#the number of batfamily members this could apply to though

[sepia-stained-sunset]

He's a fictional man who's been on this Earth for longer than I have. He doesn't need me fighting his battles

#the number of batfamily members this could apply to though #lukewarm takes

[elareine]

Deaged Jaybird anyone?

Well, judging from ao3 and tumblr, I think the answer to that question is ‘everyone and amazingly so,’ but I might as well throw my hat into the ring, thank you <3

I thought this was gonna be sweet and funny. It didn’t exactly turn out that way.

rewind, fast forward, stop Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply - Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Temporary Character Death, Angst Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Jason Todd, Family Issues, Family Feels, Loss of Trust, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt with Temporary Comfort, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, The Batfamily Needs Therapy, Bittersweet, Unreliable Narrator

“If he says the words unstable molecules one more time, I’m going to hit something,” Dick muttered.

“Jason’s been gone for two hours, and you’re already trying to replace him?” Tim asked. It was a weak joke, and Dick didn’t laugh.

Nygma and Crane were still arguing at metaphorical gunpoint (i.e., genuine sword end), bent over the makeshift crib.

“I didn’t expect this to happen, either! What’s the point of posing riddles if he’s a baby?”

“Well you still fucked up and now we’re here, basically hostages—”

Bruce held up a hand. Everyone fell silent.

“So. His age will change several times?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot predict the intervals.”

“No.”

“What does he remember?”

“I don’t know. We should ask him…”

“…when he reaches an age where he can speak, yes. Will this stop once he reaches the age he’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t—”

“Then we will find out. Nygma, you have 24 hours to fix this.” He turned and looked at Dick. “Call reinforcements and start the lab work.”

Dick nodded, but whatever he was going to ask wasn’t going to be heard because Jason chose that moment to start wailing.

Everyone froze. Despite all the arguing, the fact that they know had to care for a baby hadn’t seemed real until that moment.

Bruce, though, just lifted Jason up and to his chest with the same natural competence with which he handled explosives and batarangs. “There, there, Jaylad. You’re hungry, hmm? I bet Alfred has already prepared a bottle. Let’s go find him, shall we?”

——

Dick volunteered to stay home and watch the baby that evening. Except when he returned to the crib with a freshly prepared bottle, it was a toddler staring back at him.

“Hey there, little man,” Dick greeted him.

Silence.

Dick tried again. “Jason, are you in there?”

The kid stared back at him, clearly wondering what the strange man was talking about. His eyes were so blue. “Me.”

“Yes, you’re Jason,” Dick agreed. “Do you remember me?”

Jason’s brow furrowed as if he was concentrating really hard. “No?”

“That’s okay. I’m Dick. I’m—” your brother. But how did you explain that to a toddler who didn’t remember any siblings? “A friend.”

After a minute of stern evaluation, Jason’s expression melted into a smile, and he held up his short chubby arms. “Up?”

“Of course.” Dick bent down and scooped Jason up with one swift motion, bouncing him up and down for a few seconds, to Jason’s great delight and giggles. Then he settled him onto his hip. “How about some food, buddy?”

“Hungry!” Jason declared. It sounded like ‘angry.’ Dick wanted to record that and use it as Jason’s ringtone forever.

He couldn’t very well give him the baby formula now, so: “Let’s go to the kitchen, then, huh? I like midnight snacks, too.”

“Snack,” Jason repeated. He seemed to like that word. “Snack, snack, snack!”

“Yes, snack. Hey B,” he called softly through the non-emergency line as they walked through the corridor, “listen to who woke up.”

“Baba?” Jason asked. Dick had no idea whether he meant Bruce or was asking for his own father. Either way, it was devastating.

“Jaylad,” Bruce murmured back. Dick didn’t call him out on the use of real names. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“No.”

Dick tried not to laugh at the sleepy pout. “To be fair, I don’t know how ‘slept like a baby for hours,’ literally, affects his sleep schedule.”

“How old is he?”

“About… two? Maybe?” Dick was not an expert in estimating the age of children, so sue him. “Maybe younger. He’s real small, and he doesn’t remember me.”

Silence. “N, we’re coming home.”

The bats had barely been out for an hour. “Sure. See you soon.”

