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The dining room at Wayne Manor was large, but it felt less oversized with each passing day. Jason sat at the head of the table, a spot usually reserved for Bruce, as Alfred placed a very nicely decorated birthday cake in front of him.
In all honesty, he never thought he’d make it this far.
It'd been about three months since Jason had literally gone from rags to riches when Bruce Wayne (The Bruce Wayne!) had taken him in one what seemed to be a whim. A whim spurred by catching Jason in the act of stealing his tires, but a whim none the less.
At first, it was a little scary. Jason wasn’t stupid, he knew how horrible rich men could be, especially to young boys, but Bruce wasn’t like that. He was stuffy, distant at times, and a complete idiot when it came to emotions, but he was neither bad nor scary. Today he might have been a little confusing with the sad little glances he shot Jason’s way every so often, but after a few months of knowing the guy, it wasn’t so far fetched to think that he just didn’t know you were supposed to be happy when your new kid was having a birthday.
So yeah, Bruce was fine. Alfred was cool too for being an old British guy, plus his cooking was never burnt. Even without the massive mansion and personal library, Bruce and Alfred’s addition in his life would have been a massive improvement on its own.
Jason blew out the candles in front of him without a wish in mind. He was safe, warm, house, clothed, and fed, which was much more than he could say only a few months ago.
Jason stood on a stool next to Alfred as they peeled apples together. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to make one long peel like Alfred could. Instead, his came off in sad little strips.
"Practice makes perfect Master Jason," Alfred said with a tiny little smile. He placed aside his finished apple and grabbed another. Alfred could peel about five in the time it took Jason to peel one. "You're already better than Master Bruce."
"Not like that's a high bar," Jason scoffed. "I bet he's never even cooked before."
"He is aware of the basics."
"He's like fifty!"
That got a small chuckle from Alfred. "I'm afraid to ask how old you think I might be."
Jason huffed and returned his focus to the apple. His hands were getting sticky. "How come Bruce never helps you?"
"I am in no need of assistance. It is my job to ensure Master Bruce is free to focus on more important matters."
"Like what?"
"All the duties he has at Wayne Enterprises. Spring is fast approaching which brings with it charity auctions and galas-"
Jason wrinkled his nose at the thought of spending hours with a bunch of rich people. "Do I have to go to those."
"That's up to Master Bruce, though he's aware that the spotlight is not the proper place for a child."
"Hm," Jason placed his peeled apple with the rest. He went to reach for another only to find the bag empty. With nothing left to help with, he went to wash his hands at Alfred's insistence before making his way to the library. On the way, he passed the open door to Bruce's study where he could see the man pouring over several stacks of paper. Jason waited for a minute until Bruce looked up at him. He gave a little wave which Bruce returned before closing and locking the door.
Jason tried not to feel too bad about it as he curled up on a comfy chair with a good book.
Going to school after the adoption had been a bit of an adjustment. Sure, Jason had been before, but that was when he was a lot younger than he was now. Plus, he'd gone to a normal public school, not Gotham Academy where everyone had to wear a suit and tie and all the kids talked about their family's yacht trip to the Bahamas or whatever it was rich people did for vacations. Well, Jason was rich now, kinda, but not in the same way they were. He hadn't been born with it, so he didn't really look at it the same way as his classmates.
All that to say, Jason didn't have an easy time making friends at school. He didn't have much in common with his classmates so he was kept a little further from any big groups that might form. That didn't stop him from hearing some of the more tame gossip.
"Did you know Charlotte's mom is pregnant?" Jason asked one morning at breakfast. The entire school had been talking about it. They'd also been talking about how Charlotte's dad had only just gotten back from a long trip abroad. "She's getting a little brother."
"Is she now?" Bruce asked with that faux interest that adults had started showing Jason recently. Back before Bruce, adults may have treated him like a child, but not a stupid one.
