressed heavily on Damian.
Hidden away on Infinity Island, the news of Batman's death rippled through the secretive halls of the League of Shadows. The League, a shadowy group shaped into a deadly force under Ra's Al Ghul and now led by Talia Al Ghul, found itself in a rare moment of deep thought.
Normally disciplined in their reactions to big news, the League members took the news with a calm exterior. But underneath, there was a wave of introspection. Batman, despite being their foe, was a figure who commanded respect. His skill and determination had earned him admiration even from those who opposed him. The shock of his death hit hard, making them face the reality that even the strongest can fall.
Their way of mourning, if you could call it that, was through their usual training. Blades clashed with rhythmic precision, the usual dance of shadows continuing. Each member honored Batman in their own way, turning their grief into an even greater drive for perfection.
In the heart of Gotham, the city seemed to reflect the emptiness felt by the Batfamily. The same streets that had seen their victories and struggles now witnessed their quiet sorrow. Gotham, always a city of shadows, seemed to mourn alongside its protectors.
Stephanie, in her Spoiler costume, moved with robotic precision through the dark alleys. The steady thud of her boots on the wet pavement was a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Each jump across the rooftops was a way to escape the crushing reality that Batman, the rock of their family, was gone.
Cassandra, in her Black Bat gear, moved with lethal grace. Every action showed off her years of training and the pain of losing someone who was more than just a mentor. Underneath her mask, the determination on her face hid the raw hurt. The night's silence seemed to echo her inner struggle.
Oracle, guided them from the shadows with a cool efficiency. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, directing her team from behind the scenes. The glow of the computer screens lit up her face, but it couldn't hide the turmoil inside. Each keystroke and every surveillance sweep was a way to push the grief aside. They threw themselves into their work, hoping the intensity of their crime-fighting could drown out the fact that Batman was no more.
In their nonstop fight for justice, Spoiler, Black Bat, and Oracle found a kind of refuge in their routine. It was a way to escape the grief that threatened to overtake them. But no matter how fast they moved or how intensely they patrolled, the truth lingered like a shadow, haunting them. The absence of Batman loomed large, and no amount of heroics could chase it away. The weight of their shared pain was always there, hidden behind their masks and capes.
In the quiet halls of the League of Shadows, Talia Al Ghul stood lost in thought. The shadows around her seemed to mirror her grief as she faced the reality of his death. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, now betrayed a deep sadness that cut through her icy exterior.
Bruce, the man she'd loved with a passion that was both fierce and complicated, was gone. Their relationship had been a tangled mix of love and conflict, and hearing about his death hit her hard, stirring up memories of their tumultuous past.
As she wrestled with the finality of Bruce's death, Talia's mind kept drifting to her sons—Damian and Jason. Billy was on her mind too, though he wasn't tied to Bruce in the same way. The thought of her sons dealing with this loss only deepened her sorrow.
Nika Al Ghul approached, her steps careful and respectful. Talia looked up and nodded. "Nika," she said softly, her voice a blend of warmth and weariness. "Thanks for coming."
Nika, her face a mix of sadness and resolve, offered her condolences. Talia accepted the gesture with a nod, her appreciation clear.
After a moment of silence, Nika spoke up. "Aunt Talia, may I go see Jason, Damian, and Billy? I want to support them and share in their grief."
Talia's gaze softened, and she offered a small, genuine smile. "Of course, Nika. They're carrying a heavy load right now, and your presence might bring them some comfort."
Nika bowed her thanks and left to find her cousins, leaving Talia to her thoughts.
Nyssa, who had been quietly observing, broke the silence. "The world outside these walls will soon feel Batman's absence. It's going to shake things up, and not just in the shadows."
Talia nodded, acknowledging the truth of Nyssa's words. Batman's death would make the Justice League vulnerable, opening the door for enemies and opportunists to take advantage.
"Without Batman, the League will look like an easy target," Nyssa continued. "We can't ignore the potential for attacks or internal strife."
Talia frowned, reflecting on the situation. "The League's problems will only get worse. As much as we work from the shadows to improve things, we need strong figures in the light. The brighter the light, the bigger the shadow it casts."
In the quiet halls of Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth moved like someone carrying a load heavier than just physical exhaustion. Every step felt weighed down by years of service and loss, but today, it was even tougher—he was dealing with the grief of losing not one, but two people he cared about deeply.
