Fic: Why
Title: Why
Characters: Bruce, Jason
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,241
Summary: Bruce tries to put his thoughts in a letter.
Author’s Notes: This bunny grabbed hold and demanded to be written. Thank you darthbatgirl for betaing :)
In all the time Jason had been in his life-before and after-he never asked the most obvious question. As Bruce sits at his desk in the study he finds himself pondering a single word and all the complexities of its answer.
Why? Why had he taken in Jason?
With Dick it had just been a given. He’d failed the boy, failed his parents. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anything he could have done, he’d been left an orphan with no one to take care of him. It only made sense that Bruce Wayne would step up and take him in. He’d never intended for the boy to join him in his nightly crusade; that had come later.
But with Jason, everything had been different.
Examining those differences in the peace of his mind is a terrifying thing in its own right. Putting off such inner reflection would be easy. He knows. He’s done it before. But not now. He owes Jason this much at least.
Bruce’s mother had been very fond of writing letters. And his father had kept many journals. Once he’d asked his mother about it, since the letters were to people she would see on a weekly basis. She told him that putting the words on paper helped her to remember what was important and to think things through. She had meant it in terms of sharing amusing tales.
His father had given him the same answer another time, but for him, it was more about organizing his own thoughts and in some cases, gaining much needed perspective. He spares a moment to give thanks to their wisdom.
From his desk be pulls a clean sheet of paper and picked up the first pen to come to hand.
Jason,
I owe you an explanation. I owe you many, but here and now I will tell you my reasons for bringing you into this life for that is what I did and always planned to do.
When I began my mission I was alone save for Alfred. I thought I worked best on my own. Yes I cooperated with the police, but it was always on my terms. I had no partner. Then one terrible night at the circus I found myself bringing another into my life. I told myself that it would only be Bruce Wayne’s life, not Batman’s. But Dick was a cleaver child and had so much rage in his heart. Despite what I’d promised myself, he joined me in the Cave and shared the Mission with me.
I watched him learn and grow. He was the light in the darkness and more than once he kept me from the darkness of my own soul. My pride in him knew no bounds.
The night I fired him was the worst night of my life, second only to the death of my parents. I told myself that it was for the best. I had watched him handle himself on solo assignments and with the Teen Titans. Competent is not a strong enough word. Yet when he would go out with me on patrol he would become sloppy and take unnecessary chances. The only reason I could come up with was that I made him nervous for some reason. To this day I don’t know if I was right.
So I fired him and forced him out and with him all the joy Wayne Manor had come to know. All the light that I had taken for granted. Gone.
I soldiered on, keeping contact with him to a minimum and refusing to admit how desperately lonely I had become. Then one day, I found a boy, stealing the tires of my car. Not just any car, but the Batmobile. I have met many people in my life, but none were so audacious as the street rat I encountered that day. I laughed. For the first time in a very long time, I laughed. It felt so seductively good. I couldn’t let it pass, so after I made you put the tires back on, I had to take you home. I had to have you with me.
Please don’t think I ever meant for you to be Dick’s replacement. That’s not how I saw you. You were so very different but no less wonderful. I think that I saw myself in you. You were so determined, so angry. A survivor in every sense of the word, but also a child who could and did take pleasure from the little things in life.
I tried to reason with myself, I tried to find you a better home which instead turned into a fiasco. Then you insisted on helping me take down that ‘school’ of criminals. What’s worse, you did a very good job and I felt my resolve slipping. So I took you back with me, reasoning that it was for your own good, that I could keep you out of trouble if I gave you something to focus on.
I am a very selfish man and have many, many years experience with self-deception. You are the one that paid for my failings.
Understand that I was proud of you, Jason. You wore the suit well and helped so very many people.
One would thing that after my years with Dick, I’d know something about parenting young vigilantes, but I didn’t. I had hampered myself by promising dick that I would never try to be a father him, that I would never replace the memory of his parents. Then there was you, who had no use for a father. I thought it would work best if I could be a partner to you. It wasn’t enough. Maybe if I’d been the father you didn’t want, you wouldn’t have run off to find your mother. Maybe if I had been, I would have stayed closer and been then there when it all went so very wrong.
But I wasn’t. And you died.
All I can say is I am sorry, yet I know it will never, ever, be enough.
Then you came back and I was too wrapped up in my own pain to do what you needed, to reach out and show you that you still and always mattered. A second time I lost you because of my selfishness.
Now I sit here with pen to paper, and I don’t know what to say. I have accepted that there is no way I can make up for the many wrongs I have done you. But still I hope.
Jason. I want you to come home. I want another chance to do the right thing, because I am a selfish man and you mean so very much to me.
Sincerely,
Bruce
Sitting back in the plush chair he looks at the fluid handwriting on the paper. He frowns. There is a spot of moisture near his signature, marring the perfection the script. He blows on it, trying to dry it and watching the paper warp a little as a result.
Strong fingers deftly fold the page into precise thirds. For a moment he holds it, considering, his face a blank mask. Finally he reaches over and opens the side drawer, carefully placing the letter inside. There is a long moment where all he can do is look at it nestled so innocently among the rest of the stationary. Then he closes it and stands.
