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Wayne Manor was rarely quiet.
Tonight was no exception.
The smell of Alfred's cooking drifted through the house, warm enough to pull even the most stubborn family members towards the kitchen. Somewhere upstairs, Dick was singing loudly—and very incorrectly—to whatever song was playing through his headphones. Tim was arguing with the coffee machine after it refused to dispense a fourth espresso.
"It's protecting your heart," Barbara called from the dining room.
"It's limiting my productivity."
"It's keeping you alive."
Tim considered that.
"...Debatable."
Barbara laughed without looking up from the stack of board games she'd spread across the dining table.
Monopoly.
Cluedo.
Uno.
Cards Against Humanity had been quietly removed before Damian could spot it.
Steph wandered in carrying enough snacks to feed an army.
"I couldn't remember what everyone liked."
Barbara eyed the bags.
"So you bought everything."
"Exactly."
Cass appeared behind her, already reaching into one of the bags.
Steph gasped dramatically.
"You've been here six seconds."
Cass shrugged, completely unapologetic as she held up a packet of chocolate-covered pretzels.
"They're open now."
Steph looked at the torn packaging before sighing.
"...Fair."
Bruce stepped into the hallway, shrugging off his suit jacket.
The manor was louder than it had been all week.
He wouldn't have traded it for anything.
"Good evening, Master Bruce."
Bruce nodded towards Alfred.
"Smells good."
"Thank you, sir."
Alfred glanced past him.
"I believe we're still waiting on Master Jason."
Dick leaned over the back of the sofa.
"Five quid says he's late because he forgot."
Bruce didn't even look at him.
"You don't have five pounds."
"I have potential."
"You have debt."
Dick looked mildly offended.
"I was trying to create suspense."
Ace lay beside Damian's chair in the sitting room, his enormous body stretched comfortably across the rug.
From a distance, he looked like an oversized German Shepherd.
Closer up, it became obvious there was something else mixed in.
He was taller than any shepherd Bruce had ever seen, long-legged and broad-chested, with the powerful frame of a Great Dane hidden beneath familiar black-and-tan markings. His ears remained proudly shepherd-like, one standing perfectly upright while the other tilted ever so slightly whenever he was curious.
Damian absently scratched behind one ear as he read.
Ace sighed contentedly, his tail thumping once against the polished wooden floor.
"You are becoming spoiled."
Ace closed his eyes.
"I see you're not denying it."
The doorbell echoed through the manor.
Dick looked towards the hallway.
"Finally."
Alfred was already walking to the front door.
When it opened, Jason stood on the doorstep balancing a cardboard tray of takeaway coffees in one hand.
"Before anyone says anything—"
Dick interrupted immediately.
"You're late."
"I knew someone would."
Jason stepped inside, shaking the drizzle from his leather jacket.
"There was traffic."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"You rode the bike."
"There was slow traffic."
Dick snorted.
"Sure."
Jason ignored him, holding the coffees out to Alfred instead.
"Peace offering."
"Very generous of you, Master Jason."
"It wasn't generosity."
Jason smirked.
"They accidentally made an extra one."
Dick reached for the nearest cup.
"So you're admitting theft?"
"I'm admitting waste prevention."
The room filled with easy laughter.
Jason pulled off his helmet, setting it neatly on the hall table before shrugging out of his jacket.
For just a moment...
Everything felt normal.
Then Ace stood.
Damian looked up from his book immediately.
The dog wasn't looking at him anymore.
Ace crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps until he reached Jason.
Instead of greeting him with an excited wag of his tail...
He pressed the side of his body firmly against Jason's leg.
Jason glanced down.
"...Hey, buddy."
Ace nudged his hand.
Once.
Then again.
Harder.
Jason frowned.
"What're you doing?"
Ace let out a quiet whine.
Jason scratched absentmindedly behind his ears, expecting him to settle.
He didn't.
Ace stayed exactly where he was, leaning against Jason's leg with quiet insistence.
Damian had stopped reading altogether.
He watched Ace for several silent seconds before speaking.
"...Father."
Bruce turned.
"What is it?"
Damian didn't take his eyes off the dog.
"...He's alerting."
The chatter around the room faded.
Dick looked between Jason and Ace.
"Alerting to what?"
"I don't know."
Bruce stepped a little closer.
Ace had never behaved like this without reason.
He wasn't barking.
He wasn't anxious.
He was simply... refusing to leave Jason's side.
Bruce's gaze shifted to Jason.
"You feeling alright?"
Jason blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question.
"...Yeah."
"You don't look convinced."
Jason let out a small laugh.
"I've been awake since five this morning, Bruce. I'm tired."
Bruce held his gaze for another moment.
Jason looked exactly like Jason.
Relaxed posture.
Easy smile.
Coffee in one hand.
No visible injury.
No sign of distress.
Nothing.
Finally Bruce nodded.
"Fair enough."
Jason smiled, relieved the conversation was over.
He gave Ace another pat.
"I'm okay, big guy."
Ace didn't move.
He simply looked up at Jason...
...and waited.
No one quite knew how to respond.
Ace had alerted before.
