Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear diary, journal,

"No, that's stupid..." Jason mumbles. He groans as he scratches at the paper in front of him. He runs his free hand down his face, scratching at the small beard that was starting to grow along his jaw. He lets out a rough sigh.

Dear mother fucking stupid fucking diary,
Today is May 26th. My dumbass therapist said journaling is good for healing. I think it's fucking stupid. This isn't going to help heal anything. This is my “homework” assignment she said. To write letters like you're still here

Jason stops himself, his hand stills and his breathing grows a little more ragged when he realizes what he's written. 'Like you're still here.'

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath before sniffling. He brings a hand up to wipe at his nose. His hand shakes now as he goes back to writing.

I don't want to fucking do this. I know you would be laughing at me making fun of me. You should be here to sarcastically ask if I want to use your stupid fucking glitter pens that I fucking ha

A tear falls to the page, wetting it. He roughly wipes at his eyes. Jason prided himself on the fact that he hadn't cried since your funeral. Now he sat at his desk, rather his desk that you claimed as your own - surrounded by your trinkets and pictures of the two of you. Now he was a mess. Fat tears in his eyes and mucus running from his nose. The bags under his were deep and dark. He was even growing a beard now. You always told him to grow one, just to see what it looked like-

“C'mon! It would be so hot, I bet it would!” you'd always say. You would laugh and poke fun at him. He refused every time, telling you his baby face was too good looking for a beard.

Slowly Jason's tears subside and he looks down at his now ruined journal page, covered in tears and snot.

“Fuck this.” He closes the book and pushes it away.

Chapter Text

Hey,
Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

________________________________

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like… what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

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Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

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“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're you, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

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Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

Chapter Text

Hey,
It's Friday the 13th. We should be watching scary movies right now like we do every year. The classics. Halloween, scary movie, Friday the 13 obviously. A new final destination came out. You always loved watching those stupid movies, making fun of everyone's stupid choices. Christy (the stupid therapist who's not that stupid) told me it can be “healing” to keep traditions like that alive. I think it's dumb. No one will ever have commentary like you do. No one else in the family can handle horror movies like you do. It wouldn't be the same. Besides - that was our thing. You and me. Ever since we were kids.

Jason can feel those heavy emotions weighing down on his chest. For a second it's harder to breathe. He takes a second to breathe, to let his mind relax. And then his phone dings. And then again. And again.

With a sigh he picks it up. An influx of messages from the Batfam group chat. Playful warnings to stay safe this Friday the 13th.

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“Jay!” You let out an excited little laugh as you curl up into your favorite corner of the couch with a blanket draped over your lap. “Hurry up, you're wasting valuable movie time.”

Jay chuckles lowly from the kitchen of your shared apartment, “‘m almost done in here, baby. Start the movie - I'll be there in a second.” He's in the kitchen getting together snacks on a tray. Popcorn, your favorite candy, cookies.

“No way, I'm not starting it without you. I've been waiting all week for this.” You look over the back of the couch and catch sight of him with his back turned to you. Big, hulking Jason looking soft as ever in your top cramped kitchen getting sweets and snacks. You let out a small sigh, your smile turning soft. There's a warmth that spreads from your chest to your stomach as it hits you just how much you do love him.

“Stop it.” He finally speaks up with a tone of amusement. He knows you so well he doesn't even have to look at you to know you're staring.

“No.” You tease him back, your smile growing more playful. “I can't help it, you're too hot to ignore.”

And even though you can't see his face you know he's blushing.

“Shut up,” You hear him mutter, bashful. “Don't say stupid shit like that.”

You laugh at him, “What? It's true.” Your voice is more loving, adoring, and it makes Jason falter for a split second.

“Whatever, you're crazy.” He teases with a shake of his head before he's in the living room with you.

“Yeah, crazy in love.” You exaggerate batting your eyelashes before popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“God, you're obnoxious.” Jason smirks with a roll of his eyes as he's sitting next to you. He props his feet onto the coffee table in front of the two of you and slings his arm over the back of the couch. A silent invitation for you to cuddle into him which you happily accept.

With your head on Jason's chest and your arm around his stomach he pushes play on the remote and pulls you even closer to him.

“Ready to watch some people die?” He asks and you snort a laugh in response.

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part of me hates that they don't get it.

Jason is sidetracking now, putting his every thought down.

They haven't lost anyone like I have. I know they lost you too. They all loved you love you. But they don't get it. Normal things like today? It's just another Friday to them. To me it's one of the days I can't even turn on the tv or look at my phone without thinking of you even more than I already do. It's fucking hard baby. So fucking hard

Jason stops to blink away a tear, “Dammit…” he can hear himself sniffle and he hates it. He clears his throat and continues writing.

Some days I don't want to believe you're gone…

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The manor was eerily silent that day. An official two weeks after your death, one after your funeral service. It was a small gathering; the Wayne's, the Kent's, Roy and Lian and your best friend. Your parents didn't show up, blaming Jason and the Wayne family for your “mysterious” death.

Jason doesn't like to think about it. So he doesn't.

As Jason walks through the manor he already knows where everyone is, where to avoid. Duke is on patrol, Damian is doing homework in the library, Tim and B are in the cave working a case, Dick is in Blüdhaven, Steph and Cass are training in the gym.

Except Dick wasn't in Blüdhaven. Jason rounds the corner to the kitchen to find him sitting at the island staring at a cup in front of him.

Jason doesn't greet Dick, not verbally anyway, just gives a grunt of acknowledgement. Dick looks up and he can see how tired Jason is. It makes his heart ache for his little brother. There's stubble on his face, the bags under his eyes are deep and purple.

“Hey,” Dick speaks up. His voice is quiet, a little tired. A sign that he's struggling just a bit. He watches Jason pull a beer from the fridge and he sighs. For once in his life he's nervous. He knows Jason stopped drinking a long time ago for you. It started as a bet that turned into a habit. He's scared to bring it up but there's something nagging at him in his brain to do so.

“Thought you stopped…” Dick mumbles. He sees Jason stiffen.

“Whaddya mean?” Jason asks, he's refusing to look at Dick as he takes a long swig.

