[Maybe it would help, indeed. If nothing else, it would give him something to focus on.
There's a sound from the loft stairs and if Jon turned to look, Nothing was perched on the railing, perfectly balanced and watching the chaos below with....a respirator? covering the lower half of his face to protect him from the lingering fumes. When had he stolen that?
Perhaps more importantly, when had he painted it red?]
The blood adds to the drama. Give it a few more wears before you make a new one.
[His voice, already raspy and broken from the batarang wound, was a hissed nightmare of it's own as it seeped from the respirator's vents.]
I do own most of the Eastend, you know. I got a whole fucking laundry list of people who need a little fear in their daily lives.
[ Hearing a noise, Jon looked back. It was clear it was Jon. If not just from the fact he was texting, but the cigarette hanging from his lips between the stitched mouth of the mask. It was an oddity, but Scarecrow hated Jon smoking. Seeing Nothing there, he decided he needed to make that boy watch the Crow. That was some Eric Draven energy.
Tipping his head some before slipping his phone away into the suit and ashing off to the side. ]
I must say, I had not considered painting one of those. Smart move.
[ At least this burlap was already a faded red, so the blood did add a lot. ]
If you say so. So long as it does not start to smell, I will see how it goes.
[ Making his way over, pulling about four long hat pins free from the wide witch hat to pull the hat and wig off at once. A man could be killed with those hat pins. He has stabbed Jason with one when he was smaller. The GCPD knows to get his hat off before he can even be put in the van. ]
Now that sounds like a very beneficial plan. The fears of the wicked are just so much sweeter. And what will this cost me?
[Jason had no idea who 'Eric Draven' was, but he'd love the movie. It would hit hard and he'd no doubt lash out after it, but he'd love it.
Peering down at the older man, Jason tilted his head to one side, warily watching those pins be set aside before he gripped the railing and let himself drop easily over the edge. He dangled a few seconds before he caught the under rail with his other hand and lowered himself down further. From there, it was a tall, but easy drop down to the main floor and Jason landed it in a soundless crouch before he was standing up and strolling over to snatch up those pins.
Those fuckers hurt and, knowing Jon, the tips had been soaked in Toxin. He'd just be keeping these while they chatted, newly found trust or not.]
Symbiosis, Doc. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You get test subjects that no one will miss and I get the peace of mind knowing they're off the streets.
[The more he spoke, the harsher his voice hissed and he winced a little as he reached up to lightly rub at the fresh, pink scar. The respirator was doing it's job, though. None of the wisps of airborne Toxin had managed to bypass the filters yet.]
[ he would be seeing it soon enough, Jon would be sure of that. Sometimes Jon was jealous of how easily the young man could jump and toss his weight and not seem to ache after. Dancing aside, Jon had to deal with the aches and pains that came with age and not taking care of himself. ]
Do not lose those, they are antique... And coated in toxin, be careful.
[ So Nothing was right about the Toxin. The hat pins had pearl ends, and were the very same he had stabbed Nothing with in the past. They were none other than Granny's brought from Georgia when he took up the Scarecrow persona. He himself had a few scars from them, but, they are effective. ]
Now, that sounds like a fine working relationship, Nothing.
[ Holding a bony hand out to shake. ]
You have a deal, and do let me know if you need that respirator upgraded, that looks like one of the older models the boys used to use.
[ Nothing had gotten to see the goons sometimes got respirators or jabbed with an immunity shot for jobs. It did him no good if his help got sucked up in the fear. ]
Switching to prose to make our lives a little easier
Oh, he'd feel it eventually. He was too physical of a being to not. His training had left him limber and flexible, but it had also worn through his joints much faster than just everyday wear and tear. A body only had so many beatings in it before it started to click in odd places.
He just hadn't gotten there. Yet.
Snorting softly, he arched a brow at Jon. "I remember, thanks. Why do you think I'm holding onto them?" His trust was still tentative, then. A slow budding thing. Which made sense, considering exactly how Jon had come to have him in his testing warehouse. But for as wary as he was, he only eyed that extended hand for a moment before he stepped forward to take it. He didn't even grind any of those bones together, just gave a small shake before retreating to his self prescribed 'safe' distance.
"It's working fine. I might play with it." It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging that he was here and maybe didn't mind being here. "So, what was the plan with the singer? Was she just convenient or were you trying to see if someone could literally tear out their own vocal cords screaming?"
Thank you, im so used to action but I like prose more.
Nothing was pretty much ready to return to whatever he wanted to do. Jon wouldn't admit he worried, but he does. The boys know as well as he does that Jon isn't actually the cold beast he tries to pretend he is. Still, he knew the boy would go stir-crazy if kept inside too long.
"Smart lad." He chuckled as he said it. "You did learn faster than the others." That trick had only worked once on the second Robin. Oh, he knew who the kid was, you don't forget the face of the child who nearly killed you. Even if the mask now covers a different part of his face.
Once the shake was complete, Jon tugged the burlap tunic over his head to put it back on the waiting mannequin. A simple black T-shirt under it to protect some of his skin, but it did leave his scarred arms visible for now. Grabbing the flannel shirt left on the back of the chair from earlier, tugging it on, ignoring the costume pants for now. "Let me know should that change, I do not think it would be wise to expose you to the toxins." He heard those screams, he paid attention. "She poisoned her costar, one of Simon's girls. So, why not? I do enjoy the screams of the wicked, but even that was a bit much." That was part of why Simon had been moping about of late, one of his favorite off and on again's had been poisoned and found in the river.
He was surprised at the ease in which they shook hands. He knew that Crane had never been one for random touch, a fact that he could tell had continued with his interaction with his men. The rest of them were quick to brush shoulders or clap a hand against a back or knee, but those antics never included Crane. So to feel that surprisingly strong grip unflinching against his own?
A flicker of warmth reared in his chest and he was quick to smother it before it grew to anything substantial.
He scoffed, letting the respirator twist it as he moved over to sprawl in Crane's abandoned chair. If it was from the praise of his adaptation skills or from Crane's no doubt empty promise of keeping him away from the toxin, he wasn't about to share. "She got what she deserved. Petty bitch. I hate it when they're so pretty on the outside but rotten under the skin." 'Like Bruce and Dick...' He kept that last part private, but it was still clear in his tone. "I'll take Simon out for drinks or something. Help take his mind off things.
Hey, what's the halflife of this? I wanna smoke, but I like my eyebrows." Smoking also meant taking off the respirator and the last thing he wanted was to subject himself to that nightmare over a cigarette.
The only time there was touch between Crane and the boys was if Jon got hurt and someone hauled him up to make a quick getaway. Or if one of them was upset or angry and needed to be grounded. A hand on the shoulder, or a quick slap to break a panic. Hell even once Sam talked about being homesick and asked Jon for a hug. He had stared at the youngest a moment before standing and allowing it.
His men, Nothing and the birds? Those were his family, his people. Each one brought together in a strange way. Nothing was part of that now. The difference was, Jonathan was worried about Nothing, he rarely worried about his boys. So the shake was fine by him.
"I am inclined to agree, I know the entertainment industry is rather cut-throat, but Sarah seemed too soft for this city." The dead girl. "I have always found beauty hides a rotten soul. Not always true, but often." Then an amused noise passed. "Some of us just come with a natural warning that we are awful, just from how bad we can look." Years of bullying would never be cured. But, he didn't care too much. "A good idea, if you wish I'll loan you the keys, or give you the money for an uber."
Reaching over Jon kicked on the exhust fan, not that there was much in the air. "About two hours, so it should be pretty much gone. Give it a try There is an antidote shot in the top drawer next to you if you feel any anxiety amplifying." He offered, luckily it was gone enough that Jason would be fine. Taking out his pack he shook two free, holding one of the Reds over to Nothing, along with the zippo he always had, with the initials 'H.P.' engraved. Henry's lighter he stole off the body ages ago. ]
The old truck had that classic rumble to it. Jon had always insisted the body may not look the best, but the engine was strong as ever. A classic three on the tree, waaay to many miles on it, but clearly well-loved.
Scarecrow, beside him on the seat, humming some old 40s tune to himself and popping bubbles occasionally with his gum.
"Mmmm what about the one over in the Bowery. I am told they have the best candy to see." It was a small artesian kind of place, homemade fudge and all. And numerous older candies no longer sold. "Jonny says we have to play, or at home we have to stay." Luckily, Scarecrow does have Jon's wallet. Nothing may have realized by now, but while Jon would happily rip off a corporation, small family businesses he'd always pay. Bookstores usually, but still.
He'd wanted to drive the truck as soon as he'd ridden in it the first time, his fingers twitching to get into the engine and poke around. Matt had let him watch a couple of times and he'd started helping out the older man, but even that couldn't quite ease the need to drive Jon's truck. So as he eased them out into traffic, grin safely hidden under the respirator, he found himself relaxing despite the madman beside him.
Though....Scarecrow hadn't hurt him. Hadn't even threatened to. In fact, he'd promised that Nothing wouldn't ever be hurt by them again. No one had ever promised that. It was a lie, surely...but it was lie he wanted to believe.
"Yeah, we can go see Cunningham. I need to check in, anyway." He had, after all, gotten into a fight with Bats and then blown up. He had no doubt that at least a few people thought he was dead. "Bowery is mine, though. You can have the people I give you, but anyone else and I'll be pissed. Don't worry, there's plenty of garbage to go around, though. We can even grab some tonight, if you want."
That would help with his rumored death. He made the turn that would take them to the candy maker, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to Scarecrow's hummed tune.
