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"You wanted to talk ; go ahead, talk."
"Easier said than done..." was the first answer Jason thought of, but nothing of value would come out from reciting bland common sayings.
- I… don't know where to begin, really."
Bruce gauged him, his stare as severe as it was a few years before or maybe even more now that both of them had gotten older, yet even after all that time there never seemed to be anything mean or vicious in it. It had always passed as a sign of well-meaning feelings that the old man often didn't express with words.
Jason searched for his own words, looking at the random suits, gadgets and trophies showcased in the batcave, avoiding eye-contact at all costs. He had gone through his fair share of experiences that one would reasonably call "difficulties" in his life, but confronting someone who did care about him was one of the hardest. Before he was even aware of it, he had already gripped his armrest hard enough to leave some finger marks in the padding fabric.
"I think I messed up pretty badly." he added.
Bruce's eternal frown softened a bit and he leaned back in his seat.
"I know." he sounded somewhat reassuring at first, then went back to his initial coldness right away as if he caught himself making a mistake, "How did you meet him?"
Jason dreaded the mention of that topic and that man.
"I'd been staying at Roy's place for weeks 'cause I was evicted from mine after too many late or incomplete rent payments. I'm sure you know about him, redhead, cheeky, that one archer that has a better aim with a wooden stick than I do with a semi-automatic, which says a lot if we're being honest…"
The thought of his old friend brought him some childlike joy, but he could tell that Bruce apparently didn't find his light-hearted commentary amusing. He reverted to his previous, more serious tone :
"...Anyway, it hurts right in the pride to say that, but I was broke and-
- Why didn't you ask-
- And, I needed a job. Finding work would've been hard enough without proper qualifications, but it was near impossible because of my criminal record. That's when it clicked."
Bruce nodded as he made the link :
"You went to see Sionis for a job."
- Didn't take long to find out which clubs he usually hung out to on which night, or what kind of people he was looking for. I went down that club one night, stood there at the bar and waited. Up until I actually spoke with him, I only saw what could be made of his network and money, but when I met him…" he hesitated mainly because of the fact that he had never revealed those thoughts to anyone else, "...I don't know…at that time I felt like there was a lot to like about him, both on the inside and the outside."
Jason only said what he saw as necessary and he didn't mention personal memories, the thrill that their meeting gave him as well as the fact that he ended the night tasting the bliss of drugs and being so intimate with someone for the first time.
"Tell me…" he learned overtime that diving into the emotional parts of life tended to corner and irritate Bruce easily but he couldn't keep all his doubts locked inside much longer, "… you ever had feelings so strong that they scare you sometimes? But you hold on 'cause the person you love is, like, worth everything?"
There was a hint of pain in Bruce's eyes and he sighed deeply.
"Yes, for Damian's mother." he answered.
As a teenager, Jason didn't quite understand why he could never say her name, yet after some years of growing up and learning more about people in general, the answer was getting obvious. The old man always had to link her with one of the only good things she gave him, the little boy. Any other thoughts of her might deeply hurt even someone like him.
"Shit, we're real losers, huh?"
Bruce looked back at him and, out of nowhere, finally cracked a light smile.
"I don't consider an orphan boy who made it to adulthood without losing his humour or his smile to be a loser, Jason. I would even bet on the contrary. "
He really wanted to believe Bruce was right.
"But none of that will ever repair what you've done. You have committed multiple homicides over the last three years, lives lost, wives, fathers and daughters still grieving to this day because you pulled the trigger."
He didn't need to be reminded of all those deaths since the guilt never really left him.
"Roman told me not to think too much about them," he answered, "the direct and collateral victims. That if the roles were reversed they wouldn't care about someone like me anyway and get on with it. I mean, they probably would have..."
- Wait, what did you just say?"
Bruce sounded surprised for the first time in a long while, which was never a good sign.
"He said that they wouldn't care about someone like me if the roles were reversed, that they-"
- "Someone like you", do you know what that implies?"
- No?" His confusion was genuine.
An ugly expression showed on Bruce's face. It wasn't ugly per say, some might have called it endearing, but to Jason every sign of pity was the most despicable thing he could see on someone looking at him. Bruce eventually said what he was thinking :
"I don't think that man ever respected you, much less loved you."
Jason's heart sank on the spot.
