I don't own Batman.

Title from "Jingle Bell Rock." This is the twelfth and final of my Christmas fics.

Jason knew better than to open his eyes until he knew what was going on.

There had been a green light that had hit him hard in the chest. He'd fallen. And then . . .

A hazy memory of Batman showing up slowly surfaced.

He sighed in relief. That was okay, then. The restraints he could feel were probably some kind of precaution.

He opened his eyes. Yep. Batcave, padded medical restraints, and the man himself.

"Hey, Dad."

What? He was groggy, he was hurt, and it wasn't like he hadn't said it before. There was no need for Bruce to freeze up like that.

"Alfred? The blood work?" He sounded pretty tense.

Jason couldn't see Alfred from his position, but he could hear him just fine. "All clear, Master Bruce. And this is most definitely Master Jason."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Jason asked crankily. Then he thought of Bruce's weird expression again. "Oh, shoot. There was doubt. What'd that ray do to me? I'm not green or something, am I?" He looked down at his hands frantically, but he was still wearing his gloves. "My face is totally green right now, isn't it?"

"Your face is fine." Bruce's words were oddly clipped. "You have to admit that the costume is a departure from your usual, though."

Jason checked, just to be sure, but - "Bruce, I've been wearing this since you came back from being not-dead."

Bruce went stiff, then said in a tone that was oddly tentative, "Not exactly a lot of places to holster a gun."

Had Bruce gotten hit on the head or something? "Why would I be carrying a gun?"

Bruce's face looked pained for a split second before it went blank. "So that's what the light did. You're not our Jason."

It took him a moment to catch up. "I'm in another reality?" His head fell back against the pillow. "Bruce is going to freak out. Wait." He raised his head again. "You let your Jason carry a gun?"

Bruce's mouth twisted. "He didn't exactly ask my permission."

"So ground him from patrol! Threaten to cut off his college tuition!"

"I'm afraid we're a bit past that point, Master Jason." Alfred had finally come into view. He had more gray hairs than Jason remembered. His next comment was directed to Bruce. "The others should be back soon."

"Will that include alt-me, or did we switch places?"

"I'll have Oracle check," Bruce said. He hesitated. "Your alternate won't be here regardless."

"Oh." Jason slumped. He and B were seriously estranged then. That was depressing. "Can you let me out of here before you go? Now that we've established that I'm not a threat?"

Bruce and Alfred shared a look.

"Oh, come on. You can't seriously think that there's any version of me that would attack you," Jason scoffed. "That's paranoid even for you, old . . . man . . . " His voice trailed off. "Your Jason's done that, hasn't he," he said flatly.

This universe stunk.

Before Bruce could leave, company rolled in. Dick, Damian, and Tim from the looks of it. He was kind of afraid to ask about the girls.

Wait a minute. Damian? Tim, he could see, but - Damian?

"Oracle said you had to take Hood back to the Cave," Dick said, striding forward. He was still Nightwing by the looks of it. "What happened?"

"It has left him in restraints," Damian noted. "Someone's in trouble."

"I'm in trouble?" he said incredulously. "I'm not the one got caught being on patrol about six years too early. What, did you that thing yourself and slip out your window?"

Everyone stared at him.

" . . . You let Damian patrol," he realized. "Why would you let the twelve year old patrol? Do you want him dead or something?"

In the awkward silence that followed, Bruce cleared his throat and said, "He's from an alternate reality."

"Ah,' Damian said stiffly. "Then I will forgive the insult, Todd, and inform you that in this reality, at least, I am perfectly trained for this."

Jason rolled his eyes. "And Dick was a professional acrobat, but that didn't mean Bruce let him out on patrol when he was nine."

There was an even more awkward silence. Jason stared at them all in disbelief. Bruce actually looked uncomfortable.

His head thunked into the pillow. "Okay. Hurry up and send me back. I hate this universe."

Tim actually laughed. "You're not the only one."

Jason twisted his helmet in his hands as he waited. The last few days here hadn't been horrible, but they had been weird. Nobody thought twice about putting their backs to him. Bruce had given him a hug in the middle of their discussion of how their realities differed. A hug.

"Are you ready?" Bruce asked.

"Past ready." He shoved the helmet on. "Let's do this."

Bruce raised the reconstructed ray gun, but he hesitated over the trigger.

"Can't even handle a fake gun, old man?"

Bruce shook his head impatiently. "Jason, listen. I only know the bare bones of what happened between us in your world. I don't know if it can be fixed. I just want you to know that I . . . I can't imagine any version of me who doesn't love you. No matter what's happened.

Then, of course, he pulled the trigger.

Green light flashed around him.

Always had to have the last word, didn't he?

He came to in the Batcave. His Bruce was crouched next to him. The tiniest hint of tension in his shoulders loosened when Jason sat up.

And if the smallest piece of Jason wondered if Bruce might be right, well. That was nobody's business but his own.