Once, when Dick had reopened a shoulder injury he'd insisted was "basically healed."
Twice when Tim had worked himself into dehydration.
More than anyone cared to admit after Bruce had ignored a concussion.
He wasn't wrong.
Ever.
Jason shifted his weight, trying to subtly step away.
Ace moved with him.
The enormous dog stayed glued to his side, shoulder brushing against Jason's thigh.
Jason sighed through his nose.
"C'mon, Ace."
The dog looked up at him but didn't budge.
Dick folded his arms.
"...Okay, that's a little weird."
"It's very weird," Damian corrected quietly.
Bruce crouched beside Ace, running a hand down the dog's neck.
"Easy."
Ace acknowledged him with a brief flick of one ear.
His eyes never left Jason.
Bruce studied him for another moment before straightening.
"Alfred?"
"I have already checked, sir."
Everyone looked at him.
Alfred smiled politely.
"Master Jason has no visible injuries."
Jason blinked.
"...You checked?"
"When I relieved you of the coffees."
"You frisked me?"
"I straightened your jacket."
"You absolutely frisked me."
A ripple of laughter travelled around the room.
Even Bruce's mouth twitched.
The tension eased.
Just a little.
Dinner was announced ten minutes later.
The dining table was almost comically full.
Roast chicken.
Potatoes.
Vegetables.
Fresh bread.
Three different desserts waiting patiently in the kitchen.
Steph stared.
"...Alfred."
"Miss Stephanie."
"I would die for you."
"I'd rather you simply enjoyed your meal."
The seating arrangement had never officially been assigned.
It simply... happened.
Bruce naturally found himself at the head of the table.
Alfred stood nearby despite everyone's annual insistence that he sit with them.
Dick dropped into the chair opposite Barbara.
Tim chose the one closest to the coffee pot.
Nobody questioned that decision.
Jason sat halfway down the table.
Ace settled beside him almost immediately.
Jason looked down.
"...Seriously?"
Ace rested his chin on Jason's knee.
Jason sighed.
"You weigh, like, a million kilos."
Ace didn't seem remotely apologetic.
Damian frowned from across the table.
"He's not normally this persistent."
"I've noticed."
Conversation flowed easily.
Steph was halfway through explaining why she should've won last week's Mario Kart tournament.
"You drove off Rainbow Road six times."
"I was sabotaged."
"You hit your own banana."
"Again."
"Sabotaged."
Cass nodded solemnly.
"Banana."
Steph pointed triumphantly.
"See?"
Dick laughed.
"Cass isn't agreeing with you."
"I choose to believe she is."
Barbara shook her head, smiling into her drink.
Jason laughed along with everyone else.
On the outside...
Nothing had changed.
On the inside...
Something wasn't right.
It had started in the car.
Just a faint pressure behind his eyes.
Nothing unusual.
Stress.
Too much caffeine.
Not enough sleep.
Pick one.
Now it was...
Different.
His thoughts felt slower.
Like trying to run through water.
He blinked hard.
The room sharpened again.
Fine.
He was fine.
"...Jason?"
Jason looked up.
Everyone was staring at him.
"...What?"
Dick tilted his head.
"I asked if you wanted gravy."
Jason looked down.
His plate.
Right.
"...Yeah."
Dick passed the jug across.
"You spaced out."
Jason shrugged.
"Long week."
"Mood."
Tim didn't even look up from cutting his chicken.
Under the table...
Ace shifted.
He sat up.
Jason felt the movement immediately.
The dog leaned against his leg again.
Firm.
Steady.
Unmoving.
Jason discreetly pressed a hand against Ace's shoulder.
"Quit it," he murmured under his breath.
Ace answered with the faintest whine.
Jason's stomach dropped.
No.
Not now.
Please not now.
"Everything alright?"
Bruce's voice was calm.
Too calm.
Jason realised he'd gone completely still.
He forced himself to smile.
"Yeah."
Bruce watched him.
"You've answered that question three times tonight."
Jason chuckled.
"Because everyone keeps asking."
"And?"
"I'm still fine."
Bruce held his gaze another second before nodding.
"If you say so."
Jason smiled again.
It felt... harder this time.
Tim reached for the bread basket.
"Has anyone seen my phone?"
Steph stared.
"...You've been holding it for the last five minutes."
Tim looked at the device in his left hand.
"...That explains a lot."
The table erupted into laughter.
Jason laughed too.
A little too loudly.
A little too long.
Then—
His fork slipped from his fingers.
It clattered against the plate.
Silence.
Jason looked down.
"...Butterfingers."
Dick smirked.
"You're getting old."
Jason rolled his eyes, retrieving the fork before anyone could offer to help.
"Careful."
"I'll throw my walking stick at you."
The conversation resumed.
Slowly.
But Bruce noticed something.
Jason hadn't picked his fork up with his right hand.
He'd switched to his left without seeming to realise.
Across the table, Damian noticed Ace.
The dog hadn't relaxed once.
Not once.
His ears were forward.
Every muscle in his body was tense beneath his thick coat.
Waiting.
Watching.
Ready.
Damian looked from Ace...
...to Jason.
For the first time all evening...
