Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce had expected this to be a routine patrol.

Most of the usual Rogues are in Arkham, Ivy and Harley are away on a vacation (possibly hunting down a certain CEO after that oil spill disaster, but hey, Batman can’t be everywhere), and the mobs are…well. As quiet as they get.

All he had to do tonight was break up a couple of drunken fights and scare off a mugger. Nice night out. Boring.

 Damn. He definitely shouldn’t have thought that. Because obviously that is the cue for the screaming to start.

It doesn’t take the vigilante long to arrive. Just as well.

A kid.

Bruce has to struggle to keep from seeing red. A freaking kid. Not even a teenager. And three grown men, surrounding him.

“Shouldn’t have run, brat” one of them snarls. “We were taking it easy on ya, but now-“

“Don’t damage the merchandise” one of the other two comments casually, as the third man twists the kid’s arms behind him. “Boss won’t be pleased if they have to postpone the deal”

“Screw it, puppies like this heal fast. And anyway, they may not need all of him, will they?”

The boy is tiny. Clearly outnumbered. He stands no chance, and he knows it, Bruce can tell from the body language. And he is still fighting. He already likes this kid.

“Leggo of me!” the kid screeches, trying to kick one of the thugs holding him in the crotch.

The guy gives a yell – high pitched enough to suggest the kick did connect – and tries to hit out.

Just in time for Batman to swoop out of the sky and land right on top of the bastard.

The man goes down with an even higher pitched yelp. The other two freeze, looking at him.

“Please, do bring it on” Bruce growls.

He doesn’t do banter usually, that is more Robin’s thing, but that doesn’t mean he can’t.

One thug looks like he has the sense to turn and run, but the other is still riding whatever high beating up little kids gives him – he leaps towards Batman, knife drawn.

Bruce dodges the stab.

Thug Number Three darts to the kid, mind clearly going to the idea of human shield.

Bruce tries to dispatch Thug Two and go to the kid’s aid, but the boy snarls, throwing himself at the attacker instead of away.

 Bruce sees that. And sees the boy’s eyes flash golden.

The moment’s shock is almost enough for Thug Three to try and get a drop on him. Keyword – try.

 Another punch puts down Thug Two for the night, leaving him free to go for Three. And the kid, to his credit, had been more or less holding his own. At least, dodging. He’s still unhurt, thank heavens, when Bruce reaches him.

It’s a matter of a moment to finish the job. Thug Three goes down with a groan.

But of course, the real job is just beginning.

Bruce hopes – prays – that he might be mistaken, that it might just be a trick of the light.

But now that he has gotten a good look at the kid, it is unmistakable.

The faded clothes, dirty hair and face, wary look. All common enough with street kids. There aren’t so many of them these days, not as much as there used to be.

Not after adopting Dick showed him what exactly the ‘care’ system was in Gotham. Nowadays things are better, nowadays he can send children into the system with a clear conscience.

Human children. He has managed to make it safe for the human children.

But the child in front of him, glaring at him with all the wrath that scrawny body can summon up, is not human.

Now that he is focusing, Bruce can sense the Wolf in him, an instinct given by years on this job. Unmistakable.

“What’s your name, son?”

“None of your business!” the tiny werewolf growls. It would have been adorable if the child was not so obviously terrified.

 “Unfortunately, it is my business, kiddo. Where are your parents?”

Dead, most likely. Or, worse, couldn’t be bothered with him. The kid has that look on him, the look that clings to orphaned cubs. the look that is irresistible to predators.

Packless. No parent scent on him, no aegis that promises protection, promises this cub will be avenged.

“Fuck you!” the kid snarls, but the snarl breaks on the last syllable a bit, like he’s trying not to cry.

Terrified. Definitely terrified. Of him. Of Batman.

He likely knows all the stories, all the rumours in the streets. Demon. Vampire. Spirit of vengeance. And, a little werewolf, a figure from campfire tales himself, the boy will know that the stories are not just superstition.

 Heaven knows what the boy expects to happen, but it is nothing good.

Bruce regrets he turned down Dick’s demand to come with him – the boy, druid powers notwithstanding, hasn’t fully recovered from what Two Face did to him, he needs rest…

But Robin’s presence would have been helpful calming down this kid. Robin’s presence always helps.

 Batman is vengeance. Robin is hope. Victims – especially children – will come to him willingly, and Bruce knows it is not because of the druid using charmspeak.

 Dick just has the knack of knowing the right things to say, the right way to move. Batman…doesn’t.

“Son, do you have anyone to stay with?”

 No pack to come to his aid, no pack that he called for during the fight. There are werewolves in Gotham, Bruce knows that. But none of the known packs live in Crime Alley. Bruce already knows the answer.

“I’m alright!” the boy shouts. Anger trying to mask terror.

If this was any other situation, Bruce would have left – street kids have learned the hard way not to trust, not even Batman, and it will take long to earn it.

Hovering, crowding the boy, that is counterproductive.

With a human kid, Bruce would have let him run, followed him across the rooftops to make sure he got to wherever he has built his shelter. By the look of this kid he has been out in the streets for a while – he would have some kind of shelter, inadequate or not.

Then let Leslie, Dick and the volunteers take over trying to help. Go to the kid in daylight. They have a far higher success rate than him.

But this is not a human kid.

A werewolf cub – and from what those men said they seemed aware of it – is too vulnerable out here. And, if allowed to run, possibly too good at evading pursuit.

No. unfortunately, this time he has to do this the hard way.

 “I can’t just leave you out here, son.”

 “Don’t call me that! I’m not your fucking son!”

 “Okay, okay… Chum?”

 “Chum?” the kid blinks. “Who the hell talks like that?”

Uh. Maybe his slang is getting outdated? Dick never said anything... But then again, Dick is the kid who named ‘batarangs’ and more recently ‘wing-dings’. He probably shouldn’t be depending on his son to tell him if his word choice is less than stellar.

Bruce shrugs “I just… It’s what I call Robin.”

The mention of Robin sometimes helps with kids. Even if Dick is not there in person. It helps the kids to know that Robin trusts Batman, that Batman watches out for Robin. That is sometimes enough of a nudge to have them at least consider trusting him as well.

“And he lets you?”

Bruce chuckles at that.

Maybe that was a wrong move. Superman sounds all boy-next-door and approachable when he laughs.

Batman, with the effect of the voice modulator, sounds…in Hal Jordan’s words, like he is wondering what your liver would taste like with a nice glass of Chianti and  a dish of fava beans.

The mild rapport they built – or maybe Bruce was kidding himself when he thought there was a rapport being built at all – breaks. The look of terror returns to the kid’s face.

“I won’t hurt you!”

The hasty reassurance – and forcing himself to back off, ignore the instincts (built of parenting Dick Grayson) to reach for the kid – does nothing to reassure the boy.

Terror evident. Eyes darting in every direction looking for an escape route. A growl starting to build at the back of his throat, preparing to fight.

A werewolf cub would never stand a chance against a full grown armoured and trained human ready to fight, especially not a cub as tiny and scrawny as this kid is (malnourished, very, Alfred would embark on a mother henning quest if he so much as catches sight of the boy).

But of course, like before, being outgunned is not going to stop the kid from fighting. Or trying, at any rate.

Why isn’t he transforming, though? Still trying to hide his identity? Or just too weak from what is clearly starvation and exposure to transform at all?

……………………………….

Jason can’t.

Just can’t. He tries, he really does.

And that scares him more than anything else, more than the traffickers, more than the vigilante looming over him.

Transforming never used to be a problem – for him the problem was keeping from transforming, whenever he got too mad, too scared, or even too excited.

 Always, the struggle was to hold the wolf in. But now… Now he can’t. Even when he’s trying. The wolf...just...just won’t emerge.

Jason is standing helpless in front of Batman, in front of a vigilante who knows enough about the supernatural to recognise him as a wolf – Oh God, those rumours are true, why did those rumours have to be true – and the wolf freaking won’t emerge.

He can feel his body tremble with the effort, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision.

