A/N: And with this chapter, we've reached the end. Thank you to everyone that made this story a favorite, gave it a follow, and left a review! I read every single review and they have always encouraged me to keep going. Whether you've been with this story from the beginning, tagged along at some point, or are reading this for the first time in its completed form, thank you so much. This story was the most fun I've ever had on a project, and you all played a huge role in that! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

After five years though, it's time to draw this story to a close. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think and any questions you may have!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

The next few days, Jason lived as if caught in limbo. He stayed within the confines of his bedroom and bathroom, resting and recovering from his injury. Usually he felt the need to be on the move, but this time, he was surprisingly content to be where he was. It wasn't as if he had much time alone, either. When he wasn't sleeping, Tim often kept him company. He showed Jason gadgets that he'd been working on, told him about new shifts in the criminal underground. It seemed like the teen was willing to talk about anything to keep Jason from getting too bored.

Even Bruce checked in, though seemed to understand that Jason still needed his privacy. At night, when Jason lay awake in bed, he listened for the sounds of Bruce's heavy steps heading to and from the cave. It took him back to the days when he'd been sick or injured and couldn't follow Bruce out, and so he'd wait for the telltale signs of Batman's return. Jason noticed after the second night that he was avidly listening for the footsteps, and didn't really sleep until he heard them pass by his room.

By the third day, Jason felt well enough. While he appreciated the company, he'd always had trouble being on bed rest, and he was itching to walk around, at least. Late that morning Jason pulled on clothes that Alfred had laid out for him. The ones that he'd worn the first few days were snug, the pants a little short, and Jason suspected he knew who had lent them to be borrowed. Now, however, the plain shirt and jeans fit perfectly. He'd never seen them before, so he figured they were brand new.

"Are you in need of any assistance, Master Jason?" Alfred asked as Jason picked up the shirt. The butler busied himself with making the bed and picking up the room while he dressed. Jason's neatness, however, left very little to be straightened out, and he figured Alfred was pretending to clean in order to make sure that he was alright. Jason hadn't been exempt from Alfred's fretting and company while he'd recovered, and Jason had been grateful for it. Words couldn't describe how much he'd missed him.

"I think I got it, Alfred. Thanks," Jason said with a half smile. He slowly pulled the shirt over his shoulders, guiding it down over his chest. The wound in his back protested, but not strong enough to prohibit him. It was healing well, that much he could tell. He pretended not to notice the soft tug at the back of the shirt that let it loose from where it had bunched.

When Jason turned, Alfred had his hands full of Jason's old clothes, gathering them into his arms. "Do spend some time around the manor. It hasn't been the same since you've left."

"I'll take a tour," Jason promised. He needed to stretch his legs anyways, and there was plenty of room for him to wander.

Alfred smiled, fondness glimmering in his eyes. Jason had noticed the look every time the butler addressed him. Even after the shock of his return set in, Alfred still looked at him like it was the first time that he'd come back. He shifted the laundry and placed his hand on Jason's arm. "You've been dearly missed."

Jason couldn't help the smile that came onto his face—it came full and bright, if only for a moment. Alfred could make anyone feel better in their worst moments, and that, thankfully, hadn't changed. Jason ventured out of the room, making his way down the halls and staircase. He knew Wayne Manor like the back of his hand, and it helped that it was exactly as when he had left it. Out of all the places that he could go, there was one that had tugged at his mind while he'd been resting that he wanted to see the most.

He let his memory guide him from the sunlight of the manor to the cold, dark walls of the cave. Jason descended the stairs, gazing out at the cave and taking it in. It had always been a wonder down here, with so many objects lying around that would make any passing visitor curious about what they meant. Touchstones, Bruce had called them. They were to remind them of where they'd been, so that they didn't get lost along the way. Good in theory, but Jason still managed to completely fall off the path. Or maybe…

Maybe everything just came full circle.

He spied a familiar landmark and wandered over to the glass column that held the first Robin suit. Jason remembered the nights he'd spent staring at the uniform, as if challenging it to a fight. He'd sworn to be just as good, if not better, than the first Robin. He'd be his own Robin, on his own terms. In a way, he'd accomplished that. Jason was certainly no Dick Grayson, and he never had been.

