Warning: This story deals with a very disturbing topic. Nothing graphic actually takes place within the story, it just alludes to events, but I would still like readers to be aware that certain aspects of this story can be trigger-y (is that even a word?). As per usual, be prepared for Jason's potty mouth.

This was written for Velkyn Karma as a prize for winning the YJ fanfiction contest. She wanted something from the Volatile verse where someone from Jason's past makes an appearance, and he tries to keep why he's reacting to that person from Dick and Bruce. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but Jaybird is always kinda hard to reel in, so it ended up being a three-shot.

oOo

"We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison." Marcel Proust.

oOo

Jason hurried up the steps of the Gotham Museum, resisting the urge to tug at the noose around his neck – Alfred had spent several minutes making sure his Windsor knot was just perfect and Jason doubted he'd appreciate any crinkles in the silk before Jason had even arrived at the charity auction. It didn't matter that the butler wasn't here; somehow, he always knew if they neglected to maintain certain standards at public functions.

Jason wished he knew what Alfred's secret to being all-knowing was; it might help them stay one step ahead of him sometimes.

Arriving at the main door of the museum, Jason recognized one of the security guards checking invites as Adam Stanton, a Wayne Enterprises guard. Looks like Bruce finally convinced the museum to let him add extra security for tonight.

He couldn't understand why they hadn't agreed to it sooner – Bruce was paying for it out of his own pocket, so it wasn't like it was costing them anything. And even a moron should know that extra security was always better where priceless artefacts were concerned. Jason supposed it was because the museum board hadn't wanted to host the auction in the first place. Hard to blame them considering the initial auction had been crashed by armed gunmen four weeks ago.

Jason scowled. The gunmen were the reason Bruce had chosen the museum instead of a hotel: security was tighter, it was harder to get in and out of, and only ticket holders would have access to the event. In a hotel, any number of people could potentially gain access to the auction. The only problem had been convincing a less-than-willing museum board to host the auction. Jason was willing to bet that the only reason they had agreed to it was because it was Bruce Wayne asking.

"Evening, Jason," said Adam, once he had finished with the couple in front of Jason. "Didn't think this was your kind of party."

"It's not," Jason replied, handing over his ticket. "I'm on the clock."

"Babysitting duty?"

"Don't say that in front of Dick or you might find your locker filled with shaving foam," Jason warned, holding out his arms for the other guard to scan him.

Adam grinned. "Noted."

"What's the turnout like?" Jason asked, as the other guard continued checking him for weapons.

"Big. The shooting a few weeks ago doesn't seem to have scared them."

Jason grimaced. A bigger turnout was great for the charity…not so much for him. More people meant more hobnobbing, meaning it would take longer to get out of here.

"Enjoy," Adam told him with a knowing look when the other guard finished scanning Jason.

Jason snorted and entered the museum. A root canal would be more enjoyable than this – he hated fancy parties.

The lobby was packed with people milling between the front reception rooms in order to examine the items for sale before the auction began. Jason gave an instinctual, cursory scan of the crowd before heading for the auction pre-party in the back where Bruce was likely to be. After the shooting four weeks ago, he had wanted Jason to stay with Dick – just in case. It left a bad taste in Jason's mouth that Dick was vulnerable as a civilian because he couldn't use his Robin skills. Bruce had put out a rumour that Dick was taking self-defence after the boy's kidnapping three weeks ago, but it was still too soon for him to use his skills in public. Jason knew Dick was looking forward to not having to pretend to be a helpless kid anymore, and he himself would feel a lot happier knowing Dick could break a few noses to defend himself as a civilian.

Entering the back room, Jason immediately spotted Bruce and Dick. Several socialites were clustered around them, flirting with Bruce. The billionaire was smiling charmingly but the tightness around his eyes told Jason how much they were irritating him. Dick just looked bored out of his tree. Grinning, Jason headed in their direction. He hadn't seen them in almost a week as he had been back in his own world for a visit.