Mama… Mama couldn’t transform, not near the end, not after she got too weak, too sick… Is it like that? Is he dying?

Fuck it. Whether he’s already dying or not, he is hundred percent going to die if he doesn’t transform, right NOW!

He isn’t sure if he can actually fight off Batman even in wolf form, but he knows he stands absolutely no chance as the eighty pounds soaking wet Crime Alley kid.

He hears the Bat saying something, but his focus is too much on transforming to make out the words. The tone is soothing, but Jason knows better than to fall for that.

He needs to…he must… Everything is starting to fade out, he can’t breathe, his heart racing like it wants to tear its way out of his chest… transform, transform right now, now, now… Please…

The black spots bloom once again, and this time Jason can’t fight them back.

……………………………

“Malnourishment” Leslie pronounces, as expected. “Exposure too, he’s got frost bite on his toes, but that is comparatively mild. The healing factor will take care of that. Starvation is a different problem.”

The doctor sighs. She has seen too many children in a similar condition.

“We can take care of that” Bruce promises.

Leslie looks less than convinced. “You believe he will be willing to trust the stranger who abducted him from the streets?”

“I didn’t abduct him, he fainted! I had to bring him here, I didn’t know what to do!”

That gets a slight, fond smile from her. “I know, Bruce. But… You know what it will look like from his perspective, don’t you?”

 Bruce nods. Yeah. He knows only too well. Especially since the boy might not even believe he simply fainted from exhaustion. Probably will be convinced Batman drugged him or something.

“He wouldn’t have to know I am Batman. Bruce Wayne will be the one taking him in.”

Leslie stops herself from rolling her eyes with a visible effort. “Yes, because finding himself in the Manor of a single eccentric billionaire with a playboy reputation will be far more comforting a scenario.”

 “Leslie, what else can we do?”

That, she has to admit there are no answers for.

She can’t take the boy home – it is simply not secure enough, even if she could spare the time to parent a child who clearly needs so much of it.

Especially if Maroni’s men are still after him. Strict neutrality is the only way she manages to keep her clinic an accepted safe haven within Gotham.

She can’t afford to openly go against anyone, not if she wants to keep being able to help. She learned that the hard way once already.

The services can’t be trusted. Not with non-human kids.

As for sending the boy out of Gotham, to somewhere reliable… that is not going to happen. Gotham keeps its children. Old Land always does. One way or the other.

There too, she has learned the hard way. Sending the boy out of Gotham, even if there was some way they could do it now… Not an option.

 “I’m sorry, Bruce. Shouldn’t have snapped at you. But this…”

“This sucks” Bruce sighs.

 “Understatement of the century.”

 “How long till he wakes up?”

“I gave him a mild sedative – had to, given all the scrapes and bruises I had to clean and dress. Better let him sleep it off naturally. Not more than an hour or two more.”

 “I’d better get him to the Manor, then.”

Hardly the best move, as Leslie is only too aware. Letting the boy wake up in a strange place, and find himself in a bed in a billionaire’s gated mansion.

But what other option is there?

 The boy has clearly been hurt too badly to trust anyone’s word. If they tried to reason with him, tried to persuade him to go with Bruce Wayne of his own free will, that is never going to work.

There will be a struggle, there will be a fight. The child might even manage to transform, now that he is properly hydrated at the very least. They can’t afford the amount of attention it will draw.

“The kid is going to hate you for this.”

Bruce nods glumly “At least he will be alive to hate me.”

………………………………

“I didn’t buy you!” Bruce Wayne – yeah, it is that bastard, Jason can recognize him from all the stupid tabloid photos – whines.

As if that is actually going to convince anyone.

 “What, Batman gave me to you for free? Little sweetener offer for all the tech you fund for him?”

It’s well known in the streets that Batman has something to do with Wayne.

One of the more out-there theories is that he is Brucie’s older brother who got in an accident as a kid, had his head crushed and went total psycho.

The Waynes just locked him up because that is what rich folk do if you’re messed up in the head (Jason has read about the Kennedys thing, okay?) but he got out and is now hunting in Gotham.

The most popular theory is that Brucie is Batman’s sugar daddy.

That isn’t true either, given what’s happened to him. Brucie Wayne apparently prefers younger. Like, go-to-jail-for-the-rest-of-your-life-if-you-aren’t-a-freaking-billionaire kind of younger.

Batman isn’t Wayne’s sugar baby, he is his freaking supplier. Unless they are both into that kind of thing and Jason is supposed to be…shared?

He can’t help the shudder that goes through him. Only a fear-shudder, though. Not the well known – and now well missed – shudder of transformation.

He knows he will – he must – transform once Wayne puts a hand on him like that, though.

He has to. He has to keep believing he will. he can’t, he just freaking can’t, let that happen to him. Not after fighting all these years.

He will kill Wayne. Tear that bastard’s prick right off. Eat his heart.

Batman will kill him, but that’s okay. That’s better. He is going to get killed anyway. He might as well take a damned pedo with him before he goes.

“Jason”

Of course they know his name now, of course Batman ran his fingerprints or DNA or what not, now they’ve got his entire juvie records…

Wayne makes no attempt to force the door, but Jason can tell he is leaning right against it “I know you don’t trust me, and that’s perfectly okay. I understand, but please, kiddo, you’ve got to eat. Okay? You’re already so… You need to eat.”

“What, too scrawny for you?” 

Jason can smell the aroma of the hot food in the tray. Just outside the door. The old man – the butler, Pennyworth, like the clown in that Stephen King movie – left it there, like he has been leaving trays for the past two meals.

It's taking all he's got to resist. He’s so so hungry… But he can’t. Not Wayne’s food. Not when he has no idea what they will have put in it.

Not when he still has no idea how Batman managed to knock him out in that alley and keep him out till the purchase went through.

 “I’ll leave now, okay?” Wayne coaxes again “I’m gonna leave the house, go to the office. I won’t be back for at least five hours. So, please, just come out and take the tray. You can take the tray and eat in your room.”

Jason doesn’t respond. He isn’t stupid enough to fall for that trick. Leave, sure. As if he’s just gonna take Wayne’s word for it.

He doesn’t move from the couch – a couch in a bedroom, a bedroom bigger than the apartment he once shared with mama – he is curled up in.

Not even when he hears the car start and pull down the driveway. Wayne might just have gotten Pennyworth – or some other servant, a place this big has got to have plenty other servants, though Jason hasn’t heard any yet – to drive the car away, thinking Jason will fall for it and come out.

He will stay here. Sure, he can’t stay forever, and the windows… it’s too high to climb out of… But he will find a way out. He is good at that. He’s always been good at that. He. Will. Get Out Of This. Batman or no Batman.

Chapter Text

……………………..

It is about half an hour later that another knock comes at the door.

 “Hello? Jason?”

The voice is younger this time. Too young to be Wayne or Pennyworth. Not more than a couple of years older by Jason, by the sound of it.

Richard Grayson-Wayne.

 Of course Jason knows about him. Wayne’s first toy. Sure, nowadays it’s just the tabloids that run those stories, most news folk having decided that Brucie did just take in the kid as his son, especially since the adoption officially went through a year ago. But Jason knows better now.

 ”Jason? It’s me, Dick.”

Who the hell calls themselves that.

 Grayson has been asked in interviews – among the most infamous being that live one after his adoption – why he uses that name, and he’s always just grinned and said that’s what his parents called him, they weren’t native English speakers and didn’t know the connotations, and anyway, come on, unique!

Now Jason has started to wonder if that is what Wayne told him to call himself. Or whether it is some kind of trauma response.

Wayne got Grayson when he was eight years old. Going through something like that from that age…that’s got to fuck up a guy bad.

“Jason, Jace, Jay, come on, say something!”

Jason stays stubbornly silent.

This isn’t Grayson’s fault, he knows. The kid was taken at eight – eight! – years old, he likely doesn’t even remember things being any different.

Of course he’s got Stockholm syndrome, thinks this is okay. Thinks Jason is just throwing a tantrum over nothing. He will just stay silent, just wait for Grayson to go away.

