Chapter Text
Bruce landed silently inside Oracle’s clock tower just as the first rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon. It had been a long night of patrol but it didn’t amount to much more than a series of petty crimes. Several carjackings, retail burglaries, and muggings were stopped in their tracks by Batman swooping in, but the major case that had been weighing on Bruce’s mind had been stalled as of late.
That was the main reason he was stopping in to see Barbara at such an early hour. She was still awake, sitting in front of a set of massive screens bolted to the wall above her desk. The glow from the monitors cast a luminescent glow over her skin, making her pallor look somewhat ghoulish. Her glasses did little to hide the dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion, but Bruce could see that there was something more to the unsettled look on her face.
“What have you got?” Bruce stood beside her as she scrubbed through a video on her computer.
Barbara had been cranking through the latest data all night, tackling a resurgence of one of the most heinous child trafficking rings to surface in Gotham. There had been an influx of videos posted to the dark web, and she’d been combing through trying to find clues. She spared Bruce a quick glance out of the corner of her eye before focusing back on her screen. “I think I’ve got a lead. It isn’t much, but it's something.”
Her fingers flew over the keyboard and a series of images popped up in cascading succession. They were pictures of a man’s bare torso in various poses, with close-up shots focusing on a series of scars—a gash on the upper shoulder, another on the side of the stomach, and finally a deep cut over a forearm.
“This guy,” Barbara pointed at the photos, “has been a regular since the trafficking ring was run through Faye Gunn’s orphanage. He appears in both the older videos as well as the new ones. If we can get an ID on him, we may be able to surface more clues.”
That was the problem though, getting an ID on anyone had been near impossible. The videos were carefully edited to cut out any faces, and identifying based on body features was near impossible unless there was corroborating documentation. Oracle’s AI algorithm had been combing through the thousands of films that Gotham PD had confiscated when Faye Gunn’s orphanage went down, cross-referencing against the newest videos for patterns and clues, but Barbara would have had to do a detailed manual review of any of the hits. That meant she would have had to watch at least a few dozen of them all night, if not the last several days.
“You’ve been watching the videos,” Bruce stated. It was no wonder she looked so distraught and beaten down.
Barbara nodded. She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. The videos were sickening, depicting the most depraved of society inflicting the worst imaginable on children.
“Any leads on The Suit?” Bruce asked. The other consistent figure in many of the films was a man dressed in a variety of luxurious tailored suits. Again, his face was never shown, but when he wasn’t participating in the activities, he was often heard directing the cameraman or barking commands at someone in the background. His voice was always masked or modified in the video. Bruce had his suspicions, but he had yet been able to get a positive ID.
“Nothing yet,” Barbara replied, “but I’ve got something else. There was a kid. He’s in a higher proportion of the Gunn videos than most, and in almost all of them, Scar Guy is present along with The Suit. There’s a chance he’s seen their faces. Maybe he even knows who they are.”
Barbara paused. It was unlike her to hesitate, which meant she was conflicted about something.
“But?” Bruce prompted.
“But, if you remember, almost all the kids died in the fire at the orphanage that night.”
“Almost?” Bruce had a bad feeling. He knew where this was going now, even before Barbara finished with pulling up a file. She brought up a paused video of the same man with the scar, but this time she zoomed out of the field of view. The man was visible from the neck down, completely naked and leaning over a bed, with a young boy with dark hair lying on his stomach beneath him. The boy was turned toward the camera so that his face was fully visible. He didn't look much older than twelve.
Barbara turned to Bruce. This time she took off her glasses to look him in the eye. “Jason Todd," she said. "He’s the lone survivor from the Gunn Orphanage. The kids were chained to their beds and couldn’t escape. The only reason why he survived was because he was locked in a sealed room in the basement. He was found in chains, but alive inside some sort of coffin they used in a few of the videos.”
Bruce remembered now. How could he ever forget? Jason Todd was the boy he caught one night stealing the batmobile's tires. At the time Bruce had thought it best to remand him into the custody of the foster care system, not knowing that Faye Gunn’s Home for Wayward Boys was not the reputable facility he thought it was. The bribery and blackmail she used to earn her credentials and license wouldn't come to light until after most of the children in her care had perished in the fire. The cause of the fire itself was later determined to be arson.
Faye Gunn herself was badly burned in the fire and later perished as well, but Bruce was never able to suss out the others responsible. When interviewed, Jason denied knowing anything about the trafficking ring despite evidence to the contrary. Jason was only sixteen at the time–the same age that Tim is now—and mostly out of a sense of guilt, Bruce had refrained from furthering the boy's trauma by attempting to question him as Batman. That left them with few leads and without any hard evidence the trafficking ring went further underground.
