Alone Together || Jason and Talia
Fury and anger swirled inside Jason Todd, battling with the pain and betrayal, each one tearing a piece of the boy apart and throwing it into the Pit. Bruce was wrong. There was nothing left of Jason Peter Todd. He died when his mother betrayed him, when his father failed him, when his hero replaced him with another boy. The pit had brought back a monster, terrified and alone, not the optimistic boy his ‘family’ knew. Talia may have acted out of love, but had she seen what she’d created? How it had done more harm than good? Jason only hoped Bruce was in as much pain as this, knowing with an icy pang in his gut that he never would be.
The man who raised him was as cold as stone. That was the only way to live with the demons he knew.
Jason had different methods.
Storming out of his apartment, Jason swung himself onto his bike, fire radiating off him as if the Firefly had lit him ablaze. He would never be able to show the Batman he was better. Bruce would never understand. For all his training, for all his dedication and determination, Bruce Wayne did not change. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
Letting the lights of the city swirl into unrecognizable shapes and colors, Jason focused only on the speeding yellow dashes in the road, each separate mark blending into a straight line in his speed. He needed the adrenaline to calm him, needed to feel the pain of the cold wind on his face. He had to remind himself he was no longer 6 feet under, that he wasn’t a shell of a human. He was alive, whatever that meant. But he never wanted to live this way. He never asked for this.
Pushing his bike to the limits, any other man might have hit a pebble the wrong way or made the slightest shift in the handle bars and their life would have been over. But not Jason. He pressed himself into the wind, feeling the power behind the movement, letting off steam on his bike instead of another person or with his fists. As much as he wanted to, Jason knew that wasn’t the answer. That wouldn’t show Bruce anything other than that he was right about his dead Robin. And he would not do that.
Instead he sped towards the docks, nearly crashing into the river as he screeched to a halt. The city was silent from here, weirdly quiet after the roar of the wind in his ears. It was unsettling, gave him too much time to think.
Since he’d come back to Gotham, everything had flipped upside down. His plan was no longer in motion, there was no changing Bruce. No matter what he did, how well he cleaned up the streets, Bruce would never accept his methods, never change his own. Was there even a point anymore? Jason couldn’t believe his former mentor’s words, lies spun to target the shred of hope buried deep inside that his father might want him back. That his family might not have abandoned him.
But they did. And worse, no one paid for his death.
If Bruce had really been distraught, if he’d grieved the way he said he had, the Joker would not be alive. The mad man who took his son away from him would not be allowed to wreak havoc on the rest of the world for eternity, to take other sons away from their families, other children, parents, brothers or sisters or friends. Bruce’s logic was flawed. It would have been an avenging act if he had taken care of the Joker for what he’d done. Jason’s memory would have finally been put to rest, and the man responsible would have paid the price. Didn’t his father owe him that much?
But then there was his voice. The words, lies, thrown at him to break him down, to appeal to the shred of humanity Bruce hoped still lingered that he might force his hand. Kill the Joker or surrender. Try to convince him those weren’t his only options. But for the monster now loose in Gotham, they were. Only now there seemed to be no point.
Out of the silence, a sound caught Jason’s attention. He kept his eyes focused ahead, making sure not to alert the intruder to his knowledge of their presence. The noise wasn’t stealthy, but it wasn’t boisterous either. It was the gait of someone with a light tread, but who wanted themselves to be heard. It was a footfall he’d become accustomed to.
"Talia." He said plainly, his voice hard and controlled lest it betray him. "Gotta say, I was expecting you much sooner."
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