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THEN
When Jason comes to, his vision is fogged with a tinge of green.
When is it not, though?
His head pounds like a bad hangover and he’s uncomfortably chilly.
And suspiciously underdressed.
His eyes shoot open and he looks down, but is met with an unfamiliar body.
Or rather, a body that is no longer familiar.
“What the fuck?” Jason mutters.
“Alfred’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap if he hears you.”
Jason grabs the first sharp object he can find — which happens to be a letter opener on the desk beside him — and hurls it at the voice.
“Jesus, Jay! What was that for?!”
Jason tries to steady the unsteady hum of pit madness tainting his thoughts. His tunnel vision clears.
“Dick?” Jason questions.
“Yeah,” Dick says, still startled. “Who else would it be?”
Jason’s brows furrow, his heart hammering in his chest.
No. The cosmic assholes up in the clouds who have already resurrected him from his postmortem slumber have not just sent him back in time. They didn’t. Right?
He looks down at his tiny hands, unmarred and smooth with fingernails primly filed.
He looks down at his chest, so fresh and scarless. The familiar Y of his autopsy scar gone, leaving just blank, hairless skin.
He looks at his face, still holding onto chubby baby fat that rounds out his cheeks, making him squishy and cute in a way he only was before his pit induced adolescence.
Jason stares at this memory of a child and his breath hitches. “Well, shit.”
NOW
“Well this isn’t where I just was.”
Jay pulls himself off of the dingy, stinky carpet of the unfamiliar apartment he’s found himself in, and places his hands on his hips.
“Where am I?” he asks himself. He jumps in surprise by the voice that comes out of his mouth. It’s dark and rough and… manly.
He sticks his tongue out as he concentrates, looking around the strange place he’s found himself in.
He looks down and sees the familiar traffic light kevlar he’s become so accustomed to attached to a body that is definitely not his.
“What?” he breathes.
Stumbling to what he hopes is the bathroom on too large legs, he freezes as he meets eyes with the teen in the mirror.
“Oh my Mary Shelley, is that me?!”
The teen in the mirror says the same thing and if that isn’t crazy, then he doesn’t know what is.
The Robin costume almost looks silly on a him that looks like this, a brick shithouse of a guy that’s gotta be at least six feet tall with gigantic biceps and thighs that he could probably smash a watermelon between.
He holds up an arm and flexes. A very not manly squeak escapes his lips.
“Holy guacamole, they get bigger?!”
He spends a frankly embarrassing amount of time flexing in the mirror, testing out this new body of his.
He grows up hot. Like chiseled cheekbones, tasteful stubble, strong jaw kind of smoking hot.
For some reason he’s got a streak of white in his curls and he curses Willis and his bad hair genes.
This new body is gonna take some getting used to, though. He can’t imagine roof hopping with the total change to his center of gravity and the extra foot.
He’s gotta find Batman. He'll know what to do
THEN
“You okay, Jay?”
Jason blinks. He blinks again. He clamps his jaw shut because he knows it’s popped open like the damsel on the cover of a horror film.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Jason says.
“I know you hate galas, but it does a lot of good.”
A gala. Jesus, when was the last time he had to worry about one of those?
“What exactly is this one for?” Jason asks, trying to play up the disgruntled teen persona.
“The Drakes are hosting a gala to celebrate their findings on their latest excavation,” Dick replies, sorting through the ties lying on the bed. “The times they host galas are very few and far between so it’s important that the Waynes always attend.”
“Whoopee,” Jason says dryly.
Dick hands him a dark red tie. “There will be good food and an endless supply of soda and even though you have to stand in a monkey suit all night, you know that B will take you out to apology lunch.”
“He never says it’s an apology lunch, but he always does it,” Jason murmurs. He forgot about that. He’s forgotten about a lot of things.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Good heavens, Master Jason!” Alfred chides. “Do get dressed in some sort of timely manner. You must leave by the hour.”
“Alfie,” Jason breathes.
No matter what grudges he’s got about the bats, Alfred has never been wrapped up in that rage.
God, he’s missed Alfred.
“Yes?” Alfred asks with a small quirk of the eyebrow.
What does Jason want to say? He never expected he’d get to see Alfred again, especially not liek this.
Not without his name poisoned by the blood that stains his hands.
