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It was at the grimy Crime Alley when he saw the boy for the first time, hunched over the Batmobile’s tire that probably weighed more than him. Both front tires had been successfully dislodged and were stacked together. Impressive, he thought, how the boy managed to bypass the Batmobile’s security.
He stepped out from the shadows and made himself visible.
Most people would have run away in fear if they were ever confronted by the Bat but the boy merely stood his ground – jaw squared, chest puffed out defiantly and his bony little fingers clutched tighter around the tire iron that he was holding in his hands. Like this, he managed to make himself appear bigger than his scrawny little frame actually was.
The boy’s eyes were steeled with resolution. There was no fear in there. He definitely had seen and experienced things that no child his age should have gone through, and it made him brave — one might say, even recklessly so — in the face of perceived danger.
It reminded him of someone.
“What’s your name?”
“Jason Todd,” the boy replied. “And I’m not fuckin’ afraid of you.”
And the rest, as they say, was history.
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Jason Todd was not Dick Grayson, he knew that.
In fact, nothing about them was similar. For one thing, there were obvious differences in their appearances; Jason’s hair was not as dark as Dick’s, his eyes were sea green instead of Dick’s midnight blue and even the way they fight differed greatly – Dick’s movement were graceful; his silent leaps and elusive maneuvers were the complete opposite of Jason’s slower, clumsier movements. He made up for that with precise hits and powerful blows. Jason was also quick to anger compared to Dick.
He knew that.
But sometimes when the red, green and yellow of the Robin uniform blurred together in his peripheral vision, it was hard for him to remember who it was that fought alongside him well into the wee hours almost every night.
And he never managed to hide his disappointment well, which would led to constant heated rows between him and the new Boy Wonder (new, not a replacement, he had to constantly remind himself that).
Do better, he would say almost every time. It was unfair – he knew that, too – because despite all his rough edges, Jason had his merits too. He knew he should have apologized but by the time the realization kicked in, Jason had already stormed out of the Cave.
(And he knew that it was Jason’s sense of righteousness and desire to do good things that pushed the boy to keep donning the Robin uniform night after night.)
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He remembered holding Jason’s battered, lifeless body in his arms.
He was only a few seconds too late. And yet, it could have been avoided if he did not encourage Jason in the first place.
(Funny, wasn’t it? The one time he actually praised Jason for a job well done, it led the boy to his demise.)
He read the eulogy at Jason’s funeral. There were so many things that he wanted to say to him but in the end, his speech was short – perhaps a little cold and impersonal even. What was the point anyway? Jason was gone.
Aside from what was strictly necessary, Alfred didn’t talk to him for an entire week. The butler had said that it was no one’s fault but he knew how close Alfred was to Jason, so he allowed the old man the space he needed to grieve.
+++++++++
Jason’s tattered uniform was kept in a glass casing and was on full-display to anyone that had access to the Cave. It was meant to serve as a constant reminder to himself of his biggest fuck-up – a self-flagellation – but it seemed to have different effects on others.
Alfred acted like he was cleaning an empty glass casing; his eyes never truly fell on the uniform encased within but focused on the cloth in his hand instead. And if he noticed the old butler get misty eyed sometimes, he never pointed it out.
Unlike Alfred, Dick could stare at the uniform for a really long time. He never knew what went on in Dick’s mind every time he looked at the uniform – one that he used to wear himself before passing it down to Jason – but he knew it would always provide Dick with some sort of renewed determination to better himself.
Sometimes when he went to bed after a night out patrolling, he dreamt of ear-piercing scream, followed by a pair of soulless sea green eyes staring right back at him.
Why didn’t you save me, Bruce?
He’d jolt awake, each and every time, only to realize it was barely at the crack of dawn and it hadn’t been that long since he passed out in his bed.
When he took the cold shower, he would let the pitter-patter sound of the water drown out his own scream.
+++++++++
Jason came back and left behind trails of dead bodies in his wake.
Stop, he would yell at his former Robin.
Stop Running.
Stop Killing.
Stop.
But Jason never stopped. Not entirely, anyway. He would slow down a little, perhaps to give him a chance to say something.
God, there were so many things that he wanted to ask him, to tell him. Come back, he wanted to say. I’m sorry. But the words almost always got choked somewhere in his throat and before he knew it, Jason was running away again. Patience was never the boy’s strongest attribute.
And when words failed them both, painful physical blows were traded instead.
+++++++++
Dick hissed when Alfred applied the saline-soaked gauze on the particularly nasty-looking slash wound on his forearm. The kris could have done far more damage than that so Jason was not exactly trying to injure his predecessor then.
He watched silently as Alfred wrapped a bandage around Dick's wound, before he asked, “Why did you go after him?”
