itslazpitgreen

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Jason always had his nose in a book. 

But it hadn’t always been that way.

He can barely remember it; that time in his life was fuzzy and faded and just barely there. Gotham summers never had much sun: they traded it for humidity and an unfortunate amount of crime. And, in a sad, one bedroom rundown apartment in Crime Alley, young Jason and his mother did anything they could to escape the heat of their home without putting themselves in harm's way. 

And home it was. Back then, it had felt normal. Just him and his mom against the world. 

Trips to the Gotham Public Library were a common occurrence in the Todd household. Not only was it air conditioned, but there was a time where the library held public book readings for the local kids. This was quickly put to rest, however, as it became an easy target for the many, many criminals Gotham housed.   

But the few summers it happened, Jason was always present, eyes glued, enthralled by the tales of knights and princesses and dragons and kingdoms. Soon, he got bored. Those stories were the same thing, over and over again. With his mother catching up on much needed sleep in an uncomfortable looking chair, Jason would slip away. 

He did this a lot. His mom was always so tired. She needed a doctor, but they couldn’t afford it. Sleep would have to do. There wasn’t much else either of them could do, anyway.

He wandered the shelves without much purpose until someone took notice. A short, frail librarian with glasses far too big for her face and forever sliding down her nose.

“Young man.”

Bracing for a scolding, Jason quickly stuck his hands to his sides, trying to seem as small as he could manage. Folding in on himself, he’d look up at her through his black lashes.

 “Do you need some help?”

“No, ma’am. Just… Just looking.” He’d mutter, kicking his foot at the stained carpet. She snorted. Startled, he’d glance up and see a small smile stretched on the woman’s face. All the wrinkles of her skin fell into place, and he could tell that this was someone who’d spent many years laughing and smiling. A small, sheepish smile of his own crept onto his lips without his say so, and he relaxed. Just a bit, but more than he ever did in the presence of anyone other than his mom.

“Actually,” He backtracked. “I do.”

The rest was history, as cliche as that sounds.

The woman, Susan, was a widowed librarian who’d worked at the library longer than Jason had been alive. She’d walked him through the steps of getting a library card.

“What’s your address, dear?” Her fingers clacked on the old keyboard, the desktop an unsightly, chunky box. “And I’ll need a guardian’s signature.”

After rattling off his address (And he saw that wince, Susan. Nice try hiding that. His apartment was just fine, thanks), Jason winced. His mom really needed that sleep, and he did not want to be the one to wake her up. If he did, she’d be grumpy all day. 

He’d be grumpy if he was in constant pain, too. Sleep was her only escape. He just wished that it didn’t have to be so often… He missed having his mom around. It felt like he’d lost her to it long before he actually did.

Studying Jason’s face, Susan tutted and turned towards the old computer, once again clacking away at the keyboard.

“Just this once, boy,” She peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “I get you this card, and you make sure you stay out of trouble, deal?”

Jason’s cheeks hurt from how hard he was grinning. “Right, lady. I promise, no trouble here.”

“Don’t lose it,” Susan warned, squinting at him. “I won’t be able to get you a new one for a while yet.”

Jason puffed out his chest. 

“I won’t, I won’t, promise.” He crossed his heart with his finger.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Susan sighed. Standing, she rounded the desk and knelt down in front of Jason, a soft smile on her face.

“Let’s go find you a book, okay?”

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Susan became routine. And, for Jason, that was something dangerously close to family. She helped him with any words he got stuck on, and she always had interesting questions to ask him regarding what book he had just finished. 

He was never bored at the library. Day after day, he followed Susan around like a lost chick, blabbering on and on about whatever book she’d recommended, and did she know that there was another book in the series?

Learning the library’s system of sorting was fun, in its own way. The sorting itself was boring, but he loved it for a different reason. 

It was nice to know he wasn’t alone. 

Susan led him around, showing him what went where and why, while his mom rested in a nearby seating area. Every now and again, Jason would peek over and make sure she was alright. Susan quickly went from “ma’am!” to “Susan, that book SUCKS. What were you thinking–”

And, at 4:00, like clockwork, he’d go wake his mom and they’d quickly make the trek home, heads down and hands free, just in case.

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And then his mom got worse.

It started with her sleeping even more than usual. Not enough for him to be truly concerned, but enough for him to notice. She’d sleep, and sleep, and sleep, and, before he knew it, Jason’s mom was no longer bringing him to the library.

That wasn’t enough to stop him, of course. What ten year old boy doesn’t get up to mischief when his mom isn’t paying attention?

