Chapter Text
There’s a lot of loose ends he had to tie up before disappearing forever.
First, he had to make it to his last shift on time.
Jason woke up at eight o'clock on the dot, sighing when he realized that his body wouldn't let him drift back into blissful sleep. He heaved himself up, not wasting any time meandering in his bed. After all, he only had a few days left to live.
It was anticlimactic how peaceful and quiet his morning was. There was only a mild buzz of fatigue in this mind, where there would usually be an ocean deep of suicidal thoughts drowning him whole.
It was the first time in a long time that he didn't immediately glance longingly at the razor next to his bedside.
It'll all be over soon, the lullaby hummed as he brushed his teeth and grabbed a random pair of civilian clothes off the floor of his room. You’ll be free.
I'll be free, Jason whispered, glancing at his appearance in the mirror, watching how the person he saw in the silver reflection brushed the wrinkles on his dark jacket and ran their fingers through darker hair.
And just like every other morning, he brewed himself a cup of black coffee from his cheap coffee machine and drank it while watching Gotham city rise from its covers. The stay animals around continued to whine and beg for food from the kind shopkeeper nearby, frantic parents hurriedly making their way to drop off their kids at daycare, and the whistle of a train indicated the beginnings of a long morning commute.
Jason would miss this, but he can’t– won’t belong to this world anymore.
If Jason believed in God now, he would still continue to strike him down and cause him pain. There was no one watching him up there, and the pain he's felt from the moment he was born proves that. He however, hopes that God would spare him just one week of pain, a bit more time before he can finally join the Devil deep into Hell.
Jason grabs his backpack and refuses to think about the grim frown on Bruce’s face when he had slit his throat.
-
“Just this, please.”
The woman handed him a colorful energy drink, the can wet from the clear pearls of condensation that emerged after meeting the warm June air.
Wordlessly Jason scanned the item, his usual pleasantries absent.
The convenience store was around the corner from his favorite safehouse, and was only a little bit more dangerous than the ones that can be found in a typical city. Afterall, it was Crime Alley, and crime never sleeps, much like Jason's inability to never stop feeling fatigue.
The woman thanked him and dumped the drink into her faux leather bag, the deep embers of the textile and the monotone colors of her business casual outfit merging together. She looked like another faceless member of society, hurrying off to her 9-5 job with polite smiles and meaningless small talks. A single speck of dirt amongst all the others on the Earth. Her life would be spent unhappily at a crammed desk and two-faced coworkers until she keels over from old age.
Living was just miserable, Jason affirmed, watching as a child and his mother bicker loudly in the small store. There's no way out but six feet under.
A deep set of exhaustion washed over him, burrowing itself deeper into his bones.
Unfortunately, he still had about six hours of his shift to go.
First he envisions a truck smashing through the dirty windows and running him over. Then he thinks about the pills on the shelves towards the back, an easy way to overdose. He thinks about the gun he has safely tucked in his bag, and how quickly he can turn it on himself. Just before he could get too comfortable with the floaty lull of his happier daydreams, a low voice interrupted the imaginary sirens in his head.
“Jason?”
He blinked, and his vision focused on the figure in front of him.
A very, very familiar mess of black hair and set of eyebags stared at him, their eyebrows raised in surprise. In his hand, was the same energy drink that the woman had bought previously.
Just had to be this one fucking day.
“Tim.”
Tim stared back at him, his eyes analyzing the worn red hoodie that clashed violently with the neon yellow employee vest and the wrinkled pair of black jeans Jason threw on.
“I… didn’t know you worked here.”
Jason rolled his eyes, snatching the drink from his little brother’s hand to scan it into the machine with a satisfying beep.
“Cause it wasn't anyone's business. Especially not yours, with all your detective shit being more important than whatever I do in my free time,” Jason snarked as he used his own card to pay for the drink, earning a frown from the shorter boy when his credit card was waved away.
“Here, on the house. Now get out of my sight.”
Sure that might have not been the nicest, or most mature way to speak to his little brother, but Jason didn't ask for him to be a part of the family. Bruce does whatever he wants as always, meaning Jason has to deal with this weird family dynamic shit.
Jason sighed.
He was seriously fed up with this.
Tim’s eyes traced Jason's figure once more, taking careful consideration to his faded green eyes and the edge in his words that wasn't usually present. Jason is what you call a grade A asshole, but something was clearly off.
