Fic: Progeny | DCU | Jason/Talia | R | 1/1
Title: Progeny
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Talia
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,562
Prompt: For shiny_glor_chan at comment_fic: DCU, Jason Todd/Talia Al Ghul, in a twist of magic, science, and lots of sex with Talia, Damian is Jason's son; For 50_darkfics: Writers Choice: Denial
Summary: When Talia's email throws Jason for a loop, he just wants to get to the bottom of things.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: I told you this one was going long, Gloria! XD Warning for a total disregard for canon, and Talia's long exposition. Also, this falls somewhere in my Jason-is-Batman 'verse, and potentially intersects Jason's 'Lost Days' mini.
Progeny
Dropping into the large chair in front of the computer console to get some research done in prep for the night's patrol and to follow up on some cases he and Tim were working, Jason opened up a few files, took a long swig of his coffee, and got comfortable with the quiet of the Cave. The bats were pretty still tonight, the river down below flowing steadily as always. It was a nice change from the constant crap he had to deal with topside. Not that he had any trouble with Tim or Dick, surprisingly, and definitely not after things had changed between the three of them. It wasn't Alfred, either. No, it was Bruce's damn little brat. Kid was convinced that Tim was too old to be Robin, so he should take over. Said his father would insist on it, if he were alive. Was sure that Bruce would kill Jason himself for sullying the name of the Bat by daring to wear the cowl.
It made Jay want to scream and choke the little jack ass.
But Jason was Batman now, and Batman didn't choke little jack asses, even if they deserved it.
It was all a process. Or so he told himself.
Here in the Cave, he didn't have to hear the brat's constant diatribe against them, didn't have to hold himself back, could relax for a little while before gearing up for a night out in Gotham's funhouse.
Funny, he'd never thought work could be a soothing distraction, even if he had developed an insane amount of laser-precision focus over the years.
Damn brat.
At least Bruce would be proud of him for not offing the kid; his former mentor would probably have been hard pressed to not do it himself.
On that note, Jason opened up his-Jason's, Batman's, whoever's-email, scanned through and deleted the spam. Checked out a few notes from Oracle on a case. Kept his fingers secretly crossed that maybe today would be the day they would get word from someone that Tim's instincts had been right, that Bruce was still out there somewh-
The next to last email in his inbox was sent from the address tag@lazarus.net, and the subject line was blank.
Fuck. Jason knew that email address-or ones like it-like the back of his hand. He'd been in contact with the person at the other end of that email almost constantly for at least a year after they'd parted company.
And Talia Al-Ghul had better have had some damn intel on Bruce, or she could just rot in hell.
His heart in his throat-though he'd be loathe to admit it-Jason clicked on the email.
The body simply read, How is our son? Hope you are both well. The search continues at our end. -T
Jason's brow furrowed as he stared at the screen. What the fuck was she playing at? She knew damn well that Bruce was dead. Or missing. And this inbox was Batm-
Blinking, Jay registered that this was his personal inbox.
Before he could let his mind slide into strange places, his right eye twitching involuntarily, Jason opened up a reply email, and shot back with striking blows to the keyboard, Wrong email, bitch. You know Bruce is fucking gone, so stop playing like he's here. His kid is the same as always-an entitled brat. Thanks for nothing. -J
Hitting the 'send' icon, he slumped back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair.
Fuck patrol. Goddamn Talia, getting under his skin. How is our son? What a crock of shit. And even if part of his brain was too damn curious, he'd have had to be eleven or twelve, and he'd fucking remember that.
Grabbing his coffee, he shut down the computers and got up and out of the Cave right the hell then, grumbling under his breath the whole way.
Now he was gonna have nightmares about siring that little bitch with Talia. Just great.
~*~*~*~
In the morning, after sending Tim off on a shorter patrol alone and sleeping off the insanity that Talia's email had driven into his head, Jason woke to a headache and the hazy idea that something was very much wrong. With everything.
Coffee fixed a good portion of the haziness, though, with the help of a quick chain of cigarettes smoked out on the balcony off his bedroom, but there was still the sense that Talia's email had actually meant something. Like it was a code, or... or something. Shit, he was supposed to be Batman now. The Goddamn Batman, that didn't let shit get by him.
How is our son?
