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1.
He’s seven years old, on the streets, and starving. The alley he’s holed up in smells like sewage and human waste and it would have assaulted his nose had he not grown used to it years ago. Jason wraps his arms around his keening stomach, turning his head to the dreary, fog-smudged sky. From Crime Alley, you couldn’t even see the stars.
Another bout of dizziness and nausea hits and Jason drops his head, putting it between his knees. He thinks he remembers reading somewhere that it helps, but he’s so hungry that he can’t even remember what he did this morning. Jason thinks, not for the first time, that this might be it. It might finally be the day that the hunger takes him. He’s seen people go from it before. Old people. Young people. It hadn’t always been this easy to starve to death. The mayor used to keep up the Soup Kitchens to give the city a better image. Once the Mob took them over, the mayor gave up trying.
Jason curls into himself, leaning his entire side against the wall. He swallows, regretting the movement when his stomach rumbles in anticipation from the movement. When nothing comes, it clenches tight and chokes.
Jason tightens his arms around his stomach, hoping that will keep the noise at bay.
Jason closes his eyes and prays that the Hunger is swift.
Jason wakes up to a new smell. He looks around from where he fell in the alley, eyes spotting a brown bag an arm’s length from him. Jason reaches for the bag and brings it closer. He sits up slowly and opens the bag.
It shocks him to find the bag filled to the seams with breadsticks. It’s a miracle gift to him. Bread keeps you full. He wouldn’t have to hear the Hunger as long as he could make these last.
There’s no note on the bag, and Jason wonders who brought it to him.
Whoever it was had probably just saved his life.
2.
He’s twelve when he’s yanking off the hubcaps to an expensive monster car on the quiet streets of Gotham. He doesn’t know who’s stupid enough to leave such a nice vehicle on this street, generally known for car-jacking.
Jason thinks he can make near $200 on these tires alone. He wonders what he could find inside if he could pick the lock.
Jason drops the second cap to the street and moves onto the front tires. He takes a moment to look up at the car in appreciation. It’s nice. Shiny, black, and looking freshly washed. He can even see his reflection thanks to the streetlight behind him.
A shadow blocks the light.
Jason whirls around, crowbar at the ready.
What he sees makes him drop it in surprise.
The Batman himself is standing looming over him. He’s rocking a deep scowl and Jason bets he’s glaring. Jason doesn’t think twice before getting to his feet and bolting.
He makes it all of three feet before he’s grabbed and lifted off the ground. Jason yells and screams and kicks his feet and gives Batman Hell as the man drags him back to the car. Jason sends a hard elbow back into his ribs that sends a jolt of pain through his elbow. Whatever armor Batman was wearing, it was good stuff.
Batman drops Jason back where he first found him and the boy is blocked by the car on one side and the Bat on the other.
“Leave me alone or I swear I’ll bite off my tongue!” Jason threatens. If the rumors are true, the Batman won’t kill him; just take him to the police where he’ll be thrown in jail. Jason knows what happens to boys his age with his attitude in the slammer.
“How did you get the hubcaps off without setting off the alarms?” Batman’s voice is tinged with actual curiosity.
Jason glares defensively, “Maybe your alarm system is shit,” He spits. Jason is not a fool. He’s a street kid, and if anyone sees him talking to the Bat without hostility, he can be in serious trouble.
“My alarm system is the most advanced system in the nation,” Batman growls.
Jason continues to glare and Batman takes a step forward. Jason opens his mouth, fully prepared to bite down. Batman reacts before he can do anything, grabbing his cheeks with one hand and pressing them together like an overzealous great-aunt.
Jason protests loudly.
Batman sighs, “Kid, you’re going to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
Batman lets his face go and moves his hand lightning fast to his neck. Jason’s world goes black.
3.
Jason’s second time in the field is a case against Catwoman. He knows about her vaguely from his years on the street before Robin but he’s never gone against her with Batman. He knows she and Batman are a special kind of enemy. He doesn’t try as hard to catch her as he does anyone else and she doesn’t try as hard to actually get away with whatever item she’s stealing.
Batman tells Jason to wait on the roof of the museum that Catwoman is suspected to be at. He makes a fuss, kicks up a lot of dirt, but in the end goes to the roof like he’s told.
He’s freezing in his panties up here, too. It’s only late September and Gotham is already getting below forty at night, something he wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t wearing the tiny green panties that made up the Robin uniform.
Jason begins to move around, anything to keep his blood flowing. Batman has silenced his communication line in some weird attempt to keep Jason from hearing his encounter with Catwoman below.
Jason mimics a cat’s meow in spite.
“Is there something wrong, Master Jason?”
Jason flushes, forgetting that Alfred is still manning the lines back home, “No, Alf. Just, uh, talkin’ tuh myself.”
“Right so.”
Jason scratches at his hairline and moves to the edge of the roof, “Hey, Alf?”
“Yes, Master Jason?”
“Why do ya’ think the boss silenced the coms? Did he do that when Nightwing was still Robin?”
