Final Battle - Blog Posts

Please Let Me Keep Him

Warning! This isn’t really lore accurate, this is just what I wanted to see from the Arkham Knight. So I wrote it! There is an OC in here, their name is King. The only thing you need to know is they work for Bruce and used to be Jason’s friend.

It’s been two years since Jason died, the truth of his unfortunate demise only now coming to light as Bruce traveled through his worst nightmare of a night. If he really sat down and thought about it, Bruce only wanted to see his son again. One more time. Bruce Wayne never sat down though, his anger keeping him afloat while one thought in the back of his mind burned him through and through, “please let me see him again.”

Bruce did his best to focus on his footsteps, the loud clanging of metal on metal, echoing through the flashing halls to bring an even sharper ring to his ears. The red lights and fizzling circuits; it was all enough to distract anyone else.

Not Bruce Wayne.

His head was echoing with horrific laughter, screams of those he barely recognized. Every reflection he caught of himself reminded him that he was going paler than paper, his eyes a horrific green that he only saw in his worst nightmares. The screams would get louder; and he fought the urge to snap the next person he saw’s neck. The voices built to a high, until one scream cut above the rest. A shrill, broken sob, screaming for mercy, screaming for someone to save them - for Batman to save them.

He stopped. He blinked away tears he didn’t even know he could shred, and gave a harsh breath. For so long he had maintained his dark and brooding persona and it was starting to crack, making him wonder whether or not he had been lying to himself for years - whether or not this was the true Bruce. He shook his head, cursing himself for letting such thoughts distract him. The subtle vibration of his gauntlet buzzed with a red light, catching his attention. He slowly raised his arm, preparing himself for the stone facade he once again had to maintain. He clicked a button.

His screen flittered to life, revealing a young adult sitting in front of the batcomputer. Soft freckles on a sharp face with white patches of skin, as well as their heavy bags, illuminated by the light. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Ulysses.”

“Doing good, thanks for asking. You?”

He didn’t even blink. “Why are you in the Batcave? It’s too dangerous.”

Their dark curls fell from their bun as they unpinned it, covering their shaves on the side of their head; painfully reminding Bruce of the bat symbol shaved in, courtesy of Dick. “Nightwing reached out. Shit, Bruce, why didn’t you let us know?”

This time, he did blink. “Too dangerous. You’re too… ”

“Don’t even try to say I’m too young,” they sighed. “At the very least, Damian deserves to know. Do you know how many times Dick thought you had died in the last twelve hours?” His only response was a grunt, and he continued to move forward down the hall. “Whatever. I’m helping you. Do you want info or not?”

“What do you have?”

King rolled their eyes. “Of course, my pleasure. Two signatures up ahead, behind the chonky door.”

“Please do not say ‘chonky’ on comms, King.” Dick’s voice cut in.

“One is definitely unconscious,” they continued, “One… huh. Bats, I’ve never seen a system so close to yours, they have all of Gotham marked down in the same way the computer mark's things. The Arkham Knight definitely knows you, like they said. I’ve also locked onto some of the Arkham Knight’s voice patterns.”

“How?” Dick asked, “Our systems couldn’t even pick it up. Taj must be one damn genius.”

They hummed, then hesitated. “It’ll take me a minute to hack it, also, I don’t think you’ll like who’s voice it matches.”

“Who?” Batman asked, more in the form of a demand.

“Well, I have three candidates, but… I’m sorry, are we not gonna talk about how you locked up Tim? Isn’t that the point of a sidekick, to help? I mean, shit, Bruce. He’s gonna be crying about it for weeks.”

Bruce contemplated telling them to refrain from unnecessary talk on comms, but refrained to keep them in a decent mood. Bruce stopped in front of the metal door, reaching for the lever, but stopped when the red lights threatened to reveal his position if he pulled on a locked door. “King,” he started. The door’s light suddenly turned green and Bruce could almost hear King’s smirk. Bruce turned off the screen and stared at his hand. He only thought to himself for a moment, deciding that there was no more time for unspoken words or games, only justice. He yanked the lever down, moving to stand in the middle of the door frame as it slowly opened, the light from the various devices pouring in.

