"I'm afraid your eye is beyond repair Master Jason. The rakes on Master Dick's feathers have torn out the entire vitreous body. Unfortunately, there is nothing more that can be done. I can only sew up the torn skin, but a scar will probably remain."

"Don't worry Alfi. I already knew that when all the stuff ran down my face. But that's not half bad. I still have the second one."

"Master Jason with respect, you shouldn't make this out to be a simple trifle. Your body is your most important asset and determines your whole life. Especially in your young years you should take special care of it. God help me with this good-for-nothing!"

With that, the old butler turned away, shaking his head, to take more swabs for the bleeding areas, and then set about stitching up the wound, with deep wrinkles on his forehead.

Alfred's diagnosis was nothing surprising to Jason. After all, he himself had felt the sharp feathers dragging out the inside of his eye and how the measly remnants then worked their way down his cheek.

But as much as Jason had no problem with having sacrificed one of his eyes, he could tell how much the butler was tormented by it. After all, he was only the tip of the iceberg.

It had been several hours since the events at Bludhaven and each of them was scarred.

Jason had insisted that the others be taken care of first, since his eye was beyond saving anyway. Damian, Tim and even Dick definitely needed it more. He himself had taken care of fixing Dick's wings and his many deep wounds. They healed slower than usual, which was why this had been necessary. But Jason was in awe of what Dick could take. Without self-healing to take care of the roughest, these injuries would have surely been fatal.

And as was to be expected, said mummy was now back in that little cage Bruce had built for him.

It permanently annoyed Jason, especially since he hadn't expected the cage to be so small. But for now he said nothing against it. Dick is still in dreamland anyway, and arguing with Bruce after everything that had happened was definitely too much for this day. He just wanted to go to bed.

And so the Outlaw lay here in the Batcave on a couch and let Alfred patch him up. At least what could be patched up.

The butler was finishing the last stitch when Jason addressed the elephant in the room:

"How's Damian?"

The butler's already sad expression darkened a few more shades at the thought of their youngest:

"I wish I could say good, however his injuries are severe and the tremendous blood loss is also taking a toll on him. We won't know if he will pull through until tomorrow. Master Bruce is personally monitoring his condition until then."

With that, both had probably seen the branded J on Damian's collarbone. The Outlaw was just glad that this burn scar had not been addressed for now. But who knew how long that would last.

"And Timmy?"

"Master Tim has already retired to his room. Fortunately, no major arteries or tendons in his leg were damaged, so his wound should heal well. But he was very upset by the whole thing, and he was also bothered by the head injury. Sleep will do him a world of good."

Jason snorted briefly in amusement before he could only agree:

"I think it will do us all good."

Alfred dabbed the stitches clean and then wound his way to the medical paraphernalia to grab the bandages. Jason was sitting up when the butler's gaze slipped briefly behind the bars of the metal cage:

"What's your diagnosis regarding Master Dick?"

"I have straightened his wings and dressed the wounds, but they should close on their own soon. It's also quite possible that his hand will grow back, but I can't say that 100%. At least his nails always grew back quickly when Damian clipped them for research purposes."

The stitched up skin on Jason's eye pulled uncomfortably, causing him to grumble briefly before the butler began applying a bandage over the slightly bleeding stitches. Alfred's next question sent an uncomfortable shiver down the Outlaw's spine:

"Do you want me to make you an eye patch? Or do you have any special requests regarding that?"

"Jesus Christ, not one of those things. That thing would just remind me of old geezer Slade every time I looked in the mirror. No, I'll see what the scar looks like first, or just grow my hair long if it's really bad. It would just bug me to have something stuck to my face all the time."

"As you wish."

Alfred tossed the bloody paraphernalia into a trash can under his small crom table and then cleaned his soiled hands in fine style before continuing:

"Shall I show you to your room then?"

With an elegant stride, Alfred led Jason through the many corridors of the Manor, which he had not entered for so long. The outlaw's stays had usually been confined to the Batcave. The last time he had really been in the Manor itself was when he was still wearing the Robin's colorful costume. But Jason still knew where everything was. The kitchen, the drawing room, the many adjoining rooms, which he had often snooped through in his thirst for adventure.

He still knew it all, and when they came to a stop in front of one particular room, Jason couldn't deny that something like a home feeling flared up inside him.

And when the Old Butler opened the familiar door for him, he had to swallow in earnest.

"Here we are Master Jason. Your room."