A knot of unease settled in his stomach.
Something was wrong.
He just didn't know what.
By the time dinner was over, the atmosphere had settled back into its usual rhythm.
The dining table looked like the aftermath of a small natural disaster.
Empty serving dishes.
Crumpled napkins.
Three abandoned coffee mugs that almost certainly belonged to Tim.
Steph leaned back in her chair with a groan.
"I've made a terrible mistake."
Dick looked at her.
"You challenged Jason to see who could eat the most roast potatoes."
"I know."
"You lost."
"I know."
"You ate fourteen."
"I know."
She pressed a hand dramatically against her stomach.
"I can hear colours."
Jason snorted into his drink.
"Skill issue."
Steph pointed at him.
"I blame you."
"I wasn't the one who accepted the challenge."
"You looked smug."
"I always look smug."
"...Fair."
Laughter echoed around the table.
As usual, nobody escaped cleanup.
Well...
Almost nobody.
Dick had somehow disappeared the second Alfred announced the dishes needed washing.
Barbara looked around the room.
"Where'd he go?"
A voice drifted from somewhere upstairs.
"I'M PICKING THE MOVIE!"
Steph cupped her hands around her mouth.
"COWARD!"
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER MY RESPONSIBILITY AVOIDANCE!"
Jason shook his head.
"He's nearly thirty."
Bruce didn't even look up from stacking plates.
"I'm aware."
Jason carried a stack of dishes towards the kitchen.
Ace stood before he was even halfway out of his chair.
The dog fell into step beside him.
Close enough that Jason nearly tripped over one of his enormous paws.
Jason sighed quietly.
"...You're gonna make me look like I need babysitting."
Ace looked up at him.
Completely unbothered.
Jason glanced around.
Thankfully...
Nobody seemed to be paying attention.
Except Damian.
He watched Ace disappear through the doorway.
Then looked at Bruce.
"...He hasn't stopped."
Bruce set another plate into the sink.
"I noticed."
"He doesn't false alert."
"No."
"So why is everyone acting as though he has?"
Bruce was silent for a moment.
Finally, he answered.
"Because Jason says he's fine."
Damian frowned.
"...You don't believe him."
Bruce didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked through the kitchen doorway.
Jason was laughing at something Alfred had said.
He looked...
Normal.
Healthy.
Entirely himself.
Bruce exhaled quietly.
"I don't know what to believe."
Jason leaned against the kitchen counter while Alfred rinsed dishes beside him.
"You don't have to help, Master Jason."
"I'm avoiding Monopoly."
"A wise decision."
Jason grinned.
"You taught me everything I know."
"I sincerely hope not."
Jason laughed.
It came easier in here.
Away from everyone's eyes.
Away from Bruce's questions.
Away from—
A dull ache spread across the back of his head.
Jason closed his eyes for half a second.
Not now.
Please.
He inhaled slowly.
One.
Two.
Three.
When he opened his eyes again, Alfred was watching him.
"...Master Jason?"
Jason forced a smile.
"Just stood up too fast."
"You have been standing for nearly three minutes."
"...Right."
Alfred's expression softened.
"You appear rather pale."
"I'm goth."
"I've met goths."
Jason chuckled despite himself.
"I'm alright."
Alfred studied him for another heartbeat before returning to the dishes.
"If you are certain."
Jason looked away.
"I'm certain."
The lie tasted bitter.
The sitting room had become a battlefield.
Board games covered the coffee table.
Controllers were strewn across the sofa.
Dick reappeared carrying a stack of films balanced under one arm.
"I bring cinema."
Barbara looked up.
"You vanished."
"I delegated."
"You ran away."
"I delegated."
Steph rolled her eyes.
"You know those mean different things, right?"
"They don't if you're confident."
Cass accepted the films from him before they could fall.
"...You dropped one."
"I delegated gravity."
Jason laughed as he walked back into the room.
"I've missed this."
Dick looked over.
"Missed what?"
"You saying stupid things with complete confidence."
Dick placed a hand over his heart.
"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it."
Jason dropped onto the end of the sofa.
Ace immediately settled at his feet.
Jason looked down.
"...Seriously?"
The dog's ears twitched.
Jason reached down, rubbing the thick fur behind Ace's neck.
"You've been weird all night."
Ace leaned into the touch...
...then lifted his head sharply.
His body stiffened.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that Damian noticed.
Again.
Jason felt it too.
His hand paused.
"...Ace?"
The dog stood.
Not slowly.
Immediately.
He turned towards Jason, pressing against his leg hard enough to jostle him sideways.
Jason caught himself on the arm of the sofa.
"Dude—"
Ace whined.
Louder this time.
The room fell quiet.
Dick lowered the DVD case he'd been reading.
"Okay..."
Bruce stood.
Ace wasn't just alerting anymore.
He was escalating.
Jason looked around the room.
Every pair of eyes had landed on him.
His chest tightened.
"I'm fine."
Nobody answered.
"I'm serious."
Bruce took a slow step closer.
"Jason."
"I said I'm fine."
His voice came out sharper than he'd intended.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Jason immediately regretted it.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
"...Sorry."
No one spoke.
