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Everyday means arguing with Bruce to Jason.
He just can't take a hold of his emotions like he was supposed to do. And when he saw Bruce's pathetic teary eyes, he stormed out of the Batcave. Leaving no trace of Jason Todd, but a full piece of Red Hood.
The sound of his roaring motorcycle burst through the streets. His mind reeling back to Bruce's face. Like he was doubting. Like he was hurt. And Jason hurt him.
So he just raises his speed, heading back to Harvey's base.
He doesn't care about the tears slipping through his eyes, falling down like a waterfall. No. If he wanted to be a man, to be the one who always wins, he can't let Bruce take a hold on his feelings. Jason is not a little boy who stole Batman's tires while calling the man with offensive terms (big boobs. Ha!). No. He's Jason Todd, the dead Robin, the Drug Lord, the Crime Boss.
But he was Bruce's little boy, once. Bubbly giggles, gentle mannerisms, always behaving, top student. A sunshine with too much energy for Bruce to keep up with, and the annoying kid Dick had to deal with.
But it’s all falling into pieces now.
He was not the one with bubbly giggles after he had gone through all of death and resurrection bullshit. He's not the one anyone would trust with mannerisms. He's not exactly the role model for behaving for his own good. And he didn't even get the chance to finish highschool before he died.
Now everything is crumbling. Jason's life feels like a shredded paper of a writer’s drafts, being thrown into the garbage due to the writer's frustrations. Maybe God, whoever that is, was also frustrated on how to fix Jason's life.
So he slammed the door open, displaying Harvey and a man—terrifyingly similar to Bruce too—sucking his dick as the Crime Boss smokes his 21st cigarette today. The man was startled a bit when Red Hood—the Red Hood—slammed the door like it was nothing, but continued to suck on Harvey's dick anyway. He ain't got money if he didn't suck.
Jason shrugs before heading to the bartender. He wasn't in the mood to drink anything tonight. So, he just ordered an orange juice, something Bruce always packed for Jason's lunch when he started his first day in highschool.
He could hear Harvey zipping his pants before ordering the sex worker to leave. The older man sat on the barstool beside Jason. Knowing what happens if Jason is in his base.
Jason had yet another argument with Bruce. Harvey had known how it feels to love someone so physically close, yet so emotionally far away. It's like loving something empty, if Jason wants to put it out that way. Harvey, much to his own amusement, calls it loving a shell, not its soul.
Sometimes, he would love joking about these tragedies. Jason laughs, and he feels like Harvey was just like… his dad. Maybe he is. The fact that Harvey got to know him closely after Jason's resurrection even before Bruce himself did. It's like being a father's son when he's with Harvey, and mother's son when he's with Bruce. It feels… nice in its own way.
A son will always try to think that they'll never be their dad, that they'll be just like their mom. But perhaps they're wrong. Jason was just like Harvey. Maybe he tried to push his facade, but he's just the same broken boy.
A son, sticking to his mom throughout his whole life, but will always feel vulnerable enough to speak to their shitty dad. Perhaps that's how he feels.
“You smell like shit,” Jason started. He holds his juice as he takes off his helmet, sipping the juice with its straw. At this moment, Jason feels like he's falling back to when he was a boy, eating the lunch Bruce had packed for him.
But the man beside him just laughs. “You smell like a teenage emo,” he replied. The rough voice signaling that it was Two-Face instead of Harvey. It took Jason a few months to hear, but now he finally understands how different Two-Face and Harvey Dent were. Just like how Bruce always put it out. The difference.
Harvey was much gentler in terms of voice, and he thought with his brain first before doing basically anything, even speaking.
Two-Face was rough and harsh, but he meant his words very well, and he would rather fight against Ra’s Al Ghul before thinking first.
How funny. Learning from someone like Bruce Wayne. But Jason did. Such a loser.
“I'm not a teenage boy anymore, you know,” Jason snorted. Everytime he thinks of it, it's just bad. Why? Why would people be so cruel to even take his childhood away? He never experienced how it feels to be a teenager, unlike his siblings who did know how to be a teenager—but still failed to be a normal one anyway.
”I ain't blind, Angry Bird,” Two-Face answered. His face lowered to the table.
They kept their silence.
