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Jason bounces the baby up and down and coos at him in a useless attempt to make him stop crying. People's eyes keep darting to them and away, and Jason's skin prickles with embarrassment.
He feels as though he has a huge sign on his forehead that reads: "Inter-dimensional baby-kidnapper with no idea how to be a parent. Call Batman and the Justice League now!" That, or everyone is just judging him for his poor parenting skills. He doesn't know if that'd be better or worse. How do real parents do it?
He can't even blame Little Jay for crying. If grown-ups were allowed to wail their eyes out Jason would be doing it, too. The flights had been much too long, and even though splurging for business made the 25 plus hours trip bearable, it was still exhausting.
Little Jay had been fantastic during the trip. He slept and ate and played, and charmed all the stewardesses with his overall cuteness. Jason let him crawl along the aisle of the plane, trailing after him until the little one exhausted himself and went back to sleep.
The crying started when the plane descended. Jay loathed it, and once he got started, he refused to stop. Jason didn't know what else to do to calm him down.
"You can go first, Sir," a friendly security guard tells him, signaling Jason to move ahead to the front of the immigration queue instead of waiting in line until it's his turn.
Right. Jason has a small baby now; that gives him certain priority. Or maybe the guard just wants to get the wailing baby outside as soon as possible. Jason doesn't question it. He'll take whatever gets him out of the airport the fastest.
The light on top of the security booth turns green and Jason walks forward, getting the paperwork ready.
"Kia ora," a middle-aged woman greets him with a practiced professional smile, not too friendly but not too unfriendly either.
"Kia ora," Jason says back tentatively, paying attention to the accent. He smiles back at the officer as sincerely as he can. Just a young father going back to his birth country looking for a new start. The paperwork is airtight.
Years of being legally dead forced Jason to become an expert creating fake identities in order to move around. He has a fantastic system set-up that automatically tracks all deaths by accidents of men in his age bracket. Then, it's a matter of researching if they have any close family members. Nine out of ten times are a burst, but every now and then Jason strikes gold.
Jason Petersen had been a godsend. So perfect––down to the name––that Jason had known the moment he saw it, that this was going to be his exit strategy, should he ever need one. The Petersens were New Zealand's expats living in L.A. with their son, who had only been only two years younger than Jason. No other family in the States.
The three of them died in a car crash some years ago and it was easy to hack the records and make it seem as though the son survived. In today's world, it's much easier to steal an identity than to create a new one. It was a matter of slowly exchanging all official and public pictures of Jason Petersen for ones of Jason himself. A bit expensive, but Jason had gone all in at the time, being careful to keep the identity alive through the years. Social media profiles, taxes, the works.
It was paying off now. A perfect identity that would survive any deep probing. More important yet, no one could ever tie it back to Jason Todd or Red Hood. He'd made sure of that.
Jason hands over the passports and documents to the immigration officer, trying at the same time to soothe Jay into quieting down. No luck.
"Sorry, he's cranky from the flight," he apologizes to the officer.
"No worries, cuz," she says with a smile. "Happens a lot." The smile drops a bit when she sees the death certificate of Jason's wife and the official documents granting him sole custody of the baby, though she's professional enough not to comment on it.
She keeps typing on her computer and though Jason knows everything will be fine, he can't help that little underlying worry that something might go wrong at the last minute. He smiles winningly at her to cover his nervousness.
"Visiting family?" she asks conversationally, the way most immigrant officers do to double check what you're up to in their country while making it seem like idle small-talk.
"Not really," Jason says. "I'm not particularly close to my relatives here." The Petersens had left New Zealand seventeen years ago with their five-year-old son and never gone back. She probably has access to the records.
"I just––" Jason makes sure his smile wavers. "I needed a new start after…" he trails off, allowing some of the pain and uncertainty of burning all bridges to his past life to flash through his expression. He makes a vague gesture towards the papers the officer has. "… after Elizabeth's death. We both do. Coming back here seemed like a good idea." He shrugs and gives her a feeble smile.
"You'll like it here," she reassures him. "It's a great place to raise children." That sounds sincere, not whatever rote speech she has to tell to all the visitors coming in.
The rest is standard immigration stuff––foods, animals, seeds, honey. That one takes Jason completely by surprise. Why do they care about importing honey? Not something he's ever been asked before at an airport. He's clean on all accounts, though.