Matthew knew how protective Jon was of the old C10. He was one of the few who knew why from a night Jon had been a little too stoned from a lab accident. So, while he was happy to have Nothing's help and even teach him when he needed a little help, he stayed lingering if he let the younger even look under Jon's hood when the old truck was tempermental. It was clear that Matthew trusted Nothing's skills, even letting him help with some more picky peoples cars.
Scarecrow was different from Jon in one glaring way, he didn't care who knew who was under his protection. Nothing may have noticed by now that the boys rarely ever got hurt on jobs, Jonathan might look like he was half dead when they got back, but the boys always got to their homes. Scarecrow and Jonathan refused to lose their minions or anyone under their watch. Nothing was under that watch now.
"Yes, yes! That one, it will be fun! I won't hurt the bird, you have been heard." waving a hand, those long pointy nails looking more befitting of Scarecrow than Jon when he was in his street clothes. "Yes, yes, Jonny told me the deal. The Bowery is yours, so none we are to steal. The wicked you bring may be to kill." The words rolled purposely, pushing the rhymes even when they didn't fit. "Maybe, maybe, we will see, Who knows what is to be."
Cunningham's Confectionary was a small shop that had been passed down in the family since the Great Depression. It had survived purely on grit and ambition alone and it was the first generation that the business had passed from father to daughter instead of father to son. Mostly because the son had gone to war, but she'd still taken the reins and ran a tight ship.
Her granddaughter was made of similar stock and when the overhead bell chimed, Jason grinned into his mask at the sight of the young woman standing behind the counter, her eyes a little wide at her late night customers, but a shotgun still casually laid out in front of her.
"Easy, Mace. He's with me." His voice was still rough from both the neck injury and the gas mask, but it was close enough to his modulated voice that her eyes narrowed for a moment before she huffed softly.
"Word on the street was that the Bat did you in. Glad to see the rumors of your death were exaggerated." She was still watching Scarecrow with wary eyes, but she didn't stop him from exploring her little hard earned shop and it's delightful treasures. Everything was handmade right there behind the big plexiglass window, though the hour meant that the actual candy makers had long gone home.
It was not a place Jonathan would have even gone on his own. His sweet tooth was mostly for sweet tea and simple deserts, Scarecrow lived for candy, though. Something Jonathan was denied as a child; thus Scarecrow must have it. Jonathan would have been impressed by the history of the store, but Scarecrow was more interested in the selection.
"Easy pease-y pumpkin squeasy~ we are here for no harm. Take it easy." The last part singsonged like the Eagles song. As the tall creature moved in that far too graceful way that always felt like he was floating by. The handmade stuff wasn't what caught the specters attention, but their selection of vintage candies.
A little basket had been grabbed up along the way. Candy dots, Charleston chews, Mary Janes, gummy bears and skittles of multiple times. "Nothing!" he hissed out to Jason, tone full of mirth, ignoring Mace for now. "They have cinnamon bears! I love them and no one cares!" The pack snatched up.
It would do to have him seen. So no one was dumb enough to step onto his turf, and so that Sionis kept where he bloody well should. If Crane had known what was going through Nothing's head, he would have thumped him on the back of the head. The boy was as welcome as the rest, if not a little more. He had a soft spot for strays.
"You like him." He finally stated it as he leaned on the workbench, looking down at the sprawling hood. "I dare say I believe he returns that. Just don't let me catch you two in any compromising situations while we are all meant to be working." Jon didn't care if they dated, fucked, or whatever. As long as it didn't affect the work.
Nodding then. "Yes, we can make those detours, all you ever need do is ask, Nothing."
He was considering the idea of having Simon swing by the ally he'd stashed his bike in all those weeks ago when the world had gone to shit. It would be nice to have his own ride again and he was maybe a little eager to get Matt's opinion of a couple of upgrades he wanted to make to the beast...but then Jon oh so casually called him out on his...thing with Sam and he ended up blushing so deep his freckles stood out against the red.
"I...Shut up. Not gunna do anything while we're working..." It was a half mumbled lie (He'd already pinned Sam sweetly up against the workbench, murmuring Italian into his ear until the older boy was a blushing, squirming mess before sending him back to work with a cheeky grin and a slap on the ass), but it was the best he had. He'd never had to deal with someone calling him out on something like that and he...he both hated it and was confused by it.
Because why did Jon care? It wasn't like he was actually a part of this ragtag group, right? He was just the stray they'd taken in to keep him from bleeding out. Hell, Sam probably didn't even like him, just the idea of him. The allure of possibly bedding the myth of the Red Hood.
"Stop being so nice to me. You make it sound like you're going to keep me or some shit."
One bright side with having Simon swing by was Sionis did not want issues with the Roman or Scarecrow. Everyone knew Simon Falcone was one of the Frighteners and in line for the Falcone empire, about 5 people before him, but it meant no one could touch him outside of the family. Simon was happier with the Frighteners, Jon treated him better than his uncle. But that name gets him places no one else in the gang can go.
"That is all I ask." he stated before grinning and pushing himself off the workbench. "And be careful, of course." The boy is damned old enough to not need the birds and bees talk, plus he knows all about Red Hoods protective of sex workers. Jon didn't care if they messed around in the lair as long as it didn't affect a job.
"Who said I didn't intend to keep you?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his accent as he took out a cigarette to light up. Despite yelling at the others for smoking near the toxin. Jon does all the time. "Come on, we have work to do." An unlit cigarette offered back towards the younger as he made his way towards the truck.
The words hit him square in the chest, slamming into the soft bits under his ribs with enough force to make his breath hitch. They were unexpected and caught him be complete surprise, pale blue eyes widening a little as he processed them.
He'd never asked how long Jon had planned on keeping him there. Not the man himself, not his team, not even Sam in the darkness of their whirlwind fling. He'd been scared to. Scared to put a hard limit on the little bit of normalcy he'd found. Scared to hear that he would be set back out with a pat on the head and clean bill of health, like a mutt someone nursed back to health but couldn't actually keep.
Because no one kept him. That was the one constant, the one common denominator that ranged over all the different homes he'd sheltered in. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. It made no sense and he had no use for the ex-professor turned conman.
The realization sat bitter in his stomach, but his fingers didn't shake as he reached out to take that offered cigarette. He could live with bitter. Especially if the genteel southern man wasn't going to stop him from finding his comfort where he could.
"Stop talkin' shit, we got places to be." He tucked the smoke behind his ear and grabbed his mask off the table as he followed Jon outside. Simon's Mustang was still ticking in the driveway and Nothing grinned as he reached out to take the offered shake from Sam's hands, transferring the drink to his other hand before looping his arm loosely around the Italian man's waist.
If Jon knew, he was at least going to enjoy his time while he had it.
The whole outing was a literal blast. Jon hadn't laughed that hard in awhile, even Sam had let a few English words slip. Simon knew he could speak some English as well as Jon did, no one admits it to Stanley and Matt though.
Working on his 3rd cigarette in the last few hours, he finally whistled. Calling out in italian for the tree. "Sam, your classes start in an hour, say goodbye. Simon, we have a few places to go with Nothing."
Sam whispered something in Nothings ear while Simon ordered the youngest an uber to GSU. Jon was very much involved in Sam's education, his grades and reminding him to study, as tech was not his forte. So school nights? He was like any overbearing parent. "Come on, Nothing, lets go get your toys."
I heard you. [ Nothing hadn't earned himself a nickname outside of Nothing yet. Jon had little things he called everyone, but Nothing was just that, or child if he was tired.
He was tired now but didn't say it. Laying still as the boy patched him up. ] He demanded to know where I was keeping you... Harleen and Isley stopped him from doing worse.
[ Jon hated the Bat for how he treated the boy, but now that the Bat knew he was involved, he expected things to have to tighten up to keep Batman out of their current home. ] I told him to kiss my ass. [ Of course he did. Nothing was his now, he would fight for him, ] So, I guess that earns a few hours of the Mistress of the Dark.
[His hands stilled a little at those words. The reason for Jon's beat down wasn't just because of the usual reasons, but...because of him? Bruce was looking for him. He'd gotten wind that Red Hood had changed up his look and was running with the Frighteners now. He'd- The thought was a mixed bag and Nothing swallowed hard around the sudden lump that had formed in his throat.
Just under that fresh, pink scar that was still tight and itchy and only barely healed over.
The last steri-strip was pressed down almost gently and when the teenager sat back to make sure the stick was stuck, his hand rested quietly on Jon's arm.]
I-uh..yeah. Yeah, that earns you a few hours of your Mistress, old man. [If his voice was a little harsher than usual, then surely Jon would give him the benefit of pretending it wasn't.]
Come on, I'm not sitting on the couch with you in costume. The hat at least has to come off before you stab someone with those damned pins. You work on getting it off, I'll grab you some sweats and a t-shirt.
[While he looked through drawers, he sent a quick text to the man waiting for him downstairs to have him put in the DVD and make an extra batch of popcorn. Just a little bit of caramel drizzle. To satisfy both halves of the man who'd taken him in so readily.]
She'd shown up out of nowhere. No warning, no hint of her presence before stepping out of the darkness of the early morning, cutting off the crew on their way back from a small time job putting a little fear back into someone who'd gotten a little too big for their britches. She'd barely acknowledged the others, simply expressed a sliver of gratitude for keeping Jason alive while she'd been otherwise occupied. She was there now, however, and his health looked to be back to prime, so she expected him back now. They had work to do after all. She'd left just as abruptly as she'd come and he was left to deal with the aftermath.
Stan's disappointed anger.
Sam with his hurt betrayal.
Simon and Matt with their quiet, resigned understanding.
The worst was the...nothing that came from Jon. The older man had closed himself off in a way that he hadn't done since Nothing had earned his name and it hurt to be on the other side of that wall.