”Ya just can't keep gettin’ away from yer dad, y'know. He did everything for you too.” The words stab. It stabs right into his heart. And Jason wanted nothing more than getting back to Bruce's arms, inhaling his vanilla with a slight peach scent deeply, burying his face on his shoulders like the child he is, crying and hugging Bruce, with his life depended on it.
Jason's shoulders slumped slightly. “I know. I just… I just can't always have him on my way. I'm an adult now. I can't keep up on being his little boy, little Jason. I have a life, and I have a job, even as a Crime Boss or whatever that is. I'm an adult. I can't always stick to him,” he grunted. “I want to be more than the helpless child he once saw me as. I'm someone. My own person. And he can't just take my adulthood away too. I want to be someone strong. Like everyone said.”
Two-Face hummed thoughtfully. ”Such an idiot, isn't he? Bruce. Always think that he could fix everything.” Two-Face flips his coin in the air before looking straight at Jason. ”But he can't even fix himself.”
“I think so.”
Silence. That's probably all Jason wanted to have. A peaceful silence between him and someone he considered his dad after his resurrection. The one who understands how it feels to be with Bruce, someone who's so close yet so far at the same time. It's complicated to think of.
As the juice dropped its last taste, Jason stood up and grabbed his helmet. Preparing for another night to beat up bad guys, maybe killing them, and just being Red Hood in general. Gotham's own evil prince. Not shooting the criminals would be a waste when he's on the verge of breaking down into pieces.
He remembers how Bruce told him to stop using his guns to kill his enemies, but Jason never listened. Because he's his own person, damnit.
Jason doesn't need Bruce to tell him what he should do, and what he shouldn't do.
“Don't catch a cold, boy.” This time, it was Harvey's voice. Gentle in its own nature, but also had a slight roughness beneath it. The New Jersey accent cuts thick. The thing Jason always feels comfortable to share with Harvey—accent. All because Jason knew that Bruce loved accents.
Because, apparently, Thomas Wayne had an amazing New Jersey accent, and Alfred Pennyworth had a touch of Manchester in him. Bruce's loved ones always shared the accents that seemed unique, and Bruce was probably trying to memorize them. Even Jason's one. Even Harvey's one.
Jason smiled before putting his helmet and hood on. “Never, Mr. Dent.”
—
That kid's a mess, Two-Face thoughts. And Harvey couldn't help but agree on his other parts.
Jason Todd is a mess. Much like Bruce Wayne than Harvey liked to imagine. And Harvey couldn't help but fall for the same type of person. One was his lover, once. And one was his protege, if his relationship with Jason could ever be considered as parent and child relationship, then that is.
He wasn't thinking that he's going to step up into the role of a father, but it seems like Bruce was having a different thought. Jason is too much like Bruce when it comes to admitting his own vulnerability, while also being too much like Harvey himself when it comes to messy and destructive lives.
Two-Face snorted inside his mind.
Lately, Two had been hiring few people with the same features as Bruce. Well built, small waist, dark hair and blue eyes. Harvey doesn't mind having his cock sucked by these men, it just… did Two miss Bruce that much to the point where he even hires sex workers that look like Bruce in some aspects?
Harvey doesn't like to admit it, but he also missed the feeling of being treated so lovely by Bruce. Just the two of them, after a long and beautiful sex, eating Bruce's favorite fruits—peach, apples and watermelons. Harvey had always loved it when Bruce was all soft and just… Bruce. Not Batman, not Brucie. But the same Bruce Wayne and his scrawny little face.
Harvey hummed to himself. Bruce used to hum one of his favorite songs. Sometimes it's Nirvana, or Radiohead. But there's a time when Bruce hummed a song from the Smiths titled; Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now.
As many could guess, Harvey fell in love with the voice, the tune Bruce used.
So enchanting.
You're hopeless, Two-Face sneered. Even so, Harvey couldn't care less. Because everyone, heaven or hell, knows he's miserable now.
You're the one who missed exploring his body, Harvey finally responded. Knowing that his banter with Two will never end if they're talking about Bruce and their way to cope over their shared memories with the man.
Sometimes it's funny how the one they shared most was Bruce. Now in addition, they had Jason. The boy with too much personality like Bruce once does when he's younger. Harvey couldn't help but stick to the boy. Maybe giving him titles and jobs to establish his reputation as a Drug Lord too, since Harvey is the only trustable Crime Boss here anyway.
