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‘His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.’
Jason shuts the book after its last line. It’s been a fine Sunday morning. A bit chilly, but still pretty good.
It’s been a while since he had a good birthday.
The weather’s nice, for once, and for the first time this week, there are no rouges trying to fully burn this city down til the only ashes remain. He knows that the peace in Gotham is often the silence before the storm.
But he doesn’t have to acknowledge that. He doesn’t have to think about that at all. He got the birthday texts from all his friends, a box of cake left by Damian on his porch, a knife with a bow left by Bizarro (and a note from Artemis), a note and an upgraded helmet from Roy and Lian, a nice Waynetech gloves from Cass and Steph, and-
And a box from Bruce he still hasn’t opened.
He deserves to be able to avoid the world for a day. It’s not like he got to have this when he was younger.
Or so he thought. It’s always a bit gray and foggy in Gotham City - no time for the Sun.
———————
It’s about 1 AM when he's patrolled 3 blocks around an orphanage. He’s heard some commotions for a couple of nights by now and he’s heard from a volunteer coordinator that some kids have been missing and have returned very sick.
Tonight is no different. It’s quiet but to the trained ears, there’s something happening. He decides to watch for a bit.
When 10 minutes pass by, he sees some men in black.
Bingo.
It’s the scarecrow’s goons. He’s about to ignore it until he realizes they have kids.
Weird.
So he thought until he realizes that they were trying the new batch of scarecrow toxins on the street kids.
Fuck scarecrow.
Maybe he went too violent. Maybe he shouldn’t have broken all their arms but at the end of the day, it’s a message sent to Scarecrow and a message sent to the Bats and the kids saved.
A perfect night.
He’s about to continue the patrol, until he feels something in his veins.
Fuck. He got jabbed in the back. (He can feel it. He’s been forgetting to upgrade his suit for a while.)
He runs, and runs, to an abandoned factory nearby that he’s been using as his temporary warehouse.
As soon as he gets in there and locks his doors, he pulls out the syringe, crashes, and the world goes black.
————————
“Hey, Jason.”
God, not this dream again.
But he isn’t dreaming. He’s awake. He’s shivering and cold.
His body is numb, sprawled on the floor. He pushes his best against the floor to sprawl on the wall instead, sort of sitting, sort of lying down.
That bastard. He will one day have Jonathan Crane’s ass. For now, he’ll take his helmet off and rest for a bit.
“Hey, can you hear me? I know you do.”
Jason opens his eyes, against his brain screaming not to. He was never the one to listen, especially in abandoned factories.
It’s himself, as a robin. Covered in blood.
The blood always accentuates the bright greens of the costume. The yellow cape is unrecognizable due to blood - only visible as yellow to those whose used to it.
And the worst part? The worst part is that the kid is always shorter than he expects. Shorter, younger, happier.
His cheeks are full. A tooth is missing. His dimples are still visible. He probably hasn’t even reached 4 ft. And he- He still thinks he’s loved by Bruce Wayne.
Only if someone could preserve this boy from what’s about to come.
Like he was happy to sacrifice himself for people that abandoned him over, and over, and over, and over-
He tries to pick the scars he got when he was climbing out of his coffin. He lost most of the senses on his fingertip anyways. It’s the only habit Talia couldn’t stop him from. (“You have to be seen as confident, Jason. Especially during a fight.”)
But he has his gloves on. Everything is wrong.
“Helloooooooooo, Jason! You’re staring, bozo.”
“Yeah, yeah kid.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? I know you have so much to tell me.”
It’s always the same start. Jason’s always been too curious. Too bold. Too rash and too brave.
“I got nothin’ to tell you, kid. Things are rough out here.”
He doesn’t have to be nice. He can scream, shout, hit, throw, and do whatever to his hallucination of himself. But- But a small, stupid part of his brain wants to be nice to himself. Someone needs to. If only someone did, if someone cared enough to go to Ethiopia with him, if only someone did a background check on Sheila, if only someone-
Nothing changes with if onlys. He’s fake yet he wants to be the kindest person he’s been since death.
“Well, I want to know. It’s a bit…. It’s a bit scary knowing nothing about my future. Everyone says I’m a street rat with no good stuff. Just a kid Brucie Wayne adopted for charities. Do I become what everyone says?”
“Maybe.”
The kid sits down next to him.
“Why didn’t we die, Jason? Why are we still alive?” The kid’s looking at him. It’d be socially appropriate to look at him back but Jason’s about to break.
“We did die. The fucking clown killed us.”
“So Bruce killed him back, right? He kicked his ass?”
Jason is miserable. He tries to pat down for a cigarette and hopes he has a box left but his arm isn’t really moving.
