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Jason Todd had an idea. Sure, it wasn't the best idea, and there were a million ways it could blow up in his face (as long as it wasn't another warehouse blowing up), but it was, nevertheless an idea. Batman and Nightwing were getting too close to messing up his entire plan, and he needed more time to prepare for his grand reveal.
So, comes his idea. Jason was going to walk straight into Wayne Enterprises and get a job. Yeah, it didn't sound like a good idea, but it would work (he hoped). He would get a job as one Todd Peters and then coincidentally run into Bruce Wayne. Dear little Brucie would then be so distracted about how Todd looked just like his dead son that he wouldn't give any attention to Redhood.
One small problem that Jason had conveniently overlooked was the fact that seeing Bruce Wayne at work was as common as seeing the Joker without a smile. He had been working at Wayne Enterprises for over a month already when Bruce finally decided to come in for a visit. All it took was Todd to bump into Bruce, and boom! His plan was in motion.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"Sorry, sir!" The man said after bumping into Bruce in the hallway, causing the papers he was holding to scatter across the floor.
"It's all right-" His voice cut off after seeing the man's face. Jason. His son. He was older, though, voice deeper but with the same accent that only came from growing up in Crime Alley. There was a white strip in his bangs, and his eyes had more green in them, but he knew that face. He could never forget that face. That was his son. His son, whom he hadn't seen in 4 years after burying him, Bruce, couldn't breathe. He watched silently and still as Jason (?) picked up the fallen papers and stood up. He was taller than Bruce, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. None of his children was taller than him. When he'd first adopted Jason, the boy was so malnourished he had assumed he would never get close to his height. Jason, his son.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Now that the big bad bat was taken care of, next on his list (that only consisted of two people) was NightDick. There was no chance of running into Dick at work, and Bruce, being the secretive little bitch, he was, wouldn't tell Dick about his run-in with a Jason look-alike. Luckily for Jason, Dick had been going to the same coffee shop every morning since Jason had known him.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
It was a good day! The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Dick Grayson was in a good mood. He had gotten home from patrol earlier than he had months. The new crime lord Redhood had been keeping him busy almost every night, but it seems like last night he finally decided to take a break.
"Carmel latte," he ordered at the counter, "and a chocolate donut, please." He took out his wallet and paid for his food and turned around to wait at the pickup counter, but he froze after seeing the face of the man who was behind him in line.
"Jay?"
His brother was standing behind him. Older now, scars were dawning on his face that Dick hadn't seen on him before.
The man raised an eyebrow, confusion written across his face.
"Ummmm, sorry, dude, my name's Todd. You got the wrong guy."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"It was uncanny, B!" Dick rambled as he paced behind Bruce's chair as he typed on the bat computer.
"He looked just like Jason, just older with a weird-looking skunk stripe."
"And the eyes." Dick froze.
"You saw him too?" Bruce nodded, pulling up the file on the computer.
"His name is Todd Peters, age 23, graduated from Gotham University, and started working at Wayne Enterprise a month ago."
"Any family?"
"Not that I found. He's been in foster care all his life."
Bruce stared at the file. He had reread it several times after finding it after meeting Jas- Peters.
"Ok, ok," Dick started pacing again, "I'm going to tail him."
Bruce stood up, facing his eldest son. "Dick..."
"No, Bruce," He interrupted, "I am going because if there is even a chance that he is really Jaso-"
"He's not," Bruce said coldly, voice laced with finality. Jason was dead, and it had almost destroyed him and Dick. He would not let Dick fall into that hole he had only just crawled out of. They had both been drowning in their grief for so long that their family was torn apart with the death of their son and brother. Their family had only started to feel whole again with the addition of Tim and Steph. But yet they were still not complete. Bruce doubted they would ever be.
They stared at each other for a moment until Dick let out a sigh.
"I know it's probably not him, but," His eyes turned glassy, "I just have to make sure." Bruce looked at his son. A boy who had gone through so much. A boy who had lost so much. His son.
"Just be safe. Please."
