Chapter Text
By the time the sun comes up, Jason has officially given up on sleeping. He creeps his way through the Manor’s quiet hallways, wanders into the kitchen to steal an apple from the always-stocked bowl on the counter, and heads outside.
The Manor’s marble front steps are cool against his thighs and back when Jason sits. He eats the apple, smokes, and tries not to think.
The brilliant sunrise hues, colored by Gotham’s pollution, have faded by the time someone finds him. Not that Jason was really hiding, he’d have to try harder to achieve that, given that every person in the Manor was trained by Batman
Dick joins him on the steps, two mugs in hand. He offers one to Jason, who regards it with skepticism. “Tea.” Dick says, wiggling the mug a little and nearly spilling. Jason still doesn’t budge. He’s seen Dick start a fire while boiling water, afterall. Dick relents with a huff: “it’s from Alfred!” And then Jason accepts the offering.
Jason holds his mug with both hands, allowing it to warm them, and watches Dick set his own aside in favor of stretching out on the large marble landing. He lays back, hands linked under his head, basking in the sun like some sort of reptile.
“I know you’ll want to hit me for this,” Dick begins, “but I’m gonna give you a pep talk.”
“All this? It isn’t your fault. The Joker is cruel, and Oliver is afraid. None of that is on you.” He continues, sky-blue eyes focused on Jason’s face. Jason hesitantly meets his gaze. “Oliver is a dad. He’s scared for Roy and he’s looking for someone to blame. He doesn’t care who, but it should not have been you.”
Jason grinds his teeth, trying to accept Dick’s words and get past his own self loathing. Dick keeps looking at him earnestly until Jason sighs and lays down beside him on the landing with a mutter of “Thanks.”
Dick’s smile from beside him is blinding, and he shuffles a little closer, pressing his shoulder to Jason’s. Jason watches Dick turn back to the sun above them, closing his eyes and basking. Maybe he could sleep now, sun on his face, cool marble at his back, safe with the Golden Boy beside him…
Naturally, it is just as Jason closes his own eyes that Damian decides to ruin the moment.
The Manor doors creaking open are the only warning before Titus’s feet land right on Jason’s chest. Jason chokes when 200+ pounds of Great Dane forces all the air out of him, and Damian’s cackle sounds at his struggling. “Titus! Down!” Dick tries, but he’s laughing too hard to establish any authority. Besides, Titus is Damian’s dog, if the Demon Brat wants the dog to suffocate Jason, it totally will.
“Damian!” Dick finally manages a stern tone, and Damian tuts and whistles. Titus goes right to his side, panting happily. Jason wipes his slobber-covered face with his sleeves, groaning in disgust at the feeling. Damian sits beside Dick, initially placing space between them, but almost immediately getting tugged into Dick’s side by a strong arm around his middle. Dick flops back down onto the landing, pulling Damian with him. Damian huffs in annoyance, but rests his head on Dick’s shoulder without further complaint.
They lay like that for several minutes. The morning is now quiet except for Titus’s panting, Jason’s heavy breaths as his lungs slowly recover from being crushed by the dog, and the soft scritching of Dick’s fingers in Damian’s hair. Then, the heavy front doors scrape open again. Jason cracks open an eye, and Dick arches into a backbend to get an upside down view of a very tired looking Tim.
The third Robin blinks down at them, his blue eyes hazy from sleep. He has a full coffee mug in one hand and half a bagel in the other, and is wearing an oversized Superboy shirt over his pajamas which hangs halfway down his thighs. “Morning Timbo.” Jason chuckles. Tim doesn’t bother responding with words, just shoves more bagel in his mouth and flops into a cross-legged sitting position at Jason’s side.
“Drake!” Damian pushes himself up via a hand shoved into Dick’s stomach, which makes his brother wince. “Have you analyzed the blood samples yet?” Damian asks. Evidence: one of the rare subjects Tim and Damian can willingly converse on.
Tim covers his mouth with one hand, but still talks through the half chewed bagel, making Jason cringe a little. “AB positive. No hits in Gotham hospitals yet, but Babs thinks he might be under a police hold. So GCPD records rather than medical.” He explains. Damian nods along, though he gets notably less excited as it becomes clear that they haven’t come up with anything significant.
Jason’s heart sinks a little, he knows Harley didn’t offer anything yet either. He can feel Dick staring at him as Tim and Damian’s voices turn into something distant and muffled, Jason’s swirling guilty thoughts blocking out everything but the image of Roy’s beaten face and his cries of pain before they sedated him.
The sound of his phone vibrating loudly across the smooth linoleum steps jars them all out of the conversation. Jason stares at the caller-ID. Dinah Lance.
“Jason.” Dick says, his voice gentle but encouraging. He picks up the phone and presses it into Jason’s calloused hands. “You need to answer her. Talk to Lian. She must be worried.”