He looked down at Ace.
The dog hadn't moved.
Still pressed against his leg.
Still staring at him.
Waiting.
Jason's heart sank.
Because he knew exactly what Ace was trying to tell him.
And he was running out of time.
Jason couldn't stay sitting down.
If he stayed, Bruce would keep watching him.
If Bruce kept watching him...
He'd ask questions.
Questions Jason wasn't ready to answer.
He pushed himself to his feet.
"I'm grabbing another drink."
No one stopped him.
Bruce watched him go, but after a brief hesitation, he sat back down.
Jason almost sighed with relief.
Almost.
Ace rose before Jason had taken two steps.
His claws clicked softly against the hardwood floor.
"Buddy..."
Jason spoke so quietly only Ace could hear.
"Don't."
Ace ignored him.
He stayed pressed against Jason's left side as they crossed the room together.
Jason could practically feel everyone pretending not to watch.
The kitchen was blissfully quiet.
He rested both hands on the edge of the counter.
Breathed in.
Breathed out.
His heart was racing.
Not from fear.
From certainty.
He knew this feeling.
The strange pressure behind his eyes.
The heaviness creeping through his limbs.
The sense that his thoughts were just... a fraction of a second behind.
His neurologist had called it a prodrome.
Jason had called it a countdown.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Please.
Just give me tonight.
He'd tell Bruce tomorrow.
Or next week.
After patrol.
After literally anything except family game night.
A cold nose nudged the back of his hand.
Jason opened his eyes.
Ace was staring at him.
Calm.
Patient.
As if asking,
"Are you done pretending?"
Jason laughed once.
It sounded tired.
"...You're persistent."
Ace leaned harder into his leg.
Jason reached down automatically, scratching behind one oversized ear.
"I know."
His voice was barely audible.
"I know what you're trying to tell me."
"Jason?"
He looked up sharply.
Barbara stood in the doorway.
She frowned immediately.
"...You okay?"
Jason straightened too quickly.
"Yeah."
"You've disappeared."
"I wanted water."
"You've been gone five minutes."
Had he?
Jason blinked.
It hadn't felt like five minutes.
"...Lost track of time."
Barbara studied him.
She'd spent years reading body language through computer screens.
Reading Jason in person wasn't exactly difficult.
"You look exhausted."
"Thanks."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
He offered a small smile.
"Just... rough week."
Barbara accepted that answer.
Mostly.
"Come back before Dick starts another debate."
"What debate?"
"He wants to rank every Robin."
Jason groaned.
"Oh, absolutely not."
Barbara laughed.
"See? We need backup."
Jason nodded.
"...Yeah."
He followed her back towards the sitting room.
Ace never left his side.
"...I'm just saying," Dick argued, pointing at absolutely nobody in particular, "objectively speaking, I was the best Robin."
Damian didn't even look up from where he was rearranging the game pieces.
"Objectively incorrect."
Steph snorted.
"You've opened Pandora's Box."
"I am Pandora's Box."
Jason walked back in just in time to hear Tim mutter,
"This is why we can't have nice things."
Jason dropped onto the sofa again.
"What'd I miss?"
"Dick's ego."
"So... nothing new."
Dick pointed accusingly.
"See? He's attacking me already."
"I've been in the room three seconds."
"And?"
Jason rolled his eyes.
The room relaxed again.
Conversation overlapped.
Someone put music on quietly in the background.
Alfred appeared carrying mugs of hot chocolate despite several people insisting they were too full.
Nobody refused one.
Jason wrapped both hands around the mug.
The warmth helped.
For a moment...
He almost believed he'd been wrong.
Maybe it wasn't happening.
Maybe—
His vision blurred.
Only for a heartbeat.
The room tilted.
Jason's fingers tightened instinctively around the mug.
No.
Not yet.
Ace stood so suddenly that the coffee table rattled.
Every conversation stopped.
The dog's ears were pinned forward.
His whole body was rigid.
He stepped directly between Jason and everyone else.
Then he barked.
One sharp, booming bark that echoed around the room.
Jason closed his eyes.
"...Dammit."
Bruce was moving before the word had finished leaving Jason's mouth.
"Jason?"
Jason stood too quickly.
"I need—"
His sentence broke apart.
Not because he'd stopped speaking.
Because the words simply...
Vanished.
His brow furrowed.
He knew what he wanted to say.
He couldn't find it.
Dick's smile disappeared.
"...Jay?"
Jason stared at him.
Confused.
His breathing quickened.
The mug slipped from his fingers.
It hit the wooden floor.
Hot chocolate exploded across the rug.
Nobody reacted.
Nobody cared about the mug anymore.
Jason swayed.
Bruce reached him first.
"Jason."
Jason tried to answer.
Nothing came out.
His knees buckled.
Bruce caught him under the arms before he could hit the floor—
But Jason's body suddenly went rigid.
Every muscle locked.
Jason's head tipped back.
A strangled gasp escaped him.
Then the seizure began.
Bruce barely had time to lower Jason to the floor before the seizure took hold.
Jason's back arched violently.
His arms drew tight against his chest, every muscle rigid.