“Are you okay?”
…What?
Jason’s eyebrows flew towards his hairline before he could stop the emotion from overtaking his expression. Tim, paying no attention to Jason’s strange reaction only tilted his head slightly in confusion, and was that worry on his face?
He would almost expect this kind of worry from someone as soft like Dick and the occasional glance from Alfred if he had said something a little bit too self-deprecating. Never had he seen worry so apparent on another member of the “batfamily” directed towards him. Often he could recall pitying gazes filled with unspoken words, meanings that sounded like it was meant for Robin and not whatever monster he had become now.
Why would Tim even ask him that? Is he stupid? Obviously not. This is Tim Drake we are talking about.
Does he even remember what Jason did to him???
“The fuck you on about? I’m as jolly as Dickhead right now,” Jason crossed his arms, losing all the annoyance in his words as the fire within him dissipated into nothing but ashes. “If you don't need anything else babybird, go back to the nest and do whatever the hell you should be doing now.”
Tim’s eyes dimmed with hurt and a prominent frown spread across his thin lips. He looked almost pitiful, reminiscent of a sad puppy, which made Jason feel a little bad with his harsh words.
Jason sighed.
“I know you didn't come here just for some stupid energy drink. I’m fine Tim, don't worry about me.”
Thankfully there was someone else in line behind Tim, their lips pursed in frustration and their eyebrows furrowed with impatience.
“I can help whoever’s next.”
With a soft snort and a scowl, Tim shoved the energy drink into his bag, the pearls of condensation dripping and staining his bag darker. As he left, Jason could hear the angry hiss in his voice before the convenience store door slammed shut.
“What the fuck are you planning, Jason?”
Jason sighed again, reaching over to scan the bag of chips the man had thrown harshly on the counter.
Only God knows what his next move will be.
-
The end of his shift could be summarized easily as “dogshit” and “never again”. Of course on his last fucking day, he had numerous difficult customers that almost made him want to grab the handgun in his bag and shoot his brains out right there. Jason held back of course, he would rather his death be much more peaceful and planned and not something to spite some random pissy old lady. And he had to admit he was a sentimental and dramatic bastard, so convenience store death was off the books indefinitely.
He would miss how “normal” this job made him feel, despite it being some of the worst experiences he’s had and that is saying way too much.
Months ago Jason imagined himself quitting this shitty job, yelling and flipping off his boss before he finally threw that ugly apron into the garbage can.
Now?
Jason could barely even muster up the energy to untie the knot on the back of his uniform and when he did, he folded the apron neatly and left it in his locker. He ignored the sharp and condescending remarks from his boss until he reluctantly bid him goodbye. One last swing of the door, and Jason was finally unemployed, but free.
Well, you gain some, you lose some.
Jason didn't tell his boss that he would be dead by his shift next week, or leave a note saying goodbye to the only coworker he had somewhat tolerated. This chapter was closed, and Jason had mentally signed out a long time ago.
He still remembered the feeling of pride he had felt when he had been hired, something small and buried away from his Robin days. Jason was making money on his own, and this job wasn't just something Bruce had given him, because he had earned this position.
It was a shitty job, but it was all his own.
His death will be all his own as well.
Walking down the streets of Crime Alley after work, meant he could still see the sun peering over Gotham. It wasn't often he had time to see daylight, as being Red Hood meant he was more familiar with the dark, eerie quiet of the night. As soon as his patrol was done, he would fall asleep until night fell again, and rinse and repeat blahblahblah that was his life. Despite whatever hell had happened on his shift, he knew he would miss the peaceful walks home.
Jason wondered if this would be his life, if Bruce didn't take him away, if a nice family had adopted him. Maybe he would finish high school, go to college, move somewhere outside of Gotham, get a shitty job like this one to pay off his student debt. When he was younger he had wanted to be a writer, then a librarian, then laying on that cold warehouse floor, he had just wanted to live.
Jason traced the edges where the sun rays had hit the broken sidewalk, the colors of the sun maturing to a darker orange as he turned the corner to the quiet apartment near his safehouse. The late summer winds felt warm across his scarred face, brushing his cheeks as a greeting before running off to their next destination. Soft noises echoed across the street, sounding like joyous giggles from an innocent child and sharp barks from the stray dogs scattered around.
