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Bruce should have noticed weeks ago that something was wrong. But how could he when everything was going so right. The boy he found on the streets, Jason, was so scared, angry, and nervous when he first arrived, but was doing so much better. He still stiffened when Bruce touched him, but he wasn’t startling as much around him or Alfred. He even voluntarily hung out in the same rooms as them and always volunteered to fetch items for them. He was starting school soon and was excited when he and Alfred went school supplies shopping. He was also gaining weight and Alfred was pleased as Jason finished all the food on his plate every night. He would stand behind Bruce in the Batcave - still seemingly nervous in the space, but his confidence was growing steadily - and listen as Bruce gave him his training for the evening. The boy was going to be an amazing hero one day.
Everything was going so right. Who would notice if Jason never voiced a complaint, or never said no to a request. Who would notice that Jason’s favorite foods were the exact same as Bruce’s, or that he always chose movies that Bruce loved. Who would notice that Jason never voiced an opinion that Bruce and Alfred didn’t want to hear. Who would even notice because Jason’s wants and wishes matched so perfectly with his own.
Bruce should have noticed weeks ago that something was wrong .
Time seemed to stop as Jason watched the vase wobble on its stand, tip, and start to fall to the floor. He dove forward, fingers reaching, connecting, and flipping the vase even further away from him. It shattered on the ground, small pieces of glass flying everywhere. And Jason, unbalanced from his lunge, collapsed after it.
He barely registered the pain in his hands and knees as he landed. All he could do was stare at the shattered vase - at the shattered life he was just starting to believe he could have. Because Bruce and Alfred were kind. They hadn’t demanded anything he wasn’t willing to give. And he was willing to give a lot.
He could still remember what happened when he told Willis no. He still had the scar from where he hit the corner of the table. But Willis couldn’t throw him out because Jason was his son. There was no such bond holding Bruce back from sending him right back onto the streets.
And Jason had been doing so well! He didn’t mind watching movies that Bruce liked, or eating food that made him feel sick. They hadn’t discovered just how lacking his formal education was yet, and Jason was sure he could learn hacking to keep it that way - he didn’t even want to imagine Bruce’s anger if he had to pour more resources into him. He always tried to be in the same room as them in case they needed anything, and always completed his training in the cave no matter how tired he was.
And that was what led to the accident today. Jason fell asleep for just a second while standing at the bookshelf and had fallen sideways. And now a shattered vase - one that no doubt cost thousands - glittered on the floor under him.
No.
Jason wouldn’t give up this easily. Not when he finally had something to fight for, a future to fight for. He swept the floor with his bare hands, trying to gather up all the shards into one pile. He grew more frantic as instead of helping clean up the mess, all it did was spread his blood over the floor. Jason tried to wipe that up as well. If he could move fast enough, he could hide the vase and move another one from-
“Jason!”
Jason’s stomach dropped through the floor at the sound of Bruce’s voice. He could barely see the door - and the figure standing in it - through his tears. Bruce had found him. Bruce was going to grab him and throw him out the front door. Or, if he was lucky, shove him in a car and drive him back to Crime Alley.
Jason tried to scramble to his feet, but slipped in his blood and fell back onto the pile that used to be a vase. He tried again to stand when Batman’s voice sounded, “Jason. Don’t move.”
Of course. Bruce was going to punish him by making him kneel in his mistake. Jason guessed he preferred it to taking a hit from Batman.
A crunch sounded in front of him and Jason forced his eyes to focus. Bruce was carefully making his way towards him, thick shoes protecting his feet from the glass. Jason didn’t move; he obeyed like the good son he tried to be. He could faintly hear Bruce murmuring words as he approached, but Jason didn’t listen. He didn’t want to hear Bruce cursing him, asking him how he could be so stupid, asking questions to which he had no answer.
Arms wrapped around his chest and quickly lifted him off the floor. Jason was prepared to be placed on his feet in the glass, so he wasn’t prepared when Bruce held him close to his chest and started moving swiftly. Oh, he wants to toss me out the front door before I bleed over more of the manor.
Jason blinked and they were down in the Batcave. The lights of the Medbay shifted around him as Bruce placed him gently - oh so gently - on a cot. Bruce shifted, talking continuously, and started maneuvering Jason’s arms out of his shirt. Images of Willis and a belt played across Jason’s mind as Bruce set his shirt to the side. The sob Jason had been holding broke free and Jason started shaking. He wished Bruce would do something already. It was one of Willis’s favorite ways to hurt Jason: never letting him know when the hit was going to land. It left Jason jumping at every shadow.
