A/N: emotionally mature teenager girl vs emotionally incompetent grown man (who will win)
You never noticed before, but there’s a crack by your door, thin, typically covered when the door is open. It sprawls above the baseboards, stretching towards your bed.
Almost like it’s reaching for you.
You track it over and over, following the jagged lines across the wall, anything to distract from the conversation happening outside your room.
After Jason woke up to find the entire family staring at him, he was rightfully freaked out.
He grabbed you, shoving his knife against your neck as everyone watched frantically.
You just rolled your eyes at his display. He wouldn’t actually hurt you, and if he did, you’d be able to escape before anything happened.
“Let me go.” He’d spoken slowly, scanning the crowd in front of him.
“You’re not the one with a knife to your throat, Jay.” The nickname slipped out, unfamiliar to your mind but it felt right to say.
“I’ll kill her.” He threatened, lying through his teeth.
“Would you relax? I just thought everyone could talk.”
“Talk?! He’s been trying to kill us for months!” Stephanie cut in, glowering at the man behind you.
“I haven’t been trying to kill any of you! Except maybe Batman, but I haven’t completely decided on anything yet.” He argued.
“Not helping.” You muttered. His grip on the knife adjusted so it wasn’t pressing into you. You grabbed the hand with the knife in it, pulling it away from your throat and snatching the blade from his grip. “Don’t ever do that again.”
He stared at you, surprised that you managed to disarm him as he flexed his hand.
Oops, maybe too much super strength went into that.
“Dad.” You grabbed Jason’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “Come on, we need to talk. Dick, you can come too, I guess.”
The following conversation consisted of Dick and Bruce practically interrogating the poor guy about how he’s back, why he’s back, and how he knows you.
You decided not to mention the stalking, as it probably wasn’t the best time.
Unfortunately, that’s the very moment Alfred decided to ask you about the dead robin in the fridge.
Jason’s laugh gave it away before you could cover his mouth and swear him to silence.
After that, you were sent to your room and have been stuck here ever since.
There’s a knock, followed by a softer voice than the ones you’ve heard today.
“Can I come in?” Tim speaks from outside. You say something in return, too dazed to hear it, but it must’ve been a yes, seeing as the door opens and he shuffles inside moments later.
He stares at you staring at the crack. “Are you okay?”
“Well, I didn’t know the guy before he died. Just in passing.”
“How’s he doing?” You avoid the question.
You smile at that. “I took his guns.”
“I figured. He tried to stab Cass.”
“I left the knife, figured he’d be scared without it.”
“He’s a grown man.” Tim mutters, shaking his head in disbelief as he sits beside you on the bed. You move over to give him more space. He follows.
“He’s a grown man that’s used to having a gun.”
He bites his tongue before nodding. “That’s…fair, I guess.”
It’s quiet for a minute, only the sound of your breathing and the occasional smacking of his lips as he opens his mouth to say something and then inevitably closes them as no words feel enough for the situation.
“Why aren’t we friends?” He asks, finally settling on something to say.
“You’re kind of weird, Tim.” You speak before you can stop yourself, before you can say something less callous.
He frowns, staring at you without blinking. You motion at him.
“This is what I mean! I feel like you’re trying to see into my soul.”
“I’m just trying to understand you.”
“Do you?” You pause, meeting his gaze.
“Understand you? No.” He scoffs, smiling slightly. “You’re a mystery.”
You can’t decide whether to be happy you’re unreadable or sad that nobody actually seems to understand, even one of the only people who might be able to.
“If it helps, I’m kind of used to you now. You’re not that weird anymore.”
“That doesn’t help at all.”
He shrugs, staring at the crack in the wall. “I’d like to be.”
“Friends.” He hums. “You’ve known Jason for five minutes and you already like him more than me.”
“He’s my brother.” You argue.
“It’s not the same.” You struggle for the words. You already called him weird, you can’t hurt his feelings too much more, right? “Jason and I were close before he died, before I died. And when that happened, we went through it together. That’s not just a bond you can replicate with some guy you’ve talked to like twice.”
“Over the past five years, we’ve had thirty seven conversations. If you’re only counting the ones that lasted more than a minute.”
“Okay, now we’re back to the weird thing.” You groan, grabbing your pillow to smack him with it.
He shoves you away, snatching the pillow to throw at you as soon as you hit the floor.
“Okay, alright! I secede, don’t hit me.” You laugh, standing again. He stands too, reaching out a hand.
