"Leave it, Hal." He glares at Bruce, pausing his pacing at the foot of his bed.
Bruce hesitates, something broken crossing his face, before it becomes a blank slate once more. "He was upset."
"He—" Hal glares at Bruce, using all of his willpower not to hunt down his kids-in-law. Almost in law. Bruce doesn't know about the other ring Hal has.
"He was upset," Hal repeats, slow, deliberate. "When someone is upset, they cry, Bruce. When someone is a budding psychopath, that's when they try to kill their family."
"Why? Why protect him, Bruce? He shot you!"
"Because I was there. He aimed for the links to your armour, Bruce, he knew exactly where to shoot so the Kevlar couldn't stop it. That's planned, that's deliberate."
"Habit," Bruce dismisses quietly.
Hal clenches a fist, letting the meaning of the words flow through him. As calmly as he can manage, he walks over and scoots onto the medical cot next to Bruce. He doesn't care if he's uninjured, the man is staying down here so Hal can monitor his vitals. He's seen the way Clark visibly listens after Bruce gets into a spat with one of his kids, and sure enough, his vitals are all over the place, the monitor muted but still showing graphs, because it kept sounding alarms.
"How often does Jason point a gun at you?"
Bruce doesn't answer right away, rubbing his thumb over Hal's knuckles in a slow pattern. Self soothing. Using Hal to ground himself. So, as much as he'd like an answer, Hal lets him come to it at his own pace.
"A lot. They make him feels safe, so he doesn't like to leave them behind. So, when I make him mad. They're to hand. He's expressive, he talks with his hands, so... sometimes he picks it up as well. And he talks with his gun."
Hal leans in, feels Bruce tense against him, waits for the tension to keep out of his shoulders again, then kisses his head. "That's not okay, baby. You have to understand that."
"They make him feel safe."
"They make you feel like you're not safe. And tonight, he proved you're not."
"He did. Bruce." Hal hates to cross Bruce's boundaries, but he cups Bruce's chin, and tips it up, forcing their gazes to meet. "I am asking you, please. Please let me take care of this. Don't just let this slide by, there has to be consequences." Bruce closes his eyes, pained, and Hal presses his lips to his head again, apologetic.
"That's an excuse. Please."
"Okay," Bruce breathes, after long enough that Hal was scared he'd have to watch this pass by.
"Thank you." Bruce tips his head up, and Hal grants him the kiss, sinking his fingers into the salt-and-pepper locks brushed back from his face, relishing in Bruce being alive. "Thank you."
Later, Hal leaves Bruce to sleep in their room— Bruce's room, and walks out into the hallway, finding Cassandra curled up outside the door. She stirs when he steps out, and blinks at the early morning light filtering in. Hal feels his chest clench at the sight, and has to stop himself from reaching out to stroke her hair back from her face. She's not his daughter. He doesn't even think of her like she is. ....yet. But he loves her, he thinks.
Hal chews his cheek, reigning in the desire to insult Bruce. Their banter, their bickering hasn't faded since getting together, but they're both getting better at knowing when isn't the time. "Spooky is...himself."
"He can't stop me from going to Jason," she says, firm, and he offers her a sad smile, guiding her away from the closed door.
"He won't. I have permission. I'm not sure he'll want you involved, but he said I can deal with it."
Cassandra wrings her hands. "He's scared."
"I think it shook him up more than he wants to admit."
Hal raps his knuckles on the flat door, and waits. No one answers, even if he can hear people inside, and Cass nods at him, before crouching and picking the lock.
The door swings open, and the occupants of Dick's apartment rush to face them, relaxing when they see Cass, then tensing again when they spot Hal just behind her. He waggles his fingers in greeting, offering a cheery grin.
It earns him several eye rolls, and Dick gives him a tight smile. "Sorry, Hal, not a great time. Family matters, you understand."
"I do," he assures, and closes the door behind him. "Which is why I will be staying. We have family matters to discuss."
