Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been years since Jason Todd-Wayne, former Robin and current weapon of the League of Assassins, had crawled out of his ornate grave. He remembered vividly the mangled texture of cloth and wood, the dirt under his nails, the wet blood soaking his hands, and the dread thick as he unearthed himself. He had been buried in a stuffy charcoal grey suit, nothing like his true self, just some veneer of him not being the street urchin he knew he was. It was suffocating him like a cocoon, stained by dirt and blood.

In a daze, he emerged from his own grave and stumbled around Gotham Cemetery, his scuffed Oxfords drudging through swaths of mud, threatening to chain the lone bird down once again. He felt… anger? No, no, he felt confused really, he doesn’t remember what evidently must have killed him, or why he suddenly awoke from the coffin. His memory came back to him gradually in horrifying flashes, the haunting echo of laughter, the sudden cracks of the crowbar, and the brief flashes of purple, green, and white between each hit. All the while, he had been praying his father would save him. A loud bang ended the suffering, cutting his life to a close.

It was raining that night. He stood, soaked in the cloak of the night, over his resting spot.

“Here Lies Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.” It was a simple message, one that shook him to his core. The carefully carved, beautifully crafted headstone was chipped, sullied with time, with tendrils of ivy curling around, threatening to envelop it. His mind was frenzied. How long had he been dead? How was he back? Would Bruce take his irresponsible, reckless Robin back?

A quiet, familiar strum of a guitar broke through the fog. Jason froze. That sound—he knew it. Fumbling through his jacket, tossing aside a rat’s nest of tangled earbuds and a spare pocket knife that would have come in handy a lot earlier, he found it.

His phone.

It was still there. Still his. Buried with him. The screen was cracked—same as it had been before that mission in Ethiopia. Somehow, it still worked. Same number he remembered, same screen, same everything. A message lit up the yellowing display: a group chat, Bruce’s number, Dick and Barbara’s too, mixed with several unknown numbers.

Jason stared at it blankly, glassy-eyed. Seconds became hours, as time melted away. A deluge of thoughts, threatening him from all sides, thousands of questions flooding into him.

Should he say something? Reach out? Should he call Bruce?

No. Not yet. Would they even care to see him again? Were they happy to be rid of him?

He could get out on his own. He could do this on his own, he wouldn’t– couldn’t fail again.

Chapter Text

Todd had been lounging, lost in the memory of his rebirth once more. It had been a common occurrence for him, the pit mangling it, twisting it into something more horrific. It kept him up at night. When he looked at his scarred, rugged, battle-born hands, he swore he could still see the dirt, grime, and blood etched in, staining him. He knew he would never be the same, but he hadn’t anticipated the effect on his mind, maybe he was beyond repair, just another one of Bruce’s experime-

His old phone took him out of the memory, a stark reminder of that night, but a comforting sound nonetheless.

In the years he had been gone, Dick had added him to countless group chats, he began to recognize recurring names, familiarizing him with what had changed since he left.

Talia had told him that Bruce replaced him shortly after he died, just another soldier for his endless crusade. Something about this felt wrong however; between episodes of verdant rage he would read about his family. From what he saw, the family nearly fell apart in the wake of his death, with the poor new Robin holding things together. The new endless tap of rage within him suggested that they didn't actually care, and Talia backed it up, but there was so much evidence to the contrary.

He knew that for however short a period, his family desperately wanted him back. Would they still accept him today? Unclear. Would he do better for them? Certainly.

He had to train to be better for his family, no longer just the family’s mistake. He wasn't worthy enough to reply.

-----

Bruce fell apart in the wake of his son's passing. This wasn't up for debate, it wasn't a theory, it was a fact. In his grief, he made many mistakes, he knows. For all of his failings, he knew he made at least one good decision– he kept Jason's phone plan active for Dick.

It wasn't a secret that his eldest son took the news of Jason's passing poorly, he swore up and down that his brother couldn't have just died like that, and he quickly became obsessed with sending a deluge of voicemails to his phone.