Jason swallows, scrubs a hand back through his hair, and makes himself stand up and walk further into the lawn for some privacy. Dick is right, he doesn’t know what story Dinah has told Lian about her dad’s absence, and she’s old enough to have questions. Maybe if he talks to Dinah, they can make a plan for what to tell her.
“Dinah, hey.” Jason starts, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he makes his way across the neatly trimmed lawn.
“Jay-Jay?” A little voice responds, and Jason freezes. His heart half drops and half soars at the sound of Lian’s voice, anxious on the other end of the phone.
“Sweetheart. I don’t—why do you have Dinah’s phone?” Jason stutters, finding a spot around the corner of the manor and leaning against the sun-warmed bricks. He cradles the phone against his head, seeking out her small voice again.
“Dinah said I could call you.” Lian responds. “She said Daddy got hurt in an accident and that you and Grandpa Broose are taking care of him— but I want to see him.” Lian’s voice cracks at the end there, fear and want creeping through.
“Lian, slow down and listen to me, okay?” Jason starts. “Dinah is right, your dad is hurt. But he’s already getting better. Maybe— maybe you can come see him when Dinah comes to get Oliver, okay?” Jason offers the option hesitantly, Roy is still so weak, but there’s no denying that he would want to see his daughter.
“Yes! Yes I want to see Daddy.” Lian shouts. Jason can hear her feet pitter-patter across the floor as she runs through the Queen family mansion. “Dinah! Dinah! Jay-Jay says I can see my daddy!” She squeals.
“Lian, can you uh— tell Dinah I’ll text her. We’ll make a plan, okay?” Jason asks.
“Okay Jay-Jay. Tell Daddy I love him!” Lian’s voice is much brighter now at the prospect of seeing her father.
“Will do sweetheart. I— I love you Lian.” Jason’s said that before, I love you, to this precious little girl at the other end of the line. But love is an ever dangerous and painful feeling, and Lian’s cheerful “Love you too Jay-Jay!” Falls on deaf ears.
Jason turns off his phone and shoves it into his pocket, then presses his back to the manor wall and sinks down to the ground. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.
It’s my fault, isn’t it? The Joker didn’t finish me off so now he’ll take them all away from me?
Jason thinks of Lian, what if the Joker somehow got to her? His chest feels like it’s in a vice grip, his gasps for air getting him nothing as the panic rises. His family, everyone he loves, the Joker will take them. Lian. Dick. Tim. Bruce. Cass. Damian. Roy. Roy.
Roy Harper. Intelligent, fierce, funny, passionate Roy. Jason’s best friend, his partner, his lover, his fault. Jason presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying and failing to block out the memory of Roy’s frightened green eyes, the blood and dirt in his copper locks, the way his—
A tennis ball hits Jason’s knee, snapping him out of his thoughts and scaring the living daylights out of him. He yelps a few expletives and leaps to the side, hand on his hip to find a weapon he’s not carrying. “Oh my God.” Jason rubs his face forcefully. “Damn you, Damian.” He growls. His little brother looks less than impressed with him, standing with his hands on his hips and Titus at his side while he glares down at Jason.
“Throw it.” Damian commands, pointing one of his sneakers at the ball sitting by Jason’s legs. Jason picks it up, raises it, and very nearly hurls it at Damian himself. He resists the urge and instead throws it as hard as he can into the yard. Titus woofs in delight and goes running off after the ball, Damian and Jason watching him as he goes.
Titus’s happy sounds bring Ace out to the yard, and soon the game of fetch morphs into fetch-and-wrestle. While Jason at first wanted to strangle Damian for scaring him and interrupting his thoughts, he soon calms under the boy’s influence. Damian never picks up the tennis ball himself, just nudges Titus or Ace in Jason’s direction and has him throw it. He doesn’t say anything to Jason either, just makes occasional comments on the dog's antics and talks to the canines when they come close to him. Damian, in his own weird way, has done a brilliant job of helping Jason calm down without pressuring him in any way.
Jason and Damian decide to abandon the game when Titus and Ace finally give up on fetch themselves, and instead focus on wrestling in the grass. Damian watches the dogs with a startlingly genuine grin— wait, is that a dimple? Jason states at him for a long moment, then gives the dimple in Damian’s cheek a poke. His smile drops and a scowl immediately reforms. “Sorry.” Jason teases. “You were smiling so much I thought you had to be a clone of some sort.”
“Todd. Pets bring a sort of joy that anyone can appreciate.” Damian scolds him, standing up and planting his hands on his hips for good measure. Jason looks up at him, “Well, joy looks pretty cute on you, Demon.” He teases.
Damian’s frown somehow deepens further and he aims a kick at Jason’s shoulder in retaliation. Jason rolls his arm out of the way, but lets Damian shove him back into the grass with his hands raised in mock surrender. His little brother marches off in a huff, Titus and Ace following. Jason chuckles, a sound he didn’t think he had in him today, and pushes himself to his feet to follow Damian into the Manor.