Chapter Text
Night patrols were always chaotic. Even with Bruce’s obsession for structure and planning, Gotham had a way of throwing chaos into the mix. But tonight, the chaos wasn’t in the form of the usual villains or criminals. It was in the form of Jason Todd.
Jason hated this. Being forced to patrol with them . He didn’t want to be here. Hell, he didn’t belong here. This wasn’t his place anymore.
He hadn’t worn a Robin uniform in years, but every time he stepped into the same space as them, he could feel the weight of that title pressing down on him like a noose. A dead boy walking. That’s all they saw when they looked at him. He knew it.
The comm in his helmet buzzed with the usual chatter. Tim muttered something about a break-in on 5th. Damian growled back an insult Jason didn’t bother catching. Steph and Cass were patrolling the West End, reporting in as they went. Barbara’s steady voice relayed directions from the Clock Tower, her tone calm and calculated. And Bruce—of course—stayed mostly quiet, barking orders when necessary.
Jason stayed in Crime Alley, far from where the others were working. His turf. His streets. The only place he felt he belonged. The truce he’d made with Bruce kept him tied to these ridiculous family outings, but he couldn’t help but think Bruce just wanted to keep him under control. Keep an eye on the loose cannon.
He gritted his teeth, biting back the bitterness threatening to spill over. They didn’t want him here. So what? He didn’t care.
He really did.
He finished his sweep, taking out a couple of low-level thugs trying to break into an old electronics shop. Easy work. No need for backup. As always.
“Red Hood, report,” Bruce’s voice came through the comm, terse and cold as ever.
“Streets are clear,” Jason snapped, his voice sharp. “I’m done. Heading back.”
No one responded. He didn’t expect them to.
He pulled off his helmet once he reached a shadowy alley, wiping the sweat from his face. His comm buzzed faintly, the voices distant and disjointed as he fiddled with the earpiece.
That’s when it happened.
The blow came out of nowhere. A hard, sharp strike to the back of his head. Pain exploded through his skull, and the world spun violently. Jason staggered, his helmet slipping from his grasp as his knees buckled beneath him.
He barely registered the sound of his comm activating as he hit the ground.
A sharp crack echoed through the comms. Then nothing.
“Hood?” Barbara’s voice broke through the line. “Hood, come in.”
Silence.
“Red Hood, report,” Bruce barked, his voice suddenly tight with tension.
Nothing.
The silence dragged on, and then they all heard it—the faintest sound of someone hitting the ground, hard.
“Jason!” Dick’s voice cut through the comm, panic laced in every syllable.
Barbara was already working. “His comm is still active. Signal’s coming from—Crime Alley. East corner near Parker and Main.”
“Move,” Bruce ordered, his voice cold and sharp, but there was an edge of something else there. Something frantic.
“I’m closest,” Cass said, her voice steady, though her movements were already blurring into high speed.
“I’m right behind you!” Steph added, the faint sound of her grapple firing echoing through the line.
“RR, Oracle, keep scanning the area,” Bruce ordered. “I want eyes on who did this.”
“What if—” Damian started, his voice unusually hesitant, but Bruce cut him off.
“No what-ifs. Focus.”
Dick’s heart was pounding in his chest as he swung through the city. He couldn’t think about the possibility that Jason was—no. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t lose him again.
“Hang on, Little Wing,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his grapple.
The Batfamily moved as one, a well-oiled machine fueled by worry, panic, and determination. Whatever had happened, whoever had done this—they would find Jason. And they would make them pay.
They just prayed they weren’t too late.
Jason woke up to the weight of a thick, disorienting fog in his head. Everything felt off—his body, the unfamiliar room, and the heavy silence that wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. His muscles ached, his heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing hitched when his eyes landed on the tall, broad-shouldered man looming at his bedside.
The man’s face was stone-like, unreadable, but his piercing blue eyes bored into Jason with an intensity that made his stomach twist.
Jason’s thoughts raced. Where was he? Who were these people? His instincts screamed at him to stay still, to not make any sudden moves. His hands gripped the blanket tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“Jason,” the man said softly, his voice deep and controlled.
Jason flinched, his breath hitching. That name—Jason. That was him. Right? Wasn’t it?
“Jay?” Another voice, this one softer but no less intense. Jason’s gaze darted to the speaker—a younger man with dark hair and deep blue eyes, almost a younger version of the first man. His expression was raw, a mixture of relief and something Jason couldn’t quite place.
Jason swallowed hard. His throat felt tight, dry. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes darting from person to person. There were others in the room too—a girl with blonde hair biting her lip, a serious-looking kid who couldn’t be older than twelve, a quiet woman standing in the shadows, and a redheaded woman in a wheelchair. They were all staring at him like he was supposed to know who they were.
“I—” Jason’s voice cracked, and he looked down at his hands. They were bigger than he remembered, calloused and scarred. The realization sent another wave of panic through him. “What’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Where… where am I?”
The room went dead silent.
Bruce— because that’s who this man had to be, he realized —stiffened, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re in the Batcave,” he said slowly, carefully. “You were hurt. But you’re safe now.”
Batcave? Jason’s brow furrowed, his mind spinning. None of this made sense.
“You’re okay, Jay,” the younger man added, his voice kind. “We’ve got you. You’re home.”
Home?