"People are saying mean things, but she's pretty exited..." Jason paused for a moment. "I think it'd be fun. To have a younger brother, I mean."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be-"
"You have siblings?"
"A younger brother, Lincoln March. He was illegitimate."
"That's what everyone keeps calling Charlotte's little brother."
Bruce made a pinched sort of face. "You children shouldn't be talking like that."
"I'm not!" Jason huffed. "So... You have a brother?"
"Had. He passed away."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Bruce's expression became strangely bitter. "We didn't meet until adulthood anyways. I learned he was... sick."
"...My mom was sick too."
Bruce gave Jason a sad smile. "Why don't we focus on something else? How are the rest of your friends doing?"
"Oh, um, good!"
It was a lovely morning when Jason found Alfred in the kitchen. The oven was on and sent the smell of cinnamon throughout the adjacent rooms.
Normally Bruce was downstairs already, reading the morning paper. On days when he wasn't, one of the cars in the garage was gone. This morning, no cars were missing, yet there was still no sign of Bruce.
"Hey Alfred-"
"Hey is for horses, Master Jason."
Jason couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Have you seen Bruce? He was supposed to help me with my history project."
"You'll have to find him tomorrow, I'm afraid," Alfred shook his head. "He's locked himself in the study and refuses to leave."
"I can go-"
"There's no reaching him when he's in one of his moods."
"...Did something happen?"
"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. Today is simply an important anniversary for Master Bruce."
"Oh... Okay."
Jason went into the dining room and took his usual seat at the table. It felt so empty without Bruce there.
Something was watching him. Glowing gold eyes peaked out from the shadows. The hidden figure of a creature tilted its head, not stopping until its neck was twisted at an awkward, unnatural angle.
Jason watched it from his bed, paralyzed as it took a step towards him. Clawed talons scraped against the floor as black feathers shone one in the light.
Jason squeezed his eyes closed, scared to see the rest of the creature. It continued to scrape its way towards him until-
Something jolted Jason awake. He shot up, panicking as he switched on the lamp next to his bed. He slumped down with a sense of relief when there was nothing waiting for him in the darkness.
The manor's attic was dark and dusty but also filled with a bunch of cool stuff. Jason excitedly looked through boxes and bins while Alfred watched on with fond amusement. Their goal was some family heirloom the local museum had asked about but Jason wanted to see all the stuff the Waynes had stored away.
"Remember, we're searching for a watch."
"Got it!" Jason called as he moved over to some dusty furniture. It made him sneeze a few times, but it all looked very nice, if a little broken. Large sturdy desks and chairs that looked like they would have been comfortable once were stacked, almost like a wall. As Jason got closer, he realized that they actually did make a bit of a wall when he saw a few other pieces behind them.
Using his small frame to his advantage, Jason squeezed himself under one of the desks to get even further back into the attic. There rested a furniture set with much less dust than most things. There was a desk that was roughly Jason's size with a top that was absolutely covered in deep scratch marks. The sides weren't much better. The whole thing looked like a scratching post for a very big and very aggressive cat.
Next to the desk was a chair and bed frame in much the same condition.
Jason, careful of splinters, inspected the desk. He pulled open the drawers, finding them mostly filled with folders and school work. The handwriting didn't look like Bruce or Alfred's. At the bottom of one of the drawers, Jason found a photo. It was faded and punctured, kinda like someone randomly stuck it with some push pins or something, but in it was Bruce and a boy Jason didn't recognize.
The boy looked younger than Jason. He smiled brightly at the camera while Bruce didn't even seem to notice it. He had blue eyes and black hair like Jason, but his skin was a few shades dark-
"Jason? Where have you gone?"
Jason looked up at the sound of his name. He scrambled out of the hidden area he'd found and back to Alfred who looked a little worried. He smiled when he saw him, but his expression very quickly fell when he saw the photo Jason was still carrying.
"Dear boy," Alfred's eyes were glued to the photo in his hand. "Where did you find that?"
