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Chapter Text

Jason was on edge. Well, he was always on edge. Dying, coming back, training with assassins, and being a crime lord tended to put people on edge. 

In the past few months since he returned to Gotham, he hadn’t really gone out in public. He was single-minded in his mission. He was getting used to slinking around in darkness, ambushing people. And keeping control of the situation. He needed it. 

Which is why he was really regretting coming to the final game of the Stanley Cup. Sue him, he’s a big hockey fan. And Gotham vs Metropolis was going to be a huge game. It was the first real sports tournament that had been held in Gotham in years. Jason suspected that the Penguin had a hand in the lobbying for it, seeing as he owned the stadium. 

He hadn’t even realized what time of year it was until one of his henchmen made a comment about it. Within the hour, he was pulling strings and threatening people to get seats. He’d even invited a few of his top guys to the game. Call it a bonding exercise. 

Maybe afterwards, they’d go to a bar or start a fire on the street. Do some of the typical Gotham stuff that came after a win or a loss. He had realized how much he missed Gotham while he was away. She sang to him like no other city had. 

Despite all that excitement, he was antsy. There were too many people. Too many variables. Too many unknowns that could sneak up on him during the height of the game. He was slumped down in his seat, hood over his hair to blend in as best he could. Of course, he had people around him he trusted. As much as he trusted anyone these days. But every time he got immersed into the game, some noise or person in his periphery pulled him out. 

The buzzer of a goal came and he was sucked right back into the action. Two minutes left of the second third and Gotham was up by one. They looked like they might even go for another one. As players in blue and black skated closer and closer to the opponents goal, Jason tensed in his seat. He was holding his breath.

Finally, the snap of the puck against a stick rang out and it was flying through the air. His whole body was tense. C’mon. C’mon. 

It flew past the goalie and Jason jumped from his seat. The crowd was screaming with him. Somewhere along the way, his hood had fallen from his head. With the crowd like this, he didn’t care. 

He turned to his second and managed to not flinch as the man screamed into Jason’s face in excitement. That pumping adrenaline for something other than pulling a trigger was exhilarating. He’d missed this.

As the second period ended, the crowds began moving around. People got up to use the bathroom or get food. Jason took the opportunity to chat with his men. He knew them well but they weren’t on small talk terms yet. But Jason was in a good mood. Their meeting with some of Maroni’s men yesterday went well, and they were making good progress. These men were loyal as any Gothamites could be. But it didn’t hurt to get to know them a little.

“Joe, how’s the wife?” He turned and tried to sound casual.

With a smile, he responded, “Ah, surprised you remember. She’s good. Been staying with her sister in Star while I’m working. She don’t like the danger much as I do.”

Jason made a mental note to get him on some of the less fatal missions for the time being. He didn’t like the idea of a wife sitting at home while her husband rotted in jail, or in the ground. It hit too close to home. 

He gave the man a pat on the shoulder. The conversation continued around him and he let himself fade into an observer. Sometimes, when he was around his men he was reminded that he was still a teenager, who hadn’t been around anyone except emotionally constipated vigilantes and assassins since he was fourteen years. He felt… awkward. They spoke about their wives and kids, their friends, or their past jobs. He hadn’t even gotten his high school diploma. Granted most of these men hadn’t gotten their high school diplomas. But at least they were old enough to. At least they left school willingly. 

He stood up to stretch his legs, and shake himself out of his brooding, and headed into the crowded hallways around the stands. He inched towards a stand selling hot dogs and beer. The smell wafting from it drew him even closer. Now that he was standing here, he was starving. The man in front of him turned and looked up and up and up until he met Jason’s eyes. Something about Jason’s size, build, and the hunger in his eyes had the man scooting out of line. He felt bad about using it to his advantage, but he was hungry. He’d feel bad some other time.

He was at the front of the line, paying for a beer and two chili dogs within a few minutes. Jason smiled down at his loot and made his way back to his seats. He sat down and dug into his chili dog. 

He demolished the first and was heading into the second when the laughter from men around him distracted him from his feast. He glanced around trying to find what the raucous laughter was about when he saw the big screen above them. 

Lex Luthor Lookalike. The screen showed a skinny bald man, who was currently sinking into his seat while trying to laugh it off. His smile was awkward, not wanting to be on the screen. Jason let out a chuckle at it too. The man did look like Lex. Soon, the camera was moving away and he seemed to sigh as it panned away, glad to get the attention somewhere else. The words on the screen changed. Bruce Wayne Lookalike.

Jason suppressed the cringe at Bruce’s name. Soon, he found himself just as excited as the rest of the crowd. He took another bite of the chili dog and settled in to see who they chose. This was gonna be fun.