But what was he supposed to do? Yeah, they've saved his life, but he only had that life because of her. Jon had folded him into their ranks, but she'd stroked his hair and promised vengeance. He and Sam had had their fun and they'd gotten incredibly close, but she'd poured years of time and energy and training into him. Who was he to disobey her? So, he'd murmured an apology and packed. Slipped away from the comfort of the townhouse he'd come to think of as a sort of home.
It only stood to reason that it was to that townhouse that he'd go when his world crumbled.
It was raining, because of course it was. Gotham had a dark sense of poetic humor, after all. The sun was well down and the house was dark and for a moment Jason (because Nothing never would have left) was terrified that it would be empty. He'd left his keys behind earlier and while he could have picked the lock or kicked in the door or gotten inside in a million different ways, he didn't.
He was too cold to think about any of that and it had nothing to do with the rain that dripped under the collar of his jacket. Instead, he simply reached out...and knocked.
Jon had stood there silently when Matt had whispered what happened when he caught up with them. He had not seen Talia, but he knew Ra's well enough not to fuck with The Demon's Daughter. More so when the boy he had taken in started packing.
He wanted to yell, scream, and break things. Belittle the boy into staying, but that was just Granny's cruelty whispering in him. So he said nothing, just quietly watched him pack before turning and returning to his work. Craw tried to follow him, but Talia had frightened the bird off. Not keen on being followed.
"Come on Boss, you have to go after him." Matt had muttered on night, after Jon sent Sam home, the boys work suffering and Jon refused to watch him mope as if a hole wasn't ripped into them all. "No, it was his choice. We can't take that choice from him. He has to come back on his own." "That woman's a viper." Stanley grumbled, the anger had simmered but still shone in his eyes. "You think I don't know that." Jon muttered disappointed lighting a cigarette and leaning back in his desk chair.
-----
Music was playing from inside the townhouse, not too loud but enough to be heard. One of those old songs Jon denied liking. It had been raining, and Jon had been reading, the house far too quiet without the boy and the birds less rambunctious without their brother around. The only light couldn't be seen from outside; the library was towards the back of the house, on purpose given Jon's hours.
The sound of the creaking floors could be heard just after the knock. A gun in his hand, as he peered through the peephole. Seeing the boy out there, Jon pulled open the door. In sight of his boy, he put the gun down on the inside table and reached out to him, not thinking as he held that bony hand out to him. "Come in, child. You look half frozen."
The house still smelled of hot cinnamon and pumpkin to mask the chemical smell that clung to Jon, the birds cawing from inside.
He couldn't hear the music. Not at first. Nor could he hear the creaking floorboards. It wasn't raining that hard and the light thunder was the rolling rumble of a summer storm, not the angry clash of an angry god. It would be more fitting if it was the latter, but even the sounds of the city herself were almost quiet.
As if the very universe itself knew.
As if Gotham knew.
The door cracked open and Jason took half a step back out of reflex before he really noticed the familiar, comforting green of Jon's eyes. Then the door was opening entirely and one bony hand was being extended towards him as if he hadn't just turned his back on everyone not twenty hours before.
As if he were actually welcome. Wanted. As if he belonged. As if-
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but all that came out was a small, helpless sound and he tried to close his teeth around it before it escaped. He was only half successful, but that small sound seemed to kick start his ears. All of it came rushing in all at once. The rain, the traffic, the music. Jon's voice. From inside the house came a cautious call that he recognized immediately as Craw.
He ignored the hand stretched out towards him, bypassing it to instead wrap his arms around that frail torso, his face hidden immediately in Jon's shoulder to muffle his quiet sound of relief. There was no way to tell if the tremble was from the cold rain soaking into his bones or the emotion that bubbled up past his hidden lips.
To day Jonathan Crane was confused; that was an understatement. Less than a full twenty-four hours since the boy left, and here he was in the rain. It almost felt like one of the books he reads and would forever deny reading. Only he is no jilted lover, and the boy is not there with something to apologize for.
No, this was a boy whose already been through so much. Someone who had managed to worm his way into the old man's heart. The person who made sure he could never have kids to be certain he didn't pass on the Keeny Curse or hurt a child the way he had been hurt. Yet, Nothing had somehow filled a role he never knew he wouldn't mind having filled.
"Shh." It came softly as the arms came around him pulling him into the iron grip of the boy Gotham fears as much as he and the other Rogues. "It is going to be alright, Jason." The name spoken as Jon felt it was important, no judgment just the acceptance of everything this new bird was. "Let's get you near the fire, and you can tell me what happened." Scarecrow whispering in Jon's mind that blood would rain if the boy was hurt.
It said something that Crane had let himself be hugged like that. It said something that Jason had let himself be vulnerable enough to ask for reassurance. It said something loud. A full on screaming metal concert of unspoken emotions that thrummed between the boy and the man.
They made it all the way to the library, Jason slumping into his usual overstuffed chair, before he realized that not all the water dripping off his face was rain. He startled a little when Craw left Jon's chair to come to his own, but he relaxed again when he saw the familiar bird.
Talia had scared him off, before. That wasn't an easy feat and the boy's hands were achingly gentle as he reached up to carefully check to make sure the bird was okay. Craw, usually so quick to nip and curse and fly away, grumbled quietly and stood still save for an indignant flutter of wings.
"She-" He sucked in a breath, startling enough from the sound of his own voice to cause Craw to chide at him and fluff out his feathers. Flicking his gaze over to Jon, he tried again. "She chased him off. He's okay, right? She didn't hurt him?"
Jason knew how much Crane hated to be touched; he still slaps the boys hands away if they get too rambunctious and try to pull him into it. Matt had told Jason once that while he doesn't know the details of how Jon grew up it was clear any touch he expected pain to follow. Matt was from a broken home; he knew the signs of someone else who suffered under a tyrant's hands.
The library was full of those rich scents and the sound of the Allman Brothers playing closer since the sound system was in this room, as well as a kettle. Which he turned on when Jason sat and Craw came down.
Jon watched them carefully for a moment, pulling the footrest over to take a seat closer than he normally might, his arms resting on his knees. "He's fine; he's just been rather muted." Jon explained watching his troublesome bird try to show his displeasure but also not letting Jason move his hand far away without a croak.
"She didn't hurt him, but she clearly hurt you. Talk to me, tell me what happened." Softer than he used for most, but this boy was not most people.
Matt wasn't the only one from a broken home. Jason had picked up smoking to spite his abusive asshole of a father, after all. He'd always been mindful of Jon's space and his location in it, but he'd never treated the man like he was fragile. He'd survived, after all.
They both had.
His eyes flicked over to the older man at that gentle accusation, worry and something darker in that pale blue gaze before it was once more returned to the usually so onery bird. He stiffened, the tremble in his hands getting worse before he masked it by gently stroking along the sides of Craw's beak with his fingertips.
"She didn't hurt me." He was lying. It was clear in his voice. He cleared his throat and shook his head, refusing to look back over at the other man. "I just...
..I don't want to leave. I didn't want to leave then. Please, can I stay?"
Truth be told nearly all of the Frighteners were from broken homes. Stanley and Simon had local family but otherwise? Not really, and Simon's relationship with the Falcone's was rocky at the best of times.
Still, Jason was a survivor, and it was why he fit so perfectly in a puzzle he was never meant to be placed in. Yet? It was where he belonged now. Jon was watching how carefully the boy stroked Craw and how the bird was reacting.
"You can stay. Even if you leave again in the future, you can always come back." He spoke very certain, not wanting to leave any doubts. "Tell me what happened."
He relaxed a little at the assurance that he could stay, but it was short lived. Something was wrong, the tightness of his body said that much. Normally, he was pretty good about keeping his body loose and limber, ready to tussle at a moments notice. It was usually only after nightmares that he got stiff and creaky in his movements.
He shook his head, not risking glancing over at the other man because if he did, he'd lose it. Instead he focused on the bird pecking at his fingertips, letting the little pinches go on far longer than he normally would.
With Nothing, Jon had had to lean more into the better side of his education. Trying to help the boy without making it too obvious. He had a reputation to think of, after all.
That stiffness? It said nothing good. Lacing his hands together as he sat on the footrest.
"You don't have to tell me if you do not want to. I won't push you; just answer me this. Are you alright, child?" It didn't matter that he is legal, he is and would always be a child in Jonathan's eyes. He has seen this boy in the Robin tights, had his ass kicked by the child more than once. The troubled teen? A child soldier drowning and needing someone to see him.
He flinched when the movement of Jon sitting caught in the corner of his eye.
When was the last time he hadn't been completely aware of his own immediate surroundings enough to flinch? It was an awareness that Bruce had installed deep in his brain...but also, living with Bruce had eased the flinch response entirely. He had still occasionally done it if he'd been tired or focused on one specific thing, but by the end of his four years in that manor, either man could walk up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder and he'd only look up and smile.
The League had put some of that flinch response back, but even so he'd only ever done it for Jon in the beginning of his time there, when he was hurt and weak and still expecting the rogue to use him in some experiment or another.
Jon hadn't even touched him and he'd jerked hard enough to cause Craw to spread his wings and croak a protest.
"Shit... I..Nothing. I'm fine. I..." He pulled his hand away from the bird and instead shoved both hands through the mop of curls on his head. "I don't know why this is wigging me out so bad..."
Oh, Jon clocked that flinch too. That was a fear response before the Master of Fear. Surely Bruce taught Jason better than that, and yet? Jon didn't start peeling his mind or pushing the fear.
A whistle that Nothing would recognize brought Craw to Jon's shoulder, the stubborn bird yanking at messy ginger strands. Something that happens a lot and gets ignored in favor of the broken boy before him.