The grand mansion seemed to mock Alfred's sense of emptiness. Instead of reflecting the wealth of the Waynes, the polished surfaces seemed to echo with the laughter that used to fill the place. Jason, his grandson, and Bruce, who'd been like a son to him, were now just memories lingering in the rooms.
The usually composed butler found himself struggling with a storm of emotions. Alfred had seen enough of the Wayne family's heartache to last a lifetime, but each new loss felt just as fresh. Losing Jason, so young and full of potential, and Bruce, the closest thing he'd had to a son, left him feeling adrift in grief.
As Alfred placed a cup of tea on the antique table, his hands shook. What used to be a comforting ritual now felt empty and tasteless, overshadowed by the weight of his sorrow. He'd served countless cups of tea to the family, taking solace in those moments. But with Jason and Bruce gone, the absence of familiar faces made the void even more apparent.
Sitting alone in the dim library, where Jason had often retreated with his favorite books and memories, Alfred felt the chill of loneliness. The quiet, once soothing, now seemed to echo with the sadness of his heavy heart. How many more loved ones would he have to say goodbye to in the name of fighting crime? How many sacrifices would the Wayne family be expected to make before justice felt balanced?
Outside, the world kept moving, and the clock on the mantel ticked on, indifferent to Alfred's grief. With his shoulders heavy from sorrow, Alfred struggled to keep going. It felt like the world's endless demand for sacrifice was erasing pieces of his heart, and he wondered how much more he could bear before there was nothing left.
The silence crackling on the line was thick with unspoken doubts. Talia's usually strong, assured voice wavered. "Jason, abni," she started, her words carrying the weight of a thousand questions. "Did we mess up by keeping Damian away from Bruce?"
Jason leaned back in the shadows of his room, trying to keep his tone steady. "T, you know as well as I do that Batman's world isn't meant for a kid. Damian deserved better than to be another child soldier. We did what we thought was right."
"Did we, though?" Talia's voice was laced with regret and a touch of defiance. "He had a chance for a father, for a real family, and we took that from him. Maybe we misjudged Bruce's darkness."
The city's distant hum played in the background as they both pondered. "Talia, you've seen what that life does to people. Damian's not just anyone; he's your son, my little brother. We kept him from a fate we know all too well."
A heavy sigh traveled through the call. "But what if he needed to go through that to understand who he really is?" Talia's question was a challenge to their decisions.
Jason's response was calm but firm, colored by his own past. "He's better off not knowing that world. We gave him a shot at being more than just an heir to the League of Shadows or a pawn in Batman's game."
Their conversation swung between regret and certainty, like a dance of conflicting emotions. Talia's voice, once so commanding, faltered. "Jason, what if we took away a part of him? What if he ends up resenting us for keeping him away from his own father?"
Jason didn't respond immediately, letting the silence stretch. "Maybe he'll thank us one day for sparing him from the chaos of being a Wayne. Maybe he won't. But we did what we thought was right, Talia."
The call ended with a click, leaving the room filled with lingering questions and the weight of their choices for Damian.
Roy was waiting in Jason's room, bracing himself for what was about to come. When Jason's door creaked open, a sob tumbled out. Jason stumbled into Roy's arms, and Roy immediately started rubbing his back and planting gentle kisses on his forehead.
Wrapped in Roy's embrace, Jason let go of the carefully built emotional wall. All his bottled-up feelings and frustrations came flooding out, making him feel like he was being swept away. Roy's steady hold was the only thing keeping him grounded. Tears flowed freely, and the salty taste of grief was sharp on his tongue as he struggled to breathe.
He had once channeled his anger at Bruce—resenting the impossible standards, the constant disappointment, and the way Bruce was never fully present. He was furious at Bruce for criticizing his methods when Bruce had done far worse as Batman.
Now that Bruce was gone, there was no one left to be angry at. What was left was the painful realization that his anger was misplaced. They clung to each other, the minutes or maybe hours blurring together in their shared grief. The pace of mourning was a strange mix of relentless and sluggish, and through it all, Roy's embrace stayed solid and comforting.
"Bruce gave everything for the world," Jason finally said, his voice cracking as he admitted something he hadn't wanted to. "He's not the terrible dad I thought he was, and I... I don't know how to handle that."
Roy's response was unexpected. "I don't think that's true."
Jason looked up, confused. "Wait, what?"
