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Chapter Text

The world had crumbled into chaos long before the dead began to rise. For Jason, the decacy had been etching its mark on his life since the day he was born into the fractured shards of the Todd family.

Thirteen-year-old Jason huddled in the corner of his deteriorating apartment, surrounded by the sickly, sweet stench of neglect and the acrid scent of despair. Gotham City had always been miserable, but now it has succumbed to the insatiable appetite of a new predator—a predator that didn’t lurk in the shadows but emerged from the depths of human despair.

Willis Todd, a man whose cruelty eclipsed the horrors of the world outside, staggered into the room, his eyes glazed over with the remnants of a bender. The apocalyptic storm had only intensified his wrath, unleashing a darkness within him that even the undead couldn’t match.

“Get up, boy,” Willis slurred, his breath a toxic concoction of alcohol and bitterness. Jason obeyed; his movements measured, like a feral creature navigating a hostile terrain.

The outbreak had hit hard and fast. Chaos had erupted on the streets, and the once (semi) orderly society crumbled like a house of cards. But for the Todds, the apocalypse merely accelerated the decay that had already infested their lives.

Catherine Todd, Jason’s mother, lay sprawled on a tattered couch, a hollow shell ravaged by addiction. Her emaciated form twitched sporadically, the last remnants of humanity clinging to her like cobwebs in a neglected corner.

In the dim glow of the flickering candlelight, Jason’s mind echoed with a distant memory, a fragment of time when the world held the promise of warmth and love. He remembered a younger version of himself, no more than seven years old, sitting on a worn-out rug as his mother, with her once-vibrant eyes, told him fantastical stories of heroes who rose from ashes.

“Remember, Jaybird, no matter how dark it gets, there’s always a hero in every story. Someone who fights against the shadows,” she had whispered, her fingers gently ruffling his unruly hair. The memory was a flicker of a time when laughter resonated within the walls of their home and the scent of hope lingered in the air.
But the cruel tide of life had worn away those moments, and the apocalypse had devoured the fragments of happiness that remained. Now, the room felt haunted by the specters of what once was.

“Where’s the stash?” Willis demanded, his eyes wild and desperate. The hunger for escape, for a momentary respite from the horrors outside, drove him to ransack the remnants of their existence.

Jason, eyes cast downward, pointed to a threadbare mattress where a small cache of pills lay hidden. Willis snatched the drugs, his trembling hands betraying the desperation that gnawed at him. In the face of the growing undead menace, it seemed the real monsters were living, devouring whatever remained of their humanity.

As Willis consumed his ill-gotten escape, the distant moans of the walking dead echoed through the streets. The Todd family, like countless others, found themselves trapped in a walking nightmare.

With both of his parents soon to be too strung out to be of any help, Jason, fueled by a desperate determination, decided to venture out into the world beyond their apartment walls. He knew they needed supplies—food, water, and first aid—if they were to have any chance of making it through the rest of the week.

The journey took him through the desolate streets of Gotham, where the vestiges of civilization lay broken and abandoned. He carefully took the turns and curves to a destination he knew, a Wayne Foundation food pantry, a place that, in better times, would have been a beacon of hope for those in need. Jason’s eyes, clouded with cynicism born from a life of hardship, scanned the meager offerings. Obviously, he hadn’t been the first person to think to check here.

As he stared at the gigantic “Wayne” font on the wall, he wondered, with bitter irony, how the richest man in Gotham and his three sons fared in this new world. He scoffed at the idea that the Waynes, with their vast wealth, were likely untouched by the apocalypse’s horrors. As Jason became lost in the thought of five-story safe houses and a bed to sleep on, he failed to notice a tripline on the floor. He collided with a shelf, sending empty cans clattering to the ground. The noise echoed through the eerie silence, a cacophony that reached the ears of the undead lurking nearby.

Panic surged through Jason as he glimpsed the approaching shadows. He sprinted through the pantry, narrowly escaping the grasping hands of the reanimated. The memory of his mother, lying still on the couch, loomed before him, urging him to run faster.

With only a few bottles of water and a handful of snacks hastily grabbed from the shelves, Jason raced back to the apartment. The adrenaline coursing through his veins couldn’t shield him from the pain in his side—a minor injury sustained during his escape. Each step sent a jolt of agony through him, a reminder that survival in this new world came at a cost.

As he stumbled through the doorway of their apartment, Jason slammed and barricaded the door behind him. The meager supplies clutched in his hands offered little comfort compared to the harsh reality outside. He took a deep, grounding breath and slid to the ground, his back pressed against the door. When he opened his eyes, he found his mom still in the same position she was when Jason left, and he could hear Willis snoring from the bedroom.

Jason then turned his attention back to his mother. She lay on the couch, lost in the clutches of withdrawal. The few supplies he’d brought back offered a meager chance at respite. He forced her to drink water, the cool liquid providing a brief reprieve to the addict. Reluctantly, he coaxed her into eating a small portion of the snacks, aware that every morsel counted in the battle against the encroaching darkness.

Jason’s hands trembled as he cared for his mother, the weight of responsibility heavy on his young shoulders. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t erase the haunted expression in his mother’s vacant eyes. Her moments of clarity were fleeting, drowned out by the overwhelming tide of despair.

Exhausted from the ordeal, Jason collapsed on the ground beside his mother. He watched over her, a guardian in a crumbling fortress, and fatigue claimed him. Sleep, however fitful, became an escape from the harsh reality that clung to their existence.

Unbeknownst to Jason, as he drifted into restless slumber, the apocalypse claimed another victim. Catherine, unable to withstand the torment of her demons, succumbed to an overdose in the quiet hours of the night. Her body lay motionless, the final traces of humanity slipping away.

When Jason awoke, bleary-eyed and disoriented, he found his mother at the end of a grotesque transformation. The hollow look in her eyes had been replaced by an insatiable hunger. Fear gripped Jason as he stumbled backward, typing to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him.

“Mom? What’s happening?” he stammered, the desperation in his voice betraying his confusion. But Catherine, now a creature of the undead, could no longer answer the plea of her son.

As she lunged at him, Jason’s instincts kicked in, and he fought back with a ferocity born of survival. He screamed for his mother to stop, his pleas echoing through the desolate apartment. The struggle reached a crescendo when, in a stroke of luck, Jason’s hand grazed the cold steel of his father's handgun, tucked away in the chaos of their meager belongings.

With trembling hands, Jason aimed the weapon at the monster that had once been his mother. The gunshot shattered the stifling silence, and the room was consumed by the acrid smell of gunpowder. His mom’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, a final release from the horrors that had claimed her.

Tears streamed down Jason’s face as he stared at the lifeless form before him. The gun in his hands became both a symbol of power and a harbinger of the merciless world they now inhabited. The echoes of the gunshot lingered, a haunting reminder that, in this new reality, survival often demanded the harshest of choices.

-

A year had passed since that night. Gotham, a city now stained with the shadows of the living dead, held no sanctuary for him. The only remnants of his former life were a ratty old backpack slung over his shoulder and the cold weight of his father’s handgun pressed against his side.

He moved through the desolation with a quiet determination, a haunted look in his eyes suggesting that he carried much more than just physical burdens. Jason had become adept at surviving, not just against the relentless onslaught of the undead but also the living.

The city had turned into a graveyard, with the remains of the past world littering its streets. Jason, a lone wanderer in this post-apocalyptic wasteland, had learned the art of blending in. To avoid detection, he had discovered the gruesome necessity of smearing himself in the foul stench of the dead, masking his scent with theirs. It was a strategy born of desperation, a means to navigate through the hordes without drawing unwanted attention.

The days blurred together as Jason moved from one desolate landscape to another, always haunted by the specters of his past. His journey took him through barren towns and forgotten highways, making him a nomad in a world that had lost all sense of direction.

As he truged through the ruins, the distant groans of the undead became a melancholy soundtrack to his solitude. The loneliness weighed on him, but it was a price he willingly paid to escape the unseen pursuers he imagined always lurking in the shadows.

And then, on the horizon, Jason caught sight of something different—a structure that stood out amid the apocalyptic landscape. The crumbling gates of a prison loomed ahead, a relic from a time when walls meant safety. With a mixture of hope and trepidation, he approached, wondering if this forsaken place might offer a breath of fresh air from the constant game of survival.

As he neared the gates, Jason felt a chill in the air. The prison, a fortress of isolation, held the promise of sanctuary, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something awaited him beyond those rusted bars—a new chapter in a story that had already become a dark epic in a world ruled by the shadows of the living dead.

Chapter Text

The Wayne manor, once a symbol of luxury and security, had become a fortress against the relentless tide of the undead. Bruce Wayne, the former richest man in Gotham, surveyed the once-manicured lawns, now overgrown with untamed weeds of neglect. His eyes betrayed the weariness of a man who had seen too much.

But there were moments etched in the past that now stood as distant echoes of happiness, rare as they were in the dark canvas of their new reality. Bruce reminisced about a time before the apocalypse, when the Wayne manor echoed with laughter instead of groans.

It was during those past days that Bruce, with unwavering determination, had insisted on martial arts training for his sons. The boys, then younger and blissfully unaware of the looming horrors, couldn’t see the point in it. But Bruce, with a faint smile on his lips, knew that survival required more than just gadgets and costumes.

In the expansive Wayne Manor training room, the sound of Bruce’s voice echoed through the air. “Come on, Dick, you can do better than that,” he encouraged, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and determination. Dick, the eldest, stumbled but persevered, a determined glint in his eyes.

Tim, with his glasses slightly askew, tried to mimic Damian’s intricate martial arts moves. The youngest Wayne, however, scoffed at his attempts, a smug grin on his face.

Bruce’s insistence on martial arts had its moments of levity too. During breaks, Alfred would serve snacks, and the Wayne boys, sweaty and tousled, would share playful banter. There were even impromptu races across the Manor’s vast halls, laughter echoing through the grand corridors.

The training sessions were more than just physical exercises; they were a canvas for family bonding. Bruce, often stoic and brooding, let down his guard, allowing moments of warmth and connection to seep through the cracks of his carefully crafted facade. The boys, despite their initial reluctance, soon found joy in these sessions, and Wayne Manor became a haven of both discipline and love.

In the year since the outbreak began, Bruce, along with his trusted butler Alfred and his three sons, had become a formidable force against the living dead. The family had quickly evolved to adapt to the gruesome realities of their new existence.

Dick stayed true to the family lineage, embracing a protective role over his younger siblings. His acrobatic prowess had transitioned seamlessly from circus performances to evading the clutches of the undead. Tim, with his keen intellect and strategic mind, had become the group’s scout and planner, always one step ahead of the encroaching danger. Damian, trained from bith by the former League of Assasins, was a lethal force, his swordsmanship unmatched even in the face of the grotesque undead.

Yet, as the days turned into months, the sanctuary that was Wayne Manor became a fleeting memory. The undead hordes, relentless in their pursuit, breached the once-inpenetrable walls. Panic and desperation filled the grand halls as the Wayne family fought to protect their home.

Bruce, the pillar of strength, felt the weight of failure as the undead overran the mansion he had sworn to protect. The echoes of laughter and family were drowned out by the groans of the dead. In that moment of chaos, the family had to flee, leaving behind the opulence that now crumbled in the face of relentless decay.

In the aftermath, as they began their journey away from Gotham City, Bruce looked at his sons. The pain of loss was etched on his face, but within the shared gaze of the Wayne family, there was a silent understanding—a commitment to forge ahead, to survive, and to find solace in the bonds that transcended the crumbling walls of Wayne Manor.

Their journey out of Gotham City had been a grueling trip. The once bustling streets now remain silent, save for the groans of the dead. Yet, despite the relentless horrors, the Wayne family had learned to function as a seamless unit.

As they ventured through the desolation, Dick kept a watchful eye on his younger brothers, a protective instinct ingrained in him since childhood. The bond between the Wayne brothers had transcended mere blood; it was a pact forged in the crucible of survival.

Bruce, however, struggled with the emotional toll of their journey. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders, and the inability to communicate his fears and regrets to his sons weighed on him like an anchor. His stoic exterior masked the turmoil within. From all except Alfred, that is. Alfred, the ever-present pillar of support, observed the dynamics of the family with a silent understanding. The Wayne patriarch’s struggle with expressing emotions was not lost on the wise butler. In the quiet moments, Alfred provided a steadying presence, the unsung backbone of the family.

-

The flickering glow of a small campfire cast dancing shadows on the weary faces of the Wayne family as they huddled together in the desolate night. The soft crackle of burning wood was a stark contrast to the ominous silence that enveloped them.

In Bruce’s hands, a crumbled map unfolded, it’s edges frayed from countless scrutinties. His piercing gaze flickered between the faded ink lines, tracing the path to a place called Terminus. The sign they’d stumbled upon earlier, battered by time and weather, had pointed them in its direction.

“Dad, we’ve been on the move for weeks. Can’t we just rest for a while?” Dick’s voice held a note of weariness as he leaned against a makeshift barricade of scavenged debris.

Tim chimed in, his usually analytical tone tinted with frustration. “Terminus could be a safe haven, Dad. We can’t keep running forever.”

Damian, perched on a nearby fallen log, twirled a blade absentmindedly, his gaze flickering between his older brothers and the unreadable expression on Bruce’s face.

Bruce sighed, the weight of fatherhood etched in the lines of his face. "We can’t afford to be careless. Terminus might be a trap. We can’t risk it.”

Disk bristled. “We’re tired, Bruce. We need a break. Terminus could be our chance.”

The tension in the air was palpable—a silent struggle between the weariness of the present and the caution born from experience.

Damian, never one to shy away from confrontation, interjected with a sharp edge to his voice, “Grayson has a point, Father. We can’t go on like this indefinitely.”

Tim, ever the aspiring peacemaker, added, “Maybe Terminus is worth investigating. We can’t let fear dictate every decision.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched, but he maintained his stoic facade. “We can’t afford to take unnecessary risks. We have to be cautious.”

Dick’s frustration bubbled to the surface. “Cautious? We’ve been cautious, and where has it gotten us? We can’t keep running forever, Bruce!”

Damian, sensing the rising tension, spoke with an intensity that mirrored his father’s. “The world has changed, Father. We can’t cling to the past. Adapt or die.”

Bruce’s eyes flashed with a glint of frustration. “This isn’t about clinging to the past, Damian. It’s about survival.”

Dick’s frustration turned to anger. “Survival at what cost? We’re not machines, Bruce. We’re a family!”

The night whispered with the promise of unresolved discussions. Dick’s words hung heavy in the air, a challenge to the unyielding force that was Bruce Wayne. The embers of the campfire dimmed, casting elongated shadows on the faces of the Wayne family.

Alfred, in his ever-watchful role, stepped forward. “Masters, I suggest we retire for the night. Emotions are high, and rest will do us good. We can revisit this discussion in the morning.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched, but he nodded reluctantly, realizing that Alfred was right. The family needed a break, even if only for a few hours.

As the campfire dwindled down, the Wayne family retreated to the meager comfort of their makeshift sleeping arrangements. The air was heavy with unspoken words, the glow of the stars above mirroring the uncertainty that hung over them.

Tomorrow would bring a new day.

In the days that followed the heated argument, the Wayne family journeyed through desolate landscapes, the weight of their decisions hanging heavy in the air. The road to Terminus proved treacherous, the unknown terrain a testament to the unpredictability of the post-apocalptic world.

The air was thick with tension as they pressed on, the silence broken only by the shuffle of their footsteps and the occasional moans from the dead. Dick, still harboring frustration from the argument, led the way with a determined stride. Bruce, ever vigilant, kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, his earlier apprehensions about Terminus still lingering.

The landscape gradually transformed, and as they rounded a bend, the ominous silhouette of a prison loomed on the horizon. The imposing structure, surrounded by high walls topped with barbed wire, was a stark contrast to the desolation that had become their reality.

Approaching cautiously, the Wayne family assessed the potential refuge. The prison’s once-secure gates creaked in the wind, revealing an eerie silence within. Damian unsheathed a blade, ready for any undead threat that may lurk within.

As they ventured deeper into the prison’s courtyard, the undead met their gaze—an army of them, aimlessly wandering within the confines of the high walls. The family moved with practiced precision, a deadly dance that had become second nature to them. Blades slashed through the air, gunfire echoed through the prison halls, and the undead fell in silent defeat.

In the course of their grim task, the Wayne family stumbled upon a group of prisoners, unaware of the world outside their confined reality. Bruce, his voice steady, explained the world beyond the prison walls—a world overrun by the living dead, where survival required adaptability and strength. The prisoners, initially skeptical, soon understood the gravity of their situation. The Wayne family and the newfound group formed an uneasy alliance, the shared burden of survival binding them together.

As the days turned into weeks, the prison became a refuge, a haven fortified against the encroaching darkness. The prisoners turned from an uneasy alliance to a first-name basis (Cass, Steph, and Duke were their names) for an easier life. The two groups worked together to secure their new home, clearing out pockets of undead that lurked in forgotten corners.

The prison, once a symbol of incarceration, became a sanctuary in a world gone mad. The Wayne family, forced through the crucible of hardship, found a semblance of stability within the cold walls. Within the echoing corridors of the prison, the family shared their knowledge of the outside world, the trials they faced, and the constant struggle against the relentless tide of the undead. In return, the three offered insight on what they knew, with some of the most valuable information being the layout of the prison and the resources that had been stockpiled.

-

Amidst the somber routine of survival, a rare moment of joy unfolded within the echoing corridors of the prison. The Wayne brothers, joined by their newfound allies, decided to indulge in a game of manhunt to break the monotony of their post-apocalyptic existence.

The flickering light of flashlights created playful patterns against the cold walls, casting shadows that danced in the dimly lit passageways. Laughter echoed through the prison halls as the group split into hunters and the hunted, each sibling paired with one of their new companions.

Dick, grinning mischeviously, led Steph through the labyrinthine corridors. “Think you can keep up?”

Steph, ever competitive, shot him a playful glare. “Watch and learn.”

Meanwhile, Time whispered conspiratorially to Duke, “Remember, the key is to be unpredictable.”

Duke chuckled, a lightness in his eyes. “Got it. Let’s make this interesting.”

Cass, ever the silent force, communicated through quick gestures with Damian, their synchronized movements making them an elusive pair.

The game unfolded like a dance, with the players weaving through the shadows with a fluidity that belied the harsh reality outside the prison walls.

"I found you, Duke!” Steph’s triumphant shout echoed through the hallways as she tagged Duke, who let out a mock groan.

Tim, ever the strategist, had managed to corner Damian in a tight corridor. “You’re fast, but I’m smarter.”

Damian, with a sly grin, slipped past him, leaving Tim momentarily baffled. “Not fast enough.”

As the game progressed, the group regrouped in a central courtyard, panting and laughing in equal measure. Bruce, observing from a distance, couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his family and their new allies finding joy amid the bleakness.

Dick clapped Duke on the back, still catching his breath. “Not bad, Duke; you’ve got some moves.”

Duke grinned. "You're not so bad yourself, Dick.”

Steph winked at Tim. “Nice try, Tim. But I am always one step ahead.”

Tim, feigning defeat, bowed theatrically. “You got me. Fair and square.”

Cass, ever enigmatic, gave Damian a nod of acknowledgment. Damian, begrudgingly impressed, conceded, “Well played.”

-

Bruce observed the playful scene from a distance. His eyes betrayed a flicker of warmth at the sight of his family finding solace in moments of joy. Yet, even in the midst of laughter, a lingering concern tugged at the edges of his thoughts.

Alfred, ever attuned to Bruce’s unspoken worries, approached with a quiet grace. “Master Bruce, perhaps a walk to clear the mind would do you good.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, and the two set off on a quiet lap around the prison grounds. The night air held a stillness broken only by the distant moans of the undead and the echoes of laughter from the courtyard.

As they rounded a corner, Bruce froze mid-step. Among the shuffling horde of zombies, a figure stood out. Malnourished and bruised, the boy’s appearance spoke of a harsh journey through the unforgiving landscape of the world. In his hand, he clutched a handgun, a stark contrast to the innocence that lingered in his eyes.

The boy had zombie guts smeared across his visible skin and clothing, a crude yet effective attempt to mask his scent and blend in with the undead, and it seemed to be working. His features carried the weight of experience beyond his years. The haunted look in his eyes hinted at a past marred by loss and struggle.

Bruce’s mind whirred with a complex array of emotions as he observed the mysterious boy. A surge of protectiveness welled within him, the instinctual response of a guardian seeing a child in need. Yet, intertwined with that protective instinct was a profound sense of anger.

The fact that this young boy had been failed by those around him so badly that he chose to walk and travel amongst the dead rather than the living enraged him.

Bruce took a breath and spared a glance at Alfred, who seemed as shocked as Bruce felt. Bruce then looked back at the boy; he went to call him out, but before the words could leave his mouth, the boy darted away, vanishing into the thick woods.

Bruce had half a sense to rip the gate open and follow the boy, but Alfred was ahead of him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder.

“There is no use in going out in the dark. We shall look for the boy tomorrow,” Alfred instructed. Bruce’s mouth opened; an argument was already forming when he paused and decided to concede to Alfred instead.

As the two made their way back into the prison, all Bruce could see were the haunting blue eyes of the young boy.

Chapter Text

Dick had found out about the boy a few weeks ago. He had first seen him on an early morning patrol of the grounds, the dew seeping into his shoes, making it slightly uncomfortable to walk in them. Dick wasn’t even paying attention really, he wasn’t worried about any of the dead breaking through the fence, he had worked on fortifying it himself, it wasn’t budging.

He only noticed because of the figure standing at the fence, unmoving, staring at the prison. Dick slowed to a stop, observing the figure from where he stood, unnoticed.

He watched the figure, it was unlike the dead to stand still, much less with decent posture. Dick squinted, hoping to see more clearly. His eyebrows furrowed. His skin was still flesh colored, not gray, it was hard to see under the grime that covered almost every inch, but it was clear as day to Dick.

This wasn’t one of the dead, this was a living person. A kid, from the looks of it. His clothes were handing off of his body, clearly having been scavenged from somewhere. The boys shoes were basically useless, more duct tape then actual shoe.

Dick felt his heart clench, his brothers always said he had a bleeding heart. He decided to approach the boy, but upon the first snap of a twig that Dick hadn’t seen, the boy’s head snapped towards him. The boy had piercing blue eyes, and a scar that ran down the left side of his face.

“Hey! I’m not gonna-”

Dick wasn’t able to finish before the boy turned and ran off, vanishing into the woods surrounding the prison. Dick stared into the woods, trying to catch sight of the boy behind a tree or bush. After a few minutes, Dick gave up the search, sighing and continuing his rounds.

-

Dick had tossed and turned in his cell all night (it was still weird to think his ‘room’ now was a literal jail cell). He couldn’t get the boy’s eyes out of his head. He seemed young, maybe about Tim’s age. Dick had to give him credit, smearing himself in the guts and gore the dead produced was smart. But, Dick knew from experience that doing that can get you extremely sick. Bruce and Dick had used it as a last resort, trapped by a hord inside of a gas station. Bruce and Dick had hesitantly looked at the corpses that littered the ground, before accepting their fate and covering themselves head to toe.

While it had worked, Dick was sick for days afterwards, toeing the line between delirious and dead to the world. Bruce hadn’t gotten as sick, only being down for about a day. Lucky bastard.

So, how was the boy doing this? How long had he been doing it?

Dick groaned, frustrated, and sat up. He needed fresh air. Dick quickly slipped on some shoes and exited the prison, being sure to be extra quiet going past his brother's cells. It wasn’t that he was scared of getting caught, it was more that he knew his brothers would want to come, and if he wanted to see the boy again, he had a feeling bringing his obnoxious younger brothers wouldn’t work.

Dick did a lap of the prison, but he didn’t see the boy. He hadn’t even come across one of the dead. Dick stood in the spot where he had seen the boy earlier in the morning. He clenched his jaw, his mind jumping between two choices. On one hand, he had an itch to go check on the boy, his morals not allowing him to just let a kid live alone in the woods.

On the other hand, if Bruce found out he had snuck out in the middle of the night, he could kiss going on runs goodbye.

“Fuck it,” Dick mumbled before heading towards the gate. He always carried his pistol with him, and an extra knife strapped to his thigh. He decided to grab an emergency pack that they kept should they ever have to last minute evacuate from the prison.

Soon enough Dick was shutting the gate behind him, and heading in the direction the boy had taken off toward. After a few minutes of blind wandering through the dark woods Dick heard something. He paused, straining to hear the noise again.

He heard it again to his left, he slowly crept towards the sound, he couldn’t place the sound, but it was familiar. Dick couldn’t place it until he hit a clearing. He froze, seeing a boy, the boy from before upon further inspection, curled up against a tree, snoring softly.

Dick couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. He was relieved the boy was safe. Dick stood silently and continued to observe the boy. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the kid, judging from the deep eyebags the kid carried, he needed the rest.

Dick let his eyes drift from the boy, dancing along the lines of the boy's makeshift camp. There was the start of a lean-to, a fire pit, which held a crudely crafted wooden bowl on the cool coals. Dick also noticed the bag leaning against the tree the boy was resting on. The bag was tattered, and one of the straps looked one unfortunate situation away from breaking.

Dick smirked as his eyes moved to the next attraction, he had a trip wire set up between the trees surrounding his camp. Dick looked up to the trees, and found cans hiding in the leaves. This kid had set up a trap to wake him up should someone trip the wire.

Dick huffed out a laugh, this kid was smart. His breath caught in his throat as the boy made a noise, Dick stood as still as possible, trying to will the boy back into deep sleep. Lucky for Dick, the boy just pushed himself more into the tree, wrapped his arms around himself, and seemingly fell back asleep.

Dick let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders drooping from where they had been tensley held by his ears.

Dick stood there for a few more minutes, contemplating. It wasn’t like he could just pick-up the kid and bring him back to the prison. First off, he was pretty confident the kid would not appreciate that, but also, in reality, this kid could be dangerous. Dick knew nothing about him, where he came from, his name, what he’s done to survive.

As much as he wished to bring the kid back with him to safety, he couldn’t, not yet. Dick carefully and silently stepped over the trip wire, tip toeing his way closer to the boy. He was barely breathing, not wanting to make any noise.

He quickly placed the emergency pack next to the boys bag, but before he got up to leave, he quickly unzipped it, pulling out a small quilt and placing it over the boy. The boy didn’t budge, and Dick smiled. He got up and began walking away. He paused, turning to look back at the boy.

He would definitely be back tomorrow.

-

No one had noticed Dick’s late night journey, much to his relief. He got up like normal to do his morning rounds, hoping he would see the boy again.

It was the bright red pack that caught Dick’s attention. Leaned up against the gate. It was the pack Dick had given the boy last night. Dick isn’t too proud to admit he basically ran to the pack. He quickly opened the gate to grab it, scanning his surroundings wildly in case the boy was still in the area.