There's a scoff, and he looks at Tim, who's nursing busted knuckles with an ice pack. "Cute," he sneers. "Just because you're fucking Bruce doesn't mean you're family."
"No. The fact I'm going to marry him means I'm family." The room reacts, but he keeps going, bowling over any rejections he can't be bothered listening to. "His, at least. Your sister's? Up to her. But you? That depends on whether you lot can get your shit together."
"Get out, Lantern." Dick grabs another ice pack from his kitchen, holding it to his own bruised fist, and glares at him. "We don't have time for whatever this is. Leave, or be removed."
"What happened to you?" Hal asks, allowing himself some sentimentality for a moment. "You were the sweetest kid. You worshipped Bruce. The Dynamic Duo, Batman and Robin."
"Now you can't talk to the man you call your father without spitting in his face, and trampling on his love for you."
"Things change. Bruce changed."
"I grew up. I got smarter."
"You got bitter. That's all this is. Bitterness, old grudges, petty reasons to tear down Bruce again, and again, and again."
"You don't know anything—"
"I know Jason is hiding from me, and you're protecting him when he tried to kill Bruce last night. I know that you are harbouring the man that tried to kill your father, and would have, if I wasn't there. You're welcome." Dick glares at him, and Hal glares right back. "Unless... maybe you wish I didn't? Maybe you wish Jason had just finished the job, huh? Maybe—"
Dick lunges for him, and Hal knocks him back with a construct, trapping him against the wall. "Fuck you, Jordan," he snarls.
From the doorway next to the writhing figure, Jason steps out, holding up a hand. "He's not harbouring me, you walking glowstick. You don't protect people by beating the shit out of them." Hal looks at the young man's face, a kaleidoscope of bruises, the way one hand rests slightly like he's supporting a few more bruises. Or his ribs are broken.
"You deserved every punch, you moronic—" Dick waves a hand, calling Tim off like the owner of an attack dog, and Hal reevaluates the offensive injuries he's seen. Maybe they're not from patrol, like he assumed.
"What do you want?" Jason grouches, and Hal lets Dick down off the wall, clasping his hands.
"I want to talk about what the fuck possessed you to shoot Bruce last night. Aiming between the Kevlar plates, so he'd bleed out in minutes—"
A gust of wind sweeps through the room, and Hal greets the Kryptonian with a simple nod. "Clark."
He shouldn't be so intimidating in flannel pyjamas, but his natural bulk, and the glowing red eyes pinning Jason in place more than make up for the alien's questionable wardrobe. "You shot Bruce?" He growls.
"Kal-El." The Kryptonian stiffens at his house name, but Hal needed his attention. He gives the other man a look, now isn't the time. "Please, go to the Watchtower and update some files. Red Hood is now a Priority One Gotham Rogue, and is to be kept away from Batman at all costs."
Clark's head moves eerily slowly between Hal and Jason, face giving nothing away. "Yes, I think that's best." He's gone in a blink, and Jason leans himself against the wall, pale.
"Priority One?" Stephanie questions, speaking for the first time. "That's too far."
"I disagree," he says mildly.
Duke rolls his eyes. "Green Lantern on a power trip. What a surprise."
"Bruce's kids being self-important little shits. What a surprise. Oh, wait—"
"—you're not his kids. Right." They both look surprised he said the same thing as them, and he gives a sharp smile. "That line's getting old, no?"
"I told you," Cassandra hisses, speaking up. He easily cedes the floor, while she glares at the pair. "It is not his fault you suffered. You are wicked, to make it his fault."
"Bruce might not have handed Mum the needle, but he's the reason she was told I was dead."
"He saved you from Black Mask. You're mad at Leslie."
"Don't you talk about Leslie—"
"What do you know, Cass?" Duke interrupts. "You spend most of your time in Hong Kong. You're not here to see how he treats us."
"I watch him love you. I watch him try, and try, and try, then I watch you try to have him bleed out exactly where his parents did." She spits the last bit towards Jason, who cringes, ducking his head, and missing the way the room becomes frigid.
