Chapter Text
The first thing Jason noticed was that everything hurt like a bitch.
Fuck.
What the hell happened?
He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Not that it did any good. He was trapped in complete darkness and he couldn’t see a single thing. His heart raced and his hands shot out, fumbling around in the dark. He can feel hard cold concrete, the sharp jagged edges of rubble.
But it wasn’t wood. He didn’t wake up in another coffin. And he couldn’t help but let out a short incredulous laugh of relief.
He was just trapped underneath a collapsed building. The situation still wasn’t good but it wasn’t the worst.
He closed his eyes —not that it did any good since he could only see black— and his brows scrunched up at the huge migraine forming.
Right.
His memories were coming back and his fingers twitched to get a hold of a gun so he could shoot the fuckers that decided it was a good idea to shoot explosives in a closed room.
Spoiler alert. It wasn’t.
Fuck. Those bastards better hope they’re dead for making him put up with this shit.
He tried to sit up when his leg screeched in agonizing pain and he flopped back down the next second. Yeah. He was not looking forward to when he gets out of here. Walking is going to hurt like a fucking bitch.
But he was getting out of here. He dug himself out of rubble once. He can do it again.
He took stock of his situation.
Okay. So he might have a bit of trouble doing it again. Things were a little worse than he thought.
His armor was torn. He can feel the bullet wounds in his chest and the hole in his stomach. He can feel the blood sluggishly flowing out of him as he pressed a hand against the injury and tried to keep it in, pooling underneath his body. His legs were pinned under slabs of concrete and debris.
He won’t be able to move without going through a shit ton of pain.
Those bastards better hope he dies from this before he hunts them down and puts a bullet through their heads. Bruce’s no-killing rule be damned.
He gritted his teeth at what he’s going to have to do next. Pride be damned. He’s not staying here. He didn’t feel like dying for a second time.
He shakily reached up and turned on the comm in his ear.
“Hey O. This is Hood. I need your help.”
No response. Just a little static. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he’s pretty sure she’s active right now. She never stops working.
“Oracle? I’m kind of in a situation right now.”
Still nothing.
“Batman?”
“Nightwing?”
“Hello? Is anyone fucking there? There was an explosion and I’m buried.”
He was not going to panic. Panicking isn’t going to do shit. Did he piss the Bats off or something? He tried thinking back to what he could have done.
He wasn’t going to admit that he was scared they finally saw he was a lost cause and abandoned him again.
Okay. It was time to bring in the big guns.
“I’m going to kill the Joker.”
He waited a few seconds but no one responded to the bait. A pity. That one always gets some feathers ruffled.
“I got Robin a new pet.”
He knew Bruce banned Damian from picking up any more strays. So when he came across a tiny kitten covered in mud, he knew what to do. He could’ve gone to Selina but pissing off Bruce was way more entertaining.
He wouldn’t admit that the kid’s beaming smile when he gave him the pet also played a role in his decision.
“I switched Red’s coffee with decaf.”
Surprisingly, that did nothing. Damn he thought that would get someone talking.
Now he was just pissed.
Because fuck them. Dick and Babs kept hounding him to accept the comm and to call him whenever he needed help. But now when he needs them, they’re not fucking answering.
Okay. He sees how it is.
He wasn’t going to waste precious oxygen talking to people who clearly have better things to do than deal with the black sheep of the family.
For all their words and promises, he didn’t mean much in the end.
He never did.
.
He didn’t know how long it’s been. It could’ve been 15 minutes or even an hour. Being stuck in complete darkness and suffering from blood loss and headaches skewered his sense of time.
But it gave him time to bitterly accept his fate.
He wasn’t looking forward to dying again but he always knew he was on borrowed time and just like last time, he was going to die alone.
There was a time when someone would’ve tried to save him. There was a time when he was loved.
But he burnt those bridges a long time ago and now, there was no one around to care that he was taking his last breath.
After all, he used up all of Robin’s magic the first time and there were no more miracles left for him anymore.
.
If Jason had the strength or oxygen for it, he would’ve laughed hysterically.
He had a second chance —he had a chance to go home and be loved— but he chose revenge and let the green take over. In the end, nothing changed at all. His family hated him and he was going to die alone again.
Well, he already has an empty grave with his name on it so burying him will be quicker this time. If Bruce even wanted him in the family cemetery. He’ll probably just end up in an unmarked nondescript grave instead.
Who would even want to visit a murderous criminal’s grave anyway?
“What’s the worst thing that can happen?” His words were raspy and dull like it was spoken by a man on his deathbed.
But he couldn’t stop talking. Maybe he just wanted something to fill the silence and darkness before he’s taken from this world again.
Maybe he just wanted company even if it was in the form of himself.
“I die again.”
He already accepted it. There were no more second chances for him.
“I go to Arkham.”
He hoped he dies before that happens. He’ll kill himself before they can put him in the cell right next to the fucking Joker. He doesn’t want to hear the clown’s laughter ringing over and over in his head where there’s no escape or respite.
“I wake up in my own grave and crawl out of it again.”
Been there, done that.
What’s the worst thing that can happen? He’s already been through it. His life is just one sick joke after another.
So it should be fine if he lets himself dream a little.
“What’s the best thing that can happen?”
It was fine. There was no one here that could hear him.
There never is.
“Bruce saves me in time.”
He can have a dad again.
“My siblings don’t hate me.”
He can have a family who cares about him.
“I can go home.”
The moment he broke Bruce’s no-killing rule, he knew the Manor was closed off forever. He knew he could never go home again.
“Bruce says he’s proud of me.” He blinked back the tears. “He says he loves me.”
It could be just like old times when Bruce loved the feisty Robin that was always more trouble than what was worth.
It was a nice dream even though he knew it would never be real. He was many things but stupid isn’t one of them.
.
.
.
Jason was woken up by loud bangs and frantic shouting. Who the fuck is interrupting his dream? And it was a good one too.
He cracked his eyes open to see blurry shapes.
Great. Now he was hallucinating.
Because there was no way that the family that doesn’t really care for him would actually be here right now?
But he wasn’t going to question the phantom touches that feel too warm to be fake. Dying is really making his imagination run wild, huh?
The soft caresses through his sweaty hair felt really nice so he wasn’t questioning it.
“You’ll be okay, Jaylad. You’re going to be okay.” The words fell from a desperate father’s lips —from a dream he once remembered having after he crawled out of his grave.
He forgot what Bruce sounded like when he wasn’t yelling at him for shooting people or being a criminal that should be locked up in Arkham.
He forgot what it was like to feel loved.
Jason could only close his eyes and pretend that his dad actually came for him this time. Even if it was all in his head, at least he wasn’t dying alone this time.