Chapter Text
By that night, it had officially been a week of waking up drenched in sweat, with a stabbing pain in his head and his heart pounding as if he’d just run a marathon. Thanks to the physical condition he’d gained as Robin and later as Red Hood, not even a marathon would leave him that wrecked. The situation was starting to irritate him. Normally, the lack of sleep wouldn’t bother him—he handled minimal rest just fine—but the rest of the symptoms tormented him. He preferred skipping the nap entirely if it meant avoiding whatever the hell was happening to him. His daily life was already a nightmare, and the one moment where he thought he might rest had now become one too—and not metaphorically.
He didn’t remember facing Scarecrow or Poison Ivy recently, so he doubted he’d inhaled anything strange. The criminals in Gotham’s underworld didn’t have the resources to develop a toxin of that level, and even if they did, he would’ve found it out already. The Lazarus Pit had given him many effects over the years, but waking up with migraines had never been one of them, and he doubted it would suddenly start now. He refused to believe it was something psychological or emotional crap. In his own words, he was “fine.” To be sure, he examined himself for any cranial trauma and ran a toxicology test. He had the resources—not as advanced as the Batcave, of course—but enough. And if nothing turned up, he’d give himself a well-deserved break.
While waiting for the results, he couldn’t help thinking about the last times he’d had nightmares. They were common for him. He’d grown up in a naturally discouraging environment, and after his death, things weren’t much different. But they had never been this bad. Back then, those dreams had logical explanations—a motive. He thought he’d never go through that again, but life seemed really set against him.
When he finally got the results, he had never been so annoyed to find out he wasn’t poisoned or suffering a skull fracture. Now he had no clinical explanation for the tricks his mind was playing on him. The only positive thing was that it gave him an excuse to take a short vacation and get a change of scenery. As someone who was born and raised entirely in Gotham, he didn’t mind the polluted, chaotic atmosphere surrounding the city—but from time to time, taking a breath elsewhere helped him clear his head. This time was no exception. He had planned a quiet weekend—nothing better than spending his “vacation” in a shooting-range cabin with his best friend. Ever since Roy had devoted more time to his daughter—something Jason fully supported, they didn’t get to see each other often, so he was glad to spend time with him.
He wished one of his parents had taken the time to bring him to the park, play with him, or even read him a bedtime story. Bruce had tried, but by then it was too late for him. Jason had been a handful, he admitted it, a little brat at the start—and still, Bruce adopted him. Jason always convinced himself it was only out of pity, and this time was no exception.
Riding always helped him de-stress. Of course, he ended up with his hair a mess, because if he went out every night risking his life taking punches, stabs, and bullets, he was sure he wouldn’t die in a motorcycle accident for not wearing a helmet. The cabin was relatively hidden. He drove through several paths, but once he arrived, the view was genuinely beautiful—the small house in the middle of a clearing, perfect for Roy to keep practicing his shots without trouble.
He was more than glad when the first person he saw was a smiling little Lian running toward him.
“Jason!”
He barely had time to react before the girl jumped into his arms for a hug.
“How’s my favorite niece doing?” he asked, setting her down.
“Good thing you’re here! She wouldn’t stop asking when you’d get here,” Roy said, chasing after his daughter with the chaos that was fatherhood.
“Daddy said he’s making hamburgers for lunch!”
Perfect. It had been a while since he had homemade food—especially one of his favorites. He didn’t deny liking fast food, but fresh food was a treat. And seriously, had he mentioned he adored the girl’s enthusiasm? He wondered if he would’ve been like that with a more normal childhood… though he already knew the answer.
Lian didn’t even give him a chance to greet Roy before she was already pulling on his clothes to drag him into the yard, where all her toys were set up for a long tea party. He had to admit the kid really knew her basic etiquette rules for such events. Alfred would definitely approve
Roy was happy to see Jason again after so long. It was strange that Jason had contacted him so spontaneously—and even stranger, outside of Gotham. He’d always insisted Jason should get out of the city more often, so it was a relief he had finally listened. But something was clearly wrong. Jason looked exhausted. Roy hadn’t had time to say anything earlier, but he’d have to ask. He didn’t like invading his friend’s privacy, but he genuinely worried about him.
Hamburgers had been the best choice—liked by kids and adults alike, easier than making two meals, and none of them had a picky palate. Sometimes Roy caught himself glancing through the window to check on him and Lian. Watching them together was fascinating—Jason had killed more than fifty people as Red Hood, but there he was playing with Lian like he was a little kid himself. Not even when Roy first met him as Robin had he looked that playful. Roy didn’t blame him. He knew Jason’s history—his life, death, and resurrection. And there they were: his best friend and his daughter lying on the grass after their tea party, watching clouds and laughing nonstop. Roy didn’t know what Jason was telling the girl, but both were laughing, and he himself would laugh later when he showed Grayson a picture of his brother wearing a princess crown.
