Work Text:
A Different Path
“Jason!”
“Jason.”
The two distant voices blur together, one a cry of anguish and loss; the other a gentle prompt…
Silence.
Then, “Jason…” This time the gentle voice is louder, closer.
“Jason, darling, wake up my child. You’ve been asleep for too long.”
Asleep? Was he sleeping?
The sound of footsteps followed by the sound of fabric swishing reaches his ears. Suddenly there’s warmth on his face and an orange glow against his eyelids.
“Open your eyes child” the voice is feminine, soothing him.
My eyes? Oh- Slowly, Jason’s eyes flicker open, before quickly slamming shut once more against the blinding light shining into the room. He presses his hands against his eyes and sits up, feeling a blanket shift beneath him on what must be a bed. The firmness beneath him didn’t feel like his bed at the Manor though. Where was he?
“Oh yes, I guess the sun would be rather violent after so long in the darkness.”
A weight settles next to him on the bed, and a hand gently moves his hands away from his eyes, grasping them softly in his lap.
“Come on darling, you can do it, try opening them again.”
His eyes open again, slowly this time, and the ceiling comes into focus, wood paneling greeting his confused gaze. Blinking, his gaze flints around the room. White walls meet uneven floorboards, the dullness interrupted only by a singular window on his right. He takes in the generic cityscape beyond the window, which gives him no hint about his location. Finally, turning to his left, his gaze settles on the figure beside him.
It was a woman. Chestnut hair pulled back from a round face, bronze skin gleaming warmly in the sunlight sneaking in from the open window. Meeting her eyes, Jason sees a soft, motherly expression.
“There you are my dear.” She speaks softly, her English tinged with an odd accent that was somewhere between British and Arabic. She seems familiar somehow, but Jason can’t recall why. His mind is in a haze, trying to remember how he got here, but it is as if he is still half-asleep and dreaming.
“I’m glad to see you awake, I was starting to worry you wouldn’t regain consciousness.”
Something about her words was off. Why wouldn’t he wake up? What happened? Where was he?
She must have seen the confusion and concern in his eyes, “Oh don’t worry little robin, now that you’re awake, everything will be just fine.” Her kind expression and reassuring tone was at odds with her tense posture and calculating eyes. And there was something about that name…
All of a sudden, he wasn’t on the bed with the woman anymore.
_____
He was on the ground, pain searing through his body. A demented, giggly voice speaking above him. “Come on little birdie, you’re no fun, what happened to that proud defiance of yours, huh?” The squeak of a boot sole on cement preludes a hard kick to Jason’s abdomen. He curls up into the fetal position, the pain from all his injuries blurring together until he feels like he is just one massive open wound. Every nerve in his body is screaming. The Joker- and it is the Joker- is laughing, always laughing.
“Well, I guess our game is over now little robin… have fun with what little time you left!”
He struggles to open his eyes. Red numbers appear hazily in front of his face.
30
Shit. There was no way he was going to make it out of this one.
15
I’m sorry B, I’m sorry I let you down. I wish I could’ve said goodbye to you and Alfie- even Dick, the bastard.
0
“JASON!” Bruce?
Then nothing.
_____
“Jason, come back to me darling, it’s alright. You’re alright,” the woman’s voice calls to him through the fog of pain, fear, Bruce, nothingness. A hand rubs his back, trying to calm him down. He’s dead. He died. Was this heaven? Or hell? And what happened to… “Bruce?”
“So you haven’t lost your voice then little robin-”
“Don’t call me that,” he bites out, the Joker’s taunts still echoing in his head.
“Where am I? Who are you? Where’s Bruce?”
“Calm down little one, not so much all at once. You are in my home, and I am someone… familiar with Bruce Wayne, an old friend, let's say. And I presume he is in Gotham, futilely fighting crime as he always has.”
Jason scoffs disbelievingly. “There’s no way that’s true, he’ll be looking for me- Batman wouldn’t abandon his Robin.”
She pauses. “Oh sweetie, you’re not Batman’s Robin anymore- you died, and he’s moved on.”
Moved on, after Jason’s death. The warehouse, the countdown. He died there; Bruce didn’t make it before the bomb went off. But if he died, then how was he here? And Bruce was… without him. Come on Jason, focus on one thing at a time, remember your training, prioritize.
“If I died, how am I alive? And who are you?” He needs answers.
“Your current lively state is a gift from the Lazarus Pit, my people retrieved your body and I laid you in the Pit myself to return you to life.” She shifts forward in her seat, her eyes meeting his. “I am Talia al Ghul and my dearest wish is to see my Beloved Bruce Wayne see the error of his ways.”
The name struck a chord with Jason. All the information Batman had on the woman flashes through his brain- suddenly it makes sense why her caring reassurances seem so at odds with the rest of her demeanor- this is Talia al Ghul, daughter of Raz al Ghul- the head of the League of Shadows and Batman’s sworn enemy (and former lover if B’s avoidance of the topic told him anything).
“Al Ghul… You’re with the Shadows. What motivation could you possibly have for resurrecting me? It’s not like I’d ever help you.”
She smirks, “You wouldn’t? Not even if it meant getting revenge against the man who let you die? The man who replaced you the moment he found a better candidate for the position?”
“Bruce wouldn’t do that,” he says, furiously shaking his head.
“Oh Jason, even you don’t believe that,” Talia croons, “but if you need it, here’s your proof.”