As he drew closer, however, another glass case caught his attention. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion, and then Jason stopped in front of it, staring at the suit inside of it. There, propped up like a living being, was his Robin suit. It was set apart from the other suits on display, in a light that forced it to stand out. Jason reached out a hand and placed it against the glass, the coolness pressing into his palm. This wasn't a landmark, not like the others. This was a memorial.

Bruce never forgot. That much was apparent now. Jason stared at the sight of his uniform, remembering the day he put it on, the pride that had swelled up within him. He hadn't stopped grinning all night. Thinking about it now, Jason still felt that grin pulling at his mouth. Those had been his glory days, for sure. For all that had happened, Jason didn't regret a moment of his time in that uniform.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke him from his thoughts and he turned his head, bringing his hand back down to his side. He was met with an uncertain smile, one that didn't seem entirely right. But Jason would know Dick Grayson anywhere. Dick stopped, using the moment to really take a look at him, and then said with a friendly hesitance, "Hey."

"Hey," Jason said, hearing the surprise in his voice. He hadn't really asked if Dick was still around. It wasn't as though they'd been close back in the day, for many reasons. Jason knew he was partly to blame; he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, and with Dick things had always felt like some sort of competition.

Dick gestured to the memorial case. "Reminiscing?"

"You could say that," Jason answered, turning away from his encased uniform and leaning back against the railing. He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the cave below them, his eyes scanning the place as if retracing it all through his memory. "Not much has changed. This place really is like a tomb."

The corner of Dick's mouth moved upwards in a bit of a grim smile. Jason couldn't help but notice how Dick stood back a little ways and the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. There was something about him that was off, that didn't fit in with the memory that Jason had of him. Dick Grayson was charming, the one that brought the light into the room, the one who could make anyone feel comfortable and at ease. And yet, the way he looked at Jason, the way he hesitated, all told Jason one thing: Dick felt awkward.

Now that was a feat to accomplish. The thought almost made Jason laugh, but he held it in. He actually felt bad—he knew this was a very odd situation for both of them. Jason had to admit even he was a little uncomfortable, but it was different than when he'd talked to Bruce. With his old mentor, there had been hurt and anger and complexities that made having to work it out a discomfort in itself.

With Dick, there was barely a foundation of anything. Their problem wasn't that they had history, it was that they had nearly none. There were reasons for that, reasons that Jason understood and didn't hold against his predecessor. But what did he think Dick would have to say? Obviously there was something, or else he wouldn't have bothered to show his face at all. And if Jason was being honest, he was secretly glad that Dick had shown up. They hadn't been the closest, but it was at least good to know that Dick cared enough to want to see him.

"How's the injury?" Dick asked. It didn't seem like a poor excuse for conversation; the question felt genuine. But that was what Dick was like. He had concern for people's well being, even if they were a stranger. "Feeling better?"

"Eh, I'll be alright," Jason answered, mentally reminding himself not to shrug. "He didn't get me that good."

Jason shifted, putting his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the cases in front of him. If he was being honest, he didn't really know what to say to Dick. With Bruce, he at least had a good bit that he could talk about. But with Dick, the point of the conversation wasn't very clear. But he decided to give it his best shot rather than stand there and wait to figure it out. "Gotta say, I give you credit for setting up shop in Bludhaven. That place is a crapshoot."

"It's a breed of its own, that's for sure," Dick answered. "You don't want to give it another go?"

"Hey, I'm not one to ignore a challenge," Jason said, "but that place might even be too much for me to handle. Sounds like a lot of stress and never making any progress."

"You get used to it," Dick replied, but there was weariness in his face. "I can't really look at it as a lost cause. Not when there are still some good people who need someone to look out for them."

"Now I remember why you annoyed me so much," Jason answered. "Even when you're frustrated you still manage to be noble. You're going to have to lower the bar for the rest of us who actually make mistakes."

Dick looked at him for a moment, and then started to laugh. It wasn't one of joy or hard enough to make him double over. It almost sounded like it was the only reaction that he could think to have, and so it came out tinged with disbelief as he shook his head.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think I was making a joke."

"No, it's not funny," Dick said as he collected himself. He looked at Jason, incredulity marking his features. "It's just...you're really here."

"Well, yeah," Jason answered. "Had to make sure you didn't take my bedroom again."

A stronger smile pulled at Dick's face, carrying more of the signature charisma that he was known for. "We should catch up. You know, not fighting one another."