He was left disappointed when he caught no sight of him. He clenched the pack in his hands before opening it. Nothing that had been there was left, so the boy had taken it. Dick was relieved, that should hold the boy over for a few days or a week if he was smart about how much and when he ate. Dick almost missed it, but spotted it last minute before closing the pack. He reached his hand in, and touched the cloth. He pulled it out, tying the string that tied it shut.

He peered inside, it was full of berries. Dick laughed, looking back out to the woods once more, it had been ages since he had fruit.

Bruce was not as excited about the fruit as Dick was. He wasn’t even letting them eat it.

“Come on! It’s just some berries! We haven’t had fruit since we’ve been here!” Dick whined, his hand trying to creep towards the berries.

Bruce turned to glare at him, pointedly looking at his hand. Dick rolled his eyes, snatching his hand away from the berries.

“Where did you get them?” Bruce asked. Dick cursed in his head, Bruce was extremely good at knowing when his children were lying. Dick had half a mind to not even try and lie. But, he couldn’t be sure how Bruce would react to learning about the boy. Dick swallowed.

“Saw them on the edge of the words, figured I would do something nice for the family,” Dick said. Bruce, very obviously not amused, just continued to stare Dick down. Dick squared his shoulders, he wasn’t going to fold, he had a kid to protect.

“I don’t know why you are looking at me like that, it’s the truth,” Dick said calmly. He saw Bruce’s saw clench, before the man took a deep breath.

“You know better than to go past the fence alone,” Bruce relented, his demeanor going from angry to concerned. Dick let the tension drain from his body, he understood why Bruce was nervous, going past the fence alone is dangerous. But, that kid lived outside that fence.

Dick smiled back at Bruce, giving some empty words that he won’t do it again, before heading towards his cell. His late night journey followed by the early morning called for a nap. He would inevitably be woken up by his brothers not too far from now, but he’ll take what he can get.

As he dreamed, he dreamed of berries, and a boy's laughter from around a campfire.

-

There hadn’t been a sign of the boy the next few days. Dick was worried, to say the least. He hadn’t been able to go back to the boys campsite, Bruce was on night watch. Dick tossed and turned, his inability to sleep similar to the night he had gone to the boys camp. Dick sat up and threw his pillow at the wall in frustration.

He found himself walking to the watchtower where Bruce was, climbing the ladder mechanically before reaching the top. Dick walked through the doorway quietly, Bruce giving him a small smile at his arrival.

“What’s up, Chum?” He asked. Dick winced, sitting heavily in the chair across from Bruce, positioned to watch the other side of the grounds.

“Can’t sleep,” Dick grumbled, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. Bruce hummed back in response. The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Bruce spoke up.

“There's something else though?” He asked. Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes, having a detective as a father can get really annoying.

“I- just- I’m thinking about anyone who lives out there,” Dick said, jerking his head to the woods past the fence. Bruce nodded, his eyes trained on the woods as well.

“I mean, before we got here, and when we lost the manor, it was terrible. You could never feel safe out there. I just can’t imagine living like that again– especially alone,” Dick said, whispering the last words.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his oldest. “You sound like you’re thinking of someone specific.”

Dick’s eyes snapped up, making eye contact. Before he could answer, gunshots sounded from the woods. Dick launched to his feet, eyes trained on where the sound came from. His heart skipped a beat, it was in the direction of the boys camp.

Chapter Text

Bruce’s hand landed on Dick’s shoulder, grounding him as the echoes of gunfire faded into the night. The two exchanged a glance, unspoken words passing between them. They had been through enough together to know what needed to be done.

“We need to check it out,” Dick said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. Bruce hesitated, clearly not wanting any of his family to leave the sanctuary of the prison walls. But sighed, nodding, and heading towards the ladder.

“Gear up. We don’t know what we’re dealing with out there,” Bruce instructed. Dick followed Bruce down, his mind racing. His thoughts kept returning to the boy, alone in the woods. He hadn’t seen a weapon in the camp.

As they reached the ground, Dick hurried to gather his gear, slinging his pistol into its holster and grabbing extra ammo. He caught sight of his brothers stirring, disturbed by the commotion. Tim and Damian walked out of their cells a second later, assessing to see their older brother and father gearing up in the middle of the night.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked. Dick stole a glance to see what Bruce was going to say.

“There were gunshots in the woods, Dick and I are going to check it out. You two are staying here,” Bruce said firmly. Dick sighed as he watched his brother's body languages change. This wasn’t going to go well.

“Why didn’t you wake us? We can help,” Tim said, his voice edged with frustration. Damian stood next to him, his arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

“I’m not a child, Father. I should be out there with you.”

Bruce’s patience, already worn from lack of sleep and adrenaline, snapped. “This isn’t up for debate. It is too dangerous. You two need to understand that.”

Tim stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Bruce’s. “We understand the danger, it’s a fucking apocalypse. But, we’re a team, you can’t just leave us behind every time things get tough.”

Damian nodded in agreement, his gaze fierce. “You trained us for this. We’re not liabilities,”

Bruce’s eyes flashed with anger. “And I won’t risk your lives unnecessarily. If something happened to either of you–”

“It’s not just about us,” Tim interrupted, voice rising. “You and Dick can’t do everything on your own. You need us.”

Dick saw the tension escalating and stepped between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Everyone, take a deep breath. We’re all on the same side here.”

Bruce turned his glare on DIck, but as the oldest, Dick met it calmly. “Bruce, they’re right. We are a team, we need to start acting like one.”

Bruce clenched his jaw, struggling to contain his emotions. Finally, he exhaled sharply, looking away. “I just want to keep you all safe.”

“And we want to keep you safe too,” Tim said, his tone softening. “But we can’t do that if you don’t let us.”

Damian uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. “We can handle ourselves, Father. We need to trust each other.”

Dick nodded, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “We’re stronger together, we always have been.”

Bruce’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked at each of them in turn, his expression shifting from anger to resignation. “Fine. But not tonight, we are just scouting to see if it’s a threat. You two are to keep watch.”

Tim’s jaw clicked, and Dick saw Damian’s eyebrow twitch, but the two youngest agreed, grabbing their own pistols and walking in the direction of the watchtower. Dick made sure to stop by Babs and Cass’s cells on the way out, asking them to look out for the younger two.

Dick and Bruce moved out, slipping through the gate and into the dark forest. The trees loomed overhead, casting long shadows that danced in the moonlight. They moved quickly but cautiously, ears straining for any sound that might indicate danger.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot. As they neared the area they suspected the gunshots to have come from, Dick signaled for them to slow down. Bruce took the lead, his eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced precision.

It didn’t take long to find the source of the disturbance. The two walked into the clearing where the boys camp was, lowering the guns they had been holding up. Dick’s heart sank as he took in the scene.

“There was someone camping here?” Bruce murmured as he looked around. The lean-to collapsed, the fire pit scattered. Dick walked the edge of the camp carefully, trying to see what might have happened. He was interrupted by loud clanging.

He jumped, heart in his throat and pointed his gun at the noise, only to find Bruce struggling with the cans hanging from the trees. Dick laughed, Bruce just got outsmarted by a kid. The two continued searching a few more minutes, Bruce being sure to avoid the tripline.

“Over here,” Bruce called softly, crouching by a body.

Dick hurried over, relief flooding him when he saw it wasn’t the boy. It was an adult, a man, with a bullet wound in his chest, and a stab wound in the center of his forehead. His clothes were ragged, and he looked like he had been on the run for a while.

“Not one of ours,” Bruce murmured, checking the man’s pockets for any identification. He found none.

Dick’s eyes roved the clearing, searching for any sign of the boy. His gaze landed on the tattered bag leaning against the tree. He moved towards it, picking it up and inspecting its contents. Most of the supplies were gone, likely taken by the boy in his hurried escape.

“Whoever was staying here is gone now,” Dick said, holding up the bag. Bruce stood, his expression unreadable.

“That looks like a children’s backpack,”Bruce said, coming up to stand with Dick to inspect it. Bruce took the backpack delicately in his hands, examining it carefully.

“If it’s a child out there, we need to find him before anyone else gets hurt,” Bruce said. Dick nodded.

They moved deeper into the woods, following the faint trail left by the boy. Damian was the best tracker of all of them by far, but luckily, as resourceful as this kid seemed, he was still just a kid. The sounds of the forest seemed to close in around them, every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves setting them on edge.

After what felt like hours, they found another clue. A small piece of cloth, snagged on a branch. Dick recognized it as part of the quilt he had left with the boy. Bruce recognized it too. He cleared his throat as he stared at Dick, waiting for an explanation. Dick sighed, tightening his grip on the fabric, determination hardening in his chest.

“I’m not apologizing. He’s a kid, and he needed help, so I found his camp a little while back and dropped off supplies. He took the supplies, returned the pack, and gave us the berries. I haven’t seen him since, and I’ve never actually interacted with him. But, knowing he’s out there, alone, I just-I can’t-he shouldn’t have to-”

Bruce cut Dick’s rambling off, putting his hands on both of his oldests shoulders. “I understand, you did the right thing. I just wished you would have told me so we could’ve helped him together. Alfred and I saw him last night while on a walk of the grounds. I want to help him as well.”

Dick sighed, relieved, and the two continued on the trail of the boy. The tension mounted with every step, Finally, they heard it–a soft gasp of pain, followed by a cut off whimper, barely audible over the sounds of the forest. Dick’s heart leapt into his throat as he followed the sound, leading them to a dense thicket.

“Hello?” Dick called softly, crouching down to peer into the underbrush. Everything went silent, Dick reached out a hand, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help.”

“We live in the prison,” Bruce added softly.

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, a pair of piercing blue eyes appeared through the leaves. The boy limped forward hesitantly, his thin frame trembling.

Dick’s heart broke at the sight. The boy looked even more vulnerable up close, his face dirty and etched with fear. But, there was also a spark of defiance in his eyes, a strength that belied his young age.

“My names Dick,” he said gently, slowly standing up. This is Bruce, my dad. The prison is closeby, it’s safe. You can come with us, if you want.”

The boy eyed them wearily, and as Dick examined him his concern only grew. The boy’s face was pale, his skin slick with sweat. His eyes were wild and unfocused. Dick’s heart caught in his chest, was he bit? Bruce must have noticed, his posture changing, he hunched his shoulders in to make himself look smaller, and Dick thinks he sees a slight bend in his knees. He was trying to become less…for lack of better word, terrifying.

“We’re here to help,” Dick called gently, stepping closer.

The boy’s reaction was immediate and violent. His hand shot to his waistband, pulling out a small, battered pistol. He pointed it at Dick, holding it steady despite his unsteady stance.

“Stay back,” the boy rasped out. “Don’t come any closer!”

Bruce tensed beside Dick, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “Son, we’re not going to hurt you,” Bruce said, his voice calm and steady. “We just want to help.”

“Don’t call me son!” The boy shouted. His eyes darted between the two older men, his breathing erratic. “Everyone lies! You aren’t going to help,” he cried, finger twitching on the trigger.

Dick took a slow, careful step forward, his hands raised in the air. “Kid, look at me. We’re not here to hurt you. You’re clearly sick and injured, and we can help you get better.”

His gaze was wild, filled with a mix of fear and confusion. He backed himself against a tree that was behind the brush, the gun shaking in his hand. “No! Stay away!”

Bruce’s voice cut through the tension, surprisingly gentle for what was at stake. “We’ve been through this too. We know how hard it is. Let us help you.”

The boy’s eyes flickered to Brucce, and in that moment of distraction, Dick moved swiftly. With practiced precision, he disarmed the boy, securing the gun before he could react. The boy let out a cry of distress, collapsing to the ground as his body was wrecked with violent coughing.

Bruce rushes forward, his own medical training kicking in. “He’s burning up. We need to get him back, now.”

Dick nodded, and watched as Bruce lifted the boy gently (as if the boy was his own) despite his weak struggles. “You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice firm but soothing. “We’re going to take care of you.”

The boy's resistance was weak, his fevered mind barely processing what was happening. His eyes fluttered, and he passed out in Bruce’s arms, his body going limp. Dick’s heart ached at the sight. They had to help this boy, no matter what it took. “Let’s get him back fast” Dick said, urgency in his voice.

They moved swiftly but carefully through the forest, making their way back to the prison. The boy’s weight was light in Bruce’s arms, a stark reminder of how much the boy had been through. As they hurried through the forest with the boy in Bruce’s arms, Dick’s mind raced. They had to get the boy to the infirmary quickly. He was in bad shape, and there was no time to lose.

Bruce pushed through the gates of the prison, Dick following closely behind. They moved swiftly through the corridors, flying past an extremely confused Duke. They reached the infirmary, and Bruce gently laid the boy on one of the beds. Dick wondered how long it had been since the boy had laid in a bed.

“We need to see if he’s bit,” Bruce said, voice steady but urgent. “We have to be sure.”

Dick nodded, carefully inspecting the boy’s arms, legs, and neck for any signs of a bite. As he moved the boy’s ragged shirt aside, he breathed a sigh of relief. “No bites,” he confirmed. “He just seems to be severely dehydrated and feverish.”

Bruce nodded, relief washing over his face. “Let’s get him stabilized.”

Tim entered the infirmary first, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern when he saw the boy on the bed. “What’s going on? Who is that?”

Damian followed closely behind, his face set in a hard line. “Why is there an outsider here? We have rules for a reason.”

Dick turned to face his younger brothers, trying to project a feeling of calmness. “We found him in the woods. He’s sick and needs our help . We couldn’t just leave him there.”

Tim moved to the boy’s side, checking his pulse and temperature. “He’s burning up. We need to cool him down and get some fluids into him. I’ll get the IV ready.” Damian crossed his arms, glaring at Bruce.

“Father, you were the one who set the rule: no outsiders. It’s too dangerous.” Bruce met Damian’s gaze, his expression firm but compassionate.

“I know, Damian. But, this boy–. He’s alone and sick. We can’t turn our back on him.”

Damian’s eyes flashed with anger. “And what if he’s dangerous? What if he brings trouble to us?”

Dick stepped in, placing a calming hand on Damian’s shoulder. “He’s not a threat right now. He’s just a kid who needs our help. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

Tim had already started the IV, his hands moving efficiently as he spoke. “We can’t ignore someone in need, Damian. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

Damian’s posture remained rigid, but the anger in his eyes was mixed with uncertainty. “We need to protect ourselves first. That’s what you’ve always taught us.”

Bruce sighed, his expression softening. “And sometimes protecting ourselves means helping others. It’s a balance, Damian. We have to find it.”

Damian looked at the boy, his face pale and drenched with sweat. He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine. But we watch him closely. No exceptions.”

Dick smiled, relieved at Damian’s concession. “Agreed. We’ll be careful,”

Tim finished setting up the IV and adjusted the cool cloth on his forehead. “He’s stabilizing. We should see some improvement soon.”

As they worked together to care for Jason, the tension in the room eased. Tim and Damian watched over the boy, their concern evident despite their differing perspectives.

Hours later, the boy’s fever had broken, and his breathing had steadied. He laid resting peacefully, the worst of his fever passing. Dick sat beside the bed, keeping a vigilant watch. Bruce stood nearby, his expression one of quiet determination. Tim and Damian hovered at the edge of the room, their earlier argument forgotten in the face of their shared responsibility.

“We did the right thing,” Bruce said softly, his eyes on the boy’s sleeping form.

Dick nodded, his gaze never leaving the boy’s face. “Yeah, we did.”

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the infirmary window, they knew they had taken the first step toward healing–not just for the boy, but for themselves as well. Together, they would face the uncertain future, stronger and more united than ever.

Chapter Text

The boy’s fever surged again during the night, and the infirmary hummed with a new intensity. His small frame was racked with violent shivers, and his skin burned under the cool cloths Dick and Tim continuously replaced. Bruce stood by the bed, his eyes dark with worry, while Damian lingered near the doorway, arms crossed but eyes betraying his concern.

“He’s not stabilizing,” Tim said, frustration evident in his voice as he checked the boy’s vials again. “The fever isn't breaking. We need antibiotics.”

Bruce nodded. “We have some, I was saving them. They’re in my cell. Dick, go with Tim and bring them quickly.”

As Dick and Tim hurried out, Bruce sat down beside the boy, taking his hand in his own. “Hang in there, kid.”

Damian watched from the doorway, torn between his skepticism and his growing concern. “What if the antibiotics don’t work?” he asked quietly.

Bruce gleaned at him, his expression grave. “Then we’ll have to find another way. But we don’t give up on people, Damian. Not ever.”

Damian’s frown deepened, but he said nothing more, his eyes fixed on the frail figure in the bed.

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, Dick and TIm returned with the antibiotics. Tim quickly prepared an injection, his hands steady despite the urgency. He administered the dose, then stepped back, watching for any sign of improvement.

“We should see a response soon,” Tim said, though his voice held a note of uncertainty.

Bruce nodded, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face. “We wait, then.”

-

The night settled into a peaceful quiet, the infirmary softly lit by a few flickering lamps. The boy was resting more comfortably now, his fever broken but his body still weak. Bruce had been at his side since they found him, but Dick knew his father needed rest.

“B, go get some sleep,” Dick said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch.”

Bruce looked reluctant but nodded, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “You’ll wake me if anything changes?”

“Of course,” Dick assured him with a smile. “We’ve got this.”

Bruce gave a final glance at the boy before heading out the infirmary, his steps heavy with fatigue. As the door closed behind him, Dick settled into the chair beside Jason’s bed. Tim and Damian hovered nearby, both looking thoughtful.

Tim broke the silence first. “So, what’s the story with this kid? He’s obviously been through a lot.”

Dick nodded, glancing at his sleeping form. “I first saw him like two weeks ago. He was governed in grime, but he had this look in his eyes… he wasn’t one of the dead, and he was clearly alone.”

Damian frowned. “He’s been surviving out there by himself? How?”

Dick hesitated, then decided to share what he knew. “He was covering himself in the dead’s guts. It’s smart–it keeps the dead from noticing you. But it’s also dangerous. The risk of infection is high.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “That’s… incredibly risky. He must have been desperate.”

Damian’s expression softened slightly. “Desperate and resourceful. He must have been alone out there for a long time.”

Dick nodded. “He was setting up a camp in the woods, had some basic traps. He’s a survivor, but he was in bad shape before we even found him.”

Just then, the door to the infirmary opened, and Cass, Duke, and Steph walked in, their faces curious and concerned.

“What’s going on?” Steph asked, her eyes immediately landing on the boy in the bed. “Who’s this?”

“We don’t know,” Dick explained. “We found him in the woods. He’s been surviving on his own, but he’s really sick.”

Cass moved closer, her expression unreadable but her eyes full of empathy. “A child, alone?”

Duke crossed his arms, his face serious. “And how long has he been out there?”

Tim sighed. “We don’t know for sure. But he’s been smearing himself in guts.”

Steph’s eyes widened. “That’s… wow. He must have been desperate.”

Damian nodded, his earlier sternness replaced with a thoughtful look. “He’s clearly been through a lot. We need to be careful but also make sure he knows he’s safe here.”

Damian and Tim looked to their youngest, surprised and relieved.

Cass reached out and gently touched the boy’s hand. “We need to make sure he knows he’s not alone anymore.”

Duke nodded. “We’re keeping him, right?”
-
The group settled into a tense vigil, taking turns to sit by the boy’s side, offering cool cloths and whispering words of encouragement. The night dragged on, every minute stretching into an eternity. The only sounds were the boys labored breathing and the quiet murmur of the others as they coordinated care.

The next morning dawned quietly, the light filtering softly through the barred windows of the infirmary. The boy lay still, his fever having broken but his body still weak. Dick, Tim, Damian, Cass, Duke, and Steph were all gathered in the room, talking quietly as they kept watch over the boy.

The boy stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The unfamiliar surroundings immediately set off alarms in his mind. The unfamiliar surroundings immediately set off alarms in his mind. Panic surged through him as he tried to make sense of where he was. His gaze landed on the group, and his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in.

With a sudden burst of energy, he threw himself out of bed, ignoring the pain that shot through his weak body. He grabbed the first weapon he saw–a metal tray from the bedside table–and brandished it defensively, his eyes wild with fear.

“Stay back!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and shaky.

The group froze, not wanting to startle him further. Dick stepped forward slowly, hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here! We’re not going to hurt you.”

His eyes darted around the room, trying to process the words but still on edge. “Who are you? Where am I?”

Tim moved slightly to the side, his movements slow and deliberate. “We found you in the woods. You were really sick. We brought you here to help you.”

His grip on the tray tightened. “Why should I believe you?”

Cass, her eyes full of empathy, stepped forward just a little. “Because we’re telling the truth. We’ve been taking care of you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

His breath came in quick shallow gasps as he tried to make sense of everything. The sincerity in their voices and the concern in their eyes began to penetrate his fear, but he was still wary.

Dick took a step closer, his voice calm and steady. “We’re survivors too. We know what it’s like out there. We just want to help.”

His grip on the tray loosened slightly, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Steph chimed in , her voice soft and reassuring. “You’ve been through a lot. Let us help you now.”

He looked at each of them in turn, his defensive stance gradually relaxing as their words began to sink in. His exhaustion caught up with him, and he swayed on his feet. Dick quickly moved forward, catching him before he could fall.

“Easy there,” Dick said gently, guiding him back to the bed. “You’re safe now. Just rest.”

The boy, too weak to resist, allowed himself to be helped back into bed. The metal tray slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. He looked up at them, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and gratitude.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Because it’s what we do,” Dick replied softly. “We look out for each other.

Tim handed him a bottle of water, which he took with trembling hands. “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”

He sipped the water, his body still trembling but his fear slowly ebbing away. “Thank you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “My-my name is Jason.”

Steph sat down beside him, her hand resting gently on his. “You’re not alone anymore, Jason. We’re here for you.”

-

The morning light streamed through the small window in Bruce’s cell, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bruce, deep in much-needed sleep, was roused by a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. He blinked awake, his eyes focusing on Alfred's familiar.

“Master Bruce, it’s time to wake up,” Alfred said softly. “The boy, Jason, is awake.”

Bruce sat up immediately, the weight of responsibility settling back onto his shoulders. “How is he?”

“Still very weak, but conscious,” Alfred replied. “He had quite a scare when he woke up. Master DIck and the others managed to calm him down, but he’s understandably frightened.”

Bruce nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We need to decide what to do next.”

Alfred handed Bruce a bottle of water, his expression thoughtful. “Indeed. We must consider his safety and our own. But the boy clearly needs care and support.”

Bruce took a sip of the water, his mind already working through the options. “He’s been through a lot. We need to make sure he feels safe here, and that means gaining his trust.”

Alfred nodded. “Precisely. And that will require patience and understanding. He’s likely been alone for a long time, and trust will not come easily.”

Bruce sighed, setting the bottle down. “I’ll go talk to him. See if I can ease his fears.”

With that Bruce and Alfred made their way to the infirmary. As they approached, the door was slightly ajar, and they could hear the soft murmur of voices inside. Bruce pushed the door open gently, stepping inside to find Dick sitting beside Jason’s bed, holding his hand reassuringly. Tim and Damian were nearby, watching the two.

Jason’s eyes widened at the sight of Bruce, and he instinctively shrank back, fear evident in his gaze. Bruce stopped a few feet from the bed, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening.

“Jason,” Bruce said softly, his voice calm and steady. “I’m Bruce. You’re safe here.”

Jason’s eyes flickered between Bruce and the others, his grip on Dick’s hand tightening. Dick gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Jason. Bruce is our dad, he’s here to help.”

Damian, usually the most stoic, softened his expression as much as he could. “No one will hurt you here.”

Jason’s breathing was rapid, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape. Bruce could see the terror in the boy’s eyes and took another step back, giving him some space.

“Jason,” Bruce said gently. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But you’re not alone anymore. We want to help you. Can you let us do that?”

“You’re safe, Jason. We won’t let anything happen to you.” Dick said, squeezing his hand gently.

Jason’s gaze finally settled on Bruce, his body still tense but his eyes softening slightly. “Why?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Why would you help me?”

Bruce’s expression softened. “Because it’s the right thing to do. No one should have to be alone.”

Jason’s grip on Dick’s hand loosened a fraction, the fight beginning to drain out of him. He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes lingering on Damian and Tim. “What… what do I have to do?”

“Nothing,” Dick said firmly. “Just rest and get better. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Jason nodded slowly, exhaustion evident in his every movement. He leaned back against the pillows, his eyes still wary but the fear slowly fading. Bruce stepped closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“We’ve got you, Jason,” Bruce said softly. “Every step of the way.”

Jason’s eyes fluttered close, the tension in his body easing as sleep began to claim him again. As he drifted off, Dick continued to hold his hand, offering silent comfort.

Once sure Jason was asleep, Bruce stood slowly, motioning for Tim and Damian to follow him out of the room. Once they were in the hallway, Bruce turned to them his expression seriously. “We need to be patient with him. He’s probably been through a lot, and it’s going to take time for him to trust us.”

Tim nodded. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

Damian crossed his arms, his usual stern demeanor cracking to show a softer side. “He’s one of us now. We’ll protect him.”

Bruce placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, pride flowing through him for his youngest.

-

The night in the infirmary was quiet, the distant sounds of the woods surrounding the prison settling creating a backdrop of calm. Dick, exhausted from the previous night and days events, had fallen asleep in a chair next to Jason’s bed. His hand rested gently on the edge of the bed, a silent reassurance to both boys that they weren’t alone.

The peace was shattered in the early hours of the morning when Jason began to thrash in his sleep, his face contorted in fear. Soft whimpers turned into low cries of distress, his body jerking as if trying to escape some unseen terror.

Dick woke with a start, instantly alert. He leaned closer, gently shaking Jason’s shoulder. “Jason, wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re safe.”

Jason’s eyes flew open, wide with panic. He struggled to focus, his breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps. Dick kept his voice calm and soothing. “It’s okay, Jason. You’re here with us. You’re safe.”

It took a few moments for Jason to come back to reality, the fear in his eyes slowly ebbing. He looked around, recognizing the infirmary. His breathing began to steady, and he relaxed back in the bed, still visibly shaken.

Dick stayed close, his expression filled with concern. “You want to talk about it?”

Jason hesitated, his eyes flicking away. “It was just a nightmare. “

Dick nodded, understanding the reluctance. “Nightmares can be pretty intense. Sometimes it helps to talk about them.”

Jason swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know where to start.”

Dick settled back in his chair, giving Jason space but showing he was ready to listen. “How about the beginning? Where did you live before all of this?”

Jason sighed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’m from Gotham. Grew up in Crime Alley. My mom… she was a drug addict. Dad-uh, he was whatever.”