“More red lights. What a shocker,” King mumbled.

Bruce took in the room before him, only managing to register that it was a room before running to a tied up Jim. He went through his mental checklist in less than a second; he’s breathing, he looks to be unharmed, he sensed no danger around him, only the prickling sense of paranoia he always carried with him. With no more than a grunt, he moved to untie Jim.

“Room scanned. Approaching from behind,” King warned in a flat voice.

A different voice cut in, “Turn. Around,” the voice said, debilitatingly slow. The same voice that managed to irk Bruce everytime he had heard it, the voice that rang a loud warning in Bruce’s mind; “I know them.” The same voice he had been unconsciously chasing the entire night. Bruce slowly did as he was told, turning face to face with the Arkham Knight, a gun pointed at him, his white eyes glowed harshly against his mask.

“Who are you,” Bruce almost growled.

The Arkham Knight didn’t shift his posture, not even moving to straighten his neck. He only said, “You have no idea…”, trailing off as he moved his free hand to the side of his helmet, slowly pushing it up, and as he finished his sentence, “Do you, Bruce,” his voice modifier finally let the Knight’s real voice slip through, young, dark, and crisp.

Bruce stared, eyes widened and lips slightly parted, feeling his heart spike, drop, and break in the same motion. His breath held, he only stared, feeling the Joker’s ringing laughter split through his head. “Jason,” he almost stuttered, “But… you’re dead.” His mind tried so hard to comprehend what was in front of him. Jason’s eyes, once full of a fire he could never describe, now haunted him, looking empty and tired. His whole face had hardened, scars covering his entire face. Bruce’s first instinct was to tell him he looks fine, that he is safe and whole and how happy he was to finally see him; but the melded skin on his face, the one in the shape of a certain letter. Oh, how it stood out, swallowing his vision whole, the mark of the Joker.

The Jokers laugh cut in once again. “Let’s not fall out here, Bats! I might have told you a teeny, tiny lie…” Bruce’s mind was sharply telling him to shut up, but he appeared from behind Jason’s large form, moving in front of him. “But c’mon, look at the boy,” he exclaimed while ducking underneath Jason’s outstretched arm while he circled Bruce. “You did good. We did good! You should be proud,” he smiled the same smile that crawled around in his brain at night. Bruce was practically scratching at the walls of his mind, pleading for Joker to get away from him, to leave Jason alone.

“What’s the matter,” Jason taunted, “Lost for words? I expected more… I’m hurt.”

“Holy fuck.” King murmered, an octive so low their words could hardly be comprehended.

Bruce didn’t know what to say. “Joker sent me the film… I,” he fought a voice crack, “I saw him kill you.”

Jason’s nose flared, “Don’t you dare lie to me,” he shouted, moving forward and emphasizing his threat with a pointed movement of his gun. “How long did you wait before replacing me? A month?”

“No…” Bruce whispered.

Jason angrily persisted, ignoring Bruce’s denial, “A week? I trusted you… and you left me to die!”

“Jason… no,” Bruce started.

“You always told me, Bruce. Focus on what I want to achieve and it’ll happen. Well, you know what I want now, huh,” He moved forward. “I want you dead.” He shoved his gun underneath Bruce’s chin. Bruce reacted before he could think, slapping away his gun and slamming his head into Jason’s, followed by a mechanical hiss. Jason stumbled back for only a moment, before he reached into his holster to take out two more refined firearms. He angrily shot forward before regaining his surroundings. Bruce was gone. He breathed hard, anger seeping into every muscle of his body. “You can’t hide from me,” he shouted. “I will hunt you down!” The gun in his right hand whirred, elongating to form what seemed to be the upper receiver of a sniper rifle, his other gun forming into a long barrel and snapped onto the other piece with ease.

“Holy shit,” Dick breathed over comms, “He’s got two pistols that can turn into a sniper?”

