Work Text:
Well I don't know where the time goes
But I remember what you said
And every single feeling's dead
They made it to the Clocktower. Barely.
Jason was carrying Batgirl over his shoulder as it was the quickest way to swing, knowing it was better to get her there quickly than carry her more gently and have her bleed out in his arms. It was raining, thick grey Gotham rain plastering his hair to his forehead, the white turned dull in the sludge; the Red Hood’s knees almost giving out on him when he landed, slipping in the rain and from exhaustion. It was one of those nights his grave seemed almost peaceful.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Jason’s knees buckled and he fell, barely keeping the top half of his body upright. The Clocktower might have been engineered to allow vigilantes easy access, but the concrete against his knees still sent a jolt through his entire body - his teeth clacked together audibly from the impact, the man wincing silently.
Of course, Black Bat landed without a fault. Cass touched down gracefully a few seconds after he fell, easing Stephanie from his shoulder and resting the blonde on Jason’s lap before running to a panel on the wall, keying in her identification code. While she was gone, the Red Hood shifted until his feet were underneath him once again, crouched on the rooftop and struggling to see anything other than the rain and blood in his eyes.
Somehow, it was the norm for him to see the world in shades of grey and red these days.
In his arms, Stephanie was still. It was eerie: she was so bright, so burning, so full of life – if a minute in her presence went by without a word from the chirpy blonde, it meant she was mad at you. To see her so silent now terrified Jason. He would never admit it, but her chatter kept him sane most nights; behind his hood, he always hid a smile.
He longed for her to speak now.
“Cmon, Blondie,” he murmured, gentle in the way he held her in his re-adjusted position. Dimly, he was aware of Cass shouting over the intercom but it was drowned out by the rain. Hands slipping, he pulled the blonde nearer, cradling her head in one hand so her neck didn’t lull at an awkward angle. If it did, it would be sore as hell later – and she had enough to worry about. Holding her head closer, Jason gave her a little shake, voice hoarse as he told her. “You’re not allowed to die. Not you, BG. You’re the one that keeps us together, remember? The ‘life is shitty but less when you’re not alone’ lecture you gave me? I listened, you know.”
“Hood.”
Cass was there, like lightning, and her face was thunder. Rage carved the cut of her jaw and her eyes could stare down the devil; Jason did not want to be in the shoes of the men who had captured and stabbed Batgirl. They were in for a world of pain when Cassandra found them, of that he had no doubt.
“Go inside, Barbara has an emergency doctor. She has given you temporary access.” It was a statement, as words always were with Cass. But next, she gave an order. “Stay with Steph. Protect her.”
As if her entire life was some elaborate twist of a magician’s trick, Black Bat was gone, disappeared into the rain with no trace she was ever there at all.
Staggering to his feet, Jason half walked, half fell towards the hatch that had opened in the wall, stepping into what turned out to be a chute-like elevator a moment later. The door shut and he was shot downwards quicker than he would have liked, stomach dropping at the action as his grip on the girl in his arms tightened, eyes fluttering shut – it was over as soon as it had started, he blinked in light as he stepped into the elusive headquarters of Oracle.
“Over here.”
And there she was, and in his eyes, Barbara never changed. From his days as Robin to now, Babs was red hair and glasses and a tone that make him feel stupid, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that as she led the way further inside, wheeling herself down a corridor as Jason followed, barely registering the fact he was upright, much less the route they took.
They arrived at what looked and smelled like a hospital room: it was only when what looked like the Black Canary in blue scrubs tried to take Batgirl out of his arms that Jason snapped to his senses, stepping away.
“Wait-”
“Hood,” Barbara breathed, but the warning in her tone was clear. His head whipped around to find her behind him, eyes dark and eyes pinched. “Let her go.”
But Jason could be just as stubborn as the red head, and twice as angry. “Where are they taking her?”
“Let her go!”
“-Jason!” Leslie Thompkins appeared beside the Canary, eyes soft over the surgical mask covering half of her face. She spoke softly, as if to a child, but Jason was pacified just by her presence – Dr. Thompkins would save Batgirl. “I need you to give Batgirl to the Canary here, okay? You can’t come in here, you’re not sterile. I need you to do this for me so I can help Stephanie. Do you trust me?”
Jason just nodded, locking his eyes on the golden head in his arms before handing her over slowly, careful to make the Canary take the girl in the right way, keeping her head straight all the while. It hurt to tear his eyes away.
“You can leave.”
Jason didn’t even register the words, let alone who said them. There was a circle window in the twin doors Batgirl and Dr. Thompkins had disappeared behind, his eyes remained locked on that, hands still reaching out, the absence of the body in his arms like losing one of his own limbs. He was blinking steadily, but his eyes were unfocused; the blood in his ears roared, leaving him trapped in a bubble which he didn’t think could be popped until he saw Dr. Thompkins return from the medical room with news.
He was proven wrong when a vice like grip on his arm woke him from the daze, jumping to find Barbara glaring up at him, trying to manoeuvre him towards the door. Hostility reeked from her – from the way she sat in her chair, on edge, looking for a fight; to the extra weapons, escrima’s and tasers, he could see hidden on her person. Obviously (and unfortunately), there was something they needed to discuss.