Dick spotted him before he reached them and his whole face lit up. "Jay!" he cried, and darted the remaining few feet towards him. "Welcome back!"

Jason threw an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, kid, having fun?"

"Time of my life," replied Dick, rolling his eyes, and Jason chuckled.

"You're late," came an annoyed voice. Jason looked up to see that Bruce had untangled himself from his gaggle of admirers – who were now pouting at his back – to join them. "We expected you last night."

"Yeah, sorry. We had a small emergency and I got held up."

Bruce frowned. "Everything okay?"

"I'll tell you about it later," said Jason, knowing they would assume it was vigilante associated and drop it. And while it was vigilante associated, that wasn't the reason for his evasion. The truth was Joker had escaped from Arkham for the first time since he'd tortured Robin and Jason didn't know how to tell Dick. He wasn't sure how the boy would take the news; free, even in another world, was still free, and Dick was only starting to put what happened with Joker behind him.

Jason scowled. If it weren't for the fact he was needed here, he would have stayed in the other Gotham until Joker was caught.

"Jay? You okay?" Dick's voice broke into his musings.

Jason looked down at the boy and patted his shoulder. "Just fine, kiddo. Bruce," he turned to the billionaire, "is the auction still taking place in the front rooms?"

The older man nodded. "Yes. The room on the right will be first, then a fifteen-minute break before the lot for the second room goes up."

"And it's going to take ages," Dick added grumpily. "There's tons of stuff so we won't be getting out of here any time soon."

Jason grimaced. Peachy.

"Bruce? Bruce Wayne! You old dog, how long's it been?" a loud voice called, and someone shouldered past Jason towards Bruce.

Jason resisted the urge to snap at the man. It wouldn't do to insult a Wayne Foundation guest.

"Roger," Bruce greeted the man, holding out his hand, "how've you been?"

"Never better," he replied, shaking Bruce's hand vigorously. "What about you? Still banging on with the whole charity thing I see."

"It's important to help people, Roger."

The man waved a hand. "So just write a cheque. You can afford it and it would be a lot less hassle than all this."

Jason scowled at the back of the man's slightly balding head. What a tool.

"Charity auctions also raise awareness," Bruce pointed out. "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought this wasn't your scene."

"It's not, but there's a necklace up for auction that Krysta claims she just has to have."

"Krysta?"

"My wife."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Wife? What happened to Mandy?"

Roger shrugged. "We weren't suited. Krysta's a much better fit for me."

"Didn't you say the same thing about Mandy after Nozomi?"

"Did I? Sometimes it's hard to keep track."

"I'll bet," Bruce muttered dryly as Roger turned to greet Dick, giving Jason his first view of the man's face.

Cold shock slammed into him. The face was older than when he'd last seen it, but there was no mistaking that arrogant smile: Roger Weldon.

Jason stared at the man. He couldn't breathe. What the hell was he doing here?! How was he here? Why was he– His instincts screamed into overdrive when the man suddenly clapped Dick on the shoulder. Before Jason knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the man's hand and shoved him away from the boy.

There was a moment of shocked silence before Dick hissed, "Jason! What the hell?!"

But Jason was still trying to catch his breath, hands shaking ever so slightly as he continued to stare at the man.

"Sorry about that, Roger," Bruce's apologetic voice sounded. "Jason is Dick's bodyguard and he's trained to react quickly."

"Bit of an overreaction, I'd say," Roger commented, rubbing his chest where Jason had shoved him, and staring at him with a somewhat shocked look.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce again, "but Dick was kidnapped three weeks ago and Jason was with him when it happened. I'm afraid he's still a little on edge − isn't that right, Jason?"

"Uh…" Jason glanced back at Bruce, who was shooting him a warning look. Shit. Right. Not his world; this wasn't the same Roger. "Er, yeah. Sorry. I just…reacted." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick gawping up at him and shook himself. Snap out of it. "Like Bruce said, I'm just a little on edge. Sorry about that."

