Chapter Text
Jason has seen this sight before.
He was– He was 10 years old, last time. Dick had been 15. Sionis had been teaching Jason the things he would need to know to– to become his right hand, as he grew up. To make him into more than just a little street rat. Jason has no idea what Sionis saw in him, back then. It doesn’t really matter.
Jason remembers it vividly. He remembers Dick’s face. He had been sleeping a lot at the time. Jason had been worried. He’d been bugging Dick, about asking for help. Going to Sionis – no matter how much they both hated it – and asking him to get a doctor. Dick had been sweating. He’d been irritable. More than normal. Feeling sick. And Jason had been worried. He didn’t know how to fix the problem, and that meant all he could do was worry.
It was a rare night where Sionis left them alone. Dick and Jason were curled up around each other. Comfortable beneath the blankets. But Dick was still sweating. Despite it being late December, and the air being just about freezing, Dick was sweating.
Then, in the early hours of the morning, Dick had leapt from the bed, ran into the bathroom, and promptly threw up.
Jason remembers it so vividly.
He had done the exact same thing. Followed Dick into the bathroom. Closed the door behind them. Locked it. Because, if Sionis – or someone else – came to check on them right then , Jason wanted the chance to get Dick cleaned up first.
The conclusion hadn’t been as immediate then. Dick had been in tears. Jason had checked him for a fever, which he didn’t have. Jason had rubbed his back, as he heaved into the toilet for what felt like hours. Sweat had dripped down his forehead. His skin was pale. Bags under his eyes. Jason had been worried. But, back then, Jason was always worried.
Dick kept throwing up. Silently crying, with his knees knelt on the tile. It had gone on for what felt like an eternity. And, at a certain point, Jason had made the executive decision that–
“I’m–” Jason’s throat was thick, at that moment. He carefully rubbed Dick’s back again. “I’m gonna go get the boss, okay?” He had said. Dick’s shoulders had tensed, and he’d shaken his head, and Jason’s throat felt like it was closing up, and–
“ Dick, ” He said. “You– You need a doctor. Let me– Please– Please let me get the boss, okay? Please. Please– ” Jason’s voice had been laced with panic. His fingers started to tremble. Tears had slipped down Dick’s face. Silent and constant. And Jason’s heart had almost stopped, and–
Dick’s shoulders had slumped. Jason took it as all the permission he was going to get, and sprinted his way out of the bathroom to find Sionis.
Jason remembers this feeling.
He remembers it. Because he was in the room, this time, when the doctor was examining Dick. Taking his temperature and feeling around his stomach and doing a bunch of other stuff that Jason was too young to really understand all that well. The doctor had scrunched up his face. Said something to Sionis that Jason couldn’t quite hear. Sionis’ eyes had widened. Just slightly. And–
The doctor had handed something to Dick. Given him quiet instructions. Dick had stared at the– the small white stick, with a little pink tab on the end. His eyes were wide. His expression almost panicked. Sionis had put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick had tensed. He looked like he was going to throw up again.
Dick had gone into the bathroom. He came back out what felt like hours later. Jason was sure it had only been a few minutes. The white stick in one hand. The other fisted around the hem of his oversized button-up shirt.
Dick handed the stick to Sionis.
Sionis grinned.
And it was only later– Later that night. When the two of them were finally alone again. When Dick couldn’t stop crying into his pillow. When his shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking, and he could barely get a word out between his desperate gasps for air, that Jason finally understood .
“...I’m pregnant, Jay.” Dick had said. His voice was soft. Breaking under its own weight. Coated in fresh tears and exhaustion and hatred. And Jason’s entire mind had, for a very long moment, gone blank.
Shut down.
Restart.
Reboot.
Process–
“I’ll kill him.” Had been Jason’s first words. And, in that moment, he had meant them.
“I’m going to kill him.” Jason says them now, too.
It’s approaching 5 AM. Slowly. The clock is ticking closer and closer to the hour. Jason just crawled his way back through their bedroom window. Plastic shopping bag in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other. Dick’s declaration had lit a spark of panic in him, and Jason had–
Well. He doesn’t have money of his own. But he’s always had sticky fingers. And, in a place like Bruce Wayne’s house, a couple bills aren’t exactly hard to come across.
So he’d snuck out with a small wad of bills tucked into his back pocket. He’d rather steal from Bruce Wayne than from a store where he might be getting the minimum wage cashier in trouble – or worse, might be stealing from a small business that’s legitimately struggling to get by – and Bruce Wayne has already proven that he– He won’t lash out. Like he did. If he discovers the three of them doing something wrong.
