Chapter Text
Bruce was getting ready for another patrol. He rubbed his eyes with his gloves to try and focus on the screen in front of him, grabbing the cup of tea that Alfred had gotten ready for him. His breath heaved as he looked over the security camera footage that Oracle had sent him. It showed a warehouse with drugs getting shipped out.
That was nothing new in Gotham, but then suddenly this guy appeared, getting the bunch of D-list goons beaten up. Bruce could recognize that mask anywhere. It was bright red after all. Nobody could miss it.
It was the newly established crime lord, also known as Red Hood. The mysterious figure had gotten Batman and Robin in a bind. They knew nothing of him, they couldn't get any info on him other than he was wearing that mask. He was Bruce's newest problem that he had gotten yet to take care of.
The lack of info on him got Bruce to get him on top of his biggest issues. But him being a crime lord wasn't the big issue for Bruce. It was an issue, but not the biggest. Since he had taken over, the amount of distribution to children had gotten down to almost zero and Crime Alley was looking better than ever. No, the real issue was this.
As soon as he was done beating them up, he pulled out his gun and shot them in the head. They all fell dramatically to the ground and Red Hood was just walking over their bodies. Twirling his gun like it was a game to him.
He took their bodies and stuffed them together in a pile, he got gasoline, and then, to his horror, The Red Hood began to set it all on fire. And if that wasn't already something to put Batman on edge, Red Hood looked up at the camera that was recording him and took a bow like he was in some kind of theatre.
It looked really messed up, and then he shot the camera dead, but it was not like Batman wasn't facing against villains crazier than him every day. No, it was because the Red Hood posed himself as a vigilante.
That's how the footage ended.
Red Hood knew that Batman would somehow get a hold of this footage. This was a message to him. Batman couldn't let a criminal or a vigilante like that walk away. He needed to catch him, put him in the asylum or something. Anybody who thinks that killing is justifiable like this needs to be stopped.
Bruce took his cowl on and got ready for the night patrol.
“Bruce? Hello? you there?” Robin called over comms. His high voice creating some sort of static that pinched Bruce right in his ear. Bruce placed his hand on his head and took a deep sigh, praying that no one near Robin had heard him. He had to go over this multiple times with all the robins. Dick was the worst of them.
“Robin, remember. No names on comms.” He said fiercely, staring up at the footage.
“Oh. Right. Sorry, Bru... I mean Batman.” Quickly composing himself, “It feels weird to say tho, I mean Di- Nightwing got a nickname for you. He calls you “B”, Rahs calls you “detective” he said mockingly because nobody likes Rahs.
“And even the Joker has a nickname for you. The Joker! Even HE beat me to it. Why can't I find mine?” He said disappointingly. Bruce could clearly hear him kick a pebble off whatever rooftop he was waiting at. He acted like a child. Well, he is a child.
“You’ll find it someday, kiddo.” Bruce encouraged.
Tim was a big reason why Batman hadn't become like Red Hood. His grief over his lost son had almost sent him on an out-of-control rampage, that could never be healed. He did a lot of bad things that he wasn't proud of, including almost killing the Joker. He was the cause of his son dying in the first place.
But ever since Tim entered his life and became Robin, it had seemed a little brighter for him. Whenever he would stare at Jason's plaque, he would be haunted by the corpse of his failure, but he would also feel encouraged to do better for the city rather than feeling sorry for himself.
But Bruce would still have nightmares and hallucinations of that fateful day, eating their way into his head.
Especially at this time of the year.
Batman could see out of his peripheral vision. The glowing letters on the batcomputer… followed by a number. He knew that if he looked at it, it would be Bruce who felt it the most, not Batman. His breathing became heavier. His sweat was colder. Who would think that Batman's biggest fear wasn't the Joker or Scarecrow, but simple information at the edge of his computer screen. Eventually, Bruce had to look. It was forcing him to stare. It was forcing him to relive it.
“April 23rd”
4 days away…
Bruce knew what he needed. He needed to get out. To be Batman. Not for himself, but for anyone in Gotham who needed him. He could not let his mind rebound back to that day.
That fateful day.
And as thought, he headed for the Batmobile.
Robin was already waiting for them at their meet-up place.
“So this new crime boss,” Tim started, “I heard from around that he calls himself Red Hood?” He questioned. Bruce gave him an agreeing “hnn” “But wasn't that Joker's name before he called himself, well… the Joker? there might be a connection there.” He said waiting for Batman to respond, but to no avail, but Tim didn't care. He was used to these one-sided conversations with Bruce, so he just kept rambling.