As he passed the apartment, he recognized the young lady sitting on the steps. They had a few interactions, nothing special, just friendly greetings and small talk from time to time.
What caught Jason’s eye was the quiet sobbing and the subtle shaking of her shoulders as she curled closer to herself. He stopped, just barely across the street, watching as people walked around her, barely taking notice of her crumbling world.
Before Jason could stop himself, he crossed the street, sidestepping past the people that hurried home before dark fell. The sun, preparing for its slumber, slowly faded away into the start of evening blue as the clouds embraced its orange glow entirely. Footsteps dissipated into nothing along with the sound of daylight.
Despite the world changing around the two of them, they did not attempt to follow in its path.
Jason, knowing he had to patrol soon, sat down next to the woman until he heard her soft sobs trickle into sniffles. He stared at the cracked lines embedded into the concrete in the meantime, counting the fragmented pieces before losing track and starting all over again.
“Chris?”
Ah. He forgot he used that name.
“In the flesh,” he counted twelve pieces so far. “I’m guessing today went well?”
She laughed wetly, the corners of her mouth lifting sweetly before down turning once more.
“Yeah…”
It was silent for a moment, as Jason waited patiently for her to speak.
“I know you probably want to know why I’m bawling my eyes out outside of my apartment and not inside!” She laughed again, this one less humorous and more self deprecating. “I don't know, it probably doesn't matter anyways.”
She attempted to rise before Jason gently placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke.
“What happened?”
Those two words were almost enough to make start sobbing all over again, as she sat back down on the hard concrete step.
She hesitated before she spoke, the words stuck in her throat.
“I don't want to trauma-dump on you since we barely know each other,” For the first time, Jason looked at her, holding her gaze. “But whatever, I don't know.”
“I used to… have a drinking problem you could say. Screwed me over kinda badly, went to rehab, got better, or whatever,” She spoke softly, her eyes the clearest shade of brown Jason had ever seen. “I graduated college today, and the first thing my mom did was buy a bottle of champagne.”
She bit her lips nervously as she spoke, "And it’s like, I told her I’m not ready to drink and that I can’t–I hated myself when I did.”
“She wouldn't stop telling me to drink… So I did. I took three whole glasses of champagne before I could stop myself. An–and I didn't want to say no because my mom was so happy for me and if I said no she would've been…”
She paused looking away from Jason, her eyes filling with tears that only served to make her amber eyes brighter.
“Sad.”
Jason let the words wash over him, and he wanted to do something, to make her feel seen and not alone.
He knew that feeling all too well, and for a brief moment he thought about Bruce.
He wished it was anybody but him here to comfort her, someone more experienced like Dick or even Bruce. Jason and emotions don't mix well, which only made the scar on his throat hurt.
No, this wasn't about me.
“It’s not your fault.”
She scoffed and looked away.
“I know it's not my fault. I just… I don't know.”
She stood up, and this time Jason didn't stop her.
“Listen, I appreciate whatever comfort you’re trying to give me and I’m sorry I had to put that all on you,” Her eyes were still glossy with tears, and Jason couldn't look at her anymore. “Just. Forget this all happened.”
She opened the door to her apartment, and gave him one last glance.
“See you around, Chris.”
The door closed, and Jason was left with nothing but the weight of her words and the number of cracked pieces in the concrete sidewalk. His limbs moved automatically, but his mind was somewhere else.
I fucked up again.
Yeah, he knew he couldn't just magically make her feel better, but he could've tried harder, maybe said something else that would've actually stopped those amber eyes from bleeding more tears. Instead, his mind traveled to Bruce and his own trauma.
Selfish.
For a moment he thought he could do one thing right. Jason could've made her laugh, said some silly joke that would stop the pain in her faraway gaze.
When the door closed, reality hit. He isn't some superhero and he certainly wasn't Robin anymore. Whatever he could have done at that moment, was spoiled by the fact that he is truly, not a good person. No matter how much he wanted to make her feel like she wasn't alone, he is simply not the right person for the job and that is in fact, his fault.
Why did God bring him back to Earth, if she did not want him here any longer?
Jason's head felt fuzzy as he approached his safe house.
The quiet chirps of the crickets hummed their lullaby, the sound haunting along with the creaking of his door opening. Patrol started soon, and he was late.
There were children and people out there who needed his help, and he was going to be late because he was going to be selfish once again.
