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"But- you didn't kill him," Jason said, staring blankly at one of the batcomputer's screens.
Bruce followed his gaze. "No," he said, "I didn't."
"I- you-" Why didn't you tell me, Jason wanted to ask, but the words dried up in his throat and he couldn't get them out.
Bruce understood anyway. "You didn't want to listen."
All at once, Jason's actions over the past year rushed back to him:
The gangs. The severed heads. The car bomb.
Robin.
Jason swayed as the memories washed over him, no longer drenched in green. He blinked, and the next thing he knew he was crouched on the ground with his hands over his mouth, trying not to be sick.
He caught Bruce's aborted movement out of the corner of his eye. The man twitched as though he were going to reach out to steady Jason and then thought better of it, settling instead for watching Jason cautiously.
A minute ago, Jason would have scowled, would have waved him off or pushed him away. Right now, though, Jason just wanted his dad. He blinked again, and his eyes filled with tears. "Dad," He croaked, reaching out.
That was all the encouragement Bruce needed, and a second later Jason was wrapped up in his arms as if the past three years hadn't really happened.
Jason held on tight, burying his face in Bruce's chest as he sobbed. "It's alright," Bruce soothed, one hand smoothing over Jason's back in slow, repetitive movements. "It's going to be okay."
"I- I did so many bad things," Jason managed, voice pained. "I thought you didn't- Didn't love me, or-" His breath hitched and he began to cry in earnest.
"I forgive you," Bruce said gently, pulling Jason half into his lap.
"You do?" Jason couldn't help but ask, voice small and sniffling.
A tiny smile spread across Bruce's face as he held his second son for the first time in almost three years. "You're alive and you're here, Jaylad. Nothing else matters."
Jason laughed wetly, burying his face in Bruce's chest again. A moment later, he mumbled, "'M sorry, Dad."
On the screen, now forgotten, a nurse busied herself reluctantly with the day's tasks- Changing her patient's bedding, emptying the bedpan, feeding him, and then wiping up the drool afterwards. At least, she thought, he isn't capable of hurting anyone anymore.
The Joker continued to stare blankly ahead, gaze vacant, laughing silently to himself as he'd done every day since being admitted to the long-term mental facility two years ago.