At this point he was ready to admit that he thought of Jason as a lost cause. Dick seemed to have forgotten the stinging pain because he turned his head in his direction, eyes widened in disbelief as he asked him back, “What do you mean?”
“He made it clear by now that he does not want to associate himself with us.”
Dick clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed, the tell-tale signs that he was trying to reel himself in from lashing out. “Unbelievable,” Dick said, barely able to contain the annoyance in his voice. “If you’re not going to hold out the olive branch then I will.”
“Why?”
Dick looked flabbergasted for a moment before he schooled back his expression into some sort of impassiveness that he wore around him a lot these days. “In case you have forgotten, he’s family, Bruce.”
+++++++++
Dick’s never-ending optimism seemed to have paid off a little because if anything, Jason was growing more cordial towards the team. He had been hanging around the Cave more frequently these days with his increased involvement in their missions.
And it appeared that Jason had also agreed to play by their rules, albeit reluctantly. When Jason switched his bullets to the non-lethal rubber ones, Dick had smiled so bright that even Damian was taken aback by such a reaction.
+++++++++
He saw Red Hood skulking around on a rooftop few blocks away one night.
(He always tried to keep tabs on Jason. Just in case.)
What he didn’t expect, though, was to see Nightwing ziplining in between the buildings. Ever gravity-defying, he soared high in the air as he let go of his grappling hook and did a few flips mid-air before landing gracefully a couple of feet away from Red Hood.
It’s not like he wanted to intrude but it was very apparent from their body language that they were very comfortable with each other and he had never seen Jason like that – not since the boy came back anyway.
Around him, Jason’s posture was always rigid, as if permanently on high alert. Like he was ready to bolt or strike him down at any moment.
Around Dick, Jason slouched a little. His hands tugged casually inside the pockets of his leather jacket. And Dick, always the one who was better at reading people, leaned easily into Jason’s personal space – not because he was being imposing or overtly friendly but because the younger man allowed him to do so.
In the dead of the night and their communication links switched off, he saw them laughing at each other’s jokes – privy only to the two of them. There were also the playful shoves. Seeing them like this, without the weight of the world on their shoulders, he was reminded just how young these two boys actually were.
He stepped off the ledge that he was perched on and silently glided away into the night.
+++++++++
Perhaps, if he was a little more observant, he would have noticed it sooner. The signs had always been right in front of his face ever since, well, forever.
Like the time when Jason – who was a couple of months shy of turning fifteen – had begged Alfred to teach him how to make cinnamon rolls. He knew Alfred’s cinnamon rolls were Dick’s favorite but he didn’t know it was Jason’s too.
Or how Jason back then (and even now, actually) – in all his temperamental tendencies to brood or go into full-on outbursts – would almost immediately simmer down whenever Dick was within his proximity.
And now, he noticed something similar in Dick too. It was in the way how Dick would stretch himself thin just to be in Gotham more often. He would give some flimsy excuses about wanting to check on Tim and Damian but he never managed to hide well the bone-deep weariness in his voice – until Jason appeared, that is. If Dick was a Kryptonian then Jason was the sun that fueled him.
‘The World’s Greatest Detective’ my ass, he thought.
+++++++++
It wasn’t until Christmas that his hypothesis was proven somewhat right. He was sitting on the plush armchair next to the fireplace, checking his emails while the rest of the household was gathered around the huge Christmas tree that they had set up in his study.
It was the first time that everyone was home for Christmas.
“What are you boys waiting for? Unwrap it!” Barbara’s excited voice could be heard from the phone that Tim was holding upright in his hand. Dick and Jason, who appeared to be the main subjects of the video call, both proceeded to unwrap their respective presents.
It was a matching sweater. Dick’s was dark blue with a huge ‘I’m the NAUGHTY one’ printed across it while Jason’s was red and had ‘I’m the NICE one’ instead. Both sweaters were adorned with crude tiny drawings of snowmen and reindeers.
Frankly, he thought they were hideous and judging by the clear discomfort in Jason’s face, the boy probably shared the same sentiment.
Dick, on the other hand, was laughing almost hysterically. “You’re right on both accounts, Babs!” Dick yelled in Barbara’s direction as he put the sweater on for her to see. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Jay – you’re the nice one after all. Put it on,” Dick said as he nudged Jason with his shoulder, a rather lascivious grin plastered on his face.
Jason muttered something under his breath and his face turned a bright shade of red as he put on the sweater. It turned out to be a little tight across his broad shoulders.
“Oh damn, think I got you a size smaller. I’m sorry, Jay, I swear it wasn’t on purpose!” Barbara quipped because she didn’t sound entirely apologetic.
“He looks great. We look great. It’s perfect and I love it, Babs. Thank you!” Dick interrupted as he waved at Barbara with one hand while his other took Jason’s and laced their fingers together.