Hands cupped his face and Jason focused on Bruce. He was even harder to see now that the tears were falling freely. “-son, Jason. Hey, focus on me.” Bruce’s voice cut through the static in his head. “Breath with me, Jason.” Bruce made exaggerated breaths and Jason copied him. He was still a good son. He could show that to Bruce.
Jason hiccupped, but his breath slowed. Bruce nodded, whispering encouragement as he dropped his hands to Jason’s pants. Horror slowly rose as Bruce picked up scissors and started cutting away the material. He wasn’t even going to let Jason keep any of the clothes when he threw him out. The tears started anew as Bruce pulled the bloody and shredded fabric away from his legs. The hands reappeared on his face, “Hey, hey. I know it hurts, but I need you to keep breathing for me.”
There was a flash of something metal and Jason tried to shift away, but Bruce caught his arm. “I need you to stay still.” Jason couldn’t identify it. He couldn’t identify it!
A knife sliced across his arm. A belt buckle shone as it swung down. A gun was pressed against his skull.
Jason tried to pull away. Tried to get away from whatever the metal was.
Bruce’s hand tightened on his forearm. “Jason.” Batman spoke as he rose to his feet. And Jason…Jason flinched.
The hand was gone. So was the metal thing. Nothing stopped him from curling around himself on the brightly lit cot. He braced. He braced for the flash of pain, for the hands to come back. But nothing happened. Jason peeked out from behind his knees to see Bruce sitting a few feet away.
He looked distraught, his face pale and unshed tears in his eyes. “Jason?” Bruce asked hesitantly.
“Please,” Jason asked for the first time since coming to the manor.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Bruce’s face broke. He reached out a hand before aborting the movement. He stayed where he was, Jason curled out of his reach. “Jason,” his voice sounded broken as well, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” There was something metal in Bruce’s hand and Jason’s eyes narrowed on it. Bruce followed his gaze. He slowly opened his hand…and revealed the tweezers.
Jason’s arms and knees throbbed, breaking through the barrier into his brain. Bruce…was trying to help for some reason. And Jason had fucked it all up again.
Jason slowly uncurled. Bruce didn’t make a move forward, though Jason could tell he wanted to. Bruce swallowed, “Jason,” his voice was steady, “may I clean your injuries?”
And because that was what Bruce wanted, Jason nodded and held out his hands.
Tension left Bruce’s shoulders as he scooted forward and gently took Jason’s hand in his. But before he started, he looked up into Jason’s eyes. “Jason, do you believe me when I say I won’t hurt you?” Yes was the correct answer to this question, so it was the answer Jason gave. And Jason imagined that Bruce’s hand tightened slightly.
Bruce worked quickly. He removed the glass shards and gently cleaned the wounds. And through it all, Jason didn’t move. He didn’t twitch, didn’t hiss, didn’t make a sound. It was like someone reached into his brain and flicked a switch. All Jason could do was obey. That’s what a good son did.
Bruce tied off the ends of the bandages and moved to grab some spare sweatpants and a shirt. Jason carefully stood and barely moved as Bruce pulled off the rest of his bloody clothing and got him redressed. A good son doesn’t disagree with their parent’s wishes. And Jason would show Bruce that he could still be a good son. He didn’t need to get rid of him. He could be good.
“Jason,” Bruce knelt before him, “can I pick you up?” Easy correct answer . Jason nodded and was swept back into Bruce’s arms. Bruce carefully walks them out of the cave and winds his way through the manor towards their normal living room. “I’m going to set you down now, is that okay?”
Another easy one . “That’s okay.” Bruce gently sets him on the couch and moves to sit beside him. Jason’s eyes flick up to meet Bruce’s before falling away. He’s sure he’s still in some kind of trouble for the vase, but if he keeps being good, maybe it will be less. Maybe he will be allowed to stay.
Bruce is talking to him again, “Jason, what color is the wallpaper?”
Jason cocked his head at Bruce, “Blue. You going color blind, old man?” Obvious answer and a joke. People love jokes. Jokes will make Bruce not as mad at him.
Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed. He sat there for a minute in thought before talking again, “I want you to pick out a movie for us to watch.”