But…he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep telling Jason to open the door like Wayne did, but he doesn’t go away. And definitely doesn’t shut up.

 For the next forty seven minutes, Richard “Dick” Grayson stays outside Jason’s door, talking non-stop.

 About his school, about the coming cheer leader try-outs he’s going to audition for, about the April Fools prank the class pulled on their in-the-end-amused-but-very-confused headmaster, about his friends.

About Wally who somehow managed to eat half of a perfumed soap before realising it was only lemon shaped, not an actual lemon (…why would anyone actually eat a raw lemon like that?).

 About Roy who tried to impress a girl in his class by doing a gymnastics trick only to trip over his own feet right after completing the trick and faceplanting at her feet.

About how their last camping trip went, how they really have to convince the grownups to let them try again, that Wally is hundred percent convinced he saw a wendigo in the woods despite Roy proving with photo evidence that it was a rather mangy and very confused bear.

 He doesn’t ask anything about Jason, doesn’t seem bothered when Jason doesn’t answer (but always pauses at points in his babbling as if expecting Jason to say something.)

After forty seven minutes, Jason finally breaks his silence.

“I’m not gonna fall for it, you know.”

 “Fall for what, Jay?”

Of course Grayson has already started nicknaming him. He wants to yell at him to stop. He doesn’t want cutesy nicknames. Especially if that is what Wayne has told Grayson to call him.

“You know what.”

Though, likely Grayson doesn’t really know. Not exactly.

Jason has watched enough true crime documentaries hidden behind Willis’ sofa. Kids who are taken that young build up denial as some kind of coping mechanism.

 “No one is going to hurt you” Grayson promises, sounding horribly sincere. He’s likely convinced it doesn’t count as hurting. “B isn’t like that, okay? And Alfie would shoot him in an instant, if he tried something like that.”

Wayne probably doesn’t beat Grayson up or anything.

 The boy has shown up with bruises a couple of times, but all easily explained by his gymnastic exploits. After all, it's the kid who has been photographed hanging upside down from a chandelier at galas multiple times.

Wayne might even be ‘gentle’ when he does it, convincing Grayson he loves him. Jason knows how creeps go about it. And now he is trying the same thing with Jason.

He can go stuff himself. Jason isn’t some just-orphaned terrified eight-year-old, probably not even understanding English properly at the time. Jason knows how to look after himself. Wayne won’t get him.

 “You want a granola bar?” Grayson asks from outside, the silence having likely convinced him he won’t convince Jason just yet. “Or I can get you tinned stuff, from the pantry. If you’re worried B drugged the food or something. The cans are tamper-proof.”

Jason wants to tell him to fuck off, but his stomach feels like it is about to start eating itself.

“If you don’t eat you’re just gonna end up fainting and we’ll have to break in. And you’ll have to get put on an IV again, like at the clinic. Believe me, being fed via IV freaking sucks.”

 Grayson sounds like he’s speaking from experience. Jason can’t repress a slight shudder.

“You… Wayne ever put you on an IV feed?”

 Grayson must have fought back in the beginning, right? Before Wayne managed to fully brainwash him...

"Doc Leslie did” Grayson groans “Food poisoning. I love Wally, but if he ever ever offers to be the cook on camping trip again, I’m gonna feed him to the nearest available bear.”

 Okay… Not exactly what Jason was expecting. Though Grayson might just be lying.

“I’m not gonna…”

 “Fall for ‘this’?” Jason can hear the air quotes “Sure, that’s why we’re getting the tamper-proof cans instead of Alfie’s hot lunch. Plus, really, if B is the kind of bad guy you think he is, you gotta eat anyway, right? So that you’ll have the strength to fight him off or run away if he tries something like that?”

Huh. Now… That is a consideration.

……………………………..

Jason ends up letting Grayson inside his room.

Probably not the smartest decision. But… To be honest, Jason kinda feels sorry for the guy. He’s clearly so much in earnest. And so brainwashed.

Might even be convinced he actually wants this. It’s not his fault Wayne picked him to be his toy.

Grayson, of course, because being half way normal is overrated, perches on the back of the couch instead of sitting in it, munching a candy bar while Jason inhaled the food – out of tins, granola bars can have things injected in them through the packaging. Joker tried something like that once, he saw it on news.

And Grayson just keeps chattering.

Sorry for the kid or not – and yes, Grayson is a couple of years older than him, but he acts way more of a kid than Jason is – he is tempted to throw something at him just to shut him up.

Not that he will. Wayne already has one boy toy, which is likely why he hasn’t really started on Jason yet. Damaging the pretty face…

No. He’s not going to make himself a target any sooner than he can help, thank you very much.

 “How old are you?” That is one thing Jason needs to know to confirm.

 “Fifteen” Grayson answers easily.

Fifteen. Jason has heard people talk in the streets. That is the age when kids start to…age out of this. This kind of thing.

 Explains why Wayne got Batman to bring him something new.

 Jason is twelve, which is likely a little older than Wayne prefers, but he is small for his age.

So is Grayson, with baby wide eyes that accentuate the effect. At fifteen, he can pass for twelve. Probably the reason Wayne kept him so long.

 And… And what is going to happen to Grayson now? Now that Wayne has got someone new?

 He can’t just…throw him out or something, right? Wayne adopted him. That was in the papers, nice little feel-good news for the Bristol snobs.

He’s got to keep Grayson till he’s eighteen. And even after that he’ll likely have some kind of claim, Jason is not sure just how the legality of this works, but adopted kids are legally your kids, right?

Wayne can’t just dump Grayson. He wouldn’t have adopted him if he meant to dump Grayson.

But… He can just pack him off to somewhere, right? Boarding school or something? Wherever rich folk send embarrassing kids they don’t want to be bothered with anymore?

Looking at Grayson, all smiles and dimples and non-stop chatter, Jason winces a little.

Jason can look after himself. He is more than used to looking after himself, both in the streets and even before all that mess.

Worst case scenario, he transforms and kills Wayne. The bastard doesn’t know he’s bought a wolf this time – Batman doesn’t know, Jason couldn’t transform back in that alley.

 Grayson, though… He clearly doesn’t have any such defence. Physically or mentally.

Jason should feel annoyed, stupid kid who fell for the trick, stupid rich kid who doesn’t know what was done to him. But…

Well. It is just tough to stay annoyed at Grayson very long, okay? When he gives you that puppy eyes look.

Jason curses under his breath. He can’t just…

Fuck it. He doesn’t have a clue how, but now he’s got to get not only himself, but also Grayson out of this, Batman or no Batman.

……………………………….

Bruce Wayne stays away as long as he promised.

 Why not, it isn’t like Jason can get out of the Manor. He knows better than to try. There are security cameras like, every freaking where.

Sure, he might have given Dick and that creepy old butler the slip, but he wouldn’t make it past the front door before whatever alarms this place has got built in begins screaming blue murder.

 Nah. Jason knows how this kind of things go. You don’t run, not unless you are sure you can keep running. Because…if they catch you…

 Once they catch you, they know you are a runner. Jason knows what they do to runners. Dad has come home with those stories often enough.

 Dick’s phone buzzes

. Jason is a little surprised to see Wayne is letting the kid have a phone, but then again, by now Dick is likely fully brainwashed, no harm giving him whatever.

Does he even have anyone he can tell? Those friends he chattered about, are they actual friends?

Would any of them believe him, even if Dick actually came out and told them everything? People don’t believe kids. Not when the kids are pointing at folk like Bruce Wayne.

 “B’s coming” Dick looks up from the text.

“He sent you a text to say he’s here?”

Likely to have Dick go and prepare. Jason can feel his hasty lunch about to come back up.

Dick nods. “Didn’t want to startle you, when he came upstairs. D’you wanna lock the door again?”

 Is that a warning? Is Dick telling him to lock the door? Doesn’t look like it. There’s no alarm in his tone. It’s already established the kid doesn’t think there’s anything wrong here.

Jason hesitates.

Now that his initial panic is over, he is coming to realise his first strategy won’t work.

