Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason couldn't go back.

He couldn't turn back and grab Damian. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He just… he couldn't. That would defeat the whole purpose of what he was doing, for one. For another, he just… it was safer.

Maybe leaving Damian in a room that had used needles literally right outside of it and had mold growing up the walls wasn't a good idea. Jason didn't know anymore. He just- he didn't know.

He didn't look back to see if Bruce was there. The sound of a grapple and boots running along the roof was proof enough that he was there. Jason paused on a fire escape, listening. He heard it when Bruce saw Damian. The pause where another person would gasp. The sound of him climbing into the window, a soft conversation. Damian sounded like he was close to crying. Jason wanted to cry.

Then the grapple was fired again. Bruce landed on the ground. The whir of the batmobile, doors opening and closing, and then they were gone.

Jason squatted on the fire escape, feeling like he was five years younger and scared of everything and everyone around him. He wasn't 11 anymore though. He was 16, getting freakishly close to 17, and he had killed so many people.

Jason buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath.

Damian was with Bruce now. He was safe.

So why did he feel as though he had just failed?

Jason took another deep breath and pushed away the urge to break down and cry. He had to get back to Dawn's apartment. She'd let him stay with her for a while. She'd been the one to tell him to maul his own step-father, after all.

Yeah. He could go to Dawn's apartment again.

He climbed down and started to make his way to Dawn's place. He took off his mask and stuffed it into his bag.

The walk to Dawn's apartment was quick. She lived fairly close to Crime Alley, though not close enough that she was pulled into any gang violence. She'd been talking about possibly working at Gotham Free Clinic, which Jason had encouraged. Her apartment being near the alley meant that it would be easy for her to walk there, though that didn't mean that it was safe.

Jason stuck to the shadows, just as the others were, just as he had done at 11. Hell, even before that, he'd hidden in shadows. A couple of people eyed him. He just tilted his head in that specific way that Robin did mostly because it was unsettling. A child in bright colors, with a white lens mask that made it impossible to see where they were looking, tilting their head like a bird. It was prime freak-out material. No one bothered him when he tilted his head like that. Confusion and fear over took them, wondering why a random kid unsettled them.

Jason made his way to Dawn's apartment. He stood in front of the door he knew well enough, staring. He knocked on the door.

Dawn opened it. She smiled at him and moved aside, letting him in. Something eased inside of Jason. He went in and took off his shoes. He saw Allison and Thread's shoes in the entryway, lined up nicely. Jason pushed his own next to them and walked into the apartment.

"Hey, Boss," Thread called out. They frowned. "Where's Daniel?" He asked. Jason tensed. He stared at his friends.

"I-" The lump was back. He took a deep breath. He shook his head and fled the living room.

He ended up in the room he'd used the last time he was there. Dawn hadn't changed it since he'd been gone. The bed had the same sheets and was pushed up into the same corner near the windows. The same desk, the same pile of books that Dawn had bought him. Jason stared at his desk. He reached into his bag and pulled out the little elephant he'd stolen from Hobbs. He placed it onto his desk. It was like a little ode to Dick. He dropped his bag onto the floor.

Then he collapsed onto his bed.

Damian was with Bruce. Jason was back in Dawn's apartment, so close to his family yet so far from them. Cass knew that he was alive and he'd blamed her for their mama's death.

He… she hadn't… Mama dying hadn't been her fault. Their mama had just fallen into depression, and she'd started to use instead of trying to get help.

They hadn't been able to get help.

Jason needed his antidepressants…

He turned his head to the left. The bat and robin toys he'd gotten two years ago were there, waiting for him to return. Tears pricked his eyes. He shifted and reached out to grab both of them. He knew, from previous nights where he'd clung to them, that it hardly helped him out. It was just… he wanted his family… Why hadn't he gone home?

They wouldn't want you, the voice whispered. Jason hated it. It was venom in his head, trying to poison him against his family.

Jason took a deep breath, keeping his breath even despite the water falling down his face and onto his pillow.

_______________________________________

Guilt is like a snake. It curls in a person's gut, ready to strike them in the throat and watch them bleed. It coils around one's throat, each lie told to keep a deadly secret tightening, squeezing breath out of a person's lungs.

Jason didn't have a deadly secret. He wasn't really planning on hiding who he was from Bruce or from his family. If they figured him out and decided to talk to him, to bring him back into the fold of the family, then he'd let them. He'd try, if only to see them again, to tell them how much he loved them again.

Well… he had killed people, but he wasn't exactly ashamed of that.

But the guilt of leaving Damian behind was wrapped around his throat, trying to suffocate him. He honestly wanted to let it.

Dawn wasn't having it, though. She barged into his room as soon as it was… well… dawn, and she dragged him out of bed to spar. Thread and Allison watched sleepily as she did.

"What the hell?" Allison muttered.

"He needs to keep up with his training," Dawn chirped.

"I hate you," Jason whined.

"No you don't," Dawn replied smoothly.

"Right now I do."

"Future you won't hate me when he realizes that me dragging you out of bed for training is actually good for your mental health." Jason huffed, but he let her drag him to the training room.

"How exactly is training good for someone's mental health?" Thread asked.

"I'm going to tell you about a Maori health module."

"A what health module?"

"Maori," Jason replied, "it's the name of the native people of New Zealand."

"Maori technically means 'normal'."

"Oh, that's interesting," Thread mused. Dawn pulled Jason into the middle of the training room. The sun was higher now, and Jason saw that it was actually a cloudless day today. Not that common for Gotham, really. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a storm tonight.

"This Maori health module I'm going to tell you about is called Te Whare Tapa Wha. It's based off of four concepts. Whanau, or family, tinana or physical, hinengaro or mental health, and finally, wairua, or spiritual. I think this is typically used for Maori health? But it applies to everyone, really. The model is basically a meeting house, which is used to represent the four cornerstones of health. If one of them is unstable, then the whole house could collapse, so you've got to take care of each wall."

"And my mental health is shit," Jason grumbled.

It made sense, though. Everything felt like shit because of his mental health, and taking care of that and taking care of the other parts of his health was important to stop himself from collapsing.

He moved away from the group and started doing some warm-up exercises. Dawn's voice was quiet in the early morning light. She was explaining something to Allison and Thread, probably about the health module she'd talked about. Jason looked up at the three of them.

Dawn looked even less human in this light. She seemed to be soaking in the early light, her hair lit up bright and looking more like a sky that was just seeing the light of a new day. Jason huffed. Her mom had really named her something that was on the nose. Dawn Soleil. Morning Sunshine. Like now.

Jason focused on his stretches. He sat on the floor and stretched a leg in front of him. He leaned forward until he could hold it and held the position for a while. Then he switched legs.

Dawn joined him, watching the sun rise as she stretched next to him. Thread and Allison sat nearby, talking in hushed tones. Jason finished his stretches and rolled back so that he could push himself into a handstand. He held the position for a few minutes, then tipped forward and landed on his feet. He moved to actually train.

Dawn was right about one thing earlier. Taking time to train helped to calm him down. He was able to get his frustration and his guilt and everything else he didn't want to feel out by punching and kicking a bag. It was like therapy in a way.