"You don't have to convince yourself Bruce was perfect to grieve him," Roy said calmly, meeting Jason's wide eyes with his own steady gaze. "I've seen how he treated Dick, the mistakes he made with you, and how he kept messing up with Tim. One big sacrifice doesn't change a lifetime of flaws. He never learned from his mistakes. Believe me, I know."
Jason paused, considering Roy's words. His view of Bruce had always swung from hero worship to disappointment and anger. Bruce had been a giant he admired, but over time, the pedestal had cracked under constant letdowns. He had to choose between loving or hating Bruce, so he leaned into the anger, blaming him for everything, including his death and return.
Then, a realization hit him. Maybe he didn't have to pick a side. Maybe he could mourn Bruce without labeling him as just a good or bad parent. What if he could simply grieve for the father he lost? What if Bruce could be seen as flawed but still deserving of sadness for his violent end? It was a tough truth to face, but Jason was starting to see things differently.
Before he could respond, a yawn escaped him. Roy's eyes softened, and he gave Jason a gentle smile. "You need some sleep."
Roy's cool fingers wrapped around Jason's wrists, guiding him gently. Jason followed, his exhaustion taking over, and let Roy lead him to bed, trusting him completely.
In the Batcave, surrounded by blinking screens and gadgets, Tim Drake was stuck in denial. The news of Batman's death, delivered by the Justice League, just wouldn't sink in. Instead, a fierce determination burned in him, cutting through the gloom that filled the cave.
Dressed in his red and green Robin suit, Tim moved with a single-minded focus, reflecting his refusal to accept the official story. The monitors flashed with data as he pored over every clue, chasing after a truth that seemed to elude the rest of the Batfamily.
He couldn't believe that Bruce Wayne, Gotham's Dark Knight, had fallen to Darkseid. To Tim, the man who had shaped him into Robin and been a brilliant strategist, couldn't just be another casualty in some cosmic clash.
The Batcomputer buzzed with a flurry of algorithms as Tim sifted through piles of reports and details about Batman's supposed death. His fingers flew across the keyboard, tearing apart the League's account piece by piece. He was piecing together a story that didn't match the official version.
As Tim peeled back layer after layer of deceit, a spark of hope flared inside him. He refused to accept that his mentor was gone. Bruce was out there somewhere.
Lost in time but still alive.
In his room, Damian wrestled with a whirlwind of emotions that seemed ready to pull him under. His usually sharp and decisive thoughts were now tangled with doubt and regret. As he ran his fingers over the old League of Shadows book he clutched, he couldn't help but question his decisions. He had hidden his intense curiosity about the man behind the Batman mask, keeping his feelings to himself. He didn't want to stir things up with his family by showing his desire for a connection with Batman.
Now, with the reality of Batman's death hitting him hard, Damian couldn't shake the questions swirling in his mind. Did he make the right choice? Was giving up his chance to know Batman a noble sacrifice or a huge missed opportunity? Did he choose his family's happiness over possibly having a father?
The weight of these thoughts was heavy on Damian's shoulders. For the first time, the boy who was supposed to be the heir of the League of Shadows found himself tangled in an inner conflict. As he stared at the shifting shadows on his walls, Damian wished he could turn back time and reconsider his choices. He felt the deep pain of losing a father he never even got to meet.
Billy, sensing something was off, slowly made his way to Damian's room. The air in the room felt thick with unspoken sadness. Damian, slouched in a shadowy chair, looked up as Billy entered.
"Hey, Dami," Billy said softly. "I know this has got to be really hard for you."
Damian gave a small, reluctant nod. Billy, understanding the weight of grief, sat down next to him, offering quiet support.
"I lost my parents too," Billy said, his voice tinged with old pain. "After that, it felt like I didn't fit anywhere. Like I'd never have a family again." Damian listened intently, feeling the sincerity in Billy's words. "But then I met you and Jason. You guys became the family I thought I'd never have."
Damian, though touched by the gesture, couldn't help but respond with a sharp edge of his own unresolved hurt. "At least you had a dad. You weren't kept away, missing out on fatherly love."
Billy, undeterred by Damian's bitterness, wrapped him in a comforting hug. Damian, initially stiff and resistant, slowly gave in to the warmth. The room was quiet except for Damian's soft sniffles. As the tears came, Damian leaned into Billy's embrace, letting his grief spill out. Billy held him close, offering a steady presence while Damian's sobs echoed the sorrow of losing a father he never really knew.