It made Jason's skin crawl to apologize.

With a bemused head shake, Roger shrugged and held out a hand. "Ah, well, no harm done, and I can't blame a man for doing his job. Don't worry about it."

Jason forced himself to shake hands. The asshole even used the same aftershave – its smell was coating the inside of his nostrils, making him want to throw up. Jason managed a smile he was fairly sure looked more like a snarl.

The awkward situation was rescued by a female voice crying, "There you are, Roggie!" and an impressively endowed blond in a dress she must have been sewn into draped herself across Roger. She looked at least fifteen years younger than him.

"Sorry, baby," the man cooed, dropping Jason's hand to slip his own around her waist. Jason quickly wiped his hand on his trousers. "Just saying hello to an old friend. Bruce, meet my wife, Krysta. Krysta, this is Bruce Wayne."

Bruce held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Krysta."

"I've seen you on TV!" the woman squealed, grabbing Bruce's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "You're, like, one of the richest men in the country!"

Jason missed Bruce's response to such a monumental faux-pas, because his attention was drawn by Dick tapping his arm. "Jason, are you okay?" he whispered, staring up at him in concern.

Jason forced a smile. "Just fine, kiddo."

"You don't look fine," Dick disagreed, frowning. "You're all white and shaky."

"Must be coming down with something."

Dick snorted. "Yeah, right! Seriously, Jay, what gives?"

"Nothing. I'm fi–"

"Dick," Roger's loud voice interrupted him, "come and meet my wife."

Plastering a smile on his face, Dick turned to face the Weldons.

Roger beamed at the boy, making Jason want to punch him in the face. "Dick, this is my wife, Krysta. Krysta, this is Bruce's son, Dick."

Dick held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Weldon."

"Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing!" Krysta squealed, ignoring Dick's hand and patting his head. "That tux is just darling on you."

Jason scowled on Dick's behalf. He was thirteen, not three!

Roger roared with laughter. "Careful, Krysta, or his bodyguard might get the wrong idea…James, wasn't it?"

"Jason," he corrected through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to smash Roger's head in.

"Right, right. Anyway, Jason here takes his job very seriously – he sent me flying just a few minutes ago! Nearly ended up flat on my ass." The man chuckled obnoxiously and Jason scowled again.

"Oh, relax," said Roger. "I'm just teasing. Jeez, I gotta hand it to you, Bruce, your taste in bodyguards is as bad as your taste in women! Remember that nurse you dated back in college? Raquel?"

"Rachel," Bruce sighed. "And she was a doctor."

"Whatever. Point is, her sense of humour was as AWOL as Jason's here. Girl just didn't know how to take a joke."

"Possibly because your idea of a joke involved touching her in some way," Bruce reminded him with a smile that was so fake Jason was amazed Roger couldn't see through it.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? She had a very impressive ass, and I'm not the kind of man to resist temptation!" He chortled, ignoring his wife's offended expression and nudged Bruce with his elbow. The billionaire made no response. "Still, at least Dick here has a sense of humour…right, kid?" Roger clapped Dick across the shoulder again, making Jason bristle.

Dick managed a weak smile at Roger.

"Good sense of humour, that's what you need to woo the ladies," Roger continued and leaned closer to Dick. "So, kid, any girlfriends yet?"

"I think Dick's a little young for girlfriends, Roger," Bruce spoke up.

"Ha! That's rich coming from the biggest playboy in town! C'mon, Bruce, you and I both know you're never too young to appreciate a beautiful woman…right, baby?" He leered at his wife, right arm still wrapped around her waist, while his left hand rested on Dick's shoulder.

Jason's own hand twitched with the urge to remove the hand from Dick. This may not be the Roger Weldon from his world, but Jason still didn't want him touching the boy. Every nerve under his skin was crawling at their close proximity.

The women's annoyed expression faded and she tinkled out the most cliché laugh Jason had ever heard in his life before nuzzling into her husband. "Oh, Roggie, you're so bad!"

