I always thought about what would have happened if the Joker had had some kind of weapon hidden. This is what I think would have happened.

"Bruce, I forgive you for letting me die." Jason said. "But why, why on God's earth, is HE still alive?" Jason kicked down the door to reveal a tied up Joker. The Joker looked at Jason and I, and started to laugh. He started to hop toward Jason in his chair.

"Gotta give the boy points. He came all the way back from the dead to make this shindig happen. So, who's got a camera?" He asked. Jason still had his gun pointed at me, but I didn't care. I hadn't seen him in five years. All I wanted to do was pull him into my arms and hold him. Unfortunately, he was so angry that he would never want that affection again.

"Ooh ooh, get one with me and the kid first, then you and me, then the three of us, and then one with the crowbar, then-" Jason delivered a perfect roundhouse kick to the clowns head, and Joker fell to the ground in his chair.

"You'll be as quiet as possible, or I'll put one in your lap first." My son growled, pressing his gun into the side of Jokers head..

"Party pooper. No cake for you." Joker grumbled. Jason stood up and pointed the gun at my chest again.

"Ignoring what he's done in the past, blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he's filled, the thousands who've suffered, the friends he's crippled. Y'know, I thought, I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt." His voice was growing more emotional, but the Bat held me back from running over to my child and holding Jason in my arms. "If it'd been you that he'd beat to a bloody pulp, if he had taken you from this world, I would have done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil, death worshipping garbage! And sent him off to hell!" Jason cried. His face was barely betraying any emotion, but his voice was full of anger, pain, and grief.

"You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood." I said softly.

"What? What your moral code just won't allow for that? It's too HARD to cross that line?" He was angry. No, more like enraged.

"No! God almighty, no. It'd be too damned easy. All I've ever wanted to do is kill him. A day doesn't go by that I don't think about subjecting him to every horrendous torture he's dealt out to others, and then, end him." I said. Jason still stood there behind the Joker, his eyes masked by that stupid domino mask he wears.

"Aww, so you do think about me." Joker said.

"But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down into that place, I'll never come back." I whispered. Jason stared at me.

'Why? I'm not talking about killing Scarecrow, or Penguin, or Dent. I'm talking about him. Just him. And doing it because, because he took me away from you" Jason said, his voice shaking as he finished.

"I can't. I'm sorry." Jason's jaw dropped open, and the white lenses quivered. He was holding back so much grief and anger, I don't know what will happen when the dam breaks.

"That is so sweet," says the Joker, who is still lying on the floor under Jason.

"Well you won't have a choice" my son said. He took another gun from behind his back, and threw it at me. I caught it in my hands, and looked at it, and then looked up at Jason.

"I won't-"

"This is what it's all been about. This. You and me and him. Now is the time you decide!" He slammed his foot down, breaking the chair, and pulled the Joker up against his chest. "If you won't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will. And if you want to stop me, you're gonna have to kill me." He shouted. Surely he knew I would die before I ever intentionally hurt him.

"You know I won't-"

"I'm gonna blow his deranged brains out. And if you wanna stop it, you're gonna have to shoot me. Right in my face." Jason shouted.

"This is turning out even better than I'd hoped." The Joker said. I didn't see his hand slipping into his pocket, and neither did Jason. I was focused completely on the face of my son, who I had believed for five painful years, was dead until this afternoon. I dropped the gun, hearing it clatter to the floor. I turned and walked toward the window. Jason's scream of agony echoed through the night. I whirled around, and saw my son doubled over, clutching the hilt of a knife buried in his stomach embedded in my son's stomach. He dropped to the floor, pressing a hand to his stomach and curling up into a tight ball. Joker started laughing, but I tackled him to the floor in an instant, knocking him out. Jason was on the floor, groaning in pain. I crawled over to him, and rolled my twenty year old son over on his back. The knife was buried deep in his lower abdomen. I slipped my right arm under his neck, and lifted him onto my lap. He whimpered in pain from the sudden movement, but seemed to relax in my arms.

"Dad?" He gasped. I nodded, removing the mask. His green eyes were full of so much pain and sadness. I yanked back my own cowl, and lay my hand on his . He grabs hold of my cape, and pulls my head down towards him "Hurts." He choked out.

"Shh...I know, I'm going to take it out now, ok?" I wrap my left hand around the handle of the knife. Jason's grip tightens on my cape, and he nods, bracing himself. I count to three, and pull the knife out. He barely holds back a scream. Blood starts flowing from the wound. He tries to curl around it, moaning and pressing a hand to his stomach. I look into his eyes. Something is wrong, he shouldn't be in this much pain. I glance down at the knife. It's about six inches long, wooden handle. Maybe it punctured something?

"Let's go Jase. We'll get Alfred to patch you up-"

"Stop acting like you care, old man." Jason gasped. I never thought this would happen. I ran my right hand through his black hair.

"I'm not leaving you here." I told him. Blood was slowly leaking from his mouth, and he sounded like he wasn't getting enough air. I propped him up a little more.

"You'll have to." He said. I stared at him in confusion, and then was pulled back from him. The Jokers infuriating laugh echoed in my ear. I grabbed his arms and flipped him over my shoulder. He pushed me to the floor near the fireplace. I could see Jason struggling to his feet. I wrestled with the Joker, getting my right hand free, and punching him several times. He fell backwards, unconscious. I looked around, and say Jason slowly moving out the door with a hand wrapped around his middle. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor. I was by his side before he fell, lifting him into my arms and running carefully down the stairs to the street. Jason tightly shuts his eyes against the waves of pain coursing through his body.

