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Jason isn’t entirely sure how they got to this conversation. He blames the five shots Dick downed (heh) in quick succession, but it could also be that time of year. Sure, they’re past his death anniversary, but Jason’s figured out that the mood hangs over the family until it’s February at least.
He blames it on the family’s inherent self-loathing.
“No, Jay,” Dick tilts towards him and Jason rolls his eyes.
“Yes, Dick,” he answers.
“You have to believe in an afterlife,” hiccup.
Jason pinches the bridge of his nose, “no, I don’t.”
This topic needs to end now before certain banned topics get brought up. He’s just spent the month alternating stalking and hovering from the Batclan, even the ones that weren’t around when he died.
Dick tilts away and Jason grabs his shoulder to steady him.
“Things just can’t end, that’s not how it’s done.”
“You don’t have to believe they do,” Jason answers, “you have your faith to turn to.”
Dick shakes his head more than is necessary. Jason chuckles and wonders how much of this could turn into blackmail material later.
“I do, but you don’t,” Dick says.
“So then are we done with this conversation?” Jason raises an eyebrow.
“No, cause there has to be something you believe in,” Dick says vehemently.
Jason shrugs and sips on his beer, “I believe that if people keep doing good, then eventually things will change.”
“But there’s no cosmic good job?” Dick frowns.
The bartender slides them a water which Jason is grateful for and he replaces the shot glace in Dick’s hand. Dick doesn’t seem to care and sips happily.
“Nope, no cosmic good job.”
The water splashes onto him when Dick sets it down a little too violently. Jason looks towards the door and sighs. He promised to bring Dick out to forget about his latest cold case in Bludhaven, not become philosophical. Tim would probably come to pick Dick up, but then Jason would get the sad eyes and ugh. He’s really become a sap.
Dick nods, “a sad way to live.”
“You don’t have to live it,” Jason answers, “you have your own thing.”
“But you don’t!”
This conversation is going in circles.
“How can you be so certain anyway?” Dick leans way too close.
Jason looks away trying to think of a way to weasel out of the question, “do we have to have proof now?”
“No,” Dick shakes his head less vigorously, “but earlier you said ‘there isn’t one’ not I don’t believe in one.”
Of course, drunk Dick is still observant as shit. Bruce would be so proud. Or rather, Jason thinks a little bitterly, he wouldn’t be because he always expects perfection and preparedness.
“So what? slip of the tongue.”
“You never say anything you don’t mean,” Dick points out.
Jason turns towards him, “are you sure you’re drunk?”
“Mm,” Dick leans back, “not drunk, but close.”
“Wonderful, that means I don’t have to haul your unconscious ass across Gotham,” Jason snorts into his beer.
Dick eyes him, it’s a little too sharp to be anything but sober. The bartender eyes them a little warily. Jason ignores it mostly and chugs the rest of his beer and turns over his glass.
“Why are you so certain?”
Jason wonders if he can fall backward convincingly enough for the bartender to call him an ambulance. He’s sure Bruce would love that phone call and press coverage that would ensue.
“Jay-bird,” Dick calls softly.
He doesn’t want to answer that question, “might want to stop before you get an answer you don’t like.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Dick purses his lips, “not knowing what happens after.”
Jason sees Dick’s eyes widen and he closes his eyes briefly to avoid seeing the full realization.
“Jason.”
“Dick,” Jason’s mouth twists.
“Please don’t tell me that when you-” Dick cuts himself off.
They’re never going to close this wound if they don’t talk about it, so Jason decides to rip the band-aid off, “when I died?”
Dick winces.
“It happened, it didn’t stick,” Jason reminds him, “I don’t remember much of dying, but coming back I didn’t feel like I had been anywhere. I was still as scared and confused as I was when I died.”
He looks over at Dick to see that he’s staring at the wall. Jason sighs and wraps an arm around Dick’s shoulders.
“I never thought about it like that,” Dick whispers, “you know what it is to die.”
Jason hugs him, “but like we’ve discussed, I don’t believe in anything. It might be different for you.”
“But where does that leave you?”
“Happy I’m alive.”
Dick finally presses into the hug.
Jason doesn’t believe in God or Karma or Cosmic Powers. He doesn’t. Belief was a luxury he grew up not having.
Then when he was adopted, Bruce was pretty much the same way. Alfred occasionally went to church. Dick prays, but Jason’s always assumed it was to hold on to what little he has left from his parents rather than a fervent belief (he’s sure Dick also believes but it’s a touchy subject, so he doesn’t ask). Tim might go with Alfred, as will Stephanie. Barbara goes to mass with her father, more so since Joker. Cass has her own system of belief. Damian, also, maintains some practices from his religion.
Jason is the only one in the family that doesn’t have a higher power to turn to.
Still, as he watches the footage. the news is replaying it (because they’re just as stunned or sadists), he finds himself wanting to have a higher power to turn to. Batman can’t be- Bruce can’t be-
Jason sinks to the couch.
It can’t be.
He knows that it’s the truth.
He doesn’t want it to be.
Fuck. No.
The last thing he said to his dad can’t be an argument. At least when he died, they had a body. They had closure.
Superman charges Darkseid (he’s pretty sure, he should be out there. Helping.). Belatedly he realizes they’re back to a live-feed. He doesn’t know why they went off it, he doesn’t want to think about why they probably had to.
Jason knows he should be gathering at the manor, or maybe he should be helping civilians. He should know what to do.
Batman trains all his Robins of what to do if he died. Run. Hide. Regroup.
Bruce never told his kids what they should do.
His thoughts are warring with each other. Slowly he picks himself up and towards his gear.
He’ll always be a Robin. Robins know what they need to do. Help anyone they can. Save anyone they can. Keep fighting until they’re too bloodied and bruised to then keep going. That’s what makes Bats so terrifying, they’re humans standing toe-to-toe with forces they shouldn’t be. If there’s one bat with the league, they can help everyone keep it together.
Because somehow, Batman became unbeatable in everyone’s eyes.
Jason may not know how to handle his dad’s death. He might not know who to pray to for answers or guidance. He doesn’t know who he needs to ask to save Bruce’s eternal soul, or whatever it is he believed.
But Red Hood does know what he needs to do.
So, he’s going to do it.