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Jason began his day how he always did. A rough wake up call from his alarm clock, a check of his most recent messages, the a cup of tea. The first twenty minutes of his day were the only time he had to be normal.
Afterwards, he would shower, go over his stock of bullets and guns, clean all weapons and make sure his suit was in its best condition. Then he would recalibrate his helmet, make sure there weren’t any bugs in the bombs or his makeshift analyzer.
Then came his least favorite part. Looking to see if the big man finally messaged him. Usually he would get a few pings from Dick or Barbara, and occasionally one of the other brats, but never did he get anything from Bruce on his personal phone. The one he checked when he first woke up.
No, he would have to hack through three walls of security before he knew whether or not Batman had any wishes or missions for him.
Which of course he always did. He would throw Jason into a hostage rescue, a trafficking ring, anything nitty and gritty that would make the other kids vomit.
Jason could handle blood, he took the gore like he took his pain meds. Easily. Bruce knew that Jason was so seasoned in the disgusting nature of humans that he didn’t think twice about subjecting Jason to the horrors of Gotham Crime with little to no warning at all. Jason might walk into a domestic case where a person has been brutally beaten to death, or he is forced to step off the corpses of fatally starved children.
But it’s okay. Jason can handle it. If the tremors in his hands seem to interfere with his aim, he can blame it on a lack of sleep. If the bags under his eyes get worse, he can just mock Tim and fly under the radar.
Because nothing affects him. He died, more death can’t hurt him.
——
“Are you fucking kidding me Bruce?” Jason sighs, resting his head in his hands.
“No names in the cave. And you’re only working with Robin because the rest of us are occupied and he still isn’t cleared to patrol alone.”
Damian squeaked, pointing at his father angrily. “I trained with assassins, I am more than ready to go out in the field by myself!” Jason just laughed, which made the kid turn his frustrations at him. “Don’t laugh at me you buffoon!”
“That’s enough from the both of you. Work together or be benched for the rest of the week.” Jason rolled his eyes knowing full well that benching had zero effect on him since he ran his own business, he was only called to the cave twice a month these days with patrol updates or end of the world scenarios.
Or, babysitting duty.
“Alright, everyone know their jobs tonight?” Bruce scanned the room, only receiving nods. “Good, get moving now.” He went to the batmobile with Tim, the had an information recon, Steph and Cass had a cult to dissipate, and Dick had his own city to worry about.
Jason stared at Damian for a while, and the kid glared at the car until it left the cave. He grumbled under his breath, something about Jason beings Bruce’s pet, before turning to him. “We will be allies tonight, and only tonight. I still don’t like you.”
Jason scoffed, before sticking his hand out. They shook on it, before getting on their own bikes. Of course Damian had state of the art machinery, while Jason was stuck with some piece of shit he boosted from a junkyard. He loves his bike, but he would kill for something a little quieter and a whole lot faster.
“Let’s go pipsqueak. Don’t forget your helmet.” Pulling on his own mask, he started the engine and never looked back during the ride. He didn’t hate the kid necessarily, just couldn’t stand who bore him.
His two least favorite people, Talia and Bruce. Neither of them treated him as anything more than a toy, a puppet whose strings they controlled.
“Hood!” Robin yelled as he finally pulled into an alley to park. “You violated many traffic laws, and although Batman isn’t here you know we’re supposed to do so unless it’s an emergency.”
“Kid, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what ever daddy bats has to say about the law. He dresses up in a fur suit every night and punches people, why the hell should I follow the law?” Damian was quiet for a moment, before shrugging.
Weapons and their rules, right? He was barely a kid, more or less a handbook of rules that sometimes ate and breathed. Jason knew what it was like to be stuck in that loop of good kid, but at this point in his second life he didn’t have much of a reason to stick to the good guy act anymore.
“Alright, here is where we will meet up in,” He checks his watch, clicking his tongue. “Two hours. Sound good?”
“You’re going to let me patrol on my own?”
