Jason couldn't recall the exact sequence of events that lead to him being back in the Manor. Back in the bed that he had spent his early teens in, whacking off to the thought of being Robin and tearing a swath through the Gotham underworld. He would have objected if he had been in his right mind, but he had been to distraught to focus long enough to stop Bruce and Alfred loading them all into the car. So, here he was.

He had slept for an hour or two, completely wrung out by the events of the past few days. When he woke, it was with a clearer head, and in many ways, a lighter heart. It was all out in the open now – he just had to weather the consequences, but the crippling guilt no longer felt like it was going to burst out of him in some sort of toxic explosion. It was progress.

He sat up in bed to find Bruce sitting across the room.

A great start.

Bruce was stony faced, but beside him was Jason's new prosthetic. That was surprising. B was far too used to fighting his battles tooth and nail to offer up a potential tool to an enemy. That meant it might be some form of peace offering. If that was the case, it was possible that if he could control his temper and if Bruce would just listen to him without making snap judgements or agree to disagree on a few things, then they might be able to come out of this mess with the possibility of at least having a civil relationship. Something Jason wanted for Dick and Tim's sake, as well as his own.

"Jason," Bruce rumbled.

Jason pushed himself up against the headboard in response to that tone of voice, he just couldn't help himself.

"I understand that the trauma you and Dick both shared has forged a tight bond between you, and that is partly my fault for leaving you both to deal with the situation alone. I should have offered you more support. I plan to rectify that now. But the relationship has to end, it's unbalanced and unhealthy."

Jason has been expecting the attack, when it came, to be about the bomb, not he and Dick's relationship. He may have got his hopes up a little early. Jason sighed, loudly and with all the frustration and tiredness he felt. "Bruce, I'm going to say this as politely as possible, and I'm going to use small words so that you understand: It's none of your damn business, so back off."

Bruce's brows drew down, and his jaw took on the same stubborn set that Dick's did when he was going to behave insufferably.

"It's not up to you, it's up to Dick," Jason tired again. "He's the one calling the shots right now. He was the one that instigated this, I spent a great deal of time trying to rebuff him, even though I didn't really want to, I know it's a bad idea. I know it's fucked up and weird, but it's come to a point that I don't give a crap. He wants to be with me for some God forsaken reason? Then I'm all in. If he wants me to leave and never come back, he has more than earned the right to expect that of me and I will do it." He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry at the thought. He wasn't sure if he was even convincing himself, but it was true."Go interrogate Dick if you don't believe me."

Bruce made a tiny facial expression that Jason translated as discomfort.

"Goddamn it, old man. If you're going to attempt more input into Dick's well-being you're going to have to get over the sex thing. I know It's not what any parent wants to deal with, but Dick's not particularly subtle with his sexuality any more. He's said things about people that I wish I could wipe from my memory, but you just have to learn how to deal with it. You have to, Bruce."

"What people?" Bruce asked dubiously, and in Jason's opinion, foolishly.

"Shall I start with Talia and move smoothly through to Slade Wilson? Not enough brain bleach in the world for that one."

Bruce made another tiny facial expression. Horror, maybe disgust, Jason decided this time.

"Yeah. It's gross, but it's just part of who he is. We all have those nasty thoughts, it's just his follow through and come out his mouth."

There was a new expression on Bruce's face, but Jason couldn't quite identify it. He shifted awkwardly and wished he didn't have to have these kind of discussions when he was in his underwear in bed, it made him feel vulnerable.

Bruce leaned forward a fraction of an inch and steepled his fingers together "So, Jason," he said, voice even, like the uncomfortable conversation they had just shared had happened in some alternate dimension. "What do you suggest Dick needs?"

This was a test. Bruce was clearly waiting to trap him in some way. But Jason was so over jumping through hoops for people. And he was kind of done with lying, even through omission. The past six months had more than taught him how toxic that shit could be. So the truth it was.

"What Dick needs, Bruce, first and foremost is his family, his friends and community. Hell, despite his very obvious problems with verbal diarrhoea, he's still somehow making friends. Ms Singh from number 29 barely speaks English but they still manage to hang out. He even charmed her over-protective grandson into parrot sitting once. Did you know Dick speaks passable Urdu? Apparently it's similar enough to Hindi to communicate."