You smack his hand away, pulling him into a hug. “You’re my brother, Tim. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me.”
Tim left ten minutes ago, abandoning you to the silence of your room and cacophony of your thoughts.
You’re not alone long, before the door slams open and then shut again, your father’s angered expression greeting you.
You don’t even get the chance to speak before he starts his interrogation.
“What were you thinking? That man is dangerous!”
You’re almost annoyed that he’s still going on about this. “That man is your son! My brother.”
He paces across the room, muttering angrily under his breath. “He’s still dangerous.”
“He’s spent months taking over the crime syndicate in Gotham. We’ve been after him for months. He’s hurt people.”
“Bad people.” You argue, despite your own reservations about his actions.
“Now you sound like him.”
“I can overlook him killing murderers and rapists, but I cannot overlook the fact that he’s my brother and I care about him.”
“You don’t even know him.” He spits.
You reel back, breath shuddering at his words. He’s not wrong, but it’s doesn’t hurt any less.
Jason Todd is your brother, regardless of blood or memory. And nobody, not even your father, will take that from you.
He seems to have realized his words went too far when he steps back, putting physical distance between you, as well as the emotional one already there.
“You don’t get to decide how I feel about this. You don’t get to decide how he feels about it either. He was murdered, and to him, it looks like you don’t care.”
He opens his mouth but you don’t let him speak. “Your son, who came back from the dead, is out there and you will not ruin this. You will tell him how much you’ve missed him and try to come to some sort of agreement on how to deal with crime in this awful city.”
“You’re fifteen, you don’t understand—”
You cut off whatever excuse he came up with to not take the blame for this. “I’ll leave. And I won’t come back.”
He stares at you, eyes flickering through a range of mixed emotions before they settle on your bag by the closet door. He turns back to you, looking every bit as defeated as he should, before stepping out of the room without another word.
You let out a tense sigh, flopping back on the bed with a glance at the clock that reads 12:32.
It’s times like these when you really miss Aunt May.
She answered when you called earlier, immediately spilling everything about Jason and the rest of the family. She sat in stunned silence before asking if you needed anything or wanted to be picked up.
Of course you said no. You need to be here to make sure all the emotionally incompetent men in your family don't screw everything up.
But even though you told her no, Alfred showed up right after the call with a plate of cookies and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d asked him to.
Your room is quieter now, your thoughts easing into a bearable constant. No more spiraling, at least in the forefront of your mind.
You’re able to focus on just the warm chocolate chip cookie in your hand.
The door swings open before you can even take a bite.
“You’re dating Harry Osborn?” Dick gasps, pacing towards you without even shutting the door.
“Dated. Past tense. And don’t remind me.” You groan, faceplanting into your bed, cookie now discarded back onto the plate on your nightstand.
“You never told me you had a boyfriend!” He accuses, pushing you so he can sit at the foot of your bed.
You scowl, pushing him off. “I’ve been busy.” And you’ve been ignoring me. You don’t add the last part.
“I’m scheduling a phone call for five o’clock every Friday, okay? That way I never miss more than a weeks worth of news.” He snatches your phone, attempting to unlock it. “What’s your password?”
He grimaces as he looks at the device, “Is this StarkTech?”
You nod happily, snatching it back. “It was free with my internship.”
The next time someone comes to your room, it’s Jason. The door was left open by Dick, who had to leave against his will when Alfred told him it was dinner time.
You didn’t feel up to leaving yet, not wanting to face your father.
“Hey.” Jason towers in the doorframe, almost too large to fit through it.
You smile softly, patting the bed beside you for him to sit. “Hi.”
“Thanks.” He mumbles, accepting the seat and a cookie when you shove the plate towards him.
“So…” You trail off, glancing at the doorway. Shooting a web, you pull it shut for privacy. “How’re you feeling?”
“About being kidnapped and forced to speak to Batman again? Great.”
“Oh, wow. You know, I also felt really great about opening a box with a dead bird. And how could I possibly forget the pictures of all my friends?”
“I was going through a phase.”
“It happens.” He shrugs, staring at the crack in your wall. “Do you remember that?”
You follow his gaze before shaking your head. “No.”
He huffs out a laugh, “You insisted on all of us having a tea party. You even got Bruce to take time off work.”
He thinks about it, “You were probably six at the time. Your parents dropped you off at the manor for the weekend, they used to do that a lot. Anyways, you made me help set up the whole thing. As retribution, just as you were about to sit down, I pulled the chair out from under you and you fell.”