"I will be."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Ok, so maybe it wasn't a good idea. It worked in the sense that they weren't going after Redhood but now Jason was being tailed by Nightwing. He kept walking, trying his best to seem like he was actually going somewhere so he wouldn't seem suspicious. He did have a couple of safe houses near that he could bunker down in, but they were all filled with Redhood shit, and Jason knew Dick well enough to know the moment he left his apartment, Dick would be searching it top to bottom.
Luckily for him, he always had a distraction on hand. He had conveniently left one of his extra helmets in an abandoned warehouse not too far, and the helmet just so happened to be one with a bomb on the inside. All it took was flicking open the detonator, which, by the look of it, was just a regular lighter, for an explosion to be heard.
Jason saw Nightwing grapple across some buildings towards the warehouse, and he knew he was saved. He also knew that Dick would be back, so as soon as Nightwing was out of sight, Jason booked it down an alley and jumped through an open window into one of his safe houses. In there, he had some of his gear, which he quickly suited up into before making his way to the roof.
He was starting to regret his idea.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Bruce knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but worry about Dick. He was his father after all, so really, he was fulfilling his fatherly duties by making sure Dick was safe. That was why he was following Dick as he followed Todd Peters. He had been following for about half an hour when he noticed Peters taking subtle glances towards where Dick was watching. He wasn't obvious enough for Dick to notice, but Bruce was called the world's greatest detective for a reason. That's why he didn't miss it when Peters took a lighter out of his pocket and flipped it open. As soon as the lighter opened, an explosion could be heard. Dick, of course, had gone to investigate. Bruce was tempted to follow, but the timing was suspicious. As well, he was aware that he was being followed by Nightwing. Something was going on, and Bruce was determined to find out. Peters stared at where Dick had been for a moment before he made a beeline for an alley. Bruce grappled across a building perched above the alley, but, looking down, it seemed that he was too late. Peters wasn't there.
"Oracle," He turned on his comms, "can you look at the camera footage from the alley at my location?"
"On it." Her voice came through.
"Is everything alright, B?"
"Just following a lead." There was silence, or at least as silent as Gotham could get, as Barbra pulled up the footage.
"A man climbed in through a window to your right-" Her voice broke off suddenly.
"It can't be."
"It's not," Bruce said quickly, "just a look-alike."
"He... he looks so much like him."
Bruce took a breath, "I know. Thank you, Oracle."
"Any time, Batman. Signing off."
There was a click as the line went dead and another click as a comm was turned on.
"Batman, come in." Dicks voice came in.
"I'm here."
"There was an explosion. Abandoned warehouse. No injuries. There was no evidence of anyone in the vicinity, so I have no idea who set it off."
"I think it was Todd Peters."
"What the fuck do you mean it was Todd?!"
Bruce let out a sigh, knowing Dick wouldn't be happy.
"I was following you and-"
"You were following me? What about trusting me to be safe?"
"Well, I'm glad I did because I saw Peters open a lighter just as the explosion went off. I believe that to be the detonator."
"That doesn't mean he set i-"
"As well, he knew you were tailing him. After you left, he ran into an alley, and by the time I got there, he was gone. Oracle checked the cameras and saw that he went into an apartment through the window."
"But that doesn't mean that he set it off!"
"I know, that's why I said I think."
"But B,"
"I'm going to check the apartment," Bruce interrupted, "I'm going dark."
Bruce heard Dick start to say something before he turned off his coms.
Bruce lowered himself down the building with his grapple before checking out the window Peters went in through. There was an alarm on it that Bruce quickly disarmed before cutting the lock and slipping in. The apartment was quiet and mostly empty. Except for the insane amount of ammo and guns. Bruce quickly went through each room, looking for Peters but he was gone. He started looking through the apartment, finding fake passports and IDs. All normal, stuff, you would expect to find from a criminal in Gotham, but what Bruce had not expected to find was a red helmet hidden deep in the closet. Bruce recognized it as one of the first helmets he had seen Redhood in before he had switched it for a newer and more likely advanced model. That meant Peters was Redhood. He picked up the helmet and watched a piece of paper fall out of it. Bruce picked it up. It was a cutout from a newspaper and-
Bruce gasped and dropped the paper as it had burned him.
It fell to the floor, the picture of Robin pointing up towards the ceiling. Under the photo, the words "Robin MIA?" were written in dark bold lettering. Bruce felt like he couldn't breathe. Why would Redhood have that saved?
