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Jason sat on his couch, cigarette in hand. There was music outside. Lights coming from houses and apartments that illuminated the dark and cold night of Gotham. It was kind of fascinating how people could look for happiness everywhere even in a place like Crime Alley.
The Gothamites, who were normally really unhappy and angry people seem to be at a small moment of peace, of those that are not easily found. All thanks to one simple, yet (somehow) meaningful event: Christmas.
It was Christmas Eve and while everyone else seemed to have forgotten the dangers that laid outside their homes, Jason was alert. He took another drag from his burning cig and looked through the window, searching for... something.
It was too quiet to be normal. He looked at the dark alleys, the abandoned streets and the shut down buildings, that his large window gave him a clear view of. Thanks to the strategic location of his apartment, most of Crime Alley was visible from this single place. He just had to look closely.
And yet, he didn't dare look at the shining lights that adorned the neighboring buildings. He couldn't bring himself to pay attention to the music and laugh coming from some homes. He never, by any chance, would be able to look at some of the happy faces that sometimes appeared by some of the windows.
In the quietness of the night, he unconsciously let his thoughts wander. Bruce must have been throwing his annual Christmas party, he could see some lights coming from where the manor was at. Most of the family was probably there. Hmm. Good thing he wasn't invited then.
He and Bruce had a very recent fight. That wasn't out of the ordinary. But Jason had said some stuff at the heat of the moment. He couldn't quite remember the words, the memory being foggy with the moment's rage. But he knew it was something about Bruce's parents. It had crossed the line, and, apparently scarred the billionaire deeply.
Bruce had said that he just needed some time alone, that he needed to think, but that Jason could come to the party in the evening.
Jason never received the proper invitation, though. And that sent a very clear message: Bruce was still angry. What other reason could be? That the old man just happened to forget to send his invitation specifically? Yeah, sure. Bruce Wayne didn't just 'forget' things.
And even if he had received the invitation, there were another two reasons why he wouldn't go. The first one was that some other members of the family (read as Tim and Damian) had found out about what he had said to Bruce and were not happy about it. They both were pissed at him and made it very evident with the cold call that they had with him around an hour ago. If Jason went to the party it would just end in a fight.
The second reason? He wouldn't be able to go as himself anyway. He would have to wear one of those expensive disguises that the old man got for him what seems ages ago. Why? Because Jason Todd died years ago. It would be a bit complicated to explain to the police how a kid that was reported dead (or well, "disappeared") to the police was now standing in the middle of a party, being an adult and with notorious changes in his appearance. It would cause even more trouble for Bruce, with him having been his legal guardian and all of that. And honestly, if he couldn't go as himself, Jason preferred to stay at his apartment.
But you know what? Who cares about any of that? Jason didn't need them. He didn't care about that damn party. He didn't care about the stupid, private family dinner that always occurred after the party. He didn't care about the warmth of the fireplace or the vibrant laugh of his brothers or the comforting presence of Alfred as he sat silently on a couch. He didn't need any of that. He was better as he was.
Jason stood from his sitting place and stepped on his long time burned cigarette. He put his suit on and went to the rooftops to liberate his mind with another patrol.
(Jason couldn't remember much of the time before the pit. Most of his memories were forever lost to that crowbar and those green waters.
And yet, some memories would appear from time to time. Memories of a full table with warm food, of drinking hot chocolate besides that fireplace, of talking with Dick on Christmas Eve until he'd fall asleep waiting for the clock to reach 12 o'clock, of Alfred ruffling his hair and wishing him a Merry Christmas before giving him a present he couldn't remember. Memories of child-like happiness that would be impossible to recreate as an adult.
Memories of moments that are now gone and that have no way of coming back.)