"Why not? That's what we always did best." Jason meant it as a joke, but it held more truth than either of them probably wanted to admit.

"We weren't on the best of terms," Dick agreed, a flicker of shame crossing over his features. He sighed, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. His eyes travelled to the ground, gaze climbing up the walls of the cave. "I'm not proud of how I was back then. There were a lot of things I should have done differently, especially between the two of us."

It was a confession that Jason suspected Dick had wanted to make. But Jason wasn't upset, he never had been. He had an ever growing suspicion, however, that Dick took what went down harder than he thought. Jason glanced to the side, seeing the memorial case out of the corner of his eye. There were a lot of regrets between all of them. That didn't mean they had to stay that way forever.

"Well you know, I have this whole 'second chance' thing going for me," Jason said as he adjusted his standing position, his hands reaching behind him and holding onto the railing. He looked back to Dick, tilting his head slightly to the side. "I'm not against sharing that good fortune."

He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to flat out say what he meant. But luckily, Dick wasn't all that dense. His eyes glimmered as a small smile graced his face, this one filled with something close to relief. Maybe he needed to know, at least to start, that there was no bad blood between them on this topic. He answered Jason as he lifted his head, sharing that smile more openly. "There's hope for us yet."

It was a possibility that they could at least makeup for what they'd lost. Jason didn't know how, but that was a problem for another time. For now, he wanted to move away from the conversation while he had the chance. "How's your new sidekick? Doesn't Batman usually get the Robin?"

"He's been a team effort to handle," Dick answered. He moved forwards and took a spot against the railing, instead leaning forwards with his elbows on the bar.

"With you doing most of the effort," Jason replied. This was something that Dick couldn't try to excuse or fool him on. There was plenty of surveillance evidence of Nightwing and Robin out in the field together rather than with Batman. It was enough for Jason to notice, even when he wasn't keeping that close of an eye on them.

Dick paused, looking out over the cave with his expression tight. Then he sighed, defeated. "Yeah. Now that things have calmed down, that'll probably change. At least, I'm hoping it's enough to get Bruce to start taking responsibility."

Jason didn't voice it, but he had a feeling that it would be. If the Bat was going to be adamant about trying to fix things with him, then he hopefully knew he had to do it with everyone. "You know it's kind of weird seeing you on good terms with Bruce."

"We've gotten through our issues. Believe me, it took time. But it's possible," Dick said, talking to the expanse of the cave. It must have taken a lot of work, considering how bad the two of them had been when Jason died. But if Dick and Bruce could get onto better terms, it paved the path for Jason to do the same. It was true, there was a chance for all of them, no matter how small.

Dick paused, his expression shifting as he looked to Jason curiously. "What do you think of Damian?"

If Jason was going to be honest, he hadn't liked the kid all that much initially, considering what had happened to Tim. Now that they were all on the same page, he didn't see him in any particular way. Damian wasn't going anywhere, so everyone had to learn to live with it. And while it just added another person to their ever growing Robin lineage, Jason was far out of the age of being Robin. Someone had to carry on the tradition, after all. He looked to Dick, unaffected. "I got used to Tim. I'll get used to him too, eventually."

"It's going to take you a while. He's not the easiest person to get along with," Dick warned. "But there's good in him, underneath all the assassin training."

There had to be, Jason surmised. He was only a kid, and from the information that Bruce had given him regarding everything that had happened on their end, the kid was merely cocky. Some time in the real world with a few lessons from his father would teach him, quickly, that even if he was a kid genius and incredible fighter, he still had a lot to learn. Jason pushed off the railing, "If Bruce can see it in me, I'm sure he can see it in him."

He turned to face the railing and leaned against it, gazing down below. Jason let out a sigh, his head spinning and trying to keep up with everything. Sometimes it was hard to digest all of what had happened, and even he had his moments where it all just sounded too insane to be real. "Assassins, Lazarus Pits, reconciliations...is it just me or have things gotten crazier since I've been gone?"

Dick chuckled, a glint in his eye. "That's just the way it always is. The longer we're in this, the weirder it gets. This time though, I don't mind."

"Yeah," Jason answered slowly. "Me too."

At that, Dick simply smiled. "Good to have you back, Jay."