Red colors and a huge bed in the middle of the room dominated the overall picture. A red electric guitar filled the corner behind the feudal wooden king size bed. Heavy curtains in the same color framed the large windows just beyond, and the colorful ensemble of a lush bookshelf beamed at him from the complete opposite wall.

It was all just as Jason had seen it last time. He hadn't expected this room would still exist at all.

*

"Tell me Alfi, why didn't you clear out my room? I wasn't there anymore anyway and you could make so much out of it."

"Master Bruce wanted to keep it the way it is, even after your death. Believe it or not, he's attached to it and it hurts him the way things turned out between you."

Alfred gave him a warm smile.

"Master Jason, it doesn't matter where you are or what you believe. You will always have a home here."

Jason thought about it for a moment, but didn't reply. Silently he stepped further into the room and hung his jacket on a hook on the wall. He was tired and just wanted his rest now, too.

"Thank you Alfi. If you don't mind, I'd like to hit the sack now too."

"Understandable."

With that, the old butler turned away from him to go about his other business, but not without throwing one last fact from his lips into the room:

"Even if the circumstances are terrible, it is still nice to know the family under one roof for the first time. I wish You a pleasant night's rest."

Jason snorted briefly in amusement before watching, shaking his head, as the butler left the room and descended the adjacent stairs to the first floor. Alfi was simply the best and was satisfied with so little. Jason felt sorry that the kind-hearted butler was working in this family, of all families, when it caused him so much pain to patch up the wounds of his loved ones.

Alone at last, he looked around briefly and then went to his old bookshelf. Full of nostalgia, Jason stroked his finger across the many colorful spines. Mobby Dick, Dracula, Shakespeare...he still loved these old classics and this little library that Alfred had built for him with craftsmanship. Books made him forget for a short moment his displaced reality and especially on old ships one finds the greatest treasures.*

Jason left the shelf behind and wandered further around the bed, only to sit down on the soft sheets. He rummaged around a bit in the inside pocket of his jacket and then pulled out the last piece of his possessions. Carefully, rough fingers unfolded the stiff paper.

A photo he could still laugh off because of the irony. Of all things, he still called this piece of junk his own.

Jason put the photo of him and Bruce on his nightstand and then picked up his old electric guitar. With plucking motions, his fingers played some ingrained tunes that were still coming off great, even after all these years.

Accompanied by his own personal harmony, the Outlaw also let the day finally end.

Two days of silence passed in which no one spoke to the other. With the exception of Alfred, a crushing heaviness hung on each of them. Trust was broken. Guilt gnawed at the conscience and with their youngest still caught in the delirium, the already broken house was not only hanging crooked, but had already fallen down the cliff.

Tim could trust neither Bruce nor Jason. Jason had let them down again and Bruce had allowed all his Robins to be injured, some of them badly. And that was already the short version.

Armed with noon for the master of the house, Alfred strode down the dark steps of the Batcave. Although he was glad to have everyone under one roof now, they were farther apart than ever before. The already thick walls around his loved ones grew further and further. And now, of all times, they had to face these demons and Dick needed their help.

Alfred reached the last step and covered the remaining distance to the Batcomputer with elegant steps. Without a clink and in the finest manner, the old butler placed the food next to his foster son. His brow furrowed. Bruce sat in front of the heart of the cave and went over the newly acquired data again and again. Looking for weak points, clues,...anything to better understand this whole situation.

He didn't even look at the butler, but just hung on his work. Normally, he would at least have the decency to thank him for the meal. Seems like even etiquette was forgotten with all the stress:

"Worries sir?"

"Not now Alfred."

For the bat, that was the end of this conversation, but Alfred knew he probably had to interject a line of thought here once again. After all, he knew best of all that while Bruce was very good with women, as soon as it came to his sons he was as talented as a canned rotten sardine. If all he ever did was hole up down here, it didn't take long for him to start getting moldy.

Besides, Alfred wanted to experience it at least once in his few remaining years that not everyone was at each other's throats. Accordingly, he couldn't help a proper hint of sarcasm from resonating in his voice:

"Master Bruce, if I may be so bold as to make the observation. Recently you have more wrinkles on your forehead than I have on my face. I'd suggest you finally mend fences and start talking to the young Masters."

The corners of his foster son's mouth dropped a little, which did not surprise the butler. But instead of agreeing, the billionaire just blocked again:

"It's not...not the right time."

"And when would that be, in your opinion?"

Bruce only fell silent in response.

