Don't know what's coming tomorrow

Maybe it's trouble and sorrow

But we travel the road, sharing the load

Side by side

It had to be like this-

Bruce standing, there, smiling. At a press conference, anywhere, really. Somewhere public, because fathers were not ashamed of their sons. And who cares whether the media see it? They wouldn't understand a thing.

So, Bruce, there. And Jason, too, just standing there. And they'd meet eyes and he wouldn't say anything, but he'd smile. And nod. Acknowledgement.

That had been all Jason had ever wanted.

Hood down- not the red hood, a hoodie, a present from Dick all those years ago- he slid through the crowd. A part of him told him to turn back; what was the point of trying anymore? Trying always felt like a rubber band snapped across the heart. But Jason was there, Jason was trying, because worse than trying was not knowing at all.

The stage was dressed up in grandeur, as usual. The open pavilion was decorated in colorful streamers and balloons, like a rainbow parade that was resting for a while. And in the center was where the podium was. A microphone, alone and unafraid, was attached to it. It faced nothing as of yet. For a second, Jason thought about going up there and saying something- what, he didn't know. But he knew who he wanted to speak to, and that should've been enough.

Jason just wasn't that reckless anymore.

"Jason."

He twirled around in surprise. Here, nobody was supposed to know him. Not as Jason Todd, dead charity case of Bruce Wayne, little troublemaker that got killed in a car crash (that was the story, wasn't it? Jason didn't know. He'd never asked.).

He came face to face- well, air above face, as Tim was shorter than him.

"Replacement," he said tiredly, the old nickname not coming as easily to the lips.

The younger Robin looked at him. There was a silence that filled the gap between them, something akin to history.

Tim looked at the stage. "Are you staying?"

"I don't know."

And Jason didn't. He didn't know whether he'd survive this life again, if it meant having to stay here, in this crowd. Listening to the speech. From the man who took everything-

"Jason," Tim pleaded. "Don't stay."

Jason looked down. "I have to. I... I have to know."

"Why don't you trust me?" It wasn't a question, not really. So Jason didn't answer.

"He'll hurt you," Tim tried again.

Jason didn't look at him. "He's hurt me before."

"Not like this."

Jason sighed. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't be here either."

Tim gulped, and Jason knew he had him there. "I...I'm not staying," Tim reasoned. "It's just... I want to see him. Just once."

Spiteful words died in Jason's throat. In reality, chances were that all Robins were present at this meeting. It was the first public meeting Bruce Wayne had had since...

Well, since he had died. Since he had come back to life, with no recollection of any of them. (According to Dick- which was the reason he was here in the first place. He wanted to see for himself.)

Jason turned to the stage, just as music started blaring from the speakers beside it. He knew instinctively that Tim would be gone the next time he looked back, but it was better that way. Too many faces were here today.

A man started walking out from the curtain. Jason felt his insides rise to his throat, in a vicious attempt at making him sick. If only he could puke up all the memories of death and pain that that man had given him. That man, now standing up on the stage, and his smile was so genuine and fake that it hurt. How could you smile at the city that you don't remember you protected? Or did he remember, remember all of it, but choose to forget because it was too painful?

Jason... had thought of that before. Of letting everything go. But anger was everything, all he had left. And with the anger came the courage to face his death. Obviously, that was something Bruce was lacking.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bruce Wayne started.

And his voice, devoid of the hardship and suffering that his Bruce Wayne had known, was like stuffing sugar down his throat. It was supposed to be a good thing- but Jason preferred angry Bruce, scared Bruce, the Bruce that might've thought Jason was a mistake, but at least he remembered him. The Bruce that he could imagine shooting the brains out of. His Bruce.

Their Bruce.

But it didn't matter, and this time, Jason knew. He knew from the way Bruce stood to the way he spoke. His speech was coming to an end, but there was no point in staying anymore. Pulling his hood down- not the red hood, although he wanted it so badly now- he turned his back to the stage and left. He walked on the path he remembered so well, opened the gates as quietly as he could. He could disappear. Be as good as dead, to this Bruce. Make Bruce happy.

He'd tried his whole life to make Bruce hurt. Now Jason was the one hurt and Bruce wasn't even trying.

"Excuse me?"

Jason's skin crawled as he heard that voice. He turned around slowly. And, god, there he was. Because life- and death- couldn't just let him leave, could they?

"Bruce," he said- but then, because that was too informal, "Wayne. Bruce Wayne."

Bruce knitted his eyebrows together. "Do I... Um," he coughed. "There's a party going on inside, you know."

"I know. I was just there."

Things were so painfully awkward. There was no history between them, not anymore. Jason had to live with both their burdens now, and Bruce would be free to do as he wanted. What a perfect world, wasn't it?

"So, I just..." Bruce sighed. "Do I know you?"

Jason so desperately wanted to say yes, you did, you killed me. But something inside him blocked the words. Because the Bruce he knew would never ask that question.

And this was not his Bruce.

Jason offered his most pain-free smile. "You did, once. But... It doesn't matter anymore."

"Oh." Bruce looked a little confused. "Well then, sorry to disturb you. Have a good day."

Jason turned to leave. Hesitated. "...Bruce?"

"...Yes?"

Jason swallowed. "Thank you. For everything."

Bruce Wayne stood there on the grounds, staring after the strange young man he had encountered. He should've been going back to the party, but something had told him that man was important. Bruce shook his head.

If he'd really mattered to Bruce, than Bruce would've remembered him.

He probably didn't matter at all.

Through all kinds of weather

What if the skies should fall

Just as long as we're together

It doesn't matter now at all

Hello people of this universe reading my story! Thanks for taking the time. This fanfic is set recently, when Bruce lost his memories of everything (especially his boys- how could he?) Alfred did this to basically make Bruce happy, and I wanted to toy with the idea of Jason- whose whole life after resurrection was to make Bruce upset- seeing how much happier Bruce was like this. I hope you enjoyed it. The song you see in the beginning and the end is Side By Side by Ray Charles (actually by a lot of people- it was very popular at one point). Thanks for spending your time here!