In the quiet of the room, Billy stayed by Damian's side, a quiet guardian through the storm of emotions. Eventually, Damian's grief and exhaustion led him to drift off, cradled in Billy's comforting arms, finding a brief escape from the turmoil that had overwhelmed him.
The low hum of the phone crackled with tension, a backdrop to the unspoken regrets hanging in the air. After their last chat, Jason, cloaked in the shadows of his room, finally spoke up.
"T, I heard Damian and Billy talking," Jason said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Damian's really torn up about not knowing Bruce. He's been crying himself to sleep. Maybe we messed up."
Talia's sharp intake of breath was almost audible through the phone. "Oh, Jason," she said softly, her voice thick with regret. "I never meant for him to be hurt."
The city outside continued its restless hum, a contrast to the raw emotions being shared. "We did what we thought was right at the time," Jason said, a mix of frustration and determination in his tone. "But maybe we need to rethink things. With Batman gone, Gotham's not as dangerous."
There was a pause, heavy with unspoken thoughts. "What are you getting at?" Talia finally asked.
"I'm thinking about bringing them to Gotham," Jason said, his words carrying the weight of a big decision. "Let Damian and Billy see the other side of their family. Batman's not around to complicate things anymore."
The silence that followed was thick with contemplation. Talia's response was careful, weighed down with a mother's dilemma. "Jason, are you sure? Gotham might not be the same place it was for you."
Jason chuckled, a sound tinged with both bitterness and resolve. "Talia, I know Gotham better than anyone. Maybe it's time for Dami to see the city that shaped us. The city that made Batman who he was."
The words hung in the air, and Talia finally spoke. "Whatever you decide, Jason, I'll back you up. And Damian deserves to know where he comes from."
As the call ended, Jason was left in the heavy silence of his room. The guilt and doubt about keeping Damian and Bruce apart surged to the surface. Had he done the right thing? Was it an act of cruelty or just a shield from the dangers of their world?
Losing Bruce had been a massive blow, shaking the very core of Jason and Damian's lives. But in that shared grief, Jason found some comfort in knowing he'd kept Damian safe and content. The memories of their laughter and camaraderie, far from Batman's shadow, were a small balm to his soul.
Now, with Bruce gone, Gotham seemed like a possibility rather than a prison. Jason saw a chance to show his little brothers the hidden parts of his life—the alleys, rooftops, and secret spots that defined the city he both loved and hated.
They wouldn't move there, though. Jason was firm on that. He'd escaped Gotham, a feat few managed. The city had a knack for pulling you back in. But he'd managed to break free, and now, with his little brothers in tow, he had no intention of dragging them back into Gotham's dark grasp. They had made a home in Fawcett City, and he wasn't going to abandon it, especially not with Gotham's shadows lingering.
That didn't mean he'd ignore his grieving family. With Batman out of the picture, nothing kept him from Alfie, Dickface, Barbie, and the rest of the Batfamily. Maybe he could even convince the youngest to hang up their capes until they were older—or maybe forever.
With a newfound resolve and a glimmer of hope, Jason decided to take the gamble. The choice to show Gotham to Damian and Billy was risky but held the promise of healing and new challenges. He allowed himself a bit of optimism, hoping to carve out a new chapter for his fractured family.
The trio stood on the edge of Gotham, the city's skyline looming large and casting shadows that seemed to echo their mixed emotions. Jason, back in Gotham for the first time since Batman's death, was a bundle of nerves and old memories. Gotham, with its blend of dark history and twisted charm, felt different now—almost like a stranger. Damian and Billy flanked him, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and curiosity about the city that had given birth to so many legends and nightmares.
They exchanged glances, their faces showing a mix of nervousness and intrigue. The absence of Batman was a glaring void against the cityscape, and even Gotham seemed to be in mourning. Jason, who once knew every dark alley and towering building by heart, now viewed the city with a sense of detachment. The League of Shadows had drilled into him the need to keep moving forward, not dwelling on the past or the losses he'd endured.
He had cut ties and shed regrets to travel light, but the fear of becoming a pillar of salt from all the unshed tears was real. Moving forward was his only choice—one foot in front of the other, pride as his armor, and head held high. With that resolve, Jason stepped into Gotham City. He was on a mission and he wasn't about to fail.
As they made their way to Wayne Manor, Jason led with a casual confidence. Damian, wide-eyed, took in every detail of Gotham. The city, alive with chaos and beauty, seemed to embrace him. Neon lights bathed the streets in a dazzling array of colors, reflecting in Damian's dark eyes. The skyscrapers loomed overhead, casting long, dramatic shadows. Damian was drawn to the gargoyles perched on the buildings, observing them with a mix of fascination and recognition. The shifting shadows seemed to dance around every corner.