Irritated, Alfred rubbed the root of his nose and wondered what he had done wrong all these years in raising this special case. It's no wonder that things don't progress between them when no one opens their mouths and finally starts talking to each other. It was just like milking a mouse.

After a long sigh, Alfred simply began to describe his position on things:

"Well...Master Bruce, you know that I have not considered myself a simple butler for a long time. I have pledged my allegiance to this family since before you even saw the light of day, and if I know anything, it's that it's not easy to always do the right thing. Children make mistakes, adults make mistakes and especially those who have responsibility for others often question themselves if they are doing the right thing.

People make mistakes Master Bruce and sometimes it is not important who is to blame or right. But who starts to approach the other. You have already taken a step, but it is not enough. The damage done is too great for giving in already to achieve the great success."

But instead of an answer, the blue eyes of the billionaire only continued to stare at all the newfound data about these demons, which had appeared so suddenly. The lips remained silent behind the broad fingers, which lay thoughtfully on them.

Wordlessly, Bruce rose and walked over to a table not far from Dick's cage. On it lay the remains of the fight, which he had collected afterwards. Bloody gold splinters, small pieces of bone, some of which still had black pitch on them, and tattered bluish feathers. The strong man activated the scanner, which then analyzed the objects with light beams.

But this ignorance of his own foster son caused Alfred to strike a more serious tone:

"Master Bruce! Don't you think that instead of checking your results for the hundredth time, you should rather take care of your sons? If you always turn your back, you won't make any progress!"

A short silence arose, in which Alfred threw reproving glances at his ignorant foster son. But then he did get an answer, which sounded very demoralized:

"And what do you want me to do?"

Bruce didn't give Alfred a glance as he turned and leaned against the table. The forlorn looking eyes stared at the floor in front of him in thought.

"I have tried to protect them, partly by drastic measures, and yet what I was most afraid of has come to pass."

Bruce's gaze drifted to Richard, who still lay motionless in his cage, hidden under feathers, as he spoke:

"The bite marks on Damian's wound clearly belonged to Dick. He attacked him and we can only speak of a miracle that Damian survived that. I just can't let that happen again. Richard certainly wouldn't want that to happen either and I don't want to lose either of them.

The fact that the other two got dragged into it just complicates the whole situation. My relationship with Jason has been bad since he was resurrected anyway, and I can see that I've let Tim down, too."

The billionaire's hand rubbed stressfully through the latter's face, trying to hold back despair:

"Everything I did was to protect each and every one of them and to ensure the safety of the citizens. But now we have this mess and I just don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm just making mistakes and getting further and further away from them instead of closing up."

But suddenly an amused snort tore the man from his thoughts. Alfred hada smile written all over his face, and confused, Bruce asked:

"What's so funny?"

"Pff... If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always afraid to make a mistake? Master Bruce, you are a father here. Not a corporate executive. Of course your children cause you problems and don't always agree with your ways. Children rebel and cause headaches. Be it Master Dick, Master Jason or Master Damian. They have all rebelled against you at one point or another. But instead of listening to your children, you push them away.

I'm going to tell them what's obvious. You are not able to reconcile or respect other opinions. That Master Dick found his way back to you was only because he put his family above his own pride. That was not your doing. So you didn't manage to really settle your dispute with any of the three. And for Master Tim, the only reason you haven't had any problems with him so far is because he values and respects you very much. Yet you've left him sitting in the dark."

Alfred stepped closer and put a hand on his confused foster son's shoulder sympathetically:

"A family does not function unilaterally. Understanding and respect should be shown to all so that they function as a unit. Finally, talk to them openly and listen to them. Don't hide behind your pride again. And even if you make mistakes, it can only move you forward."

The butler's warm gaze met the blue eyes, which seemed to be weighing what to do now.

"I...!"

Bruce was about to retort when heavy footsteps trudged down the stairs of the Cave.

With surprise, both men realized that it was Jason, who did not seem pleased to find the bat here. The protruding stitch behind the eye compress on his face stung Bruce every time he saw it. But it never seemed to bother Jason much.

The Outlaw simply ignored them and walked over to one of the many metal cabinets that filled the side bays of the Cave. Jason yanked open the first one and began grumbling as he searched through it when Alfred questioned his strange goings-on:

"Are you looking for something in particular Master Jason?"

The addressed pulled his head up in surprise and crashed into one of the hard shelves. Various books fell on the Outlaw as a result, causing him to curse loudly:

"Ouch...argh fucking...,Don't worry, I'll be gone in a minute. I'm just looking for my damn helmet and tools to fix it."

