Getting The Family Together

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You're in an amazingly good mood when you arrive home that evening after seeing Jason. Your other children, official and unofficial, notice along with your husband but none of them ask, assuming that the GCPD charity ball had just gone better than expected. It isn't until a few days after you had seen Jason that Bruce brings up your persistent good mood. You had successfully pulled him away from all of his work, yet again, just to cuddle him on the couch. You were in your usual spot on his lap with your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head when he brings it up, "what has you in such a good mood? I know you well enough that it wasn't the GCPD charity ball."

You lean your head back against his shoulder so you can look up at him, "well, I sure hope you would know that, Love. But whats different about my mood?" Your question is genuine in the moment, but the second after you ask it you realize of course you wouldn't be able to hide the fact that you were happy about seeing and holding your Jaybear in your arms once again.

"Well, since you left that evening you've been in a-" he pauses, wanting to choose the correct words since he knows if he were to say 'better mood' you would relentlessly bug him about it for the next week or so, "you've been in a good mood far too long for it to have just been due to you being tipsy from the party."

You laugh gently, "good catch," you say in reference to his pause, "you know me so well." You take a pause of your own, absentmindedly tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. "I saw Jason," you eventually answer and open your mouth to continue but get interrupted.

"I know, I won't ask you where he is," Bruce says as the both of you know he had been trying to track Jason down for months at this point. At first it had been to stop him but as soon as he learned it was Jason his motivation had changed to helping Jason get off the seemingly destructive path he was currently on. His arms tighten around you, "I'm glad you got to see him." His hand brushes your hair out of your face, "I know that you missed him."

You smile at the man holding you, grateful yet again for the many arguments you had gone through with him, convincing him that you weren't scared of the potential dangers. "I know you did too, eventually he'll be ready to come home again and we can have our family together once more."

You can do nothing but glare at the man standing in your face. He was ugly, before you had broken his nose with your fist and without the black eye that was quickly forming. In all honesty you were surprised that it had taken this long for you to get kidnapped for the second time in your life, the first time since officially meeting Bruce. "Now, you're going to behave yourself while we call your husband and get him to send us the ransom money if he wants to see you alive again."

"Okay," you respond as it takes everything in you to not just sit there and taunt the man. They had you duck-taped to a chair, preventing you from causing further damage to their faces. And sure maybe you should be acting scared but still your reaction to danger is to laugh in it's face, even if you know that as soon as that phone call was made you would be out of this place in the hour.

The brutish looking man growls in frustration and slaps you across the face before yelling at his friends to keep an eye on you while he makes a phone call.

Tears sting your eyes at the slap on the face but you bite your tongue and look at the other two men who were now standing in front of you. There were maybe 20 others scattered through the building, they had clearly thought all of this through, but were a little underprepared for the fact that every single hero or vigilante in the city would take your kidnapping personally.

The man who had slapped you comes back, bragging about how scared Bruce had sounded on the phone and how willingly he was ready to hand over the money he had demanded. He barely makes it back into the room, when there is a moment of static over their walkie-talkies and then as scream and some loud banging off in the distance.

"Ooh, that doesn't sound very good," you say, clenching your teeth in false sympathy for them. "You guys might want to get that checked out." You can see that the man wants to slap you again for your big mouth but there is another shout and he begins directing the men to group together to try and protect the merchandise.

Eventually, you notice him first, Jason sneaks into the room in his Redhood gear. You were a little surprised to see him out of everyone since there had not been a single gunshot fired and that was kind of his thing. It didn't take the men around you long to notice Jason, since he was moving through the open now.

As they approach Jason, after realizing he isn't shooting everyone on sight, the men's confidence gets shattered as an actual child jumps from the rafters and knocks 3 of them down in one go. They begin firing their guns, shooting at anything that moves. You see their recklessness and know you should get out of there since as soon as they realize they're outmatched they're going to threaten you in the hopes of gaining an advantage.

You unsteadily stand, still duck-taped to the chair, and begin to waddle towards the nearest doorway. You get interrupted by your oldest son catching you, "hey, need some help?" Dick asks, clearly teasing you for this predicament you had gotten into.

"No thanks, Nightwing, I've heard that it improves your running speed if you're tied to a chair."

You see the flash of a smile cross his face as he just cuts the tape and helps you out of it. He then goes to help you out of the room but you stop him and say, "I can manage, you help your brothers."

You can see him hesitate for a moment before going with it, you then take off towards the door, only to be interrupted once again, but this time by the man who had slapped you, pointing his gun in your face. Your three sons who had come to your rescue, clearly trying to keep some sort of secret identities by the fact that everyone wasn't here, are all busy in the moment. You stop short at the sight of the gun, but once again you're impulsive, kicking the man square in the balls before bolting to the door.

You make it to the door and pull it open, stepping through it just for a shooting pain to go through your thigh. It's as you fall to the ground that you hear the gunshot and realize that the bastard had shot you. You do what you can to close the door behind you, just in time since another bullet hits the door. You then scoot across the grimy floor, to a spot where you can hide since you won't be moving far, and look at the blood trail you had left. You take a breath and collect your thoughts, remembering the sports bra you had worn and ripping your shirt off for a makeshift bandage/tourniquet for your leg.

You get it wrapped well enough to stop some of the bleeding and begin putting pressure on the wound, despite the fact that doing so nearly caused you to black out. Not long after that the fighting in the other room stops and Jason is the first one through the closed door.

"Mama?" He takes the hood off as he lands on his knees beside you.

"I'm fine," you say, motherly instinct taking over and you wanting to protect him despite the fact that he had just taken out at least 7 guys on his own moments before.

"Bull," he says and moves your hands so that he can evaluate things, not that he didn't trust you knew what you were doing but knowing that your mind was probably a bit all over the place.

"I'm fine, enough, Jaybear," you say and lean your head against the wall behind you.

Hours later you're relaxing on the couch with Bruce and three of your boys, holding them all as well as you can with a leg cast. The bullet had fractured your femur so it made everything a bit more complicated but at least now you knew how it felt to be shot so you could write better descriptions in your books.

But it's as you're sitting there with Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian that the doorbell rings and a few minutes later Alfred enters the room. You look up to see Jason standing beside him, "Hey."

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