"You've still got to go to therapy, by the way," Dawn called out to him. Jason held onto the punching bag when it swung towards him. He glared at Dawn.

"Why?" He asked.

"The meeting house! Remember the meeting house of health!" Jason rolled his eyes, but his mouth tilted up in a smile anyway.

"Fine," he agreed. It would be better for the kids if his mental health was better.

It was getting far too close to his birthday for his liking, but he didn't think that Dawn would let him act on his plans until she was sure that he was doing well mentally. That was okay, he thought. He punched the bag again. It would allow him to fully flesh out his plan a bit more. Time to gather resources. He didn't feel like he had enough time to actually do anything to help the kids in Crime Alley.

But Dawn had been wearing a suit and had been in the Crime Alley area.

She'd been patrolling, he realized. She'd been running around, keeping watch over the people there. She'd been taking care of them, carving a path for Jason to follow, making it easier for him to take control of the crime there, to help all of the people stuck in the vicious cycle that poverty brought.

She'd been anticipating it from the very beginning.

"You've been patrolling the alley," he called to her.

"I have," she agreed. Jason paused to watch her do some pull-ups, arms straining. He hadn't noticed how her arms were toned in the way that only an archer had.

"I must ask why? It is not like you have any obligation to." And now he was speaking all fancy and posh. Why? Why was he speaking like this?

"They have been in need of someone who cares enough to heal their wounds and fend off predators. Like a guardian dog on a farm. In fact." Dawn dropped down to the ground. She looked at Jason and smiled. "More people have survived wounds and illnesses that would have normally killed them than last year alone."

"You're clearing a path for me to come in and do more." Dawn smiled.

"You would have the ability to do it yourself. There is no doubt in my mind that you don't actually need me."

"Then why?"

"Because you're still a child, Jason. You're still a child, and your plan is so much to put onto your shoulders. I am a healer. That's something that I have from my father. If I can use my powers, my knowledge, to help people survive and lessen your burden, then I will do it." Jason looked down at his hands, wrapped up so that he could hit the punching bag without hurting his knuckles.

Jason remembered what it was like to live on the streets. The way that an injury left untreated could result in death, even if it was just a broken bone. A broken bone meant not being able to do anything to get money, which meant starvation. An infected cut meant certain death, and cancer was a death sentence even at stage one.

And Dawn wanted to stop it from happening.

Healthcare had been on Jason's list, at the very top, right above education, and Dawn had been taking care of that.

Sure, Leslie had her clinic, but how many people actually trusted that? Some people didn't want to have to wait to get more money, and they had to wait with Leslie. Dawn…

"How do you heal?" Thread asked. Jason had learned fairly quickly that Thread was a nerd in a comic book, hero fanatic type of way. They just… weren't so forward with that.

"The only way that I can think of explaining it is that I'm like a human solar panel with a back-up generator. My dad's the Greek god of the sun, archery, healing and prophecy. My mama's a witch. I have both of their powers." Dawn shook her head. "Basically, I absorb sunlight and store it as energy. I can transfer it to others and speed up mitosis, which is the process of growth and healing that the body naturally goes through. I can heal broken bones, cuts, and sometimes even sickness. I can't cure cancer though."

"Does it ever get dangerous? Your powers, I mean."

"If I over use my powers, I can burn someone, or I can cook them from the inside out, or they'll end up with a mass of cells that have grown too fast, and I've just given them cancer."

"Oh shit," Allison said. Dawn nodded.

"So I have to be careful. After all, taking a life is easy. Saving a life? Now that's where it gets harder." Dawn turned to the windows again, and Jason could see how the light seemed to bend towards her in the moment. He swore her body glowed.

Jason turned to the gymnastics equipment Dawn had now, his mind filled with what he could do and how to do it.

"Can you train us? Just so that we don't die," Thread asked. Jason laughed. It was the first real laugh in a while.

"What do you guys think I was gonna do? Leave you without any skills to protect yourselves?" He asked. He shook his head. "You're too important to me. All of my employees are too important to me, and there's only two of you so far."

"Way better than Theo," Thread said. They were grinning.

"Start making a training routine, Whero, they'll need it," Dawn called to him. She turned around and went back to her own training. Jason paused to look at his team. A small team, but it was something, and it was a start.

He remembered when he'd first became a Wayne. Dick had shown him Lilo & Stitch within the first couple of weeks, and Jason had cried when Stitch said that the family he'd found was small and broken but still good.

He felt like that now with his team. So far there was only four of them, but they were still strong. With Jason's wit and skills that he'd honed and Dawn's knowledge and demigod status, they were strong. They could train Allison and Thread, use their skills where they were needed.

No one, Jason decided, would know Redwing's identity except for the three with him now. And, of course, Damian and Cass. He had faith that they wouldn't snitch on him, though.

Plans were forming in his mind more than they had been before, thoughts and ideas and desires that he had always had coming together to form a large portion of his plan.

"Hey, Dawn?"

"Yeah?"

"How do I take over Crime Alley in other worlds?"

"Duffle bag of doom. It's filled with the heads of Black Mask's lieutenants."

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Jason nearly slipped. He sat on the floor instead, staring at the three of them.

"What the fuck, Dawn?"

"It's more like-like- what the fuck, Jason? Because other versions of you did that." Jason sighed.

"Beheading is the most effective way to kill people. Cuts the… the-"

"Spinal cord."

"I know what it's called!"

"Do you?"

"Yes! Fuckin' hell- you're like an annoying sister." Jason rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, that's what I aspire to be," Dawn replied. Jason slumped.

"Interesting… dynamic? I guess?" Thread commented.

"You have no idea what to make of this dynamic, do you?" Jason questioned.

"I- yeah, I have no idea… what to make of this dynamic." The four of them went silent for a while.

Then they burst out laughing.

"What the hell is even going on?" Allison wondered.

"Team bonding!" Dawn cheered.

"Team bonding via… murder?" Jason joked.

"Yeah! Team bonding via murder!" Thread quipped. Jason laughed. This was probably the most he'd laughed in a while. He hadn't even laughed like this when he was in that other world…

His laughter died down. He watched his friends laugh and joke, bonding.

Found families had always been hid favorite trope as a kid. The idea that a family wasn't just blood, but those that a person chose and ended up choosing them in the end… his dream was to find himself his own family. He had, in the end, when Bruce picked him up. Now though…

Now he was building another family, but it was so different. It was three people he'd met randomly, all of them older than him, but all of them following him.

Jason looked down at his hands. He'd wrapped them for gymnastics. One of the first things that Dick had taught him, aside from the fact that Bruce was genuinely a good man, was basic gymnastic stuff. That included wrapping his hands.

Jason didn't know the full story behind Wally and his apparent death… What had happened? Dick had been so distraught in that vision thing he'd had. Was it even real? He'd have to ask Dawn… and the kid.

Wally could have simply left Dick, but Jason knew them better than that. They were the first example of an actually healthy relationship Jason had seen. They were always so close, always in each other's orbit. Even if Wally wasn't there, and the conversation had nothing to do with him, Dick would bring up Wally. They were so in love that Jason hoped to have something like that. Something where he knew small details and his eyes always found his partner over anyone else. Something where they could simply exist together without words and it wouldn't matter.

