Archive of Our Own

Jason’s fingers twitched with a mix of anticipation and anger as he perched on the edge of the warehouse rooftop. The dark Gotham skyline stretched out before him, dotted with the usual flickers of criminal activity. His breathing was shallow, barely contained, and the voices were relentless tonight, whispering cruel truths and unbearable commands. He clenched his jaw, focusing on the task at hand—Luthor’s men were inside, loading Wayne Enterprises’ crates onto unmarked trucks.  

The Pit Rage simmered beneath his skin, a constant, boiling reminder of his torment. He couldn’t let it take over, not now. It’s not time yet.   

Jason knew he couldn’t risk returning to the Manor, especially after what happened at Titans Tower. The very thought of hurting the family he just got back again was terrifying. The voices loved to use that against him, pushing him toward the brink, urging him to end the pain.  

Jason shook his head, clearing the thoughts. He had a mission. And he wasn’t doing this just for himself never himself ; he was doing it for Bryce. The thought of Luthor trying to undermine her and, even worse, trying to woo her into his bed made his vision tinge green with rage. As if Sebastian Kyle, who Bryce constantly denied was her boyfriend if Dick was to be believed , wouldn’t flay Luthor like a fish if he ever got too close. That man acted so catty sometimes.  

And if not Kyle, Bryce herself would make sure Luthor regretted every breath he took.  

Perk of being Batman, I guess?  

"Focus," he muttered to himself, dropping silently from the rooftop and into the shadows of the alley below. It's time to have some fun.  

Inside the warehouse, Luthor’s goons were busy. Jason counted at least a dozen, heavily armed but lax in their vigilance.   

Typical. You’d think by now they’d learn their lesson.  

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside.  

"Let’s do this," he whispered, and then he was in motion.  

The first thug didn’t even see him coming. Jason’s fist collided with the back of the man’s head, dropping him instantly.   

"Who the hell—" one of them started, but Jason’s foot silenced him, crashing into his face with a sickening crunch. He spun, dodging a wild swing from another goon, and drove his knee into the man’s stomach before finishing him with a brutal uppercut.  

"You think you can steal from Wayne Enterprises and get away with it?" Jason growled, his voice low and dangerous. He was on them before they could respond, green filling his vision, precise yet savage.  

A gunshot rang out, grazing his arm.   

Disappointing.  

The pain was distant, barely a distraction. He disarmed the shooter with a swift kick, following up with a punch that shattered the man’s nose. Another thug tried to tackle him, but Jason flipped him over, slamming him into a crate.  

Jason relished the physicality of the fight, the release it offered from the torment inside.  

"Come on!" he shouted, daring the remaining goons to come at him. They hesitated, fear clear in their eyes.  

 Ah, so they are learning! If only his siblings-  

You don’t deserve their help. You don’t deserve to call them family.  

Shut up!  

He focused on the fight, on the mission, on the thought of Bryce’s approval. If he could bring her good news, maybe it would be worth it. Anything to see that genuine little smile directed at him again instead of pity.  

The fight continued, a whirlwind of violence and determination, Jason’s relentless assault leaving the thugs reeling. He knew he was reaching his limit, but he couldn’t stop, not until the job was done. The last of Luthor’s goons were starting to back off, realizing they were no match for the wrath of the Red Hood.  

Also known as common fucking sense.  

A flash of movement caught his eye. He turned, too slow, as a massive figure lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. Jason struggled, the weight of the attacker pressing down on him, his vision blurring with the effort.  

"Gotcha now, you little—" the thug started, but Jason’s head snapped forward, headbutting the man.  

They never protect the face.  

Jason rolled to his feet, panting, his vision narrowing. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. The voices were getting louder, the Pit Rage threatening to leave him. He had to end this, and soon.  

Then, Jason smelled it, the unmistakable stench of rotten eggs.  

"Get down!" he shouted, but the warning was drowned out by the deafening explosion.  

The blast threw Jason across the room, slamming him into a stack of crates. Pain shot through his body, and his helmet shattered on impact, leaving him in his Domino mask. The acrid smoke filled the air, searing his lungs with every breath.  

Fuck!  

He coughed, struggling to push himself up. The thugs were scattered, some groaning, others already scrambling to their feet. They were dazed but still itching for a fight. Jason’s vision swam, the green was starting to shatter, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn’t let them win.  

A thug lunged at him, but Jason ducked, driving his fist into the man’s gut. He followed up with a knee to the face, sending the goon crashing to the ground. Another came at him with a knife, slashing wildly. Jason dodged, catching the man’s wrist and twisting it until he dropped the weapon with a scream.  

The smoke was getting thicker, each breath a struggle. Jason’s head pounded, but he fought on. He landed a brutal series of punches on another thug, his movements growing more sluggish with each hit.  

"Come on, is that all you’ve got?" he growled, barely able to keep his balance. The room spun around him, the edges of his vision darkening. Another thug came at him, but Jason sidestepped, delivering a final, powerful kick to the man’s chest.  

The last of Luthor’s men went down, but the smoke was too much. Jason’s strength was fading fast. He stumbled, his knees giving out as he tried to stay upright. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, the voices now distant echoes.    

Jason's eyes fluttered open to the acrid scent of smoke and the oppressive heat pressing down on him. Pain shot through his chest with every shallow breath. He tried to move, only to find his leg trapped under a hot metal beam. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as the weight of the situation settled in.  

Fuck sandwiches. Not only do I have busted ribs, I can't get out!  

"Not like this," he muttered, coughing as the smoke filled his lungs. The green tint is nearly gone, and Jason could feel the fever beginning to creep in had nothing to do with the fire.  

Curse my luck! Damnit Jason! Why didn’t you ask for fucking help for once in your life!  

