Chapter Text
“Looks like there weren’t too many casualties,” Alfred outwardly observes as he takes in the damage done to the vase caused by their intruders. “It only solidifies my suspicions that they were looking for something.”
Bruce nods in agreement. He crouches, grabs a piece of the light blue china vase, and inspects the shard in his hand.
Bruce didn’t want to outright mention Alfred’s observation with Connor nearby. Currently they were all in the entrance hall, on the top of the staircase, and Connor was standing right next to him. He had been since they hugged. Bruce didn’t mind the close proximity Connor had been keeping, but he did mind possibly scaring Connor with information that Bane’s lackies were possibly looking for him.
How did they find out we were keeping Connor?
Connor had been out of the manor twice. Had he been seen during that time? It couldn’t have been the dog shelter. It must have happened at the mall.
Bruce rotates the shard in his hand in contemplation. He halts when Connor grabs his wrist, keeps it in place, and reaches down to pry the shard out of his hand. Bruce glances up at Connor as he does it. He doesn’t know how to react to Connor’s look of plain displeasure. He seemed disappointed in Bruce.
“Hurt,” Connor explains. He puts the shard back on the floor.
Bruce keeps his face impassive. That didn’t stop his curiosity from spiking. He reaches back down to the ground, slowly, and when his fingers are just one inch away from the shard again-
“No,” Connor tells him. He’s bending down to grab Bruce’s wrist again.
“Master Connor is quite right, Master Bruce, you shouldn’t be messing with the shards. You could get cut,” Alfred scolds. “I will get some gloves and the vacuum.”
Bruce withdraws his hand from the vase shard. His trained eyes on Connor’s form picks up the relaxation of his son’s muscles.
“You were worried I’d cut myself?” Bruce finds himself asking.
Connor doesn’t reply immediately. He releases Bruce’s wrist, first, and then considers his question.
“Yes,” Connor decides.
Bruce allows a small smile to curve upward on his lips. He picks himself up off of the ground, and plops a heavy hand on Connor’s head. It stays there as Bruce reviews his son’s actions fondly in memory.
He’s too good for us.
Dick said he’d be out for an hour.
He was wrong. It was midnight. He’d been out for much longer than an hour, and when he glanced at the back-seat he saw the reason for his extended outing sitting in-between two teenagers.
Jason catches his eye in the mirror and fumes.
“Keep your eyes on the road, you bastard,” Jason spits angrily.
Damian, who sat in shot-gun, rolls his eyes. He hadn’t been too happy with bringing Jason back home. He claimed they already had enough people in the manor, and that Jason wasn’t any brother of his. Dick knew that was supposed to be a sad statement, but it also kind of meant that Damian considered the rest of the people in the car as his family.
Jason huffs. He blows his black bangs upward, but they fall back right down where they’d been resting over his eyes. Dick guessed it was because of how long he must have gone without a haircut. Bruce liked to make sure they got a haircut at least once every month and a half.
Jason looked a little different than Dick remembered. He appeared leaner than the last time Dick saw him, and he was lacking the big build of muscles that he was known to have. Dick could still see the muscle hidden underneath his black shirt, but the loss of it was apparent. Dick could only assume it came from living out in the streets without having 24/7 access to his personal gym.
“You think you could, I don’t know, untie me?” Jason growls out. That was the other thing about this situation. Jason hadn’t come willingly. Tim had literally lassoed him. Dick was against taking people against their will, but Jason wasn’t old enough to be out on his own. He was seventeen. That was one year younger than the legal adult age. Dick also worried about him. He didn’t keep contact with anyone in the family. He wanted Jason to come home, he wanted Bruce to talk to him, and he wanted Jason to realize he had a family that cared about him.
“So you can jet?” Stephanie asks from Jason’s right. “Yeah. No.”
“Why is she here again?” Jason says through gritted teeth.
Stephanie sticks out her tongue childishly.
Jason sighs, loudly, “Look. How about you all just drop me off at the nearest bus-stop, and let me off on my merry little way?”
Tim leans his face against the window. He mumbles, while his face is squished by the pane and gravity, “I don’t see the point of going through all the trouble just to get you in the car if we were just going to let you go. We haven’t seen you in ages, Jason.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think, Timmy?” Jason grumbles.
Tim pushes himself off of the window. He glares, hard, at Jason.
“You left without leaving a note! You just- you just disappeared!”
“Yeah. And you guys had absolutely no problem replacing me!” Jason raises his voice. He points his eyes at Damian. “So - what - I leave for a couple of days and dad brings in two new charity cases?”
“I am his biological son, you fool,” Damian corrects.
“Who just happened to show up after I left,” Jason returns.
“Jason. Damian didn’t know-” Stephanie defends.
“But Bruce-” Jason barks coldly, “ he knew. Besides. I don’t see why you have any right to be a part of this conversation.”
Dick glances up at the rearview mirror to see Stephanie’s pained expression. She withdraws in herself, shifts in her seat, and tries to lean away from Jason as much as physically possible. Her eyes look out the window to her side.
“Jason,” Dick puts in softly, doing his best to play peace-maker, “no one has replaced anybody. You’re a member of the family. Just like the rest of us.”
He holds that last sentence for Stephanie, but she does nothing to acknowledge it. Dick feels a pang in his heart for it.
“This is a disaster,” Damian grumbles.
"Yeah. What the brat said,” Jason agrees.
“I am not a brat.”
Damian and Jason both erupt into bickering. Tim stays silent, Stephanie too, and Dick stops the urge to let his hands leave the steering wheel to massage his forehead.
They manage to wrestle Jason back into the manor. The atmosphere is tense as Dick closes the door behind him. It was extra tense when Alfred arrived to see the lot of them standing there like they were preparing for a possible escaped prisoner attempt.
Well.
Except for Damian. He didn’t care.
Damian grabs hold of Stephanie’s hand. Dick watches Stephanie shoot him a set of confused features before Damian has to explain, “It is far too late for you to return home. You may stay in my room if you wish. I am sure you would rather be rid of unpleasant company.”
“Can you believe this kid?” Jason mutters.
Damian ignores him. He starts tugging on Stephanie’s hand, and she dumbly follows him up the stairs.
Dick feels a hint of relief. He hadn’t expected Damian to reach out to Stephanie like that, but he knew Damian would make sure she was tended to. That was very thoughtful of him.
“Master Jason.” Alfred passes Stephanie and Damian on the way down the staircase. He sets a brisk pace to reach their tied up convict. “Master Jason,” Alfred repeats, “Is that really you?”
Jason nods shortly. He was surprisingly mute.
“My boy,” Alfred breathes, “it is good to have you home.”
Alfred collects Jason into his arms. Jason doesn’t resist as Alfred tucks his head under his chin.
Dick can hear the muffled, “I missed you, too, Alfred.”
Nobody, not even Jason, had the heart to be mean to Alfred.