Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once Tim and Dick have Jason surrounded on the couch, there's an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they don't plan on letting him go anytime soon. Tim is half in Jason's lap, and Dick puts an arm around both their shoulders to pull them both into his side, and Bruce retreats to one of the armchairs in the lounge. Ostensibly, they're continuing the movie Dick and Tim had been watching before the Cave's systems had alerted them to Jason's entrance, but Dick knows none of them are actually paying it much attention. Bruce isn't even pretending: Dick can feel his eyes on them, and when Dick catches his eye, the look on his face is so warm and fond it takes his breath away all over again.

Tim falls asleep first, breath evening out and then deepening into his usual soft, whistling snores. Jason adjusts his grip, pulling him more properly into his lap, and Dick adjusts his position to make them all more comfortable.

It's not long after that that Jason's head dips. He snaps awake, looking around them, tension flooding back through him, and Dick puts a hand to his hair. "It's okay, Jay. You're safe. Everyone's okay," he murmurs.

Jason tilts his head to look up at Dick, clearly not entirely awake, and he looks so young that Dick's heart clenches in his chest. This is Jason. This is his little brother, his Little Wing, and while the green is still flickering at the edges of his iris, for the moment, he's just looking at Dick like he used to.

"C'mon," he says simply, tugging Jason against him and pressing a kiss to his hair, blinking back the burning behind his own eyes, not trusting his voice for anything beyond that.

Jason shifts carefully, resting his head on Dick's shoulder, and Dick holds him close.

He doesn't know how long it is before he's the one snapping awake. Instinctively, he tightens his grip on Jason - no one is taking him away from him again, dammit - and he blinks up at Bruce for a moment before he registers who it is leaning over them.

"Just me, chum," Bruce says softly. "Here." He's holding one of the cushions, and he rests it against the couch's arm before helping Dick turn sideways without disturbing his brothers. The fact that neither of them stir is both heart-warming and heart-breaking, considering it speaks to just how exhausted Jason was, but between Dick and Bruce, they manage to get all three of them arranged on the couch, Tim mostly on top of Jason, Jason on his back, Dick on his side with his arm over the both of them.

"Get some rest. I'll be right here," Bruce tells him softly as he drapes a blanket over all three of them - and Dick's out again before the table lamp goes out.

--

For the first time in longer than Jason can remember, he wakes slowly. It takes him longer than it should to place where he is and how he got here - and who is reponsible for the warmth surrounding him. Tim's head is pillowed on his shoulder, his breath coming slowly and evenly. There's a faint wheeze to it, but Jason had seen the evidence that they were heading off anything he might have picked up in the Gotham harbor. He'll be okay.

Dick's head is next to Jason's on the cushion, and he reaches over to brush Dick's bangs back out of his face. The older man's nose wrinkles before he tightens his grip on Jason and Tim and presses his face deeper into the cushion, and Jason snorts, dropping his arm back to the couch.

It also occurs to him that he really has to pee, and he makes a face to himself before he sets to working himself free. Dick grumbles at him and tightens his grip, and Jason taps at his arm. Dick cracks an eye open to squint at him, and Jason pokes his arm again. "Gotta piss," he says softly. "Let go."

"Better come back," Dick mutters but does lift his arm - and then helps him adjust Tim so Jason can slide out from under him and off the couch.

The clock on the mantle says it's still early - or late, depending who you ask - and Jason rolls his shoulders, rubbing at a crick in his neck as he leaves the lounge and heads for the nearest bathroom, feet moving automatically from years of memory. He pees, washes his hand, a yawn breaking free as he opens the door - and nearly falls backward into the toilet when Bruce is standing just outside the door. "Jesus fuck!" he swears. "Give a guy a heart attack," he complains - and makes a face when Bruce looks equal parts amused and apologetic.

"Sorry," Bruce says, not sounding remotely like he actually is, and Jason flips him off, drawing a chuckle. "Thought I heard somebody in there."

"Well, you did, and I'm pretty sure Dick'll cry on me if I don't go back in there, so you don't have to make sure I don't sneak out a window or whatever," he shoots back, and Bruce makes a face at him.

"Jason," Bruce begins, and Jason huffs out a sigh.

He knows they need to talk, but he doesn't really want it to be at 3 a.m. in the middle of the hallway. Still, better to get it over with. "Out with it, old man," he says finally, and Bruce sighs.

"I have a lot of things to apologize for," he begins.