Jason knew what was coming. When the Pit's influence finally receded, it would leave him in a state of exhaustion and nausea, with the fever only worsening. And then, the inevitable panic attacks would follow. He had to get out before that happened, but his head throbbed, and his strength was waning.  

He tried to push the beam off his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain. Every movement sent waves of agony through his body. He could feel his armor burning his skin. He couldn't let it end here, not like this.  

Maybe it's for the best...  

The heat intensified, and the metal beam grew hotter against his trapped leg. His vision blurred, and the voices in his head grew louder, mocking him, urging him to give in. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the rising panic.  

"Focus, Jason," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames. "You can do this."  

But his body was betraying him. The heat made it harder to think, and the exhaustion was setting in fast. He struggled again, trying to free his leg.  

Jason collapsed onto the ashen floor.   

Through the haze, he barely made out a figure approaching. Something black and tall.  

Batman!   

"Help..."  

Darkness took over.  

Jason felt like he was being burned from the inside out, the fever turning his blood to molten lava. Every breath was agony, and the world around him was a distorted nightmare.  

He was surrounded by faces, twisted and cruel, faces he knew too well. Sheila, her eyes full of betrayal and sorrow. The Joker, his manic grin seared into Jason's memory. He could smell the smoke, acrid and suffocating, taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. The relentless ticking of a bomb timer echoed in his mind, an endless loop of impending doom.  

Tick... Tick... Tick...  

Jason wanted to go home. He should have never gone to Ethiopia. He should never have gone behind Bryce’s back and ran away.  

The Joker's laughter rang in his ears, a cruel and mocking sound that twisted his insides.   

"You thought you could escape, didn't you?" the Joker's voice taunted. "You thought you could be free."  

Sheila's face swam into view, her expression one of sadness and regret. "I'm sorry, Jason," she whispered, but her voice was drowned out by the ticking and the laughter.  

Tick... Tick... Tick...    

Jason's breaths came in ragged gasps, the pain overwhelming. He felt powerless. Utterly powerless. The magic of Robin has abandoned him.  

“Left, or right?”   

Tick... Tick... Tick...  

The bomb, the betrayal, the laughter—it was all too much. He screamed at the world, at the pain.  

“Time’s ticking little birdie!”  

Tick... Tick... Tick...  

Dick’s heart pounded in his chest as he and Bryce pulled Jason from the burning wreckage of the warehouse. The heat was unbearable, the smoke thick and choking, but they had no choice. Jason was limp between them, his skin alarmingly pale, his eyes half-open but unseeing. Dick could feel Jason’s feverish heat even through his suit.  

“Come on, Jay, hang in there,” Dick muttered, trying to keep his voice steady despite the terror clawing at his insides.   

Jason’s mutterings were incoherent, but the fragments Dick caught were enough to send chills down his spine.  

“Don’t listen to it, Jason. We’ve got you,” Bryce said, her voice firm but tinged with worry. They were almost to the Batmobile, one step closer to home.  

Jason’s head lolled to the side, and his eyes fluttered. “Can’t... escape... it’s all my fault...” His voice broke, and a sob escaped his lips. “The bomb... it’s going to...”  

“Jason, focus on us. We’re getting you out of here,” Dick urged, tightening his grip on his brother.   

Dick gently took off the half-charred domino mask. The panic in Jason’s eyes was like a dagger to his heart. He hated seeing him like this, trapped in a nightmare of the past.  

They reached the Batmobile, and Bryce quickly opened the back door. “Get him in, now!” she ordered, her voice barely masking her own fear.  

Dick and Bryce maneuvered Jason into the backseat as gently as they could, but Jason cried out in pain. He thrashed weakly, his hands clawing at the air.  

Jason, please forgive me! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there!  

“Joker... he’s coming... can’t let him... can’t...”  

“Jason, you’re safe. The Joker’s not here,” Dick said, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Jason’s eyes were wide with terror, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. It was times like these Dick wished the Joker was still alive just so he could rip him apart himself.  

Bryce climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the Batmobile roaring to life. Dick stayed in the back with Jason, holding him down gently but firmly, trying to offer some comfort.  

“Stay with me, Jay. We’re going to get you help,” Dick said, his voice breaking. He could feel Jason’s fever worsening, the heat radiating from him almost unbearable. “Just hang on a little longer.”  

He wisely didn’t ask how much time they had.  

Jason’s mutterings continued, his voice filled with despair and fear. “It’s all my fault... I couldn’t save her... the bomb... tick... tick...”  

Dick’s throat tightened, and he blinked back tears. “It’s not your fault, Jason. None of it is your fault.”  

If anything, it’s mine. I was the one who scorned you for being Robin, for making you feel so unworthy.  

The Batmobile sped through the streets of Gotham, Bryce driving like a speed demon and most definitely breaking countless road laws. Bryce focused on the road, but Dick could see the tension in her shoulders, the urgency in every turn she made.  

Jason’s eyes started to close, his body going limp. “No, Jay, stay awake! Stay with me!” Dick shook him gently, panic rising. “Don’t go, please.”  

But Jason’s eyes closed, and he went still, his breathing shallow and uneven.   

“Mom!”  

“Mom?” he called out, his voice small and frightened.  

Jason was back in his childhood. He could hear his mother in the next room vomiting. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present odor of decay.  

Why isn’t she answering?  

Catherine didn’t respond. She was lost to her addiction, her once-beautiful face gaunt and hollow. Jason watched as she fumbled with a syringe, her hands shaking. He wanted to reach out, to take it from her, to make her see reason, but he was rooted to the spot, powerless.  

He felt the needle pierce her skin as if it was his own. He reached out to touch her to beg her.  

Mamá please! You were going to take me to the park! ¡Prometiste!  

