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[theknightshift]

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[theknightshift]

Bruce knew the feeling. He knew it because there had been no small part of him that wanted to pummel Garzonas into paste, until he was nothing but a stain on the underside of Bruce's boot. It lived in that dark, quiet part of him that emerged when Joe Chill put a hole in his heart. But it was discipline that stayed Bruce's hand. Discipline and his father's eyes and warm words: if you can save the life, then save it. Felipe didn't deserve to live, but Bruce did not have a license to take that life away.

And maybe, maybe if circumstances had been just a little bit different, Bruce would have looked at Jason differently. Would have quietly wondered if Felipe had fallen or if he'd been pushed to his death. But he doesn't wonder, because he trusted his Robin. He could be willful and headstrong and stubborn and maybe a little too violent, but he was a good kid at heart. A good kid who cared so much about others. That kid, the one Bruce knew, would never have pushed Felipe, no matter how much he hated him.

He reached for the boy when he fists clenched his cape, arms around his shoulders to anchor him, help get him grounded. And when he pushed away Bruce followed him, hand settling along his back as he gagged into the garbage.

Bruce believed him.

“This wasn't your fault, Jason,” Bruce said quietly, hand running up to his shoulder and down his back again. Meant to be comforting. A reminder that he was here and wasn't going anywhere. “Let me take you home.”