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English
Series:
Part 3 of Sprite's Whumptober 2021 , Part 3 of Batfamily Whumptober Timeline
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Whumptober 2021
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Published:
2021-10-31
Completed:
2021-11-17
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5,112
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2/2
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86
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1,196
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Your Words In My Head

Summary:

Written for Whumptober 2021 Day 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But...
Prompt: Insults | Taunting

The book thudded to the ground as Jason lunged forward, forcing himself to turn the uppercut into a feint at the last second. He bared his teeth, feeling a thrill of satisfaction that Connelly had flinched back.

“One. More. Word..."

Notes:

My longest fic yet. If you can't tell, Jason Todd holds a special place in my heart.
Warning for immature insults and high schoolers with their heads in the gutter.
Titling from Human by Christina Perri

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Til I've Had Enough

Chapter Text

Jason accepted the paper, one corner of his mouth ticking up when he noticed Ms. Hammes's wink. He glanced down at the cover page, feeling a thrill of pride when he saw her red A+, followed by, One of the best theses I've seen on Shakespeare in a long time! 

He didn't have time to read through the rest of her comments before class, but what he'd seen gave him a high that carried him through all his classmates' dumb jokes and idiotic interpretations of the next lesson.

When the bell rang, and Ms. Hammes dismissed them, Jason hurried to his locker, scanning through the comments. With Alfred and Bruce looking over it, they'd only missed one typo, and some formatting thing on his references. She suggested he put in the full quote on one of his points, too, but overall...

Fantastic job, Jason. You really thought this one out, and gave full support to your arguments. It's been a joy watching your writing improve.

He reached his locker and grinned down at the A+ one more time. Finally. His favorite class, favorite teacher, and he'd finally managed to do it right.

He realized someone was behind him and whipped around, but too late to stop Edward Asshole Connelly from snatching his paper out of his hands.

"Hey!"

He was too damn tall. He held it just out of Jason’s reach, where Jason would have to jump to snatch it, but Jason wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“What’s this?” Connelly asked theatrically. “What’d you get this time, gutter kid?”

His cronies laughed.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason huffed. He turned back to his locker, taking out his geometry book. He’d seen his grade, he’d read the comments, and he had a favorable report for Bruce. If Connelly wanted to rip this one up, well, at least Jason had already gotten the credit.

“A plus?” Connelly exclaimed. “How the fuck do you get an A plus, dumb-ster boy?”

“Y’see, I have this thing called a brain.” Jason slammed his locker shut and turned around, scanning for an escape route. “All that money, can’t believe you haven’t bought one.”

“The fuck did you say to me, punk?”

“Nothin’.”

Jason tried to slip between Newell and Davis, but they closed ranks.

“Can you even read, Todd?”

Wayne. My name is Jason Wayne. But aloud, he just said, “Believe it or not.”

He wished he could knock all their lights out and teach them to leave him the fuck alone. But he hadn’t fought yet, and he wasn’t going to now. Because Robin, he told himself, And Alfred would be disappointed. But deep down, Jason admitted he wanted to prove he wasn’t the feral animal everyone treated him as.

“Not,” Connelly said. He crumpled the paper (mildly impressive, as it was ten pages) and threw it to the ground. Jason nudged it behind him with his foot, unwilling to bend down and expose his neck.

 “I think you’re just a teacher’s pet.”

By the other boy’s laughter, Jason could tell the joke was much more sinister than it sounded.

He rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

This caused even more laughter. He tried to slip behind Tomlin, but the other boy blocked him. He edged back into the center of the circle, shifting his textbook slightly so it shielded his ribs.

“How was it, anyway?” Connelly asked. “She looks like a good one. Thought she’d be too prude though.” He made a face as he appraised Jason, who immediately wanted to run. “You must be a lot better than you look. I guess you’ve probably had a lot of practice.”

Jason was getting a clue now. One that made his blood boil.