“Oracle showed me the footage. He killed those dudes in cold blood, with like no expression on his face, I mean he wears a mask but still. He must be a theatre kid because who even bows to the camera, this guy’s got some screws loose, Bru- Batman” Bruce kept on sighing as he was bombarded with yapping in his ear.
It got so bad he had to turn the volume down on his communication device. He couldn't help but smirk at the familiar scene. Jason would do the same thing. He would blast his ear off about how he bet he could run faster than the Flash if he really wanted to.
“I swear if you just tie his feet to a 1000 pound of steel, I could totally win,” Jason said with utmost certainty. He ran around, showing off his ordinary dash. His small shorts giving him room to stretch his legs for as much sprint as possible, “Sure thing, chump” Bruce said with a smile on his face. “He's not even that cool, I mean you could just freeze the floor and he’s down. Wonder Woman is way better. She has flight, super speed, super strength, the lasso of truth and she’s got no weaknesses. Suck on that Superman” he mocked as he shadowboxed the bat computer that showed the newest article of supermans recent, heroic save. Bruce, who could not hide the smile on his face, began ruffling the boy's hair. Jason giggled, as he tried to fight off Bruce’s ruffling attack, but to no avail, which made Bruce laugh…
“I bet I could beat his ass,” Tim said nonchalantly, snapping Bruce out of his daydreaming. Bruce’s eyes widened, as he realized the person he was talking to was not Jason. It was not the boy, whom he’d sacrifice anything to see again.
He let himself get caught off guard. Caught in another memory. In another fantasy world. He sighed, both in anguish and exhaustion. “Let's not test that out. I'm on my way. Sit tight.” Bruce said coldly and monotone, as he entered the batmobile. The tone in his voice made Robin go on standby on his comm.
—
“Will you look at that?” A masked figure vocalized to the crowd of goons, who had robbed some money from Red Hood's recent drug profit. 10s of thousands of dollars in each bag they carried.
However, Jason didn't care about that, he cared more about their fashion choice. They all wore a sheisty and the newest brand of thug wear. It's like they all shop at the same thug store.
Jason wouldn't be surprised if such a store existed, I mean, it's Gotham. The city had never seen a crime-free night.
They all carried guns, which they, of course, knew couldn't save them from Jason. Most of them would just shit themselves and run as far away as possible before his bullet would enter one of their vital organs, others would surrender immediately, which caused Jason to have mercy on them. But there were always some goons that got bigger balls than brains, (and that is a low bar) so, of course, they would try to duel Jason in a gunfight, and of course, they would end up with three bullets in their chest and one straight through the skull. And it was no different here.
“You cannot be serious. Really? You wanna duel the lethal vigilante crime boss, with a “snub 38?" He couldn't help but snicker. Everyone else around him had already suffered the fate of Jason's “Jericho 941”, but alas, they always had to play the hero, or more like thug hero, cause they’re criminals.
As much as Jason wanted to laugh at the utmost stupidity from the gangster, he honestly had to give him props for trying, even if it looked pathetic.
“You’re going down, hood,” he screamed, pointing the pocket-sized revolver at his helmet, but Jason was too fast, having already blown 2 clean holes through the thug’s chest.
“It's like they all have the same lines they give whenever I interfere. They always say something like ‘You’re going down, Hood. This is your last night. meet your end.’ Can't they be more original?” He said sarcastically, while he picked up the bags full of money.
He stepped on most of the corpses, not having a care in the world and no respect for his fallen enemies. Who would? They could have just not tried to rob him in the first place.
But before Jason had the chance to run out of there, his senses stopped him. He could feel someone staring at him. He pulled out his gun to quickly put an end to whoever was behind him. But to his disappointment, no one was there.
Jason lowered his gun but quickly jumped up when he realized that something had bitten him in the foot. The pain seared through his body, causing him to yank his foot upwards and wiggle it, so the mysterious figure would let go.
“What the fuck!” Jason screamed as he comprehended that the thing that bit him, the thing right now that almost sent Jason to heaven for a second time, was just a small animal.
“Is that a fucking tortoise?” Jason asked the rhetorical question to himself out loud, as he approached the animal. The tortoise was currently upside down, struggling to get back on its feet.
Jason could not believe what he was seeing. And if Jason knew his tortoises (as he does), the animal that just bit him belonged to the biggest species of tortoises.
“Holy shit.” He said, crouching his knees to meet it at eye level. “You’re a Giant Galapagos.” He poked its stomach in fascination.
