Return of the Wayward Son
A/N - So, just saw Batman: Under the Red Hood for the first time and dear God, my heart! Too many feels so here I am. Hope you like it! Please note: The formatting is better for this story on AO3.
Chapter: That Moment
Jason's POV
Jason Todd threw the bound body of The Joker through the door, smirking under the red helmet at the pained grunt the action rewarded him. The Red Hood costume, the gang wars with Black Mask, manipulating said man to release The Joker, keeping Batman and Nightwing on his trail; just close enough to piece it all together when the moment was right. It had all come down to this moment. Years of planning, years of training, years of patience but now he was here. All the heartache and rage would come to an end and he wound be able to put the memories to rest.
After the brutal beating the Clown Prince of Crime had unleashed on him, he'd felt the faintest glimmer of hope when the psychopath left the warehouse. He'd survived. All he needed to do was get outside. That hope had dwindled to a flicker as he reached the door only to find it was bolted shut. However, the ticking sound was what snuffed out that little light completely.
He'd been so afraid in that moment; wondering what would come next, what would his family think, would it hurt? He was going to die there, alone and in agony on a cold warehouse floor. However, as the bomb ticked down to 2 seconds, he'd accepted his fate. He wasn't happy about it but there was nothing more to be done then just close his eyes and wait for the inevitable.
He'd just hoped Bruce would forgive him for disobeying, for not being good enough.
The timer hit zero and then there was nothing.
At least, that was how it was supposed to be.
It could have been decades or it could have been seconds but soon the all-encompassing darkness had dissolved away. It sounds peaceful in theory. For a wonderous few seconds it was. He was floating in oblivion; all worries, fears and memories were gone. Then it all came rushing back with the speed of a batarang.
The Joker, the crowbar, the explosion.
The fear, the pain, the loneliness.
He'd screamed, thrashing desperately to escape the glowing green liquid he was submerged in. There was something wrapped around his body. It was restricting his movements. Trapped, vulnerable, not again!
Someone reached for him. To help him? Hurt him? No, no, no! He lashed out in a blind panic, quickly ripping away the, bandages?, and escaping the cavern in a blur. By the time he reached the mansion above there were guards waiting. He felt something niggling in the back of his mind. He had to escape. He wouldn't let them stop him. No matter what.
It wasn't until hours later, camped out a few hundred miles away that he registered what he'd done.
He had killed someone, multiple someone's. He hadn't meant to. It had been purely instinctual. He wasn't a killer. He never had been. And yet…..he felt nothing. He thought he should have felt something. Disgust, guilt, anguish. However, there was simply nothing.
He'd sat there for hours pondering everything that happened. His thoughts had wondered to his adopted father, Bruce Wayne. The Batman himself. What happened after the explosion? Had his father made it to the warehouse. Had he been injured? Killed? Unlikely. Bruce wouldn't be taken down by a simple explosion. He was Batman. He could do anything.
Reassuring himself that everyone else was okay, he tapped into his Robin training. He needed to figure out where he was, when it was and how to get home. Try as he might though, he found it hard to focus on those questions. Was the green haze around him something in the air or was there a problem with his eyes? Had he really died? Who were the cloaked men? Tried as he had, he couldn't prevent his mind wondering to the one topic he dreaded.
The Joker.
The memories of his torture plagued him through the remainder of that first night. The taunting words, the chilling laugh and the fucking crowbar. He'd tried his best to push it aside though. It was fine. He was safe now. He'd been so positive of that fact too. After what the green haired man had done to him, there was surely no way his father hadn't put an end to the maniac. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again.
As he had finally drifted off to sleep with plans for what to do over the next few days shifting through his thoughts, one small comfort helped ease his mind. If only a little.
The Joker was gone. Gone for good.
That was what he'd thought at least. It wasn't till he'd made his way to a nearby town two days later that he learned the truth. The local paper reported that The Gotham Gazette published a story about how The Joker had been caught by Batman and was locked away in Arkham Asylum. Not dead, apparently beaten severely and in a body cast, but still very much alive.
Reading that had hurt worse than the crowbar striking his face. How could he? How could his father do that to him? The little peace his tortured mind had found over those few days was shattered. The Joker was still out there. He'd escaped before. He could do it again and then what? No one was safe, he wasn't safe, with that monster still walking this Earth.