Which brought them to the present. The trafficking ring had continued, leaving more victims in its wake, and the only person who might have information that could break the case was Jason.
"Are you going to talk to him?" Barbara undoubtedly read through Jason’s file and made the connections. There was no judgment in her voice, but she was also deeply sympathetic to the plight of victims.
Bruce’s eyes drifted to the screen where the horrific image of Jason being assaulted was still on display. It would be the right thing to follow a lead to make sure nothing like this ever happened again, but it would also be the wrong thing to do to re-traumatize a victim.
"I'll approach him. See if he's willing to talk," Bruce finally decided.
Thankfully, Barbara finally closed the various video stills, then brought up another file. "He's nineteen now and out of the foster care system. Here's his current address of record. I shouldn’t have to say this but be careful with him, Bruce. He’s not one of your villains. Don't push him into talking if he's unwilling."
"Of course," Bruce nodded.
Barbara transferred the files over to the main bat-server, and Bruce departed with a plan to track down Jason Todd the following night.
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It didn't go very well.
Jason attended a late evening class at Gotham Community College four nights a week, and he often walked the two-and-a-half miles through Crime Alley back to his one-room studio. Bruce waited, as Batman, until Jason was fishing out his keys to open the door to the ground floor vestibule before stepping out of the shadows to approach him.
“Jason Todd,” Bruce kept his voice as non-threatening as he could, but it still had the opposite effect.
Jason whipped around to face him, eyes wide and full of fear. He took one look at Batman lurking over him in the shadows and said, "Oh fuck no!"
He hurriedly fumbled the keys into the lock and attempted to open the door, but Bruce stopped him by placing his hand over Jason’s.
Jason immediately flinched and backed away.
“I just need to ask you a few questions,” Bruce stepped back as well, positioning himself in a less imposing manner in an attempt to placate Jason.
It wasn’t working.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Jason spat, with a lot more confidence than Bruce had expected. He made for the door again, but Bruce blocked his path.
“The trafficking ring, Jason. It's still going on. You might know something that will help me take it down.”
“I said no! I already told the DA I don’t know anything.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” Bruce took a step forward. “We know what they did to you, Jason. You must have seen their faces. I know you know–”
“You don’t know anything,” Jason cut him off. Amazingly, he stood his ground. “You have no idea what it's like. To have to look over your shoulder every day to make sure they’re not watching. If I say something, they’ll know, and I’m as good as dead. Not that you would even care. You’re the one who stuck me at Ma Gunn’s in the first place!”
Anger flashed through Jason’s blue eyes, and Bruce was struck with a pang of guilt. He knew there was a chance that Jason blamed Batman for what happened to him, but hearing it stated so plainly was another thing. Momentarily cowed, Bruce allowed Jason to shoulder past him to approach the door again.
Jason glared daggers at him. He finally managed to jam his keys into the lock and open the door. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he said, before stepping into the vestibule and slamming the door.
Bruce could hear him run upstairs to his studio. There was another slam of a door, then a rustle as Jason quickly drew the curtains shut.
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“So, how did it go?” Barbara’s voice buzzed through the comms as Bruce was on his way back to the batcave.
“He didn’t want to talk,” Bruce grumbled.
“Uh-huh. I’m not surprised.” There was a tapping sound in the background. Barbara must have been pulling up information on her computer as they talked. “He refused to even give a statement to the DA. They never got anything out of him. The evidence against Faye Gunn was overwhelming though, so in the end the DA figured it didn’t matter.”
But it did matter. Because Jason’s refusal to talk had in practicality shielded the other perpetrators from the investigation. It was understandable though. Despite the vitriol, there was real fear behind Jason’s words, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that whoever was behind the trafficking ring would retaliate if they ever found out Jason snitched. But if Jason thought he was being watched, then perhaps Bruce could follow that trail back to the ringleaders.
“Oracle, put surveillance on Jason. Find out if anyone follows him. Check the traffic cams too.”
“Already on it,” Barbara replied, then added, “There’s something else you might want to know.”
“What is it?”
“Jason recently applied to and was accepted for a Wayne Foundation scholarship. He was also accepted to Gotham U as a transfer applicant. The letters haven’t gone out yet, so he doesn’t know.”
That was encouraging. It didn’t absolve Bruce from the part he played in putting Jason in harm's way, but Bruce felt some relief knowing that despite what he’d been through, Jason was resilient enough to move forward with his life. In some ways, it wasn’t altogether surprising. He did recall that when he’d caught Jason stealing his tires the boy had a fiery temper. He’d been caught red-handed but rather than run he had tried to fight. Whatever Faye Gunn or his abusers had done, they hadn’t managed to destroy Jason’s spirit.
