Chapter Text
Jason would deny it, but he has been pointedly ignoring his brothers for the last 2 weeks since the incident. He would deny it being avoidance, because he’s good at things like denial, and insist he’s been “in recovery” despite the fact that its very obviously bullshit seeing as he started patrolling 5 days after the run in with joker despite his broken bones and still healing wounds. Because he only broke 4 ribs which were bound, his broken arm in a cast and fingers in a splint, and somehow he managed to sew his wounds and remove bullet fragments in his post-survival haze before passing out. The pain kept him alive. The pain kept him awake and alert, patrol or not. The pain didn’t matter because he had work to do and it can’t stop just because he was too weak, even though he knew Leslie would’ve sedated him and fed him 5 different medications if she was able to get a hold of him.
They were still mostly out of commission, whether due to their injuries (like Tim) or being benched by Bruce (like Damian), who hasn’t let either boy out of site since his return 2 days after the incident. Dick managed to force his way back out, most likely insisting on it to find Jason. Jason, who didn’t come home and had worse injuries then all of them. Jason who hasn’t been contacted, not even by Oracle, since that night.
Jason was avoiding them, of course. He saw them and their little attempts to reach out and ran the opposite direction as fast as possible. It was a game of cat and mouse again, running away from Batman and his birds like he had so many months ago. But it wasn’t because he didn’t want to see them – in reality he was sneaking past the alarm at the manor nearly once a night to check on his brothers from a far. Alfred almost caught him once, but Jason managed to run before being caught. Jason saw them daily, saw them struggling to recover and heard their cries in their sleep before Bruce came in and reassured them. But he couldn’t be seen by them, and he couldn’t talk to them.
Because Joker was alive despite the fact that Jason had the first true chance to kill him. To end the madness once and for all. Its that fact that has kept him away. Because Jason was hurting, and his control over the pit was wavering, and Jason can’t sleep. Can’t eat or breathe or stop shaking. Every time Jason closes his eyes, he sees a pale face and wide red smile stretching over sickly yellow teeth. Every time it gets too quiet, he hears that laugh. Now reawakened with their rencounter, the memories are flooding back relentlessly until they warp his mind and drag him under with their current of misery.
Forehand or Backhand? Left… or…Right? Come on, birdie, show me how you can fly!
Do it! Do it, do it, do it. Kill me! Ha, Ha! Kill me, I know you want to!
So, Jason patrols alone, and maybe the gunshots and chaos help drown the voices. The new bruises sting enough to get rid of the tears and the repeated hits to not-yet-healed wounds help justify his shaking. His body is numb from overworking, his brain sluggish after days of no sleep, and his stomach turns but has nothing in it to rid of. Jason’s face is gaunt and his eyes so sleep deprived they’re blackened, and his skin is sickly, but that doesn’t matter during a patrol because nobody can tell the difference. Because he’s operating off adrenaline and muscle memory and its easy. Easier than breathing or sleeping or resting when he knows that monsters are laughing down the street, taunting him with their presence.
That night Jason goes to the Manor to reassure himself that his brothers are alive. No more dead robins. Because Tim is too smart to die so young. Tim needs more sleep and less coffee, who is great with science and computers but couldn’t understand Shakespeare for the life of him, and who is only 15. Damian is so small, so much so that Jason teasing him about how he will never grow, but he has such a big heart. Not towards people, no that was trained out of him, but he loves cats and dogs and has a cow he named Batcow because he’s a kid. A kid that likes to show off his art to Jason and pretend he doesn’t preen when Jason compliments it. And Dick, his big brother who isn’t a kid but acts like one. Who’s all smiles and laughs but isn’t afraid to cry. Dick who jumps watching shitty horror movies but growls in the face of death. Jason only allows himself a second to peek through the living room window where he seems them all lounging then leaves just as fast, to ensure that the longing in his chest doesn’t have time to settle.
Jason runs away and straight into the heart of Gotham where he comes across Scarecrow, who sometime during the trip from the Manor to downtown had the time to escape Arkham. Jason’s heart is racing because if Scarecrow got out then maybe Joker did too, but his brothers are back in the Manor and Jason’s the one alone in the city. He wants to run, back to that hole he crawled in not long ago, and he wants to stay there and leave the madness to the city. But he can’t because Scarecrow is heading to Crime Alley and that’s his responsibility. He can’t because if he doesn’t handle this quick, doesn’t ensure that Batman doesn’t pull the robins and dick into the fray, then the Joker could be out, and he could get them again.