Dick’s heart ached at the boy’s words. “That sounds really tough.”

Jason shrugged, bringing his legs to his chest, hugging them to his body. “Yeah. I tried to take care of her, but when this all started, she overdosed and turned during the night. I had to shoot here. There was no one else. Just me.”

Dick squeezed his hand gently. “I’m so sorry, Jason. No one should have to go through that.”

Jason shrugged again, trying to put on a brave face. “It is what it is. I survived.”

“You’re strong, Jason,” Dick said, admiration in his voice. “But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Jason’s eyes softened, a flicker of hope igniting. “Thanks. I… I haven’t talked about it with anyone. Feels weird.”

Dick nodded. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. We’re all in this together.”

Jason looked down, fidgeting with the blanket. “Have you ever… killed any of the dead?”

Dick’s expression turned serious. “Yeah. A lot of them. It’s not something anyone should have to do, but it’s survival.”

Jason’s voice was almost a whisper. “I’ve killed a lot of them too. You have to, right?”

“Yeah,” Dick replied softly. “Sometimes you have to.”

Jason hesitated, a shadow crossing his face. “What about… people?”

Dick’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the weight of the question. “Jason, have you ever had to kill someone?”

Jason’s jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to his hands. “I…”

Before he could answer, the door to the infirmary opened, and Alfred stepped in, followed by Bruce. Alfred carried a tray of food, while Bruce looked alert, having just woken up.

“Good morning, Master Dick, Master Jason,” Alfred said warmly. “I thought you both might be hungry.”

Jason looked relieved at the interruption, his tension easing slightly. Dick gave Alfred a grateful smile. “Thanks Alfred. Perfect timing.”

Bruce approached the bed, his expression softening as he looked at Jason. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Jason forced a small smile. “Better, I think. Thanks.”

Alfred set the tray on a nearby table, glancing at Dick. “Why don’t you get some rest, Master Dick? I’ll watch over young Jason for a while.”

Dick hesitated but then nodded, realizing he could use a break. “Alright. But I’ll be back soon.”

As Dick stood up to leave, he gave Jason’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

Jason nodded, watching as Dick left the room. Bruce sat down beside the bed, and Alfred handed Jason a bowl of warm soup (their last can), which he accepted gratefully.

The morning dawned slowly, bringing with it a quiet sense of peace. Alfred was sitting by Jason’s bedside, the boy looking slightly more at ease.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked gently. Jason glanced between the two men, still wary, but less tense than he had been. “Better, I guess.”

THat’s good to hear,” Bruce said. His voice steady. “I want you to know that you’re safe here. No one will hurt you.”

Jason swallowed, his gaze dropping to the blanket. “Thanks.”

Bruce exchanged a glance with Alfred before continuing. “Jason, how old are you?”

Jason hesitated, then answered softly, “Fifteen. I just turned fifteen a couple of months ago.”

Bruce’s eyes softened, a mixture of sadness and admiration in his gaze. “You’ve been through a lot for someone so young. I can imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

Jason shrugged, trying to downplay the hardship. “You do what you have to do to survive.”

Alfred leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. “Jason, we want to help you, but we need to understand what you’ve been through. Dick mentioned you told him about your life before. Can you tell us a bit?”

Jason’s body tensed, his eyes darting nervously. “My… my mom died early on.”

The two adults nodded, letting them sit in silence until Jason spoke again. “My dad… he wasn’t a good person. He hurt a lot of people.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, his concern for the boy deepening. “Did he ever hurt you, Jason?”

Jason’s eyes snapped to Bruce, but quickly went down to the blanket covering him. His body was tense, like a rubber band about to snap.

“Jason, it’s okay. You don’t have to go into detail if you’re not ready. But understanding your situation can help us protect you.”

Jason’s eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. “I don’t want to talk about him. He’s… he’s gone now.”

Alfred reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Jason’s arm. “We understand, lad. You’ve already been incredibly brave sharing what you have. Just know that you’re safe here, and nothing from your past can hurt you anymore.”

Jason nodded, his eyes never leaving the blanket.

Bruce’s voice was firm yet kind. “It will take time, Jason. Healing from something like that isn’t easy, but you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here for you.”

Jason looked between Bruce and Alfredy, the sincerity in their eyes slowly breaking through his defenses. “I just want to feel safe.”

“You will,” Bruce promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Alfred gave Jason a warm smile. “Why don’t you try to get some more rest? You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and your body needs time to recover.”

Jason nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. As he settled back against the pillows, Alfred and Bruce exchanged a look of understanding. They knew that helping Jason heal would be a long journey, but it was one they were committed to undertaking.

As Jason drifted off to sleep, Bruce turned to Alfred, murmuring, “we need to be careful with him. He’s been through more than any child should have to endure.”

Alfred nodded in agreement. “Indeed, Master Bruce. But with time, patience, and the support of this family, I believe he will find his war.”

Bruce looked back at the sleeping boy, determination etched into his features. “We’ll make sure he does. No child– or anybody should have to face this world alone.”

Chapter Text

Jason woke up slowly, his body weak and aching from the weeks of malnutrition. The bed he was in felt foreign but comfortable, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. The sterile smell of antiseptic indicated he was in the medical wing of the prison.

He sat up, wincing slightly as he moved. The events of the previous days came rushing back–his rescue by the Wayne family, the unexpected kindness he had experienced, and his own struggle with starvation. Jason shook his head, still trying to process everything.

The door to the infirmary opened, and the old man walked in, smiling when he saw Jason awake. “Good morning, young Jason. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Jason admitted, though he still felt weak and disoriented.

“That’s to be expected. You’ve been through a lot,” he said, checking his vitals. “But you’re going to be fine. Just take it easy and make sure to eat the meals we’ve prepared for you.

With a nod from Jason, the man left. Jason took in his surroundings, realizing this appeared to be an old infirmary, long since abandoned but still containing some useful supplies. He found a half-empty bottle of water on a nearby table and drank greedily, his throat parched. The nourishment felt good, but he knew he needed more.

Determined to find food and explore his surroundings, Jason forced himself to stand. He was weak, but his resolve was strong. The hallways of the prison were dark and empty, the occasional flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls.

As he wandered through the abandoned corridors, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The sound of his footsteps echoed loudly, making him jump at every little noise. He kept moving, determined to find something to eat and perhaps a way out.

Jason’s exploration took him through the cafeteria, now a ghostly shell of its former self. The tables were overturned, and debris littered the floor. He found a few canned goods in the kitchen, their labels faded but still readable. He pocketed them, grateful for any sustenance he could find.

As he continued, he came across the gymnasium. The once-bustling area was now silent and desolate. Jason approached a punching bag and gave it a tentative punch, feeling a small surge of energy. He continued to practice, his movements slow and deliberate, trying to regain his strength.

A sudden noise made him freeze. It sounded like shuffling footsteps, growing closer. Jason turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emerging from the shadows were several figures, their movements jerky and unnatural. It was the dead.

Instinct took over and Jason grabbed a nearby metal pipe, ready to defend himself. The first lunged at him, and he swung the pipe with all his might, crushing its skull. The creature crumpled to the ground, but more were coming.

Jason fought fiercely, his adrenaline fueling his actions. He took down one after another, his desperation and determination driving him forward. The stench of decay filled the air, but he pushed through, refusing to be overwhelmed.

Just as he took down the last one, he heard a familiar voice. “Jason!”

Dick appeared at the entrance to the gymnasium, his eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jason, panting heavily, nodded. “Yeah. Just… dealing with some company.”

Dick hurried over, quickly scanning the area for any remaining threats. “We need to get you out of here. This place isn’t safe.”

Jason nodded, still catching his breath. “I found some food,” he said, showing Dick the canned goods.

“Good,” Dick replied, helping Jason to his feet. “But we need to find a safer place to rest. “Follow me.”

They made their way through the dark hallways, Dick leading the way with practiced ease. Jason couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at having a companion, someone who knew what they were doing. They navigated through the prison, avoiding any further encounters.

Eventually, they reached a secured area, and old storage room that Dick had converted in to a makeshift safe house. “It’s not much, but it’s safer than the open halls,” Dick said, locking the door behind them.

Jason sat down, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He listened at Dick talked, he wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, but Dick seemed content with Jason not responding. Before Jason knew, Dick was pulling him into his side, and Jason fell into a light sleep.

-

Bruce navigated the darkened hallways of the abandoned prison, his footsteps silent and deliberate. The eerie quiet was only broken by the occasional distant groan of the undead. He had spent hours scouting the perimeter, securing potential entry points, and ensuring the safety of his family.

As he approached the storage room that Dick had converted in to a safe house, Bruce’s sharp ears picked up the familiar, rhythmic snoring that came with sleep. He gently unlocked the door and stepped inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light.

In the corner of the room, Jason was asleep, leaning heavily against Dick. Both boys looked exhausted but safe. Dick’s arm was draped protectively around Jason, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed.

Bruce’s heart softened at the sight. Despite the harsh circumstances, there was a moment of peace here. He quietly approached, careful not to disturb them, but Dick’s eyes fluttered open at his father’s presence.

“Bruce,” Dick whispered, his voice low to avoid waking Jason. He carefully shifted, trying not to jostle Jason too much.

Bruce knelt down beside them, his expression a mix of concern and relief. “What happened?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning Jason’s sleeping form for any signs of injury.

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He woke up in the infirmary. When I found him, he had already dealt with a few of the dead in the gym. He’s tougher than he looks.”

Bruce nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. “He’s been through a lot. But he’s a fighter.” He looked at Jason, noting the signs of malnutrition and the exhaustion etched into his features. “Did he find any food?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, motioning to the few cans Jason had scavenged. “We shared some. He’s weak, but recovering.”

Bruce reached out, gently placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The boy stirred slightly but didn’t wake. “We should bring him back to the infirmary, it’s safer, more secure. This isn’t where he should be while he regains his strength.”

Dick nodded. “I agree. But for now, he needs rest. I don’t want to wake him up.”

Bruce’s gaze softened as he looked at his son. “You did well, Dick. Thank you for looking after him.”

Dick smirked faintly. “We’re family. It’s what we do.”

Bruce smiled and stood up, his mind already working on their next steps. “I’ll keep watch, get some sleep.” Dick nodded, grateful for the chance to rest.

As Bruce settled near the entrance, keeping an ear out for any signs of danger, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope. Despite the horrors of the world outside, they had each other. And together, they would find a way to survive.

Jason shifted in his sleep, his head resting more comfortably against Dick’s shoulder. In that moment, Bruce saw a glimmer of the future he hoped for–a future where they could rebuild, where Jason could find the safety and family he deserved.

And with that thought, Bruce remained vigilant, guarding the two as they slept.

-

A few days later, the prison was a flurry of activity as the makeshift family continued to fortify their safe haven. However, tensin simmered beneath the surface, as some members of the family were growing increasingly anxious.

“Has anyone seen Jason?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with worry as he approached Bruce, who was reviewing their supply inventory.

Bruce looked up, his brow furrowing. “No, I thought he was with you.”

Tim shook his head. “He was supposed to be, but I haven’t seen him all morning.”

Dick joined them, his expression mirroring Tim’s concern. “I’ve checked the gym and the library. He’s not there either.”

Bruce’s worry deepened. “Alright, let’s split up and search the area. He can’t have gone far.”

As the family spread out to search, Bruce’s mind raced with possibilities. Jason had been doing well, but the trauma of recent events and his past weighed heavily on him. Bruce moved through the darkened corridors, calling Jaosn’s name, his voice echoing off the cold, concrete walls.

Eventually, Bruce stepped out into the garden. It was one of the few places in the prison that still held a semblance of life and normalcy. To his relief, he spotted Jason kneeling by a row of crops, carefully tending to them.

“Jason,” Bruce called softly, not wanting to startle him.

Jason looked up, a mixture of surprise and relief on his face. “Bruce. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Bruce approached, kneeling beside him. “We were concerned when we couldn’t find you. This place isn’t safe to wander off alone.”

Jason nodded, his gaze returning to the plants. “I just needed some time to think. And to help out here. These crops are important.”

Bruce smiled gently, appreciating Jason’s sense of responsibility. “You’re right. They are. But so are you.”

They worked in silence for a few moments, the quiet of the garden providing a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside. Finally, Bruce spoke again, his tone gentle but probing. “Jason, I’ve been wanting to learn more about you. Where were you when the outbreak first started?”

Jason stiffened slightly but didn’t look up. “It's not a great story.”

“You don’t have to share if you’re not ready. But sometimes it helps to talk about it.” Bruce said, leaning back onto his hands.

Jason sighed, his fingers gently brushing the leaves of a tomato plant. “We were in the city, my mom and me. We were out shopping when it happened.”

Bruce listened intently, his eyes never leaving Jason’s face.

“We were at a grocery store when this… person came in. They looked sick, really sick. People tried to help, but then they just… attacked someone. Bit them.” Jason’s voice trembled slightly at the memory. “There was so much panic. My mom grabbed me and we ran home.”

Jason paused, his jaw tightening. “When we got there, my dad was furious. My mom was supposed to pick up his… his drugs. He was always angry when he didn’t get what he wanted.”

Bruce’s expression darkened, understanding the implication. “Did he hurt you or your mom?”

Jason shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It doesn’t matter now. We just… we had to survive.”

Bruce didn’t press further, sensing Jason’s discomfort. They continued working in the garden, the bond between them growing stronger. As they tended to the crops, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of Jason’s past momentarily lifted. They talked about plans for the future, how they would protect their new home, and how they would rebuild.

And as they worked side by side in the garden, Jason allowed himself to believe in a better future, one where he could finally leave the pain of the past behind.

-

The days at the prison passed slowly, the group falling into a steady rhythm of work and rest. Jason, though still grappling with his past, found moments of peace in the garden. It was here, surrounded by the quiet growth of plants, that he often encountered other members of his new group, each seeking to understand him better and to share their own stories.

One evening, as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the garden, Bruce joined Jason among the rows of vegetables.

“Mind if I sit?” Bruce asked, pointing to the ground beside Jason.

Jason shook his head. “Go ahead.”

They worked side by side in silence for a while, the quiet only interrupted by the distant sounds of the prison settling for the night.

“Jason,” Bruce began, his voice gentle. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me the other day. About your dad.”

Jason stiffened but continued working. “Yeah?”

Bruce nodded. “I want to make it clear to you that you’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

Jason hesitated, then sighed. “It was rough, Bruce. My dad… he wasn’t a good man. When the outbreak started, things got worse. He blamed my mom and I for everything. I tried to protect her, but there was only so much I could do.”

Bruce’s heart ached for Jason. “You did what you could, chum. You survived. And now, you’re part of our family. We’ll protect each other.”

Jason looked up, meeting Bruce’s eyes. “Thanks, Bruce. It means a lot.”

A few days later, Dick found Jason in the gym, practicing with a makeshift punching bag.

“Hey,” Dick said, leaning against the wall. “Mind if I join you?”

Jason shrugged. “Sure. could use the company.”

They sparred for a while, the physical exertion helping to clear their minds.

“You’re getting better,” Dick said, dodging a punch. “Faster.”

“Thanks,” Jason replied, panting. “Helps to have a good teacher.”

They paused for a break, sitting on the floor, catching their breath.

Jason glanced at him. “What was it like, being Robin?”

Dick smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “It was amazing. Scary, dangerous, but amazing. I got to help people, make a difference. And I had Bruce. He’s essentially my dad.”

Jason looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on his jacket. “Must’ve been nice, having someone like that.”

Dick studied Jason for a moment, then spoke gently. “You have that now, Jason. We’re your family.”

Jason smiled, but sighed. “I know. It’s just… hard to adjust sometimes. Everything that’s happened, it’s like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Dick nodded understandingly. “I get that. But you’re not alone anymore. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Jason smiled faintly. “Thanks, Dick. I appreciate it.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the night stretching out before them.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Jason asked suddenly. “What we’re going to do if things get better?”

Dick leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “All the time. I think about rebuilding, finding a place where we can live without fear. Maybe even starting new communities.”

Jason nodded. “It’s hard to imagine sometimes. But it’s nice to think about.”

Dick turned to him, his expression serious. “We have to believe in it, Jason. If we don’t have hope, what do we have?”

Jason met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through him. “You’re right. I want to believe.”

Dick smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good. Because with you on our side, I know we can make it happen.”

Jason stood back up, ready to continue sparing, feeling a sense of determination he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Yeah. We’ll make it happen.”

One rainy afternoon, Jason was in the library, flipping through old books. Tim entered, looking for a quiet place to read.

“Hey Jason,” Tim greeted, sitting across from him. “What are you reading?”

Jason shrugged. “Just an old gardening book. Trying to find ways to improve the crops.”

Tim nodded, then hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

Jason glanced up. “Sure.”

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” Tim said carefully. “How did you manage to stay strong through everything?”

Jason sighed, closing the book. “I didn’t always feel strong. After my mom… well, after she was gone, I learned to survive. My dad wasn’t much help, more dead weight than anything.”

Tim’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry Jason. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

Jason nodded. “It was. But I had to keep going. For her.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the rain tapping against the windows.

“You know,” Tim said quietly. “We’re all here for you. You’re part of our family now.”

Jason smiled. “Thanks Tim.”

Late one night, Jason found himself in their makeshift kitchen, unable to sleep. He was surprised to see Alfred there, making tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Alfred asked, handing Jason a cup.

Jason shook his head. “Too much on my mind.”

Alfred nodded knowingly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Jason hesitated, then nodded. “I guess. It’s just… I miss my mom. It’s been years since she died but I still just..”

Aldred sat down beside him, his expression gentle. “You’ve been through a great deal. But you’ve also shown incredible strength and resilience. You should be proud of that.”

Jason sighed. “Sometimes I don’t feel strong. I just feel… broken.”

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Jason’s. “We all have our moments of weakness, but it’s how we rise from them that defines us. You have us now, and we’ll face these challenges together.”

Jason looked up, meeting Alfred’s wise eyes. “Thanks, Alfred. I needed that.”

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the prison grounds. Jason and Damian were on night watch duty, their figures silhouetted against the faint glow. The air was cool, the silence punctuated only by the occasional groan of one of the dead.

Jason leaned against the railing of the guard tower, scanning the perimeter. Damian stood a few feet away, his posture rigid and his eyes sharp.

“Quiet night,” Jason remarked, trying to break the silence.

Damian grunted in response, his gaze never wavering from the horizon.

Jason sighed internally. It was clear that Damian still didn’t trust him. The young Wayne had always been difficult to read, but his distrust of Jason was palpable.

“Look, Damian,” Jason began, choosing his words carefully. “I know you don’t trust me. And I get it. But we’re in this together now. We need to watch each other’s backs.”

Damian finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “Trust is earned, not given freely.”

Jason nodded, accepting the challenge. “Fair enough. Then let me earn it.”

Before Damian could respond, a rustling noise caught their attention. Jason held up a hand, signaling for silence. They both strained to listen, their eyes scanning the darkness.

Suddenly, a small group of the dead were pressed against a weaker area of the fence. There were about five of them, their movements slow by relentless.

“Stay back,” Jason ordered, drawing his knife. “I’ll take care of this.”

“No,” Damian said firmly, pulling out his katana. “We do this together.”

Jason glanced at him, surprised but pleased by the shift. “Alright. “Let’s do this.”

They moved in tandem, quickly climbing down from the watchtower. Jason took down the first zombie with a swift strike to the head, while Damian decapitated the second with a precise swing of his sword.

As they fought, Jason kept an eye on Damian, ready to intervene if needed. But Damian moved with deadly grace, his strikes efficient and controlled.

The last one lunged at Damian from the side, but before Jason could react, Damian spun and drove his sword through its skull. The figure crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Breathing heavily, they surveyed the area, ensuring no more threats were nearby.

“Not bad,” Jason said, wiping his knife on his pants. “You’ve got some serious skills.”

Damian sheathed his sword, his expression still guarded but less hostile. “I’ve been trained by the best.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”

They resumed their watch, the silence now more comfortable. After a while, Damian spoke again, his tone softer.

“You fought well. Better than I expected.”

Jason looked at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thanks, Damian. You weren’t too bad yourself.”

Damian’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Perhaps trust can be earned after all.”

Jason chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As the night wore on, the tension between them eased, replaced by a mutual respect. They didn’t need to say much more; their actions had spoken louder than words.

For the first time, Jason felt that he had made a breakthrough with Damian. It was a small step, but in their world, even small steps could lead to significant changes.

-

A month had passed since Jason had earned Damian’s tentative trust, and the group had settled into a routine at the prison. The days were filled with work, fortifying their home and tending to their crops, while the nights were spent on watch duty and planning for the future.

On this particular day, Jason, Bruce, Damian, and Dick were on a scouting mission, searching for food and supplies. The four of them moved cautiously through the remnants of an abandoned town, their sense on high alert.

“Over here,” Damian called softly, pointing to a grocery store that looked relatively intact.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s check it out. Stay close and keep your eyes open.”

They entered the store, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. Shelves were overturned, and the remnants of a frantic escape littered the floor. They spread out, carefully picking through the debris for anything useful.

As Jason reached for a can of beans, a sound cut through the silence: a low, melodic whistling. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The others paused, exchanging confused glances.

“Did you hear that?” Dick whispered, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” Bruce replied, his voice tense. “Stay alert.”

But Jason stood frozen, his face pale. The can slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. His breathing quickened, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“Jason?” Dick asked, concern evident in his voice. “What is it?”

Jason didn’t respond. He was rooted to the spot, his mind racing. Memories of his past flooded back, memories he had tried desperately to forget.

Bruce stepped closer, shaking Jason gently. “Jason, snap out of it. What’s wrong?”

Finally, Jason’s eyes focused, and he grabbed Bruce’s arm with a grip of steel. “We have to go. Now. We’re not safe.”

“Jason, what–” Damian began, but Jason cut him off.

“No time to explain. We need to leave. Now!” Jason’s voice was frantic, his fear palpable.

Without waiting for a response, Jason bolted from the store, heading back the way they had come. Bruce, Damian, and Dick exchanged worried glances before quickly following him.

Jason ran as if his life depended on it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The others struggled to keep up, their confusion mounting with every step. The landscape blurred past them as they navigated the deserted streets and overgrown pathways back to the prison.

When they finally reached the prison, Jason stumbled through the gates, his panic still driving him. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

“Jason!” Bruce shouted, rushing to his side. “What’s going on?”

But Jason couldn’t answer. His chest heaved, and his vision blurred. He clutched at his chest, the panic attack overwhelming him.

“Give him space!” Damian said urgently, kneeling beside Jason. “Breathe, Jason. Just breathe.”

Jason tried to follow Damian’s instructions, but his fear was too great. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind was a whirlwind of terror. Moments later, his body went limp, and he passed out. Damian quickly moved forward to catch him.

Bruce, Damian, and Dick looked at each other, their faces etched with concern and confusion.

“What the hell happened out there?” Dick asked, his voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” Buce replied, his eyes never leaving Jason’s pale face. “But whatever it was, it terrified him. We need to get him inside and figure this out.”

Dick carefully lifted Jason, carrying him into the safety of the prison. Once inside, they laid him on a cot, waiting for him to regain consciousness. The worry and fear in their eyes were evident as they hovered around him, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Chapter Text

Jason laid in his cot, the dim light of the moon casting eerie shadows on the walls. He tossed and turned, his face contorted in anguish. In his dream, he was back in that cold, damp room. Rough hands dragged him down a narrow hallway, the walls lined with the screams of other prisoners. The whistling started—low and melodic, echoing through the halls and sending chills down his spine.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, the walls stained with dark patches that told stories of violence and despair. Jason could feel the cold, rough texture of the floor beneath him as he was thrown into a small, dimly lit cell. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in his ears, trapping him in darkness.

In the corner of the room, a single flickering bulb cast long, eerie shadows. The man with the bat wrapped in barbed wire stood over him, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he approached Jason, his heavy books thudding against the concrete floor.

“Welcome back,” the man said, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’ve missed our little chats.”

Jason tried to crawl away, but the chains around his wrists and ankles held him in place. The man knelt down, grabbing Jason by the hair and forcing him to look up. .The bat, a grotesque symbol of his captor’s power, was placed ominously beside him.

“You know the drill,” the man said, his grin widening. “Tell me what I want to hear, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

Jason clenched his jaw, refusing to give him. The man’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of annoyance. He stood up, swinging the bat with a casual ease that belied its deadly nature.

“Suit yourself,” he said, bringing the bat down hard on Jason’s leg.

Pain explored through Jason’s body, a white-hot agony that stole his breath away. He bit down on his lip to keep from screaming, but a low, anguished moan escaped him.

“Come on, now,” the man taunted. “You can do better than that.”

He raised the bat again, delivering another brutal blow. Jason’s vision blurred, the edges of his world fading to black as the pain threatened to consume him.

The nightmare shifted, and Jason found himself in another room. This one was filled with the tools of torture: knives, whips, and other implements designed to inflict maximum pain. His captors circled him, their faces hidden in shadow, their laughter a haunting chorus.

They took turns, each more sadistic than the last. Jason’s body was a canvas for their cruelty, his skin marked with bruises and cuts. He tried to block out the pain, to retreat into his mind, but there was no escape.

“Not so tough now, are you?” one of them sneered, his face inches from Jason’s. “We’re going to break you, boy. And when we’re done, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the terror and pain intertwining into a suffocating mass. He could feel himself slipping away, his will to fight waning with each passing moment.

The nightmare shifted again, and Jason was back in his cell. The whistling started up once more, a chilling melody that sent shivers down his spine. He curled into a ball, his body wracked with pain, his mind teetering on the edge of madness.

Jason whimpered in his sleep, his body twitching violently. His breathing grew rapid, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

-

Sitting a few feet away at a table, Bruce, Dick, Damian, and Tim were discussing the gay’s events when they heard Jason cry out. They rushed o his side, finding him thrashing in the grip of a nightmare.

“Jason! Wake up!” Bruce called, shaking him gently. “It’s just a dream!”

Jason’s eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused. He bolted upright, gasping for air, his body trembling. His eyes locked onto Bruce’s face, and a look of pure terror crossed his features. Without thinking, Jason scrambled out of bed and ran, his mind still trapped in the nightmare.

“Jason, wait!” Bruce called after him, but Jason was already gone, disappearing down the hallway.

“Damin it, “ Bruce muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We need to help him.”

“We will,” Dick said, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “But right now, he’s terrified. He needs time to calm down.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” Tim volunteered. “He might respond better to one of us.”

“I’ll come with you,” Damian added, surprising everyone. “He’s not the only one who needs to calm down.”

Bruce nodded, watching with a worried expression as his sons went to find Jason. He stayed back, giving them space but remaining close enough to intervene if necessary.