So the only other choice would be that Wally had died.

Why had he gone off in search of his mother and sister? Why? He'd been so stupid when he did that. It had been futile in the end anyway.

"Jason?" Dawn called. He looked up at her.

"What?"

"Thread, Allison and I have agreed to have some breakfast, then we could put our heads together and come up with some ideas of what we're going to do."

"Oh… uh… that- that sounds good." Jason stared at his hands again. Dawn stood there, then sat next to him. Her knee pressed against his thigh.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"What happened to Wally?" He asked.

"What do you know?" Jason swallowed thickly.

"I know that he died, because he'd never leave Dick. It… it kinda left my mind, for a while, but now that I'm here… I have some doubts about that." Jason sighed. He looked to his right. Away from Dawn. "I had these visions, you know? It was like I was there, but I couldn't interact with anyone. One of them, when I was at the training camp… it was after the first day of actually training. Dick was sitting on his kitchen floor and crying and I- I just need to know. Please." He looked up at Dawn. Her brows were furrowed.

"I've been forbidden from telling you the truth," she said, "but… as far as anyone is aware… he's dead." Jason wanted to scream, to shake Dawn and see if he got an answer from her.

"I need to know the truth," he whispered.

"I told you too much by showing you those comics, by telling you to maul Cain because of the rate of resurrection. This is something that I can't tell you until They tell me to."

"They?"

"The Protector. They are the one that sent me to bring you back, to watch over you for a while. Just until you're older, or until you go home." Jason pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged them.

"They won't want me back. I've broken the number one rule so many times…"

"Jason, that rule exists for Bruce. Watching his parents die in front of him made him predisposed to wanting to preserve life, no matter how rotten it might be. It's like when you can't talk. There's a mental block there between his brain and his finger when he holds a gun. He can shoot at a target, but not a person. That rule is also there to protect Robin from the guilt of taking a life."

"Great way to remind me that I'm not Robin anymore," Jason mumbled into his knees.

"You would have out grown Robin anyway, Jason. It's a natural thing for you guys. Every world, you all end up leaving Robin behind, you all find who you are outside of it."

"It's shit though. I just- I want to be with my family again, but Cass and I fought. I blamed her for doing the same thing I did to Damian and I just-" Tears were streaming down his face now. All of the emotions he'd been bottling up came pouring out. Dawn didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him.

She rested her head on top of his. She rocked gently. Repetitive. Soothing. She didn't try to get him to calm down. She just… let him get her clothes covered in snot and tears while rocking him.

His tears stopped after a while. His head hurt, he needed water, and his face felt stiff from all of the tears. Jason sniffled and sat up. Dawn kept a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout the snot," he murmured.

"I've been covered in blood, vomit, piss and who-knows-what. Snot's the least difficult to get out."

"That sounds gross," he murmured. He sniffed again. "My head hurts."

"You did just cry a lot," Dawn reminded him. She waved her hand over her clothes and the stains disappeared. She stood up and reached out to Jason, offering her hand. He took it and allowed himself to be pulled up.

They made their way to the kitchen. Jason stopped on the way there and washed his face. His eyes were still puffy. He didn't bother trying to hide it. He'd never been ashamed of crying, not even when Willis had shouted at him for it.

Allison and Thread were talking about breakfast when they got there. Dawn went to the cupboard and pulled out some flour, some eggs, and other things Jason recognized. He went up to the bowl and started to measure out the flour. Dawn let him decide between pancakes and waffles. Jason decided pancakes.

Dawn talked to Thread and Allison. None of them talked about his puffy eyes, or asked if he was okay, but they didn't wander too far from him.

"We'll start our planning after you've had a couple of therapy sessions," Dawn said to him.

"Who are we looking at?" Jason asked.

"Harley Quinn has been allowed to practice again, so long as she doesn't cause too much chaos. She's been given a few days per year to blow shit up if she wants, over seen by Batman." Jason paused. His fingers twitched.

"I'm not sure about that." He stared at the batter in front of him. His mind was cataloguing all off her offenses, all of the things that she'd helped Joker do.

How could he forget, when laughter that got too manic could send him spiraling?

"We'll find someone else, then. But you have to go to therapy, Jason."

"I will," Jason agreed. He didn't like feeling like shit all of the time. Well, not all of the time, but it was a close thing.

Conversation steered away from therapy. Jason was allowed to cook in peace. The motions were therapeutic, calming. Before he knew it, he'd cooked the entire batch of batter into perfect pancakes and Dawn had whipped some cream.

"Wait, this cream is so good."

"Thanks! I put icing sugar in it."

"Icing sugar?"

"Right. Powdered sugar. This is why I don't like Americans."

"Well, fuck you too," Jason sniped. He still piled a large glob of whipped cream onto his pancakes though. Dawn grinned and brushed the comment aside. She placed bowls of fruit on the table instead. Jason grabbed some.

There was a bit of laughter around the table as they ate. Allison and Dawn were bonding a lot.

Jason wondered how Damian was doing.

Chapter Text

Damian was in a room next to Jason's abandoned one. It felt a little like how he felt, if he were honest. Like he'd been left behind for a reason unknown to anyone but Jason.

Waking up in soft cotton sheets and not the smooth silk of Nanda Parbat or the rough wool of the blankets Thread and Allison had used made him realize that he was somewhere new. He'd known it logically, but a part of him had hoped that it was all a strange and scary dream.

It wasn't.

Damian hated it.

There was a knock on the door. Baba stood there awkwardly. Damian looked from him to the window. He could see a part of the gardens from this perspective. Maybe he could walk through it later, if it was still sunny outside. Jason had told him that Gotham's weather was often rainy or gray.

"Good morning, Damian," Baba said.

"Morning," Damian replied blandly. Baba stood there for a little bit longer. When he moved, Damian could barely hear his footsteps. Mama and Jason both walked in complete silence, though it was nice to know where Baba was.

The bed dipped with Baba's weight.

"Is something wrong?" He asked. Damian looked at the soft cotton sheets – white until Damian chose what he wanted for his room – and twisted them in his hands.

"I don't know," he admitted. Baba smoothed a hand over his head.

"It's okay to not know," Baba told him. Damian knew already. Jason had told him that so many times Damian had lost count of how often he'd heard it. He'd always made sure that Damian knew how okay it was to have moments of weakness.

Damian sniffled.

"Come here," Baba offered. Damian climbed into his lap and curled up. Baba was larger than Damian had thought he was. It was… comforting. Baba didn't curl around Damian like Jason had, but he did press a hand to the back of Damian's head. They stayed like that for a bit while Damian calmed down. "Alfred's making breakfast."

"What are we having?" Damian asked. He pressed his ear to Baba's chest, right where his heart was.

"Pancakes, I think. He often makes those when someone new joins us here." Damian hummed. He hadn't expected to seek out the comfort of another heartbeat, but Jason had changed how Damian saw the world.

That had been his goal, Damian realized. To get Damian to learn things he'd never been allowed to learn before.

Grandfather's disappointed voice echoed in his mind, telling him that comfort made him weak.