Bruce smiled slightly, a tiny twitch of his lips, "He has always had a head for languages."

"It's a very Dick thing to be good at," Jason felt his own lips curve up into a wry smile.

"So you're suggesting I spend more down time with him?"

"Yeah, but not too much. You know you'll just fight like you always do. But he needs more than your company, he needs you to be open with him. Show you love him, but tell him too. You remember that time you came over after the vet stabbing incident and he told you he loved you?"

"I do. I didn't realise you had heard that conversation."

"I was flat out on the sofa, I heard it all. Anyway, when we spoke after and he was confused because he thought he told you that he loved you all time. That disconnect was disturbing to him. He needs to know that expressing himself is okay, he needs to know where his boundaries are and he needs to know that people still love him, even when he says Slade Wilson is the hottest villain he knows. Which is wrong on so many levels it's nearly a disowning offence."

While he watched Bruce struggle through another small facial tic of horror, it occurred to Jason that this could be the thing that finally mended the rift between Dick and Bruce, the one that had been there before Jason had come into the picture and put on the pixie boots. The love between them was obvious and strong, despite their tendency to come to blows over the simplest of things. It was the source of so much of Jason's jealousy when he was younger, and if he was honest with himself, now too. Maybe Tim was onto something when he said they had gained as well as lost.

Bruce remained silent, he seemed to be digesting Jason's words rather than tearing into him for speaking his mind, so he figured he could push his luck a little. "On top of that, he needs proper help, his wild emotions and violent responses hurt him more than they ever hurt me. He needs to feel in control of his actions again. I know a little something about that myself," he admitted ruefully.

Bruce was staring at him, another one of those inscrutable expressions on his face. "You really care about him, don't you?"

"Of course I fucking do! That's the whole point, Bruce!"

"Be that as it may, my opinion about your relationship hasn't changed, Jason. I think it's unhealthy and morally ambiguous at best."

"You're going to lecture me about moral ambiguity? You? Who has been banging Catwoman, and Talia Al Ghul for fucksake? And God knows who else, you do seem to have a thing for the villains. And it seems to have rubbed off on Dick some, what with his currant weird fixation with Deathstroke. It's no surprise that he's latched onto me too."'

Bruce was scowling at him, but then seemed to get his emotions in check. He drew in a tired sounding breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "It's not because you're a 'villain,' Jason, although all our lives would be easier if you stopped killing people. My life would be much less morally conflicted if you did."

"Because you want to put me in jail?"

"Because the law is for everyone. And yes," Bruce held up a hand to stop Jason's retort. "Yes, I know we also break the law, but the line has to be drawn somewhere. I don't want you to go to jail, but if you murder people in cold blood, then I am obligated to put you there."

"But now you won't because it will piss Dick off, and you wouldn't want that."

"Talking with you is an exercise in frustration."

Jason was kind of impressed that he could still make Bruce get the particular look of aggravation on his face. Alfred and Dick used to refer to it as the 'Jay special.'

Bruce drew in another calming breath and continued in a surprisingly measured tone. "Even so, that was not the point I was going to make. It's not about your status as a 'criminal.'"

Jason could hear the quote marks and it made him seethe. But he miraculously managed to hold his tongue.

Bruce leant forward again, face serious. "It's because A. Dick is your adopted brother, and that doesn't sit well with me, and won't sit well with the rest of the League or anyone else. And B. he has brain damage. I'm not sure how much he can consent to this. I don't think it would have happened at all if he hadn't been injured."

Jason sat straighter and placed his foot on the floor, covering his stump with the blanket. "Okay, let's start with point A, before I ream you the fuck out over point B."

Bruce mirrored Jason's position. A challenge, the prick. Jason wanted nothing more than to go to to toe with him, but he could hardly do that when he couldn't stand unaided and his prosthetic was the other side of the room.