He'd been so sure Bruce would end the clown. The Joker hadn't just killed him, he'd tortured him. Bruce's number one rule, his oath not to kill, was important to him. Jason understood that, admired the man's resolve even, but after what that demon had done, he'd been certain Bruce would avenge him.
He'd been wrong.
The darkness that had clouded his mind since he woke, the presence that left the world in hues of green, almost seemed to drag him under. In the following weeks his outrage grew into betrayal, then fury, then hate. He didn't blame Bruce for not saving him but his father, the man he trusted more than anyone else, had let the one who killed him keep his life. That, that was unforgivable.
He'd tried to convince himself it was a mistake at first. The newspaper was wrong. Bruce wouldn't let that happen on purpose. He'd fix this. Maybe he was letting The Joker stew in his own fear and agony for a while before finishing him off? He'd even tried reasoning with himself, remembering all of the lectures he'd received in his training as Robin about the value of life and why they weren't supposed to kill. However, it was getting harder and harder to recall those memories. The green haze blurred and twisted those words into something else. Empathy? Mercy? It was weakness.
As the months passed, he grew to accept the harsh truth. Bruce hadn't killed The Joker. He had no intention of doing so it would seem. He hadn't been able to believe it at first. He'd held onto that hope for so long. Bruce wouldn't let him down. He couldn't do that to him. Jason had placed all his trust, all his hope, in the man who took him in. How dare he betray him like that?
A year passed with him travelling from place to place. He'd refused to go home, not until he knew The Joker was gone for good. He tried to convince himself it was out of spite. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't. As he visited new places he continued his training. He wouldn't let himself be caught again. He had to be faster, stronger, better. It wasn't just martial arts he learned though. He also mastered blades, explosives and even firearms. Until then, he'd never fired a gun. Had never had any desire too. The green fog over his mind whispered that he needed to learn.
The final straw came two years later. There, on the front page of The Gotham Gazette was Batman, locked in a fierce looking fight with The Riddler. However, he wasn't alone. At his side was a boy in a very familiar looking costume.
He really had meant nothing to the man, hadn't he? Easily replaceable. Forgettable. Worthless.
Just as quickly as the hurt set in it was gone; replaced by the now all too recognisable rage. He wasn't going to let Bruce get away with it. The Joker would die and Bruce Wayne would be the one to pull the trigger. When he was done with them no one would ever forget his name.
He was brought back from his musings as the trigger for all this mess chose to speak up.
"Okay, so, what's the plan?" Joker started. "Slumber party? Charades? A little truth or dare? Yes! I'll start with dare." He beamed, looking completely nonplussed by the situation.
Jason would have to change that. Time to start the final phase.
He said nothing, crouching down to unzip the brown duffle bag he'd dropped at his feet. From within he retrieved a very familiar looking crowbar. The Joker's grin only faltered slightly, eyeing the weapon with intrigued. "Or maybe I'll just go with truth."
Jason tensed as the man rambled to himself. The misty fog suffocating his thoughts briefly as anger buzzed beneath his skin. He was tempted, oh so very tempted, to do away with the green-haired menace. But he wouldn't. That wasn't his place. No, someone else needed to do that.
He rose to his feet and approached the clown. He remained silent for a moment as he stared down into the eyes that had haunted his nightmares for years. A surge of emotion welled up in his chest, the intensity nearly knocking him off his feet. Was it hate? Grief? Fear?
No, no it couldn't be that. He wasn't afraid. He couldn't be. Not anymore. It was his turn to bring the fear.
He forced it back under the fog, all of it, until only the burning rage remained. The fire that had kept him going ever since hr rose from that forsaken pit. The crowbar creaked in his hand. It was time.
The Joker, uncharacteristically quiet, watched as he raised the crowbar over his head. Jason smirked. He would make him pay. He would make this disgraceful excuse for a human being feel everything he went through.
The fear.
Bang!
The loneliness.
Bang!
The pain!
Bang!
That heart stopping moment of clarity when you realise its over. No one is coming, no one will save you. The second when it hits you. You're going to die.
Bang!
He wanted, needed, to see it. That single moment when The Joker would know exactly how he felt.
Bang!