“Can you sneak me somethin’ good to eat?" he finally says. "All those ‘whore durves’ are too hoity-toity for my taste.”
Alfred gives him an exasperated look and sighs. “I suppose I can pack you a snack in case there is nothing that suits your fancy.”
Jason grins. “You’re the best, Alf. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Neither do I, Master Jason. Neither do I.”
And with that, he exits.
“How come Alfie packs you snacks but he never packs me snacks?” Dick whines.
“Because you have a refined palette. You actually like that snobby shit.”
Dick snorts. “Oh, I have a refined palette? So you finally agree with my pickle and peanut butter sandwiches?”
Jason grimaces at the thought. “I take it back. You have no taste. You only consume culinary abominations.”
They share a look and break out into laughter.
For a moment, it’s almost normal. Jason almost forgets about the burning hatred that he has towards the young man.
Almost.
His laughter dissipates and he’s left with a bitter sting.
This is a different time. A time when Dick actually cared.
Jason turns his back to Dick as he pulls up his dress shirt, his jaw clenched tight as he pushes back the green clouding his vision.
“You need help with your tie?” Dick asks.
Jason takes a deep breath and turns around with a lighthearted eye roll. “I think I can figure it out.
NOW
It’s pretty awkward walking around the streets of Gotham in his Robin get up. It’s different when he’s soaring high above it on the rooftops. He’s almost playing a part.
But now he’s just him, in a Robin costume, walking in Crime Alley in the dead of the night.
His hands swing by his sides as he whistles. His eyes are sharp, on the lookout for Batman.
The Robin costume is pretty silly on someone of his stature. He can’t believe he hasn’t upgraded like Dick had.
What happened to all of his plans for his Bluejay costume? It was pretty awesome. He can’t believe he hasn’t gotten around to it.
There’s suddenly the familiar whoosh of air blowing through the signature thick black cape.
“Batman!” Jay calls. “Batman! Over here!”
Batman freezes mid-grapple, nearly splatting his body against the brick wall he’s attached.
“Oh, shit!” Jay exclaims. He runs over to Batman who is dropping down at alarming speeds.
Batman stumbles towards Jay, face frozen in an ashen shock.
“What the heck was that, B? Are you hurt?”
“Jay?” Bruce croaks.
Jay nods slowly. “Uh, yeah?” He rubs his neck. “Kinda wearing a mask right now, B. No names in the field, right?”
“Jason,” Bruce repeats, his voice thick with emotion.
“B, you’re kinda scaring me right now,” Jay says with a tight chuckle.
“How… I… what?”
“B?”
Bruce takes shaky steps towards Jay and places his hands on his shoulders. He smiles wobbly at him. “You… you’re so tall.”
“I know right? So weird.” Jay gasps. “Right! You don’t know." He stands straighter. "Robin reporting a tango tango bravo sierra.”
Bruce freezes, shaking his head. “No. No, it can’t be a bravo sierra.”
“Uh, I’m not exactly me right now,” Jay says, confused.
“No, it can’t be a bravo sierra because you…” His voice breaks off. “Because you don’t have a body to switch into.”
Jay’s body goes still. “What do you mean.”
“I think you know what I mean,” Bruce says, voice wavering.
“No. No! I’m not… I can’t be…” Jay’s hand flies to his mouth. “I’m like, what, seventeen now? I can’t be—”
Bruce lets out what can only be described as a choked sob and Jay recoils back at the sound. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. No! No, I can’t… I… I…”
“I’m sorry,” Bruce repeats, stepping forward cautiously.
Jay launches into his arms, hugging him tightly as he cries.
It’s all wrong. He doesn’t fit under Bruce’s chin anymore. He’s too tall now. Too bulky to fit right.
They’re both trembling and it’s all wrong. Bruce shouldn’t be like this. He’s never been like this before.
He did this. Because he died.
Oh God, he’s gonna die.
THEN
Jason still hates wearing suits.
It’s worse in his lanky, preteen body, where he doesn’t have the confidence that his height and build had given him.
Instead, he’s the little runt of a kid that Bruce picked up from the streets, still trying to pack on muscle on his twiggy limbs.
“You ready?” Dick asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jason mutters.
The two head out into the hall and Jason feels his world being rocked.