“Well, that’s what you want, right? Plus I have some shit to do that I don’t feel like traumatizing you over.” Damian watched him for a bit, before nodding.
“Two hours. Let’s do it.”
“Don’t get caught!” Jason yelled before scaling the building, mock saluting as he ran over rooftops to get as far away from the kid as possible.
The uniform, as changed as it has been, still makes his skin hot and lungs tighten.
——
It took about an hour before he heard the kids voice in his ear. He had just finished up eliminating the second gang of the night, another one that was using his drugs and selling to children. All around forty people hospitalized and seventeen killed. Good ratio for him, with his shitty mood.
“Hood,” The kids voice was hard to hear. “Help.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck.
“Coordinates. Now.” Jason swallowed his bile and began sprinting, breathless as he stood a top the highest building in his area. The kid gave his almost nothing other than the sounds of his labored breathing.
“Here.” He spat out, pressing the emergency beacon that was set up for the two of them. No one else would know that the kid was in trouble.
“Okay kid, I’m not far. I’m gonna be right there, okay? You’re fine.” Offering cheap comfort, Jason couldn’t help but curse himself. Of course he prioritized his own business over mentoring the literal son of Bruce. He was going to find his head over the mantle of a fireplace pretty soon.
“I’m not doing bad, just,” A cough shook the boys rib cage. “I was stabbed.”
“It’s okay. Don’t remove the weapon if it’s still in, slow the bleeding. You know what to do, you’ve been trained for this.” Damian’s breathing was all he could hear, it wasn’t rattling too much, nothing that made him think of a collapsed lung.
“I know.” He growled out, something that brought mild ease to Jason’s erratic heartbeat.
“Sorry, I know you know. Can you describe your surroundings?” Grappling across the city streets while distracted is not the best decision, but it was faster than his legs.
“In an abandoned warehouse, near the water.”
Just his fucking luck right?
“Good, good. Keep talking, okay? I’m not even a minute away.” He could see the beacon with the new tech he put in his helmet, perfectly displaying where Damian was.
Heat sensors alerted him that there were maybe twenty fully armed guys guarding the building.
He landed silently on the roof, trying to locate Damian. He was in the farthest corridor from the front of the building, meaning he would have to go through everyone unless he wanted to risk hurting the kid further.
“Alright. Stay quiet and low. You’re gonna hear a lot of noise, but it’s just me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” It was the first time Jason heard Damian really sound like a kid. Like one of those snot nosed, chubby cheeked kids that you help find the mom of. It made his heart ache.
Deciding to unleash all his wrath on the people that took Damian, Jason left behind his contract with Bruce in order to save the kid.
Gunshots through the foreheads, the hearts, whatever it took to get him there the fastest.
The men were prepared, but they weren’t ready. They were alert, but on edge, something that he immediately took advantage of. He jumped onto the first guy, snapping his neck with practiced ease. It didn’t take them long to start firing with no aim, which meant they shot each other too. Anything that moved was a target to them. At some point his helmet was hit, making him rip it off.
He tore into the flesh of men with blades and his teeth, biting through muscles and cherishing the sounds of their screams.
He was told he fought like a feral animal, every piece of him became a weapon when he needed it to be.
Jason hated that about himself.
It did make the job easier.
Spitting blood mixed with saliva onto the last man, Jason found the door where Damian was locked behind. Kicking it down, the hinges busted off with ease, rusted with age.
The kid was curled up in the corner, pale and mildly responsive. He had a knife pointed a Jason, which once he saw who it was it simply dropped out of his hand, the clang making him flinch.
“I’m here kid, I’ve got you.” Damian was sluggish, but still warm and he wasn’t shivering.
He whispered something, which Jason couldn’t hear. He leaned closer, getting his ear next to his mouth.
“Issa trap,” He choked out. Jason should’ve known. He should’ve fucking known.
Whipping around there was those red, blocky letter looking right back at him, the time ticking down once again.
5..
4..
3..
2..
——
“B, there’s been an explosion near the pier.” Tim reported to Bruce, finger on his com and eyes wide through his mask. Bruce nodded, putting down the papers he was reading.