The door behind him creaked open, and a cold dread settled in his stomach. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Dad loomed in the doorway, his eyes filled with anger and disdain.  

What did I do wrong?  

“What are you doing in here, you little brat?” Willis’s voice was a growl, low and menacing.  

Jason tried to back away, but his feet wouldn’t move. “Sólo estaba—I was just checking on Ma— Mom,” he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest.  

“Don’t lie to me, boy!” Dad advanced, his hand already raised. “You’re always causing trouble.”  

The first blow landed hard, sending Jason sprawling to the floor. Pain exploded in his side, but he barely had time to register it before the next hit came. He curled up, trying to protect himself like Jeff told him.  

“You’re useless! Just like your mother!”  

Jason’s vision blurred, tears mixing with blood. He could hear Catherine in the background, her murmurs of apology and pleas for another hit.  

Jason screamed when Dad stomped on his leg.   

“Please, Dad, stop!” he begged, but he only laughed, a cruel, heartless sound.  

The final blow came, a backhanded slap that sent Jason’s head snapping to the side. The room spun like a rollercoaster.  

Alfred worked with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many of these scenes before. His hands moved steadily as he reset Master Jason’s leg, every movement careful yet efficient, just like the Royal Army.  

"Stay with me, Master Jason," Alfred murmured, his voice steady despite the worry gnawing at him. He placed an oxygen mask over Master Jason's face, adjusting it to ensure a proper fit. It was necessary to clear out the smoke and tar from his lungs.  

He knew Master Jason hated needles. The boy—no, the young man when did he get so big? — had always had an aversion to them. But there was no choice. The IV was a necessary evil if Alfred was to address the metal melted onto Master Jason’s skin as painlessly as possible. He carefully inserted the needle, wincing internally at the thought of how Master Jason would react if he were awake.  

Certainly more violently than now.  

Master Jason mumbled feverishly, his voice thick with pain and delirium. "Mamá... Dad... por favor, deje de..." The words were like knives to Alfred’s heart. He had seen the scars, both physical and emotional, that Master Jason carried from his past. Hearing those old wounds given voice, even in a fevered haze, was almost unbearable.  

"Rest now, my boy," Alfred said softly. "We’ll get you through this."  

He glanced up, catching a glimpse of Miss Bryce through the window to the medical area. She stood just outside, her usual stoic demeanor shattered. She was shaking, her eyes wide with fear and guilt. Alfred’s heart ached for her.  

She was there when he died... if he dies again... God save us all.  

Alfred refused to let that happen.  

Alfred turned his attention back to Master Jason’s injuries. The broken ribs needed to be set, and his lungs required careful monitoring. The burns from the melted metal were severe, and Alfred knew that treating them would be a painstaking process. Not to mention the quite frankly worryingly high fever. He gently cleaned the wounds, applying salves and bandages, working as quickly and carefully as he could.  

He could hear Miss Bryce barking out orders before leaving with Master Tim.  

Every so often, Master Jason would twitch or moan, the pain seeping through even in his unconscious state. Alfred paused, giving him a moment of stillness, before continuing. He could feel the minutes slipping away, each one bringing them closer to safety, but also to the reality that Master Jason would have to face once he woke up.  

Now... time to address the metal.  

“Master Richard, Miss Cassandra. A little assistance if you would.”   

Jason was back on the streets, the cold biting through his thin, ragged clothes. He knew he was too young to be out here, too young to be alone but CPS wasn’t going to help him.   

I don’t want to end up like Jeff.  

The desperation was a constant ache, a gnawing hunger that drove him to places he never wanted to be. He felt both hot and cold. His shoes were falling apart at the seams but he has no money. The endless nights blurred together, each one a fight for survival.  

“Hey there, you looking for a good time?” he heard himself say, his voice hollow and detached. The words came out like a broken record, a rehearsed line that had lost all meaning. “I can make you feel really good... just need a place to stay for the night... something to eat...”  

I’m starving.  

Countless hands touched him, each one a violation, a reminder of how far he had fallen. He closed his eyes, trying to dissociate from the reality of it, trying to escape the hands that groped and grabbed. The faces were blurred, nameless and faceless, just shadows in the dark.  

“Please... just need a place to stay... just for the night...” he mumbled, the words slipping out between his fevered breaths.  

He was so tired, so unbearably tired. His body ached from more than just the physical pain—it was the exhaustion of a soul beaten down, day after day, night after night.  

Mamá... why did you have to die? Dad, why did you leave me?  

“Just a place to stay... just for a night...” The phrase repeated itself in his mind, an endless loop that offered no comfort, yet the promise of food.  

“Just for the night... please...”  

His body shuddered with the memory, the cold seeping deeper into his bones. He could feel the rough hands on him again, see the dirty alleyways and darkened corners where he had once sought refuge.  

“Just for the night... I can make you feel good...”  

The hands touching him now were different, careful and gentle, but he couldn’t differentiate them from the ghosts of his past. He mumbled again, the words a broken plea, his mind too fractured to understand the present.  

“Just a place to stay...”  

Cassandra moved with practiced efficiency, her hands deftly peeling away the charred remnants of Red-Brother's body armor. She didn’t fully understand the words Jason was mumbling, or why she was told no direct touch, but the terror and resignation in his body language were clear as day. Even in his fevered state, with his eyes open and clouded, his body was a canvas of fear and pain.  

Kind-Old-Suit-Man's face was a mask of stoic concern, while Blue-Brother's eyes shone with barely restrained sorrow. They seemed to understand the words Red-Brother was repeating, why he’s terrified.  

Red-Brother voice, weak and desperate, sent a chill down her spine. She wished she had the words to express what she was feeling, to convey the depth of Red-Brother's suffering that she could see so clearly. But words had always been elusive for her, slipping through her grasp like shadows. She only just started to learn how to use something called “phonics.”  