It’s like a faraway dream that he couldn’t quite grasp suddenly vibrant and solid all at once.
His blurry memories are suddenly clearer. Ones that were withered with time and changed perspective are fresh and new.
“Bruce’s waiting for us in the car,” Dick says.
Bruce. Shit. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
He’s been able to clamp down the bubbling, seething hatred around Dick because he’s always been an afterthought to Jason.
But Bruce?
Bruce let that clown bastard live. He replaced him. He took the memory of his dead son and spat on his grave.
Jason can already feel himself losing himself to the pit whispers in his mind and he takes a long breath.
“C’mon,” Dick says. “We don’t want to be late.”
Jason lets himself be dragged through the manor and tries to psych himself up to facing Bruce.
He’s not ready. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.
But sometimes you don’t have a choice.
He’s gotten a lot of choices ripped away from him.
Dick slides into the limousine first and Jason stands outside, staring at the seat blankly.
“You comin’ or what?” Dick asks with a grin.
Jason gulps and gets in.
“Lookin’ sharp, lad,” Bruce says with a bright smile that Jason doesn’t remember him having.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Jason says, unable to tear his eyes away from his once father-figure.
He’s so light. So young. Jason doesn’t remember him being like this. All he remembers is the dark, sullen man with biting remarks and batarangs aimed for his chest.
“I see you’ve got some contraband,” Bruce says teasingly. “Think you can spare one of those cookies?”
Jason, still speechless, shoves the bag at the man.
Bruce chuckles softly. “Thanks, Jay.”
“How long is this gala?” Jason blurts out.
“We’ll be home by midnight,” Bruce reassures.
“Great,” Jason says under his breath. “That’s just… great.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to keep you busy,” Bruce says. “I think the Drakes have a son a little younger than you.”
Drake. The name is familiar and Jason can’t figure out why.
“Alright,” he says, not having any restraint to push a little without pushing too far.
“How about some good music until we have to listen to a four piece string quartet all night?” Bruce suggests. “Got any requests, Jay?”
What did he like to listen to at this age? He doesn’t know.
“You pick,” Jason says.
Bruce, smiling faltering just slightly, nods. “Let’s get some classic rock going then, huh?”
NOW
After an embarrassing amount of tears and clutching embraces in the middle of a dingy alley, Bruce calls off his patrol and takes Jay back to the cave.
Jay fiddles with his fingers in his lap, staring out the window as he tries to catch all the differences in Gotham from his time.
Bruce isn’t paying enough attention to the road. He keeps sneaking glances at Jay.
“I’m sorry,” Jay finally says, breaking the silence, “I have to ask.” His brows scrunch. “Is this what I looked like when I…” He trails off.
Bruce shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”
“Then that’s weird, right? That’s… that doesn’t make any sense. Why would I…” He huffs in frustration. “Are you sure I died?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Bruce snaps.
Jay flinches at his raised voice.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to…” He takes a deep breath. “I know you’re confused.”
“No more confused than you are,” Jay says quietly. “And I know you’ve got like a bajillion tests you’re doing just by looking at me.”
“The car has biometrics,” Bruce says. “You can’t enter unless your biometrics match.” He swallows. “It recognized you as Jason Todd, Robin II.”
“Well I’d hope so, since that’s me.”
Bruce makes a strangled noise.
“Sorry, I… yeah. Time travel is weird but seeing your son older and resurrected must be weirder.”
Bruce makes an even more strangled noise. “You could say that.”
“Sorry, I… God I’m no good at words. You know I ain’t. I didn’t mean to…” He presses his lips together. “I’m just gonna… yeah.”
The drive is silent again, and when they pull into the cave, those extra biometric scanner recognize Jay too.
Well, at least there’s that.
Bruce exits the Batmobile first. “Stay here. I… I’ll come get you. I just need to…” He trails off. “I’ll be back.”
Jay groans, smacking his head against the squishy headrest.
Impatient sitting in the silent car, Jay rolls the window down and eavesdrops.
“–can’t just do that, Bruce! You sent me the emergency signal and then you just disappeared. No word on comms, no follow up, just complete silence. I thought something had happened! Jesus, Bruce, I thought you—” A deep breath. “Do you know how I felt? Thinking that something happened to you? You know that I—”
“I know,” Bruce says tersely. “But this was an emergency.”