That made about as much sense as a kid climbing out of his own grave, which was to say, not a goddamn bit. It had to be a code. It had to. He just couldn't-
Shaking off the worst of the cobwebs and failing to do the same with the obsessive compulsive loop of what the fuck circling his brain, Jason got showered and dressed, bypassed the actual breakfast that he could smell from all the way upstairs, and headed straight down to the Cave, needing to get back online and check his damn email despite all rationality. He was grateful to not hear the brat's usual barrage of complaints as he went, and with his mind kicking into a whirlwind, he opened up his inbox.
Sure enough, there was another message from Talia.
The pit of his stomach lurched, and he clicked on the email.
I know that, Jason, it read simply. There is a lot that YOU do not know. Will contact you later today.
Jason's throat threatened to close up on him, and with a trembling hand-no, he would never admit that, either-he deleted the message and headed back up for breakfast, no closer to having a damn clue than he was last night. At least he could calm his gut with an omelette or something. And if the brat gave him any crap today, well, he'd better watch out for steel-toed, triple-reinforced boots.
How is our son?
Goddammit!
~*~*~*~
Naturally, Jay's cell phone decided to vibrate in his jeans pocket at the most inappropriate time. Halfway into Gotham on his bike to follow up on a case under-the-radar. He didn't even have his comm link in his ear, for fuck's sake!
But all his grumbling frustration couldn't hold a candle to the flying triple flip his guts did as the phone buzzed again, adrenaline suddenly rushing all the way to his toes. He'd been on edge all damn day, and it was making him jumpy as hell, anticipating the hammer that was sure to drop soon.
Talia.
Finding a secluded alley to pull into, he brought the bike to a stop and fished out his phone, thumbed it open and answered, giving the call ID only a cursory glance to confirm his suspicion, his heart in his throat.
How is our son?
“What?” he spat, nerves shot all to hell.
“Well, I certainly expected a better reception than that,” came Talia's smooth tone from the other end of the line.
“Tough.” Jason swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “What kind of sick game are you playing, huh? I don't have time for this.”
“Testy,” she teased lightly. “Meet me in one hour, La Chaumière, across from Wayne Tower, and you'll get your answers. Dress appropriately; I know you have a suit or ten.”
His frustration boiling over, Jason roared, “Just tell me what the hell you want, Talia!”
But she only made a small, impatient noise. “One hour, La Chaumière. Don't be late.”
And with a soft click, the call was cut, leaving Jason alone with his mounting rage over Talia's cryptic messages and cool demeanor.
Cursing, he threw the phone against the opposite alley wall, pieces flying after slamming against brick, and he ran his hands through his hair. No time to go back to the Manor now; he'd have to hit one of the safe houses for a quick change and a shower, and to hell with his plans for the afternoon.
But how the fuck lunch at a ritzy French restaurant was supposed to amount to anything more than another of Talia's stunts, he had no fucking clue.
~*~*~*~
Straightening his tie-damn lucky he had a suit stashed at the safe house-Jason strode into the restaurant and proceeded to play up the 'reckless Wayne heir' bit as he flagged down a hostess. “Hey, sweetheart,” he smirked as he got the girl's attention. “Smokin' brunette in here waitin' for me?”
The girl only rolled her eyes at him, pointing him to the far left side of the restaurant.
Jay's eyes fell on Talia immediately, her dangerous air hitting him like a strike to the chest, and he headed right for her, weaving a path between tables and not even bothering to thank the hostess. Better to get this shit over with as soon as humanly possible, he thought.
“Jason,” she grinned at him when he reached her, standing briefly to embrace him with a kiss on the cheek. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.”
But Jay had no time or care for pleasantries at this point, his entire brain halfway to shorting out from Talia's cryptic crap, even if her slinky black dress did seem to have been made for distracting him from the point of their meeting. “What the hell is this all about?” he demanded through gritted teeth and a shit-eating grin as he sat opposite her.
A pout, and she huffed, sitting straighter and waving a waiter over to order champagne for both of them. When the server stepped away to fetch their drinks, Talia reached into her clutch, pulled out a tiny flash drive, and slid it across the table to him. “Everything you need to know is there,” she explained. Only part of her attitude seemed to fall away as she went on, “To put it succinctly, Damian is not who you think he is. Father would've loved it if he'd been Bruce's, but that wasn't to be. Never would've happened. But with you, on the other hand-”
Jason waved a hand to cut her off as he felt the pressure of insanity build to dangerous proportions in his head. There was no way she was sitting here telling him that that brat was... was his. But instead of putting an end to this road-trip to crazy-town, he ground out, “Whatever you want to tell me, just spit it out already, Talia.”
