Chapter Text
Reckless. Foolish. Shrapnel. Murderer. Untrustworthy. Unwanted. Alone. Irredeemable.
Those were words Jason Todd had finally begun thinking maybe, just maybe, weren't true about him anymore. It had been a long process to even acknowledge the possibility that they could ever be untrue about him. They were words that had branded themselves on the deepest parts of him, twining binding cords around the very fiber of his being until he found he couldn't think of himself as other than what those brands were, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.
Yet, in the past months, he had found himself wondering. Wondering if those things were untrue. If he might actually be something other than what those words deemed him.
It started with Tim wanting to do a team-up in costume; then Dick randomly asked his opinion on different food places around the city, and finally asked Jason to join him to try one of them; then Damian requesting, in his own prickly way, for Jason's assistance in handling a teacher issue at school.
It made his mind stir, trying to figure out the puzzle that was being presented to him. If he really were untrustworthy and unwanted, like those brands told him he was, then none of those things would happen. Yet they had.
And it just kept going from there.
He at first tried to keep them all at arm's distance. Not because he hated them or disliked them; in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was because he knew what he was--or he thought he did--and he had made peace with that. But if he had to face his family confirming it to his face, then he would be crushed under the weight of it.
He, ultimately, didn't get crushed. Instead, he crumbled in the face of his brothers' persistence.
He found himself at Dick and Tim's apartments more often, and for more random reasons. Sometimes it was spontaneous after a hard patrol and one of them told him to just sleep on the couch since it was closer than any of his places; sometimes it was them inviting him over to work on a case; sometimes it was an invite to just watch a movie.
Until the day he found himself utterly appalled at the state of Tim's fridge.
It led to a grocery run and late night cooking his younger brother. It was supposed to be a one time deal, something to keep the kid from passing out on patrol or while he was driving home from WE. But when Dick heard about it, he practically pouted the entire day and needled Jason through their entire patrol that night about how he never got any of Jason's cooking and how unfair that was.
He finally annoyed (well, "annoyed" was what Jason was going to call the confusing, pleasant feeling in his chest because no he was not going to acknowledge that Dick Golden Boy Grayson might actually want to spend time with his reckless, foolish, unlovable, untrustworthy, murderous younger brother and what he was actually feeling was the hope the he was actually loved) Jason enough that he caved with a snapped, "Fine, Dickface. I'll make you a fucking omelette if you'll just shut up," over the comms. He grumbled at Dick's happy crowing over the line, but the feeling in his chest cautiously grew a bit more, especially when Damian added, "If Nightwing gets to partake in this meal, I see no reason why I should not get to sample some of Hood's supposedly acceptable cooking."
And from there, for the past fourteen months, it had just continued. Hesitantly, warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop, Jason slowly allowed his family to start having larger and larger roles in his life. Interacting with them was a source of confusion at first; the words that had seared themselves on his mind and woven their way so deeply into his view of himself that he readily and often balked at the new words his family seemed to apply to him.
Worthwhile. Welcome. Wanted. Trusted. Reconciled. Loved.
Slowly, the chains of the old words started to slip. Slip and slide and release their hold from his bruised and bloodied self.
Even so, there was a seed of doubt. That seed that wondered if it was just a matter of time and those old words would be undeniably proven true. If these new words were just a sick fantasy that he was allowing himself to indulge in.
That was the nagging, prickling thought at the back of his mind when he found himself at the manor for the first time in quite a while. He had been in the cave a lot, but had never had the confidence to wander up to the manor. The cave was Batman's domain, and Batman and Red Hood had a functional and even slightly amiable relationship currently. The manor, though, was Bruce's domain. And Bruce and Jason had a lot of things they still needed to work out.
The only reason he was up here was because he was bone tired from a long day and really wanted some sleep before he went on patrol. And Alfred had promised him food, which he would never say no to if he could help it.
So he'd laid down on a couch, attempting to get his nap. It wasn't even three minutes before Tim had entered the room and promptly sat on his legs. Jason grumbled at him to go find somewhere else to do whatever he was doing, but the kid just shrugged and said that it would be kind of hard since what he was doing was enjoying annoying Jason. Jason closed his eyes and turned his face into the couch cushion, hiding the pleased feeling that his bad attitude was no longer enough to scare Tim away.
His breathing was getting slower when Dick and Damian walked in. Jason startled slightly at hands on his shoulders lifting him upright, but relaxed as Dick settled himself on the cushion and laid Jason's head and shoulders on his legs. Damian sat on the floor, his head barely brushing Jason's arm.
At all of his brothers sitting in the same room with him, being civil and at ease, something in him shifted. It felt odd, and at first he couldn't place what he was feeling or what was happening. It was like something tired was finding a bit of unthreatened peace, something that had been beaten and oppressed for years finally finding a place where it just might be ok and have a chance to heal. It was like there was fledgling hope in his chest, and it's small chirp was louder than the seed of doubt in the back of his mind.
That was something he hadn't felt in years.
Shifting slightly on top of and under his brothers, he took a deep breath and relaxed fully. The doubt wasn't gone, but it finally had something to give it a run for its money, something to compete and contend with it. Something that wasn't rage and anger. Something that wasn't painful and oppressive. And in the face of having something to contend with it, that doubt no longer seemed so strong and powerful. It didn't seem to have much time left in its life.
How he was wrong.