"In one of the desks," Jason held the picture up so that Alfred could see it better. He gently took it from Jason's hands, almost like he was afraid to touch it. "Who's the kid with Bruce?"
"Master Dick..." Alfred stared for a moment longer before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to Jason. "Master Bruce's previous ward."
"I didn't know he had another one. Why isn't he-"
"Those stories are for Master Bruce to tell, dear boy," Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder before quickly pulling back. "You're absolutely filthy, why don't we get you into the shower?"
"What about the watch?"
"I will have Master Bruce assist me later this evening," Alfred made his way towards the ladder that led to the main manor while Jason couldn't help but look back at the walled off furniture. Had that been Dick's? If it was, what happened to it? And where was- "Come along now, Master Jason."
It had been a few days since he'd found the photo. In that time, Jason found himself constantly chickening out before he could bring it up to Bruce. He wanted to know more about Dick, but the words kept getting caught in his throat.
He just needed to spit out all at once. Kinda like ripping off a bandaid. So that's what he did one afternoon when he found himself nervously standing in Bruce's study.
"Did you need something, Jason?" Bruce had paused whatever it was he was doing to look at Jason with a raised eyebrow. Jason decided it was best to look anywhere but at Bruce. He found his gaze glued to the bookshelves behind him. A bunch of books with Latin or something lined the shelves. One hidden behind Bruce's chair mentioned something about the occult on the spine?
"Jason-"
"I have a question... About um... DickGrayson."
"About what?"
Jason felt the urge to run away. Instead, he placed the photo he'd found on Bruce's desk. The way Bruce sucked in a breath of air told him it was probably a touchy subject.
"Dick Grayson. I, uh, found a picture when I was helping Alfred with something," Bruce's eyes hadn't left the photo yet. "He said he was your first ward? I was just- Sorry, if this is like your brother-"
"Dick is nothing like my brother," The fierceness of Bruce's voice was startling. The way his expression softened immediately after was even more so. "Dick was- is like a son to me."
"Then, how come he doesn't live here?"
"He... fell ill, some years ago."
"Is he-"
"No. He's just recovering."
"Oh. Is he getting better?"
The sad smile Bruce gave him was answer enough. "He is."
Something was watching him. Something wanted to hurt him.
Jason stumbled through the manor as the shadows grew larger. If he turned around, it would get him.
The flapping of bat wings grew louder and more numerous. Claws dug into the meat of his shoulder.
Jason tried to scream as he was yanked back but nothing came out. Standing above him with glowing eyes was a creature, half human half not.
It looked familiar. A clawed hand wrapped itself around his throat and began to squeeze.
It looked like-
Jason shot awake with a gasp. His heart was pounding as his hands flew to his neck. There was a phantom ache in his shoulder but no real injury.
For a moment, he sat alone in the darkness. Then, with shaking legs, he made his way to Bruce's room. It felt stupid and childish when he slipped inside and crawled into bed. It felt even worse when he found it empty.
Jason curled up on the bed that was too big for even Bruce and tried to calm himself down. Eventually, after what felt like hours, he fell asleep.
In the morning, Jason woke up to find himself tucked in under the blankets. Bruce was asleep beside him, his heartbeat steady and soothing against his back.
Jason rolled over so that he was facing Bruce. He wrapped his arms around him as best he could, only to freeze when he felt several large scratches on his back. Slowly, quietly, he crept out of Bruce's bed and back into his own room. He laid awake in his bed until the sun came up several hours later.
Jason passed by the trophy case every morning on his way to class, never paying it much mind. It wasn't until today that he actually stopped to look at it, unsure exactly what drew his attention. Whatever it was, it didn't really matter as much as the name plastered across one of the trophies in the academic section.
Dick Grayson.
