broken blood ties

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"Take off your hood" he demanded in a harsh voice containing the anger in his chest. "Don't worry, this area is camera-free and anyone around it was destroyed during combat."

Bruce obeyed, pulled the hood off him, looking at Jason's back with concern, his shoulders shaking from his effort. "You weren't there, Dick didn't look good. He just couldn't allow him to carry that burden."

"As the same way, how do you carry it?" That's when Jason faced him, Bruce's face became livid, his big blue eyes open like plates, his eyebrows up as high as his skin allowed. For a few seconds Batman's entire body tensed, Bruce's body language was in a complete panic at the great expressionless gargoyle that he used to be, he step back, his back has curved back and a hand up as if his hands could stop the time or stop the words came out of Jason's mouth.

Jason took a step forward with narrowing his eyes with a darkened look "You killed him. This was the reason, you couldn't bear having me around you when I return from the dead. I reminded your crime, your shame, your failure on all levels. I'm sure you wanted to drag me back to that cold coffin, to bury everything that I represent before your eyes." he whispered in a threatening voice, approaching step by step with his torso bent towards Bruce. "Ha! That would have been ironic. To be buried in the same coffin that I bought to replace yours." laughed bitterly, shaking Bruce at every word.

Bruce managed to regain control of him, an expression turned to rock and he spoke with a dry throat. "Jason, I don't know what you're talking about "

Bruce recover the control, the expression turned stony. "Jason, I don't know what you're talking about" he denied in a cold voice without losing his composure, managing to look indifferent.

What if it was all a hallucination? Jason narrowed his eyes, he's going to play a card, might make him lose the game, but he need to know. "Your mother told me when I died" he spat, clenching his fists.

Bruce was concerned now, perhaps the lack of oxygen had damaged his son's brain, but he didn't dare express his suspicions, much less when Jason was so reactive towards any expression which might imply he was broken or weak. God! How he hated the way his son was so difficult.

Silence came, Jason didn't want to sound crazy or crazier than his supposed family thought "Did you ever wonder why the All-Caste monks trained me? Why did the All-Blades choose me?" Did the blades choose him? that means blades weren't stolen and Jason didn't return them. Another mistake made by the Greatest Detective in the world.

Bruce was thankful for never voicing suspicion about him. "Do you know who the monks fight, Bruce?" Jason continued with his pejorative "Maybe you heard Constantine name the Untitled." Jason studied each micro-expression of the man, looking for some sign that would show him what happened was not something created by his dying mind.

Demons. Spawn of the underworld, out of the same hell. The answer fell into his head leaving his neurons cold, Constantine once mentioned it when she pointed out the All-Blades that Red Hood was carrying on a mission in conjunction with Superman and Supergirl. Jason could do something which no one bat could see beyond the veil. How stupid, careless he was with Jason when the alliances were thought renewed. His death, his resurrection, the well took their toll, dragging things beyond the inexplicable with them.

His head floated, Jason knew it, his own mother told him "My mother, he has seen my mother" rumbling in Bruce's head, was it possible? he needed to explain or deny it. Bruce paced back and forth running his hand over his head, smoothing his hair, in a moment he shook his head "It's not that simple." the words slipped out without realizing the admission of the fact, he was frozen, what if this was a charade? Very late, Jason looked at him puzzled. No, it wasn't possible, it was the best-kept secret. As a good detective and criminalist that he was, he knew how to cover his tracks perfectly and if only maybe ... should he have said it or worse should he have said it from the beginning? but then it would be to discover other secrets, to support the path of murder that Jason had already taken. Both Bruce and Batman couldn't afford it, not as a father, not as a vigilante. He needed his son to deviate from that path of blood and bodies accumulated under his feet.

Fuck, fuck, so it was never hallucinations. Jason had provoked him by feeling stupid, but really they had all been there. First, his mother, his true biological mother who he thought was a recurring dream when he looked at himself in a hospital bed when he was little, the woman took it back to his body and then kissed his forehead. her. The second was Sheila begging for forgiveness when he was beaten by the Joker, the third was Catherine forcing him back when Batman cut his neck. Lastly, their grandparents were Martha and Thomas.

Jason had already died four times, almost five if not for Roy, time after time he was kicked back. Jason stepped back, resting a hand on a wall of red partitions that allowed access to the roof of the old building. It was not his desire to live forever, he did not want the weight of immortality. It was all too much, he couldn't breathe, think. Bruce murdering the Joker, somehow the Joker still existed, so was there more than one? Dick murdering the next Joker or maybe the original, Batman reviving the Joker, Batman murdering him in that old building. He felt sick, the bile hitting his throat, unconsciously his hand flew to his neck.