(And. And, even if Jason is proven wrong, in his budding trust for the man who has let the three of them into his home, he can and will easily take the blame for himself.)
The nearest drugstore was only about a 20 minute run. Even rich people need pharmacies, Jason supposes. And Jason had– Well. He, admittedly, doesn’t know much about these things. Sionis had doctors obsessively taking care of Dick last time. And– And Jason’s head feels weird. Fuzzy, almost. He knows this feeling. He stares, silently, at a wall of shelves. Tests. Pregnancy tests. And dully, he can hear himself thinking–
Huh. So that’s what that weird white stick was.
– even though it’s not a revelation.
He grabs four different boxes of four different brands. He doesn’t know what Dick would want. He doesn’t think Dick would even know what Dick would want. So he grabs the four with the most boring looking boxes, and tosses them into his hand basket.
Drugstores also carry– Fuck. Jason– Jason doesn’t know what– What kinds of things Dick would need. Vitamins? He remembers Dick saying something about the pills that Sionis was making him take, the first time. But he doesn’t know what they were. He’d never really asked. Jason’s head is floating. He is completely – terrifyingly – out of his depth.
So he– he grabs some other things. Things that he thinks Dick might find comforting. A bottle of water – though he– he probably doesn’t need to grab that, right? He thinks he might be overthinking it. Or underthinking it? He doesn’t know. He’s–
He grabs a box of cereal from the grocery section. Frosted flakes. That had always been Dick’s favorite. Sionis would never let him eat it. He grabs a bag of potato chips for the same reason. And then a bag of M&Ms. And a bag of licorice. That should be enough, right? Tim can have some, too. And–
He blinks. He’s at the cashier. He doesn’t remember walking over to the cashier. They’re staring at him. At the scars on his face. Jason understands. He would probably stare too.
“Having a scare?” The cashier comments, as he rings up the four boxes of tests. Jason blinks. Stares down at each one, as they get scanned. “Planning to marry her, if it’s positive?”
Jason’s stomach swirls.
“...no.” He just says, quietly. He doesn’t have it in him to say anything else. The cashier looks… confused. Jason doesn’t care. He pays. Grabs the bag. And charges right back outside.
He blinks again. He’s back. Standing outside the bathroom door. Dick’s expression flashing through his head. Jason had given him the water and the tests. Saved the rest for later. He hears shuffling in the bathroom. He checks on Tim. The kid is still asleep. Both Big Wing and Zitka held tightly against his chest. Jason’s hands tremble. He kisses Tim’s forehead again.
“...Jason.” Dick’s voice is weak. Jason shoves the door open without even a thought. Dick is sitting on the tile. Blue eyes wide and wet. Four tests. Lined up in front of him. Each one looks a little bit different. But each one has–
Dick drops his face into his hands. Jason can see tears falling down his face. Jason’s heart is in his throat. And all he can think to say is–
“I’m going to kill him.”
Dick sobs. Jason thinks he’s said the wrong thing.
“I c-can’t–” Dick sobs. Shaking his head. His hair is slick with sweat. Sticking to his forehead. “I c-can’t, Jason. I c-can’t–” He sobs again. “I c-can’t do this again–” He tightly grips the front of his hair. Jason wants to– Wants to tell him to stop. Stop. Don’t do that. Dick, please–
He drops to his knees. Hands held out in front of him. He carefully rests them on Dick’s shoulders. Looking at his big brother breaking down like everything is crumbling around him. Jason feels like he’s going to throw up. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to–
“I’ll–” Jason swallows. Hard. Dick is still crying. His sobs slowly devolve into small, hitching gasps. Jason thinks there are tears in his own eyes. His mind is spiraling. He–
He can imagine it. He’s imagined it a million times. The feeling of Roman Sionis’ neck beneath his hands. Squeezing the life right out of him. Watching his dark brown eyes fade into something cold and lifeless. Jason has always savored that fantasy. He’s savoring it right now. For every single thing that bastard has put Dick through over the years, Sionis would more than deserve it.
Jason will kill him. Eventually. Sooner than later. Jason will do it. He will make his way out of the manor and he will end that miserable bastard’s pathetic existence with his own two hands.
But right now, Dick needs him. Dick needs him here. And Jason can’t– He can’t leave Dick alone, like this.
“I’ll take care of it, Dick.” Jason says, quietly. He pulls Dick forward. Dick buries his face into Jason’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of you . Don’t worry. You don’t–” He wraps his arms around Dick’s back. Tightly. Securely. He holds his brother close. “...you don’t have to worry about anything. Anything. Let me– Just let me take care of everything. Okay?”
