Pancakes and Scars
For the first time in weeks, Peter slept soundly. The nightmares that had haunted him every night were absent, replaced by a peaceful, dreamless slumber. He felt warm, cocooned in the soft sheets, with the comforting knowledge that Jason was just outside the room.
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Peter stirred. He pushed the covers off and slid out of the bed, his bare feet making soft thuds on the floor as he padded to the door. Pushing it gently, it moved open; he stepped out into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Jason was already awake, standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. The smell of sizzling butter and maple syrup wafted through the air, making Peter’s stomach grumble softly.
“Jason…” Peter murmured, his voice groggy as he rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand.
Jason turned, a spatula in hand and a small, knowing smile on his face. “Morning… Sleep well?” he asked, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack beside him.
Peter nodded slowly, the faintest hint of a smile forming. “Yeah… I did.”
“Good,” Jason replied, turning back to the stove. “You’ll need your energy—big guys like you can’t run on empty.”
Peter stepped closer, pulling himself up onto the stool by the counter. Jason grabbed a plate, stacking three large pancakes onto it before drizzling syrup over the fluffy stack. He placed the plate and a fork in front of Peter with a nod.
“Thank you, Jason,” Peter said softly, picking up the fork and digging in, his movements hesitant at first but growing more eager as he tasted the warm, sweet breakfast.
“I told the others they couldn’t come over until 8 a.m.,” Jason said, pausing to glance at the clock. “So, they’ll be here in about half an hour—if that’s okay with you.”
Peter paused mid-bite, chewing thoughtfully before nodding. “Yeah… That’s good.”
“Perfect,” Jason replied with a small grin, grabbing a plate for himself and stacking it six pancakes high. He joined Peter on the stool, settling in beside him.
They ate together in comfortable silence, the clinking of forks against plates the only sound in the apartment. Jason glanced over at Peter, now clean and standing in the light of day. For the first time, he truly saw the extent of the boy’s wounds. Scars covered Peter’s body, but one in particular caught Jason’s eye—a ring-like scar encircling the base of his neck, running along his collarbone. Last night, Jason had mistaken it for dirt in the dim light, but now its stark reality was impossible to ignore. But Jason pushed that aside and tried to make Peter feel at home. Once their plates were empty, Jason nudged Peter toward the couch.
“Come on, big guy. Let’s relax while we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Peter followed, and Jason flicked on the TV. They sank into the couch, the screen lighting up with colourful cartoons. For a little while, it was just the two of them, the noise of the outside world fading away into the background.
At exactly 8 a.m., a loud knock echoed through the apartment, sharp and insistent, cutting through the quiet. The sudden noise startled Peter, making him flinch. He scrambled to hide behind the couch, peeking out cautiously with wide eyes.
Jason sighed, pushing himself off the couch. “Relax, big guy. It’s just them,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring as he walked toward the door. As Jason opened the door, Damian burst through like a whirlwind, his sharp eyes darting around the apartment in search of Peter. The moment he spotted Peter’s head peeking over the back of the couch, he took off in a sprint.
“Peter!” Damian shouted, but before he could reach him, Jason grabbed the back of his sweater, yanking him to a halt mid-run.
“Whoa, slow down, demon,” Jason said, holding him firmly in place. “Give the kid a second to breathe.”
Damian huffed in frustration, crossing his arms as Dick, Cass, and Bruce entered the apartment behind him. Unlike Damian, they didn’t rush, but their excitement was evident in the way their gazes softened when they spotted Peter.
Peter peeked his head out over the couch, his expression a mix of nervousness and curiosity. He offered a small, awkward smile.
“Little man…” Dick said softly, approaching Peter with slow, deliberate steps. He dropped to one knee, wrapping Peter in a tight, heartfelt hug.
Bruce was close behind, placing a firm yet gentle hand on Peter’s back before leaning in to join the embrace.
Jason finally released Damian, who immediately darted over and threw his arms around Peter as well. Cass silently knelt beside them, completing the group hug with a warm and protective presence. Peter didn’t hug them back, his arms tight against his sides, worried he might hurt them if he went for a hug.
“Shall we go home, Peter?” Bruce asked, breaking the hug first. “The other are waiting for you.”
A small tear slipped down Peter’s cheek as he nodded. Bruce extended his hand toward him, his expression calm and inviting. But Peter froze, staring at the outstretched hand.
“I don’t want to hurt you…” Peter said quietly, taking a cautious step back and clutching his own hands tightly.
Jason stepped in, placing a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “He’s stronger now… keeps breaking things,” Jason explained, pushing Brace's arm away. “He’s worried he’ll hurt you. I thought maybe we could get Supes to teach him—or someone else in the League.”
Bruce’s eyes softened as he looked at Peter, understanding dawning in his expression.
“Jason said they could help…” Peter added, his voice hesitant but hopeful, glancing at Jason for reassurance.
“They can,” Bruce said firmly, his voice steady. “You’re not alone in this, Peter. We’ll make sure you get the help you need.” The group moved together, filing into Bruce's car while Jason climbed onto his bike, revving the engine before following closely behind.
The drive was quiet, a calmness settling over them as the cityscape gave way to the familiar grounds of Wayne Manor.