“Hey!” he yelped at the grip, jumping free of it. Standing with his back against the wall, Jason asked, “What the hell, terminator! Are you trying to take my arm off?”
Barbara responded curtly, “You can leave now, Hood. There’s no need for you to stay.”
“I’m not leaving-”
“You brought her here and I’m,” Barbara paused, as if the word was hard to get out, “grateful. But she’s safe now, you can go. Whatever obligation you felt to bring her – it’s over.”
“Obligation? You think that’s why I’m here? Like I owe you anything.”
Jason scoffed and wandered few steps closer to the door, making it perfectly clear he had no intention of leaving through the gaze he levelled at the woman he used to know. Or, he thought he knew her. Now, there was nothing but distrust in Bab’s eyes as she looked at him, hand tightening on the taser he knew was in her lap, hidden by a red scarf.
He went on, agitated. “If there was nothing but obligation between us – and to be clear, there isn’t – I would have left her on the roof. But I’m not here because of whatever weird bat-psyche you’ve all deluded yourself into believing means we’re a family – I’m here because she got hurt on my watch, and I’m not leaving until she’s awake.”
Jason was so busy crossing his arms smugly that he almost missed her next words. Almost.
“We’re not a family.”
“What?” he asked, standing straight again.
“I said: we’re no family,” Barabara replied, almost spitting the word out. Her hands, locked ready to move over the wheels of her chair, were clenched into fists at the moment; she was a woman of incredible kindness and integrity, but towards him, all Jason felt was contempt. “The others I would expect to bring Steph here because that’s what they do, they’re good people – they’re family. You? I’m surprised you didn’t leave her to bleed out, Hood.”
The words struck him, just like cold words from Barbara Gordon could when he was thirteen and could never measure up to the Robin before him in her green eyes. Back then, Jason was angrier and less likely to hide it – he had been hurt, sure, but was more likely to go into a rant about being the superior Robin than show it.
He was less hot-headed now, but still good at hiding how good she was at finding his weak points.
Jason swallowed, shaking his head. “It used to be ‘Jason’.”
“What?”
“You used to call me Jason.”
Barbara blinked at him, thrown off at the response – she had expected the anger again, unused to a version of him minus the green panties or green rage of the Lazarus Pit. It had been a while since they talked.
“Things have changed.”
“You don’t say,” Jason huffed a laugh, relaxing again. Control. It had taken him a while to learn, life so raw and real to him that his hurt usually hit him like a bullet and left him striking out, but Jason had finally come to realise the value of control. He thought before he spoke, letting the stifling, suffocating silence fill the small corridor between them as he tucked one ankle behind the other, leaning against the wall again. “But they’ve changed again, more than you think. And I’m not leaving.”
Making a sound of irritation, Barbara slammed her hands against the arms of her chair. “Damn it, Hood! Whatever game this is, I don’t care, I don’t – I just don’t want you here anymore.”
“Tough. I stay until she’s awake.”
“I can have you removed.”
“You can try,” he replied, unaffected. One hand drifted to his holster, and just because he was hurt and pissed off, he tapped it before grinning at her. “But I’d advise against it. I hate for things to get messy.”
“Why do you even care?” Barbara snapped. “A year ago you were taking pot shots at Dick and Damian! You almost killed Tim! Why would you give a crap now?”
“That was a year ago.”
“-And that’s not fucking good enough,” she snapped, and he finally started taking her seriously – Barbara could master anger easily, a cold, calculated rage about her without ever having to raise her voice. She didn’t swear or lose her cool – that was him. “I don’t trust you, Hood. This is my house, and you’re not welcome here. Not after everything you’ve done.”
Changing tack, he held his palms open, gesturing for peace. “Hey, I’m really not looking for a fight. I know I’ve . . . I know I’ve done things. I get it. But right now -”
Curtly, she cut him off. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because you don’t really have a choice,” Jason replied. He was getting tired of this – the same ghosts from two years ago stirred up, green and screaming and – no. No. That was then. He was . . . it like like a temporary madness, and he knew the line now. Briefly, anger flitted across his gaze and clenched his fists, resentment about being the forgotten soldier running free in the second it took him to comment, intentions far from good: “But hey, it’s nice to know you’ve changed too, BG. It’s fair enough to say you’re surprised that I care what happens to Stephanie – but I’m just as shocked that you do.”
“Batgirl is my partner,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I don’t have a clue what you mean by that.”
“Nothing, nothing . . . I just remember how you used to be about replacements, too. I thought you of all people might understand how I felt about that, actually.”
Jason said the words slyly, knowing the cruelty in them. He meant it. Of all the people who got to judge him for not caring about Bruce’s pathetic ideals of a ‘family’ – Barbara was very, very low on that list. It was a part of her the others seemed all too happy to gloss over; the part of him they demonised the most.
“You tried to kill Tim. I gave Batgirl to Cass.”
“Exactly! That’s the change I’m talking about – I’m proud of you, Barb,” Jason sneered, mocking happiness etched onto his face. He clapped a few times for good measure. “We’ve both come a long way.”
