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Jason’s curls tangled in the tassel connected to his pointed cap. The loose strands were damp from sweat of the sunny day, and it was altogether a difficult process to separate them from the threads. A vexing situation, to be sure. He’d woken up at 4:30 A.M specifically to style the kinks in his hair, working a pick comb through them over and over as shown on a Youtube video created by an 11 year old. He finally fully rid the cheap string from his hair, but not before ruining that careful work from this morning.
He sighed through his nostrils, feeling the miniscule hair that grew inside them tickle his nose. Stay calm. It’s all fine.
The point of voicing these frustrations, he considered as he looked for the “Ws” sign along the green soccer field, was that this graduation was not going how he’d fantasized it to go.
No- a younger Jason dreamed of being in the front of the class. There was no question that he would’ve been the valedictorian, complete with a neck clad in honor chords and academic medals. He’d have been strong by now, a full fledged hero in his own right- muscled, tall and stepping into a world that by now had to belong to him.
Young Jason had lists of solo superhero names in school notebooks, not questioning that he’d ever take a different path. Such titles ranged from cooler ones like Strike and others that were… unfortunate. Such as Bat-teen, Brown Bird, and God forbid- the Count. Yes, after the one time he read “The Count of Monte Cristo” with his father.
Jason wondered if he would have ever made it that far as a vigilante. How many people could he have saved if he hadn’t been so stupid-
He shook off the thought, finding it physically hurtful to examine that question longer.
Jason lugged his crutches against the dirt below him, cringing as the tip of one submerged into the ground. He paused to pull the pad up from where it had sunk and continued on, this time more careful with the pressure he put in his steps. After all, walking across the grass with mobility aids wasn’t the easiest. Nor was walking in general anymore, with forever atrophied leg muscles and chronic fatigue.
“The accident” (even though the actual event was far from one) had happened late May his freshman year and had derailed everything. His quality of life, his plans, his health. This impacted what fifteen year old Jason would’ve considered the most important thing ever in the whole entire world - his grades.
He twisted his face as he stepped forward to the wooden plank with “W” painted on it. He’d never admit it to anyone who asked, but just standing for so long sucked. He was excited to sit down for the duration of the commencement ceremony, listening to tedious speeches and the many names that would be read loud.
After the next few hours, he’ll be done with everything and everyone at Gotham City High. He’ll be off to another city by the end of the summer, leaving this shit in the rear-view mirror.
But he still.. regretted stuff. He did.
Jason didn’t become valedictorian. He didn’t have any chords or medals around his neck.
Instead, he spent the rest of freshman and half of sophomore year in surgeries, wheelchairs, and learning how to walk again. Not to mention the PTSD from being whack-a-moled by a clown.
The rest of sophomore and all of Junior year was a frantic rush to catch up and get all his requirements for graduation in. It was a miracle he had been able to finish with his class.
But it stung that he never was able to take all the college classes or credits he’d planned. He hadn’t ever gotten a role in a play or made a Shakespeare book club. The three books he’d planned to write never came to be.
And he had to give up Robin- which was rough. Really rough.
Almost all his afternoons had been spent bone tired in his bed before getting enough energy to study. And even then, with all his focus on school, he barely managed to get all As and Bs in normal courses. They were a far call from the straight A pluses he’d achieved in all honors beforehand.
The bright neon notebook where he’d painstakingly written out all his future dreams at twelve was still on his bookshelf. The only thing was, all the bullets on his checklist had never been checked off.
Okay, okay. Jason usually wasn’t so down in the dumps with all this. Normally, it was just a wistful reminiscing of who he used to be. But he had a tendency to run away with his thoughts and let them spiral, especially on occasions where what-ifs dominated.
He leaned against his right crutch now, letting his left weaker leg take a rest. The straps of his aids went far up his wrists and nearly to his elbows. He’d shoved his graduation robes to his shoulders to accommodate them. Jason couldn’t complain about that.
By now he’d managed all the chafing from crutches and he had an excuse to pull up his sleeves on this hot June day without looking unkempt.
“Hey, Wayne,” Someone called out and Jason looked up from where he was staring in the distance. “Wayne,” The guy addressing him, James Zheng, said again. Despite his briskness, he wasn’t being unkind in tone. “Your dad’s waving to you.”
And sure enough, there was Gotham’s Prince, Bruce Wayne, at the fence thirty feet across from him.
His dad was waving, and he waved back. Granted, Jason had a tinge of redness on his face from the sight. Bruce had decided it was only natural to wear fucking tailored armani to a city public school graduation, in contrast to all the other dads wearing polo t-shirts and khaki pants.
The too-enthusiastic guy had come earlier than the rest of the family and even Jason to reserve their spots on the bleachers of the football field where all 753 kids in his class would be graduating. The administration was happy enough to make an exception and allow them to reserve half a row near the front.
What, with half the school initiatives and said football field being funded solely from his pockets? Yeah. Bruce Wayne got what he wanted in this instance.