“Noticed,” Bruce grunted, looking over from his new hiding spot. Jason looked around for a moment, a noticeable scowl forming onto his face before he ripped off the outer visor and once again covered his face, this time the helmet forming the faint shape of a skull. He grappled away, his form exactly like Bruce’s, just the way he taught him.

Neither of the three knew what to say, not knowing how to even comprehend such a horrid situation. None of them knew how to begin to address it, to question how he might had been alive. A beat of silence offered no moment of clarity or explanation. “So,” King started, offering some ease to the air, “Jason’s alive and hates you. Fantastic. He’s taken a sniping position up on that ledge. His guns are good, really good. I’d say you have four shots before it kills you.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Gray, four.” They turned their attention back to Bruce, fingers lightly tapping over a keyboard, “I’ve highlighted all suitable hiding spots and ledges, they’ll be your best shot at Jason.” Bruce grunted, slowly moving over and peaking out of his hiding spot. “Also,” King started again, “I’m going to look at the photage Joker sent to us. I never ran it through a check before because… in any case, I’ll have that soon.” Bruce didn’t get to reply because in a split second, he ducked back under, a shot whizzing above his head.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t look me in the eyes?” Jason smirked to himself before shouting, “Come on!”

“Your goal is to not get shot at, Bruce.”

“Bruce, let me take it from here,” Dick grumbled. “Look a little behind you, to your left.” Bruce did so, eyeing a subtle ledge out of Jason’s sight. Without another word, he grappled onto it. “If you can get down to the platform by gliding when he even glances away, take the chance.”

Bruce eyed Jason for a long time, patiently playing the waiting game that he had taught Jason so, so long ago. A memory flitted to life. His bright eyes pierced his mind, his devious smile as he sat and watched Bruce stare right back at him. Jason managed three hours before finally becoming restless; his mood brightening when Bruce took him to get ice cream afterwards. Bruce’s eyes almost clouded with tears, so he sank back into his emotionless front.

Just like two years before, Jason grew tired easily, his eyes flickered in another direction and Bruce took the opportunity. He had no time to glide; he fell down, silencing his landing when his cape caught the air.

“Nice,” Dick commented. “All you have to do is make a run for it, get underneath him, grapple up, and take him down.”

“You sound too sure,” King added.

All three of them didn’t say anything afterwards, a silent acknowledgement that Jason was too tough to go down with one on-the-fly plan, but Bruce sprinted forward all the same. Staying directly out of his sight, he slid under his position and grappled up to the ledge he stood on. Bruce easily caught him by surprise, grasping the barrel of his gun with one hand and his forearm in another, he moved in a blur. “Jason,” his voice stern and cold, “I can help you!”

Jason grunted from the struggle, “There’s no…” another grunt, “Helping me!” He fired off a shot, causing Bruce to let go while Jason fell below, setting off a smoke bomb.

“King!”

“Getting a read, Bats.” King clicked a few times while Bruce’s vision quickly recovered. “He’s gone. On the other side of that wall.”

“How do we get behind it, sis?”

As if Dick had timed it perfectly, the wall suddenly flew up, revealing a longer sector of the room, and a shot flew past Bruce. He quickly fell, rolling to a stop, and moved behind a wall. He noticed drones; two of them, and Jason perched on another ledge. Bruce already knew what to do, he synced his bracer to his remote hacking device and scanned.

“I got it. Blinding it now.” King said.

Jason cursed under his breath, “You’re not the only one with sidekicks, Batman!” The drone quickly recovered and shot at Bruce, taking him by suprise. He easily rolled out of the way, barely dodging another shot from Jason as he ran to find cover. He silently hoped King would read his mind with both drones now shooting at him, feeling the painful shock of the bullets bouncing off his armor. His blood spiked, he was panicking. Bruce Wayne was panicking. All the thoughts of wanting to save Jason and save Gotham at the same time sent shockwaves throughout his entire body. He continued to run, dodge, roll, anything he could do to stay a step ahead of a swift death. He almost took another shot from Jason when King finally managed to regain the controls of the drones, silencing them. Bruce tried to calm his own heart rate, his own composure was slowly crumbling away. He had no time, no breath, no thoughts. He stayed under his newfound cover of a concrete blockade.