"One thing I'm not gonna argue with you about," Jason returns, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, he just looks at Bruce, waiting for him to go on. Bruce seems to be waiting on him, though, and he finally grits his teeth and then begins. "How could you choose him over me?" He doesn't feel like he needs to clarify who it is he's talking about - and from the look on Bruce's face, he's right.

"I didn't choose him over you, Jay-" Bruce begins, and Pit surges in Jason's chest.

"You threw a Batarang at me!" he hisses, gesturing with the hand that had taken the brunt of the gun's backfire. It had hurt like a bitch and taken for fucking ever to heal fully.

"You were pointing a gun at me, lad," Bruce returns evenly. "Contrary to popular believe, I don't actually enjoy getting shot at."

Jason rubs at his eyes with the same hand. They're burning, but he will not cry. "Why couldn't you just kill him?" he says, voice choked, and it comes out far less angrily than he means for it to. There's far too much vulnerability in it, and everything in him aches to turn and walk down the hall, to go to his bike and leave, to put the whole manor and this family behind him, but Dick had asked him to stay, and he can't quite bring himself to do it. "Why did you pick him?"

Bruce's posture is tense like he wants to take a step toward Jason, and Jason prepares to step back if he moves - but he holds himself still despite how much effort it's clearly taking him. "I didn't pick him, Jason," Bruce says softly, and Jason's eyes snap up to his. "You said 'him or me', and I will always pick you." He meets Jason's eyes steadily, doesn't look away, which means Jason sees the moisture that builds in them.

"You..." Jason begins - and then has to swallow. "You wouldn't have stopped me."

It's a thought he's never had before, an angle he's never considered, and he feels like a complete idiot. He had presented the ultimatum: shoot Jason, or let Jason shoot the Joker. And Batman had not shot him.

Bruce doesn't move, but there's a shift in his face, and Jason abruptly becomes aware of every new line, of every new streak of gray or white in Bruce's hair, how much older he looks now than he did the last time he saw him - before he died. "I couldn't kill him. But the three of you have always been better than me."

"What the fuck," Jason breathes, because he doesn't know what else to say, and Bruce huffs out a wry laugh.

"I'm sorry, Jason. I am. I know you said you don't blame me for not saving you, but I have blamed myself every day for not being fast enough to save you. And I am sorry that I didn't tell the others. Dick and I have had this conversation, but I had to be sure before I told them. I had to know that you weren't Clayface or some other double or a clone or..." He trails off, shaking his head by way of "etcetera". "And you were so angry at me, I... I wanted to protect them. You went after Tim, and I wanted more time before I told them, before they had to deal with everything that you being back meant. I wanted more time to talk to you, to try to understand everything that had happened. How you were back, what had happened to you." He runs a hand over his face. "I should have known better. You would think I would have learned after I drove Dick away trying to protect him, but." He trails off, finally breaking eye contact for a brief moment before he looks back at him.

"You are and will always be my son, Jason. And I am so sorry for the many ways in which I've let you down," he says finally, simply, and Jason swallows hard.

"I'm not..." he begins, the denial automatic, but he chokes on it, has to clear his throat, has to blink hard to keep the tears from welling. "Fuck," he says softly. "Fuck you Bruce, I said I wasn't gonna cry." Despite himself, there's no heat in his tone as he wipes furiously at the tears that spill over, and Bruce laughs wetly but still doesn't move.

"You are," Bruce insists. "And I love you, Jason. I promised Dick I will be better at communicating, and I will make you the same promise, but I have to beg your patience as well. I want to be better for you, and for Dick, and for Tim, but I have a lot to learn, a lot of things to overcome. I want you to tell me what you need from me. Not listening cost me two of my sons, and I am not going to take for granted that I got you both back."

Jason can't help the doubt that bubbles in his chest. He can't say he'll be surprised if there are more steps backwards than forwards, but in this moment, he thinks Bruce means what he's saying, and he has to wonder exactly what happened in the conversation he and Dick had. For a moment, he thinks of putting it off, but the words come out of him before he can really stop them. "I can't stop," he begins, and Bruce blinks at him. "What I'm doing in the Alley. I know you don't approve, I know I'm breaking the first rule, and yeah, a lot of that had to do with rubbing it in your face, but I have things in motion. If I walk away, more people will die. Or disappear. Or worse."

Jason has so many plates spinning right now that he couldn't list them all if Bruce asked, and all of them are in the name of keeping the worst of the worst out of his neighborhood. Crime Alley is his, and he has dragged it back from the brink with his literal blood, sweat, and tears. He cannot - will not walk away and let it slide back into the pit it had been when he was a child, will not let anyone who seeks to harm the most vulnerable run rampant.