Baba stood up, Damian in his arms, and all he could hear was Jason telling him that it was okay.

He wondered where Jason was.

He rested his head in the crook of Baba's neck and let himself be carried to the kitchen. He didn't really know where it was. That was something that he would have to fix as soon as possible. For now though, he was content to be carried around.

The kitchen had a professional look to it. Alfred was busy making something, and there were two others sitting at the table. Damian recognized one of them. Black hair, the same facial shape as Jason and Shiva's eyes. Cassandra Cain, Jason's twin and Shiva's oldest kid. She looked up at them as they entered. There was a bruise on her jaw. Damian wondered if it was Jason who gave it to her. Considering how angry and sad he had seemed after they took all of that stuff from that woman…

Baba set him down on a chair next to Cassandra. He sat next to Damian. The kid across from Damian looked dead inside, and he looked nothing like what Jason had described Dick to be. He must be the current Robin then.

The silence was awkward.

"Hi," the dead kid greeted him.

"Hello," Damian replied.

"I don't know what else to say," the kid said. Cassandra reached over and pinched him. "Hey!"

"It's too early for this," Baba told them. Cassandra grinned.

"It's a sibling thing, you don't understand it."

"My cousin is like an annoying sister," Baba commented dryly.

"You have a cousin?"

"I do, and she's annoying when she's around." Damian looked from Baba to Cassandra with wide eyes that were probably a lot like Jason's facial expressions. He seemed to have picked up a lot of his brother's habits over the last year.

They were saved by Alfred placing plates of food on the table in front of them. There was not meat on the table. Alfred had remembered that he didn't eat meat.

Breakfast was a relatively silent affair, with the only sounds being utensils scraping against the plates. He felt Jason's absence like he felt Mama's absence. Like something important was missing. It wasn't a nice feeling to have.

As soon as breakfast was done, Cassandra stood up and offered a hand to Damian. He took it and walked with her through the maze that made up this house. They were silent for a while.

"It feels strange to be here," he confessed.

"Because it's different from Nanda Parbat?" Cassandra asked. Damian nodded.

"I had Mama there, and it had a lot of people there. It's just… quiet, here. And Akhi was there too."

"What was it like, having Jason around there?"

"It was probably the safest I ever was while there, especially when Mama was away with her own work Grandfather gave her."

"You're more mellow than I expected you to be," Cassandra commented.

"Akhi taught me many things that Grandfather would not like. He said that I should be allowed to be a kid, and that some of the things Grandfather taught me were stupid."

"Some of the things he taught you were stupid, Damian, and Jace was right to teach you stuff like that." Damian looked up at Cassandra. Her eyes were filled with honesty. She knelt next to him. "You and I never deserved to be trained to be child soldiers. You are away from there now, you can be whatever you want to be."

Whatever he wanted to be.

Damian didn't even know.

"I don't know what I want to be," he told her. She held his face in her hands.

"You have time to figure it out," she told him. Damian reached out. Cassandra scooped him up in a hug. She curled around him, and now Damian knew where Jason got that habit.

He melted into the touch. A few months ago, he wouldn't have done anything like this. Grandfather would have murdered him if he had sought out some form of comfort.

"Thank you, Cassandra," he said.

"Just call me Cass," she told him. She picked him up. "Let's get changed and you can explore more." Damian nodded, then allowed himself to feel amazed at how strong she was. Was his entire family just really strong? He wouldn't be surprised, with what they all did. Assassins and vigilantes were often very strong. Mama was strong too.

Baba and his siblings used that strength to help people. Damian wanted to help others like they did, and that was all he knew.

There were so many different ways to help someone.

Cass set him down in front of his room. It was next to Jason's room, his name written out in red foam letters. Damian wondered what it looked like inside. He could imagine it. Books and Wonder Woman memorabilia, most likely. He had mentioned liking Wonder Woman the most out of the other heroes.

Damian entered his own room and closed the door behind him.

The room was larger, but the lack of assassins in the manor made him relax in it. This place had the best security that Damian knew of, and Grandfather was too scared of Baba to try and kidnap Damian from here.

Damian changed into some clean clothes. Then he left and started to explore, just as Cass had told him he could do.

This place was more personal, more for a family than Nanda Parbat. That place hadn't allowed him to be a child. Jason had been right about that part. Here, though, in the place his father had been raised and his Akhi had found a family, Damian could simply be. He could be a child now, with no need to worry about if he would survive to the next day or not.

There were pictures on the walls. Photos of smiling boys and a lot of blue eyes. Only one was familiar to him. There was no white streak, no scars visible on his face. Akhi before he became an assassin. He seemed to be so happy, smiling with ice cream or reading a book. Memories that Damian wished he could have been there for.

He wandered through the halls, exploring rooms filled with covered furniture that hadn't been used in years and halls filled with antiques.

Damian came to a hall filled with old portraits. His eyes traced them, searching for traits that connected him to Baba's side. He couldn't really see what traits connected him to the rest of his family.

Until he got to that one.

There were three people. A woman with pretty eyes and curly hair and a man who looked like Baba. There was a young boy with the same facial shape as Damian. That was Baba when he was a young boy.

He looked almost exactly like Baba, though he had a lot of Mama's traits too. Her skin and eyes, and her hair in some way. It was soft and smooth, which Damian loved.

The picture next to that one had Baba and a young boy with tan skin. Going off of the assumption that these were in a chronological order, it was probably the first one Baba took in. Dick Grayson, the first Robin and the one he had to get the blessing from if he wanted to be Robin one day. The next one had him in it again, but older with slicked back hair and the same young version of Jason. Bright blue eyes and a grin stretched across his face. He wasn't used to being so famous and rich yet in this.

Jason was gone in the one next to it. Instead he was replaced with Tim, who seemed way more used to what was happening. Dick looked tired in this one.

Damian wondered what happened.

He walked back to the one with Jason in it. He tilted his head, comparing the portrait with the image of the same person in his own head. He came to a decision.

Damian walked through the halls until he got to the main living room. It was filled with a few couches, a lot of pictures and movies and games that Damian hadn't seen before. Tim was sitting there, working on something. He walked into the room.

"Do you think that I could ask Baba for some art supplies?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Um. Bruce has a major soft spot for kids and would do anything for us." Tim looked at him. He looked less dead than he had at breakfast. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Tim stared at Damian for a little while.

"Okay, then. Dad will buy you just about anything if you ask. As I said, he has a major soft spot for kids. He'd probably cut his own hand off if we asked him to, or if it means that we're safe." Damian frowned.

"That doesn't sound good."

"I know, but I'm just saying. He just met you and I already know that he cares about you."

Damian thought about the previous night. The explanation of who he was, trying not to cry, the test Baba ran just to be sure. Damian knew that Baba cared about him, that he was happy to have Damian in his care, but Damian wasn't stupid. He could see how unsure Baba was about him. The question that lit his eyes. The question of whether or not Damian was going to kill someone in the house.

Damian couldn't be upset about it, not when he had been raised to kill and Baba knew what Grandfather would have taught him. And since Jason hadn't come home, then he couldn't tell Baba that Jason had taught him otherwise. Jason didn't want Baba to know that he was alive. Maybe it was because of what he had done and what Baba's rules were.