Jason starts taking down Scarecrows goons the second he comprehends that he is in the middle of a war zone, despite the fact that he was in civilians and not his gear. He didn’t consider getting his gear because he was only visiting the manor and maybe, potentially, also because he was losing time in his days. Losing time because he has only slept a sum of 3 hours in the last 4 days and hasn’t had anything to eat and has only consumed water. So, his body is aching and feels detached and his mind is numb as it tries to sleep, despite flashing horrors in his mind every time his eyes shut. His hands are shaking, and he can’t hear over his heartbeat, but the instincts kicked in and he is still standing by the time he has taken down the unprepared Scarecrow.
Jason stands there afterwards, uncomprehending his surroundings and only able to see his hands. They’re empty because he had no weapons and had to use just his fists this time. The skin over his knuckles is split open from overuse and his blood mixes with the goons so much that he couldn’t tell the difference. He clenches his fists, using the pain to waken him up a bit more, and breathes deep. Its only then, when he drops his hands and looks around at the 5 goons and Scarecrow’s ugly mask that he realizes something he should’ve many minutes prior. That, had he been more awake and aware of his surroundings and not fighting to breathe over the constant state of paralyzing fear that has encompassed him for the last two weeks, there was an open canister of fear gas at his feet. He had been breathing it in the entire fight, though in his sleep deprived state had not even noticed the acidic smell or tang in the air.
Jason stumbled back when he looked up and saw Batman across from him, a hulking tower of darkness. For a moment he considered that this was part of the fear gas, but he dismissed it when the figure didn’t rush after him. If this was a hallucination, Batman would be throwing a batarang at his throat again or bashing his exposed face in with leather gloves. Or it wouldn’t be Batman, it would be Bruce looking at him like he was a stranger or with disgusted disappointment. Instead, this was just a silent Batman.
“Jason,” Batman said, voice low and gravely but a hint of concern came out. At first Jason was confused as to why Bruce was breaking his no-names rule, before remembering he wasn’t the Red Hood right now. “You’ve been exposed to Fear Gas” (no shit, Jason thinks but is too tired to say) “Come back with me to the cave and we’ll get you an antidote. I used my last one on one of the Arkham Guards”.
At the mention of Arkham Jason’s full body flinched, loud laughter filling his ears like a siren with the face to match is coming across the darkness of unconsciously clenched eyes. Jason stumbles back more as his mind races with all things before remembering Batman is there and talking about Arkham and, fuck, Bruce is going to take him there. Jason hasn’t killed anyone in over half a year but that doesn’t matter because he’s a killer and Batman locks up killers. Logic flees Jason’s mind and all he can do, all he has ever been able to do, is run.
Jason runs without thought, relying on his body solely and his fully engrained knowledge of Gotham. Because Bruce wasn’t a real Gothamite, no he was raised out of the city and spent most of his life in his lonely mansion. He didn’t know every nook and cranny, or the fastest way to climb up buildings, or the best ways to lose a tag. Jason, even after death, had learned every single thing about this city after being born in the middle of her streets and spending nearly every day since (even the days he was with Bruce) learning Gotham. Her streets are his veins, her buildings his muscles, and her darkness is his skin. Batman manages to keep up most the time but eventually the hulking shadow on his heel’s stumbles in one of Gotham’s many cracks and by the time he recovers Jason is gone. Jason keeps running, no clear destination in mind, until his lungs are burning too much, and his unhealed ribs threaten to collapse beneath him.
Jason finds himself standing on the ledge of a building deep in the Narrows and stares down into the belly of the beast that birthed him. The building he is standing on is abandoned, used for junkies and homeless as a shelter, and towers at over 15 stories. His mind is too fuzzy, too loud, for him to remember the exact street he’s on or the exact high or even what the building used to be. He knows he knew once, but it doesn’t matter now. The shadow is gone but the building remains dark. What matters is that this is as high and as far away from Arkham as his body could handle right now without his gear. What matters is that a fall from this height was guaranteed to kill him before his brain could even processes the pain from impact.
The numbness comes at that thought and so does the memory of why this building is where he wound up. It was almost like destiny, if you believed in such a thing. Almost 10 years ago this building was an apartment complex, standing at 16 stories and housing hundreds of Crime Alley natives. Third door on the right, 6th floor, a lock that needed patience and some jimmying is where he grew up. This is the place where he found his mother’s cold body, needles in her skin. Where his blood stained the carpet next to the alcohol that sloshed from his dad’s unsteady hands. This is the roof where he contemplated jumping off after he was alone and couldn’t afford rent. Instead, he had turned to the streets and did what he could because he was the last of his name and he had dreams of making that mean something someday.