Jason had tried to insist that everyone didn’t need to come, much less reserve anything because of how little he’d actually accomplished. To that, he’d gotten such a severe glare, he shut up immediately.
“Don’t you think,” Dad had said in a flat grave tone as he’d pulled Jason to his side in a firm hug. “ for an instant, that I am not immensely proud of you- more so than I could ever be of anyone.”
In the present moment, Dad was holding something up to the fence for him to see. Jason squinted, unsure of what it was.
Oh. Jason felt his face grow into an uncontrollable grin. A wave of fondness took over him, melting his brain into pure warmth like the popsicle he’d accidentally left out in the sun. Oh .
It was a teddy bear with a bow tied around its neck and a little graduation cap on top. Dad had obviously bought it at the pop up gift tent in the parking lot, waiting painstakingly on the crowded line, just for him.
Jason nodded and waved again, pulling up his right crutch as he frantically gestured that he loved it. He got a wide smile in return, and Dad held the teddy bear up, using one paw to wave back.
“I love you,” Dad mouthed, as the band began to play the beginning song, “Pomp and Circumstance,”.
He started to turn back, but not before Jason shouted, loud and uncaring if anyone else thought ill of him for it, “I love you too- I love you!”
Dad was proud of him, Jason realized- really realized- for the first time. Just as proud as he would’ve been if he graduated with all the chords in existence. And maybe, Jason thought as the line of graduates moved up with him at the very back, he could be proud of himself too.
With 753 kids and their families in a stadium, Jason got an overwhelming cheer when his name was read aloud. Maybe it was because he was visibly disabled and everyone thought they knew about his tragedy. Or because he had the last name of the city’s sweetheart. Possibly both. But he didn’t mind either reason.
He hobbled up the stage stairs, got his diploma with Jason Wayne written in cursive on the cover, shook hands with grinning administrators telling him he was “brave” and moved back down to the stairs. As he descended, he heard his family still clapping and cheering his name.
And that was that- the end to his entire high school experience. And it was good. Great. Thank God the four years were over with.
Onto a better, hopefully less tumultuous next four.
A few moments later (as he was in the back of the alphabet), the superintendent rose to the podium.
“I have certified that,” She called into the microphone, gesturing for everyone to stand up. “Each student here has finished all requirements for the next stage of their lives, as certified by the state of New Jersey and the district of Central Gotham. You may turn your tassels, from right to left, signifying the end of your high school careers.”
Jason did so, laughing a bit at the forced symbolism of it. The threads which had been such this frustration a few hours later were finally coming into use for exactly 0.5 seconds.
“Congratulations, class of 2023! You have graduated!”
At that announcement, he and the rest of his class threw up their caps in the air. Jason grinned uncontrollably as he did so, trying to track his own cap in the air as it fell with the rest.
He was done! Done!
He hobbled over towards the direction it had fallen, scanning the ground for where it had landed.
There it was!
The newest trend in his generation was that you customized the top of your cap. Others in his class had decorated it with jokes, phrases, their college names if they were going. Compared to others who had taken the time to bedazzle with glitter and fake gems, his was rather simple.
In neat stenciled letters, he’d written out a line that stuck with him from a Mickey Mouse and Goofy movie he watched in a hospital bed. It was a philosophy he’d taken to heart and just made him excited for all that was to come.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life,”
Jason was still looking down and smiling at it when an impact hit his side and threw him down to the ground.
Well. It wasn’t so much being “thrown down to the ground” as much as a careful tackle by his eldest brother who was being true to his namesake. Dick grabbed him by the shoulders. In a controlled fall, he hugged Jason to his chest tight and fell on his own back, absorbing the majority of the force.
Jason could appreciate that Dick had adjusted his assholery to be more disability inclusive, making sure Jason’s legs never fell too hard and that his crutches weren’t tussled.
Sometimes he hates it. Today, he was laughing so hard his cheeks hurt.
“Hey bud!” Dick gently shook him from where they’d tumbled to the ground. He slid a sneaky hand to Jason’s stomach, in a plot to tickle him. But Jason spotted it and slapped him away. “Dude, I am so proud of you.”
Jason pretended he didn’t hear the crack of emotion in his elder brother’s voice as he threw a playful punch at the other boy. This was half to keep up his younger brother role, and half to reassure the horrified onlookers who saw a disabled child be tackled to the ground by a grown man.
He limped up to stand, heavily leaning against his crutches, just in time to come face to face with Tim and Cass.
The latter pinched at his cheek while the former told him sullenly. “The graduation was too long. Tell them to shorten their speeches next time,”
“He slept through,” Cass informed him, now pinching Jason’s other cheek. “Proud of you, baby,”
Jason rolled his eyes, swatting at her and promptly missing. “Not a baby,” He protested over Tim’s whines. She just winked at him. Well- this was a battle he couldn’t win with someone just a year older. “Hey, where are the rest of the slow polks in the family at?”
“Dad and Alf taking time,” Cass reported, hugging Tim close, who leaned against her with half closed eyes. “Damian is-“
“Todd,”
At the sudden voice, Jason and Tim startled. Dick and Cass, who’d apparently seen the younger boy coming, began to laugh.
