*I suggest listening to "See You Again" by Wiz Khalifa (featuring Charlie Puth) while reading this*
Who did you love most in this life?
This is his apartment.
That's the first thing Jason notices. That he's in his apartment. The apartment that he used to live in before Dick died. The apartment he used while running Catherine's. The only real home he's ever really known besides Wayne Manor.
Why is he here?
He gets up from his old bed and walks around, observing the familiar sights. The bookcase containing his collection, the pile of DVDs he kept on the floor, the small television set up across the room. This place is every bit as unfamiliar to him as his old childhood bedroom in the Manor. He hasn't been the person who once lived here for a long time.
Why is he here?
He looks and looks and then he stumbles back. Because one look at the mirrors shows him, except it's not really him. For months, Jason has gotten used to the sight of himself, thirty years younger. A child's body.
He doesn't see a child when he looks into the mirror. He sees a man. Tracing the lines of his face, Jason would hazard to guess that his physical age is somewhere in his mid-thirties. The prime of his life.
What is this?
As if something is beckoning him, he steps outside the room and tries to find the answer.
He's in his old kitchen next.
Except that can't be right. Jason might have not lived in this apartment for a long time, but he remembers it well enough to know that the bedroom was not adjacent to the kitchen, but the living room. He should be in that room right now, not here.
He looks around, and the counters are oddly pristine. None of the old stains are there. The place looks brand new. He keeps looking, and finally, he sees something — or rather someone — new. Someone sitting at his kitchen table. She looks familiar.
He steps toward her, and she turns her head, and Jason freezes.
Kate.
Not the party girl Kate who he had been reading about in the tabloids, but his Kate — the tough-as-nails Batwoman who had never been afraid to give it to her cousin when he was being an ass. Or, at least, more of an ass than usual. A woman he had looked up to, even if he never quite got the chance to say it to her. The Kate Kane who had inspired his children just as much as Jason's own father had.
Kate is smiling at him, and Jason can't help it. He smiles back, and he goes to her, and he sits in the chair next to her.
"Hello, Jason," she greets him, taking his hand.
"Kate," Jason breathes out. "How?"
Kate tilts her head. "How do you think?"
Jason thinks, and finally remembers.
"…Am I dead?" If he is, well…he doesn't know what to think.
His friend shrugs. "That's up to you," she tells him.
Jason blinks, then sighs. "So it's like that, is it?" he asks in knowing exasperation.
Kate nods, and smiles at him again. "Just wait before you make your choice. There's still some people who want to see you, you know?"
"You're acting like you already know my choice."
The first Batwoman smiles mischievously, not denying his claim. "Just step outside, and you'll see." She gestures to the door that leads outside the apartment. Jason stares at it for a moment, before nodding.
He gives Kate one last hug, and leaves.
And now he's in Kori's ship.
That seals it. He has to be in some kind of purgatory. That could be the only explanation for this bullshit. Jason wants to groan, and he does.
"Wow. It seems you've somehow become even grumpier since I died."
Jason whirls around, and stills.
"Hey, Jaybird," Roy Harper cheekily says as he waves a hand at him, adding a wink and a cocky smirk for good measure. He looks older than the one Jason has been interacting with recently, but still so painfully young.
Jason doesn't say anything. Just bulls forward and pulls the other man into a hug, barely registering the larger height difference between them. "God, Harper, I've missed you."
"I can see that," Roy laughs as he presses on Jason's chest, pushing him away so they can look at each other properly. "You've gotten…big. Not like you weren't big before, but, well." The archer gestures to Jason's entire body, which is decidedly taller and bulkier than Roy is. Roy might have been an adult when he died, but he still died young.
Jason shrugs, still smiling. "Well, I became Batman, so that's probably why."
"Oh, I already know about that," Roy casually states, buffing his nails on his chest. "We've been watching, you know."
"…'We'?"
Roy nods, ignoring the increasing panic on Jason's face. "We. Your life has been really interesting Jay, believe me. It was a great way to pass time while waiting for you and everyone else."