“...what are we gonna do , Jay?” Dick quietly sobs. He shakes his head against Jason’s shoulder. “I can’t–”
“We managed before, right?” He says, gently cupping the back of Dick’s head with one of his palms. “We managed. With Tim, we managed. We’ve done it before.” He holds Dick a little tighter. “We know what we’re doing this time. We– We’ve done it before. We can– We can do it again.”
“You–” Dick shakes his head again. “You were ten , Jason, you shouldn’t have had to–”
“Well, I’m not ten anymore,” Jason answers, almost automatically. “I said I’ll take care of you. And I fucking mean it. Okay?” He says, and tightens his grip on Dick’s shoulders. Gently. “Just let me take care of everything. Just let me– ” He shakes his head slightly.
“I’ll figure something out.” He says, and rubs his hand up and down Dick’s shoulder. “I’ll– We’ll get out of here. And we’ll–”
What? Jason thinks.
His mind is blank.
What? He repeats.
What are you going to do?
Jason has promised Dick salvation for years, and not once has he ever been able to keep that promise.
He’s made so many promises that he could never have kept. Because Jason hates seeing Dick cry. And, sometimes, it was the only way to get him to stop. He’s promised a million things. He would promise a million more, if Dick asked him to. The only one he’s ever been able to keep–
“Be gentle. He’s fragile.”
Jason holds a little bundle of blankets in his arms. The blankets are red and green and blue. Muted versions of typically bright colors. From the swaddle, a pair of bright blue eyes stare up at him with wonder. A tuft of black hair. Soft pale skin. The baby stares up at Jason with wide eyes. Jason stares back, for a long moment.
“He has your eyes.” Jason says, quietly. He sees Dick’s expression shift.
“...you think so?”
“I don’t think so.” Jason snarks, scrunching his face up in annoyance. “I know so. I mean, seriously, Dickie? Have you seen this kid’s eyes?” He asks, looking between Dick and the baby once again. “It’s like, scary. He looks exactly like you.”
Dick blinks. Pauses, for a moment, before he chuckles softly. He looks exhausted. He sounds exhausted. Dick has been exhausted for a long time. Jason has been worried about him. Jason has yet to make good on his promise to kill Black Mask. He’ll do it soon. Once the baby is a little older, and the two of them can– the two of them will be able to take care of him on their own.
“That’s good, I guess.” Dick says, softly. He runs a hand through his own hair. Greasy and slick with sweat. Jason frowns. “I don’t know how I…” He starts, but doesn’t finish. Rubbing a hand over his face instead.
“You get any sleep?” Jason asks, with his eyebrow raised. He’s been… working all day. Today, and yesterday, and the day before, and every day since the kid was born. And every day before that. Sionis has barely left the two of them any time to see each other lately. And, on the few occasions they did see each other, Dick didn't feel well enough to do much more than sleep.
Dick shakes his head. He sighs heavily through his nose.
“Haven’t had the chance.” He says. The bags under his eyes are dark and obvious. Even more than usual. “...I’m…” He shakes his head again and sighs.
“Go to sleep,” Jason says, and holds the baby tighter against his chest. Dick looks up at him with wide eyes. “I’ll wake you up, if I gotta leave again. But–” He looks down at the baby in his arms. He’s tiny. So tiny. Delicate and little. And Jason could– Could probably lift him with nothing more than a finger. His stomach twists at the thought.
“...I’ll keep him safe.” He says, softly. “I promise.”
“Jay…” Dick says, quietly. “You’re ten . You shouldn’t–”
“I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things, Dickie.” Jason almost snaps. His face scrunching up in annoyance. “But I do ‘em anyway. ‘Cause sometimes we gotta do things that we prolly shouldn’t. But right now, you should be sleeping. I’ve got the kid. Go to sleep. ”
Dick looks like he’s about to burst into tears. But he doesn’t argue. He lies down. Rolls over. And, in minutes, he’s fast asleep.
Jason spends most of the night with the baby cradled against his chest. Softly singing the few Spanish songs he remembers his mother teaching him, before she got too sick to sing.
–was that one. For everything he’s failed at, Jason has– Jason has done alright, at keeping Tim as out of harm’s way as he could, considering the circumstances. Tim has only come back to them with bruises once or twice. And each time, it was never more than one.
Right now– Right now. Right now. Jason’s head is spiraling. Will he be able to keep this– This kid. This new one. Will he be able to keep them safe?
Bruce Wayne doesn’t have– Sionis at least had some incentive to keep Tim safe. To take care of him. To make sure Dick and Jason had what they needed to take care of him. The bruises that showed up on Tim those one or two times– Tim told them that Sionis had gotten mad, when Tim had spoken out of turn. He only ever hurt Tim as discipline . Because, at the end of the day, Sionis still looked at Tim and saw enough of himself to consider the kid–
Jason’s stomach turns, thinking about that. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to think about Bruce Wayne right now, either.