Dick is right in one thing. They can just break the door in. Break in and drag him out. There will be nothing he can do till he can transform.

So… So nothing he can do. Till he is able to transform. Except play for time. Locking the door…making Wayne impatient… No. That is not going to end well.

“Bruce won’t hurt you” Dick promises. “I’ll stay right here, if you want.”

No. He doesn’t. He hundred percent doesn’t.

 It’s bad enough to imagine what Wayne must have been doing to the kid since he was eight (that’s, that’s practically a baby). Jason knows he will totally lose it if Wayne tries something with Dick while he is watching.

 Really not the kind of thing he can risk, given his new plan involves playing for time.

“I’m okay”

He is. He really is. He can deal with this, okay? He’s a wolf. He’s supposed to be able to deal with anything. Freaking anything.

And he needs to meet Wayne. Needs to…get his measure. Know the rules.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”

 “You don’t have to. Not if you aren’t, you know, ready” Dick promises “Or you can just do it not face to face. You can just, talk via text? He can call? Or I can bring my laptop and set up a zoom call or something?”

 It’s…tempting, in a way. To make sure he isn’t right in reach of Wayne. But that is stupid and Jason knows it even if Dick doesn’t.

What they are offering – the so called choices, the chance to lock the door – it’s all just the illusion of control.

Wayne can just break the door in. Wayne can come upstairs at any moment and drag him away.

 Not talking to Wayne directly… Yeah, he has to admit his heart rate is speeding up a bit too much at the idea of being in the same room as that bastard, but playing along with their ‘options’ isn’t much better.

Hell, it will be worse. Make Wayne think he is falling for it. And make Wayne impatient.

Better if he gives Wayne a little bit of what he wants. Better, if he gets Wayne to think he is giving way. Like Dick did. Besides…

Well, he may not be able to transform right now, but he can and will find out more from a conversation is he can smell and see Wayne.

 “I wanna talk to him. Face to face.”

 Dick looks a little uncertain, but he nods, smiling. “That’s great!”

…………………….

Jason doesn’t want Wayne in his bedroom. He will play along, but not that much.

Thankfully, Wayne doesn’t ask that. Not just yet. Just texts him via Dick’s phone, asking whether he could meet him in his office.

Okay. Office. Not his bedroom. Sure, Jason knows it won’t be just in bedrooms, he has heard the stories, but… He’s got to play along. For now.

Wayne doesn’t try anything.

Jason wasn’t expecting anything blatant – the guy is trying to play ‘one of the nice ones’, after all – but he was expecting some kind of touch.

A handshake or hair ruffle or something Wayne could pass off as innocent. Or maybe get Jason sitting down next to him on the couch or something.

But no. he remains seated behind his desk the entire time. Lets Jason stay seated in a cushy chair before the desk, too.

It’s more like being called into the principal’s office at school than being summoned by the pedo who bought him.

Wayne even tries for the principal tone. All calm and kind and in charge. Like he’s talking to some stupid kid who doesn’t know better than to believe it all.

Sure, Wayne does a pretty decent job explaining it all away. Promises he would never hurt Jason, that he certainly didn’t buy Jason.

Admits he does have something going with Batman (“good friend”, he says. Sure.), admits Batman brought Jason to him.

Says it’s because the Gotham systems are not safe enough. Duh. Of course Jason knows that. Everyone knows that.

Says the mob guys from last night might still be looking for Jason.

“I can look after myself”

 He can. He has, all this while.

Wayne gives him a pained smile. “You shouldn’t have to. Jason, you won’t be safe out there. Not yet, at least.”

And he is supposed to be safe here? Something of his thoughts must have shown up in his expression.

Wayne sighs. “I know, I know. This is hardly reassuring either. Look, what if I called Commissioner Gordon? Told him you are here and why you are here? You can talk to him yourself. I’ll get you a phone, so you can call him or text him whenever you want to. So if, if you’re afraid… If you need to…you can call him. He’ll keep an eye on you.”

 Jason almost laughs.

 Really? Really? Wayne actually thinks it will make Jason feel safer to have a freaking pig involved?

 He knows how the cops work, okay? He knows what GCPD is like. Sure, get Gordon in on it. So that Gordon can have his fun too.

 “I’m okay”

Jason smiles. He is good at calling up smiles. Act all cute and harmless.

That’s the way you get the store staff or librarians or whoever to just look the other way, to let you stay in the warmth a little longer than you are supposed to. Play up the helpless little orphan angle.

He knows he started out way too angry, he was too scared for the act. But now he knows what he is dealing with. He can deal with it.

Wayne frowns, looking unconvinced. “Are you sure…”

 “I’m sorry I freaked out”

Play the naïve kid. Let him think he’s got you, like he got Dick. The last time he played this game was with a terrified eight year old.

He won’t be expecting much better resistance, especially not from some street rat. If he did, no way he would have spun that ridiculous a story.

And of course, now it’s certain Wayne doesn’t know what Jason is. If he did he wouldn’t have dared to be in a room alone with him, not without restraining the werewolf first.

“I just…” he shrugs, looking down, looking timid “This is all… so weird, you know”

 Wayne nods, in faux-sympathy. “I understand, Jason. There’s no hurry to adjust. You will be safe here.”

 It takes all his will power not to call the bastard out on that. As it is, he can’t resist a jab. “Like Dick is?”

 That actually prompts Wayne to smile. “Yes. Exactly.”

Jason keeps the small smile – not too bright, too bright and Wayne will know it’s fake – on his face till he leaves the room.

 He…needs to alter his plans.

 The first mess he made of it? All the hiding and rebelling that won’t actually do anything? Can’t play it that way. Not anymore.

He needs better options.

Chapter Text

Wayne takes him to the family doctor – Leslie Thompkins.

Old lady, but with eyes that have a fake kindness to them. Jason would have believed the kindness was real, if not for Dick mentioning she has been his doctor since he came to the Manor.

Right. Of fucking course. Like Wayne would take them to a ‘mandated reporter’ unless she is already in his pocket.

So, of course, Jason plays along.

 Thompkins asks all the Concerned Care Provider ™ questions. Jason gives all the right answers. Wayne has stayed out of the room, but he is definitely listening in. He has to be.

Jason looks at the ‘stern but kind’ old lady manner the doctor projects and wonders how long it took Dick to fall for this. Not long, he bets.

Eight years old. The kid was eight years old when they started with him. Well, this time they aren’t dealing with a freaking baby.

Thompkins finishes the examination, draws blood for “some tests” (Jason wants to tell her he doesn’t have any STDs, he never had to actually do that – not yet, anyway – but stops himself in time. He’s supposed to play the innocent child) and gives him a freaking lollypop while she goes outside to talk to Wayne.

The moment she is out of the room, Jason throws the stupid candy out of the window as hard as he can.

…………………………..

It takes Jason almost a week of careful research to fix on who to go to.

Just going to a paper or channel and trying for an interview won’t work – Jason may be a street kid, but he definitely isn’t stupid, thank you very much.

He’ll have to be careful. Gather some proof to begin with. Maybe photos. Record audio. Something.

 After all, Wayne has given him a brand new phone (along with other bribes including, but not limited to, a whole freaking wardrobe full of clothes, a kindle with an unlimited subscription, and what looks like every video game released in the past year). Would be a pity not to put it to use, right?

Sure, Wayne would have put some kind of spying software on it – Jason is not entirely sure how that kind of stuff works – but maybe he can find a way around it?

Find a reporter.

That has to be the first step. Investigative reporter. That’s the name. Go to one of them. Tell them he can give them the scandal of the decade material.

Sure, Wayne isn’t as political a figure as Lex Luthor, but he is still a freaking celebrity billionaire with his name on practically everything worth anything in Gotham.

That guy getting revealed as a pedo? Yep, definitely good material to tempt an investigative reporter with.

The problem is finding one that is actually good enough to pull this off and unlikely to be bought or scared off the case. That is what takes Jason so long.

Vicki Vale, is, of course, out of the question. Sure, smart lady and all that when it comes to sniffing out nasty secrets, but not where Wayne is involved.