They were currently infiltrating an office that belonged to a notorious criminal organization, one that specialized in trafficking and smuggling.
“Any personal available to report to the scene?” Tim shook his head.
“Oracle said both Hood and Robin were at the scene of the blast,” Tim wasn’t able to finish speaking, Bruce sprinting out of the office.
“Get to the car now! I’m taking the rooftops.” Bruce roared, his cape billowing out behind him and he jumped through the fiftieth floor window, soaring across the skies.
His heart was in his throat, his skin aching.
They were at the scene of the explosion. There is no indication that they were hurt, but his con wouldn’t reach theirs. Oracle said she couldn’t make contact either.
He could hear the batmobile below him, the engines on full as they drove to the pier. Bruce was even faster, running harder than the last time he found himself in this very situation.
He can’t deal with the possibility of what may have occurred.
He can’t.
——
Dick was about to slide out of his suit and into the shower when his com rang. It was always the last thing you removed, for the just incase scenarios.
Of course, when they happened, nothing went well.
“Dick. Are you still on the field?” Barbara’s voice was cold, that tremor at the end of her words making his spit thicken.
She even used his name.
“Yes, yes. What’s happening?” Slipping back on his sleeve and zipping the suit on, He hastily put his mask on, jumping out of his apartment and racing towards Gotham.
At best, he would be there in twenty, thirty minutes. Glancing down, the batmobile was driving towards him.
Diving down through the air, he crashed into the passenger seat, Tim in a cold sweat as he gripped the steering wheel.
“What’s going on?” He shouted, but Tim was too focused on the road to respond, tear tracks visible on his cheeks.
Barbara’s voice came back, her words trembling. “Robin and Hood were caught in an explosion. B is almost at the scene, as well as Batgirl and Spoiler. We haven’t had contact with the pair. It’s been almost twenty minutes of trying.” Dick has been here before.
In space, without a phone call, with an anger towards Bruce and hostility towards Jason. He went away to save himself from their picture perfect relationship, he hated feeling like the worst son next to Jason.
And then he died.
And he could’ve died again. This time with Damian, a boy who’s barely lived a day in his life.
“Drive faster Tim.” The order felt too much like Bruce and not enough like Dick, but Tim heard his and stepped in it, hitting over one hundred miles per hour, racing through the streets.
“You’re five minutes away. Good luck.” Barbara spoke one last time before her line cutoff.
——
Damian groaned, his lungs heavy with smoke. There was ab unfamiliar weight in his chest, a sort of burning every time he inhaled.
He was stabbed. Lured into the stupid warehouse by the screams of a child, only to find the kid was already dead and they were playing a recording of his voice. Stupid, stupid decisions.
He tried to move his arms, his legs, but nothing worked. He was pinned beneath the wreckage from the explosion.
God the explosion.
He had to locate Jason.
“Hood!” He croaked, choking on the flames. It was unbearably hot, the heat licking his limbs and his face. He got no response, the only sound being taht of police vehicles and the roar of the fire.
The weight on his chest didn’t seem to lighten with each deep breath he took, feeling the faintness of his body as the smoke spread.
“Jason!” He screamed, praying he would hear a reply.
His chest rumbled, groaning. He nearly fainted in that very moment as the weight above him shifted, moaning in pain.
“Names.. B will kill ya” Came the hoarse reply of the only and only Red Hood. Damian cursed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but Jason wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t.
As his eyes adjusted he could see the amount of debris the man was protecting him from, the beams of the warehouse digging into his back and legs. He probably couldn’t even breathe properly, the weight of the building crushing him.
“You’re an idiot,” He breathe out, realizing just how trapped they were.
“Save yer breathe.. Don’ move..” His words slurred, his eyes unfocused and raw. He was crying. Jason Todd was crying above him as he protected someone he claimed to hate.
“Why did you do this?”
“Can’ ‘ave two dead robins..” He angels his head away from Damian, coughing. Blood got on Damian’s clothes, making him cringe.