“You can take that theory,” he hissed, “and shove it up your ass.”

“Like you?” Connelly smirked. “Or is it Wayne who—”

The book thudded to the ground as Jason lunged forward, forcing himself to turn the uppercut into a feint at the last second. He bared his teeth, feeling a thrill of satisfaction that Connelly had flinched back.

“One. More. Word. About my father—”

“You mean your daddy,” Newell coughed.

“And you will all,” Jason glared around the circle, “be on a feeding tube for a month.”

He crouched, still watching them, to retrieve his book and paper, and finally pushed through the semicircle, starting down the hall when Connelly called, 
“You can cut the act, Todd! Everyone knows Brucie just bought you for a fucktoy after Gra—”

There was a sickening crack followed by a scream as Geometry Common Core struck Connelly directly in the jaw. He staggered against the locker, flailing a hand towards Jason to signal his cronies to charge.

Jason met them head on, ducking and weaving, giving every bit as good as he got. He could hear a few other screams, and the inevitable chant of Fight, fight, fight, fight—and his blood sang with satisfaction and fury, even though underneath it all was whatamIdoing-shit-no.

Newell slammed Jason almost face-first into the locker. He turned his head just in time to spare his nose, then twisted, fist catching Newell in the throat. He choked and let go, and Jason turned fully to press his advantage when both his arms were yanked back by 6’4, 240 pound Jake Tomlin.

Jason yelped as Tomlin yanked his arms again, crossing them behind Jason’s body and making his shoulders scream. He writhed and kicked, even tried to twist around and bite, but the other boy was just too big, someone was always too big, and Jason was just too small, and it had cost him his childhood, his home, almost even his life—

A fist slamming into his gut jerked Jason out of a cold, ugly spiral, and he immediately resumed his struggle. He tried to kick Newell and Davis away as they came at him, managing to get one’s knee before his own nose snapped.

Jason could taste blood when his arms were suddenly released. He lunged at Newell, only for an arm to catch him in the stomach, and send him back with enough force to land him on the ground. 

“ENOUGH,” roared Mr. Wyden.

For a few seconds there was silence but for heavy breathing and the sound of Connelly sobbing. Jason felt a surge of vicious satisfaction when he saw the asshole’s clearly broken jaw, but his pride was immediately soured as Wyden demanded, “What. Happened?” and every finger turned to Jason.

They started it would be a lie. So Jason got to his feet, grit his teeth and snarled, "They were asking for it," instead.

"I highly doubt that," Wyden sneered. "To the principal's office, Todd. Now. You boys take Connelly to the nurse, and the rest of you clear out and get to class."

Jason was already turning to go when Wyden stalked up and grabbed his arm, half dragging him down the hall. He tried to jerk free, but Wyden gripped tighter, actually shaking Jason as he muttered, "Had to happen. Took long enough..."

You cannot deck him. You're already getting expelled.

Half a fantasy followed of saying fuck it and decking him anyway - not like things could get worse - but it was stopped by realizing that if when he got expelled...

All Jason's fight drained away. He tried to calculate how much time it would take to get legally disowned. If he could grab a bunch of cash from his bank account before that happened, he might have enough to ditch Gotham, get to another city, preferably another state, where no one would be able to match his face to his story. Bruce Wayne's former son - suspected whore - was a dead kid or worse in Crime Alley.

Jason flinched just a little when Principal Jameson said he'd be calling "your guardian." He grit his teeth when Jameson assured Wyden he'd also be calling "the poor boys' parents." He sat on the hard plastic chair when ordered, and glared at a stain in the carpet when Davis, Newell, and Tomlin came in, all sporting too many bandages and ice packs. Jason wished he'd caused that much damage. 

It took only half an hour for four extremely well-dressed couples to come scurrying and storming into the office, all talking at once.

The Tomlins, Davises, and Newells immediately moved to their sons and began fawning over them. Mrs. Newell was actually crying. The Connellys went right up to Jameson's desk, and Mr. Connelly was literally spitting as he bellowed, "What happened to my son?"