"That's 'cause you like me bad," the man oozed, practically making Jason gag at his tacky, bullshit lines.

Bruce cleared his throat and Roger laughed. "Sorry, old man, but we're newlyweds after all, honeymoon phase and all that."

"Uh-huh," said Bruce, his smile brittle.

"Hey," said Roger suddenly, staring across the room, "isn't that Harold Eckhart? Who's the babe he's with? Don't tell me that uptight old fart's actually found himself some hot ass?"

"That's his daughter, Madeline," said Bruce, his smile getting thinner by the second. Jason knew Bruce was as irked as he was by the man's disgusting lack of tact in front of Dick.

"His daughter?" Roger repeated, leering in the direction of the beautiful brunette. "How did that ugly old geezer produce something as hot as that? Man, what a body – seems a shame to hide it under that dress, doesn't it?"

"I need a drink," Krysta announced, scowling as she pulled away from Roger and stalked off.

"Oops." Roger grinned, totally unperturbed. "I'm gonna have to buy some serious jewels now or I'll end up sleeping in the spare room tonight. I'd better go after her. See you later, old man," he threw at Bruce, before turning back to Dick and squeezing his shoulder. "Let that be a lesson, kid, never compliment another woman in front of your girlfriend."

Something in Roger's expression as he smiled at Dick made alarm bells blare in Jason's head. But before he could react, the man was waving and trotting away.

"How do you know him?" Jason demanded at once, rounding on Bruce.

"We went to college together."

"How? He has to be at least ten years older than you." Jason was aware of how on edge he sounded, but the encounter had rattled him. He needed a shower.

"Roger took off travelling after finishing high school. He was in his late twenties before he went to college. I think the only reason he went was because his father threatened to disinherit him if he refused." Bruce narrowed his eyes at Jason. "Why are you so interested?"

"Just curious as to how you know such a jerk."

Dick snorted. "Jerk's putting it lightly; the guy's a total tool!"

"Then I guess you won't be taking his advice about women?" asked Bruce, a slight smile on his face.

"Ew," said Dick, with all the distaste of a teenager.

Bruce laughed and ruffled his hair. "Come on. The auction is going to start soon and I know how much you want a good seat."

"You're kidding, right? Bruce, please don't make me sit at the front!"

Only half listening to Bruce tease Dick, Jason followed them to the auction room, his mind in utter chaos. He was completely thrown by the appearance of the man who'd destroyed his childhood, and rattled by his own reaction. Jason hadn't expected an old ghost to spook him so much. He was also unnerved by his over familiarity with Dick. It didn't matter that Bruce – despite his clear dislike of Weldon – obviously didn't consider him a threat, Jason's instincts were screaming, danger! Danger! He would have to tear apart every aspect of Weldon's history as soon as this auction was over.

Because Jason wasn't buying into that playboy bullshit for one second. His gut told him that this man was every bit as twisted and perverted as the bastard from his own world.

oOo

"Fuck." Jason sat back in his chair and stared at the computer screen in frustration.

It was almost nine a.m. and he'd been up all night researching Roger Weldon. Jason knew every tiny, insignificant detail of the man's life history and nothing pointed to him being anything other than a lecherous playboy. Currently married to wife number five, he was notorious for his love of beautiful women, fast cars and wild parties – a walking, talking, rich guy cliché. He spent most of his time jetting around the world, letting his older brother and younger sister run the family company. Jason had even checked into their history in an effort to find something, but both were more low-profile than Roger. Kevin, the older brother, was married with two teenage children, whilst their younger sister, Amanda, had come out as gay five years previously and lived with her partner in New York. Both avoided the public eye as much as possible, unlike Roger, who seemed to go out of his way to court the paparazzi.

Jason found that a little suspicious. Unless you were a Kardashian, who wanted that kind of notoriety? Even Bruce in his playboy 'Brucie' persona was known for being fiercely protective of his privacy. Why was Roger so determined to prove to the world what a ladies' man he was? Was it because he was trying to hide where his perverted predilections really lay?

