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Jason’s laying on the floor in one of his safe houses. He doesn’t really know how long he has been laying there, just staring at the ceiling and zoning out. Steph told him it was called ‘floor time’, that apparently there were studies that showed it helped ease anxiety.
That’s not why he did it though.
He did it so time would change.
When he was able to fully zone out on the floor it was difficult to recognize how much time had passed when he finally came back. He thinks he laid down on the floor at 2pm, it’s dark now.
He hasn’t gone out in days.
There’s no reason to.
The bat’s are mad at him again, he can’t remember why though. His brain still shut off from coming in and out of awareness. He can’t remember what had happened, just that words were said before he stormed out of the cave.
He hasn’t heard from anyone since.
His phone is in his pocket, he could look to see if anyone has reached out, check the date and time while he’s at it.
Would it really matter though?
He would’ve felt it vibrate against his leg, they didn’t reach out to him.
They didn’t care about him.
They pitied him, nothing more nothing less.
He wasn’t a sibling.
He was a stray that was offered sanctuary.
Then the stray turned mean.
The why didn’t matter, not really.
They didn’t care about the why. Just that he had turned mean and now he was alone again.
Always alone.
At some point you have to wonder what's wrong with you. If he was the only common factor as to why everyone always left him there must be something wrong with him.
Something vial, and twisted that everyone but him was able to see.
It didn’t matter though, not really.
He had already made up his mind.
He knew he was just prolonging the inevitable by laying on the floor.
But it was nice to be numb for a while.
Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial for number 1 without looking at the screen.
The phone began to ring.
He put it on speaker.
It rang
And rang
And rang
And went to voicemail.
It was embarrassing to say he was let down. He wasn’t surprised Bruce hadn’t answered but he had still hoped.
Jason had always secretly thought of himself as hopeful. He had been realizing recently that that wasn’t necessarily true.
He thought it was hope. But it was a delusion.
Delusion that someone would love him. Someone would care for him. Someone would choose him.
But they never did.
And they never would.
The mechanical voice of the phone had finished telling him to leave a message.
He doesn’t know when he started crying.
“Hey…” He said in a voice that sounded much too broken to be his own. “I, umm, I’m sorry for umm. I’m sorry for coming back wrong. I shouldn't've, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have come back. It’s okay though, I can fix it. You guys won’t have to pretend anymore. You guys can go back to being a happy family and just, just remember me as a little kid okay? Just don’t, don’t remember me like this. Remember me as the kid who would talk your ear off about school projects and whatever book I was reading at the time. Like the time I was being a little shit to Dick so he started tickling me and I shattered that glass top table we used to have in the Library with the back of my head? Remember me like that, when I would crawl into your bed at night from nightmares or be a fucking leach stuck to your side when I was sick cuz I was scared I wasn’t going to get better, like my mom. Remember your son, B. Not whatever the pit turned me into.” There were a few beats of silence before he tacked on “I love you Dad” in a whisper before ending the voice mail.
Jason patted the hard wood to his side looking for the item he had initially laid down with some time ago.
Grabbing the item he moved it, using his other hand to remove the cap.
It didn’t matter if he missed. It was dark. Bruce was on patrol, wouldn’t notice the voicemail likely until tomorrow. Probably wouldn’t listen to it for a day or so since he wouldn’t recognize the number.
That was okay though.
Bruce was smart.
Bruce could find him.
He wouldn’t let Jason’s body rot in a safe house with neighbors downstairs. Wouldn’t force a random tennant to call in a police report for a rotting smell and a stain on their ceiling.
It was too close of a call to let the police handle the body. They would clean out the safehouse and find all of his weapons, making them search harder. It would only be a matter of time before they found his Red Hood gear.
Bruce wouldn't risk any of his family's identities.
He would come. Come clean up Jason’s mess, one last time.
With the relief of feeling like he is finally doing something right, for the first time in a long time, Jason looks down at his arm and presses the bevel of the needle into the crook of his arm and depressed the plunger.
There.
It’s done.
Now he just has to wait.
As he lays the needle down beside his discarded phone his hand shakes minutely. It’s not from the drugs, not yet. Especially since he saw a bleb form under his skin, meaning he hadn’t fully gotten the dose into his vein. That didn’t matter though, that just meant it would take a little longer for him to go away.
So no, the drugs weren’t making him shake. He knew he didn’t want to go, not really. He had already gone to heaven. It was nice. But he knew he wasn’t going to be accepted back.
He was shaking because he had finally accepted his fate. Jason Todd, the boy who was wanted by no one.
And he had done it to himself. Now he couldn’t even see his mom or Bruce’s parents in heaven again.