"What are you working on?" Damian asked.

"Editing some photos I took recently. Wanna see them?"

"I would like to." Damian sat next to Tim, who moved the computer enough for Damian to see what was going on. It was open to some software that Damian didn't understand nor care to understand. The image in the software was really pretty. It was Gotham during a rainy night. Lights were distorted and reflected in the rain, and somehow the most dangerous city in the whole world was painted in a pretty way. "How do you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"Manage making the city look pretty." Tim looked at the picture.

"I guess it's about angles? I don't know. I just find things that look pretty and take pictures of them." Damian nodded slowly.

"May I see some more?" He asked. Tim grinned.

"Sure! Just let me save this, and I'll show you some of my favorite stuff." Damian felt a glimmer of excitement. Tim was good at this. Damian wondered if he would be able to paint some of the pictures Tim had taken.

_______________________________________

Jason had blown up at her for something that he ended up doing himself. It was so confusing to Cass, because she knew that Jason wouldn't do that. Not normally, anyway.

Cass watched from the den doorway as Damian and Tim bonded over some of Tim's photos. She couldn't help but wonder why Jason had ended up doing something like that, something that had ended up hurting him. She had so many questions and no answers for them.

They seemed to be getting along.

Jason had called for Dad before he'd left. She'd heard it, the same loud call from old footage that she'd watched before she developed her own calls. A desperate sound calling for Bruce, sounding scared. A call that Bruce had ingrained in his mind and body as a distressed call for help from his child.

Jason knew Bruce well. He knew how their father's mind worked, had taken his knowledge and used it to manipulate their father, to get him to run straight to Damian so that he'd been found.

That… maybe that was where they different. Jason would not have left Damian unless he knew that he'd be safe. Instead, Jason had called for someone that he knew was safe, and he only left when he'd been sure that Damian would be safe.

Cass had disappeared with a bag of clothes and no call for help for her twin.

Jason had been so angry that night, but he'd also been confused. About how to feel about her, what she'd done.

Cass was a little confused herself.

What was Jason doing? Why wouldn't he come home to them? Cass knew for a fact that Bruce wouldn't care at all if he had killed. He didn't care that Cass had killed someone, though that was probably because she had hated it with her whole being.

She went to the gardens and found a peaceful spot. It was a warm day, so she sat in a shady spot under a tree. Her head hit the trunk.

"May I ask what is wrong?" Alfred asked. Cass didn't even flinch at his sudden presence. She was so used to it anyway, with living in a complex filled with assassins and with him being so familiar to her now.

"I don't even know myself," she confessed.

"How is that?" Cass shrugged.

"I left him behind, Alfred." She stared down at the grass, kept green by Alfred's careful care, and fidgeted with her hands. "It wasn't safe with Willis or Mama, but I still… I still left him there. Maybe if I hadn't left, then he'd… be here. Maybe if I'd stayed, then Mama would still be here, and so would he."

"Perhaps staying would have resulted in both of you dead. Maybe neither of you would be here but on the streets. Perhaps where we are right now is where we need to be. There is no way to know what other paths there are, or where you could have gone." Cass sighed again.

"I understand that but… it doesn't stop the what-ifs. I'm his sister, I should have done better-"

"You were an extremely young child. With what little choices you were given, you did your utmost best to survive, as did Master Jason. There is no shame in doing such a thing with the little choices you had at that age." Cass sighed. Her head hit the tree again. She closed her eyes against the sun.

"I know. It… I don't think that any amount of rationalizing can stop the thoughts I have. I'm constantly beating myself up over what happened back then. I mean, Mama died!"

"And yet you were still a child. You did not know what would happen to her or to Master Jason, something that you will have to learn to live with." She rubbed her jaw.

It still hurt. Maybe it was the force of his anger that had hurt more.

She'd never forgive herself.

Not when Jason had taken so many more precautions than she had when doing basically the same thing.

She just… she wanted him to be safe.

Alfred worked in silence near her. She stewed in her thoughts on her own.

_______________________________________

Jason was alive.

What other explanation was there? The entire city had heard the call last night. The sound of the second Robin, distressed and calling for Batman, begging for help. The entire city was posting in its own subreddit about it, conspiracy theories going wild. Some said that it was his ghost, haunting the city after it came back and calling for the help that never came. Some said that it was a shapeshifter, though Tim knew that not even M'gann or J'onn were able to make the sounds that they did. It took hours and days and weeks of practice to make even an affirmative sound.

So yeah, Jason was alive and kicking. Tim had almost stayed awake to reply to Bernard Dowd's messages on Instagram. Tim had scrolled through them after breakfast, and those theories were getting more and more insane.

Though Batman being a cryptid that stole kids around the ages of eight to ten and forcing them to play a game of their own choosing and if they won then they became Robin, but got eaten if they lost… yeah, that was an odd one. Though Bernard did say that he preferred the orphanage theory more. Tim agreed. And it was a little too close to home.

But that didn't even matter right now. What mattered was that Jason was alive right now, and that gave him a whole new perspective on the flowers left on Jason and Catherine's grave. Tim was itching to search flower language, because that seemed like the kind of nerdy thing that Jason would do. Tim had heard of how nerdy Jason had been, but holy fuck he was even more of a nerd than Tim had heard of.

He just needed to know what the flowers meant.

"Hey, Alfred?" Tim called. He was in the garden, working near Cass who looked like she'd been hit again. Tim squinted at her. She didn't normally look like that. Observant, yes. Like she'd swallowed a bunch of glass, no.

"How may I be of assistance?" Alfred asked.

"What do you know about flower language?" Tim tilted his head. He'd picked the habit up when he was a kid stalking the rooftops. Dick had grinned when he realized that.

"I know a great many things about it. Why do you ask?" Tim held his phone up to Alfred. He took it from Tim.

"Those flowers were left on Jason and Catherine Todd's graves. I've been wondering why, but I haven't been able to figure it out for over a year now. I was wondering if flower language has anything to do with it?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"It is certainly a thought," he agreed. He studied the picture. Tim swayed. Cass was definitely listening to this conversation. Alfred hummed.

"Do you… think that I might be right?" Tim knew that he was right. The question was what the hell Jason was trying to say to them. It would let them know what the fucking fuck he was trying to do to them.

Jason was very much confusing Tim right now.

Also, Tim was not going to tell anyone that his supposedly dead brother that he had never met was actually alive. Bruce was probably suspicious already, Dick was too close to a mental break down for Tim's comfort and it would be preferable if he didn't accidentally accelerate that, and Cass… well, he was shit out of luck there.

"Perhaps you are. The bouquet on Catherine Todd's grave is rather sweet. Purple hyacinths are often used to express sorrow, while marigolds are often used as a representation of grief and even jealousy. There is also the connection between marigolds and the Day of the Dead. Daylillies have many different meanings depending on the cultural context, so we can not truly be certain of what they represent."

"Daylillies represent motherhood in China," Cass spoke, making Tim jump.

"Can you not?" He asked.

"I could, but I won't," she replied. Tim sighed.

