Work Text:
"Please, Jason, stay home tonight," his older brother pleads.
In the dim lighting of the Batcave, Jason blinks slowly, holding his bike helmet in his hands, head low, his discolored bangs long enough to drop over his eyes. He laughs a bitter, resigned sound, a laugh that reeks of disappointment and exhaustion. It's not that easy, he thinks. There's no home for him to go back to, not really. It's not the same.
In the beginning, it had been because he hated the thought of them. Jason hadn't wanted to come back, not when his people still suffered on his streets everyday; not when his murderer still ran free to harm others; not when his father, the person who was supposed to protect him, hadn't avenged his death.
Now, all Jason felt was tired. He was tired of trying, tired of giving Bruce an olive branch only to be betrayed once more, to have his feelings disregarded in favor of the mission. He was tired of giving out his soul and to have it ripped away from him without any comfort. The family could say all they wanted about loving Jason and missing him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they would leave him again, before Bruce would sacrifice his heart for another cause only to later come back with a look of sorrow and a promise to do better.
Jason breathes in, out. He nods, forcing a small smile that shouldn't fool anyone who truly knew him, but that makes his older brother smile back at him hesitantly, worry in his face but hope in his eyes. No one knew him anymore.
He lets himself get pulled into a hug and closes his eyes against his brother's shoulder; thinking, dreading, yearning.
Fearing.