"I…see." He actually doesn't, but what else is he supposed to say? "Then…Lian…"
"It's fine, Jay." The fact that Roy still remains genial supports the truth in that statement. "While I would've preferred you or Kori or one of the other Titans, I'm glad Ollie finally stepped up. Him and Dinah both. And I'll them myself when they get here."
Jason lets out a small breath of relief at that, but then feels the panic bubbling again. "And Donna?"
Roy gives him a flat look. "Jason, I was dead for decades by the time you and her became a thing. Did you honestly I was going to be mad about that?"
The second Robin nervously shrugs and wrings his hands together, as if it to say 'I don't know?'
Roy sighs. "Jason, you were my best friend. And Donna was also one of my best friends and the woman I loved. And maybe if I had been alive when you two got together, I would have been mad. But when I was dead? For years? Don't be ridiculous." His face softens. "I saw how happy you two made each other. How much you loved each other. I would never begrudge either of you for that."
At those words, Jason feels him relax, his entire expression brightening. "Good, good. I…" he doesn't say anything else.
Roy places a hand on his shoulder. "I missed you too, Jay, and while I would love nothing more than for us to catch up, I'm not the only person who wants to see you. Can't keep them waiting any longer."
Jason looks at him, and then nods slowly, taking in one last deep breath. "Right."
Leaving Roy again is hard, but any more thoughts on his first real best friend is lost when he steps into the next room. Unlike the others, this room is all too familiar to him.
Helena's room.
Well, it was Tim's room first, but this is undoubtedly Helena's room now. The royal purple aesthetics are all her, along with the posters of boy bands, the top-of-the-line WayneTech laptop on her desk, and even the occasional image of cats on her furnishings. Jason always wondered why Helena had never asked for a cat of her own; perhaps the memories it would bring were too painful for her to consider it.
He spots his next visitor sitting on his daughter's bed, flipping through one of Helena's scrapbooks. It takes him a little bit longer to recognize her; unlike Kate and Roy, Selina doesn't quite appear as someone straight out of his memories. There are some wrinkles to her face, not enough to detract from her natural beauty, but enough to give her a certain aged dignity that she lacked the last he saw her alive. He imagines this is what she looked like before she died, gunned down by Black Mask and his men.
She lifts her head and smirks at him. "Kitten."
Jason sighs fondly. "Selina."
"Look at you, all grown up," the former thief purrs, making a show of running her eyes all over him. "Got that 'hot dad' look down, didn't you?"
He couldn't help but roll his eyes in amusement, a small chuckle escaping him. Selina finally drops the act, her rakish look replaced with something softer, with just a hint of regret.
"Did you hate me? For keeping her away at first?"
Jason shoots her an incredulous look. "Selina, you're kidding, right? Considering everything that happened after you left, I think you should have taken her out of the country instead. She would've been safer that way." And maybe you would've lived, is what went unsaid.
"Maybe," Selina concedes, "But I guess some part of me wanted her to know at least part of her father's heritage one day. To meet all of you. And I guess she did in the end, just…not in the best of ways."
Jason snorts. That was putting it mildly.
"You know," Selina says, looking directly at him, "I didn't want this life for her. Far from it."
Her companion has the decency to look ashamed. "Neither did I," Jason admits, "But I guess I wasn't as strong as I thought I was."
"Or maybe she was just too stubborn, like her father," Selina gives a half-shrug, smiling sadly. "Like me. It was her choice in the end, Jason. Not yours. You just made sure it wouldn't be something she would regret."
"Well, what else could I do? The last person I wanted her to turn out was like me, or Tim. So bitter, so angry, so full of hate. It's why I didn't want her learning from Bertinelli at first." God knows how unstable that Helena was back in her heyday.
"You don't look so full of hate right now," Selina observes.
Jason looks away. "That's because it gets you nowhere. I had to learn that the hard way."
"Yeah, you did. And it's a lesson you learned very well." Selina stands up, and before Jason can react, gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter, Jason. I couldn't have asked for anyone better."