"Perhaps that is the context in which the sender was meaning," Alfred responded to Cass' previous statement, "but without an idea of what their ethnicity is, there is little that we can decide. Daylillies also represent innocence."

"What about the one on Jason's grave?" Tim asked.

"Daisies can represent innocence, loyal love, or mean 'I'll never tell'. White carnations can mean innocence, pure love, or sweet love. White clovers can be used to ask the receiver to think of the sender, and the hyacinths remain the same." Alfred handed Tim his phone. Tim took it and looked at the picture.

The image it painted in his head was a little sweet, maybe bittersweet. Sorrow, grief, motherhood. A child mourning their mother, even years later. Innocence, loyal love, sweet love, pure love, sorrow, a secret and a request, a child asking to never be forgotten. Yeah no, it was sad. Tim wanted to hunt down Jason and then drag him to Dick and Cass so that they could all hug each other. Hopefully that would help Dick a bit with his depression.

"Thanks Alfred!" Tim chirped. He turned and left.

He only got so far as to get out of his line of eyesight before he was yanked to a private space. He shrieked.

"Shut up!" Cass hissed.

"You yanked me into a tiny room with no warning!" Tim snapped.

"What do you think?"

"What?"

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"The whistle? The flowers? How'd you even get to that point?" Cass scrunched her face a little.

"Well, everyone heard the whistle last night. The conspiracy theorists are going crazy, saying that it was from the ghost of the second Robin or that Jason didn't actually die. I've seen a few zombie theories too. Someone said that the call came from a person that was pretending to be Jason. But you know how hard it is to even try to make a noise that sounds even a little bit like a bird! And Bruce is making sure that we all have different calls so that we can all tell each other apart. That means that Jason's alive, so those who think that he didn't actually die are right, and then I realized that maybe it was Jason who put those flowers on those graves and he's a nerd so-"

"That fucking idiot," Cass hissed. Tim blinked at her.

"What? Wait, did you know already?"

"He gave me this bruise." Cass pointed at the rather ugly bruise on her jaw that was starting to look better.

"That came from the red guy with the… red… bat… oh." Cass nodded along to Tim's thought train.

"And Dick figured it out before we did."

"So we don't have to hide it from him so that we don't risk him having a mental breakdown?"

"That mental breakdown's coming either way. There's only so far that he can go, even with therapy."

"I don't want him to have a mental breakdown."

"Neither do I. We should tell him the next time he's here."

"Are we keeping this a secret from Baba?" Tim screamed so. Loudly. Cass laughed at him. Damian stared at him with green eyes that were weirdly enough the exact same as Bruce's eyes.

Chapter Text

The room he sat in was painted a blue that was probably supposed to be calming, but it just made him feel cold. There were a few plants growing in pots and posters about different things on the walls. Jason sat across from a woman wearing a blouse and skirt. He was wearing parts of his suit. He didn't really want to be here. Dawn had forced him to.

Apparently this woman was good at her job.

Jason sure as hell hoped that she was.

"So… Redwing?" She was used to people coming in with aliases. It was her whole job. A good therapist for people like Jason who wanted therapy but didn't want to go to a normal therapist.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Could you tell me a little about yourself?" Jason shrugged.

"I don't really know where to start," he confessed. He pulled his legs up to cross them in his seat.

"Perhaps you could start with something positive from your childhood?"

"Being adopted was the most positive thing I can really remember. I stole from my dad and instead of him trying to punish me, he took me in. He gave me a home."

"It says here that Eclipse is your legal guardian now?" She sounded confused about that.

"I almost died. My whole family thinks that I'm dead."

"May I ask why you haven't gone home?" Jason curled in on himself.

"Because my dad's Batman." The office went quiet except for the steady tick, tick, tick of the clock.

"Your dad is Batman?"

"He is. But his main rule is his No Kill rule. Eclipse said that it's because he either has this block in his mind from watching his parents die right in front of him, or it's because he won't be Batman anymore if he does take a life. He doesn't kill for multiple reasons, but I do." He pulled his knees up to his chest.

"You're afraid of how he will react if he finds out that you kill."

"Wouldn't you be scared of loosing the only family you've ever truly known? The only family where there's no drug or alcohol addiction, and the only alcohol you see being consumed is more associated with safety and warmth because it's never a lot, and your dad that chose you won't hurt you?"

"Let's think about this from Batman's point of view here. I assume you were the second Robin?"

"I was," Jason confirmed. She nodded.

"I thought you might be. When you disappeared, Nightwing refused to set foot in Gotham again until the third Robin appeared and pushed him back here. Batman went downhill extremely fast, and so many of us in this job believed that he lost all will to live after you disappeared." Jason stared at her. "He only got better once the third Robin pushed his way into the role of Robin. But the thing isn't just that Batman seemed to lose his will to live, but he kept sending people to the ER and often the ICU. He has been getting better, which we are thankful for, but for a time he wasn't the Batman we all knew. Half of us thought that he had been replaced with a fake Batman until your death was revealed to the public." Jason swallowed thickly.

"Parents can have double standards. Sometimes they'd do anything for their child until that child does one thing that the parent doesn't agree with, and then the parent thinks that the child is the devil incarnate."

"And you believe that Batman might start to think of you like that?"

"How else would he see me?"

"As his son that he loves so much, that he seemingly lost all will to live if you weren't here." Jason adjusted his body so that he was facing a wall, his right shoulder pressing into the back of the armchair.

"Maybe he'll see me like that, maybe he won't. I don't want to get my hopes up only to have them ripped to shreds because he no longer loves me." The office went quiet again. Jason watched the second hand on the clock move, ticking away. "I die in most universes, you know."

"How do you know?"

"Eclipse knows everything, including how many times I die across the multiverse. Apparently I'm part of a very small group that doesn't die. It's so rare that I survive that torture. All because my mother isn't who she is here, and part of why I survived at all was because I already knew who my birth mother is. I never went off to find a woman who sold me to Joker, who I still tried to protect when a bomb went off. I'm glad to be alive but… that's something that will never leave me."

"You've gone over your trauma before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I have," he admitted. He picked at his pants. He sighed. "It's been over a year since I last had a therapy session though, and I've been through some more shit since then, so Eclipse kinda forced me here." She'd forced him out of the front door of the apartment and into the front door of the office. He'd gotten cold feet the moment he woke up.

Dawn's excuse was the Maori health model, reminding Jason that he needed to get his mental health into a better shape before he could start his crime lord shit.

At this point, it would take forever to do that.

He guessed the he could wait a little longer though, if it meant that he would stop feeling so shitty all of the time.

"Have you been put on any medications for your depression?"

"Yeah. Couldn't exactly get them refilled though."

"Go and get them refilled then. Start taking them again, and let me know how you feel at our next session, alright?"

"Alright," Jason replied. He got up and walked out of the room. The therapist behind him. Dawn stood up and watched the two of them carefully. The therapist went to talk to Dawn about getting Jason's antidepressants refilled.