She shook her head, turning and starting to leave. “You’re pathetic, Hood.”
“I mean, there was none of this caring-and-sharing when I became Robin,” Jason went on as if she hadn’t spoken, still leaning and speaking with a tone like he was discussing the weather. It was almost as calculated as she could be; he would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting a kick from finally saying it. “No, back then, you were too busy telling me what I wasn’t to see what I was. I bet it killed you when I died before you could say ‘I told you so.’”
Barbara turned around, mouth opened and defensive. She rolled towards him and crossed her arms. “That’s not how it was, an-”
“Yeah-fucking-right!” Jason laughed, “Now I know I’m delusional, but you’re really going for tops here. You all seem to forget what it was like because it’s too damn inconvenient for any of you – Bruce too, by the way – that I spent my time as Robin constantly being told I wasn’t good enough! And you wonder why I went running when I thought I had found my mother? It’s a joke.”
“That’s no excuse for what you’ve done.”
“No, and I’m not trying to make it one. I just won’t let you act so high and mighty with me,” Jason said firmly, taking a few more steps towards her until he loomed over her form, rigid with anger but still, deathly calm, like a livewire. “But then again, I don’t know why I should expect to be treated any differently by you. After all – I’ll never be Dick Grayson.”
Barbara’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t wrong.”
At that, Jason couldn’t help but laugh. He spun in a circle bent at the knee and giggling manically, before turning back to her with wet eyes, slightly crazed, blood still dripping down his face. It had been two days since he had slept last, Steph was lying dying in the other room and he really didn’t expect his first time seeing Barbara face-to-face since his first Red Hood appearance to be like this.
“No, you don’t get to laugh!” Barbara chided, not intimidated by how close to the edge they were both getting. Hysteria did that: made you say and do things you wouldn’t ordinarily. “You don’t get to stroll in here and dreg up the past and make yourself out to be a victim, Jason. Not after how much hurt you inflicted when you came back – you never had to see the damage you caused. I did.”
“And I’m sorry! I’ve said it!” Jason yelled back. “It was me, okay? I know it was me. It was every single horrible thought I’d ever had and all the fucking pain from dying – and nobody cared! Not a single one of you gave a damn, Barbara – so when the Pit took away my self control and I couldn’t fucking think and I did all those things – maybe that’s just who I really am.” He breathed heavily, panting from the passion with which he had spoken, throwing his arms wide. “Maybe you were right about me all along, and I’m just the screw up that was going to hell one way or another.”
Barbara didn’t respond, seemingly speechless from his outburst. She seemed to decide not to deal with it, turning her chair and beginning to leave a second time. He let her go a few feet, but she still didn’t understand. Jason had to make her understand.
“But I’m trying,” he called after her. It was still strong, but his voice wasn’t angry anymore: it was more confused, subdued – honest. Jason shook his head, laughing bitterly. “And you still won’t even give me a chance. I won’t leave Steph – but I won’t hurt you, either. You’re my Batgirl, Babs. The only one I ever had. I know I wasn’t your Robin; that I’ll never be what Dick was – but I never had that, I didn’t have another Batgirl but you, another one to turn to.” He spoke quietly now; she had stopped, hopefully listening. “Now I do – and you’ll always be my Batgirl – but I won’t leave this one now.”
Barbara didn’t say anything, just continued down the corridor, leaving Jason alone. Once her red hair was out of sight, the energy drained from him, slumping against the wall until he sat on the floor, knees tucked up to his chest like a child.
It had been a low blow to say all those things and he knew it.
If they were reversed, he wouldn’t trust her, either. He sure as hell would want her in his home uninvited. After all – to Barbara, he was just the Hood now, who had come back and hurt and tore chunks out of the people she loved out of spite. The Red Hood was rage and revenge, everything she had chosen not to be after her own run in with the Joker – a mirror of the opposite path she could have taken.
But really, she was a much better person than he was: misgivings about when they were kid’s aside. She could have been like him, but instead she made the Birds and was Batman’s eyes and ears – and his common sense, a lot of the time, if what Stephanie told him was true.
Jason turned his eyes back towards the circle of the doors, determined to wait his vigil there from the floor, but was asleep in minutes, face against his knees.
*
He woke in the same position. It was at least an hour later, from the stiffness of his knee’s when he straightened them – bumping them into a blue blanket which had been left at his feet. It wasn’t draped over him, they weren’t there yet, but it was there for when he woke up.
Picking it up, Jason turned it over in his hands a few times. A smile twitched the edge of his lip - it was a nice thought. He knew she was there – he could feel a presence a few feet to his left, so didn’t even look up.
“Thanks.”
Barbara didn’t answer, but he felt her nod. After he had unfolded the blanket, throwing it over his legs and seeing it was almost 4am, Jason looked over. She was in her chair a few feet away, the gap between them considerable, but not what it had been.
It wasn’t an apology, but he knew she had listened. He hoped she had understood.
Jason leaned his head back against the wall and they waited for news, side by side.
"One day young boy you'll be a man, And you'll be guiding this old ark. You've got a lonely heart"