Dick hesitates, “The bet… you both-”

“Look,” Jason forces a laugh, it doesn't even sound like him, “what she doesn't know won't hurt her. Just don't say anything and I won't get in trouble.” He jokes.

There's silence. It's heavy and tense and awkward and Dick audibly swallows. He stammers for a second. While still dealing with his own grief he was having to handle Jason's as well. He felt a pit open in his stomach.

“Jay…” Dick's voice is so soft and so tender that it makes Jason turn to face him. And when he does finally turn around Dick can see how hard he's fighting to hold it together.

“What?” Jason asks in a shaky voice.

“She.. there's no one…” Dick doesn't know how to navigate this. “She's not coming back, Jay…” the words came out thick and choked one.

Jason shakes his head and forces on another smile, it doesn't even look human at this point.

“You've always been pretty funny, y'know that.” Another drink of beer. “‘course she's coming back. She just- she's just.. not,” Jason clears his throat “, not here right now. It's fine. She'll be back soon.”

Dick wonders how long Jason's been feeling like this, how long he's been in denial or if it's a new thing he's going through. But part of him is afraid to call Jason out on it, to burst his little bubble of happiness in the midst of his despair. And honestly? A small part of him also wants to believe that you're gone, that you'll be back soon from some little trip or something.

“Oh… yeah, okay. I won't say anything, Jay.” Dick is almost whispering now as he chokes on the lump in his throat.

The part of Jason's brain that knows this is just a defense mechanism is relieved.

“Thanks, Dickie.” He claps Dick on the shoulder as he walks by.

________________________________

But I know you are. I hate it. I hate accepting it. This

Jason pauses his writing before finally sighing in defeat.

This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Chapter Text

Jason sat on the couch, his worn journal in his hands. Despite only being written in a few times he continuously toyed with the edges of the paper - fraying them. He stares out the window, his mind a jumbled mess. He just got off the phone with Bruce and now he was in a worse mood than when he had woken up.

hi I miss you
it's the 17th. B just called. Wish you could've been here to hear it. Think he was guilt tripping me. Told me it's been almost a month since I've been to the manor. What does it even matter?

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

I can't. Feels like it gets harder every time I go over there. Yeah it's been a few months since

Between the call with Bruce and remembering your death, your funeral, the tombstone Bruce had placed for you in the family cemetery on the manor grounds Jason was at the end of his rope for the day.

“Fuck!”

It's loud, angry. Something that would have made you jump - he hates himself for it. His notebook flies across the room and smacks against the wall. His pen is broken in half. As he stands from the couch he pushes the coffee table out of the way with his foot, hitting the tv stand knocking over a picture frame.

The sound of broken glass makes Jason stop. It's like his heart is breaking all over again. It hurts. He feels his heart skip a painful beat, he feels his breath catch in his throat.

________________________________

“Stop it!” You yell at him from the bedroom door.

It had started as such a stupid argument. So many little things during that day that resulted in heightened frustration between the two of you.

“Don't tell me to stop. I didn't fucking do anything.” Jason snaps at you and you stare at him in disbelief for a split second before your expression turns hurt.

Jason knew he had some anger issues he needed to work on and he hated that he was taking it out on you even if it was subconscious. He hated himself for it.

“You're in here slamming stuff for no reason!” You shoot back when he tells you he hasn't done anything.

“Oh, boo-hoo.” Jason grumbles as he rolls his eyes. He can't stand the way he's treating you but he can't stop it.
“Jesus Christ, I can't have sunshine comin' outta my ass every second of the day for you. Fuck, you're so sensitive sometimes, you know that?”

You stop.
Jason stops.

Your disappointed scowl falters and your lips pull downward into a trembling frown. You've both said worse to each other before, more scathing biting insults. There was just something about this time that hurt.

Jason sees the way your eyes turn glassy with tears and the way you begin to frown. That's all it takes for all of his anger and frustration to completely melt away. He rubs his hand down his face and sighs.

“Baby, I'm sorry-”

You shake your head to stop him. You know that if you try to talk now you'll end up crying.

“No, no, please. Baby,” he takes a step forward and you take one back, making him stop in his tracks. He stares at you like you just burned him. With his mouth parted he watches as you turn and close the bedroom door behind you. It only takes him a second to register what happened.

He doesn't try to open the door knowing that if it was locked he might as well just rip his heart out of his chest and let you physically step on it in front of him. Instead he stands in front of the door with one tentative hand on the handle.

“Baby, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it. I'm sorry for being such an asshole.” He begs for your forgiveness through the door.

You stay silent. You know you need space, he knows you need space but he also has a codependency issue that makes it hard for him to stay away from you.

Jason's not sure if minutes or hours pass by. All he knows is his back hurts and his legs are stiff from sitting on the hardwood floor with his back to the door. Waiting silently for you to come out. Silently listening to you sniffle and cry, dying a little bit more inside knowing he can't do anything to comfort you yet.

But eventually you do. Slowly and quietly you open the door. You sniffle quietly and if you weren't still upset with a headache from crying you would've laughed at how ridiculous Jason looks as he scrambles to his feet.

“Hey,” your voice is hoarse and raspy from your much needed crying session.

“God, baby, I'm so sorry.” Jason whispers. He's on you immediately. Big strong arms wrap you in a warm hug. Jason sighs audibly in relief. He buries his face into the top of your head, eyes closing as he breathes you in. Your nose presses into his chest and you let him hug you, too tired to reciprocate just yet - wanting to soak in his warmth.

He repeats a flurry of “I'm sorry” and “I didn't mean it” against you. You can feel the way his heart thuds in his chest and you can feel your bottom lip tremble again. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“You're perfect. You're not too sensitive. I mean- okay. You are. But it's not a bad thing. I love that about you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry. Please I'll do anything-” He was panicking because even though you've fought and argued before - as any couple does - he's never made you cry.

“I let my anger get the better of me, I should have never-”

“It's okay…” You interrupt him and turn your head to the side to rest your cheek against him, your ear against his heart.

“No, it's not.” He kisses the top of your head.

You're quiet again, “Okay.. it's not… but we both weren't being the best. I'm sorry, too.”