Too many photos of them hanging out together. Vale has already been bought off.

No one in Gotham, Jason decides at last. There’s no way to be sure who has been bought and who is not. Probably all have – or at least the editors would have been. And word would get back to Wayne way too fast.

He shifts his research to outside options. And finally, just when he is about to throw the phone out the window in frustration, there is a hit.

Clark Kent. Daily Planet. Metropolis.

Of course. A paper from Metropolis is the best option. Close enough to Gotham so they will have an interest overlap from readers (though really, this is the kind of story that either gets buried completely or makes national news).

Not close enough that Wayne can get hold of them. Well… Not easily, at any rate.

Plus, Daily Planet in general, and their dynamic duo Clark Kent and Lois Lane in particular, do have a repute of going after asshole billionaires. After all, they were the ones behind that expose on Luthor a few months ago.

 Lois Lane is overseas right now, reporting on some kind of military stuff going on in the Middle East, but Clark Kent is still in Metropolis. Still within reach.

And, hopefully, still with the guts to take on guys who can buy him and his workplace a thousand times over.

Jason frowns as he looks over the photo of this Kent guy. Doesn’t really look like much… Looks like an utter dork, in fact. His smile has the same naïve little kid look Dick’s has.

But that has all got to be just a put up persona, right? Disarm suspicion? Like Jason is doing with Wayne right now?

Or…. Could it be that Lois Lane is the brains of the team and this guy is just, what, her trophy boyfriend?

Nah, doesn’t look anywhere close to hot enough for that. And anyway, Lois Lane hangs out with Superman, she wouldn’t take a second look at this dork.

But… He can’t be as much of a dork as he looks, though. Lois Lane is not the only one who is pals with Superman.

And he’s got two Pulitzers. Even if he does look like he’ll need a map to find his way to the restroom.

Worth a try. And maybe, by the time Jason finishes gathering enough evidence, Lois Lane will be back from the Middle East.

Wayne won’t be able to do anything – Batman won’t be able to do anything. Not in Metropolis.

 Metropolis is Super territory. And Superman is pals with the Daily Planet people. Nope, neither Wayne nor Batman will be able to touch them.

Provided Jason can actually convince them to get involved, that is. If he can convince them he isn’t just some ungrateful street rat looking for his fifteen minutes of fame.

………………………

Jason has considered running away to Metropolis, or to anywhere else, at times.

One of the bigger kids in the streets has run away to Metropolis, saying at least the foster care there wasn’t full of traffickers.

Maybe it is true, maybe it isn’t, but Jason has never been able to seriously consider leaving Gotham for good.

This is his city. This is where his mama is buried. He can’t just…run away.

And anyway, why would Metropolis want him? The other kid, the bigger kid, he was good with computers. Really really good.

He might have been able to get away with moving to Metropolis, he is of some use. And he was just half sylph, not really enough to show up on blood tests. Just enough to get mistaken for human unless they looked really close, closer than anyone would bother with a random street kid. He might have been safe there.

 A mangy werewolf who now couldn’t even transform… Yeah, Jason has the idea that would be an entirely different story.

 But… But now he has a reason to run, right? If he ever gets the chance… If he ever gets proof…

 He can get proof. He is smart. He has had to be, to last two years in the streets without anyone even suspecting what he is, not till the last.

He will get Wayne, or go down trying, Jason decides, as he sits down next to Dick at breakfast.

Who knows how many other kids Wayne will take, if Jason lets him go on? And what will he do to Dick, now that the kid is getting too old to interest him?

Jason can guess, but he has no intention of staying to find out.

…………………………………

“Jason’s started to come out of his shell” Bruce notes with relief. “I was afraid it’d take much longer than this.”

 “He’s still scared, though” Dick points out “Really really scared. I’m not… I’m trying not to look into his mind, but a lot of the time he’s just…blazing with fear, you know? Fear and…anger too, I guess, a lot of it.”

 “Towards me?”

 “Towards… I dunno, kinda towards everyone? He seems to like me well enough, though.”

“He’s not afraid of you?”

“Nah. A bit angry, sometimes, but more… Protective? Like he’s the big brother here.”

Bruce chuckles at Dick’s offended look.

 “B, you know we need to tell him, right?”

 “Dick…”

 “He isn’t dumb, B. He’s already figured out there’s something off. Alfie says last night he came to my room when we were out patrolling and got a bit worked up when I wouldn’t open the door. I don’t think he bought Alfie’s excuse of me being a heavy sleeper. Even when I backed it up. Especially when I backed it up.”

Bruce frowns. “Did he try my room?”

“Of course not, B! He thinks you freaking bought him, he’s not gonna come into your room at midnight!”

“Did he ask you about it?”

 “No. Nothing. But then again, he doesn’t seem to like asking about stuff.”

An annoyed sigh. “I know he deserves to know, Dick. but…”

“But he’s already terrified, and telling him that he is sharing the house with the big bad bat, a druid and a domovoi who is basically the House himself, might be too much to take?”

 “A bit too much, yeah”

Dick chuckles. Can’t really bring up too many arguments against that. Though, given the kid is keeping his own secrets… 

“Do you know whether he’s managed to transform yet? Will you know?” Bruce tries to play it off as a casual question, but the worry in his voice is unmistakable.

 “Of course I will!” Dick seems offended at the very question. “Druid here, B! Surge of magic like that, I’d have to be comatose to miss. Werewolf transformations are loud.”

“Even if he tries to cover up?”

“Especially if he tries to cover up. I’m not talking about howls when I say loud.”

Bruce nods. “Okay. We will give it a few more days. If he hasn’t managed a transformation since then, we will consider talking to him. Maybe he knows what is the problem.”

 “Unlikely” Dick comments. “I mean, he is really frustrated. At not being able to morph. I think if he could figure out what’s the issue he already would have made at least one attempt to fix whatever it is. I’d say it’s just malnourishment. And he might have been hiding the wolf too long. Sometimes, if shifters stay in one form too long, they might well end up unable to switch back for a while.”

 That can happen. And it is always a mess to sort out when it does. Especially if the shifter in question has no reason to trust the healers.

 There’s not much they can do about it, though. Except wait. Dick has always hated waiting.

 “We will see.”

…………………………………..

Jason tries to transform.

Tries again and again. Whenever he can slip away from the other three.

It’s of no use. It feels like he’s pushing against a wall. More than once he wonders whether Batman actually did something to him, made sure he won’t be able to transform and hurt Wayne.

But no, he couldn’t transform back there, either…

 Even going out into the woods and just lying there doesn’t help. Though that might be just as well. Wayne likely has cameras all over the trails.

One must have spotted him because when it is time for lunch Dick comes to fetch him.

Yeah, probably just as well. This is the kind of thing you don’t get a second roll of dice for. He will have to make sure the first time he transforms in Wayne’s view, it will be the last. If he ever manages to transform.

He must have looked particularly pathetic making his way back, given Dick’s expression.

…………………………..

It’s been almost a month now.

 Jason has to admit Wayne is taking it slow. Being patient. Being nice. Promising he will never ever touch Jason that way, that he has never touched Dick that way, that Dick is his son in all but blood.

That Jason can be the same if he wishes, that if he doesn’t want it he is still safe at the Manor.

 No doubt trying to charm him, the way he charmed Dick.

 Offering gifts. Being all kind and fatherly. In a way Jason’s real father has never been, but Dick’s apparently was. He is even talking about sending Jason to Gotham Academy come next semester.

 Jason can see what the bastard is doing. He isn’t the quick type. Not the type to pin them down and take it.

No, Wayne is the hypocrite kind. He wants to pretend he is being a lover, not a rapist. He wants to pretend his victims actually want it. He wants to make his victims fall for his charm.

 It makes Jason sick to see how Dick acts with the man.

 Laughing, talking about school, teasing. Cuddling up with him on the couch on movie nights. Once actually falling asleep on his shoulder. (Wayne gently shifted Dick so that he was lying more comfortably and covered him with a blanket. Jason had almost punched him for the charade of caring).