Jason steps away, a hand on that same cheek. "I just wished I could've done more for her. That you and Bruce could've been there for her too. You were her parents."
"We were," Selina agrees, tilting her head slightly. "But so were you."
After bidding one last farewell to Selina, Jason wanders into the next room, and blinks. This time it's the Cave. Not the old Cave, the Cave he's been using for the last couple of months, but his Cave. The Bat-Cave he modified and renovated over the years to his own tastes. The place where he had trained numerous students and conducted countless missions. The place that he had bequeathed to Terry upon his death. And at the center of it all were two people, a man and a woman.
Unlike all the others, he didn't recognize these two at all. They were a couple, judging by the hand the man had around the woman's waist. Both Caucasian, with red hair, though upon a closer look the woman looked oddly familiar—
Jason stopped. The woman had Matty's nose.
And now, he knew exactly who these two were.
"Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis," Jason greets them hesitantly, stepping forward, careful to keep a polite berth.
"Mr. Wayne," Warren McGinnis intones back, while his wife Mary gives him a single nod.
Slowly, Jason holds out a hand. "It's an honor," he says, and he's not lying. It really is. Only Terry had any real memories of his official biological parents, and what he said was enough for Jason to get some appreciation of these two people, along with the accompanying regret over how their lives came to end.
Warren smiles as he takes his hand and shakes it, as does Mary. "Right back at you. And please, call me Warren."
"And call me Mary."
"Then call me Jason," Jason insists, exhaling deeply. "And for what little it's worth, I'm sorry."
The couple exchanges a look.
"What happened to you two…it was my fault," Jason continues, shamefaced. "If I had just been more vigilant, it would've never gotten off the ground. But it did, and your family paid the price for it. And I could never be more sorry for that."
Mary, to his surprises, smiles lightly, clicking her teeth. "You know, your father said something similar to us when we first came here. He explained what happened, why it happened, and apologized profusely for it, blaming himself all the while. And you know what we told him?"
"We told him to stop being so ridiculous," Warren answers for her, similarly long-suffering, "You couldn't have known. Nor him. You and your family were busy trying to save Gotham, save the world. It's not your fault someone tried to use that for their own gain, tried to pervert your family's legacy for the sake of a power grab." His voice softens. "Your family were victims too."
"We're not here to berate you, Jason," Mary continues, "We're here to thank you. You took care of our sons, made sure they stayed together, gave them a new family to love and to love them in return. Most of all, you raised them to be strong and capable, so what happened to us would never happen to them."
"I raised them to be vigilantes," Jason reminds her, and there is a familiar undercurrent of self-loathing in that statement.
"You raised them to be good people," Warren corrects him, "to be heroes. I will admit, I'm not gung-ho about them putting themselves in danger like that, and neither is my wife. But it's what they wanted to do, and all three of us know that sometimes, when it comes to children, all you can do is just let them go out on their own and figure things out for themselves. You just gave them the skills they needed to make sure that when they did it, they wouldn't be killed doing so."
"Plus, our son being Batman? One of the greatest heroes in the world? And our Matt, a Robin, the boy wonder?" Mary laughs. "Who wouldn't be proud of that?"
Jason smirks. "Yeah, who wouldn't?" As much as he had hated himself for leaving that burden on Terry's shoulders, he had been just as proud. Being deemed worthy of being Batman was no easy feat, after all.
"You were there for them when we couldn't be," Warren smiles at him, "And you will always have our gratitude for that."
The vigilante blushes. "I wasn't trying to replace you. Either of you."
"You didn't," Mary says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "They were yours too, after all. Just as much as they were ours."
Jason feels himself grinning. Yeah, they were, weren't they?
He wants to talk more with the McGinnises, get to know the parents that Terry and Matty lost at far too young an age. But according to Roy, and them for that matter, he has more people to see, so he reluctantly says goodbye to them both and leaves the Bat-Cave. When he exits the elevator, it's not to his study, but rather to his kitchen.