She could see the lines of terror etched into Red-Brother's face, the way his hands clenched and unclenched as if seeking something, someone, to hold on to. His body, even in its feverish state, spoke volumes—a language of pain and hopelessness that she understood all too well.  

But why is Red-Brother so scared?  

As she carefully applied the cool cloth to his forehead, sweat sticking to her latex gloves. The heat radiating from him was intense, the fever burning through him with relentless cruelty. She moved with a gentle touch, trying to offer what little comfort she could.  

Cass looked at Red-Brother, seeing the young boy he once was, lost and afraid, struggling to survive. So much like she was.  

She glanced at Kind-Old-Suit-Man, who met her eyes briefly, a silent understanding passing between them. Kind-Old-Suit-Man's hands were steady as he administered another round of pain meds, his voice a soothing murmur. Blue-Brother was by Red-Brother's side, wiping the sweat from his brow, his expression a mix of fierce protectiveness and heartbreak.  

Cass felt a surge of helplessness. She wanted to help Red-Brother, to ease his pain, but she didn’t know how. The words she needed, the expressions she wanted to convey, were just beyond her reach. But she knew she could stay by his side, offering her presence, her support, in the only way she knew how.  

She reached out, gently taking Red-Brother's hand in hers. His fingers were cold and clammy through the gloves, but she held on, hoping that her touch would somehow anchor him, remind him that he wasn’t alone.  

His mumbles faded into a pained whimper, and Cass squeezed his hand gently. She wished she could speak to him, tell him that he was safe, that they were there for him. Instead, she leaned in close, her voice a soft whisper.  

“Jashon... we her. You shafe.”  

She didn’t know if he could hear her, if her words would reach through the haze of fever and pain. But she hoped, with all her heart, that he could feel her presence, that he knew he wasn’t alone.  

“Fam’y,” she whispered softly, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes. “We fam’y.”  

Why? Why the hell was he here?  

Titans Tower. Once a home away from home. Now warped in sickening shades of green and hatred. His vision was tinged with green, the rage coursing through him, making his skin feel like it was on fire. He was on top of Tim, his fists raining down blows, each one harder than the last. The rational part of his mind screamed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. The Pit Rage had taken over, driving him to the brink of madness.  

“Please, forgive me,” Jason begged, his voice raw and desperate, even as his fists continued to strike. “Tim, I’m sorry... I can’t... I can’t stop...”  

Tim’s face was a mess of blood and bruises, his eyes wide with pain and fear. He didn’t fight back, didn’t try to defend himself. He just lay there, taking the punishment, his lips moving in silent pleas.  

The sight broke something inside Jason. He had always felt the need to protect his family, to keep them safe, and now here he was, the one causing the pain. The realization hit him like a freight train, cutting through the fog of the Pit Rage for a brief, agonizing moment.  

All you do is hurt.  

“Tim... I’m so sorry...” Jason’s voice cracked, tears mixing with the sweat and blood on his face. His fists faltered, the rage momentarily giving way to a crushing wave of guilt and sorrow.  

But the Pit Rage wasn’t done with him. It surged back, stronger than before, driving him to continue the assault. His body moved against his will, the anger and pain too much to control. Each punch, each blow was accompanied by a plea for forgiveness, a desperate cry for someone to stop him.  

“Please, forgive me... I don’t want to hurt you...”  

Tim’s eyes started to flutter, his consciousness slipping away. Jason’s heart shattered at the sight. How could he have done something so cruel to a kid?  

You are nothing more than a monster, Todd  

“Somebody, please... help me...”  

The room around him seemed to spin, the edges darkening. Jason felt the last of his strength leaving him, the Pit Rage burning him from the inside out.   

“I’m sorry... so sorry...” he whispered one last time, his voice barely audible.  

Tim sat by Jason's bed, watching over him as the fever climbed higher and higher. The oxygen mask strapped to Jason's face hissed softly, and the IV line delivered a steady stream of fluids and medications. Tim meticulously placed damp towels on Jason’s forehead and neck, desperate to bring down the dangerous fever.  

They had moved Jason to his old room, hoping that the familiar, safe space would provide some comfort. Tim looked around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the bookshelves filled with well-worn novels, and the scattered remnants of a childhood cut short.   

I’ve never been in here before.  

Hearing Jason mumble about the Tower again, his voice thick with fever and distress, made Tim's heart break. He wanted to fucking cry.  

Everything was so wrong about the entire situation. The Tower incident, which had driven such a deep wedge between them, stemmed from Tim’s own painful past. He had only been at the Tower because his father, Jack Drake, was being a drunk pain in the ass and Tim needed to get away.  

Tim remembered how Dick had reacted, ruthlessly determined to bring Jason down, while Bryce had stood frozen in disbelief, unable to reconcile the Jason she knew with the one she saw before her. None of them had realized how deep Jason’s wounds ran, how much he internalized the guilt and self-loathing.  

“I’m here, Jason,” Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to get through this.”  

I forgive you! I will say that for as many times you need to hear it, Jason! 

Jason’s fevered eyes fluttered open for a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he slipped back into unconsciousness. Tim squeezed his hand, offering what little comfort he could.  

“Why didn’t we see it?” Tim muttered to himself, his mind racing with guilt and regret. He had known Jason was struggling, but he hadn’t understood the depth of his pain. None of them had.  

Why do I notice things too late?  

Tim wiped away his tears, forcing himself to stay strong. Jason needed him now more than ever.   

He needs all of us.     

You’ll never be good enough.    

Jason just wanted to sleep. His body was exhausted, every muscle aching, but the nightmares wouldn't stop. They came in relentless waves, each one worse than the last, dragging him back into the darkest corners of his mind. He was back at the Tower, back on the streets, back to every moment of pain and betrayal he had ever endured.   