He couldn't even remember the name of his antidepressants. All he remembered about them was that they made him feel less… well, they did their job, that's what he knew. They were meant to help him with his depression, but… after what happened in the grocery store…

Dawn guided him away from the office. Down the stairs and to the alley where she held onto his hand and made them both disappear with a crack. The feeling of being squeezed through a tube or something passed fairly quickly, and then they were in the apartment again.

Jason headed straight for his room.

Therapy was draining.

He took off the bits of his suit he'd put on and changed into comfortable clothes, then collapsed into bed. He just laid there for a while.

"Hey, Jason?" Dawn called.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go get your meds."

"Kay." Jason wasn't even biologically Catherine's kid, but what did that mean? Anyone could become addicted to anything. Also, Willis had been an alcoholic, and wasn't that an addiction? Half of Jason's DNA came from that man. Jason was fairly certain that there was some sort of connection between addiction and genetics. Maybe he was wrong because, again, anyone could become addicted to anything. In fact, Jason was fairly certain that Dawn was addicted to energy drinks, but only the ones that could be found in New Zealand. At least it wasn't alcohol or drugs, right? There were way worse things to be addicted to.

Jason sighed. He needed to do something to stop his mind from wandering too much.

He still needed some cash to get himself up off of the ground.

Maybe he could steal some stuff from Black Mask.

Jason couldn't help but smile at the idea of that. He got up and went his desk. He pulled the holocomp up and started to look into it.

"Hey Boss… what the hell are you doing?"

"Hacking into Black Mask's bank accounts to see how much I can steal from him." There was silence for a while. Jason continued his work, pushing through layers of security that was actually really bad, when he thought about it.

"You're insane."

"I'm a wannabe crime lord and a Bat. Of course I'm insane."

"Well, at least you've recognized it." Allison disappeared. Jason continued to hack into Black Mask's account.

It didn't take long, and soon he had money siphoned out of Black Mask's bank account and into multiple offshore accounts of his own, where some of the cash from the stolen goods had been stored away into.

Jason backed out of the accounts and made sure that no one knew that he'd been there. He laughed.

"What's got you laughing?" Dawn asked.

"I stole from Black Mask," he replied. Dawn laughed.

"That's beautiful. Here's your meds, and how much did you take?"

"Enough to get a needle exchange started up." Dawn hummed.

"You're a good kid."

"I've stolen and killed people and gotten away with it all," Jason told her.

"You're still a good kid," she replied. She ruffled his hair and left. Jason's smile disappeared, the triumph of getting one over on Black Mask fading as he looked at the little paper bag that had his medication in it. He picked it up.

Then he went and shoved it somewhere that he would forget about it.

A voice in the back of his mind told him that it wasn't a good idea, that he'd feel like shit without the antidepressants.

Another, more cynical voice, said that it was the perfect idea. That if he had access to any sort of medication, then he'd get hooked and become like the people he wanted to help.

Jason pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes and breathed. In, hold, and out. In and out, in and out, over and over until the panic subsided enough for him to go and find Dawn.

She was in a room that had all of her potion making supplies. Jars and vials filled with unfamiliar things, terrariums that were controlled to be a miniature ecosystem for some plants that Jason didn't know the names of. Books lined a shelf, filled with information that Jason was a little curious about. There was another shelf and a table filled with containers of remedies and a cauldron filled with arrows that were soaking up a potion, from the looks of it. Probably one of the ones that could make people sick.

"Dawn." His voice cracked. Dawn looked at him, then abandoned what she was doing to pull Jason into a hug.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I just- I- fuck." He clung to her and breathed, trying to calm down. It was easier, with her right there. Someone tangible that he could focus on, to keep himself grounded. She didn't force him to talk right away. "Before I came back to Gotham, I was in a store with Thread, and I looked at some medicine that they had, and I stared at it for too long and now I'm just-"

"Scared of addiction?" Jason nodded. Dawn rubbed his back. "Okay. It's okay. We'll find a work around, alright?"

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Jason. If anything, I should be thanking you for trusting me enough to tell me." Panic melted away. Jason still didn't want to let go of Dawn. She wasn't letting go, either.

She only let go of him when he pulled back, calmer and feeling better. She had an idea, Jason could tell.

"Where's your meds?" She asked. Jason led her to his room and grabbed the paper bag. Dawn took it. "Here's the deal. I'll keep hold of your meds. Each morning when you take them, I'll read out the dosage, pour it into a little paper cup, watch you take it, and then write it down in a notebook." Jason stared at her.

"Isn't… isn't that basically what you'd do in a hospital?" He asked.

"It is. Do you think it'll help you?" Jason thought.

"Will I be able to read the notebook?"

"Yeah. I'll do the same thing with every medicine you end up taking."

"Okay. Yeah, sure, we can try it." Dawn pulled him into another hug. Jason went willingly. She rocked them from side to side.

"If it doesn't work, then we'll look for another way around it." Jason nodded.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'm going to go and put these meds away now."

"Sounds good." Dawn let go of him and left. Jason collapsed onto his bed again.

Today had been a hell of a rollercoaster ride, that was for sure.

Chapter Text

August 16.

Jason woke up and looked at the time on his phone, only to see that it was August 16.

His birthday.

Something in him felt a little hopeless when he realized just how much time had passed. He put his phone face down on the nightstand and pulled the blanket over his head. He'd much rather not face the day, thank you very much.

Dawn had other ideas. She walked in and flopped on top of him, which just made him question his life choices.

"It's your birthday," she said.

"If you sing Happy Birthday, then I'll murder you."

"I fucking hate that song."

"Good."

"But still. Happy birthday, you're old." Jason snorted.

"Seventeen isn't old."

"It's a year away from eighteen."

"Don't remind me."

"Come on, get up, I have a gift for you." Dawn got up and pulled the blanket off of Jason. He sighed, then got up and went to the living room.

Thread and Allison were waiting for him, a stack of pancakes sitting on the table and a small pile of gifts set up as well.

"You guys didn't have to," he said.

"It's your seventeenth birthday, right?" Thread asked.

"Yeah but it's… not a big deal."

"With the life you've lived? Seventeen is a big deal, with all that you've survived," Dawn told him. She smiled a little sadly. "Trust me, I know it all too well." Jason thought back to the Percy Jackson books. He'd only read one of them, but Grover had mentioned that most demigods didn't tend to make it to adulthood.

So 17, to a demigod who fought in wars and saw so many of their siblings die, was a rather big deal.

Jason wondered how many siblings she had seen die before they could even think of 17. How many people she'd cared about.

He could give her this, then.

Besides, those pancakes looked good.

They sat Jason down and pushed the food towards him. He tucked in, and listened to the conversation. A few ideas of what they could do that day, Dawn's excitement over celebrating even in a simple way.

The plate was cleared away almost as soon as he finished. The gifts were pushed towards him, and he spent some time unwrapping them. Books, a weapon from Shiva, and some candy from New Zealand that he was actually excited to try.

"What would you like to do?" Dawn asked when the last gift was unwrapped.

"Read," Jason replied. One of the books was a Terry Pratchett book, then there were others too… Jason wanted to read.

It'd give him a chance to just sit by himself.

"If you're sure, though we're having a cake for dessert."