It’s time for Patrol.
Characters: Bruce, Jason
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,241
Summary: Bruce tries to put his thoughts in a letter.
Author’s Notes: This bunny grabbed hold and demanded to be written. Thank you darthbatgirl for betaing :)
In all the time Jason had been in his life-before and after-he never asked the most obvious question. As Bruce sits at his desk in the study he finds himself pondering a single word and all the complexities of its answer.
Why? Why had he taken in Jason?
With Dick it had just been a given. He’d failed the boy, failed his parents. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anything he could have done, he’d been left an orphan with no one to take care of him. It only made sense that Bruce Wayne would step up and take him in. He’d never intended for the boy to join him in his nightly crusade; that had come later.
But with Jason, everything had been different.
Examining those differences in the peace of his mind is a terrifying thing in its own right. Putting off such inner reflection would be easy. He knows. He’s done it before. But not now. He owes Jason this much at least.
Bruce’s mother had been very fond of writing letters. And his father had kept many journals. Once he’d asked his mother about it, since the letters were to people she would see on a weekly basis. She told him that putting the words on paper helped her to remember what was important and to think things through. She had meant it in terms of sharing amusing tales.
His father had given him the same answer another time, but for him, it was more about organizing his own thoughts and in some cases, gaining much needed perspective. He spares a moment to give thanks to their wisdom.
From his desk be pulls a clean sheet of paper and picked up the first pen to come to hand.
Jason,
I owe you an explanation. I owe you many, but here and now I will tell you my reasons for bringing you into this life for that is what I did and always planned to do.
When I began my mission I was alone save for Alfred. I thought I worked best on my own. Yes I cooperated with the police, but it was always on my terms. I had no partner. Then one terrible night at the circus I found myself bringing another into my life. I told myself that it would only be Bruce Wayne’s life, not Batman’s. But Dick was a cleaver child and had so much rage in his heart. Despite what I’d promised myself, he joined me in the Cave and shared the Mission with me.
I watched him learn and grow. He was the light in the darkness and more than once he kept me from the darkness of my own soul. My pride in him knew no bounds.
The night I fired him was the worst night of my life, second only to the death of my parents. I told myself that it was for the best. I had watched him handle himself on solo assignments and with the Teen Titans. Competent is not a strong enough word. Yet when he would go out with me on patrol he would become sloppy and take unnecessary chances. The only reason I could come up with was that I made him nervous for some reason. To this day I don’t know if I was right.
So I fired him and forced him out and with him all the joy Wayne Manor had come to know. All the light that I had taken for granted. Gone.
I soldiered on, keeping contact with him to a minimum and refusing to admit how desperately lonely I had become. Then one day, I found a boy, stealing the tires of my car. Not just any car, but the Batmobile. I have met many people in my life, but none were so audacious as the street rat I encountered that day. I laughed. For the first time in a very long time, I laughed. It felt so seductively good. I couldn’t let it pass, so after I made you put the tires back on, I had to take you home. I had to have you with me.
Please don’t think I ever meant for you to be Dick’s replacement. That’s not how I saw you. You were so very different but no less wonderful. I think that I saw myself in you. You were so determined, so angry. A survivor in every sense of the word, but also a child who could and did take pleasure from the little things in life.
I tried to reason with myself, I tried to find you a better home which instead turned into a fiasco. Then you insisted on helping me take down that ‘school’ of criminals. What’s worse, you did a very good job and I felt my resolve slipping. So I took you back with me, reasoning that it was for your own good, that I could keep you out of trouble if I gave you something to focus on.
I am a very selfish man and have many, many years experience with self-deception. You are the one that paid for my failings.
Understand that I was proud of you, Jason. You wore the suit well and helped so very many people.
One would thing that after my years with Dick, I’d know something about parenting young vigilantes, but I didn’t. I had hampered myself by promising dick that I would never try to be a father him, that I would never replace the memory of his parents. Then there was you, who had no use for a father. I thought it would work best if I could be a partner to you. It wasn’t enough. Maybe if I’d been the father you didn’t want, you wouldn’t have run off to find your mother. Maybe if I had been, I would have stayed closer and been then there when it all went so very wrong.
But I wasn’t. And you died.
All I can say is I am sorry, yet I know it will never, ever, be enough.
Then you came back and I was too wrapped up in my own pain to do what you needed, to reach out and show you that you still and always mattered. A second time I lost you because of my selfishness.
Now I sit here with pen to paper, and I don’t know what to say. I have accepted that there is no way I can make up for the many wrongs I have done you. But still I hope.
Jason. I want you to come home. I want another chance to do the right thing, because I am a selfish man and you mean so very much to me.
Sincerely,
Bruce
Sitting back in the plush chair he looks at the fluid handwriting on the paper. He frowns. There is a spot of moisture near his signature, marring the perfection the script. He blows on it, trying to dry it and watching the paper warp a little as a result.
Strong fingers deftly fold the page into precise thirds. For a moment he holds it, considering, his face a blank mask. Finally he reaches over and opens the side drawer, carefully placing the letter inside. There is a long moment where all he can do is look at it nestled so innocently among the rest of the stationary. Then he closes it and stands.
It’s time for Patrol.