#jasontoddweek2025

“Kiddo, we gotta get out of here, please…” He got ahold of her ankle and began gently pulling her toward him.

She shrieked, sobbing and kicking at his face.

“Ah! Hey, come on … oh, … is it the helmet you're scared of?” He sighed, releasing her, and she scurried back against the wall.

He quickly snapped the helmet off, crouching down so she could see his face. “Look, no helmet. See? I'm just a guy. I just want to help you.”

She sniffled, slowly looking back at him. She didn't look less scared, her eyes landed on his scarred cheek and stayed there, but she did let him fish her out from under the bed. He held her in his arms, smiling gently. “Alright, let's go find your mama, yeah?”

He ran out the door, the girl clinging to his leather jacket. The stairs down were engulfed in fire, so he ran up to the roof. He popped his helmet back on, ignoring the girl's whimpers, and shot a grappling hook at the neighboring building. “Hold tight, kid.”

She clung to him, screaming in terror as they descended. He landed hard on his knees, thrown off balance by her squirming, but she was uninjured. A woman ran over, pulling the girl out of his arms. 

“Emmy! Oh god, honey are you ok?” She glanced at Red Hood, backing away as she pulled her crying daughter closer to her chest.

“Mommy! Mommy, the monster-” Hood stopped listening. He carefully got up, cracking his aching joints, and backed away. He vaguely heard Nightwing over the comms, but he wasn't going to respond. He couldn't. He needed to go. Now.

Hood made his way over to his bike. It roared to life and in an instant he was gone. He drove fast, letting the wind wash over him, as if it could drag away the words playing over in his mind. A dozen voices, all saying the same thing; monster. He was a monster. It didn't bother him when the thugs selling at the high schools said it. It was usually the last thing they could say. It didn't bother him when Bruce admonished him to not act like a monster, B was just worried. B couldn't fathom how Jason could come back from some of his actions, he could only call them monstrous. 

It didn't even bother him when the villain of the week tried to claim he was more like them than his family. Most of them just liked playing mind games, they would say anything to get under his skin. No, all that was fine. But when civilians saw him in the mask, and all they saw was a monster … that stung. Red Hood was harsh, and aggressive, and violent, but he wasn't directionless. It wasn't random, uncontrolled violence. He chose his targets carefully, and he did it for them. To defend the defenseless. He wasn't a monster, he wasn't!

Beep! The Bluetooth in his helmet chirped at him, and then her voice poured through; “Jay? Oracle said you ran off. You ok?”

He sighed softly. Just the sound of her voice had the tension starting to ease out of his muscles. “Hey Doll … I'm ok … just wasn't anything else I could do …”

“... Ok. You comin' home?” She sounded a bit incredulous.

“... Soon. Gotta drive a bit…”

“... Wanna meet up? I could use the practice on my bike.”

“No, you shouldn't be seen driving with … one of us. I'll be home soon.”

“Ok baby. Love you.”

He sighed softly. “Love you more…”

The call ended, and he continued driving, just doing circles around her neighborhood at this point. After a while he parked at a safehouse, got changed, and used the tunnels underneath to get to a second safehouse. Jason's personal bike was parked out front, and he drove to her place.

She greeted him at the door, a bright smile on her face. When her hands clasped around his, he felt the last of the tension slip away, leaving him putty in her hands. She guided him to the dining room and into a chair. She set a plate in front of him, a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup, and stood behind him. He ate slowly, and her hands lovingly ran through his hair and began massaging his neck and shoulders.

A soft groan escaped his lips as she worked, and slowly he started to feel human again. “... How do you do that?”

“Do what, my love?” She kissed the top of his head.

“... All the bad shit just … melts away, when you're with me.”

She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his jaw. “That’s ‘cause I got you, and you got me. Right, pretty boy?~”

He chuckled softly, looking up at her in wonder; “... Right. I got you, and you got me, ma.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Even on an early April afternoon, the cemetery grounds are cold and the sky is an overcast gray. It rains plenty in Gotham, but somehow, the water never seems to make it to the flora; the flowers are always wilted, and the grass is perpetually yellow and rough. On one of the cemetery’s mild hills, there lies a patch of freshly turned soil. Above this patch sits gravestone carved like an angel, her hands pressed together in prayer, and an empty coffin sitting six feet below the Earth.

Jay doesn’t how long he’s been standing here—whether it was since yesterday or for years—but he’s here now, an incorporeal hand resting on the stone folds of the angel’s dress as he watches a man approach his grave.

The stranger seems to startle when he sees Jay, but then his shoulders slump in resignation. “Hi, Jay,” he says. When the stranger speaks, Jay’s world seems to slide into focus.

“Who are you?” Jay asks, tilting his head to the side. He observes the stranger’s tired eyes—a blue so similar to Jay’s own, but tinged with the barest hint of green—and wild black hair with a streak of white at the front. Jay registers the hard lines of the man’s jaw, so similar to Willis’s, and the grimace that seems set into his face. Then, his gaze travels down to see the scuffed leather jacket, the muscles honed by years of fighting, the scars crisscrossing the man’s forearms.

“I’m you,” Jason says, spreading his arms wide. “Don’t like what you see?” He snorts. “Don’t worry, I don’t either.”

In a flash, Jay is sitting atop the angel’s shoulder, looking down at—at Jason. At himself, but older and stronger and harder. Even though his heart is nothing more than whisps of a memory, Jay feels his pulse pick up. “Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. This is my place.”