For everything being so out of hand over the last few months, Bruce thought he was picking up the pieces decently enough. He'd kept his outings as Batman shorter for the past few days, opting to spend more time among his children. He'd made sure to check in on Jason, inquire with Tim about what he was working on in the cave, and even talk to Dick about how he was holding up. While his oldest insisted he'd be fine, Bruce suspected that Dick was taking it a lot differently than he let on. Bruce didn't pester him about it further, but invited him to join him on a patrol one night. It seemed to do the trick, at least to clear his head for the time being. Bruce was relieved to be able to say that things appeared to be on the mend.

There was only one conversation left that he needed to have.

Bruce entered the library, noticing the stacks of books that littered the floor. This was the place where Damian had been spending most of his time the past few days, and it showed. There were books open on the floor, some sorted into different piles in a system that Bruce didn't know. Sitting in one of the chairs was his youngest son, who didn't even bother to look up from the thick book in his hands when Bruce approached.

But Bruce wasn't about to be dissuaded. He stopped in front of Damian, taking a seat in the chair across from him. "Have a minute?"

"Do you?" Damian still kept his eyes on the book, but by the way his eyes stared at the page, it was clear that he wasn't actually reading it. The retort held all the sharpness that the boy was known for, making it clear that he still wasn't opposed to shooting daggers at his father. That couldn't be helped, considering the situation.

Just like when talking to Jason, however, Bruce had to be careful as to what he said. But above all, he had to tell the truth and get it across to Damian as genuinely as he could, even when he struggled with the right words. Thankfully Bruce had had a few days to think this through, and he had an idea of what he needed to say. He leaned forwards, bringing himself to Damian's level, "I'm sorry that things have been so tense. I doubt that's what you wanted when you came here."

"What's it matter? You got Drake back. And he'll take Robin back, too," Damian said, closing his book angrily. He tossed it onto the table in front of them, crossing his arms and looking to the side. His face bore nothing less than anger, his eyes narrowed and fingers gripping his arms in a tight lock. "So congratulations on finding your partner."

Bruce could admit that normally he wasn't very in tune with what others were feeling. But he suspected that Damian had assumed Tim would take the Robin title back, now that he was here. Despite Damian presuming to be above everyone else, he'd come to realize that Bruce wasn't going to stop worrying about his other sons. But that didn't mean that Bruce wouldn't care about Damian, despite the rocky start to their relationship.

"Tim and I have talked about what's going to happen," Bruce answered, watching his son. "He'd prefer to keep Red Robin, which I think is best. I would like to have you as Robin, officially."

Damian's attention shot to him in surprise, his eyebrows raising. "Really?"

"As long as you earn it," Bruce said. None of them had ever just been handed Robin, and although Damian had gotten away with it for now, Bruce planned to put a stop to it. He did have previous training, which made it easier for him to put on the suit so soon. But that didn't mean Bruce couldn't bench him if he felt like Damian wasn't ready. "You'll have to show me that you can handle the responsibility."

"I can," Damian said, his tone sure enough to make it a promise. "I'll show you, Grayson, and Drake that I'm the most worthy of all of them."

Well, it was better than yelling that he was the only rightful son. Bruce would work on that with him, considering he wasn't going to be rid of the other boys any time soon. Damian never had to deal with a family quite like theirs before, but in time he'd understand the role he played. And, hopefully, come to accept the others. For now, he'd take what he could get. Bruce just gave a slight smile, "That's what I like to hear."

"Wow, do I hear talking instead of yelling?" Dick entered the library grinning, more of his old smile back on his face. Behind him came Jason, and Bruce had to resist chuckling himself. The last time he'd seen the two side by side, Jason had only stood below Dick's shoulder. Now he towered a few inches over the other.

Dick looked between Damian and Bruce, "Good to hear everyone getting along for a change."

Bruce felt the same way. It made interacting with all of them much easier. He looked to Dick, inclining his head. "Are you heading back to Bludhaven?"

"I think I'm going to hang around here, make sure everything is settled," Dick said, placing a hand on the back of the chair where Damian sat. "I feel like I'm needed here a little longer."

It was a quick look, but Bruce caught a tinge of relief pass over Damian. Bruce had a feeling that Dick wanted to make sure that he and Damian started to get along. Considering that Dick was the one that Damian gravitated towards and got along with best, Bruce could learn a few things from his eldest about handling the boy. But Bruce was glad that Dick wasn't running back to Bludhaven immediately; he missed having him around and it would be nice to have him in the manor when there wasn't a crisis brewing.