“Hey,” Jason smiled down at Damian, pointedly ignoring his two older siblings. “Didn’t you hear the announcer who said my name up there? It was a pretty big deal- what’s my last name again?”
Damian’s eyes flashed into a considering look, before he conceded.
“Wayne.” He corrected and folded his arms behind his back like a military hardened grandfather. “You have accomplished something I could have at six. Which is to say, relatively, for your stature and position in life, you have reason to feel satisfaction at this moment.”
Jason turned to the others to judge , who simultaneously shrugged. He turned back and nodded. “I’ll take the compliment,” He telegraphed his movements, reaching a hand out to ruffle his baby brother’s hair.
Damian, who had been with them for three months and had just learned this gesture was not an opportune maneuver to attack, tolerated the dishevelment.
Bruce watched his children from a few meters off, not wanting to impede on the moment. Jason’s siblings had rushed off to congratulate him as soon as the ceremony was verbally concluded. But he lagged behind with Alfred, who for all his many wonders was not as agile as he once was.
And yes. He could admit he needed a moment to himself.
Bruce, his current therapist named Sylvia noted, had a fantastic ability to hide severe trauma. When she’d first said this, he took it as a compliment and thanked her. When she gave him a severe look, he knew he was in trouble.
The thing was, since Jason almost lost his life, Bruce had never been the same.
His right hand had a tremor now, a physical manifestation of wildly increased anxiety. He had insomnia and well hidden depressive episodes. He drifted between two states- constant elation that all his children were alive and despair over the idea he couldn’t have all the control in the world to keep them that way.
He was in therapy. He was journaling. He was handling it.
But episodes struck. Like today, where throughout the graduation ceremony, he was thanking every force in the universe that made it so the graduation teddy bear was a gift for a laughing boy.
And not, he tightened his grip around the stuffed paw at another surge of anguish, a devastating offering at a tombstone.
From everything that had happened in the last few years, he could recall one vulnerable moment in absolute clarity. Jason had woken up from an umpteenth surgery, crying out for water. But the doctors were strict on no liquids, citing the potential of him becoming ill and straining stitches.
So there they were, miserable in a hospital room when his son turned to him with tears streaming down his face.
“I should have died,” Jason sobbed between struggling breaths. “ I should’ve died a hero and saved everyone the trouble,”
Hapless and unable to control his emotions at that statement, Bruce had left the room and called Alfred to take over. All before breaking down in his car and destroying the steering wheel.
After a few hours of getting his rage out and the car towed, he’d come back to a considerably calmer Jason. His son couldn’t recall anything in the hours post surgery and was peacefully eating jello.
But Bruce never forgot- couldn’t forget. And he put all of his effort from that day on letting Jason know how insanely cherished he was. How even though his life looked different now, it didn’t make it any less beautiful.
But had it worked? Did Jason know-
“Enough of your brooding,” Alfred interrupted his spiral, having finally caught up. The older man nudged him forward. “This is a joyous occasion, and you’d do best not to let other details get in the way of that. Life is chaotic, Bruce.” He patted him on the arm with a withered hand. “Keep this part simple,”
Before Bruce gained the confidence to step forward, the now familiar sound of rushing crutches came towards him, followed by an exuberant eighteen year old throwing himself in his father’s arms.
“Jason,” Bruce’s face split into a smile so wide he heard a jaw muscle cracked. He subtly wiped water that somehow had ended up in his eye on the sweltering June morning. “I’m so-“
“Proud of you?” Jason guessed with a giggle.
His son squeezed him in an embrace and Bruce almost choked from his grip. It was such a physical strength they didn’t think three years ago he’d ever get back.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason released him now, leaning back on his crutches with swagger. “I know. That’s all you have to say, old man?” He grabbed at the teddy bear that had tucked itself under Bruce’s armpit, forgotten in the moment.
Jason held up the little bear, staring up into its plastic bead eyes and tracing scarred fingers through its fur. “I love him,” He choked down a little happy sob. “I love it. I’m going to call him Austen,”
From behind him, his siblings’ faces dropped at the decoration. “After Jane Austen?” They simultaneously groaned, making their disappointment in their brother’s predictability clear.
“Austen,” Bruce nodded, smiling wildly and aware of the camera clicks coming from Alfred’s direction. “I like Austen,”
So Bruce took the time to be thankful.
He was thankful for the too hot June ceremony, the insistence on Alfred’s part that they take a copious amount of photos to commemorate, and the long lunch at the fancy restaurant afterward where all five young heirs to the Wayne fortune threw straws at each other.
He was thankful for Austen the Bear, who took his rightful place in Jason’s suitcase to college come August, and wasn’t a weathered piece of sentimental fabric over a tomb.
And he was thankful - even when it was hard to say goodbye in a half made-up dorm room- that Jason had such utter brightness in his eyes. The boy looked towards a future they’d briefly thought impossible all those years ago.