˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ And it's killing me that I cannot see, what's making her laugh.

How many years has it been since you became part of the League of Shadows, now? You don't know anymore. You could do the math, but it would take some thinking, and you have better things to think about right now. The stars guide you like a map down familiar streets. You've spent so many years fantasizing about this moment, and you're finally almost there.

Days, months, years have blurred into one mass of half-fragmented memory that you don't dare to comb through just yet. You're scared of what you might have done, maybe. Maybe you're scared to see just how broken you really are. Spending day in and day out in the same routine, going through the motions, only focused when that little boy was in your arms. Feeling like the walls were closing in around you, the ceiling caving in.

But now you've taken the risk. You ran away from the League of Assassins and somehow managed to evade them so far. The ache couldn't be stopped and you had to leave, had to find the ones your heart ached for.

Your motorcycle roars through the gates to Wayne Manor, and you maneuver it across the path to a familiar gravel patch where Dick used to park his. It's not there right now, but you stop yours in its place, turning off your bike and pulling off the helmet. Even in your fantasies, you've always left it on, in case something went wrong and you had to take off, running from people who didn't believe it was you. You still aren't sure what will happen when that door opens. But you've gotten restless, picturing a version of you, happy, laughing - and you need to know why.

In the space of a second you're moving across the grass, running, pushing up the stairs and onto the porch with heavy motions. The door is already swinging open - everyone knew the moment you went through those gates that someone was on the grounds. And there he is - Bruce, standing tall, and when his eyes settle on you he lets out a strangled gasp. "Jason...?"