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Bruce knocked softly on Jason’s door before opening it a crack to look inside. Half of him was checking on Jason to assuage the worry that had been gnawing at his bones since he saw Jason jump and disappear.
The other half suspected Jason was hiding in the library or the Batcave, because he hadn’t heard a peep from Jason nor had he heard Jason’s bedroom door.
Sure enough, Jason’s bed was neatly made and entirely unoccupied.
Bruce sighed and ran a hand down his face. He didn’t want to get into another argument tonight, but Jason just did not seem to give a damn about his own health or safety. He certainly didn’t care about following orders, even if the orders were in his own self interest.
The library was clear of miscreant teenagers, so Bruce headed back downstairs. Jason had had well over an hour to compose himself; there was no reason he should be in bed by now.
Bruce considered sending Alfred to deal with Jason, but he dismissed the thought quickly. First off, Jason was his son. It wasn’t fair to make Alfred handle all the finer points of parenthood. Second, Alfred would be asleep by now, as they all should be.
Bruce took a moment to cool his temper before he opened the door to the cave. He’d read several books on parenting troubled children, and they were all clear that his temper would feed into Jason’s. Bruce…did his best. He needed to do better, he knew, but he was making a concerted effort.
Jason wasn’t in the cave either. When Bruce tried to call his cellphone, the phone rang on the table where Jason had left it before patrol.
Bruce sighed. He’d just check the tracker. Maybe Jason had squirreled away in the attic. Jason was quite impulsive when he was irritated—Dinah explained once that Jason lashed out when he felt out of control and tried to feel in control again by making choices that effected his surroundings.
Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but the end result was that Jason had gotten pissed and driven off in one of his cars twice. The first time, he’d been twelve, the second time had been six months ago.
This time, it looked like his impulse and control issues had lead to him stealing Bruce’s chair. He’d probably hidden it somewhere Bruce wouldn’t think to look for it. Jason could be petty that way.
Bruce pulled up Jason’s tracker. Hm, it was malfunctioning. The tracker program was giving Jason’s location and Dick’s location as the same for some reason. Frustrating. It happened occasionally that one tracker would lose signal, leading to the program to “have a stroke” as Dick put it, giving false results.
Bruce ended the program and rebooted it.
Jason’s tracker still showed up in New York in the same location as Dick’s. Bruce sighed and rebooted the program again, getting the same results.
Bruce frowned and opened the zeta tube logs.
Remember your books, Bruce reminded himself as he saw that after having lied to Bruce about his intentions, Jason had run off to New York.
Did he think Dick was going to back him up? Dick hated that Jason was Robin, barely tolerated Jason in general. Besides, if Dick found out that the cause of the argument had been a potentially deadly fall? Did Jason think Dick of all people was going to be okay with that?
Bruce reached for his phone to call Dick—a measure not needed, apparently, when the zeta tube lit up a second later.
A brief flash, then a strange noise filled the air. Squeakasqueakasqueakasqueakasqueak.
Bruce stood up, sending a stern look toward the zeta tube and the soon-to-be-grounded teenager he expected to see.
Dick wore a scowl as he hauled Bruce’s desk chair out of the zeta tube. There, huddled glumly in the seat, was Jason.
Bruce initially assumed Dick’s scowl was at Jason. He prickled at how annoyed Dick got with Jason. It wasn’t Jason’s fault that he and Dick had arguments, but Dick insisted on taking things out on Jason rather than Bruce most of the time.
Surprisingly—it shouldn’t have surprised him—the scowl darkened the second Dick laid eyes on him.
Dick stormed over, dragging Jason along behind him. Jason didn’t look up, but Dick glared unwavering daggers.
“Can I talk to you?” Dick snapped, his tone strained with the effort it took not to yell.
Bruce bristled. “What is this about?”
“Oh, just some things I thought you should know,” Dick said in an mockingly offhanded way. “Like, huh, maybe that Jason broke bones falling of a roof? Hm? Did you know about that?”
Bruce straightened, every muscle tensing like he’d been struck by lightning. “What?!”
“Oh, and maybe you would know, but Jason doesn’t feel safe enough to tell you things because he thinks you don’t love him,” Dick added. He paused, rapped lightly on the top of Jason’s head. “Any more you want to add?”
Jason shifted uncomfortably and shrunk down, mumbling something incoherent.
