Jason stared out the window of his apartment. The heater was broken again, damn it, and he was cold. He hugged his mug of coffee closer, sipping at it, ignoring the pain in his empty belly.
Little low on funds at the moment, but he'd live. Always had.
He turned away from the horrible window of hopelessness, to look at his apartment. Bare, except the mattress in the corner, the TV on the end table, a brokendown La-Z-Boy, and his computer. He sighed.
Merry Christmas, he sighed internally, trying not to think of the Christmas he had spent at the Manor.
Ah, what the hell? He could REMEMBER happiness. Maybe he could remember being warm and full, too.
He closed his eyes, slipping back to the days of a Wild Robin.
He smiled, smelling the cookies Alfred had made in his memory. His young eyes stared at the tree at more presents than he had ever gotten in his whole life put together. And they were for him, no one else. He could keep them.
He saw his older brother laughing with him as they threw snowballs at Bruce, who laughed, because, damn it; Jason could always get him to laugh. Dick was his favorite, but Jason made him laugh.
Bruce rubbed a hand through Jason's hair, hugging him, telling him Merry Christmas. Bruce smelled good, like the cookies Alfred made, like the tree they'd cut down together from the woods in back. He smiled at Jason, his eyes warm and kind.
When no one was looking, he touched the warm sweater Alfred had given him. It was a rich, warm red color, not washed out and icky, not one of Dick's hand-me-downs, but his, really, truly his. It was soft, and it smelled nice.
There was a new game boy, with games. He had never had anything like that before. Dick showed him how to play it, and he beat Dick. They laughed.
A knock echoed through the quiet apartment.
Jason whimpered, torn from his memories. Who the hell would bother him?
He took his gun out and opened the door, and stared.
The Replacement Robin was standing in the hallway. Behind him, Dick grinned at him, laughing, Bruce stood to the side, his eyes warm and kind. Even from where he stood, with the stale smells of inner city Gotham roiling around him, he could smell the pine and Alfred's cookies.
In that one second, it was as if he was still Robin, and everything was all right.
Jason wanted nothing more than to ask them in, nothing more than to celebrate the birth of hope, but he couldn't let them in. Couldn't let Bruce feel the cold in his room, let the Replacement see his mean bed, couldn't let Dick see his bare cupboards. He didn't want their pity.
He didn't NEED their compassion.
"Come on, Jay!" Dick said, swinging an arm around Jason's shoulders, hand threading into his hair… Dick always liked to touch... "Alfred sent us, dinner's waiting."
"We're having turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and apple pie." Tim informed him seriously.
Jason hesitated. He could step back and shut the door and remember who he used to be, or he could shut the door and go with them, and forget his misery for a little while, and start making someone new.
Someone with a little hope.
"Please, son. Come home with me." Bruce rumbled gently, and Jason looked at him.
It had been a long time since Bruce had said that the first time, and once again, Jason found himself powerless to resist.