“Do you even know what he did to me?” Another shot whizzed above Bruce’s head. “The games he used to play? This is mercy compared to what he put me through.”

Bruce did his best to ignore Jason as he once again pondered his surrondings and saw the highlighted grates. Grates meant good cover, good cover meant an easy route to get to Jason. Good, he was thinking clearly again. “King, can you buy me any time?” King responded with something about how they practically owned time, he didn’t listen, and moved the drone to a shooting position. Jason was quicker, he shot at the drone before it fired, releasing another shot at the last drone to send it tumbling to the ground with a loud snap. Jason was fast, much faster than either of the three remembered, but Bruce managed to use the distraction to get into the grates, crawling through the narrow vents as he tried to get the image of a broken and bloody Jason out of his mind. Once he deduced that he was in a suitable position, he silently shuffled out of the grates, taking his time to not make a single noise. He looked up, seeing the perfect window of opportunity to grapple up, bursting through the glass, and managing to land right in front of Jason. “Joker got to you! I know what it’s like!” Bruce tried, struggling to match Jason’s strength as he tried to wrestle the gun away from him. He was so much stronger than he remembered, the thought threatening to send him back to memory lane.

“Don’t pretend to understand!” Jason shouted every angry insult he could think of during the battle for the upper hand. Bruce almost let out a sob thinking about losing Jason again to the madness of his own mind, but Jason quickly managed to break an arm away in Bruce’s moment of weakness, setting off another smoke bomb that stunned Bruce, once again disapperaing.

“Dammit,” Bruce muttered, grappling off to a more clear ledge. He looked around; Jason was gone again. No taunts, his thermal scanners didn’t pick up his signature. He almost wondered how Jason could get away that quickly, but he remembered that he taught that skill to him when he was young. When he was just a boy, a boy who didn’t deserve to be thrown into a never ending war, dragged into the depths of the darkness where Batman had dwelled for years. He once again blinked, trying to settle his mind back to the situation at hand.

“Bruce, did you hear that?” Bruce said nothing, so King continued. “He’s emotional, vulnerable.” Bruce nodded in understanding. He had used vulnerability in the past, manipulating others' sorrows to get what he wanted, his reasoning always leading back to the justice of Gotham. He could do that to Jason, who was already broken and fragile. He could hurt him more, scream everything Bruce thought about himself to Jason to enrage him. He already had hundreds of plans in his head on how it could go.

But he could not bring himself to do it.

“Another plan, King. Now.”

“Shit, then,” King grumbled. “Alright, I have an idea that builds off of the last one.” Bruce listened carefully as he snuck around the various obstacles, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon as he moved through to the next sector, everything perfectly captured by the skylights. “I could hack onto his comms, connect him with you, or me. It might be enough to talk him off of the ledge.” They paused, “I have so many things I want to say to him.”

“Me too.” Dick quietly chimed in.

Bruce gave it a thought as he rolled from one position of cover to the next, searching for any signs of Jason’s whereabouts, quickly and quietly knocking out the few militia that roamed. After dragging a body to a spot out of sight, “Don’t hurt him,” Bruce said in a low whisper. Neither King or Dick spoke for a moment, taking in the idea of Batman, Bruce Wayne, showing emotion. Bruce couldn’t help it. He felt the cold facade crumble into tiny bits, slowly wearing away the more he thought about Jason.

King finally responded, “I wouldn’t dream about it, Bats,” they flatly said.

“Do it. Dick, get me Jason’s location.”

“On it.” He proudly exclaimed. His search only took a few seconds. “Uh…”

“What?” Bruce breathed out harshly.

“It says… shit! It says he’s above you!”