Bruce listens, and while his expression does tighten, he finally just nods. "I know," he admits. "And no, I don't approve. But," he says, raising a hand when Jason frowns and opens his mouth, "my biggest concern is your safety. I can't get involved with your plans, but I do want you safe. So be careful. Don't take unnecesary risks. And know that you will always have a place here with - with us - when you want it."

Jason nods. Knowing that Bruce - that Batman - won't get involved with his plans is both a blessing and a curse, he guesses. If Batman isn't going to interfere, it will make it much easier to get done what he needs to - but he also hears what Bruce isn't saying. He's on his own with whatever he's doing. There won't be any last minute rescues if things go south. It's nothing he didn't expect, and he just nods. "That'll do," he says, finally, and Bruce frowns, tilting his head.

"Jason," he says - and Jason waves him off.

"It's fine, I get it. I'm on my own out there. I don't need any of you involved, and it'll be better for everyone if you aren't," he says shortly, turning to go back to the lounge, still resisting the urge to go down to his bike and get the hell out of here.

"Lad," Bruce interrupts, reaching out to catch his shoulder. Jason resists his immediate urge to pull away, though he can't stop himself from tensing up, even as he lets Bruce pull him backward a step. Jason turns to face him, jaw set as Bruce speaks. "That's not what I meant. You are not on your own, but you know Batman can't get involved with what the Red Hood is doing."

Jason huffs. Okay. He has a point. "Yeah, that'd go over real well if you showed up to a meeting," he has to admit, the initial spike of ire fading.

Bruce smiles a little, too, but there's still pain in his eyes. "I would keep all of you safe here in the manor and never let you out of my sight if I could, but I know I can't do that. All that is to say: you have access to the comm frequencies. If you are overwhelmed, promise you will call one of us. I can't lose you again."

Jason pauses a beat. Part of him is still on edge at the idea of any of them interfering with his plans - but he also knows some of the spots he's found himself in, when his gut was telling him something was wrong. So far, he's managed to excuse himself before the shit hit the fan, but he's been doing this too long to think his luck is going to hold out forever. He doesn't need to use the comms every day, but he can set up a mayday, just in case. "Yeah, I can do that."

Bruce looks relieved, and he squeezes Jason's shoulder before letting go. "Thank you," he says simply.

"You're welcome," Jason returns - and then there's a bit of an awkward pause before he gestures back toward the lounge. "I'm gonna go back in there before Dick thinks I fucked off."

Bruce chuckles and gestures a "go ahead". "I'm surprised he hasn't already come looking."

Jason honestly is too considering what a mother-hen Dick can be, but he doesn't say that, just retracing his steps. Dick apparently hadn't been far from coming to look considering he's sitting up now, his hair mussed and sticking up at odd angles. Tim is awake, too, yawning hugely as Jason walks back into the room. "Dick thought you left," he says immediately, and Jason hears Bruce laugh behind him as Dick shoots Tim a betrayed look.

"It took you a really long time to go to the bathroom," Dick puts in, and Jason jerks a thumb over his shoulder at Bruce.

"Dad had to make sure I didn't get lost," Jason says. For a moment, he doesn't know why Dick and Tim are both looking at him, wide-eyed and pleased, doesn't know why Bruce has sucked in a shocked breath behind him. It's only a beat later that he realizes what he'd said, and he feels his ears heat. He opens his mouth, but taking it back would be cruel in a way he hasn't felt the need to be in some time. "Shit," he says simply, finally. "If anybody cries I am leaving," he complains.

There are tears in Dick's eyes, though he looks completely unapologetic about it, just grinning at him, and Jason shakes his head.

"I am going to go sleep in my actual bed," he says, and turns around. "That couch sucks." Fuck this family. Why the hell had he come back, again?

Never mind the fact that there's no actual heat in the thought this time.

"Your room is sad," Dick says from behind him, and Jason rolls his eyes when Dick comes up behind him and throws an arm over his shoulders. "We're taking over your room, Bruce," he declares, steering Jason past him and out of the lounge.

Behind them, Jason can hear Bruce's noise of protest. "Why my bed? Where am I sleeping?"

"Don't care," Dick declares, and Jason laughs despite himself. "Come on Tim. Night, Dad!"

Bruce sighs heavily behind them, Tim laughs as he follows after them, and Jason just gives in and lets his older brother steer.