Bruce guided him onto his side as carefully as he could, one hand supporting the back of Jason's head before easing it onto a folded cushion Dick shoved beneath him.
"Move the table."
Dick didn't hesitate.
The heavy coffee table scraped loudly across the wooden floor as he dragged it out of the way.
"Steph, clear everything."
She blinked.
"What?"
"The floor."
That snapped her back into motion.
She dropped to her knees, sweeping scattered game pieces, mugs and controllers out of reach with frantic movements.
Barbara was already pulling her phone from her pocket.
"I'm calling an ambulance."
Tim looked up sharply.
"He has a seizure history?"
"No idea."
Bruce's jaw tightened.
"Neither do I."
Barbara's eyes flicked towards him for the briefest second before she spoke into the phone.
"Ambulance, please."
Ace hadn't moved.
He stood over Jason's legs, watching him intently.
Not barking.
Not pacing.
Watching.
Waiting.
Damian slowly knelt beside him.
"...Good boy."
Ace's ears flicked backwards for a second before returning to Jason.
Damian rested one hand against the dog's shoulder.
The contact steadied them both.
Dick glanced at his watch.
"Started at..." He swallowed. "...Eight twenty-three."
Bruce nodded once.
"Keep timing it."
Dick stared at Jason.
"...Right."
His voice sounded strangely distant.
Like he wasn't entirely present.
Bruce recognised it immediately.
Shock.
Jason's body jerked again.
A strangled sound escaped him.
Steph flinched.
"Oh my God..."
Cass reached for her hand without taking her eyes off Jason.
Steph gripped it immediately.
Far harder than she'd intended.
Cass didn't complain.
Alfred appeared from the hallway carrying the first-aid kit.
No one had seen him leave.
He simply...
Was there.
He crouched beside Bruce.
"Ambulance?"
Barbara nodded without looking up.
"On their way."
Alfred's expression softened almost imperceptibly as he looked at Jason.
"My boy..."
It was so quiet Bruce almost didn't hear it.
Tim was already searching.
His phone lit his face as article after article flashed across the screen.
Generalised tonic-clonic seizure.
Recovery position.
Status epilepticus.
Duration.
Triggers.
Medication.
His eyes skimmed each line at impossible speed.
Then one sentence caught him.
Do not restrain the person.
Tim looked up immediately.
"We don't hold him down."
Bruce nodded.
"I'm not."
"I'm just—"
"I know."
Tim looked back at the screen.
His hands were shaking.
He hadn't even noticed.
Jason's movements began to slow.
Not stop.
Slow.
Dick looked hopefully towards Bruce.
"...Is that good?"
"It means it's ending."
Bruce kept his voice level.
Calm.
Measured.
Inside...
His thoughts were racing.
Please stop.
Please breathe.
Please...
The violent jerking finally eased.
Jason lay frighteningly still.
Dick's stomach dropped.
"...Bruce?"
Then—
Jason took a ragged breath.
Another.
Then another.
The room seemed to breathe with him.
Steph let out a sob she hadn't realised she'd been holding back.
Barbara closed her eyes for just a second.
Alfred bowed his head.
Bruce's shoulders loosened by the smallest fraction.
Jason didn't wake up.
His breathing was uneven.
His brow furrowed as though he were trapped somewhere unpleasant.
Bruce brushed damp hair back from his forehead.
"Jason."
No response.
"Jay."
Nothing.
Alfred quietly checked his pulse.
"Strong."
Bruce nodded.
Good.
Good.
Ace finally moved.
Very slowly, he lowered himself onto the floor beside Jason.
Close enough that their shoulders touched.
He rested his enormous head gently across Jason's ankle.
Only then...
Did he relax.
Damian watched him.
"...He knew."
Nobody answered.
Because there wasn't an answer.
Ace had known.
Long before any of them.
Long before Jason had collapsed.
Long before they understood why he'd refused to leave Jason's side.
Bruce looked down at the dog.
Then at his unconscious son.
A cold knot settled in his chest.
Ace had tried to warn them.
And they'd dismissed it.
Bruce didn't look away from Jason.
He couldn't.
Not even when the distant wail of sirens reached the manor grounds.
Not even when the front gates rolled open.
Not even when headlights swept across the windows.
Barbara lowered her phone.
"They're here."
Alfred was already moving.
"I shall let them in."
The front door opened less than a minute later.
Two paramedics hurried into the sitting room, equipment bags swinging at their sides.
The older of the pair took in the scene in a single glance.
Patient on the floor.
Breathing.
Large service dog lying calmly nearby.
Nine anxious faces.
"Evening," she said, kneeling beside Jason. "I'm Sarah. Can someone tell me what happened?"
Bruce answered immediately.
"He collapsed approximately four minutes ago. Generalised seizure lasting around ninety seconds."
Dick glanced at his watch.
"One minute and thirty-eight seconds."
Sarah nodded approvingly.
"Good timing."
She turned her attention back to Jason while her partner unpacked a blood pressure cuff and monitoring equipment.
"Has he had seizures before?"
Silence.
Bruce's stomach tightened.
"...Not that we're aware of."
Sarah's eyes flickered between the family.