The camera panned through the audience, looking for the –likely pre-picked– lookalike. It panned over the section next to him and then entered his. Jason found himself twisting in his seat to see who it was looking for. 

“Boss!” Matthew grabbed his arm and he looked back towards the rink. 

Back towards the jumbotron. 

Where his face was being shown in bright fluorescent lights next to a picture of Bruce. 

For a moment, he was shocked. His men around him were laughing at his gaping mouth. He fixed his face into a small smile. Now that he was seeing them side by side, he could see all the ways he looked like Bruce. He looked like he could be his son. That realization twisted up his insides but he let the men around him grab his arms and laugh at him. The moment of panic and shock melted away.

“You look just like him!” Joe chuckled in his ear, jostling him. Finally, Jason let himself smile wide. He let out a laugh. The video of him was still reflected up on the screens, so he waved at the camera in front of him.

By the time the camera panned away, Jason was still laughing. He had to admit, he felt a little lighter than he had when he walked in.

The VIP box was silent. Beside Dick, Bruce was staring at the screens over the rink completely focused. Their whole family had been watching the Lookalike contest with interest but now Bruce had that look on his face. That Batman look. Like he was trying to solve a case. Or catch a ghost.

And Dick knew why. 

Because there, on screen, was Jason Todd. 

Kon spoke first, “Wow, he looks just like you. Sure you don’t have another secret son out there?”

Dick and Bruce both winced at the comment. At the same time, Kon ruffled Damian’s hair. A clear attempt to cut through the tension that he didn’t understand. Damian was already ducking out of the way and Dick could see that the comment got to him. He doesn’t know this is Jason.

In fact, as he glanced around the room, he realized many of them had never known Jason. How could they? Jason was dead long before any of them had ever stepped foot in Wayne Manor. Tim’s face was analytical, probably figuring it out on his own. Steph, Cass, and Duke were watching everyone else’s reactions. Damian looked scared. He had prided himself in being “the blood son” and the idea of an older biological son was probably sending him into a spiral.

Dick didn’t have time to comfort him. To his right, he could still see Bruce completely unmoving. He did this whenever he was really focused, or really conflicted; He’d go so that still the only sign of life was that he was still standing and occasionally blinking. 

Dick understood the feeling completely. The video was still on screen. There was Jason, waving to the camera. A red hoodie with a hockey jersey layered over top, a crooked smile, and a chili dog in his hand. It was Jason. 

It felt like a glimpse of Jason’s future. One where he didn’t meet Bruce; one where Dick never gave him Robin; one where his life wasn’t cut short by a maniac. If Dick didn’t see everyone else’s reactions, he would have thought he was seeing things. That he had missed Jason so much that he started seeing him. Again.

Suddenly, Dick was reminded of every regret and mistep he’d made. He’d failed to save a lot of people and he would continue to mourn that, despite knowing that that was part of the job. He’d let his job take over most attempts he’d made at relationships, and he had ruined plenty of them all on his own too. And he’d been a terrible brother. 

Sometimes the memories of Jason were so intense they made him shake. The memory of screaming at a twelve year old boy because he’d been taken in by Bruce and was just as enamoured with Batman as Dick had been. The memories of visiting for Christmas after months away and a little boy bounding up to him, gift in hand. And his face when Dick admitted he didn’t have anything to give back. The memory of coming back and checking the newspaper, seeing his name in bold and a picture of a casket lowering into the ground. And the voicemails Dick had listened to on repeat for hours on end: “Hey. It’s Jason. I was wondering if I could come over? Just some stuff with B.” and then “Sorry, just remembered you’re away. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Dick had failed Jason so horribly. None of the good memories with him outweighed that guilt. It was so strong, he worried he was seeing things now. His head was spinning and his breath was coming in small puffs. Dick was off balance and he knew he could be imagining a second chance where it didn’t exist. 

But Bruce was reacting just as much as he was. Maybe even more. And Dick knew he wasn’t crazy. This was Jason. Or someone that looked identical to him. Finally, the other options started flowing through his mind. 1. Clone. 2. Relative. 3. Jason.

He had to force his brain to consider the other two options. He knew they were more likely. A secret brother was not uncommon in their line of work. And as the boy sitting next to Tim could attest, clones were far too possible. But it didn’t explain everything else. Every detail that was so Jason. Down to the chili cheese dog. It wasn’t something DNA could replicate. 

The differences stuck out too. The wide shoulders and build that made him look like Bruce. He still had some baby fat in his cheeks, enough to see the resemblance to their Jason. But his jawline was sharper. He had a scar along his temple. And the more striking feature: the streak of white hair in his bangs. 