“There was no Arkham breakout. There was no alien invasion. There was obviously no life threatening situation, so what could…”
Jay opens the car door, unable to stand the miscommunication any longer.
“It’s because of me.”
Dick’s head snaps up and his expression crumbles. “Jason?” His wonder shutters down and is replaced with rage. “How dare you use his face! How dare you use what hurts him most and manipulate him! What do you want?!”
Jay stumbles back. “I don’t want anything!”
Bruce grabs Dick, but Dick fights against his grasp.
“Dick,” Bruce holds him back. “It’s him. I’ve tested. It’s him.”
Dick deflates with a gasp. “But he’s…”
“We’re figuring it out,” Bruce says.
Dick takes a cautious step towards Jay. “Is this really what you would’ve looked like if you got to grow up?”
Jay’s breath hitches. “I died real young then, huh?”
Bruce and Dick meet each other’s eyes and the air in the cave gets a lot tenser.
“So,” Jay says awkwardly, “time travel, amiright?”
THEN
He shuffles between Dick and Bruce, hands shoved in his pockets, ducking his head away from the blinding flash of photographers.
Bruce has a protective hand on his shoulder and it burns and seers. He itches to rip it off, to bare his teeth and demand he never touch him again.
But he can’t. There are eyes everywhere and he is in the role of a boy he used to be.
He plasters on a smile that’s more of a grimace. He’s not sure if he truly remembers what his smile used to be like. He doesn’t really remember the times when he would.
Bruce parades him and Dick around, presenting them like trophies representing his successes as a parent. He speaks highly of them, praising their accomplishments, and it irks Jason. Every compliment sent his way makes him itch.
Had Bruce really said these kind words about him before? Did he even mean them or is this just a piece of his facade for the public?
Of course not, Jason tries to tell himself. Bruce has never cared. He has only merely been an obligation. Street trash that he was quick to dispose any remnants of once he was gone.
How could he have cared for him if he did that?
The food is stale and dull. So is the decor. So are the people.
Everything feels so plastic.
And yet, beneath the ditzy masks that Bruce and Dick wear, it’s overshadowed by their unwavering authenticity.
It’s staggering, the juxtaposition.
Bruce tries a bite of all of the little snacks on the table and puts together a plate for Jason.
He knows Jason’s taste.
He doesn’t remember Bruce knowing him like this. So simple. So easy. So effortless.
He makes sure that the bar gives Jason a flat soda because the carbonation was too rough on his throat. He keeps Jason away from the creeps and ladies who stick their nose into not their business. He fixes his tie when it goes askew and runs gentle fingers through his curls and gives him goofy thumbs up when he has a successful conversation with a prying crowd of businessmen.
Every little thing he does tugs Jason back to him. Makes him want to be wrapped up in his arms and to tell him all of the horrors of these last few years and beg for his forgiveness so he can have this all back.
But he knows he can’t. He knows that the man in his time is not the man standing before him now.
Or so he keeps telling himself.
Because if he is, and Jason was wrong, then he could have had this and instead put his everything into a fruitless revenge trip.
He can’t be wrong.
He can’t.
NOW
Jay sits on a medical cot, sipping on a mug of tea while Alfred draws his blood.
“Is this really necessary?” Jay asks.
“I know it is tedious, but it is just a precaution. You know such.”
Alfred has been really shaken up since he saw Jay. Of course, it’s in the totally chill and unreadable way that Alfred is. So it’s not exactly obvious, but Jay can see it.
“Do you think they can figure out how to get me home?” Jay asks.
“I’m sure they will find a way,” Alfred says. “With the combined intellect of those three, they’ll manage something, I’m sure.”
“Three?”
Alfred pauses, just minutely, before going back to what he’s doing. “Master Timothy. He… works with your father.”
Jay looks past Alfred and catches a glimpse of a boy in his colors. Jay’s breath gets caught in his throat.
“He got a new Robin.”
Alfred’s head snaps up. “Master Jason…”
“He just… he replaced me.”
“It is not like that. You don’t know the context.”