"Medical history?"
Again—
Silence.
Tim swallowed.
"We... don't know."
Jason groaned.
It was barely audible.
Bruce leaned closer instantly.
"Jason."
Another groan.
His eyelids fluttered.
For a moment his eyes opened...
Completely unfocused.
He stared at the ceiling as though he'd never seen it before.
"...Jay?"
Dick's voice cracked.
Jason frowned.
"...Wh..."
The word died before it was finished.
His eyes wandered around the room.
Bruce.
Dick.
Tim.
Steph.
Cass.
Damian.
Barbara.
Duke.
Alfred.
The paramedics.
Everyone was staring at him.
Confusion slowly gave way to understanding.
Then embarrassment.
"...Ah..."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"...Damn."
Bruce felt his heart sink.
That one word told him everything.
Jason knew.
Sarah rested a hand lightly on Jason's shoulder.
"Hi, Jason. My name's Sarah. You've had a seizure. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"
Jason stared at her blankly.
"...Tired."
"That's completely normal."
"My..."
He stopped, brow furrowing.
"My..."
He looked frustrated.
"My..."
Bruce recognised the look immediately.
Jason couldn't find the word.
Sarah stayed calm.
"Take your time."
"...Head."
He finally managed.
"...Hurts."
She smiled gently.
"I imagine it does."
Her partner clipped a pulse oximeter onto Jason's finger.
"Any allergies?"
Jason blinked slowly.
"...No."
"Any medications?"
Jason froze.
Bruce noticed.
So did Dick.
Sarah repeated the question.
"Jason?"
He looked away.
"...Yeah."
Bruce's pulse quickened.
Medication?
Since when?
"What medication?" Sarah asked.
Jason hesitated.
Long enough that Bruce already knew he wasn't going to like the answer.
"...Levetiracetam."
Tim's head snapped up.
Dick frowned.
"What is that?"
Jason closed his eyes.
He looked exhausted.
"...Anti-seizure medication."
The room went utterly silent.
Nobody spoke.
Not Bruce.
Not Dick.
Not even Steph.
It was Alfred who finally broke the silence.
"...How long, Master Jason?"
Jason didn't answer.
He kept looking at the ceiling.
Sarah glanced between them.
"You weren't aware?"
Bruce's voice was quieter than anyone had ever heard it.
"...No."
Jason swallowed.
"...About three months."
Dick actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because his brain refused to process it.
"...Three months?"
Jason gave the smallest nod.
Bruce felt something heavy settle in his chest.
Three months.
Three months of patrols.
Three months of dinners.
Three months of disappearing for days at a time.
Three months...
And Jason had carried this alone.
Sarah looked at Jason.
"When was your diagnosis?"
"...Three months ago."
"And this isn't your first seizure?"
Jason shook his head once.
"No."
Bruce stared at him.
Not his first.
Jason had had another seizure...
Somewhere...
Alone.
The thought made him feel physically sick.
Dick spoke before he could stop himself.
"...You had another one?"
Jason didn't answer immediately.
Finally—
"...Yeah."
"Where?"
"...Safe house."
"You were alone?"
Jason looked away.
"...Yeah."
Dick's voice rose.
"You had a seizure alone?"
"I was fine."
"You were unconscious!"
"I woke up."
"You could've—"
His voice broke.
"You could've died."
Silence.
Jason didn't argue.
Because he knew.
Steph's eyes were shining with tears she'd been trying to hold back.
"You didn't tell us?"
Jason gave a tired shrug.
"I didn't..."
He searched for the words again.
"...Want..."
His frustration returned.
Sarah waited patiently.
"...Didn't want..."
He took a breath.
"...Everyone..."
Another pause.
"...Looking..."
Bruce quietly finished the sentence.
"...At you differently?"
Jason's eyes met his.
A tiny nod.
"...Yeah."
Bruce's heart broke.
Not because Jason had hidden it.
Because somewhere along the way...
Jason had genuinely believed that was something he needed to hide.
And Bruce had no idea how long he'd been carrying that fear by himself.
Sarah finished packing away the blood pressure cuff before looking back at Jason.
"Your observations are all looking good."
Jason gave a tired hum in response.
"Do you remember today's date?"
"...Saturday."
"And where are you?"
"...Home."
"Good."
She smiled reassuringly.
"I know you've had a rough evening, but you're recovering exactly how I'd expect after a seizure."
Jason blinked slowly.
"...Okay."
Sarah looked towards Bruce.
"Has someone got his medication?"
Bruce hesitated.
"...We'll make sure he takes it."
Jason glanced away.
Sarah noticed.
"So long as someone stays with him tonight, he doesn't drive, and he avoids anything that could be dangerous if another seizure happened, I'm happy for him to remain at home."
Bruce nodded immediately.
"He won't be left alone."
Jason opened his mouth.
"I'm fi—"
Bruce looked at him.
"No."
Jason sighed.
"...Figured."
The younger paramedic smiled sympathetically.
"It isn't forever."
Jason muttered something unintelligible.
Sarah stood, slinging her bag over one shoulder.