——

It was Tim who discovered the next transformation. He’d taken over the early morning shift by virtue of not sleeping anyway. Jason’s room had been quiet; Tim had just wanted to make sure he was doing okay when he was greeted with a much larger shape in the bed than he’d expected.

Which, fuck, that couldn’t be good, right? Last time Jason had only skipped a couple of years, but now he was at least six.

The figure was also too still to be asleep. Tim switched on the nightlight they’d installed by the door and looked at Jason. Yeah, his eyes were definitely open. It was eerie, the way he held himself still as if he was trying to disappear into the darkness. Don’t notice me, his position screamed. I’m not here, go away.

It was so familiar. Tim couldn’t breathe for a second for the way it was a perfect reversal of the way he himself had spent his childhood. Notice me, look at me, don’t leave.

“Hey,” Tim called out softly, unconsciously imitating Dick’s voice. “Can’t sleep?”

“Who are you.” His voice was clear and hard, a far cry from the sweet toddler who had played with Tim’s cape when they’d come home from patrol at midnight.

That had been four hours ago. It was going to be a long day, wasn’t it?

“I’m Tim,” he said. “You don’t remember me right now because you’re… sick, but we know each other.”

The distrust did not wane. “Where am I?”

“At my father’s house. Wayne Manor.” Tim smiled. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Who else is here?”

“Your family.”

That did not have the expected effect, at all. Jason shrank back, hands gripping the blanket tight even as his expression remained blank.

Tim’s hand moved to his bracelet and pressed a button. He’d promised Bruce to wake him up if there was a development. Besides, he was in over his head here, and he knew it.

“I’m going to call them, okay?” There was no answer.

It took less than two minutes for the doorway to be filled with people. Bruce was first, of course, closely followed by Dick, with Damian, Duke, and Cass lingering just behind them in the hallway.

“You’re going to crowd him,” Tim pointed out. “We’re all strangers.”

“Tim is right.” Bruce stepped forward. “Stay back.”

They watched as he crouched down in front of the bed. “Hi, Jason. You don’t remember me, and I know that’s scary.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim couldn’t see his face, but he would bet good money that Bruce smiled at that. “No, you aren’t because you’re brave, aren’t you.”

“Hmm. Where’s mom?” Jason asked.

“She’s not here. I’m sorry. You’re staying with our family and me for now.”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s not here, either, but—”

Jason’s shoulders deflated.

Oh. Oh.

Tim could feel the tension rack up in the room as every single family member was simultaneously filled with rage.

Bruce, however, looked calm. “As long as we are here,” he said, quietly but with the kind of conviction that could move mountains, “no one is going to hurt you. Your mother is fine, and so are you.”

And Jason looked up and believed him. Tim could see it in the way he relaxed, how he slumped down against Bruce’s bulk as if it was the only thing holding him up. He didn’t say anything.

Tim felt a gentle tug on his elbow. He followed the others outside, quietly, leaving Bruce to keep vigil. It was touching, but something about the scene bothered Tim.

“Do you think,” he quietly asked Dick as the group dispersed, “that we should call someone else? His friends? You have Roy’s number.”

“It will help, being here, when he reaches Robin age. They’re strangers until he’s an adult.”

That wasn’t the point. Tim frowned. “I know you think he should be with family when he’s like this. But Dick—we haven’t been his family for a long time. We shouldn’t see this stuff.”

Dick swallowed, but he didn’t argue with that. “B already knows.”

“Not all of it. Not what will happen when—”

“Yeah.” Dick’s shoulders slumped. “But do you think you can convince B of that?”

“No.” Tim sighed. “No, I don’t.”

——

“Master Jason, what are you doing in the kitchen?”

It was eight a.m., and even Master Tim was asleep by now. Alfred had kept an ear out for the sound of a preschooler waking up, but Master Jason must’ve aged again. He looked to be about nine now.

The kid frowned. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to make breakfast, or mom won’t eat.”

Alfred took a moment to fix his apron, blinking discreetly. “Of course, Master Jason. Your mother, however, isn’t here at the moment. Would you like to help me prepare some pancakes?”

——

There was a sound like something heavy falling, then a curse. “Where the fuck am I?”

Dick and Tim exchanged a glance. They’d installed Jason in front of the tv, at first, but he’d been more interested in the few children’s books Bruce kept around for guests.

Tim had tagged along—at this point, he had somehow wound up one of Jason’s primary caretakers, and wasn’t that a sentence he hadn’t expected himself to ever think? Looked like the time for children’s books had run out.

