Summary: Every night, Jason holds a gun up to his head and counts to ten, trying to remember the acceptance he so briefly felt as Robin as a reminder that life is worth living. Although a part of him knows he never will pull the trigger. He finds every day, as he struggles to prove himself; it's more and more difficult to get through.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Jason Todd or the rights to BM:URD or Young Justice or anything else like that.
WARNING: Maybe triggering to some readers. It talks about suicide and other similar themes.
A/N: So, I found this Head Cannon and I wrote a one shot for it. Jason Todd is beyond my favorite character ever and I hope I did his character/personality justice.
-Ana Uzumaki
.: 643. Every night, Jason holds a gun up to his head and counts to ten, trying to remember the acceptance he so briefly felt as Robin as a reminder that life is worth :.
.: living. Although a part of him knows he never will pull the trigger. He finds every day, as he struggles to prove himself; it's more and more difficult to get through. :.
― JasonToddHeadCannons
Cold Metal
Jason Todd
Location: Jason's Apartment, Gotham City
Date: December 16 Time: 20:23
I don't see the point. I take a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of the night. It had been raining most of the day, the breeze driving out most of the smog that usually lays just above the city streets. Tonight is one of those rare cool nights, the one that sends that just right feeling of cold, but not too cold, over your bare skin. Goose bumps trail over my arms creating little raised circles over my skin. Right now, I'm just Jason Todd. I'm not Red Hood. I'm not the ex-Robin. I'm no one but a ghost in a city constantly filled with the dead.
I pullback and check the clip, the gun heavy in my hand. Every night no matter how long I'm carrying it in my hand it always feels heaviest when it's pressed against my own forehead. Carefully I count the rounds making sure there's on in the chamber as I go back inside. The apartment isn't as dark as it normally it; the moon casts a glow around the room lighting everything up as I sit down on the bed folding my legs under me. I close my eyes and begin the count silently asking myself the same question I ask myself every night as I press the cool metal to my head.
1
Why is life worth living?
Just the feel of the gun against my head is relieving; it gives me a reason to think about my life: the good and the bad. No one can take away your memories. They stay with you even in death, and sometimes, even when you come back. The best thing about life is smell. I can't go anywhere without triggering a memory; the smell of Dick's shirt when he pulls me into one of those god forsaken bromance hugs; the smell of pine when Alfred sets up the tree in Wayne Manor; the musky and damp smell of the Batcave; the new car smell Bruce sprays in the Batmobile when we used to go out for joy rides. No one can take these away from me.
2
It was the best day of my life.
A trigger is easy to pull once you have a reason. You just pick out your make and model and put a reason behind every bullet you fire. Once you know what you want to do, all you have to do is figure out how to do it. Like everything else, this memory is burned into my brain. It replays over and over, just like it did just before I died. The shorts were way to short; they rode up a bit and I felt a bit ridiculous, but none of that mattered. Nothing but the feel of that cape engulfing me and the R on my chest mattered. My legs began to cramp as I hid behind the computer waiting for the perfect moment to spring. No sooner did Alfred hand Bruce his cup I jumped out already exclaiming my victory at scaring my mentor. He stood there as stoic as before only now a large smile was plastered across his face. Even to this day, it's still the best day of my life.
3
Why not?
My lifehas never been easy. Why would now be any exception?
4
Hate and love is a vicious cycle.
It is hard to believe I don't actually hate him. Out of everyone, I think I love him the most. Sure, Tim is loyal, Dick is the oldest, and Damian is the only legitimate child, but Bruce was the one who took me out of my misery, and gave me everything that I never had access too. He saw more in me then the would-be criminal I was becoming. He made sure I had a greater purpose in life. I was never angry that he didn't save me. I'm angry I didn't mean more to him then his morals. Maybe that's a lie, I conclude after thinking it over. Sometimes I do hate him. I hate his meaningless code and I hate his stoic exterior and I hate the disappointed look in his eyes when he looks the gun in my hand every fucking time we face off.
5
If I give up, he wins.
It's too easy to just give up. If I give up, the Joker wins. It means he succeeded in breaking me and I'm too fucking proud to allow that shit to happen again.
6
Because people care about me.
I'm sacred; that's what they tell me. There used to me a monument in Mount Justice dedicated to my memory. My costume, to this day, is displayed in the Batcave. Even the Replacement has come to care enough about me for us to be on a first name base, hell the demon spawn might even miss me if something were to happen to me and Dick… Well at least I know a certain acrobat will always go out of his way to at least invite me to Thanksgiving dinner, even if I only pop in at midnight while everyone is sleeping to grab leftovers.
7
People suck and then they die.
I'm too soft. Sometimes I think the world would be better off if we just offed everyone and started over, but then when I walk through the streets and see children with their mothers (good mothers, not those junkie whores I find in the Slums) holding hands, smiling brightly. It makes me sick to my stomach to know that in killing off everyone there wouldn't be any of those smiles left, just a cold world without anything in it. They are the reason I want to make Gotham safer. So mothers can walk their children home and not have to worry about drug peddling scum trying to sell their kids dope.
8
Fucking Shakespeare and his shit poetry.
To beor not to be? Isn't that just some poetic way of asking if I should off myself or not? Or is it something completely different and I'm more fucked up then I thought?
9
The Gotham drug trade would be fucked.
I'm taken with the fact that I actually might mean something to the world. I control the Gotham Drug trade: the money, the deliveries, everything. As long as no one sells to children and I don't see them do business by a school or on playgrounds, they're fine. They keep to my rule and everything runs smoothly. They step out of line… Well then they are made an example of. I keep Gotham safe, more then Bruce ever did. On more the one occasion, I've said, "Crime cannot be eliminated, it has to be controlled," and that is exactly what I do; control it.
10
The world is better off with me then without me.
And for someone so vain, there's got to be another answer. There was a four month period where there were two robins. One with the Titans and one in Gotham, and for the longest time, no one could tell the difference. Not even Timothy Drake who is almost as great as the big a detective as the original pointy-eared bat himself. That's got to count for something.
For granted, I know that I'll never actually pull the trigger or at least that's how I feel tonight. When you put a loaded gun to your head, every sense in your body comes alive. Your survival instinct ignites in your veins and every nerve in your body screams at you that life is worth living and no one know more then I that life is short.
A/N: I hoped you guys liked the layout and everything else about it.
Oh, and by the way, go back and read the second word in each paragraph excluding the headings. Subliminal messaging for the win ya'll. ^_^
Trying to make the word 'to' the second word of a sentence is hard so you'll have to live with my awesome 'too' instead.
Be a dear and leave a review. Night, night everyone.
-Ana Uzumaki