Tim, Dick, and Damian found Jason huddled in a dark corner of one of the empty cells, his body trembling with fear. He looked up as they approached, his eyes wide and frantic. Dick tried to reach out to him, to offer comfort, but as his hand touched Jason’s shoulder, Jason recoiled violently.

“Let me go! Please, let me go!” Jason pleaded, his voice breaking with fear and desperation. He struggled against Dick’s grip, his movements wild and frantic. Dick ripped his hand away as if he had touched a hot burner, his face crestfallen.

“Jason, it’s okay,” Tim said softly, crouching down to his level. “We’re here to help.”

Jason shook his head, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Damian said firmly, though his tone was gentler than usual. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Jason’s eyes darted between them, his mind racing. “I saw him… I saw him and I… I couldn’t…”

“It’s just Bruce,” Tim said gently. “He’s worried about you, Jason. We all are.”

“I know, “ Jason whispered, his voice breaking. “But when I saw him… it was like I was back there. I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe.”

“It’s okay,” Tim reassured him. “You don’t have to explain right now. Just take deep breaths and try to calm down.”

Jason nodded, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing. Tim and Damian stayed with him, their presence a comforting anchor in the storm of his emotions.

After a few minutes, Jason’s breathing began to even out, and the terror in his eyes slowly faded. He looked at Tim and Damian, his expression one of exhaustion and vulnerability.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry for… for freaking out.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Damian said, his voice unusually soft. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s going to take time to heal.”

Jason nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “ I know. And I’m trying, it's just… hard.”

“We’re here for you,” Tim said, squeezing his shoulder. “All of us. Including Bruce.”

Jason glanced down the hallway, where Bruce stood watching them with a mixture of concern and helplessness. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Okay,” he said, his voice stronger. “I’ll try to talk to him. But… can you guys stay with me?”

“Of course,” Dick replied, smiling. We’ll be right here.”

Jason stood up, with Dick, Tim, and Damian flanking him, and slowly walked towards Bruce. The older man’s eyes softened as he saw them approaching, but he remained where he was, giving Jason the space he needed.

“Jason,” Bruce said gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Jason replied, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s just… when I saw you, I didn’t see… you.”

Bruce nodded, his heart aching. “I understand. And I want you to know that we’re here for you, no matter what. We’ll help you get through this.”

Jason took another deep breath, feeling the support of Dick, TIm, and Damian by his side. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

-

A few days had passed since Jason that day, and though the initial panic had subsided, his fear had not. He had taken up residence in the watchtower, keeping a vigilant eye on the perimeter of the prison. The others were growing increasingly worried about his well-being, but Jason refused to leave his post.

One evening, Dick climbed the stairs to the watchtower, determined to check on his brother. As he reached the top, he found Jason sitting by the window, his eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. He clutched a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said softly, approaching him. “How are you holding up?”

Jason barely glanced at him, his focus fixed on the woods that surrounded them. “I’m fine,” he replied tersely, his voice rough from lack of sleep.

“You don’t look fine,” Dick observed, sitting down beside him. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Jason shrugged, his shoulders tense. “I can’t sleep. Not with them out there.”

Dick sighed, concern etched on his face. “Jason, you need rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

Jason’s grip on the binoculars tightened. “You don’t understand. They’re dangerous. If they find us…”

“We’ll deal with it,” Dick said firmly. “But we can’t deal with anything if you’re too exhausted to function.”

Jason shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “I can’t let my guard down. I can’t let them get us.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Dick asked gently, trying to coax more information out of him.

Jason’s jaw tightened, his eyes filled with fear and pain. “They… they’ve hurt me. Bad. They’re ruthless, and they won’t stop until they get what they want.”

Dick’s jaw clenched, the idea of someone causing such pain to Jason lighting a fire in his belly. Dick reached out, placing a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I get it, Jay. But you can’t do this alone. We’re all here to help.”

Jason shook his head again, more vigorously this time. “I won’t let them catch me off guard again. I won’t let them hurt any of you.”

“Jason,” Dick said softly, “you need to rest. Come on, let’s go back to your cell. You can get some sleep, and I’ll keep watch for a while.”

Jason’s eyes flashed with panic. “No. I can’t. I can’t go back there. I need to stay here.”

Seeing that reasoning with Jason wasn’t going to work, Dick sighed and settled in next to him. “Okay, then. I’ll stay with you.”

Jason glanced at him, surprise flickering across his face. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Dick replied with a gentle smile. “But I want to. We’re family, Jason. We look out for each other.”

For a while, they sat in silence, the quiet night enveloping them. Gradually, the tension in Jason’s shoulders began to ease. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, his eyes grew heavier and heavier.

Dick stayed close, offering silent support. He watched as Jason’s head slowly began to droop, exhaustion finally overtaking him. Before long, Jason leaned against Dick, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a deep sleep.

Dick gently adjusted his position, making sure Jason was comfortable. He wrapped an arm around him, holding the younger close. “I’ve got you, Jay,” he whispered. “You can rest now.”

As Jason slept, Dick’s mind wandered. Though they had not grown up together, and he had only known Jason for about a month, he felt a deep sense of responsibility for Jason. He remembered the day he found Jason standing outside the prison, a long figure against the backdrop of chaos. Jason had been wary and guarded, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that had struck a chord with Dick.

Over time, that initial wariness had given way to a tentative bond. They had fought side by side, each trusting the other with their lives. Seeing Jason now, so vulnerable and broken, filled Dick with a fierce protectiveness. He wanted to shield Jason from all the pain and danger in the world, to give him the peace and security he so desperately needed.

Dick’s thoughts drifted to the present, to the challenges they faced in this new world. It was a harsh and unforgiving place, and every day was a battle for survival. But they had each other, and that gave them strength. They were a family, bound not by blood but by love and loyalty.

He looked down at Jason, his heart aching for the boy who had endured so much. “You’re safe now, Jay,” he murmured. “We’ll get through this together.”

In that quiet moment, as the stars twinkled above and the world remained eerily still, Dick made a silent vow. He would do whatever it took to keep Jason safe, to help him heal. Because that’s what family did. They looked out for each other, no matter what.

-

The next day, Bruce, Damian, Tim, Dick, and Alfred had gathered in the main room of the prison, a map of the surrounding area spread out on the table.

“We need to figure out how to deal with this new group,” Bruce said, his voice steady and authoritative.

Dick nodded, taking a deep breath. “Jason mentioned that these people have hurt him before. He didn’t go into details, but it’s clear they are extremely dangerous and ruthless. They won’t stop until they get what they want.”

Damian frowned, crossing his arms. “Do we have any idea what they want?”

“Not specifically,” Dick replied. “But given how Jason reacted, it’s safe to assume they are looking for resources or territory. We need to be on high alert.”

Alfred, always the calm in the storm, added, “ we must ensure everyone’s safety and fortify our defenses. We can’t afford any vulnerabilities.”

Tim looked at the map thoughtfully. “We should set up a new watch schedule and up patrols. We also need to gather as much intel as possible about this group.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Alfred and I will take the first patrol tonight. We need to stay vigilant.”

Meanwhile, outside, Jason, Steph, Cass, and Duke were tending to the garden. The sun was shining, and the day seemed deceptively peaceful. Jason was showing Duke how to properly tend to the crops, while Steph and Cass worked nearby.

Cass, always alert, suddenly stiffened. She pointed towards the edge of the woods, her eyes narrowing. “There,” she whispered.

Jason looked up, following her gaze. At the edge of the woods, he saw a few men watching them. His heart rate spiked. “We need to get inside,” he said urgently. “Now.”

Steph and Duke looked up, alarmed. “What is it?” Steph asked.

“No time to explain,” Jason said, trying to keep his voice calm. “We need to go. Now.”

As the group started to move towards the prison, shots suddenly rang out. Duke cried out in pain and collapsed to the group, clutching his stomach.

“Duke!” Steph screamed, dropping to her knees beside him.

Jason’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no, no” he muttered, panic setting in. “We need to get him inside!”

Cass was already on alert, scanning the tree line for more threats. “We have to move him,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos.

Inside, Bruce, Damian, Tim, Dick, and Alfred heard the shots. Their heads snapped up, alarm and dread filling the room.

“That was outside,” Tim said, his voice urgent.

“Let’s go,” Bruce commanded, already moving towards the door.

The group sprinted outside, their hearts pounding. When they reached the garden, they found a scene of chaos. Steph was frantically performing CPR on Duke, her hands shaking. Cass was standing guard, her eyes scanning the surroundings. Jason was nearby, his face pale and stricken with fear and guilt.

“What happened?” Bruce demanded, his voice cutting through the panic.

“Duke’s been shot,” Steph said, her voice breaking.

Dick dropped to his knees beside her, taking over CPR. “Stay with us, Duke. Come on, buddy, stay with us.”

Tim and Damian moved to help Cass keep watch, their eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of the attackers.

Bruce knelt beside Jason, who was visibly shaken. “What happened?” he asked gently.

Jason’s voice was trembling. “They… they were at the edge of the woods. I tried to get us inside, but… they shot Duke. I… I’m sorry, Bruce. I should have…”

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce said firmly, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “We need to focus on getting Duke to safety,”

Alfred, always composed, moved to assist with Duke’s injuries. “We need to stabilize him and get him inside. He won’t survive out here.”

Together they lifted Duke and hurried him back inside the prison, every second feeling like an eternity. As they moved, Dick couldn’t help but glance back at Jason, his heart aching for his brother that couldn’t seem to catch a break. The danger was closer than ever, and they needed to be ready for whatever came next.

-

The atmosphere in the infirmary was heavy with grief as the group gathered around Duke’s lax form. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t save him. Alfred’s hands were steady as he checked Duke’s pulse one last time, his expression grave.

“I’m sorry, Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. “He lost too much blood.”

Bruce nodded, his heart heavy. “Thank you, Alfred. You did everything you could.”

As the reality of Duke’s death sank in, the group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of their fallen comrade. Damian, always the observant one, noticed Jason’s presence was missing from the room.

“Where’s Jason?” Damian asked, his voice cutting through the somber silence.

Bruce glanced around the room, realization dawning. “He’s not here. Dick, check his cell. He might be there.”

Dick nodded, his steps quick and purposeful as he left the infirmary to search for Jason. Meanwhile, the rest of the group remained in the infirmary, preparing to stop Duke before he turned and dispose of the body.

In Jason’s cell, the boy paced back and forth, his thoughts racing with guilt and fear. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Duke’s death was his fault, that his presence had brought danger to their doorstep.

“This is all my fault,” Jason muttered to himself, his voice tinged with desperation. “They’re looking for me, and now Duke’s dead because of it. I have to keep them safe. I have to leave.”

The weight of his decisions settled heavily on his shoulders as he quickly packed his backpack. He paused, holding onto the straps. Alfred had sewn it back together for him. Maybe he didn’t have to leave.

Jason shook his head. He knew he couldn’t stay and risk bringing more danger to the people who had taken him in, who had become his family.

With a heavy heart, Jason quickly made his ways through the darkened hallways, being sure no one would see him. As he stepped out of the gates, his whispered a silent apology to Duke, promising to honor his memory by staying alive and fighting for a better world.

As he locked the gate behind him and began walking away, his steps determined but heavy with sorrow, Jason wiped away a stray tear. As he disappeared into the darkness of the night, leaving behind the only home he had ever known in search of a new beginning and a chance at redemption.

As Dick made his way down the familiar corridors towards Jason cells, his heart was pounding. HIs steps were quick but purposeful, his mind consumed with worry for the young boy who had captured his heart.

But as he reached Jason’s cell, his heart sank in his chest. The cell was empty, devoid of any sign of the boy who had become like a brother to him. Panic surged through Dick’s veins as he frantically searched the small space, his hands shaking with fear.

“Jason?” Dick called out, his voice echoing off the walls. “Jason, where are you?”

But there was no answer, only the eerie silence of the empty cell. Dick’s mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. Had something happened to Jason? Had he been taken? Or had he left of his own accord?

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Dick dashed out of the cell, his feet pounding against the cold stone floor as he raced through the prison in search of his missing friend. He checked every room, every corridor, every shadowed corner, but there was no sign of Jason.

Frantic and breathless, Dick finally returned to the group, his face pale with fear. “He’s gone,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jason’s gone.”

Chapter Text

The room erupted into chaos. Tim and Damian exchanged worried glances, while Alfred’s usually composed demeanor faltered. Cass and Steph’s faces mirrored the group’s collective anxiety.

“Why would he leave?” Tim asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and fear. “He knows it’s dangerous out there.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, his mind already working through the possibilities. “Did he leave any note, any clue as to where he might be going?”

Dick shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Nothing. He just vanished.”

“Do you think that group took him?” Damian asked, his voice hard with barely concealed panic.

Bruce shook his head. “If they had taken him, there would have been signs of a struggle. Jason left on his own.”

“Why would he do that?” Steph asked, her voice trembling. “He knows we’re stronger together.”

Cass, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Maybe he thinks he’s protecting us by leaving.”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. “He’s scared. He thinks this group is after him, and he doesn’t want to put us in danger.”

Alfred, who had been listening intently, nodded. “That makes snes. He is resourceful, but he’s also carrying a lot of guilt. He probably blames himself for what happened to Master Duke.”

“We have to find him,” Tim said urgently. “If that group is hunting him, he might not survive.”

“He’s in extreme danger,” Bruce agreed. “If this group is as ruthless as Jason said, if they find him…”

“We can’t let that happen,” Dick interjected, his voice firm. “We need to split up and search for him. He couldn’t have gone far.

Bruce shook his head, “no. We stay together. This group is obviously out for blood. We’re stronger together.” Dick opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Bruce placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, his grip reassuring. “We’ll find him, Dick. We’ll bring him home.”

Dick nodded, though his heart was heavy with worry. “Let’s move. Every second counts.”

-

Dick stormed into the storage room, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. He ripped open cabinets and slammed drawers, gathering supplies with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind a whirlwind of fear and guilt.

As he shoved a flashlight and extra batteries into his bag, the door creaked open. Damian peeked in his head, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“Dick, what are you doing?” Damian asked, his voice cautious.

Dick didn’t look up, his hands shaking as he continued to gather supplies. “I’m getting ready to go find Jason,” he snapped, his voice harsh and strained.

Damian stepped into the room, his brow furrowed. “I know you’re worried, but slamming things around like an oaf isn’t going to help.”

Dick finally paused, turning to face Damian with wild eyes. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t realize how much I’ve screwed up?”

Damian blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his older brother’s outburst. “No one is blaming you, Dick. We’re all worried, but–”

Dick cut him off, his voice rising. “But what? I should have been watching him! I should have known he was planning to leave. I should have done something to stop him!”

Damian’s eyes softened with understanding, but he didn’t back down. “We couldn’t have known, Dick. Jason didn’t give any signs that he was planning to leave. This isn’t your fault.”

Dick’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “It feels like my fault, Damian. I brought him in. I made him trust us. And now he’s out there, alone and scared, because I couldn’t keep him safe.”

Damian took a step closer, his voice gentle but firm. “Jason left because he was trying to protect us. He thought he was doing the right thing. You can’t blame yourself for his decision.”

Dick’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. “I just… I should have seen it coming. I should have been there for him.”

Damian reached out and placed a hand on Dick’s arm, his grip reassuring. “We’re going to find him, Dick. We’re going to bring him back. But beating yourself up isn’t going to help.”

Dick took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Damian’s. The younger boy’s unwavering resolve gave him a glimmer of hope. “You’re right. I just… I can’t lose him, Dami. Not after everything he’s been through.”

Damian nodded, his expression resolute. “And we won’t. We’ll find him, together.”

Dick managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Dami. I needed that.”

As they finished gathering supplies, the tension between them eased, replaced by a shared determination. They had a mission, and they would stop at nothing to bring Jason home.

-

In the main room of the prison, the tension was palpable. Bruce stood hunched over a makeshift map spread out on a large table, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes dark with worry. Alfred stood beside him, his calm demeanor contrasting with the stress etched across Bruce’s face. Tim paced back and forth, his mind racing with possibilities, his footsteps a steady rhythm of anxiety.

“We need to think like Jason,” Bruce muttered, tracing his finger along a path on the map. “Where would he go? What’s his most likely route?”

Tim stopped pacing and leaned over the table, his eyes scanning the map. “He knows the woods around here pretty well. He might head towards any place that offers better shelter or resources. Maybe he thinks he can find food or weapons.”

Alfred nodded in agreement, “Indeed, Master Jason is resourceful and intelligent. He would likely seek out a secure location, somewhere he believes he could survive without putting us in danger.”

Bruce let out a frustrated breath, his worry for Jason clearly visible in his eyes. “But he’s also scared. That fear could drive him to make dangerous choices.”

Tim places a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “We’ll find him, Bruce. We’ve faced worst situations and come out on top. Jason’s tough. He’s survived out there before, and he’ll hang on until we get to him.”

Alfred stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. “Master Bruce, you’ve trained him well. He has the skills to survive. And he’s not alone anymore. He knows we’re coming for him.”

Bruce gave a short nod, though the tightness in his expression didn’t ease. “We need to cover as much ground as possible. Steph and Cass should stay back in case Jason shows up here. They can keep the base secure and handle communication.”

Just then, Dick and Damian entered the room, their gear packed and ready. They exchanged a quick, concerned glance before approaching the table.

“Any leads?” Dick asked, trying to mask his anxiety with determination.

“We’re mapping out likely routes he might take,” Bruce explained. “We need to cover as much ground as possible.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to the map, taking in the various markers and routes. “We’ll find him. He can’t have gotten too far.”

Bruce nodded, his resolve hardening. “We’re all sticking together for safety. We need to be thorough and methodical. Alfred, you coordinate from here with Steph and Cass.”

Alfred nodded, his steady presence a calming force. “We shall maintain communication and be prepared for any developments.”

As they finalized their plans and gathered the last of their supplies, Bruce took a moment to look at each member of his family. The worry in his eyes was evident, but so was his determination.

“Tim, Damian, Dick, you stay close and watch each other’s backs. We move as one unit. Keep your radios on at all times.”

Tim nodded, his expression serious. “Got it. “We’ll find him.”

Damian glanced at his brother, then back to bruce. “He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Bruce turned to Dick, his voice dropping to a more personal tone. “Dick, we need to stay focused and cover as much ground as we can. Jason’s smart, but he’s also vulnerable right now.”

Dick nodded, a mix of determination and guilt in his eyes. "I won’t let him down again, B. We’ll find him.”

Bruce placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, a rare moment of fatherly reassurance. “We’ll bring him back. Together.”

As they prepared to head out, Alfred approached Bruce, his voice low. “Master Bruce, you must take care as well. Jason will need you at your best when we find him.”

Bruce nodded, appreciating the concern. “I know, Alfred. We’ll bring him home.”

With their mission set, the group dispersed, each member of the group driven by the same purpose: to find Jason and bring him back safely. The uncertainty of the search loomed over them, but their bond and resolve gave them the strength to face whatever lay ahead. Together, they would find their lost brother and bring him back to the family that needed him just as much as he needed them.

As Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Dick left the main room, Tim turned to Damian. “We should start by checking the old cabins north of here. If Jason knows about them, he might think it’s a good place to hide.”

Damian nodded, already mentally plotting their route. “Agreed. And if we don’t find him there, we’ll widen our search grid. He can’t have gone far on foot.”

They gathered their gear and prepared to leave, their mind focused on the task ahead. As they moved out, the sense of urgency hung in the air, a constant reminder of the stakes.

Back in the main room, Alfred watched them go, his heart heavy with worry but also with pride. He knew they would stop at nothing to bring Jason back. And he knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they were stronger together.

As they trudged through the forest, Bruce couldn’t help but think back to a few weeks ago, when Jason had a nightmare. The boy had woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, and before Bruce could even process what was happening, Jason was at his cell door, asking to sleep in Bruce’s cell. Bruce had hesitated for only a moment before letting him in, offering the boy the safety and comfort he so desperately needed. They hadn’t spoken much that night, but the silent understanding between them had been enough. Jason had fallen asleep almost immediately, and Bruce had stayed up, watching over him, feeling a paternal protectiveness he hasn’t felt since they came to the prison.

Bruce had come to see Jason as one of his own, another son in this makeshift family. The idea of losing him now was unbearable. Bruce’s jaw clenched at the thought of these men who might be hurting Jason. Anyone who dared to hurt his son would pay dearly. He would make sure of it.

“Do you think he knows how much we care about him?” Dick asked quitely, breaking the silence.

Bruce glanced at his eldest, his expression softening for a moment. “He does. And that’s why he’ll hold on until we find him.”

Dick nodded, taking comfort in Bruce’s words. They moved forward with renewed determination, every step bringing them closer to finding their lost brother.

-

The dense canopy of the forest enveloped Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian as they moved through the underbrush. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Every rustle and snap of a twig set their nerves on edge. Damian, with his sharp eyes and keen tracking skills, led the way, scanning the ground of any signs of Jason’s passage.

Bruce’s thoughts churned with worry, but he kept his focus on the task at hand. Jason was out there somewhere, and they had to find him before the group of men did.

“Look here,” Damian called softly, pointing to a set of footprints partially obscured by fallen leaves. “These are fresh. He passed through here not long ago.”

Bruce nodded, his jaw tight. “Good work, Damian. Let’s keep moving.”

The group continued, their senses heightened, each step bringing a mixture of hope and fear. They moved in silence, each lost in their thoughts, the urgency of their mission pressing down on them.

Tim kept glancing at Damian, impressed by his younger brother’s ability to read the forest floor. “You’re doing great, Dami. Just keep it up.”

Damian nodded curtly, not breaking his concentration. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

Suddenly, a low moan echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down their spines. They froze, their eyes scanning the forest. The sound grew louder, joined by the shuffling of feet and the unmistakable scent of decay.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, gripping his weapon tighter. “We’ve got company.”

The horde emerged from the underbrush, a mass of rotting flesh and vacant eyes. The group immediately formed a defensive circle, weapons at the ready.

“Stay close and keep moving!” Bruce barked, his voice steady. “Don’t let them surround us!”

The first of the dead lunged at Damian, who swiftly sidestepped and drove his knife into its skull. Tim and Dick moved in sync, their years of training showing as they dispatched the undead with precision and efficiency. Bruce swung his weapon in wide arcs, each blow crushing bone.

Despite their skill, the sheer number of the dead threatened to overwhelm them. For every one they took down, it seemed two more appeared. For every one they took down, it seemed two more appeared. The air was thick with the stench of death and the sounds of combat.

“Keep pushing forward!” Bruce shouted. “We can’t get stuck here!”

As the horde pressed in, their formation was tested. Damian, nimble and quick, darted between the zombies, slicing tendons and jabbing at vulnerable points. At one point, a particularly large zombie lunged at Tim, who stumbled back. Before the creature could strike, Dick threw his knife, hitting it squarely in the eye and dropping it instantly.

“Thanks, Dick!” Tim called, regaining his footing and taking down another zombie.

Dick found himself separated momentarily, his back against a tree. Three bore down on him, gnashing their teeth. Just as he was about to be overwhelmed, Bruce charged in, his weapon a blur of motion. He took out the first with a swift strike to the head, then swung around to decapitate the second. The third fell to the ground, its skull crushed under Bruce’s boot.

“Stay with us, Dick!” Bruce commanded, his eyes burning with determination.

They fought their way back together, forming a tighter circle. Each movement was coordinated, their trust in each other absolute. Tim covered Damian’s blind spots, Dick kept an eye on Bruce’s back, and Bruce ensured none of the undead got close enough to pose a real threat.

The minutes stretched into what seemed like hours as they battled the relentless horde. Sweat and blood mingles, dripping into their eyes and making their grips slippery. But they held firm, driven by the need to find Jason and bring him back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the zombies fell, its skull caved in by Bruce’s brutal swing. The group stood panting, blood and sweat mingling on their skin. THey took a moment to regroup, catching their breath and checking for injuries.

“Is everyone okay?” Bruce asked, his eyes scanning each of his sons for signs of injury.

Tim nodded, wiping blood from his forehead. “We’re good. That was too close.”

Damian sheathed his katana, his eyes scanning the forest. “We can’t afford to waste any more time. Jason’s out here somewhere.”

As they gathered themselves, Dick’s eyes caught a flash of color in the underbrush. He stepped closer, his heart pounding as he recognized the familiar shape of Jason’s backpack. It was partially hidden beneath a bush, discarded.

“Over here!” Dick called, pulling the backpack free.

Bruce and the others rushed over, their eyes widening as they saw the bag.

“Is it his?” Tim asked, though the answer was clear.

Dick nodded, his face grim. “It’s his. He must have dropped it while running.”

Damian crouched down, examining the ground around the backpack. “There are more tracks here. He ran this way.”

Bruce places a hand on Damian’s shoulder, his voice steady but urgent. “Lead the way, Damian. We have to find him before it’s too late.”

-

The forest seemed to grow darker and denser as Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian tracked Jason’s path deeper into the wilderness. The air was thick with the scent of pint and earth, mingled with the lingering stench of the horse they had just fought off. They moved with urgency, each step echoing their unspoken fear for Jason’s safety.

Damian led the way, his eyes never leaving the ground as he followed the faint trail of footprints. The rest followed closely, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. The tension was palpable, each member of the group acutely aware of the ticking clock.

Suddenly, Damian stopped in his tracks, his sharp eyes catching something among the underbrush. He crouched down and carefully pulled out a torn piece of fabric. The color was unmistakable–a vivid red.

“Over here!” Damian called, holding up the fabric for the others to see.

The others rushed over, their faces grim as they recognized the material. It was a torn piece of Jason’s signature red zip-up, stained with a small amount of blood. The sight sent a chill down their spines.

“It’s his,” Dick confirmed, his voice tight with worry. “But there’s blood. Not a lot, but still…”

Bruce’s face hardened, his eyes scanning the area with renewed intensity. “Damian, can you find his tracks?”

Damian nodded, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the ground. He moved a few steps, his fingers brushing against the dirt and leaves. “Yes. His tracks are here. But…” He paused, his expression darkening. “There are more tracks. Multiple sets. Grown men, by the looks of it.”

The implications hit them all like a punch to the gut. Jason wasn’t just running; he was being pursued.

“We need to move, now,” Bruce said, his voice a low growl. “They have him.”

They continued through the forest, Damian expertly navigating the trail. The additional tracks made the situation clear: Jason was being chased, and the pursuers were gaining on him. Every broken branch and disturbed patch of earth painted a picture of a desperate flight.

“Jason mentioned they were looking for him,” Dick said, his voice strained. “He must have thought he was leading them away from us.”

Bruce clenched his fists, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “If they’ve hurt him…”

The forest seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening as they pushed on. The tracks led them to a small clearing, where signs of a struggle were evident. Broken branches and trampled grass indicated a confrontation.

