Chapter Text
“There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;”
- The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot
There was no time to prepare. There was no time to act. As far as the Bats know, Red Hood is dead .
Meanwhile, Jason Todd is born again.
For once in his God forsaken life and afterlife, Jason is the only one prepared to create a future of his own volition.
For once, Jason Todd gets to live.
“So what’s the difference between ‘call me’ and ‘my name is’?” I don’t get this book at all,” Konner groans, stretching out in his chair, his hands slapped dejectedly over his face.
Jason, snorting, whacks him on the back of the head with the chunky paperback book.
“Because, dumbass, it’s an indicator that the narrator is unreliable; ‘call me‘ tells the readers that Ishmael isn’t his actual name. It’s a biblical reference, long story short, saying that he’s some fuckin’ orphan that has no family-“
“Hey, hey! Put some respect on orphans, a lot of my friends are orphans!”
“Join the fucking club, kid. What, should I start saying ‘Call me Jay’?”
Konner bursts out laughing, his warm voice crackling like a soft fire in the chilly fall air. Jason, now known as ‘Jay,’ sat across from Konner at a quaint cafe in Metropolis. After Red Hood’s ‘death’ a couple of weeks ago, Jason took to traveling. From D.C to Sacramento, Jason took his new bike and lived freely. All the while, Jason began his budding friendship with this idiot in front of him. Black hair, brilliant, lively eyes, and as dumb as they come, Konner was… his friend.
“Okay, but why does Ishmael want to wander around? Shouldn’t he, I don’t know, try to make friends? This sounds pretty hopeless to me.”
“Konner, for the fifth time, you’ve only read the first six pages.”
Konner, still pouting, took a long sip of his glass of orange juice.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I still don’t get why I have to read this ‘Moby Dick’ book if I’m just giving it to my friend. It’s supposed to be for him to read, not me!”
Shrugging, Jason looks at him with a flat expression.
“Sure, but don’t you want to be able to talk about it with him while he’s reading it? Otherwise, it’s all gonna go over your head, idiot.”
Konner stares at Jason with a pleading expression. Holy shit, if Jason didn’t know any better, he’d say that puppy dog eyes were a Kryptonian ability in coercion.
Taking a deep breath and praying for patience. Jason conceded.
“Okay, how ‘bout this: I give you my personal, annotated copy to help you make sense of it, and you give that new copy to your little friend.”
As if a sun flare just burst through the clouds, Konner jumped out of his seat with a whisker too much strength (it shook the entire, cemented table) and practically threw himself across the two chairs between them to grab Jason’s shoulders. Shaking him with unbridled joy, Konner was rambling a thousand miles an hour. Too focused on the firm hands on his shoulders, Jason hardly caught the last part of his chatter.
“-that’s just too, too, too nice of you, wow! I didn’t know you could be so nice, Jay! Under that big, bulky, mean exterior, you’re just a nice guy who lets his friends borrow his books! So, like, is your handwriting legible? I can't read his handwriting, honestly. When do I have to get your book back to you? Do you need it soon? I can fly- haha, I can fly! On a plane! Definitely, people can only fly on planes, so I’d fly on a plane to get it back to you whenever you need it, really. But I could also-“
Before Jason had time to prepare a rebuttal, his hands moved without thought. Grabbing both of Konner’s wrists with a tenderness that surprised even him, Jason looked straight into Konner’s eyes.
Blue. Blue. Blue.
“Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ve read it a hundred times. Just give it back whenever you're done, or whatever. I don’t care.”
Konner, taken off guard, nods slowly, his smile softening.
“Thanks, Jay. You’re the best.”
A moment of warm silence hovers between them. That is, until Jason's phone gave a loud ring. Konner, realizing their close proximity, quickly tripped back to his seat, face tinged red.
Jason, equally as flushed, fumbled through his leather bag (no, not the severed head bag) for his phone. Turning away from Konner, he briskly answered it.
“Yeah?”
“Heyo, boss, or not boss? Yeah. Just thought we’d keep you posted. The funeral’s scheduled n’ shit; we even got flowers, yah?” A muffled yell from another henchman faintly screeched in the background. “Yeah, gotcha fuckin’ uh. That flower you like. Daisy’s! Yeah! We’re doin' good, R-man.”
Humming lightly, leaning back in his chair, Jason briefly glanced at Konner. The boy in question shuffled awkwardly in his seat: fuck, super hearing. Jason huffed, thinking to himself. It’s better to keep this brief with superboy listening in.