Seeing how he ran his hands through his hair. A nervous habit he used to have before he broke his fear. Mostly now it's when he is frustrated that he will pull his hair and break something, when Scarecrow is just a little too close to control. That song that had been so poignant switched over to an instermental.
"Because she did something to you that pushed your comfort. She did something, or someone wherever you went did. You're not alone here, even if you just need some quiet, that is fine." This was where he would normally call Edward or Jervis to hack cameras and find info, but he knew Edward was in Arkham, and he didn't want the headache. Jervis? Jon wasn't talking to him again, his latest Alice had shown signs of assult and Jon had been the one to drop the anonymous tip to the GCDP after seeing her and punching Jervis. He would forgive him again soon, such was the cycle.
Edited 2025-08-17 01:17 (UTC)
Yeah, let's just keep that CW rolling for the rest of this, shall we XD
He frowned a little when Jon called Craw to him, following the short flight with his eyes but unwilling to actually look at Jon for longer than a few seconds before looking away again. He already missed the bird's presence and he knew that if he whistled, Craw might actually disobey Jon in favor of him...but he didn't want to drive a wedge between them. Instead, he drew his legs up to hook his heels on the edge of the chair, arms wrapped loosely around his knees.
He buried his face against the denim of his jeans, letting the music play against the frazzled edges of his nerves before he finally spoke again.
"I don't know why, though. She didn't hurt me. It wasn't bad. I didn't even say 'no'." His breath caught in his throat with that admission and he shook his head hard and gripped his legs tight enough to make his knuckles down white. "Fuck, this is so stupid..."
Nothing didn't have to worry there; it wasn't Craw that answered the distressed look. No, Nightmare flew down from the curtain rod he liked to perch on when not bugging Jon or being treated like the old baby he is. Landing on the arm of the chair, a deep croaking noise is given instead of his mimicry. Knocking his head lightly into Jason's knee before fluffing himself up.
The rain and the bluesey undertones of the music really helped, not to mention the fact that Crane kept warm light bulbs in this room, plus the fireplace. Far too comforting to be expected of the Scarecrow, but this was Jonathan's sanctuary. Not the lair of the Scarecrow.
As Nothing spoke, Jonathan's eyes widened behind his lenses. Dots connected. He remembered being that age, listening to other young men boasting about their exploits while others felt used. Yet, there seemed to be more. "It is not stupid." A touch of firmness in his tone before it eased. "Even if you didn't say no, she is lord knows how many years your senior. Not to mention, wasn't she one of Batman's exploits?" The Rogues gossip like hens. Selina had bitched about that one to Oswald years back but had been tipsy enough not to notice Jon at the bar. Most back then didn't know what he looked like out of costume.
Nightmare's sudden appearance was met with a grateful smile and one hand let go of his tight clench enough to reach over to rub the silky feathers of the old bird's neck. Outside, thunder rumbled and slowly, breath by breath, he started to relax again.
"Pretty sure that's why she wanted it. Me. I...I look like him." It was true, of course. Jon wouldn't know, but of all of Bruce's children, Jason had been the one to grow to look the most like him. Add in the fact that he was almost on par with the man for sheer size and...well, it made a sick sort of sense. Especially-
"She called me by his name." It was barely a whisper. That had been the moment when he'd lost any little bit of interest he'd had in the situation and that pain was clear in his voice. Something wet soaked into the knee of his jeans and Nothing startled a little as he wiped at the unexpected wetness from his eyes.
"It's fine. Whatever. It didn't hurt, she didn't force me to do anything. I've been there, done that...this wasn't the same."
The old bird stayed close, making little noises and hopping closer. Jon watched, mentally documenting the reactions. It was only when Jason's knee appeared wetter that he unlaced his hands and reached over to a basket Nightmare often slept in, a ghost-printed blanket held over it.
"You need to warm yourself. The fire will only do so much." No judgment, just a gentle chiding only after the boy had finished speaking. "That worsens it." He spoke, his eyes betraying the calm look. He was angry, but for Jason's sake, not at him. "She used you, child. You have every reason to feel as you do. But I must ask. What do you mean you've been there?" He is pretty sure he knows, that he doesn't want to know.
He took the blanket with numb fingers, staring at it blandly. Was he cold? He was shivering, so he must have been. Right? Or was it a tremble instead of a shiver? What if the cold was coming from him instead of from the rain?
Nightmare puffed up and crooned, gently catching his fingers in his beak. The touch helped, his eyes shifting from the blanket to the bird as he obediently finally let the fleece unfold before leaning forward to wrap it around his shoulders.
It helped. A little. Enough that he was able to reach out to continue stroking Nightmare's head and neck as he spoke, but not enough to put any life back into his voice.
"Mom overdosed when I was nine. Bats didn't pick me up until I was almost twelve. You do what you gotta do to eat, right? It was fine, most of the time. Sometimes...
Silently watching as the boy wrapped the blanket around himself and stroked Nightmare's head and neck. Lifting his spidery hand for Craw to hop over, moving him over to the chair so he could go back to Nothing as well. A little calmer as if reading the room, it wouldn't last though.
"You were practically a baby then..." It struck Jon that he was likely still teaching back then, when this boy had to sell himself to survive. "I knew this city was beyond redemption, but to have to go through that at such a young age." He could remember Henry's final humiliation of him the day he left Gotham to return home disgraced. He had been an adult, and it screwed him up for months...
Shaking his head. "Think it is fine if that is what you need to do to survive, but know that you will never have to do that again as long as I am alive. You are allowed to tell people no, Jason." Another use of the real name, but he wanted to drive the point home.
Jon's voice made him glance up at the other man. Just for a moment, just long enough to really take in the look on his face before it hurt too much to see such emotion directed at him. He didn't want pity, didn't want to be coddled and told how horrible he'd had it. He'd survived. Worked hard to survive.
How was he supposed to tell someone who looked at him like that that selling himself after his mother's death hadn't even been the worst part? That she'd needed him to find ways to get her drugs when she'd been too weak to work. That she'd introduced him to the first person who'd ever been in his mouth.
No one should have to know that. So he kept it to himself.
"I just...I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. It shouldn't. It didn't hurt. It's different if it hurts or if I say to stop and they don't." Except...except he had told her to stop. After the wrong name had been whispered into the dark, he'd tried to tell her to stop and she'd just tightened her grip on his shoulders and shushed him before riding him harder.
"Can...can I be Nothing again? I don't want to be Jason anymore."
Their eyes met for only a moment before the boy was looking away. Most only saw Jon looking emotionally dead. Breaking his amygdala had taken more than his fear. He was harder to anger, harder to make happy; everything numbed a bit. Part of it was a blessing; pouring ice water on a fiery temper had cut down on the number of calls Batman and Robin had to deal with, but at a high price.
Matt and the boys have all talked on bad days with Nothing about watching Jon, to make sure he didn't walk out into traffic or anything that could kill him. Staying alive was harder than dying. His work had helped, the birds helped, and now caring for the boy helped.
The emotion Nothing saw was real; Jon would argue it wasn't pity—survivors never wanted pity. "Because you never addressed your childhood trauma. She may not have aimed to feel like that child again, but something triggered it. You are older now; you protect kids from ending up in that situation. I have heard the tales of Red Hood."
Nodding when the question was asked. "Yes, you can be, but I must ask you to think of a new legal name because I can't call you Nothing if we go to the grocery store. People will think you are being abused, and I ain't got time for that shit." The last bit was a bit of a joke to ease up the tension, but he had been meaning to bring it up anyway. Even if they didn't use it right away. "You can think on it and tell me later."
Nothing, on the other hand, was starting to be a little envious of that broken amygdala. He'd always been a emotionally exposed child, a byproduct of his dad's beatings and his mother's strong influence while she'd had the mind to, but waking up after his death? After the Pit? Things had been so much worse. He'd felt everything, all the time. There was no filter between the hurt of outside world (Because in the League, there was only hurt) and the parts of him that felt it. It was agony, razor blades across his mind every time Talia had shown him a picture of Tim or pointed out how no one had mourned at his funeral.
He was a raw nerve and everything was a hot poker. So for the betrayal to have come from the woman who'd once called him 'son'? It hurt in ways he hadn't felt in a very long time.
"I don't actually have a legal name. I'm dead. Dead kids don't get state issued IDs. So no matter what, I guess we'll have to come up with something for that...but honestly? Fuck 'em. I'm Nothing and that's how I want it." He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him, making a small amused sound when Craw crooned and adjusted himself on Nothing's knee so he could poke his head through the gap. He stroked his fingers over glossy black feathers and finally started to relax a little.
"I didn't want to leave. Before, I mean. I just...she'd done so much for me, you know? She made me human again, trained me like B never would. She helped me focus on what was important."
He was too close to realize that she'd only helped him focus on what was important to her.
Jon had been a highly emotional being in his younger years, before Granny's lessons and life forced him to be more solemn. Given the choice, he would encourage Nothing's emotions and insist on masks every time Nothing is in the lab with him.
Crane had been lucky; his short stint as a hitman never got him on the league's radar, and by the time he met Ra's no one thought about his start into the criminal underground. If he knew how cruel they had been to Nothing, it could change nothing, but he would glare more at them.
"Do you think this house is in my legal name? I'm a felon, child. I have a guy who can make a new identity. It will hold up well enough." Nodding then, as he sat back to pull the pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He shook two out as he lit one and held the other and the Zippo over to Nothing. An ashtray nearby, even if he didn't often smoke inside. "Fair enough, Nothing it is."