Damian crouched down, examining the ground with meticulous care. “There was a fight here. Jason put up a struggle, but they overwhelmed him.”

Bruce’s face was set in stone, his mind racing with strategies and contingencies. “We need to move faster. They can’t be far ahead.”

They pressed on, the urgency driving them to their limits. The forest grew darker as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows across their path. Every step felt like a race against time.

As they followed the tracks, the signs of a struggle grew more evident. The ground was churned up in places, indicating that the group was moving quickly, dragging Jason along with them. The thought of Jason being in the hands of the men fueled their determination.

“We’re getting closer,” Damian said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Their tracks are fresh.”

Just as they felt they were gaining ground, they reached another clearing. This one was larger, with clear signs of a temporary camp–discarded food wrappers, a smoldering fire pit, and more tracks leading away.

“They stopped here,” Tim observed, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “But not for long.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the still smoking coals of a fire. “They’re moving at a fast pace. They know we’re following.”

Dick kicked at a piece of litter, frustration evident in his movements. “We’re so close. We can’t let them slip away.”

Damian stood, his eyes following the tracks leading out of the clearing. “This way. They’re trying to head towards the river. Probably think they can lose us there.”

Bruce nodded, determination etched into his features. “Let’s move. We can’t let them cross the river.”

The group moved swiftly, the sound of the river growing louder as they approached. The forest gave way to a rocky embankment, the river’s waters rushing past with a relentless current. On the opposite bank, the tracks continued.

“They crossed here,” Damian said, his eyes darting across the river. “We need to be careful. They might be waiting for us.”

Bruce scanned the opposite bank, his mind racing. “We’ll split into two groups. Tim, you’re with Damian. Dick, you’re with me. We’ll cross at different points and flank them.”

They nodded. Tim and Damian moved upstream, finding a narrow point to cross. Bruce and Dick moved downstream, their eyes constantly scanning for any sign of the enemy.

The cold water of the river bit into their legs as they waded across, the current threatening to unbalance them. Once on the other side, they regrouped and continued their pursuit, each step bringing them closer to their goal.

As they moved through the trees, the tracks grew clearer. They were closing in. The forest opened into another clearing, and there, discarded in the middle, was another piece of Jason’s clothing–the rest of the red zip-up, torn and bloodied.

Bruce’s heart clenched at the sight, his mind flashing back to the night Jason had a nightmare and asked to sleep in his cell. The boy had become his son in every way that mattered, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

“They’re close,” Damian said, his voice tense. “We need to be ready for anything.”

The forest was eerily silent, save for the distant sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional bird call. As Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian moved through the dense woods, the urgency of their mission weighed heavily on them. Each step was a race against time, the thought of Jason being in danger driving them forward.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, piercing the silence and sending a shockwave through the group.

“That way!” Bruce ordered, pointing in the direction of the sound.

They broke into a run, their senses heightened and weapons at the ready. The forest seemed to close in around them as they pushed through the underbrush, the urgency of the situation giving them a burst of speed. The gunshot had been close–too close for comfort.

As they neared the source of the sound, they slowed down, moving with cautious precision. The trees thinned out, giving way to a large clearing. Bruce signaled for them to halt, and they crouched behind the cover of some bushes, peering out into the open space.

In the center of the clearing, they saw Jason. He was kneeling on the ground, his hands bound behind his back and a gag in his mouth. His clothes were torn and bloodied, and bruises marred his pale skin. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against his restraints, his eyes wide with fear and desperation.

“Jason!” Dick whispered, his heart breaking at the sight.

But Jason’s eyes widened even more when he saw them. He shook his head violently, muffled sounds of protest escaping from behind the gag. He was trying to warn them.

“We have to get him out of there,” Tim said, his voice tense.

Bruce nodded, his jaw set in determination. “Move in, but be ready for anything.”

They moved out of their cover, quickly but cautiously approaching Jason. As they reached him, they could see the sheer panic in his eyes, his body trembling with fear. He was violently shaking his head, trying to yell through the gag.

“Hold on, Jay. We’ve got you,” Dick said, reaching out to untie him.

But just as his fingers brushed against the ropes, a loud whistle echoed through the clearing, stopping them in their tracks. Jason made a sound of distress. The sound was followed by the rustling of leaves and the snapping of branches as men emerged from the trees, surrounding them.

“Well, well, well,” a voice drawled. “What do we have here?”

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were quickly disarmed and forced to kneel across from Jason, their hands tied behind their backs. The men who had captured them were armed to the teeth, their faces twisted with cruel amusement.

One of the men, who seemed to be the leader, stepped forward. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a menacing grin and cold, calculating eyes. He looked down at the group, casting a look at Jason as well. He walked to stand in between the family and Jason.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice dripping with mock hospitality. “We’re the Saviors. And I’m Simon, the leader of this little welcoming committee.”

Bruce glared up at him, his mind racing with plans for escape. “What do you want with us?”

Simon chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, it’s not about what we want from you. It’s about what we want from him.” He pointed at Jason, who flinched under his gaze.

“You see, this kid here has been causing some trouble. Ran away, tried to hide. But you can’t hide from the Saviors. We always find what we’re looking for. Isn’t that right, Jason?”

Jason’s jaw tightened as he looked at Simon. The man walked to him, ruffling his hair with a chuckle.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you do when you find what you’re looking for?”

Simon’s grin widened. “We made an example out of them. Show the rest of the world what happens when you cross the Saviors.”

Damian, despite his situation, couldn’t stay silent. “You’re nothing but bullies.Cowards who prey on the weak.”

Simon’s expression darkened, and he took a threatening step towards Damian. “Watch your mouth, kid. Or you’ll find out just how much of a bully I can be.”

Dick shifted slightly, drawing Simon’s attention to him. “If you hurt him–”

“Oh, we’re not going to hurt him. Much,” Simon interrupted with a laugh. “But you?” You all made a big mistake coming here. Now you’re going to see what happens to those who get in our way."

He stepped back and whistled again, and more men appeared, encircling them.

Simon paced, enjoying the fear and tension he was creating. “Now, normally we’d make an example out of one of you right here, right now. But we’re feeling generous today. We’re going to give you a choice.”

He stopped in front of Bruce, looking down at him with a twisted smile. “You get to decide who takes the punishment. You, or one of your boys.”

Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest. He looked at Dick, Tim, and Damian, seeing the fear and anger in their eyes. He knew what his answer had to be.

“Take me,” Bruce said, his voice steady.

Simon clapped his hands together, a mocking look of delight on his face. “Oh, a hero! How noble.”

Before Simon could continue with his game, a low, eerie whistle cut through the silence. The sound sent a shiver down Bruce’s spine, and he saw Jason’s eyes widen in sheer terror. The whistle was followed by the heavy footsteps of a man emerging from the treeline.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” His voice was a drawl, dripping with sarcasm and menace. He sauntered into the clearing, his barbed-wire-wrapped bat resting casually on his shoulder.

Jason’s muffled whimpers grew more frantic, and one of the Saviors, irritated by the noise, kicked him hard in the back. Jason fell forward, hitting the ground with a pained grunt. Bruce’s heart ached at the sight, but he knew they were in no position to help him.

He came to a stop in front of them, surveying the scene with a twisted smile. “Isn’t this a pretty picture?” he mused. “You all look so cozy down there. I almost hate to interrupt.”

HIs eyes flickered to Jason, who was struggling to get back to his knees. Negan’s smile widened as he approached the boy. “Well, if it isn’t my little lost lamb,” he purred, his voice taking on a disturbingly possessive tone. “I’ve been looking for you, boy.”

Jason’s whole body trembled, his eyes pleading with the others to understand. Bruce clenched his fists behind his back, his jaw tightening in anger and helplessness.

The man reached down and grabbed Jason by the shoulder, pulling him up roughly. “Jason, my son,” he continued, his voice oozing with false affection. “I’ve missed you so much. Daddy's here now, and he’s going to take care of you.”

Bruce exchanged a worried glance with Dick, Tim, and Damian. This was worse than they imagined. The man was dangerous, and his apparent claim over Jason made the situation even more volatile.

The man looked back at Bruce and his sons, his expression shifting from mock affection to cold amusements. “And who do we have here? New friends of yours, Jason? Or just some poor bastards who got in the way?”

Bruce’s eyes met the man’s, and he forced himself to speak calmly. “Let the boy go. He doesn’t belong to you.”

The man laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Oh, but he does. You see, Jason here is part of my family. And family sticks together.” He looked down at Jason, his smile fading into something more sinister. “Isn’t that right, son?”

Jason’s eyes were full of fear and shame, but he nodded, his movements stiff and reluctant.

“Good boy,” the man said, patting Jason’s cheek in a condescending manner. He turned his attention back to Bruce and the others. “Now, where are my manners? The name’s Negan. And this,” he gestured to the armed men around him, “is the Saviors. We save people. We make them part of our little community, whether they want to be or not.”

Bruce’s mind raced, trying to process the information. They were in deeper trouble than they had ever imagined, and if they didn’t find a way to escape soon, they would be at the mercy of a man who had no qualms about breaking them down until there was nothing left.

Negan’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Here’s how this is going to work. You all are coming with me. We have a lot to discuss, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to Jason here while we have our little talk.”

Bruce’s heart sank. They were trapped, outnumbered, and at Negan’s mercy. The only thing they could do now was hope for an opportunity to turn the tables, to protect Jason, and get them all out of this nightmare alive.

Chapter Text

The march through the forest was an agonizingly slow process. The members of Bruce’s family were led in a single file line, hands bound, surrounded by the heavily armed Saviors. Bruce was at the front of their line, trying to keep an eye on Jason, who walked several paces ahead with Negan. Negan was whistling a jaunty tune, seeming to enjoy the control he held over everyone.

Jason’s head hung low, but every so often he would glance back at the family, his eyes filled with fear and regret. Each look was like a stab to Dick’s heart, who struggled to contain his anger and frustration. He wanted nothing more than to rush forward, to tear Jason away from Negan and make sure he was safe.

They were eventually brought to the edge of the forest where a convoy of vehicles waited. The Saviors pushed Bruce and his sons toward the back of a pickup truck, shoving them in roughly. Bruce managed to catch one last glimpse of Jason being led toward a different vehicle with Negan. The look on Jason’s face–pure terror–was seared into Bruce’s mind.

As the truck rumbled to life and they began the journey to what Bruce assumed was the Saviors’ base, the family rode in tense silence. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of the trees they passed. Dick’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white, and he could see the same worry and fear mirrored in Tim and Damian’s faces.

After what felt like an eternity, the truck came to a halt. They were yanked out of the back and pushed toward a massive compound surrounded by a gruesome fence made of chained, snarling dead. The sight made Bruce’s stomach churn. The area was bustling with activity, armed guards patrolling, and people moving around with a sense of grim purpose. The Saviors were well-organized and heavily armed–a formidable force.

They were herded into a large building, their surroundings a blue of oppressive concrete and steel. The family was pushed into a dimly lit room and the door slammed shut behind them, the heavy clank of the lock echoing ominously. They all easily undid their bindings. As they gathered their bearings, a cheerful upbeat song began to play through speakers hidden in the walls.

The stark contrast between the upbeat tune and their dire situation was jarring. Bruce looked around the room, his mind racing. There was no sign of Jason, and the worry gnawed at him.

“What do you think they’re doing to him?” Tim asked, his voice shaking slightly as he broke the silence.

Damian scowled, his anger barely contained. “Whatever it is, it won’t be good. That…lowlife Negan…he called him his son. Do you think…”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “It’s possible. The way Jason reacted, the fear…there’s something there. But we don’t have all the pieces yet.”

Dick punched the wall in frustration. “This is all my fault.” he muttered. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on him. I should’ve known he’d try to leave.”

Bruce pulled his oldest away from the wall. “We’ll get him back, Dick. We’ll figure this out.”

As the cheerful notes continued to play, they sat against the wall facing the door, imagining the worst about what Negan could be doing to Jason.

Damian’s voice broke through their collective silence. “If Negan is Jason’s father, it explains a lot. But it doesn’t excuse anything. Jason deserves better than this…better than him.

Tim nodded, his face grim. “He’s terrified of Negan. There’s no way he’s safe right now. We have to find a way to get him out of here.”

Bruce’s mind was racing with plans and contingencies. “First, we need to get out of this room. We need information about this place, about Negan’s operation. And we need to find Jason.”

Dick’s frustration was palpable. He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, trying to calm himself. “He was so scared, Bruce. I saw it in his eyes. I should’ve been watching him more closely. I should’ve known.”

Tim elbowed his brother in the side. “This isn’t your fault, Dick. Jason… he’s been through so much. We all missed something, but we’re going to get him back.”

Damian’s fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing with anger. “What kind of father does this to his child? If he’s hurt Jason…”

Bruce’s expression hardened. “We’ll make sure he pays for anything he’s done. But not right now, we need to figure out what we’re dealing with. What do we know about Negan and his men?”

Tim crossed his arms, thinking. “They’re well-organized and heavily armed. This compound, it’s like a fortress. Those fences are meant to keep people in as much as out.”

Damian nodded. “And the people here… they’re either terrified or completely loyal to Negan. It’s a cult. We’ll have to be careful who we trust.”

Dick looked up, his eyes filled with determination. “We need to find a way out of this room first. Then, we gather information. Figure out where they might be keeping Jason. If Negan is as possessive as he seemed, he won’t let Jason out of his sight for long.”

Bruce nodded. “Agreed. We need to keep our ears and eyes open. Look for weaknesses, allies, anything that can give us an advantage.”

The song continued to play, grating on their nerves. Tim glanced around the room, his mind racing. “They’re playing this song to mess with us, to keep us off balance.”

“It’s working,” Dick muttered.

Damian’s gaze was fixed on the door. “When they come back, we’ll need to be ready. We can’t let them see how desperate we are. We need to act like we’re cooperating, bide our time.”

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t stop thinking about what Jason much be going through right now. He’s deathly afraid of Negan, That much is clear. But there’s more to it. They way he looked at him. It’s just…”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. “If Negan is Jason’s father, it explains a lot. The fear, the hesitation to talk about his past. But it doesn’t really matter. We need to get Jason away from him, whatever it takes.”

Tim nodded, his expression grim. “And once we have him back we’ll need to help him heal. He’s been through too much already. He needs to know he’s safe with us, that we’re his family now.”

Dick nodded. “We’ve got his back. No matter what.”

Damian’s eyes softened slightly. “He’s one of us.”

Bruce’s gaze was steady, filled with a fierce determination. “We’ll get through this. We’ve faced worse. And we’ll do it together.”

As their conversation continued, they tried to come up with a plan. Each of them was lost in their thoughts, imagining the worst about what Negan could be doing to Jason. They knew one thing for certain: whatever it took, they would rescue Jason and bring him back to safety, no matter what.

They would not let Negan win.

-

Jason’s legs felt like they were moving on autopilot as he was led through the forest, Negan’s unsettling whistle filling the air. The Saviors flanked him, their expressions cold and watchful. He tried to focus on the ground, on the rhythm of his steps, on anything other than the terror that was pulsating through him. The rope around his wrists chaffed, the pinpricks of pain grounding him.

Negan didn’t say a word to him the entire time. The man’s silence was more terrifying than any taunt of threat could have been. His eerie, cheerful whistling was a stark contrast to the grim reality of their situation, and it grated on Jason’s nerves. The sound seemed to echo through the forest, a cruel melody that matched the sinister aura of the man who made it.

Jason’s mind was a storm of fear and guilt. He pictured Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian–his new family–kneeling, captured because of him. Guilt gnawed at him. He had led the Saviors right to them, putting his new family in danger. He had to get away from them, to keep them safe. But with each step, his hope dwindled.

The walk felt interminable, each step dragging him further into a nightmare. Jason’s thoughts kept returning to the moment he decided to leave, the moment he thought he was protecting them. Now, he felt the weight of that decision crushing him . They reached the vehicles, Negan leading him to an SUV, putting him in the backseat and bucking his seat belt for him before getting into the front seat, still whistling the same tune.

The ride to the Sanctuary was long, the silence only filled by the whistling, the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. Jason’s mind raced, fear and guilt warring for dominance. He tried to think of a way out, a way to escape and warn Bruce and the others, but every idea seemed futile. The Saviors were too many, too well-armed. And Negan… Negan was a monster.

The landscape changed as they neared the Sanctuary. The trees thinned out, replaced by more structured barricades and outposts. Jason’s stomach twisted at the sight. The high fences lined with walkers, the armed guards, the oppressive atmosphere–it was a fortress of nightmares. As he was pulled from the car, he desperately scanned the area for any sign of Bruce and the others. He didn’t see where they were lead, but he took a hesitant step in the direction he had last seen them, driven by a need to know they were still alive.

A hard shove from behind sent him sprawling to the ground. The gravel bit into his palms as he tried to catch himself. Laughter erupted from the Saviors behind him, a cruel and mocking sound. “Where do you think you’re going, boy?” one of them jeered.

Jason forced himself to his feet, his body trembling with a mix of defiance and fear. The laughter continued as they pushed him through the compound. He stumbled along, his eyes darting around, taking in the harsh reality of the place. The Sanctuary was a far cry from the prison he had called home. It was a place of control and fear, a place where Negan reigned supreme.

The walk through the compound was harrowing. Jason caught glimpses of other residents, some faces new, some familiar. The Saviors strutted around with a sense of untouchable arrogance, their weapons always visible, a constant reminder of the power they held. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as they reached a familiar door. THey pushed Jason inside, and he stumbled into a room that made him freeze in place.

It was his old room from his previous stay with Negan. It was decorated to look like a typical teenage boy’s bedroom–posters on the walls, a bed with colorful sheets, a desk with books and comics stacked neatly. It was an almost cruel mockery of normalcy in the midst of chaos. It was as if someone had taken a snapshot of a life he could never have and placed it in this hell.

Negan followed him in, dismissing the men with a wave of his hand. The door closed with a heavy thud, and suddenly, it was just Jason and Negan. The whistling had stopped, replaced by a suffocating silence. Jason’s heart raced as he took in the room, the familiarity of it clashing violently with his current reality.

Negan walked up to him, Jason flinched back, expecting a blow. Instead, Negan delicately untied his bondings, letting his arms drop by his sides. Before Jason had the chance to look up a heavy blow landed on his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Pain exploded through his head, stars dancing in his vision as he tasted blood. He struggled to push himself up, but another brutal kick to his ribs left him gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him.

Negan stood over him, his eyes blazing with fury. “What the hell were you thinking, running off like that?” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls.

Jason’s mind reeled. Worried? Negan was the one who had turned his life into a living nightmare. The idea of Negan being worried about him was so twisted, so wrong, it almost made him laugh. But the pain was too real, too immediate, for him to find any humor in it.

Negan grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up with a strength that seemed impossible. “You don’t just get to run off,” he snarled, shaking him for emphasis. “It’s my job to protect you, to watch over you. I’m your father, damn it!”

The words struck a nerve, a picture of Bruce appearing in his mind. Jason’s fear ignited into rage, burning away the pain and terror. He struggled against Negan’s grip, his eyes blazing with defiance. “You’re not my father!” he yelled, the words ripping from his throat. “You’ll never be my father!”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Negan froze, his grip on Jason’s collar tightening before loosening altogether. He let Jason drop to the floor, his expression shifting from rage to something far more dangerous–calm.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Negan stared at Jason, his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled. It was a chilling, empty smile, one that sent a cold shiver down Jason’s spine.

“Not your father, huh?” Negan’s voice was unnervingly soft, almost tender. He took a step back, studying Jason with a look that was equal parts amusement and menace. “Well, well, well.. We’ll see about that.”

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, fear creeping back in as he watched Negan. The calm was more terrifying than the rage, the smile more threatening than the blows. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that this was far from over. Negan had a plan, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good.

Negan turned and walked to the door, his steps slow and deliberate. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Jason one last time. “Get some rest, kid. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” With that, he was gone, the door closing with a heavy, final thud.

Jason lay on the floor, every breath a struggle. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the turmoil in his mind. He had defied Negan, but at what cost? The smile on Negan’s face haunted him, a promise of the worst things to come. Jason knew he had to be strong, had to find a way to protect himself and his new family. But as the darkness closed in around him, the fear was overwhelming.

Hours dragged by, each second feeling like an eternity. The room grew darker as the sun set, the shadows creeping across the floor like silent predators. Jason’s thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of fear, anger, and despair. How could he protect them? How could he keep his new family safe from the monster that had captured them?

Negan’s words echoed in his mind, twisted and cruel. “I’m your father, damn it!” Jason’s skin crawled at the thought. His real father had been a nightmare, but Negan was something else entirely. He was cunning, ruthless, and powerful. Jason had seen what he was capable of, and it terrified him.

As the night deepend, Jason found himself replaying every moment that had led to this. His mother’s overdose, the desperate fight for survival, the brief moments of hope and safety with Bruce and his family. And now, this. Captured by Negan, separated from the people he had grown to care for. The injustice of it all made his blood boil.

He forced himself to sit up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He couldn’t just lie here and wait for Negan to come back. He had to do something, anything, to try and escape. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything he could use as a weapon or tool. But the room was meticulously designed to look normal while being completely devoid of anything useful.

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it down, clinging to the thought of Bruce and the others. They were strong, resourceful. If anyone could figure out a way to save him, it was them. But he couldn’t just rely on them. He had to find his own way to fight back.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. The door opened, and a guard stepped in, glaring at him. “Negan wants to see you,” the guard said, his voice gruff.

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he was hauled to his feet and dragged out of the room. Every step felt like a march toward his doom. The corridors of the Sanctuary were dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sounds of machinery and the occasional murmur of voices.

The bright lights and the throng of people hit him like a tidal wave. He saw Bruce and the rest of his family, their faces etched with worry and anger, surrounded by a sea of hostile faces. In the middle of it all stood Negan, his presence commanding and terrifying.

The guards shoved jason into the center of the gathering, right next to Negan, who began to address the crowd with his characteristic swagger. “Ladies and gentlemen, gather ‘round!” Negan’s voice boomed. “We’ve got a real special event tonight. A lesson in fatherhood, if you will.”

He began to pace around Jason, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. “A father’s job, you see, is to protect his child. To mold him into a man. To teach him the rules of this world.” Negan’s gaze bore into Jason, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “But what happens when that son rejects his father? When he denounces him?”

Jason’s stomach twisted as one of Negan’s men silently approached, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists. The cold metal bit into his skin, a stark reminder of his helplessness. The man stepped away, and Negan continued his rant, his voice dripping with feigned sorrow.

“Jason here has just told me that I’m not his father. Can you believe that?” Negan shook his head, addressing the crowd. “So, if I’m not his father, then I guess I don’t have to protect him anymore.

With a subtle signal from Negan, Simon and several other men stepped into the circle, their expressions menacing. They looked eager, ready for a fight. Negan stepped back, his arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Go ahead, boys. He’s all yours.”

The first punch landed with brutal force, knocking Jason to the ground. He tried to curl up, to protect himself, but the handcuffs made it hard. Blows rained down on him from all sides, fists and boosts striking his ribs, his back, his face. Pain exploded through his body, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to give Negan the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

The crowd reacted in different ways. Some watched with morbid fascination, others turned away, unable to stomach the violence. Bruce and the family were frantic, shouting and struggling against their captors, their cries mingling with the sounds of other Saviors jeering.

“Jason!” Dick’s voice was raw with panic and rage, his eyes locked on the brutal scene unfolding before him. Bruce’s face was a mask of controlled fury, every muscle in his body taut as he strained against the men holding him back. Damian, usually so composed, was screaming, his voice breaking with the intensity of his emotions. Tim was pale, his eyes wide with horror as he watched Jason being beaten mercilessly.

Negan watched with detached interest, his eyes cold and calculating. “It’s a real shame, isn’t it?” he called out, his voice mocking. “That Jason’s father isn’t here to save him.”

Jason understood what Negan wanted. He wanted him to break, to call out for help, to admit that he needed Negan. The realization filled him with a desperate resolve. He would endure the pain, he would not give in. But each blow sapped his strength, each kick sent a fresh wave of agony through his body.

Negan’s goading continued, each word a barb digging into Jason’s resolve. The beating seemed endless, the world a blue or pain and noise. Jason’s vision kept drifting to Bruce and the family, their frantic attempts to reach him fueling his determination. But finally, unable to bear it any longer, Jason’s will cracked. The words tore from his throat, raw and desperate. “Dad! Please, make them stop!”

Negan’s face lit up with a twisted triumph. He raised his hand, and the beating ceased immediately. Jason lay on the ground, barely conscious, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Negan approached, his expression shifting to a mockery of concern. He knelt down beside Jason, gently lifting his head.

“This was for your own good, Jason,” he said softly, his voice dripping with false tenderness. “To remind you of who you really are.”

Jason’s vision blurred, tears of pain and humiliation mingling with the blood on his face. Negan stood, scoping Jason up in his arms with a gentleness that was entirely at odds with the brutality he had just orchestrated. The crowd parted as Negan carried Jason away, his grip firm but not painful.

As they left the clearing, Jason’s last sight was of Bruce and his family, their faces a mixture of fury, despair, and helplessness. He tried to hold onto that image, to draw strength from their love and determination. But darkness closed in, and he slipped into unconsciousness, his last thought a desperate plea for his family to come and rescue him for the nightmare that had become his life.

Chapter Text

The family was led back to the stark room they were being kept in. Their minds still reeling from the brutal scene they had just witnessed. The echoes of the jeering of the crowd and the sight of him being beaten into submission played over and over in their minds.

The door slammed shut behind them, and they were left in a tense, heavy silence. Bruce’s face was a mask of controlled fury, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Dick paced the room, his anger barely contained, while Tim sat on the edge of a cot, his head in his hands. Damian stood against the wall, his expression a mix of rage and helplessness.

“We have to get him out of there,” Dick finally burst out, his voice shaking. “We can’t let them do this to him.”

Bruce nodded, his jaw set in a hard line. “We will, Dick. We’ll find a way.”

“But how?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with despair. “We’re trapped in here, and they have all the power.”

“We’ll find a way,” Bruce repeated, more for his own reassurance than anything else. He looked around at his sons, their faces showing varying degrees of anger and fear. “Jason needs us to be strong. We can’t give up.”

Hours passed, and the oppressive weight of their situation seemed to grow heavier. They were startled when the door creaked open, and a man with an awkward gait and a nervous expression slipped inside. He looked around quickly before closing the door behind him.

“Who are you?” Damian demanded, stepping forward.

“My name’s Eugene,” the man said in a hushed tone. “I’m here to give you an update on Jason.”

Immediately, all eyes were on him. Bruce stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘What do you know about Jason? Is he alright?”