Jason isn't surprised to see Alfred there. This had been his domain too, only fully left to Jason after he was gone. And then Jason had shared it with his own children, until he was gone too. This kitchen held more memories for him than just about any other room in the Manor, even the Bat-Cave below. Jason's life was here, more than anywhere else.
"Master Jason," Alfred turns around from the cook book he had been reading, his skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiles. This Alfred is older than the one he had been living with recently, but still in much better shape than the man who had died in his bed all those decades ago.
"Alfred," Jason chokes out. He rushes forward, embracing his old butler with great longing, shaking as a familiar pair of gloved hands brush his hair back. Jason had never felt himself more at ease. He never had anything to fear from this man.
"You've grown up into quite the man, young sir," Alfred says, voice tender.
"I wished I had grown into that man sooner," Jason confesses, removing his face from Alfred's shoulder with red-rimmed eyes.
"Don't do that, Master Jason," Alfred lightly scolds him. "What matters is that you did, and that I — no, we, could not be more proud."
Jason breathes. "I've missed you, Alfred."
"And I've missed you as well, my boy. But I'm not the only one."
"No?" Jason asks, hopeful.
Alfred shakes his head. "No. Would you like to see them?" he asks softly.
Jason nods.
At that, the old man gestures to another door, this one where one would regularly exit the breakfast nook to the foyer. "Then go on ahead."
Jason glances at the door, then at Alfred, one last time. "I love you, Alfred."
The butler smiles. "I love you as well, Master Jason. Now go on. Your brother is waiting for you."
Hearing that, all Jason can do is nod, and then walk to the door. He didn't want to keep whoever was on the other side waiting any longer.
"Tt. You've gotten sentimental, Todd."
That's the first thing Jason hears when he steps into the old gym in the Manor. Then he sees Damian, as tall and strong as Jason himself, but with that certain air of youthfulness that he had never been quite able to shake, and all he can do is release a bit-sized laugh. Despite his words, there is not an ounce of derisiveness in Damian's expression. No, instead all Jason could see was understanding and subdued affection.
"Can you blame me?"
"No," Damian admits, stepping forward, arms crossed. "I guess I cannot."
The two men stare at each other, observe each other. There is so much that needed to be said, and even into adulthood, Damian had never been apt at verbally expressing what he really felt. So it is up to Jason to move them forward.
"Why didn't you let me do it?"
Damian tilts his head, acknowledging the question but refusing to answer.
"I was the eldest, Damian. I was supposed to protect you, not the other way around," Jason purses his lips. "It should have been me that died that day, not you."
"Maybe so. Maybe it was your job to protect me," Damian steps forward, "But you were my brother as much as I was yours. Tell me, do you think I could have handled losing you — or Cassandra — any better than you did? That it would not have hurt for me as much as it did for you, had it been the other way around?"
Jason doesn't have an answer for that, so he says nothing.
"You always think so little of yourself. But you have always been worth more than you have believed yourself to be. To my shame, it took longer than it should have for me to see it myself, but I did in the end. And for that alone, I have never regretted my decision." Damian uncrosses his arms and takes his brother's face into his hands. "You were worth it, Jason. And you have proved that, not just to me, but to the world itself, for every day you have lived since. Both as yourself, and as Batman."
His older brother fists his hands as he continues to fight back his tears. "You should have been Batman. It's all you ever wanted."
"It was," Damian agrees, "But it would not have been worth anything if I gained it over the corpses of my remaining family. That was not what I wanted." Not anymore, went unsaid.
Jason closes his eyes, and feels tears stain his cheeks. "You know that we never doubted you, right? That we loved you, that we were proud of you. That all we ever wanted to do was make you happy, keep you safe."
"I know," Damian whispers, pulling Jason forward into a heartfelt embrace, "I know. And I'm sorry that I never said it back. I'm sorry that I didn't tell all of you how much I loved you before I died. That I didn't tell you…tell you that being with all of you, being a part of this family, was the best part of my life."