The woman across from him blinked. “If that's the way you want it. I was only trying to explain-”
“Get to the point!” he shouted, slamming his palm against the table.
A ripple of gasping shock spread through the restaurant at his outburst, and Talia raised an eyebrow at him. “Be mindful of your surroundings, Jason.” Lowering her voice as the general noise of the restaurant came back up to a normal level, she continued, “Father didn't know I drank from the Pit the day before I took you to my private rooms. He didn't know what you'd given me before I immersed you in the same Lazarus waters. He was so consumed by his own troubles that he wasn't even aware of my pregnancy after I sent you away. And after all that, he was still unaware of Damian's rapid growth from infant to child as the essence of the Pit coursed through our son's small body.
“To this day, he believes I brought Damian out of hiding shortly after you were gone, and that our son is the progeny of my lost beloved. He doesn't know that before I drank from the Pit, I was as barren as the cold moon in the night sky.”
When she stopped at last, Jason didn't know whether to puke or just get up and leave. It was ridiculous. It was insane. It... it was Joker insane. It-
It explained everything.
It explained fucking everything.
The icy shock of sobriety that shot through him froze him all the way to his toes. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He... he had to get the fuck out of here.
Grasping his hand over the table as the waiter brought their champagne, Talia caught his gaze-fuck, he was trapped, fuck!-and started again, “So you see, Damian isn't just yours, he is a product of the Lazarus waters, much as you were for many years. His psyche... it hasn't settled the way yours has. His entire life he's been volatile, angry, and-”
“Entitled,” Jason bit off, feeling he'd been yanked up by his feet and shaken down for loose change. “He's a psychotic brat, Talia.” Getting a little bit of his senses back and grasping at one last straw as he pulled his hand free, he went on, “The DNA tests proved he was Bruce's a long time ago, anyway.”
But Talia clenched her jaw at his assertions, her eyes flashing defensively. “Yes. He's entitled and often full of himself. Why do you think I let Bruce take him from me? Damian was reared to one day become the Head of the Demon, to take Father's place. But that isn't to be, either. Now he needs guidance. He needs a strong hand to show him the path to sanity and kindness, generosity, all the things that my Father's world is severely lacking in. You can provide that as well as my beloved ever could, and it's time you knew the truth so you can give our son those things. And yes, the tests proved him to be Bruce's son. He would never have taken in a child of mine, otherwise. But you'll see that that's no longer the case. Damian's natural genome will have reasserted itself by now. Test him as you will.”
“Oh, I will,” Jason spat in spite of himself and the slowly crystallizing realization that she wasn't fucking lying, even if her timing showed she wouldn't have even told him the truth if Bruce hadn't disappeared. Leaving his drink untouched, he pocketed the flash drive and stood. “Don't bother contacting me again unless you find out anything about Bruce,” he finished, turning to stride right back out of the restaurant and leave this whole crazy conversation in his dust.
Guidance, his ass. What the kid needed was a swift kick in the-
“Jason,” she called after him, her voice a plea, and fuck if that didn't stop him in his tracks.
Turning back, he sneered at her, clenching his fists. “What?”
Her expression was soft. “You don't remember, do you? That night?”
Jay closed his eyes, huffing a breath out his nostrils and hating himself for what he was about to admit, for all the things he'd denied for so long out of self-preservation and his aversion to the kid he now knew-damn him, he knew it was fucking true-was his own. He might have been an amnesiac zombie at the time, but the Pit had made sure that, after the crazy wore off, his mind was intact. Memory and all.
Opening his eyes again, he couldn't stop the pull of a frown on his face as he was torn between loathing and gratitude for the woman that had simultaneously brought him back from his mental wasteland, taken his sanity, and given him a son. However much he hated her-wanted to hate her-for the things she'd done, he couldn't deny that she'd been his lifeline once, tethering him to existence and humanity, and that now, here, her purpose might've been to throw him that lifeline again.
