Chapter Text
Jason Todd would not die in Gotham. He would not lose his life, here, in the dingy streets of Park Row, underdressed for the icy January weather because of his own stupidity.
He was a big boy now, that's what his dad had told him on his seventh birthday a few months ago, and he had been determined that he would have the shot to prove it to him, that he was big now and that he could help. It was the least he could do, he thought, especially when dad still had to pay for his school fees even though ma was sick.
The footsteps behind him were gaining on him, the man that he had thought he could get away with stealing from— he promised it was nothing more than what he needed, he really did swear and the man had looked like he had enough to spare a little. He turns a corner by the diner that his ma liked on her better days and they had some money to spare— Jason didn’t get why, it looked like it hadn’t been updated since his dad was a kid, but to each their own as one of the nicer librarians would say when someone picked out an odd book down at Gotham City Library, when Jason spent time there after school.
He glances behind him, his heart beating out of his chest trying to see how much longer until the guy manages to snatch him like the bed-time monsters the kids in his class talk about (that Jason is too big to believe in now). He stumbles, badly, running head first into someone else’s legs and he knows, for a long, dreaded moment, that it's over. That, here, landing ass first into a puddle filled with who knows what, is the end of Jason Peter Todd.
The man shifts, and Jason dares to look up even though the person who’d been chasing can be heard slowing down. He’s with a kid, probably a bit older than Jason, and he’s wearing slacks that could probably pay for his parents' whole apartment twice over, and Jason can feel the bile rising up in his throat at the thought, nausea clinging to him against his will like a second skin. Slacks’ son grins at him, and Jason can feel the tears building up behind his eyes that he refuses to let slip.
“You alright, chum?” Slacks prompts and before Jason can even consider answering, the man that had been chasing him starts shouting.
“You little fuckin’ theif— That little fuckin’ street mutt stole my goddamn watch,” he spits, and Jason can’t help the half delirious thought that forms in his head that tells him that the man looks a little bit like the leftover ham that Ms. Kelley gave him two weeks ago.
He thinks that it might just be his time, for the third time in the last thirty minutes.
“It might just be a misunderstanding, I’m sure the boy will be happy to give your stuff back, right?” Slacks suggests and Jason is speaking before he can think twice about it.
“I ain’t steal nothin’, I promise, he’s lying,” he spits, but even he knows that it's softened by the fact that his breath whistles through his gap tooth.
His face flushes a bright shade of red, and he can feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck like a countdown. If he gets outta this, his dad’s gonna be so mad at him.
To his chagrin, that’s the thought that brings the tears spilling over, and like the salt to the wound, the older boy looks over to him from his dad’s side. He hopes thats the boys dad atleast, because if its some trafficker like the ones Jason’s dad used to work with, Jason knows he’s Fucked. Capital F and everything.
He swallows, standing even as the possibly sewage water puddle soaks through his pants, and makes everything, so, so much worse. He swallows, spares one last glance at the man who is possibly sentient ham and sprints for his life past Slacks and his kid hoping with everything in his life that he manages to get away.
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It’s a bit later on into the afternoon when Jason gets home, quietly unlocking the front door to the apartment, and slipping in. The door clicks shut behind him as he walks in.
He kicks his shoes off, before slinking around the place looking for his ma. She lost her job a week ago, and they tried to keep it from him, but Jason was big now (and they honestly argued pretty loudly over it a couple days ago, and he overheard). She’s been spending a lot of time at home, and even though Jason and his dad, at least when the man is around, have been trying to help her as much as they could, she was alone a lot more now, and every day felt like a ticking time bomb until she started taking that medicine again, even though she wasn’t supposed to have.
He finds her in her room, passed out on the bed, her hair that was this pretty orange that made Jason think of the sunsets on clearer days whenever she washed it, was spread across one side of the pillow and her face was buried in the other side with her hand lamely near her head.
“Mama? Ma?” Jason whispers as he approaches the side of the bed.
He gently shakes her arm, and then he does so again, slightly rougher this time when it doesn’t earn him the response he's looking for.
She shifts, sighing into her pillow before she turns over, blinking blearily at him, biting back what he thinks is a yawn. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. That’s okay though. She’s tired, and he woke her up.
“Hi Jay,” she whispers. “Your dad back yet?”
Jason just shakes his head in response, and she nods. Her eyes are slipping shut again, maybe, and he feels a bit bad. Maybe his mom wasn’t feeling well today, and he’d woken her up, and at the mere thought of it, he can feel the guilt curling up in his stomach, like a weight that he can’t move or pick up or do much of anything to just yet, because even though he’s big now, he knows he isn't quite that big yet.
He slips out of her room again, and the moment the doors shut, he digs the watch out of his pocket. It’s been weighing on him, like he was walking with a brick in his pocket instead of a shiny piece of glorified metal.
He shoves it back into his pocket, tucking it away for now until he can hide it better. Maybe he’ll give it to his dad whenever the man gets home.
For now though, he’s hungry.