Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw

by Go Away Olivia

Jason Todd isn't what Batman made him, he isn't what the Joker made him, he isn't what the League of Assassins made him, and he isn't what the Lazarus Pit made him. He's his own person and he's taking himself back, one home renovation at a time. Also, he might just make friends with people who are supposed to be his brothers while he's at it. But that's a hard might.

14. Chapter 14

Commissioner Gordon was waiting on the roof when Jason arrived.

"Commish," Jason greeted, landing lightly on his feet.

"Hood," Gordon replied, grim faced. The way he was looking at Jason made him feel like he was looking for hints of the Robin he'd been in the man he was now. He very nearly shifted in discomfort, but caught himself before he could.

Finally, Gordon said something. "So why Olsen, Hood? Solving murders isn't your usual MO based on the last time you were in Gotham."

"But it was my MO back when I was in the tights," Jason retorted. "Besides, I thought I'd shake things up since everyone seemed to frown on my crime boss gig, even though I did manage to get Crime Alley under control when no one else could."

"Doesn't count," Gordon retorted immediately. "And why Olsen?"

Jason frowned before admitting. "I knew her. She deserves justice. What she did for a living doesn't matter."

Gordon nodded. "No killing, Hood," he warned.

"How many times are people going to keep reminding me?" Jason grumbled under his breath.

"Until we feel confident that you won't," Gordon glared. "I've seen footage of some of your fights, Hood. You mowed men down without a thought."

"Most of them were murderers," Jason pointed out.

"And what does that make you?"

"A better murderer," Jason retorted crossly.

"Batman once said that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world stays the same," Gordon said, watching him.

Jason rolled his eyes at the typical high-minded Bruce-ness and seriously hoped Gordon picked up on it under the hood. "If you only kill one killer, maybe. If you kill a whole bunch, that number goes way down. Why don't you tell that to Batman. Also, tell him I said he's a tool."

The commissioner glared harder. "Superman is vouching for you and that's the only reason I'm not arresting you right now. He assured me the second you slip up he'd come and take you in himself. Do you understand me?"

Jason shifted angrily. "Yeah, I get you, Gordon, but I'm here to do your job, because your people are letting Maria's murderer get away with it because she was a prostitute. So instead of attacking me, maybe you should get your people to serve and protect people outside of Central Gotham for once," he accused furiously.

Instead of getting angrier, Gordon looked at him curiously. "How old were you when you died?" he asked, completely out of nowhere.

Jason snorted bitterly. "You really don't want to know."

"I do," he replied, firm.

It was a rather sudden shift in conversation that Jason didn't really understand. He found himself wondering how much the police commissioner knew about Batman and Bruce Wayne. He refused to believe the man didn't know his own daughter had been Batgirl and was now playing Mission Control for every vigilante in Gotham. He'd been a damn good detective before he became Commissioner, and he was familiar with both Bruce and Batman. How could he not know? And if he knew Bruce was Batman, it would stand to reason he knew Bruce's many wards were the various members of the Bat-family. It was possible Commissioner Gordon already knew it was Jason Todd under the Red Hood. After all, Bruce Wayne's second son had died around the same time as the second Robin. Gordon probably already knew, but was only seeking confirmation. Jason didn't really care if he got it. It wasn't like he was living a civilian life as Jason Todd anymore. Hell, he was legally dead. It wasn't like they could try him for the murders he'd committed anyway.

He snorted in amusement at the thought. "Fifteen."

Gordon's reply was unhappy. "That means you're what? Twenty-one? What are you even doing out here, Hood? You're just a kid."

"Actually I think technically I'm twenty. Didn't age any when I was dead, after all. And I don't remember you saying anything when I was twelve and running around in a cape," Jason pointed out dryly.

"Oh I said things," he retorted grumpily. "Batman isn't the best listener."

"Now that, we can agree on."

Gordon sighed and handed over the file. "For the record I still have reservations about this."

"Noted," Jason replied, moving towards the edge of the roof. He paused and looked back at Gordon, deciding he respected the man enough to give him a little bit of a head's up. "You should know, Commissioner, that if the Joker gets out of Arkham again, I will do everything in my power to hunt him down and kill him. I agreed to no killing, but that agreement ends at the Joker. I don't care what happens to me, if that monster is never able to take another life, or ruin another life again, it will be worth it."

Gordon glared. "Well that's just great, Hood, thanks," he snapped sarcastically. "You know what position you just put me in? You just admitted to conspiracy to murder."

Jason shrugged. "Just thought you should know."