She turns and pulls out a manila envelope from a nightstand beside the bed and tosses it on Jason’s lap. Picking it up, he opens it hesitantly and takes out a stack of what appear to be pictures and newspaper clippings of Batman and… Robin? But no, how it that possible? He looks closer, examining the top photo, which shows two figures taking down what appeared to be a man in a vivid green suit, the headline declaring, “Dark Knight and his Squire Return the Riddler to Arkham”
The new Robin’s suit looks so familiar yet entirely foreign. It lacked the distinctive bright green detailing of Jason’s own Robin uniform. The contradiction hurts his brain. Confusion and hurt swirling through his thoughts. He turns back to Talia.
“What the hell is this?” he demands.
“Your successor, Timothy Drake, better known as Robin. Batman didn’t even wait a year before taking on a new apprentice- he goes through them rather quickly, don’t you think?”
Drake. That was the name of the neighbor kid- the small one who was always hiding behind his mother’s skirt at the Wayne Foundation galas B had dragged him to- that’s who B chose at his new partner? After less than a year? How long was he gone- dead- anyways?
Out of the blue, a dark voice hisses in the back of his mind: He chose a weakling, nothing compared to your strength, you should take him out, reclaim your rightful place.
“NO!” Jason grasps at his hair as if he was trying to forcefully suppress the intrusive thoughts invading his mind.
“Oh dear, I was beginning to think the Lazarus Pit hadn’t affected you- but it has, hasn’t it? You can hear it whispering to you, guiding you.”
“Guiding me? You think that voice is guiding me? It’s telling me to go against everything B has taught me, our rules, our principles, how is that guidance?” he asks her, incredulous.
“My Beloved has many strengths, but his ‘principles’ are not one of them,” Talia’s derision of Bruce’s values is clear in her tone.
“The Batman lacks the fortitude to take the final, necessary step towards eradicating the scum from the Earth.”
“Final Step? You mean killing, the one thing that separates Batman from the evil that litters the streets of Gotham. The principles that make him a hero?” Jason retorts, glaring.
She gives him a pitying look, “What kind of hero lets his son’s killer walk free?”
The Joker, he’s alive? And free?
The dark voice returns, The Batman has betrayed you- your murderer still breathes and the man you considered a father has put an imposter in your place. Kill him, kill them both, show them your superiority to their weakness.
Revulsion fills him at the thought of hurting Bruce. No. Batman doesn’t kill. We don’t kill. Yeah- Joker shouldn’t be free, but the fact that he’s still breathing just means that Bruce is still Bruce.
“Listen lady,” disgust evident in his voice, “I won’t let you turn me against Bruce. He’s a hero- he has principles. It’s one of the many qualities that make him better than people like you. Batman needs a partner, of course he repla- found another Robin.” He can’t bring himself to say ‘replaced’ again.
“Oh, but he didn’t just find a new Robin,” Talia taunts.
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you take a look at the other headlines.” At this Jason glances down at the clutter of newspaper clippings in his lap. He flips through articles about Batman and Robin until he sees a headline that makes him freeze:
“Bruce Wayne Adopts Orphaned Drake Heir”
Jason’s mind is a chaotic mess. He adopted him, his father got a new partner and adopted him- might as well fill both empty positions. That’s B, always efficient, he thought ruefully. But… that’s not Bruce. Bruce might’ve sucked at showing it, but I know he cared- cares. Doesn’t he?
“Don’t you see Jason?” She gently grasps his arm, “Drake has stolen everything from you, and Bruce handed it to him. You don’t owe him anything now. He abandoned you and now I can help train you so that you can return and show him what a mistake that was. You can be better than him and take the actions necessary to protect your city.”
Jason still doesn’t say anything, hardly hearing Talia’s passionate call to action.
Yeah, Bruce cares- he cares more than most people even. Why else would he take in Dick and especially me? The article said “Orphaned,” I’d bet anything that this Tim kid needed Bruce just as much at Dickie and I did. As Jason reminds himself of Bruce’s bleeding-heart syndrome regarding orphans, his mind settles. Bruce could never pass up an opportunity to help a kid in need.
“So, what do you say? Will you join me, get your revenge, and save your city from the hands of a man too weak to do what’s necessary?” He can hear it in her voice, she thinks she’s won. He shrugs out of her grasp.
“I say that you’re batshit, al Ghul- pun intended. You don’t care about me or whether or not Bruce has betrayed me- you just want to torment Bruce as revenge for him leaving you.”
As he spoke, he watched Talia’s shocked expression morph into one of rage.
“You little mongrel, you have no idea what you’re giving up. You could have been great- the true savior of Gotham. I see now, though, that you are just as weak as he is. You deserve each other.” Somewhere along the way, she lost any semblance of motherliness or kindness; all that remained was coldness.
“I’m going home.”
Jason stands on unsteady feet and walks to the door, pausing before he leaves, “I appreciate you bringing me back, but you were a fool to think you could use me to hurt my family.”
Calming herself, Talia calls to him as he walks out the door, “My door will be open once you realize that he doesn’t truly care for you. I learned firsthand the limits of Bruce Wayne’s heart, and I will be waiting for you when you discover the same limits. Just remember that I tried to warn you- tried to help you.”
Jason doesn’t bother to reply.
_____
After finding his way out of Talia’ safehouse, Jason wanders for a few blocks until he finds a small grocery store whose elderly owner lets him borrow the phone, despite his disheveled appearance. Taking a deep breath, he dials the number he’s known since day one with B and shakily lifts the phone to his ear as it rings. Then-
“Wayne Residence, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” spoken lightly with an achingly familiar British accent.
“Alfie?”
“Master Jason?!”
Tears well in Jason’s eyes at the shock and concern in that voice.
“Yeah Alf, it’s me. I want to come home.”
THE END