I'm updating this today in honor of Veteran's day, because Jason is a soldier. I love America's Vets. They have sacrificed so much for us, and even though I've never met any of them, and they have never met me, I hope they know how much I appreciate all that they've done. Some gave all, and all gave some.

Thank you so much.

I hope y'all enjoy this one. It picks up right where the last one left off.

On with the story!

Chapter 4

I wiped away the rebellious tears and looked back up with renewed strength. "I still don't believe it though." I whispered. "How could I have died? How am I here?"

My questions were met with silence.

"Well…let's go back to where this all started. Let's go look at your grave." Dick suggested.

That-was actually a good idea…I walked out of the kitchen without a word and toward the front door. Bruce and Dick walked along side me and we were followed by Tim, Damian and Alfred. We trekked through the yard and down the walkway that led back to my grave. I could see the earth had been disturbed from the entrance. When we got there, there was clearly a hole in the ground and it was clear that there was a struggle there. I could see blood on the letters of my name where I had touched it the night before. I traced the letters with my wrapped fingers, but this time, I could see what it actually said.

HERE LIES

JASON PETER TODD WAYNE

Beloved son and brother

Always loved and never forgotten

A hero by his own right

"Damn, Todd. You're a zombie." Damian said as he looked down the hole. Tim was sifting through the dirt around the hole. I looked over his shoulder and down the hole as well. It was terrifying knowing that I clawed through my own coffin and popped through the ground like a daisy. Dick picked up my jacket and tie I had discarded.

It reminded me that my belt was still down there. I knelt on the ground next to Damian and began digging the hole bigger. I wanted my belt back…I needed that. It was the one thing I cherished from Bruce…

"My god, Jason. What are you doing?" Tim asked. I ignored him and kept digging, despite my protesting fingers. There was silence as I dug.

Dick dropped to his knees beside me and started digging too. It wasn't long before Tim, Damian, and Bruce were helping too. I didn't notice Alfred had walked away until he came back.

"I'm not quite sure what's going on around here, but this doesn't seem like a very efficient way to dig." He said. I looked up to see him holding three shovels. I could hardly believe Bruce owned a shovel…

I smiled as I pushed myself up and took one from him. Dick and Bruce each took one as well and helped me dig. They didn't even know what I was looking for….but I still appreciated the effort. We dug until we hit the top of my coffin, then we cleared the lid of dirt and exposed each corner.

"Look at that." I scoffed. "I just dug my own grave…" I said morbidly. No one said anything.

I jumped down onto the lid of the coffin and shoved my hand through the hole I clawed out. Looking at it now, it was hard to believe I had fit through it…

I felt around the soft interior. The first thing my hand touched was that useless piece of paper I had found. I pulled it out and wiped the dirt off of it. I gasped at the realization of what it was. It was the picture of my first family that was missing from my mirror back at the manor… I laughed at the irony. He buried me with my parents. What a joke. I pressed the picture to my lips and slipped it into my back pocket before I reached back in to find the belt. I pulled it out and climbed out of the hole holding it triumphantly.

Bruce looked at the item in my hand. I barely caught the corner of his lip turn up.

"So…if we stick with the laws of physics," Tim said, "Then what goes up must go back down…"

We all looked at him in confusion.

He rolled his eyes like we were missing the most obvious point in the world.

"You died Jason." He said.

"No shit, Sherlock. What's your point?"

"My point, Jason, is that you can't stay that way…you're going to have to go back sooner or later…right? I mean… you came up from the grave….you have to go back down." He said dismally.

"There is no way in hell I'm going back down there." I said definitely as I pointed to the hole in my coffin.

"You won't. We're all going to our graves, Tim. Jason's alive now…just like us. Who says he can't live and just die of old age?"

"Look. I don't know the answers. Heck, I barely understand the questions…I just know that he was dead. Dead things don't come back."

"Clearly." I droned.

"Let's go back." Alfred said. "You all need to get cleaned up, then you may discuss the events leading up to Master Jason's resurrection." He said as he turned on his heel and walked out of the grave yard. We all threw glances at one another as we followed him out and back to the house.

Two hours later, all of us had showered and changed. I had put on some cargo pants and a black shirt covered by a dark brown leather jacket. I always loved the jacket and pants, and when I found them in my closet, I was psyched about wearing them.

I knew we were meeting in the cave, and I found myself staring at the clock in Bruce's study. So many times I had reached up and moved the hands…so many times I descended the steps into the dark, dank cave below the manor. But this felt different. I wasn't going down there now because it was my job…I was going down there to find out why I had come back from the dead. It was so morbidly hilarious when I think about it… I dug myself out of my grave, only to willingly go back underground to live the rest of my life like I always had been.

I was sick of it.

I didn't need that anymore…I didn't need Robin or Batman anymore. I needed Bruce and Dick and Tim and Damian and Alfred. I needed family to be there for me when I needed them. I didn't need a bunch of freaks who dressed up like birds and flew around the city like some god damned glorified cops in tights. What good have we ever done for the city? Sure, we cleaned up some petty criminals for drug runs or bank robberies…but what about the real criminals? Cat Woman, Penguin, Two-Face, Black Mask, Deathstroke the Terminator...The Joker? Where the hell were they? Running the streets, wreaking havoc on civilians and manipulating CEOs and high up government officials to work under their twisted logic and murderous affairs? Were they off killing innocents for blood money, or dealing drugs to children? What kind of justice system were we ever running? Sure, we put some of them away, but only for a few weeks before they broke out again. We weren't hitting them where it hurt the most. We weren't going after them. No, we were protecting the streets from purse snatchers, second rate criminals and foiled attempted murders. We never once got a real criminal off the streets of Gotham. That had always been Batman's motive: clean up Gotham. But what exactly had he done to clean? All he's done is pick up around the big stuff and sweep up some crumbs. Someone needed to clean up this city, and if Batman couldn't do it, I would. But first, I needed to get one murderer off the streets.

