One of the bigger drawing rooms in Wayne Manor was set up by Alfred to be used as a dressing room for the family. They had Jason's book event to prepare for, and Alfred was determined they wouldn't look unpresentable.
"I am so excited!" Dick flitted around the room, hugging and kissing his siblings in exuberance. "We're finally going to one of Little Wing's book launch parties! And I can't wait to see the city my little brothers have claimed as theirs!"
Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his son twirling around the room with all the excitement of a teenager getting ready for their first date. Dick's energy was infectious, filling the room with joy and anticipation.
But Bruce noticed a subtle shift in Dick's usual style. Known for his flamboyant fashion sense, Dick never shied away from bold colors and daring combinations. His wardrobe was a vibrant reflection of his personality. Yet today, his outfit was more understated. It seemed Alfred had managed to convince Dick to go for a more classic look for Jason's grand event.
Bruce had to admit, his eldest son looked striking in a blue shawl lapel suit, white dress shirt, blue tie, and white dress shoes. The ensemble softened Dick's sharp features and added a touch of elegance.
Bruce tilted his head as he realized what Dick had just said. "You've never scouted—I mean visited—Fawcett City?"
That's right, the book launch was happening at Fawcett University's Library, where Jason Alexander Head was a Creative Writing Professor. Similar events had taken place at Oxford, Jason's alma mater, when A Death in the Family was launched. This might have been Bruce's first visit to Fawcett City, as there had never been anything noteworthy about the city—no significant crime rates or organized crime needing Batman's attention. Bruce would have expected his children to scout the city as soon as they knew Jason was alive and not planning to return to Gotham full-time.
Dick finally stopped spinning and turned to look at Bruce with a pained expression that Bruce had come to associate with the aftermath of Darkseid's attack. "Little Wing only came out of the woods after Superman brought your 'body' to the manor. With Baby Bird mostly in San Francisco and later MIA, the bulk of keeping Gotham from crumbling fell on Babs and me. So, Little Wing mostly visited the manor when he wasn't teaching or writing or when he had to drop Dami and Billy when he was needed for a mission. I did drop Dami and Billy at Fawcett once, but I did not get to see much."
Bruce noticed Tim flinching at Dick's words, even though Dick hadn't meant to hurt him. Bruce held back a sigh, making a mental note to talk to Tim later. The tension between his children couldn't continue. Things fell apart when he was thought dead, and despite Dick and Jason's efforts to keep things afloat, Tim seemed to have fallen through the cracks.
Just then, Cass stepped out from behind the folding screen and twirled around the room. Bruce's frown quickly turned into a beaming smile. Cass giggled with delight as she spun around, her laughter like music in the air. Her dress—a stunning one-shoulder black mermaid gown adorned with dark beading—clung to her, accentuating her curves. Each step made the fabric swirl elegantly around her.
Bruce couldn't help but wonder how she moved so smoothly in her Louis Vuitton black high heels. His daughter looked breathtaking. It was hard to believe how much she'd grown up in his absence. His little girl was a full-grown woman now.
"Oh, Cass! You look beautiful!" Dick exclaimed, rushing to hug his little sister, who giggled and hugged him back.
Bruce approached them, smiling at his eldest children. He had been doing that a lot lately, showing his care and emotions. Working with Dinah had been tough, but every painful moment was worth it. Knowing his children had believed him dead and weren't sure if he loved them had broken him in a way only Jason's death had before.
"You do look incredible," Bruce murmured, kissing Cass' head, careful not to mess up her elegant bun. "The only thing missing is this." Bruce pulled a string of pearls from his pocket and held it out.
Cass gasped when she saw the necklace. "Grandma's pearl necklace! I can't!"
"You can and you will," Bruce said, shaking his head as he clasped the necklace around Cass' neck. "She would have passed it down to her first granddaughter anyway." He stepped back, looking at Cassandra wearing Martha Wayne's pearls, his eyes tearing up. "Now you look perfect."
"Thank you, Dad," Cass said, hugging Bruce tightly.
Dick watched with tears in his eyes, his heart filled with love. Some days, he still couldn't believe how far Bruce had come in just a few months. The Wayne stubbornness seemed to help with more than just vigilante work. Dick was proud of the man and father Bruce was becoming.
