Jason slid slowly down the wall to the ground and placed his head on his knees. This was all his goddamn fault. He'd stayed out of Manor affairs for years now. Christ, if he hadn't gone and agreed to getting chinese... And then there was that stupid jump he'd taken. If Bruce hadn't swept in at the last second to catch them they would be dead bodies at the bottom of a murky alleyway by now. Jason wasn't known as the rash, reckless son for nothing. Heaven only knew it surprised Jason that Bruce even bothered to save them; he had been too fucking late the last time Jason had, y'know, actually relied on him. Perks of having Golden Boy with you, he supposed. But what if he had been too late this time too? What if Dick had died? He mentally slapped himself; since when had he cared?
Bruce minded his own goddamn business, and Jason minded his. Dick Grayson should never have come into the equation.

He sat lost in his own thoughts for a minute, stopping when those thoughts began to take him in dangerous directions. He rubbed his eyes wearily. It must have been all that running he did. Exhaustion was messing with his brain.

***

Jason opened his eyes with a start. Crap, he'd been sleeping... when had that happened? How long had he been out for? And what the hell was the sound that woke him up? Slowly, he raised his head, to find none other than Bruce Wayne towering over him with a face like thunder.
Bruce cut in before he could utter a word. "What the hell happened?" The words were spoken with quiet force, and the quiver in his voice told Jason that he was doing all he could to remain calm. "What were you thinking? Dick could have been killed!"
Jason tried to mutter something along the lines of 'Still no concern for my life then' but it came out as more of a grunt.
"Do you even realise what danger you put the both of you in?"
Jason tried to form an apology, but he couldn't quite form a coherent sentence in his mind. "It's not my fault Goldie made me- he- I- ngrfh...' he trailed off. He scowled up at his ex-adoptive-father-slash-crime-fighting-partner. Did he not realise that this was hard for him too? Hell, even being here was hard, after so many years.
Bruce's face softened: "Sorry,' he said quietly, rubbing a hand down his face, "It's just... I need someone to take it all out on, and heaven knows I've snapped at Alfred enough times."
Crap, did I say that out loud?
Not that it mattered. Bruce could say whatever he wanted, but nothing had changed: he was still Batman, protector of Gotham, and Jay was still the Red Hood: antihero, leader of the city's drug cartel, and oh, let's not forget, unavenged, legally dead ward of the man in front of him.
But instead of saying any of this, he just gestured to the large hallway. "Been awhile since I was last here, huh."
"This place has missed you, son."
Jason scoffed. A building missing him? and hey, "I am not your son."
Bruce ran a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sorry. It's hard to adjust, I guess."
"Wow. He apologised."
Instead of formulating a reply, Bruce furrowed his brow, noticing the bags underneath Jason's eyes. "You must be tired. I'll have Alfred take you to your room. You'll be sent for again when Dick wakes up."
Oh yes, Dick. He was going to be okay, then. As if he could read Jason's thoughts, Bruce added, "He'll be fine, we think, we're not really sure what caused him to pass out." Bruce snapped his fingers and Alfred appeared beside him, seemingly from nowhere.
Alfred's eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of Jason crumpled against the wall. He bowed his head slightly, smiling warmly. "Sir."
Jason rolled onto his feet, stood up and pushed off the wall, walking to stand beside Alfred. Lead on, he motioned.

***

"You kept this for me?"
Alfred gave a wry smile. "I always knew you'd come back some day, young master."
Ha. Young. He sure as hell didn't feel too young any more.
Jason bit back the unkind words that jumped to his lips. As much as he hated being back here, Alfred, he knew, would never hurt him. Would understand, even.
He gazed around his old room: rock posters were plastered on the walls, and the pale blue carpet was soft beneath his feet. His acoustic guitar, a Christmas present from Bruce, leaned against the wall in the corner. From across the room, two computer monitors stared at him, screens unblinking. He walked the 10 paces to them and ran his finger down the screens. It came off clean, no dust. Alfred had been cleaning this room regularly, maybe since the day he... The day he...
"Since the day you died."
"What?"
"Every day, since the day you died, I've kept this room like this."
Jason whistled, wandering over to the bed. It was perfectly made, a batman duvet resting on top of the sheets. Hero worship much... had he really been like that? How would Bruce react to, perhaps, a superman duvet? Man, he'd kill to see the look on his face. He heard the click of a door closing behind him. Alfred had gone. He sank down onto the bed. "Hello bed... Hello floor, hello wall. Hello computer, hello Mr.Bear. Long time no see."

He would have spent more time greeting the furniture and assortment of soft toys, but he was already fast asleep.

***

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A/N: I'm sorry for not updating sooner, but I'm not really happy with this chapter... It's too much of a filler chapter. I wish I had a beta.

~Freya <3