The alarm blared at him, taunting him from the bedside cabinet, as if it was yelling at him. Wake the hell up, wake the hell up.
"Shut the hell up," Jason muttered, slamming his fist onto the sleep button and nearly crushing the clock under the hand attached to his muscled arm. It was nearly eleven in the morning, but that was early for him.
He slowly turned over and sat up, nearly knocking over the leaning tower of beer cans on the table and the ashtray that still let a thin trail of smoke float up tot he ceiling.
His helmet, his so-called "hood," lay abandoned on the floor, along with the pistol he held and the jacket he wore. Although, "wore" was probably an understatement. He hadn't gone out as the Red Hood in eight months. He'd sat in his apartment, smoked, drank, and occasionally shot at the yellow smiley face he'd spray-painted on the wall (whether he did it out of boredom or anger, he didn't really know).
Jason was alone, now more than ever. The only thing stopping him from going to Dick for help was his own pride.
Dick has other things to worry about than my bullshit.
Jason knew that wasn't true. He knew that, if he'd just pick up the damn phone and ring them up, Dick and Tim and Kate would be here in a heartbeat for him. That's what family is for.
But something held him back. He just couldn't face them.
He slowly stood up on quivering legs, unsteady in both stance and mood. Slowly, he pushed the agony of the hangover to the back of his mind, ate leftovers for breakfast, and made his way out into the cold autumn street.
Five years on, there was still work to be done. Buildings still had to be rebuilt, and in some cases the remnants still needed to be clear away - their shattered bricks and twisted steel a bittersweet reminder of the Gotham of yesteryear. These were the kind of things Jason passed every morning (or at least, the morning he could get out of bed). He walked a well-worn path from his unassuming apartment on the corner of 52nd and Washington Avenue to the cafe at the corner of 48th and 12th. Cafe Drury, named after Drury Walker, who as Killer Moth, had saved Metropolis from nuclear destruction. He saved an entire city, but at a cost greater than Jason could forgive himself for. He blamed himself for everyone. Every hero who died, every building that fell, he felt their blood on his hands. It wasn't his fault, but five years of self-hatred doesn't go away at the spin of a dime.
Drury Walker, the villain who saved Metropolis; and Batman, the hero who brought Gotham back from the brink. But where did that leave Jason?
Everyknew knew what Drury had done, and even five years on, they honoured him. The memories of his past as a criminal were cast aside, replaced with tributes, honours, posthumous awards, and monuments. A grand collection of statues depicting the heroes who died defending the city had been erected in Gotham Park, and Killer Moth was standing proud up there, alongside Anarky, Static, Bane, Huntress, and even Jim Gordon. Jason knew that if he ever gave his life for Gotham, he didn't want that. He owed his life to them, but he didn't want to be up there, forever remembered in polished bronze. Maybe he just didn't feel he deserved it.
He turned a corner and after another few minutes of walking, the cold air howling through the streets to send crimson leaves flying all over, he reached the cafe and pushed his way through the dorr, escaping the wind.
"In a hurry, are we?" Jason turned and saw two curious emerald eyes emerge from behind a newspaper, before the paper was carefully folded up and laid down on the table beside a blueberry muffin, and Jason saw Edward Nygma looking back at him, smiling.
"Let me buy you a cup of coffee."
Four minutes later, they were having coffee together. It felt good to jason, knowing he could at least rely on Eddie to brighten his day, or at least reduce his hangover.
"It's been far too long, Jason," said Edward as his companion sipped coffee across from him. "We should do this more often."
"I've been busy, Eddie," replied Jason, glancing at the headlines on Edward's apparently forgotten newspaper.
"I'm sure you're lying. You haven't even touched your uniform in eight months, let alone gone out as the great Red Hood, protector of West Riverside."
Jason flicked him a look of disapproval. "How would you know?"
"Tim and I are Oracles, it's our job to know these things," said Edward, taking a small bite from his muffin. "I wanted to know if you were simply sitting on the bench, waiting for Coach Grayson to call you onto the field, or if you've decided to cut your losses and retire from the game."
"And what does Dick think about my... situation, hmm?"
Edward hesitated, giving his friend an uneasy glance. Emotions and human nature weren't his strong point, and he was unsure how to proceed. "He's worried about you, Jason. For him, it's not about whether you want to play, it's about wondering if you're hiding an injury."
"Since when were you so into sports, Eddie?"
"I work the night shift as Oracle, and most of the time, there isn't much happening except re-runs and Gotham Rogues games. Dick has succeeded in making the city safer than Bruce Wayne ever imagined."
"Good for him," grunted Jason, finishing his coffee and relaxing in his chair. "Why would he need me? He's got Kate running Wayne-Queen International. He's got the Justice League backing his every move, helping him whenever they can. He's even got a sidekick."
"Yes, the ever entertaining Harper Row," smiled Edward. The sixteen year old Harper had helped Bruce Wayne a few years ago against the forces of an organisation known as the Court of Owls. During the invasion, she'd hid out in the woods not far from the ruins of Wayne Manor, and came to Dick as soon as she could, asking to help him protect the weakened city. Two years later, she was known as Bluebird. It reminded Jason of the eternity ago when he'd first put on the Robin costume.
"He's even got you and Tim for an IT department. Why would he need a alchoholic vigilante running around shooting handguns and hunting bad guys?"
"You're his family, Jason," said Edward as Jason stood to leave. "Family sticks together."
"Not my family." Jason turned and left, and Edward hurried to follow him down the street.
"Jason, wait," he yelled. His friend paused and turned to look at him. "I didn't follow you here just to talk about you and Dick. I have a favour to ask."
"A favour?" Jason breath blew from his mouth, the biting cold air making it show up like smoke against the stark blue sky. "This day keeps getting better and better."
"I've been looking in Lex Luthor's recent activities," said Edward, reaching into his pocket, from which he pulled a small thumb drive. "I don't know what exactly he's doing, but he's planning omsething for Gotham. I don't like the sound of him hitting us now."
Luthor had been a threat even to the late great Superman, so Jason knew the potential risk.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Look deeper. Find me something that can confirm my theory."
"Have you told Dick about this?"
"Do you really think Dick would prioritise a half-baked feeling in my gut about this guy over the protection of the rest of Gotham?"
"You and I both know he'd do just that, Eddie."
"Exactly," smiled Edward. "Dick's biggest concern right now has to be the well-being of Gotham as a whole. He doesn't have the time or energy to focus on a loose possibility."
Jason gave him a sarcastic smirk as Edward started to walk away. "But I do?"
"What else have you got on your calender?"