"If Dick was banging Tim, or Cass, that would be one thing. But me? We spent time together before I died, sure, but it wasn't brotherly, it might have become that, if things had been different, but that wasn't the way the dice fell. It's more like if two overly competitive childhood friends hooked up. And we didn't even spend that much time together out of uniform, you made damn sure of that by constantly comparing us. You made me feel inferior, so I resented him. You made him feel like he was being replaced as your son as well as Robin so he resented me. That was fucking shit, B, you fucked us over good."

Bruce opened his mouth, but Jason waved him off, he was warming to his rant now. "And I don't give a fuck what you or the League or the papers think about it. Jason Todd, adopted son of Bruce Wayne, died. I don't have a legal name any more, not one that's actually mine. And you didn't even adopt Dick until he was twenty! So in the eyes of the law, we ain't even related."

He sat back to watch Bruce sort through that. Disappointingly, he was keeping his face tightly controlled, with none of his usual tells on display.

"And the second issue?" Bruce asked, after a moment.

Jason held back the smug smile that wanted to creep onto his face. He had so won that round. "Are you going to ban Dick from having relationships or sex of any kind?"

Bruce looked vaguely constipated, his eyes narrowing with realisation of where this was going to go, but he said nothing, so Jason continued, "Just because he has brain damage, doesn't mean he's not a person who has needs and wants. And what he really wants, is much the same as it has always been – a strong and sappy romantic relationship – and sex has always been a part of that for him. You can't deny him that. You didn't like Kory, but you couldn't stop him having a relationship with her. And you can't choose for him now, either. He's not a drooling vegetable, he can make his own decisions, although they are often impulsive and stupid, to be fair."

Bruce digested that for a moment, while Jason resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He wished he had his prosthetic on, he felt vulnerable without it.

"You've changed, Jason," Bruce said at last.

Jason scoffed. "No I haven't, you're just seeing me different."

Bruce stood, and Jason tensed, but there was no threat in his posture or face, so he forced himself to relax slightly.

"That may be true, too. But you have changed," Bruce said, he picked up the prosthetic and lay it next to Jason's bed.

"I haven't," Jason said stubbornly.

"You have."

"Have not!" This was a game Bruce would play with him as a kid, when Jason was attempting to bullshit his way into doing something stupid, like going on patrol with stomach flu. It was bittersweet now.

Bruce's lips twitched again. "Well, maybe not completely. But you have grown, we would never have been able to have this conversation six months ago."

"I've had a crash course in controlling my temper. It hardly counts as amazing personal growth."

"You still can't take a compliment."

"You still haven't given me one."

Bruce sighed, but he still seemed amused. "Why must my family all be so stubborn?" he mused as he headed for the door.

"Karma," Jason muttered, loudly. Trying not to show his emotions on his face.

"Well, be that as it may, consider this your compliment: Your insight into Dick's needs and behaviour and your obvious… affection for him, does you a great deal of credit. Rest now. I will think on what you've said, and speak to Dick when he wakes up."

"Okay," Jason said, stupidly.

Jason was left feeling conflicted. There was a measure of forgiveness there, but the anger was also still simmering. Neither of them had apologised for the hurtful words said before – which in Jason's opinion meant they were still out there, festering. And Bruce was never going to be okay with this relationship, that much was obvious. Jason could live with that, but could Dick? Would they even be a relationship after the dust settled?

Feeling suddenly anxious Jason slipped to edge of the bed and began putting on his new prosthetic. It was a perfect fit, and instantly made him feel more centred. So much so he didn't even panic when the door opened while he was still in his shorts, contemplating his new leg.

"Hey," Tim said, pushing into the room without even a by your leave. He was carrying two steaming mugs in his hands though, so Jason was inclined to forgive him.

"Earl Grey with milk, you heathen," Tim said, handing over the cup of tea in his right hand and casually sitting in the chair Bruce had vacated.

"Thanks." Jason casually attempted to put his pants on, without looking like he was flustered. Tim just sipped his tea impassively. "I thought you were grounded?" Jason asked.

Tim shrugged. "He's not the boss of me."

"Yes he is, you breaking the rules to come see me?"

Tim sniffed. "It's hardly breaking the rules if it's still within the house I live in. That went okay didn't it?" He looked mildly smug.

"You were watching," Jason said flatly. Because of course he was.