Some of them were a couple seconds long, lamenting how much the former Robin misses him, and how he wants to see him again, while the others filled the phone's entire 3 minute voicemail limit. Over the years, they got more desperate, as Dick accepted that he would never see his little brother again. He would give short stories of what had happened– additions to the batfamily, short stories ranging from sad to happy. Dick told his brother everything, all his highest points, and the lowest.

There was one night Bruce caught his son perched on the roof of an abandoned factory, his legs dangling over the edge. Dick stared blankly at his phone, dialing a familiar number, each ring feeling longer than the last.

A familiar voice cried back to him, “The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the tone. Thank you.”

After a brief beep, he started, “Hey little wing, it's me again. It's been hard without you here,” a deep sigh, interrupting his thoughts, “really hard. I'm sorry for what happened to you, I wish I could have done better for you.”

His voice was shaking, unstable and his eyes welled up with tears. “Jace, it's been 2 years today, we miss you every day, I think you'd love Tim– a-and Steph,” he gently rested his head in the palm of his hand, tears running down his arm.

“I- god, I swear I still see you sometimes, little wing, I see you right beside me, cheering me on, following right behind me, but before I can think, you're gone again.”

Bruce stilled, cautious of his son's fragile state. He didn't know Dick hallucinated, though it would explain a lot– the blank stare he gave the void, the way he looked at Jason's missing spot at the table, the way he treated Tim some days.

Dick raised his voice, angry at the world, “And– ugh, it's fitting that we would all fall apart, isn't it? We can solve anything other than how to talk about our damn feelings. I wanted to hold us together, Jace, I really did. I'm sorry I got another person involved in this mess.” He hung the phone up, tears thick on his face.

“It'll be alright, chum, he would be proud of you, I know it's hard,” All Bruce could do was to comfort his son. He couldn't lose more of his family, never again.

Chapter Text

Tim Drake had long seen himself as nothing more than a replacement, just a hollow shell of the Robin he idolized. He only got the position because he basically forced himself into it, really. That’s the kicker, isn’t it? Bruce picked all of his family, except for Tim. It would be funny if it weren’t so hard being a cuckoo instead of a robin.

Being Robin wasn’t an easy job. Especially not with the weight of living up to his idol, it was as though he were set up to fail. He rolled with the punches because he knew Batman needed him, or well– a Robin in general, not some washed-up rich kid with neglectful parents. If there’s one thing he knew Batman didn’t need, it was some broken kid to care about.

So here he sat, the placeholder Robin, the replacement nobody asked for, alone in the catacombs he called home, not a babysitter, nor a housekeeper, nor even a spider could stand to be around him. Drake Manor, however pristine on the surface and more than a little luxurious, wasn’t a home.

It was a house.

Just an empty house, with nobody of value ever there.

Just a cage, for a greedy brood parasite who wasn’t worth the trouble.

Jason Todd meant everything to him. When there was nobody for him at home, he could count on the kindness of his favorite Robin. Where Batman saw an overly obsessed fan, Todd saw the fragile, awestruck, neglected kid. In the endless cavern of glass-laiden, poorly managed streets, around all the suffering and pain in the air, a young photographer saw a glimpse of a better life. He had filled album after album with dynamic still-lifes of the vigilantes, stealing glances at the obvious care between Bruce and his son. In the loneliest nights, on the dreariest nights, where life felt impossibly large, he would imagine himself with them. When his hero died, part of him did as well.

So here he sat, in his barren room. It was filled with trinkets, little gifts from everywhere his parents had been on digs for, small, worthless little artifacts, and his photography equipment. He had everything, right? He had piles of gifts of obligation rather than care, things people less wealthy than him could only dream of, a comfortable roof over his head, food, water, and electricity. The little faux Robin had anything a young boy could ever want. Well, other than actual love. It was heartbreaking, looking at his old photos, hoping for the same kind of love Bruce gave his real kids.

Tim’s room was white, more accurately, it was the sort of psych-ward white that will make you crazy if you stare at it for too long. The tile in his bathroom was white, his bed frame was white, his carpet, ceiling, walls, and furniture were all the same infuriating, sterile, minimalist, soul-crushing white. On particularly rough patrol nights, all he could think about was the red of his blood soaking into the white of his bandages, staining them, like he was a stain on his infuriatingly white house.