“Did he… was it before? Or after I…”
“It was after,” Alfred says quietly. “You know better than anyone that Robin is magic. And that Batman needs a Robin. And after he lost you… he needed a Robin more than ever. And Master Timothy, he was his moral compass that he so desperately required. He led him back to the light.”
“And I made him stray away from it,” Jay says grimly.
“Master Jason…”
“Is there any way I can stop it? Keep him from going through all that pain? Keep me… alive?”
Alfred sets his tools down and takes Jay’s in his. They’re more fragile than Jay knows them to be.
“We cannot know if the disturbance of time will create an even greater ripple.”
“But like… who’s to say that I’m not from an alternate timeline? Or that I won’t be going into an alternate timeline when I go back?”
Alfred sighs. “We cannot be sure of anything.”
Jay huffs. “You don’t know a lot of stuff.”
Alfred pats his hands. “There is nothing more that I want than for you to survive, Master Jay. I hope you know that.”
Jay frowns, lopsided and not fully believing. “I hear you.”
“Come along. I’m sure Master Timothy is ecstatic to meet you.”
Jay’s brows shoot up. “Me? Why?”
Alfred smiles, almost mischievously. “I’ll let him tell you, himself.”
Alfred places a bandaid where the needle was and leads Jay out to the computers.
“—but it’s not displacement. No type of displacement can account for the obvious aging.”
Jay clears his throat. “Tim, right?”
Tim goes still, eyes wide. “Wow. I… wow.”
Jay chuckles awkwardly. “I… see you have pants.”
“Yeah,” Tim saids, still gaping like a fish. “And you… don’t.” His face burns a bright pink.
Jay barks out a loud laugh. “You’ve got guts, kid. Have to when you’re in the red, yellow, and green.”
Tim just stares at him with speechless wonder.
“Thank you,” Jay says, “for keeping Robin magic. For keeping Batman in the light.”
Tim ducks his head. “Batman needs a Robin.”
Jay nods, placing a hand on Tim’s arm. “Yeah, he does. And I bet you’re a great Robin.”
Tim beams up at Jay. His smile falls. “We need to find a way to get you home.”
Jay sucks in a breath. “Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Where were you when you first got here?” Tim asks.
“Some apartment in Crime Alley.”
All of the bats share a look. “Do you remember where it is?”
Jay has to think hard, but he can picture the route. “I think so.”
The bats share another look.
“Well,” Dick says, “we better get going then, huh?”
THEN
Jason feels like he’s suffocating.
The whispers in his mind grow stronger and louder by the minute, and he doesn’t know how long he can keep them down.
Oh how he wishes he could go blow the brains out of some of the child molesters he knows are socializing mindlessly here.
“I’m gonna grab some air,” Jason tells Dick through gritted teeth.
“Oh do you want me to come—”
“No.” Jason pushes past Dick and storms out of the ballroom to the balcony.
When he gets into the fresh air, he can almost breathe. The chilly autumnal air is still sharp with every breath he heaves into his lungs. He grips the banister until his knuckles are white and just stares at the ground, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut.
“Get a grip, Todd,” Jason hisses at himself. “Get a fucking grip.”
“Hey, are you alright?” a tiny voice asks meekly.
“Fuck off,” Jason snaps.
“You’re Jason, right?" he persists. "I… I’m Tim. My parents are hosting this gala.”
“Good for you.”
The boy — Tim — takes a step closer to Jason. “I know they can get pretty overwhelming. I’ve grown up with them and even I think…” He trails off. “Anyways, I totally get it. I— I didn’t follow you out here or anything. I just needed some space too.”
Jason grits his teeth together, holding the banister so hard that he’s surprised it doesn’t crack beneath between his fingers.
Tim places a hand on his shoulder and Jason’s head jolts up.
When he catches sight of Tim’s face, all he can see is green.
It’s him. The new Robin. His replacement.
In that moment, he can’t remember that this isn’t that Tim Drake. All he can hear is the ringing in his ears and the image of Bruce and his better and brighter version of him.
“Jason?” Tim asks, his voice tiny.
And suddenly he’s no longer standing at the edge of the balcony, instead kneeling over Tim Drake with his hands around his throat.
Or, he was until he was being pulled away by a shouting Bruce.
Bruce holds Jason back while Dick is pulling Tim away, checking him for damage.
The green is fading, but it still itches under his skin.
