Chapter Text
Jason walked quickly down the sidewalk, head hanging low, face hidden. He kept his face hidden a lot now-a-days. He used to do it to avoid people recognizing him or to keep him out of sight. Now he does it to hide. He hates it but he finds comfort in it. If he hides, no one can see the scar on his neck, the streak in his hair, pain in his eyes. He doesn’t like the stares. They remind him of a day, a time, when all he could do was endure pain and be watched.
“Carter?” He paused and looked up, Mr. O’Malley, his landlord, stood on the stoop leaving his apartment. He still wasn’t used to this fake name, a name he took in honor of his mother. “And here I was thinking, I was renting to a ghost.” He chuckled softly. Jason just stared. The man’s eyes darted at that, a hand running through his salt and pepper hair, “Well then, I’ll be going. Don’t forget-”
“Rent is due -” His voice cracked, “Tuesday, I know O’Malley.” Jason couldn’t remember the last time he had spoke. His throat grew tight as O’Malley stared at him, his face flowing from awkward to concern. Jason dropped his face to the ground, going up the stairs and pushing past O’Malley. He was about to slip inside when he felt a hand grip his arm, he whipped around ready to hit the older man. Jason glared at the man.
“You know you don’t have to be alone,” the man released his grip, “Rosa likes you, Tyler and his mom do too.”
“Shut up, don’t act like you know me, you don’t, and I’m not alone!” His voice was raspy as he spoke going in and out due to its lack of use. He pushed inside slamming the door behind him. He refuses to acknowledge the hurt look on the man’s face. How in a few days the guilt will eat at him too much for him to not apologize. He’ll bring the man his favorite tea, write a note and move on. He also refused to acknowledge how right O’Malley truly was. He was alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.
He opened his apartment, it was empty, and cold. It was always cold to him. He refused to turn up the heat, it would be a comfort he didn’t deserve. He set down the bag of groceries on the counter. Moving around, setting things around, silent. The only thing he could hear was his own breath, his own heart beat. He used to hate the silence, always asking Alfred to play music at the manor, or he talked. He used to talk a lot, Bruce used to call him a chatterbox. Now he doesn’t talk, there’s no need to talk when you have no one to talk to.
He moved to his couch, sitting down gently, the bruises from the previous night's patrol still stinging. He could allow himself this one kindness. He looked around his empty space. He had little to nothing, he liked to travel light. That’s what he always told himself, when he moved from safe house to safehouse every week, staying a month at most. He’d been here 6 months. He was shocked his family hadn’t found him yet. Or they have and they know to avoid it like a plague. He brought his legs up, curling up like a child. They avoid it like a plague because I am one. I’m a disease, something to keep far, far away. He shook his head trying to get his darker thoughts to leave. He knew he should uncurl, act like an adult, like his body showed. But he couldn't, he shivered as the cold began to seep further than his bones, he wondered if anyone ever noticed that he acted like a kid, Damian had one time spat at him that he was an immature fool. He didn’t think he was immature just, acting his age.
The silence of the room was broken as a ringing began to blare from his phone. He groaned, or tried to, it mostly came out as a sigh of air, his vocal chords seemed to scream as he did. He walked sluggishly to his room, and stared at his phone, ringing repeatedly. He just stared as he saw Roy’s flash on the screen. He wanted to ignore it, ignore the whole world just so he could curl back up and disappear. That would be the best thing you could do, disappear and di- He reached for his phone. His finger hovered over the answer button, he knew Roy would keep calling till he answered, he was always persistent. He answered the call.
“Hey, Jaybird! How’s it hanging? I heard you had a nasty run in, during patrol last night.” Jason swallowed, the fight with the Joker and his family flashing in his mind.
“Hey, I’m fine Roy.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Who told?” Roy was silent on the other end of the line, he could practically see the furrow in his brow, trying to find a way to navigate Jason. He hated it. Hated that he had to be navigated like the time-bomb he was.
“Oh you know, just a friend of a-”
“Roy”, Jason cut him off, he didn’t want to hear the around-trip answer.
“Dick called,” Roy said quietly. Tears began to burn in Jason’s eyes. “Listen, He’s just worried about you Jay,” His voice began to pick up speed as tears began to fall down his face, “We all are if you would jus-” Jason ended the call. He set it next to him on the bed as he curled up on his bed. He began to shake and he didn’t know if it was from the silent sobs or the freezing cold of his apartment. He pulled the covers over his head as his phone began to ring.
It wasn’t fair, he had just been trying to help. Yet, your big ole brother had to go and complain to his friend, you’re not a help. Just a nuisance. His body began to shake more as his thoughts spiraled, sobs wracking a chest that wouldn’t let them escape. His phone continued to ring. He reached over and shut the ringer off. He curled and let himself think of the previous night’s patrol, wondering what he could have done differently. Drifting off as his mind pondered why he was such a freak.
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Jason ran as fast he could across the rooftops, Joker had Robin. Not again. He ran as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his ears, flashes of his death by the Joker’s hands flashing in his mind. Not again. He had to get to him. He had to save his little brother. God, please not again.