And then he was gone, heading back to the East End and Crime Alley, careful not to pass any patrolling Bats on the way.

Jason spent the rest of the night on the roof of his warehouse, meticulously reading through the file. As expected, the investigation didn't get very far, though he wasn't sure it was actually the police's fault in this case. They'd canvassed the neighborhood, gotten numerous statements, combed Maria's apartment over for all the forensics, and yet they got nowhere. Mainly because the interviews were so unhelpful. It was very clear the people had been unwilling to talk to the police. It wasn't surprising either. Residents of Crime Alley didn't trust the police any more than they trusted their dealers. Jason would get much further. He was incredibly skilled at terrifying people into talking. It helped that he already had a reputation. Before he started though, he'd have his meeting with Sasha and some of the others. They might already have a pretty good idea of who'd done it, and they'd share with him willingly.

Jason reviewed the file until he knew every name, lead, and address by heart, and when he returned to his loft at sunrise, he didn't bother trying to sleep. Instead he went straight to work on the shiplap, mulling everything about the murder over in his mind as he worked.

Several hours passed with Jason working steadily. It was going pretty well, if a bit slow. The nail gun was pretty handy, and he'd only botched one cut with the circular saw so far. Jason was pretty satisfied with the way things were going, so even though his shoulder muscles were starting to burn, he was determined to finish before the day was over. Then, tomorrow, he'd use the putty and sand it down, and then he could paint.

It occurred to Jason, as he worked, that renovations could be a pretty decent way to launder money. Once he got his bathroom and sink redone, he could sell the place and make a fairly decent profit, despite the loft's location. His dirty money went into the renovation, and clean money plus a profit would come out the other side with a sale. Not a bad deal. And really, the only reason Jason saw to continue the renovation. He could sell the loft when he was done in Gotham and use the money to help payback Tim.

He was stretched up on the ladder, clad in sweatpants and a Superman t-shirt. He had a board pressed to the joists with one hand, the nail gun in the other, and a cigarette between his teeth, when he heard someone messing with the lock on his door.

Jason swore furiously. "Goddammit! Go the fuck away!" he shouted at the door. "Dick, Tim, I don't care who you are. I am not in the mood. I will shoot a nail in the foot of whoever walks through that door!"

The door opened anyway. Jason growled, ready to make good on his threat, but it was Alfred who walked through the door, Dick and Tim hiding behind him. "Oh, you dirty rotten cheating assholes!" Jason glared at them furiously.

Tim shrugged unapologetically and Dick grinned wide. Alfred was as calm as ever, "Master Jason, I would suggest you put out that cigarette immediately."

"My home, Alfie. I can smoke if I want to," Jason retorted, immediately combative.

"Your home is Wayne Manor, Master Jason," Alfred replied in a tone that brooked no argument. "And I am an old man. Are you really going to subject my delicate lungs to second-hand smoke?"

Jason glared and pointed his cigarette at Alfred. "That is cheating." But he stubbed out his cigarette on the ladder. He'd purposefully avoided Alfred the last time he was in Gotham and this was exactly why. He had no beef with Alfred. The old butler had been nothing but incredible to Jason during the few years he'd spent at Wayne Manor. As a result, he'd never been able to hold out against the man.

"Okay, you were totally right," Jason heard Tim whisper to Dick. "I should have brought Alfred in immediately."

"Yep!" Dick replied, sounding too cheerfully smug for Jason to handle.

He pointed his nail gun at him. "Watch it, Big Bird. I might still shoot you."

"Shall I just put away the groceries in your kitchen then, Master Jason?" Alfred asked, and Jason startled, noticing the bags in everyone's hands for the first time.

"What the hell? Hey, you take those back, Alfie!" Jason protested, setting the board and nail gun aside so he could hurry after Alfred, because he was so not accepting Bat-food. He was intercepted by a guerrilla hug from Dick, who once more managed to trap Jason's arms by his sides. He was a little more willing to break Dick's arms to break the hug this time, but he'd have to face the disapproval of Alfred to do it.

"Dick, let me go!" he snapped furiously.

Dick didn't. Of course. Because he was a fucking asshole. "I missed you, Jay," he said instead, holding Jason close. "I'm glad you're back."

Jason hissed. "Let me the fuck go."

Dick shushed him. Jason snarled.

"Wow, you've really gotten a lot done, Jay," Tim remarked, looking about his ceiling. He then turned and gave Jason a disapproving look. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"Like you're one to talk," Jason snapped back. "And let me go, Dick, or I will break your fucking arms!"