After school, Jason went onto the library computers while he waited for Alfred to pick him up. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard to find mentions of Dick on the internet. Several articles from the school paper chronicled his mathlete achievements, each with photos that showed him looking progressively more pale and sickly. A few articles from sources Bruce told him not to pay too much mind to also had some information, though their coverage was much more critical of Bruce's young ward, and they used words that Jason was pretty sure he wasn't allowed to say in polite company. Unlike the school papers, speculation on his health ran rampant with theories that ranged from plausible (progressive illness) to ridiculous (demonic youth ritual victim of Bruce Wayne).
By the time the car arrived, Jason found himself feeling a strange mix of pity, curiosity, and jealousy. Undoubtedly, Dick's condition had been steadily growing worse, his paling skin and darkening veins showed as much. It was pretty stark, even against Bruce who himself was pretty pale.
Jason stared at a picture of Bruce and Dick together for a moment before closing the tab. They both looked so... happy. Bruce had a smile on his face, one larger than Jason ever saw on him. Suddenly, one of his conversations with Alfred replayed in his head.
The spotlight is not the proper place for a child.
Maybe, he bitterly thought, it just wasn’t the proper place for some trash from the alley.
"Hey Bruce, you said Dick was recovering, right?" It was the first question he asked when he saw Bruce in the manor's main sitting room. Jason didn't miss the way he flinched at that name, but that didn’t stop him. "Why don't we ever visit him?"
"It's... complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"He's not in any state to be receiving visitors-"
"But how do you know if you never try to visit?"
"Jason," Bruce sighed. "Is there a reason you're so curious about Dick?"
"Isn't it normal to be curious about my older brother?" The way Bruce frowned only fed into the… whatever it was he was feeling. "I mean, you shipped the guy off before I could meet him."
"It's not like that-"
"Do you ever even call him?"
"Where's this coming from?"
“No one’s heard from in a while,” The words were spilling out before he could stop them. “Everyone liked Dick, he got good grades and joined clubs and- And you still sent him away!”
“Jason!”
"I was just thinking... If I got sick like that," Jason's voice suddenly felt too small. "Would you throw me away too?"
“I would never throw him away!”
“And what about me!?” Jason’s heart was pounding so fast, it felt like it might just hop out of his chest. “If you stopped caring about him-”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Whatever volume Bruce’s voice had before was replaced with something colder and much harsher. He took a sudden step forward, causing Jason to flinch before he could stop it. Bruce froze for a moment, anger quickly draining into something closer to guilt. He looked away, suddenly unable to meet Jason’s eyes. “Tell Alfred I won’t be coming to dinner tonight.”
With that, he stormed off. Jason heard a door slam a few seconds later down the hall, roughly around Bruce’s study. Jason was left alone in the room, unable to stop himself from shaking.
"Jason," Jason froze where he was. He slowly looked between Bruce in the doorway and his half packed suitcase on the bed. "Mind telling me what you're doing?"
"Leaving," He turned his back to Bruce so he could continue packing. "I thought I'd save you the trouble of kicking me out."
"Why do you think I'd kick you out?"
"You seemed pretty upset earlier."
"I'm sorry for raising my voice."
“I’m used to that.”
Jason didn’t miss the way Bruce winced. “You shouldn’t be.”
“It is what it is.”
“No, it’s not. I should have a better handle on my emotions but… Jason," Bruce sighed as he finally entered the room. He took a seat on the bed, motioning for Jason to do the same. "I'm just worried about you." He paused for a moment when Jason sat down. "You're that same age Dick was when he got sick."
"Oh..."
"Sometimes," Bruce pulled him towards him. Jason didn't put up a fight. He allowed his head to be maneuvered into Bruce's lap. "You remind me so much of him."
Jason swallowed down the strangely bitter feeling in his chest when Bruce began to pet his hair.
"I'm so happy you came into my life, Jason. Even if I don't always show it."
"Ok."
"Can you forgive me?"