He feels–
Like he’s floating. Like the world is beneath him. There’s a million and one thoughts running through his head and he’s not registering any of them. Dick is– He managed to get Dick back to bed. The minutes are ticking by. Jason is lying on Tim’s other side. The youngest pressed firmly between them. Dick fell asleep what feels like hours ago. Jason’s eyes are wide open.
He can’t sleep. The clock is–
Tick. Tock.
It’s all Jason can focus on.
Tick. Tock.
He feels horrifyingly, desperately, pathetically small.
His head is spinning. Floating. Dancing. He remembers it. How he’d felt back then. Lying beside Dick after the same revelation. He remembers it so well, the feeling is engraved right into his bones.
Dick had– Dick had cried himself to sleep. Clung to Jason’s arm. Cried even after he had fallen asleep. Jason had stared silently at the ceiling in the dark. His head swam, much like it does now. It didn’t float back then, though. He was– He wasn’t quite so used to his head floating, back then.
The Jason of back then had been– plotting. Plotting? Plotting Roman Sionis’ death. Though back then, the “plots” had been little more than fantasies. Too firmly under Sionis’ thumb and with far too much to lose for defying him. Jason, back then, had been a scrawny little thing. Somewhere between the malnourished seven year old that Sionis had first dragged kicking and screaming into his hideout and the mostly filled out, capable fighter that he’s now grown into.
Jason right now is plotting an escape. How he’ll get Dick and Tim out of here. Where he’ll take them. How they’ll survive. He’s trying. His mind is swimming, and he isn’t sure he can do it. Can he do it? His skillset isn’t exactly conventional . His education never went past the second grade. He isn’t sure Dick’s even got that far. Tim has never had any kind of formal education. Jason’s head is spinning.
He feels like he can’t breathe. He needs to– He needs to get his brothers out of here. He needs to get them somewhere safe. As long as Roman Sionis is alive, is there anywhere that they are safe? Sionis has only ever left bruises on Tim once or twice. How many will he leave, when he inevitably finds them again?
Sionis knows. He knows that Dick and Jason will do anything to protect Tim. He knows that. Because of course he does. And what will that sick fuck do, when he finds out that there’s another one coming?
Jason– Jason feels like he’s going to throw up.
He turns over. Onto his side. Tearing his gaze away from the ceiling and focusing, instead, on his brothers. Both of them. Dick, just a few feet away. Brow furrowed, even in his sleep. Stark tear tracks against his pale skin.
After this– After the three of them dared to escape , no matter how temporary, will Sionis even let them see the– the new one? When they come? He had let them take care of Tim. Let Tim stay with them. Because Sionis couldn’t be bothered to do any of the heavy lifting of child rearing himself. Jason hates the bastard, but he’s grateful for the man’s laziness. But this time–
God.
Jason reaches his hand out, and carefully cups Tim’s face in his palm.
He doesn’t want to stay with Bruce Wayne. Are they safer, when they’re with Bruce Wayne? He doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Ever. He doesn’t want to place the lives of the only two people in the fucking world that matter to him into the hands of someone who he was just barely starting to even think about trusting. He can’t do that. He can’t he can’t he can’t–
Does he have a choice?
Jason can’t do this.
(It’s the first time he’s thought that, in a long fucking time.)
“...Jay?”
He’s snapped out of his inward spiral, by Tim’s soft little voice.
Those small blue eyes look up at him. Wide and curious. Jason’s eyes flick over to the clock. Approaching 7 AM. The minutes are ticking down.
“Hey, baby bird.” He coos. Tim’s eyes really do look eerily like Dick’s. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
Tim shakes his head. Jason knows it’s a lie. He doesn’t comment on it. Tim is allowed to lie to them about small things if he wants to.
“...are you okay?” Tim asks softly. The question breaks Jason’s heart in two. He remembers the first time little Tim had asked it. When Jason was sporting two black eyes and bloodstains down the length of his pants. His lip was bleeding. He looked something horrific. It was the angriest Sionis had been in years.
Tim had been three. Three years old. And he had looked at Jason like he was seeing a horror scene play out in front of his tiny eyes and asked–
“Jay… ouchie..?”
And Jason’s heart had shattered.
“Yeah, Timmy. I’m fine.” Jason answers. His throat feels tight. He gently brushes his thumb over Tim’s cheek. “You should go back to sleep, okay? It’s really early in the morning.”
“Hmmm…” Tim blinks again, and glances around for a second. He looks down. At the two stuffed animals still held in his arms. Then he looks up at Jason again.