“Don't apologize. Ever. You could shoot me and I'd never want you to apologize.”

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Jason remembers how downright scared you looked that night when he slammed the kitchen drawer shut. He hates himself all over again. He walks over to the notebook and picks it up.

“Sorry…” he mutters. He's not sure if he's saying it absentmindedly to the notebook, himself, or you. Either way he exhales roughly and sits back on the couch. He looks over his journal entry and slowly gets back to it.

It's been a few months since I've been there. It's harder now with your headstone there. I wasn't at my best when Bruce had it put in. I was angry. You would have hated it. You were never afraid tho just gave me that damn disappointed look. That hurt more than anything. I hated that. I deserved it though I was such an asshole when I was mad

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“What the fuck is that?” Jason asks as he stares out the floor to ceiling window. It's such a small thing, your tombstone being added to the family plot. But Jason notices immediately as he walks by, the way the number grew overnight.

“Hm?” Bruce hums as he positions himself near Jason.

“I said, what the fuck is that?” Jason's voice is laced with venom at this point.

Bruce finally inhales and opens his mouth to answer.

“Without my permission?” Jason asks with quiet outrage.

“I didn't know I needed your permission.” Bruce says quietly but firmly.

“Not even a warning?”

“She was part of the family-”

“Oh don't give me that shit!” Jason turns to Bruce with a look that could kill. “You didn't even ask! She didn't want to be buried, didn't want a headstone! That's why I put her in a fucking urn.”

Bruce is silent. Perhaps he was in the wrong on this one, he thought.

“What's it say, huh? Who'd you put her by?” Jason's breathing was ragged. He knew he was overreacting, deep down he knew, but with something so big to memorialize you - it made it all the more real to Jason.

“Al-” Bruce begins to answer but Jason cuts him off. He's crying. It's the first time he's cried in days but there's a small part of him that feels safe, comfortable, doing it in front of Bruce.

“Don't. Fucking don't-” Jason's voice cracks as he pushes Bruce's shoulder. “You shouldn't have-” He points a finger at Bruce. “She didn't fucking want-” Jason's crying now. Fat tears stream down his face, his eyes tired and heavy and red.

“Come here,” is all Bruce says softly, offering an open shoulder to Jason.

He stands defiantly for a second before his resolve finally crumbles. With a shaking sob he pulls Bruce into a bruising hug and cries into his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry,” Bruce murmurs as he hugs his son.

“S’not fair,” Jason cries.

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Christy says I'm doing better with managing my anger. I tried so hard for you. To be better. I'm so fucking sorry I didn't do it sooner. Or try harder. I think you would be proud of me. You always said you were but this time I know you would be

Jason wipes at a tear in the corner of his eye. He mumbles a curse under his breath and grabs his phone from his pocket. He can feel his emotions beginning to overwhelm him, he sees the warning signs now and knows how to cope.

Maybe therapy isn't as stupid as he thought, he thinks.

He sends a text to Dick asking to meet him at the gym.

Chapter Text

Jason sits at his desk for the first time in weeks. He's staring at the notebook in front of him. He can remember the last time he tried journaling. The way he felt after, the way he spent almost five hours at the gym with Dick to calm himself down.

It felt awkward for him now trying to get back into it - the same way he felt the first time he tried journaling. But he pushed through the heavy feeling in his chest and picked up his pen.

hey
it's officially July. I haven't written in a while I'm sorry. I don't know what it is about the heat that makes people crazier. Penguin went on a fucking rampage that took days to stop. I'm exhausted. I haven't been in the best head space either. Canceled a bunch of appointments with Christy. She said she understands but I know she's disappointed. I don't really want to tell her “sorry I'm actually Red Hood and I was chasing down a crazy guy who goes by the name Penguin with Batman. I need some normalcy in my life. I'm just tired of feeling like I'm letting down everyone in my life because of Red Hood. But I don't know anything else. Not that it's a fucking surprise.

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It's your (official) one year anniversary with Jason and you were so excited to spend the night with him. He promised he would be home early, said that B just needed his help with a case and that it shouldn't take more than a few hours. You believe him, of course you do, despite the small bubble of anxiety in your stomach that kept whispering: ”he's going to bail”.

You can't let yourself be negative like that - not right now, you tell yourself. So you go grocery shopping wanting to cook a special dinner for the two of you and a dessert for after.

That evening everything was perfect. Dinner cooked to perfection, dessert smelled heavenly, you put on your best outfit. The one that you knew made Jason go a little feral every time you wore it. The table was set.

You sat excitedly at the table that was set with your best dishes, fresh flowers in a small vase he got you for Valentine's day, candles lit. Picture perfect.

“Be there soon.” The text from him read.

The text from two hours ago.
Three hours ago.
Four and a half hours ago.

The candles burned out. Dinner is cold, bad now. And you sit there with tears in your eyes. Stupid. You feel stupid. You told yourself that you should have known a case with Bruce would mean he wouldn't make it home in time for dinner, but you held out hope.

Everything gets angrily thrown into the garbage. Dinner, dessert, the candles, the flowers. You stack the dishes in the sink and spray them off with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Idiot…” you mumble under your breath before taking yourself to bed.

You're sleeping is interrupted several hours later, you didn't even hear Jason come home. But you definitely feel the way he slowly crawls over you in bed. One knee beside you, arms on either side of your head.

“Hey, hey-” he coos softly, voice rough when he feels you stirring.

“God I'm so sorry.” Jason kisses your temple before moving to the apple of your cheek, warm breath ghosting over your cool skin.

You're still angry, unbelievably so. But the second he's on you apologizing you deflate against your will. Of course you want to talk about what happened, be mad about it, but you also just want to be with him, want him to make you feel better.

“You didn't even text me.” You whisper.

“I know, I know. Two Face made a move an’ we went after him.” He's pressing his body weight against you, one hand on your waist while the other holds him up. He kisses down your cheeks to your jawline.

You tell yourself you can't be mad at him for that, you knew Red Hood came first - that's how it was since he was Robin and you knew that's how it would always be.