He ignored the voice in his head – the one that sounded annoyingly like Bruce – pointing out that this Roger Weldon wasn't the same as the one from his own world: this Roger Weldon didn't come from a powerful crime family, hadn't killed his brother when he was twenty-five to seize power of said crime family, wasn't neck deep in the twisted machinations of Gotham's underworld… The voice didn't matter because Jason's gut was telling him otherwise.

His apartment buzzer shrilled, making him jerk. Jason scowled. Why was he so fucking jumpy?

Getting to his feet, he padded across the living room to the door and peered through the peephole. Bruce was staring back at him expectantly. Sighing irritably, Jason opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too," said Bruce, strolling past him into the apartment.

Huffing to himself, Jason closed the door. When Bruce Wayne had something to say, you listened…whether you wanted to or not. "What do you want, Bruce?"

"I want to know if you're okay."

Jason stared at him incredulously. "You came here at nine a.m. on a Saturday just to check if I'm okay?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you seemed a little rattled after meeting Roger Weldon last night."

Jason shrugged. "I had a run in with the Roger Weldon from my world a few years ago and I just reacted to this guy because of it. No big deal."

"If it's no big deal then why were you up all night?"

"Who says I was up all night?" Jason demanded, more aggressively than he'd intended. But he'd be damned if he was going to stand here and dig up all the crap he'd worked so hard to bury.

"Your clothes."

Jason glanced down. He was still in his shirt and pants from the night before, and both were looking a little crinkled. "I slept in them."

"I passed here at three and you were on your computer."

"Were you spying on me?!"

"Catwoman robbed a jewellery store two blocks from here and I chased her across the rooftops. It was a complete coincidence that she came this way."

"Yeah, right!"

"It's the truth, Jason, which is more than you gave me. You said you were too tired to patrol after the auction, that you'd been up for two nights straight and–"

"I didn't lie; I was up for two nights straight!"

"Then why didn't you sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep. Jetlag."

"You travelled between worlds, not time zones," Bruce pointed out, lips quirking in a half-smile. When Jason didn't respond, the smile faded and Bruce sighed. "Jason, I don't care about you missing patrol, I'm more concerned about the why. It must be important if you're willing to disappoint Dick – something I know you hate and actively avoid."

Jason frowned. "Why was Dick disappointed?"

"Because you promised him before you left last Saturday that Robin and Red Hood would patrol together on Friday night."

Guilt twanged in Jason's stomach. "Shit. I forgot about that. Sorry."

Bruce frowned. "I'm not here because you disappointed Dick, Jason, I'm here because I'm worried about you. You were completely distracted and on edge last night."

Jason wanted to smack himself for being so obvious in front of the World's Greatest Detective. This shit was the last thing he wanted anyone to know about. He'd left it dead and buried in another world, and it was going to fucking stay there! He wasn't going to taint the life he'd built for himself here.

"Jason?" Bruce was studying him with concern and with a jolt, Jason realized that he knew exactly how to divert him from this line of questioning.

"You're right, I was distracted last night. Joker's escaped, Bruce." Jason felt a little sick at his own ability to use the thing that had caused them all such misery to throw attention off of himself, but he couldn't deal with anyone knowing about Weldon. Dealing with it the first time had nearly broken him.

Bruce's eyes narrowed into slits. "Escaped?"

"Yeah, about a week before I arrived. He killed a doctor and two guards in the process. Bruce hasn't managed to find him yet and Joker's been staying weirdly off radar." Jason scowled. He may have been using this to divert Bruce, but that didn't mean it wasn't worrying him. A quiet Joker was even more dangerous than a loud one; the calm before the violent shitstorm.

"Does your mentor have any idea what he's up to?"

Jason shook his head. "It's always been impossible to predict Joker before he makes a move. Once his sick games are in play Bruce can usually intercept them, but he rarely knows what Joker will do until he's actually done it."

"His unpredictability is the most dangerous thing about him."