Or he thinks so. Maybe Penguin would be mad at him for saying such.
Who cares? We're the Crime Boss. I ain't letting that down for our babydoll, Harv, Two-Face whispered again. His voice was a mix of gruffness and something Bruce described to be out of the rain.
Two think it's a compliment.
Harvey laughed at that. Yeah, we'll never let that down, Two. For Bruce's sake, Harvey finally replied. Knowing that if he retired being a Crime Boss then that means he finally got Bruce's heart, or he's dead. There's no in-between.
He was going to enjoy himself tonight.
Unless someone decided to interrupt his Good Night™.
—
Red Hood is pretty sure that this is the worst mission he could ever receive.
What do you mean by dealing with the Scarecrow with a broken mask? He's not immune to Fear Toxins, he's not Bruce or Tim or Harvey for fuck's sake, he can't fight when he's practically breathing in enemy’s power.
“Scarecrow!” Jason called out as he held his chest. Grunting in pain, watching Scarecrow laughing and leaving the crime scene so easily as Jason's goons were laying on the floor in helplessness under the influence of Fear Toxins.
Jason eventually dropped to his knees. Falling back into his nightmare, his biggest fear.
His vision was a mix of red and black. He saw everything that had happened to him, or will probably happen to him in the future.
The memories started when he was Robin. Scared and helpless when he was injured in the middle of a stormy night, crying. Like a scared puppy searching for its mother. Which Jason definitely is. He couldn't deny that he's scared. He's scared that it might be the end of his journey with Bruce.
Robin sits alone in the alleyway, injured. Fear slowly consumes him; thinking about the possibility if Bruce didn't come and get him from this state, or if he's dying alone and cold like he had been afraid of when he's just a child.
Then his mind replayed the moment when he reached to when he brutally died in the hands of the Joker. It's hitting him. The crowbar. It hurts. Why? Why.
He had tried everything to get out, to meet Bruce. To be under his warm embrace again. Anything to keep him safe from the cold floor of the torture room, from the Joker's laughter that always gave him the sense of fear.
He tried to call out for Bruce when the bomb started tickling. He doesn't know how to dissolve bombs, yet. He's scared. What if Bruce didn't come and get him again? What if he would die without Bruce's warmth coating him? It hurts. God, whoever you are, it hurts. He needs Bruce.
And everything was a mix of fire and anger. Was he angry with Bruce? No. But was he angry with the world for being so unfair to him? Yes. Perhaps. Because at that time, Jason knew that Bruce did everything to find him. It's just too late. And time passed too fast for both of them.
That doesn't mean Jason is not hurt.
When his resurrection comes, he remembers the feeling. He screamed throughout the whole process. His whole body was burning, and it felt like something was trying to possess him. But once it's done, Jason's body was full. Complete. Not broken.
He's alive, but Jason barely feels it.
Jason had forgets his memories temporarily. And in that time, the League of Assassin was doing things inside his head; his mind becomes unstable after that, with the combination of Lazarus Pit’s side effects that will affect his aggressiveness and anger. He's LoA's best assassin due to his violent actions.
He remembers when he hurt Damian accidentally. The boy was pissed off, perhaps trying to contain his cry. And then Jason was punished. There's a cold coffin, he was placed inside. He was unable to breathe, to feel. Everything was cold, and he wished that he had been in the warmth of Bruce's body instead, with Alfred baking fresh cookies for him.
But now the reality Jason faced was a cold and unfeeling coffin.
After that, he remembers the encounter he had with Bruce. The same street, the same setting. Just with morally disrupted Jason, and broken Bruce with a teen boy.
His replacement. The one he almost killed when he realized that he was no longer Bruce's Robin. No longer the Jason Todd Bruce embraced, cherished, and loved so dearly. No. He's the angry, violent and aggressive Red Hood instead. And now the angry Red Hood had to witness Bruce with another Robin. Another son.
His replacement.
His replacement.
Bruce doesn't love him anymore. He leaves him for a better Robin, more smart Robin, like what the LoA said to him.
No more Bruce. No more love. No more sweet good night kisses from him, delicious lunches he packed for Jason, books he bought as he learned Jason loved reading, no more of that. Only the cruel assassins treating him like he's a dog. A weapon.