Jason runs his hand through his little brother's hair, and cries harder.
Jason doesn't want to let go of Damian ever again.
But he has to. So he does.
He does, and he says goodbye again, and he's so tired of saying goodbye. So tired. It's only when he steps into his old office at Neo Wayne Tower and sees Tim playing around on his old computer that he begins to relax.
Tim hasn't aged either. Looks the same as he did the last time Jason saw him. The difference is that there's no longer a hard line to his shoulders, or bags under his eyes. He looks alive, far more than he ever did when he was still among the living. It's a great and terrible thing to realize.
His little brother glances up at him, and then turns his attention back to the computer. Jason raises his eyebrow, then walks over to the desk and seats himself in front of it. He crosses one leg over the top of his knee, and waits.
He doesn't wait long.
"You didn't too bad with the company," Tim comments, finally turning his attention away from the machine.
Jason raises his other eyebrow. "I hope not. You're the one who gave it to me, after all. There must have been a reason for that."
"There was. I trusted you. Of course, I expected you to hand it off to Damian eventually, but I guess that didn't work out in the end, did it?"
"No," Jason says softly, "It didn't."
A moment of silence falls between them, only broken when Tim clears his throat. "You were right," he says, with only a little reluctance.
"About?"
"Everything."
"That's a little vague, Tim."
"You know what I mean," the younger of the two brothers sighs, "I was being ridiculous. Arrogant, almost. I was so used to relying on myself, so resigned to seeing members of this family fail to reach my expectations…"
"…that you projected that on everyone else and kept pushing them away when it really mattered," Jason finishes for him, "Standing on your own never meant standing by yourself, Tim."
"I know that now. I wished I had taken that to heart sooner," Tim meets his eyes, "If I had, maybe I wouldn't have died."
"Maybe," Jason concedes, "But we'll never really know, will we?"
"No," Tim agrees. "We won't."
"For what it's worth, it isn't completely your fault. Dick can certainly claim a lot of blame for you developing that attitude."
Tim raises his own eyebrow. "I'm the one who expected him to be perfect."
"And he's the one who let you believe he was perfect to begin with," Jason points out. "He never was. Neither of us were. I'm just sorry you had to learn that the hard way."
"Yeah, well," his younger brother shrugs, "You redeemed yourselves. Eventually."
"I'm glad you think so. It means everything to me." Jason pauses, and then he reaches out, gently taking Tim's face in his hands. Tim automatically reaches up to take his wrists, rubbing comfortable circles into the skin with his thumbs.
"I love you. You know that, right?"
"I do," Tim tells him, smiling at him, "And I love you too."
Jason looks down for a moment, and then looks up again. "You know, you would've made an amazing Batman too. No matter what you or anyone else said."
"Maybe," Tim relents, before his smile widens. "But you made an even better one, if we're being honest. And there's not a single moment since where I've regretted passing it up to you. Seeing everything you've done since then…I know Dick made the right choice in the end."
Jason lets go of Tim, and leans back into his chair. "I'm seeing him next, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Tim nods, smirking. "You are."
Jason is not surprised to find Dick in his old diner. Out of every member of the Family, Dick had always been the one to visit it the most. There rarely was a day where he didn't see Dick in here, demanding food that was probably too sugary for his own good.
Like now.
The very moment he sees Dick snacking on Jason's famous blueberry chocolate raisin pie, he palms his face and groans. Even in death, some things never change. Dick's sweet tooth is one of them.
"What is wrong with you?" Jason demands in irritation as he saddles up onto the stool next to his big brother.
Dick turns to him and grins. "Little wing!" he chirps cheerfully as he pounces.
"GAH!" Jason yelps as the heavy weight crashes into his front. It takes grabbing the counter for him not to fall off his stool, and despite the indignity of it all he doesn't fight it when Dick throws his arms around him in one of his patented hugs. Jason sighs and pats Dick on the back, and feels his lips curl in happiness.