But Dick's smile slipped when he saw Tim. His Baby Bird had become more of a recluse since the Dark Ranger incident. Tim clearly blamed himself for putting his siblings in danger and the changes Bruce had gone through, even though the timestream was to blame. Dick had tried to explain that to him, but his words fell on deaf ears.
With a soft sigh, Dick approached Tim, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors of the dressing room. Tim stood before the mirror, his reflection showing his concentration as he straightened his red tie with meticulous care.
As Dick got closer, he couldn't help but admire how sharp Tim looked. Tim was rocking a burgundy slim-fit suit that complemented his complexion perfectly. The black dress shirt added a sleek touch, and his black shoes completed the look with effortless style.
"Here, let me help," Dick said, smiling as he quickly fixed Tim's tie. Stepping back to take it all in, he beamed. "Perfect."
"Thanks," Tim mumbled, looking down at their shoes.
"We need to finish that talk in the Batcave soon," Dick sighed, noticing Tim tense up. "Bruce is already picking up on things and will want to 'fix' this after Jason's book launch. Cass and Alfred can only run interference for so long."
Tim sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, but at least he was finally looking Dick in the eye. "I get it… and I know you're right… but…"
"It's not easy, I know," Dick patted Tim on the back. "It took Bruce 'dying,' you going missing in the timestream, and Alfred and Jason dragging me kicking and screaming to start seeing Harley."
"Harley Quinn?" Tim repeated incredulously, blinking in shock. "She's your therapist? Didn't her license get revoked after, you know, all her criminal activities? And since when do you go to therapy?"
"I told you, since Darkseid messed with our lives and you went rogue," Dick shrugged. "Yeah, Harley's license got revoked, but she's my own brand of chaos and style… she just fits. That's what you need in therapy, someone who fits and makes you feel comfortable." Dick smiled comfortingly, hugging Tim when he noticed his discomfort. "You might not find the right therapist right away, but if you keep looking, you'll find someone who's perfect for you."
"Like Bruce with Dinah, and you with Harley?" Tim asked.
"And whoever Jason talks to back at the All-Caste," Dick added.
That made Tim freeze and step back from the hug, looking at his older brother in shock. "Jason goes to therapy?"
"Baby Bird, Jason died. Of course, he goes to therapy, or whatever the magical equivalent is," Dick huffed a laugh, a broken sound that startled Tim. "That kind of trauma doesn't just go away. None of our trauma will just vanish. Do you think that because Bruce is back, all those months we thought he was dead and all the time we spent trying to heal him would just disappear?"
Tim looked at Dick with wide eyes, blinking away tears. It hit Dick that Tim had thought exactly that. "Is that why you were so determined to bring Bruce back? So much so that you ignored all bat-protocols and went rogue?"
"Bruce was dead, just like my mom and dad," Tim whispered, voice thick with emotion as he stared at the floor. "Jason was back, but he was criticizing everything, calling Robin a symbol of child soldiers. You and Babs took over Wayne Enterprises and the Foundation, making all these big decisions. Batman wasn't patrolling Gotham; he was just a magical mirage to trick criminals into thinking we hadn't lost our leader!" Tim barked a broken laugh, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Everything was changing so fast; everyone was forgetting about Bruce and his mission…"
"No, Baby Bird," Dick shook his head, hugging his little brother tightly, not caring about the wet spots forming on his suit. "We never forgot about Bruce. Everything we did was in his honor, in his memory. We wanted to make Gotham the city Bruce and Batman had dreamed of."
"And you did," Tim's voice was muffled against Dick's suit. His arms wrapped around Dick's back. "I was just a fool not to see it before."
"You weren't a fool, just young and inexperienced. We've all been in your shoes," Dick chuckled, kissing Tim's head and nuzzling his styled hair. Tim would have to redo his hairstyle, but he didn't seem to care. "You should've seen the tantrums I used to throw. My arguments with Bruce are legendary for a reason. Ask Babs and Jason; they'll tell you all about it."
Tim chuckled and finally let go. The two of them turned to see the rest of their family. Dick noticed Cass had strategically moved Bruce so he wouldn't see their interaction, giving them the privacy they needed. Dick mouthed a 'thank you' to Cass, who simply smiled back.