Jason closed his eyes. He thought, really thought, about where he would have gone if Bruce hadn't come in. Nowhere good certainly. At least if Bruce didn't like him sometimes he still gave him food and a place to sleep.
"Jason?"
Maybe he was a replacement for Bruce’s real kid… But he could live with that if it meant he didn’t have to give up everything else.
"Yeah... I forgive you. And um, I'm sorry."
"It's okay Jason. I forgive you too."
Sometimes, things changed so gradually that it was hard to notice it right away. Sometimes, those changes progressed until you were about two shades too pale and your eyes looked wrong in the mirror. Jason looked on in horror as he took in his sickly appearance. How could he have missed this until now? His complexion was practically grey in places and some veins were so dark under his skin that they looked black.
He almost looked like-
Doing his best not to feel uneasy at the sight, he dragged himself downstairs for breakfast where Bruce and Alfred were waiting. Neither of them commented on his appearance, though Bruce did shoot him a few worried glances when he wasn't eating as much as he usually did.
It wasn't until Alfred was clearing the table that he finally spoke up. "Is something wrong, Jason?"
"Um... I don't know," Was it possible that Bruce simply hadn't noticed how different he looked from a few months ago? Or maybe, just maybe he was overreacting. "Bruce, do I look... paler to you?"
Bruce looked him over for a moment with a slight frown. "Are you not feeling well?"
"No, I feel fine, I think..." Was he sick? He hadn't really felt bad before but now that Bruce had said something, his stomach felt kinda weird and his throat might be a little scratchy. "I thought I, I dunno, looked a little weird in the mirror."
"Maybe it's the lighting in your bathroom, white bulbs can make you look more washed out."
"Right..."
"Perhaps Master Jason would benefit from more time outside," Alfred suggested as he grabbed Jason's half finished plate. "And eating well couldn't hurt."
"Alfred's right," Bruce gave one of his small smiles as he placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Why don't we explore the grounds today?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. Okay."
Jason forced himself to smile. If Bruce and Alfred thought there was nothing wrong then... Maybe he was overreacting after all.
After hours of searching the library, Jason had to admit to himself that he was not going to find a copy of Romeo and Juliet. Not for the first time that afternoon, he cursed himself for leaving his copy at school. How was he supposed to write a dumb essay when he didn't have the play to quote?
Jason groaned with frustration as he found himself etching closer and closer to the inevitable conclusion. He was going to have to ask Alfred to take him somewhere. He hated bothering Alfred for stuff like that, not because Alfred ever made him feel like a burden but because Jason knew he was just too nice to say that he was absolutely being one.
With a resigned sigh, he dragged himself down the hall to find Alfred only to perk up when he saw the door to Bruce's study. There were plenty of books in there, maybe he could find some ancient collection of Shakespeare.
Jason made his way into the room, mindful not to disturb any of the paper sitting on the desk. He looked around, finding it strangely silent despite the giant grandfather clock on one of the walls... A grandfather clock the was broken upon further inspection which was kinda weird considering how anal Alfred was about maintaining-
"What are you doing in here?" Jason immediately turned to face a startlingly angry Bruce. He took a step back without meaning to.
"I-" His voice caught in his throat, but Bruce's expression didn't soften. He swallowed and forced himself to continue. "My book- I was looking for... Um, Shakespeare."
"We have a library Jason," Bruce sighed. He took a step forward, finally a little less aggressive in his posture.
"I looked. We didn't-"
"Then you can ask Alfred to take you to the public library," Bruce kneeled, lowering himself to Jason's eye level. "You can't just come in here without asking."
"But-" Jason quickly shut himself up. He was fairly certain this was a new rule, but that didn't mean it was up for debate. He'd already fought with Bruce enough over stupid stuff, he really didn't need this to be the thing that got him thrown out. "Right. I understand."
"Good," Bruce stood and put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Now let's go ask Alfred to take you to the library."
Jason nodded, walking along wordlessly with Bruce.