Eugene nodded quickly. “He’s banged up, but he’ll live. Negan… he has a way of making sure people understand their place.”

“Negan,” Bruce growled, the name dripping with venom. “Who is he to Jason?”

Eugene shook his head. “Negan is not Jason’s father. That man is a monster, but he isn’t Jason’s blood.”

The room went silent as the family processed this information. Relief mixed with confusion and anger.

“Then why is Jason with him?” Tim asked, his voice a mixture of hope and skepticism.

“Negan found Jason and Willis about a month in,” Eugene explained. “Willis… he’s not important. Negan took Jason under his wing. It’s twisted, but he sees himself as Jason’s protector now.”

Bruce’s face tightened with rage. “So he takes Jason from one monster only to become another.”

Eugene nodded, his eyes darting nervously to the door. “Negan thinks he’s helping Jason. He believes he’s molding him into something stronger. But it’s all about control.”

Dick clenched his fists. “We need to get him away from Negan. Do you have any idea how we can do that?”

Before Eugne could answer, the door swung open, and Negan strode in, his presence instantly dominating the room. Eugene straightened, adopting a nonchalant air. “Just checking on the prisoners,” he said, edging past Negan and out of the room.

Negan’s eyes swept over the family, his smile unsettling. “Well, well, well, look at this. Family meeting, huh? How sweet.”

Bruce stepped forward, his eyes cold and hard. “What do you want, Negan?”

Negan chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “I want to make sure you understand how things work around here. You’re going to start contributing to the Sanctuary. We’re a community here. Everyone pulls their weight.”

“We want to see Jason,” Dick said, his voice edged with desperation.

Negan’s smile faded, replaced by a chilling calm. “Jason is a private family matter. You’ll see him soon enough, but for now, you need to focus on how you’re going to make yourselves useful.”

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats and barely contained fury. Negan took a step closer to Bruce, his eyes locking onto his with a predatory intensity.

“You’ve got two choices,” Negan said, his voice low and dangerous. “You can fall in line and make things easy for everyone, or you can resist and make things very, very hard. Not just for you, but for Jason as well.”

Bruce’s fists clenched at his sides, every fiber of his being screaming to las out, but he forced himself to remain calm. “We’ll do what we have to,” he said his voice steady. “But if you hurt Jason again—”

Negan cut him off with a laugh. “I don’t need to hurt him anymore. He’s already learned his lesson. Now, you just have to learn yours.”

With that, Negan turned and walked out, leaving the family in a seething silence. They were left with the haunting strain of “Easy Street” playing through hidden speakers, a cruel reminder of their captivity.

As the door shut behind him, Bruce and the others exchanged a look of grim determination. They knew they had to tread carefully, but they were more resolved than ever to find a way to save Jason and bring him back to the safety of their family.

Dick leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched as if he could hit Negan. “I should have done something, Bruce,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion. “I just watched him get beaten, and I didn’t do anything.”

Bruce walked over to Dick, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, we all saw what happened. If any of us had acted, Negan would have killed Jason on the spot. We can’t help him if he’s dead.”

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Eugene seemed like he wanted to help. Maybe he can give us more information or find a way for us to get to Jason.”

Damian nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare display of vulnerability. “We need to keep our heads. Jason needs us to be smart about this.”

Bruce looked at his sons, his resolve hardening. “We will find a way. We’ll find a way to save Jason and end this once and for all.”

A few hours later, the door creaked open again, and Eugene slipped back inside. The family tensed, ready for any information he could provide.

“Negan’s occupied for now,” Eugene said quietly. “I can give you more details, but we don’t have much time.”

Bruce stepped forward. “Tell us more about Jason and Negan.”

Eugene nodded, glancing nervously at the door. “As I said before, Negan believes he’s protecting Jason, molding him into someone strong enough to survive.”

Tim frowned. “Does Jason see it that way?”

Eugene shook his head. “No. Jason sees Negan for what he is: a monster. But he’s trapped. Negan controls everything. If Jason steps out of line, he suffers. If he tries to escape, Negan makes an example of him.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. “We saw that firsthand. Is there any way to get to Jason? To help him?”

Eugene hesitated. “It’s risky. Negan’s got eyes everywhere. But I can try to find a way to get you more information, maybe even a way to get Jason out.”

Bruce nodded. “We’ll do whatever it takes. Just get us the information.”

-

Jason woke slowly, his entire body aching from the savage beating he had endured. His mind swam in a fog of pain and exhaustion as he tried to piece together where he was. As his vision cleared, he realized he was back in his room at the Sanctuary. Every breath sent a sharp pain through his ribs, and he groaned softly.

Negan’s voice cut through the haze like a knife. “Well, look who decided to join the land of the living.”

Jason’s eyes snapped open fully, and he saw Negan sitting in a chair beside his bed, a smug smile on his face. Standing a bit further back was Daryl, looking grim and tired, his eyes filled with worry as they met Jason’s.

Jason tried to sit up, wincing at the pain. “Daryl..”

“Easy, kid,” Daryl said softly. “Take it slow.”

Negan leaned forward, his expression darkening. “Jason, we need to have a little chat about respect.”

Jason glared at Negan, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. He stayed silent, knowing anything he said could make things worse.

Negan continued, his tone dangerously calm. “What happened out there was a lesson. A lesson in respect and understanding your place. I am your father, and you will respect me. If you do, then you won’t have to go through that again.”

Jason’s fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. “You’re not my father,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Negan’s eyes flashed with anger, but he forced a smile. “Oh, but I am Jason. Whether you like it or not. As your father, it’s my job to keep you in line.”

Jason looked away, unable to meet Negan’s gaze. Daryl shifted in his seat, his voice low but firm. “He’s had enough.”

Negan chuckled. “Daryl, always the protective one. That’s why you’re gonna be sticking to Jason like glue. Starting now, he’s allowed to walk the grounds of the Sanctuary, but you’ll be with him at all times.”

Darly nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving Jason’s.

Negan stood up, towering over Jason. “And Jason, if you try anything–anything at all–not only will you be punished, but so will Daryl. And that little group you were hiding with. Do you understand me?”

Jason’s heart sank, and he nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Good,” Negan said, his tone lighter. “Now, get some rest. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

Negan turned and left the room, leaving Jason and Darly in a heavy silence. Darly walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his expression softening as he looked at Jason.

“You okay, kid?” Darly asked quietly.

Jason nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “It was my fault.”

Daryl shook his head. “No, it’s not. None of this is your fault, Jason. We’re gonna get through this, you hear me?”

Jason swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. “I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

Daryl placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “We’re a family, Jason. We look out for each other. We’ll find a way out of this mess, together.”

Jason nodded, drawing strength from Daryl’s words. Despite the pain and fear, a flicker of hope sparked within him. They would find a way. They had to.

Daryl stayed by Jason’s side, watching over him like a hawk. The hours passed slowly, marked by the soft ticking of a clock and Jason’s occasional groan of pain. Negan’s threat hung heavily in the air, a constant reminder of the precariousness of their situation.

Jason eventually drifted back into an uneasy sleep, his dreams filled with the faces of his family and the horrors they had witnessed. When he awoke again, it was to find Daryl still there, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep but unwavering in their determination.

Jason managed to sit up with Daryl’s help, grimacing at the pain that still coursed through his body. “Daryl, why don’t you escape?”

Daryl sighed. “I’m not leaving you. It’s complicated. Negan’s got his ways of keeping people in line. But I’m not giving up. We’re gonna find a way out of this, you and me.”

Jason looked down, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

Darl grasped Jason’s shoulder. “You can. You’re stronger than you think, Jason. You survived out there on your own, and you’re surviving now. We’re gonna get through this together.”

Jason looked up, meeting Daryl’s determined gaze. For the first time since being captured, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they would find a way out.

They had to.

-

A few days later, Bruce and the family were assigned to work on the perimeter fence. The task was grueling, the air thick with the stench of rotting flesh from the dead that served as a grotesque security measure. Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian worked side by side with other prisoners, mending broken sections and reinforcing weak spots. Each clang of metal against metal and groan of labor was a reminder of their dire situation.

The family was focused on their task when Tim nudged Dick, point to the other side of the fence. “Hey, isn’t that Jason?”

Dick squinted against the sun, his heart leaping when he saw Jason on the other side. Jason stood talking with a man, someone they didn’t recognize. The sight was a stark contrast to the brutality they had witnessed days earlier. Jason seemed at ease, even laughing at something the man said.

Bruce followed their gaze, his eyes narrowing. “Who is that with him?”

The man was tall and muscular, with a rugged appearance. He and Jason appeared close, at one point the two began to roughhouse, the man picking Jason up off the ground, swinging him playfully before setting him back down. Jason’s laughter was clear even from their distance, a sound that brought a mixture of relief and confusion to the family.

Damian scowled, his eyes glued to the scene. “Why does Jason look so… happy?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know, but we need to find out who that guy is.”

One of the other prisoners working nearby overheard their conversation and approached cautiously. He was a middle-aged man with a weary look in his eyes. “You talking about the guy with Jason?”

Bruce turned to him, his expression serious. “Yes. Do you know who he is?”

The man nodded. “That’s Daryl. He’s another prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Dick repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why would he be with Jason then?”

The man shrugged. “Daryl’s been here a while. Some say he stays just for the kid.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Why is he with Jason?”

“Negan must have assigned him to keep an eye on the kid. From what I’ve seen, he’s not rough on the kid. They actually seem to get along.”

As they continued their work, Bruce couldn’t help but glance back at Jason and Daryl. Despite the confusion and worry, there was a small measure of relief in seeing Jason laugh again. THe brutality of Negan’s world hasn’t completely crushed his spirit, but the nature of his relationship with Daryl raised even more questions about what Jason was enduring and what they might need to do to save him.

The rest of the workday passed in a blur, the family’s minds preoccupied with Jason. When they were finally allowed a break, Bruce gathered his sons together.

“We need to figure out what’s really going on,” Bruce said, his voice low and urgent. “Jason is putting on a brave face, but we can’t assume he’s safe just because he’s smiling.”

TIm nodded in agreement. “We should try to get more information about Daryl and his relationship with Negan. Maybe there’s something we can use to help Jason.”

Dick glanced back at the fence, where Jason and Daryl had disappeared from view. “We have to do something. We can’t just stand by and watch.”

“Well, well, well. How are my favorite prisoners doing?” Negan asked with a wide grin.

Bruce’s eyes blazed with controlled fury. “What do you want, Negan?”

Negan chuckled. “Just checking in. Wanted to see how you all are settling in.

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We want to see Jason.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll see him when I say you can. Until then, keep your heads down and do as you're told.”

-

Jason walked beside Daryl, his body still sore from the recent day’s activities, but the time with Daryl has recharged his spirit. Negan had allowed him to roam the grounds of the Sanctuaty, but always under Daryl’s watchful eye. They walked in silence, Daryl subtly guiding him toward the less-patrolled areas.

Jason glanced at Daryl, trying to read the older man’s expressions. Daryl’s face was stoic, but there was a hint of determination in his eyes. Jason had some to see Daryl as an older brother, someone who understood the hell he was living through.

As they neared the western side of the compound, Daryl slowed his pace, allowing Jason to take in the surroundings. “Notice anything?” Daryl asked in a low voice.

Jason scanned the area, noting the lack of guards and the slight gap in the fence, cleverly concealed by overgrown vegetation. He nodded, understanding what Daryl was showing him.

“Break in the fence,” Jason murmured. “How often do they check it?”

Daryl glanced around. “Not often. Patrols mostly focus on the main gates and the heavily trafficked areas. This spot gets overlooked.”

Jason’s mind raced as he began to formulate a plan. “We could use this,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of hope and caution. “But we need to time it right. We can’t just make a run for it.”

Daryl nodded. “We’ll need a distraction. Something to draw their attention away from this side of the compound. Once we’re out, we’ll head for the woods. It’ll be harder for them to track us there.”

Jason’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement. “What about the others? My family. We can’t leave them behind.”

Daryl frowned, clearly having thought about this. “We get out first. Then we find a way to come back for them. We can’t risk getting caught now. If they see us all together, they’ll tighten security.”

Jason reluctantly agreed. “Okay. But we need to move soon. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Their conversation was cut short by the blaring sound of a horn. Both men froze, recognizing the signal that called everyone to gather in the main courtyard. Daryl muttered a curse under his breath.

“Come on,” he said, steering Jason back toward the center of the Sanctuary. “We don’t want to be late.”

They joined the growing throng of people making their way to the courtyard. Jason’s heart sank as he saw the worried and fearful expressions of the other prisoners. Whatever this gathering was about, it couldn’t be good.

The courtyard was large, open space surrounded by high walls and guard towers. Negan stood in the center, exuding an air of authority and menace. His lieutenants were positioned around him, watching the crowd with hawk-like eyes.

Negan’s gaze swept over the assembled people, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, well, well,” he began, his voice dripping with mock cheerfulness. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves quite the turnout today.”

Jason felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. He glanced at Daryl, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. THey needed to stay calm, blend in, and not draw attention to themselves.

Negan continued his speech, pacing back and forth. “Now, I know things have been tough lately. Supplies are running low, and tensions are high. But I want to remind everyone here that we are a community. A family. And families look out for each other.”

Jason clenched his fists, resisting the urge to shout. He knew all too well how Negan manipulated people with his words.

Negan’s eyes landed on Jason, and his smile widened. “Ah, Jason. So good of you to join us. How’s your room? Comfortable?”

Jason forced himself to nod. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Negan chuckled, clearly enjoying the power he held. “Good. Because a happy family member is a productive family member. And we all need to pull our weight here.”

Jason’s mind raced. He needed to stay focused on the plan he and Daryl had discussed. But first, they had to get through this gathering without raising suspicion.

Negan’s eyes narrowed, his tone shifting to a more serious note. “Now, I’ve called you all here because we’ve got a little situation that needs addressing. It seems two of our fine community members had a bit of a disagreement.”

Two men were brought to the center of the courtyard, both looking terrified. Jason recognized them from around the compound. Negan’s smile turned sinister. “And we can’t have that, can we? Disagreements lead to chaos. Chaos leads to anarchy. And we can’t have anarchy.”

Negan’s voice rose as he addressed the crowd. “So, to keep the peace, we’re going to let these two sort out their differences. Right here, right now.”

Jason’s stomach churned as he realized what Negan was planning. The two men were handed knives and shoved toward each other. They hesitated, looking at the crowd then at Negan, who nodded encouragingly.

“Go on,” Negan said softly. “Fight it out. Only one of you walks away.”

Jason stood rigid, his fists clenched and his jaw tightening. This wasn’t just a display of power; it was a calculated act of terror meant to keep everyone in line. He scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian among the prisoners working on the fence. Their eyes met, and he saw the same mix of anger in their expressions.

The men circled each other, fear and desperation etched on their faces. Jason felt a wave of nausea as the fight began. The courtyard fell silent, the only sounds were the grunts and cries of the men as they struggled for their lives.

Jason’s eyes flicked back to Bruce and the others. He tried to convey something with his gaze, a silent message of resilience and hope. But the distance and the intensity of the situation made it difficult. He saw Bruce’s eyes harden, Jason reading it as a silent promise that they would get through this together.

Jason’s attention was drawn back to the fight as one of the men landed a brutal blow, sending his opponent staggering. Blood splattered on the ground, and the crowd collectively held its breath. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the violence unfold.

He looked back at Bruce and the others, trying to communicate something, anything, with his eyes. But before he could get any meaningful message across, the fight reached its brutal conclusion. One man stood victorious, bloodied and panting, over the lifeless body of his opponent. The crowd watched in horrified silence as Negan clapped his hands, breaking the tension.

“Well done,” Negan said, his voice filled with false cheer. “You see, folks? Order has been restored.”

As the crowd dispersed, Negan’s eyes met Jason’s. There was a silent challenge in his gaze, a reminder of who held the power. But Jason didn’t look away. He could find a way to fight back. He had to. For his family, and for himself.

Chapter Text

Jason woke up with a heavy sense of dread. Today was the day. He had barely slept, his mind racing through the plan he and Daryl had meticulously crafted over the past few days. He knew the risks, the potential consequences, but he also knew he had no other choice. This was the only way to save Daryl and his family.

He took a deep breath and got out of bed, his body aching from the beating he had received not long ago. Daryl was already up, leaning against the wall, watching him with a concerned expression.

“You ready?” Daryl asked, his voice low and steady.

Jason nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The day unfolded in a blur. Every step, every interaction was tinged with a sense of finality. Jason moved through the motions, trying to keep his nerves in check. He knew he had to act normal, to not arouse suspicion. But it was hard. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands felt clammy.

As he walked through the compound, he caught glimpses of his family working on the fence. Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were there, their expressions focused and grim. Jason felt a pang of guilt and worry. He couldn’t let them know what he was planning. It was too risky. But he couldn’t help the fleeting glances he sent their way, hoping they understood that he was doing this for them.

He saw Bruce first, his father figure, the man who had taken him in and shown him a different path. Bruce met his gaze, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. Jason quickly looked away, not wanting to give anything away.

A little later, he spotted Tim and Damian. Tim was always the observant one, and Jason knew he was probably picking up on his nervousness. Damian, with his fierce loyalty and determination, was harder to read, but Jason could tell he was on edge too. They exchanged a brief look, and Jason forced another smile, hoping it was enough to reassure them.

The toughest moment came when he saw Dick. His older brother, his mentor. Dick’s eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, Jason felt like he was seeing right through him. He swallowed hard, giving a small nod. Dick’s expression softened, but there was still that underlying worry.

Throughout the day, Jason went through his tasks, his mind never straying far from the plan. He had to stay focused, had to keep his resolve. He couldn’t let fear or doubt creep in. This was for Daryl, for Bruce, for Dick, for Tim, for Damian.

When lunchtime came, Jason and Daryl sat together, eating in silence. Jason’s appetite was nonexistent, but he forced himself to eat, knowing he needed the strength. Daryl leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Remember, stick to the plan. We got this.”

As the day wore on, Jason’s nerves only grew. Every minute felt like an eternity, every glance from the Saviors a potential threat. He kept looking for signs, signals that it was time, but everything seemed to drag on endlessly.

In the afternoon, Jason found himself back near the fence, working on a section that needed repairs. Bruce was nearby, keeping an eye on him. Jason felt a pang of warmth and sadness. Bruce had always been there for him, and now he was about to take a huge risk. He wished he could say something, anything, to explain, but he knew he couldn’t.

Soon enough, the sun had set, and the compound was asleep. It was eerily silent in the dead of night, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant groans of the undead. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he crept through the shadows, Daryl by his side. They moved with practiced stealth, their destination the hidden gap in the fence they had discovered days earlier.

Daryl led the way, his movements confident and sure. Jason followed, his nerves on edge. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow a potential threat. They reached the gap, a small section of the fence that had gone unnoticed by the Saviors. Daryl crouched down, motioning for Jason to follow.

Jason hesitated, his heart racing. “Daryl, are you sure about this? What if something goes wrong?”

Daryl turned to him, his expression serious but determined. “You have to go, Jason. Your family, they’re counting on you. We can’t let Negan win.”

Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew Daryl was right. He had to do this. For Bruce, for Dick, for everyone. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Just as he was about to crawl through the gap, Jason heard a noise behind them. His blood ran cold as he saw a figure approaching. It was one of the Saviors, and he had spotted Daryl.

“Daryl, someone’s coming,” Jason whispered urgently.

Daryl turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw the approaching threat. “Run, Jason. Now.”

“But–”

“Go!” Daryl insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘I’ll handle this. Just get out of here.”

Jason hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to stay and fight. But he knew Daryl was right. He couldn’t risk everything now. With one last look at his friend, Jason ducked into the gap and slipped through the fence.

He crouched in the shadows, watching as the Savior approached Daryl. They exchanged harsh words, and then the Savior grabbed Daryl, dragging him away. Jason’s heart clenched in his chest, but he knew he couldn’t stay. He had to go.

With one last, lingering look at the compound, Jason turned and headed into the dark woods. He clutched the pistol Daryl had given him, his hands shaking. EVery step felt like a monumental effort, but he forced himself to keep moving. The night was pitch black, the trees closing in around him as he made his way through the forest.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the path ahead, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Daryl. He hoped his friend would be okay. He had to be. Jason had to make it out, had to find Daryl’s friends and get help.

The woods were alive with the sounds of night creatures, the distant moans of the dead a constant reminder of the danger he faced. Jason moved as quickly and quietly as he could, his senses on high alert. He didn’t know how far he had to go or what he could find, but he knew he had to keep moving.

As the minutes turned into hours, Jason’s fear began to give way to determination. He had made it this far, and he wasn’t going to give up now. He had people counting on him, people who needed him. With each step, he grew more resolved. He would find these friends. He would get help. And they would take down Negan, once and for all.

-

The next morning, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were still asleep in their cramped, makeshift room within the Sanctuary. The oppressive atmosphere of the place seeped into their dreams, each of them plagued by nightmares of Jason’s condition and their own predicament.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash, jolting them awake. Negan stormed in, his face contorted with rage. His booming voice echoed off the walls, startling the group fully awake.

“Where is he? Where’s Jason?” Negan bellowed, his eyes wild with fury. “Tell me what you now, right now!”

Tim scrambled to his feet, raising his hand in a placating gesture. “We don’t know anything! WE swear, we haven’t seen him since last night!”

Negan’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift movement he shoved Tim back. Tim collided with the wall and fell to the ground, having hit his head.

Seeing his brother hurt, a fierce protective instinct surged through Dick. Before he could stop himself, he lunged at Negan, his fist connecting with Negan’s jaw in a solid punch. The room fell into a tense silence, everyone holding their breath.

Negan staggered back slightly from the blow, more out of surprise than pain. He brought a hand to his jaw, feeling the spot where Dick had hit him. For a moment, Dick braced himself for the worst, expecting a brutal retaliation.

But then, to everyone’s shock, Negan started to laugh. It was a low, sinister chuckle that grew louder and more unsettling by the second. He straightened up, his laughter filling the room as he looked at Dick with a mix of amusement and disdain.

“You really think you can scare me, kid?” Negan sneered, his eyes glinting with a manic light. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Dick stood his ground, his fists clenched, ready for another fight. But Negan’s laughter only intensified, his amusement evident.

“Oh, this is rich,” Negan said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You don’t know a damn thing about where he is, do you? You actually thought he was still here, didn’t you?”

Bruce, Damian, and TIm exchanged worried glances, their minds racing. Negan’s reaction suggested that Jason had managed to escape, but they had no way of knowing where he was or what had happened after he fled.

Negan stepped closer to Dick, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “You and your little family better pray I find Jason soon. Because if I don’t, I’m coming back here, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

With that, Negan turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. The oppressive silence that followed was almost suffocating.

Tim struggled to his feet, rubbing his head. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jason got out.”

“Looks like it,” Dick replied, still shaken by the encounter. “But where could he have gone?”

Bruce’s face was set in a grim mask of determination. “Wherever he is, we need to find him before Negan does. We can’t let him face this alone.”

Damian, his eyes steely with resolve, nodded in agreement. “We will find him. We have to.”

The four of them sat back down, the room still heavy from their encounter with Negan. Bruce rubbed his temples, deep in thought.

“He must have had help,” Bruce mused aloud. “Jason wouldn’t have been able to get out on his own, not with the security they’ve got here.”

Dick nodded. “Daryl. I bet it was Daryl. He’s the only one who’d risk something like this for Jason.”

TIm sighed, leaning back against the wall. “We need to come up with a plan. We can’t just sit here and wait for Negan to find him first.”

Bruce glanced at each of them , his eyes filled with determination. “We’ll find a way out of here. We have to. For Jason.”

-

The family was led outside, blinking against the harsh daylight after the dim confines of their room. The compound was bustling with activity, everyone moving with purpose. The air was thick with tension, an underlying current of fear and control that made Bruce’s skin crawl.

As they were guided to their work area, the sight in the center of the courtyard stopped them cold. Daryl was strung up, his arms tied above his head, suspending him from a makeshift gallows. His face was bruised and bloodied, his clothes torn and stained. It was clear he hada been severely beaten.

Bruce felt a surge of anger and helplessness. He glanced at Dick, Tim, and Damian, seeing his own horror reflected in their faces. They were forced to keep moving, but as they passed by, Bruce managed to catch Daryl’s eye.

Despite his condition, Daryl lifted his head and gave Bruce a small, almost imperceptible nod. Bruce understood immediately – Daryll had helped Jason escape. It was a confirmation of their worst fears and their greatest hope.

As they were put to work repairing the fence, Bruce’s mind raced. He had to find a way to get Daryl down, to get his family out of this hellhole, and to find Jason and make sure he was safe.

“Keep moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving Bruce forward when he paused too long. Bruce gritted his teeth and resumed his work, all the while his mind calculating their next move.

Dick worked silently beside him, his jaw clenched in anger. “We can’t let this stand,” he muttered under his breath. “Daryl did this for us, for Jason. We owe him.”

“We’ll get him down,” Bruce said quietly, his voice firm with resolve. “But we need to be smart about this. If Negan catches wind of anything, it’ll be the end for all of us.”

Tim and Damian were further down the line, each equally focused on their task but clearly disturbed by the sigh of Daryl. Damian, ever the tactician, kept glancing around, taking note of guard positions and routines.

“We need a distraction,” Damian said softly when he and Tim were close enough to Bruce and Dick. “Something big enough to pull their attention away so we can get Daryl down.”

Bruce nodded, his mind already working on the logistics. “We’ll need to time it perfectly. One mistake and we’re all dead.”

They worked through the day, their minds occupied with thoughts of escape and rescue. Every now and then, Bruce would steal a glance at Daryl, hanging in the courtyard, a painful reminder of the cost of defiance.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the compound, the family gathered what they could from their surroundings – tools, supplies, anything that might aid in their plan. They couldn’t communicate openly, but each of them knew what needed to be done.

When the call for the end of the workday came, they were herded back inside. Bruce took one last look at Daryl, silently vowing to get him down.

Back in their room, they huddled together, going over their plan in hushed voices. THey had to act soon, before Negan decides to make a further example out of Daryl.

“We need to be ready for anything,” Bruce said, looking at each of his sons. “This won’t be easy, but we can’t let fear stop us. We will get through this. We will find Jason and get Daryl out. Together.”

They nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. As they settled in for the night, their minds were filled with thoughts of the coming day, each of them steeling themselves for the battle ahead. They knew the risks, but they also knew they had no choice. For Jason, for Daryl, for their family – they would fight.

-

The next day dawned heavy with tension. The family knew something was coming, and it wasn’t long before their fears were realized. They were herded out into the courtyard, where Negan stood with a smug expression, flanked by his Saviors. Daryl was still strung up, looking even worse than the day before.