Meanwhile, Tim's eyes landed on Steph, who had just finished getting ready. A smile spread across his face as he took in how amazing she looked in her purple-eggplant crisscross halter gown. The dress draped perfectly, highlighting her figure. Steph's eyes sparkled with excitement, her laughter bubbling up as she radiated joy, her blonde curls cascading down her back.
What really caught Tim's attention was the pearl bracelet on her right wrist. From Bruce's fond expression, Tim realized it was a gift from him. The meaning hit Tim hard—this bracelet was part of a set with Martha Wayne's famous pearl necklace. Bruce giving Steph this bracelet, something meant for a daughter or granddaughter, showed he finally accepted her as family. It also meant he approved of her relationship with Cass. With this gesture, Steph was basically Bruce's daughter-in-law.
"Good for you, Spoiler," Tim whispered with a smile.
Tim then wandered over to a pile of books in the corner. He picked up copies of *Ethereal Echoes of Hill House* and Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor. Unlike Jason's first two novels, Tim never got these signed. Tonight, he was going to fix that. He also planned to buy Jason's newest book, *The Court*, and get that signed too. Tim had made peace with Jason being his Robin, his favorite author, and his big brother, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. Not everyone gets a big brother who's both their hero and favorite author!
"Are those Ethereal Echoes of Hill House and *Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor?" Dick asked, finally noticing what Tim was holding. His smile widened with pride. "Did you know Baby Bat drew the book covers?"
"I did," Tim nodded, smiling. "I even got a call from him ranting about how Esperanza didn't let him design the cover for The Court because the topics were too inappropriate. They didn't want the scandal of a thirteen-year-old doing the cover for a novel about satanic cults."
"Baby Bat called you?" Dick looked surprised but was practically glowing with happiness.
Tim chuckled and shook his head. "I think he just needed someone to rant to and decided to bug me."
"It's a start! This is great!" Dick beamed, practically bouncing with excitement.
Tim was about to say something but stopped when he saw Dick's smile. It's not that he didn't get along with Damian or William; it's just that when they came into his life, Tim was too busy sulking to get to know them. Unlike the rest of his family, Tim was never around the manor when Jason would drop off Damian and Billy for their sleepovers. He never bonded with them. So instead of being his little brothers, they were just a couple of strangers Jason always had around.
Which was a pity because Tim had always wanted a little brother, and Jason had brought him two. Making a promise to himself to do better this time, Tim smiled back at Dick and kept his thoughts to himself. When Alfred informed them that the limousine was ready, Tim followed his family outside with an excited skip in his step.
They had a book launch to get to!
Jason stood at the front of the room, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside him as he looked out at the crowd. Dressed in a white suit with a gleaming gold vest and tie, he looked like a confident author ready to unveil his latest work. The Fawcett University Library was buzzing with anticipation, packed with journalists, editors, sponsors, and professors, all eager to hear from him.
But it was his family's presence that really warmed his heart. Talia, Nyssa, and Roy were there, their supportive smiles giving him an extra boost of confidence. And seeing Clark, Lois, and Diana in the audience made him feel a bit giddy with gratitude.
Yet, it was his dad who held Jason's attention the most. Bruce, surrounded by Dick, Tim, Steph, Alfred, and Cass, was a striking presence. Jason had been pretty nervous about seeing him, unsure of how things would go. But as he locked eyes with Bruce, a wave of calm washed over him. Bruce's silent support was more reassuring than anything.
With a small smile, Jason glanced down at the podium where his new novel lay waiting. As he got ready to share the prologue, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. This was his moment, and he was ready to seize it. As he began to read, the room fell into a hushed silence, everyone hanging on his every word.
"In the depths of the night, where darkness reigns supreme and the whispers of the unseen echo through the shadows, lies a city gripped by fear. It is a place where the line between the living and the dead blurs, where ancient evils lurk in the alleys and hidden corners.
The murders began with whispers, rumors whispered in hushed tones in the dead of night. Bodies found torn asunder, their screams silenced by the cold embrace of death. Each victim marked with the touch of the infernal, their souls tainted by the darkness that now threatens to consume them.
As the body count rises, so too does the terror that grips the city. Fear seeps into the hearts of the people, casting a shadow over their once peaceful lives. Sleepless nights are spent behind locked doors, whispers of demons haunting the streets spreading like wildfire.
