This Doesn't Change A Thing

Jason's eyes slowly opened, his vision blurry at first. He scanned his surroundings a little before he sat up in a bed...in a room? His room? Something didn't seem right though; what was he doing in his old bedroom in the manor? He groaned in pain and threw the blankets off, looking himself over. He had bandages wrapped all around his waist where he'd been shot, and bruised a few ribs. All his small wounds had also been bandaged and he'd been left in nothing but a pair of jeans. Then he started to panic a bit; where the hell was his gear?!

He needed his gear, needed his weapons, his armor, he felt naked without them. Naked and vulnerable. And he was in the manor to boot! Enemy territory, unarmed. Jason's eyes narrowed with the determination to escape as he pulled himself out of bed. Escape might have been a bit over dramatic, because he hadn't been bound or anything but the window was sealed shut, likely to keep him from-

"Sneaking out, Master Jason?" came Alfred's voice from behind him. Jason spun on the spot, his expression softening when he spotted the old butler. He was carrying a tray with some water, a washcloth, and some bandages on it. Alfred, unperturbed, moved across the room and placed the tray down, before moving toward Jason who looked like a deer in the headlights.

Alfred flashed him a smile before ushering Jason back into bed.

"Alfred-" Jason began to protest. Alfred 'tsk'd and shook his head.

"I will not hear any protests, Master Jason. You'll pull your stitches! You need to rest and recover," Alfred said casually, rounding the bed once more and dabbing the washcloth in the water,

"Besides, I need to redress those bandages," he added in. Jason was surprised, to say the least, at how well he was being treated. After he tried to kill Bruce and turned Gotham upside down...but then, he and Alfred always seemed to get along well. He loved Alfred like a father, or well, more like a grandfather.

"I assure you," Alfred said smoothly, peeling off one of the bandages on Jason's arm and gently cleaning the wounds there "that Master Bruce, Master Dick, nor Master Tim are permitted to see you without your permission." Jason looked at Alfred in surprise the man just flashed him a knowing look. He had been tempted to ask how Alfred had managed to convince Dick, and especially Bruce, to leave him be, but then he remembered, this was Alfred after all.

"Why? Why help me?" Jason finally asked, opting to look out the window instead of at Alfred. Alfred stopped on his bandages for a few moments and he could feel the man's eyes on him, but the silence remained, until Alfred had finished cleaning and redressing all his wounds, sitting him up to get at the ones on his stomach, back, and sides. He was kind of a train wreck. Jason felt like he was a kid again, with Alfred fussing over him like this, but he didn't have the heart to protest; it felt good to have someone care about him, to be honest. And frankly, he missed Alfred.

"Because Master Jason," Alfred finally said, pushing him back down onto the bed "despite everything, you are still family." Alfred lifted the tray off of the nightstand and glanced down at Jason, flashing a smile "and family does not give up on each other." With that, the man left the room, left Jason to his thoughts. Jason closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander; the last thing he saw before he blacked out, was both Dick and Bruce hovering over him with worried looks on their faces.

But he wasn't ready to forgive Bruce. Not by a long shot. But he didn't have time to think further because Alfred returned minutes later.

"Master Dick would like to see you," Alfred said smoothly. Jason glanced toward the door and saw Dick behind him with a somewhat worried look on his face. Jason just waved him in and Alfred gave a nod, moving aside for Dick to enter. The man flashed Jason a smile before pulling a chair up beside the bed. Alfred departed, closing the door behind them, just as Bruce came into Jason's view.

"Hey, how're you doing?" Dick asked. Jason sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"I feel like shit. How do you think?" he snapped in reply. Though it didn't hold much anger, it was more playful than it sounded. Dick chuckled in amusement and shook his head.

"Well, at least you feel something. We were afraid you were-"

"Going to die? Yeah, tried that once already Dickie-bird. It didn't quite stick," Jason interrupted. Dick snorted, holding back a laugh. He swatted Jason's arm playfully.

"That's not funny! You almost died, Jaybird," Dick replied, both amusement and annoyance in his tone. Jason just flashed him a cocky smirk. The two of them sat in silence for a time, seemingly absorbed in their own thoughts. Then finally, Dick cleared his throat and said "we...have a bit to talk about, actually." Jason looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"Do we? You're not going to try and convince me to make nice with Bruce, are you? Because-"

"No. I meant...about us," Dick interrupted, face tinted pink. Jason laughed and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"There is no us Dickie-bird. We had sex, once. It was lust, nothing more. No need to make a big deal out of it," Jason replied. Dick frowned, looking entirely unconvinced.

"You told me you had a crush on me, remember?" Dick pointed out, tone full of amusement. Jason blushed a bit and shook his head. He didn't really want to talk about this, about the fact that...well, frankly, he wasn't good enough for Dick.

"Can we forget it for now? Really not in the mood what with my entire body aching like I was run over by a steam roller," Jason said flatly. Dick quirked an eyebrow, but then heaved a sigh and gave a nod.

"I understand." Another silence pervaded the room.

"How long was I out?" Jason asked. Dick sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"About three days." Jason went silent again and then he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

"Tired," he muttered. Dick gave a nod and retreated from the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at Jason before closing the door behind him.

