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On the very day Bruce met Jason, the kid told him, to his face, that he had nothing whatsoever to do with the Batmobile's tires theft. He lied so convincingly that Bruce, Batman, would have believed him, had he not observed the little thief carefully try to lift his fourth tire with only a tire iron and cold, pure determination.
So the first time it happened, Bruce was .... confused, at best.
Jason had proven to be a decent liar over the course of his first month in Wayne Manor. He had little to no tells. He could stare at anyone, defiance burning bright, pouring out of every pore and lie with an aplomb Bruce had rarely seen in children his age.
It was endearing, to be honest.
This 180 turn was plain alarming.
"No, of course not, I wasn't smoking." Jason tried to hide the cigarette butt under his shoe, fidgeting a little with the hem of his sweatshirt as he did. The smoke was about to burn a hole into the carpet. Bruce could clearly see it. The air smelled, his lungs felt heavy with the scent. "Nope. Never smoked a day in my life, me." His expression was falling fast. "That'd be stupid. Gotta think of my lungs. No smoking here."
Bruce raised both eyebrows.
Jason laughed nervously.
"Okay, yes, not a day in my life might be a slight exaggeration. But not recently. Ha. Me, smoking? No sir."
Bruce looked pointedly at Jason's shoes, lost.
"IhavenoideawhatyouretalkingaboutbutithinkihearAlfredcallingmefordinnerseeyoulaterbyeBruce."
And with that he shouldered past Bruce and fled downstairs, feet thumping loudly against the wooden stairs of the Manor.
For a kid whose words were brash, assured, but presence usually silent as a ghost, this was troubling.
Bruce tentatively added 'smoking in front of an adult' to the list of Jason's triggers, the things to look out for, and resolved to do more research.
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The first time it happened, Dick had just given Jason the Robin costume.
Jason had looked at it, eyes full of light, like the costume, or what it represented, was the eighth world's wonder.
Then, he'd back flipped over the Batcomputer, nearly bringing some monitors down in the process, and Bruce just couldn't find it in him to be mad, because-
"Master Jason." Alfred had. Not snapped, exactly. Said dryly, perhaps.
And Jason had grinned, beamed, happy as can be, and said-
"But, Alf! Look! Being Robin gives me magic!"
Dick had grinned, too, then. A little fond.
"Well, magic or not, I hope you're not planning on sneaking out tonight, little Wing. You're still grounded until next Thursday, remember?"
And Jason. Jason. Who, up to that point, had never had a problem staring straight into Dick's eyes to spout the wildest of lies. Who could convince Bruce of almost anything, who could sell a lie with enough guts, incentive, and bright, pure, determination to make Riddler doubt himself-
Looked to the side, shoulders hunching up in a sad parody of confidence.
"Haha. No. Of course not." He said, looking anywhere but at Dick or Bruce. "I mean, yes, of course. I mean, I remember. No going out. Got it." He took a step back. "Staying in the cave. Just as planned. I love the cave. There are so many.... bats. Gotta love bats. Bats are wonderful." He nodded determinedly, looking like he was dying inside a little. A lot. An angry flush was rising up his cheeks.
"Riiiight." Dick replied, slowly. "Bats are wonderful." Jason cringed. " Anything you'd like to share with us, Jason?"
"No?"
Dick's eyes narrowed.
"Want to try running that one by me again?"
Bruce's mouth turned down into a half-frown. Alfred's eyebrows rose. More concerned than anything, certainly, but Jason just -broke.
"Itotallywasn'tplanningongoingouttonightandeenifIwereitwasn'tgoingtobeCrimeAlley."
The ensuing silence was only broken by the chattering of the bats overhead. Jason was glaring at his feet, angry flush now a deep red, high on his cheeks.
Dick let out a bemused little sort of snort.
"Okay, then. Anything else you want to add? Like what you were not going to do, maybe?"
"Or how, pray tell, you were not planning on getting there?" Alfred asked.
Jason started fidgeting in earnest, quite obviously wanting nothing more than to disappear back behind the computer. Melt into the shadows.
Bruce frowned.
The matter bore watching.
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Bruce was growing more concerned with each passing day. At the hazard this represented for Jason's safety. His secret identity. The newfound limits to his infiltration or spy work.
"Robin." Bruce rumbled one evening, careful not to snap. Never snap, never scare, with Jason. "With me." He demanded. Then added- "Training." To soften the order into something more manageable to the boy, somewhat.