"The nurse is saying his jaw is broken!" Mrs. Connelly cried. "She says we must take him to the hospital!"

"Who is responsible for this?"

"Ladies, sirs, if you'll just have a seat," Jameson tried. "Can I offer you tea? Coffee?"

"Chamomile, yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Davis, fanning herself.

Jason rolled his eyes, pretending his stomach wasn't sinking. 

Mrs. Tomlin gave a yelp when she finally saw Jason, and he reflected that he probably looked even worse than the other boys, having had no chance to clean the blood off his face.

"Ah, yes," Jameson said uncomfortably. "Mr. Todd--"

"He broke Ed's jaw, Mother," Tomlin piped up. "Decked him without a warning and then he--"

Jason surged up. "I told you all to shut the fuck up or I--"

"Todd!" Jameson snapped.

"My God, how vulgar," whispered Mrs. Davis.

Tomlin was jerked halfway behind his father. Mrs. Newell clutched at her husband's arm. Mr. Connelly rounded on Jason, who glared straight back.

"You? You're the delinquent who assaulted my son? How dare you--"

"You don't want your kid's mug broke, teach him to mind his own business."

"Todd, that is enough--"

"Would someone like to explain to me what the hell is going on?"

Oh, shit. 

Bruce had just arrived. He did not look pleased. He looked rather like Batman assessing a nasty crime scene. His eyes narrowed further when he caught sight of Jason.

"Mr. Mr. Wayne..." Jameson had gone slightly pale. "Ah, heh, so sorry to bother you, really, we were nearly finished here..."

"No, we most certainly were not," thundered Mr. Connelly. "Wayne, am I to understand that's your boy?" He thrust a finger at Jason.

"Yes," Bruce said coldly, folding his arms as he moved to stand near Jason. "Jason is my son."

"Well, how do you account for him attacking our boys?" cried Mrs. Newell.

The secretary bowed her way in and out, pressing a cup of steaming tea into Mrs. Davis's hands.

"I think I would like to hear the story from the beginning," Bruce said.

"Of course, naturally," Jameson half-yelped. "Young Mr. Tomlin, if you would begin again, please."

For the first time, everyone got quite silent. The fathers stood glaring with their arms crossed while the mothers fretted over the bandages and ice packs. Jameson hovered awkwardly for a moment, halfway between sitting and standing before finally sinking into his chair. Jason clenched his fists at his sides and refused to look at Bruce.

"Well, well, like I said," Tomlin began. "It was just after English, and we'd got all our papers back, right? And Todd, well, it wasn't like he was trying to hide it, so we saw the grade--"

"And Ed told him good job," Davis jumped in, glancing between his buddies, his parents, and Bruce, "'cause it was better than the last one, yeah? And then Jason just up and decked him, and we could all hear his jaw crack!"

Jason opened his mouth to defend himself, but Bruce set a hand on his shoulder. Jason froze. Bruce wasn't seriously believing this crap, was he?

"And then he just kept whaling on him," Newell added. "And so we tried to pull him apart, and he completely wrecked us until Mr. Wyden came and pulled him off."

Mrs. Newell patted her son's shoulder. He gave a theatrical wince, which earned Jason another round of venomous glares. He raised his chin just a little bit higher.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, Mr. Wayne," Jameson began, "fighting is against school rules, and especially as this fight resulted in significant injury to multiple students, I'm afraid we must--"

"Now hold on a minute," Bruce cut in. "I'd like to hear Jason's side of this."

"That boy broke my son's jaw!" Mr. Connelly snapped. "No explanation--"

"I said," and even Jason blanched at Bruce's tone, "I want to hear Jason's story."

He looked down at Jason. Jason could only meet his eyes for a second; they were too stormy. Bruce had obviously already made up his mind, and as Jason had started the fight, he would get no grace from claiming provocation. 