"You shot him in Park Row?" Damian hisses. Hal barely holds in his startle, the kid wasn't in here a few seconds ago. "There? Do I need to put you back in the Pit, are you brain damaged beyond repair?"
"I told you, I didn't mean to," Jason whispers, face in his hands.
Hal decides to talk the wheel again, and takes a step forward, ignoring the way the room seems ready to collectively jump their brother. "See, Jason, I think you did."
"I think you did mean to shoot Bruce. I'm not sure you meant to kill him, but I think you did mean to shoot him. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd done it before, and Bruce just refused to tell me. But I think you didn't care about shooting him. I think you cared about teaching him a lesson, cared about setting a frankly unreasonable boundary, because Bruce goes out of his way to respect all of yours, for all of you, and a retaliation like that.... I think you wanted Bruce to listen to you. I think you wanted to give him a lesson to remember. And I think the only other people who think like that are the ones you pound into the pavement every night. I think you are so consumed by your hatred for a man who loves you— no, not the boy who died, you, that you've forgotten who you were years ago. Someone that fights for the good, for the victims, for the ones who can't fight for themselves. You were like that before Robin, before Bruce, he tells me. Surely death didn't take that from you? Being kind?"
He has to pull himself back, stop himself from going too far. He can't break Bruce's trust in him to handle this.
"I don't know your reasons for shooting Bruce, I barely got there when you shot him, but that is why you are a Priority One, Hood. Because you can't be trusted with him."
He looks at Cassandra, who takes his hand gently. "They were jealous. Seeing you and Bruce on the news."
Hal clenches his hand, realising too late he's crushing her hand, but she just looks at him with pitying eyes. "Right. How dare Bruce be happy. He doesn't deserve it."
None of them meet his eyes. "You're done," he hisses. "Bruce is mine, I'm not letting you hurt him. Get better, or stay away. It's not like you were planning on coming back anyway."
He storms out before he can do something stupid, go too far, break Bruce's trust in him to handle this sensibly. In the hallway, he realises he dragged Cassandra with him, and lets go of her hand, stumbling back. "Shit. Shit, I'm sorry, Cassandra."
"Breathe." She tilts her head, studying him. "We should leave. Come on."
She leads him up to the roof and taps his ring, so he lets her arrange herself, then takes them soaring through the sky, until they're touching down in the manor's gardens some time later, and he stumbles away from her to throw up in a bush.
"They struggle. I don't understand. They love him, but it gets...twisted."
"Yeah, it's fucking twisted alright." He spits, grimacing, and stands up on shaky legs.
In the distance, he sees a door open, and he knows Bruce's figure too well. "Thank you for coming with me."
"I love Bruce. You are a part of him now."
He blinks at her. "That's really romantic."
"You love him. You keep backing out of giving him the ring. It will only take time."
"How did you know?" He asks, futile.
She just smiles. "It's pretty. You chose well. I like it."
Hal looks at her, at Bruce close now, and orders: "Don't you dare tell him." Then he turns to meet Bruce, who's looking at him with a furrow in his brow.
He passes along a glass of water, giving the rose bush a pointed look, so Hal rinses his mouth out, while Bruce drifts to Cass, leaning on her.
"Are you okay?" He murmurs quietly, lips barely moving, eyes roving intensely over him.
"I'm fine. And it's handled." Bruce just nods, tensing, but he doesn't ask any questions.
"Fun day?" Cass asks, distracting him.
Bruce sways into her, and presses his lips to her forehead. "Whatever you want princess." She tucks herself under his arm, and Bruce grabs Hal's hand, pulling him along with them. He squeezes it, falling into step beside them.
Maybe, when Bruce is feeling a bit better, he'll get that ring out again. Maybe one day his kids will pull their shit together.
But for now....Hal has a feeling the three of them will be just fine on their own.
Whoops I thought I'd already posted this.
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