Before he suited up, he grabbed the razor in his nightstand, the feeling of guilt piercing his heart. There was barely any space on his arm, that wasn't covered by disgusting purple or reddish brown. Instead, he lifted his shirt just above his stomach, and raised his razor over the pale skin.
One slash left a trail of blood. The next turned white before bleeding profusely. Then, the blood kept coming and his hands couldn't stop moving. The last cut he did left him hissing with pain, and blood uncontrollably flowing out. It turned white, then red, then orange fat began to make its appearance, bubbling up dangerously beneath the cut skin.
Jason stood there, wondering if anyone would care if his corpse was covered with ugly scars or if they would cover it all up like it never happened.
-
“Yo, Hood.”
Jason was wrangling a petty burglar before he heard the familiar sound of Spoiler’s voice and light footsteps.
“Spoiler… and Signal?”
Duke gave a half wave and a sheepish smile. His costume looked unnaturally bright in the dead of night, made especially apparent as Gotham nights were far darker than the likes of Blüdhaven or Metropolis.
Jason thinks it's the crimes and the sins that scares away even the moon from shining in the streets.
“What do you want.”
He refuses to team-up with Bruce in any way, so he never kept the comm line to the Cave open. If he tried now, the amount of metaphorical dust wiped off will be enough to cause a dust allergy. Besides, whenever on the rare occasion they did have to team up, Jason just took a radio. So far, Jason was not aware of any team-up missions with any family member or Duke specifically.
Why is he even patrolling at night?
“We just wanted to see if you needed help with anything,” Duke said, noting how Jason’s expression stayed safely hidden behind his red helmet. “Y’know… just in case?”
His voice trailed off, words filled with uncertainty. Jason was no stranger to people being uncomfortable by his intimidating presence, especially Duke’s. The kid practically had a heart attack when he first met Jason after all.
Jason thought about it for a moment, taking his words into careful consideration.
He was planning on giving all ownership of his “Red Hood brand” to his crew… but maybe a little help wouldn't hurt.
They were the ones who offered, and they still offered it despite knowing Jason will continue to kill if he finds fit.
Their funeral I guess.
Eh, well technically his.
“There’s something I need to take care of outside of Gotham,” Jason said, fidgeting with the safety of his gun. “I’m leaving in a few days. Think you can take care of some areas before I leave?”
An unexpected silence filled the alleyway as both Spoiler and Duke gaped at Jason with a surprised look, as if they weren't expecting Jason to actually say yes. Jason shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he made a mistake. Before he could take back his words and grapple away, Stephanie spoke.
“Yeah, of course! We got that all covered for you boss, don’t worry about it.” She gave a mock salute before elbowing Duke to do the same. “Just tell us where and we’ll look over.”
As Jason listed the areas in Crime Alley, he noticed a strange expression on Duke’s face.
“You okay, Jason?”
He froze, abruptly stopping. First of all, code names existed for a reason, and second, again?
Jason couldn't read that expression on his face. Was it pity? Worry? It looked suspiciously similar to how… oh.
“Tim put you on this, didn't he?” His voice sounded flat, the emptiness seeping past his distorted voice changer. “Forget it, I don't need whatever weird pity thing he forced you guys to do.”
I can’t wait until I’m fucking dead.
Jason reached for his grapple, when a hand grabbed his arm desperately and tightly.
“Wait! Fuck. Tim didn't put us on this,” Stephanie looked at Jason with such guilt, the brown eyes looking too familiar to someone else's. “Well he did say he was worried about you, but all of this, it's just us.”
Why now?
Jason is so sick of everyone looking at him with worry, when he had felt this way for months. He’s so tired of being berated, of feeling guilty, and he just wants to be free.
“Cut the bullshit,” Jason spat, rage apparent in his voice. “I don’t need your help. Go fuck off to Daddy bat or do your damn job.”
A hurried voice cut through the rage in Jason’s mind before he could grapple away.
“Jason, why are you leaving Gotham?”
He looked back, as Duke for the first time in this conversation, maintained stable eye contact with him. Jason could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and he looked so much younger than him, despite being only a few years his junior.
“None of your business.”
He swung away and disappeared into the night, only realizing later on, that would be the last time he would ever speak to those two.
As he landed in the window of his safe house, his body numb, he saw a familiar set of eyes peering right back at him.
“Cass?”