Negan stepped forward, addressing the gathered crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we have a special event. Someone helped the boy escape, and we all know who it was.” He gestured grandly to Daryl. “But, this here is a community, and actions have consequences.”

He motioned to Simon, who was holding a long, cruel whip. The crowd watched in horrified silence as the man stepped up to Daryl, ready to deliver the punishment.

Bruce couldn’t stand it any longer. He stepped forward, his voice strong and steady. “Wait.”

Negan paused, a look of curiosity crossing his face. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

“I’ll take his punishment,” Bruce said, his gaze never wavering from Negan’s. “Punish me instead.”

Negan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He took a step back, looking genuinely intrigued. You’d take his place? How noble.” He pondered for a moment, then smiled wickedly. “Alright. Let’s see how much this brave soul is willing to endure.”

The Saviors untied Daryl and roughly pushed him aside, dragging Bruce to the center of the courtyard. They bound his hands to the same post, and Simon stepped forward again.

“Let’s begin,” Negan said, his tone gleeful.

The first lash struck Bruce’s back with a sickening crack. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. The second blow came, and then the third, each one tearing into his flesh. His sons watched in horror, their faces pale and stricken.

“Stop it!” Dick shouted, unable to stay silent. “Stop hurting him!”

Negan turned his gaze to Dick but merely smirked and nodded for the whipping to continue. Bruce endured each blow, his resolve unshaken even as his body screamed in pain. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Negan raised his hand.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Untie him.”

Bruce was released and collapsed to his knees, his back a mess of blood and torn flesh. Dick, Tim, and Damian rushed to him, helping him to his feet and supporting him as they led him back to their room.

They spent the next few hours tending to Bruce’s wounds, working in grim silence. Tim carefully cleaned the torn flesh, his hands steady despite the fury in his eyes. Damian held the supplies, his jaw clenched as he watched his father struggle not to show pain. Dick applied the bandages, his movements precise yet tender. Bruce winced with each touch but said nothing, his eyes focused and determined.

“He’s going to pay for this,” Tim muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“Focus for now,” Dick replied, though the anger in his voice mirrored Tim’s.

As night fell, Bruce lay on his cot, the pain still throbbing through his body. He knew what he had done was necessary, but that didn’t make it any easier. He closed his eyes, trying to rest, when he heard a quiet knock at the door.

It opened slowly, and Daryl slipped inside, his movements cautious and silent. He approached Bruce’s cot, his expression a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

“What you did was stupid,” Daryl said quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Bruce opened his eyes, meeting Daryl’s gaze. “Yes, I did. You helped my son. This was the least I could do.”

Daryl shook his head, clearly conflicted. “Negan won’t forget this. He’ll keep using it against you, against us.”

“We’ll handle it,” Bruce said firmly. “We’ll find a way out of here. Together.”

Daryl sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a stubborn man.”

Bruce managed a faint smile. “I’ve been called worse.”

Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle softly, though his eyes remained serious. “Just… take care of yourself. Your sons need you.”

Bruce nodded. “I will. And we’ll get through this. We’ll find Jason, and we’ll make Negan pay for everything he’s done.”

Daryl stood up, his expression resolute. “Count on it.”

As Daryl left the room, Bruce closed his eyes again, his thoughts drifting to Jason. He would do whatever it took to protect his family, to bring them all back together. Negan had underestimated their resolve, and that would be his downfall.

-

A few days later, Bruce had healed the best he could from his punishment. The physical pain had dulled, but the emotional weight of their captivity and the constant worry for Jason remained heavy on his heart. The family was once again working in the courtyard, tolling under the watchful eyes of the Saviors.

As Bruce worked, he noticed Daryl walking past, his steps deliberate but seemingly casual. Suddenly, Daryl stumbled, knocking into Bruce. “Sorry,” he muttered, but in that brief contact, Bruce felt something pressed into his hand. He quickly palmed it, making sure none of the guards noticed.

Bruce found a moment to discreetly open his hand and glance at the small piece of paper. Scrawled in hurried handwriting was the word: “Today.”

Bruce’s mind raced. This must be what Daryl and Jason had been planning. He looked around, trying to gauge the mood of the compound. Everything seemed normal, but an undercurrent of tension buzzed in the air.

A few more hours went by, the oppressive heat and labor wearing on everyone. The family stayed close, working diligently but keeping a lookout for any sign of what was to come. Bruce caught Tim’s eye and gave a subtle nod, signaling that something was about to happen.

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the Sanctuary, sending a shockwave through the courtyard. Debris flew through the air, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. The guards were thrown into chaos, shouting orders and scrambling to respond.

Bruce grabbed Dick and Damian, pulling them close. “Stick together,” he ordered, his voice urgent but controlled. “This is our chance.”

Tim scanned the area, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination. “What do we do?”

Bruce looked around, assessing the situation. The explosion had caused significant damage to the Sanctuary, creating an opening. “We need to find Daryl.”

As the family began to make their way through the chaos, they moved cautiously, staying low and using the confusion to their advantage. Bruce led the way, his instincts honed by years of experience guiding them through the compound.

They reached a dimly lit corridor that led to a storage room. Bruce pushed the door open, and they slipped inside, closing it quietly behind them. Daryl was waiting, his face a mixture of relief and urgency.

“About time,” Daryl muttered, handing Bruce a duffel bag. “Weapons. We’re gonna need ‘em.”

Bruce opened the bag, revealing an array of guns and knives. He distributed them to his sons, their eyes steely with determination. “What's the plan?”

Daryl explained quickly, his voice low. “There’s a group of us. We’re gonna fight back, take out as many Saviors as we can. Jason’s part of it. He’s leading a group on the other side of the compound.”

Bruce’s heart swelled with pride and worry. “Where is he now?”

Daryl gestured towards a series of tunnels. “This way. We gotta move fast.”

They navigated the tunnels, the sounds of chaos above them a constant reminder of the danger they were in . Emerging on the other side, they found themselves near the courtyard. Peering out, they saw Jason with a group of people, all armed and ready for battle.

Jason looked different–hardened, determined, but still the boy Bruce had come to see as his son. He caught sight of Bruce and the others, a flicker of relief crossing his face before he focused on the task at hand.

The family stayed hidden, watching as Jason and his group moved towards the courtyard. Suddenly, a group of Saviors burst into view, and the fight erupted. Gunfire and shouts filled the air, and Jason’s group engaged the Saviors in a fierce battle.

Bruce’s heart pounded as he watched Jason fight with skill and bravery. The boy was holding his own, but the Saviors were relentless. Bruce knew they couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

“We need to help him,” Bruce said, his voice firm.

Dick nodded, his eyes never leaving Jason. “Let’s go.”

With a nod from Bruce, the family moved into the fray, weapons ready. They fought their way through the chaos, protecting each other and taking down any Savior who stood in their way.

As they reached Jason, he turned to them, a mix of surprise and determination in his eyes. “You made it,” he said breathlessly.

“We’re not leaving without you,” Bruce replied, his voice resolute.

Together, they fought against the Saviors, each member of the family protecting one another. As the battle raged on, they knew that this was only the beginning. But for now, they were together, fighting for their freedom and their future.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Jason woke up with a heavy sense of dread. Today was the day. He had barely slept, his mind racing through the plan he and Daryl had meticulously crafted over the past few days. He knew the risks, the potential consequences, but he also knew he had no other choice. This was the only way to save Daryl and his family.

He took a deep breath and got out of bed, his body aching from the beating he had received not long ago. Daryl was already up, leaning against the wall, watching him with a concerned expression.

“You ready?” Daryl asked, his voice low and steady.

Jason nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The day unfolded in a blur. Every step, every interaction was tinged with a sense of finality. Jason moved through the motions, trying to keep his nerves in check. He knew he had to act normal, to not arouse suspicion. But it was hard. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands felt clammy.

As he walked through the compound, he caught glimpses of his family working on the fence. Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were there, their expressions focused and grim. Jason felt a pang of guilt and worry. He couldn’t let them know what he was planning. It was too risky. But he couldn’t help the fleeting glances he sent their way, hoping they understood that he was doing this for them.

He saw Bruce first, his father figure, the man who had taken him in and shown him a different path. Bruce met his gaze, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. Jason quickly looked away, not wanting to give anything away.

A little later, he spotted Tim and Damian. Tim was always the observant one, and Jason knew he was probably picking up on his nervousness. Damian, with his fierce loyalty and determination, was harder to read, but Jason could tell he was on edge too. They exchanged a brief look, and Jason forced another smile, hoping it was enough to reassure them.

The toughest moment came when he saw Dick. His older brother, his mentor. Dick’s eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, Jason felt like he was seeing right through him. He swallowed hard, giving a small nod. Dick’s expression softened, but there was still that underlying worry.

Throughout the day, Jason went through his tasks, his mind never straying far from the plan. He had to stay focused, had to keep his resolve. He couldn’t let fear or doubt creep in. This was for Daryl, for Bruce, for Dick, for Tim, for Damian.

When lunchtime came, Jason and Daryl sat together, eating in silence. Jason’s appetite was nonexistent, but he forced himself to eat, knowing he needed the strength. Daryl leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Remember, stick to the plan. We got this.”

As the day wore on, Jason’s nerves only grew. Every minute felt like an eternity, every glance from the Saviors a potential threat. He kept looking for signs, signals that it was time, but everything seemed to drag on endlessly.

In the afternoon, Jason found himself back near the fence, working on a section that needed repairs. Bruce was nearby, keeping an eye on him. Jason felt a pang of warmth and sadness. Bruce had always been there for him, and now he was about to take a huge risk. He wished he could say something, anything, to explain, but he knew he couldn’t.

Soon enough, the sun had set, and the compound was asleep. It was eerily silent in the dead of night, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant groans of the undead. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he crept through the shadows, Daryl by his side. They moved with practiced stealth, their destination the hidden gap in the fence they had discovered days earlier.

Daryl led the way, his movements confident and sure. Jason followed, his nerves on edge. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow a potential threat. They reached the gap, a small section of the fence that had gone unnoticed by the Saviors. Daryl crouched down, motioning for Jason to follow.

Jason hesitated, his heart racing. “Daryl, are you sure about this? What if something goes wrong?”

Daryl turned to him, his expression serious but determined. “You have to go, Jason. Your family, they’re counting on you. We can’t let Negan win.”

Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew Daryl was right. He had to do this. For Bruce, for Dick, for everyone. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Just as he was about to crawl through the gap, Jason heard a noise behind them. His blood ran cold as he saw a figure approaching. It was one of the Saviors, and he had spotted Daryl.

“Daryl, someone’s coming,” Jason whispered urgently.

Daryl turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw the approaching threat. “Run, Jason. Now.”

“But–”

“Go!” Daryl insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘I’ll handle this. Just get out of here.”

Jason hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to stay and fight. But he knew Daryl was right. He couldn’t risk everything now. With one last look at his friend, Jason ducked into the gap and slipped through the fence.

He crouched in the shadows, watching as the Savior approached Daryl. They exchanged harsh words, and then the Savior grabbed Daryl, dragging him away. Jason’s heart clenched in his chest, but he knew he couldn’t stay. He had to go.

With one last, lingering look at the compound, Jason turned and headed into the dark woods. He clutched the pistol Daryl had given him, his hands shaking. EVery step felt like a monumental effort, but he forced himself to keep moving. The night was pitch black, the trees closing in around him as he made his way through the forest.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the path ahead, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Daryl. He hoped his friend would be okay. He had to be. Jason had to make it out, had to find Daryl’s friends and get help.

The woods were alive with the sounds of night creatures, the distant moans of the dead a constant reminder of the danger he faced. Jason moved as quickly and quietly as he could, his senses on high alert. He didn’t know how far he had to go or what he could find, but he knew he had to keep moving.

As the minutes turned into hours, Jason’s fear began to give way to determination. He had made it this far, and he wasn’t going to give up now. He had people counting on him, people who needed him. With each step, he grew more resolved. He would find these friends. He would get help. And they would take down Negan, once and for all.

-

The next morning, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were still asleep in their cramped, makeshift room within the Sanctuary. The oppressive atmosphere of the place seeped into their dreams, each of them plagued by nightmares of Jason’s condition and their own predicament.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash, jolting them awake. Negan stormed in, his face contorted with rage. His booming voice echoed off the walls, startling the group fully awake.

“Where is he? Where’s Jason?” Negan bellowed, his eyes wild with fury. “Tell me what you now, right now!”

Tim scrambled to his feet, raising his hand in a placating gesture. “We don’t know anything! WE swear, we haven’t seen him since last night!”

Negan’s eyes narrowed, and with a swift movement he shoved Tim back. Tim collided with the wall and fell to the ground, having hit his head.

Seeing his brother hurt, a fierce protective instinct surged through Dick. Before he could stop himself, he lunged at Negan, his fist connecting with Negan’s jaw in a solid punch. The room fell into a tense silence, everyone holding their breath.

Negan staggered back slightly from the blow, more out of surprise than pain. He brought a hand to his jaw, feeling the spot where Dick had hit him. For a moment, Dick braced himself for the worst, expecting a brutal retaliation.

But then, to everyone’s shock, Negan started to laugh. It was a low, sinister chuckle that grew louder and more unsettling by the second. He straightened up, his laughter filling the room as he looked at Dick with a mix of amusement and disdain.

“You really think you can scare me, kid?” Negan sneered, his eyes glinting with a manic light. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Dick stood his ground, his fists clenched, ready for another fight. But Negan’s laughter only intensified, his amusement evident.

“Oh, this is rich,” Negan said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You don’t know a damn thing about where he is, do you? You actually thought he was still here, didn’t you?”

Bruce, Damian, and TIm exchanged worried glances, their minds racing. Negan’s reaction suggested that Jason had managed to escape, but they had no way of knowing where he was or what had happened after he fled.

Negan stepped closer to Dick, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “You and your little family better pray I find Jason soon. Because if I don’t, I’m coming back here, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

With that, Negan turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him. The oppressive silence that followed was almost suffocating.

Tim struggled to his feet, rubbing his head. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jason got out.”

“Looks like it,” Dick replied, still shaken by the encounter. “But where could he have gone?”

Bruce’s face was set in a grim mask of determination. “Wherever he is, we need to find him before Negan does. We can’t let him face this alone.”

Damian, his eyes steely with resolve, nodded in agreement. “We will find him. We have to.”

The four of them sat back down, the room still heavy from their encounter with Negan. Bruce rubbed his temples, deep in thought.

“He must have had help,” Bruce mused aloud. “Jason wouldn’t have been able to get out on his own, not with the security they’ve got here.”

Dick nodded. “Daryl. I bet it was Daryl. He’s the only one who’d risk something like this for Jason.”

TIm sighed, leaning back against the wall. “We need to come up with a plan. We can’t just sit here and wait for Negan to find him first.”

Bruce glanced at each of them , his eyes filled with determination. “We’ll find a way out of here. We have to. For Jason.”

-

The family was led outside, blinking against the harsh daylight after the dim confines of their room. The compound was bustling with activity, everyone moving with purpose. The air was thick with tension, an underlying current of fear and control that made Bruce’s skin crawl.

As they were guided to their work area, the sight in the center of the courtyard stopped them cold. Daryl was strung up, his arms tied above his head, suspending him from a makeshift gallows. His face was bruised and bloodied, his clothes torn and stained. It was clear he hada been severely beaten.

Bruce felt a surge of anger and helplessness. He glanced at Dick, Tim, and Damian, seeing his own horror reflected in their faces. They were forced to keep moving, but as they passed by, Bruce managed to catch Daryl’s eye.

Despite his condition, Daryl lifted his head and gave Bruce a small, almost imperceptible nod. Bruce understood immediately – Daryll had helped Jason escape. It was a confirmation of their worst fears and their greatest hope.

As they were put to work repairing the fence, Bruce’s mind raced. He had to find a way to get Daryl down, to get his family out of this hellhole, and to find Jason and make sure he was safe.

“Keep moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving Bruce forward when he paused too long. Bruce gritted his teeth and resumed his work, all the while his mind calculating their next move.

Dick worked silently beside him, his jaw clenched in anger. “We can’t let this stand,” he muttered under his breath. “Daryl did this for us, for Jason. We owe him.”

“We’ll get him down,” Bruce said quietly, his voice firm with resolve. “But we need to be smart about this. If Negan catches wind of anything, it’ll be the end for all of us.”

Tim and Damian were further down the line, each equally focused on their task but clearly disturbed by the sigh of Daryl. Damian, ever the tactician, kept glancing around, taking note of guard positions and routines.

“We need a distraction,” Damian said softly when he and Tim were close enough to Bruce and Dick. “Something big enough to pull their attention away so we can get Daryl down.”

Bruce nodded, his mind already working on the logistics. “We’ll need to time it perfectly. One mistake and we’re all dead.”

They worked through the day, their minds occupied with thoughts of escape and rescue. Every now and then, Bruce would steal a glance at Daryl, hanging in the courtyard, a painful reminder of the cost of defiance.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the compound, the family gathered what they could from their surroundings – tools, supplies, anything that might aid in their plan. They couldn’t communicate openly, but each of them knew what needed to be done.

When the call for the end of the workday came, they were herded back inside. Bruce took one last look at Daryl, silently vowing to get him down.

Back in their room, they huddled together, going over their plan in hushed voices. THey had to act soon, before Negan decides to make a further example out of Daryl.

“We need to be ready for anything,” Bruce said, looking at each of his sons. “This won’t be easy, but we can’t let fear stop us. We will get through this. We will find Jason and get Daryl out. Together.”

They nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. As they settled in for the night, their minds were filled with thoughts of the coming day, each of them steeling themselves for the battle ahead. They knew the risks, but they also knew they had no choice. For Jason, for Daryl, for their family – they would fight.

-

The next day dawned heavy with tension. The family knew something was coming, and it wasn’t long before their fears were realized. They were herded out into the courtyard, where Negan stood with a smug expression, flanked by his Saviors. Daryl was still strung up, looking even worse than the day before.

Negan stepped forward, addressing the gathered crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we have a special event. Someone helped the boy escape, and we all know who it was.” He gestured grandly to Daryl. “But, this here is a community, and actions have consequences.”

He motioned to Simon, who was holding a long, cruel whip. The crowd watched in horrified silence as the man stepped up to Daryl, ready to deliver the punishment.

Bruce couldn’t stand it any longer. He stepped forward, his voice strong and steady. “Wait.”

Negan paused, a look of curiosity crossing his face. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

“I’ll take his punishment,” Bruce said, his gaze never wavering from Negan’s. “Punish me instead.”

Negan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He took a step back, looking genuinely intrigued. You’d take his place? How noble.” He pondered for a moment, then smiled wickedly. “Alright. Let’s see how much this brave soul is willing to endure.”

The Saviors untied Daryl and roughly pushed him aside, dragging Bruce to the center of the courtyard. They bound his hands to the same post, and Simon stepped forward again.

“Let’s begin,” Negan said, his tone gleeful.

The first lash struck Bruce’s back with a sickening crack. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. The second blow came, and then the third, each one tearing into his flesh. His sons watched in horror, their faces pale and stricken.

“Stop it!” Dick shouted, unable to stay silent. “Stop hurting him!”

Negan turned his gaze to Dick but merely smirked and nodded for the whipping to continue. Bruce endured each blow, his resolve unshaken even as his body screamed in pain. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Negan raised his hand.

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Untie him.”

Bruce was released and collapsed to his knees, his back a mess of blood and torn flesh. Dick, Tim, and Damian rushed to him, helping him to his feet and supporting him as they led him back to their room.

They spent the next few hours tending to Bruce’s wounds, working in grim silence. Tim carefully cleaned the torn flesh, his hands steady despite the fury in his eyes. Damian held the supplies, his jaw clenched as he watched his father struggle not to show pain. Dick applied the bandages, his movements precise yet tender. Bruce winced with each touch but said nothing, his eyes focused and determined.

“He’s going to pay for this,” Tim muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“Focus for now,” Dick replied, though the anger in his voice mirrored Tim’s.

As night fell, Bruce lay on his cot, the pain still throbbing through his body. He knew what he had done was necessary, but that didn’t make it any easier. He closed his eyes, trying to rest, when he heard a quiet knock at the door.

It opened slowly, and Daryl slipped inside, his movements cautious and silent. He approached Bruce’s cot, his expression a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

“What you did was stupid,” Daryl said quietly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Bruce opened his eyes, meeting Daryl’s gaze. “Yes, I did. You helped my son. This was the least I could do.”

Daryl shook his head, clearly conflicted. “Negan won’t forget this. He’ll keep using it against you, against us.”

“We’ll handle it,” Bruce said firmly. “We’ll find a way out of here. Together.”

Daryl sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a stubborn man.”

Bruce managed a faint smile. “I’ve been called worse.”

Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle softly, though his eyes remained serious. “Just… take care of yourself. Your sons need you.”

Bruce nodded. “I will. And we’ll get through this. We’ll find Jason, and we’ll make Negan pay for everything he’s done.”

Daryl stood up, his expression resolute. “Count on it.”

As Daryl left the room, Bruce closed his eyes again, his thoughts drifting to Jason. He would do whatever it took to protect his family, to bring them all back together. Negan had underestimated their resolve, and that would be his downfall.

-

A few days later, Bruce had healed the best he could from his punishment. The physical pain had dulled, but the emotional weight of their captivity and the constant worry for Jason remained heavy on his heart. The family was once again working in the courtyard, tolling under the watchful eyes of the Saviors.

As Bruce worked, he noticed Daryl walking past, his steps deliberate but seemingly casual. Suddenly, Daryl stumbled, knocking into Bruce. “Sorry,” he muttered, but in that brief contact, Bruce felt something pressed into his hand. He quickly palmed it, making sure none of the guards noticed.

Bruce found a moment to discreetly open his hand and glance at the small piece of paper. Scrawled in hurried handwriting was the word: “Today.”

Bruce’s mind raced. This must be what Daryl and Jason had been planning. He looked around, trying to gauge the mood of the compound. Everything seemed normal, but an undercurrent of tension buzzed in the air.

A few more hours went by, the oppressive heat and labor wearing on everyone. The family stayed close, working diligently but keeping a lookout for any sign of what was to come. Bruce caught Tim’s eye and gave a subtle nod, signaling that something was about to happen.

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the Sanctuary, sending a shockwave through the courtyard. Debris flew through the air, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. The guards were thrown into chaos, shouting orders and scrambling to respond.

Bruce grabbed Dick and Damian, pulling them close. “Stick together,” he ordered, his voice urgent but controlled. “This is our chance.”

Tim scanned the area, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination. “What do we do?”

Bruce looked around, assessing the situation. The explosion had caused significant damage to the Sanctuary, creating an opening. “We need to find Daryl.”

As the family began to make their way through the chaos, they moved cautiously, staying low and using the confusion to their advantage. Bruce led the way, his instincts honed by years of experience guiding them through the compound.

They reached a dimly lit corridor that led to a storage room. Bruce pushed the door open, and they slipped inside, closing it quietly behind them. Daryl was waiting, his face a mixture of relief and urgency.

“About time,” Daryl muttered, handing Bruce a duffel bag. “Weapons. We’re gonna need ‘em.”

Bruce opened the bag, revealing an array of guns and knives. He distributed them to his sons, their eyes steely with determination. “What's the plan?”

Daryl explained quickly, his voice low. “There’s a group of us. We’re gonna fight back, take out as many Saviors as we can. Jason’s part of it. He’s leading a group on the other side of the compound.”

Bruce’s heart swelled with pride and worry. “Where is he now?”

Daryl gestured towards a series of tunnels. “This way. We gotta move fast.”

They navigated the tunnels, the sounds of chaos above them a constant reminder of the danger they were in . Emerging on the other side, they found themselves near the courtyard. Peering out, they saw Jason with a group of people, all armed and ready for battle.

Jason looked different–hardened, determined, but still the boy Bruce had come to see as his son. He caught sight of Bruce and the others, a flicker of relief crossing his face before he focused on the task at hand.

The family stayed hidden, watching as Jason and his group moved towards the courtyard. Suddenly, a group of Saviors burst into view, and the fight erupted. Gunfire and shouts filled the air, and Jason’s group engaged the Saviors in a fierce battle.

Bruce’s heart pounded as he watched Jason fight with skill and bravery. The boy was holding his own, but the Saviors were relentless. Bruce knew they couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

“We need to help him,” Bruce said, his voice firm.

Dick nodded, his eyes never leaving Jason. “Let’s go.”

With a nod from Bruce, the family moved into the fray, weapons ready. They fought their way through the chaos, protecting each other and taking down any Savior who stood in their way.

As they reached Jason, he turned to them, a mix of surprise and determination in his eyes. “You made it,” he said breathlessly.

“We’re not leaving without you,” Bruce replied, his voice resolute.

Together, they fought against the Saviors, each member of the family protecting one another. As the battle raged on, they knew that this was only the beginning. But for now, they were together, fighting for their freedom and their future.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Jason had just begun to lose faith that Daryl remembered where his friends were staying when he finally came across the huge walls that Daryl had told him about. It was dark out, and Jason was crouched behind a bush, observing.

Whoever these people were, Daryl trusted them with his life, so it seemed like Jason should as well. He slowly walked out of the surrounding woods, taking careful steps.

“Stop right there!” A female voice called out. Jason looked to the top of the wall, and he saw a woman in a slick back ponytail, pointing an automatic right at Jason.

Jason froze, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. Hopefully his small stature wouldn’t cause her to see him as a threat. Of course, he was one, but it was nice to have the advantage of seeming weak on his side.

“I need help!” Jason called out. The woman shifted, and he heard the gun reload. Jason’s body tensed.

“Daryl told me to come!” He shouted, desperately hoping this woman knew who Daryl was.

“What did you just say?” Another voice called, another woman, older with short gray hair.

Jason looked at his shoes, trying his best to come off as a terrified kid. “He said you were friends. That you guys could help.”

Jason waited in silence for a few more minutes, if he was about to die, he’d rather it be a surprise, not staring him down.

There was loud groaning of metal and wood, and Jason looked up to see the gate opening. Jason walked over hesitantly, and the older woman was standing there, her arms crossed and a cold glint in her eyes.

“Who are you with?” She asked, her voice sharp. Jason clenched his jaw.

“No one. I was a prisoner. I escaped,” Jason stated, titling his chin up to make direct eye-contact with the woman. She was about his height, maybe an inch taller, at most.

“A prisoner where?”

Jason swallowed heavily, anxiety blooming in his chest at the very mention. “The Saviors.”

The woman took a sharp breath in, looking back to a large man with red hair, and biceps the size of Jason’s head. Jason felt himself tense looking at the man, he was hopeful none of Daryl’s friends would hurt him, but if that’s what they wanted, for his family, he’d do it.