Tim is coughing, a weak and ugly thing, as he gasps for air. Jason can already see the bruises forming around his pale, thin throat.
Jason stops fighting Bruce’s hold and relaxing against him. He just stares at Tim Drake and his beaten bloody face with horror at himself for doing that to him.
“I’m taking him home and getting him downstairs,” Bruce says to Dick.
“Got it, B,” Dick says before turning his attention back to Tim, murmuring soothing words.
“Come on,” Bruce whispers, guarded and tempered.
“I’ll be there soon,” Dick says.
Bruce pulls Jason away, whose eyes are glued to the little boy that he nearly killed.
Maybe he’s not that okay.
NOW
Jay leads the bats through the streets of Gotham, getting a little lost on the way but quickly getting back on track.
They end up at a run down apartment complex, one that almost looks vacant.
“Now, why were you here?” Bruce asks under his breath.
They follow Jay up the many stairs until they reach the apartment on the top floor.
“It should still be unlocked,” Jay says. “I didn’t exactly have a key.”
The door is luckily still unlocked. The bats sweep the apartment quickly for people and then converge back in the main area.
Tim scrutinizes the area and somehow finds secret storage. Bruce follows after.
Dick whistles. “Guns. Explosives. Knives. The whole shebang.”
“Uh, B?” Tim says. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
They all follow Tim into the bedroom and there’s a collective breath hitched from Bruce and Dick.
“What?” Jay asks. “What is it?”
“The Red Hood,” Bruce snarls.
Jay’s brows scrunch in confusion. “Like the Joker?”
The room goes silent.
“What?” Jay asks, head tilting in confusion.
Bruce is so tense that he’s surprised he’s not bursting a blood vessel.
“Jason,” Tim says slowly. “Put this on.”
“Ew, what? Who knows what gross stuff is in there!” Jay exclaims.
“Please, just,” he hands him the helmet, “put it on.”
Jay looks at him, perplexed, and slides the helmet on.
“Red Hood, Voice Activation Required.”
“Uh, what?” Jay questions.
“Voice Confirmed. Welcome, Red Hood.”
Jay falls silent.
“Why,” he whispers. “Why am I named after the Joker?”
They all stare at him.
Squirming under their gaze, he fumbles to get the hood off, but can’t seem to find how to get it off.
“Fuck, c’mon, how do I get this fuckin’ thing off?” Jay shouts, tears brimming in his eyes.
“To remove the helmet, release at these points.”
A diagram appears in front of him.
With impatient haste, he releases the latches and throws it off. Its impact dents the wall.
Jay’s hands tremble as he sucks in labored breaths. “I… I don’t understand.”
Bruce steps forward. “Jay—”
Jay flinches, backing himself up until he hits the wall.
“You said I died,” Jay says unsteadily.
“You did,” Bruce says weakly.
“Then why am I here, like this, in an apartment filled with guns and explosives and a helmet telling me that I’m named after the Joker?!”
Bruce looks like he slapped him. Jay recoils back further.
“I don’t know,” Bruce says, slow and calm. Calmer than he actually is. “But I know that you died.”
“How?!” Jay yells. “Tell me how I die and I can stop it. I don’t want to die!” He falls to his knees. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce rushes beside him and pulls him in. He rocks him slightly, just like he does when he has a bad nightmare or a rough patrol. “I’ve got you, Jaylad. You’re alright.”
A tear slips down his cheek. “I don’t want to die.”
THEN
Bruce drives in silence.
Jason watches him, bored. “You’re not gonna find anything.”
“We will,” Bruce mutters, more to himself than Jason. “We’ll find what’s in your system and we’ll… we’ll get you into a detox or the necessary antidote. We’ll fix this.”
“You’re not gonna find anything,” Jason repeats, “because there’s nothing in my system.”
“You wouldn’t know if there was,” Bruce says, voice faraway. “Because I know you wouldn’t… you would never…”
“I’m not your Jason.”
The car lurches as Bruce slams on the breaks.
Suddenly there’s an arm pressed against his chest, holding him against the seat.
“Who are you?” Bruce growls.
“Hey, now,” Jason says with an amused smirk, “no need for that.”
“What did you do to Jason?” Bruce demands.
“Guessing the poor bastard’s where I was,” Jason says with a shrug.