The sound of the batmobile overpowered that of the police sirens, a wave of calm washing over Damian. They were safe. They were going to be saved.
Jason laughed, “Too late. He’ always too late..” Coughing some more, Jason’s laughs turned to tears as he shifted his hands to cradle Damian’s head.
He was basically planked over Damian, protecting him from the blast.
“This isn’ yer fault, mmkay? No’ yer fault. All mine.” Jason nodded harshly, his fingers caressing Damian’s hair. He rubbed his thumb across the boys cheek, a watery smile beaming down on him.
“Don’t say that. He’s coming for us.”
Jason shook his head. “He’s comin’ for you.” Oddly satisfied with his reply, Jason’s arms began to tremble.
He cursed, biting his bottom lip and pushing upwards. The beams groaned, lifting up slightly.
There was enough room to Damian to slide out.
“Go.” Jason told him, voice stronger than it was before.
Damian hesitated, which made Jason snarl.
“Go! Go and don’t turn back until you’re with B!” He screamed at Damian who pulled himself out and bolted, debris falling all around him. His skin was on fire, the flames eating his costume alive.
He ran until he thought he would have to stop, the sound of metal crunching behind him pushing him further. He could see the light from the police cars, he could hear the radio chatter.
He screamed, “I’m here! I’m here! Help him, he’s still inside!” Briefly he wanted to look behind him, but he was too quickly wrapped in a trauma blanket. Arms encircled him, pushing against his wounds and making him nauseous.
“You’re okay, Robin you’re okay, I’ve got you.” It was Dick. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Bludhaven? When did he get to Gotham?
He was ushered into an ambulance and quickly sedated, the warmth that came with painkillers flooding his body.
“Hood,” His throat was dry and he could barely see but Jason was still in the building. “He’s still inside!” Dick just held his hand, murmuring apologies.
“Batman is trying to scope out the building to retrieve him.”
Damian was too quickly consumed by the anesthesia to protest.
——
Jason knew he was going to die again. He knew having a second chance wouldn’t last long, but he never imagined himself in the very place he ended in. In a way it was stupidly poetic.
He was able to get Damian out, and counted to thirty before letting himself collapse. The kid would be running on pure adrenaline and nothing else, so he could probably have rivaled the resident speedster.
The sweet release that came with letting his body be crushed didn’t last long. He was too conscious compared to how he was last time, he should’ve been more prepared for a situation like this. He’s been in bombed buildings so many times, you would think he would know how to deal.
But seeing Damian in pain, seeing the hurt that radiated because of his own selfish actions made him grieve his chance at a second life. It was his duty to save the kid, to lose his life in exchange for his. Robin had to live, Red Hood was nothing but another alter ego for a villain to pick up. Many Red Hoods die, all the time. He’s just continuing the narrative.
So with his final breath he kept his words to himself, not asking for forgiveness nor giving an apology for his mistakes.
It all had to come to an end anyway.
——
The smoke took too long to clear. The building was in ashes by the time it was safe to enter. Bruce had to be restrained by Tim, Steph, and Cass. They all were sobbing as they did so, saying he couldn’t risk his life for Jason’s body.
They all knew the moment he died, you could feel his soul leave his body.
The heat sensors could filter the flames in order to pick up survivors, but there was no signs of life.
At some point, Clark arrived to the scene. He heard the children’s screams and came himself.
“Batman,” He offered, eyes watering. Bruce swallowed his pride and hugged him, just as he had when his son first passed.
Dear god he was going to have to bury him again.
His heart couldn’t take it, nor could he bear to stand still. Damian was taken to a hospital with Dick, a promise of safety and to let Bruce know about his condition.
Bruce couldn’t leave the scene, even after the firefighters smothered the flames and deemed the area unstable.
It took hours for the cloud of smoke to be cleared by Gothams wind, a steady rain picking up afterwards.
The city mourned his son just as he was.