Jason nodded. Fucking psychopath.

"Do you think he'll come back to this world?" asked Bruce, brows knit low and eyes tight with worry.

"No. We considered the possibility, but Joker killed the only scientist in our world capable of creating an inter-dimensional portal the night he blasted us here."

Bruce looked relieved and Jason couldn't blame him. Joker had almost killed Robin, the last thing they wanted was him back in this world to try again. "What are you going to tell Dick?" Jason asked.

"Nothing. He doesn't need to know."

"Yes, he does! This concerns him and he deserves to know."

"If Joker can't return to this world then it doesn't concern him. He's still dealing with what Joker did to him, he doesn't need to worry about this as well."

Jason couldn't argue with Bruce since he'd been worried about that too, but he couldn't help feeling guilty. They had promised Dick there would be no more secrets. "Maybe we should tell him once Joker is caught?"

Bruce hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But only once he's been apprehended. Is your mentor going to keep you updated on the search?"

"Yeah. Although…" Jason paused. He had been planning on going back to aid in the search, but now that he had something more immediate to concern him in this world, he couldn't leave.

Bruce gave him a suspicious look. "Although what, Jason?"

"I had planned on going back to help but if I do, won't Dick get suspicious?" Jason threw out the first thing that occurred to him. He couldn't let Bruce know that Roger Weldon was the reason he needed to stay.

Bruce frowned. "Yes, he will."

"Then I should probably stay here."

Bruce's frown deepened and Jason could see he was torn between protecting Dick from the knowledge of Joker's escape and potentially catching him faster. Finally, he sighed. "There's no guarantee Joker will be caught any quicker with your assistance. You should stay here. You can always return to the other Gotham for an update while Dick is at school."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, relieved. He now had a cast-iron excuse to stay here, and would be able to investigate Weldon more thoroughly. He may not be able to dig up anything online, but that didn't mean a more thorough check wouldn't reveal something – monsters like Weldon couldn't keep their perverted sides hidden forever.

Especially not when Red Hood was hunting them.

oOo

Jason was close to exploding. So much so that blowing the heads off some criminals to feel better was seriously starting to feel like an option.

A week of digging on Roger Weldon and the only thing he'd succeeded in doing was dredging up buried memories. He hadn't managed to unearth anything on Weldon – not even so much as a parking ticket!

Jason knew that didn't mean much since Weldon struck him as the kind of asshole who would pay to make things like parking tickets go away. Not that he cared about parking tickets, he was more concerned with the other things Weldon's money could make disappear. Which was why he was currently pulling the insane stunt of breaking into Weldon's house at three p.m. on a Friday afternoon. Bruce would flip his shit if he knew the risk Jason was taking, but he had no choice; he'd already searched Weldon's seldom used office and found nothing, while searches of the times Weldon had been abroad had revealed nothing suspicious in those locations.

Jason was uncomfortably aware that his persistence despite the lack of evidence was bordering on obsession, but he couldn't let this go.

"Finally," he muttered as the alarm deactivated. It had taken him almost two minutes to disarm it, a fact that irked him when he knew Dick could have done it in thirty seconds. It didn't matter that Dick was insanely talented when it came to computers, Jason's ego still smarted that a thirteen-year-old could beat him at something.

Closing the alarm panel, Jason headed around the side of the house to the French doors that led into the library. Four days of watching the house told him it was the room he was least likely to be disturbed in: Weldon and his wife weren't exactly readers.

As he started to pick the lock, Jason kept an ear out for the housekeeper, who was the only person on the property. Weldon and his wife were gone to the family estate in the city for his nephew's birthday party, bringing the maid with them as extra help. The gardener only worked Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, while today was the cook's day off. It was Jason's best chance to search the house undisturbed.

The lock clicked and Jason carefully pushed open the door. Closing it behind him, he crossed over to the inner door to check it was fully closed before searching the room. After almost fifty minutes of nothing, he decided to move on to Weldon's study. The housekeeper took her break every day at four, during which she watched her soaps. Jason would have at least sixty minutes of undisturbed search time in the study, possibly more since the Weldons were out. His observations had revealed the housekeeper as being rather partial to sitting down every chance she got.