Bruce blinked, snapping out of his stupor. He ignored Dick’s barbs and walked around the chair where he could kneel down in front of Jason.
“Where are you hurt?” Bruce didn’t wait for an answer, running his fingers over Jason’s arms to check for breaks.
“Bruce!” Dick cried in exasperation.
“What?!”
“You missed the important part!”
“My fifteen year old broke bones falling off a roof!” Bruce wasn’t quite yelling, but he was getting damn close. Why did Dick insist on making things so much more difficult while Bruce was in the middle of trying to fix them?
“And he didn’t tell you!” Dick shouted back.
“I—”
“Stop!” Jason cried out suddenly.
They both snapped their mouths shut, a temporary truce in place till Jason left earshot or someone’s temper boiled over again.
Jason’s cheeks were flushed bright red, either from pain or from being upset. Bruce softened and took Jason’s hands, giving his fingers a brief squeeze.
“Jay, what are you scared of right now?”
“He’s scared—”
“I asked Jason,” Bruce cut Dick off, then he winced. Jason had just asked them to stop. Bruce continued in a more level tone, “Please let Jason explain in his own words.
Jason looked very much like he would rather wheel the chair straight over the edge of one of the cliffs than explain his feelings in his own words, a sentiment Bruce understood very well.
Jason inhaled sharply. “I—I’m sorry.”
His boy, his precious son, and he was more scared of telling Bruce than he was of running to New York in a swivel chair. The anger in his chest fizzled out as he saw the tears trembling in the corners of Jason’s eyes. Was it from pain or stress? Jason was such an anxious kid for all he hid it behind bluster.
“Jay.” Bruce cupped Jason’s face and gently brushed his finger over Jason’s cheekbone. “Where are you hurt?”
Jason bit his lip and looked away. “I—my foot.”
Bruce nodded. “Okay. Come here.”
Bruce swept Jason into his arms. Jason was bigger now than he had been when he’d been newly adopted, but he was still easily small enough for Bruce to carry him across the cave to the medbay. Jason stayed stiff the whole walk over, but he did hold on.
He laid Jason on the nearer bed and prodded his shoulder to prompt him to lay down. Jason hesitated, but he slowly obeyed.
“What are you doing?” Jason’s voice tremored slightly.
“Dick, get me some scissors—please.” Bruce tacked on the last part to forestall another argument. “I’m going to cut away the boot so we can make sure the break is simple and not compound. If it’s simple, we’ll go to Leslie. If it’s compound, we’ll need to go to the hospital. Do you understand?”
Jason bit his lip, but he nodded.
Dick wordlessly handed Bruce the scissors before slouching back. Bruce kept his attention on what he was doing as he cut the boot away, but he couldn’t block out Jason’s trembling breath that was becoming increasingly labored.
Bruce stopped and glanced up at Jason’s face. Jason looked sick, his knuckles white as he gripped the bedrails. He looked ready to climb back on his swivel chair and scoot away to safety.
Surprisingly, it was Dick who—albeit reluctantly—came to the rescue, moving to Jason’s side and distracting him with questions about a teacher they’d both had at Gotham Academy. Dick really had a way with words, something Bruce certainly never taught him. Within a couple minutes, Dick had gotten Jason relaxed enough to let go of the rails.
“Hey,” Dick said conversationally. “Can Bruce cut your boot off now? He’s going to be careful.”
Jason hesitated, then nodded.
Bruce gave Dick an appreciative look, and Dick looked…surprised. Flustered even, as he went back to peppering Jason with questions.
I’ve messed up more than I knew, Bruce realized.
They could have a heart to heart later. For now, he had to get Jason’s foot uncovered.
Bruce cut through the leather quickly and efficiently, continuing even when Jason fell silent. He did cast a glance at Jason, but he looked tense and not terrified. His hand gripped Dick’s instead of the bedrail.
Once the boot was off, Bruce sighed in relief. “Nothing’s broken through the skin. Dick, will you run up and get him a change of clothes? We’ll take him to Leslie’s, but he needs civvies in case she transfers us to the hospital.”
“But it’s not bad, right?” Jason asked urgently.
His foot was swollen, badly bruised, and warm to the touch. Bruce had felt bone rubbing on bone when he’d turned Jason’s foot to get the sole off, so there was definitely a break in there and not just a bad sprain. No bones had broken through the skin, but Bruce couldn’t assess the damage beyond that without a more thorough examination he was pretty sure everyone would rather Leslie do.