- No, you don't know what you're saying…"
- He used-
- I said you don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"
When he realized that he burst out of anger and apologized for it, Bruce's pity had already turned into something colder, the expression of authority he was accustomed to wear.
"You should and will cut all contact with him."
- What makes you say that?
- I try to do my research on all the major threats living in Gotham even if law enforcement and the legal system won't do anything about them. Through Wayne Industries, I have contacts with healthcare workers, doctors working in both research and psychiatry who used to hang in the same circles as him. They all say that he shows strong signs of antisocial disorder, psychopathy as it's commonly called, in short a serious lack of empathy. He also graduated from an Ivy League university, the man is no fool. If there is someone who knows how to analyze people on sight it's him, and he saw right through you without any remorse."
Jason treated the whole idea as ridiculous at first, like some kind of dark mockery, however he recalled every time Roman treated his peers or any other human life at best like a casualty, at worst like a joke. All the plotting he made to maximize profit for money he didn't really need to gain, all the lying and hiding for the same goal, almost like a game played to ease his boredom. Everything he thought he knew about him shifted, and he got up from his chair abruptly with the need to clear out all the doubts that settled in.
"I have to go…" he said whe he strode across the cave and headed towards the stairs.
- Jason." Bruce called out before he reached the top.
- What?"
He pointed at the handgun Jason nearly always carried on his low back, stuck under his jeans at waist level and covered by his sweatshirt. The weapon was invisible to the untrained eye, yet the Bat had lived through enough undercover situations to spot what people tried their hardest to hide.
- Whatever you do, be careful."
Jason acted like he didn't pay much attention to that request, knowing that he didn't have the courage to thank the old man out loud for still caring.
He stood at the gate outside Roman's house with the hood of his sweatshirt put over his head for discretion. He swung his third beer can of the night at the tip of his fingers, yet none of the alcohol managed to get him drunk in the slightest ; his mind was working too hard in too many directions for the booze to calm it down.
He drank the last sip of beer and threw the can on the lawn, walked to the main door then, already knowing that it was locked, forced entry by giving it a strong strategic kick right above the keyhole.
There wasn't much of a plan, he simply wandered in the dark house and expected to find him sooner or later. When he walked through one of the hallways, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hung against a wall ; nothing changed from the regular appearance Roman was used to see, except for his eyes sitting low and appearing darker than they actually were under the hood shadow.
At the end of the hallway, he saw the white glow of the living room lights and guessed that he was getting close.
When he stopped at the doorstep, Roman who was comfortably seated on the couch looked up from his book.
"So it was you, I thought I heard something."
He resumed reading as he added casually :
"If you need a job this week, you'll have to wait another three of four days. The new cannabis shipment we're supposed to receive at the docks is quite slow."
Drugs sale and work in general were the last thing on Jason's mind, only the dismissive man that probably had all the answers held his interest.
"What do you see in me?"
- What is this silly question?" He didn't even glance up, "I see everything that is right with the world."
- Don't lie to me, don't you even try lying to me right now."
Roman looked up and paid more attention that time around, genuine curiosity showing on his face.
- Is there something wrong?"
Jason felt stuck, unable to find a correct answer since he had never truly confronted him beforehand.
- Whenever you told me to pull the trigger, I did, I killed those people because you said it was necessary to get rid of them. But I think about it a lot, way too much...
Roman frowned, probably trying to reflect on it, then sighed :
"So it's guilt, figures."
- Yeah, I guess that me feeling guilty is pretty normal in that case, don't you agree?"
Even he was surprised by the raw bitterness in his own speech. Whatever argument he had begun, it was too late back down.
Roman finally closed his book and gave him his full attention "The people you killed were generally no better than you and me, they would've-"
- Then why didn't you do it yourself?"
- I already told you," there was an echo of threat in his voice, "I don't like using guns myself, it's vulgar."
The thought of it hurt Jason more than it angered him. He remembered the first time he held a gun ; he was only fifteen, 130 pounds soaking wet and a group of adult men were harassing a female friend outside the street bookshop. He didn't shoot any of them, instead he fired into the air which managed to scare them away. Since then he had always seen handguns as a loyal and efficient protection and had learned to use them as well as one could.
