Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Maybe return to Gotham was a mistake.

The streets he used to know like the back of his hand were now unfamiliar and uncomfortable, very different from the home he once knew even though they conveyed almost the same feeling.

As a child, Jason had walked this city, allowed to experience the best and worst it had to offer; he had lived among these streets and walked them in many ways: scared, hungry, excited, angry, happy.

Now, as he moved through the shadows of Gotham, a weight settled in his stomach as he realized that this was no longer his city at all. Gotham had changed without him, and it would continue to do so.

His steps slowly stopped at the side of an old building, green eyes cataloging the differences between today and her childhood. Everything was different and, in its own way, it hurt.

A smirk formed on his face as he walked towards a specific corner, memories of another life looming in his mind; if he concentrated he could still feel the pangs of hunger and the steely determination that kept him alive when he was just a child.

Shaking his head slightly, Jason walked away from that place, walking towards his apartment while keeping his emotions from overflowing, forcing the lump in his throat to disappear and convincing himself that nothing bad was going to happen to him now.

It took him a while to calm down, to focus on his breathing and touching his clothes to stay sane, in the present. He came back to himself to realize that, at some point, it had started to rain; out of the corner of his eye he could see people running to avoid getting wet any longer than necessary.

With a stifled curse he opened the door to his apartment and took shelter.

Gotham had changed a lot, but at the same time it remained so much the same that the knowledge hurt; people continued to shelter from the rain in the same way, they continued to hang out with the same criminals and people continued to suffer the same misfortunes.

A dull thud sounded in the apartment as Jason dropped his head against the wall, exhaustion and nostalgia giving way to blinding rage so strong he wanted to tear his skin off just to stop feeling it.

A scream of rage burst from his lips, so inhuman that if the white-hot anger did not cover everything it would never have been uttered, but the rain, the place, everything was a giant trigger for his fragmented mind.

Anger grew with each clap of thunder and desperation unbalanced him more and more, his hands grabbed the first piece of furniture he reached and squeezed it tightly, subduing out of pure spite the confusing memories of his resurrection, destroying every part of himself that wanted to take advantage of being in Gotham and run for the protection of Batman, Bruce, his father.

He hated that despite everything that had happened he still had hope in that man, that deep inside him there still resided parts of that child who despite dying and being betrayed still wanted to trust. 

As if trust and hope hadn't killed him in the first place.

He should have stopped having hope when the terror of dying suffocated underground gained strength upon his return, when no one broke into the league looking to help him, when he discovered that Batman replaced him less than six months after his death, when the Joker continued killing, hurting and no one did anything.

But here he was with anger, pain, and hope that his father would do the one thing he couldn't do to be at peace, to never be afraid again.

He hoping Bruce would kill the Joker.

No matter what lines he would cross, he wanted his father to kill his killer, he wanted to take away the fear that surged through his body every time someone mentioned the damn clown and he wanted to believe that his father loved him enough to do this for him; even if he couldn't wait long enough to find someone better than Jason to pour his time and money into, even if he had broken Jason's trust one too many times, he wanted to believe.

Chapter Text

- Chilidogs, Chilidogs!

Five-year-old Jason quickly ran down the street toward the small, ramshackle street food stand; the smell of burgers and sauce was palpable even though he was still a considerable distance from the place.

- Easy, Jason, the chilidogs aren't going anywhere.

- Come on, Mom! - complained the little guy slightly - They're Chilidogs, they deserve all the excitement.

- You're right, honey, I'm sorry. - Catherine smiled warmly at him as she let her son drag her to the food stand. 

...

- I got a little hurt, but I got some food, mom, you have to eat, please... I need you.

Her son's voice came to her a little distorted, as if they were a great distance away even though Catherine knew her baby was beside her. Silently she vowed to herself that this would be the last time she fell again.

...

Catherine Todd, death by overdose, mother.

Chapter Text

—Welcome home, Dad! — The boy looked up with a smile. —I got a 9 on my homework today!

—That's my boy. Huh? I'm sure you'll have one of those fancy jobs someday.

With a tired sigh, Willis ruffled his son's hair before sinking heavily into one of the dining room chairs.

Jason gave him a smile as he returned his attention to his homework, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

—Well, it's time to go to work. See you later, kid.

...

—You shouldn't do that, Mom says you're going to get us all hurt and...

—Get out of my sight, kid, mind your own business, understand?

The shove came as no surprise to anyone; the brat should be thankful he didn't get a slap this time too

...

Willis Todd, criminal, presumed dead killed by Two-Face, father.