You’re a burden to them.  

He wanted his mamá. Bryce. The one person who had always been there for him, who had always believed in him.    

End it, Jason. Make the pain stop.  

“Please, Mamá,” he whispered, his voice choked with tears. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...”  

You’re worthless.  

But why would she be here? Why would she want to comfort a monster like me?  

You’ll never be good enough.  

The voices kept coming, louder and more insistent. They told him he was a burden, that he would never be free of his guilt and pain. They told him that the only way out was to end it all.  

You should end it.  

“Make it stop,” he pleaded, his hands clutching at the sheets. “Please, make it stop...”   

They just kept fucking coming!   

“I can’t... I can’t do this anymore...” Jason sobbed, his body trembling. “Please... I just want it to end...”  

Why am I still alive?  

“Kill me,” he begged, his voice a broken whisper. “Por favor, déjame morir...”  

The darkness crept ever closer to him, choking out the light.  

“Duérmete mi niño... que tengo qué hacer.”  

What?  

“Lavar los pañales... sentarme a coser.”  

Who’s singing that?  

“Arrorró mi niño... arrorró mi sol.”  

Bryce?  

Jason’s surroundings began to shift, light burning through the darkness. He was back in the Manor, ten years old again, wrapped in the comforting embrace of his much younger adoptive mother.  

Bryce’s voice was soft and soothing as she rocked him, her arms strong and steady. She sang the lullaby with the same tenderness she always had, her voice a balm to his tortured soul. Jason clung to her, his small hands gripping her shirt, his face buried in her shoulder.  

“Arrorró pedazo” Bryce’s voice was gentle, filled with love and reassurance. “De mi corazón.”  

The melody washed over him, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Jason felt safe. He could feel Bryce’s warmth, the steady beat of her heart against his cheek, the way she held him so protectively. It was a memory he had forgotten about.  

Jason sobbed hard, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. The tears came freely, a release of all the fear, guilt, and anguish that had been building inside him. He cried for the lost years, for the pain he had endured, and for the desperate longing to be with his family again.  

Bryce continued to sing, her voice unwavering. She rocked him gently, her presence a solid anchor in the storm of his emotions. She whispered soothing words in between verses of the lullaby, her hand stroking his hair.  

“It’s okay, mi tesoro ,” she murmured. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”  

Jason clung to her tighter, his sobs slowly subsiding into hiccups. The voices were quiet?  

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking.  

I can’t go back there!  

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bryce replied softly, her voice filled with the unwavering promise of a mother’s love. “I’m right here with you, always.”  

The nightmare receded, replaced by the warmth and comfort of this cherished memory. Jason allowed himself to be a child again, if only for a moment, letting the love and safety of Bryce’s embrace heal the deep wounds in his heart.  

Jason started to feel sleepy.  

“Te quiero, Mamá,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and love.  

“I love you too, Jason,” Bryce replied, her voice steady and reassuring. “And I always will.”  

Jason slept.  

“Este nene lindo... se quiere dormir.” Bryce’s voice was soft as she continued to hum the lullaby, softer than it has been for years now.   

The fever was finally starting to go down after two excruciating days, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Jason’s breathing had steadied, and the tense lines of pain on his face had begun to soften.  

But the fact was that Jason couldn’t keep going like this. Bryce knew, at least somewhat, just how bad Pit Madness could get.  

Bryce brushed a lock of hair away from Jason’s face, her fingers lingering on the shock of white at the front. She hated how it had gotten there, a constant reminder of the trauma he had endured. She herself dyed her own streak diligently to hide it from view.  

I’ll admit it, Jason. You somehow pull it off.  

“Alfred,” she called softly, not wanting to disturb the calm that had finally settled over Jason. “Call Sebastian at the kennel and ask him if she's ready.”  

Alfred nodded, understanding at once. He left the room quietly to make the call, his steps silent and efficient as always.  

Bryce continued to stroke Jason’s hair, her heart aching for her son. The plan she and Sebastian had been working on for months was finally ready to be put into action. It had taken meticulous planning and preparation, but they had been determined to get it just right.   

Heh, and Seb says he’s just a cat person.  

As it stands, the Pits were killing Jason.  

He needed more than just temporary relief; he needed a long-term solution, something that could help him manage the Pit Madness and the chemical imbalance that was tearing him apart.    

“Hang in there, Jason,” she whispered. “We’re going to help you. You’re going to be okay.”  

Jason stirred slightly, his fevered eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. He seemed to recognize her, a flicker of relief and love passing through his gaze before he drifted back into a more peaceful sleep.  

When was the last time you slept, mi tesoro?  

The plan was risky, but it was necessary. Jason couldn’t continue to live in this cycle of pain and madness. He deserved better, and she was determined to give him that chance.  

Alfred returned, his expression calm but with a hint of urgency. “Sebastian says she’s ready,” he reported quietly.  

Thank God.  

Bryce nodded, her resolve hardening. “Good. We need to move quickly. The sooner we start, the better.”  

She looked back at Jason one more time.   

“We’re going to fix this, Jason. I promise.”  

Jason’s eyes fluttered open, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t feel the weight of nightmares pressing down on him. He felt oddly refreshed, a sensation so foreign that it took him a moment to recognize it. The room around him was familiar—the warm, safe confines of his old room at the Manor.  

Was it all just a bad dream? Am I really safe?  

He saw Alfred, Bryce, Dick, Cass, and Tim surrounding his bed, their faces etched with concern. The sight of them broke something inside him. He remembered the hurt he had caused, the terror he had inflicted, and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.  

Why is everyone here? I shouldn’t be here!  

“I’m sorry,” Jason choked out, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”  

Everything is too much. The light, the sounds, the people.  