Jason’s breathing grew shallow, panic clawing its way up his throat. No. No, this wasn’t home. His home was small and cramped and smelled faintly of booze and cigarettes. This place was nothing like that. This was cold and sterile, filled with people he didn’t know.
“I don’t understand,” Jason whispered, his voice shaking. “I don’t—I don’t know you.”
The words landed like a bomb in the room. Everyone froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm.
“Jason,” Bruce said firmly, stepping closer.
Jason recoiled instinctively, his back pressing against the headboard. His hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Please. I’ll—I’ll be good, okay? I swear I’ll listen. Just… don’t hurt me.”
The air seemed to leave the room.
“What?” Dick’s voice cracked, his face paling.
Jason’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his wide eyes darting between them. “I-I don’t know what you want from me,” he stammered. “But I’ll do it. I promise. Just—just don’t hurt me, okay?”
Bruce froze, his hands lifting slightly, palms out, as if to show he wasn’t a threat. “Jason,” he said carefully, his voice soft but strained. “No one is going to hurt you.”
Jason didn’t look convinced. His entire body was trembling now, his breathing coming in short, shallow gasps.
“Jay…” Dick started to approach, but Bruce held up a hand to stop him.
Bruce moved slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Jason,” he said softly, “you’re safe here. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
Jason flinched when Bruce reached out, his shoulders hunching defensively. His arms wrapped around himself, his head shaking as tears welled in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I swear. Just—just don’t touch me. Please.”
Bruce’s stomach twisted painfully. His hands froze midair, and he slowly lowered them.
Something was very wrong.
“Jason,” Bruce said carefully, his voice tight, “do you know who I am?”
Jason hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You’re… you’re not Willis,” he said cautiously, his voice trembling.
Bruce’s heart sank. “No, I’m not. My name is Bruce Wayne. Do you remember me?”
Jason shook his head, tears slipping down his face. “No,” he whispered.
“And us?” Dick tried, his voice barely steady. “Do you remember any of us?”
Jason’s gaze darted between them, his confusion and fear only growing. “No,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I don’t—I don’t know who you are. I don’t know any of you.”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Bruce’s hands curled into fists, his heart clenching painfully. Jason’s words echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Jason didn’t remember them. He didn’t remember the Batcave, or being Robin, or anything about his life with them.
And worse than that—Jason was terrified of them.
As realization dawned on everyone in the room, the panic they’d been suppressing finally took hold.
Jason didn’t just lose his memories.
Jason thought they were strangers. Strangers who wanted to hurt him.
It took hours, but Jason finally stopped shaking, the tension in his body loosening by small, hesitant degrees. They kept their distance, giving him space, but their eyes never left him. Jason sat upright on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, still clutching the blanket like a lifeline.
Bruce had taken the lead, sitting in the chair by Jason’s bedside. He’d been careful with his words, explaining as much as he could about Jason’s place in the family without overwhelming him. He avoided anything about Robin, the Pit, or their night lives. Jason didn’t need to know about that right now.
“The important thing,” Bruce said softly, keeping his tone even, “is that you’re safe here, Jason. This is your home. I adopted you when you were twelve.”
At that, Jason froze. His wide, green eyes snapped to Bruce, and for a moment, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Jason’s face was open, unguarded, and so startlingly innocent that it made Bruce’s chest tighten painfully.
“You… adopted me?” Jason asked, his voice small and disbelieving.
Bruce nodded slowly. “I did.”
Jason’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing. He didn’t seem to know what to say, his fingers twisting nervously in the blanket. “Why?” he asked after a long moment, his voice trembling.
Bruce swallowed hard. How could he explain this in a way Jason would understand? He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees. “Because I wanted to give you a better life,” he said softly. “Because you deserved a home. A family.”
Jason’s breath hitched at that, and he looked down at his hands, his grip tightening on the blanket. His shoulders were tense, his body stiff, as if he were bracing for something. “A family?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Bruce said firmly. “A family. This family. You’re my son, Jason. You’ve been my son for a long time.”
Jason’s head snapped up again, his wide eyes locking onto Bruce’s. His expression was raw, vulnerable in a way Bruce hadn’t seen since Jason was a boy.
“Really?” Jason asked, his voice cracking. There was something almost childlike in the way he said it, a mix of hope and fear that made Bruce’s heart ache.
“Really,” Bruce said, his voice steady but soft.
Jason stared at him, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Slowly, tentatively, some of the tension in his body began to ease. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but the fear in his eyes was starting to fade, replaced by cautious curiosity.
“You don’t…” Jason hesitated, his voice trembling. “You don’t… hurt me?”
The question hit Bruce like a physical blow. His jaw tightened, and he forced himself to stay calm. “No, Jason,” he said firmly. “I would never hurt you. None of us would.”
Jason looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, the faintest flicker of trust beginning to bloom in his eyes.
Bruce felt something in his chest loosen, and he let out a slow breath. He reached out carefully, resting a hand on the edge of the bed—close, but not close enough to overwhelm Jason.
“You’re safe here,” Bruce said again, his voice soft but unwavering. “This is your home, Jason. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
Jason didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he watched Bruce with a quiet intensity, his body slowly relaxing as the words began to sink in.
From across the room, the rest of the family watched in stunned silence. None of them had ever seen Jason like this—so open, so scared, so vulnerable. And none of them had ever seen Bruce so gentle, so careful.
It wasn’t perfect. Jason was still hesitant, still wary, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.