Her laziness was something else that niggled at Jason. Years of living with Bruce and attending fancy parties had taught him that rich people liked things to run smoothly and often expected the impossible from their staff, yet Weldon's slapdash housekeeper had worked for him for over ten years. Jason had to wonder why a man who was clearly used to the best of everything kept on a housekeeper like that. Was it because he knew her half-assed attention to detail meant it was easier to slip things by her?

Creeping upstairs to Weldon's study, Jason stayed alert. The housekeeper was in the kitchen – on the far side of the mansion – watching her soaps, but that didn't mean he should let his guard down. If he was seen, if it got out that Red Hood was investigating Weldon, Batman would get involved. And that would lead to Bruce finding out about Jason's past, something Jason definitely did not want. Knowing about it would make it real here and he was determined to keep that shit where it belonged: dead and buried.

Arriving at the study, Jason quickly picked the lock and slipped into the room, closing the door behind him before turning on the light. This room was the reason he had chosen to search the house – it was Weldon's private sanctuary, the room he spent two hours of every night closeted away in. And while his idiot wife might believe he was working, Jason doubted a man who went into the office only a few times a month was spending his evenings buried in spreadsheets.

Jason turned on the computer, then rooted through the desk while it started up. The sparse desk held nothing but a notebook and a few pens, confirming his suspicions. This wasn't a room used for work. Turning his attention back to the computer, Jason began trawling through its files and internet history. But all he found were pictures of Weldon's family, a couple of work contracts, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary porn and a typical web history of information searching, email log-ins, and online shopping. Frustrated, Jason shut down the computer and rummaged around the room instead.

He would have been happy to let this go, relieved even to admit he was wrong, but he couldn't take a chance on Weldon being innocent. Doing so risked innocent lives and Jason knew only too well the devastation such monsters could wreak, even long after the monsters were gone.

For the past week, he'd been having the same nightmares that haunted him as a kid, of being pinned beneath a writhing, sweaty mass, unable to breathe, before being woken by the strong urge to vomit. It was beyond enraging to discover that his old nightmares could still incapacitate him. And it didn't help that sometimes the nightmares changed, sometimes it was Dick suffocating beneath the writhing, sweaty mass. When that happened, the instinct to murder wrung Jason from his sleep, trembling and sweating like a strung-out junkie. He needed to bury this shit before he went over the edge enough to act on that instinct.

Because Jason kind of wanted to destroy Weldon just for the sick shit he had forced him to relive, for the murderous intentions he'd reawakened. He'd been done with all that crap until Weldon's ugly-ass face showed up. And the poison was leaching into other areas of Jason's life: he'd been avoiding Bruce and Dick ever since last weekend because he couldn't face them, couldn't risk them figuring out his secret, couldn't deal with them knowing what he had done. He couldn't deal with it himself if he was being honest about it.

Bruce had seemed fine with his avoidance, giving Jason his space after sending a single text asking for an update as soon as he had news on Joker. Dick, on the other hand, had been texting him several times a day to ask what was wrong. Jason had avoided giving a direct answer, telling Dick he was busy and would see him soon. But the boy was stubborn. He had shown up at Jason's apartment after school the day before, banging on the door and yelling at Jason to open up for almost ten minutes until Alfred had forced him to leave.

Jason, silent on the other side of the door, had been sick with guilt. He knew he was going about this the wrong way, but his head was too messed up to think straight.

Fucking Weldon, he thought bitterly. The bastard had already ruined his life once and now here he was doing it again.

He finished searching the filing cabinet and resisted the urge to slam it shut. There was nowhere left to look and he doubted Weldon would use any of the other rooms in this giant mansion to conceal such a secret. Too many people had access to those rooms.