After checking, perhaps pointlessly, that his mom was still asleep, Jason would slip out of their apartment window and onto the rickety fire escape. Stepping carefully over any broken, sharp pieces of metal, Jason made the careful trek to the library, ducking under awnings and behind trash cans at the sound of any voices. He’d grown up here, and he knew he really shouldn’t be out and about by himself, regardless of how bright it was outside. The thick smog of Gotham blocked out the sun, anyway, so he had some modicum of darkness to work with.

Finally, with his heart beating a mile a minute, Jason had made it to the concrete steps of the library.

He’d continued to sneak out, over and over, until eventually he’d stopped checking if his mom was sleeping. She always was.

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Getting home after the library closed like usual, Jason made the treacherous climb up the fire escape and slipped into their apartment like he always did. Voices down the hall made him pause.

“Cat, you gotta pay me what you owe,” A man sighed, voice scratchy and low. “The big man ain’t gonna be happy with you if you keep buyin’ without payin’.”

“I know,” The drowsy voice of his mother responded, hesitant. “Can’t this wait? My son is home, I don’t want him hearing this.”

The man and his mother continued to speak, but Jason couldn’t hear them.

His mom was using again? But… She’d promised, promised that she would stay clean for him. So she could be there. Everything was closing in and it felt like Jason was underwater.

Before he knew it, rational thought returned, and he found himself on the steps of the library. He didn’t know how he got there. He didn’t dwell on it for too long.

He knew he should go home. But, if he took a few wrong turns on his way, that was no one’s business but his own.

His days continued like this. A routine he didn’t like.

He’d find her used needles. She’d be dead to the world. And he felt like everything was underwater.

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“You look tired, Jason.”

“Stayed up reading.”

Susan never believed him.

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Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not books. Not tomorrow.

His mom spent all her time sleeping or talking to the various strange men who would appear at their door. They’d apparently figured something out, some kind of deal.

He didn’t listen as the men followed his mother into her bedroom.

And, like everything does, it soon ended.

When the cops found his mother’s body, every visible vein blown, Jason was nowhere to be found.

No one cared enough to look. 

The world kept moving, anyway.

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The library was the last thing on his mind. 

But what about Susan? A traitorous part of him whispered. She’s probably worried about you. Heard about your mom, could only assume the worst. 

She’d wonder where you went. It paused. Or, at least where your body is.

Jason had better things to think about. Like a place to sleep, or clean water to drink. He’d grown up here, sure, but he wasn’t used to being a street kid. 

The other street kids didn’t make it easier. Every hideout was already claimed and every trashcan already dug through.

Without noticing, Jason turned eleven.

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This would be his big break, he thought, tire iron in hand. Who wouldn’t pay big bucks for a wheel from THE Batman’s car? And, y'know, that’s on him for being dumb enough to leave it unattended. At least he’s not stealing it. 

Before he knew it, he had the whole goddamn tire off. He thinks he might’ve seen the other street kids staring in awe. Yeah, that shows you to look down on Jason Todd.

A shadow fell above him, and Jason slowly turned, stomach dropping.

Uh oh.

Batman had come back for his car. And the tire Jason had been rolling.

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Jason didn’t really want to think about his time living with Bruce.

It hadn’t ended well, after all.

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So here he was, on the steps of the library. It’d been… God, almost 14 years. 

He’d never been so hesitant in his life. But, it was his life, and he couldn’t avoid it forever.

it was the smell that he’d noticed first. Of course, it hadn’t changed.

Then, the front desk. And finally, the person sat there. 

It wasn’t Susan.

Though he’d expected it, nothing could’ve stopped the tightness in his chest. Instead of Susan, there sat Barbara Gordon, wheelchair and all.

Glancing up, her green eyes met his.

“You!” She pointed. “Stay right where you are.”

After such ominous words, Barbara quickly wheeled off.

Stunned, Jason didn’t move.

Before long, She’d returned, with a small glass dish sat in her lap. Reaching forward, she set the dish onto the desk, facing him.

On it was a small label, yellowed and worn with time.

For Jason, it read.

I’m getting older, and my legs aren’t what they used to be. If I’m not around, feel free to take one.

Inside the dish sat several folded slips of paper.

I’ve written all of my favorites here. You still need a good companion in my absence, and what better than a book?

Barbara looked away, pretending to busy herself with the computer. 

Turning around, Jason cleared his throat, wiped his face (It was sweat, goddammit), and rolled his shoulders.

Grabbing something out of his pocket, Jason slid it across the desk.

“Will…” His voice caught. “Will I need this renewed?”

The faded library card sat innocently on the desk, a young boy with a toothy smile and a crooked nose beside the name Jason Todd.

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i love making my favorite guys sad

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