“No. Bruce, uh, Bruce was busy.”
He always lies to himself. Every single iteration of himself knows and despite that, Jason always tries.
Jason’s always been a little soft for kids.
“Bruce always says I can call him for help. Remember when we didn’t go for a patrol because we were sick? We watched movies together, remember? Alfred brought us popcorn?”
He doesn’t. He doesn’t remember and frankly, he’s not sure Bruce would ever do that for him.
“I know he loves us. We gotta do better for Bruce and Alfred.”
“Stop. Stop it.”
“Why? Why do you hate them now? What did we fucking do?”
“We didn’t do anything, fuck!”
“Yeah, we did! We disappoint people around us all the time. That’s why Catherine left. That’s why Willis is now fucking gone. I bet Dick still resents you a bit for taking the robin title.”
“Catherine DIED. SHE DIED BECAUSE OF OVERDOSE. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? WE COULDN’T AFFORD FUCKING THERAPY!”
It always leads to Catherine.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU MAKE HER HAPPY ENOUGH?”
“That’s not how addiction works.”
“What’s so different with Bruce’s work addiction? What’s so different with Dick never coming back to the manor? Selina never visited out grave, I bet. Why is the grave still there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” Robin grabs his
“YOU DO KNOW!! STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!!”
The room is silent.
“I wish we died that night forever.” That line always breaks his heart.
“Me too, kid. I wish I wasn’t here at all.” His voice is barely audible, with cracks.
“If this is what I become, I wish Bruce never adopted us. I wish we didn’t jack his tires.”
That line always shatters his heart.
He’s still shivering. His helmet is screaming something.
Jason passes out on the floor for the second time of the night.
—————————
When Jason wakes up, he’s not at the abandoned factory. Strange.
He’s at the manor, in his old bedroom. The room is dark but he can sense someone else in the room.
“Jason.”
It’s Bruce.
“Don’t talk to me. I had enough.”
“Jason.”
“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that you’re disappointed and you wish you never adopted me because I’ll never be who Dick and Tim and Damian are. You’re going to tell me shit I’m all embarrassed about and you’re going to beat me to death, while your face flickers from Joker to Bruce.”
“No, that’s not-“
“And I’m going to wake up again, tied in a wheelchair. Your face is going to morph into Joker’s. I know the drill, fuck, just get it over with. It’s always the same.”
Bruce’s face hardens. That’s not usually the plot. Strange.
“Is that what fear toxin does to you?”
“This isn’t real, Jason,” Jason whispers to himself. “This isn’t real.”
“Why isn’t this real?”
“Because you’re always the next one to appear after the small me. Don’t fucking act like you don’t know. Fuck!”
Bruce doesn’t respond.
The door opens and the room lights up.
“Is the antidote treating you well, Master Jason?”
“What?” Alfred never shows up in his fear toxin shit. This is new.
“Ah, it seems like Master Bruce didn’t give you the rundown OR turn the lights on. You shouldn’t scare the boy, Master Bruce.”
Bruce doesn’t take his eyes from Jason and stays silent.
“Miss Barbara tried to contact you for a bit until she realized you weren’t answering after your fight with the scarecrow ‘goons’. She sent Miss Stephanie to track you down and Miss Stephanie alerted Master Bruce for help.”
Ah, that explains feeling like being watched by another set of eyes. It’s Cass.
He sees, from the corner of his eyes, a faint figure outside the window waving, then disappearing.
So this is real. This is the real manor, real bed, real room, real Alfred, and real Bruce.
Fuck.
“Hm. Temperature’s going down and shivering stopped. Take some more rest, Master Jason. You too, Master Bruce. I’ll leave the tea on your nightstand.” Alfred gives Bruce a look with a meaning Jason can’t really decode right now. Bruce nods at Alfred and the door’s closed again.
“I-“ “I-“ They both start their sentences and stop.
“I should get going, Bruce.”
“It’s been a long night, Chum.” Bruce has never been one to be straightforward.
“Yeah, I have shit to do.”
“It’s your birthday.”
“It sure is.”
“You can take a night off, Chum. You can always take a night off, especially when you’re sick.”
Jason doesn’t know how to respond. Bruce is still fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
Jason is tired of fighting. Fighting his family, fighting his old self, fighting the rogues, fighting for death, and-
Fighting to get a chance at something he used to have so he can feel like he’s still Jason Todd-Wayne.
“Okay.”
The night in Gotham is still foggy and gray but he notices a thin layer of snow that has covered Gotham.
Jason closes his eyes for the one last time and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Bruce’s shaking hands hovering on his like he’s not sure if his son will let him touch his hands.
He would. He would if the world would let him.