*J* (the continuation)

Part Thirty-Five: Chapter 269: Liberties

Bruce sat in his bedroom with his head in his hands. Another month has slowly passed by. Things between he and Jason have remained unchanged. He had hoped to make progress with him by now, but for whatever reason, it just wasn't happening. Bruce truly thought that if he restored Jason's identity, that Jason would de-evolve and become his true self. But it just wasn't happening. It seemed that with every effort Bruce made, that Jason resented him even more for it.

Since Bruce had brought Jason back to Wayne Manor he had restored his natural voice. It had changed from what Bruce remembered. The voice Bruce recalled had been that of a child, if a teen. The voice that now spoke to him with spite, was that of a grown man. It was as if the years of transition had been stolen from Bruce. Jason wasn't a child anymore and Bruce wished that he had matured under his wing instead of the Joker's.

In the months of captivity Bruce has also had several of the Joker's tattoos on Jason's body removed by laser. However, they seemed to actually do very little to resurrect Jason. He never seemed to bat an eyelash when he would wake from sedation to realize one was no longer there. Bruce had hoped for more. He had hoped, at the very least, to see a glimpse of Jason becoming himself again. However though, it didn't work out that way.

But all of that was merely child's play. Bruce had tracked down the plastic surgeon the Joker had hired to transform Jason into him. Then, feature by feature, Jason's physical appearance was restored, with the exception of the white skin and green hair. But it did very little to alter his behavior. Nor did it make him resent Bruce any less.

The surgeries all involved a degree of pain for Jason. But due to his past history with drugs, Bruce didn't want to rock the boat. Relations between the two of them were tense enough. Some of the procedures left Jason moaning in pain for days. Many times Bruce wanted to rescue his brother from his agony. It was hard to remember to do the right thing when Jason was obviously suffering.

All Bruce wanted to do was give Jason his life back. Jason was so lost in so many ways. He had pretended and pretended so long that the fantasy had become real to him. So much so that Bruce was starting to wonder if Alfred had been right all along when he said that the Jason they knew was dead. But Bruce didn't want to accept that. He cared too much for Jason to accept that. Jason and Alfred were all he had in the world.

He simply wanted Jason to be his brother. He wanted the kind of relationship that brothers were supposed to have. He wanted Jason to trust him, and in return be able to trust him back. He wanted them to be able to believe in one another as they had before everything happened. But those simple wishes seemed more impossible than they even had a month ago.

"Master Bruce," comes Alfred's voice, "Do you intend to stay in your bedroom all day?" He walks into Bruce's room with a tray of food.

Bruce raises his head to glance at the window. He hadn't even realized that it was daylight. Alfred sits the tray down on the table next to him. Bruce glances to it with half drunk, bloodshot eyes. It wasn't a breakfast tray. It was lunch. Bruce sighs to himself as he realizes how long he has been in this prone position of despair. His hand reaches out over the tray and instead retrieved the glass of bourbon.

"I'd say you've had enough sir," Alfred raises an eyebrow at him, "You really should have something to eat."

Like a defiant teen, Bruce rolls his eyes and brings the glass to his lips. He takes a drink and looks up at Alfred. "He hates me Alfred. He's all I have, and he fucking hates me." Bruce then brings the glass to his mouth once more.

"I see sir, and are you trying to gain his respects through bourbon? Perhaps another bottle will make him come to his senses. Shall I fetch you another bottle sir? Perhaps something a bit more aged?" Alfred asks with a sarcasm Bruce can't help but notice.