The Return
Duke winced as he finally sat up on the makeshift bed tucked in a corner of the Batcave’s medical bay. The cold, metallic air tingled on his skin, and faint echoes of the Batcomputer hummed in the distance. His head throbbed, the bruises from his scuffle with Jason reminding him just how poorly his surveillance mission had gone.
As he blinked, he noticed Dick sitting nearby, arms folded but with a look of quiet understanding.
“Guess I should have expected that,” Duke muttered, wincing as he rubbed his neck. “But I thought he’d keep his temper under control.”
Dick gave a small nod, an understanding smile tugging at his mouth. “You did your job, Duke. Jason’s got a way of pushing back when he feels cornered. I think you might’ve just caught him on the wrong day.”
Duke exhaled, frustration and disappointment flickering across his face. “Yeah, but I thought maybe I could reach him. Get him to trust me enough to keep things from boiling over. It’s just… he’s unpredictable. One second, he’s calm; the next, he’s…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Explosive.”
Dick nodded slowly, his gaze flickering with a glimmer of shared understanding. “Jason… he’s complicated. Always has been. He’s not going to let us in until he wants to. For now, let him work this out. He’s with someone who might help, believe it or not.”
“Harley?” Duke’s eyebrows shot up. “Since when does Harley get in on Bat family business?”
“She called Jason for help,” Dick explained, his voice quiet. “She found a kid who’s might've been in a Lazarus pit, and she thinks Jason’s the right one to help him.”
Duke looked skeptical. “And you think that’s a good idea?”
Dick chuckled, though there was a sadness there. “Jason’s good with the lost ones. He gets what it’s like to be in the dark. Sometimes better than we do.”
Across town, P shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his gaze flickering to the figure sitting beside him. This guy—Jason, Harley had called him—was a lot to take in. He was intimidating, that much was obvious. Six-foot-something of armored muscle, every movement deliberate, with eyes that didn’t miss anything. And those weapons… P didn’t even know the names of half of them, but he was sure Jason did.
Logically, P should’ve been terrified. This guy looked like someone you’d only want to meet if you were wearing your running shoes, but something felt off. P couldn’t put his finger on it, but a weird, subtle instinct told him he was safe. No… more than safe. Protected.
It was a feeling as strange as it was comforting, this sudden sense of trust in a man he didn’t know, in a place he didn’t recognize. But he didn’t question it, at least not right now. Everything around him felt like a jumbled mess of fragments, pieces he couldn’t quite fit together. This place, this body—nothing seemed right. And yet, for all the chaos in his head, being around Jason felt like a solid anchor. Like he could breathe, even if he didn’t know why.
“Do you know what happened to you?” Jason’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady. He was looking at P with those piercing eyes, not accusing or impatient, just… waiting.
P shifted, his shoulders tightening as he glanced down at his hands, like they might hold some hidden answers. But they looked as foreign as the rest of him, and he shook his head slowly. “Not… not really. I don’t remember much. It’s all… blurry.”
Jason’s jaw tightened a little, like he recognized the feeling. “Harley mentioned you came out of a Lazarus pit. That’s a hell of a thing to go through, especially for someone your age.”
P glanced up, frowning. “Lazarus pit? Is that… supposed to mean something to me?”
Jason leaned back, letting out a sigh that sounded like it carried a hundred pounds of weight. “Yeah. It’s… complicated. A Lazarus pit can bring people back from the dead, but it comes with a price. It messes with your mind, your memories, your emotions.”
There was a flicker of understanding in Jason’s eyes, something raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, P felt a connection he couldn’t explain. This man didn’t just understand the chaos he was feeling—he’d lived it. Maybe that’s why the feeling of safety lingered, like a quiet hum beneath all the confusion.
“What about you?” P asked, his voice soft. “Have you… been through it too?”
Jason hesitated, his gaze turning distant. “Yeah. And it’s not something I’d wish on anyone.” He paused, his tone softening. “But I know what it’s like to come out of that pit and feel like the whole world is wrong. Nothing makes sense, and there’s this… anger, like everything’s just itching for a fight.”
P looked away, feeling a chill crawl up his spine. Anger… that sounded too familiar. There was a part of him that felt unsettled, like he could snap at any moment, though he didn’t know why. But then there was Jason, this hulking, intimidating figure who somehow seemed steady in the storm, grounding him.
“Is it… is it always like this?” P asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “This feeling, like… I don’t belong anywhere?”
Jason gave a small, humorless laugh. “For a while, yeah. But it fades. You start piecing things together, figuring out who you are again. It’s not easy, and sometimes you’ve got to fight for it. But you’ll get there.”
P nodded slowly, mulling over Jason’s words. He didn’t know much about himself right now, but he had a strange feeling this guy’s life wasn’t all sunshine and roses either. If Jason could make it through whatever hell he’d been through, maybe there was a chance for him too.
“Thanks,” P murmured, glancing at Jason again.
Jason shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. And trust me, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just here to make sure you don’t end up making the same mistakes I did.”
P’s brow furrowed. “What kind of mistakes?”
Jason looked at him, a faint shadow of pain flickering across his face. “Let’s just say… I learned the hard way that when you lose yourself, it’s easy to lose everything else along with it. Friends, family, the things that matter. I’ve got scars to prove it.”
P was quiet, absorbing this as he glanced down at his hands again. Jason’s words hit something deep inside him, even if he couldn’t place why. Maybe he didn’t remember his family, his friends, or his life, but something inside him felt the loss all the same.
“I don’t… I don’t think I want to go through that,” P whispered, a faint desperation creeping into his tone.
Jason’s gaze softened, his rough demeanor melting just a bit. “You won’t. Not if I can help it.”
P met Jason’s eyes, and for a moment, he felt like he could believe it. There was a strength in this man, an unbreakable will, that made him feel more certain than he had since waking up in this unfamiliar body.
“Then… what do I do?” P asked, a strange mix of hope and fear in his voice.