Dick gave him one last squeeze before letting him go with a satisfied smile. But then he studied Jason's face and frowned, a concerned big-brother look on his face. "Why haven't you slept, Little Wing? What's wrong?"

Jason scowled, both at the look of concern and at the nickname. "I haven't slept because I was busy doing this," he said, jerking his arm to indicate his ceiling.

"It looks nice," Dick complimented.

"Fuck you," Jason said in reply, because he was grumpy and tired and he'd wanted to be alone, thank you very much, and now his loft was being overrun by Bats.

Alfred cut in smoothly, though it hadn't looked like Dick was going to retaliate. "Master Jason, it appears your sink is broken."

"That's because it is broken," Jason retorted.

"How might I acquire some running water?"

There was absolutely no way Jason would ever be able to tell Alfred to fuck off, or anything even remotely of that nature. So, he heaved a sigh, grabbed the jug off his kitchen counter and then carried it to his bathroom to fill up. Once he was done, he put it back on the counter for Alfred and then gaped at the amount of food laid out. "What the hell, Alfie? Are you stocking up for the Apocalypse?"

"I assumed your refrigerator would be rather bare. I see I was correct," he said, shooting Jason a disapproving look.

Jason shifted and replied defensively, "I've been busy."

"Well you are welcome to be busy at the Manor. That way I can be sure you are eating properly."

Jason scowled. "Yeah, somehow I don't think Bruce would go for that, Alf."

"He certainly would if he were privy to all of the circumstances, Master Jason."

Jason scoffed derisively. "The circumstances don't matter, Alfred. I killed people. I did it on purpose and without remorse. That's what matters to Bruce. And he left the crazy, murderous psychopath who killed me free to kill more innocent people. And that's what matters to me. So no, Alfie. I won't be going back to the Manor."

Alfred just sighed. "You share the same stubbornness. Always have, I'm afraid. Go on, Master Jason. Don't let me keep you from your activities. The shiplap looks lovely by the way. It adds a nice balance to the brick. You're doing a fine job."

Jason stood there, unsure of how he was supposed to reply, unsure of what Alfred was even doing at the loft or why he was looking through all his cabinets. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make them all leave. Abruptly, he gave up and stalked back over to where he'd been working. Only Tim was on the ladder measuring for the board that would need to be cut in order to meet the wall. Dick was looking up, inspecting Jason's work thus far.

"Looking good, Jay," he said, giving him a thumbs up. Then his eyes fixed on Jason's chest and he grinned wide.

"What?" Jason asked, looking down at his shirt suspiciously. He didn't see anything there though, and when he looked up, Dick snapped a picture of him.

"You're wearing a Superman shirt," Dick said. "Oh man, Clark is going to love this. I'm sending it to him right now. Bruce will so hate it. I can't wait until you guys are on speaking terms so I can show him."

"Fuck Bruce," Jason retorted grumpily. He'd forgotten that Dick was on friendly, first-name terms with Superman. Which sucked, because now Superman would know he and Dick were in contact, which would lead to them gossiping about him like fucking mother hens. And Superman knew everything about him.

This sucked. A whole fucking ton.

Jason turned abruptly and stalked to his couch, dropping down onto it without a word. He was feeling distinctly harassed. Hunching his shoulders, he dropped his head into his hands and tried very hard to pretend they weren't there. Dick and Tim chatted easily about how he had been positioning the boards against the joists, and then they just picked up a stack of boards and carried them out onto the balcony where Jason put the circular saw, apparently deciding to make all the cuts in one go.

Jason felt overwhelmed as the saw began buzzing outside. It was too much too fast.

"Here, Master Jason," Alfred spoke softly.

Jason looked up to see Alfred holding out a cup of tea with some shortbread on the side. He took it automatically and Alfred sat down next to him, placing his own cup on the coffee table. It was earl gray with milk and sugar—his favorite from before he died.

Jason took a sip, and for one insane, strange moment, he felt like crying.

Alfred placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. "It is so good to see you, Master Jason," he spoke earnestly, eyes boring into Jason's. "Things haven't been right since you've been gone."

"I'm not back, Alfred," Jason spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the saw outside. "It won't ever be the same as it was. I'm not one of Bruce's sons anymore."

Alfred's expression was firm, but gentle. "You will always be his son, Jason. Never doubt that."

Jason scowled. "Are you serious, Alfie? After everything, you still believe that?"

Alfred's expression remained firm. "Yes. And more importantly, so does he."

