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The air was cold, trees had started shedding their leaves in preparation for winter and Jay could see his breath in the air. He sat leaning against a large ventilation box on top of one of Gotham’s rooftops. The wind had started to pick up and he could tell by looking at the night sky that a storm was soon approaching, but he made no effort to move. He had a gash on his shoulder that was soaking his sleeve in blood and his broken helmet sat beside him.
An hour earlier he had been infiltrating a human trafficking ring that was running out of Gotham. It just so happened that the Bat had busted in less than ten minutes after him and decided he should aim a Batarang at Jason even though they had been there for the same reason. He didn’t know why he even tried anymore, no matter how much he tried to make amends for what he had done he was still seen as the bad guy.
That’s how he ended up here. Bruised and bloody and in desperate need of a cigarette. Or a bottle of something strong. He didn’t make it very far from the warehouse they had been at so he wasn’t surprised when he heard the swooping of the Bat landing behind him. He didn’t hear anything else for several minutes until a large figure appeared beside him.
Jay kept his eyes pointed directly in front of him, not acknowledging his presence. They stayed like that for an unidentifiable amount of time, he was unable to tell if it had been a minute or an hour before the dark shadow did something that actually shocked him. He sat down next to Jay.
“If you’re expecting an apology you’re not getting one,” Jay finally said, the silence driving him mad.
“I wasn’t,” a gruff voice replied.
“Good.”
Silence enveloped them again. The pain Jay felt subsided, replaced with anger towards the man sitting next to him. He was moments away from snapping at Bruce to either yell at him or fuck off. He was deep into thoughts of how much he hated Bruce for thinking so lowly of him, and at himself for giving him the reason too, when he heard something that he thought he would sooner die again than hear from the man next to him.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said. I’m sorry. Hearing those words broke something in Jay. He truly didn’t think he would ever hear them, if anything he thought he didn’t deserve them. No, he knew he didn’t deserve them. When he first came back he seeked them out desperately. Wanted to know that Bruce had regretted letting him die, wanted to know that he cared that he died.
But now, with everything he did, all the lines he crossed, finally hearing them hurt more than having not heard them at all. He didn’t realize he had started spiraling until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
Tears streamed down his face and he pulled his knees up to hug against himself. Bruce went frigid next to him, as if completely stunned by his reaction. Jay was stunned by his own reaction. It made more sense for him to lash out, to scream and shout at Bruce, but he was tired of yelling. He was tired of being so angry so instead he let himself cry.
Bruce moved away Jay’s helmet so it was no longer sitting between them and scooched over to be sitting flush against Jason, his arm came around to settle over his shoulder which Jay graciously accepted. He had been starved of any physical contact for so long, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this close to another person.
He leaned into Bruce, his armor hard and uncomfortable but still radiated the heat of another body that attracted him like a moth to a light. The wind whipped harshly around them, the storm that was approaching them starting to show its face as rain started to fall around them.
He shivered from the cold and his tears fell faster, but as he listening to the breathing of the man beside him, as he felt his chest moving from where his head rested against it, he felt for the first time in a very long time that maybe things would get better.