You grimace at the thought, not unfamiliar to the situation. Flash Thompson loved to do that in middle school.
Jason continues, “You thought it was hilarious, for some reason, and decided to do it to Dick. Except when he fell, he cracked his head against the wall.” He snickers, “We made Dick drive us to the store, with a concussion, just to get the stuff to patch the wall before Bruce noticed.”
You watch him as he tells the story, looking happy for the first time since you dragged him back to the manor. Maybe this will actually work out.
He’s quiet for a couple minutes, lost in thought as he stares at the wall.
“How’d it go with Dad?” You ask, glancing at him warily. If you push too much, he’ll leave.
He sighs loudly, shaking his head. “I don’t trust him. Not with you.”
You frown at that, not quite sure what he means, but he continues before you can ask.
“I’m not staying. But I won’t be far either.” He mumbles, shoving a folded piece of paper towards you. “That’s my apartment. And my number. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving? But it’s Christmas.”
“I can’t stay here. I need time, space.”
Space. A concept you’re growing increasingly more familiar with.
“I’ve heard that before.” You mutter before glancing at him. “May would be happy to have you visit.”
“Your aunt?” He furrows his eyebrows.
“She’s a sucker for a charity case.” You grin.
He scoffs at you, smacking your shoulder as he turns towards the door. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Your heart pounds, watching him go. You rush towards him, slamming into his side as you wrap your arms around his waist.
He hugs you back, “I’ll see you around, kid.”
Bruce Wayne is about as elusive as the common cold. Maybe it’s easier for him to disappear when it comes to other people, but with your senses and memorization of his schedule, he’s pretty easy to find.
“Are you avoiding me?” You press, leaning in the doorway of his office at Wayne Enterprises. You had to climb up the walls outside after being turned away at the front desk for lying about being Bruce Wayne’s kid, so you will be getting answers whether he wants to give them or not.
There’s a pause before he mumbles, “Maybe.”
You scoff, swinging the door shut as you enter, sliding into the chair across from him.
“How’d it go with Jason?”
“Are you hungry? We can get lunch.”
“I’m always hungry, but I don’t want lunch. I want answers.”
He stares at you for a minute before relenting. “He’s mad.”
He scowls as you snatch a paper off his desk, scanning the page, before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash.
“It’s right there.” You point towards the garbage bin.
“Wonderful and pleasant to be around?”
A smile tugs at his lips but he tries to hide it as he nods. “That is exactly what I was going to say.”
You grin, shooting a web at the paper in the trash. “The numbers are wrong.”
“Then the place the money is going to is wrong.” You argue, leaning forward to point at them. “The money being transferred is being sent to a fake company.”
“That’s not possible, I vetted all of these myself.”
“Then you vetted wrong.” You stand with a sigh, gazing out the large window behind him. “It’s Jason’s company. He’s stealing money from you.”
“What?!” He pulls the paper forward, scanning it like he’s waiting for something new to pop up on it.
You sigh again, pushing his papers into a pile so you can sit on his desk.
“Since you’ve been ignoring me the past few days, I’ve had some time to dig.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“Avoiding.” You amend. He grunts. “Anyways, he’s using the money to help some of the kids in the Narrows.”
Your father leans back in his chair, eyeing you skeptically. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You would’ve found out it’s not a real company eventually, and then you would’ve stopped paying. Plus, I’m trying to show you that he’s not all bad. He still cares about the same thing as you—helping Gotham. He’s just doing it differently.”
“You don’t have to. But he’s still your son.”
He looks away, spinning his chair so he’s looking out the window. You’re not sure if he’s actually thinking or if he just doesn’t want to look at you.
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Just show up. That’s what fixed things between us.”
“Because that’s going so well, isn’t it?” He scoffs, shaking his head.
“It’s going fine. I’m here, aren’t I? That being said, I’m a lot more open to having you around. With Jay you’ll have to be less overbearing.”
He spins around, face aghast. “I am not overbearing.”
“Meh.” You hop of the desk, poking at the window.
“Meh.” You repeat, ignoring his annoyed expression. “How does this thing open?”
He crosses his arms. “It doesn’t. Too many thieves.” There’s a slight joking tone to his words that have you thinking he’s talking about someone in particular, you’re just not sure who.
But it’s not really any of your business, you're also familiar with all sorts of unsavory people. Theives included.
He stands, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he leads you towards the door. “Let’s get lunch.”
“Oh good, I was totally bluffing earlier. If you’d asked if I was hungry again I totally would’ve said yes.”
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