The image left the Jumbotron and Bruce’s stillness morphed into something else. Suddenly, his whole body was tense. He didn’t have Jason in sight anymore. Dick was just as antsy as Bruce was. But Bruce’s body was thrumming with it. Like all he wanted was to jump from his seat and run across the rink to where Jason was sitting in the stands. 

Dick was the first to stand up, walking towards the window to get a better view of the stands around them. He scanned for him.

“What’s happening?” Dick heard Kon speaking low to Tim beside him. 

Tim responded quietly back, “Not sure. I recognize a few of those guys.”

Ah, so Tim hadn’t figured it out. But he knew something.

Kon responded but Dick didn’t hear it. He saw a flash of red in the stands. Jason up on his feet cheering as Gotham’s team scored, puck flying into the net. Dick hadn’t even noticed the game starting again. 

Bruce appeared by his side absolutely silently. It would have scared Dick if he hadn’t spent the last thirteen years with the man. Bruce looked down to where Jason was and let out a quiet grunt. Dick thanked the years of training together that allowed him to interpret all of Bruce’s hums and grunts. He knew what that one meant. Time for action.

Bruce turned back to the group, “I’m using the bathroom. Watch the kids.”

He spoke to Cass who nodded and ignored the protests from all the others in the room that they didn’t need a babysitter. Dick knew that wasn’t the real purpose of him saying it. He said it to Cass so Dick knew he was expected to join. 

Bruce was already striding forward when Dick started after him, “Me too. We’ll be back.”

That caused another wave of protests and questions but one look at Cass had her calming the situation down. She could read it on them, even if she didn’t know the full story. This was something the two of them had to do alone. 

Bruce was already about twenty feet ahead of Dick. The crowds parted around him, and he was not slowing down for anything. Dick followed after him, trying to catch up.

They cut through crowds and through the seemingly endless circular hallways, trying to find the section Jason was in. Dick reminded himself over and over again that this might not be Jason. That this wasn’t a happy reunion, but probably something more sinister. Because if it was Jason… Why wasn’t he with them? 

Still leading by a few feet, Bruce took a sharp turn into a door that opened up into the stands. He didn’t move any further, completely stopping in his tracks. Dick came up beside him and found himself doing the same. From here, they could see the mess of curly hair and hear his laughter. 

He looked at Bruce and saw the first signs of emotion on his face all day. A small frown, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes glistening with held back tears. 

Dick was trailing behind him but he didn’t have time to look back. No, Bruce had one goal right now and it was finding that man. Finding- 

He didn’t let himself finish the thought. That couldn’t be Jason. He was a far too reasonable man to think that was Jason. Although, Oliver had come back; Clark had come back; Wonder Girl too. 

Because they hadn’t been meant to die. Was Jason meant to die? Bruce couldn’t believe that that was true. No, his boy could never have been meant to die.

He needed to get closer before he came to any conclusions. Because if Jason was back. If his son was alive. And he found out years later. If his son was out there somewhere; If his son was a grown man now, laughing with friends at a hockey game. Bruce needed to know.

His eyes followed the signs, searching for section 2C. He knew he was causing a scene. Something in his face was causing crowds to part for him. People would be posting online about how entitled he was, expecting people to move for him. But he didn’t care right now.

Finally, he saw 2B. So close. 

Bruce could feel it. Deep in his gut. He was an analytical man but he had learned to trust his gut over the years. He could feel that this was something big; This was not a stranger. Perhaps a red herring, or a clone, or a particularly nasty trick. He’d seen it happen with Hush a year earlier. He’d seen that same face smirking at him. It had been Clayface then. But he knew Clayface had no reason to be here right now. And this version of Jason was messier. His hair wasn’t slicked back; he had a few scars on his face. Signs he had been beaten and tortured. 

Ever the masochist, Bruce knew every single detail of Jason’s death. He’d memorized the autopsy records. He didn’t deserve to forget it. It was the greatest failure of his life. Both as Batman, the protector, and as Bruce Wayne, the father. The worst thing he’d ever done was not leave his hotel room twenty minutes earlier. 

Finally, Bruce rounded the corner to find the correct section. He didn’t hesitate, eyes searching for the red hoodie as soon as the stands were visible. He stopped in the middle of the doorway and hoped no one would be trying to move past him.

There.

