Chapter Text
You were at an art exhibition.
It wasn't in Gotham, wasn't even anywhere near it. But that didn't stop fate, the universe - whatever, from reminding you of him.
Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night out, maybe you would meet some interesting people. You'd been walking around looking at the paintings for less than ten minutes before you saw it; a beautiful painting of the Gotham skyline. At the centre of that skyline was the unmistakable silhouette of Jason. Or rather, the Red Hood. He was facing away, as usual his face wasn't visible. Though if it was you'd be unable to make out anything, seeing as he wore not only one but two masks every time he felt like playing vigilante. His left hand was by his side and his right was on his gun holster. You'd long since lost count of how many times you had seen him like that in person. But that was years ago.
A young girl walked towards you, presumably one of the artists, giddy from the excitement and praise the guests had smothered her with. Your eyes drifted away from the painting and towards her, a polite smile on your lips. She gasps your name and tells you she's a fan. You give her another polite smile and thank her, completely unable to contain your next words. "Is this your painting?"
She beams again and tells you her name, Sonja, before explaining the process behind the painting. "I actually lived there, Gotham, for a little while. My parents were completely against it - for obvious reasons, the massive crime rate and all that - but I was adamant - some of my favourite artists lived there at the time and I was desperate to meet them. I managed to avoid any huge incidents for a while, but one day I was at the bank and there was a robbery - as you can imagine I was absolutely terrified! But then he - the Red Hood - came in and easily saved everyone inside. He was there one second and gone the next! It was totally crazy, can you believe it? A few nights later I was walking home and saw him on a roof, the image was stuck in my head ever since and I just had to paint it. He just looked.. so heroic, you know?"
Sometime during her speech your eyes had drifted back to the painting, you were overcome with memories and only really listened to bits of her story as you murmured replies. "It really is a beautiful picture", your words were barely audible beneath the clamour of the room, but she smiled and thanked you anyway. "Is it for sale? I'd like to buy it."
Again, you were unable to stop yourself. For an embarrassing, and very obvious reason, you were desperate to have the painting. You had a perfect place to hang it, right in the centre of the wall in your hallway. It was something that would prompt memories of how life used to be, just by looking at it. You wondered what Jason would think of the painting. Would he laugh and make one of his sarcastic, but admittedly funny, jokes? Or would he roll his eyes and pretend not to like it even though you knew he did. Maybe if he ever saw you again, if he decided to show up at your apartment in the middle of the night, in that unexpected and annoyingly sudden way of his, you could show him the painting and talk about why you bought it. You would pretend to be annoyed that he showed up so late - and at such an inconvenient, annoying time, just as you managed to get to sleep, but really you'd just be glad to see him again. To talk to him again.
You turned back to the artist with raised brows, she was fidgeting awkwardly and avoiding your eyes. "I'm sorry but someones already made an offer... they made the transaction a few hours ago. It's only for display purposes now."
Doing your best to hide the disappointment, you gave her another polite smile, aware that in reality it was probably closer to a grimace. "No need to worry, it really is beautiful. I would have been more surprised if no one else had bought it already. I guess I'll have to make sure I arrive early for the next exhibition."
Sonja laughed and quickly excused herself, eager to see what other attendees had to say about her work.
Your eyes turned back to the painting. You were struck by its realism. You could imagine the exact expression he would have had. He'd be smirking to himself, proud of how many criminals he'd taken off the streets of Gotham, but his pride in himself would be diminished by the memory of whatever petty argument he was in with his family and his cocky smirk would quickly turn into his trademark, irritated scowl. You considered the story Sonja told you and wondered whether that happened before, during or after your own stay in Gotham.
It was really no surprise that you couldn't buy the painting. It seemed even paintings of him were as out of reach for you as the real him. The moment summed up the entirety of your relationship with Jason; so close, you could reach out and touch him, but he was still, he was always, unattainable. The thought brought back more memories of him and left you feeling bittersweet.
Mostly bitter.
Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing waiter's tray, you began exploring the rest of the exhibition, although you already knew that there was nothing else you would want to buy.
As expected, you were right. The exhibition's paintings were beautiful, but nothing stood out to you the way Sonja's painting of Jason, of the Red Hood, had. This was not how you'd expected the evening to go, you were so far removed from Gotham and its heroes, vigilantes now. It seemed no matter how far you went you wouldn't be free of reminders of them. It was infuriating really, you were the famous one, they were just myths. That was what people thought anyway, since they were never caught on camera. But you were famous, it should be Jason who can't go anywhere without being reminded of you.
Fighting back a sigh, you got in your taxi and laid your head on the back. Hoping that tomorrow night you would be able to have an enjoyable, Jason Todd-free night out. You knew lots of people who were going - nice, normal people. People who didn't waste years of your life just to completely cut you off without even talking to you first.
But really you knew it didn't matter. It's not like you hadn't been with people since things with Jason... ended. You'd actually been with lots of people. Several. Many of your relationships had led to significant media coverage. Your love life was a very hot topic. You wondered if it was to Jason.
Despite all that, no matter how attractive or nice or normal or famous they were, they never compared to Jason. You thought, you knew, you could love them. Would love them. If it wasn't for the overbearing presence (physical or not) that was Jason Todd.
Leaning against the wall on the roof of an especially tall building, Jason watched you get in the taxi and rummage through your jacket pockets. He had been watching you in the exhibition, through the window of course, making sure you couldn't see him. As he had expected, you were late, which was actually fortunate for him as it gave him just enough time to buy the painting without being seen. He tried his best to keep his mind from thinking about the snarky comments you would make if you found out he bought a painting of himself, "We don't talk for a few years and you go full on narcissist? What kind of self obsessed maniac spends his free time buying paintings of himself?"
However, he figured buying the painting was for the best when he watched you spend the better part of thirty minutes staring at it, practically mesmerised. He was surprised by that, did it mean you missed him as much as he missed you? Maybe one day, when you could come back to Gotham he would show you it, give it to you as a present. Unless giving you a present that was essentially a painting of himself was too egotistical? He would have to think about that more later.
In the meantime he would have to make sure that painting remained hidden from Dick and the rest of his insufferably nosey family. Just imagining what they would say if they saw it made him cringe. The thought reminded him of Dick's own snarky remarks to Jason before he'd left - "off to play stalker again?" and "You know, the fact that the only thing you ever look forward to is driving hundreds of miles just to stare at someone who doesn't even know you're there, is probably a sign that something's wrong. Should I have Alfred look into therapy?".
Dick is of the opinion that it would be best to 'communicate' with you. Jason, on the other hand, is of the opinion that Dick's thought process is what has put several, if not all, of his girlfriends in mortal danger. After he told Dick as much, he'd rolled his eyes and told Jason to stop acting like an awkward teenager and 'just admit his feelings'. Jason resolved to continue ignoring him.
What Dick deemed as 'stalking', Jason thinks of as regularly checking up on you to ensure you're free from danger. If Jason really were to 'communicate' with you, who knows who would find out, especially with your newfound, and honestly very inconvenient, celebrity status.
Telling himself he's just making sure the taxi driver doesn't try anything funny, he silently follows you home from the rooftop shadows. After ten minutes, he watched you go into your lobby, soon he saw you through the apartment window and the last thing he could see was you, briefly staring at the empty wall in your hallway with a frown. Soon after, you turned towards the window and for a fleeting moment he's sure you locked eyes with him. He realises he's wrong when you snap out of your daze and pull the curtains closed.
Jason continues to stare at your apartment, for a lot longer than his pride would allow him to admit, and eventually decided you were safe. He began the long trip back to Gotham, already wondering what you would be doing the next time he came to check up.
There was no next time.