“You don't look so giant.” If anyone was going to be a nerd in facts that didn't matter, it was going to be Jason, but he was correct. Galapagos are extremely big, weighing up to 400 kg. This one was the size of a shoe box and weighed not more than 5 kg.
Jason knew because he picked it up and held it in his arms, studying the creature that probably just caused him internal bleeding.
Jason couldn't help but laugh at the event. Here he was taking down criminals with body counts above the 20s, but somehow he got frightened by a tortoise, not bigger than a watermelon.
“Where in the world did you come from?” He said in a soft voice, as he carried the tortoise over to the other bags. It looked so adorable, even tho it might have given him a broken toe. He knew exactly who would have the same thoughts as him. Laughing with him at the randomness of it all. Dick would probably use tortoises to try and scare Jason for the rest of his lif-... oh yeah.
Jason snapped himself out of the clouds. He remembered that he didn't live that life anymore. That life was dead and buried.
He couldn't think about that. He needed to focus on the plan. The masterplan, full of dramatic effects to try and get Bruce to avenge his first life, which abruptly ended. He needed to get his full attention on making Bruce understand that the Joker wasn't worth saving, and Jason couldn't let his love for his brother get in the way of that.
Jason sighed. “Damn it all,” he thought. He humped over to the rest of the bags, carefully placing the tortoise among the money. The least he could do was get it out of the crossfire. Jason's soft spot for animals caused him to have the bright idea of taking it home with him. He might as well take care of it. It's not like it has anywhere to go.
But his thoughts were immediately interrupted by the sound of an engine he knew all too well. An engine that would haunt his dreams like the killer clowns. He knew this was his cue to leave because that wasn't any engine. That engine belonged to the batmobile, and he knew it was headed for his destination since the sound of gunfire couldn't be missed within a mile radius. He took the bags he could carry, got on his motorcycle, and zoomed out of there as quickly as possible.
He would rather die than fight Bruce right now. Not after that weird little incident. So he’d rather let the boy Wonder and the caped crusader get their hands on the rest of the duffel bags than fight them with a tortoise in his hands.
—
Jason threw the duffel bags, minus the one with an animal in it, on the ground of his apartment. he was way too tired to even continue his master plan. He still had a few weeks before the real drama began, so who would it hurt if he just took the night off to heal his broken toe? Certainly not Jason, not any more than he already was.
He, with absolute care, took the tortoise out and laid it on his bed, making sure it was as comfortable as possible. While the tortoise was getting warm, Jason was carefully removing his boots. The pain clawed its way through Jason's skin.
He didn't think it would hurt that bad, but to Jason's surprise, when he removed his sock, he could see that his entire foot had turned blue and was unfortunately bleeding with heavy flow. That tortoise is a damn monster.
Jason couldn't help but stare at the killer machine that disguised itself as a tortoise with fearful eyes. He knew they could bite fingers off, but munching its way through a military boot was unheard of.
Even if he just tried to touch his foot, he could not feel anything other than acute pain. His tortoise fever had completely gone away, as he searched for the first thing that could be used as a cage. He humped his way to the nearest laundry basket and immediately covered it with it and placed it on the floor.
“Tomorrow I'm getting you back to where you belong. This place is only big enough for one chaos creator. You got that?” He yelled, getting frustrated over what the hell was going on.
It’s like Jason’s brain finally started wrapping around the big questions. Why in the hell was there even a tortoise during his “interrogation”? Where the hell did it come from, and why could it suddenly bite through his boot?
He had never heard of a turtle the size of a handball being able to do that. It must be some sort of experimentation. He's gotta get it away or something. This thing could be some sort of Kryptonian tortoise. That is probably why it was so strong. And that's also probably why his foot was hurting more and more.
Actually, his foot was beginning to swell way worse than it already did. It got so bad that Jason had to sit down. His breathing became heavier, his mind became more blurred.
Eventually, Jason couldn't stand it anymore, so he had to lay down on his bed to try and sleep it off. And to sleep he went. He must not even have realized how quickly he fell asleep. It was likely caused by the bite as well.
But when Jason hit his slumber, something out of the ordinary happened. The tortoise suddenly became bigger. The laundry basket fell onto the floor as soon as it wasn't big enough to cover the tortoise anymore. The tortoise’s shell, not being able to grow with it in time, began breaking into small pieces. The freakishly large tortoise began to shake the pieces of its shell off its body when it grew to its final size. As strange as it looked, the tortoise kept on shaking its body.