With a soft hum, mixing in with a sigh, you put your hands on the back of his neck. “You bailed on our anniversary.” You state it as a simple fact.

“I know, baby, I know. Trust me,” he kisses down the column of your throat and you tilt your head to the side, “I pray to God every day that I was different, that I could give you a normal life.” He presses an open mouthed kiss to your pulse.

“Don't want normal,” you breathe out a moan, “just want you.”

You feel Jason's lips twitch, like he's holding back a smile. “You got me, sweet girl.”

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I know you'd get all huffy and cute with me and tell me something stupid like I don't need to change. Part of me thinks I do. I still pray to God that I could have been different for you. Normal. Then maybe you'd still be here.

Jason sits back in the chair and just stares at the paper in front of him. Praying to God… Even growing up Catholic with everything that happened to him, continues to happen to him, he's not sure he believes in much of anything anymore. The only thing he knows for sure is that evil exists in the world.

But he still clearly remembers the last time he truly prayed.

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Jason was a mess, a wreck. He feels about as numb and dissociated as he did when he crawled his way out of his own grave. His mind was a foggy, jumbled mess. His head felt stuffy from crying as he made his way down the sidewalk. He was wandering aimlessly through Gotham. He wasn't even sure what time it was, just that it was dark and quiet on the street.

And then he stops, seeing a familiar set of steps out of his peripheral. He wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket before looking up at the massive cathedral before him. Without thinking Jason's body moves on autopilot, pulling him up the steps.

He ignores the voice on his head telling him to leave, that it wouldn't be open, not this late at night. His hand is on the handle pulling the heavy door open. The high walls feel overwhelming as his feet carry him to the pew at the front of the cathedral. He sits with a heavy slump. Ornate stained glass windows glare at him.

Jason's not sure why he's here. The last time he was here was when he came with you and your family for Christmas. While neither of you were heavily devout you had promised your mom you would bring Jason along for the family tradition.

His eyes are heavy and dry from crying. He stares half lidded at the statue of Jesus that stands in the very center of the apse. Part of him wants to scoff.

“What a load of shit.” He whispers to himself with a rough voice. He can't remember the last time he spoke out loud, something other than crying. He knows you would scold him with a smile on his face for swearing in church. He hates the thought.

With a sigh he folds his hands together and rests his elbows on his thighs, his forehead connects with his hands. He sits like that in silence for several minutes before the tears start back up.

“‘s not fair.” The words come out in a wet whisper. He shakes his head. “Why couldn't things be different? They should have been different. She should be here.” He sniffles loudly.

“Why couldn't I save her? Please,” he whispers desperately. He opens his red rimmed eyes and stares at the statue.

“Please, please.” His voice shakes with each syllable. His cries grow louder, unabashed, all consuming.

“Please bring her back. Please. She didn't deserve this- didn't deserve any of this. Not me, not my bullshit.” Jason's shoulders shake as he sobs.

“I ruined her… it's my fault. Please, you have to take me instead.” He begs like the statue of Jesus can simply snap its fingers and replace Jason with you.

“I already died once, dammit. Please! You have to take me instead. You gave me a second chance when I didn't deserve it! I came back! Why can't she? You have to bring her back! I have to make this right. I have to tell her I'm sorry, I-” he breaks.

Jason cries roughly. His arms fold over his thighs and he cradles his head in his hands. “I have to tell her how much I love her. Just one more time, please.” His voice cracks again. He's not sure how long he sits there crying but he lets himself do so freely.

He doesn't remember falling asleep on the hard bench that he barely fits on. The sound of a door opening jolts him awake. His back and hips are stiff and he's congested from crying himself to sleep. He swipes at his face with his jacket sleeve again. His head pounds from dehydration.

“Good morning,” comes a sudden voice. It's calm, gentle.

Jason's disoriented for a second before he blinks the sleep from his eyes, “Morning, Father. I'm sorry, I'm leaving right now.” He says in a mumble.

The priest shakes his head as he walks over to Jason, a warm smile on his face.

“What brings you here, Mr. Todd?” He asks. There's a sympathetic tone in his voice that makes Jason bristle.

“How do you remember my name?” Jason asks, voice nasally. “Haven't been here in months…”

“Of course I remember you. Your soul is troubled.”

Jason stiffens, “Don't think they give you one'a those the second time ‘round.” He grumbles.

He smiles softly at Jason again but says nothing, waiting for him to answer his question.

“I um… came to pray. I think.” Jason answers, looking down at his folded hands in his lap.

“You think? What were you praying for, son?” His voice is so sympathetic and gentle that Jason almost hates him for it.

“I-” he clears his throat, “I lost someone. Someone important to me.” And immediately the priest knows who he's talking about, having spoken with your family about your passing despite being no contact with them.

“Ah, I'm sorry to hear-”

“Why wasn't it me?” Jason blurts out before he can stop himself, cutting the priest off. He's momentarily taken back by Jason's outburst.
“It should have been me. It's my fault she's gone.”

The priest is silent before he speaks again, “He forgives you.” He offers softly.

Jason scoffs, “Yeah? Bullshit. He doesn't forgive me. How could he? She was so good, so perfect and I got her killed. Me. A good for nothing. He hates me for getting her killed, ruining her-” his chest tightens and suddenly it's hard to breathe. It's ragged and rough. He's spewing his own projections, his own feelings.

“Son,” the priest goes to place a comforting hand on Jason's shoulder but he's standing before he can.

“I have to go. I'm sorry, Father.” Jason murmurs before heavy footsteps lead him out of the church.

________________________________

Jason shakes his head and rubs his temple.

Praying doesn't do shit.

He slams the notebook closed.

Chapter Text

morning,
It's June 12th and I had the worst time getting out of bed this morning. I slept like shit. worse than usual. everything is just heavy lately I don't know. Christy brought up meds but I don't know

Jason doesn't bother much with punctuation, grammar, much of anything this morning. He's tired. To the very bottom depths of his soul he's tired.