"Shhh. You'll be okay. You are NOT dying again. Not if I can help it," I whispered, summoning the Batmobile. In a few seconds, it roars around the corner and stops in front of me and Jason. I gently lay him on the reclined passenger seat and run my fingers through his hair. He ever so slightly leans into the touch, leaning his cheek against my hand. He's nearly unconscious. I run to the drivers side, and slam my foot down on the accelerator, heading towards the entrance to the Batcave.

When we get there, Alfred is waiting as usual. I jump out and carry Jason to the Med bay with Alfred and the medkit following me. Jason moves slightly when I lay him down on the bed. A strangled groan escapes his lips, and I take hold of his hand. Alfred cuts open the grey body suit with a specialized knife, revealing two layers of bulletproof kevlar. The suit is covered in blood from the wound, and Alfred discards it for cleaning and repair. His torso is covered in bruises and blood. I squeeze Jason's hand, and gently run a hand through his black hair.

"Sir, he appears to have four broken ribs, a partially collapsed lung, and the knife has punctured his stomach. We need to take him to the hospital." Alfred says. I nod, and lift Jason into my arms, walking quickly toward my black Cadillac ATS. I deposit him in the backseat, dash into the house to change into civilian clothes. I grabbed a black shirt for Jason on my way out. I jumped into the backseat of the car and pulled my sons limp body into my lap, hearing a whimper of pain escape his throat.. I pulled the black shirt on, and stroked his hair again. His shirt was quickly absorbing the blood. "Check his pulse, Sir." Alfred said, driving as fast as possible. I pressed two fingers to his throat, and my heart almost stopped. His heart was beating way too slow.

We arrived at Gotham General Hospital, and I carried Jason into the Emergency Room. The receptionist started shouting for a stretcher as soon as she saw him. Three nurses and a tall Arab doctor ran out with a stretcher, which I lay the boys limp form on. He was rushed into surgery, and I sat down in a leather chair. Alfred joined me after a few minutes.

3333333333333333333333333333333333!

After two hours, the doctor walks out into the waiting room. I rise and walk to meet him.

"Is he okay?" I asked anxiously. He took a deep breath, and I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. Oh God, not again.

"He will be fine." He said. I sighed in relief.

"Can I see him?" I asked. The man nodded and walked back toward the doors.

"Jason's unconscious at the moment, but should be waking up soon." I followed him all the way down the hall, where we stopped outside a door. I walked in, and saw my son lying on the bed. I rushed to him, sitting in a chair beside him bed.

"When will he wake?" I whispered.

"He should be awake within the next hour. The boy's injuries were quite severe." The Arab said quietly. I took my boys hand in my own, and squeezed gently.

"What exactly was wrong with Jason?" I needed to know what to watch for.

"He had five broken ribs, a grade three concussion, a three inch long stab wound to the stomach, a collapsed lung, and severe bruising to his ribs, stomach, and chest area. His heart function is normal though. He'll be fine, as long as he takes it easy." I didn't know about some of the injuries. It makes sense though. The assassin shot some kind of beam at him, so that accounts for the bruise. Broken ribs, partially collapsed lung, and bruising were caused by that statue. He must have hit his head...oh. The bathroom.

"How long until he recovers?"

"Bed rest for a month. Lots of iron. Try to keep the movement to a minimum for a while. I need to go see to one of my other patients. Call if you need anything, Mr. Wayne." I nodded my thanks, and he left. Jason stirred, and I looked back to him. His eyelids fluttered a few times, and then opened to reveal bright green eyes.

"What happened?" He groaned. He was staring at me through those haunted eyes, now filled with pain and confusion. I raised my hand to his face, but stopped when he shied away.

"The Joker stabbed you with a knife. It punctured your stomach. You also had five broken ribs and a collapsed lung." I replied. All those times I had punched him, I hadn't thought about how hard, just that he was a criminal. The Bat had completely taken over when Jason attacked. Sure, I had been punched several times, but nowhere near as hard as Jason was hit. If he had cried out at all, I hadn't processed it. "How are you feeling?" That was a stupid question.

"How do you think I feel?"

"Jason, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how hard I was hitting you. I never wanted to hurt you." I said. He tried to sit up, but couldn't. His face twisted in pain, and he fell back onto his pillows, holding his stomach.

"Really? Because it sure felt like you wanted to!"

"To be fair, you were the one who started this whole mess."

"No, you were, when you refused to avenge my death. All this was just to make you do what you should have done years ago: kill him."

"We don't kill. Dick never would have-"

"Oh, so you're still comparing me to him? The golden boy, who never did a thing wrong! I'm not him. Get that into your head." He was still laying down, glaring at me.

"I know you're not Dick. I apologize for any misunderstanding."

"Don't you dare start trying to apologize. You haven't changed a bit."

"You haven't changed either. Some believe you never will." That comment only served to make him angrier.

"I was beaten almost to death by a madman, blown up, resurrected, and told that Joker was alive. That hurt, Bruce! How do you expect me to react?" Oh Jason. If only you knew. "You say that I'll never change. But what the f*** do you know?"

"Watch your language, young man."

"You have no right to say that anymore. I'm not your son Bruce."

"Then why did you call me 'dad' earlier?"

"If I did, it was a mistake." I sat back, and pressed my lips together.

"I'm bringing you back to the manor tonight. When you recover, you're free to leave." With that, I stood up and left. If Jason wanted to leave and never see me again, he could. Wait, there's something I forgot. "And just so you know, you were always my son, even if I never acknowledged it." I turned, and left, but not before seeing the look of shock etched on his face.

Okay, so I totally rewrote this story, if you can't tell already lol. This first chapter sets the scene for the next one, which is also being rewritten. I love you guys! You put up with the gaps between updates and horrible Jason-whump stories...

Edit: Went through and edited and revised some parts.

Ani