Nodding as Nothing explained, watching his boy and his birds. It was always strange to realize he had pulled together these abandoned creatures and claimed them as his own. "You felt obligated. She was a trusted adult who took care of you when you needed it most. It is understandable, even if her reasons likely had selfish intentions."
Taking a draw from the cigarette before speaking through it. "Just know if she ever comes back again, you do not have any reason to go with her. You can stay with me, and I feel it should be said, I expect nothing of you, child. Just for you to do your best, maybe go back to school if we can pull that off."
He leaned forward a little to accept that cigarette and lighter, the motion disturbing the birds enough that Nightmare hopped from his chest to the back of the chair. Craw didn't move, just grumbled at his movement, then opened his wings dramatically when Nothing moved him anyway. He would ruin his own lungs, sure...but the birds didn't need to be around it.
Sending them both back over to the couch, he waited to make sure Craw actually settled in and listened before he lit up and drew in a lungful of heat.
"What, you telling me you have no intentions of rolling me over in the middle of the night? It's apparently all I'm good for." He glared, shaking his head and holding up a hand to fend off the disapproval he was fully expecting.
"I know. I know it's bullshit. I just...sometimes it really feels like that and I either have to make bad jokes about it or throw a fit. And throwing a fit is kinda pointless, so...here we are." He didn't sound particularly happy with that fact, but he did look a little less haunted when he glanced up to meet Jon's gaze once more.
"I don't care what my first name is, but...not Todd for the last? He was an abusive asshole who hit people who didn't deserve it and I'm done having his name. Just...whatever is on your fake will work, I guess. Since 'Crane' is a little too on the nose around these parts."
Nothing has seen the lighter enough, a momento that Batman somehow has never gotten away from him. The engraving on it was certainly not Jon's initials; it was a lighter he took off Henry's body and still uses to remind himself people aren't to be trusted. Yet here he was offering trust and safety to someone who at a time had been his enemy, not that he really ever felt threatened by the Robins, much less this one. He'd never blame Nothing for his addiction issues. That was just business.
He watched the birds flutter over to the couch, peeking at each other a moment before Jon gave one of those sharp whistles, and they both looked affronted and sat down to play with the shiny bits on a cushion.
Reaching ever then to smack at Nothing's upper arm, a way he's seen Jon do when Simon cracks a joke that he doesn't necessarily approve of but won't chastise. "Not funny, and you're not my type." A second later about to chastise more, but the former Robin is speaking on as Jon nods.
"Make all the jokes you need; I may not always approve, but humor is a very valid reaction. If you ever feel like you have to rage it out, tell me; I know plenty of underground fighting rings that you could clean up at." When Matt was strapped for cash and Jon was too cheap to advance him, Matt would go fight in those circles. The boys would often drag Jon to watch and cheer with them. Not that he ever cheered.
That less haunted look was a relief, not that he would say it. "Absolutely, let Todd stay with the past; you owe him nothing. Let's also not give any credit to the bastard that helped create me; he was probably a rapist at best. Me carrying his last name is a punishment for being a bastard." He didn't always talk much about his life. "This house is under Whateley. I think we can do better than Lovecraft." He may not give Karen much credit, but these days he blames Gerald more, hes done the math, he knows how young his mother was and how not young his father was.
He had siblings here in town through Gerald, but they didn't know about him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
The slap to his arm was jarring, but not in an unpleasant way. He didn't flinch, didn't look away like he was waiting for more abuse to follow. In fact, his eyes went a little wide as a sharp bark of surprised laughter was jostled from his the depths of his guts. It wasn't a good sound, not happy or particularly healthy, but it was so much better than the broken voice of before.
Bruce had never joked like that. In the beginning, in his first months of living in that big, old manor, he'd been defensive and cagey. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his door to open in the middle of the night and for Bruce to take what he owed the man from his body. And when that never happened, he'd eventually gotten so tired of waiting for it that he'd just cornered both men at the breakfast table and made the offer himself because at least then the waiting would be over.
They'd both looked at him with so much pity, looked at him like he was a fragile, broken thing that would shatter apart if breathed on wrong. Alfred had tried to reassure him that nothing like that would ever happen to him again (a lie, though he hadn't known it at the time). Bruce had gently reprimanded him for thinking that either of them could be capable of such a thing. Bruce had spent the following month making sure they were never alone in the cave until Jason had started to relax. Neither of them had ever commented on it again.
That light swat and 'you're not my type' went miles further to soothe his mind.
He relaxed for the first time since he'd sat down, letting out a long breath that carried away some of his tension as he leaned back into the chair. For the first time he could feel the heat of the fire soaking into the leather of his boots, wicking away the rain from his jeans. He took a drag from his cigarette, savoring the warmth that rolled easily into his lungs, and his exhale took another few notches of tension with it.
"Fuck them both. We're better than them. Leave them behind, just be our own." He didn't add 'family', but the word was heavy in the air around them. In the house that Jon had rented to move Nothing into once his recovery was beyond the point of needing to be constantly watched. He'd packed pretty much everything he'd brought with him into this house and it had been left with Talia...but maybe there was something to be said for starting anew.
"....how much do the others hate me for leaving? Sam..?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
From Memes
Healing and hurting
Round 2
A deal is struck
A playdate with Scarecrow pt.1
Jon finds out about what goes bump in the night
Jon and the crew pull Nothing out of a bed rot
Jon gets hurt protecting Nothing from Batman. A few things start to settle for Nothing
Jervis drugs Jon and Nothing has a moment
A little baked trauma bonding between Jon and Nothing
Terrorizing Gotham
Cautious Interest
[Maybe it would help, indeed. If nothing else, it would give him something to focus on.
There's a sound from the loft stairs and if Jon turned to look, Nothing was perched on the railing, perfectly balanced and watching the chaos below with....a respirator? covering the lower half of his face to protect him from the lingering fumes. When had he stolen that?
Perhaps more importantly, when had he painted it red?]
The blood adds to the drama. Give it a few more wears before you make a new one.
[His voice, already raspy and broken from the batarang wound, was a hissed nightmare of it's own as it seeped from the respirator's vents.]
I do own most of the Eastend, you know. I got a whole fucking laundry list of people who need a little fear in their daily lives.
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Tipping his head some before slipping his phone away into the suit and ashing off to the side. ]
I must say, I had not considered painting one of those. Smart move.
[ At least this burlap was already a faded red, so the blood did add a lot. ]
If you say so. So long as it does not start to smell, I will see how it goes.
[ Making his way over, pulling about four long hat pins free from the wide witch hat to pull the hat and wig off at once. A man could be killed with those hat pins. He has stabbed Jason with one when he was smaller. The GCPD knows to get his hat off before he can even be put in the van. ]
Now that sounds like a very beneficial plan. The fears of the wicked are just so much sweeter. And what will this cost me?
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Peering down at the older man, Jason tilted his head to one side, warily watching those pins be set aside before he gripped the railing and let himself drop easily over the edge. He dangled a few seconds before he caught the under rail with his other hand and lowered himself down further. From there, it was a tall, but easy drop down to the main floor and Jason landed it in a soundless crouch before he was standing up and strolling over to snatch up those pins.
Those fuckers hurt and, knowing Jon, the tips had been soaked in Toxin. He'd just be keeping these while they chatted, newly found trust or not.]
Symbiosis, Doc. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You get test subjects that no one will miss and I get the peace of mind knowing they're off the streets.
[The more he spoke, the harsher his voice hissed and he winced a little as he reached up to lightly rub at the fresh, pink scar. The respirator was doing it's job, though. None of the wisps of airborne Toxin had managed to bypass the filters yet.]
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Do not lose those, they are antique... And coated in toxin, be careful.
[ So Nothing was right about the Toxin. The hat pins had pearl ends, and were the very same he had stabbed Nothing with in the past. They were none other than Granny's brought from Georgia when he took up the Scarecrow persona. He himself had a few scars from them, but, they are effective. ]
Now, that sounds like a fine working relationship, Nothing.
[ Holding a bony hand out to shake. ]
You have a deal, and do let me know if you need that respirator upgraded, that looks like one of the older models the boys used to use.
[ Nothing had gotten to see the goons sometimes got respirators or jabbed with an immunity shot for jobs. It did him no good if his help got sucked up in the fear. ]
Switching to prose to make our lives a little easier
He just hadn't gotten there. Yet.
Snorting softly, he arched a brow at Jon. "I remember, thanks. Why do you think I'm holding onto them?" His trust was still tentative, then. A slow budding thing. Which made sense, considering exactly how Jon had come to have him in his testing warehouse. But for as wary as he was, he only eyed that extended hand for a moment before he stepped forward to take it. He didn't even grind any of those bones together, just gave a small shake before retreating to his self prescribed 'safe' distance.
"It's working fine. I might play with it." It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging that he was here and maybe didn't mind being here. "So, what was the plan with the singer? Was she just convenient or were you trying to see if someone could literally tear out their own vocal cords screaming?"
Thank you, im so used to action but I like prose more.
"Smart lad." He chuckled as he said it. "You did learn faster than the others." That trick had only worked once on the second Robin. Oh, he knew who the kid was, you don't forget the face of the child who nearly killed you. Even if the mask now covers a different part of his face.
Once the shake was complete, Jon tugged the burlap tunic over his head to put it back on the waiting mannequin. A simple black T-shirt under it to protect some of his skin, but it did leave his scarred arms visible for now. Grabbing the flannel shirt left on the back of the chair from earlier, tugging it on, ignoring the costume pants for now. "Let me know should that change, I do not think it would be wise to expose you to the toxins." He heard those screams, he paid attention. "She poisoned her costar, one of Simon's girls. So, why not? I do enjoy the screams of the wicked, but even that was a bit much." That was part of why Simon had been moping about of late, one of his favorite off and on again's had been poisoned and found in the river.