Unless...
Unless he was...
"Nightwing, come in!"
"About time, B! I'm in pursuit of Redhood!"
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"I'm going dark."
"B, wait! I see Redhood!" Nightwing waited for Bruce to respond, but there was nothing. He must have shut off his comms before he heard Dick.
He ran along the rooftop trying to catch up to Hood. If Hood was out and about, nothing good would come from it. He wasn't that far, only a few rooftops away, but he was fast. Dick chased him for a while, unable to get close. That was until Hood made a jump and landed wrong, causing him to stumble and allowing Dick to get close.
"Oh my God, if you keep following me, people are going to think you're in love with me!" Hood called over his shoulder at Dick.
Dick opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, Bruce decided to grace the comms with his presence.
"Nightwing, come in!" If Dick wasn't so focused on Redhood at that moment, he may have noticed the way Bruce's voice had shaken.
"About time, B! I'm in pursuit of Redhood."
"I'm on my way to your location." Dick breathed a sigh of relief. Dick was trained well, but so was Hood. Having Batman there would allow them to put an end to Red Hood's regime once and for all.
Hood shot a warning shot at Dicks foot, and he had to jump to dodge it.
"You know you can't run forever, Hood!"
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Now he was really fucked. His idea was definitely not working because now he had fucking Nightwing chasing him. At least when he was Todd, he didn't have to worry about Nightwing giving him the double knee special.
"You know you can't run forever, Hood!"
Jason went to reply when he was sadly interrupted by a baterang flying way too close for comfort. He had to duck to avoid being impaled. Unfortunately, that allowed Dick to get close enough to tackle Jason around the waist. They fell in a heap on the rooftop.
"Get your bitch ass off of me, Dickhead!"
It may have been the nickname that was too close to his own name, but Dick faltered, and Jason took the opportunity to kick him off and pull out a gun while they both scrambled to their feet and pointing it at Dicks chest. Nightwing stilled, hands up in surrender. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Batman still, as well as a couple of yards away.
"Keep your hands where I can see them, Batty." He said, voice calm, like this was a normal occurrence for him. After all, it might as well have been. "Hood," Bruce's voice was soft. His victim voice. He'd seen him use it so many times when he was Robin. But Jason was not Robin. And he was not a victim. "Just put the gun down so we can talk." Jason let out a scoff.
"We can talk with the gun up." There was a beat of silence as Bruce most likely considered his options. Going through every course of action in his head. When he finally spoke, it was not what Jason would have expected in a million years.
"I know who you are." Jason faltered.
"Wha-" Dick took his distraction as a chance to pull out a hidden knife and slice at Jason's hand that was holding the gun. He dropped the gun as his fingers started to bleed.
Jason knew when the battle was lost, and fighting against both Nightwing and Batman unarmed would not end well for him. So he did what he did best and ran. He ran off the rooftop and grappled away as fast as he could.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Bruce watched Dick scramble to his feet as Redhood ran off, ready to chase after him, but Bruce grabbed onto his shoulder to stop him. By the time Dick had shaken him off, Hood was gone.
"Why the fuck did you stop me?!" Dick said, voice laced with anger.
"If I am correct," Bruce really hoped he was, "I know where we could find him." He pulled a bag out of his belt and picked up Dicks baterang that had Hood's blood dripping from it.
"Do you really know who he is?" Bruce considered his answer. He knew that Redhood was Todd Peters; there was no question about it. But the passports and IDs at his safehouse were to go by, Peters wasn't really who he said he was.
"I think he is Todd Peters, or he claims to be. We can check to see if his DNA is flagged in our system with this." He held up the bag.
"Right, well, we should go do that now. I want to know who the asshole is that held a gun to my chest."
They were silent as they watched the bat computer analyze Hood's DNA. Bruce hoped they got a hit; if not, he would have to attempt to get a sample of Peter's DNA at work. Bruce's mind kept wandering back to what he found in Hood's safe house. Why would Hood have that article?
"We've got a match!" Dicks voice cut through his thoughts, sounding joyful at the prospect of finally taking Hood down.