Alfred just raised a brow in wonder as he replied shortly:

"Second cabinet from the left, top shelf. You'll find tools on the workbench."

Following the instruction, Jason opened said cabinet and lo and behold, his helmet in all its glory...Minus right face and destroyed electronics.

Without a word, he yanked out the red piece and trudged on annoyed to the workbench, where he again opened all available drawers and gathered what he needed, cursing occasionally.

He did not give Bruce a glance.

Jason was about to leave again with the things he got, when his field of vision caught sight of Dick's figure behind metal bars. Hidden under his wings and next to a pristine plate of food. The Outlaw's brows drew together as unease replaced his anger.

Concerned, he asked:

"Has Dick eaten anything since he's been here?"

And promptly received a sad reply from Alfred:

"Regrettably, neither eaten nor drank."

Without the other two being able to hear, Jason hissed to himself:

"That idiot."

This fact also struck Bruce bitterly. It was the same as back then. Dick refused everything that was offered to him. Not a single food had he touched, nor a drop of liquid. The only difference was the lack of aggression. Richard did not move a bit, but just lay still hidden under his feathers. He didn't even try to bite through the bars anymore.

Even though Dick wasn't threatening Bruce at the moment and screeching at him, he didn't like this behavior at all. He just didn't know what to do with him.

Suddenly, Jason simply left his stuff behind and strode close to the cage, which gave the bat in particular an inward fright. After all, this strange calm did not mean that the Outlaw was not exposing himself to any danger.

"Jason, get away from that cage!"

Shouted Bruce at him, but it seemed that his words fell on deaf ears.

Jason squatted down in front of the bars and at first just looked at the silent feathers before he started rummaging around in his jacket pocket.

Serenely, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to tear them open in his hand.

"Hey Dickie, you want some? You're lucky I'm gracious enough to share my last ones with you."

Sarcastically, he finished his sentence with a cocky snort, but to his surprise, Dick remained silent under his many feathers.

Jason didn't like that at all. Until now, this bird brain always reacted violently to tobacco. Getting no reaction at all only increased the Outlaw's concern. But he already had an idea what that was about.

"Jason! Step away from the cage. He's dangerous!", Bruce now became more forceful.

Only briefly did the Outlaw give him an annoyed look before he stood up and walked wordlessly to the cage's control desk.

Both Alfred and Bruce had horror written all over their faces when Jason pushed the button for the cage's door. After all, Dick's experiences had not been very rosy, especially in connection with Bruce.

"Jason don't!"

The bars opened on one side, allowing Dick to pass through. But to the surprise of the two older men, nothing happened.

Instead, Jason now stepped right in front of the open gate and looked pityingly down at his big brother. Richard's head peeked out from under his feathers only briefly, but those empty eyes just confirmed what he had already suspected anyway.

Finally, Jason spoke the obvious:

"Look at him Bruce. Does that look like a dangerous monster to you? Or maybe not more like someone broken and consumed by guilt."

Dick hunkered back under his feathers as the Outlaw now stepped even closer to him. Jason crouched down in front of him and wanted to gently stroke through the dense feathers. But while in his movement, the big wings backed away from him a bit, so he gave it up and continued quietly:

"He spent all that time in apartments far too small for him, Bruce. And that's only because he wanted to stay close to us. He doesn't know this world and has no place to go. He only knows us and is most familiar with Damian. Yet he's the one he hurt badly."

Jason let go of him and stood back up, only to turn directly to Bruce:

"Dick is not a simple animal who can't understand many connections. He knows exactly what's going on. Knows what he has done. Knows that he could kill every one of us in the blink of an eye. And he certainly knows that this cage can stop him from doing bad things. No matter what caused him to act the way he did, it scares him."

With that, the Outlaw stepped back out of the cage under the worried looks of those present and walked calmly to the workbench. He grabbed his things and then turned to leave, but not without getting rid of one last fact:

"He's not going to run away. He no longer has any reason to do so.

With these last words, Jason left the Batcave, leaving Alfred and Bruce perplexed behind.

The latter didn't take long to regain his composure. Bruce took a long relaxed breath before bridging the distance to the control desk and closing the door of the cage again with deep concern. Dick made no response to this.

But dismay was eating the bat up inside, and Alfred knew it.

"Seems Master Jason has taken away your voice. But at least he didn't curse or yell at you this time."