Hmmm, harder question . Bruce didn’t provide any easy options for Jason to choose from, so he flicked through his memories about the movies they had already watched. But his anxiety grew as he did so he simply said, “I don’t really care at the moment. Why don’t you pick?” Nice and agreeable, like a good son.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed and Jason’s anxiety spiked. Wrong answer! Jason fought to control his breathing as he quickly blurted out a movie. He and Bruce had seen it a couple of times, so Bruce must like it. But Bruce’s eyes were still narrowed on him, so Jason must have picked wrong again!
Jason swallowed. He had to get it right. He had to be a good son. He said a different movie, one that he had seen Bruce watch the trailer for, so it must be one he wanted to watch. Bruce’s face did change then. But it didn’t turn happy, or even neutral. It turned sad and slightly horrified. Jason had fucked up again. He racked his brain, the thoughts drifting too close to the anxiety for comfort but he needed- “Jason.”
Jason’s thoughts skidded to a halt, “Yes, Bruce?”
“Why do you want to watch that movie?”
Wait, this wasn’t an easy question . The easy answer would be because Bruce wanted to see it, but Jason knew that would be the wrong answer. He racked his brain trying to remember what the movie was about, what he could say to make a believable answer. But very little was coming up and the time was stretching on and Bruce was going to notice his hesitation and was going to call Jason out and think Jason is bad and then he would lose the place he was starting to think of as his home and-
He didn’t even notice he was hyperventilating, that he had started crying again until hands rested on his shoulders. He blinked and tried to focus. Bruce had moved from the couch. He was kneeling on the floor in front of Jason, his eyes distressed, but fighting to keep it off his face. “Breathe with me, Jason,” Bruce spoke the words softly for a second time that day, though this time he guided one of Jason’s bandaged hands to rest on Bruce’s chest. Jason tried to copy the exaggerated breathing again. “Jay, please talk to me”.
“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I don’t know what the correct answer is.”
Bruce’s face flickered with several emotions, “Jay, this isn’t a question that has a correct answer.”
“Don’t lie,” Jason snapped. “Every question has a correct answer. There is always something you want to hear. And… I don’t know…”
Bruce maneuvered Jason, pulling him up and twisting so Jason was lying curled up on Bruce’s chest on the couch. “Keep breathing Jason,” Bruce coached and Jason followed the easy instruction. “Jay, the only answer I’m interested in is the truth. That is the correct answer.”
Jason nodded, agreeing with Bruce. But Bruce seemed to be on to him now. “Jay, do you actually agree with me, or are you agreeing because you think that’s what I want to hear?” Jason couldn’t hide the way his body froze, not when he was lying on top of Bruce. He felt and heard Bruce’s sigh. And Jason knew he was done. Bruce was going to be mad at him and was going to kick him out for sure even though it seemed like he wouldn’t after treating him but now he knew that Jason was lying to him and he was mad-
Bruce’s arms shifted to pull Jason more firmly against him. Jason felt his lips press gently into his hair, and some wetness transferred as well. Bruce reached up with one hand and pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over Jason’s back. His hand carded through Jason’s hair when he spoke again, “What…what is the punishment for an incorrect answer?”
Jason was confused, but Bruce wanted an answer, so he gave it, “You’d get mad at me.”
“...and?”
Jason swallowed, “You’d-” kick out sounded too violent so Jason went with softer wording, “send me back.”
Bruce stiffened under him and Jason curled up smaller. He answered like he was supposed to, but it made Bruce angry. And now-
“Jay, please look at me.”
Jason uncurled just enough so look up at Bruce. He was crying, lines running down his face as he stilled the hand in Jason’s hair. “Jaylad, this is my truth. I will never send you back. I will never kick you out.” How did- but Bruce curled his arms tighter, “You are my son. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will make me ever regret bringing you here.”
“Even if I say something you don’t like? Or do something you don’t approve of?”
“Especially then.”
Jason curled back into Bruce’s chest. He could sense that this conversation was far from over. Heck, they hadn’t even addressed the broken vase yet, but Jason was sore and tired. So he curled up on his- his father’s chest and slipped into sleep.
Six years, an explosion, and a dip in green water later, Bruce repeated the same words to the same hurting boy on the rooftops far above Gotham. He just prayed Jason would learn to believe them once again.