“I want to meet him. As Bruce Wayne.” The words came out before Bruce really thought it through. “I’ll have Alfred set up an awards luncheon at the Manor. You've worked with the Foundation Committee before. Make sure Jason and the other awardees attend. Also, call Gotham U and arrange for him to receive a full scholarship with an expense stipend.”
There was silence on the line for a brief moment. Then a tentative, “Okay….”
“Once he’s on site, we can place a tracker on him and hijack his phone. It's possible he may still have contact with someone who’s connected to the ring.”
“Bruce, no.” Barbara was quick to jump in. “Just no. He’s not in contact with the ring. Think about what you’re saying. He’s a victim, Bruce, not an accomplice. And anyway, I’ve already mapped his routine. He doesn’t do much more than work, go to school, and go to the school gym.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that he was involved,” Bruce insisted, “but he knows more than he’s willing to let on. He may even know other victims that weren’t at the orphanage. If he won’t talk to Batman, we may be able to build trust with him another way.”
There was another round of silence. When Barbara finally spoke again the judgment in her voice was undeniable. “This isn’t how you build trust with someone, Bruce. And he's not going to spill his secrets just because he was invited to lunch.”
"If we get even one piece of verifiable intel we can finally advance the case. We've been stalled for years, Oracle. Meanwhile, dozens if not more children have been victimized. We need this."
Even to Bruce’s ears, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. Barbara didn't comment further, however. She only sighed and said, "I'll start making arrangements tomorrow."
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Several weeks later, invitations were sent, the catering had been ordered, event staff hired, and Alfred opened up the Manor to host a garden party.
There were a total of ten scholarship recipients, representing a range of Gothamites from various walks of life. Bruce greeted each of them personally as they arrived. Jason was the last to show, getting out of a taxi and awkwardly adjusting a surprisingly well-fitted suit before strolling up to the door.
"You must be Jason," Bruce offered the bright smile and lilting tone that he often used for his public persona. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Jason summoned a small smile in return as they shook hands, though he remained somewhat reserved. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I really appreciate what your foundation has done for me."
"Don't thank me, it was the Committee that selected you. And from what I understand you offered a very impressive application. There're a few deans and professors from Gotham U here today. Ah, and there's Professor Chan. She teaches literature. Why don't I introduce you?"
After introductions were made, Jason wasted no time diving into conversation with Professor Chan. Bruce watched with an odd sense of satisfaction. When Jason talked about the books he loved, his face would light up with a genuine delight. There was a brightness in his clear blue eyes that Bruce hadn't seen before. He was animated and thoughtful and astoundingly articulate. When he listened to the professor respond with her opinions, Jason's expression was rapt—with his dark brows drawn down in thought, his lips slightly parted in concentration, and his fringe of hair falling into his eyes as he nodded in agreement. It contrasted so much with the angry and terrified young man he encountered as Batman. This Jason… he looked happy, and when he smiled he was breathtaking….
What?
"Excuse me." Bruce suddenly felt uncomfortable. He left Jason and the professor to their conversation to mingle in the crowd instead. There were other awardees there too. He had to keep up appearances by dividing his attention between them, but he soon found his thoughts drifting back to Jason again. There was so much intensity about him, and the image of his expression—filled with hope for the future—had Bruce contemplating what factors could have produced a young man with so much strength.
Bruce caught his thoughts straying again to Jason’s distinct features. How was it that in such a brief amount of time, Jason had somehow commandeered his thoughts? It was the trafficking case, obviously, Bruce thought. But there was just something about Jason….
"He's very handsome isn't he?" A voice called out in approach.
Bruce turned to see Barbara rolling up beside him in her wheelchair, but she was looking over at Jason, who was now talking to a different professor over by the hedges.
"Um, yes. He cleans up very well," Bruce concurred, though it felt strangely embarrassing to be voicing his agreement out loud.
"When I called him to give him the good news, he said that he didn't have anything to wear to a formal event. So I had Alfred send him over to the tailor. I figured he might need at least one good suit, and the Committee didn't even blink at footing the bill." Barbara looked rather proud of herself.
Bruce wasn't going to argue either. Jason did look good. He was tall, but not too lean, and the suit had been cut to flatter the planes of his body perfectly. He was by any standard a very attractive young man. Which made Bruce feel a little dirty having thought it, knowing Jason’s history. He tried to put it out of his mind as he made his rounds and eventually sat through the awards ceremony. Bruce lost track of Jason afterward, but after a brief search he found him hidden in a secluded gazebo in the corner of the garden, leaning over the railing with a glass of something in hand.