No one is safe from the grasp of the unknown. Families huddle together, seeking solace in the warmth of their loved ones, yet knowing deep down that darkness lurks just beyond their doorstep.
The city streets, once bustling with life, now lie deserted and silent. The echoes of footsteps are drowned out by the eerie whispers of the night, as if the very air itself is alive with malevolence.
This is our story. The story of how we, a group of exorcists, ventured into this nightmarish city to investigate this mystery. And what we discovered was something unimaginable, something we would have not even dreamt of. It was a revelation that shook us to our core, challenging everything we thought we knew about the forces of darkness and the depths of human depravity."
As Jason smoothly transitioned from the haunting prologue to the start of the first chapter, his deep, soothing voice filled the library, captivating everyone. The air buzzed with anticipation as listeners hung on his every word, getting lost in the gripping tale he wove.
Esperanza watched with a mix of pride and excitement, her heart swelling as she saw the audience's enraptured expressions. With each passing moment, it was clear that this novel would shoot to the top of the bestseller lists, just like Jason's previous books.
As Jason dived deeper into the first chapter, his voice rose and fell with the story's ebb and flow, the tension in the room palpable. Each sentence seemed to resonate with power and emotion, painting vivid pictures in the minds of everyone listening. The words felt alive. When he finished the first chapter, a ripple of applause broke the spell his words had cast over the room.
For Esperanza, watching Jason work his magic was pure joy. She had always believed in his talent, but seeing it come to life in such a profound way filled her with awe. Ever since the manuscript of A Death in the Family landed on her desk, she knew Jason Alexander Head was destined for greatness. It was satisfying to be proven right.
As Jason said his goodbyes to Clark and Lois, he felt the exhaustion hit him hard. The night had been a whirlwind of non-stop talking and everyone wanting a piece of him. Despite the nice chats and hugs, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Desperate for a break, he bolted from the library, craving a moment alone. He knew Esperanza would give him a hard time later for ditching, but he couldn't handle another minute of questions and demands.
Since he left the podium, it had been relentless. Reporters wanted interviews, Diana's hug almost crushed him, and his siblings wouldn't leave him alone. It felt like everyone wanted something—signing books, making small talk—it was overwhelming.
With exhaustion pulling at him, Jason knew he had to get out before he collapsed. Slipping away from the crowd, he felt instant relief as he reached a quiet hallway. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and let the calm wash over him, taking a deep breath and letting the tension melt away.
As he stood there, savoring the quiet, he sensed Bruce's presence even before he opened his eyes. There was something about his father, a familiar energy that Jason had learned to pick up on. Despite Bruce's stealthy approach, Jason's magical senses had him covered.
With a resigned sigh, Jason knew they needed to talk—an overdue conversation since his return from the dead and Bruce's own return from the timestream. The calm he had felt while speaking at the podium was now replaced by a bubbling nervousness, but he knew it was inevitable.
Pushing himself off the wall, Jason turned to face Bruce, his expression guarded yet determined. "We're not doing this here," he said firmly, hiding the turmoil inside. "Let's go to my office. The literature department building is only about five minutes away."
Without waiting for a response, Jason started walking out of the library, the cold night air biting at his skin. He could feel Bruce trailing behind him, a silent companion in the darkness.
As they walked side by side, the weight of unspoken words hung between them. Jason's mind raced with questions and doubts, uncertainties that had plagued him since his return. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. With each step, he felt a sense of resolve wash over him. He had to confront Bruce and lay bare the truths that had been festering for too long.
Even before the Joker killed him, there had been tension. Bruce had once accused Jason of killing Felipe Garzonasa, a little fact Jason had yet to forgive. What went through Bruce's mind to accuse a kid of murder?
When Jason unlocked the door to his office, he gestured for Bruce to enter. Bruce nodded and stepped inside, a faint smile tugging at his lips at Jason's polite gesture. Despite the gravity of the situation, Bruce couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the display of Jason's manners. It seemed Alfred had managed to teach at least one of his children some manners.
Stepping into the office, Bruce glanced around, taking in the meticulously organized space that screamed Jason's personality. The carefully arranged bookshelves, the personal mementos on the walls—it all made Bruce swell with pride.