His head has gotten longer along with his hair, his multicolored bangs hang over his eyes as he hunches over his desk to write.

made me think of you. is that fucked up? it feels fucked up. i’m sorry. didn't mean it in a bad way. just made me think of the times you had trouble getting out of bed too

________________________________

“Just a bad brain day…” you murmur to Jason when he asks why you're still in bed when he gets home from his morning run. He's worried more than anything else.

“Bad brain day?” He questions before sitting down next to you in bed. His hand is in the nape of your neck, his thumb massaging gently against your skin.

“Mhm,” is all you hum in response. Your bad depression days didn't happen as often as they used to, but when they did happen they were bad. Spending days rotting away in bed not eating, not taking care of yourself in any capacity, crying for hours on end over what seemed like nothing. Your chest feels heavy and tight and your stomach feels like it's full of lead.

Jason nods. You and him have been friends since you were kids, through all of it, he knows about your days - he's just never been there for you through them as your boyfriend.

The silence hangs heavy for a minute before you're crying. About what exactly you can't pinpoint. But before you know it Jason is taking off his workout tank top and shorts and is crawling into bed behind you. He wraps a strong arm around you and moves you around until your face is against his chest, and you let him. You're too goddamn tired to fight it.

One large hand cups the back of your head, the other trails up and down your spine in a soothing manner. The entire time he stays quiet letting you cry. He doesn't offer false promises that everything will be okay or that you're going to be fine. He just lets you feel, lets his actions silently promise that he's there for you.

It takes you about an hour to finally stop, tiring yourself out. You mumble a quiet apology before yawning and Jason responds with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you closer until you're fully laying on top of him and his arms snake around you completely. The pressure is a warm comfort that has you melting against him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your hands sandwiched between his back and the mattress.

“I got you, baby.” He whispers back. Another beat of silence before, “Wanna take a bath?”

“Don't wanna get up…”

“I'll carry you.”

“Don't wanna be alone,”

“I'm getting in with you.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile tug at your lips. You really don't want to get up and bathe but knowing he wants to join you makes the daunting task easier to overcome.

“Okay.” You finally whisper your agreement.

It's a tight squeeze with Jason's legs bent, one hanging over the side of the tub to make more room for you. You tell him it's fine, he can get out, but he insists. Your back against his chest with warm water lapping at your skin, he's right where he wants to be.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asks as he kneads your shoulders.

“‘m not hungry.” You answer as your head leans back against his solid chest.

“I know. Still need to eat though.” Jason kisses against your temple. “Something easy,” he leans his head back against the shower wall and closes his eyes, relaxing with his arms around your chest.

“Nothing sounds good.”

“I know,” is all he replies with but he's already thinking of at least six of your favorite foods that are easy to eat and digest.

After your bath Jason finds your comfort pajamas, one of his old shirts and your favorite pair of underwear and sweats. He doesn't bother you with brushing your teeth or deodorant, he knows that getting in the bath was exhausting enough and for that he's thankful.

He fills up your favorite cup with ice water and brings a smaller cup filled with juice and sets them on the table next to the bed. You lay there looking miserable, blanket pulled to your shoulders, just staring. He assumes you're dissociating.

“Dinners on the way.” He tells you quietly. The second he sees your eyes watering he's on his knees on the floor with one hand on your cheek.

“I don't deserve you.” You manage to choke out. You feel awful, miserable, like you're the lowest of the low. How did you end up with someone like him? Someone so caring and attentive without being overbearing.

“Hey,” Jason responds quietly, “you don't get to decide that, okay?” He leaves a tender kiss on your cheek.

________________________________

least it's not as bad as it was. after you died it all went to shit. it was horrible. i’m pretty sure the family was getting ready to send me to an inpatient facility. wouldn't have blamed them honestly. I probably needed it

Jason's beyond done with writing. He can feel it in the way his letters begin to morph together, some words half cursive.

________________________________

“Okay, here's the deal.” Dick looks pointedly from Tim to Damian to Duke. They're standing outside of yours and Jason's apartment door.

“It's probably not going to be good when we get in there. He's been MIA for two weeks. So just… don't react.” Dick tells the three.

“I mean, it's only been a couple of weeks since…” Duke trails off with a frown. Tim bumps his shoulder softly in a comforting way.

“Yes, yes, we understand Grayson. Do not tell him he smells like a public restroom or infantilize him.” Damian rolls his eyes. But underneath it all? He was nervous.

Dick nods with an exhale before unlocking the front door with his spare key.

The apartment is dark and stuffy. There's a smell permeating from somewhere. It's hard to tell if it's coming from the overflowing trash or the moldy dishes piled in the sink. The boys keep stoic expressions.

“Okay, I need light.” Duke finally says. Dick and Tim are making their way to the bedroom to find Jason when Duke opens the blinds on the windows.

Blankets and clothes are thrown haphazardly on the floor and furniture. All sorts of garbage litter the counters, coffee table, and the floor around the garbage can. Duke and Damian look at each other before Damian begins rummaging in the kitchen cupboard to look for garbage bags.
Silently the two begin cleaning the garbage and laundry around the apartment.

“Hey, Jaybird.” Dick greets quietly in the bedroom. Jason's massive form is laying face down on the bed. Beer bottles and cans take up every available inch of the bed side table and floor next to the bed. Protein and granola bar wrappers thrown around. Tim is pretty sure he sees ants coming in from the window but he doesn't say anything.

“The fuck do you want?” Jason's voice is muffled by the pillow.

“We came to check on you-”

“Did I ask you to?” Jason cuts Tim off with a sharp tone. Tim and Dick both falter.

“No.” Dick stands his ground.

“Then leave.”

“No.” Tim’s voice is firm.

There's quiet before Jason lets himself break. He's too tired to put up a fight.

“Please.” He begs his brothers.

Dick and Tim both soften, “No way,” Tim says in a more gentle tone.

“We're here to help.” Dick tells Jason. The only giveaway that Jason has begun crying is the way his shoulders shake.

“Oh, that is it!” Damian shrieks from the kitchen. “I am burning it down!”

“No, Damian, don't-!”

Damian barges into the bedroom where Dick has sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Jason's shaking shoulder.

“You! Todd!” Damian’s unaffected by seeing his older brother crying.

“You are getting in the shower-”

“I tried to stop him!” Duke pipes in.