Bruce nodded and looked to Jason. "Glad you're on your feet."

He looked much better, even if he was walking a little slower and slouched more than usual. At least he was healing, and soon he'd be back to himself. Jason adjusted his stance, hands in his pockets. "I've never really been good at bed rest."

Damian muttered under his breath, "Add that to the list."

Bruce was about to correct him, but Jason cut in, raising an eyebrow at the boy. He looked amused rather than offended. "That the best you've got? Better work on your insults, kid. That didn't even hurt."

"Watch it, Todd," Damian answered with a scowl. "Just because you are back from the dead doesn't mean you get any privilege. I will take you down if you get in my way."

If the comment was supposed to deter Jason, it didn't work. He took his hand out of his pocket and gestured up and down at Damian. "I'm not fighting a...how old are you? Eight?"

Damian's scowl deepened. "I'm ten."

"Right. Same thing," Jason answered. He glanced around the room contemplatively, ignoring Damian's seething, and then looked back to Bruce. "Where's Tim?"

"He's around," Bruce answered, unable to pinpoint exactly where he was. Alfred had mentioned to him that Jason had gone down to the cave, so if Tim wasn't there, he was somewhere in the manor. "Have you tried outside yet?"

"I'll give it a shot," Jason answered, taking his other hand from his pocket and heading out of the library. Bruce watched him go and told himself that it would be fine; Jason wasn't going to disappear and never be seen again. Even their short conversation was more relaxed than their last. Things were in progress to be better. They were just going to take some time.

Once he'd gone out of the room, Damian glared in the direction he'd left. "Tt. I liked it better when we didn't know who he was."

"Identity or not, you still wouldn't be allowed to kill him," Dick said, leaning against the side of the chair.

"No, but it would be more appropriate to attack him on the streets," Damian replied.

"You have a lot to learn, don't you?" Dick said, half joking.

Bruce watched the two of them banter back and forth, Dick laughing and shaking his head at Damian. Despite his nature, Damian already opened up around Dick, becoming more of a kid than an assassin. That was something that Bruce wanted to be able to do, at some point. Teaching his son to be better was one thing, but teaching him to be an average boy...well, that might stay as Dick's department. Either way, he wanted to do better, and watching Dick reminded him that he, too, had a lot to learn. But Bruce had his family back together. He would do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Jason wondered if he was going to have to search the entire grounds of the manor to find Tim. To his luck, he found the teen before the search really began. Tim sat outside the front door of the manor, perched on the stairs and looking out at the driveway and beyond it. Jason pushed through the doors that led to the outside, "There you are. I was wondering where you went."

Tim turned his head, the comment seeming to break him from his thought. He smiled, though it was momentary. "Just wanted some air. I figured you'd be getting up soon."

He must have been able to tell that Jason was getting agitated just sitting around. The observation had been correct. Jason walked over next to him and lowered himself down onto the stairs as well, looking out into the distance. He could recall the first time he'd stood in front of the manor and gawked, unable to help himself. It was one thing to see the mansion from a distance, but up close it was as though staring at a castle. Jason sighed at the memory, and said, "And to think not too long ago I was avoiding this place like it had the plague."

Tim glanced to him, "I'm guessing none of it has sunk in yet."

"I think it's starting to," Jason answered. "I'm on speaking terms with Bruce and I think that's the weirdest part."

"It definitely wasn't the way I was planning on trying to get you home," Tim said. The smile tugged at his mouth again, finding its way onto his face. "But you're here."

Home. It was a word he hadn't used in so long, never mind attached to this place. But wandering inside of the manor, down in the cave, and even living inside his own room, he remembered the times in which he did call this place home. Jason longed for that more than he wanted to admit. For someone who always felt like they never had a place in the world, a home was a security that he wished he had. But he could have it back—maybe not entirely the way it had been in the past, but on these new terms: a place where he could always return and be welcome.

"Yeah, I am," Jason answered. The manor was home, and the next best thing was Gotham itself. This was his home territory, and even though it was riddled with darkness, it was what he knew. And oddly enough, calling it home was better than it having no significance to him at all. Jason batted the thoughts away and turned to Tim, "What do you plan to do now? Are you going back to the Titans?"