Jason remembers when he stumbled across Harvey Dent. The man's insults were something he could never forget. Even as they fixed the morally ambiguous father and equally morally deranged son relationship.
No.
No.
He doesn't want it. He doesn't want this feeling. He wanted to go home. To his Mama. To Bruce. Did he even recognize Jason the moment they encounter each other? Jason looked like a monster, acted like one. So why would Bruce even take him again under his comforting touches and hugs? Why?
He's something. Something monstrous. Like an abomination when he was resurrected. His body, his face, was permanently scarred, yet Bruce always loved him despite his looks.
His Mama.
He wanted his Mama.
“Boss? Boss? Boss!”
Jason was startled a bit. Shaking on the ground when the men approached him. Who are they? Who? He doesn't want them. He wanted his Mama. He wanted Bruce. He wanted to be saved by his Mama, everyone must stay away unless his Mama was here with him.
So he backed away.
He makes a pathetic little sound that could only be described as a whimper. A painful one, at least. It makes the Red Hood look vulnerable. A reminder that he was once someone's son, someone's beautiful treasure. Look, he's Mama's beautiful treasure. Mama's precious boy.
But where's his Mama?
“Mama?” he called out frantically. Holding his head in defensive mannerisms. “Mama, where? Mama!?”
The goons took a step back when their boss had called out for his Mama. It was the first time in their life witnessing the strong and intimidating Red Hood to call for his parents, his Mama on top of it. And for once, Red Hood was someone's son.
But Lord, they don't even know if Red Hood's Mama is even alive! Their boss had never mentioned anything about his parents, or his family in general.
And all they could do was to call for Two-Face.
“What? Told you not to call unless it's an apocalyptic situation. I'm a busy man, David—”
“It's Robert. And Red Hood is currently shaking on the floor after he takes a smell of Fear Toxins. And the effects hadn't worn out from him. And we don't know how to deal with it, Mr. Two,” the goon spoke with a panicked tone. “He's calling for his Mama too.”
“...”
“Mr. Two?”
“I'll drop by. Make sure to clear out the environment and keep him safe before I arrive.”
“Ta… thank you, Mr. Two.”
“Hm.”
—
The goons watched as Two-Face bursted in the scene with the Batmobile.
Wait.
The Batmobile!?
They watched as Batman walked out of the transportation. Two-Face followed right after. The Crime Boss grumbled something under his breath before letting Batman take care of Red Hood. Which gave the goons a sense of panic.
Robert approached Two-Face with a worry painted over his face. “Mr. Two, why did you bring the Batman here? I thought you were calling for Red Hood’s Mama!?” he whispered so that Batman couldn't hear anything. Robert was genuinely worried about his boss. “Or… Boss’ mother is…—”
Two-Face shrugged. He doesn't respond verbally, instead he just nonchalantly smokes his cigs. As if he was waiting for Batman to be done with his duty.
He pointed to the Batman who successfully approaches Red Hood. “Look. Does that seem like Batman to you?” he asked. “That's a worried parent right there, pal. He ain't gonna hurt Red.”
“Parent…?”
Two-Face nodded. And Robert was seeing it now.
The way Batman walked carefully, deliberately slow and soft. His steps are not as heavy as they used to be when he's dealing with Joker, or the villains in general. It's like a mother, approaching her scared son without startling them. And it painfully hurts. Well, they've never seen Batman act like this before.
They can see how Red Hood slowly tilted his head to Batman’s direction. Even behind the mask, they could feel how scared their boss was.
And when Batman had been only a few steps from Red Hood, the Drug Lord immediately crawled to the vigilante. Like a scared child. This reminds them how human their boss was despite his reputation as a Drug Lord. How even the scariest villain would behave when they're with their loved ones.
Batman was, perhaps, Red Hood's loved one.
“Mama!” Red Hood called out as his large body clings closely to Batman. It's almost comical to see Red Hood being so much bigger than Batman, yet now in the most vulnerable state he could be in.
Robert’s mind connected the pieces. Red Hood was calling Batman as Mama. And now, he could see what Two-Face is trying to point out to him.
Batman is Red Hood's Mama.