Ironic how the only time Jason ever meant anything to anyone was in death.
Maybe that was the point.
That thought had just crossed his mind by the time he became aware that he was no longer alone. He didn’t jump this time, instinctively knowing that these two weren’t a threat. They were safe. They were his brothers. Jason wonders, distantly, how they managed to find him. If he could think past his racing heart and the memories and that last, nagging thought, he would know the answer. It was obviously Oracle and she was obviously smart enough to not only find him but send his brothers instead of the hulking emotionally stunted man that everyone knew (even though Jason denies it and its never been said) Jason was afraid of. Because Bruce was Batman and Batman was a threat that was also terrible at emotional and verbal reassurance.
“Hey, Jay,” Dick said, because despite the costume and the get up that voice was all Dick Grayson, big brother and son of Bruce Wayne. “B said you were hit with some fear gas.”
There’s not a question there, but it feels like one. Jason doesn’t have the energy to respond or to turn around and look at his brother. He’s afraid that if he moves anyway but forward that he may not get another chance. Another chance to be free of this pain and fear and suffering. Free of the still living reminder of all his nightmares. That’s all he wants. A little bit of peace.
“We were worried about you,” Tim says, opposite side of Dick. “Damian almost broke out of the manor about 5 times this week to get to you. Not even Alfred could keep him in check.”
A flash of guilt, but Jason pushes it back. Because he was there, they just didn’t know it. He was protecting them, from their own guilt. Maybe, in some ways, he knew this is where he would end up and he wanted to protect them from himself. Because Jason was desperate with it now. Desperate with the desire, so strong it took his breath, to be free. To be at peace. Jason can’t remember the last time he was at peace because the last time was when he was dead. He didn’t remember anything when he was dead and that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Peace, or maybe its heaven, to Jason is complete and utter nothingness. No pain, no fear, no laughter, or memories.
“So why don’t you come down from there, Jaybird. Get off that ledge and come home,” Dick asked, trying to keep his voice soft even while pleading. “We could watch a movie. Pride and Prejudice, even. Just… come down.”
“I can’t,” Jason said, voice small and reminds himself of how he used to be, back when he was first brought to the manor.
Tim barely hears it over the yelling in his comm, Damian on the other side trying to tell them what to do or demanding to know why they aren’t doing more because he’s an ass when he’s scared. “Can’t what?”
A beat, silence heavy between them as the anticipation mixes with the fear. “I can’t keep doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Being here,” Jason said monotonously. “I can’t keep running, but I can’t stop. God,” His voice wavers in a way neither brother ever heard before and its heavy with exhaustion. “I can’t do any of this anymore. So, just… go. Leave me alone, please, I can’t do it anymore, but you can’t be here.”
Dick took over and threw a hidden signal to Tim to try and get closer to Jason while Dick distracts him. Because this conversation is undeniably crossing over into the danger zone. Because Jason sounds tired, more tired than ever before, and he sounds empty. Jason’s eyes, once blue and now a blue green like seawater, were glossy with defeat and he was crying. It was hard to tell in the rain, which he seemed unaware of, but his eyes always shone brighter when he cried.
Jason has never, not once, cried in front of his brothers.
“We’re not going anywhere, Jase. We aren’t leaving you,” Dick stated, clear determination overpowering his inner turmoil at his brother’s words and state. “And I sure as hell am not losing you again. This is the Fear Gas, okay? So just listen to me and step down.”
“Don’t you see?!” Jason yelled, his voice strained as tears drip down his face and mix with the rainwater. “The fear gas doesn’t matter. Because this is what it feels like - what I feel like - every second of every day. And it’s because of you!”
Dick flinched as Jason swayed dangerously on the edge of the rooftop. Jason’s hands were shaking violently, almost as much as his body, and Dick knew it wasn’t from the icy rain or the relentless winds. Tim seemed to notice it as well because he froze in his efforts to sneak closer to Jason from the other side. Damian’s even stopped his quiet cursing on the line about not being there.
“I feel nothing but fear and pain every day because I love you more than I hate him,” Jason threw his arms out in the vague direction of Arkham where the Joker sits alive in a cell, “But your code means more to you than I do. It means more than me. And that means he’s still alive and I’m left digging myself a new grave. Because it’s killing me, but I can’t lose you guys. Not again.”