When they walked over to the armchair Jason had buried himself in, they found a pile of limbs in front of it, scrambling to get up and look at them. The family had taken to dressing Jason in the largest clothes they could get him in without them falling off, just to spare his modesty at the next change. Not that Jason had really grown much over the last few episodes…

At least he was dressed as he woke up in an unfamiliar living room because he couldn’t remember the previous episode or his adult life, Tim thought. Honestly, this curse/science mishap/whatever seemed hellbent on making their lives as miserable as possible.

Dick advanced cautiously. “Jason—”

“And you would be?” the boy asked, his voice suddenly much lighter.

“My name’s Dick Grayson, and you’re safe here.”

“Hmm, am I?” There was something wrong with the way Jason looked at Dick. His weight was shifted to the side, pushing his hip to the front, his long lashes almost fluttering, and there was something challenging in his gaze as if he was daring Dick—as if he was—

The idea was so incongruous—so impossible—that it took Tim too long to connect the dots. It was the exact pose he saw the working girls and boys adopt, night after night when they approached a car.

The thing with Tim was: He could be thrown off a building, and his brain would still keep on working all the way down. (No, seriously, that happened several times.) It was just how it was. So he could be shocked at what was happening, at what he’d just learned about Jason, and still notice that Dick wasn’t.

Perhaps he was making a mountain of a molehill, then. Perhaps Jason had just seen too much on the streets and was trying to play along, to give Dick what Jason thought he wanted, and then he’d punch him when he got too close and get out of here.

Perhaps.

“Let’s just—wait it out, okay?” Dick sighed. “You got temporary amnesia. It’ll all be clear tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Jason looked like he didn’t believe him, but was willing to run with it. “You got some food?”

——

“Oh, hey Dick! You look different!”

Dick thought he was about to cry with relief. Finally, a Jason that knew them, that wouldn’t have to be reassured about their intentions every few hours. “Hey, Jason.”

“Is it for a case?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You’re in the future, sort of. We have to wait a few hours before you can go back.”

Jason’s eyes went wide. “Really? That’s so cool! Can I talk to myself? Where am I? What year is it? What am I doing?”

“We can’t tell you that,” Tim said suddenly. “You know. Time travel code. Gotta follow the rules.”

“Ah.” Jason nodded as if that made any sense. “But you can tell me about other things, right? What about the cave? Can I see how it changed?”

“No, not the cave—” not while that damn memorial was still there, “—but Alfred has a collection of photos in one room if you want to see.”

That would be fine. Jason wasn’t in any of those, anyway.

“Whoa,” Jason commented when he saw how many pictures there were. “This family sure has grown. Wait, who is that?”

“That’s me,” Tim said.

Jason frowned. “That’s a Robin outfit. Are you Robin after me?”

And Dick—he could see how Tim tensed up. Understandably so, they had all heard what Jason called him. “Yeah, I—I didn’t mean to repl—you were—”

“It’s okay,” Jason shrugged. “Robin is more than one person, right? Dickie here said that. You don’t stop being Robin. You just share it.”

Tim blinked once. Then again.

Dick watched in some concern, because—surely that’s what he said to him back when he gave Robin to Damian, too? Right? It was all such a blur, but he must have.

Jason was already moving on to the next picture. “Wow, are these your wings?!”

“Yeah.”

“Did you make them? That’s so cool, I wanna fly too!”

Dick watched in amusement as a blush spread across Tim’s face. “I could show you the plans?”

“That would be fun! It could be a project.” Then he whirled around. “Do you go to school?”

“Uh, not really.”

Jason frowned. “You should. Grades are important. You can’t go superheroing forever if you don’t have money.”

“That’s true.” Tim looked suitably chastised. Dick bit down on a laugh as he watched Jason walk along Alfred’s little gallery, commenting on everything he saw and pulling Tim along.

God, thinking about the kid they saw yesterday, this Jason was a miracle. Dick knew what it meant to pull yourself up after darkness crashed down on you, how to find a way to smile after you lost everything.

And he knew, too, what a single person who cared for you—who believed in you could do.

(Maybe Dick should’ve remembered that when Jason became a miracle for the second time.)