He could see the curls around the nape of Jason’s neck, they’d always gotten more unruly when he was sweaty. He could see the width of his shoulders. He was built more like Willis –or Bruce– now. Jason was leaning forward, watching the game with anticipation. Bruce didn’t care about the score right now. From the way Jason clenched his fists and cheered, Gotham must be winning. He was laughing as he gripped the arm of the man next to him. And, oh God, he was just the same.

For the first time that night, Bruce was very aware of the men he was with. One was older but most of them looked to be in their early twenties. A few of them looked like people he’d picked up for petty offenses. And something about that was so Jason. Despite his occasionally violent feeling towards criminals, he’d loved so many of the people in Crime Alley. He’d sympathized with henchmen and kids trying to make their way. He’d loved so much.

Bruce forced himself to change tenses. He loves so much.

He couldn’t stop staring, straining to hear some words. Jason’s laughter boomed out over the crowd, a little rougher than it had been before but still filled with gasps and snorts. Beside him, Dick took a sharp inhale. Maybe he was blinded by grief. Maybe this was just a man who looked a lot like Jason. But maybe he was right.

He couldn’t risk letting the man out of his sight again. If he could, he’d stand here until the game ended and then follow the man home. He had to know for sure.

Bruce could feel how intense his gaze was. He had already been standing there a few minutes. Suddenly, maybe-Jason went completely still, his spine straightening. 

He looked over his shoulder, like he was searching for something. That was Jason. That face was Jason.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they fell on Bruce. It all happened in slow motion after that. Those familiar blue eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. Bruce could see his lips move and strained to hear the words, “Oh shit!” come out of his son’s mouth.

Immediately, he turned back to the men around him, whispering something to them. All at once, the three men next to him turned back and made eye contact with Bruce. He tried to loosen up his posture and look more like a curious stranger than a crazed father on a mission.

Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about it. With every moment, he became more certain. That was the face Jason had made that first night, when Bruce dropped down behind him and caught him in the act of stealing his tires. 

Beside him, Dick said something. But it didn’t get past the rushing in his ears. Jason glanced back at the two of them and sighed, hunching over more in his seat. Like he could hide all six-plus feet of him behind the crowd. “Built like a tank” as Dick had often said to Bruce.

Jason. Jason. Jason.

The crowd was getting louder but Bruce couldn’t think about that right now. 

A buzzer went off and people all around jumped up. Finally, he took his eyes off the back of Jason’s head in time to see the man beside him throwing an empty beer can at the back of another man’s head. Multiple people beside either man stood up, grabbing their respective men. A few others stood up to get in the middle. The announcer was listing out the final score: Gotham had won.

In a very Gotham manner, at least twenty men were standing up and yelling along at each other. Once one man pushed, all hell broke loose. 

Dick was suddenly beside him, grabbing his arm. He finally listened to what he’d been saying, “B, we gotta go. We have to make sure the others get out alright.”

Bruce didn’t move, he could barely see Jason’s hair in the crowd. Thankfully, he was still taller than the average man and his head peeked out from the top of the rioting men. “Bruce, we cannot be in the middle of this. Listen to me.”

He let himself be led away but his mind stayed in that doorway. He was being shoved into a limo but he was mentally counting every CCTV camera along their path. As soon as he was away from the crowds, he shook Dick’s hand off his shoulder. He ignored the questions from his family and brought out his phone.

Quickly clicking through his privacy measures, he tapped into the CCTV cameras outside the arena. Alfred had already sped them away from the scene but it was chaos on the streets. Somehow, a cop car was already being flipped. People were screaming in joy and at least four fights were visible. Leave it to Gotham to riot even when their team won. Carefully, he switched through different feeds.

Finally, he saw the familiar red hoodie. Jason was right in the center of the chaos but moving with his head down. He lost him in the crowd, but saw him heading East. Towards Crime Alley, his brain supplied.

He would come back to this and get a visual on the men. There wasn’t a way to run facial recognition until he was back at the Cave. 

Bruce continued trying to flip through different feeds but knew he was lost. If this was him, and it was him, he knew how to avoid cameras.

Dick’s voice cut through his spiral, answering the never-ending questions when he realized Bruce wouldn't answer the questions himself, “That was Jason.”

He realized then that he hadn’t said his name until this point. And it made something in his chest tighten. He and Dick had both known it, but neither had spoken it aloud. It affirmed what he had seen, but a piece of him hoped that this might have been a crack in his psyche. That he might not have to suffer again, and he could live in a fantasy where Jason was alive.

Tim was looking towards Bruce at this point. He was perhaps the most aware of how he had been affected by Jason’s death. Although he'd never known him himself, the second Robin lingered everywhere, especially in the months after his death. Bruce let out a small hum, unable to get more than that out. 