Jason crouched down and began testing the wooden floorboards to see if any were loose, pissed that his actions had officially crossed into obsessive and desperate. He was totally ready to mess with Weldon after all this. Even if the man was innocent he was still enough of an asshole that a guilt-free Jason could–

There.

The scuff marks were barely discernible. Jason only saw them because he was crouched on the floor searching for a flaw and the small scratches looked out of place on the gleaming, polished wood. Edging over to the scratches, he carefully pressed and pried at the wood, but it didn't budge.

Jason snorted to himself because seriously, how cliché would it have been if he found evidence under the damn floor?

But something was off about those scratches. He glanced around the room: its only furniture was an armchair by the fireplace, and the desk and chair beneath the window. And aside from their distance to the scratches, their legs didn't look like they had made the marks.

He narrowed his eyes at the scratches. They were old, slightly curved and repetitive, kind of like when a door is consistently opened and closed over a section of floor. Except the door was five feet away. He turned and studied the wood panelling that lined the walls. It looked typical of studies like this, but its proximity to the scratches…

Instinctively, Jason pressed on the nearest panel and it clicked before swinging open, scraping lightly over the marks on the floor.

You've got to be kidding me! The floor would have been less cliché.

He peered into the small space behind the panel and discovered a laptop and shoebox. Bingo!

Carefully, he took them out, turning on the computer first. While he waited for that to start up, he opened the box, almost dropping it when he saw the contents.

Naked children.

He'd been expecting it, but that didn't make it any less shocking or disturbing. Repressing the urge to vomit, Jason leafed quickly through the pictures. The last thing he wanted was to look at this shit, but he needed to find evidence of Weldon with a kid, otherwise he wouldn't be able to convince Commissioner Gordon to get a warrant to search this place. And Jason needed Gordon to be the one to expose Weldon. Red Hood's involvement had to stay hidden.

He reached the end of the pictures and dropped them quickly back in the box. Weldon wasn't in any of them and Jason couldn't stomach touching them any longer. Turning his attention to the computer, he found the screen demanding a password. Bastard clearly had something to hide on this computer.

Jason tried hacking the system but realized quickly that it would take more time than he had to break through its security. Undeterred, he removed a USB from his jacket and plugged it in. Dick had spent the last few weeks designing a program to override computer passwords. The boy could hack pretty much any system, but his teammates didn't have that gift and this program would be useful for them on missions without Robin.

He tightened his jaw as he activated the program. It wasn't finished; Dick was still tweaking the coding for harder-to-hack systems. However, this system didn't look too high spec, so Jason hoped to fuck it would work. Otherwise, he'd just stolen from Dick for nothing.

There was a small beep and the screen lit up, logging into the desktop. "Way to go, kid," Jason whispered, pride in Dick's ability momentarily replacing his revulsion at this situation. He glanced at his watch. He had twenty-three minutes until the housekeeper's soaps finished.

Jason worked quickly, heading straight for the video folder. There were nineteen videos in total and he played them without sound, looking away frequently from the images on screen. This was fucking evil, disgusting and depraved! He burned from the need to put a bullet in Weldon's skull.

On the fifth video, he got lucky. Weldon was not only clearly visible, he was carrying out his depraved shit with a kid that didn't look much older than eleven. That would be enough. Jason saved the video, keeping his eyes averted from the perverted crap playing out onscreen. When he was finished, he quickly exited the video folder, hands shaking and vomit stinging in the back of his throat.

He took a quick glance in the pictures folder and found images like those in the shoebox, except some of these actually had Weldon in them. Jason saved those too before exiting. He felt disgusting and dirty. A bleach bath would be awesome right about now, especially if he could soak his brain in it.

Battling the urge to vomit, Jason shut down the laptop. He had enough to nail the bastard and he couldn't look at this anymore. Moving to put everything back behind the wood panel, he paused when he spotted a brown folder he hadn't noticed before. The laptop must have been sitting on it. Jason picked up the folder and opened it, then froze.

Dick's face stared back at him.