By the time he got back from the library with far more books than he'd gone for, he noticed that the study was closed and locked.
Bright blue.
Jason stared at a photo of himself and Bruce taken just before his birthday. There, his eyes were bright blue. The ones that looked at him from the reflection in the frame were grey with flecks of gold.
He felt sick. Not because of the change, but because Bruce and Alfred had lied about it.
What else were they lying about?
Breaking and entering was something Jason had done plenty of times. Sure, it felt a little different doing it to his own dad in his own home, but what else could he do? Everyone had been acting suspicious for months now and he was sick of it.
As quietly as he could, Jason unlocked and opened the door to Bruce's study. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him before looking around.
All things considered, it felt pretty normal. There was a desk, some bookshelves, and a big clock. A big clock which hadn't been fixed since the last time Jason had seen it.
Bruce had more than enough money to repair the thing and Alfred was too much of a perfectionist to leave something like that alone which made the whole thing pretty suspicious.
Jason poked and prodded at the clock, not entirely sure what he was expecting to find. Maybe a secret compartment or something? He opened the case when he noticed a fingerprint on one of the golden hanging bits inside. He grabbed it and pulled only to immediately scramble back when he actually felt some give. His heart sank to his stomach at the thought that he'd broken it, but it went back to its normal place almost immediately.
For a moment, nothing happened. It was a blissful second where Jason could tell himself he was just being crazy and that nothing was wrong. Then, a click, like a lock unlocking, and the clock suddenly slid to the side, revealing a long spiral staircase.
Jason took a step forward, but hesitated actually entering. He couldn't help but think of the Blue Beard story he'd read in English class. If that was Bruce, then he was out of luck either way. Folktales always did things in threes and even if they didn't, no one cared about Jason Todd enough to save him.
Steeling himself, Jason made his way down the stairs. Instead of a secret basement, they lead into a large, very dark, cave. The only available light came from the hastily sealed entrance. Suddenly, he wished he'd brought a flashlight.
In the darkness, Jason could vaguely make out spots where there was no floor. He briefly wondered just how big of a drop they were before deciding it was best just never to find out.
Once at the bottom of the stairs, Jason was hit by just how cold it was. Logically, he could have guessed it wouldn't be warm in a secret basement cave, but this was far worse than he would have imagined. He hugged himself for warmth as he ventured further in. With each step he took, the feeling that something was watching him began to take root.
"I know someone's here!" Jason whipped around but found no one hiding in the shadows. "Come out already!"
The only answer to his accusations were the echoes of chattering bats. A few flew around, unsettled by the noise, but that was all.
Cold, alone, and questioning his sanity, Jason let out a sigh. He threw his head back with a frustrated groan only to freeze.
A pair of faintly glowing yellow eyes watched him from above.
Jason's heart stuttered in his chest. He stumbled back a step as the... creature tilted its head. Then, it pounced.
Without a second thought, Jason ran back towards the stairs. He wasn't sure if this creature stayed in the cave by necessity or choice, but if there was the slightest chance it couldn't follow him, he'd take it. Above him, he heard claws scrape against stone. Behind him, he heard the soft thud of a landing. Before he could get very far at all, a clawed hand seized his wrist.
With enough force to nearly dislocate his shoulder, Jason was pulled back. Feathered arms wrapped around him, trapping him in some kind of embrace. They were... warm. Comforting almost. A sharp contrast to their surroundings. Something deep inside cooed b̴r̷o̸t̶h̶e̶r̸ as he instinctively leaned into the creature's hold.
A distinctly inhuman noise escaped Jason's throat when a clawed hand began to ruffle his hair. It was met with a delighted trill in kind.
Jason wasn't sure how long he stayed in the cave. Long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Long enough that when light suddenly flooded in from fixtures built into the ground, it burned his eyes.
The creature screeched in pain. It reared back, dropping Jason onto the cold stone below. When he looked up, he wished he could say he was surprised at what he saw.
