It's not long after, once Jason's had time to think about everything that Jason's almost gone back to what's been becoming normal for him. That is to say, Jason's getting angry again. It seems he's been getting angrier and angrier lately. That green tinted anger that he sometimes wonders if he's ever been without it. Makes him wonder about some of the things he's heard since his return, if maybe some of those things are truer than he remembers.

No matter what he thinks about, he can feel it getting worse. Thinking about how Bruce had spoken to him, how he hadn't been able to hear any anger at all in anything Bruce had said to him, when all Jason had done down there was try to antagonize him. Thinking about Dick getting Jason into the state he's been in when he'd come here, and that Jason could admit hadn't even been Dick's fault. Thinking about his suit in a case, on prominent display in the cave, thinking about the room he's woken up in, not his old bedroom, not even close to his old bedroom considering the size of the manor, but still feeling too much like home. Thinking about the weeds he's ripping from the soil along the manor's drive way.

He'd been warned about this, plenty of times, how it could get worse, how very likely it was to get worse; he hadn't cared then, why should he have? It wasn't like he was going to not be angry anyway. Now he cares, he doesn't want to be angry, and that makes him, guess what, even angrier. It's only a mild green haze over his eyes right now, but he still hates that its here at all.

"Is there something the matter, Master Jason?" Alfred asks and Jason wants to laugh. Alfred hasn't said much since he came and got Jason from the room he's holed himself up in after his conversation with Bruce. The interim gardener apparently hadn't done the job right while they'd been gone, and it was too much work for Alfred to do alone.

Nothing was ever 'too much' for Alfred to do alone, even though it frequently was, and he never asked for help, wouldn't have for this either unless a lot more had changed than Jason could have thought, but Jason didn't bother asking about it. He doesn't mind, even if it's just busy work so they can keep an eye on him. It's better than sitting in that too, hiding from both Dick and Bruce and working himself into a rage fest.

"M'fine." Jason mutters, hyper focusing on the dirt under his nails so he doesn't have to on the old man working besides him. Whether or not Alfred really wanted the help, the flowers out here really weren't what Jason remembered, in all the time he'd lived at the manor, he could count the number of weeds he'd spotted this near the house on one hand.

Alfred doesn't say anything, but Jason can feel the disappointment radiating off him, and he shrinks a little into himself. He could blame it on the hangover, embarrassing as that would be, but it's been hours since Jason's actually felt sick from that, and right now he can actually say he misses it. Being physically sick did a little to keep his mind from wondering where it was, helped push some of that things that had popped up back down. Besides, lying to Alfred would just make him feel worse.

"Bruce says I gotta apologize to Tim." Jason says, and while that's also technically a lie, it's still a little true; Bruce wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't holding Jason to him at least that part of his drunken sentimentality. Jason will though, if anything, he's not going to be known for going back on his – barely cognizant, probably not admissible in court – word.

"A fine idea if you care for my opinion on the matter." Alfred says, mixing some compost into the now weed-free soil with a little gardening spade.

Of course Jason cares for Alfred's opinion on the matter, he cares more for most of their opinions than he cares to admit, even to himself, and that's a big part of the problem. He doesn't say that though, settling instead for humming tunelessly as he shoves his own spade around the particularly large weed he's been eyeing for a while.

"Yeah, yeah, 'm just tryna figure out how I'm gonna go about it." He wraps his hands tightly around the weed and gives it a harsh tug, pulling it out roots and all so there's no chance of it coming back and taking back the space and nutrients from the brightly colored flowed Alfred wants to replace it with. And that would be the weeds fault, wouldn't it, if some part of it just happened to push itself back out of the soil and it chokes out the flower that had grown in its place. Poor flower, huh? Jason digs a little deeper to be sure there's nothing left, of the poor weed.

Shit, now he's feeling sorry for a fucking weed, Jason scowls at the plant for a moment before he tosses the thing into the waiting wheelbarrow. From there it'll go on to be chopped up and mixed in with all the other plants Alfred doesn't want in his garden; to make compost that'll make the ones he does want better. He tells himself it's not the same, is momentarily disgusted for letting his train of thought go that way and then thinks that maybe he isn't as recovered from his nighttime stupid as he thought, no more drinking, ever.

"That bakery still selling those huge gift baskets?" He asks and moves on to the next unsightly weed. "The one we got all my birthday cakes from."

"I'm quite sure the one you're thinking of was destroyed in the quake and the owners thought took it as a sign to take their business elsewhere." Alfred replies.

"Damnit." Jason huffs as though he's a lot more disappointed than he is. "Well now I got nothing." He shrugs and tosses another weed onto the pile.

"If this is as hard a task for you as you think it will be, perhaps I might offer some assistance." Alfred pauses in his work to shake some dirt off his sleeves, then smoothes down the freshly tilled soil.

"This isn't my English homework, Al." Jason smiles at him and shakes his head, he almost sighs, but doesn't. "Think asking for help counts as cheating."

"In that case," Alfred says it in the same tone he used when giving Jason that one last cookie before bedtime that they'd always pretended to keep a secret from Bruce, "we'd best be sure to not let anyone find out."

And it's a little thing, really, not that big of a deal, but Jason thinks that maybe having some help with it wouldn't the worst thing in the world. "Sure," Jason pulls at some loose strings at the bottom of his borrowed gardening gloves, "but we get caught, and it's your ass in the fire."

"Your language, please Master Jason." Alfred's sigh is long and long suffering, his sky turned eyes serving to reinforce the expression.

"Oh guilt." Jason clutches at his chest. "Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this guilt from me?"

Alfred begins to laugh, but then he makes a horrible, choking sound and his hand flies up to press at his eyes as he sucks in a deep, rasping breath.

"Alfred?" Jason's closed the short distance between them without even thinking about it, he hesitates to reach out to the old man, sure a touch from his bloodstained hand will mean nothing good. "You need me to call somebody?"

"No, no." It's Alfred who reaches out, his hand wrapping around Jason's arm and holding him firmly in place. "It's only that I've gotten some of this compost too near my eyes." But Alfred's smile is watery as those eyes. "It's passed; let us continue, please, I'd like to get this done before nightfall."

"Yeah, okay." Jason pretends he can't tell that there's not a speck of dirt anywhere near Alfred's face. "Uh so…" he settles back down, "how, uh, what d'ya think I should open with now that gift basket is off the table?"

"In person would be best, and to avoid any misunderstandings, it's perhaps best you get to the apology itself, clearly and sincerely as you are able."

"So just like, hi, sorry and uh… you sure I can't just get him a card or something?"

"Out of the question." Alfred shoots down that idea without so much as a second of thought. "This is to be done right. Master Tim deserves at least that much."

"Damnit." Jason huffs, but he's not going to argue, he knows Alfred it right, drunk Jason had known ot was right and Jason can't let drunk Jason be smarter than he is. The kid does deserve that much.

They stay out in the garden for much longer than Jason had expected, until talk about Jason's apology turns to talk about its intended recipient, to talk about the rest of them, to talk about the city itself. For the first time in years, there's more than bitterness worming its way into everything Jason says.

He doesn't stop to notice that at least for now he's not angry.