The billionaire's blue eyes lay sad and lost in thought on his son behind those bars he had imposed. The facade remained rigid and difficult to interpret, but behind it swirled a storm of emotions. Bruce suffered every time he saw Dick. When he saw Jason's hurt face, when he met Tim's limping figure in the hallways and was met with only a look of discomfort. And Bruce suffered, the many times he watched over Damian. Seeing his comatose son hooked up to so many machines, with his pale face in front of him, filled the father with the fear he wanted so much to avoid.

Full of humility, he finally asked:

"Am I a bad father Alfred?"

"The very fact that you ask yourself this question from the heart should negate it. But changes will still have to be made."

Suddenly Alfred's wristwatch started beeping and the Old Butler explained:

"If you'll excuse me, the laundry is waiting for me.

With that, the Old Butler turned away to leave as well and to give his foster son some space to think. But there was one thing he had forgotten:

"Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Kyle has called, by the way. She has finished her mission and will arrive here tomorrow morning. I think her company will give your distracted mind some peace. It's always better to get at least some good news."

Angrily, Jason trudged through the corridors of the great Manor. He didn't want to see him anymore. He just didn't want to see that asshole's face! He hated him. He hated this house. He hated being here now and could puke at the thought of having to linger here any longer. But he had finally made a vow to himself and would not break that promise again.

Suddenly Jason realized that he had walked into a very specific hallway and diagonally in front of him was the door that led to their greatest concern.

Forgotten was the outlaw's anger and sadness replaced the seething feeling.

He had been there on and off for the past two days. Had made sure nothing was getting worse and watched over him from time to time.

Without thinking twice, Jason placed his things provisionally in the hallway, opened the cracked door, and entered Damian's room.

Unchanged, between monitors for monitoring vital signs and some tubes for supporting bodily functions, Damian's gaunt figure lay on a simple single bed. Surprising, really, that this cocky brat preferred this narrow thing to a king-size. Who should understand this? *

As usual, the Outlaw found the boy's black dog on the floor next to the many appliances, and the cat on the sheets itself had not left his master's side. Alfred immediately started purring in his half-sleep as a greeting when someone entered the room.

What surprised Jason, however, was the person sitting on a chair in front of the bed between parked crutches. Armed with a laptop, Tim looked up only briefly to see who had entered the room before the narrow brows drew together wearily. The blue eyes wandered back to the computer and Tim simply ignored the outlaw's presence.

Who could blame him, anyway. After all, Jason knew himself what an ass he had been and how much he had hurt Tim. They had grown closer in the past year than ever before. Jason knew how much that walking calculator had struggled with himself and had put his trust in him after Dick had died. And Jason had let his own fear win and tossed the teen to the side. Not a particularly flowery feeling.

Tim looked really beat. He was probably drowning himself in work once again to get his mind off things and pulling all-nighters. Timmy should really get rid of this self-destructive behavior.

After a short pondering, Jason finally stepped closer to the bed and first dismissed his discrepancies with the teenager. His gaze wandered to Damian's face, who had a nasal cannula stuck under his nose. The normally healthy tan had given way to a sickly pallor, triggering intense discomfort in the Outlaw whenever he caught sight of him. An IV had been placed on his arm, providing the boy with medication and fluids.

Jason noticed that the bag was already empty and addressed this:

"Is it time to change that one yet?"

Tim looked up briefly and knew what he meant. A quick glance at the clock followed before he answered:

"Yes, you can be change it."

Jason didn't hesitate long and pulled out a full infusion bag from the makeshift medicine cabinet right next to the bed. While he replaced the fluid, the Outlaw took a quick look at the readings on the monitors.

The pulse rate was still relatively low and the oxygen saturation was 88%. Not exactly what one could call good. But the values were slowly moving into the green zone compared to the previous day.

It had been close. More than close. The blood loss had almost taken his live. It was hard enough on its own to stop the bleeding, because the amount of blood in his body caused hemorrhagic shock. And because of the necessary infusion, clotting was disturbed.

Almost all of the stored blood bags were used. One could only speak of luck, that Bruce always urged each of them to donate their own blood for emergencies. It carried much less risk than foreign blood.

But it could not prevent Damian's sensitive child's body from struggling badly with this procedure. The complete circulation was disturbed and they had to be careful not to give him too much iron for blood formation, so that it did not accumulate in the organs and damage them.

The patched up liver and the stitched up intestine took a back seat to these problems.