He squared himself up and ground out, "Not much for me to add."

Mr. Connelly puffed up like a bearded lizard. Mrs. Davis huffed into her teacup. The boys all shared triumphant looks.

"Well, then. It appears--"

"Jason." 

Bruce's eyes said You're lying. His posture said I'm not letting this go. His voice said Tell me.

Jason ground his teeth. His insides squirmed. He looked back at the ugly carpet, wanting to sink underneath it. He would run now, and take his chances in Crime Alley, if he didn't have to admit just how bad he'd fucked up, how right he'd proved everyone who ever talked shit about him.

"Jay."

And this time it sounded almost gentle, and Jason's dam burst.

"What do you want me to say?" he demanded. He glared up at Bruce, ignoring the rest of the room, as well as the heat in his face and moisture in his eyes. "Yes, it's my fault, I started it. I was fed up with all their fucking shit, so I threw my textbook and broke the asshole's jaw, and I'm not sorry, either! The whole lot of them have given me shit the whole term, but I put up with it, because I knew it was going to happen, but they crossed a fucking line this time, so I let 'em have it."

"Crossed what line?" Bruce asked.

"Does it fucking matter?" Jason muttered, glaring back at the ground. He wanted to hug himself, but that was weakness. He had to start breaking those habits.

"Yes, Jason, it does," Bruce said, the gentlest he'd sounded yet, ignoring the splutterings and exclamations of the others. "It matters a great deal."

"They were talking shit about you. And Dick, and Ms. Hammes." He glared sullenly back up through his bangs. "I wouldn't start a fight over myself."

There, he thought, as Bruce's expression shuttered once more. Did I pass your fucking test? Do you think you and Dick are worth it? Or do you only wanna fight the assholes who admit they're evil?

"Jay," Bruce said, voice so level it was terrifying, "Why don't you grab your things from your locker and wait for me in the car?"

"Mr. Wayne--" five people clamored.

"Go on, Jason. I'll be right there."

Jason stayed completely still for a moment. He stared up at Bruce. He... he was really... He actually...

"Fine," Jason heard himself say, wooden. He seemed to himself to sleep walk out of the office, down the hall, back to the locker with the just the faintest stain of blood.

Opening the door was like rebooting his head. His body was still numb, but he reached for his things and stuffed them in his backpack. 

The textbooks would probably get him a decent bit of money. The granola bars and his water bottle were a good head start, too. If he found the right place to sell his phone and school tablet, he may be able to get several cities away, if not out of Jersey.

The walk back through the school to the parking lot made him feel like a prisoner on Death Row, his warden the bag on his shoulders, weighing him down. 

He hesitated when he saw Bruce's Lexus parked out front. Maybe... maybe he should wait. See if he could get in one more good meal, maybe even try to work out a way to be Robin without being Jason Wayne.

Your temper is never going to help you in a fight, Jason. Or before one, for that matter. It makes you sloppy, violent, and--

Never mind.

He could hotwire it, get out of town with it. But Batman would track him down in an instant that way.

Jason had always been better off relying on his own wits.

He jogged to the public bus station, and only had to wait a minute for one he could board.

He sighed as it carried him towards Gotham City proper.

Home, sweet fucking home.

Chapter 2: Give You All I Am

Summary:

The Batfamily plays a game called "Pass the Emotional Brain Cell" and about 8 times out of 10, it ends up with Dick.

Notes:

Quite honestly, I'd meant to end the last part with a heartfelt conversation in the car, then probably a note where Dick came and snuggled Jay to pieces. Then Jason reminded me that he is an independent little shit who don't need no family and ran away. So now you all get this. And wow is it also very long 😅

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was the second time his cellphone rang, from the same caller. He sighed, but answered. 

"B, I'm in the middle of a case right now, I have had nothing but distractions all day, so--"

"Jason ran away."