“Jason, it’s okay,” Bryce said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. “We’re here for you.”  

Tim’s hand rested on Jason’s shoulder; a gesture meant to reassure. “We’ve got you, Jason. You’re safe now.”  

“Breathe, Master Jason,” Alfred instructed gently, his voice steady and calm. “Just breathe.”  

Jason tried to follow his instructions, but his body wasn’t responding. Blood was rushing in his ears. His skin felt like it was on fire.  

“I can’t… I can’t breathe…” Jason gasped, his hands clutching at the sheets.  

Cass moved closer, her presence a silent reassurance. She didn’t speak, but her calm, steady gaze was meant to anchor him. It helped, if only a little.  

Bryce’s hand cupped his cheek, her touch gentle. “Jason, listen to me. You’re going to be okay. Focus on my voice.”  

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Make it stop.”  

And then everything went black.  

Jason’s eyes fluttered open again, and this time, the panic didn’t immediately flood back. Instead, he felt a gentle, soothing touch on his hand. He looked down to see Bryce rubbing his unbandaged hand in slow, comforting circles. The familiar sight of his adoptive mother brought a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long time.  

“Hey there,” Bryce said softly, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. “Just breathe, Jason. You’re safe.”  

Jason couldn’t even remember the last time he truly felt safe.  

Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The remnants of the panic attack still clung to him, but Bryce’s presence was like a lifeline, pulling him back to solid ground. She helped him sit up in bed, her movements careful and gentle.  

“Sorry for what happened earlier,” she said. “We didn’t mean to overwhelm you like that, mi tesoro. We were all so worried.”  

Jason still didn’t feel like talking just yet. He just kept breathing and squeezed her hand in response. Bryce kissed his hand.  

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Bryce said, a small smile playing at her lips.  

Jason’s eyes shifted, noticing another figure sitting next to Bryce. It was Sebastian Kyle, his expression a mix of concern and reassurance.  

“Why is your boyfriend here?” Jason asked before he realized what he just implied.  

“We are not together!” Bryce and Sebastian protested in unison.  

Jason winced at the loudness. “And I’m not a book lover,” he muttered, his ears throbbing.  

Guess that answers that question... Did they have to be so loud, though?  

“Well, it seems you have your snark back,” Bryce deadpanned, her eyes twinkling with a hint of relief.  

“Always, Mamá." Jason couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle.   

“... Anyway, I’m not the visitor your mother was talking about,” Sebastian said, stepping aside.  

Jason’s gaze fell on a border collie sitting patiently by his bedside, its eyes bright and attentive. The dog looked at him expectantly, its tail wagging slightly.  

“Meet Oreo,” Bryce warmly said. “She’s specially trained to alert to Lazarus Pit spikes and cope with PTSD... and she’s yours.”  

Jason stared at the dog, his heart swelling with unexpected emotion. Oreo moved closer, nuzzling his hand gently. He felt an immediate connection, a sense of comfort and understanding that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He gently petted her, feeling her soft fur under his fingers.  

Is she really... mine?  

“Why… why did you do this?” Jason asked, his voice cracking. He looked up at Bryce, his eyes filled with confusion and gratitude.  

Bryce’s expression softened, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Because I love you, Jason. And I want you to have the support you need. We all do.”  

Jason’s throat tightened, emotions overwhelming him. He looked back at Oreo, who was now resting her head on his lap, her eyes full of unconditional love. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.  

Don’t you dare cry, Todd!  

Bryce turned to Sebastian. “Sebastian, could you give us a moment?”  

Sebastian nodded, giving Jason a reassuring smile before leaving the room. Bryce turned back to Jason.

“What I’m going to tell you, I don’t like sharing and you’ll see why.”  

Jason didn’t like where this was going.  

"Do you remember Ace? My old dog?" she asked softly.  

Jason nodded. “Yeah, Ace was amazing. He died shortly before...”  

Bryce smiled sadly at the memory. “Did you know that Ace was a trained service dog?”  

Jason’s eyes widened slightly. “I didn’t know that.”  

Bryce settled into the chair beside his bed, still holding his hand. She took a deep breath.  

“A couple of months after John and Mary Grayson fell, and I took Dick under my wing, our world tour took us to Nanda Parbat in Pakistan. You would know it better as the stronghold of the League of Assassins. After winning the respect of Talia al Ghul and making sure Dick was as safe as he could be—with an excessive number of threats I could and would have backed up—I started training there.”  

Sebastian Kyle dragged Cass and Tim by their ears away from the door, ignoring their protests and curious glances back toward the room where Bryce and Jason were. He guided them firmly to the kitchen, where Dick was waiting, clearly anxious.  

"Ow, Seb, that hurts!" Tim whined, trying to pull free.  

Cass didn’t make a sound but she had a glare strong enough to melt steel.  

"Quit complaining. Eavesdropping isn't polite," Seb replied, finally releasing them.  

Cass crossed her arms, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What was Bryce talking about?" she signed.  

Sebastian sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid their questions. He glanced at Dick, who looked back at him with a mixture of worry and understanding. Dick, more than anyone, knew how deep Bryce’s scars ran.  

They deserve to know.  

"Look," Seb began, running a hand through his hair, "it's not really my place to spill everything. Bryce should be the one to tell you when she's ready."  

Tim crossed his arms, frustration evident on his face. "We heard enough to know it’s serious. Just tell us what you can."  

Seb glanced at the kitchen door, listening intently. He could hear Alfred’s quiet sniffles from the other room, and brief snippets of Bryce’s conversation with Jason. The memories of the night Bryce had broken down on his couch, recounting every harrowing detail, flashed through his mind.  