“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I remember.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Talia
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,562
Prompt: For shiny_glor_chan at comment_fic: DCU, Jason Todd/Talia Al Ghul, in a twist of magic, science, and lots of sex with Talia, Damian is Jason's son; For 50_darkfics: Writers Choice: Denial
Summary: When Talia's email throws Jason for a loop, he just wants to get to the bottom of things.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. The schmucks.
Author's Notes: I told you this one was going long, Gloria! XD Warning for a total disregard for canon, and Talia's long exposition. Also, this falls somewhere in my Jason-is-Batman 'verse, and potentially intersects Jason's 'Lost Days' mini.
Progeny
Dropping into the large chair in front of the computer console to get some research done in prep for the night's patrol and to follow up on some cases he and Tim were working, Jason opened up a few files, took a long swig of his coffee, and got comfortable with the quiet of the Cave. The bats were pretty still tonight, the river down below flowing steadily as always. It was a nice change from the constant crap he had to deal with topside. Not that he had any trouble with Tim or Dick, surprisingly, and definitely not after things had changed between the three of them. It wasn't Alfred, either. No, it was Bruce's damn little brat. Kid was convinced that Tim was too old to be Robin, so he should take over. Said his father would insist on it, if he were alive. Was sure that Bruce would kill Jason himself for sullying the name of the Bat by daring to wear the cowl.
It made Jay want to scream and choke the little jack ass.
But Jason was Batman now, and Batman didn't choke little jack asses, even if they deserved it.
It was all a process. Or so he told himself.
Here in the Cave, he didn't have to hear the brat's constant diatribe against them, didn't have to hold himself back, could relax for a little while before gearing up for a night out in Gotham's funhouse.
Funny, he'd never thought work could be a soothing distraction, even if he had developed an insane amount of laser-precision focus over the years.
Damn brat.
At least Bruce would be proud of him for not offing the kid; his former mentor would probably have been hard pressed to not do it himself.
On that note, Jason opened up his-Jason's, Batman's, whoever's-email, scanned through and deleted the spam. Checked out a few notes from Oracle on a case. Kept his fingers secretly crossed that maybe today would be the day they would get word from someone that Tim's instincts had been right, that Bruce was still out there somewh-
The next to last email in his inbox was sent from the address tag@lazarus.net, and the subject line was blank.
Fuck. Jason knew that email address-or ones like it-like the back of his hand. He'd been in contact with the person at the other end of that email almost constantly for at least a year after they'd parted company.
And Talia Al-Ghul had better have had some damn intel on Bruce, or she could just rot in hell.
His heart in his throat-though he'd be loathe to admit it-Jason clicked on the email.
The body simply read, How is our son? Hope you are both well. The search continues at our end. -T
Jason's brow furrowed as he stared at the screen. What the fuck was she playing at? She knew damn well that Bruce was dead. Or missing. And this inbox was Batm-
Blinking, Jay registered that this was his personal inbox.
Before he could let his mind slide into strange places, his right eye twitching involuntarily, Jason opened up a reply email, and shot back with striking blows to the keyboard, Wrong email, bitch. You know Bruce is fucking gone, so stop playing like he's here. His kid is the same as always-an entitled brat. Thanks for nothing. -J
Hitting the 'send' icon, he slumped back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair.
Fuck patrol. Goddamn Talia, getting under his skin. How is our son? What a crock of shit. And even if part of his brain was too damn curious, he'd have had to be eleven or twelve, and he'd fucking remember that.
Grabbing his coffee, he shut down the computers and got up and out of the Cave right the hell then, grumbling under his breath the whole way.
Now he was gonna have nightmares about siring that little bitch with Talia. Just great.
~*~*~*~
In the morning, after sending Tim off on a shorter patrol alone and sleeping off the insanity that Talia's email had driven into his head, Jason woke to a headache and the hazy idea that something was very much wrong. With everything.
Coffee fixed a good portion of the haziness, though, with the help of a quick chain of cigarettes smoked out on the balcony off his bedroom, but there was still the sense that Talia's email had actually meant something. Like it was a code, or... or something. Shit, he was supposed to be Batman now. The Goddamn Batman, that didn't let shit get by him.
How is our son?