"Eventually, maybe. I think I want to find who I am as Red Robin first," Tim said. "I've been attached to Batman for so long and so much has changed. I need to find who I am as a solo hero."

"Not a bad idea," Jason said, nodding and looking ahead of them again. All of them had their worlds shifted yet again, twisted and turned until they were barely recognizable. The process of finding a place in it had started yet again, for both of them. Jason knew with a new identity came a trial period, a time to figure out what their goals were and how they were going to operate. Tim would go through all of it, and in the end he'd come out stronger and more certain. He could handle it, no doubt.

Tim looked to him, "What are you going to do?"

Jason leaned back, stretched his legs out and propping his elbows on the step behind him. "I'm going to stay in Gotham for a while. I'm already established here and I can go places that Batman can't. I can handle the city's darker parts."

It was his slowly growing plan that he'd decided on, without really telling Bruce. The Bat would catch on to what he was doing, and then they'd talk about it. He knew that Bruce probably wouldn't like it, but Jason was a good resource. They could use someone with a stretch like his to protect the city. Tim's eyes glimmered curiously, "You're really going to follow his code?"

The way he said it was innocent, and Jason knew there was no sarcasm or judgment behind the words. Tim was genuinely curious about it, and really, so was Jason himself. "I'm going to respect it as best as I can. I still don't agree with it, but while I'm in his city I'm going to have to adjust."

Tim nodded, turning back to face the driveway. "Fair enough."

They settled in a comfortable quiet, each of them with their own thoughts. Jason didn't mind, watching the distance for nothing in particular. It was a moment of peace that they didn't often get, and he held onto it. Jason let himself relax, his thoughts filtering and not staying on anything in particular, save for one. He'd thought of it a few times since he'd been at the manor, knowing that one phase of his life was over. It was almost reminiscent of how his time as Robin ended, except without the pain. This was acceptance that things had changed, but Jason couldn't help but want to keep connections to the few enjoyments that he had in his life.

"Don't forget, you're not on your own," Jason said, disrupting the quiet. "I get you wanting to find out what kind of hero Red Robin is. But if you ever want to partner up sometime, I'd be willing."

Tim paused for a moment, thoughtfulness crossing his face. "There's a case that Bruce told me about, it's right here in Gotham. Would you want to work it together? I could use the help."

The response ebbed away the worry that he'd carried, reminding Jason that they hadn't just lost the partnership they'd built. "I think I can lend a hand."

The teen smiled, and then he appeared to remember something. "Oh, I fixed your suit for you. I hope you don't mind, I added a few new features to it. Extra protection and all that."

Jason watched as Tim turned next to him, picking up a bundle of neatly folded clothing. The fact that he hadn't noticed it earlier told Jason that he was way more relaxed than he'd thought, considering his observing skills were normally second nature. "You didn't have to do that."

"I needed something to keep me busy," Tim answered, handing the suit over.

At first it looked like his normal suit, stitched up and with some tech inside, for sure. But there was one difference that stood out: a red bat splayed across the chest. It was a symbol that represented unity with the rest of them, his allegiance to their cause. Jason never expected to wear something that connected back to them again. And yet, when he looked up at Tim's sly yet hopeful smile, he couldn't help but grin. "Looks good. Now, about that case..."

"We've got the details down in the cave," Tim said, getting to his feet. "Think you're ready to get back into it?"

Jason rose up as well, "I'm itching. It's been too long."

"It's only been a few days," Tim said, shaking his head but smiling all the same as he headed inside. "You won't believe what's going on with this one."

"Try me," Jason answered, following Tim as the teen headed up the stairs and inside the manor. As Tim entered, talking over his shoulder about the case, Jason paused on the threshold. He glanced at the entryway and then back over his shoulder at the long twisting drive that led to the manor. There were a hundred other places that he could be, another hundred that he could be making his way towards right this second. And he was here.

He was home.

"Jason."

He turned at the sound of his name to find Tim standing there, half smiling, as if he knew exactly what Jason was thinking. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Jason said, blowing out a soft laugh. He didn't know where it came from, whether it was his incredulity of being here—being alive and not regretting it, or if it was the acceptance of his new life finding its way to the surface. But for the first time in years, Jason didn't feel so lost. Even outcasts, he supposed, could find a place where they fit.

He crossed over the threshold and headed inside.