He didn’t deserve Batman, he knew that every night. Nightwing looked at him like Jason sometimes, though it was clear he was just a replacement for him. Yet another home that, despite appearances, he didn’t belong to.

He just couldn’t get attached; sooner or later, Batman would find a better Robin, and he could fall into obscurity. Would there be a night when he wouldn’t sob himself to sleep?

Did he deserve any better?

Did he really have a home?

Did he even deserve a home?

His mind flooded with questions, as his face welled up with tears.

Chapter Text

It was a night like any other, stormy, gloomy, with a haze of smoke in the air. There was a rhythmic pitter-patter of rain striking against the roofs of innumerable buildings, a howling frigid wind wreaking havoc through town, and billowing plumes of toxic smoke choking out the dreary night sky. Yet, no matter how morose her streets were, the crime and the pain of the city, her protectors wouldn't have her any other way.

Gotham was under attack, and all the bats were doing their best to quell the chaos. Poison Ivy had broken loose and went on a phytomanical rampage all along the streets of Gotham, shattering roads with twisting tendrils of vines, a grove of megaflora ravaging the dense city. Batman and Batgirl were handling her, while Tim and Cass ran civilian rescues. Oracle was their omniscient guide through the hectic tributary of chaos. The ebb and flow of it all acted as a familiar rhythm to them, the standard vigilante routine.

Huddled behind a wall, he got separated from Steph, ducking and weaving beyond ferocious and vicious thorns. Batman quickly pulled out his burner to check in on his family.

The Bat-Chat

Bruce: status report.

Dick: All is well, no major injuries, just a bit hungry

Steph: I'd kill for a batburger, but I'm fine otherwise

Babs: all clear on this front

Cass: 👍☺️

Tim: wrapping up w/ Cass, both uninjured, otw to the cave, eta 7 min

Jason: A bit stuffy, you really couldn't pick a more comfortable coffin? It's homely, yeah, but I'm getting bored in here

.

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Several people are typing…

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Tim: what

Tim: the fuck?

Babs: I'm sorry, what?

Dick: Little Wing?

Cass: ⁉️‼️‼️‼️

Dick felt himself lose touch with reality. The ringing in his ears became a shrill, overbearing, and agonizing scream. He felt his vision get spotty, his limbs get weak, and his spine prickle with violent chills.

He couldn't think.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't do anything but panic.

It couldn't be true, he knew that his brother had died. He was off planet, he couldn't even be there for his brother’s funeral. What right did he have to say he loved Jason as a brother?

Dick already failed Jason, and he couldn't ever make it up to him.

Bruce & Steph are typing…

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Steph: anyone want to do a batburger run after this?

Steph: what's going on?

Steph: wait, what the fuck?

.

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Steph: jason, will you come to batburger with us (❓: 1, ⁉️: 4, 👍: 1)

Cass reacted to a message (x2)

Tim reacted to a message

Babs reacted to a message

Dick reacted to a message

Jason reacted to a message

Jason: Maybe, when and which one? (⁉️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message

Bruce is typing...

Tim: is this some kind of prank? Babs, can you try and see if our encryption is still stable?

Babs: already on it, gimmie one sec

Bruce is typing…

Babs: ugh, no, looks like our comms are still secure– they're using his actual number and not spoofing it. (‼️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message

Tim: well, that's more than a little annoying

Babs: ugh, tell me about it

Steph: so…. I'm no tech genius, but what if someone got hold of his phone?

Bruce is typing…

Bruce began to flee to the cave, a glimmer of hope fleeting through his unrelenting pessimism, a silent prayer that his boy was okay, despite his bones screaming that Jason, his beloved son, still lay cold in the dirt.

However much he wanted to see his son again, he knew that in this line of work, it was best to not get his hopes up.

He wished he could do more good without endangering his family.

Tim: but how would they have done that? Wouldn't it be at the manor?

Steph: I dunno, weirder things have happened

Steph: maybe someone snuck in at night, I mean, we are all gone, right?

Tim: ok, but do you think they could have gotten through 3 different alarms, and also Alfred?