Dick froze. His eyes still registered color and squiggles on the computer screen in front of him, but they made no sense.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice calmly detached. "Could you say that again?"

"Jason ran away." 

Bruce sounded completely emotionless. Which of course meant he was about three seconds from having a breakdown.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'Jason ran away?'" In the beginning, sure, before he learned to trust them. But now?

"I mean there was a fight at school. I told him to get his things, because I was pulling him out. I was going to meet him at the car, and he wasn’t there. And he's not answering my calls."

"Fuck." Dick pushed back in his seat, running his hand through his hair. His brain was racing. "You sure he didn't go home? Has Alfred gotten hold of him?"

"Jason rejected his calls twice."

Dick said a word Kori had taught him. In what universe did Jason refuse to answer Alfred?

"He hasn't called you?"

Dick hated to crush the hope in Bruce's voice, but, "No. I... I don't think he'd come to me. B, what happened?"

"The boys at his school," Bruce said miserably. "They accused Jason of... sleeping with his teacher for a grade--"

"They did fucking WHAT?" 

Dick exploded out of his chair.

"-- and implied that my relationship with both of you was... other than fatherly."

"Those little fucking bastards--"

"Everything all right, Grayson?"

His partner, Amy, was leaning around the divider, eyebrows raised. Dick grappled the blazing inferno down to a bonfire.

"Actually, no," he choked out. "Family emergency. My little brother..."

Ran away from home. Is alone in the worst city in the nation. Is definitely not in his right mind right and could get or already is kidnapped, killed, or worse.

"I'll call Bensen to take your shift," Amy said, looking at him with a strange pinch in her brow. "You go take care of your brother."

Dick was out the door before Thank you had even left his lips. He resisted the urge to take a cruiser, reminding himself why he was not allowed to use flashers for personal reasons.

"You tracked him, right?" he snapped at Bruce. "You know where he is?"

"All I know for sure is that he was on a bus heading into the city at 2:41. I'd expect him to go back to the Alley. He knows it best."

Jason, emotionally compromised, all alone, in the most dangerous part of the most dangerous city in the country.

Dick was doing 75 in a 60. He pushed it to 80.

"I'll be there in an hour."

 

 

The hour of twilight between sundown and dark was always the worst.

In broad daylight, you could see people coming, and they knew that, and they knew other people might see, and come when you screamed. In pitch black, you could blend in the shadows, and when you were still, people would pass you right by.

But during the semi-darkness, your only hope was to already be hidden, and hidden well.

Jason walked as fast as he dared down the street, keeping close by the buildings. He kept his head down, hood of the second-hand sweatshirt up, and one hand on his backpack strap, the other clenched in a white-knuckled fist.

He'd forgotten, almost, the feeling of being alone, yet watched. He'd grown used to the confidence of someone watching his six, and even when Robin patrolled by himself, a comm line in his ear reminded him he wasn't alone. 

I don't need it. Never did.

The only person who'd ever caught Jason was Batman, and now Jason knew how to escape him, too. He also had better weapons against cold and starvation than before. He'd be fine.

"Hey, kid! What's in the backpack?"

Shit.

Just one guy, wobbling on his feet. He had a beer bottle in one hand.

"I've got a granola bar if ya want it," Jason offered, pitching his voice for young-innocent-clueless. 

The man came closer. Jason edged back, aiming his steps towards the nearest fire escape.

"Money, kid. Givit 'ere."

"I don't have any."

"Lemme see for myself."

Jason's back bumped the fire escape. He whirled around and scrambled up, ignoring the drunkard's shouting and cursing. He climbed all the way to the roof and jumped off it to the next one.

Three roofs west, Jason dropped back down to street level, breathing hard. His ribs weren't happy about all the high-impact. The light was at its worst now. He needed to find a hiding place yesterday. 

He peeked down the nearest alley. It was dark, and it stank to high heaven, but he couldn't tell that it had been claimed.