 Wayne seems to know not to make any too obvious moves, at least not where Jason or anyone else can see.

He touches and kisses Dick, but it is all forehead kisses and hair ruffles and all, the kind of gestures that can easily pass for paternal. And Dick initiates, a lot of the time.

Jason wonders how long it took for Dick to go from fearing it to tolerating it to actually believing it is a loving touch.

Jason wonders how long it would have taken him if Bruce had gotten to him right after mama died, when he was nine.

Bruce actually goes to every effort to look like Dick’s dad. That is what makes this so so much worse to witness.

Dick actually calls him dad – Jason has heard him do so, though more often he just calls him Bruce or B.

 Even Jason might have fallen for the act if he didn’t know Dick doesn’t sleep in his own room for most nights. At least, not all the night.

That was the first thing he checked. Going to Dick’s room the second night there. Praying Wayne won’t be there. Planning, if Dick was there, to tell him he couldn’t sleep.

Improvise. Jason is pretty good at improvising, especially when it comes to explanations.

But it turned out unnecessary.

 Dick wasn’t there.

The bed didn’t look slept in, though Dick had headed upstairs pretty early. The same next night. And the night after.  

Once Jason has seen him come out of the bedroom in the morning, so maybe he gets send back after…after.

Jason has never really worked up the nerve to listen at Wayne’s door those nights, but it isn’t tough to guess where Dick goes.

In the mornings Dick never seems to have Wayne’s scent on him that way, but then again, he only comes down after a shower. It might wash the stink away.

Once or twice, Jason has smelt blood on Dick, but he never seems too badly hurt. Wayne likes to pretend he is nice.

The man hasn’t made a move on Jason yet. No doubt knows that it won’t end well if he tried it now. And he’s got Dick, anyway, if he gets impatient.

Jason has actually thrown up a couple of times when his imagination got a bit too active.

And now Dick is here, leaning over his shoulder and talking about how they could go to school together next semester.

 That is not going to happen. Before that, Jason will get enough proof. He is not entirely sure how, but he will.

Wayne will be in jail, or more likely on the run to somewhere without an extradition treaty. That is what happens when billionaires get caught in something they can’t buy their way out of.

And Dick…

Dick will probably hate him, Jason knows. He is fully brainwashed, caught up in it. Hundred percent loyal to Wayne. And there will be all the media circus, the trial…

Jason winces internally as he thinks of Dick, Dick with his innocent wide eyes and Pollyanna smile, being at the centre of that shitstorm.

Yeah, Dick is definitely gonna hate him. But at least Dick will be safe? Get help? Someone to help him sort out what exactly was done to him… someone who’ll help him heal…

Right? Or will Wayne try to get rid of the ‘evidence’ if Jason runs, if he suspects anything… He will have to make sure Dick is somewhere safe before he blows this all wide open.

This is getting even more complicated by the day. Sometimes Jason wishes he could just transform and tear Wayne apart, just be done with it.

 But… He can’t.

 Even now. Even now that malnutrition can’t be a problem, when he is getting three meals plus assorted snacks every day along with a veritable cocktail of vitamins. He even went for a run in the woods around the Manor, though Wayne has likely got trail cams all over the place.

 Nothing. No change. Jason doesn’t want to think too much about it. Doesn’t want to think too much about the possibility that he might have lost the wolf.

 He can’t have. That’s not how it works. He just…just needs to work on it a bit more. Needs to focus. Or maybe he can work on it after exposing Wayne…

Must start planning how to contact Kent or the Daily Planet without Wayne noticing or suspecting what he is up to.

……………………………

Jason, for all his thoughts of playing the long game, finally loses it on the day Dick passes out at breakfast.

The day begins as normal. Jason the first one down for breakfast. Alfred greeting him with a smile and a respectful-but-fond ‘Master Jason’.

Jason is still not sure what to make of Alfred (or when he has started referring to the man in his own mind as Alfred rather than Pennyworth), what the old man’s true role is.

He seems to care about Jason, definitely seems to care about Dick, but if he lets Wayne do this…

Or maybe he doesn’t know? Jason badly wants to believe Alfred doesn’t know, but he knows that can’t be possible. The man has been in the house since before Dick got there, after all.

 There is something definitely puzzling about Alfred, not the least of all the fact that he is the only servant in the sprawling Manor.

The Manor which is, despite that, spick and span in any wing.

There’s no way Alfred can be looking after the whole place, plus the gardens and grounds, by himself. For one thing, he’d likely look a lot more exhausted than this, if he’s dealing with all the work alone.

Jason is distracted from his musings on Alfred by Dick’s arrival. Usually Dick enters the room – enters any room – with a bounce in his step, practically glowing. (A couple of times Jason thinks he’s seen him actually glowing, but that must have been a trick of the light.)

 Not today. Today Dick looks like he’s doing a zombie impersonation. Alfred looks up with a frown.

“Master Dick, I seem to recollect mentioning I will bring up your breakfast. You are supposed to remain in bed.”

 Jason feels a slight chill at the words. He knows Dick was not in his own room last night, Jason checked it at the usual time, about eleven.

Dick just shrugs, still bleary eyed. “Got bored… Izzat pancakes?”

 “It is, now sit down. No, I don’t need any help setting the table.”

Dick slumps down on the seat next to Jason’s, giving him a ghost of his usual smile. Jason doesn’t bother to return the gesture. If he tries, it will turn into a snarl.

“Rough night?”

 “Rough night…” Dick agrees, somewhat dazedly. Then seems to catch himself, as if just realizing what he said. “I mean, yeah, lots of homework. Left it off till too late, couldn’t sleep last night…”

“Yeah. Okay.” Jason takes a deep breath, reminding himself not to lose it. Dick, despite having looked excited about the pancakes, just picks at them. Alfred brings him a bowl of cereal.

Jason blinks.

 Alfred never does that, usually looking pained when Dick deserts whatever breakfast has been cooked to make himself some cereal instead.

Dick mumbles a muffled “Thanks, Alfie” and manages a few spoonfuls.

Jason watches him carefully. Pale, ashen. No bruises – at least none that can be seen. Jason reaches out to touch his forehead, checking for fever. And checking if Dick will flinch.

A little warmer than should be. No flinching. Dick actually leans into the touch. “Just tired, Jay”

“Tired doing what” Jason hisses the words.

Dick looks up, puzzled. “What…homework, I said…”

“I heard what you said.”

Alfred moves towards them, hearing the exchange. Jason is in no mood to deal with him, whatever his role in this mess. “Master Jason, I can assure you-“

 “No one asked you!”

Dick seems to wake up enough to catch on, and goes even paler. “What, no, no Jay, it isn’t… Bruce never… It isn’t like that!”

Jason almost cries. Of fucking course Dick will try to defend him, of course that is how this works… “Can’t you fucking see what he’s doing to you?”

 “That’s what you think is going on?” Dick leaps to his feet, pushing his chair back. “That’s what you thought all this while?”

“Master Dick, sit dow-“

“You think Bruce did this to me?” Dick sways on his feet, the sudden movement – and the flareup – too much to handle right now. “You think-“

 “Dick!”

Dick’s eyes roll back in his head and he slumps down.

Chapter Text

……………………………

Alfred is somehow in position to catch him faster than Jason could, though Jason was standing right next to him.

The old butler seemingly effortlessly lifts Dick’s limp body in his hands and carries him over to the nearest sofa. No way he should have been strong enough to do that so easily – Dick is slender and small for his age, but he has too much muscle on him to be that light.

 Jason follows numbly. He has blown his cover of being lured in, but…

What the hell did Wayne do to Dick last night? Did he – does he – drug Dick? Does Dick really not remember whatever Wayne does to him because he’s too doped up?

Dick is already starting to stir by the time Jason reaches his side.

Alfred smiles soothingly down at him. “It’s alright, Master Dick. You’re home.”

 Dick blinks up at him dazedly. “…B? Where…”

“He’s here. Would you like me to fetch him?”

Jason wants to scream a denial, declare he is never ever allowing Wayne near Dick again, but the older boy nods willingly.