“Good question.” Jason steps forwards, casually treading on his own grave, and plucks one of the stones Bruce left off the base of the gravestone. Tossing it in the air and catching it, Jason grins. “I came to tell you that I’m going to make them pay.”

Them. Jay tilts his head again, trying to understand. Jay knows about revenge, knows the fire that flowed through his veins when he saw his mother’s dealer, when he learned that Two-Face killed his father, when he fought Garzonas. If the Joker stole someone he cared about from him, he would feel that same desire for revenge.

But the Joker didn’t kill someone Jason cared about. Just Jay.

Jason tosses the stone and catches it again. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

“That’s mine,” Jay says, pointing to the stone. “Bruce gave it to me. Put it back.” It’s a silly thing, to be attached to a rock. But it’s one of the only things Jay has, these days. The jagged stones Bruce collected from the cemetery grounds, an empty coffin, and gravedirt. And this one is something Bruce gave him. A gift from his almost-father.

 “Bruce gave you a lot of things,” Jason says, continuing to throw the stone. Toss. Catch. “Including a funeral shroud.”

Jay still doesn’t understand. It must show, because Jason gestures to Jay’s torn, bloody uniform.

“Robin,” Jason clarifies.

“Robin is magic!” Jay shoots forwards, and then he’s standing in front of his older self, his pointer finger less than an inch from Jason’s chest.

Jason throws back his head and laughs.

“Stop it!” Jay stamps his foot, but he lacks the substance to make a sound, let alone shake the ground beneath him. “Stop it, Jason, stop it!”

Jason gasps for air. “Good one kid.” He shakes his head. “Robin is a death sentence. Because you know what? After everything the Joker did to you, Jay, he’s still there. Still in Arkham, laughing his crazy head off. Still in here.” Jason taps his temple with his pointer finger, then raises his thumb and pulls his hand away like the kickback of a gun. “Blam.” Jason laughs again. “Bruce never avenged you. He never even cared about you. You were nothing to him.”

Toss. Catch. “Then why are you still holding his rock?”

Jason drops the stone like it’s a hot coal, then kicks it away with his foot. Jay tries to pick it up, but his hand passes through it and he slumps in defeat. “I’m going to make Bruce pay,” Jason hisses. “Him and the Joker.”

“I don’t want that,” Jay says. “I never asked for that.”

Jason goes from one to a hundred in an instant, just like Willis always did. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Jay flinches away. “You’re just a figment of my imagination!”

“Actually,” Jay says quietly, “I think you’re just a figment of mine.”

“Like hell.”

Jay steps forwards. “You’re just a cheap copy of Willis, a teenager pretending he’s all big and strong and grown up. Laughing like the Joker. Going off about revenge, monologuing. You’re a caricature, Jason. You’re not real.” Jason tries to grab Jay by the throat, and for a moment, Jay’s heart freezes in terror. But then Jason’s hand passes straight through and Jay giggles. “Look at you. Attacking a child, like it’ll make you a real man.”

“Fuck you!” Jason shouts. His voice dissipates into the cemetery’s cold air. “We were never a child, we were a fucking soldier in Bruce’s fucking war and we fucking died for it!”

“We were Robin!” Jay screams right back. “We were magic!”

“You’re not even real!” Jason insists, covering his ears like it’ll stop him from hearing Jay’s voice.

Jay sticks out his tongue. “More real than you.”

“I’m Jason Todd! You’re just ‘Jay’! You’re in my head and I’m not crazy so go the fuck away!”

Jay crosses his arms and huffs out a breath of cold air. “Yeah, I’m Jay. The one with the nickname. The real person. Jay Wayne.” Jason lunges forwards again, but this time, Jay doesn’t even flinch. “I’m Robin. You’re just some kid playing dress-up.”

Jason screams wordlessly, then doubles over, hands on his knees, as he catches his breath. “I’m real. I’m real. Fuck you. I’m real.” He clenches his fists and looks down at Jay to meet his eyes. Jay shivers. “I’m going to give Bruce a choice between me and the Joker. And he’s going to have to choose. And then you’ll see how little we mean to him. Maybe then you’ll finally fucking die.” Jason’s fist flies at the gravestone, hitting it with a sickening crack. Fear shoots through Jay’s chest, and before he knows it, he’s behind the gravestone, peeking out at his older self. Jason’s face goes pale like the corpse that he is. “Wait. Kid. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I didn’t come here to argue with myself.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Jay whispers, still hiding.

“To read you a bedtime story,” Jason says. “You died today, after all. Figured you could use something to help you fall asleep.”

“That’s dumb,” Jay says, but he still slips out from behind the cracked angel statue and sits on the barren earth of his grave, crisscross-applesauce. 

Jason sits across from him, mimicking his position, and pulls a book out of his jacket. Bridge to Terabithia.

“Why that one?” Jay asks, eyes wide. “That’s a sad story.”

“Life’s a sad story, Jay,” Jason says. He sighs. “Because…because you said it yourself: Robin is magic. And magic never comes without a cost.”

“I want a happy story,” Jay pouts.

“Tough luck.” Jason opens the book to the first page. “This is what you’re getting.”

“But—”

Jason stands up gracefully, and for a moment Jay thinks Jason will leave him here in this graveyard, alone forever and ever and ever. But instead, the man—teenager, really—picks up the stone he kicked aside.

“You gotta use your left hand,” Jay says. “Bruce always uses his left hand.”

Jason sighs but transfers the stone to his left hand and places it back on the grave with a pointed look. Then, he sits back down and opens Bridge to Terabithia again. Jay doesn’t protest.