Damian felt a strange sense of connection to the city, almost like it was in his blood. Gotham had witnessed his father's endless battle, and now, Damian was walking the same streets. He wondered if it was the Wayne legacy or his own desire to connect with his father's city that stirred his feelings.
Billy, meanwhile, was tuned into a different vibe—the magic that seemed to flow through every alley, street, and building. To Billy, Gotham wasn't just a city; it was a living, breathing canvas of enchantments.
As they wandered through the city, Billy's Champion of Magic senses buzzed with mystical energy. His eyes picked up on a web of spells, incantations, and ancient forces woven into Gotham's very essence. The city was a magical maze, hiding secrets that only someone like Billy could uncover.
As they wandered through Gotham, Billy's senses, honed by his role as Champion of Magic, picked up on a buzz of mystical energy. His eyes, tuned to magic's raw essence, saw a web of spells and ancient forces woven into the city's very fabric. Gotham wasn't just a concrete jungle; it was a magical maze hiding secrets only someone like Billy could detect.
He noticed the dark magic lurking beneath the surface, pulsing like a heartbeat and casting shadows that seemed to cling to everything. This darkness was thick, ancient, and packed with whispers of old rituals and forgotten deals. Billy couldn't help but be amazed and a bit uneasy at the sheer depth of the magical currents flowing through Gotham.
Recent arrivals, witches and warlocks, had left their mark on the city's magical landscape. Billy could feel the crackle of their spells in the air and sensed their attempts to clear lingering curses. Even the necromancers, though not as powerful as Jason or Damian, were trying to drive away the ghosts haunting Gotham's corners.
As they neared Wayne Manor, Billy was struck by Gotham's dark allure. The city seemed alive with magic, and he could almost feel its heartbeat under his fingertips. Gotham's mix of dark secrets and magical mysteries kept Billy fascinated and unable to look away.
For Jason, returning to Gotham was eye-opening. Walking the familiar yet strangely changed streets, he noticed how the city's magic had shifted. Gotham, in its own mysterious way, was healing. The once oppressive magical vibe had lightened up, blending more harmoniously with the everyday world. Jason felt a warmth in his chest as he saw how supernatural beings—vampires, werewolves, necromancers, witches, and warlocks—now moved seamlessly through the city, blending in with the regular crowd.
Jason's stroll through Gotham revealed magical folks chatting in cafes and going about their lives alongside humans. It was a subtle integration, showing how the city had adapted and bounced back, blending magic and the mundane into a new, resilient rhythm.
Gotham had managed to find a pretty cool balance between the supernatural and the everyday. All the magical folks who'd once been pushed out were now blending in with the regular crowd. Jason's worries about bringing magic back to Gotham had pretty much evaporated. The city, in its own quirky way, had welcomed this magical vibe with open arms. A genuine smile tugged at Jason's lips as he took in this secret harmony. It felt like he'd made the right call, not just for Gotham's healing but for everyone getting along in a way that felt almost perfect.
As they drew closer to Wayne Manor, Jason found himself pausing for a second. The manor was a striking mix of grandeur and enigma. It loomed over the landscape, a stunning blend of Gothic charm and modern splendor, with high walls and detailed stonework that spoke of history and today.
Billy and Damian, seeing the manor for the first time, were blown away by its beauty. The gardens were a riot of colors, and the building itself radiated sophistication. They marveled at the intricate windows and the cool gargoyles perched on the roof, which seemed to tell stories of old.
Damian felt a pull from the manor, as if it was calling out to his Wayne heritage. The shadows playing on the ivy-covered walls fascinated him, making the place feel like an invitation to connect with the legacy of his family. For Jason, though, the manor was more of a heavy reminder. Its grandeur felt a bit overwhelming, with memories of the past threatening to weigh him down. As he walked up to the door, each step felt heavy with unresolved feelings.
The thought of facing his family again, the grieving Waynes still dealing with Bruce's loss, made Jason's chest tighten. He took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before reaching out to ring the doorbell.
The sound of the chime echoed through the grand entrance. Jason braced himself for what was behind those big doors, unsure how his return would be taken in a place that had stopped being his home a long time ago. The waiting felt endless, with anticipation hanging in the air until the door finally creaked open.