Alfred reaches out to press a button on the intercom set on the wall, the one the butler usually uses to summon them for dinner. Jason wants to reach out and take Dick’s hand, but daren’t reach too close to Alfred.

The butler looks at Jason with what is only too obviously pity. “Master Jason, I understand your fears, but-“

 Jason snarls. This time it is a full-on wolf snarl. The kind he hasn’t been able to manage in God knows how long.

 Dick tries to raise his head to look, clearly startled. Alfred doesn’t look startled, forget threatened.

But before either of them can say anything, Wayne rushes into the room, looking frantic. “Dick? Alfred, what-“

“No cause for alarm” the butler calmly states, turning his back to Jason “Master Dick was simply more exhausted by last night’s work than he expected.”

Dick looks somewhat sheepish as Wayne goes to his side. “’m okay, B. Just…just got a bit dizzy.”

Bruce kneels beside the sofa, so that he isn’t looming over Dick. “I told you to stay in bed, chum.”

 He is smiling, though, more fond exasperation than any real annoyance in his tone. And relief, apparently, as if he was afraid it was a greater emergency he had been called to deal with.

Jason just stares at the damn tableau.

Wayne smooths Dick’s curls back from his forehead. “How ‘bout I take you to your room now? Or do you want to nap here for a bit?”

Dick considers drowsily, then nods “Room.”

That is the point where Jason bolts upstairs. He can’t stay there a moment longer, as Wayne plays good dad, as they all pretend this is something normal, something that should be allowed.

 He slams the door and locks it behind him.

He knows he should have been more careful, he should have bided his time till he could get evidence. Till it wasn’t just an ungrateful street rat’s word against the Prince of Gotham.

 He was supposed to play detective. But now they know. Now they will be on their guard.

 But more than that… It tears at him to see Dick trustingly smile up at Wayne and Alfred, even after he is… Jason wants to tear actual flesh, Wayne’s flesh.

Someone knocks at his door. Pennyworth.

 “Master Jason, I think an explanation for-“

“Fuck off!” Jason screams.

 He’s not going to ‘explain’ anything here, not to a monster, someone content to let him be a monster, and a kid too messed up to have any idea what is being done to him.

 “I can explain-“

Jason screams curses at the butler till he leaves off. Later, Wayne, approaching tentatively, gets the same reception. He is not going to let them talk to him, not going to let them build their cover story. Or worse, try and ‘explain’ why it isn’t so bad.

 He can’t take it right now. He wants to transform, wants to tear at them, tear them apart before Batman gets here.

But…even now, even now he can’t morph. The anger is running through him like lava, but he can’t transform. He spends the next few hours holed up in his room.

 He doesn’t feel hungry, but manages to force down one of the granola bars Dick helped him smuggle in to build a food stock with. He can’t get weak. Can’t afford to get weak.

In the end he puts on the TV in his room – yeah, a TV in his freaking room, one of the earlier bribes – so as to have something to distract him from the mess that is the inside of his head right now. The news chatters on about yet another monster attack in downtown Gotham.

Images flash by of Batman taking down what looks like hordes of zombie-hyena hybrids, and Robin’s magic tearing open a portal in the air, a portal into which he banishes the Thing (even on TV screen, Jason can’t really look at what it is, it keeps shifting and changing so much that he almost throws up) responsible.

 The channel lingers sentimentally over the photo of Batman practically bundling up an exhausted Robin in his cape. The vigilante and his mage. The Bat and his little bird.

The Bat who sold another kid to the billionaire funding him. Jason can’t help but wonder what the Bat does to Robin, and he winces.

Please, please no. Not Robin.

Please let him at least remain untouched. Let what the Bat did to Jason – and no doubt Dick, earlier – reflect nothing of his own preference.

Robin is supposed to be the one piece of brightness in this screwed up city.

And Dick, Dick who smiles as bright and warm as Robin…

He really really wishes it could have been any other kid he was trapped in this mess with. They wouldn’t deserve this, no one would deserve this, but at least it wouldn’t hurt this much, watching.

He knows, once Dick has recovered enough, they will send him to talk to Jason. Or Dick will come of his own will, try to explain why it wasn’t Wayne’s fault.

And Jason…will have to either stay quiet or agree, because the kind of years’ long conditioning Dick must have been put through is not something you can break with just conversation. Especially not a conversation that would no doubt be monitored, whether Dick knew it or not.

Jason wonders whether this is the first time Wayne got ‘careless’ with Dick. the butler’s response – no trace of surprise – seems to indicate otherwise.

 But could Wayne be getting careless because now he has a replacement waiting? Or because Dick has grown up too much to be appealing?

Maybe, if Jason…put…put himself forward a bit…. Get Wayne’s attention off Dick, get him time to recover…

Jason’s mind flinches away from the thought, away from what he will have to do. But Dick was looking so pale…

Will it even work? Or will it actually make Wayne get even more careless with Dick now that he has the replacement handy?

There’s no way to tell, and with how fragile Dick looked this morning, Jason doesn’t think he dares to take the risk.

 Okay. That leaves only one solution. Jason takes a deep breath.

There’s no way he will be able to gather evidence now, and it is entirely possible Dick simply may not have long enough for him to get the kind of evidence needed.

He is going to have to kill Wayne. And maybe Pennyworth, though probably not.

 Pennyworth is letting Wayne do this, because the man is practically his son and he likely doesn’t dare do anything that will hurt him, but he loves Dick too. With Wayne gone…

 Jason will kill Pennyworth if he gets in the way, but Wayne is the one he will actually have to remove.

 Against Batman he stood no chance, but Wayne is…

Well, the guy is big, and muscled and all that, does all those extreme sports so he is fit, but he is no Batman. And Jason can catch him off guard. He doesn’t know he is dealing with a werewolf.

Sure, Wayne can check him for weapons as long as he wants, but Jason doesn’t need weapons. Jason is the weapon.

Okay.

But for it to work, for Jason to actually stand any chance – and if he fails, if they somehow decide Dick must have known or had put him up to it, he knows he won’t be the only one who pays the price – he will have to play along. A bit. For a little bit.

 Go to Wayne. Pretend to apologize. Pretend he is taken in, that he is sorry for overreacting. He will have to see Wayne. Maybe even let him touch him. Okay. It will be okay. He can do it.

Wayne wouldn’t do more than touch, and it will just be the kind of touch he does with Dick, to begin with. That’s okay. Jason can deal with this. Will deal with this.

He is a werewolf. He is supposed to protect. Supposed to guard.

Heaven’s Hounds, mama said they are called in the old language. The ones who put on their skins and went out at night to do battle against the demons who wanted to blight their village.

Jason has never run like that, mama has never run like that, and Willis never wanted to in the first place. This will be his first time.

And maybe last, an unwelcome voice, the voice that’s always warned him off changing when he was in the streets, whispers in his mind again.

If you screw this up – and maybe if you don’t screw this up – this will be the last.

Well. Screw the voice. He won’t screw this up, is all. Only…he can’t transform, can he?

He will have to transform first, will have to make sure he can. This is not the kind of job he can get a trial run on.

Jason shuts his eyes tight and visualises the change, the way mama taught him to. But the months of holding back, fighting back, the Change in the streets seem to have taken its toll. He can’t feel the Wolf.

No, he can feel the Wolf, alright, especially when he remembers Dick’s ashen face and Wayne smoothing his hair back in a pseudo-fatherly way.

He just…can’t figure out how to let the wolf out, something that was once as natural as breathing.

Okay, he tells himself, though he knows only too well that it is very much not okay.

Panicking won’t help. If he changes while panicked he might well end up howling and spoiling the whole plan. He is going to take it slow.

 Slow and steady, and he is going to win. But if he needs time, he will have to play for it. He will have to deal with Wayne… God, he will have to…

Deep breaths. Remember Dick.

The kid who stayed outside a closed door talking non-stop for an hour just to calm down a panicking Jason, who brought him canned tamper-proof food from the pantry because he was afraid of a danger Dick believed non-existent.