Bruce didn’t even register what he said as a large weight brought him face to face with the ground, a few bones popping as he went down. Jason quickly got off of him, kicking him in the same spot he had shot Bruce in that sent his vision to straight white. Blinded, he tried his best to roll over, but Jason was quicker. He straddled Bruce, one hand squeezing his neck as the other pummeled his face, angry grunts following directly after each punch. Bruce struggled weakly to force Jason’s hand off of his throat - when he suddenly stopped trying. He didn’t know what was happening to him, he felt as if he almost deserved the pain. He wanted to shoulder all of Jason’s pain. He would rather take thrice the suffering Joker brought upon him then see Jason like this, fist beating the near life out of him, tears building up in his eyes. He heard faint calls of his name over the comms, no doubt Dick trying to bring him back from the corners of his mind, but he didn’t care. It was almost as though this was Bruce’s version of peace, as if he didn’t deserve any better.

“Jason?” A clear voice cut into Jason’s helmet, stopping his punch in mid-air. He frantically looked behind him, then around him. He stood off of Bruce, grabbing his sniper and aiming it wildly around the place.

“Who fucking said that,” Jason shouted with a newfound, deeper anger.

“Do you remember me?” King asked, voice weak.

Jason stumbled backwards slightly, giving Bruce enough time to recover, whatever that meant in his condition. He tried his best to sit up, gripping his neck in pain. Jason trained his gun on Bruce’s movement, but King cut in again. “It’s King, Jay. It’s your friend. Do you remember me?”

“Kingsley?” His gun drooped downwards, staring off into space as Bruce got up, still holding his side and wipping away the blood oozing down his lips. Jason almost seemed in a frantic daze, “What are you doing… where are you? Are you safe?”

Bruce fought through the ringing in his ears and his body’s pleas to stay down, somehow managing to stand up. As if Bruce managed to get a grip on Batman’s persona once more, he shot forward, sweeping Jason off his legs with a swift kick, and grappled away to a safer position with the distraction. He heard Jason roar with anger as he fell out of sight. “King, you’re working with him!” Jason’s visor once again lit up, searching for Bruce with a new ferocity. “You traitor! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend, Jay, but this? This is all wrong. You’ve gotta stop.”

“Stop?” He was practically screaming at this point. “How long was it before he stopped looking for me? How long before he gave up on me!”

“He never gave up on you. It took two years, Jay. We convinced him to give up the search, but never on you. He was starving himself, he never slept…”

“No! Stop lying to me!” He shot in no paticular direction. “I can still hear him! He is still in my head, he’s laughing and it’s all his fault! Joker ruined me to spite you, Bruce!”

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” Dick cut in.

“And you! I was just your fucking replacement! Could never live up to the brilliant Dick Grayson’s legacy! Always in your damn shadow!”

Jason continued to shout into his visor, when a message flicked on Bruce’s own screen.

You’re connected.

His breath was once again caught in his throat. He tried to breathe out slowly, thinking about the words he would say to Jason. He thought about begging for him to forgive him, to tell him that he was all that gave him hope and laughter, the small moments with him gave him such a calm and happy demenor. Like he himself, Bruce Wayne, was happy. He couldn’t stand another minute reliving the moment where all of his joy had been stripped away for those long, long two years, the very second he had died. He gulped and cleared his throat. “Jay?”

Jason stopped shouting, his face flickered in confusion, then rage. “Where are you, you fucking bastard! Come out here! I promise I’ll make you suffer,” His voice ended in a growl.

“Do you remember what we did for your thirteenth birthday?” Jason stopped every movement in its tracks, Bruce continued to peer out from behind the railing he was hiding behind. “I took you to a baseball game, do you remember that? You went through a nine month long baseball phase, we were always playing catch instead of training. You almost wanted to become a baseball star instead of Robin…”

Jason’s angry scream cut through the air. “Don’t call me that! That’s not who I fucking am anymore!” He flailed around, aiming for anything in sight.