Babs: yeah, my security footage shows nobody in or out other than us

Steph: wait, you tape the inside of the manor?

Babs: :) (😰:1)

Cass reacted to a message

Steph: oh god, Oracle can blackmail us all

Cass: ❓❓❓❓❓⁉️

Babs: uh oh, guys, located the original ping, looks like the LOA is up to their shenanigans again… (‼️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message

Bruce & Jason are typing…

Jason: nah, sorry, just had to take a vacation. (⁉️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message

Bruce is typing…

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Bruce: Whoever you are, stop masquerading as my dead son.

—

Bruce buried his head in his hands, the showers pelting against the rough leather of his cowl. The Dark Knight took a look around at his surroundings, checking for potential danger. After seeing nothing more than the typical dreary sight of Gotham's winding streets, he took a deep breath in, broke down, and began to sob. He couldn't hope, not anymore, never again.

Chapter Text

The arid desert heat wafted gently through the walls of Nanda Parbat, as Jason laid on his bed, draped by silk, and covered in bloodied, ragged bandages. His training was tough, but he knew that it was the best outlet for his rage.

Talia kept trying to convince him that his family didn't care about him anymore, and that he was just replaced immediately, but Jason had a myriad of the most earth-shatteringly depressing voicemails on his old phone that suggested otherwise. Jason found it hard to believe that his family didn't care, when Dick broke down almost nightly about how he thought he failed his little brother.

In all reality, the constant weight of his unresolved murder still weighing heavy on his family put a small damper in his plan of revenge against Joker. One night he would let the rage of the pit consume him, the next he would listen to the soul shattering ramblings of his brother finding the bottom of a fifth of vodka. The family was rebuilding itself, with Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown’s arrival. It was for their benefit that they could remember the innocent kid he was, instead of the failure to the family that he is. The potential they remembered had to be sweeter than his bitterness.

“Tch, Todd, what are you lounging around for?” A haughty, yet familiar voice buzzed.

Oh, right. Another complication. Bruce now has either a new villain or Robin to deal with, and Jason has a new brother. Damian is smart, sure, and well trained as an assassin, but the kid is a nerd.

“Can't a dead man rest in peace around here?” Jason drawled, lying prone and dramatically on his bed.

“You’re not dead anymore, Todd, you can't keep using that excuse,” Damian threw a ball of paper at him, with deadly precision.

“Oh, I'm sorry, so the second Ra’s gets his evil Baja Blast on my corpse, I'm not allowed to joke?” He sat up, and struck the crumpled wad of paper as it barrelled towards him.

“Whatever, Todd, just don't be late for your training today.” Damian sauntered away, positively dripping with attitude, as is typical for him.

Jason's phone, the private old brick of a phone he keeps nestled in his armor, began to vibrate fervently. He was snapped out of his trance, into another opportunity to peer into a family

Bruce: status report.

Dick: All is well, no major injuries, just a bit hungry

Steph: I'd kill for a batburger, but I'm fine otherwise

Babs: all clear on this front

Cass: 👍☺️

Tim: wrapping up w/ Cass, both uninjured, tow to the cave, eta 7 min

Fear of losing family again, of losing the only one who ever cared? That's a prerequisite for being a bat, right? But how dare Bruce make him feel wanted, he was just a little street urchin, a charity case for an unfathomably wealthy man. He had no family- a mother who died in his arms, a deadbeat dad.

Jason knew, deep within the core of his being, that he should have died on those streets, that Bruce, no, Batman just pitied him. He was always just the experiment, an attempt to make something out of scrap. 

It's not something he should care about. 

It's not something he should have given any thought to.

He wasn't meant to be around this long.

Maybe, just maybe, he'll show them that.

Maybe, if he shows himself enough, they'll see how much worse he's become.

|

Jason: A bit stuffy, you really couldn't pick a more comfortable coffin? It's homely, yeah, but I'm getting bored in here

|

Immediately, and without hesitation, his vision was draped with a curtain of sickening green. He had blown his cover, blown his chance for revenge. How could he have been so stupid? Why had he been so cheeky? It's like he wanted them to stop caring.

|

Several people are typing…

|

They're all typing about how much of an idiot he is, aren't they? How he should have stayed dead, how he was a failure, how he had disappointed them all, is that it? Is that all they saw him as?

|
Tim: what

Tim: the fuck?