Bruce clicked on the file containing the DNA match. He expected a lowlife criminal, maybe an Arkam escapee, but he had not expected his son.
They were both frozen, eyes transfixed on the screen, as Jason's face was shown next to a blurry picture of Redhood. The words "100% match" were written underneath in big, bold, red lettering.
"No," Dicks voice was quiet, laced with disbelief and grief, "it has to be wrong, it can't be... him."
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Jason was dead; that couldn't be Jason. He had held his body, still warm only by the fire raging around them, but pulse gone. His chest caved in. His son was dead; there was no way. But yet it made sense in a way. Todd Peters looked so much like his son. The way Red Hood fought suggested he was trained and trained well. Then there was the newspaper cutout he had found. But how?
"Is it a clone?" Dick whispered.
"I-" He swallowed, "I don't know." Bruce ran his hands through his hair, mind going a million thoughts an hour.
"His grave, we have to check his grave."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
The coffin was empty, broken from the inside. When Bruce had pointed the flashlight at the coffin lid, and Dick had seen the scratch marks, as if someone had clawed at it frantically for hours, Dick had promptly thrown up.
Someone had clawed through it. Jason had clawed through it.
Jason, his little brother, his little wing, had woken up in his grave and crawled out.
Dick looked at Bruce. He stood over the grave, shovel still in hand. He was leaning on it like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His face was blank of all emotion, but tears were running down his face. Dick had never seen his dad cry. Not on the anniversary of his parents' death. Not when he had been shot or stabbed. Not even when he had told Dick Jason was dead.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
True to his name, Dick was a massive dick. Not only had he sliced Jason's fingers on his right hand, leaving them cut and bleeding, but he had also ruined his favorite gloves that had been a gift from Talia when he had left for Gotham.
He figured he would need stitches, but he didn't trust himself to be able to sew his fingers up with his non-dominant hand. He settled for wrapping his fingers in a thick layer of bandages.
Despite his temporary fix, his hand was proving to be a problem as he could barely type while writing reports. He had considered calling off. Batman had said that he knew who he was, but Jason was like 99% sure he was bluffing. As well, if Bruce really knew who he was, Jason would have had an angry bat on his doorstep (not that Batman would ever use the door).
He also considered taking off so his hand could heal a bit, but he was trying to get a promotion (a crime lord's salary was not as high as you'd think).
"Peters." Jason glanced up from his work to find his boss standing over him. He was a gruff-looking guy, but he had a kind heart.
"Sir?"
"Mr. Wayne requested you in his office; he wanted to go over the quarterly numbers."
"Oh ok, thank you, sir." He forced out, anxiety spiking. There was no way Bruce knew, right?
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Bruce's office door. He toyed with the idea of simply making a run for it, but instead, with a sigh, he knocked.
"Come in." Jason gripped the handle and opened the door.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne. I was told you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Todd, have a seat. And please, call me Bruce." Bruce gave him a winning smile, the one he used on Paparazzi, knowing it'd get him frontpage on the newest magazine.
Jason forced his body to relax, hiding his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, as he walked in. But as he passed the threshold, the door was slammed shut from behind him. He whirled around to find Dick dressed in his Nightwing costume.
Fuck.
"Fuck."
"We just want to talk," Bruce said calmly, from where he was now standing behind his desk. But Jason was already moving, grabbing the knife he kept in his pocket and charging at Nightwing. He wouldn't let them catch him. He wouldn't let them send him to Arkham. Not to where he was.
"Jason, stop!" He froze in his tracks.
"Jason, put the knife down." He stumbled backwards away from Nightwing and towards the side wall to put more distance between him and Bruce, the knife still clutched in his outstretched arm. Then he finally faced Bruce. His expression was one that he could not decipher.
"I'm not- how did you-"
"The baterang, it had your blood on it. We tested it." Jason looked at his bandaged fingers, the same one clutching the knife. It was shaking.
"Jason..."
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this." His voice sounded weird to his own ears. It sounded devoid of all emotion, hollow, almost.
"Little wing, jus-"
"No." His eyes were on Dick now, "Do not call me that."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"Do not call me that." Dick tried not to gasp as Jason's gaze fell on him, eyes wide. Eyes that no longer had any traces of blue. Fully green eyes, so bright that they seemed to be glowing.