“...Jay.” Tim mumbles, and scoots just a bit closer. The animals end up pressed between the two of them, as Tim practically attaches himself to the front of Jason’s white tank top. “...’m cold.” He whispers. Jason can’t help it. He huffs affectionately.
“Well, we can’t have that.” He says, and reaches down to adjust the blanket. He pulls it over the both of them, and then wraps his arms tightly around his little brother. Pulling Tim and the two stuffed animals close against his chest. He can feel Tim squirming. Getting settled. Situated. His cheek ends up pressed against Jason’s shoulder. His curly black hair tickles Jason’s skin. He can’t help but chuckle.
“Comfy, baby bird?” He practically coos. Tim nods his little head, and presses closer.
“...love you, Jay.” Tim mumbles. Jason’s heart almost stops.
He remembers the first time Tim said that, too. A moment that he’s carved into his very soul. Because he needs it, sometimes. He needs the image of that precious little child, looking up at him and saying I love you , to push his way through the day. When he’s aching and in pain and has to remind himself what he’s doing this for.
He holds Tim tighter. Closer. He presses a soft kiss to the kid’s forehead, and ignores the tears that he can feel building in his eyes.
“I love you too, baby bird.”
Jason doesn’t know how to– how to handle this.
His first words had been– Had come to his mouth before he could think them through. He’d told Dick– He told Dick that he would kill him. Sionis. The boss. Whatever the fuck the bastard wants Jason to call him. He had meant it. With all his heart, he had meant it. Jason still fantasizes about it. He has, ever since he got here.
Jason knows that he cannot handle this. He does. He knows that he is not equipped for this. No matter what he tells himself. No matter what he tells Dick. Because Jason – for all that he has placed upon his shoulders, given to him by both himself and others – is, at the end of the day, a kid. And a kid has no idea how to– how to handle this.
Dick is–
Jason’s stomach turns. Thinking about it makes Jason’s stomach turn.
He had known– He knew about it. What Sionis did to Dick. Of course Jason knew about it. He’s sure that, eventually, Sionis will start doing it to him, too. He often wonders why it hasn’t started yet. He tries not to think about it too hard.
He had known. All of the details that made this– that made this possible. He knew all of them. And yet, he still struggles to wrap his head around the fact that–
Dick is–
Sionis grabs him by the arm, the next morning, and drags him right down the hallway.
The office felt twice as suffocating as normal. The day before, Jason had been tasked with sweeping the whole thing. He’s gotten good at it. At chores like that one. He prefers chores like that one, to some of the other things Sionis is trying to teach him to do. And, if he didn’t sweep well enough yesterday–
Sionis will make him do it again. And then he’ll–
“Jason,” Sionis’ voice snaps him out of his own head. Jason keeps his gaze lowered. Sionis has made it very clear that Jason is never to look him in the eyes.
“Yes, sir?” He asks. Keeping his voice quiet. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He can imagine it. Picture it. Driving a knife into Sionis’ gut. Twisting it. The warm blood, slipping down his hands. The life fading out of his eyes–
“You want to help Richie, don’t you?” The man asks, with that same slimy tone to his voice that always makes the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand up, and his shoulders tense. He clenches his fists tighter. His nails dig into his palms. Sionis is grinning from ear to ear. Jason wishes that he would stop.
“O-Of course, sir.” He says. His hands start to tremble, with the force of how tightly he’s clenching them. Sionis’ grin grows wider.
“Y’know,” Sionis tilts his head slightly. His slick, greasy hair falls in sync with his ugly face. “Baby supplies are expensive. And you’ll need a lot of them.” His grin widens. Jason presses his lips into a thin line and stares intently at the ground.
“Remember, Jasey,” Jason almost flinches at the nickname. Fuck, he hates it. It makes his heart spike with anger and his jaw clench.
“You can’t do shit without me.” Sionis says. One of his hands – covered with those black leather gloves that always feel so gross against Jason’s skin – moves forward. Up. Cups Jason’s chin in his hand, and forces his head back. Until Jason is looking the bastard right in his ugly brown eyes.
“You can’t do shit for poor little Richie without me.” He grins, and tightens his hold on Jason’s chin. “You know that. Don’t you, Jasey?”
Jason had told Dick–
I’ll kill him.
At that moment, he had meant it.
Now–
Jason musters every single shred of self-control he has in himself, to keep from crying.
“Y-Yes, sir.” He says. His voice shakes against his will. He hopes that Sionis won’t– Won’t be too mad about it. “I know.”
“Good,” Sionis coos. His grin gets wider. “That’s my good boy.”