"Vulgar, huh…" he walked towards the other man, and stopped right in front of him, then leaned forward and put both hands on the couch backrest, each arm on each side of Roman. He had invaded his space, and despite the older man's attempt to seem completely unbothered, he still couldn't help but give in to his worst weakness and stare at his lips, "...there are many things you don't find vulgar about me when it suits you."
- What is it you really want, hmm? More money, more recognition to make up for that guilt?" Roman drew nearer to him and asked in a low voice : "Or do you want me to stick it up deeper into you whenever we do it?"
Jason didn't even think when he pulled his gun from its spot on his lower back, like a nasty reflex. It was only when he realized on whose head he was pointing the weapon at that he genuinely panicked. He tried not to let any of that distress show, but he cursed under his breath when he noticed that his hand holding the gun was shaking.
Roman didn't seem to be affected by that life-threatening situation, even tilted his head slightly to the side, taking the whole event with amusement. He studied Jason from top to bottom, then put the book on the coffee table and stood up. Jason's arm followed the movement, he kept the gun barrel locked on the man's forehead, but the man himself didn't falter a bit.
"Now, listen to me very carefully. It does seem like I've bust your bubble, and for that I am quite sorry. But you chose all of this the moment you walked up to me like a dog in heat, trying to make money quickly and easily."
- Not through killing over and over again…"
- But it was necessary. People talk, plot against you, try to bring you down and take your place when you let them off the noose. Some people have to go sometimes and I needed a gunman who would keep his mouth shut after facing delicate situations."
Jason steadied his hold on the gun, turned the safety off and put his index finger on the trigger as a response.
"Shoot if that's what you want, good luck trying to find someone like me afterwards." Roman added.
- I don't want someone like you.
- And maybe the earth doesn't want to revolve around the sun, but guess what? That's nature, and you know that I know yours."
His posture, his smile, the gleam in his dark eyes Jason used to be fond of more than he resented that lifestyle during the harsher days, all the elements put together screamed that he was satisfied with himself, peaceful even.
"The funniest part is, I didn't lie. You truly are what is right with this world ; all the filth lying out in the open, the little starving boy that doesn't hide and won't stop until he is fed. He is dirty inside and out, miserable and terribly, tragically empty, but he won't let his microscopic existence disappear into thin air before he decided it would, truly a testament of life. Actually, let me clarify it for you, Todd. Here is the only thing there is to see in you…"
Roman dug out his wallet from his trousers pocket and took a couple of fifty and one hundred dollar bills from it. He held the stack to Jason's face for a short while, undoubtedly making sure he had the latter's attention, then threw the notes at his face with a curt arm swing. They fell to the floor at Jason's feet and before he could properly process it all, Roman's sinister voice rose again :
"What are you waiting for? Pick them up and stick them in your pockets, pretty boy."
The second Jason understood what he meant, his nerves were on the verge of total anger, the "clinical" kind as the doctor at the juvenile center used to describe it. He tried his hardest to go against the powerful urge but he knew it was too late for any attempt at self-containment. Instead he turned the weapon towards the ceiling and pulled the trigger, the loud sound and the recoil calming him down almost immediately.
Roman seemed quite surprised but one couldn't tell if he was pleased about it or not.
"So you're serious about wanting to take the clean path."
- Yeah...yeah, I'm serious about all of this. It's over..."
At first Roman sneered at the idea.
"You'll be back here tomorrow at the same hour with your cock in your hand instead of a gun."
It took Jason all his strength to put the gun back under his jeans waistband and answer :
"I won't."
He turned away and walked back to the main door expecting Roman not to follow him, which he didn't. Yet when Jason turned the handle, the light-heartedness of his tone had vanished and he stated out loud :
"Nobody leaves me when I say otherwise. I have men all around the city who are ready to pull to trigger at a real target. If you walk through that door now, you only have a few days left to live before they find you and end it all, tops."
Jason stayed still for a moment, shocked by the threat. He stood in the doorway, facing the front yard and thought about going back for a split second before stepping outside and closing the door behind him without a word. The night was significantly colder now, the street lights on each side of the main road had been turned on much to his relief, he could see clearly. He left the house's driveway and headed towards said road, then instead of using the sidewalk, he found himself in the middle of it, wandering down the empty street where cars more expensive than his whole life passed through during the day.