Jason- Robin stopped working on the Batmobile's engine. He ran over to Bruce, grin already firmly in place, oil smudged on his face, arms, and legs.
"What's up boss?" He asked
"Lie to me."
Jason- Jason stopped. Just stopped. Stopped right in the middle of leaning over Bruce's shoulder to try to swipe the last of Alfred's cookies from Bruce's share, to stare up at him, dumbfounded.
"What?"
"You heard me. Lie. Convincingly."
"Uh, okay?" He frowned. Reached up to swipe at the oil on his cheek, only managing to smear it further, to add cookies crumbs to the mess. "I, uh, I-"
More than concerning, this was simply alarming. Bruce stared.
"I ...did not accidentally scratch your car last night." Jason squeaked.
The matter of it being convincing aside, why on earth was he using that as an example?
His son seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Or am I trying to convince you that that's a lie?" He finished lamely, cringing.
"Are you?"
"Noo, I'm not?"
Jason was staring at his feet again. Bruce ruffled his hair, to try to draw him back out of his head.
"How?" He said. Then, added as an afterthought. "Lie. I won't be mad."
Silence hung heavy in the cave.
"I can't." The words burst out, the boy now a flurry of movement. A volcano of contained anger. "I fucking can't."
"Why?" He asked, helpless. "You were able to convince Ridder yesterday."
"Well I don't fucking know, it's different, okay!?"
"Jay-lad. It's alright. "
"I don't know! You're all .... you! All disapproving, and lying matters, okay, it's hurtful, and I don't want to, family should be able to tell each other the truth , even when the truth hurts. And it sucks and I wish I could but I can't."
Oh.
His son was near-trembling with anger. Bruce should be doing something about that, but-
Family.
"You can't lie to people you care about." Bruce marvelled.
Family.
"It's okay, Jay-lad." He pressed a kiss in Jason's hair. That seemed to calm the kid down a little. "We'll figure it out."
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They tested it.
Jason near-convinced Scarecrow Batman had retired. He managed to convince socialites he was actually Bruce's biological child, and that Dick was Lex Luthor's long lost son.
He utterly failed to convince Bruce that he didn't want that new hoodie, really, he didn't.
Jason had always been a paradox, full of contradictions. The one person able to make Batman laugh in Crime Alley on the anniversary of his parents' death.
Jason Todd was the best liar Bruce had ever met. Jason Todd was the absolute worst liar Bruce had ever met.
Then, none of it mattered anymore, because his son was dead.
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The first time it happened, Jason had come back full of fury, full of pain. He had always wielded truths like weapons, with unrelenting intent and precision. Jason Todd could be tactful, he could be sarcastic, but he was almost always honest. He spoke his mind.
Jason had come back hating him with a passion, and he'd made that point quite clear.
It had taken time, months, to get them to the point of almost-peaceful cooperation. Months of his son being alive, but hurting, feeling unwanted. Months of him throwing every good memory of his childhood in Bruce's face. Months of anger, hatred, of Jason not accepting anything, if it came from Bruce.
Bruce could not blame him. He'd been failed enough.
"Hood." Bruce started that night's pre-patrol planning session, grateful for the excuse to see Jason. For his son being alive, with them, in the cave. He busied himself by pulling up a map that was color-coded with recent gang activity. "Are you planning on hitting the docks tonight?"
Jason hadn't put his helmet on yet. He went a little pale. The corners of his mouth wobbled.
"Nooo." He said, a beat too late, tone a little squeaky. Bruce stilled, felt the air freeze in his lungs. "No. No I'm not. Why would I do that?"
He stopped, through sheer force of will. Bruce turned to pin him with a Look.
Tim, who'd been disinterested in the whole meeting up until then leaned forward with a fascinated expression.
Jason.... babbled.
"Nothing interesting to see by the docks. And I hate Pier fifteen anyway. I wouldn't put foot in there.
"I never said a word about pier fifteen." Bruce pointed out, something thawing in his chest.
Jason's confidence all but melted down to nothing, but Bruce. Bruce was soaring.
"Didn't say you did." Came the answer, still a beat too late. "Just that I hate it. I'm allowed to hate things."
"You are." He agreed warmly. He took a step closer. Jason took a wary step back.
"What are you doing?"
"What are you planning?" Bruce shot back.
"Nothing."
"I can see that you're lying."
Jason rushed to put his helmet back on.
"You can't see shit."
And just like that night in Crime Alley, Bruce laughed, deep, a full belly laugh.