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A flicker of warmth reared in his chest and he was quick to smother it before it grew to anything substantial.
He scoffed, letting the respirator twist it as he moved over to sprawl in Crane's abandoned chair. If it was from the praise of his adaptation skills or from Crane's no doubt empty promise of keeping him away from the toxin, he wasn't about to share. "She got what she deserved. Petty bitch. I hate it when they're so pretty on the outside but rotten under the skin." 'Like Bruce and Dick...' He kept that last part private, but it was still clear in his tone. "I'll take Simon out for drinks or something. Help take his mind off things.
Hey, what's the halflife of this? I wanna smoke, but I like my eyebrows." Smoking also meant taking off the respirator and the last thing he wanted was to subject himself to that nightmare over a cigarette.
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His men, Nothing and the birds? Those were his family, his people. Each one brought together in a strange way. Nothing was part of that now. The difference was, Jonathan was worried about Nothing, he rarely worried about his boys. So the shake was fine by him.
"I am inclined to agree, I know the entertainment industry is rather cut-throat, but Sarah seemed too soft for this city." The dead girl. "I have always found beauty hides a rotten soul. Not always true, but often." Then an amused noise passed. "Some of us just come with a natural warning that we are awful, just from how bad we can look." Years of bullying would never be cured. But, he didn't care too much. "A good idea, if you wish I'll loan you the keys, or give you the money for an uber."
Reaching over Jon kicked on the exhust fan, not that there was much in the air. "About two hours, so it should be pretty much gone. Give it a try There is an antidote shot in the top drawer next to you if you feel any anxiety amplifying." He offered, luckily it was gone enough that Jason would be fine. Taking out his pack he shook two free, holding one of the Reds over to Nothing, along with the zippo he always had, with the initials 'H.P.' engraved. Henry's lighter he stole off the body ages ago. ]
Playdate with Scarecrow
The old truck had that classic rumble to it. Jon had always insisted the body may not look the best, but the engine was strong as ever. A classic three on the tree, waaay to many miles on it, but clearly well-loved.
Scarecrow, beside him on the seat, humming some old 40s tune to himself and popping bubbles occasionally with his gum.
"Mmmm what about the one over in the Bowery. I am told they have the best candy to see." It was a small artesian kind of place, homemade fudge and all. And numerous older candies no longer sold. "Jonny says we have to play, or at home we have to stay." Luckily, Scarecrow does have Jon's wallet. Nothing may have realized by now, but while Jon would happily rip off a corporation, small family businesses he'd always pay. Bookstores usually, but still.
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Though....Scarecrow hadn't hurt him. Hadn't even threatened to. In fact, he'd promised that Nothing wouldn't ever be hurt by them again. No one had ever promised that. It was a lie, surely...but it was lie he wanted to believe.
"Yeah, we can go see Cunningham. I need to check in, anyway." He had, after all, gotten into a fight with Bats and then blown up. He had no doubt that at least a few people thought he was dead. "Bowery is mine, though. You can have the people I give you, but anyone else and I'll be pissed. Don't worry, there's plenty of garbage to go around, though. We can even grab some tonight, if you want."
That would help with his rumored death. He made the turn that would take them to the candy maker, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to Scarecrow's hummed tune.
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Scarecrow was different from Jon in one glaring way, he didn't care who knew who was under his protection. Nothing may have noticed by now that the boys rarely ever got hurt on jobs, Jonathan might look like he was half dead when they got back, but the boys always got to their homes. Scarecrow and Jonathan refused to lose their minions or anyone under their watch. Nothing was under that watch now.
"Yes, yes! That one, it will be fun! I won't hurt the bird, you have been heard." waving a hand, those long pointy nails looking more befitting of Scarecrow than Jon when he was in his street clothes. "Yes, yes, Jonny told me the deal. The Bowery is yours, so none we are to steal. The wicked you bring may be to kill." The words rolled purposely, pushing the rhymes even when they didn't fit. "Maybe, maybe, we will see, Who knows what is to be."
Scarecrow went back to humming Its been a long long time by Kitty Kallen.
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Her granddaughter was made of similar stock and when the overhead bell chimed, Jason grinned into his mask at the sight of the young woman standing behind the counter, her eyes a little wide at her late night customers, but a shotgun still casually laid out in front of her.
"Easy, Mace. He's with me." His voice was still rough from both the neck injury and the gas mask, but it was close enough to his modulated voice that her eyes narrowed for a moment before she huffed softly.
"Word on the street was that the Bat did you in. Glad to see the rumors of your death were exaggerated." She was still watching Scarecrow with wary eyes, but she didn't stop him from exploring her little hard earned shop and it's delightful treasures. Everything was handmade right there behind the big plexiglass window, though the hour meant that the actual candy makers had long gone home.
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"Easy pease-y pumpkin squeasy~ we are here for no harm. Take it easy." The last part singsonged like the Eagles song. As the tall creature moved in that far too graceful way that always felt like he was floating by. The handmade stuff wasn't what caught the specters attention, but their selection of vintage candies.
A little basket had been grabbed up along the way. Candy dots, Charleston chews, Mary Janes, gummy bears and skittles of multiple times. "Nothing!" he hissed out to Jason, tone full of mirth, ignoring Mace for now. "They have cinnamon bears! I love them and no one cares!" The pack snatched up.
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It would do to have him seen. So no one was dumb enough to step onto his turf, and so that Sionis kept where he bloody well should. If Crane had known what was going through Nothing's head, he would have thumped him on the back of the head. The boy was as welcome as the rest, if not a little more. He had a soft spot for strays.
"You like him." He finally stated it as he leaned on the workbench, looking down at the sprawling hood. "I dare say I believe he returns that. Just don't let me catch you two in any compromising situations while we are all meant to be working." Jon didn't care if they dated, fucked, or whatever. As long as it didn't affect the work.
Nodding then. "Yes, we can make those detours, all you ever need do is ask, Nothing."
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"I...Shut up. Not gunna do anything while we're working..." It was a half mumbled lie (He'd already pinned Sam sweetly up against the workbench, murmuring Italian into his ear until the older boy was a blushing, squirming mess before sending him back to work with a cheeky grin and a slap on the ass), but it was the best he had. He'd never had to deal with someone calling him out on something like that and he...he both hated it and was confused by it.
Because why did Jon care? It wasn't like he was actually a part of this ragtag group, right? He was just the stray they'd taken in to keep him from bleeding out. Hell, Sam probably didn't even like him, just the idea of him. The allure of possibly bedding the myth of the Red Hood.
"Stop being so nice to me. You make it sound like you're going to keep me or some shit."
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"That is all I ask." he stated before grinning and pushing himself off the workbench. "And be careful, of course." The boy is damned old enough to not need the birds and bees talk, plus he knows all about Red Hoods protective of sex workers. Jon didn't care if they messed around in the lair as long as it didn't affect a job.
"Who said I didn't intend to keep you?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his accent as he took out a cigarette to light up. Despite yelling at the others for smoking near the toxin. Jon does all the time. "Come on, we have work to do." An unlit cigarette offered back towards the younger as he made his way towards the truck.
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The words hit him square in the chest, slamming into the soft bits under his ribs with enough force to make his breath hitch. They were unexpected and caught him be complete surprise, pale blue eyes widening a little as he processed them.
He'd never asked how long Jon had planned on keeping him there. Not the man himself, not his team, not even Sam in the darkness of their whirlwind fling. He'd been scared to. Scared to put a hard limit on the little bit of normalcy he'd found. Scared to hear that he would be set back out with a pat on the head and clean bill of health, like a mutt someone nursed back to health but couldn't actually keep.
Because no one kept him. That was the one constant, the one common denominator that ranged over all the different homes he'd sheltered in. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. It made no sense and he had no use for the ex-professor turned conman.
The realization sat bitter in his stomach, but his fingers didn't shake as he reached out to take that offered cigarette. He could live with bitter. Especially if the genteel southern man wasn't going to stop him from finding his comfort where he could.
"Stop talkin' shit, we got places to be." He tucked the smoke behind his ear and grabbed his mask off the table as he followed Jon outside. Simon's Mustang was still ticking in the driveway and Nothing grinned as he reached out to take the offered shake from Sam's hands, transferring the drink to his other hand before looping his arm loosely around the Italian man's waist.
If Jon knew, he was at least going to enjoy his time while he had it.
"Load up, let's go blow some shit up!"
/wrap up
Working on his 3rd cigarette in the last few hours, he finally whistled. Calling out in italian for the tree. "Sam, your classes start in an hour, say goodbye. Simon, we have a few places to go with Nothing."
Sam whispered something in Nothings ear while Simon ordered the youngest an uber to GSU. Jon was very much involved in Sam's education, his grades and reminding him to study, as tech was not his forte. So school nights? He was like any overbearing parent. "Come on, Nothing, lets go get your toys."
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I heard you. [ Nothing hadn't earned himself a nickname outside of Nothing yet. Jon had little things he called everyone, but Nothing was just that, or child if he was tired.
He was tired now but didn't say it. Laying still as the boy patched him up. ] He demanded to know where I was keeping you... Harleen and Isley stopped him from doing worse.
[ Jon hated the Bat for how he treated the boy, but now that the Bat knew he was involved, he expected things to have to tighten up to keep Batman out of their current home. ] I told him to kiss my ass. [ Of course he did. Nothing was his now, he would fight for him, ] So, I guess that earns a few hours of the Mistress of the Dark.
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Just under that fresh, pink scar that was still tight and itchy and only barely healed over.