“Come with us,” she said before turning and walking away. Jason looked back to the man, who held a neutral face, looking at Jason expectantly. Jason sighed, gripping the pocket knife Daryl had managed to swipe for him.

They led him to a house, Jason looked around in awe, even before the apocalypse he had never been in a neighborhood like this. He knew the houses down in Bristol and the surrounding suburbs of Gotham looked like this, but to be walking the streets of them felt like a dream. Jason didn’t deserve to be here.

They froze, and the woman instructed him to stay with the man–Abraham– until she came back. Jason nodded, standing uncomfortably next to Abraham. He kept glancing at him every few seconds, ensuring the man wasn’t about to attack him.

Abraham sighed, lifting his arms into the air to stretch. Jason–against his will–flinched back, jumping away from the man. Abraham froze, looking at Jason, a hint of concern in his eyes. Jason scoffed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled. Abraham raised an eyebrow, but nodded, looking away from Jason.

The woman walked back out of the house, trailing behind her was a man, a woman, and a kid who looked about Jason’s age. Jason shifted his weight from his right foot to his left foot.

The group came to a stop in front of Jason and Abraham. Jason swallowed heavily as he looked at the man, this had to be who Daryl was talking about.

“Who are you?” the man asked in a tone that left no room for any kind of nonsense.

“Jason,” Jason said. The man nodded.

“Do you have any weapons on you?” Jason wanted to say no, wanted to stay armed in case these people turned on him. He sighed, but grabbed his pocket knife, holding it out with an outstretched hand. The man took it, and looked at Jason expectantly, like he knew he was hiding more.

Jason had to hold back from rolling his eyes before moving to his waist band, handing the man his gun. The man nodded, passing the weapons off to the woman next to him.

“Are you hurt?” The woman asked. Jason looked at her, she seemed to have a similar attitude to the man she was with, but Jason could tell she must have had a kid at one point. She has the same eyes that the women on the street used to give him when he’d beg for change on the corner.

Jason’s entire body still hurt from the beating Negan had his men give him, but he did receive medical care from them after, so really, he was fine. Jason shook his head, clenching and unclenching his hands from where they were gripped around the straps of his backpack.

Her eyes checked him over again, and really, he understood why she’s doubting him. Jason still had a black eye, and he’s sure his lip is still a bit swollen. Not to mention the countless bruises that always covered his body when Negan had him.

“I swear, it’s fine,” Jason mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

The man and women shared a look, before he spoke again.

“I have three questions for you.” He said. Jason nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“The dead? I don’t know, lost count.” Jason saw no reason to lie to them.

“How many people have you killed?”

Jason froze, his blood going cold. His eyes danced nervously to the group surrounding him.

“One.” The group didn’t even flinch, which was concerning to Jason. His greatest secret and they hadn’t even blinked.

“Why?”

Jason blinked, making eye contact with the man. “Self-defense.”

The man nodded, looking at the woman standing next to him before taking a step forward towards Jason. It took all of Jason’s might to not step away.

“My name is Rick Grimes. Carol told me that Daryl told you to come here?” Rick asked. Jason nodded silently. Rick nodded. Jason looked over to the woman who had originally brought him in, Carol. She looked upset at the mention of Daryl.

“You came from the Sanctuary?” The woman next to Rick asked. Jason nodded again.

“They caught me a few months after the outbreak. I escaped shortly after Daryl got there, but they got me again. Daryl helped me escape, again, and told me to come find you. That you guys were friends, that you would be able to help,” Jason explained.

“Is he hurt?” Carol asked him. Jason bit his bottom lip.

“He wasn’t when I left, but by now they’ve figured out I’m not there. I assume they aren’t happy,” Jason said. Carol nodded, clenching her jaw.

“We aren’t ready,” the woman said while staring at Carol. Carol’s eyes were ablaze with fury.

“So we just leave him there? You heard the kid, who knows what they’re doing to him right now,” Carol spat out.

“And going in unprepared is the worst thing we could do,” Abraham said. Rick’s jaw ticked, he was thinking.

“You have no reason to help me, I get that. But the only family I’ve had besides Daryl were captured too. I can’t leave them there much longer. If you won’t help, just tell me now, and I’ll turn around and leave,” Jason said.

The group looked surprised. No one went to speak, so Jason took that as his answer, spinning on his heel and starting to walk away. He very pointedly ignored the lump in his throat, and the tears forming in his eyes.

“Kid!” Rick called after him. Jason stopped, turning back to the man. He was holding Jason’s gun and knife.

“We’ll help.”

-

Jason honestly could’ve cried when he saw Daryl with Bruce and the others. He was surrounded by Rick, Michonne, and Carol, their expressions steely. The explosion worked exactly as planned, the Sanctuary was chaos.

“You made it,” he breathed out, almost in disbelief as Bruce came up to him. Bruce smiled at him.

“We’re not leaving without you,” Bruce said firmly, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason felt his lower lip wobble, but bit down, now wasn’t the time.

Rick passed guns out to each of the members of the group. “We need to clear a path to the main gate.”

Jason nodded, “stay close, and watch each other's backs!”

They moved as one, advancing through the chaos. Jason fired at a group of Saviors who were trying to flank them, taking down two with well-placed shots. Michonne sliced through another with her katana, her movements fluid and deadly. Carol provided cover fire, her expression grim and focused.

During the fight, Jason kept looking back to Bruce and the others. He saw Tim leap in front of Damian, blocking a blow from a Savior’s bat with his own arm before countering with a swift punch. Dick was a blur of motion, using his acrobatics to evade attacks and strike back with precision. Bruce fought with a fierce determination, his every move calculated.

Jason’s heart ached with a mix of pride and fear. They were all fighting for each other, for their freedom.

“Jason, watch out!” Carol’s voice snapped him back to the present.

He turned just in time to see a Savior charging at him, a knife raised high. Jason reacted instinctively, raising his pistol and firing. The man fell, the knife clattering to the ground.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered, giving Carol a slight nod.

“Stay focused,” she chastised, her eyes sharp. “We’re almost there.”

They pressed on, the fight growing more intense. Jason caught sight of Damian wrestling with a Savior, the younger boy’s face set in a fierce snarl. Before Jason could help, Daryl was there, pulling the attacker off Damian and taking him down with a swift shot to the head.

Daryl did always have a soft spot for kids.

But the moment of distraction cost him. A sharp pain exploded in his shoulder, and he stumbled, falling to his knees. He looked down, seeing blood seep through his shirt from his left shoulder, the wound throbbing with agony. Thank god Jason was a righty.

“Jason!” Rick’s voice was urgent, and he was by Jason’s side in an instant, helping him to his feet. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“I’m fine,” Jason gritted out, willing the pain to go away. “We need to keep fighting.”

“You’re hit,” Michonne said, her eyes filled with concern.

The two adults were inclined to argue more, but were distracted by Carl (Rick’s son who was Tim’s age, he discovered) crying out. He nodded to them, giving them permission to go. They ran to their son, and Jason continued to fight, his vision was blurred with a mix of sweat and pain, but he refused to let it slow him down. He saw Bruce look his way, his eyes widening in alarm as he noticed the blood patch that was steadily growing on Jason’s shirt. Jason gave him a small nod, trying to convey he was still in the fight.

Jason’s head spun as a Savior snuck up on him, pistol whipping him and sending Jason to the ground. Jason gritted his teeth and struggled back to his feet, taking his knife and plunging it into the man’s stomach. The man stumbled back, choking on his own blood before collapsing to the ground.

Jason’s head pounded, his vision blurry as he caught sight of Bruce struggling against Simon. His heart pounded with worry, but he could hardly put together a coherent thought, much less try and help.

“Bruce!” Jason tried to call out, but his voice was weak. He was swaying on his feet as he tried to walk towards the man.

Bruce’s head snapped towards Jason and valiantly tried to make his way toward him, but the tide of Saviors pushed him back. The group was fighting with renewed desperation, but the Saviors were without mercy, their numbers seeming endless.

Gradually, the Saviors began to overwhelm them. Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were forced to their knees, their weapons kicked away. Jason, too weak to resist, was dragged and thrown down beside them. RIck, Michonne, Daryl, and Carol were similarly subdued, the realization of their defeat settling in.

Negan’s men swiftly tied their hands behind their backs, forcing them to kneel in a line. The cold, hard ground bit into Jason’s knees as he tried to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing painfully. He looked around, trying to find a way out, but they were surrounded, outnumbered.

Moments, later, Negan strolled into the clearing, his presence commanding immediate attention. He announced his arrival with a low, menacing whistle, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. He took his time, reveling in their defeat, his gaze lingering on each of them.

“Well, well, well,” Negan drawled, stopping in front of Jason. He crouched down, his eyes locking onto Jason’s. “Look who we have here. My runaway son. They always said teenagers were hard to raise, but you’re really giving me a run for my money.” He reached out and pressed his fingers into Jason’s wounded shoulder, eliciting a pained gasp. “How’s that treating you, looks like it hurts.”

Jason bit back a cry, his eyes blazing with defiance and hatred despite the pain. Negan laughed, standing up and turning to address the group. “You know,” he began, “it’s fascinating to me that you are all risking your lives for this kid. Do you even know who you’re fighting for?”

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian exchanged confused glances. Daryl’s face was a mask of stoic anger, his jaw clenched tight. Negans grin widened as he saw their confusion.

“Oh, you all don’t know. How fucking amazing is this,” Negan said, walking back and forth in front of them. “This kid you’re all so eager to save? He’s a murderer.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head slightly, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

Negan stopped in front of Bruce, leaning in close, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Jason here killed his dear old daddy.”

A shocked silence fell over the group. Jason clenched his jaw and looked away, his voice pale. Bruce’s eyes were wide with shock, and TIm’s mouth opened and closed, trying to process the revelation. Damian’s expression was unreadable, but his fists clenched tightly behind his back. Dick’s face was a mix of disbelief and protective anger.

Negan chuckled, clearly enjoying their reactions. “Yeah, that’s right. Little Jason Todd killed his own father. Strangled him with his bare hands. You think you’re fighting for some innocent kid? Think again.”

“Jason?” Bruce’s voice was strained, searching for the truth in Jason’s eyes.

Jason lifted his head, meeting Bruce’s gaze with a mixture of shame and defiance. “It’s true,” he said quietly. “But you don’t understand. He was–”

Negan cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Save it, kid. They don’t need to hear your sob story. Fact is, you killed him. Makes you a murderer.”

Bruce was still looking at Jason, his eyes a mix of anger, and confusion, but what stood out to Jason most was the disappointment he saw as well. Jason’s throat was tight and he had to look away from the man.

“You see, in my world, you don’t get to choose your family,” Negan sneered out. “I decide who lives and who dies. And right now, you’re all at my mercy.”

He straightened up, addressing his men. “Keep them here. I have some thinking to do.” He turned back to Jason, a sinister glint in his eyes. “And you, Jason? You’d better pray I find a reason to keep you around. Otherwise, I might just let them watch you die.”

WIth that, he turned on his heel and walked away, whistling a jaunty tune.

-

The group had been chained to the fence for what felt like hours, the cold metal biting into their wrists. The oppressive silence was heavy in the air, each member of the family lost in their own thoughts. Jason kept his eyes on the ground, the weight of Negan’s words crushing his spirit.

FInally, Damian broke the silence. “What did Negan mean, Todd?” His voice was quiet, but sharp, the anger he was trying to conceal still clear as day.

Jason flinched, his heart pounding. He didn’t want to relive those memories, but he couldn’t bear to lose the trust of his new family. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak. “It was during the first month at the Sanctuary. My dad and I had just gotten there.”

As he spoke, the world around him seemed to blur, and he was pulled into a flashback of those dark days.

The Sanctuary was a grim, harsh place, still trying to establish themselves as a group that was not to be fucked with. Food was scarce, and everyone had to pull their weight to survive. Willis Todd was no exception, just as he had his entire life, Willis expected Jason to do all of the work.

One day, Jason had met his father at one of the tables in the assigned dining space with a meager share of food. Willis hadn’t worked this week, and had gambled away anything that would have trade value. He was already drunk despite it being mid day.

“Give me your cut,” he snarled, his eyes bloodshot and wild.

Jason, exhausted and hungry, refused. “No. I need to eat too.”

Willis’s face twisted with rage, and he slapped Jason hard across the face, the sound echoing in the dining hall. Jason stumbled, falling to the ground. He could feel the eyes of the other residents on him, a mix of pity and indifference.

Negan, overseeing the dining hall from his perch, noticed the commotion. He stood up, Lucille resting casually on his shoulder, and made his way over. The crowd parted for him, and he stopped in front of Jason and Willis, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

“What’s going on here?” Negan asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Willis, still fuming, pointed at Jason. “This fucking brat won’t give me his food.”

Negan’s smile widened. “Is that so?” He looked down at Jason, who was staring up at the man, petrified from fear. “You know, we can’t have family disputes here. It’s bad for morale.”

“How about we settle this the old-fashioned way? No weapons, no dead ones, just fist to fist fighting. Two go in, one comes out.”

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, eyes flickering between Jason, Negan, and Willis. Jason’s heart sank. He knew his father wouldn’t hold back, but he also knew he had no choice.

Willis didn’t hesitate. He lunged at Jason, Jason’s fists swinging. Jason tried to dodge, but Willis’s blows landed with brutal force. Pain exploded across his body, and he tasted blood in his mouth. The crowd’s cheers blurred into a dull roar as Willis beat him down, taking out years of frustration and anger.

Desperation fueled Jason’s survival instincts. He scrambled to his feet, his vision swimming. Willis charged again, but this time, Jason sidestepped, grabbing a piece of broken wood from the ground. As Willis turned, Jason swung with all his might, catching him in the side of the head.

Willis staggered, and Jason seized the moment. Jason tackled him to the ground, quickly climbing on top of him, straddling him as he wrapped his hands around his father’s neck., squeezing with every ounce of strength he had left. Willis thrashed, his hands clawing at Jason’s arms, but the younger Todd didn’t let go. He held on, tears streaming down his face, until Willis’s struggle weakened and finally ceased.

Jason let go, his hands trembling and his father’s body lifeless below him. The courtyard fell silent, and Jason crawled off his father’s corpse, retching beside it.

Negan’s voice cut through the silence. “Impressive, kid.” He walked over, his boots crunching on the gravel, and looked down at Jason. “You’ve got guts. I like that. From now on, you’re with me.”

Jason’s voice wavered as he finished his story, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. He dared to look up, meeting the eyes of his family. “I didn’t have a choice,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I had to do it to survive.”

Bruce’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. Damian looked furious, but not at Jason–at the entire situation that had forced him into such a horrific act. Tim and Dick shared a look of shock and empathy.

Dick spoke first, his voice steady. “You did what you had to do, Jason. We’re not going to judge you for that.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears. He had expected condemnation, hatred, but instead, he found acceptance. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Bruce nodded, his gaze never leaving Jason’s. “We’ll get through this together,” he said firmly. “No matter what.”

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since they had been tied to the fence. The sun beat down on them relentlessly, causing their skin to blister from the sunburns they were receiving. Their stomachs growled with hunger, and their throats were parched from lack of water. They were given just enough water everyday to not die, but it didn’t help them from starting to fall into dehydration. They hadn’t seen any of the others since the day they were bound, left to suffer in the heat.

Jason was the worst off. His already weakened state from his time with Negan was taking a toll. His eyes were sunken, his lips cracked, and he mumbled incoherently, his head lolling to the side as he apologized repeatedly. “I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry….” His words were a weak, broken whisper, barely audible over the buzzing of the flies that circled around them.

Dick, his face twisted with concern, tried to reach out to Jason, though his own restraints prevented much movement. “Jason, hang in there, okay? We’ll get out of this.”

Tim, equally distressed, glanced at Bruce. “We have to do something. Jason can’t take much more of this.”

Damian looked on helplessly, the expression looking foreign on his face. “Todd, stay with us,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically small. “We’ll find a way out.”

Bruce’s heart broke at the sight of the boy. The pain and guilt of not being able to protect Jason gnawed at him. He had been fighting this decision for the past day, but out of fear of Jason not making it through another day, he broke. “Help!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “Somebody help!”

Negan appeared moments later, a grin plastered on his face as he strolled toward them with an air of casual menace. “What’s wrong, old man?” he taunted, sauntering up to Bruce.

Bruce’s eyes blazed with fury. “You put Jason in danger on purpose. You call yourself his father, but no father would ever do this to their child!”

Negan’s grin faded, replaced by a cold, hard glare. “Watch your mouth,” he growled, stepping closer to Bruce. He raised his hand, ready to strike, but a weak, desperate voice stopped him.

“Dad…” Jason’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

Negan froze, surprise flashing across his face. Then, to Bruce’s horror, a pleased smile curled his lips. “Well, well,” he murmured, turning to look at Jason. “Looks like the kid’s finally learning.”

He lowered his hand and stepped back. “Untie them,” he ordered his men. “Take them back to their cells.”

The Saviors moved quickly, untying them. They were too weak to resist, their limbs numb from being bound for so long. AS they were led back to their cells, Bruce cast a worried glance at Jason, who was being taken away by Negan.

“Jason,” Dick called out weakly, his voice filled with desperation. “Stay strong, buddy!”

Jason met his eyes for a brief moment, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk before dropping again. Bruce raised an eyebrow, Jason had something planned.Bruce’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and failure. This boy had thought of plans when Bruce had been too busy wallowing in his guilt.

As the door to their cell slammed shut, Bruce leaned against the wall, trying to gather his thoughts. Dick, Tim, and Damian settled round him, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and worry.

“We have to get him out of here,” Dick said, his voice filled with resolve. “We can’t let Negan keep doing this to him.”

Tim nodded. “He’s been through enough. We need to come up with a plan.”

Damian, though still shaken, straightened up. “We will find a way. We have to.”

Bruce looked at his sons, their strength and determination giving him the resolve he needed. “We’ll get him back,” he promised. “No matter what it takes.”

The following hours were agonizingly slow. They sat in tense silence, their minds racing with plans and worries. Every sound outside the cell made them jump, hoping it was news of Jason.

When the cell door finally opened, Negan stepped in, a smug grin on his face. “Well, well, you all look like crap,” he said, his tone mocking. “How’s the vacation treating you?”

Bruce stood, his eyes hard. “Where’s Jason?”

Negan chuckled. “Oh, he’s fine. Took him back to his room for some father-son bonding time.”

“You’re not his father,” Bruce snapped, cutting Negan off.

Negan’s smile faltered before he shrugged. “We’ll see about that.” He turned to leave but paused at the door. “Rest up. You’ll be back to work soon enough.”

-

Jason laid on the thin, uncomfortable cot in his room, his body still weak from the past few days. His mind however, was sharp, racing through the backup plan he and Daryl had concocted. While it definitely wasn’t ideal to push himself to the bring of heatstroke, it had worked. The plan had always been to make himself so vulnerable that Negan would believe he had truly broken. It seemed to have worked better than he had anticipated.

As he lay there, the door creaked open, and Eugene stepped inside, his face pale and nervous. “Everything is going according to plan,” Eugene said quietly, his eyes darting around as if expecting Negan to appear at any moment. “Rick and the others have just snuck out.”

A small grin spread across Jason’s face. “Thanks, Eugene,” he said sincerely. He knew how terrified Eugene was of Negan, but despite that fear, he had chosen to help them. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Eugene nodded, still looking uneasy. “Just… be careful,” he murmured. “Negan’s not someone to be trifled with.”

Jason’s expression softened as he asked, “What about Bruce and the others? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Eugene assured him. “Negan had them taken back to their cells. And Daryl… he’s back in isolation, but he’s okay.”

Jason felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Daryl had put himself on the line to help him escape, and now he was suffering because of it. “If everything goes as planned, he should only be in there for a day or two,” Jason said more to himself than to Eugene.

Eugene nodded again, his nervousness coming off in waves. “Let’s hope so.” With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts.

Jason laid back on the cot, staring at the ceiling. His mind raced with the possibilities and the risks. If they were going to pull this off, everyone had to play their part perfectly. Including him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening again. This time, it was Negan. The man’s presence filled the room with an oppressive energy, and Jason’s muscles tensed involuntarily.

Negan sauntered in, his usual smug grin plastered on his face. “If it isn’t my favorite little runaway,” he drawled, his tone mocking.

Jason forced himself to remain calm, his eyes locking onto Negan’s. He had to stay strong, had to keep up the act.

Negan approached the cot, looking down at Jason with a mix of amusement and something darker. “You look like shit, kid,” he said, chuckling. “But don’t worry. Daddy’s here to take care of you. How are you feeling?”

Jason mustered a weak smile. “Better,” he lied, his voice hoarse. “Just.. tired.”

Negan chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s what I like to hear. You know, I was real worried about you. Though maybe you didn’t appreciate everything I do for you.”

Jason shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze down. “I do appreciate it,” he mumbled. “I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?” he asked, feigning concern.

“Of losing… of losing everything,” Jason replied, his voice trembling. “Of not being good enough.”

Negan’s hand shot out, gripping Jason’s chin and forcing him to look up. “You don’t ever have to worry about that,” he said softly, his voice menacing. “As long as you remember who you belong to, you’ll always have a place here.”

Jason nodded slowly, wincing as Negan’s grip tightened. “I understand,” he whispered.

Negan released him, standing up with a satisfied grunt. “Good. Now, get some rest. You’re going to need your strength.”

When the door finally closed behind Negan, Jason allowed himself to relax slightly. His body ached, and his mind was exhausted, but he couldn’t afford to let his guard down completely. Not yet.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. He couldn’t help but think about Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian. They were counting on him, and he couldn’t let them down. He just hoped that they were okay, that Negan wasn’t taking his anger out on them.

-

Jason’s rest was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door slamming open. Before he could even register what was happening, Negan was upon him, his hand gripping Jason’s hair and yanking him out of bed. Jason cried out of pain, but Negan didn’t relent, dragging him through the compound with a tight grip that left Jason’s scalp burning and his feet stumbling to keep up.

Negan’s expression was of pure rage, his eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can just fucking betray me and get away with it?” he snarled as they emerged into the courtyard. The sun was harsh and unforgiving, and Jason squinted against its brightness, his vision swimming from the sudden transition from darkness to light.

Bruce and the boys were already out in the courtyard, their eyes widening in horror as they saw Jason being dragged forward. Negan threw Jason to the ground with a grunt of disgust, and Jason landed hard on his knees, the impact jarring up his spine.

“Everyone, listen up!” Negan shouted, his voice echoing through the compound. “We have a traitor in our midst!” He pointed a finger at Jason, who struggled to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “This little shit thought he could undermine my authority. Thought he could help his friends escape.”

Bruce and the boys were frantic, straining against their captors to get to Jason. Dick’s face was a mask of fury, while Tim and Damian looked desperate, their eyes darting around for any way to help.

Negan sneered down at Jason, his lip curling in disgust. “There’s only one punishment for treason,” he declared. “And that’s death.”

“No!” Bruce’s voice was raw as he tried to lunge forward, but he was held back by several of Negan’s men. “You can’t do this! He’s just a kid!”

“He’s a traitor,” Negan snapped back, his voice cold and final. “And he needs to be made an example of.”

Jason was forced to kneel, his body trembling with fear and exhaustion. He looked up at Negan, his mind racing. He had to stay strong, had to find a way out of this. But as Negan raised Lucille high above his head, Jason felt a cold dread settle over him.

“Please, don’t!” Tim shouted, his voice breaking. “There has to be another way!”

Negan ignored them, his focus entirely on Jason. “Say goodbye, kid,” he said, his voice almost gently. Then he swung the bat back, preparing to deliver the fatal blow.

Just as Negan was about to bring the bat down, a gunshot rang out, piercing the tense silence of the courtyard. Negan staggered, a look of shock crossing his face as he clutched his chest where the bullet had struck. He dropped Lucille, the bat clattering to the ground.

As Negan dropped to the ground, Jason looked up and saw the source of the shot. It was Alfred, standing on the roof of a nearby building, rifle in hand, his face set in a determined expression. Relief washed over Jason. Their plan had worked. Rick and the others had made it to the prison and now it was time for the final part of their escape.

Chaos erupted in the courtyard as the Saviors scrambled to respond to the unexpected attack. Jason was still too weak from the heatstroke to move quickly. HIs vision swam, and he felt his strength waning. He needed help.

Suddenly, Bruce was at his side, lifting him up with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the chaos around them. “Jason, we've got to go,” Bruce said urgently, his eyes scanning the crowd for threats.

“Wait,” Jason rasped, clutching at Bruce’s arm. “We have to get Daryl. He’s in solitary.”

Bruce nodded, understanding the urgency. He hoisted Jason up, supporting most of his weight as they navigated through the mayhem. Gunfire echoed around them, and shouts filled the air as the fight raged on. They reached Daryl’s cell at the end of a long hallway.

Tim, Dick, and Damian joined them, covering Bruce and Jason as they worked to free Daryl. The door to Daryl’s cell was heavy, but with a combined effort, they managed to break it open. Daryl emerged, battered but determined.

“You need to get your friends and leave,” Daryl said, looking at the group. “Rick and the others can handle the rest. We’re prepared for this.”

Jason didn’t want to leave Daryl behind, but he knew Daryl was right. “What about you?” Jason asked, his voice small.

Daryl placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Once this is over, we’ll come visit you at the prison. Just go now, while you can.”

Jason’s heart ached, but he nodded. “Stay safe,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Daryl pulled Jason into a tight hug. “You too, kid. Now go.”

With Daryl’s words urging them on, they began their escape. Bruce, Tim, Damian,Dick, and Jason made their way through the chaotic compound, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the main conflict areas. They could hear the sounds of the battle intensifying behind them, but they pressed on, focused on their mission to get out.

As they approached the outer perimeter, Jason looked back, catching a final glimpse of Daryl before they rounded a corner and headed towards the forest. The sound of the battle was echoing in the distance, a testament to the fight Rick and his group were putting up.

They reached the edge of the woods, and Jason felt a surge of hope. They were almost out. He glanced at Bruce who gave him a reassuring nod. They would make it.

They met up with Alfred, Duke, Steph, and Cass, who had been waiting for them in the woods. The family pushed forward, moving as quick as Jason’s weakened state allowed. The trees provided some cover, and they could hear the sounds of the battle fading behind them. Freedom was within reach.

Finally , they emerged from the forest, the prison standing as a beacon of safety in the distance. Jason’s heart swelled with relief. They had made it. They were free.

As they walked inside the gates of the prison, the gate closed behind them with a sense of finality. Jason looked around at the people who had risked so much to help him. He felt a deep sense of gratitude and solidarity. They were not just survivors; they were a family. And together they could face whatever came next.

For now, they were safe. And that was enough.