"God, I've missed you," he hears Dick say.
"And I've missed you," Jason says back, pulling Dick away so they could look at each other properly. "Every single day."
Dick's grin stretches to fill his entire face. "Look at you. My little brother, all grown up." He shakes his head. "I couldn't be more proud."
Jason's smile widens, but then he looks down. Dick notices immediately, and tilts his chin up with a single finger. "What's wrong?"
"I couldn't protect them," Jason finally says. "You made me Batman to protect them, and I failed you."
"You didn't, Jason," Dick immediately refutes his statement. "You saved Cass, didn't you?"
"Only her. Tim, Damian—"
"—made their own choices," Dick cuts him off before he could say more. "We've been watching, remember? I saw what happened, Jason. No matter what you believe, their deaths have never been your fault. They might have been our little brothers, they were also adults who made their own choices. Heroes in their own rights. They both knew what they were getting into, the risks they were taking, and they accepted that. And that's something we have to accept too."
Jason feels his shoulder slump. Dick is right, of course, but it's still a bitter pill to swallow.
Dick eyes him again, before sighing. "You were an awesome Batman, you know. Better than I ever was."
Jason's head snaps right up. "Wha—Dick, don't say that! You were amazing too!"
"But it wasn't for me, Jay, and we both know it," And now Dick sounds a little bitter. "I never wanted to be Batman. To be Bruce. It was killing me, destroying me, breaking me. If it hadn't been for you, I would've never made it as far as I did."
"Then why did you take it up?" Jason asks desperately. Why did you let it kill you?
"The same reason you did. Because I was the eldest. Because it was my job to be the strong one, to protect all of you," Dick fists his hands, "That's all I ever wanted do since you died, Jason. I failed you and I didn't want to fail you again. You or Tim or Damian or Cass. Or Bruce. Any of you. I was perfect because I had to be, and yet I still failed when it really mattered."
Jason opens his mouth, exhales shallowly before slapping his brother right across the cheek. Dick immediately grabs the aching side and is about to angrily demand what that was for, until he sees the growing tears in Jason's eyes.
"Stupid, self-sacrificing idiot," he spits out, "Always trying to take everything on himself. Never asking for help. Of all the things you could've inherited from our father, it just had to be that."
Dick says nothing.
Jason's shoulders sag, the anger draining away to sorrow. "You never had to be perfect, Dick," he says quietly. "You just had to be you."
Dick's face crumples. "Really?"
"Really," Jason confirms, nodding.
"I wish someone had said that sooner," Dick admits, smiling weakly.
"Yeah, well, we thought it was obvious. You always were a little too oblivious for your own good, Dickie."
Dick shrugs. "I guess I was."
A moment of silence passes between them.
"He's next, isn't he?" Jason asks, voice subdued. He doesn't need to elaborate on who he's talk about.
"He is. He's also the last one, in case you were wondering."
"I figured," Jason sighs, standing up. "I guess I better go see him."
"You better," Dick agrees. As Jason turns to leave, however, Dick grabs his hand one last time. "And Jason? I love you."
Jason turns his head to give him one last smile. "And I love you, Dick. Always." With those last words, he gives his brother's hand one last squeeze, and walks away.
He finds Bruce in the study, staring at the old portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.
Unlike the rest of the house, the study didn't change all that much in Jason's time. He exchanged some of the books in the surrounding books cases, replaced the rug and the chairs when they started falling apart, but for the most part it remained the same. Including that old portrait — it stayed, as a reminder of how this family started. Why it started.
"Jason."
"Bruce."
Bruce looks old. There is gray lining his temples, wrinkles wedged deep into his skin. And yet, despite his visible age, there is a weightlessness to him. He looks more at peace now than he ever did alive, like Tim.
He is smiling. Really smiling. What a rare expression.
"You were a fool, you know," Jason says without thinking, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "A stupid, stupid fool."
Surprisingly, Bruce's happy expression does not drop away. If anything, it brightens. "The biggest fool in the world," he agrees.