He didn't believe that for a second, but he was tired and didn't want to argue with Alfred. He didn't reply, instead taking another sip of tea. Alfred put his hand back on Jason's shoulder. "Things are going to work out, Master Jason," Alfred told him gently. "And if you don't feel like you can come home, then we will come to you."

"You always thought too much of me, Alfie," Jason retorted.

"That is untrue, Master Jason," Alfred said firmly. "But, unfortunately, I'm afraid it'll take some time before you believe that."

Jason didn't have anything to say to that and Alfred changed the subject. "I'm pleased to see you taking an interest in something other than firearms and explosives. You did well with the insulation. No trace of the December air. Did you seal the windows as well?"

Jason nodded. "It was fucking freezing in here."

"Language, Master Jason," Alfred chastised.

Jason huffed, mildly exasperated. "Can't smoke, can't curse. Do I get to do anything in my own home?"

"Nothing that you wouldn't do in my house under my rules," Alfred replied.

"Well that's just not fair," Jason remarked, but he was feeling a little more solid. Enough to give Alfred a small smirk as he said the words.

Alfred looked pleased, but continued the interrogation. "Are you eating well, Master Jason?"

"Well enough," Jason replied.

"You'll forgive me if I remain skeptical based on the contents of your refrigerator. Also, might I suggest you look into the purchase of a new one? I do believe your current refrigerator is older than me."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you're doing it too."

"Doing what, Master Jason?"

"Judging my house," Jason retorted. "My house and the things in it are perfectly fine. Just because you've all been thoroughly conditioned by Wayne fucking Manor—"

"Language."

"—doesn't mean that I live in a dump. This is the nicest place I've ever lived minus the Manor and Kori's spaceship. I happen to like it."

"It has great potential, Master Jason. I'm just helping you to realize it," Alfred replied. Jason rolled his eyes at the old butler and set down his tea. Alfred stood up. "You should probably go and assist your brothers, lest they make a mess of your ceiling."

Jason stood, knowing he was being dismissed. He headed out onto the balcony. "Hey, morons," he barked, watching as Dick and Tim tried to figure out how to best make the curved cuts for where his light fixtures would fit. "Stand back before you hurt yourselves and let the professionals work."

"Do you know how to do it?" Tim challenged. "You can't cut curves with a circular saw, Jay."

"Nope. Not a clue," Jason remarked glibly. "But, we're three ex-robins so if we can't figure it out, we're a shame to the mantle. Well, technically I already am, but you two will be too."

They both rolled their eyes at his sense of humor, but Tim immediately turned his attention to the small collection of power tools. "Alright. Dick, you finished making all the cuts we need with the saw, right?"

"Yep!" Dick remarked cheerfully. "For the bathroom too." He then turned his attention to Jason. "I separated the boards out for the bathroom. That's this pile here."

"Well you two have been very busy bees," Jason remarked, mildly impressed.

"Did you buy or rent these?" Tim asked, indicating the power tools, completely ignoring Jason's comment.

"Bought. Why?"

He got his answer when Tim immediately began dismantling his circular saw. "Oh, great. Thanks. You know, I was actually joking. The hardware store is literally a block away. I could go buy a router in like ten minutes. Bill would even give me a discount for it."

"That would be taking the easy way," Dick declared, inspecting his power drill.

"And like you said, we wouldn't be very good Robins if we can't figure even this out," Tim added, absolutely focused on the now in-pieces circular saw.

"I was joking, that wasn't meant as a challenge," Jason protested, but he could see it was a lost cause. They'd taken it as a challenge and it wasn't in a Robin's nature to ignore challenges.

"Think we could rig this into a handheld router?" Dick asked, indicating the power drill.

"We'd need some welding materials," Jason found himself contributing.

Tim looked up in interest at this. "Do you have some welding tools?"

Jason hesitated, aware he was standing on a precipice—the defining moment that would either allow him to keep his sanity, or would send him careening down the mad path of crazy his brothers were already hurtling down. Then, for whatever reason, he dove in after them. "Yeah," he sighed. "In a covered shed on the roof. Mind the traps. Bring whatever you think will be useful."

Tim looked positively gleeful as he jumped onto the railing then leapt onto the roof, not bothering to go inside and use the stairs like a normal person. Jason turned his attention to Dick, who'd already taken the casing off of the hand-held power drill. "You do realize that now I'll need to buy a new drill and a new circular saw instead of just buying a router?"