Babs: I'm sorry, what?

Dick: Little Wing?

Cass: ⁉️‼️‼️‼️

|

Of course, of course they're freaking out. From their point of view, the failure they were glad to be done with returned, is that it? He no longer felt real, his hands that of someone else's body. He was looking past the dim light of the screen, looking at everything and nothing.

His world was spinning, it was all spinning too fast.

There was no going back now, it was time to reveal himself.

||

Bruce & Steph are typing…

Steph: anyone want to do a batburger run after this?

Steph: what's going on?

Steph: wait, what the fuck?

||
Bruce, the man he had seen as a father, the one he trusted all those years, seemed speechless.

The hateful green of the pit was still gnawing at Jason. The body he was in no longer felt like his own, a cage that held him back.

Did Steph even see his message? Did she even care about him? Did any of them even care? His vision was blurred, the edges singed with a verdant burn.

His phone vibrated a storm, surely about how much they hated him.

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||

Steph: jason, will you come to batburger with us (❓: 1, ⁉️: 4)

         Cass reacted to a message (x2)

          Tim reacted to a message 

          Babs reacted to a message

          Dick reacted to a message 
||

What.

What?

Why would they want him?

Why would they even think it's him?

He was caught so off guard, that he felt like himself again.

If his family wants him, his family will have him.

They can see how much of a failure he really is.

||

         Jason reacted to a message (👍)

Jason: Maybe, when and which one?(⁉️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message
||

The cat was out of the bag at this point, he had showed all of his cards. He had made a fatal mistake.

But there was a glimmer of hope. He may be able to see his family again. He had gone so long, without family. He knew he was desperate for it, isn't that only natural?

||
Tim: is this some kind of prank? Babs, can you try and see if our encryption is still stable? 

Babs: already on it, gimmie one sec

                       Bruce is typing…

Babs: ugh, no, looks like our comms are still secure– they're using his actual number and not spoofing it. (‼️: 1)

                       Cass reacted to a message

Tim: well, that's more than a little annoying 

Babs: ugh, tell me about it

Steph: so…. I'm no tech genius, but what if someone got hold of his phone?

                      Bruce is typing…
||

They-- thought he was faking..?

Right. Right. He was dead to them, after all. Maybe he should have expected this, expected that he was nothing but a dead man to them.

Surely, in their world, nobody comes back to life, right? Like that isn't a common occurrence.

Maybe the paranoia runs in the family? Maybe none of them think he's important enough to have come back.

Maybe they all know he wasn't supposed to come back.

||

Tim: but how would they have done that? Wouldn't it be at the manor?

Steph: I dunno, weirder things have happened

Steph: maybe someone snuck in at night, I mean, we are all gone, right?

Tim: ok, but do you think they could have gotten through 3 different alarms, and also Alfred?

Babs: yeah, my security footage shows nobody in or out other than us

Steph: wait, you tape the inside of the manor?

Babs: :) (😰:1)

Cass reacted to a message

Steph: oh god, Oracle can blackmail us all

Cass: ❓❓❓❓❓⁉️

Babs: uh oh, guys, located the original ping, looks like the LOA is up to their shenanigans again… (‼️: 1)

||

Caught.

He was nothing but caught.

They knew, they knew now that he was working with Talia.

They knew now, that he was plotting revenge on his murderer.

Or did they think he wasn't even important enough to try that?

Maybe they were right.

||
Cass reacted to a message

Bruce & Jason are typing…

Jason: nah, sorry, just had to take a vacation. (⁉️: 1)

Cass reacted to a message

Bruce is typing…
||
Still nothing from his old man. Still nothing from the man who let him die, the one who pitied him.
Might as well play into it then, huh?

Might as well make them as angry as possible to see that their failure still lives on, right?

||

Bruce: Whoever you are, stop masquerading as my dead son.

||

He really isn't who he used to be, is he?

What use is pretending, right?

He would never be that innocent child ever again.


He left that night, on a one way flight to Gotham International Airport.