That made about as much sense as a kid climbing out of his own grave, which was to say, not a goddamn bit. It had to be a code. It had to. He just couldn't-
Shaking off the worst of the cobwebs and failing to do the same with the obsessive compulsive loop of what the fuck circling his brain, Jason got showered and dressed, bypassed the actual breakfast that he could smell from all the way upstairs, and headed straight down to the Cave, needing to get back online and check his damn email despite all rationality. He was grateful to not hear the brat's usual barrage of complaints as he went, and with his mind kicking into a whirlwind, he opened up his inbox.
Sure enough, there was another message from Talia.
The pit of his stomach lurched, and he clicked on the email.
I know that, Jason, it read simply. There is a lot that YOU do not know. Will contact you later today.
Jason's throat threatened to close up on him, and with a trembling hand-no, he would never admit that, either-he deleted the message and headed back up for breakfast, no closer to having a damn clue than he was last night. At least he could calm his gut with an omelette or something. And if the brat gave him any crap today, well, he'd better watch out for steel-toed, triple-reinforced boots.
How is our son?
Goddammit!
~*~*~*~
Naturally, Jay's cell phone decided to vibrate in his jeans pocket at the most inappropriate time. Halfway into Gotham on his bike to follow up on a case under-the-radar. He didn't even have his comm link in his ear, for fuck's sake!
But all his grumbling frustration couldn't hold a candle to the flying triple flip his guts did as the phone buzzed again, adrenaline suddenly rushing all the way to his toes. He'd been on edge all damn day, and it was making him jumpy as hell, anticipating the hammer that was sure to drop soon.
Talia.
Finding a secluded alley to pull into, he brought the bike to a stop and fished out his phone, thumbed it open and answered, giving the call ID only a cursory glance to confirm his suspicion, his heart in his throat.
How is our son?
“What?” he spat, nerves shot all to hell.
“Well, I certainly expected a better reception than that,” came Talia's smooth tone from the other end of the line.
“Tough.” Jason swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “What kind of sick game are you playing, huh? I don't have time for this.”
“Testy,” she teased lightly. “Meet me in one hour, La Chaumière, across from Wayne Tower, and you'll get your answers. Dress appropriately; I know you have a suit or ten.”
His frustration boiling over, Jason roared, “Just tell me what the hell you want, Talia!”
But she only made a small, impatient noise. “One hour, La Chaumière. Don't be late.”
And with a soft click, the call was cut, leaving Jason alone with his mounting rage over Talia's cryptic messages and cool demeanor.
Cursing, he threw the phone against the opposite alley wall, pieces flying after slamming against brick, and he ran his hands through his hair. No time to go back to the Manor now; he'd have to hit one of the safe houses for a quick change and a shower, and to hell with his plans for the afternoon.
But how the fuck lunch at a ritzy French restaurant was supposed to amount to anything more than another of Talia's stunts, he had no fucking clue.
~*~*~*~
Straightening his tie-damn lucky he had a suit stashed at the safe house-Jason strode into the restaurant and proceeded to play up the 'reckless Wayne heir' bit as he flagged down a hostess. “Hey, sweetheart,” he smirked as he got the girl's attention. “Smokin' brunette in here waitin' for me?”
The girl only rolled her eyes at him, pointing him to the far left side of the restaurant.
Jay's eyes fell on Talia immediately, her dangerous air hitting him like a strike to the chest, and he headed right for her, weaving a path between tables and not even bothering to thank the hostess. Better to get this shit over with as soon as humanly possible, he thought.
“Jason,” she grinned at him when he reached her, standing briefly to embrace him with a kiss on the cheek. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.”
But Jay had no time or care for pleasantries at this point, his entire brain halfway to shorting out from Talia's cryptic crap, even if her slinky black dress did seem to have been made for distracting him from the point of their meeting. “What the hell is this all about?” he demanded through gritted teeth and a shit-eating grin as he sat opposite her.
A pout, and she huffed, sitting straighter and waving a waiter over to order champagne for both of them. When the server stepped away to fetch their drinks, Talia reached into her clutch, pulled out a tiny flash drive, and slid it across the table to him. “Everything you need to know is there,” she explained. Only part of her attitude seemed to fall away as she went on, “To put it succinctly, Damian is not who you think he is. Father would've loved it if he'd been Bruce's, but that wasn't to be. Never would've happened. But with you, on the other hand-”
Jason waved a hand to cut her off as he felt the pressure of insanity build to dangerous proportions in his head. There was no way she was sitting here telling him that that brat was... was his. But instead of putting an end to this road-trip to crazy-town, he ground out, “Whatever you want to tell me, just spit it out already, Talia.”