He made eye contact with Alfred through the rearview mirror. An understanding passed between them. Bruce didn’t speak about Jason lightly. He wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. 

The car sped away in silence. No one dared to ask anything further. Steph, Cass, and Duke hadn’t known enough of the story –didn’t know enough about Jason– except for the extra suit sitting in a glass case; a warning for them, a reminder for him. Kon likely didn’t know much of the story at all but could feel the tension in the car and, wisely, chose not to comment.

The silence left Bruce to brood over the situation some more. If he was right and those men had been arrested before, he could find them easily. 

In the back of his head, he recognized the group. Tim’s comment from back in the arena. “I recognize those guys from a case.” From a case. From a case.

Bruce mentally catalogued every case he’d been working on lately. There were a few mob cases but those men weren’t well dressed enough to be mob. The bank robbery on 5th Ave was two men and three women. Tim’s only other case was tracking some of the men working for Red-.

Suddenly, puzzle pieces in Bruce’s head started sliding into place. He looked back on all the questions he’d asked himself tonight. If this was Jason, who are those men? If this was Jason, how was he alive? If this was Jason, why wasn’t he home?

Hadn’t the Red Hood shown he had issues with people involving children in their crimes? Hadn’t Red Hood been known for protecting women in Crime Alley, especially single mothers and drug addicts? Hadn’t Red Hood made it very clear that he was not associated with the Joker and had only taken the mantle to taunt him?

And hadn’t the Red Hood made it clear that his issue with Batman was personal? 

The rushing in his ears drowned out the voices around him. Bruce sat completely still before suddenly slumping over and resting his head in his hands. The voices around him grew more concerned until Dick hissed at them to be quiet. He could feel all of them watching him but didn’t have the energy to keep himself strong. 

Jason was alive. And Jason hated him.

Chapter Text

Bruce was in his study less than a minute after Alfred parked the car. The whole family trailed behind him, but he was able to close the door before anyone could get in with him. He knew that wouldn’t keep them for long, but he could put the Cave into lockdown once he was down there. This wasn’t a matter for the whole family. This was between him and his son and he couldn’t let the rest of them get involved. 

Slipping past the grandfather clock, he heard someone start to pick the first lock on his door. 

He moved quickly, shutting down that access point to the Batcave behind him as he went. He was only halfway down the stairs when he heard knocking on the door, along with some yelling that sounded distinctly like Dick. 

At the computer, he began sifting through feeds until he found the right men. Facial recognition identified them immediately: Joseph Miller, Robbie Garcia, Andre Thomas, and Joey White.

He set up an automatic search for their faces in any arrest reports or CCTV footage. Looking for Jason wouldn’t lead to anything; he’d know exactly how to lay low but his men wouldn’t. He needed to get his hands on one of them.

The program wasn’t as fast as he needed it to be. Bruce was twitching in his seat, itching for a fight. He felt trapped. He needed to do something. Jason could be anywhere by now. After a moment, he shot up from his seat and left the computer. Without thought, his feet found their way to the memorial case one level down.

The second iteration of the Robin suit stared back at him. Jason’s suit stared back at him. This wasn’t the one he had died in; even Bruce wasn’t masochistic enough for that. That one was stored away in an evidence bag somewhere no one could stumble across it accidentally. But this was his extra suit, meant for when he grew out of his first. He had been only a few months from growing out of his suit when his life was cut short.

Jason was murdered. Jason was alive. Jason was a murderer. Jason was alive. 

Bruce stood at the case and finally let a single tear slip out. With a deep sigh, he reined in all the emotions and forced himself to think more rationally.

He needed to find Jason. He needed to convince Jason to give up being Red Hood. He needed to bring Jason home.

He heard a door sliding open and looked up to see Tim and a furious Dick storming through the entry to the Cave.

Dick was yelling before he even got a few steps down the stairs, “You’re such a controlling asshole. You can’t keep us from this.”

“I need to do this alone. I can’t have distractions.” Bruce tried to speak calmly, but felt the defensive anger rising.

“You’re already distracted. Going after Jason, going after Red Hood, is delicate. You’re going to mess this up.”

Bruce could hear the implied “again” in Dick’s tone. He couldn’t handle having this argument right now. Not when he saw Damian and Cass coming down the stairs. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a notification from the computer. He walked away from Dick and pushed past the others to reach the monitor. Tim was already there, looking through the CCTV footage of Red Hood’s men.

As he reached the computer, Dick’s hand was around his arm, pulling him back. Bruce tried to move forward but Dick’s fingers tightened painfully.

“Don’t act like this. He was my brother, too.”