The only question now was when he would wake up. Or whether he would wake up at all. Should an infection get a grip on Damian's weakened body, then his recovery could very quickly take the other path again. One could only hope that it would not come to that and that the boy would wake up soon without any difficulties.

Which brought him back to his second problem in the room. Timmy.

Jason racked his brain non-stop about how he could best mend fences between them. Even if it was macabre to admit, the fact that at least Damian couldn't give him any poisonous looks yet, left enough room to concentrate completely on Tim for the time being.

But...how?

What is the best way to start something like this?

It's not like he's Gold-Grayson who makes pretty eyes once and everything is rosy. There was a reason why he mainly acted alone.

Jason just wasn't a people-guy. Dick was the people-guy. And if this idiot wasn't enriching this world with his birdbrain right now, this whole thing would be a lot easier to handle.

Man, this was so annoying.

But it all didn't help. After all, it was no use for him to delay this any longer.

Throwing the empty bag carelessly into a trash can and accompanied by a long sigh, Jason prepared himself inwardly for what was about to follow.

Let's get into the fight, then.

"Hey Timmy,...um...how are you doing?", Jason asked a bit awkwardly and could have slapped himself in the same second, while mentally rebuking:

*Great Jason. How are you doing? Seriously? How tactless can you be. You screwed that up perfectly again!*

Tim's confused look spoke volumes. But the teenager quickly regained his composure and didn't answer, just looked silently at his computer again.

If he was honest, the Outlaw was quite happy about that. The question was more than stupid!

Which brought him to attempt number two:

"Listen, I know I acted like an ass. Leaving you alone was stupid of me and ... and I want to apologize for my behavior. It was just wrong of me."

Glad to have gotten his apology off his chest to some extent, however, he didn't meet with what he had expected. The teenager didn't dignify him with a glance but just kept typing while he apathetically replied tersely:

"It's okay."

Jason hadn't expected that.

"What do you mean? That's it? That's all you have to say about that? I thought you were going to punch me in the face at least once and throw various curses at me."

Annoyed, Tim exhaled calmly once before he did go further with his answer now and finally gave the Outlaw his look:

"Jason, what good would that do? You have always been someone in whom one cannot put one's trust. It was my mistake to believe otherwise. So, it's okay."

With that, the conversation was over for Tim and he once again adopted his indifferent attitude.

For Jason, however, nothing was okay and it made his fists clench in anger at himself. Sure he had made many mistakes in the past that didn't exactly make him a trustworthy person. Heck, he wouldn't even trust himself.

But it was different now. Jason had made a decision and especially from Tim he didn't want to be labeled like that. Therefore, the conversation was not yet over for him.

"Nothing's okay." he said a bit salty, and stood in front of the teenager. Unexpectedly, the outlaw's rough hand flipped Tim's laptop shut, which he only acknowledged with an annoyed look, and Jason sat down next to him on the edge of Damian's bed. He practically forced Tim to listen to him.

"You know, it really surprised me back then when you actually made use of that communicator I gave you at Dick's funeral. I knew how much he meant to you, but honestly didn't have a plan on how to be any help at all.

Yet you gave me your trust. Told me how much it pulled you in a hole, when he was gone and soon also the things you talked about when he was there for you. And our occasional forays into Bludhaven were honestly a lot of fun for me.

However, I'm still surprised that you really don't think you're good enough and doubt yourself so much when your fears of loss get the better of you.

So now let me tell you something about me. I owe you that one."

Jason prepared himself inwardly for what he would now reveal about himself and took a deep breath in return:

"I'm a coward Timmy."

And Tim's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Just like you, I'm constantly scattered. Don't know what's the right thing to do and doubt myself. But you are far more admirable than I am. You manage to gather people around you and form a deep bond with them.

I am too afraid of that. I have been hurt by so many people in the past that I didn't want to take that risk anymore and always pushed everyone around me away in time. That's how it has always been until now. I am the black sheep that no one wanted to have anything to do with and I have not exactly been squeamish with all of you. I hurt you in particular so many times.

But Dick always held you all together and...well...when he was gone, somehow a lot of things were different. I mean, who would have helped you when Bruce leaves you in the dark again and...who would have helped you when Bruce already doesn't see how much you put yourself out there for him without expecting anything in return. That's why I gave you and Damian the communicators back then.

It was more of a harebrained idea at first, but the more time I spent with you, the more I understood how much I could actually accomplish with this.

And then when I was on Derby with Damian, I honestly grew quite fond of that little weirdo, too."