Permanently.

I sighed as I reached up and moved the hands on the clock. The clock slid back, revealing the secret staircase that led down to the cave. I looked around the study before disappearing yet again into the dark abyss that was Batman's lair.

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian were all seated around the large table at the center of the main section of the cave. They all looked up when I entered. Now that I think about it, that was the first time I had ever seen any of them down there out of costume…

"Where is the Joker?" I asked as I took my place next to Bruce.

"We don't know."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"We found him 2 months after you died and we put him back in Arkham." Bruce said.

"But, he escaped again about three weeks in with the aid of Dr. Fries." Dick finished for him.

"Right…and where is Fries?" I asked.

"He's still confined in his cell there." Damian said.

I nodded. "What information did the interrogation give us?" I asked.

"Fries told us that he helped the Joker escape because quote: "It's never a bad idea to have the Joker owe you one." He went on to say that he had arranged for a certain guard to check on the Joker's cell to make sure he hadn't done anything to escape. Joker knocked the guard out, switched clothes, and walked out of the building as if he were leaving for work." Tim said.

"Who was the guard?"

"His name was Scott Linville. He doesn't remember anything about that night, and he quit his job after the incident." Bruce said.

"What else? What else did Fries say?"

"That's it. He gave up the information willingly, without struggle or bargaining." Dick said.

"This is completely useless information." I spat as I slammed my hand onto the desk. I tried not to wince as pain shot up my arm. "Tim, where was the last know location of the Joker before he was sent to Arkham?"

Tim typed something up on his computer and waited while the computer searched.

"It says the last confirmed sighting was at the abandoned amusement park in Silverton just outside of Gotham."

"What was he doing there?" I asked.

"Reports tell us he wasn't really doing anything. The GCPD got an anonymous tip that he was there. They called Batman and by the time we got there, he had already fled the scene. We picked him up later in Crime Alley a few weeks after that."

If the Joker was at the amusement park, there had to be something going down. A meeting or something…Who would the Joker meet with, though?

"When was Fries admitted to the Asylum?"

"Five months ago. Before we got the tip." Dick said.

So…If Joker's prison buddy wasn't there…who was? The Joker wouldn't just go there to pass the time. He's smarter than that…psychotic and senseless, but still smart. He knew what he was doing.

"Damian, you said the pit can't resurrect the dead, right?"

"Affirmative. Not after nine months anyway…My mother was resurrected several times after she died, but she was put in immediately after her death."

So that was out…No one would dig me up to dunk me in a pool and then bury me again. What would be the point? What was the point in even trying to figure out how I came back? Why focus on something that we would never know? Why not focus instead on who killed me? I needed to find the Joker. I needed my body back…

"Bruce…I need my body back." I said seriously.

"We'll get you there." He promised. I nodded. If anyone could do this, he could. And I trusted him.

That night, without anyone knowing, I crept down to the Bat Cave and moved to the locker where all of the weapons were kept. I opened it and reached in, pulling out a wicked looking knife with a wavy blade, and another with serrated teeth. I almost went with that when a black glock caught my eye. I pulled that out, along with its extra clips and side holster and followed everything up with a basic utility belt that I strapped across my chest and back. I closed the locker and made my way to the parking deck where my motorcycle sat covered by a dusty tarp. I ripped it off and looked at my shiny black bike that I had loved so well.

I stepped up to a black motor cycle and pulled my red helmet over my head. I revved the engine and sped out of the cave and down the country road to Silverton. I pushed the bike as fast as it would go. Perks of having a Bat Bike was that it topped 300 mph-and that was on a slow day. I took the curves too fast and sped across puddles. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the abandoned parking lot of the old amusement park. Grass and weeds were growing up through cracks in the sidewalk. I stepped through the fence and looked around.

What am I doing here? I thought. This was where the Joker was last seen, so…maybe I could find something valuable.

If I were the Joker, where would I go?The house of mirrors seemed like a good option, so I started my search of the mirrors were broken in and paint was sprayed across the walls and it easier for me make out the turns in the maze.I made my way to the very center of the building, using a flashlight from the belt as my light were foot prints in the set of large, the other set average.I knew all too well what size the Joker's shoes were.I looked at my forearm for comparison and determined the larger prints to be those of the Clown Prince of who did the smaller prints belong to? I held the flashlight in my teeth and dug around in the belt for a camera.I snapped a picture of the print for Tim to look at later, then, ignoring the large foot prints, I followed the smaller ones out of the house of mirrors. They led me to the back entrance of the building, but I lost them after that.I growled under my breath as I turned back to the I got there, I saw the old foot prints, as well as my own fresh , accompanying mine were another had just been there…someone was standing right behind me.

Yes. I'm evil. A cliffhanger. Too bad I probably won't update for weeks and weeks and weeks...because I'm lazy.

Haha.

But, if I get at least 10 reviews for this chapter by thursday telling me how I did and mention something about our awesome veterans and how much you appreciate them, I'll post again on Saturday. No, this is not blackmail. If you know, know of, or did know a veteran that you think deserve to be recognized, send them a shout out in your review and I'll honor their names in the AN for the next chapter.

If you can't say something good about the veterans, I don't want to hear it. I'm not being bitter or rude, it's just that I respect them, and I don't want to hear a single soul bashing those who gave up so much. Even if you're not from America, your country has veterans too who have sacrificed for you. Show them some love and appreciation.

Sorry if I sound harsh, I just love my country and love those who died fighting for it and the sacrifices made to defend us and keep us free. I love our Vets.

So, thanks so much, veterans. And thank you, readers, for your support.

Just love each other, guys.