“Hey buddy, that’s great. That Johnson in the background? Tell’em daisies will work great. Keep in mind, I might not be able to make the funeral. Busy schedule, and all.”
“Yeah, that’s Johnson! Hey, that’s alright. Gotta keep yourself hush hush after that good job we did. Hey, did we blow you away with that performance? Ha, ah. Yeah. Anyway, we’ll keep you posted, boss. Enjoy the trip. Don’t ya’ worry ‘bout the funeral, it’ll be somethin’ great. Turns out Johnson’s got some skill with event planning. You woulda‘ had a riot!”
Growing steadily amused, Jason guffawed. Snickering, Jason shook his head. At least the few selected henchmen he chose to be in the know about his current... being alive situation... are making good on their promises. If there's one thing Jason would hate doing, it would be planning a funeral, especially his own. It's three times a charm, not two. Maybe if Jason gets one more funeral for himself before he actually dies again, he'd step in for the planning. Unlikely, but who knows? It's not like the Batman brood would be anguishing over Red Hood's death (though he'd rather not think of them at all), so it's not like the funeral will get a lot of publicity, hence his lack of need for involvement. Maybe just enough to make an impact on Gotham. Regardless, Jason would rather choose to be sipping coffee over a good book with a friend these days. Who knew so much could change in a few meager months?
“Yeah, yeah. You guys blew me away. Hey, keep up the good work. See you whenever I see you. Good luck.”
Ending the call, Jason threw his phone back into his bag and laid his attention on Konner, who seemed to be staring at Jason with the subtlety of a bull staring at a red flag. A lightbulb flashed in Jason’s head: the annotated book! Digging through his bag, he pulls out the dog-eared, beaten-up book and throws it at Konner’s head. Quick as a sparrow, Konner grabs in mid air, still staring at Jason, bemused.
O-kay?
“Yes?”
“So, is uh. Everything alright, Jay?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Eyebrows raised in concern, Konner had the decency to look uncomfortable.
“Well, I didn’t mean to listen in, but,“ his voice dropped slightly in a hushed tone, “there’s a funeral? Do you want to talk about it?”
Alright. Well, how badly could this conversation go? Konner, to Jason’s relief, either hasn't caught on or hasn't outwardly mentioned any of Jason’s (drug lord, ex-Robin, crime connoisseur, your pick) odd quirks. Being invited to the funeral of an acquaintance of a friend isn’t exactly unheard of, just slightly odd. Plus, Jason thought with a growing warmth, maybe it wouldn't be half bad to attend his own funeral this time around, maybe with a friend.
“It’s not a big deal,” Jason shrugged half-heartedly. “Just an old acquaintance that got me out of a rough spot. He passed away a couple of weeks ago, but the funeral got delayed for whatever reason.”
“Is the funeral going to be here in Metroplolis?” A sharp laugh forced itself out of Jason’s lungs.
“God, no. It’s going to be in the most crime-ridden city in America, Gotham. The city you can’t help but love to hate.”
Konner’s eyes lost that temporary softness as they lit up again.
“Oh! I’ve been to Gotham! I have a couple of friends who live there. You said you lived in Gotham for a couple of years, right?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Can’t say I’m too eager to visit anytime soon. I might have to sooner than I’d like with the funeral coming up.” Konner grimaced in response.
“W-e-l-l-,” Konner draws out, “if you need company, I’m sure I can clear up my schedule to visit Gotham. You know, for the funeral.”
“Konner, that’s kind and all, but the funeral’s not in the nice part of Gotham. It’s gonna be in Crime Alley, the center of the violence, yeah? Don’t think a pretty boy like you would want to visit that part of town.”
“Hey. Jay, I really wouldn’t care. You’d be surprised at the kinds of places I wind up every now and then,” Konner joked.
Jason grasped his small ceramic mug in his calloused hands. The porcelain oozed the coffee’s warmth into the palms of his hands. Jason felt warm. The sky was a blue-gray, the boy across from him had the bluest eyes, and Jason felt warm.
Still gazing at his coffee mug, one of the corners of Jason’s mouth turned up.
“Yeah, Konner. Actually, I’d like that.”
Reaching across the table, Konner puts his own hand over Jason’s, still cradling his mug.
“Don’t worry, Jay. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Thanks, Konner.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. There’s still time to prepare. Jason’s alive.
...
Meanwhile, in Gotham...