“Thanks for the, uh, Superman socks, I guess?” Tim said as he tapped his phone screen and switched to the front camera, face grimacing.
“Nonsense, you know those are Superboy socks, silly! Merry Christmas to you too, Tim,” Barbara replied with a wink and she immediately ended the call, leaving no room for Tim to rebuke.
At this point, it was apparent that he seemed to have been excluded from a few family secrets.
+++++++++
“I need to talk to you,” Jason said when he showed up unannounced during patrol on New Year’s Eve. His voice was slightly distorted by the modulator in his helmet.
When he grunted his permission in response, Jason proceeded to take off his helmet and ran his left hand through his hair to manage the wild helmet hair – a nervous tick that he had since he was a young boy.
“You’ve noticed,” Jason stated. When it seemed like Jason was not going to continue after a beat moment, he turned his head to look at the second Robin, whited out lens imploring, and Jason inhaled sharply. “About me… and D–Nightwing.”
“Are you here to ask for my permission?”
“No, I don’t give a fuck about your permission,” Jason replied, shaking his head. “We’re both grown men.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I know that you don’t hold me in high regard,” said Jason through gritted teeth. “And you probably think that I’m going to be a bad influence on him but– “
Was that it? Was that how Jason saw himself in his – Bruce Wayne, Jason’s supposedly mentor and father figure – point of view?
Well, shit.
“Hood,” he blurted out in a gravelly voice; interrupting Jason. He had to. There seemed to have been a misconception going around (never mind that this was probably his fault to begin with – if he was being honest with himself). And perhaps this was as good of a time to be honest after all these years.
And right now, Jason was standing in front of him – alive and well. Not some engraved stone or a tattered uniform in a glass casing.
“First of all, I wouldn’t have included you in our missions if I didn’t trust you. Wouldn’t have let you set your foot inside the Cave where I know you’d have easy access to my techs and networks even. And secondly,” he stopped when Jason scoffed and shifted in his position but otherwise, said nothing, so he took that as a sign for him to continue. He was rather glad for the brief interruption because the next thing that was about to come out of his mouth was a heavily guarded secret; one that he was not ready to share but it was the truth nevertheless – one that he thought Jason might have needed to hear – so he bit the bullet and said it out loud. “I think of you as a son just as much as I do with the rest.”
Jason snorted, “Bullshit.”
“Jason,” he chided and Jason’s eyes probably widened in disbelief behind that domino mask he was wearing, judging from how high his eyebrows shot up. Apparently in his exasperation of trying to be a Good Dad, Batman had broken his very own rule of no names allowed when you’re in the uniform. “I–I know you think that I have failed you – and I did. And for that, I’m sorry.”
“Old man, we’ve talked about this before,” and by talked Jason probably meant beating each other up into pulps. “The reason why I–”
“There’s nothing I want more than to see you happy,” he interrupted Jason, again.
Jason stood next to him as motionless as a statue for a good whole minute, probably unable to process what he had just heard. Then as his shoulders sagged, he let out a breathy, “Thank you, Bruce.”
Just three words and for the first time in years, he felt like he could finally breathe properly.
+++++++++
“So… you and Jason, huh?”
Dick – engrossed in the cross-referencing of his case files against the archives – spat out the coffee he was drinking. He grimaced, muttering an apology (or was that a curse?) as he set down the mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I know this may sound like me dumping my responsibilities onto you – which I’m not, by the way – but I hope you’ll look after him, Dick.”
There was a certain contemplative, almost calculative look on Dick’s face and he was quiet for a moment. And then, his eyes crinkled and he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Is this a thinly veiled threat, Bruce?”
He couldn’t help the (tiny; miniscule even) upturn of one corner of his mouth; Dick’s smile had always been infectious. “If you break his heart, Dick, I swear I will–”
“Father?” called a voice that clearly belonged to a prepubescent boy; interrupting his conversation with the first Boy Wonder. “I will not forgive you if you dare to hurt Grayson!”
Dick almost keeled over in his laughter as Damian descended from the Cave’s stairs. He immediately pulled Damian in for a hug when the boy was within his reach, resting his chin on top of the boy’s head. “See, Bruce? You can try but I got my very own bodyguard over here – compact sized and all!”
Damian huffed at the implication of him being called tiny but made no real attempts to break away from Dick. He craned his neck to look at Dick, “What was Father threatening you for anyway?”
Dick immediately stopped laughing, completely frozen as his mouth hung open and he stared down at Damian’s curious face. “Well, Little D. We were… Bruce was… He was saying–” Dick stumbled on his words and he shifted his gaze from the boy to his direction – eyes all wide and pleading. A call for help.
And he resolutely decided to pretend that he didn’t hear what his youngest son had asked his eldest, tapping away on the Batcomputer’s holographic keyboard. The (tiny; miniscule even) upturn of one corner of his mouth remained.