“Because you stink like the harbor-”

“I swear I did!”

“And we,” he gestures to his three older brothers, "are cleaning your space! No arguing!” The youngest Wayne’s face is contorted into an angry scowl. Damian stalks out of the room muttering to himself.

“He touched a silverfish…” Duke explains with a sigh.

“They will eat her books, Todd! And then I will have to eat you!”

________________________________

I fought them tooth and nail about it. about taking care of myself. honestly though I think I needed dames to yell at me and kick my ass into gear. Dick would have just coddled me. treat me like a wounded bird. Duke and tim were way in over their heads.
you should have seen them baby. you would have loved it. they cleaned the entire apartment that day, forced me to shower and eat. felt like how I used to help you. only way more aggressive

Jason lets himself smile at the similarities before he closes his notebook. He knows that it's going to be a tough day for him, harder than usual. He knows he's going to wallow and cry and not take care of himself.

So before he gets himself back into bed he sends a message to the Batfam group chat.

Jay:
bad brain day
catch you guys tomorrow

Dick:
Let us know if you need anything!!!!!!!

Duke:
Always here for you 😊

Damian:
I will use Father's doordash to send you dinner since we all know you will be too weak to cook for yourself 🙄

B:
Get some rest, son. We'll see you tomorrow.
We love you.

Chapter Text

Hey babe
It's June 15. It's been three months today since I started therapy. I'm still going semi consistently. Christy says I've got a long way to go. Doesn't surprise me. I'm so fucked up that I'm sure an entire life's worth of therapy wouldn't even begin to scratch the surface. She said I'm doing alright though, said she can already see improvements. Apparently I don't say fuck as much as I used to or tell her how stupid her job is, how pointless it is. So maybe she's right. Getting into the routine of it though was horrible. Fitting appointments into everyday life, having a new person constantly in my life knowing everything about me. It was terrifying if I'm being honest. Kinda like when you moved in

Jason taps the end of his pen against his notebook and smiles to himself. He can't even remember the last time he actually smiled when he thought about you, a smile that didn't end in tears. It had been months now.

________________________________

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask Jason as you look around the bedroom confused. Your first few days living together were… rough. Finding space for all of the things you brought over, not wanting to get in the way while Jason insisted he would make room for your things no matter what.

Now he was staring at you, clothes and towel in your hands, like you had just told him to his face that he was adopted.

“What are you doing?” He answers your question with one of his own.

“Showering…” you answer him almost skeptically, not you're not sure if that's what he wants to hear or not.

“You shower first thing in the morning? We just woke up.”

“I mean… yeah? Is that a problem?” Where is this going, you thought.

“Okay well, I like to y'know… go to the bathroom first thing in the morning.”

You blink once and then again, “Can't it wait?”

“No.” He states simply.

“Okay well I'm not going to shower after you bomb the toilet.”

Jason barks out a laugh, “I'm not going to bomb it.”

“Don't lie!” You smile at his laugh, “I'll be fifteen minutes, okay? I promise I won't be long.” You're slowly inching your way towards the bathroom.

Jason's hand is on the blanket as he slowly uncovers himself. He looks like a predator ready to jump on its prey. You stand still, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Jay…” you tell him quietly, cautiously. A soft warning to not even think about what he's doing.

“Yeah, baby?” He smirks as he slowly climbs off the bed.

“Don't do it.” You know he's faster than you, stronger than you. You know he'll make it to the bathroom before you and you're sure he'd have no qualms about pushing you out of the way.

“Not doin’ nothin’, baby.” His smirk turns wicked.

You make a break for the bathroom. It's not even sixty feet away but you can hear Jason's feet catching up behind you.

With an adrenaline filled laugh you manage to get into the bathroom before Jason, slamming the door shut behind you just as his hands reach it.

“Oh come on!” Jason laughs as he slaps one palm against the wooden door.

“Guess your poop is gonna have to wait!” You sing song from the other side with a laugh.

“This ain't over,” He threatens, you can hear the smile in his voice. “I'll wake up before you tomorrow.”

You ignore him with a victorious smile and start your shower.

You're out not even twenty minutes later and open the bathroom door to the smell of fresh coffee. You smile warmly at the pleasant scent.

“Mm, coffee.” You hum, walking further through the apartment to the kitchen. Jason's leaning his hip against the counter taking a sip from his mug.

“Got you a cup.” He motions to the white mug next to him.

“Thanks, babe.” You smile and take the warm cup. “I'll make breakfast.” You tell him.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes. Breakfast.” You laugh softly. He acts like he's never heard the word before.

“I don't usually eat breakfast.” He mumbles.

You knew that already, but actually living with him and experiencing it for yourself? No way.

“Well, you do now.” You busy yourself around the kitchen.

“I can get used to this.” He smiles.

________________________________

Okay. That's a lie.

Jason smiles to himself again.

You moving in was probably the best thing to ever happen to me. Even with all of the bumps we faced. Getting used to each other's routines and making new ones. I was never happier….

________________________________

“I don't want to do this… I won't do this.” Jason stares at his phone with a shaking hand. He was a wreck. He can't remember the last time he ate. Some insane, or what he thought was some insane, part of him was ready to push the dial button on his phone. Telling him to reach out, that he needs help.

He stares at the therapist's card that Bruce had given him, the one he handed to him just weeks ago and said “when you're ready, chum”.

Talking about it with a therapist made it more real. Made it a fact that you were gone and he was struggling and needed help.

But he knows he can't continue on the way he was. Being angry, blaming himself, withdrawing away from his family. His heart pounds in his chest, he was more than nervous to make the call. He was scared.

He dialed, taking the plunge.

His appointment was two weeks later and was far different than what he was expecting. When Jason imagined therapists he imagined stuffy, holier than thou, old people. Not the woman with dyed hair, piercings, and tattoos sitting in front of him.

“So Jason,” Christy smiles warmly, “what made you decide to reach out?”

________________________________

I hate getting used to everything without you. Some days I don't think about the fact I don't have to race to the bathroom first thing in the morning. Other days it's harder getting out of bed in the morning knowing you aren't here to whine at me. For a long time I stopped eating breakfast because you weren't there to cook for us. I started again and it's horrible. Who likes cooking that early in the morning? You're psychotic.