They could see it now. How Batman gently cradles Red Hood in his lap, carefully murmuring something in Russian as he patted the back of the Drug Lord's head. Like a soft mother comforting her son.
“Mama is here,” the Dark Knight said. His voice was different. Almost gentle in some way that only deranged people—everyone here is deranged—could feel the comfort beneath it. And it was certainly different from the voice he used to beat up criminals. This one had some sort of paternal feeling inside.
They could hear choked sobs now, coming from their boss. “Mama, Mama. Please. Please, I'm your son, Mama. Why do I look like a monster?” Red Hood asked like a scared child. “Please believe me, Mama. I'm Jason—! I'm Jason. Your son, Mama. But why do I look so different!? I'm scared, Mama. I thought you wouldn't recognize me!”
“Oh, my son,” Batman gently soothes. He kissed Red Hood’s helmet. “Yes. I do. I believe you. I recognize you. You're my son, my beloved son. Why wouldn't I? You're still him after all, even if you changed. My beautiful son. Now… calm down, shall we? Mama is here now. It's alright.”
Batman clicked something on his cowl. Now his voice was gentler, still with some touch of deepness, but gentle. “It's okay now, Jason. Mama is here.”
Red Hood cries even further. Perhaps slightly glancing towards the men surrounding them. But his eyes were locked towards Two-Face.
And the Crime Boss could only look at that silent plea for a few moments before sighing and approaching the two of them—Batman and Red Hood.
“Need me to carry him inside, doll?” he asked. Perhaps to Batman. And the symbol of Gotham's hope and vengeance only nodded slightly before Red Hood's weight easily transferred to Two-Face’s arms.
Two-Face carries Red Hood’s body to the Batmobile. Meanwhile, Batman was still outside, gathering few evidence of the Scarecrow. He sighed before looking at Robert and the rest.
“Please take care of him,” he said. Genuinely asking for them to protect his son. And the goons could only nod stiffly. Batman smiled. Not terrifying, but not exactly pleasing either. “Thank you.”
Batman walked away, entering his Batmobile as the engine started working. Leaving the goons in disbeliefs and confusions.
“Holy shit. Batman's smile is gorgeous.”
At that time, Robert questioned whether Batman is a woman, an extremely masculine woman. Or just a man who happened to be similar to Red Hood's Mama. Or perhaps the gender and identity of the Batman will never be explained by them, a mere human.
Batman was something unique, and they understand that they could never grasp the concept of his world. So they leave the case as it is.
—
Jason was embarrassed. He felt flustered over the fact that he had been under the influence of Fear Toxins just last night, and he had called out for his Mama. According to Barbara. And Bruce has to show up and pick him up like some sort of toddler.
He stared at the walls of his bedroom in the Wayne Manor. Filled with posters of My Chemical Romance and Bruce's favorite band—Nirvana.
Jason ruffled his hair in frustration before he realized that he should face his reality like a real man. Not a pathetic little Jason Todd who doesn't know how to handle his emotions properly. Not anymore, at least.
The fact that he had called Bruce as Mama was embarrassing enough, but that the rest also know his actions last night? It was humiliating.
Anyway, Jason was deciding whether he should talk to Bruce or not when his door was being knocked by someone. He opened it, and saw Bruce's figure, his looks probably signaling that he had finished making breakfast with Alfred. There's a little sauce stain on his lips.
“Jay—” Jason hugs him without further explanation. His large arms around Bruce's frame like a protective cage. He hates it when he feels like he's growing up too fast for Bruce to take care of him like a little child again.
But he also wants to grow faster so that he could… he could be himself.
It just so hard.
He had Bruce, at least. He had Alfred. And Dick. And his family. Maybe even Harvey. Yeah. He's not alone.
He could feel Bruce's giggles. And Jason had to pull out from his bone crushing hug to look at Bruce's smile. It had been so long since Jason let out that genuine smile from Bruce by himself. And it warms his heart a bit.
“Do you want me to pack your stuff?” Bruce asked. Jason nodded. “Do you want me to pack you a lunchbox?”
This time, Jason hesitated. But he knew that he could be vulnerable. Even when he's an adult. Because to Bruce, Jason is his son. No parents would teach their children to be afraid of expressing their vulnerability. Right? So, Jason nodded.
“Hell yeah, Mama.”