Jason snorted once in amusement, smiling a little as he did so, before becoming more serious again:

"But there was the problem. I've grown quite fond of you guys. That's why I wanted to end it before I couldn't anymore. But what I didn't realize was that it was already too late. I can't push you away anymore and that's what I'm afraid of. You are so much stronger than I am in that regard Timmy. I don't know if I can go through being hurt again and that's why I want this to work somehow. But I'm not sure how and I'd really appreciate it if you could help me with that. Bruce may keep us in the dark all the time, but if I've learned anything, it's that we don't need Bruce to hold onto each other."

Tim was frankly flabbergasted. Of all the people he knew, Jason Todd was probably one of the last people he would have thought to open himself up like that. Jason never revealed anything about himself or showed any form of affection. All the more Tim's face spoke volumes in this regard and the Outlaw was visibly uncomfortable with this circumstance. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck as still no answer came from the teenager.

"And...um...what do you say to that?"

Torn from his stupor, Tim blinked in confusion at first. But as he thought more about it, his gaze wandered more and more from Jason to the ground in front of him. He was torn by his doubts. Sure he wanted to believe Jason, but:

"I don't know.

...It's hard for me to trust you. It's just been so many times that you've disagreed and then stabbed everyone in the back. How do I know you won't just take off again like you usually do and do your own thing?"

The Outlaw's dark brows drew together at this sad answer. Tim had every reason to distrust him. But Jason just didn't want any more of them eating problems all up on their own and going through them alone. Tim, of all people, needed support. He knew that.

Jason quickly thought of something, and so he stood up and pulled Tim's laptop from his lap to put it on the bed.

"Stand up."

Came the prompt request as Jason stood in front of Tim, earning only confused looks in return.

"What?"

"Stand up for a minute. You can stand, can't you? I mean you still have one good leg.

"That's true but..."

"Go on then, I'll help you."

Tim let himself be persuaded and grabbed Jason's offered hands to let the outlaw pull him onto his healthy leg.

"And what's this all about n-!"

Completely unexpectedly, Tim was pulled into a tight hug and only sluggishly registered what was happening.

Jason...was hugging him? Since when did Jason hug others?

"I'm here for you little brother and I'm not going anywhere. I promise you that."

Caught in a stupor of emotion, Tim could only take the whole thing for a dream. His blue eyes, tired from the last few days, were wide open and he just hung limply without a movement between these strong arms that offered him support.

But precisely because Jason as a person showed such sparse affection, Tim's apathy felt especially uncomfortable to him:

"Listen, I'm not one to give out hugs often, so...could you maybe return it? I feel kinda stupid."

That's all it took to get the teenager to finally accept this gesture properly. Tim's trembling fingers tangled in the Outlaw's red T-shirt, and he couldn't suppress the way his eyes moistened slightly at the thought of not having to contest this alone. It ate Tim up inside when he lost people close to him. All the more he clung to Jason's proffered promise.

Pressing his face against the outlaw's shoulder, Tim finally muttered against the fabric:

"You're an idiot Jason."

The latter, however, took this comment with humor:

"Hmm, an idiot is still better than being an ass, so thanks for the compliment."

However, Jason wanted to assure him of one more thing:

"I'm serious Timmy. I'm not leaving you alone anymore."

Later that evening, Jason was sitting in his room, cursing as he was fixing his helmet. The long crack in the left half was really not easy to repair. Those stupid rakes on Dick's feathers had torn it all out and he was also missing some small parts to fully restore.

That really sucked! He should make a list of the things Dick broke of him so that this turkey can pay it back as soon as he gets his memory back. First his cigarettes, then his apartment, and now his helmet.

Dick has literally bankrupted him!

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. After a brief "Come in." , Alfred entered the room laden with a whole mountain of clothes.

Placing the thick pile on the floor under Jason's puzzled gaze, the old butler explained somewhat out of breath:

"Master Jason I took the liberty of ordering you some new clothes."

"What's so bad about the ones I've got now?

"By all means. You are wearing Master Bruce's old worn out clothes. You should at least have something of your own.

Jason paid more attention to his helmet than to the pile of new laundry that had just come in.

"I have no problem with what I'm wearing,"

Alfred retorted sarcastically:

"You are truly a thrifty man sir, just try them on and give what you don't want back to me".

"Yeah yeah, fine."