And what was even stranger was, when it finally had shaken it all off, a weird figure could be seen. A figure that looked way too close to the human body. It just stayed that way, not moving a muscle.
The tortoise, seeming to have done what it came for, began changing its size for the smaller and started to slowly make its way to the exit of the apartment and disappeared. When its shadow finally stepped away from the being, it could be seen that the thing that was lying there, was nothing else but a mere boy, in a freakish, traffic light costume.
He just laid there, innocently, with both his hands together, resting on his cheek.
But when the moonlight finally started to irritate the crevices of the little boy’s eyes, he began to open them.
Jason was too unconscious to even hear any of it because when the young boy stood up from his slumber, he would immediately resort to his most powerful tool in the arsenal. His scream.
—
“BATMAN.” Fear rushed through Jason’s body. He screamed, kicking his feet up and down. His heartbeat was not calming down at all. He needed to chill out. Jason tried to focus his breathing and remember what Batman had taught him if he ever got in this kind of situation. But the man in front of him was unconscious, what the heck was going on? Did Jason hit his head and get kidnapped?
Why was he suddenly in an apartment with this random teenager? He must be a thug. Why else would he have a table occupied by guns and bags filled with money? Jason didn't know what to do. He could just arrest him right now, but Batman would be furious with him. He’s told him many times that he is not allowed to do stuff like this on his own. What he needed to do was find anything peculiar that he could use it to identify, to Batman.
Jason, with his eagle eyes, noticed the shiny red helmet glistening in the moonlight. Why was it there? He didn't know.
He never heard of any organization using red helmets in Gotham. But it must be something, so that oughta do. He snatched it away and hit the jets out of the apartment, making sure the goon in front of him wouldn't hear.
“Alright! I did it” Jason said joyfully, hitting a goofy victory pose. “Batman’s gonna love this.” He said twirling around with the helmet in his stretched hand, hitting a pose that could only be replicated from a video game, where they had found a hidden trophy. He was definitely gonna ask Alfred to make his favorite dinner in celebration of his first-ever solo mission, even tho he technically wasn't assigned it.
He took his grappler and flew his way through Gotham, heading for the manor.
—
Bruce drove in his car with Tim in the passenger seat. It was 3 am and the end of their patrol. They had just wrapped up the recent shooting regarding the Red Hood and some street thugs. To say the least, Batman was tired. He slowly tuned out Tim’s random theories on who the red hood could be working with. It would be interesting if he hadn't continued the hypothesis for another 2 hours.
He had started suspecting that he might be working with Black Mask, but quickly reminded himself that the Red Hood had gotten his men to turn against him, so he was out of the picture. Then he speculated on the Penguin, but who would willingly work with a guy called Copplepot?
Eventually, his conversation had turned into mumbling, which was a sign that he was no longer talking to Batman, but wiring connections in his brain to solve whatever was on his investigation board of a mind.
Batman, however, couldn't wrap his head around the case. His mind couldn't ignore the date that the batmobile’s screen kept on showing him. It made him uneasy. It made him want to not be in the moment at all. He honestly didn't want to “be” at all.
“April 24th”
3 days away…
He did his best to not look at the date, but the bright blue light kept on capturing his attention. His heartbeat began to pump faster, his mouth began to water.
Everything that Batman shouldn't be feeling Bruce felt in that moment. Bruce wanted to regain his composure, not wanting Tim, or whoever for that matter to think that there was something off about him.
That he somehow wasn't his 100%. He knew that if they did, they would not stop pestering him about taking a day off and that he should rest. He knows they only want what's best for Bruce, but that's not what Batman needs.
He wanted to get back to the manor as quickly as possible, to set his mind off his uneasy thoughts and continue with the case. To bury his head in the investigation and get no hours of sleep.
But right now he was driving, unable to get his body to relax. Unable to unthink the memories he didn't want to remember. Unable to not “be” there right now.
But in Bruce's honest thoughts, this has got to be the longest drive home he has ever driven.
—
Bruce could not get the prickly sensations in his cheeks to go away. It always came when he was on the verge of throwing up. He knew that he hadn't consumed any type of nourishment for the past 18 hours, so he wasn't having this feeling due to food poisoning. No, Bruce knew the exact reason.
The same reason that he’s been on edge the whole patrol. The same reason his sweat was running colder than fighting Mr. Freeze.
He was supposed to feel better. He had Tim. He had Dick and Alfred, but somehow every year, without fail, these days leading up, would have Bruce at his lowest. With nothing to go on, but memories of the diseased and the realization of what was gone. This was the third time.
Three years.