Jason lets out an amused huff through his nose and runs his hand through his hair.

I miss you. She was right. Christy. Writing to you is getting easier. She suggested getting a new hobby too. I told her I read but she said it needs to be something we didn't do together. That way I'm not thinking of you the entire time. But I don't know. Maybe she'll be right about that too. I told Dick maybe I'll start drawing like Damian. Steph suggested getting into tattooing. Imagine that huh.

Jason hums in thought for a moment.

Maybe I can start writing. Write a book or something. Guess we'll see.

Chapter Text

Jason spent most of his mornings in silence these days. He has a routine now. Wake up, bathroom, coffee, journal. But today is different. Today marks two years since you've been gone. And honestly? Jason isn't in the mood to write down what he's feeling. He isn't in the mood to make coffee or shower or do much of anything.

And the family, without even needing to hear from him, can sense it.

Jason hates how in tune they can be when he gets a call from Dick. Of course he picks up, Dick never calls unless there's an emergency.

“Hey, let's grab coffee and breakfast at that shitty place downtown.”

“Why would I go if it's shitty?”

“Okay well, I know you're going to call it shitty. I think they have really good bagels. Let's go, I'll meet you there in fifteen.” Jason can hear Dick's sympathetic smile and he wants to punch his brother's perfect smile through the phone.

“Who says I even want to spend time with you?” Jason's question comes out sharper, meaner, than he wants it to. He winces to himself at Dick’s silence.

“That's clear across town.” He mumbles to make up for the quiet, "Won't make it in fifteen.” Jason grumbles but he's already digging through his closet for something clean to wear.

“Sure you will. See you then.” Dick hangs up and Jason sighs.

But Dick is right, of course. After breaking multiple traffic laws on his bike he makes it to the cafe in thirteen minutes. He's parking it on the street when he sees Dick walking over to him with a warm smile.

“Told you,”

“Shut it.”

The two walk down the street after getting their coffee and pastries in tense silence. Not a bad one, but one that Jason wants desperately to ignore.

“So,” Dick speaks up.

And then time stands still. Dick stiffens because surely there's no way. He's on guard immediately. Jason, on the other hand, drops everything he's holding. His heart stops. He feels sick to his stomach and his knees feel weak.

“Dick,” he rasps out in a whisper. His hand reaches for his brother in a way to ground himself.

“I know.” Dick whispers back. “It's not. It can't be.”

The flow of the crowded sidewalk parts around them as if they were just an obstacle in the way. Two grown men stopped dead center in the sidewalk

Staring at you.

“It's not-”

“It can't be-” They both speak at the same time.

“What the fuck?” Jason whispers.

It's you. You. Standing there at the end of the sidewalk, like a ghost, in the outfit you wore on the day you died. You just stood there, staring.

Jason knows, logically, that it's not you. They had found your body, had you cremated, you were in an urn on his dresser safe at home in his dresser. His breath catches and his eyes fill with tears. And before he can stop himself, before Dick can even stop him, he's jogging down the sidewalk towards you.

You turn the corner as he gets closer and Jason calls your name, desperately trying to get you to stop.

“Please don't-!” He turns the corner, the same one you rounded just a second prior and for a moment he loses you in the crowd. Dick is hot on his trails and with a pant he points.

“There. She crossed the street.”

“Shit,” Jason crosses over with Dick behind him. He's already sending over texts about what's happening.

You're fast, faster than Jason remembers. You were never able to outrun him, let alone Dick as well. Yet here you were, running down the sidewalk away from them. Jason feels like he's in a never ending nightmare, the kind where you're running down a hallway that gets longer and longer with each step.

The two aren't sure how far they run, their surroundings begin to blur together as their focus is on you. It's only when Dick sees the warehouse uphead that he begins to slow down, his hand on Jason's shoulder to stop him.

“Jay, wait-” he pants.

Jason watches desperately as you run to the warehouse.

“Let me go!” Jason shrugs his shoulder away from Dick who grabs hold again.

“No. No!” Dick is stern, he turns Jason around to face him. “We have to think about this. It's obviously a trap. Jay that's not-” his voice wavers.

Jason visibly swallows, “I- but what if it is? What if I can save her this time?”

Dick shakes his head, “You can't. Because that's not her.” Saying it out loud feels like swallowing glass. “You know it's not. I know it's not.” He continues on. “We have to think about this.” He repeats.

“But-” Jason whines. He needs it to be you, needs you to be here with him again.

“Bruce and Tim are on their way.” Dick tells him. “We can't just rush in there, okay?”

Jason feels some sort of relief knowing Dick isn't stopping him completely from barging into the warehouse. Jason nods. He tells himself he needs to be logical but his mind is at war with itself.

“Good. Give me just a second, I'm calling Babs.” Dick says before taking a few steps away, keeping Jason in his eyesight. Jason runs a hand through his hair and paces anxiously.

“Okay.” Dick comes back. “Babs has eyes on the warehouse. She's only picking up on one heat source which means they're likely alone. Bruce and Tim are five minutes out-”

“Motherfucker,” Jason growls out, “we can take him. Easy. He's a p-”

“Easy there,” Dick puts on a hand on Jason's shoulder again to reel him back in. “We can. I'll let Bruce know. But when we get in there don't… don't freeze up on me, okay?”

“I won't.” Jason grits through his teeth. He's pulling his pistol, tucked neatly in the back of his jeans. Dick scrunches his eyebrows together.

“You seriously have that on you? We went out for coffee.”

“Never leave home without it.”

“Yeah…that checks…” Dick sighs before pulling an escrima stick from his boot. Jason lets himself smirk before the two walk to the warehouse.

Jason and Dick stand on either side of the warehouse door before Dick nods an okay to Jason. He proceeds to aim his gun, cocked and ready, before kicking the warehouse door open.

And there you are. In the dark with only one singular light overhead. You're tied to a chair with ropes and you look so defensiveless and small and real.

