Chapter Text
Jason - 17
Sarah - 18
Dick - 21
She knew as soon as Bruce walked through the door that was it. Jason’s ticket had been punched, he was out of time, and he was not coming home like he’d promised he would.
It was one of the first things he’d swore whenever he’d taken on the title of Robin: I will always come home. It was an unrealistic expectation for someone who spent his nights scouring the streets with Batman for criminals to apprehend, but he tried to live up to it regardless. In his own words, “It is what Sarah deserves.”
Jason had wanted her to have someone to come home to every night. The Manor was vast, eerie, and nearly empty save for the two of them, Alfred and Bruce. He knew that Sarah desperately missed her brother’s presence there. That was why she spent so many nights shifting between Blüdhaven and Gotham.
This night though… this night in December was particularly bad. Cold. Lonely.
Jason Todd died at sixteen years old on a cold night in a long, lonely December.
Part of Sarah Grayson died that night with him.
***
Jason
He’d never really been afraid of the dark. Not the dark, not the cold, and certainly not the emptiness. The only thing Jason Todd feared was death. He met Death face to face when he found Catherine on the floor — lifeless and cold, blank eyes staring at seemingly nothing — with a needle by her hand.
Death had tried to take him in the weeks following that but never did.
This time, however, Jason Todd met Death in the form of The Joker, and he was wielding a weapon that was currently being brutally beaten against his skull. Every single time the weapon collided with some part of his body - how was he even still finding things to break? - Jason’s eyes flashed to memories of Sarah.
It made the pain more bearable.
“What hurts more? A or B?”
Bruce was coming to save him. They’d come here together tracking The Joker and had somehow found his birth mother, whom Jason had learned from their first meeting that she had tricked him into coming here to do exactly this.
To sell him to the Joker.
To lead him to his death.
Bruce was coming to save him.
He had to keep his promise.
He had to get home.
“Forehand? Or backhand?”
Jason had long since lost the ability to feel most of the upper half of his body. The warehouse had no insulation within it, and that meant his bare feet were near frozen to the touch.
If he paid enough attention to the windows, he’d notice that it was snowing outside.
I wonder if it’s snowing in Gotham. Sarah and I love the snow. It’s why we made that tradition-
He shook that memory away. The last time it had snowed when he’d been home was the first time he’d kissed Sarah without being prompted to do so. The heating in the Manor had been broken. Bruce had been trying to fix it to no avail, and so he’d sent for a repairman who couldn’t come out until the following day.
That meant Jason and Sarah conserved heat together under a pile of blankets on his bed next door. She’d curled up right in front of him, no questions asked, and he’d buried himself against her body with his face pressed into the crook of her neck.
Jason Todd never thought he’d go falling in love with his best friend, but he did.
“Jason,” Sarah whispered. Blue eyes fluttered open to meet the soft, gentle blues across from him. Sarah must’ve turned over while he dozed off. “Jason.”
Her fingertips grazed his lips before curling around his jaw. She was so warm. So warm and so gentle and so welcoming to him. “Sarah,” He murmured, scooting closer until he could wind his arm around her waist. “What’re you doin? ‘M tired.”
“I know, but look.” Sarah motioned to the window by his desk. “It’s snowing.”
True to her word, the first whispers of Gotham’s snow were falling onto the Manor grounds just outside. Jason smiled and tipped her chin back toward him. “I know what that means.”
And then he’d kissed her, and she’d reciprocated with ease. Jason learned that the first night of sharing a bed that his favorite taste was peppermint. It was always lingering in the corners of her mouth.
And his favorite smell was her. Just… something so uniquely Sarah Grayson that he wanted to remember it forever.
So he did.
Jason couldn’t even bring himself to his knees. All the strength in his body had completely disappeared.
He was at the Joker’s mercy.
“Hm? Hm?” Joker wrenched Jason’s head upward and held it there with his fingers tightly wound through his hair. “A little louder, lamp chop? I think you might have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory.” Jason spat blood on his face and flashed a smile of bloodied, broken teeth. “Well, that was rude. At least the first boy blunder had some manners.”
Boy, did he. Note the sarcasm.
Jason had only met Dick three times throughout his tenure as Robin. Boy Wonder had never taken too kindly to having his title stolen from him - which Bruce had never made amends for, he had simply allowed Jason to keep the title - and no matter what Jason did, it didn’t seem like enough.
Maybe Dick would care more now that Jason was about to be dead.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
That damned laughter echoed in his ears even long after Joker was gone, leaving nothing but a mess of broken bones and lacerated flesh of a boy behind. There was so much blood on the floor around him that he wondered how he hadn’t bled out yet.
Jason didn’t realize until after the door was locked that there was a timer counting down in the corner.
You’ve got this, Jay. Sarah’s voice whispered in his ear. He dared to lift his chin enough to peek over his shoulder, frozen at the sight of the girl he loved hovering just there. You’re not done yet.
I’m so tired, Sar. He thought. Dragging himself to his feet, Jason gasped as his knees gave out beneath him and he was forced to drag himself on his stomach toward the door. I can’t do it anymore. I just need to sleep.
He tried the door. No luck.
By the time he saw the timer, Jason had three seconds before it was set to go off.
I love you, Sarah.
The explosion claimed him before he could say it aloud.
Bruce
He was running before he could properly comprehend what he had just witnessed. Bruce had been late before. He was almost notorious for late entrances as Bruce Wayne, but those had never been things he’d cared about.
What he did care about was the inevitable expression of devastation he’d find on his little girl’s face when he got back to Gotham and told her the boy she loved was dead.