Well. He couldn't tell it was claimed until it was too late.

The mass of shadow in the back corner was a man. A hulking man whose hand shot out and snagged Jason's wrist before he could run.

"Private property, little boy," rasped a voice that sounded like its owner frequently gargled gravel. "You're trespassing."

"Let go," Jason snarled, yanking back futilely. "I didn't know it was your damn squat, ok?"

All that he could see of the man's face were his eyes. They gleamed with a cunning hunger that made Jason's stomach twist.

"Since you're here, you might 's well stay."

"No thanks."

Jason grabbed the man's hand on his wrist, stepped out, and jerked as hard as he could. With a cry, the man stumbled past him, and Jason drove his foot into the back of his knee. He sprinted back down the alleyway until his sweatshirt was yanked back hard enough to make him choke. 

The man flung Jason back against the wall and pinned him with one massive hand, snarling, "You little--"

"Help!" Jason bellowed. It was fifty-fifty whether anyone who heard would save him or join the fun, but worse odds had turned out better-- "He-- mm!"

He bit the man's hand, but that only made him squeeze tighter. Jason kicked at the man's knees before he was pulled back and slammed into the wall again. 

He slumped down, dazed. He heard a jingle of metal and no, please... not like this...

I should never have left--

"HEY!"

Jason forced himself back to his feet as the man turned towards his new challenger. If he could dart past--

"Get. The fuck. Away from my brother."

Jason froze, not sure if it was in relief or horror. His would-be rapist dropped to the ground, felled almost instantly by his older brother.

An unholy and inhuman rage Jason had never seen before instantly switched to softness and concern. Dick had closed the distance and bundled Jason into a hug before he could even blink.

"Jason, are you hurt? Are you ok? What happened? Oh, God, Jay, I'm so glad I found you--"

"What are you doing here?" The words came slow and tasted strange.

"Bruce called me-" Dick kept stroking Jason's hair, pulling back to look at him, checking for injuries. Jason had never seen him like this. "- and told me you ran away, because of... wh-what happened at school... Jason, why?"

Jason squirmed, trying to fight his way out of the hug. "He was gonna dump me back here anyway, I just did it for him."

"What? Jason, no, never. Why would you even..."

Dick finally pulled back, looking at Jason with astonishment and heartbreak. Jason ignored the way it twisted inside his chest and stepped back, away from Dick's warmth.

"I fucked up. I got in a fight - one I started - and broke the bastard's jaw, and-- I think I'm lucky I didn't get fucking arrested, and B was pissed, no, livid, he was halfway to losing his shit, and if people are saying that about him, I can't hang around anyway, and I..."

Jason clamped his mouth shut and clenched his jaw before Dick's fucking big brother witchcraft could make him say anything else.

"Oh, Jaybird," Dick whispered. He reached out and cupped the side of Jason’s face. "Bruce wasn’t mad at you, Little Wing, he was mad for you."

Jason shook his head. Dick studied him for a long moment.

"I'll bet you didn't eat yet."

Jason's stomach growled traitorously.

"Come home? Let Alfred make you dinner? Just... just try to hear Bruce out?"

You're only going to end up right back here.

Dick can tell whatever pretty lies he wants to...

Free food is free food. 

Maybe--

"Fine."

Jason ignored the way the cold ache inside warmed at Dick's smile, and followed his brother out of the alley. Only a block down was his car.

"Seventeen," Dick said, starting the engine.

"You hit your head?"

"That's how many fights I got into when I was in high school. Seventeen. I started at least ten."

Jason pulled his knees up to his chest and stared out the window.

"It's different."

"I'm a Romani boy from the circus, Jay. It's not that different. And... people have always made assumptions about Bruce having sons. But even if the whole world believed that kind of shit, he'd still never give us up. Not for any reason."

Jason stayed silent.

 

 

Bruce sprinted into the house, bouncing off a few walls in his rush to get to the kitchen. He knew Dick said and he would never lie about this, but--

He sagged against the doorframe.