Bruce pulled his arm away completely. “You didn’t love him like I did.”

There was a sharp inhale from someone standing behind him and Bruce immediately wished he could take his words back. Instead, he focused on the screen in front of him. Andre Thomas had been spotted entering a warehouse known to house some of Red Hood’s supplies.

Bruce turned back to Dick and saw the anger on his face. He could see all of Dick’s moves before they happened and saw the fist coming seconds before it made impact. He moved out of the way just enough to avoid it. Dick’s hands grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, “You’re the reason I wasn’t here for him. You couldn’t have a conversation without ordering people around. You still can’t.”

Bruce let his anger rise to the surface, “Stay out of this, Dick. I can handle it alone.”

“Yeah? Last time I left you to handle it alone, you got him killed. I’m not making that mistake again.”

That hit its mark. It’d been thirteen years since they met at that circus, and they’d both learned exactly what weak points to poke at when they were mad. Most of Bruce’s weak points were Jason. Bruce raised his hand to push Dick away, when he caught sight of the case in the corner. He didn’t have time for this. He was so focused on arguing with one son, he was missing crucial minutes searching for another. 

Bruce looked back at all the others who had made their way into the Cave. It came out as more of a shout than he’d hoped, “Get out. Now.”

Steph and Duke were first to go, accepting that this wasn’t their fight. Cass moved slower, lingering while Damian dug his feet in next to her. Finally, Dick turned back to the pair and bit out, “Damian, go.”

He looked hurt by the order, but Bruce was already looking back towards the computer. Tim was still there, waiting in front of it.

“You’re not a part of this.”

“I’m making myself a part of this, Bruce. I’m coming with you.” Tim spoke calmly compared to the previous shouting the other two had been doing, “I can help.”

“No.”

Dick looked conflicted too, like he knew bringing Tim along wasn’t a good idea. Finally, he spoke. “You can stay back and man the comms. This should be just the two of us.”

“You’re both staying back,” Bruce didn’t have time for this. He needed to go right now. He finished slipping his gauntlets on and searched for his tools. Within seconds, Dick was sprinting away to the changing area. 

By the time Bruce pulled the cowl on, Dick was suited up and standing next to him. His eye twitched a bit but he gave up on the fight. He needed to go. Now.

“Keep the others from following us, it’s too dangerous,” Bruce spoke gruffly to Tim, watching Dick round the Batmobile and open the door.

With one last sigh, Bruce put away the emotions of the night and focused on where they were going. He hoped Dick would follow their long-standing “No Arguments in the Batmobile” rule because he really couldn’t afford the distraction. They both needed to be at the top of their game.

The silence of the Batmobile was overwhelming, with Dick staring ahead and ignoring him. They sped away from the Cave without any ceremony. 

After about five minutes, Bruce gave in and brought up the photos on the center console. “You can talk to Thomas. I’ll talk to Miller.”

“Hnh.”

Bruce let out an audible sigh but didn’t comment on Dick’s ability to make his grunts sound mocking. The streets were still chaotic but they weaved through side streets and avoided traffic. Most civilians knew not to go out during any sporting events unless they were there to join in on the chaos. So plenty of suburbs were silent.

They chose a side street outside Crime Alley to park the Batmobile and split off immediately.

“Comms on the whole time.” Dick spoke for the first time since they left the Cave.

Bruce hummed for a moment before nodding. “You too.”

Running across the tops of buildings, Bruce listened to Dick’s soft sighs and the thump of feet over the comms. Finally, Bruce saw the warehouse he was looking for. A man slipped out of the side entrance. It wasn’t the target, but it looked like another one of the men they’d been searching for. 

Once he’d gotten a block away, Bruce dropped down behind him. He could hear Dick begin talking to a man but tuned it out, trusting he’d hear if something important was going on. Bruce made his footsteps audible as the man went to pick a lock.

At the sound, the man turned back and dropped the small metal tools. “Oh crap!”

He tried to flatten himself against the wall and glanced around like he was looking for a way out. Bruce approached him slowly, letting the terror set in. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was shaky. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Where is he? I’ll let the trespassing go if you tell me.” Bruce gestured to the lockpick set. He knew this was stupid; this was far more lenient than Batman should be. People would notice that he was slipping when it came to Hood.

“Well—I shouldn’t say.”

Bruce grabbed his shoulders and pushed the man against the brick wall. “Tell me where he is.”

After a few moments of hesitation, the man glanced around and spoke softly. “He headed to check on some gang members at Johnny’s.”

“The bar?”

“Yeah. Now get out of here. If he knows I snitched, he’ll kill me.”

