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Jason didn't need the sticky note anymore.
He'd memorized Dick's phone number after the first call.
His thumb hovered over the final digit, delaying the inevitable as if hesitation could change the outcome. Then he pressed it.
One ring.
Two.
Then—
“Hey, you’ve reached Dick Grayson! I can’t come to the phone right now but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you before you know it!”
Jason slammed the receiver back into its cradle before the first beep.
Silence reclaimed the room.
Jason’s fingers trembled around the phone; he curled them into a fist until they stopped, blinking hard against the sting behind his eyes.
Twelve calls in two days.
No answer.
"... Right."
The word escaped in little more than a breath.
He peeled the yellow sticky note, crushed it into a tight ball, and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the wall with a soft thud before rolling quietly onto the carpet.
Dick wasn't coming.
Maybe he was busy.
Maybe he just hadn't been home.
Maybe—
Jason snorted quietly.
Who was he kidding? If Dick Grayson wanted to talk to him, he would've called back ages ago.
Jason let himself fall backward onto the mattress, staring at the elaborate ceiling until the patterns blurred together.
Bruce hadn't actually grounded him. Jason Todd was free to do whatever he wanted as himself. But as Robin? Bruce had taken everything that made Jason Robin and locked it away.
Like he'd already fired him. Like he’d done to Dick.
"Robin... Did Felipe fall... or was he pushed?"
The question still echoed in the corners of the room, as fresh as the day Bruce had asked it.
Jason closed his eyes and muttered the words again: "No. I didn’t."
He hadn't lied.
The answer had been simple.
Bruce's expression hadn't been. And that hurt more than the accusation itself.
The man who had claimed to love him didn't believe him.
Jason rolled onto his side and reached into the bedside drawer.
His birth certificate waited just where he'd left it.
Jason had read the damning contents enough times that he could've recited every word without opening it.
Still, he unfolded it again. Traced the letters with bile gathering behind his closed mouth, before swallowing the nasty feeling harshly.
His mother appeared as Sheila Haywood. Not Catherine Todd.
It was funny. You could spend your whole life believing you've figured out at least one thing about yourself, only to discover that it was only a lie.
A dry laugh escaped him.
"Well..."
At least Willis was still his father. Small victories counted, right? At least he was still a criminal's son, through and through.
His thumb lingered over Sheila's name, his eyes hooded and cold.
Here was the name of a stranger. A mother who he'd never met, and who presumably knew what kind of hellhole she was abandoning him to after she gave birth to him.
The paper offered no explanation about her absence.
No reason about why she'd fled his life.
It changed NOTHING. Jason was just as unwanted as he ever was.
Finding her... What would that even accomplish?
Jason folded the certificate shut and tucked it into his pocket with a sigh, closing that door before he even tried to crack it open.
Looking for her would be a waste of time. Besides... Running away would be the height of idiocy.
Despite how miserable he felt, Jason still had a roof over his head. Wayne Manor was still his home. Legally, at that! Bruce couldn't get rid of him easily. Not if he didn't want CPS going ham on his ass.
Still, Jason had been preparing.
Quietly storing plenty of cash in places where no one would think to look.
Canned food already packed into emergency bags.
He even had clothes hidden away that would help him survive the harsh Gotham winter, if it came down to that.
Those were all things he'd need when—
If.
If things went south.
And, if Bruce showed any inclination that he was about to throw him in prison—or worse, into freaking Arkham—, he would be gone and disappear into the slums in a matter of minutes. No one was ever going to find him if he had any say about it.
Did Bruce even love him anymore? As much as it pained him to admit it, he honestly didn’t know.
Every conversation following Felipe Garzona's death had turned into another argument.
And then, the avoidance!
All of it was a reminder that Jason wasn’t measuring up to the ideal that Bruce had created of him in his head.
It just wasn’t fair! It was not like Jason had really killed Felipe Garzonas. He could scream it until his throat bled, and Bruce would still look at him like he was one bad day away from earning an entry in the Batcomputer’s criminal database.
“So what if I’ve got a temper?” Jason huffed, and shoved himself off the bed, not willing to stay put anymore. This situation was beyond frustrating and he wanted it resolved as soon as possible. “So what if I yelled? So what if I called his crusade against crime a stupid game?”
After Gloria Stanson, even he knew that those words were out of line.
“Maybe if I apologize and promise I can do better, he’ll give me another chance,” Jason said, rubbing his face, wild black curls sticking out in every direction. “It’s not like he’ll find anything incriminating. I’m innocent. I didn’t push the asshole off the window. I just scared him a little, and he slipped. That’s all it was- a terrible accident!”
Jason just had to behave himself and get his shit together.
That was fine. He could do this. He could ignore the part of him that wanted to rage and scream about the injustice of Bruce’s accusations.
Jason Todd stood to lose more if he stuck to his guns. Even the son of a lowly goon could and would be a good boy if he needed to be.
Nodding to himself, Jason headed for the Cave and punched his personal code into the keypad.
The computer processed the request, and then immediately turned red.
ACCESS DENIED.
Jason blinked, denial immediately flashing through his mind.
"No."
He tried again, gritting his teeth.
The same result. The door stayed shut.
ACCESS DENIED.
His shocked expression twisted into one with rage. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Master Todd."
The boy spun around with a jump, a yell stuck in his throat.
Even after everything Bruce had drilled into him, Alfred Pennyworth still managed to catch him off guard.
The old butler was standing almost next to him, his features still somewhat concealed by the shadows. His expression, as always, was impeccably polite.
“I’m sure that you’ve been informed,” Alfred continued, tone measured and calm, “that you are not permitted to go out as Robin.”
Jason forced himself to relax. He'd just told himself to behave himself!