The last steri-strip was pressed down almost gently and when the teenager sat back to make sure the stick was stuck, his hand rested quietly on Jon's arm.]
I-uh..yeah. Yeah, that earns you a few hours of your Mistress, old man. [If his voice was a little harsher than usual, then surely Jon would give him the benefit of pretending it wasn't.]
Come on, I'm not sitting on the couch with you in costume. The hat at least has to come off before you stab someone with those damned pins. You work on getting it off, I'll grab you some sweats and a t-shirt.
[While he looked through drawers, he sent a quick text to the man waiting for him downstairs to have him put in the DVD and make an extra batch of popcorn. Just a little bit of caramel drizzle. To satisfy both halves of the man who'd taken him in so readily.]
Of Betrayal, Pain, and Forgiveness.
Stan's disappointed anger.
Sam with his hurt betrayal.
Simon and Matt with their quiet, resigned understanding.
The worst was the...nothing that came from Jon. The older man had closed himself off in a way that he hadn't done since Nothing had earned his name and it hurt to be on the other side of that wall.
But what was he supposed to do? Yeah, they've saved his life, but he only had that life because of her. Jon had folded him into their ranks, but she'd stroked his hair and promised vengeance. He and Sam had had their fun and they'd gotten incredibly close, but she'd poured years of time and energy and training into him. Who was he to disobey her? So, he'd murmured an apology and packed. Slipped away from the comfort of the townhouse he'd come to think of as a sort of home.
It only stood to reason that it was to that townhouse that he'd go when his world crumbled.
It was raining, because of course it was. Gotham had a dark sense of poetic humor, after all. The sun was well down and the house was dark and for a moment Jason (because Nothing never would have left) was terrified that it would be empty. He'd left his keys behind earlier and while he could have picked the lock or kicked in the door or gotten inside in a million different ways, he didn't.
He was too cold to think about any of that and it had nothing to do with the rain that dripped under the collar of his jacket. Instead, he simply reached out...and knocked.
My heart.
He wanted to yell, scream, and break things. Belittle the boy into staying, but that was just Granny's cruelty whispering in him. So he said nothing, just quietly watched him pack before turning and returning to his work. Craw tried to follow him, but Talia had frightened the bird off. Not keen on being followed.
"Come on Boss, you have to go after him." Matt had muttered on night, after Jon sent Sam home, the boys work suffering and Jon refused to watch him mope as if a hole wasn't ripped into them all.
"No, it was his choice. We can't take that choice from him. He has to come back on his own."
"That woman's a viper." Stanley grumbled, the anger had simmered but still shone in his eyes.
"You think I don't know that." Jon muttered disappointed lighting a cigarette and leaning back in his desk chair.
-----
Music was playing from inside the townhouse, not too loud but enough to be heard. One of those old songs Jon denied liking. It had been raining, and Jon had been reading, the house far too quiet without the boy and the birds less rambunctious without their brother around. The only light couldn't be seen from outside; the library was towards the back of the house, on purpose given Jon's hours.
The sound of the creaking floors could be heard just after the knock. A gun in his hand, as he peered through the peephole. Seeing the boy out there, Jon pulled open the door. In sight of his boy, he put the gun down on the inside table and reached out to him, not thinking as he held that bony hand out to him. "Come in, child. You look half frozen."
The house still smelled of hot cinnamon and pumpkin to mask the chemical smell that clung to Jon, the birds cawing from inside.
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As if the very universe itself knew.
As if Gotham knew.
The door cracked open and Jason took half a step back out of reflex before he really noticed the familiar, comforting green of Jon's eyes. Then the door was opening entirely and one bony hand was being extended towards him as if he hadn't just turned his back on everyone not twenty hours before.
As if he were actually welcome. Wanted. As if he belonged. As if-
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but all that came out was a small, helpless sound and he tried to close his teeth around it before it escaped. He was only half successful, but that small sound seemed to kick start his ears. All of it came rushing in all at once. The rain, the traffic, the music. Jon's voice. From inside the house came a cautious call that he recognized immediately as Craw.
He ignored the hand stretched out towards him, bypassing it to instead wrap his arms around that frail torso, his face hidden immediately in Jon's shoulder to muffle his quiet sound of relief. There was no way to tell if the tremble was from the cold rain soaking into his bones or the emotion that bubbled up past his hidden lips.
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No, this was a boy whose already been through so much. Someone who had managed to worm his way into the old man's heart. The person who made sure he could never have kids to be certain he didn't pass on the Keeny Curse or hurt a child the way he had been hurt. Yet, Nothing had somehow filled a role he never knew he wouldn't mind having filled.
"Shh." It came softly as the arms came around him pulling him into the iron grip of the boy Gotham fears as much as he and the other Rogues. "It is going to be alright, Jason." The name spoken as Jon felt it was important, no judgment just the acceptance of everything this new bird was. "Let's get you near the fire, and you can tell me what happened." Scarecrow whispering in Jon's mind that blood would rain if the boy was hurt.
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They made it all the way to the library, Jason slumping into his usual overstuffed chair, before he realized that not all the water dripping off his face was rain. He startled a little when Craw left Jon's chair to come to his own, but he relaxed again when he saw the familiar bird.
Talia had scared him off, before. That wasn't an easy feat and the boy's hands were achingly gentle as he reached up to carefully check to make sure the bird was okay. Craw, usually so quick to nip and curse and fly away, grumbled quietly and stood still save for an indignant flutter of wings.
"She-" He sucked in a breath, startling enough from the sound of his own voice to cause Craw to chide at him and fluff out his feathers. Flicking his gaze over to Jon, he tried again. "She chased him off. He's okay, right? She didn't hurt him?"
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The library was full of those rich scents and the sound of the Allman Brothers playing closer since the sound system was in this room, as well as a kettle. Which he turned on when Jason sat and Craw came down.
Jon watched them carefully for a moment, pulling the footrest over to take a seat closer than he normally might, his arms resting on his knees. "He's fine; he's just been rather muted." Jon explained watching his troublesome bird try to show his displeasure but also not letting Jason move his hand far away without a croak.
"She didn't hurt him, but she clearly hurt you. Talk to me, tell me what happened." Softer than he used for most, but this boy was not most people.
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They both had.
His eyes flicked over to the older man at that gentle accusation, worry and something darker in that pale blue gaze before it was once more returned to the usually so onery bird. He stiffened, the tremble in his hands getting worse before he masked it by gently stroking along the sides of Craw's beak with his fingertips.
"She didn't hurt me." He was lying. It was clear in his voice. He cleared his throat and shook his head, refusing to look back over at the other man. "I just...
..I don't want to leave. I didn't want to leave then. Please, can I stay?"
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Still, Jason was a survivor, and it was why he fit so perfectly in a puzzle he was never meant to be placed in. Yet? It was where he belonged now. Jon was watching how carefully the boy stroked Craw and how the bird was reacting.
"You can stay. Even if you leave again in the future, you can always come back." He spoke very certain, not wanting to leave any doubts. "Tell me what happened."
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He shook his head, not risking glancing over at the other man because if he did, he'd lose it. Instead he focused on the bird pecking at his fingertips, letting the little pinches go on far longer than he normally would.
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That stiffness? It said nothing good. Lacing his hands together as he sat on the footrest.
"You don't have to tell me if you do not want to. I won't push you; just answer me this. Are you alright, child?" It didn't matter that he is legal, he is and would always be a child in Jonathan's eyes. He has seen this boy in the Robin tights, had his ass kicked by the child more than once. The troubled teen? A child soldier drowning and needing someone to see him.
Jon saw.
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When was the last time he hadn't been completely aware of his own immediate surroundings enough to flinch? It was an awareness that Bruce had installed deep in his brain...but also, living with Bruce had eased the flinch response entirely. He had still occasionally done it if he'd been tired or focused on one specific thing, but by the end of his four years in that manor, either man could walk up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder and he'd only look up and smile.
The League had put some of that flinch response back, but even so he'd only ever done it for Jon in the beginning of his time there, when he was hurt and weak and still expecting the rogue to use him in some experiment or another.
Jon hadn't even touched him and he'd jerked hard enough to cause Craw to spread his wings and croak a protest.
"Shit... I..Nothing. I'm fine. I..." He pulled his hand away from the bird and instead shoved both hands through the mop of curls on his head. "I don't know why this is wigging me out so bad..."
cw; sa mention
A whistle that Nothing would recognize brought Craw to Jon's shoulder, the stubborn bird yanking at messy ginger strands. Something that happens a lot and gets ignored in favor of the broken boy before him.
Seeing how he ran his hands through his hair. A nervous habit he used to have before he broke his fear. Mostly now it's when he is frustrated that he will pull his hair and break something, when Scarecrow is just a little too close to control. That song that had been so poignant switched over to an instermental.
"Because she did something to you that pushed your comfort. She did something, or someone wherever you went did. You're not alone here, even if you just need some quiet, that is fine." This was where he would normally call Edward or Jervis to hack cameras and find info, but he knew Edward was in Arkham, and he didn't want the headache. Jervis? Jon wasn't talking to him again, his latest Alice had shown signs of assult and Jon had been the one to drop the anonymous tip to the GCDP after seeing her and punching Jervis. He would forgive him again soon, such was the cycle.
Yeah, let's just keep that CW rolling for the rest of this, shall we XD
He buried his face against the denim of his jeans, letting the music play against the frazzled edges of his nerves before he finally spoke again.
"I don't know why, though. She didn't hurt me. It wasn't bad. I didn't even say 'no'." His breath caught in his throat with that admission and he shook his head hard and gripped his legs tight enough to make his knuckles down white. "Fuck, this is so stupid..."