Dick grinned. "Yeah, but this way is more fun. And we've made all the cuts so you won't need the circular saw anymore, and drills are less expensive than routers anyway."

Jason sighed again, and turned his attention to his windows. Inside, Alfred had donned an apron and was now thoroughly cleaning the loft with cleaning supplies he was positive hadn't been there before. "What is happening to my life?" he asked aloud. It was a rhetorical question he didn't want answered.

Dick answered anyway. "Good things," he smiled. "All the good things."

Jason huffed, but turned his full attention to the matter at hand as Tim hopped down, carrying a bundle on his back and looking a bit like Santa Claus. "Goldmine," he reported, obviously pleased.

"Okay," Jason spoke. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. I don't want a sloppy job, you got it? I like these new fixtures."

"We'll do a great job," Dick declared confidently.

"The best," Tim agreed.

Jason rolled his eyes but felt a small, inexplicable burst of fondness in his gut. "Already, Timmy. What'd you bring us?"

Tim grinned and laid out the haul.

It only took them an hour and a half to rig up a functioning hand-held router, but his circular saw would never be the same. Between the three of them, it only took a few more hours to fully finish the shiplap, and by the time they were done, it was looking pretty damn good. Jason knew it would look even better once it was painted.

They finished just in time for Alfred to put dinner on the table. A Sunday roast (even though it was Tuesday), complete with roast potatoes and vegetables. And Jason was pretty sure his loft had never been so clean. The four of them sat down and ate together, Alfred doing an excellent job of keeping the conversation running smoothly each time one of the brothers fumbled over another. And by the end of it, as Alfred was washing the dishes and refusing to let any of the others help, Jason was feeling warm and full and sleepy.

"Hey," Tim said, speaking to Jason quietly as Dick puttered about Jason's kitchen, chatting with Alfred. "You should stay in tonight—sleep. I know you haven't slept since I last saw you. Stay and sleep and I'll watch over the flock tonight."

Jason considered Tim. "Why?"

Tim rolled his eyes, "Because you won't be very useful if something does happen. And I've been around them enough that they'll trust me, and seeing as how I have slept, I'll be able to handle any trouble that might occur. Come on, Jay. You haven't taken a night off since you found the place. Just sleep tonight and you can come back tomorrow."

It was tempting, Jason admitted. He was tired and his muscles were sore, but in a pleasant way that Jason thought might help him sleep better. He was going to meet up with Sasha, but that wasn't until four in the morning. He could get a hell of a lot of sleep in before then. "Alright, fine," he replied. "But just tonight."

Tim smiled, looking relieved. "Good."

Jason just rolled his eyes. "Alright, all of you get out already. I've suffered your presence enough today."

Dick came flying out of nowhere for another guerrilla hug. "Today was fun," he said as Jason ineffectively tried to shove him off.

"Thanks for the slave labor, asshole," Jason retorted, just to be an ass.

Dick wasn't bothered. "See you later, little wing."

"Get lost, big bird," Jason retorted.

Dick released him and headed to the door with Tim. Alfred lingered, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder again. "You know where to find me if you need me, Master Jason."

"Yeah, Alfred," Jason replied, much nicer. "I do. Thanks for dinner. It was amazing, as usual."

Alfred smiled. "You always showed the most appreciation for my food."

"That's why I'm your favorite, right?" Jason joked.

Alfred shook his head. "I don't have favorites, Master Jason. But I do enjoy cooking for you best."

"Well it's not in my nature to turn down food."

"Noted, Master Jason," Alfred replied.

And Jason knew that if Alfred was any less British, he would have hugged him, so he decided to cut him some slack and take the initiative himself. "Thanks, Alfie," Jason said quietly. "For everything you did for me back then. And for today, even if it was completely unnecessary."

Alfred returned the hug. "It was always my pleasure, Master Jason. I'll see you soon," he said firmly, like it was a warning.

Jason didn't protest. He just nodded, throat feeling thick again.

Alfred patted his shoulder again and left. Jason surveyed his rapidly darkening apartment, feeling a tiny bit adrift from the surprisingly emotional day. But mostly, he was just tired so he turned off his lamps and moved straight to his mattress, only to find it had additional pillows and a soft, worn blanket that had been a fixture at the Manor back when he lived there. He had no idea how Alfred had managed to smuggle them in there, and he stood there for a moment, staring at the new items. Shrugging, Jason collapsed on the mattress. He slipped his hand under his pillow, checking that his gun and knife were still there. Hand gripping the gun lightly, he fell almost immediately to sleep.