“Do you remember the time I let you drive the batmobile and you almost crashed it into the river? You wouldn’t stop telling King and Dick the story for weeks.”

“Shut it and come out and fight, old man!”

Bruce exhaled a long held breath, moving to come out from his hiding spot. Jason immedaitely trained his gun on Bruce, his hands in the air and slowly moving towards him. “Jason,” he started, “I just want to tell you the things I wanted to say when you went missing.”

Jason gave a dry and sadistic laugh, not moving his gun. “What? Finally gonna tell me that you wanted me to suffer? That I was a sacrifice?” Jason shot at Bruce, and he let it hit, chipping into his armor that covered his shoulder. Bruce didn’t even flinch as he continued to move towards Jason. “The Joker made me hate you, and you fucking let him, Bruce!” His voice was cracking.

The walls continued to pick, pick, pick down.

Bruce continued, almost unphased by his words. “I want to tell you that you’re all that brought me joy for so long.” Bruce took a step forward, Jason taking one back and firing another shot that ricocheted off his stomach, the two of them locked in something of a step off. “I want you to know that I am shattered because of what happened. I tried so hard just to protect you but I failed.” Jason fired off another shot, this time hitting him right on his bat symbol. “I can only think about all the times I swore that it would be okay. I’m nothing but a liar.”

“Stop!” His voice broke, “Stop talking to me!” He threw down his gun and sprinted towards Bruce, tackling him.

That was it. The walls were down, emotions flooding his mind as every thought hit him at once. He had just heard Jason, who he truly admired for his strength and endurance, scream at him with all his willpower to be quiet. When his voice cracked in anguish, Bruce felt his heart split in two, but he kept going. He stood up, weakly blocking Jason’s half hearted punches. “I know I put you through a nightmare,” Jason swung again, a cry scratching to rip out of his throat. Bruce quickly dodged and pushed Jason away. “I caused you so much pain.” Jason tried once again, giving the loosest punch of the night. Bruce moved to the side, only slightly, and gripped Jason by the shoulders before moving his hands to wrap around his head. “I took you for granted. I’m so sorry, Jason.”

“You did this to me!” Jason flailed against him, hitting him with almost no force. Bruce ripped off his visor and aggressively cupped his face, forcing Jason to look at him.

“I love you, Jason.”

Jason scoffed, tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried his best to form a coherent sentence, his face flashing from anger to sadness over and over again until he finally broke down in a sob, his knees giving out. Bruce was there to catch him, bringing him into a tight embrace as he felt his own tears escape, slowly dripping onto his mask.

“You left me to rot in that abandoned wing of Arkham for over a year! With him!” His fingers dug into Bruce’s armor with enough strength to leave small indentments as he buried his face in Bruce’s chest.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bruce shushed as he lazily combed over Jason’s unkempt hair.

“You left me. I always feared you would.” His voice was now strained, soft and broken.

“Jason, I’m here now. I’m never letting you go again.”

Jason seemingly nodded against his chest, but he didn’t know why. Jason just knew that he had finally felt comfort in Bruce again, the flame of anger subsiding for only this moment. “I thought you’d finally be the dad I’ve been wanting.” Jason almost scoffed to himself, but he couldn’t over his tears. “I was young and dumb. Maybe I’m still dumb for thinking that.”

Bruce shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’d be a lucky man to have you as a son.”

Jason finally huffed out a happy sigh, but it soon faded away. “I can’t forgive you, Bruce.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“Can we try again anyways?”

Bruce didn’t verbally respond, only tucked him in even tighter. Jason smiled against his chest, the soft beat of his heart through his layered armor lulled away the voices in his head that barraged him for not getting his revenge. He didn’t care. He never knew this was the closure he needed.

Bruce knew it would be a long road to recovery for Jason, for them. He expected the screams, the yelling, the punching. He expected Jason to let his anger out on him every day until he wore himself out. He knew how long it would take Jason to forgive him, if he even could, and yet he could only mumble the same prayer over and over again as he clutched Jason tight.

Please let me keep my son this time.