Now that he thought about it, Grayson had asked about his brother several times over the past few weeks. He knew Jason's strange relationship with his family, but if even his closest friend was asking if he knew everything was alright, it meant his friend wasn't checking in regularly—another sign that something was wrong. Later, he'd tell the older brother that his brother had been visiting. He'd kill three birds with one stone: one, make sure Jason didn't distance himself from his family any further; two, help Grayson relax a little—he sometimes reminded him a lot of a mother worried about her children; and three, he could tease him with the picture he'd taken of his best friend.
Now that he thought about it, Grayson had asked about his brother several times over the past few weeks. He knew Jason's strange relationship with his family, but if even his closest friend was asking if he knew everything was alright, it meant his friend wasn't checking in regularly—another sign that something was wrong. Later, he'd tell the older brother that his brother had been visiting. He'd kill three birds with one stone: one, make sure Jason didn't distance himself from his family any further; two, help Grayson relax a little—he sometimes reminded him a lot of a mother worried about her children; and three, he could tease him with the picture he'd taken of his best friend.
Exhausted, Jason sat on a rocking chair conveniently placed on the porch to watch the sunset. The energy needed to fight Gotham crime was nothing compared to that of a small child, but seeing her smile brought him a strange internal calm. He wished everything could stay like this—that his life could be this simple: watching the sunset, the cool breeze, maybe even a family… But he couldn’t. People needed him. He’d already made his decision, and he wasn’t going to change it. He had to fight, be strong, protect the weak, help the defenseless children as nobody had done for him. His thoughts began to drown him, but fortunately Roy arrived in time to keep him from spiraling.
“I thought I was your best friend, not my daughter,” Roy said, sitting beside him and handing him a grape juice box. Better than a beer? Absolutely.
“And what about my new best friend?” Jason replied. He’d never admit that the smack that followed surprised him—and hurt.
“I took her to her room to sleep. She was really tired. I should organize more playdates like this. Maybe both of you would go to bed earlier.”
“Wouldn’t mind spending more time with someone more interesting than you.”
Seeing Roy play along, acting offended, genuinely amused him. Unfortunately, Roy was perceptive.
“But you didn’t come here for that today, right? You look tired. Something’s going on. Which brings me to my next question… are you okay?”
There it was. The question Jason had been avoiding all day.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I just decided to take your advice and take a break once in a while.”
He wasn’t lying. He was fine—or fine by his standards at least. No broken bones, no intoxication, nothing fatal.
“Jay, if you need something, just say it. I’ll go get the couch ready for you.”
Left alone, with the sun fully set, he hoped that with all the accumulated exhaustion he’d manage to sleep without worry. If not… his next option would be to put a bullet through his head.
He wished he could tell Roy he couldn’t sleep, that he was having nightmares, but he couldn’t. He felt stupid—like a scared kid. Like the child he thought he’d left behind after dying. For now, he’d chalk it up to a bad streak. The day had been good enough: no blood, fights, or any of the messes of his daily life. In a place like this, having nightmares should’ve been impossible.
After a cup of hot chocolate and reminiscing with Roy about old times, they both decided to turn in for the night. Roy, of course, made sure to toss an extra blanket at him from his room to the couch where Jason would sleep. Everything ready—tonight he’d win this battle.
Everything was dark. In front of him was a long table, empty except for one of those cucumber sandwiches Alfred used to make. He didn’t take long to eat it, and he could’ve eaten another if he hadn’t noticed Alfred’s absence. He looked for him everywhere with no success. He headed toward Bruce’s office to ask, until he realized he hadn’t seen Bruce anywhere either. Maybe they were in the gardens. He was heading out to check when he saw his reflection in the window. He looked like his twelve-year-old self.He realized what had happened another stupid dream.He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face, hoping to wake up. He failed. Desperation pushed him to try to leave the mansion. Escape—if that’s what he could call this challenge his mind was throwing at him. He tried to force the front door open when a metallic noise hit him. Repeated. Closer. Sharper. Followed by maniacal laughter he knew too well.
“No… shit… not again. Please.”
That last word came out more like a plea than a complaint.
He knew it was a dream—but it didn’t feel like one anymore. The more he heard the Joker approaching with what he assumed was the crowbar he’d been killed with, the deeper he sank into despair. Tears began to fall. He could hear him—right behind him. He was going to die. Again.
Just before Joker reached him, Jason managed to open the door and bolted outside. He ran as fast as he could. His lungs burned, no oxygen left, his legs hurt, but he wasn’t going to stop. He wanted to go back to Bruce. This time he’d escape. Panic blinded him to where he was; he fell into the ocean. The water was freezing. He couldn’t swim. He couldn’t scream—
“Jay.”
Alone again.
“Jay.”
Why didn’t anyone help him?
“Jay.”
What had he done wrong?
Did he deserve everything that happened in his life?
“Jason!”
He woke up.
Cold water dripped down his face. Roy’s worried expression hovered over him. How bad was he for Roy to resort to throwing water at him?
“Jason… you’re crying…”
Well, that answered that. And damn—there were the physical pains again. And worse—the feeling. The fear rushing through his veins. The loneliness he had shoved himself into.
“I think… I need help.”