When he turned to face Jason, though, a sense of apprehension settled in his stomach. This conversation was clearly weighing heavily on Jason, and Bruce couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to tread into difficult territory. There were so many things left unsaid, so many apologies and questions, it left Bruce feeling lost, unsure of where to begin. For once, he decided to follow his heart instead of his head, asking the one question that had haunted him since discovering Jason was alive.
"Jason," Bruce's voice cut through the tension, raw with emotion, "why? Why didn't you come home sooner?"
Jason, who had promised himself he'd stay calm, felt a blaze of resentment flare up instantly. Bruce had always been good at unnerving him, stirring his temper. How could he ask that? Didn't he understand the pain he'd caused?
"You know damn well why," Jason shot back, struggling to keep his composure. "You never truly loved me back then. I was just another cross for you to bear, another reason for your vendetta. Just like your parents."
"Jason," Bruce stammered, his voice cracking, "how could you think...? How could you think I didn't love you?"
Jason felt anger surge through him, drowning out reason. "Oh, spare me, old man," he hissed, dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you never said 'I love you.' Maybe because you accused me of murder without hesitation. You ripped Robin away from me. And after I died? The Joker still breathing, a new kid stepping into my shoes. I wasn't even buried in the family plot, no 'Wayne' on my gravestone despite being legally a Wayne. My birth mother, the one who sold me out, lying next to me with 'loving mother' engraved on her tombstone. You didn't even investigate. And my memorial? Just a costume and a plaque that reads 'A Good Soldier'—as if that's all I was to you. So, tell me, Bruce, with all that, how was I supposed to believe you cared about me?"
The room fell silent, the weight of Jason's accusations hanging in the air. Bruce stood there, speechless, his eyes full of regret. "I do love you," Bruce confessed, his voice trembling. "I've always loved you. I thought you knew, but that's not an excuse. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never told you. I love all of my children. You, Dick, Tim, and Cass. And I know I'll love Damian and Billy when I get to know them. Of course, I love you. Please, Jaylad, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't save you..."
Jason turned slowly, his anger fading as he saw the tears glistening in Bruce's eyes. He'd never seen Bruce cry before, and it shook him. The rage melted away, leaving behind vulnerability.
"I never blamed you for not saving me," Jason said softly, his voice sad. "My death wasn't your fault. It wasn't mine, or Dick's. It was Sheila's and the Joker's. I don't want your guilt. Not now, not ever."
Bruce's expression was uncertain. "What... What do you want, then? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?"
"I want us to move forward, Bruce. I want us to try to understand each other. To rebuild what we once had. But it's gonna take time. A lot of time." Jason met Bruce's gaze, the weight of their shared history heavy between them. "I want you to love me anyway, no matter what I've done, who I've become. Because I am no longer that little boy I used to be. I've changed… a lot."
"I know and I do," Bruce swore, his words ringing with conviction. "I do love you. No matter what. I will always love you."
Jason paused, absorbing the intensity of Bruce's declaration. "...Okay," he breathed, a flicker of relief mingling with the uncertainty.
"Okay?" Bruce echoed, still tinged with desperation and doubt.
"Okay." Jason closed the gap between them, enveloping Bruce in a tight embrace. "Let's talk then, because we have a lot to discuss and a middle ground to find."
Tears streamed down both their faces as Bruce and Jason clung to each other in the middle of the office. Bruce's arms shook with emotion as he held onto Jason tightly, his heart pounding with the fear of losing him again. It felt like if he let go, Jason would vanish, and everything they had worked for would crumble like sand slipping through his fingers.
Bruce's heart ached with regret. He couldn't shake the haunting memories of the young boy who had died so tragically, the son he hadn't been able to save. Holding Jason now, he felt a surge of guilt, a painful reminder of his failures as a father.
For Jason, the tears flowed freely as he allowed himself to grieve for the loss he had suffered all those years ago. In this moment, he was no longer the hardened necromancer, but the broken child longing for the love and protection he had been denied. Each sob echoed with the pain of abandonment, the longing for a father who had failed to reach him when he needed him the most.
Their tears mingled in a bittersweet embrace. Jason didn't know how long they stayed like that, but eventually, he gathered the strength to pull back and continue the conversation. First, though, they needed a drink. He went to the minibar under his desk and pulled out a bottle of arak.
"Up for a drink, old man?" Jason teased as he poured them each a glass.