He was just going to have to see what hell had in store for him.
0o0o0
It had been a hectic night, It was only himself, Robin and Red Robin patrolling tonight as everyone else had other commitments.
It had been non stop, being called crisscross across the city with the police calls of muggings, robberies, petty crime, drug deals all night.
He had been running on about 3 hours of sleep for the past two days and this had all but exhausted him.
It was a moment of silence in the night, he was contemplating going home to sleep.
Then Oracle opened a comm link.
“Hey B, your personal phone just got a voicemail. Do you want me to play it through your comm?”
He grunted his approval and she played it, only for him to hear.
“Hey…” Jason’s voice came through the comm. He sounded distraught. He pulled out a device from his utility belt and instantly began tracing the signal back, trying to find the coordinates from which the call had been made.
“I, umm, I’m sorry for umm. I’m sorry for coming back wrong. I shouldn't've, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have come back. It’s okay though, I can fix it. You guys won’t have to pretend anymore.” Jason was crying. Jason was crying and talking about how he didn't think he was part of the family. Jason had stormed out of the cave days ago, he couldn’t even remember what the fight was about.
Then he thought back for the past few days, Hood hadn’t been out on patrol.
“You guys can go back to being a happy family and just, just remember me as a little kid okay?” That didn’t make sense, Jason hated when people talked about his childhood in the manor. The second he or Dick would bring anything up Jason would immediately try to pick a fight. Saying that that wasn’t him, he wasn’t that little kid anymore and they had to get over it. Why would his attitude change all of a sudden? Instead of thinking too hard Batman took off in a dead sprint across the rooftop, flinging himself off to catch himself mid air with his grapple. He didn’t need Jason’s exact location to know he would be in Crime Alley.
“Just don’t, don’t remember me like this. Remember me as the kid who would talk your ear off about school projects and whatever book I was reading at the time. Like the time I was being a little shit to Dick so he started tickling me and I shattered that glass top table we used to have in the Library with the back of my head?” No
No no no no no no no.
Batman had read too many suicide notes from police evidence to think this was anything other than a farewell.
Bruce moved faster.
He remembered that night well. It was the first time Dick and Jason had seen each other out of masks. Jason was so excited to have an older sibling. They had watched a movie and played Super Mario Brothers together. Jason had jumped on Dick’s head in the game to launch himself over the obstacle, effectively pushing Dick’s character down to their death below. It was the first time Bruce had seen Dick relaxed in so long.
Dick had taken up a mock offense persona and laid it on thick for Jason, saying how he was betrayed and he would never recover. Jason had said something snarky in return, prompting Dick to start tickling the boy.
Jason was so little. He was just 13 at the time and the size of the average 9 year old. He didn’t stand a chance at trying to get away from Dick. He had just managed to get a foot free, all but screaming in laughter, and pushed with all his might against Dicks abdomen.
It resulted in him moving just enough off the couch for his head to make contact with the corner of the table, shattering it on impact.
Jason was still laughing, Dick looked horrified.
But it was a memory they could look back at fondly, sure Jason needed 3 stitches and wasn’t allowed on patrol for a month but it was the first time his kids had bonded.
“Remember me like that, when I would crawl into your bed at night from nightmares or be a fucking leach stuck to your side when I was sick cuz I was scared I wasn’t going to get better, like my mom.” Jason had always turned anxious whenever Jason or himself would get sick. He would never say why but Bruce had known. Jason had watched his mother die slowly from her terminal illness. He was scared he was going to die. That Bruce was going to die. Whenever one of them would get sick Jason would glue himself to Bruce’s side and refuse to leave for anything.
The device dinged, it had triangulated Jason’s location.
He was 3 blocks away.
“Remember your son, B. Not whatever the pit turned me into.”
Bruce pushed himself, no longer Batman. His body was shaking with fear, adrenaline and exhaustion as his muscles burned.
He was able to make out a quiet “I love you Dad” as he flung himself at the closed window, tucking into a roll.
Jason was mere feet from him, lying motionless on the floor.
Rushing forward Bruce checked for a pulse on his too still, too pale, son’s face. Jason’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted.
It was there, but it was weak, thready.
Bruce took in his surroundings, trying to figure out what he needed to reverse to save his second baby.
Noticing the needle Bruce began to check him for a prick mark.
Jason had missed his vein.
Bruce quickly took a clean needle from his utility belt, aspirated as much of the drug as he could from his son's arm. He then methodically began carefully scooping Jason, hiss too limp, too quiet, rambunctious son into his arms and carefully fled to Leslie’s clinic.