"I know!" The answer came out sharper than he intended.
Jason immediately regretted the tone.
He gulped and tried again, going for a more demure approach: "I wasn't going out."
Alfred waited, his eyes steady and expectant.
For the life of him, Jason couldn't hold his gaze.
"I just wanted to talk to Bruce, Alfie." He glanced toward the sealed entrance. "Is he in?"
The question sounded more desperate than he wanted.
Alfred noticed. Jason knew he did. The old butler noticed everything.
"Master Bruce is currently out."
Jason nodded quickly.
"Okay." He looked back at the entrance. "Then I'll just wait for him in the—"
“Master Bruce’s orders were clear.” The interruption wasn’t harsh, which somehow made it worse. “Master Todd, you may not access the Batcave at present. All your Batcave priviliges are temporarily suspended.”
Jason froze. For a moment, he didn't understand.
Or maybe he understood too well.
Jason gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
"Alfred, I just want to talk to Bruce," he repeated slowly, as if to make sure that the butler was hearing him. "I'm not trying to disobey his rules. I haven't seen him in days! If he's not coming outta the Cave, then I have to go inside!"
"I understand your frustration, my dear boy. But the rules are the rules. I'm afraid you'll just need to be patient and wait for Master Bruce to come to you."
"Are you fucking kidding me-?! That could take weeks! Months! It's easier for me to approach him!"
"No."
"What do you mean 'No'?!" Jason exploded, only to choke back the rest of his outburst before it got too out of hand. The boy rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated with himself. "Alfred. Alfie. I'm just trying to fix this... rift between us. Why are you treating me like... Like..."
I'm already guilty?
Fuck. This was going downhill pretty darn fast.
Alfred's expression softened by the smallest degree. But it was not enough. "I do not follow, my dear boy."
Jason just stared at him. Alfred playing dumb was an insult to his intelligence.
"Why are you doing this?" His voice cracked slightly. "Doesn't Bruce want to talk to me?"
Alfred didn't respond.
And that was answer enough.
A disaster. This was nothing short of a disaster.
When Jason had been brought to this house, he'd thought that his life was beginning to turn to the better. That there was hope for a better future for someone like him. And maybe it had been, once.
Before he'd fucked it all up!
His fists trembled at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling as he fought the urge to do something—anything—to break the unbearable tension between them.
Jason just wanted someone to stand beside him. Someone to tell him this could still be fixed. Usually, Alfred was the one who reminded him that things were never as hopeless as they seemed.
He couldn't stop himself.
He had to ask.
"Do you think I really did it, Alfie?"
The question came out more quietly than he'd intended.
Alfred did not answer immediately. The old butler lowered his gaze slightly, choosing his words carefully.
"Master Jason..." Sympathy softened Alfred's voice, but all Jason felt was a growing sense of dread. "I think you are a young man who has endured more than most people your age could ever comprehend."
Jason waited, heart beating harshly against his ears.
"And I think," Alfred continued in that slow, measured cadence of his, "that anger can be a very dangerous thing."
Jason's breath caught.
Alfred's expression remained composed.
"You've always possessed a rather fierce temper, Master Jason. You know that."
He wasn't wrong.
Jason Todd was angry.
He had always been angry.
But hearing Alfred say it—
"The world has not been kind to you," Alfred said, with a weary sigh. He shook his head, as though mourning a tragedy that had long since been set in motion. "And I understand why that anger exists. Truly, I do. But there are moments when anger overtakes reason. Moments when a person acts before they've had the chance to think."
Jason stared, mouth agape.
"Bad things happen, Master Jason." Alfred’s voice lowered, each word landing heavier than the last. "Things that cannot be undone."
For a moment, Jason forgot how to breathe.
Because Alfred wasn't saying the words.
He didn't need to.
The accusation echoed between them all the same.
Jason's stomach lurched.
"No, no, no—!" He shook his head violently, fighting the sting building in the corners of his eyes. "You've got it wrong!"
He took a desperate step forward.
"Alfred, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong!"
His voice cracked, growing louder despite every effort to steady it.
“I didn’t do it! I didn’t push him.” His fists clenched so tightly they trembled. “I scared him. Yeah, I scared him real bad because I wanted to punish him.”
Jason swallowed hard.
"But I didn't kill him."
His eyes searched Alfred's face, desperate for even the smallest hint of belief.
Anything.
"I didn't." The words came out soft, like a whimper. "I swear I didn’t do it."
Alfred's expression remained unreadable.
Damn it! It was worse than talking to a wall!
"Fret not," the old butler said gently. "Master Bruce is attempting to piece together the evidence surrounding this case. The truth will come to light, my dear boy. Then we'll know what must be done."
Jason felt something cold settle in his chest.
Because that was not reassurance.
That wasn't Alfred saying I believe you.
That was Alfred saying, we will find out whether you’re lying.
Jason opened his mouth. "What are you—"
The words died in his throat.
He saw it.
That faint, restrained smile.
So very Alfred.
But his eyes...
There was nothing in them.
No warmth.
No fondness.
Just... emptiness.
Jason had seen that look before.
Across the dinner table whenever he'd spoken too loudly.
While Alfred stitched him up after patrols, gently reminding him to be more careful.
Every time Alfred looked from Bruce to Jason, as though he still couldn't quite understand why this reckless, angry boy had been brought into their home.
The realization struck with brutal clarity.
Alfred had never approved of him. Not really.
Maybe he had tolerated him.
Maybe he had respected Bruce's decision.
But approval?
Acceptance?
Jason had only been fooling himself.
This hope... Was it all a delusion?
He looked away before Alfred could see the hurt on his face.
"Just... Just tell Bruce I want to talk to him, yeah?"
Jason ran before Alfred could break his heart even more.