Bruce backed away from the man. He didn’t have time for him right now anyways. He had his name and face, he could send that information to Gordon later.

After grappling up to the roof, Bruce spoke softly to Dick. “He’s going South to Johnny’s.”

“My guy said he’s going West to a warehouse.”

That stopped Bruce in his tracks. One of these men was lying to them. “Split up, if you see him let me know.”

Bruce was all too aware that their locations were at least a ten minute run away from each other. They were being split up on purpose. This isn’t just Jason. This is Jason as a criminal. A criminal that he spent years training.

He couldn’t think like that right now. This wasn’t just a criminal either. He knew Jason, and he knew how his brain worked. Jason excelled in distraction and misdirection, it made him a great Robin. 

Bruce was already turning back even before he heard Tim’s voice in his ears confirming what he already suspected, “I spotted Red Hood heading to the border of Park Row.”

“Towards the Batmobile?”

“Uh… yeah, how’d you guess?”

Bruce ignored the question and spoke to Dick, “Meet me back at the car.”

“Got it.”

He ran over the rooftops and leapt between them, hoping to spot a shine of red somewhere. Bruce was about four minutes away from the alley, and Dick was probably a bit closer.

Once he got closer, he could see Dick grappling a block away. He spotted Bruce soon after and changed course to meet him. When he touched down, he squatted next to Bruce, “What’s the situation?”

“He’s probably near the Batmobile. We can’t let him know that we’re here until we can get him cornered there.”

Dick nodded and they began creeping closer into the alley where they had parked the car. It was a slow process and they were both careful to be completely silent. They knew the risks of being heard. We can’t lose him again.

As they got closer, the barely there sound of metal scratching pavement had Bruce coming to a stop. He saw flashes of a night almost six years earlier, when he heard the clatter of tools on concrete and snuck up on Jason for the first time. He peeked over the lip of the roof and spotted a red helmet kneeling by the left rear wheel. Dick made a motion with his hands, a simplified sign language that Bruce had taught them, “Don’t be too Bat.”

Bruce wanted to roll his eyes but he stopped himself. Dick was right, he needed to be gentle about this. More Bruce, less Batman.

With a short nod, he quietly grappled down behind the car, letting Jason hear him land. Jason went still. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, that Dick had dropped down at the other end of the alley about twenty feet away.

“Jason, come back to finish the job?”

His hand tightened around the tire iron and Bruce noticed the small device in his other fist. He couldn’t tell what it was but it wasn’t hard to guess. He was going to plant a bomb?

“It’s just an EMP, old man. I wasn’t gonna kill you,” Jason spoke, seemingly seeing Bruce’s thought process. 

Bruce let out a sigh of relief. His gaze lingered on Jason’s hunched over frame for a few moments before realizing he was staring silently. 

“I—“ didn’t think you would? No, that wasn’t true. “—wouldn’t blame you if you tried,” Bruce spoke softly, without the modulator.

“What good would that do? Not like I can un-die,” Jason said with a sigh. It wasn’t lost on Bruce that Jason still wasn’t looking up at him.

He took a few steps forward and crouched down, leaving some room between them, “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened. I’ve never stopped regretting letting you go off alone.”

Finally, Jason looked up and his voice hardened, “I don’t- It’s not about forgiveness. I don’t blame you for letting me die.”

Bruce was silent for a few moments and Jason continued, “It’s never been about me dying. It’s about him still being alive.”

The Joker. This was all about the Joker. 

Bruce steadied himself with a sigh. His jaw clenched but he spoke carefully, “I can’t take a life.”

Jason’s shoulders hunched forward, “Not even for me?”

Bruce went silent. There was no answer for that, and they both knew it. Jason stared, those blank white eyes burning into him. “I can’t kill someone because that means letting them win.”

“Well, then you really are an idiot. Because they are already winning. It’d be evening the score.”

“Don’t you get it, Jason?” Bruce stood to full height now and Jason followed with him. He was shocked for a moment by their similar heights, seeing eye-to-eye. Physically, at least. He continued, “I couldn’t kill him because it meant letting him win. But it also meant losing you all over again. If I killed him, it would be a dishonor to you and everything you’d fought for.”

Jason looked ready to argue before he took a step backwards, like he was stumbling.

Bruce continued on. He couldn’t let this moment get away from him. He didn’t know when he’d have another chance. He thought for a few moments before he spoke again, “I loved you too much to take a life in your name.”

Jason tried to speak again and this time Bruce gave him a few moments to gather himself, “I’ve grown and learned things. And I’ve learned you’re wrong. Some people can’t be changed, and taking them out is basically community service.”