Only a moment later, aggressive dog barking came muffled through the large window pane of the room and Jason's gaze wandered outside. Unchanged since he had been here, a German shepherd tied to a tree in the back of the Manor was barking some small birds into flight. Following his curiosity, the Outlaw finally asked:

"Say Alfred, that dog out there...is that Bruce's?"

Alfred followed his gaze and explained the circumstance of this animal in a matter-of-fact manner and slight dejection:

"Actually, no. The dog originally belonged to Joker and his name is Ace. Mrs. Kyle found him the night you encountered her and since then we have been trying to rehabilitate him...or rather I have. However, he is severely behaviorally challenged. He must have experienced bad things in the care of this clown. So far, unfortunately, I'm not very confident that he'll be a somewhat normal dog again."

At the mention of this clown, the corners of Jason's mouth dropped a notch. That bastard really deserved a bullet in the head.

"One other thing I wanted to ask you, would you happen to have any suggestions on what I could prepare for Master Dick to finally get him to eat?"

Jason's gaze drifted back to the butler before he replied sourly:

"Why don't you ask Bruce? He knows everything better anyway."

Alfred was getting rather fed up with these constant discrepancies. Therefore, his next statement was quite forceful:

"Because I'm asking you."

And he earned an sourly sideways glance in return. But Jason called himself to calm down again, because he didn't want to let Bruce get to him so much anymore. It was no use anyway.

He looked at his broken helmet for a moment, lost in thought, before answering the question:

"You don't have to worry about that. With your permission, I'd like to take care of Dick myself. I'm tired of waiting for Bruce to finally grow a backbone. I don't care what he wants anymore. I've drawn my line with him and I'm only here to keep the others safe."

With that, Jason continued to work on the helmet and the old butler looked at this with a clouded expression.

A moment later, Alfred's gaze wandered to the large bookshelf he had built himself and without further ado he took out one of the old works before the old butler read it with a smile.

"You know, I always really liked Shakespeare. He was able to convey a special kind of humor and give some good wisdom along the way. I always really liked the one from old Lucius."

Jason recognized the work. Cymbeline. Not well known but definitely interesting.

"Some falls are means the happier to arise. Act four, scene two."

Quoted the Outlaw the verse and Alfred immediately acknowledged this:

"Ah, I see you are still well versed in your literature. But I can only agree with the good Shakespeare. When you're at the bottom, there's only the way up."

Jason let out an amused snort before dreamily sharing his Shakespeare highlight with the old butler:

"You know what wisdom of his I've always really liked? 'We know what we are, but know not what we may be.' Hamlet, Act Four, Scene Five. Funny that that's coming from me, isn't it?"

"Oh not at all. I think it suits you very well. Because you know who you are, but can't imagine who you could be one day. One can't see through a locked gate. But if you unlock it, the world is open to you. You just have to find your key. In that aspect, you have a lot in common with Master Bruce, even though you may not see it that way." , retorted the butler, but Jason could only counter that with sarcasm:

"Of course. I also always spend the whole day in my fancy manor and only come out at night when I want to put bad guys behind bars in my bat costume and let my butler serve me to celebrate the day. I my life is sooooo bad."

He flopped back on his bed and annoyed, Jason added:

"He's lived off the golden spoon all his life and I grew up in the ghetto. We come from different worlds and have absolutely nothing in common."

"You're not seeing the big picture," Alfred tried to enlighten him, but he only replied, bored:

"It's hard to do with one eye."

A heavy sigh escaped the butler before he brought their conversation to a close by looking at his watch:

"I can only give you the advice to not give up on Master Bruce just yet. It would be too early for that. If you will excuse me, I will prepare dinner then."

Lying on the bed, Jason just stared at the ceiling, grumbling, as he heard the butler's deliberate footsteps move away. But even as he spent that brief moment thinking, something new popped into Jason's head.

"Wait."

To Alfred's surprise, Jason jumped up, leaving his helmet behind.

"Let me give you a hand. You really ought to start taking your age into account and stop slogging all the time. Did Bruce ever tell you that?"

"Well I can assure you that's not a problem. The work certainly keeps me fit."

Jason closed up on Alfred as he continued to grumble:

"Man Alfred, you're taking care of this place all by yourself. A little help would be in order, wouldn't it? And I bet Bruce has never swung a mop in his life. You've coddled him way too much."

"Not much more than you."

Accompanied by her cheerful argument, they both headed for the kitchen. It was like the many times in the past Jason had met Alfred in secret to get some advice or simply spent time with him. Just the two of them and each of them enjoying this precious time together.