He took a deep breath. "Bryce went through a lot, things none of you can imagine. It all started when she took Dick under her wing after his parents died. They ended up at Nanda Parbat, where she trained with the League of Assassins. She caught the attention of Ra's al Ghul, and he..." Seb paused, struggling to find the words that wouldn’t cut too deeply, "he did horrible things to her."  

Cass's eyes widened, her hands clenching into fists. Tim’s face went pale, his jaw tightening.  

"Ra's drugged her," Seb continued, his voice steady but filled with quiet anger. "He then had her thrown into the Lazarus Pit, ho-"  

"They don’t need all the details, Seb” Dick interjected. “Just enough to understand."  

Seb nodded. "Bryce and Dick ended up back in the States, barely making it to the Manor. Alfred and Leslie helped her recover, but she had to deal with Pit Madness, just like Jason. She had panic attacks, violent emotions, and even suicidal thoughts. Ace, her dog, was crucial in helping her regain some semblance of normality."  

Tim swallowed hard, his eyes filled with a mixture of horror and sorrow. "Why didn’t she tell us?"  

"She didn't want to burden you," Seb said quietly. "Even Dick didn’t know everything until after the Tower incident."  

He still doesn’t.  

Cass’s face softened, a silent understanding passing between her and Seb. "What about now?" she signed.  

Seb smiled faintly. "Now, she’s doing everything she can to help Jason. She’s sharing her story because she wants him to know he’s not alone, that there’s hope."  

He glanced at Dick, who nodded, taking the cue. "I’ll fill them in on the rest," Dick said. "You go check on Alfred. I know he’s taking this hard."  

As Seb left the kitchen, his thoughts drifted back to the night Bryce had shared her story. He still couldn’t believe that the Dreaded Scourge of the Underworld, the Dark Knight of Gotham, had been reduced to such a state over a mere word.   

If I ever have the misfortune of seeing this Ra’s al Ghul...  

As he approached Alfred, he noticed the butler’s silent sniffles, the brief moments of Bryce’s conversation filtering through the vents.  

"Alfred," Seb said softly, placing a hand on the older man’s shoulder. "How are you holding up?"  

Alfred wiped his eyes quickly, composing himself. "I’ll manage, Master Sebastian. Thank you for your concern."  

Seb nodded, his heart heavy with empathy. "We’re all in this together. Bryce and Jason will get through this, with all of us by their side."  

Alfred offered a small, grateful smile. "Indeed, we will."  

Jason leaned back on the couch, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched Oreo lazily licking her paws next to him. It was a rare moment of peace in the Manor, and he was enjoying every second of it. Across the room, Bryce lay with her head in Sebastian’s lap, a contented sigh escaping her lips as Seb ran his fingers through her hair, carefully working out the tight braids.  

They look so fucking cute together. Looks like Dick was right... Crap. Now I own him $50.    

She had a splitting headache after a meeting with Lex Luthor himself who, to quote Bryce, “acted so childish and whining so much that a kindergartener would tell him to shut up.”   

Luthor was being sued for far too little in Jason’s professional opinion. All because he tried to steal from Wayne Enterprises and got her freaking warehouse exploded. With Jason inside mind you.  

Jason exchanged a knowing look with Dick, who was sitting next to Cass and Tim. Their collective braincells got together and a plan was formed.  

It was time to tease their adoptive mother about her not-so-secret relationship with Sebastian.  

“You know, mămică,” Dick started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Friends don’t take each other as dates to galas or run across rooftops beating up criminals together on solo patrols.”  

“Or call each other cute nicknames without getting punched or clawed in the face,” Tim added.  

Bryce just rolled her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “You guys are insufferable.”  

“Insufferably correct,” Jason chimed in, unable to resist joining in the fun. “Come on, Bryce, admit it. He’s more than just a friend.”  

Bryce looked up at Sebastian, who was trying—and failing—to hide his own smile. “We’re just…close,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.  

Define “Close” Mamá.  

Alfred chose that moment to enter the room, carrying a tray with Bryce’s tea. “Your tea, Miss Bryce. Perhaps the teabag will be better the second time around,” he said, his voice perfectly polite. Bryce’s ears turned beet red.  

Seb shot Alfred a dirty glare, but the butler just smiled serenely. The room burst into laughter, the kids reveling in the rare sight of Bryce blushing.  

“What did Alfred mean by that, Mom?” Dick asked playfully, leaning forward with a mock-serious expression.  

Bryce opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Cass, always the straightforward one, spoke up. “It means they had sex,” she said matter-of-factly.  

Bryce choked on her tea, the cup slipping from her fingers as her face turned a deep shade of crimson. The room erupted in laughter, and even Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle, though his face was a bit red as well.  

“Cass, you sweet sunshine child,” Bryce managed to say, wiping away the tea that had spilled on her lap.   

“Looks like Cass wins this round,” Tim said, grinning from ear to ear.  

Bryce sighed, shaking her head but smiling despite her embarrassment. She leaned up and pecked Sebastian on the cheek, a gesture that only fueled the teasing further.  

“Aww, look at that, they’re so cute together!” Jason teased, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fireplace crackling nearby.  

Bryce groaned, but there was no real annoyance in her tone. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your fun. Just remember, payback is a thing.”  

“We’ll take our chances,” Dick said, winking at Jason and the others.  

“Oh really?” Bryce asked with a growing smirk. “You know, since we’re all sharing stories, I think it’s only fair I share some of yours. Like when 10-year-old Dick joined me on my world tour.”  

Dick’s face immediately turned a shade of pink, and he shook his head. “Bryce, no...”  

“Bryce, yes,” Bryce said, her smile widening. “For those who don’t know, Dick was mostly mute during that time. He was quiet. Too quiet. He was like a little mouse—sneaking off when I wasn’t looking. And let me tell you, trying to keep track of him was a full-time job.”  

Oh, this will be good.  

