Jason Todd has known there is a bullet out there with his name on it. He knew it first, at seven, when one of his mother's boyfriends held a gun to her temple and she laughed and said do it, and Jason had shoved his way in between.
Had known it many times over the years—another shitty boyfriend, at eleven, a fight with much older kids at school at thirteen, and after his mother had died…well. Those memories were blurry, but plenty came with bullet holes.
And even after Bruce had found him, rescued him as much as Bruce Wayne was really capable of rescuing anyone, Jason Todd had known it.
So it is no surprise that it ends like this for him, at fifteen.
He'd been on Scarecrow's fear serum for months. Worn that red hood. Taken lives and destroyed everything he touched. He doesn't remember all of it, doesn't remember all the lives, just remembers the haze of fear and pain and the scarecrow's voice in the back of his head.
He does remember Hank. Maybe he dreamed it, the thud of Hank's heartbeats counting down, the way Hank was singing when he died, the fire ripping through the bedroom when Jason's detonator finally went off. Maybe he dreamed it all.
He hopes he did.
There's no shot at redemption, not for him, but he can save what's left of his family. So he puts on the red hood, one more time, and loads his weapons, and shadows Dick Grayson through the dark of Gotham.
Grayson is alone, as he often is, and he pauses in an alley on the north side of the city. "Jason," he says quietly.
Jason is quiet, he knows he is, and good at following without being spotted, but this is Dick Grayson. So it should be no surprise, not really, that Dick knows he's here.
"If you want to fight," Dick says slowly. He doesn't even turn back to look at Jason. "Or if you want to kill me. Then let's do this already."
Jason drops from the fire escape, scarcely a noise when he lands on concrete. His body aches with withdrawal, but it's worth it, it is, because he is done being used, he is done, and he wants to remember. Even if it fucking hurts. "I don't," he says roughly.
Dick turns to him, now. He's not wearing his Nightwing costume, and this Dick Grayson is a softer version of himself—leather jacket and black jeans and boots. No handgun at his side. There is no anger in the look he gives Jason. Just a too-keen look, like he can read more in Jason's face than Jason would like. "Then what do you want, kid?"
I want to go home.
That's the first thought in his head, but he's not pathetic enough to say it, or dumb enough to think it could ever be reality. He might have been manipulated by Crane, but he made choices, too. Lots of them.
In the back of his mind, Hank is still singing, soft and persistent.
"I want to stop Crane," Jason says finally. "He's not going to save the city."
Dick sighs softly. "No shit, Jason."
"I thought—" Jason stops, bites off the word before he says them. He hadn't thought much of anything, really. He had just been in so much pain. He had said don't give up on me to Bruce, but Bruce had, and they all had, so Jason had given up, too. Surrendered control and let the Scarecrow, the fucking Scarecrow, have his mind. "I know I can't come back. I'm not asking you for anything. I just want to help you find the bombs. And keep the city from going to hell."
Dick tilts his head to one side, considering him carefully. "What changed?" he asks.
He got sober, is what changed. Didn't take the drug for just long enough, got enough of himself back to stop following orders. Got enough of his own mind back to think what the fuck am I doing. But how can he say any of that to Dick, without sounding like he's making excuses?
"I fucked up," Jason answers finally. That's the truest thing he can say to Dick Grayson. "I can't change what I've done. But I can stop things from getting worse."
Dick runs a hand over his face and lets out a breath. "Alright," he says. "But I can't bring you back to the Titans. I'd start a war."
Jason is familiar. He starts wars wherever he goes, like just his presence is enough to ignite the flames of conflict. "Yea," he says. "I understand. So where do you need me?"
#
He does what Dick tells him, which is a surprise to him as much as it is to Dick. It might be the first time in his life he's actually done as he's told, which tracks. But he shows up where Dick tells him to and he fights who he's supposed to and he hunts down Crane's bombs, and their plans don't go to shit until the very end, which, again. Probably some kind of new record for all of them.
But in the end, he ends up exactly where Jonathan Crane wants him—in Gotham Plaza, battling it out in front of all of Gotham while bombs count down in the distance.
Dove showed up—Donna or Kory must have called her, or maybe Rachel asked her in a dream or some shit, and god knows they all treat Rachel like she's precious—and Dick hadn't told her that Jason was helping them, because of the whole war thing, and now she's stopped fighting Crane's men and has her sights on Jason.
And how can he fight back?
It's all done, anyway. Dick and Gar will get to Scarecrow, that new kid helping. Kory and Connor will get to the rest of the bombs. Gotham will be safe.
Dawn lands a kick to Jason's ribs, and he doesn't even block it.
How can he?
Hank is singing again, slow and sad and resigned.
Dawn swings a fist, her strike wide, easy to dodge or defend, but he doesn't.
Hank's heartbeats are counting down.
Jason's on the ground, and Dawn is kicking him in the ribs, and the suit doesn't do much to protect them. Something shatters.
Maybe it's Jason's ribs. Maybe it's Hanks.
A kick to his head he doesn't bother blocking. He feels the blood, warm in his mouth and on his jaw.
"Fight back," she screams at him now. There are tears in her eyes. "Fight back, you fucking coward."
And that's when Jason sees it.
The bullet, the one that has his name on it.
One of Crane's men, one of the cops, staggers to his feet. Dawn isn't looking around, has no concept of anything but Jason and her rage and her pain, and he understands. He does.
And it's not redemption. It isn't anything close to that.
It's just that he can do this. It's just that she was family, and she doesn't deserve any of the suffering she got, and he wants her to have another chance to live.
So he staggers to his feet and the red mask clatters to the ground and he steps in front of the bullet that has been waiting for him all this time.
Hank is singing. Or maybe Jason is.
Hank's heartbeats are counting down, or maybe Jason's are.
He just knows, in the end, he got this one thing right.
And then that's all there is.
