Chapter Text
Jason let out a small, near silent giggle that to an outside observer would’ve sounded more like a gasping breath.
But then he let the morbid hilarity of the situation take over his body. He couldn’t control it.
Jason laughed. And laughed. He couldn’t stop it–he just needed to.
His cheeks began to burn from his smile. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that. Probably before his death, back when he was Robin and happy.
Salty tears streamed down his face, and Jason had to clutch his abdomen, already tired from an overuse of muscles from laughing so hard.
Jason was on his knees, next to the body. He took his fingers and pressed them against the corpse’s cold neck to double check.
No pulse. Fucking hell.
How many years had it been? Since the Joker took a crowbar and beat the ever living shit outta Jason? And here he was, avenged, all these years later.
With wide, crazed eyes, Jason turned around to stare at Batman.
He, too, seemed to be in shock.
Batman stood, frozen in place, arm extended and gun cocked, finger ghosting the trigger.
The image itself just caused Jason to crack up even more to the point where he was gasping for breath, face red.
Batman doesn't kill. Batman doesn’t use guns. Yet here he stood, a killer. A regular Joe Chill.
Jason’s whole body shook with hysteria. This was it.
The Joker was dead.
9 months ago
“Hood, a moment,” Bruce said. No, demanded. Jason could hear it in his sharp tone.
Damian and Tim took it as their sign to make a swift exit, scrambling towards their showers to get clean and change out of their gear.
Dick, however, stood firm, looking between Jason and Bruce worriedly like they were about to get into a fist fight in the middle of the Batcave.
Jason couldn’t blame him for his anxieties, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Dick’s protectiveness. Jason was a twenty-two year old vigilante crime lord who certainly didn’t need Dickface Grayson fighting his battles for him. Plus, it always grinded Jason’s gears when Dick tried to act like he was Jason’s brother or something.
“Alone,” Bruce added.
So Dick, the golden child and little obedient soldier, finally left towards the showers, but that didn’t stop him from glancing over his shoulder at them as he left the room.
“What’s up, B?” Jason asked, casually leaning back against the Bat computer console, attempting to evoke an air of nonchalance.
“Tell me what the hell happened out there, Jason,” Bruce said, body turned in Jason’s direction, but refusing to get any closer to him like Jason had the Bubonic Plague. Jason could tell he was trying to look all menacing given he was still in his full Batman-getup, but post-resurrection, that whole schtick failed to intimidate him.
Jason rolled his eyes at Bruce’s theatrics. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently.
Of course, he knew what Bruce meant. But he wanted to hear Bruce say it, to hear the anger drip from his voice. These days, nothing excites Jason more than getting a reaction out of the man.
“You know what you did, Hood,” Bruce said. “You killed him. We don’t kill.”
“ You don’t kill,” Jason corrected, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “I made no such promise.”
“We came to an agreement,” Bruce said. “You wear my symbol on your chest. You represent me. You can’t–”
“Oh, fuck off,” Jason interupted. “It’s not like I go around killing people all the time like a fucking serial killer. You and I both know this was a special circumstance.”
“There are no special circumstances. Ever.”
“He was raping kids, Bruce!” Jason yelled. He had the urge to pull his hair, and would’ve, if not for the fact that he was still wearing his helmet. “So what would’ve happened once his fancy lawyer got him a ‘get out of jail free’ card? Or he escaped? I couldn’t let a child molester out on the streets!”
“You don’t get to play judge–”
“Jury, and executioner,” Jason finished. “Yeah, I know, so save your schpiel.”
“Well, if you know it so well, then why do you refuse to listen?” Bruce growled.
“That kid was thirteen,” Jason said. “Same age as Damian. So if that guy went out and raped Damian–”
“Don’t be crass, Hood,” Bruce warned.
“If it was your son, would you be comfortable with him just going to jail? When he could get back out at any time?” Jason asked. “If you care about him, the answer is no. So instead of yelling at me, or whatever, you should be thanking me. But I know that gratitude is way beyond your level of comprehension, so let me sound it out for you–”
“Enough, Jason,” Bruce said. “You’re benched.”
“Benched?” Jason scoffed. “You can’t fucking bench me. I’m not Robin. I’m not your sidekick. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Bruce pursed his lips in contemplation. “Maybe not,” Bruce said. “But I can cut you off. No Oracle, no help. I’ll have Red Robin take over patrol in Crime Alley–”
“Crime Alley is mine ,” Jason growled.
“And if we see you out there killing anyone, enacting your own vengeance, we’re taking you in,” Bruce plowed through, as if Jason hadn’t said anything at all.
At that statement, Jason’s throat began to close up. Take him in?
“You–you’re gonna send me to Arkham?” Jason asked, his voice suddenly soft and small despite the modulator in his helmet.
Jason couldn’t go to Arkham. That’s where he was. Jason couldn’t be near him. Sure, Bruce hated him, but Jason never realized it was to this extent. Bruce knew, but he still wanted to send Jason there?
Jason saw Bruce’s face twitch. Though it was hard to tell what that meant given how Bruce was still wearing the cowl, and even with all of his face showing, Bruce was never the most expressive person.
“No, not Arkham,” Bruce said, but didn’t elaborate further on where he wanted to take Jason in. “One month, no patrol. Or else.”