The kid with the bright smile that beamed out whenever Jason seemed to be enjoying himself. The kid who teased and laughed with him, the kid who spent an entire morning teaching Jason how to do a backflip.

 Dick might be messed up from what Wayne has done to him, but he is still kind, still sweet, in a way so few of the people Jason has known were. If he is left in Wayne’s hands for much longer, even if he survives, that sweetness almost certainly will not.

Saving him from that – saving who knows how many future kids from that – that is, should be, worth anything Wayne can do to him.

That is how a wolf should think, how one of Heaven’s Hounds should think, even if Jason right now feels more like a wet puppy than the avenging wolf.

It takes another hour or so of psyching himself up to actually leave the room. No one is outside, but he already knew it.

No one lurking, ready to grab him. That is not the kind of game Wayne likes to play. The other kind of game… Jason can play along with, just long enough to end it for well and good.

He means to make his way down to the kitchen, to Pennyworth. Apologize, accept whatever explanation or punishment the butler provides. Let Pennyworth report back to the boss. Then slowly work his way up to Wayne.

 Good plan, Jason tells himself. Manageable plan, if he keeps his head. He might even get away with it, though right now he is not thinking much beyond killing Wayne and running.

The plan goes straight out of the window when he passes by Wayne’s room.

There are two ways downstairs. Usually he goes the other way, where he wouldn’t have to pass Wayne.

But today he is trying to delay the inevitable as long as he can, and that means taking the longer route. Even if it takes him past Wayne’s closed doors.

The door is closed. And thick.

But not thick enough to muffle the sounds coming from within, not to the ears of a werewolf, transformed or not.

Wayne’s voice, murmuring something, words too indistinct to make out.

 And Dick’s voice. Sobbing.

 Jason’s never too great self control gives way. Before he can think what he is doing, before the voice of sanity can call out a warning, his hands are on the door knob.

 The door is not locked. It swings in easily under his grip.

Dick and Wayne are on the gigantic bed in the centre of the room. Wayne’s arms are around Dick. Dick is sobbing, his face blotchy with tears. Wayne is not letting go of him.

That is all Jason has time to register. And then the Wolf, absent for much too long, is bursting out of him.

 The transformation – Jason has forgotten how good it felt, how simply alive – is like a painless fire coursing through his body.

He feels his form change, and lets himself howl.

 Warning Wayne now makes no difference. He is in the same room, Wayne is within his reach. Batman is not here to defend him. It’s daytime, the vigilante is no doubt in his hideout somewhere.

 It is just Jason and Wayne.

A Hound of Heaven and a monster.

 The transformation takes less than a moment, and then Jason is standing there, snarling. He coils his body to pounce, already aiming for Wayne’s throat.

And even as he pounces, Wayne and Dick move. Moves faster than Jason would have believed possible for humans.

 Dick shouts a word and a force field erupts between the wolf and the other two. Jason slams into it like a glass wall.

 “Dick, stay back!” Wayne commands. “I can handle this, don’t use magic now!”

Wayne’s voice has gone lower in pitch, growly. A voice Jason can remember only too well. He notices the posture. The same one he saw that night in the alley. He sees blue flames erupt in Dick’s hand as he shifts into a combat stance.

 “Jason!” Dick exclaims, delight and surprise plain in his voice. “You transformed! You did it!”

What. What the actual…

Dick is surprised, but far from shocked to see a freaking werewolf in the room. Same for Wayne. As if they were waiting for this.

Wayne doesn’t move from his defensive posture in front of Dick, but gives Jason a slightly uncertain smile.

 “Yes, he transformed. And is apparently here to rip Master Bruce’s throat out” Pennyworth says from behind them.

 The man must have literally materialized from the walls, because Jason most certainly did not hear any footsteps approaching.

“Which, while a perfectly reasonable reaction given his current assumptions, cannot be permitted.”

Dick glares at Wayne “B! You told me you’ll explain to him!”

Wayne sighs “I tried.” Jason…just…stares.

His mind flashes back to the scene this morning, Wayne kneeling beside Dick “I told you to stay in bed, chum.”

Batman, sheepish, “Chum… That’s just what I call Robin.”

“Batman” Jason says in a voice that is way too shaky and pathetic to be coming out of the throat of a Heaven’s Hound. “Robin.”

 “Yep” Dick grins at him. “I told B we should have told you long ago.”

But… Batman and Robin… Batman sold… And Dick is hurt… The images on news, Robin exhausted and almost fainting after banishing that creature, wherever it came from.

Jason doesn’t know too much about druids, but he does know – from the stories Willis Todd’s cronies has told in the past about going witch hunting – that a mage can get exhausted to the point of collapse from something like that.

Wayne – Bruce – Batman sighs again. “I was worried he’d be – you’d be, Jason – nervous about sharing a house with Batman. You seemed so scared that first time…”

 “Yeah, instead he ended up thinking he’s sharing a house with a freaking pedo! I’d take Batman any time!”

Pennyworth – Alfred – smiles at Jason. “Master Bruce maybe lacking considerably in the field of etiquette, but as we have assured you multiple times – and as I thought you had genuinely come to believe – he will never even consider harming a child like that.”

Jason tries to remember how to not sound like an utter moron. “But… you let me stay..."

 "Because foster homes are not safe for non-human children” Batman states. “I’ve been trying to weed out the traffickers, but that was going to take time. A lot of time. There are very few houses in Gotham were a packless werewolf cub would be safe, and this was one of them.”

 “And I’m just messed up from the fight last night” Dick – Robin – puts in. “You can check the news. I had to banish this seriously nutcase Elder god and it… Well, that kinda thing means I’ll need a bit of recovery time. B never hurt me, and he will never hurt me.”

“I…heard you sobbing.”

 “Nightmares. That’s why I was in B’s room to begin with. I was tired, but couldn’t sleep. Nightmares, from last night. That’s why… that’s why he was holding me.”

Jason looks at the pair of them, and can’t find even the trace of a lie. “I…thought you were… I thought Wayne – Mr Wayne – Batman – was…”

 “I thought we had cleared that up” Bruce groans. “I mean… Jason… You were coming out of the room, you were playing and talking with Dick, we talked about you starting school…”

 “Were you afraid?” Dick kneels down, putting himself at a level with Jason’s teeth. “I tried not to see into your mind, I know wolves don’t like that, but… I thought… Were you just doing all that because you were afraid you’d be punished?”

 “No” Jason whines. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it isn’t like this situation can get any more incriminating for him. “I was…collecting evidence.”

 “Evidence” Bruce blinks.

Jason nods miserably. “That you were…you know. And then I was gonna run away to Metropolis with the evidence and tell this journalist guy I’ve researched, one Clark Kent…”

For some reason, that is the cue for Dick to go into a fit of laughter, and he almost falls forward, clutching Jason’s fur. “Clark… Clark Kent! You were… Metropolis…”

Even Alfred’s mouth twitches a little.

Bruce buries his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I.”

“You believed you had been sold to a pedophile by a sadistic vigilante masquerading as the guardian of Gotham” Pennyworth says slowly “And your next plan involved collecting evidence against the billionaire in question, escaping the Manor you are ‘imprisoned’ in, and bringing him to justice through the power of media.”

 “And when it looked like someone else was getting hurt in the meantime” Batman looks at him with an expression Jason can’t quite decipher “You decided you will resort to more direct means of removing the threat.”

Jason nods again, miserably.

“This settles it!” Dick crows, amid laughter “B, this freaking settles it!”

 Settles what.

Batman looks uneasy. “Dick, we talked about taking it slow-“

 “Nope, nope, don’t care” Dick throws his arms around Jason’s neck, completely unmindful of the fangs less than an inch from his throat. “He’s my new little brother. Settled, no take-backs.”

Jason didn’t think it was possible for the day to get more surreal.

 Bruce looks uncertain. “Jason…might feel differently?”

 “Do you?” Dick immediately turns to face Jason “Jay, you wanna be my little brother?”

“If it makes any difference, Master Jason” Alfred says, tone one of amused exasperation “your actions have already revealed that you will fit right in with this family.”