Bruce had been that for both of them. Even now, Dick could see him at the doorway, watching Jason with such pride and unbearable longing on his face. Then a shadow fell over his expression, and he turned away.

“Dick!” Jason called over. “Tim has never heard the train story! C’mon, you’re the best at telling it.”

“He hasn’t heard it because it’s embarrassing,” Dick whined, but he walked over and joined them. Might as well make the most of this, right?”

——

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Zatanna said. “There’s nothing I can do.”

She was magic, Cass knew, and Bruce didn’t like magic. So if he was asking her for help… Duke, next to her, looked worried, as well.

They weren’t letting the two of them see Jason, and that was okay. Neither of them had ever been close to Jason. Not that Dick or Tim had been, exactly, but they cared in a way Cass and Duke admittedly didn’t.

“Is there anything that could slow down his aging process, at least?”

“Nothing but putting him into stasis, and he would not thank you for that, Bruce.”

Duke dared to ask: “But Nygma said the effect of the gas should stop once he’s reached his proper age, right? So that should be… alright?”

“And what,” Bruce ground out, “if the next time he phases forward, he’s dead?”

“Bruce.” Zatanna put a hand on his shoulder, empathy in every line of her body.

Bruce shook her off as if he couldn’t bear the touch. “We don’t know if he’ll wake up this time.”

For a second, Cass wanted to hurt everyone who made Bruce sound like that. But she knew there was nothing she could do. Love, she knew, cut like that sometimes.

——

Damian was well aware that they would prefer to keep him far away from Todd. To a certain extent, he understood. He would not wish more people than necessary to watch him relive his own childhood, either.

However, no one in this family was prepared for what was coming next. Damian knew.

The minute the screaming began, Damian walked into the room.

Jason was convulsing on the bed. Dick was frantically checking him for injuries, and Damian clicked his tongue. “That won’t help. He is not bleeding.”

Bruce turned to him. “Damian, what—”

“He’s in pain. His body is half-alive, half-dead,” Damian told them calmly. His voice wasn’t shaking. It wasn’t. “It won’t stop until he swims in a Lazarus Pit.”

His father should not look like this. Helpless. Pitiful. Damian resented him for it, just a little bit. Father had not been there the first time. This would only last for hours, and all he had to do was wait. The crushing weight of how to fix this was not on him as it had been on Mother.

“I’m going to get a tranquilizer,” Dick murmured.

——

Duke wondered what they would do if Jason woke up in full rage mode. He had seen the files, had read everything he could the minute this started happening. Cass had told him the rest, pieced together from hints her brothers had dropped over the years. There was no way they could deal with that if they were unprepared and Jason was in their home. No way.

So he was… nervous. Just a bit. Enough so that he was camping out in front of the bedroom that they were keeping Jason for now. Sure, Jason had been medicated, but Duke had seen Bruce trying that on Red Hood before. Red Hood had barely slowed down. Whatever the Lazarus Pits were, exactly, they sure did a number on a person’s metabolism.

Duke got his answer when Bruce sent everyone out of the room. Batman would wait alone, then. Dick and Tim obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Tim, however, returned a minute later with Bruce’s utility belt, shock full of batarangs and other weapons. The older man, however, hesitated to take it.

“Bruce,” Tim said, and he very gently touched a scar on his neck.

Bruce took the belt.

——

The next morning, Jason left.

Minutes before, Bruce watched him as he woke up.

He had known as soon as he had seen Jason as a toddler that his son would not forgive him for this. The others, maybe. They had only tried to help. Bruce was the one too selfish to let Jason keep his secrets, bring him to people he trusted.

Because that sure as hell wasn’t him anymore. Deservedly so or not, Bruce had had to face that reality a long time ago.

Still, when Jason opened his eyes and there was only a tinge of green in them, nothing like the rage of the pit, just like they had been the last time Bruce had seen him without the mask—for that one moment, Bruce allowed himself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, Jason wouldn’t remember. Then he could use the whole thing as a learning experience—see it as bonding, even—something that would allow them to finally move on; that would help Bruce to find the right trigger to get Jason to give up his mad crusade and come home.

Then Jason blinked, and his eyes were empty even of hate.

“My phone?” was all he asked.

“In the cave.” Bruce kept his voice even because what else could he do?

Jason nodded. Then he left, and he did not come back.

#elareine writes #rewind fast forward stop #batfamily #jason todd