As they pulled up to the grand entrance, Peter’s lips curled into a small smile. The sight of the manor brought a fleeting sense of comfort, like a distant memory of home. But as they approached the front door, his steps slowed. His chest tightened, and his smile faded.
Flashes of that night came rushing back—pain, chaos, and fear. His breathing quickened as the weight of those memories bore down on him.
Jason noticed immediately, stepping up beside him. “Hey, you’re safe now,” he said softly, placing a steadying hand on Peter’s shoulder. “No one’s going to hurt you here.”
Peter nodded but couldn’t shake the lingering nerves. Bruce glanced back, offering Peter a reassuring look as he opened the door to the manor. “You’re home, Peter,” he said gently. “Take your time.”
Peter hesitated as he stepped through the grand doors, his gaze sweeping over the pristine entryway. The familiar space was untouched, with no evidence of the chaos he feared. He paused in the middle of the foyer, his voice barely a whisper.
“Is Alfred here?”
“Yeah! He’s in the Cave with Tim and Duke,” Damian said, already rushing ahead. Without missing a beat, he darted to the grandfather clock and began twisting the hidden mechanism to reveal the secret passage.
Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the mention of Alfred, a flicker of relief passing over his face. He took a deep breath and followed, his steps slow but steady.
Peter reached the end of the ramp, spotting Barbara waiting for him.
“Miss Barbara!” he called out, his steps quickening as he rushed toward her. He stopped himself just before hugging her, a bit unsure.
“Peter! My favourite Wayne!” she grinned, spinning her chair to face him.
“Rude…” Dick chuckled, catching up to Peter.
“I’m not lying,” Barbara shot back with a playful wink, rolling toward the med bay. “Come on, Peter, they’ve been waiting.”
Peter grinned and followed eagerly, chasing after her as she zipped across the floor with surprising speed.
The door slid open, and Peter hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. Alfred and Tim were both lying in beds, their injuries clearly visible, while Duke sat in a chair beside them, his posture tense while Dr. Thompkins was shining a light into his eyes as she checked his condition.
The room was quiet, the soft hum of medical equipment filling the space as Peter’s gaze moved over each of them, feeling a mix of relief and worry.
“Hello…” Peter said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The room fell silent, and everyone turned toward him.
Before he could say anything more, Duke rushed past Dr. Thompkins and pulled Peter into a tight hug.
Tim groaned as he sat up, holding his side in discomfort, but Dr. Thompkins gently pushed him back down, making sure he stayed still.
Alfred, already sitting up, beamed with a smile.
“Master Peter!” he exclaimed warmly, his voice filled with relief and joy. “Your home!”
Peter stood there for a moment, frozen in the embrace with Duke, before gently pulling away. He smiled faintly, his nerves easing a little in the warmth of the moment.
“Are you guys okay?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper as he glanced around at them.
Duke ruffled his hair with a grin. “We’ll be fine. Just a few bumps and bruises,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Tim gave a pained smile, though his expression was still strained. “Nothing I haven’t bounced back from before,” he muttered, wincing as he shifted.
Peter met his gaze, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re all okay… I was worried.”
Alfred, ever the calm presence, smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you back where you belong, Master Peter.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough, Peter…” Duke whispers, still standing next to Peter.
Cass stepped forward she placed a hand on Duke's back. “Not your fault.”
Dr. Thompkins stepped forward, her brow furrowed in concern as she made her way over to Peter. “Peter, if I can… could I give you a check-up? Make sure you're all good?”
Peter paused, eyes widening every so slightly; he looked down at the floor. “I’m fine…” he whispers.
Bruce pipes up, gently touching Peter’s shoulder. “You and the doctor can go into a private room and just have a little check-up? Or–”
“No.”
“All right then. No means no,” Jason said, pushing off the wall he’d been leaning against and heading toward the group.
“Jason, he needs to get checked out,” Dick said, stepping in front of him, a hand held up to stop him. “He could have internal injuries! You saw the—” He cut himself off, glancing at Peter and catching himself before finishing the thought. “You saw it.”
“I’m fine, Dick,” Peter said, his voice calm but firm, breaking the rising tension. “I heal faster now, too…”
Dick turned away from Jason, dropping to one knee beside Peter. “Little man…” he murmured, his voice softer now.
As he looked at Peter under the harsh lights, he finally saw him clearly for the first time. The scar on Peter’s face that he had noticed earlier at Jason’s apartment was only the beginning. Now, in this lighting, everything was laid bare: the dark circles under Peter’s eyes, the scar circling his neck like a grim collar, the too-thin arms, and the small bare feet that poked out from beneath the oversized shirt Jason had given him.
Dick’s chest tightened as he took it all in, his heart aching for the boy in front of him. Unable to hold back, he leaned forward, wrapping Peter in a firm, protective hug. He rested his head on Peter’s small shoulder, his emotions breaking through the careful composure he usually kept. No one else could see it, but Peter felt the silent tears dampening his shoulder.
“Okay…” Peter whispered after a moment, his voice soft. “But just Dr. Thompkins…”
Dick pulled back slightly, giving Peter a small, grateful smile as he nodded, silently thanking him for trusting them just a little more.