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The rain and the bluesey undertones of the music really helped, not to mention the fact that Crane kept warm light bulbs in this room, plus the fireplace. Far too comforting to be expected of the Scarecrow, but this was Jonathan's sanctuary. Not the lair of the Scarecrow.
As Nothing spoke, Jonathan's eyes widened behind his lenses. Dots connected. He remembered being that age, listening to other young men boasting about their exploits while others felt used. Yet, there seemed to be more. "It is not stupid." A touch of firmness in his tone before it eased. "Even if you didn't say no, she is lord knows how many years your senior. Not to mention, wasn't she one of Batman's exploits?" The Rogues gossip like hens. Selina had bitched about that one to Oswald years back but had been tipsy enough not to notice Jon at the bar. Most back then didn't know what he looked like out of costume.
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"Pretty sure that's why she wanted it. Me. I...I look like him." It was true, of course. Jon wouldn't know, but of all of Bruce's children, Jason had been the one to grow to look the most like him. Add in the fact that he was almost on par with the man for sheer size and...well, it made a sick sort of sense. Especially-
"She called me by his name." It was barely a whisper. That had been the moment when he'd lost any little bit of interest he'd had in the situation and that pain was clear in his voice. Something wet soaked into the knee of his jeans and Nothing startled a little as he wiped at the unexpected wetness from his eyes.
"It's fine. Whatever. It didn't hurt, she didn't force me to do anything. I've been there, done that...this wasn't the same."
So why did it feel like it was?
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"You need to warm yourself. The fire will only do so much." No judgment, just a gentle chiding only after the boy had finished speaking. "That worsens it." He spoke, his eyes betraying the calm look. He was angry, but for Jason's sake, not at him. "She used you, child. You have every reason to feel as you do. But I must ask. What do you mean you've been there?" He is pretty sure he knows, that he doesn't want to know.
Still, he had to ask.
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Nightmare puffed up and crooned, gently catching his fingers in his beak. The touch helped, his eyes shifting from the blanket to the bird as he obediently finally let the fleece unfold before leaning forward to wrap it around his shoulders.
It helped. A little. Enough that he was able to reach out to continue stroking Nightmare's head and neck as he spoke, but not enough to put any life back into his voice.
"Mom overdosed when I was nine. Bats didn't pick me up until I was almost twelve. You do what you gotta do to eat, right? It was fine, most of the time. Sometimes...
Sometimes, it wasn't."
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"You were practically a baby then..." It struck Jon that he was likely still teaching back then, when this boy had to sell himself to survive. "I knew this city was beyond redemption, but to have to go through that at such a young age." He could remember Henry's final humiliation of him the day he left Gotham to return home disgraced. He had been an adult, and it screwed him up for months...
Shaking his head. "Think it is fine if that is what you need to do to survive, but know that you will never have to do that again as long as I am alive. You are allowed to tell people no, Jason." Another use of the real name, but he wanted to drive the point home.
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How was he supposed to tell someone who looked at him like that that selling himself after his mother's death hadn't even been the worst part? That she'd needed him to find ways to get her drugs when she'd been too weak to work. That she'd introduced him to the first person who'd ever been in his mouth.
No one should have to know that. So he kept it to himself.
"I just...I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. It shouldn't. It didn't hurt. It's different if it hurts or if I say to stop and they don't." Except...except he had told her to stop. After the wrong name had been whispered into the dark, he'd tried to tell her to stop and she'd just tightened her grip on his shoulders and shushed him before riding him harder.
"Can...can I be Nothing again? I don't want to be Jason anymore."
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Matt and the boys have all talked on bad days with Nothing about watching Jon, to make sure he didn't walk out into traffic or anything that could kill him. Staying alive was harder than dying. His work had helped, the birds helped, and now caring for the boy helped.
The emotion Nothing saw was real; Jon would argue it wasn't pity—survivors never wanted pity. "Because you never addressed your childhood trauma. She may not have aimed to feel like that child again, but something triggered it. You are older now; you protect kids from ending up in that situation. I have heard the tales of Red Hood."
Nodding when the question was asked. "Yes, you can be, but I must ask you to think of a new legal name because I can't call you Nothing if we go to the grocery store. People will think you are being abused, and I ain't got time for that shit." The last bit was a bit of a joke to ease up the tension, but he had been meaning to bring it up anyway. Even if they didn't use it right away. "You can think on it and tell me later."
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He was a raw nerve and everything was a hot poker. So for the betrayal to have come from the woman who'd once called him 'son'? It hurt in ways he hadn't felt in a very long time.
"I don't actually have a legal name. I'm dead. Dead kids don't get state issued IDs. So no matter what, I guess we'll have to come up with something for that...but honestly? Fuck 'em. I'm Nothing and that's how I want it." He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him, making a small amused sound when Craw crooned and adjusted himself on Nothing's knee so he could poke his head through the gap. He stroked his fingers over glossy black feathers and finally started to relax a little.
"I didn't want to leave. Before, I mean. I just...she'd done so much for me, you know? She made me human again, trained me like B never would. She helped me focus on what was important."
He was too close to realize that she'd only helped him focus on what was important to her.
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Crane had been lucky; his short stint as a hitman never got him on the league's radar, and by the time he met Ra's no one thought about his start into the criminal underground. If he knew how cruel they had been to Nothing, it could change nothing, but he would glare more at them.
"Do you think this house is in my legal name? I'm a felon, child. I have a guy who can make a new identity. It will hold up well enough." Nodding then, as he sat back to pull the pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He shook two out as he lit one and held the other and the Zippo over to Nothing. An ashtray nearby, even if he didn't often smoke inside. "Fair enough, Nothing it is."
Nodding as Nothing explained, watching his boy and his birds. It was always strange to realize he had pulled together these abandoned creatures and claimed them as his own. "You felt obligated. She was a trusted adult who took care of you when you needed it most. It is understandable, even if her reasons likely had selfish intentions."
Taking a draw from the cigarette before speaking through it. "Just know if she ever comes back again, you do not have any reason to go with her. You can stay with me, and I feel it should be said, I expect nothing of you, child. Just for you to do your best, maybe go back to school if we can pull that off."
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Sending them both back over to the couch, he waited to make sure Craw actually settled in and listened before he lit up and drew in a lungful of heat.
"What, you telling me you have no intentions of rolling me over in the middle of the night? It's apparently all I'm good for." He glared, shaking his head and holding up a hand to fend off the disapproval he was fully expecting.
"I know. I know it's bullshit. I just...sometimes it really feels like that and I either have to make bad jokes about it or throw a fit. And throwing a fit is kinda pointless, so...here we are." He didn't sound particularly happy with that fact, but he did look a little less haunted when he glanced up to meet Jon's gaze once more.
"I don't care what my first name is, but...not Todd for the last? He was an abusive asshole who hit people who didn't deserve it and I'm done having his name. Just...whatever is on your fake will work, I guess. Since 'Crane' is a little too on the nose around these parts."
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He watched the birds flutter over to the couch, peeking at each other a moment before Jon gave one of those sharp whistles, and they both looked affronted and sat down to play with the shiny bits on a cushion.
Reaching ever then to smack at Nothing's upper arm, a way he's seen Jon do when Simon cracks a joke that he doesn't necessarily approve of but won't chastise. "Not funny, and you're not my type." A second later about to chastise more, but the former Robin is speaking on as Jon nods.
"Make all the jokes you need; I may not always approve, but humor is a very valid reaction. If you ever feel like you have to rage it out, tell me; I know plenty of underground fighting rings that you could clean up at." When Matt was strapped for cash and Jon was too cheap to advance him, Matt would go fight in those circles. The boys would often drag Jon to watch and cheer with them. Not that he ever cheered.
That less haunted look was a relief, not that he would say it. "Absolutely, let Todd stay with the past; you owe him nothing. Let's also not give any credit to the bastard that helped create me; he was probably a rapist at best. Me carrying his last name is a punishment for being a bastard." He didn't always talk much about his life. "This house is under Whateley. I think we can do better than Lovecraft." He may not give Karen much credit, but these days he blames Gerald more, hes done the math, he knows how young his mother was and how not young his father was.
He had siblings here in town through Gerald, but they didn't know about him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
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Bruce had never joked like that. In the beginning, in his first months of living in that big, old manor, he'd been defensive and cagey. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his door to open in the middle of the night and for Bruce to take what he owed the man from his body. And when that never happened, he'd eventually gotten so tired of waiting for it that he'd just cornered both men at the breakfast table and made the offer himself because at least then the waiting would be over.
They'd both looked at him with so much pity, looked at him like he was a fragile, broken thing that would shatter apart if breathed on wrong. Alfred had tried to reassure him that nothing like that would ever happen to him again (a lie, though he hadn't known it at the time). Bruce had gently reprimanded him for thinking that either of them could be capable of such a thing. Bruce had spent the following month making sure they were never alone in the cave until Jason had started to relax. Neither of them had ever commented on it again.
That light swat and 'you're not my type' went miles further to soothe his mind.
He relaxed for the first time since he'd sat down, letting out a long breath that carried away some of his tension as he leaned back into the chair. For the first time he could feel the heat of the fire soaking into the leather of his boots, wicking away the rain from his jeans. He took a drag from his cigarette, savoring the warmth that rolled easily into his lungs, and his exhale took another few notches of tension with it.
"Fuck them both. We're better than them. Leave them behind, just be our own." He didn't add 'family', but the word was heavy in the air around them. In the house that Jon had rented to move Nothing into once his recovery was beyond the point of needing to be constantly watched. He'd packed pretty much everything he'd brought with him into this house and it had been left with Talia...but maybe there was something to be said for starting anew.
"....how much do the others hate me for leaving? Sam..?"