“What does that mean?”
“Means that your Jason’s stuck in the future and I’m stuck here.”
Bruce falters. “No. No you—”
“Yup. I’m about three years ahead of... all of this.”
“Three?” Bruce gasps. “No. Not— you can’t possibly— in three years—”
“Well you better believe it, Dad, ‘cause it’s the truth.”
Jason is relieved to finally shed the persona he’s been putting on.
Bruce’s eyes search Jason’s face and shuts down into a deep sadness. “What happened to you Jay?”
“Damned of the life of Robin,” Jason spits bitterly. “Got into the hands of Joker. Got beaten nearly to death and then blown to bits — not hyperbolically, by the way. Brought back wrong. Real fun stuff.”
“Jason,” Bruce whispers, “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, your apologies don’t mean a damn thing to me.”
Bruce winces at his words. “Why did you…”
“Try to murder a twelve year old? Yeah, that wasn’t in my agenda. Really didn’t even mean to but… God, that kid jumbles everything up in my brain and just… fuck.”
“What did he do to you?” Bruce asks.
“Nothing to me. Just… just replaced me when I was gone. You replaced me. He just... represents everything I could never be. Never got to be. Everything taken away from me by you.” He chuckles mirthlessly. “Just reminds me of everything I’ve lost.” He scoffs. “Again, really, didn’t plan on that whole…” He waves his hand vaguely. “I kill people who hurt kids. I don’t like hurting kids.”
“You… kill?”
Jason laughs harshly. “Of course that’s what you catch.” He changes tone as if he’s talking to a child. “Yes, Bruce, I kill people.”
Bruce stares at him. “Why?”
“Because they deserve to die.”
They sit in a thick silence.
“Jason, why… you would never…”
“Being resurrected and dumped into a Lazarus Pit does some things to your psychology. Twists it. Changes it. I’m not… I’m never gonna be that me I used to be. Don’t think I could if I wanted.”
“Jason,” Bruce says, voice small and wavering. “I’m sorry that I failed you.”
Jason’s head snaps up. “What?”
“I’m sorry that I let this horrible life of vengeance take your life and… I’m sorry that you can no longer trust me. That someday I… I hurt you when you’re already hurting so much. But know that… I don’t know how I could ever not love you. How I could never not forgive you and take you back with open arms when I know that somehow you’re alive and well when I thought that you weren’t.”
Jason gapes at him speechlessly. “You don’t mean that.”
Pain spreads over Bruce’s features. “Of course I do.”
“But you… you replace me.”
“I don’t know what I do in the future, but I know that you can never be replaced. Even if there’s a new Robin, there can never be another Jason Todd.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “You are irreplaceable.”
Jason feels the world fade around the edges. He chuckles dryly. “Oh, how cliche. A lesson and a moral. The magic of family.”
Bruce smiles sadly. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”
Jason nods. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“Give him a chance, Jay. He loves you.”
Jason smiles back. “I’ll try.”
NOW
Jay’s hiccuping sobs finally die down and he’s melted into a limp weight in Bruce’s arms.
“Jason?” Bruce whispers. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You wanna know why?”
Jay looks up, sniffling. “How?”
“Because I know you. And no matter what happens, you’ll get through it. Just… trust me. Trust Dick. Trust Alfred. Trust someone. Tell someone before you make big life changing decisions. Trust that we’ll have your back. Because we will.”
Jay nods. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Bruce kisses his hair. “I love you so, so, so much. And I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe. It has been a gift seeing you again.”
“Well, you’re gonna see me again when I go back. The me from now.”
“I don’t if he wants to see me,” Bruce admits.
“But… you’re his dad.”
Bruce sucks in a sharp breath. He smiles sadly. “Yes. I’m your dad. Which means I’ll be here no matter what. And that means, back from where you come from, I will always be there. Even if I’m mad or frustrated or disappointed, I will be there.”
“Okay. I believe you.” Suddenly, the world gets fuzzy. “I think… I think I’m going back.”
“I love you so much, Jason. Remember that.”
“I know, Dad,” he whispers.
“Good. Never forget that.”
And then Jason is opening his eyes in his apartment, being cradled in his father’s arms.
“Hey, Dad,” Jason croaks. “I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”