Bruce sat in the batcave, staring up at the computer intently. It kept his mind off of things, to focus on work, instead of the possibility that he might lose his son for a second time. When he brought Jason back to the batcave, he was barely responsive, barely alive. He feared Jason would die a second time. It was only through sheer luck and perhaps a miracle, that Jason survived his wounds and Alfred was able to save him.

But no, Bruce decided; luck and miracles had nothing to do with it. Jason had always been a fighter. It was Jason that had kept himself alive, he believed. He wanted to talk to him, to try and mend things, but Alfred refused to let him see him. He had been angry at Alfred, but he knew the man was right; considering how hard Jason had tired to kill him, how angry he had been, his first sight upon waking should not have been the object of his anger.

"I talked with Jason," Dick said softly, coming up behind the man, hands raking through his hair. He stopped behind Bruce, hand resting on the back of the man's chair.

"He's still angry at you. Probably will be for a while," he added. Bruce didn't respond, just kept staring up at the screen. Dick looked down at him with a neutral expression; he knew the man was covering up the fact that he was blaming himself for all of this. It wasn't his fault, but that was typical Bruce, always blaming himself for everything.

"It's not your fault, Bruce," Dick tried anyway. Bruce finally looked up at him and shook his head. But he didn't speak, didn't argue because they both knew neither side was going to relent.

"How is he?" Bruce finally asked. Dick sigh and gave a shrug.

"Physically, he's awake, and doing okay. He's in some pain, but he tries to hide it. Typical Jason, right? Always playing it cool, trying to be tough," Dick joked, even earning a smirk from Bruce. The memories came flooding back, good memories for a change. Sure, he blamed himself for Jason's death. He allowed a fourteen year old boy to become Robin, he failed to rescue Jason, and, looking at it from Jason's perspective, he began to understand why Jason felt so...betrayed. Given the life Jason had been forced to...endure...before Bruce adopted him...

Adopting Jason was not a mistake, not a regret. In the two, almost three years that Jason had been with them, he'd become like a son to Bruce, like Dick before him. So no, adopting Jason was not a regret, not a mistake, and not a failure on his part. He had accepted responsibility for what had happened to him, what he had become, but Jason was still his son. Family does not quit on each other, Alfred used to say.

"I think he needs to see you though, Bruce," Dick finally said, interrupting the man's thoughts. Bruce looked up at him and attempted to protest, but Dick interrupted him "no, Bruce. Trust me. He may think he doesn't need to see you, but he does. We can convince Alfred to let you in to see him, but you have to see him. You can't keep avoiding each other forever." Bruce stared up at him for a few moments before he gave a curt nod and pushed himself up from his chair.

The two of them ascended the stairs to Jason's room, having convinced Alfred to let Bruce see him. However, when the entered the room, Jason was gone. The bed was empty, the window was open, and a note sat on the nightstand. Dick picked it up and read it silently. Sorry Dickie. Sitting still isn't my style. See you soon.

Dick sighed deeply and raked his hand through his hair.

"Dammit Jaybird," he muttered. He flipped the paper over and, curiously enough, found more on it. He smiled and handed it to bruce. Bruce frowned and looked at it, reading it mentally.

P.S. Tell Daddy Bats I said thanks. And maybe next time, I'll be less inclined to blow him up with dynamite.

Bruce managed a small smile and crumpled the paper up, tossing it in the waste basket. He sighed and retreated back down to he batcave. He caught sight of Jason's old Robin uniform out of the corner of his eye and moved toward it. It was sitting in a glass display case, having been restored to perfect condition, a memorial to the previous Robin, to his son.

Alfred came up from behind him with a sad expression on his face.

"Sir, in light of recent events...would you like me to remove that?" Bruce was silent for a time, staring at the costume before he looked back to Alfred. He shook his head and pulled his cowl on.

"No. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't change anything at all," Bruce said softly before heading to the batmobile. He stopped in front of it, a memory flashing through his mind that brought a smile to his face.

"Okay, come on, let's go! If you can't suit up quickly at home base, I'm concerned how you would handle it in the field!" Bruce called after Jason

"Perhaps he's primping. As I recall, Master Richard spent nearly half an hour admiring his reflection the first time he donned his cape," said Alfred, tray of tea in hand. Bruce smiled as he picked up a cup of tea off of the tray and gave it a sip.

"Jason, get on out here or I'm going on patrol without you!" Bruce called again. Jason jumped down onto the desk of the computer with a shout. Alfred flinched, startled and nearly dropped the tray.

"Ha! Gotcha!" he said, hopping down onto the floor.

"Would've. If I hadn't seen you slip behind the computer base three minutes ago," Bruce said with a small chuckle of amusement as he sipped his tea. Jason grinned widely and pointed at the man.

"Nah, I totally got you!"

"How does it feel?" Bruce asked. Jason laughed as he gave a few experimental punches and kicks.

"It. Feels. Awesome!" Jason said cheerily, giving another jab at an invisible opponent "check me out! I'm Robin, the Boy Wonder!" Jason laughed as he flipped through the air, practicing the moves Dick had taught him.

"This rocks! Now let's go old man! There are bad guys out there that need chasing!" Jason called, back flipping on top of the batmobile.

"This is the best day of my life!"