“One time,” Bryce continued, her voice full of mock exasperation, “we were at a Shinto temple in Japan. I was training there, and I turned my back for one second. The next thing I knew, Dick was gone. I looked everywhere for him, asked the monks—who were less than helpful—and finally found him on top of the temple. Why? Because it was tall.”  

The room erupted in laughter, Dick’s blush deepening as he tried to hide his face in his hands. “I was adventurous,” he muttered defensively.  

“Adventurous is one way to put it,” Bryce said, her eyes twinkling. “I had to climb the freaking thing. After that, I invested in a backpack leash and squeaky shoes. That way, I could at least hear him sneaking off.”  

Jason couldn’t help but laugh, imagining a young Dick with a backpack leash and squeaky shoes. The image was too perfect.  

“Oh, it was a sight,” Bryce assured him. “Everywhere we went, you could hear the squeak, squeak, squeak. It was the only way to keep track of him.”  

Tim and Cass were laughing now, too, clearly enjoying the story. Dick groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips despite his embarrassment. “Alright, alright, you got me.”  

Bryce smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Just remember, I’ve got plenty more stories where that came from.”  

Jason leaned forward, eager for more. “Do tell,” he urged. “What else did Dick get up to?”  

“Oh, there was the time he decided to test his acrobatic skills on the balcony of a high-rise in Hong Kong,” Bryce said, her tone conspiratorial. “Or when he tried to befriend a wild monkey in Bali. I had to chase him down more times than I can count.”  

Dick buried his face in his hands again, his laughter muffled. “I was a handful,” he admitted, shaking his head.  

“But you were my handful,” Bryce said, her voice softening with affection. “And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”  

Jason leaned back, feeling the warmth and camaraderie of the moment. He felt... good.  

“Oh, and let’s not forget Jason’s little adventure in the library,” Bryce began, a sly smile on her face. “Remember when you managed to bring down an entire shelf of books onto yourself?”  

Oh no. Oh no no no.  

Jason groaned, already feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Mama, come on…”  

“Oh, I remember that quite well,” Alfred chimed in, a rare twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Miss Bryce and I thought someone was breaking in, given the noise you made.”  

“It wasn’t just any shelf of books,” Bryce continued, ignoring Jason’s protests. “He decided, for some bizarre reason, to read one of the most boring books in the world.”  

Wait for it...  

“The Twilight Series.”  

There it is...  

Tim and Cass burst into laughter, while Dick shook his head in disbelief. “Twilight, Jason? Really?”  

Jason shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “I had a classmate who wouldn’t shut up about it. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”  

Not to mention I was 14.  

“Well, you definitely found out,” Bryce said, her laughter contagious. “You somehow managed to bring the entire bookcase onto your head.”  

“They weren’t even good books!” Jason defended himself, though he was laughing now too. “Why were they even in the library?”  

“Probably because we forgot about them,” Bryce admitted, shaking her head. “That series is one of the reasons I decided on a world tour in the first place. Bella was so pathetic!”  

Sebastian, who had been quietly enjoying the story, couldn’t resist adding his own comment. “Would you say our relationship is a better love story than Twilight?”  

“One hundred percent!” Bryce blurted out before realizing what she just admitted. “Sebastian!”  

“What? It’s true,” he said, grinning. “Besides, I think the kids would agree.”  

Her eyes widened, and a mischievous smirk spread across her face.  

“Oh, Sebastian, remember the ... cucumber incident?” Bryce began, her voice dripping with playful menace.  

Sebastian’s face turned a shade of crimson. “Bryce, no, you promised you wouldn’t…”  

“I never promised anything,” Bryce said, sitting up. “It’s too good not to share.”  

Jason’s interest was piqued. “What’s the cucumber incident?”  

Bryce settled back against Sebastian, still smiling. “So, there we were on patrol, dealing with a group of traffickers smuggling Ancient Egyptian artifacts. Everything was going smoothly until Sebastian here, a grown 27-year-old man, spotted a cucumber someone had dropped.”  

Sebastian groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Please, don’t.”  

Bryce continued, ignoring his protests. “Turns out, Sebastian reacts to cucumbers like a literal cat. He got so scared he practically jumped out of his skin. It was hysterical.”  

Tim and Cass were now fully invested, their eyes wide with amusement. “What happened next?” Tim asked eagerly.  

“Well,” Bryce said, barely holding her laughter, “the criminals saw this and somehow got it into their heads that Sebastian was the reincarnation of the Egyptian cat goddess Bast. They now think cucumbers are his deterrent.”  

“The fact I have a cat named Isis doesn’t help.”  

Dick burst into laughter, nearly falling off his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  

“I wish I were,” Bryce said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “The irony is, Sebastian loves cucumbers. But now, whenever we meet these criminals, they barrage him with cucumbers and the occasional pickle. Most of his bruises are from those.”  

Jason couldn’t hold his laughter. The image of Sebastian, always so sly and confident, being freaked out by a cucumber was too much.  

Bryce smiled, clearly enjoying the moment. “The sight of Batman laughing their ass off made all the traffickers surrender. They thought it was some kind of divine intervention.”  

Sebastian shook his head, though he was smiling too. “I’ll never live this down, will I?”  

“Nope,” Jason said, grinning. “But it’s moments like these that make life interesting.”  

Bryce leaned over and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

As the family continued to share stories and laugh together, Jason felt a deep sense of contentment. These were the moments he cherished, the bonds that made all the struggles worthwhile. He looked around at his family, each of them a piece of the puzzle that made their lives complete and felt grateful for every single one of them. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.   

Although that could just be Alfred’s cookies.   

Oreo nudged Jason’s leg, her tail wagging happily. She rested her head in his lap as he stroked her soft fur.  

Yeah, I can get used to this.