"You were wrong about so many things—"
"I was wrong about everything," Bruce corrects him lightly.
"And you couldn't accept that," Jason finishes, as if his father hadn't said anything at all. "You acted like you knew everything, when you didn't know a damn thing."
"You're right. I did that, and I refused to acknowledge it. I couldn't," a bit of melancholy tinges Bruce's expression, "Not until it was almost too late. And because of my obstinacy, we lost time. So much time."
"Yeah, well," Jason rubs the back of his head, "I didn't make it easy for you."
"You didn't," Bruce confirms, then sighs. "But I should have tried harder. And not just with you."
"No." Jason's expression turns sardonic. "Not just with me."
Bruce's smile finally falls away. "I was a terrible father, wasn't I?"
"You were," Jason bluntly admits, though he's not smiling either. "But I was a terrible son, so I guess we're even on that front."
Bruce shakes his head. "I wanted to be a good father, but I didn't want to be the person I needed to be to do that. And you all payed for it in the end."
Jason stays silent, watching, listening.
"I tried to twist Cass into another version of myself using her own guilt complex, I never properly appreciated Tim for all his hard work and instead only demanded more from him, I neglected Damian when all he wanted was my approval and kept excusing his missteps because of my guilt, and every time one of them finally had it with me, I had Dick bear the brunt of it and mend the bridge." Bruce closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then meet Jason's gaze again. "And then there's you."
"And then there's me." Jason nods, waiting.
"I failed you in every way possible," Bruce states, regret palpable, "I made your death about me instead of you. I made it my great failure, a cautionary tale to your younger siblings instead of the complete and utter tragedy it was. And when you came back, traumatized and broken and in the end just desperate for me to show that you cared, I rejected you because you weren't what I remembered you to be. I forced your siblings to do my job for me and reconnect with you, and then when you and I were finally getting somewhere, I lashed out at you because I didn't get my happy ending. I failed to realize that I already had my happy ending with all of you."
"You got there eventually," Jason reminds him, voice gentle.
"Maybe. But none of you should have waited that long anyway," Bruce sighs once more. "I know it doesn't really mean much in the long run, especially now, but I'm sorry Jason. For everything."
Jason purses his lips, stepping closer to his father. They were of a height, Bruce perhaps an inch or two taller and bulkier compared to Jason's leaner form. There were differences, some strong, some minute. But they looked similar enough that a person could pretend they were blood.
"As satisfying as it is to hear you finally admit to all that, I forgave you a long time ago, Bruce," Jason says in turn, completely focused on his father's face. "I wished that you'd tried harder. I wished that I tried harder. And I wish it didn't take me so much tragedy for me to finally understand where you were coming from. There are so many regrets in our relationship that I can't even begin to count them. But Bruce, even in my deepest, darkest moments, even when I was at my absolute lowest, the one thing I never regretted was being your son."
Bruce breathes in deeply. It was obvious he didn't know what to say to that.
"Those years we had together, as Batman and Robin, were some of the best of my life. And even though it ended in the worst way possible, I still don't regret it," Jason tilts his head, "I don't know where I'd be without you. Neither of us do. All I know is that, because you took me in that night, I gained a family. One that I came to love more than anything else. I went to amazing places, got to meet and befriend amazing people. Yes, there was pain, a lot of it — but I was happy Bruce."
The mouth snaps close, and Bruce nods jerkily. "Good. That's good. That's—" He gulps, "That's all I ever really wanted for you in the end. You, and your siblings too. I just wasn't good at saying it."
"Well, better late than never," Jason jokes, and they both laugh.
The laughter subsides, and Bruce cups his son's face in his hands, "I love you, Jason. And words will never express how deeply proud I am of you."
"I love you too," Jason hesitates, "I want to stay."
"But you can't," Bruce reminds him gently.
"But I can't," Jason agrees. "They need me too."
Bruce hugs him, pulls him close, and Jason doesn't hesitate to hug back. "I must have done something pretty amazing, to have such a wonderful son like you," he whispers, and Jason can't stop it anymore.
