Chapter 2: In the Coffin

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"Bruce," he yelled as he banged his fists against the top of the coffin. "Father, don't leave me here."

He screamed as he continued hitting the coffin but no one answered.

He supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be on the other side of the pearly white gate enjoying the afterlife. Instead he was in hell.

He couldn't breathe. The coffin provided little air as he pushed to break through. What was he doing here?

It was then that he remembered.

It was dark but then again Gotham was the city of shadows and phantoms. Jason had never liked the dark. Growing up the streets one knew that well lit places were necessary for survival. In a well lit place it was less likely for someone to beat the crap out of you without anyone noticing.

He didn't know why he had agreed to come here. He wanted to make Bruce proud. Of course, Bruce was also preaching at him.

"You are too angry Jason."

"Jason, stop being reckless."

"Jason, practice that move again."

"Jason, you're not doing it right."

"Jason, you need to pay more attention to detail."

"Jason, you have to learn patience or you will disrupt an investigation."

"Sometimes I don't understand you. I know you had to be tough to survive but you don't need to be that way now. You're safe in this house. I won't let anything happen to you."

His life went to hell when Bruce decided to fire him. He was too reckless for the Batman. He was too reckless to be a good Robin, to be the type of Robin perfect son Dick was.

He went back to his old home one night. He hated that house and all the memories that existed within those walls. His father the abusive criminal and his mother who slowly faded away. He had tried to save her but he had failed just like he always did.

One of the neighbors recognized him. She asked him to come in and handed him a box. A box full of things that had belonged to his parents. A box that contained a deadly secret.

He rummaged through the papers like a man dehydrated man gulps down water. There it was his birth certificate but who the hell was this woman with a name beginning with a "S"? His mother's name was Catherine.

He had never had a family. He felt like an outsider in the Wayne household. Bruce already had a son, Dick. Dick had been angry at his existence at first. Bruce had adopted Jason while Dick was just a ward. That had resulted into heated arguments between the two but eventually Dick had accepted Jason as his brother.

Still the idea that he had a mother who might be alive drew Jason out his depression. He became obessed with finding her. He spent days searching her out. He narrowed down his possible mothers. He could tell Bruce what he was doing. Bruce would help him.

But Bruce had fired him. Bruce didn't deserve to know his plans.

So he did the one thing he wanted do since the beginning. He quit playing by Bruce's rules.

People didn't think he heard the whispers. He was Bruce Wayne's latest charitity case. This poor boy homeless boy who had wandered the streets of Gotham was living a rags to riches dream. He was suddenly important to this rich people. It was such phony bull shit.

Then there came the comparisons. People had this iconic image of Bruce's first foster son. Richard Grayson had come from the circus and had easily adapted to society. He was the golden boy of Gotham society.

Jason was rash. He said what he thought and was known for running his mouth. Pluse he was only twelve years old and already a smoker. He didn't want pity or need anyone's help. He had been on his own for years. He didn't need or want the public's sympathy. Dick hadn't wanted it either. Dick's somewhat sunny personality pulled people to him while Jason's darkened view of the world pushed people away. He would never measure up to Dick.

Dick was like a brother to him. Jason both loved him and hated him. Dick had been the Robin that Bruce had always wanted. Dick had been easy to train and more complacent than Jason would ever be. He was the perfect Robin, the original Robin. All Jason could ever hope to be was second best not only as Robin but also as Bruce's son.

So Jason alone made the decision to strike out and search for his mother. It was Jason who allowed this woman to led him into a trap set by the Joker.

He didn't expect her betrayal but then again he was a punk kid. A kid that many said didn't deserve the title of Robin. After all he had killed a man at sixteen. He hadn't meant but his anger had gotten uncontrollable. Jason used more force than necessary when he fought. He didn't care if he beat the villains nearly to death be they be costumed villains or mere thugs.

Dick was calm and fluid like water changing when necessary but retaining a course. Jason was erratic like fire and would easily burn those who reached out to him.

The memories blazed over him like flames heated by his anger. He remembered it all: the feeling of the crowbar coming crashing over his body as the Joker beat his head, his legs, his arms, anywhere and everywhere. Then there was the manic laughter as he lay there bleeding to death. The bomb was set and he rushed to cover his mother. She may have betrayed him but he would save her if he could. The explosion consumed them both and he could remember nothing after that.

He pushed the top the coffin. He screamed with all his might. This body was older than one he had been buried in.

How was this all possible?

He didn't care right now. He was alive and that was all that mattered. If he didn't hurry he wouldn't even be alive anymore. His blue eyes gazed at the top of the coffin in horror. Frantically he searched his body. Was there an sign of his being Robin?

Please say you went sentimental on me. Please Bruce for once in your life don't be a cautious bastard, Jason thought frantically.

He searched his body but there was nothing. No knife, no batarang, nothing that he could see that would help him out.

Panic flooded over him. He was going to die in this tight knit coffin. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die.

No, his mind screamed. I'm not dying again.

He felt his brain take over in a swift motion. Bruce had taught him to think with a calm cold rationale. It was that thinking that saved Jason's life.

He took off his belt the buckle serving as a way to break out. He used the buckle to scrap the top and when the buckle broke. He used his fingers. His fingernails tore and his hands were cut.

It was in one simple movement that he sent his hand through the top of the coffin. Jason Todd was alive. He crawled out of the coffin and collapsed less than a mile away from the cemetery.

To be continued...