I don't own Batman et al

Jason hadn't been expecting mail. Much less hand delivered mail. The envelope was a simple one made of cream parchment paper. It would have been plain if not for the way it had been addressed to him. A letter 'J' written with simple looking calligraphy that was anything but.

Opening it, he smiled. He'd only ever exchanged letters this way with just one other person.

Dearest J,

It has come to my attention that you've recently let go of a skill I've known you to be passionate about. Your penmanship of late also leaves a lot to be desired. Your notes to myself most unbecoming.

Ouch, Alfie.

I see now that all this technology and shortened texts has corrupted your usually clean and precise use of language.

Jason assumed he was talking about the note he'd left in the kitchen. (CHKN WAS RLY GOOD, A. TNX.) To be fair, he didn't really have to rush it. And yeah, he'd been cheating on his penmanship by writing in all caps.

And so once again, dear J, I expect you to practice. I suggest you can start by telling me what ingredients do you think I'd used to make my chicken really good.

Awaiting your guesses,

A

Challenge accepted, Agent A. Jason smiled as he refolded the letter paper and placed it back in the envelope. But first, I need paper. He was already reaching for his jacket and keys.

Jason had actually forgotten much of Alfred had expected him to write but with that same obsessive focus he was known for, he wrote back to Alfred, penmanship much better than his initial draft but not quite what he'd been at before his death.

And so it began. They wrote to each other often. From long letters to little notes tucked in envelopes between bags of groceries, returned food containers, the windshield wipers, hand delivered first editions, piles of bills, restocked medical kits, anything and everything that got exchanged between downtown Gotham and the cave, and whenever the chance presented itself, Jason gave them in person.

There was a letter on his dashboard. Forget that this wasn't even the batmobile, it had always made him sigh when his children liked to practice their skills on his cars. Especially while out of uniform.

Seeing the artful 'A' though, Bruce knew what this meant. His second child had yet another letter for his oldest friend. He couldn't help but feel an ache in hist chest.

Bruce had noticed this sudden flurry of paper exchange. Of course he did. And he tried his best not to be envious of the easy exchange. He still felt guilty he'd not done what he should've done (talked to him. Made it known from the start how much he loves him. Jason was his son. It had hurt so much when he'd told him to his face that he was no one's son). What he could've done (hindsight was a painful lens he'd often looked through till he felt so damn tired of himself).

And so though he did notice, though he envied it so much, he did nothing to stop it. Even when the batmobile's passenger seat had become the frequent mailbox and he the postman sometimes.

Alfred could see it. Saw this man he'd raised and saw so much beneath the nonchalance when he handed over a letter. When he saw a red post it note in the cave, in the kitchen, in the library. At some point, he knew he had to address this. Perhaps by doing so joking manner to let the boy know without expressly saying it.

Dear J,

I believe B has started to suspect us. He can, after all be both quite clever and able sometimes.

Jason laughed at the backhanded comment.

With your brain and my strength, however, we can overpower him before he can stop us. Gotham will be ours. As leaders, we would over power even the family. N would stop being in too many places at once. RR would cease his Monster/caffeine experiments. R would tackle society instead of crime.

Jason smiled at the nefarious plans.

But worry not. No matter how many longing looks at our letters B gives, he has no x-ray vision to divulge our plans.

Your partner in crime,

A

Jason stared at the last sentence. His relationship with Bruce wasn't quite the antagonistic one it had been at his return but neither was it like it had been before. Before Joker. Before Shiela. Before Felipe. Before he'd gone too far with Two-face. And he'd had a family.

Lately, he had been thinking about the family. All those bright individuals, stars in their own right as tgey watched over Gotham. He was hesitant to call them his. Yet he kept thinking about them. A thought here and there sneaking in of how they must be doing. If Alfred had gotten them to eat properly like he'd said he would in a letter a few exchanges ago. He wondered if Bruce was still eating the kale mix shake he'd kept drinking before (man, did he hate that stuff). He wondered if they didn't really mind hanging out with him.

Patrols with them these past months were ending not in fights (not really serious and painful ones. Those stopped a long time ago). Lately, it ended in companionable silence (except perhaps when Dick takes it a little too far. When he acts like he should do more. He'd done enough. It was enough. For now).

Sometimes though that silence extended even to the beginning of patrol. He didn't have to be a jerk when he was too tired to be one. Didn't have to deal with his discomfort by forcing it on them. Instead when he felt like it he'd actually allow them to take it away.

He hadn't killed anyone since returning to Gotham. His flight from the city after Bruce had returned from the dead. The relief he'd felt then had given him so much conflicted feelings, he had to get away. His run with the Outlaws helped him gain something he hadn't really thought he'd ever have, what he'd thought he didn't deserve and only realized when it happened that he had always been there way deep inside. Now he knew he had it him. To have friends who loved and accepted him. Friends /he/ loved and accepted. When they'd parted, it had been sad but it wasn't an end. Worlds away, Kori still emailed him. Roy, wherever he was, spammed him with selfies and chain letters.

When he'd returned, he realized how Gotham was to be his starting point again, just as it had been every time.

And now…Now, Jason felt like he could try for another starting point.

Getting a blank sheet, Jason wrote his reply for Alfred.

Bruce stared at the words he'd written down. This was his fifth finished letter. The others had been full of rushed words, sloppy writing, crossed out phrases and words he didn't mean. He hadn't said a thing to Alfred but each time he thought of writing, there was always fresh paper to be had at his desk.

He would continue trying. He owed it to his son, owed it to the Bruce he was before, owed it to the man he was now. His son was here, really here, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to be there for him.

Alfred smiled as Bruce handed him a letter all the while stammering out how he didn't want to intrude. This had always been their thing and not his. The butler then put up a hand to pause him.

He handed over a folded sheet. Bruce gave him a questioning look before opening it.

Dear A,

Bruce tried to hand him back the letter.

"No. Please continue."

Hesitantly, he did.

While our plans to control Gotham is still in the works, I actually think it's better that I be the brawn in this partnership. I've learned a lot recently on how to be strong.

Like you've said about B, he really can be clever and able sometimes. His wishful thinking of having x-ray vision to view our plans notwithstanding, he might actually be smart enough to assist us.

If you're willing, you can let him know I'm open to it.

Your friend,

J

Written at the very bottom in fine print, Bruce smiled at the words:

P.S.

Do you think he'd mind if I still stole his wheels again though? Just for kicks.

Maybe, just one wheel? The kids would love it. It's got the batlogo and everything, right?

Bruce felt his eyes go wide.

"Kids?"

If Alfred heard the panic in his voice, he carefully let it not show as Bruce cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"There is an orphanage in the neighborhood of his preferred safehouse. Big fans of the Batman and his family. I believe he'd told them that was how you met."

"I see." Bruce smiled remembering. He handed back the letter. "Now what's this about taking over Gotham?"

Alfred smiled at him. An honest to goodness smile. With teeth and all before he walked away.

"Alfred? Alfred!"