The quick, staccato sounds of the stamps being placed on the documents floods Jason with a sudden sense of relief. The officer closes their passports and hands them back to him with the rest of the documents. "Welcome to New Zealand," she says.
"Mr. Petersen," she calls before he's about to leave.
Jason stops and looks at her questioningly. "Yes?"
She smiles ruefully. "I remember how annoying it was to have total strangers give me advice about how to handle my kids, but for what it's worth, when mine were that age, they loved to sit in the sling facing forward. You should try it; maybe it'll help."
"Thank you," Jason says. It sounds like a great idea, and it's not something he'd have known to do. "I'll try it."
"Bye."
"Bye," Jason waves back, and leaves, following the signs to baggage claim. Almost over now.
The bathroom in the airport has a special, separate room for changing diapers and Jason's glad that he doesn't need to go into the women's bathroom to do it. That always feels a bit awkward.
"Okay, Little Changeling," he tells Jay, "let's see if we can make you a bit more comfortable." He places the baby on the changing mat and opens the pamper. "Urrrgh, that's totally disgusting." He scrunches his nose at the stink. How can such a small body produce that much shit? Jason is kind of impressed.
"No wonder you were so cranky, buddy, I'd be too." The diaper is definitely done for. Jason should have changed it while they were still on the plane but Jay had been asleep and Jason hadn't wanted to wake him. By the time he woke up, they were already preparing to land and Jason could no longer leave his seat.
He cleans Jay up and gets him a new diaper. Changing a squirming baby is still a bit of a challenge. Jason's scared that he might drop or hurt him without meaning to. He's so tiny. Jason clings to Dr. Miller's parting words, 'Most parents don't know what they're doing the first time, and yet here we all are. You'll figure it out as you go.'
Jason might not know what he has to do, but he has a very long list of all the things he will never do, and that's just as useful. Besides, there's always the internet. If Jason learned one thing being Robin and Red Hood is how to do research. If you can find information on how to set up a bomb on the Internet, someone surely has some useful advice on how not to screw up your kids too much.
"Okay, Little Changeling, let's try this again." He hefts Jay up and places him on the sling facing forward. Jason fumbles for a while trying to get the cloth sorted out but he's getting better at it.
After he's done, he dangles the pacifier in front of the baby and Jay automatically tries to reach for it. Jason waits until the last second and pulls the pacifier away.
Jay giggles––a little happy baby sound that shoots straight to Jason's heart––and tries to reach for the pacifier again. He leans forward as far as the sling allows, making happy noises. Jason brings the pacifier a little closer only to move it away again the moment Jay's tiny fingers brush against it. Jay giggles louder, squirming in the sling to get to it.
Jason lets him have it after a couple of more tries, and Jay smacks the pacifier into his mouth immediately, sucking at it with loud, greedy noises.
A wave of emotions washes over Jason and his heart beats faster, warmth spreading inside of his chest. Love. This is what love feels like. Unconditional. Unending. Jason kisses the top of Jay's head, breathing in that perfect baby scent. Jay is so fucking perfect.
"It's you and me now, buddy. Just you and me," Jason tells him, tapping the tiny nose with his forefinger. "Don't worry, Little Changeling. I'll always have your back." After all, for as long as Jason can remember, he's only ever been able to count on himself. This is just more of the same.
Jay grabs Jason's finger and squeezes it tightly. To Jason, it feels like acceptance. A gentlemen's agreement between them. They will make it work.
He wants Jay to grow up healthy and happy, and maybe, with some luck, Jason might find his own version of happiness along the way. This is the closest he's felt to it in a long, long while.
'Ye yearns,' the fae had told him and Jason hadn't believed her.
Jason's heart's desire.
"I love you so much, Little Changeling," Jason says, and knows that given time Jay will love Jason the same way. It's the only way Jason has ever known how to love, totally and unconditionally, even when he should have known better.
He kisses Jay's soft, dark curls again, gathers their things and walks out, ready to face whatever might come. To start this new life the two of them will create for each other.
A family. Just the two of them. Jason and Jason against the world.
He walks out of the airport whistling, a light spring to his step. They have their whole lives ahead of them, and for once, the future seems bright and perfect, filled with promises and dreams of better days.
For the first time since he woke up from his grave that fateful night he doesn't remember, Jason feels alive.