Black and gray feathers grew from too pale skin. Black veins crept in, stark against his near corpse-like pallor. The creature's frame was taller than a human's should be, his proportions were wrong and warped in a way that looked painful. His face was unmistakably Dick Grayson's.
"Jason!" Bruce ran to him and before he could blink, he was wrapped in his arms. "Are you hurt?"
Jason looked up in a daze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick begin to scale the cave walls with inhuman speed. His arms looked somewhere between a human’s and a bird's wing, as though they'd paused midway through changing.
"Jason-"
"B... Bruce," The words felt wrong coming out of his throat. Some part of him wanted to call out to Dick again. He pushed past it, forcing himself into a more rational head space. "You said he was sick."
"He is Jason-"
"That," Jason pointed to where Dick had perched. He- It? Watched them, or rather, watched Bruce as though he was ready to strike at any moment. "Is not sick! And you said he was getting help, how is keeping him locked in a cave supposed to help him!?"
"Jason, please," Jason pushed Bruce away. He saw Dick's eyes narrow, but he didn't move. "Calm down-"
"What happened to him, Bruce!?" Jason backed away but Bruce did not follow. "Is that going to happen to me?!"
"I... I don't know," Bruce sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Just let me explain things, okay?"
Reluctantly, Jason nodded. He let the tension drop from his shoulders and saw Dick do the same.
"I want you to know that I didn't mean for any of this," Bruce kept his hands in the air and his body language as non threatening as possible. "My family is... cursed. The youngest heir they- Well. My father told me when I was younger but he passed before I could understand what he meant. I never thought it was real, I grew up thinking I was an only child, I never knew about Lincoln until it was too late."
"Your brother?"
"Yes, I- I believe my father wanted to protect me so he..." He shook his head. "I met Dick after his parents died. I understood how he felt, I thought I could help him, but I never would have taken in Dick if I had known. Things were good, he was the light of my life for five years. Then, he began to change. I didn't understand what was happening to him at first, not until I found out about my brother, but it was too late to stop it. I tried everything I could to help him, but eventually he stopped recognizing me and I- I was desperate."
Jason took another step back. He barely even registered it over the sudden numbness that took hold. "Was I just... What? A way to fix your real kid?"
"No, Jason, it's not like that. I love you more than anything in the world."
"Not Dick."
Bruce looked away. "...I didn't intend to trade you for Dick. My hope was that I could reverse what happened to him and then we would have time to help you-"
"And what if you couldn't help me?"
"I would find a way, Jason," Jason flinched when Bruce took a step forward. Dick tensed above them. "I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you? You're my son."
"So was Dick."
"Dick is getting better," Another step forward. "I know it doesn't look like it, but my theory worked! He stopped trying to hurt me every time I- He's recovering!"
Jason looked up at Dick. He watched the two of them carefully, looking far more like an animal assessing a threat than the boy who smiled so wide while holding up a mathlete trophy.
"Please, don't- I can't lose you too Jason," Another step. Bruce could probably reach out and grab him if he really wanted to, but Jason remained where he was. "So please, don't go. Let me fix this. Help me to help your brother."
Bruce held out his hand for Jason to take. He hesitated for a moment, long enough that he could fool himself into thinking he could really bring himself to run away, but ultimately accepted.
The moment he took Bruce's hand, he was pulled into a tight hug. It wasn't nearly as warm as Dick's. Bruce ran a comforting hand through his hair. Jason couldn't help but lean into it as he tried his best to ignore the down feathers that fell to the floor.
At twelve years old, Tim found himself standing in the imposing shadow of Wayne Manor. When his parents hadn't come back from their latest trip, he'd expected to be passed to some relative he didn't know, or maybe be thrown away and forgotten about. He couldn't have possibly imagined that he'd end up as Timothy Drake-Wayne. He just hoped that living with Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth was less lonely than living with his parents.