The woman across from him blinked. “If that's the way you want it. I was only trying to explain-”
“Get to the point!” he shouted, slamming his palm against the table.
A ripple of gasping shock spread through the restaurant at his outburst, and Talia raised an eyebrow at him. “Be mindful of your surroundings, Jason.” Lowering her voice as the general noise of the restaurant came back up to a normal level, she continued, “Father didn't know I drank from the Pit the day before I took you to my private rooms. He didn't know what you'd given me before I immersed you in the same Lazarus waters. He was so consumed by his own troubles that he wasn't even aware of my pregnancy after I sent you away. And after all that, he was still unaware of Damian's rapid growth from infant to child as the essence of the Pit coursed through our son's small body.
“To this day, he believes I brought Damian out of hiding shortly after you were gone, and that our son is the progeny of my lost beloved. He doesn't know that before I drank from the Pit, I was as barren as the cold moon in the night sky.”
When she stopped at last, Jason didn't know whether to puke or just get up and leave. It was ridiculous. It was insane. It... it was Joker insane. It-
It explained everything.
It explained fucking everything.
The icy shock of sobriety that shot through him froze him all the way to his toes. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. He... he had to get the fuck out of here.
Grasping his hand over the table as the waiter brought their champagne, Talia caught his gaze-fuck, he was trapped, fuck!-and started again, “So you see, Damian isn't just yours, he is a product of the Lazarus waters, much as you were for many years. His psyche... it hasn't settled the way yours has. His entire life he's been volatile, angry, and-”
“Entitled,” Jason bit off, feeling he'd been yanked up by his feet and shaken down for loose change. “He's a psychotic brat, Talia.” Getting a little bit of his senses back and grasping at one last straw as he pulled his hand free, he went on, “The DNA tests proved he was Bruce's a long time ago, anyway.”
But Talia clenched her jaw at his assertions, her eyes flashing defensively. “Yes. He's entitled and often full of himself. Why do you think I let Bruce take him from me? Damian was reared to one day become the Head of the Demon, to take Father's place. But that isn't to be, either. Now he needs guidance. He needs a strong hand to show him the path to sanity and kindness, generosity, all the things that my Father's world is severely lacking in. You can provide that as well as my beloved ever could, and it's time you knew the truth so you can give our son those things. And yes, the tests proved him to be Bruce's son. He would never have taken in a child of mine, otherwise. But you'll see that that's no longer the case. Damian's natural genome will have reasserted itself by now. Test him as you will.”
“Oh, I will,” Jason spat in spite of himself and the slowly crystallizing realization that she wasn't fucking lying, even if her timing showed she wouldn't have even told him the truth if Bruce hadn't disappeared. Leaving his drink untouched, he pocketed the flash drive and stood. “Don't bother contacting me again unless you find out anything about Bruce,” he finished, turning to stride right back out of the restaurant and leave this whole crazy conversation in his dust.
Guidance, his ass. What the kid needed was a swift kick in the-
“Jason,” she called after him, her voice a plea, and fuck if that didn't stop him in his tracks.
Turning back, he sneered at her, clenching his fists. “What?”
Her expression was soft. “You don't remember, do you? That night?”
Jay closed his eyes, huffing a breath out his nostrils and hating himself for what he was about to admit, for all the things he'd denied for so long out of self-preservation and his aversion to the kid he now knew-damn him, he knew it was fucking true-was his own. He might have been an amnesiac zombie at the time, but the Pit had made sure that, after the crazy wore off, his mind was intact. Memory and all.
Opening his eyes again, he couldn't stop the pull of a frown on his face as he was torn between loathing and gratitude for the woman that had simultaneously brought him back from his mental wasteland, taken his sanity, and given him a son. However much he hated her-wanted to hate her-for the things she'd done, he couldn't deny that she'd been his lifeline once, tethering him to existence and humanity, and that now, here, her purpose might've been to throw him that lifeline again.
“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I remember.”
~*~*~*~