Bruce was running and the night air was frigid against the parts of the cowl that didn’t cover his skin, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the hot metal blistering his fingers or how his feet were killing him. He just cared about Jason.
Jason, who he’d been too late to save.
He just wanted to meet his mom. He just wanted her to love him.
He saw the peek of red fabric first. Bruce couldn’t tell if it was the tell-tale Robin red or Jason’s blood, so he decided not to entertain the latter as he knelt to cradle his son’s body in his arms.
"Jason… no…”
Jason wasn’t moving.
Jason wasn’t moving or breathing and his head was lolling against Bruce’s shoulder.
The R of the Robin on his chest was indistinguishable, so Bruce ripped it off and allowed it to flutter to the ashes at his feet.
He had a daughter to tell, and a son to bury.
But no one talked about how part of Batman died that night too.
Sarah
“Miss Sarah, you mustn’t worry yourself this much. You’re going to wear a hole in Master Bruce’s carpet.”
Shaking herself from her reverie, Sarah buried herself deeper in Jason’s sweatshirt and turned to look at Alfred over her shoulder. She’d barely found it in her to leave her grandfather’s side since Jason and Bruce had taken off.
“I’m sorry, Alf-“ She murmured, rubbing her hands against her eyes. “I just-I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep without knowing if Jason’s making it home safely with Dad. Something just feels wrong. So wrong.”
Alfred entered the parlor with a cup of chamomile tea in his hand. He’d crushed up dissolvable melatonin - the strongest dose, thanks to Doctor Thompkins - before making it, sifting the remains into the liquid before delivering it into Miss Grayson’s hands.
His heart ached as she took a sip and settled the cup back down. “It will all be all right in the end, little one,” Alfred said quietly. “Come sit with this old man. Master Bruce said he’d be arriving home within the hour.”
When Sarah had finally settled against Alfred was when she allowed her gaze to wander to the window. The sight of snow quirked her lips upward in the ghost of a smile. It’s snowing tonight, Jason.
She had only just begun to fall asleep when the door opened and Bruce stepped inside. Sarah snapped awake, only held to the couch by Alfred’s arms, and the pair tipped their heads towards the parlor door as Bruce stepped inside.
He didn’t even acknowledge them until a timid, “Dad?” Echoed in the room. “Where’s Jay?”
Alfred knew. He always did. His heart sank when Bruce finally dared to meet his gaze - desperate and haunted and broken as he fought another wave of tears - and slowly moved it to the frantic teenage girl on the sofa. “Sarah,” Bruce said, swallowing the bile threatening to rise in his throat. “I need you to listen.”
Sarah’s voice grew steadily louder as she wrenched herself out of Alfred’s grip and stormed upward to her father. “Where is he?” She asked again. “Is he outside? I know he loves the snow, it’s our favorite part of the year-“
Alfred’s hand slid into his pocket to retrieve his phone. As he had promised last time he had visited, Master Grayson’s number was second on his speed dial if there was ever an emergency regarding his kid sister.
This was an emergency. He pressed Dick’s name and sent a simple message: EMERGENCY, NEEDED AT THE MANOR.
Dick replied not even a minute later. ON MY WAY, ALFIE.
“Jason was kidnapped and I didn’t get to him fast enough,” The words were flowing from Bruce’s lips before he could stop himself, and he had to look away to avoid being sick at the sight of the shock on his daughter’s face. “He’d been locked in a warehouse and beaten to death. By the time I got there-“
Then Sarah was shoving at his chest hard. She had never been a particularly muscled girl and had gained most of her tone from the circus and training with him, but Bruce had trained Sarah. He’d made her Spectral.
Which meant she knew all of the right buttons to press.
“You promised us!” She screamed. Alfred winced at the crack in her voice because he knew that crack, it was the same crack Bruce had whenever he’d brought him home from Crime Alley in the hours following his parent’s murder. “You promised us when you took us in that we would always be safe with you!” She continued hitting him, hands balled into fists as she repeatedly pounded against his chest. Bruce took every one of them. “You promised and now he’s dead, you promised and now he’s dead-“
You promised and now he’s dead-
Bruce didn’t have a reply. For the first time since he’d adopted the Grayson siblings, he didn’t have a witty comeback or any comfort to offer. He simply held his child against his chest and wept with her.
He remembered nothing of Dick’s arrival or Dick separating the two of them to carry his sister up to her bedroom. He didn’t remember Dick spending the night or both Grayson kids being gone by sunrise.
When he woke up the next morning, Bruce Wayne was alone in his Manor with his father for the first time in 13 years, and he felt nothing. He found their goodbye note on the kitchen island when he went to find Alfred.
Dad,
I can’t stay here anymore. Too many ghosts. Too much pain. I’ll be moving in with Dick and commuting to Gotham until graduation. Will be taking a break from patrol to live a normal life. It’s what he wanted for me.
I love you.
Sarah
Alfred watched despondently as Bruce clutched the note to his chest and disappeared out the front door to make arrangements for Jason’s tombstone. He didn’t reach out to either of his kids after that for quite some time. Most of his days were spent in the graveyard - when he wasn’t preoccupied with Wayne Enterprise affairs - looking after his son and his parents.
The paintings left there by his child kept him company when Alfred couldn’t.
People talk about Jason Peter Todd-Wayne and how he died brutally without anyone to save him. People whisper about there being no Robin anymore. About how Batman has become more brutal, crueler, and more ruthless in the absence of a partner to keep him in check. To keep him human.
No one talks about how part of Bruce Wayne died with his son either.
No one did until a boy by the name of Tim Drake came spiraling into his life with one demand: Batman needs a Robin.
And Bruce Wayne needs his son. His sons.
Even the ones who aren’t around to tell him so.