________________________________

Jason's taken back in time to the moment he first saw you on the screen in the Batcave. The room you were being held in was dark with only a single light above you. You were tied to a chair and blindfolded. Slowly Joker walks into frame from behind you, crowbar in hand.

Jason is visibly shaking, the entire family watched with bated breaths.

“Where is she?” Bruce demands in a quiet voice.

“I- I don't know. I don't know, I'm trying.” Babs is heard through the comms. Her voice shakes as she typed furiously at her computer. “I can't pinpoint them-”

“That's not good enough.” Bruce is having trouble keeping his anger in check. No one can blame him.

Jason feels like he's going to throw up. The decades old blood on the crowbar has iodized, turning into a deep dark color.

“Hello, chat!” Joker gets close to the camera he's using to livestream his little event. He laughs in amusement. “My special guest here today is none other than Red Hood’s soon to be wife. Isn't that something?”

He casually strolls toward you and Jason's hands ball into tight fists.

“Don't touch her, don't touch her-” he's repeating quietly through clenched teeth.

“I didn't even get a wedding invite! I was heartbroken,” Joker goes on dramatically. He trails a finger over your jaw and you jerk your head away from him, teeth bared.

“Baba, let me go after him. I will burn down every building until I find him-” Damian is cut off by Dick shaking his head, silently telling him to stay quiet, that his outburst wasn't helping.

“Feisty.” Joker laughs again at how quickly you jerk away from him, before bringing the crowbar up to your cheek. “Robin, sorry-” he cuts himself off with a smirk, “Red Hood acted the same way. You two are just simply made for each other. Adorable.”

“I'll fucking kill him.” Jason spits.

“I think I almost have him.” Babs tells the family.

Steph and Cass stand beside Tim at the Batcomputer, Steph crying as Cass holds onto her.

“Do you think you can come back to life too?” Joker whispers in your ear. You rear your head back enough to headbutt his temple.

“Ow!” Joker reels back, holding his head.

“Alright, enough of that.” He spits before he brings the crowbar down against your thigh with a sickening crunch.

“Fuck!” You wail, your tears stain the fabric covering your eyes.

“Mother fucker!” Jason erupts back at the cave as he watches the livestream. “I'm going to fucking kill him, B!” He's already reaching for his helmet.

“Hold on, we don't know where she is.” Dick interjects.

“I don't fucking care. I'm not going to sit around and watch this when I can be out looking for her.” Jason snaps back at Dick.

Jason turns to look at the screen in time to see Joker right up close, like he knows Jason is watching.

“Poll time.” He sing songs. “Who thinks the little birdy’s girlfriend should die?”

The room swells with an aggressive tension. Every single comment on the livestream that pours in is a flood of yeses. Jason's blood runs cold. He's on the verge of throwing up again.

“No…” he whispers.

“You heard the people!” Joker laughs maniacally and saunters back over to you. “Any last words for your love bird?”

“Please, please-” but you're not talking to Joker, you're not begging him. You know, that if he's out there watching, Jason is blaming himself. And even in your final moments the last thing you want is for Jason to be taking any sort of blame for what's about to happen.

Joker rolls his eyes and pulls your blindfold down and Jason's heart stops. This can't be happening, he refuses to believe it. He's questioning everything.

How did the Joker find you? How did he know you were with Jason? If only he had been more careful, protected you better-

“Tick tock.” Joker muses as he begins to pull out his revolver.

“I love you,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

BAM!

“No.” Jason takes a faltering step. “I found them!” Babs speaks at the same time. Steph lets out a surprised yelp. Bruce slams his hand against the desk. “What the-” Tim whispers. It all happens in slow motion.

“Jay?” Dick asks in anguish, turning in time to catch Jason who's falling to his knees.

“No, no, no-” Jason shakes his head. His voice is strangled and choked and no one's ever heard him sound so small before.

“Baba?” Damian’s voice quivers, his eyes are glued to the screen.

There you're sat, tied to that damn metal chair. Your head hangs forward as blood drips down your face.

Jason's hand slams against the concrete floor. Once. Twice. A third time. Dick stops him when he hears the all too familiar crunch of bones breaking.

________________________________

“No-” Jason breathes.

“Shit,” Dick's own voice stammers.

Then they hear it. The all too familiar sound of Joker’s laughter.

“Oh, how delightful! Two birds with one stone today? This couldn't have gone any better if I tried.” Joker steps out from behind the shadows.

“She said only one heat signature..” Dick whispers to himself.

“I'm so glad you're here to see your beloved die in person this time ‘round. I'm still upset I wasn't invited to the wedding.”

Jason's mouth is dry, his head is spinning. Dick takes a step forward.

“Why are you doing this?” He demands.

Joker stands beside you, his gun pointed to your temple again and Jason is frozen in place. He can't breathe let alone move.

“Why?” Joker laughs. “For putting me back in Arkham. And for fun, I suppose. It's always a good time celebrating anniversaries!”

He's quick to pull the trigger again. Dick and Jason both lunge forward, crying out. But instead of dying, again. Instead of watching your skull and blood splatter against the concrete, you begin to turn to a sickly orange matter.

“You said you wouldn't shoot!” Clayface pouts at Joker. Jason and Dick stop in their tracks in shock.

“Oh calm down, not like it can kill you.” Joker rolls his eyes petulantly.

Jason is seeing red. His vision is focused on Joker and Joker alone. He doesn't see Dick next to him with his hands reaching for Jason's arm, he doesn't see Clayface making a move to get out of the way.

All he sees is Joker’s surprised smile, like he's excited, as Jason raises his gun and pulls the trigger. He feels like he's moving in slow motion.

A second later everything rushed into him like a tidal wave.

“What did you do?” Dick whispers as Joker's body hits the floor in a spine chilling thump.

“What I should have done the first time he killed her.” Is what Jason replies before dropping his gun to the cement floor.

All of Jason's progress, all of the hard work he put into getting through his process of grieving was gone in an instant. Shot dead, just like the love of his life.

But this? His progress, his hard work, the months he spent pushing to get better, for you, only to have it all taken away from him in the blink of an eye because of a deranged clown? He wasn't going to grieve any of it.