Almost three years… ago
Batman took the biggest sigh. So loud that even Tim had to look back at him in concern. They had reached the manor. The Wayne family manor.
Alfred was not there to welcome them, because he was out, currently visiting Dick after he kept pestering him about seeing his new apartment in Blüdhaven. Both Bruce and Tim got in through the main entrance, too exhausted to enter via the Batcave.
“You sure you aight, Bruce?” Tim spoke softly, disturbed by his unfamiliar behavior. He had seen Bruce act like this, but very rarely. “I’m fine, Tim. Go to bed, you’ve got school in a few hours.” Bruce grunted, not being able to make eye contact with Tim at all.
Tim could figure out what was wrong, but he knew that Bruce would not be happy about it, and rather he left it alone. Tim, too tired to make it his problem and even more tired to write up his report for the patrol, bid Bruce goodnight and headed for his room.
Now Bruce was alone in the big entrance of the manor. Too tired to be Batman, but too troubled to sleep. He knew the only way he could occupy himself, was if he headed for the Cave and continued his work. That was the only way for him to get through these haunting days.
Bruce quickly entered the kitchen to get a cup of coffee to last through the night. Luckily Alfred had already brewed him a whole kettle, and even in a thermo, so Bruce didn't need to reheat it.
Alfred always knew what Bruce needed before he asked for it. He could honestly not find a way to repay him for all the years he has been by his side. Alfred had been the closest thing to a parent that Bruce had, after what happened to his parents.
Bruce poured the coffee into a mug and headed for the internal Batcave elevator entrance. Blinking his eyes like a frog, Bruce could not understand the meaning of the recent shooting. As the elevator kept on ticking on which floor he was on, Bruce's brain kept ticking on the question.
“Why would Red Hood’s own people steal from him?”. The sound of absolute quiet rang in his ears. The Ice blue light shone and blinded his face. He had to blink a few times to get the swell in his eyes to go away. Bruce had never noticed how irritating this elevator was, it kept provoking all his senses with the sound, the light, and the feeling of being in such a tight space. It all made Bruce uncomfortable.
He honestly lost track of his thoughts, due to the unpleasant long wait for the final floor. All Bruce could think about was when this stupid elevator would ding in his ear so he could get out.
But Bruce would soon regret that.
His wish came true.
When the elevator dinged and he stepped out of the claustrophobia of hell, he came eye to eye with something even more terrifying.
Bruce rubbed his eyes in horror as he stared at what was supposed to be the ghost of his past.
“Oh, Bruce. You would not believe the night I had.” The most joyful and sparkling voice could be heard through the entire Batcave. It echoed right through Batman's skeleton. “I mean I know you said that if I ever got kidnapped, and if I got a chance to run away, I should run away, but, you know, I got hold of this really cool helmet and I think that maybe a clue or something and we can go catch this bad guy together. Oh, and I was really hungry so I quickly stopped by Bat Burgers™. Sorry about that. I didn't know if you wanted any.”
The boy stopped talking, realizing that he had gotten no response from Bruce. Bruce couldn't speak at all.
His heart had probably also stopped beating. The feeling in his cheeks disappeared completely, but so did any other physical feeling that Bruce had.
All he could do was stare. His mouth, only moving in mumbles. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. But the only way to confirm…
“Jason?” Bruce said. His voice was shaking and unsure. His mouth kept on moving in twitches. His eyes were wider than Victoria Lake and almost as much water. This had to be one of Bruce's delusions. It's not like it’s the first time. This one just came hurtfully unexpected.
Jason Todd—the second Robin. The boy Wonder. His son was standing right in front of him in his Robin costume, holding a burger in one hand and a soda in the other.
“Uhh Yeah. Who did you think was here? C’mon Bruce, I think Alfred is a little too old to get confused with me.” The sweet, innocent boy chuckled and looked up at him with the same smile he had given him before any of it.
Before that fateful day.
Bruce couldn't get his heart out of his throat. He couldn't even stop his face from sweating buckets. He needed to wake up from whatever hell this was.
But all those thoughts immediately dissolved when Jason threw the Bat Burger™towards Bruce. “You can have the rest. I’m not hungry anymore.“
No, this was real. This boy in front of him was real. He existed. But no way was he the real Jason. Or maybe he was?
Bruce’s mind was so conflicted his eyes began twitching, but Jason didn't notice.
He was too busy running to the batmobile like it was all okay. Like he wasn't currently six feet under at the local graveyard next to his mom.
“C’mon, old man. We got bad guys who need chasing.”