The desperation was so strong it felt like it physically impacted with the other two boys. There was a sad sort of certainty in Jason’s eyes as he spoke. Like he knew, like it was obvious, that he wasn’t enough. That he loved them more then they ever would him and that was a simple fact about life. It made sense now to the boys. They didn’t understand, before, why Jason was running away from them. Why he would pull back from a hug before his body was ready, why his smile would fall after laughing a little too hard, and why he had refused to into the manor no matter how much they asked. Because he was waiting for the other shoe to drop…He was waiting for the day they gave up on him and threw him away like a child’s toy.
“That’s not true,” Dick’s voice was hard and certain, like when he was leading the Titans into a mission. “Nothing, not one thing, in this world means more to me than my family. Nothing, especially not Joker, means more to me than you. Tim and Damian and You, Jason, are the only things I give a single fuck about.”
Jason shook his head, though his feet took an unconscious step away from the ledge. “You say that…All of you always say that. But if it was true, you wouldn’t have made me stop. You wouldn’t have told me to let him live.”
Jason sighed, running his hands through his curly wet hair, and looked away from his brothers and down to the city again. Then he turned and looked out in the distance, towards where Arkham would be even if he can’t see it.
“Do you know why I killed in the first place?” Jason asked, voice softer again like when he read books aloud. “You probably thought it was for fear. Maybe for vengeance. Maybe in some ways it was, but no, the real reason I killed was to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Those who the Batman, and therefore Robin, can’t protect. Because wife beaters get out and beat again. Rapist rape again. And Killers? Well, in this city where madness is normal and normal is madness, then what do you think? Think that a place as corrupt as Blackgate or as unstable as Arkham can make any real change?”
Jason shakes his head, “Sometimes the only way to ensure someone’s safety, to ensure that there won’t be more victims, is to ensure that there is never another chance. The only true way a victim will ever truly feel peace will be when they know they won’t get hurt again. When their perpetrator is rotting and not three streets away and ready to break free on any given day. I get it, the idea of your morals. I wish I could still believe there is hope in the broken rotting justice system that rules this city. But that hope died when every bone in my body broke, and I felt what it was like to be in the middle of an explosion; That hope died when I died at the hands of a killer that had taken lives since before I was born and has continued doing so since after I was buried.”
Neither brother knew what to say. Not even Damian had input from his side of the line. Dick’s heart was broken, and he was crying, but for the first time he didn’t know what to say to make it better. To make his brother feel anything other than misery. Tim was at a loss, both emotionally and logically. Because Jason was right, even Tim was struggling to feel safe after everything. And Arkham just had another breakout and Blackgate was overcrowding and releasing people before trials even started. Damian…. Well, he agreed, and he hated that he couldn’t say that out loud, fearful of being reprimanded.
“I won’t know peace, and therefore I can’t live, so long as Joker is my neighbor and innocent people keep dying because I can’t do what I believe in. I can’t stop it because I’m too scared to risk losing the only family I have. So, what other choice is there, Dick? Tell me, please, tell me why I can’t be at peace?”
Dick managed to find his voice the same time he managed to grasp onto Jason’s shoulder, easing the boulder that was in his chest when there was space that meant there was a chance Dick wouldn’t be able to grab him if he jumped. “You can, Jaybird,” Dick whispered, tugging his brother into a hug, “Even if it means burning Arkham to the ground and building our own Bat version of Alcatraz, we will make it happen. But you can’t leave us…You don’t have to keep running.”
“What about me?” Jason asked quietly, “I… I’m a killer and I’m dangerous. I can’t just be who I was before.”
Tim spoke up, “Jay, I have killed people and so has Damian. We are all dangerous. What matters is what we do with it. So why don’t you step away from the ledge, let’s get off this roof, and we’ll figure out the rest.”
Damian spoke up, Tim relaying the message for him, “Damian’s already working on having Joker transferred to Stryker’s Island. That should be good enough, what with Superman being in charge of security, and then we can start from there. Not end there, but it’s a good beginning. Together we will work on a plan, to make you and everyone else feel safe.”
Dick nods and reaches out for Jason, “We will do whatever it takes, Jay. Just give us a chance to prove it.”
Finally, Jason stepped back, pushing the thoughts and fears and everything down and allowing himself to soak in Dick’s warmth and Tim’s calculated certainty. Later, he would remind himself to ask Damian what he has over Clark to get his compliance. Later, he would lecture Tim about being out with his injuries and punch Dick in his bad shoulder to prove he needed more rest. But for now, Jason let his brothers’ voices drown out the laughter, a dreamless sleep overtaking him the moment he settled into the batmobile.