“Every so often, when dealing with Catwoman and the Joker, he will, yes.”
“Why?”
“I imagine it is for different reasons, Master Jason. Surely, though, it is always because he thinks it is best.”
Jason grunts into the microphone, not agreeing at all.
Jason hops up on the ledge with practiced ease. Even if he hasn’t been out in the field that much, he is still well-trained. Jason looks down at the city, sprawling in her darkness. Lights from buildings and billboards cast a shallow glow in the sky and you can’t fully see the starts. It’s something he’s grown used to living in Gotham but something that still makes him a little sad.
Jason switches his weight to one foot, lifting the other up in an arc as if he were roundhouse kicking someone. Since his training he’s become much more coordinated. That doesn’t mean he is perfect, certainly no Dick Grayson, but he tries. Jason just likes that he can do most of the moves in the old Asian fighting movies.
He switches feet, spinning on the roof in an arc that would have made Nightwing proud.
In his ear, the communicator crackles to life, “Robin, Catwoman is headed your way! Prepare to engage!” The voice belongs to Batman, of course, and Jason spins so he has a full view of the roof.
The trapdoor leading to the roof is pushed open and Catwoman jumps out, bag of something stolen slung over her shoulder. Jason gets ready to defend as she heads his direction before getting a look at her and wow, hey, he was a teenager too.
“Not so fast Catwoman!” He yells.
Catwoman pauses, idly eyeing him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the new birdy. I don’t have time to play tonight. Maybe some other time.” Her voice is all teasing as she sways her hips.
Robin doesn’t give in, “I can’t let you get away!”
Catwoman rolls her eyes, “I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before. Oh, yes, the Bat.” She runs for him again, faking right at the last second to jump off the roof. Jason turns to try and grab her ankle and misses spectacularly.
As most of Jason’s weight is hovering off the building from his attempt to catch Catwoman, he continues on the downward motion his body was taking. Jason feels the wind rush through his hair and he barely has time to scream for help when something tight wraps around his ankle.
Jason’s whole body pulls and it hurts for a split second until Jason registers that someone has caught him and falling off the building would have hurt infinitely worse.
He cranes his head back, expecting to see the scowling face of Batman. Instead he’s faced with the exasperated one of Catwoman. Jason doesn’t know how she ended up back on the roof (flexibility?) or how she caught him, but he is very very grateful.
“You birds just love to flirt with death, don’t you?”
Catwoman tilts her head back, “Say, Brucie, since I caught your bird, why don’t we call tonight even?”
Batman grunts unhappily and Jason foresees much more training in his future, thankfully extended by Catwoman (although depending on how much B-man increasing the training regimen, it may end up being unthankfully).
4.
Jason’s head hits the pillow as another jolt of pleasure pools in his stomach. He’s pinned to the mattress under all two-hundred some odd pounds of Bruce, naked as the day he was born, skin flush and lungs heaving.
He feels like every breath he takes is sucked out of him by Bruce, devoured by the older man. It’s a good feeling. Jason loves it.
“B-bru..ce…”
Bruce hums against his skin, a deep baritone sending chills down Jason’s spine and making his toes curl even more.
“I..ah!”
Bruce pulls back enough for Jason to catch what little breath he can, then surges forward again. He doesn’t need to let Jason finish the statement. He knows.
Bruce’s lips tease along Jason’s collarbone and he mouths two words that compliment Jason’s thoughts.
Jason comes so hard he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.
5.
Bruce isn’t going to make it.
The timer hits 0:00.
+1
After everything Jason’s been through, this hurts the worst.
The pictures of the new Robin, the replacement, hang on the wall before his bed. It’s been five years, more maybe (Jason can’t grasp the concept of time when all his brain is doing is screaming), and Bruce got a new sidekick. A new partner.
Jason wonders if Bruce treats this boy like he treated Jason. If he takes him to bed or to movies or out to dinner. If he lets this boy fly across the country to meet their death.
Jason lets his head sink into his palms. He’s been back for a few months, but only recently did he come home. To Gotham.
The city itself hasn’t changed; the people in it have.
Barbara Gordan is in a wheelchair.
Timothy Drake is the new Robin.
Jason wants to laugh. To pinch himself awake from what is obviously a horrible nightmare.
He can’t.
All he knows is that The Joker took him away from Bruce once. Bruce has since moved on.
Hedoesn’tcarehenevercaredyouimagineditall
Jason pulls at the roots of his hair, wishing he could kill the voice inside of him.
Youcan,youcan.Dowhathedidn’t.KilltheJoker.AvengeyourselfsinceBruceneverdid
Jason loved Bruce.
Hedidn’tloveyou
Bruce had told Jason “me too.”
Hedidn’tloveyouenoughtocrosstheline.YouwouldhavedoneeverythingforhimandallhedidwaslocktheJokerup.Again
Jason’s shoulders shake.
Hereplacedyou
A part of him dies.