Jason stood up straight as Bruce strode up to stand beside him. He looked wary, and Bruce was disappointed to see the ease with which he had engaged in conversation with Professor Chan disappear. Jason was back to being quietly reserved, much like he was when he first arrived. It belatedly occurred to Bruce that Jason might not like being alone with another man.
"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked.
"Yeah." Jason looked up and then looked away. He fiddled with the glass he was holding, which looked like one of the table wines from lunch. "I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes. Taking a breather, but I'm good."
"With a glass of wine for company? Are you even supposed to be drinking that?" Jason was only nineteen after all.
Instead of downplaying it, a mischievous grin leaked into Jason's mien. "Sure. I heard someone say it went well with dessert. So here I am, deserting. For a little bit at least."
Bruce barked a laugh at the pun. It was silly, but seeing Jason open up somewhat was nice. "I can call a car to take you home if you find the company lacking. I'm sure the wine won't be offended," Bruce teased. "But if you're staying, don't let the photographers catch you drinking that."
Jason arched a brow. "If I'm not supposed to be drinking it, then why are you serving it?"
"Because most of our guests and some of our awardees are of drinking age."
Jason scoffed at that. "Well, there are worse things a person can do than drink a glass of wine before they're of age." He lapsed into a quiet melancholy again.
The remark would have been rather cryptic if Bruce didn't know what he knew. Jason's records were sealed. The most anyone in the public would know was that he'd been a ward of the state until he aged out of the system. The fact that he'd been trafficked and forced to endure things no one of any age should have had to before he was sixteen made drinking a glass of wine seem so trivial.
After a pause, Jason handed the glass—still half full—over to Bruce. “I’m not much of a drinker anyway.”
Bruce took it without commenting further and changed the subject. “Your application says you’re interested in doing literature as well as pre-med?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure which yet," Jason shrugged. "Probably both.”
“My father was a doctor, you know.”
“I thought your father was a billionaire.” The little mischievous grin came back.
Bruce laughed again at the snarky barb. “I hope you're like this even without half a glass of wine. But, yes. He was both. He wanted to help people. Our family built Gotham’s first hospital dedicated to serving the underserved. My parents were also instrumental in expanding the city's public library system. They were avid book collectors, and a large part of their collection eventually went to Gotham’s museums.”
Jason remained contemplative as he spoke, "I met a book collector once. Sometimes he’d lend a few books to me to read. I think I even got my first copy of Emma from him. He had a few first editions of it too, but I wasn’t allowed to look at those.”
For anyone else, Bruce would have expected those memories to be recalled fondly, but if anything Jason seemed even more jaded, even bitter, at the thought of this mysterious book collector. Bruce filed the information away for later. At the moment he had an idea.
“We have a large library here at the Manor with several first editions. If you’d like, I’ll have Alfred open up the library for you.”
“Really?” Jason asked suspiciously.
“Really,” and then remembering the reason for Jason’s wariness, added, “Why don’t you go find Professor Chan again? I’ll go get Barbara and we'll meet you in the foyer.”
He spent the next couple of hours watching Jason, guided by the expertise of his new favorite professor, peruse the various collections in the Manor Library. Alfred even joined in, striking up a lively discourse when they got to the volumes of collected plays.
“That was really thoughtful of you Bruce,” Barbara said when the others were consumed in deep conversation. “Opening up the library for him like that. Also smart of you to have the rest of us here. It probably makes him feel safer to be in a group. Is this all part of your plan?”
Yes and no. Jason was unexpectedly engaging even when he wasn't being moody and guarded, and Bruce had genuinely enjoyed getting to know the young man, but the plan to advance the trafficking case was also working. Jason had inadvertently let slip a small piece of information that could turn out to be a lead. “Run a query on known book collectors in Gotham,” Bruce directed. “Specifically, check the current provenance of any known first editions of Jane Austen’s Emma. Jason may have identified one of his johns.”
“Noted,” Barbara nodded.
As they were leaving, Jason turned to Bruce. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne, for allowing us into your private library. The collection you’ve got here is amazing. I really appreciate you sharing it with us today.”
“Of course. And please, call me Bruce.”
“Uh, thank you. Bruce.” Jason’s cheeks colored a little red.
Bruce felt his pulse quicken as Jason tested his name, but years of training allowed him to calm his disposition as he offered his hand for a final handshake. Jason seemed reluctant at first, but when he finally took Bruce’s hand his grip was firm and warm. For a moment, Bruce didn’t want to let go.
But then the car arrived to take Jason home, and he quickly pulled away and left.
Bruce watched him leave with a sinking feeling in his stomach, because even though the plan was working as well as it could, there was now an unexpected monkey wrench thrown into the mix. Bruce Wayne—the man who struck terror in the hearts of criminals in the night as Batman—had developed a rather inappropriate attraction to Jason Todd.