“Once you start down that road, it becomes easier and easier to justify it. How can you know for sure someone is incapable of change?”

“Because I know Gotham. I know that the clown is incapable of change. Mine is one of many graves that prove it.”

“I can’t be the one to make that decision.”

“Then you’re weak.” Jason’s voice was full of venom, and it had Bruce’s hands clenching.

He stopped himself from reacting for a moment. Then let out a grunt, “Maybe I am.”

Finally, Dick stepped forward, “B and I, we can’t kill. Our mission is to preserve all life. It would destroy us to take a life, no matter what.”

They were all silent for a few moments, tension building between them. Dick and Bruce had said their piece. Bruce silently prayed that Jason would lay down his arms and let them back into his life. He still hadn’t fully processed that his son had a life out there.

“Just take me into Arkham already,” Jason looked between both of them, defeatedly.

Bruce was quick to respond, “I’m not taking you to Arkham.”

“Then let me go!”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘No’?” Jason sounded exasperated. 

“I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you again.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Come home… Please.”

“So I can be under your thumb again? And you can lock me up the minute I step out of line?” Jason was getting heated.

Dick chimed in again, “No masks in the Manor. We won’t keep you trapped.”

Jason huffed and Dick took the opportunity to push further, “We’ll be awkward and brood and brush it all under the rug. I’m sure you remember that we’re very good at that.”

Jason let out a short laugh; Bruce wanted to rush forward and hug him. Wanted to hug both his sons because Dick was doing a really excellent job deescalating things right now.

“Will you come back? Just for the night,” Bruce spoke softly and moved towards Jason slowly, treating him a bit like a cornered animal.

Jason’s defenses were breaking down. Bruce could see it in his posture. It reminded him so much of the first week, when he found Jason guarding the art gallery; watching him slowly loosen his shoulders and take deeper breaths. Even now, he was angled just slightly towards Bruce, but holding back like he didn’t want to make the first move. 

That was fine. Bruce was desperate to make the first move. 

Stepping towards Jason, Bruce reached out and grabbed his hand. Once he felt Jason give a slight squeeze, he couldn’t help but get closer. When they were standing close enough to feel each other's body heat, Bruce found himself rambling softly, “I love you and I’m so sorry if you ever had reason to question that. I’ve missed you every single day since I lost you.”

“Woah, no need to get hysterical, old man.” Jason’s tone was joking but he squeezed Bruce’s hand tighter.

Bruce let the corner of his lips turn up at that. “I never thought I’d have another chance to see you. There’s been a lot building up." 

He was so close. He almost had Jason back in the car. Back in the manor. Back home.

“I… don’t know what to say now. This really isn’t what I planned,” Jason seemed a little sheepish, which was an odd sound coming through the modulated helmet speakers. 

“Come home,” Bruce tried his best to make eye contact through the two sets of white-out lenses.

Jason took a deep breath before giving a short nod, “Yeah, ok. Just for a bit.”

That was enough for Bruce to consider it a win. He gave Jason a small smile and reluctantly let go of his hand. Jason’s hand trailed after his for a moment before he seemed to realized what he was doing and crossed his arms. Bruce unlocked the Batmobile and gave it a quick once-over for more tampering. A few bolts had been taken off the tires and Jason pulled them out of his pocket with a shrug.

They fit themselves in awkwardly, the backseat wasn’t meant for people over the typical Robin height of 5’5. But Dick managed to contort himself into it without much trouble. Jason seemed fascinated by the array of new gadgets and buttons. Bruce kept a careful eye on him to make sure he didn’t press anything. God knows his other kids had never grown out of that. He didn’t want to risk it.

It wasn’t until they got back to the Cave that everything really set in. Everyone had been shooed away by Tim, so it was just Bruce, Dick, and Jason when they arrived. His son was back.

Finally, Jason reached up to remove his helmet. He was facing away, but a head full of sweaty, black hair was freed as it disengaged. Jason ran his hand through it before turning around. As he turned around, Bruce could see a streak of white curls in the front. At Bruce’s staring, Jason pushed it away from his forehead self-consciously. His posture was tense, and he kept glancing towards the door.

Without thought, Bruce pulled his own mask down and rushed forward, hoping it wouldn’t scare him off. He wrapped his arms around Jason and pulled him into a tight hug, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jason’s voice was small as he brought his arms up around Bruce’s middle, “I missed you.”

Dick took a few steps towards them and Bruce lifted one arm, allowing Dick to join in. It was awkward, trying to fit both grown men in his arms, but it didn’t stop Bruce from trying. For the rest of his life, he’d never stop trying.