“It doesn’t look bad, but you could need surgery,” Bruce told him.
Jason inhaled sharply, looking from him to Dick. He tightened his grip on Dick’s hand and whispered something Bruce couldn’t catch.
Dick nodded. “Yeah, of course. I promised, right?”
Jason relaxed but not by much.
“Okay, then.” Dick squeezed Jason’s hand back before wriggling his way free. “I’m going to get the clothes. You two talk.”
Dick walked off, giving Bruce a very firm look as he passed. The message was clear.
Bruce knew they needed to talk. Talking…he could act all he wanted, but this kind of talking wasn’t his strong suit. It wasn’t Jason’s either, and it didn’t feel right to start while Dick was still in earshot.
Bruce retrieved an ice pack from the medbay freezer and gingerly applied it to Jason’s break. Jason didn’t say a word, Bruce didn’t either.
As soon as the door to the Batcave closed behind Dick, Jason exploded. “Are you going to kick me out if I’m not Robin?”
Bruce blinked. “No.”
“Really?” Jason seemed hopeful and suspicious and scared all at the same time. “But I’m not being useful if I’m not Robin.”
“Robin is not my son,” Bruce said simply. “Robin is Batman’s partner. Jason is my son, and my son is going to stay in my home as long as he wants to.”
Jason shifted anxiously. “Are…are you sure?”
“I was sure from the night I brought you here.” Bruce realized that this was a good time for the open and vulnerable communication he’d read about. Inwardly wincing, he added, “I love you, Jason.”
It shouldn’t have been hard to say those words, but they felt strange on his tongue. He did love Jason—he’d die for either of his sons. Saying the words…maybe it was because his parents had died when he was so young, maybe it was because Alfred’s formality had shaped him more than he’d realized, but Bruce could probably count on both hands the number of times he had told his sons that he loved them.
Bruce filed that away for further examination. There was a decent chance, he was realizing, that he’d been doing some things very wrong this whole time.
“Oh,” Jason said, blinking. “Gee, love ya too.”
Jason fell silent, but the tension slowly lifted from his shoulders. After a few minutes, Jason laid down and put his arm over his face as he grimaced in pain.
“Do you want anything?” Bruce offered. “Water, ibuprofen?”
Jason shook his head. “I think I would actually be sick, no.”
“Let me know if that changes.”
Jason just nodded.
I should let Leslie know that we’re coming, Bruce realized. He took out his phone and sent her a brief text explaining the observable extent of the injury but leaving out how it had happened.
“Hey,” Jason said after a minute. He was still hiding his face, but Bruce could see a flush of red on his cheeks. “You’re…you’re a good dad or whatever”
Bruce stilled, then he smiled. “You’re a good kid and a good son. Or whatever.”
Jason raised his arm and scowled. “You suck.”
“Mm, it’s part of being a parent. I’m supposed to tease you.”
“You’re making that up.”
“It’s legally required. Didn’t you read the adoption papers?”
“Yes?” Jason said, lyingly.
Bruce shrugged and shook his head. “It’s not my fault you didn’t read the terms and conditions before you signed the paper. Now you’re stuck with me. Forever.”
“Till I’m eighteen,” Jason countered.
“You’re very bold if you think that would stop me.”
Jason fumbled for a comeback before rolling his eyes and scoffing.
They fell into a companionable silence, broken only when Dick threw open the door to the Batcave and hollered down the stairs.
“You have the NERVE to make fun of my Bluey pajamas when you have these?!”
Bruce didn’t have to see what Dick was holding to know what it was. Jason didn’t either, groaning dramatically before Dick had even entered the room holding aloft Jason’s Robin pajama pants—the ones emblazoned with little chibi Robins dressed distinctly in Jason’s uniform, not Dick’s, hence why Jason had insisted on them.
“These are adorable,” Dick cooed.
“I’m going to punch you in the mouth with a crowbar,” Jason grumbled.
Dick rolled his eyes. “It’s not very nice to hit people with crowbars, Jason.”
“It’s perfectly nice when they deserve it.”
They bickered back and forth, but for once, the sniping felt good natured and tame. It was ironic, wasn’t it? One broken bone, and his family was finally whole.