The words slipped out of Bruce’s mouth like he was grounding Jason. Like he was Jason’s father enacting punishment. That bastard.
“I fucking hate you,” Jason spat out, storming away from Bruce so he could get on his bike and leave this God forsaken place. That was the last time he helped the Bats out.
Jason wasn’t sure if he imagined the soft “I know,” that escaped Bruce’s lips and floated up into the Bat Cave.
Still, Jason got on his bike, revved the engine, trying his best to ignore Dick’s plea of “Jase, wait!” as he shot outta there like a bullet.
***
Jason woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He couldn’t remember his nightmare, but he could feel the phantom touch of rough dirt against his cheeks, under his fingernails, embedded in his eyes, and he didn’t need to be the World’s Greatest Detective to figure out what that was about.
Jason felt the nausea bubble up his throat. He made his way over to his crappy bathroom, turning on the cold water in the sink before splashing it on his face.
Judging by the light coming through the bathroom window, it was probably noon, which meant he got a solid five hours of sleep. With the memory of death clawing at the edge of Jason’s mind, there was no chance in hell he could attempt any more sleep.
That’s when Jason noticed some rustling coming from what seemed like the living room. Jason picked up the glock he kept hidden in the medicine cabinet and made his way out, tiptoeing his way to see who the intruder was.
“Fuck, I almost shot you!” Jason said as he entered the kitchen once he saw the home invader.
“Yeah, sure,” Tim said, eyebrow raised.
Jason shook his head and put the glock on a counter. Tim was leaning against one of the counters, sipping coffee from a bright red mug with Wonder Woman’s symbol. Of course, the caffeine did nothing to help the body bags underneath Tim’s eyes.
“You look like shit,” Jason deadpanned as he made his way over to the fridge.
“I look better than you,” Tim shrugged.
Jason rolled his eyes and pulled out the eggs from his fridge. “You eaten today? Omelet?”
“Bacon, no tomatoes,” Tim said.
Jason hummed and began his cooking process, getting the additional ingredients out of the fridge, and reaching around Tim to get his pan out of the cupboard.
Of course, he would never admit it to anyone, but cooking often helped him destress after a nightmare. The process of slicing and stirring and whatever was something Jason could control, and helped slow down his mind from the anxieties that plagued his sleep.
That, and if it weren’t for Jason, Tim would probably eat chicken nuggets all the time with absolutely no care for his health.
“So…we gonna talk about it?” Tim asked as Jason placed the finished omelet in front of him.
“Talk about what?” Jason asked, turning back around to get started on his own omelet.
“I don’t think it’s fair what he did,” Tim said. “But I promise to take care of her.”
Jason didn’t respond and instead chose to dice his chives.
“But I was thinking…he may go easier if you just apologize.”
Jason scoffed. “I’m not apologizing to him.”
“You guys are both the most stubborn people that I know,” Tim said. “Even if you don’t mean it, I think it would go a long way. And isn’t taking care of Crime Alley more important than your pride?”
“I’m still going out,” Jason said. “He can’t stop me. He can’t ground me.”
“You think it’s a good idea to go against him?”
“Would you take me in, Tim?” Jason asked, making sure he was turned towards the stove, focusing on his omelet as he asked. Jason wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to this question.
“ I wouldn’t,” Tim said.
But they both knew. Damian was desperate to please Bruce, even if that meant taking Jason in. And Dick, despite all his rebellion, would ultimately follow Bruce’s orders no matter how much he disagreed.
“Is that all you came here to do? Ask me to beg?” Jason asked as he plated his omelet.
He sat next to Tim at the kitchen table, the only spot he could sit and eat in his small cramped apartment.
“I came to see how you were doing,” Tim said. “I’m just not stupid enough to ask the question.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause you’re obviously not okay,” Tim said. “I was here for thirty minutes before you noticed. I started your coffee machine. What’s going on?”
Nightmare. “I slept in,” Jason grunted, refusing to look in Tim’s direction.
“Yeah,” Tim said, unsure, taking another bite of his omelet. “Hey, thanks for the food. It’s really good. You ever think about quitting the life and going to culinary school?”
“I don’t exist legally,” Jason said. “Couldn’t join any school if I wanted to.”
“And do you want to?” Tim asked. “Go to school? Be a legally alive person?”
“Shut up and eat your omelet,” Jason said.
Tim laughed but did as was told.
The days when Tim invaded his home weren’t bad. He was the only one of the Bats who actually spent time with Jason, which he was always a bit surprised by. After all, he tried to kill Tim, but Tim had forgiven him or something, Jason guessed. Now, he wouldn’t kill Tim, at least.
Honestly, most of Jason’s life included a permeating loneliness. Not being a legally alive person meant that most of the time Jason had to live his life under the radar. He couldn’t really go out and do normal person things, so he spent most of his time either in the apartment or as Red Hood.
Jason Todd didn’t exist. He died all those years ago, blown up in Ethiopia. He’d been carved up, and his insides had been scooped out, leaving nothing but a shell of a human that looked like Jason Todd.
“Hey, you good?” Tim asked, interrupting Jason from his thoughts.
Jason turned and looked at Tim’s concerned look with his stupid wide eyes.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”