"If he has another seizure tonight, if one lasts more than five minutes, if he struggles to breathe afterwards, or if you're worried for any reason, call us straight back."
Bruce stood as well.
"Thank you."
She smiled.
"Looks like he's got plenty of people looking after him."
Bruce looked around the room.
Dick hadn't moved from Jason's side.
Steph was still sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Cass had one hand resting on Steph's shoulder.
Tim was pretending to scroll through his phone while very obviously listening to every word.
Damian hadn't taken his hand off Ace.
Barbara was watching Jason with quiet concern.
Duke looked like he wanted to help but wasn't sure how.
Bruce looked back at the paramedic.
"...He does."
The front door clicked shut.
Silence settled over Wayne Manor.
It felt...
Wrong.
The board games were still scattered across the coffee table.
Uno cards lay half under the sofa.
One of Steph's chocolate-covered pretzels had somehow ended up beneath Bruce's chair.
Jason's mug of hot chocolate still stained the rug.
An hour ago...
They'd all been laughing.
Now nobody seemed to know what to say.
Jason broke first.
"...Sorry."
Bruce looked at him.
Jason rubbed both hands over his face.
"I ruined game night."
Dick actually stared at him.
Then, without warning—
"You absolute idiot."
Jason frowned.
"...Excuse me?"
Dick laughed.
It wasn't amused.
It was disbelieving.
"You think that's what we're upset about?"
Jason blinked.
"The games?"
"You had a seizure!"
"I know."
"You collapsed!"
"...Yeah."
"You scared the hell out of us!"
Jason looked down at his hands.
"...I know."
Dick's voice softened immediately.
"...Then why didn't you tell us?"
The question hung in the room.
Jason didn't answer.
Bruce walked over and sat on the edge of the sofa opposite him.
Not standing over him.
Not interrogating him.
Just...
Sitting.
"Jason."
Jason didn't look up.
"When were you diagnosed?"
"...Three months ago."
"And when was your first seizure?"
Jason was quiet for so long Bruce almost thought he wasn't going to answer.
"...The day before."
Bruce frowned.
"You had two seizures in twenty-four hours?"
"...Yeah."
"And after that?"
"...MRI."
A pause.
"EEG."
Another pause.
"Neurologist."
Each word sounded heavier than the last.
"They diagnosed epilepsy."
Nobody interrupted.
Jason kept staring at the floor.
"They started me on medication."
His fingers twisted together.
"It... hasn't really settled yet."
Bruce noticed it immediately.
The hesitation.
The shame.
As though Jason expected them to be disappointed in him.
That hurt more than the diagnosis itself.
Bruce spoke quietly.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Jason let out a humourless laugh.
"You really want the honest answer?"
"Always."
Jason nodded once.
"...Because I know this family."
Nobody spoke.
"If one of you gets a paper cut, Alfred somehow knows before you've found a plaster."
A tiny smile flickered across Alfred's face.
Jason continued.
"If I'd told everyone..."
He looked around the room.
"...Patrols would've stopped."
Bruce opened his mouth.
Jason beat him to it.
"Don't."
Bruce stopped.
"You would've said it was temporary."
"I would have."
"I know."
Jason nodded.
"But it still would've happened."
His gaze shifted to Dick.
"You would've checked on me every five minutes."
Dick didn't deny it.
He couldn't.
Jason looked at Tim.
"You would've made spreadsheets."
Tim quietly closed the notes app he'd already opened.
Jason almost smiled.
"I knew it."
His eyes moved to Steph.
"You would've treated me like I was made of glass."
Steph frowned immediately.
"I would not."
"You absolutely would."
"...Okay, maybe a little."
Jason looked at Damian.
"You would've insisted on coming on every patrol."
Damian folded his arms.
"...Correct."
"And Bruce..."
Jason finally looked at him.
"You would've blamed yourself."
Bruce's heart sank.
Because Jason wasn't guessing.
He was right.
"I couldn't..."
Jason's voice caught.
"...I couldn't watch that happen."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything anyone had said all night.
Bruce realised, with a painful clarity, that Jason hadn't hidden his epilepsy because he didn't trust his family.
He'd hidden it because he knew them too well.
"I'll be speaking with your neurologist."
Jason opened his mouth.
Bruce raised a hand.
"With your permission."
Jason closed it again.
"I'd like to understand what this means. What precautions we need to take. What changes, if any, need to happen."
He held Jason's gaze.
"We'll make those decisions together."
Not for you.
With you.
Jason's throat tightened.
"...Okay."
Dick stood so abruptly his knee hit the coffee table.
Nobody had time to ask why.
He crossed the room in three long strides before wrapping both arms around Jason.
Jason made a muffled noise of protest.
"...Dick."
"No."
"I literally can't breathe."
"You'll live."
"I've just had a seizure."
"I know."
Dick hugged him tighter.
"You absolute jerk."
Jason could feel Dick shaking.
Not with laughter.
With relief.
Very carefully...
Jason hugged him back.
"...Sorry."
Dick buried his face against Jason's shoulder.
"Don't ever do that again."
"I'll try."
"You'd better."
Steph marched over next.
She punched Jason squarely in the shoulder.
Not hard.