He cries. He cries, long and hard, into his father's chest like he was still a child. He cries because this, all of this, was everything he wanted when he thought he was dying for good, and now he finally has it, if only for a moment.
And Bruce…Bruce is so understanding. He just keeps holding him close, rubs comforting circles into his back. He lets Jason ride out his tears, until there are just hiccups and red eyes. Jason wipes away what remains on his shirt, and then steps away.
"Will I see you again?" He asks, yearning clear in his voice.
Their surroundings begin to fade, as Bruce nods. "You will," he says, smiling. Behind him, the others appear. Dick, hip cocked, eyes bright; Tim, smirking; Damian, arms crossed, standing tall and proud; and Alfred, hands behind his back, ever the embodiment of propriety and deference. Next to them are Roy and Kate, and even the McGinnises, all smiling at him.
His father steps away, and Selina is there as well. She slips her hand into his, lacing their fingers together.
"When it's your time, truly your time, we'll all be together again," Bruce says as they too slowly began to fade away, "But it better not be for a long time, Jason. You've lived one life for us, for your family. It's time you lived one for yourself."
And with that, they were gone.
Jason just stands there, in the white void, for a long time. Watching the spot where he saw his family disappear, gone from him once again. There is pain in his heart, but it isn't as great as it used to be. He feels more at peace than he has ever has been before, the peace he was searching for when he finally resigned himself to death two and a half years ago.
He hears someone clear their throat behind him, and turns around.
Death.
She is as beautiful as the last time he saw her. But of course she is. She is the one constant, the one thing in this universe that will never change. Even when the last star dies out, when the last vestiges of life fade away, she will still be here, waiting in an eternity of nothingness until the universe begins again.
"Are you ready?" she asks.
"I am," Jason answers her.
Satisfied by his answer, she presses her hands together. Slowly, she draws them apart, forming a sword of silver metal and flaming white light. Jason feels his soul echo and synergize with the blade, eyes completely fixated on the weapon — his weapon.
The Balance.
With cautiousness, he takes it from Death's hands, feeling its familiar weight, the way its energy flows through him, binding itself to him. Jason has wielded a multitude of weapons throughout the years, but no matter how much he practiced with any of them, none of them connected with him the way this weapon does. Long before he was born, this blade had been forged for him, and those like him, and now it is time for him to wield it again.
"Quick question," Jason couldn't help but ask, "Is the story true?"
Death gives him a smile, sad and true. "It came from somewhere, didn't it?"
Jason has to give her that.
But that's not all he has to say. He continues to look at her. "I've only ever loved two women in my life," he confesses to her, "and you were almost the third."
She tilts her head. "What stopped you?"
"I realized that while I'll always be yours, you will only be mine for but a moment. And that wouldn't have been enough for either of us, in the end."
Death's smile turns a little more genuine. "You're right," she agrees, intrigued. She presses a hand to his chest, craning her neck. "And what about now?"
"You gave me this," and he's not talking about the sword, they both know. "How could I not love you after that?"
And now the smile turns into a grin, and she laughs. Jason mirrors her, and they both keep laughing and laughing. And when it finally subsides, they look at each other, locking eyes with unabashed longing. Jason can't help it — he picks her up by the waist, and presses her lips against his.
And just like that, Jason Todd feels the breath of life enter him once again.
I cried while writing this, you know. I hope you cried too, because this is the chapter this entire story has been building up to. Jason finally making peace with all the choices he made, and moving forward with his life.
And now, there's only one last obstacle left to face.
By the way, I thought it was hilarious how you all really thought I was gonna kill off Jason even after I told all of you this would be the first story. At first it was annoying, but when you started with the death threats it became funny.
And as for Death and Jason, they aren't a thing thing, because they recognize they can never be together (plus Jason is still in love with Donna in addition to his feelings for Death). They are, however, still rather tender to each other because of the feelings they do have for each other.
Next chapter: the climax.