"Jason," Bruce said once more, "put down the knife."
Jason didn't turn to him, eyes still transfixed on Dicks, knuckles as white as the bandages on his fingers. His breath sounded heavy, and his whole body was trembling.
"Jason-"
"Why?" His voice was quiet, a whisper. There was no emotion behind it.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Jason turned to Bruce then, and Dick saw Bruce's eyes widen slightly as he saw Jason's eyes. Dick knew he had come to the same conclusion as Dick. Jason had been put in the Lazarus pit.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Jason repeated, louder this time.
"Jay, I..." Bruce choked out,
"I couldn't."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
"I couldn't." The moment he said it, he knew it had not been the right thing to say. But it was the truth. Jason stared at him with those glowing eyes, only possible by one thing. The Lazarus pit. Jason was shaking, his hand trembling around the knife still clutched in it. At his words, Bruce had expected Jason to turn to anger, to yell, or maybe try to stab Bruce. He had not expected Jason to laugh.
He was laughing so hard he basically folded over, knife slipping from his hands and clattering to the floor next to his feet. He wrapped his arms around his stomach as he laughed. Jason laughed as he had just gotten a face full of Joker venom, the familiar sound making Bruce flinch. His face was not one of humor, though. It was pained, with tears falling down his scarred cheeks.
"You- hahaha- could- haha- n't- haha- kill- hahahaha- him- hahahaha!"
"Jason," Bruce said softly, taking a step towards him, "Jason."
He made no sign that he even heard Bruce, only counting to laugh.
"Jason!" Bruce yelled, and at once Jason stopped laughing, so suddenly that it took Bruce off guard. He straightened up to his full height.
"Bullshit!" Jason yelled back, face now full of fury.
"You couldn't kill him? What would your moral code not allow for that? You would rather see a murderer, a man who has killed hundreds, if not thousands of people, including your own son, to walk free than do what had to be done?" Bruce didn't know what to say. He doubted there was anything he could say that would make this better. To make Jason better. So he didn't. He would let Jason say what he had to say, and he would take it because he deserved it and more. But unfortunately, Dick hadn't seemed to get the memo.
"That isn't fair, Jason." Jason turned back to Dick, and Bruce inwardly groaned.
"What."
"That isn't fair," Dick repeated. "You can't blame him for not killing the Joker."
Jason let out a sarcastic laugh.
"I can and I will." Dick opened his mouth to argue, but Jason carried on, "You shouldn't even be talking, Dickhead. I called you and you were to busy to even answer the fucking phone for your brother." Bruce watched as Dicks face changed. The way the guilt came back in full force. In the years following Jason's death, Bruce had tried tirelessly to convince Dick it hadn't been his fault. He was in space; there was nothing he could have done. He told Dick that Jason wouldn't have blamed him, but now, here was the proof he did.
"Jay, I-"
"Not only did you not pick up, but you couldn't have even been bothered to come to my funeral." Dick flinched as Jason had just slapped him.
"Jason," Bruce said before Jason could continue his verbal assault on Dick.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there."
He could see Jason's resolve crumble as the anger and adrenaline that fueled him began to fizzle out, as it was replaced by exhaustion and grief.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Jason's voice was weak now. He sounded young, too young for everything he had gone through.
"I couldn't kill him in your name. I couldn't stain your memory with his blood. I wanted to. I wanted to kill him so much. But I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop killing. Not until anyone who had ever hurt you was dead. So, I couldn't kill him, I couldn't go down that path, in your memory."
Jason was silent, and Bruce feared it wouldn't be enough. He feared Jason wouldn't understand, that he wouldn't try to forgive. But then the tension in his shoulders left him.
"Bruce," His voice was soft, and Bruce didn't hesitate. He crossed the room and took his son in his arms.
Jason sagged into him as all his fight left him, and not a second later Dick joined, wrapping his arms around his brother and father. He could feel Jason shaking, and his shirt was starting to get wet from where Jason's tears fell on him.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this." Jason sobbed, voice muffled by Bruce's shirt.
"I know."
"I'm sorry,"
I am too."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Jason guessed it hadn't been such a bad idea after all.