"Sounds good," Jason agreed. He scooped up the gifts and made his way to his room. The books went onto his shelf, filling up the space next to To Kill a Mockingbird. Dawn had bought him The Hunger Games, so they went up onto a shelf by themselves. There weren't a lot of books.

Jason stood back and stared at the practically empty shelves. He'd gotten so used to the Manor library, and the mini library that he'd been trying to accumulate in his bedroom… it was so weird to see these shelves so empty.

He'd had a few books when he was younger, though he'd often hide away in the Gotham Public Library to read. Books had always been an escape from his reality…

He grabbed one and curled up under the covers.

_______________________________________

They didn't do much for his birthday. Dawn made a simple chocolate cake and decorated it with chocolate and a Happy Birthday in white chocolate. It was nice. Simple and nice. That's all he wanted.

"I'm going to go out and patrol for a bit, start building a bit of trust between me and the people," he said.

"I'll be out there too. Let me know if you need any help." Jason nodded.

"I will."

"Stay safe," Thread called out.

"I'm always safe." Jason closed his bedroom door and pulled out his suit. He knelt on the floor next to his bed, staring at it.

He had never truly appreciated the batcave. It was just an easy way to hide suits and weapons. Now Jason had to find hiding spots for his stuff that he didn't want anyone else to see.

He sighed and started to get ready. The motions were easy, and the swords replaced the escrima, and the belt was familiar around his waist. He put on his masks and secured the hood. He relaxed, the suit a barrier between Redwing and Jason Todd. That was how it always was. The suits separated Batman from Bruce Wayne, Nightwing from Dick Grayson. A barrier to protect them from the way it could make them feel.

Jason left his room. Dawn was waiting for him in her own suit, hair braided and a quiver and a bow over her shoulders.

"Let's go," she said. She led him to the fire escape. They climbed out.

Jason took a couple of moments to breathe. He was back home, in his natural environment. After so long…

Jason started to move. He still knew the city well after all of this time. It was instinct that led him through the buildings, jumping from one roof to the next, flying across bigger streets.

As soon as he was in Crime Alley, he stopped and looked around. From his spot up high, he felt at home. This was where he was born and raised. In this city, in this area. Jason breathed in. This might have been what he needed the whole time.

He needed to build a reputation right now, though. One that promised protection and safety. Where did he start?

Jason looked around and listened to the general chaos of the Alley. He didn't really know where to start due to all of the issues there were.

"Guess I'm running around," he murmured. Jason started his patrol in earnest.

There wasn't anything happening that was too concerning. Jason scared off a couple of creeps from the rooftop that were advancing on a group of young kids, then helped an older man get bags of food to his grandchildren and sick daughter that Dawn was checking in on.

"I'll let Leslie know how you're doing," she told the daughter. Jason didn't stick around much to see what else she might say. He stopped a group of men from kidnapping a group of young girls and gave said girls money to go and at least eat.

And that was all that happened that night. Little things that brought attention to the new player in the Alley. Protecting people and helping them where he could to build trust between all of them and him. He was playing the long game, here.

He'd have to take over Black Mask's territory soon though. Just so that he couldn't do more damage than he already had.

Footsteps. Jason knew them, and he knew that they knew who he was.

"What's with all the red?"

"It's my favorite color," Jason replied. He turned around to face Dick, who had… oh. Some food, a couple of drinks, and a bag. Mystery bag.

"It's kind of similar to my suit," Dick commented. Jason snorted.

"I go by Redwing now, so if you think that my new suit is stealing your thunder, then you've got to think again." Dick smiled, tilting his head in that Robin way that he started doing just to freak people out. He set the bags and drinks onto the rooftop and walked up to Jason. He pulled him into a hug.

"You combined them," he said. Jason clung to Dick, and he would feel ashamed if it wasn't something that he'd been dreaming of, begging whatever deities were listening, that he could do again.

Dick was talking about his favorite color and the nickname. He knew exactly what Jason had done without any explanation. To be honest though, Dick and Jason knew each other the best out of all of their siblings. In fact, Jason was fairly certain that he was the only one who knew exactly what had happened when Dick was fourteen.

"I had to. I was so fucking homesick. I just… wanted to have something that connected us."

"I feel so honored to be so important to you."

"You'll always be important to me, Dick."

"By the way, happy birthday Jay." Jason swallowed thickly.

"Thank you," he whispered. He ignored the tears that were threatening to spill.

"I got you your favorite."

"I don't wanna let go yet," Jason admitted.

"But it's gonna get cold. And burgers aren't good when they're cold."

"Fine," Jason agreed. He peeled himself away from Dick and went to sit down. Dick handed him his burger and his drink, and they ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"When are you going to come home?" The question caught Jason off guard. He shoved another bite of burger into his mouth. Dick watched him, peeling some of the wrapping away from his own burger. "Jason-"

"Names, Dickhead," he snapped, heading right to anger. "And I'm not talking about it." Dick studied him.

"Is it because you broke his number one rule?" Dick asked. Jason scoffed.

"What the fuck do you think? He won't want a serial killer for a son." He stared at the burger in his hands. It felt bitter on his tongue now.

"He won't care."

"He will. And I don't want to face his anger when he realizes what I've done."

"How much of that was just for survival?" Dick asked.

"I purposefully killed people that aren't targeting me."

"Little Wing-"

"Don't. Just… don't. If I stay away from B, then I won't have to see his anger, and I won't have to deal with the pain of loosing the only father I've ever had. Okay?" Dick's shoulders slumped, his disappointment palpable.

"You won't loose him."

"There's always the possibility." Jason wanted to go home. He didn't bother to finish his burger, just wrapped it up and got up.

"Wait!" Dick panicked and got up. He grabbed the other bag and gave it to him. "Take this. Please. I've wanted to give it to you for so long… and take care of yourself. Okay?" Jason took the bag. It was heavy, and he didn't need to look inside to guess that there were books inside.

"See you." He left Dick standing there on the rooftop and headed back to the apartment.

It was quiet when he got back. A look around confirmed that Thread and Allison were both in bed, and Dawn was still out helping people with medical things. Jason headed to his room and placed the bag carefully onto his desk. He changed and meticulously went through his supplies, checking what he did and didn't have. He hadn't used much.

He finished checking over everything and shoved the box it sat in back under his bed. He sat there for a while, mind blank. He leaned forward until his head rested on his mattress and took a deep, shaky breath. He'd wanted to cling to Dick for as long as possible. Hell, he still did. Jason just wanted to curl up in Bruce's bed with him and Dick, to hide away from the rest of the world for as long as possible.

He hit his head on the mattress. It didn't do anything, just gave him something to focus on other than the swirling thoughts in his head. He sobbed. He hadn't expected this birthday to be good, and it wasn't. But it wasn't bad either.

Jason climbed into his bed and curled up under the covers, crying as quietly as possible to avoid Thread or Allison's questions.

His tears stopped, but he couldn't fall asleep. Jason got up and went to the bag, which he hadn't even looked inside of, and opened it.

He was right. Five books, carefully arranged to keep the covers as pristine as possible. Percy Jackson. Jason wanted to cry again. He didn't, just took them to his bookshelf to arrange them carefully. Then he went back to his bed to collapse onto it.