Just enough.
Jason rubbed the spot.
"...Ow."
"You deserved that."
"Probably."
She folded her arms.
"You made me cry."
"You cry during Disney films."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Those dogs aren't real."
Jason stared.
"...What?"
Steph frowned.
"I don't know, I'm emotional."
Jason actually laughed.
The sound filled the room.
Real.
Unforced.
Steph smiled through suspiciously watery eyes.
"There he is."
Tim wandered over, phone still clutched in one hand.
"I have..."
He looked down at the screen.
"...Thirty-seven questions."
Jason groaned.
"I counted."
"I know you counted."
"The first twelve are about medication."
"I know."
"The next eight are about sleep."
Jason sighed.
"I know."
"The last seventeen are because Google disagrees with itself."
Jason held out a hand.
Tim frowned.
"What?"
"The phone."
"...Why?"
"So you stop doom-scrolling medical journals at midnight."
Tim looked mildly offended.
"It's only ten."
Jason simply stared.
Tim sighed dramatically before locking the screen and slipping the phone into his pocket.
"...Fine."
Cass approached without a word.
Jason smiled tiredly.
"...Hey."
Instead of speaking...
Cass simply wrapped her arms around him.
Jason relaxed immediately.
"...Hi."
She squeezed once before stepping back.
"You scared us."
Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it.
"I know."
She nodded.
"I know."
Nothing else needed saying.
Duke crouched beside the sofa.
"So..."
Jason looked at him.
"...So?"
"When we're allowed..."
He smiled gently.
"...Can I come with you to your next neurology appointment?"
Jason blinked.
"You... want to?"
Duke shrugged.
"I don't know anything about epilepsy."
A pause.
"I'd like to."
Jason hadn't expected that.
"...Yeah."
He smiled.
"I'd like that."
Across the room...
Damian was still sitting beside Ace.
The enormous shepherd-Great Dane mix hadn't left Jason's side once.
Jason looked down at him.
"...C'mere."
Ace stood immediately.
One enormous paw landed on the sofa before the rest of him followed with considerably less grace than he probably intended.
Jason laughed as seventy kilos of dog attempted to curl into his lap.
"Dude."
Ace ignored him completely.
His head came to rest heavily across Jason's legs.
Jason scratched behind his ears.
"...You really weren't going to let me out of your sight, were you?"
Ace sighed contentedly.
Damian allowed himself the smallest smile.
"I told you."
Jason looked over.
"You did."
"I also told everyone he was alerting."
Bruce closed his eyes briefly.
"You did."
Damian glanced down at Ace before reaching over to rub the dog's shoulder.
"Good work."
Ace's tail thumped once against the sofa.
Jason smiled.
"Yeah."
He scratched under Ace's collar.
"...Good work, buddy."
Alfred quietly disappeared into the kitchen.
Nobody noticed.
Not until fifteen minutes later.
He returned balancing a large tray.
Nine mugs of hot chocolate.
One fresh pot of tea.
A plate piled embarrassingly high with biscuits.
Dick looked up.
"...Alfred?"
"I believe," Alfred said, setting the tray down carefully, "family game night was interrupted."
He glanced meaningfully at the abandoned Uno cards.
"I see no reason it cannot continue."
Steph looked between the cards and Jason.
"Seriously?"
Alfred smiled.
"If Master Jason feels well enough, of course."
Every eye in the room turned to him.
Jason looked around slowly.
Bruce wasn't hovering.
Dick had finally stopped clinging to him.
Tim had put his phone away.
Steph was smiling.
Cass looked calmer.
Barbara had settled back into her wheelchair with a blanket over her lap.
Duke was already reaching for the biscuits.
Damian was pretending not to smile.
Ace was still firmly attached to Jason's legs.
For the first time in three months...
Jason didn't feel like he was carrying this by himself.
He smiled.
A real one.
"...Deal me in."
Dick immediately grinned.
"Excellent."
He picked up the Uno deck.
"No mercy."
Jason snorted.
"You say that every time."
"And every time I mean it."
Bruce picked up the cards, shuffling them with the ease of someone who'd had decades of practice entertaining children who'd become adults but never really stopped being his kids.
"Same teams as last time?"
Steph pointed dramatically at Dick.
"I refuse to be partnered with him."
Dick looked offended.
"I'm delightful."
"You weaponise Draw Fours."
"It's called strategy."
"It's called emotional abuse
Jason laughed.
The sound came easily now.
The room filled with overlapping voices, mock arguments, Ace's tail thumping happily against the sofa, and Alfred quietly reminding everyone to use coasters this time.
Outside, Gotham carried on as it always had.
There would be patrols tomorrow.
Villains.
Mysteries.
Late nights.
Danger.
But tonight...
Tonight, Wayne Manor was warm.
The games resumed.
The laughter returned.
And surrounded by the family he'd been so afraid of worrying...
Jason finally understood something.
He had never been carrying this alone.
He'd simply forgotten that letting people help wasn't the same thing as becoming a burden.
As Dick triumphantly slammed down a Draw Four to a chorus of horrified protests, Jason shook his head and laughed.
Some things, thankfully
...
Never changed.