"Surveillance is how we show love."

"Yeah? Well it's creepy and weird."

Tim just lifted a casual shoulder. "What now?"

Good question. Jason didn't want to stay here and he didn't want to be alone, alone he would start thinking about the things Bruce had said. Whether he was just lashing, out or if his words had come from the heart, didn't matter, some of that shit had cut deep. "You missed the first show down," Jason said, following his own line of thought. "It wasn't so nice."

"You know he probably didn't mean anything awful he said. He loves you."

"Loved me. Young, starry-eyed me. Not the person I am now, not the fuck up screwing his favourite son. Or trying to anyway."

Tim made a moue of distaste, but didn't otherwise comment on the sex thing. "He finds you hard to deal with – hard to categorize. You make him feel very conflicted emotions so he responds aggressively. Dick does the same thing when he's wound up. Even before the head injury it could be brutal."

"Yeah, B didn't like that comparison."

"You do like to go the hard route don't you?"

"Seems to be that way. Anyway, I guess I can't do much except leave. I agree with Bruce when he suggests me and Dick spend some time apart. So I need to see if he wants the apartment. I have other places I can go."

Tim's brows drew down, and his mouth opened, to give some, no doubt infuriatingly good advice, when he was cut off by a screech from the hall.

"Clunk fizz!" That ear-splitting yell was followed up by some scuffling and a cry of, "Fucknugget!"

Tim and Jason looked at each other of a moment, before getting up and heading to the door. Jason opened it to find PB looking shifty and slightly ruffled. Behind him, the huge, hulking form of Titus was staring at him intently, his ears pricked forward and his head cocked curiously.

"Motherfucker," PB tried, eyeing Titus suspiciously.

Titus gave a soft, 'woof' and wagged his tail.

"Made a friend, PB?" Jason asked, as the parrot sidled over and began climbing his pant leg.

"Motherfucker," PB said again.

"Woof," Titus said.

"I think they're communicating," Tim was still sipping his tea, and looked very amused.

"Yeah, it's like fucking Disney in here." If PB was wandering the halls, where was Dick? There was never a freaking moment of downtime in Jason's life, what with Dick and the Parrot and his high maintenance family. "Do you think we need to mount a search party?" he asked.

"No, Dick is with B, they probably left the door open. PB isn't a big fan of his namesake, so maybe he slipped out to come and complain about it to you."

"Is that what happened?" Jason asked the bird, looking into his beady eye as he perched on his shoulder. He belatedly realised he must sound like an idiot, asking a bird a question like he was expecting an answer.

"Motherfucker," PB told him, sullenly.

"Woof!" Titus wagged his tail again.

"Okay then," Jason said. "I'm going the fuck back to bed."

Jason next woke as the bed shifted beside him. A moment of panic was followed by recognition.

"Hey, Dick."

"Hey, Jay." Dick reached out and ran gentle fingers over the bruises on Jason's face. "I'm sorry," he said.

Jason closed his eyes, but otherwise remained still under the caressing touch. "You have nothing to be sorry for. And I have too much. I would give my life to take it back."

"I know. I know you regret what happened. I just wished you would have told me sooner. And I wish I had better control of how I react to things. I can't stand this violence in me."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, maybe you did, in theory. But not in practice. It's the last thing in the world I want to do. I was mad enough I could have killed you."

"But you didn't."

"This time."

Jason wanted to protest that, but there was truth in it. He could hold his own in a fight against Dick, he would probably lose, but he could defend himself. But if Dick had taken a gun out and threatened to shoot him, he would have let him. And as ridiculously unlikely as that particular scenario was, the emotional clusterfuck behind it was dangerous, for both of them.

"I think it's a good idea if I stay here for a while," Dick said, quietly.

Jason was glad of the darkness in the room, he didn't think he would be able to hide the pain on his face otherwise. "You can take the apartment," he said, and he thought his voice sounded mostly impassive.

"I don't need it. Bruce is getting me some specialist help. Lots of it apparently, and time apart is a good idea. I need to process and learn to control my feelings more."