Sometimes he stared up at the sky, not really reflecting on anything, just keeping himself distracted with the plane lights and the stars above him. After twenty or thirty minutes of walking he saw a bench on the roadside and sat down on it.
For a short while he didn't make a single move and or have any specific thought until it all dawned on him out of nowhere. He hunched forward, buried his face in his palms and started crying almost instinctively. He couldn't pinpoint the reason but the bundle of pain growing deep inside needed to be released, everything around had to be cut off for a while.
He was a bit relieved when the tears had finally dried up and his mind was in a better place. Despite his tiredness, he resumed walking down the road, that time on the sidewalk. However, Roman's threat followed him wherever he went, kept haunting him each time he started feeling at peace again.
He landed at the edge of the suburban area and got confronted by the pathway towards the hills that overlooked Gotham, where the old Wayne mansion stood. He stared at the road leading to the residence and, despite his whole being wanting to take it, turned away and kept heading towards the city center instead. He couldn't face the man that took him in at his lowest, he felt that he didn't deserve to bother Bruce again.
As he made his way downtown, he tried to think about all his options to flee the danger he was facing, and eventually found a solution. There was someone who could help him out of that mess without asking any question, living at the other side of the city. He decided he would go see them after dropping by at his own place to pack his bags.
The file Slade Wilson was studying was a relatively easy one, a case in Blüdhaven about an unprotected journalist that needed to be eliminated for the city deputy's sake, who didn't like nosy people questioning his criminal past on the public scene.
He took a sip of hot tea, then wrote down the outline of his plan as well as names, timetables and social circles in his old notebook. Civilian targets were ridiculously predictable for anyone who had gathered enough efficient habits and experience over the years, yet the sheer amount of practical, manual work it would take made him consider looking for backup on the field.
He was about to turn to the next page when he heard a sharp loud knocking sound on his front door. The late hour made him reluctant at first, but he still got up from his chair and took off his reading glasses then put them on his desk and walked down the hallway towards the flat's entrance. He looked through the peephole with his lone eye and saw a young man standing there impatiently, carrying a duffle bag and taking nervous glances left and right. When the man finally faced the door, he recognized Wayne's adoptive offspring.
The latter started talking before Slade had the time open the door fully:
"I'm in deep trouble."
- I thought that you were used to getting yourself into trouble every other day, kid.
- It's different this time. It's...you're still moving to Blüdhaven for work next week?"
- You aren't supposed to know that.
- Roy Harper knows everything that happens from the city center to the docks and we talk a lot."
Todd rushed inside without any invitation to do so, dropped his seemingly heavy bag on the large living room table as if he owned the place and spoke again :
"I'm going with you, at least until I manage to find my own place. I'll pay half the rent."
Slade scoffed as he closed the door and followed him to the living room. What the kid lacked in manners, he made up for in assertiveness, probably the result of a troubled childhood and Wayne's influence. That behaviour must've been accuentated by the obvious stress Todd seemed to be under, his appearance was unkempt beyond his usual disinterest for grooming and some type of concern weighed him down judging by his frown and shiftiness.
"If you're really that desperate to disappear, know that I won't help you for free.
- Yeah, I know, it's okay. I have some money left from a weed sale two days ago.
- What about your employer? Does Sionis know you're leaving Gotham behind?"
Todd tensed up, crossed his arms defensively then turned his gaze towards the window, where the light from the outdoor lamps came through and highlighted the dark circles under his eyes ; Slade guessed that he had hit the heart of the issue.
- I don't wanna talk about that…
- As you wish. Take the couch, and I have no clean spare sheets left for tonight so you'll deal without it."
He warned him not to complain, but he knew that boys who had to share those six people cells in Gotham's detention center of all places didn't find many things to complain about when confronted with a lack of comfort.
- It's all right, I'm just… so tired."
He went to the couch and dropped his whole weight on it then stayed perfectly still in that position. Thinking that he was already half asleep, Slade headed back to his desk near the window, but stopped midway when Todd said :
"By the way, I saw that you're working on a new file."
Slade was getting irritated by the amount of knowledge the boy shouldn't have.
"Congratulations, you have eyesight."
- I'm only saying this 'cause…
Todd paused, kept staring at the ceiling through half-closed eyelids, and at last he sighed and went on talking :
- I think I need a job, Wilson."