He jumped, slamming into the ground below as he ran for the warehouse. He saw from the corner of his eye as Bruce and Dick landed close by but still behind him. He threw open the doors to see the Joker holding a bat above Damian, readying to land a blow. A ringing began in his ears. The Joker froze as he turned to him. He began to laugh, Jason saw green.
“Why how rude of you to inter-” He was cut off as Jason pounced on him. The bat clattering out of his hands falling away. He watched as the Joker’s eyes lit up with amusement and he started to laugh again when Jason punched him. He slammed his fists into the Joker’s face, watching as his makeup began to be stained with blood. He watched as the light faded from the Joker’s eyes, not dying just passing out. He felt arms grab him, trying to drag him back but he shrugged them off continuing to punch the Joker. He finally stopped as he was dragged off of him and pinned down. He thrashed under the weight on him, he heard a loud desperate screaming. He didn’t realize it was him until he saw the concern in everyone’s eyes. Looking at him. They were always looking at him. It’s not concern, it’s disgust, you’re a monster…
He stared at them through his hood, the ringing finally coming to a stop, he glanced at Damian, wrapped in Dick’s arms, safe. Alive. He choked on a sob. He had barely stood up before he was shoved against a wall.
“What were you thinking?” Bruce screamed at him. “What if there were traps? You just ran right in, Do you not thin-”
“What if he died?” Jason screamed right back pushing Bruce back. “What if he ended up like me, you ever think of that? What if-” Jason cut himself off his voice whispering at the end. Bruce stared at him, acting as if Jason had punched him, not just told him the truth. He looked to see Dick had the same look. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke all just looked at him with pity.
“Is he good? He spat in the direction of his brother, already starting to walk towards the doors.
“Jason, wait,” Bruce grabbed him, but he shrugged him off. He had just wanted to help and he had gotten in the way. Who cares if you saved him? You went crazy. You’re just a freak to them. Jason walked out ignoring the calls from Bruce and the others. He had done all he need to. The last thing he heard was that Damian was alright, before he ran off into the Gotham night.
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Jason flew up, a soft scream leaving his lips, his body wracked as he tried to get air in, the nightmare playing on repeat in his mind. He hadn’t made it, Damian had died, then the dream had twisted and suddenly it wasn’t the joker he had been punching it was Damian. Nausea rolled in his gut as he ran to his bathroom. He puked, or at least tried to, all that would come was bile. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ate. He stood up shaking and stared into the mirror. His eyes were green, practically glowing, his face was pale compared to its usual tan complexion. Tears streamed down his face as he thought about how it had been his hands that had killed his brother, and so many others. He knew logically it was just a nightmare, he hadn’t killed Damian, but he could have gotten him hurt for his recklessness. It also didn’t erase the fact that his hands had hurt his family before. He refused to think about Tim, and how he had nearly killing him in that tower, out of what? Jealousy and anger? He blinked hard trying to get the beaten and bloody image of Tim out of his mind before the guilt ate him alive.
Jason was a disease, it didn’t matter if he felt guilty for the pain and hurt he had caused his family and friends. How could he ever be forgiven? He had nearly killed Tim, almost ruined Dick's career as Nightwing, left Roy, and had killed Tyler's father. He had ruined his chance of being with his family. He needed to leave and go far from them before he hurt them even more. If he stayed near them, they’d get infected. It was an endless cycle, he stared with a burning hatred at the mirror and what it held in front of him. His hand stung as it smashed into the glass shards of the mirror, cutting and shattering upon his hands' impact. He almost wished it had hurt the monster in the mirror.
His eyes began to fill with tears as the pain in his hand swelled, blood pooling around his cut knuckles. He stared as the blood dripped onto the floor below. Splashing silently onto the shitty porcelain. His mind felt dazed, like he was in a trance as he cleaned up the mess. Silence surrounding him in a solemn embrace. He didn’t know when his tears had stopped as he cam to rest back on his bed.
His fingers shook in his injured hand as he clicked the screen of his phone to life. He tried not to choke on a sob as he saw the notifications. 57 missed calls, 13 voicemails, and at least 30 messages from Roy alone. He continued to scroll seeing the hundreds of messages from Dick, Tim, Damian, Barbra, Steph, Cass, Bruce and even Duke, and he barely knew the kid. A sob came out of his chest as he saw the multiple missed calls from Artemis and Bizarro. He wasn’t alone. He saw that now. He had always known actually, the difference was he had to be alone, or he would poison those around him. He’d ruin them, just like he’d ruined himself. His phone began to buzz as another call came in. He stared at the screen and watched as Dick’s face smiled brightly at him. He had nearly ruined his Brother's life and yet he still called? Confusion hit him hard as he stared, knowing he couldn’t answer and a sob racked his body as he dropped his phone curling into himself. He didn’t want to be alone, but to not be alone he couldn't be a disease, a poison. So cure yourself…
Jason paused at those words. He couldn’t die, that wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe, just maybe, if he cured himself, he wouldn’t have to be alone. But to do that, he’d have to apologize and fix himself up first. If his family and friends had still stuck to him even after poisoning them and nearly ruining them then maybe he had a shot at becoming something better. There had to be something in him worth saving.