Bruce picked up the glass with a bemused expression. "It looks like you picked up Talia's taste… I haven't had arak since my time in the league…"
"I am umi's son after all," Jason shrugged, deciding not to dwell on the weirded-out look on Bruce's face. "You've probably figured out some of what happened to me. I got revived, woke up in my coffin, dug myself out, wandered around Gotham in a comatose state, and then T's men found me and took me to her. She threw me into one of her father's Lazarus Pits." Jason winced, recalling that horrible day as if it had been yesterday. "Not the best way to wake up, that's for sure."
Jason sat back in his chair, slouching as his expression darkened. "So, there I was, all patched up after the Lazarus Pit craziness. And what do I find? The Joker's still out there, wreaking havoc like it's his day job, and Batman, well, he's already replaced me with a shiny new version. Can you believe that?"
Bruce listened intently, his brows furrowing not liking the use of the word replace. No son would ever replace the other. However, Bruce understood that Jason was talking in past tense and that is how he felt at the moment, but not how he feels right now. So, he stayed silent as Jason continued telling his story.
"Umi started seeing me as her son halfway through my training and decided I needed a world tour to sort out my head. I didn't like it at the time. I'd finished my training at Nanda Parbat and was ready to go to Gotham and stake my claim or something. But T didn't want me to do something I'd regret one day," Jason continued, a bitter edge to his voice. "Some of the guys she sent me to train with were solid, you know? But others, man, they were like the worst kind of scum. Pure evil, no redeeming qualities whatsoever."
A shadow crossed Bruce's face as he absorbed Jason's words. "You... you killed them?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew Red Ghoul killed when he deemed it necessary, but it was still hard to accept that his son was the same feared and competent necromancer.
Jason met Bruce's gaze, unflinching. "Yeah, I did. Look, I'm not saying it's the ideal solution, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. When the system fails, when there's no one else to step up, sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands."
Bruce struggled to reconcile his principles with Jason's actions. "I can't condone killing, Jason. You know that," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.
"I get it, Bruce. I do," Jason replied, his tone softer now. "But trust me, I didn't take those decisions lightly. I did what I had to do to protect innocent lives. Isn't that what being a hero is all about?"
Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Maybe... maybe you're right," he admitted, reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
Jason nodded, a hint of understanding passing between them. "I know, B. And for what it's worth, I wish things could've been different too."
Jason lounged back in his chair, the weight of his past choices heavy on his mind. "So, yeah, after all that craziness, I had this whole grand plan, you know? I was gonna storm back into Gotham, take control of the drug scene, clean up the streets, especially in Crime Alley where Batman seemed to turn a blind eye, and then, just to twist the knife a bit, I was gonna confront you, show you the fallout of your choices by asking you to off the Joker."
Jason paused, a rueful smirk spreading across his lips. "By the end of my tour, the All-Caste happened. It was T's last hope to find a fix for my Pit Madness. Not even going to Oxford managed to calm me down." Jason chuckled sardonically. "Even the All-Caste didn't get rid of my Pit Madness, though I did get a couple of cool magical swords." Jason's expression darkened. "Then the Untitled happened."
"The Untitled?" Bruce asked warily, slipping back into his Batman persona.
Jason waved his worry away carelessly. "We dealt with them. Demons that wanted to bring the apocalypse. However, the carnage…" Jason shuddered at the memory of all the gore and blood. "I tried my best to write it down, but even then, I couldn't come close to capturing it. If that hadn't satiated the bloodthirst of the Pit Madness, then there was nothing in this world capable of fixing me."
"Jason," Bruce whispered brokenly, hating that his son had to go through so much. Why did his children always have to pay for his mistakes?
Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Umi, she's the one who snapped me out of it afterwards, you know? She made me realize I was chasing after something I'd never get from you. Family, love, all that jazz. Turns out, I already had it with her and Damian. And afterwards with Billy, Roy, and Lian."
Bruce's expression softened, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Jason, I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren't part of the family."
Jason waved him off, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Water under the bridge, B. I've made my peace with it. Besides, I figured out what I really wanted. Peace. So, here I am, graduated top of my class and now I'm teaching and writing."
Bruce nodded, a sense of pride swelling within him. "I'm glad you found your path, Jason. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
Jason grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to me."