Tim began to speak, his words jumbled in Bruce’s mind. His girls nodded, and the trio left to look through the wreckage. Clark held Bruce back, offering him condolences and trying to soothe his hurt.
Diana arrived later, as did Hal and Oliver. They also joined his children in trying to find his sons body.
“Bruce, Bruce come back to me.” Clark urged, his hand picking up his chin. “They found him, Bruce.”
The insanity that came with deciding whether or not he wanted to see his sons body was disgusting, leaving him feeling pitiful.
Diana was carrying him, how fitting for him to be held by his favorite superhero. If only he would wake up, he’d stare at her in awe.
He was burned, badly. It was no surprise but all rational parts of him were left behind after finding out his sons were caught in the explosion.
Diana payed him down on a gurney, tears falling down her cheeks as she brushed hair out of his face.
His back was horrifically damaged, but his face was hardly harmed. He had some dirt, grime sticking to his skin, and a few cuts, but he looked like he was sleeping. Like he would wake up at any moment and blink lazily and comment on how they looked like they were holding a convention for him.
Bruce laughed, his sobs turning to delirious laughter.
A worn, familiar hand touched his shoulder. “My god,” He breathed out, his voice getting caught in his throat.
“Alfred..” Bruce called, burying his face in his fathers shoulder. He couldn’t look at Jason any longer.
Steph was sobbing, Tim had cried so much he made himself vomit, and Cass was silently weeping. She held her siblings in her arms, her dark eyes never leaving Jason.
He was cold. His heart had stopped hours ago, a beam from the warehouse had gone straight through him.
His death was quick, that was the conclusion to coroners came up with. It wasn’t sufficient enough. He wanted to know what could’ve prevented it, he wanted to know why Jason sacrificed himself.
He should’ve gotten out alive.
Damian wouldn’t talk. He stabilized quickly but wouldn’t move, wouldn’t eat unless coerced to do so. He wouldn’t even let his cat, wouldn’t smile when Dick jokes around.
He sobbed in his hospital cot when then told him Jason died mere minutes after Damian escaped. That if he hadn’t ran, he would’ve died too.
Bruce never saw his son look so young before. Him and his ridiculous plans for life. His inability to understand what his children felt other than rage.
Talia visited, she cooed at Damian and soothed him to the best of her abilities. But even she mourned Jason. She told Bruce of his year with the league, of how she nursed him back to health before his time in the pit. Bruce screamed at her, cried in her arms, swore until he lost his voice.
He didn’t know what he felt.
It was as if someone scooped out his heart and tried to jam it back in but nothing fit anymore, it was too late to fix it.
He was barely functioning, watching his children have to comfort each other and themselves without him.
Damon was discharged from the hospital after a week, and he immediately became a recluse in his room. He never took meals in the dining room, only accepting food in his room. He wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t stop painting. He began to decorate his walls, paint a mural on his ceiling, anything to distract his mind. His wails were loud at night, his screams from nightmares making Bruce lay outside his locked bedroom door.
It took a while for anyone to even piece together what happened. They didn’t know much.
They didn’t want to know. They didn’t care.
It hurt too much.
They had to clear out his safe houses, they had to close his bank accounts and reorganize his gang.
They were shocked when his people nodded, saying Jason set up a contingency plan if he ever died. That all his money would go to funds for the homeless, the mentally ill, and the abused.
His apartment was untouched for a while, the safe houses were easier because it was the Red Hood they were dealing with, not Jason.
He had fifteen unfinished shows on Netflix, he had three books in his nightstand with bookmarks only halfway through. He had dishes in the sink and water in his kettle. He had meal preps in the fridge and he had a calendar on the fridge, which was covered in childish drawings done by someone named Lian.
Bruce didn’t know who it was, and when he asked Dick his son nearly threw up. The call with Roy and his daughter was long, and so very painful.
Jason and Roy had plans to move away, to get out of their respective cities and move to the country side. They were supposed to leave in a month. Jason was in the process of getting a dog.
He had so much life to live.
And yet he was just a toy soldier, the one on the end that fell off and was discarded.