"You can still have the apartment, though. It wouldn't feel right staying in it without you." He didn't think he could stand it, being there alone and knowing how he had fucked up their lives, how he had fucked up this stupid relationship, which was always destined to be a disaster. God, he felt like shit.

Dick poked him on his bruised cheekbone. "Why do you sound so weird, do you have a cold coming on? Or did I break your nose? Anyway, you may as well stay, it has all your cripple gear already there, and that's harder to move than my brain damage stuff."

Despite himself, and his regret and guilt and grief, Jason snorted with laughter. Cripple gear and brain-damage stuff? Such a Dick thing to say, in both senses of the word.

"And anyway," Dick said, poking him again, "It won't be forever, I can come visit, and I'll move back eventually."

That was unexpected and let in a flood of glorious hope. Confusion and hope were uncomfortable bedfellows and Jason reached out and grabbed Dick's fingers "You're coming back?"

"Er, yeah?" Dick sounded perplexed. "That is, if you want me to?"

Jason leaned to the side and switched the bedside lamp on, blinking at Dick in the sudden light. "So you're just staying here for therapy? You're not actually breaking up with me? I kind of need you to clarify."

"Break up with you? Over a bit of violence and being blown up? Nah." Dick pushed at him, "Shove over, there's room in here for two."

"Fucknugget."

"Sorry, PB. Room in here for three."

Jason sighed and shuffled over a bit, laying back and looking at the ceiling. It was the same as it had been when he was a kid. The whole room was kind of stuck in time. But everything else about the boy he had been had changed, was still changing. He wasn't sure how he felt about those shifts yet. Dick pulled back the covers and let in all the chill air before clambering in beside him. PB walked across Jason's face and over to Dick, who scooped him up and cuddled him like he was a fluffy kitten and not a half bald dinorat.

"So no, I don't want to break up with you, Jason." Dick said, after a moment. "I just need a little distance to get my head on straight."

"Why wouldn't you though?" Jason asked, baffled. "After everything?"

"Because I am totally and disgustingly in love with you, you dope."

"Oh," Jason said.

Dick snorted. "Oh he says, oh. Romance is not your strong suit is it? Nor is sex really, I guess, but I'm sure we can work on it."

"Yeah thanks for that, Dickface."

"For what?"

"Never mind. Bruce is going to have an aneurysm if he catches you in my bed tomorrow."

"Don't care."

"You're a rebel."

Dick leaned over and kissed him on the nose. "I'm the original rebel wonder, don't n ya know."

"I did it better." Jason was aware there was a dopey smile on his face but he couldn't seem to tramp it down.

Dick waved an imperious hand above their heads. "You died, so it doesn't count."

"Ass,"

"Cooter flooter."

"That's still not a thing, Dick. Stop trying to make cooter flooter happen."

"I can't believe you've seen mean girls!" Dick said, delighted.

Jason decided not to remind him that they had in fact watched it together, not that long ago. The occasional gaps in Dick's memory still upset him and Jason didn't want to ruin this moment.

Dick snuggled down and into Jason's space, so they were sharing the pillow. Unlike the first few times it had happened, having Dick invade his personal bubble felt pleasant and something in his chest loosened a little.

"I'm going to see the social worker tomorrow. Will you come too?" Dick asked.

"Don't ruin the moment," Jason said, and he could hear the whine in his own voice. He hated that sanctimonious asshat.

"Will you?"

"I guess, if I have to." He would do whatever it took. But he didn't have to like it.

"Because you love me too?"

"I guess, for my sins," Jason sighed after a moment. God knows how it had happened, but he was kind of disgustingly, stupidly in love right back.

"You say the sweetest things," Dick said with a smile in his voice.

"I know I do, I'm charming that way."

"Anything to add, PB?" Dick asked. "Do you love us too?"

PB seemed to think about that for a moment, then ruffled his feathers and settled down on the pillow. "Woof," he said, decisively.

Dick chuckled, the sound reverberating through Jason's body, it felt good and he grinned into the darkness. He was missing a leg, and a working penis, but he had Dick and PB and Tim and some sort of semi truce with B. All things considered things were actually pretty awesome. There was still a long way to go, but he felt at peace and more hopeful than he probably had a right to be.