Jason was right there, safe at home, sitting at the table with Dick. His nose was taped and there was an icepack wrapped around his ribs, but he didn't look any worse than earlier.

Bruce didn't think he would ever forget walking into the office and seeing Jason with blood dripping down his face.

Dick murmured something in Jason's ear. Jason looked up sharply, gaze wary when it landed on Bruce.

"Jaylad," he whispered, coming closer. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Just let me have it, old man."

Bruce blinked. He looked at Dick, who winced, then Alfred, who turned back to the stove with a raised eyebrow that warned Don't mess this up.

"Wh-... I'm not sure what you mean, Jay," he said carefully. 

"Fine, I'll say it for you." Jason's chin jutted out. "My temper's a liability, and I'm too violent and overreactive, I fucked up big this time, and I'm damn lucky you're rich enough to bribe the Connellys out of pressing charges, and obviously I'm never gonna be any better than some idiot, feral gutter rat, and--"

"Jaylad," Bruce whispered, feeling his heart crack down the middle. "Is that... do you really think I think that?"

"What else was I supposed to think?" Jason bit out. "When you walk in late, pissed to hell already, and kick me outta the room?"

"Oh, Jason..."

How did Bruce mess up so bad? Had he really been sending signals he was angry at Jason?

"Communication," Dick coughed, passing Bruce as he went to help Alfred.

Any other time he might have glared. But now he just slowly closed the distance between himself and Jason, kneeling down and taking Jason's hands in his own.

His son refused to look at him.

"Jason..." Where to begin? "I'm sorry it took me so long to get there. The school called my secretary instead of my cell, and didn't tell her enough about the situation. She called Alfred first, then he was able to tell me."

The bitter twist to Jason's mouth uncurled the tiniest bit. Bruce gratefully pressed on.

"I came in angry because the school hadn't communicated the way they were supposed to. And then I saw you..." All alone, hurt and bleeding and trying to hide it, in a roomful of people determined to assume the worst of you, "and I was angry because you were hurt. And I was furious that everyone was blaming you without hearing your side of the story. And I... when I asked you to leave, it was because I didn't want you to keep going to an environment that was so toxic. And because I intended to find out what those boys had said, and didn't want to make you hear it again. Do you... do you understand?"

"So?" Jason muttered, still not looking at Bruce. "What’s it matter what they said? I'm supposed to be better. I proved everybody right, so why shouldn't I go back to the fucking gutter where I belong?"

"Oh, Jaylad."

Bruce felt his heart shatter. He leaned forward and pulled Jason into his arms, holding him as close as he could.

"You belong here," he whispered, trying not to cry. "Right here, with me, and Dick, and Alfred. And I'll fight anyone who tries to tell you different."

Jason was shaking his head. 

Oh, sweetheart, how can I convince you? 

He pulled back, cupping one hand around Jason's cheek. Tears traced under his thumb. He brushed them away.

"Jaylad? Can you look at me, son?"

Jason finally met his gaze.

"Jason, you are an incredible kid. You're intelligent, and kind, and compassionate, and you never give up on what matters to you. It doesn't matter where you came from, or what mistakes you may make, or what anyone says, you are my son. And I love you..." They were both crying now, "so much. And I am so sorry for every time I've made you doubt that."

Jason sobbed and flung himself back into Bruce's arms. Bruce held him tight, lifting his head to see Dick smiling with shining eyes. He lifted one arm. 

Dick choked a laugh and knelt down beside them, pressing against Bruce and wrapping his arms around Jason. Bruce folded his sons closer, hiding his tears against their hair.

"I love you," he whispered. 

And Jason tremulously answered, "L-love you, too, Dad."

Notes:

Y'all, I did not think the themes in this would stray so close to the reasons Jason ran away and died. I had to smack myself five times to keep from writing an awful angsty bit at the end 😣

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!