He stepped back for just a moment, staring down at his killer. The Joker was sprawled on his side, as much as the ropes would allow anyway. He coughed up some blood, though whether it was from the missing tooth, split lip or his lungs was anyone's guess. Jason could hear he was already wheezing slightly. He was sure he'd broken a rib at least as well as the right arm and definitely left some severe bruising. Splashes of blood were already staining the purple jacket and murky floors.
It wasn't enough.
Sure, it was satisfying inflicting pain on the man who had tortured him so ruthlessly. Still, there was something missing…
Time to up the ante.
"Tell me", he drawled tauntingly, "how does that feel?" The poisonous words dripping from his tongue like venom. He could remember them word for fucking word. Nothing on this Earth could have ever made him forget.
The Joker glanced up, spitting out some more blood before replying in a strained voice. "Oh, well, you know. It only hurts when I laugh." The prone man smirked slightly before stopping to take a few laboured breaths. "But hey, I gotta know. Who are you? You said we knew one another, and you do seem very familiar. Did we double at the prom? Or maybe blew up a school bus together?"
Jason's eye twitched under the helmet as annoyance simmered in his veins. He hadn't anticipated the guy to be this chatty, especially after taking a few strikes from the crowbar. Still, this was a chance to get things back on track. It was a slight delay. No matter. It would still be perfect. It had to be.
"No, I'm just something you helped make." Red Hood replied ominously.
Joker looked more intrigued. "That's pretty cryptic, heh, but interesting. Tell me more." The maniacal grin back firmly in place.
Jason growled under his breath. The man still hadn't put two and two together? Fine. He'd just have to do better.
"Sure." He intoned, grabbing the purple jacket, and hoisting the man up closer as he readied the bar. "Listen up." He paused, savouring the brief look of uncertainty. It wasn't the all-consuming terror he desired but it was a start.
"What hurts more? A?" He swung, striking the man's cheek with a sickening crack. "Or B?" The metal struck the collarbone this time, eliciting a sharp groan. "Forehand?" Jaw. "Or backhand?" Ribcage.
The Joker rag dolled to the floor and for a split second The Red Hood wondered if he'd actually passed out. Then, the shaking steadily increased as a chilling cackle filled the small dingy room. "Oh, now that! That I do remember. The little baby bird who'd been too young to leave the nest. What a thrilling surprise!"
What was he doing? He…he was laughing? No, no this isn't how it was supposed to go! He was supposed to be afraid! He was supposed to crumble under the pain, his return was meant to strike terror into the clown's heart.
It was supposed to be The Joker's turn to have that moment.
Instead, the mad man continued to cackle. That fucking sound that chased him wherever he went.
Something in him broke.
No, it…..it couldn't end like this. He needed this. Needed to fix everything. There was still time. Still hope.
Guess its time to bring the other player into the game.
….
"I know I failed you, but I tried to save you Jason. I'm…I'm trying to save you now."
He stared at the man uncomprehendingly for a few seconds as he painfully hauled himself up off the floorboards where he landed. A chuckle slowly worked its way up his chest, but he forced it down. Batman, Bruce Wayne, The Master Detective, The Dark Knight. The man the most hardcore criminals feared. The man who could solve crimes the entire GCPD couldn't but this? It was almost hysterical. He couldn't even figure out what this had all been about? Typical, he always was emotionally stunted.
No, no time to laugh. He wouldn't lose focus.
"You think that's what all this was about?" Hood growled under his breath, the words delivered through clenched teeth "I don't know what clouds your judgment worse; your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality." He, paused, taking a deep breath to ease the green back. He needed to stay focused. He would not mess this up. He needed his adopted father to understand.
"Bruce, I forgive you! I forgive you for not saving me." Despite his best attempts, he still felt the words catch in his throat. He met Batman's gaze, as well as he could through the cowl, and thought he saw the man flinch for a second. Whether it was from the use of his real name or the statement itself, he didn't know. He also didn't care. Not one bit.
Scowling, he mentally readied himself. For the finale. The final showdown. "But why?" he continued, barely missing a beat. "Why on God's earth…!" Jason snarled, swinging around to kick the closet door down. Inside, tied to a chair was The Joker. Bloodied and bruised but breathing, so infuriatingly alive. "…is he still alive?"
The Joker looked up, a menacing laugh filling the air as his manic eyes took in the scene before settling on his arch enemy. He bounced the chair out of the small space, stopping between The Red Hood and Batman. "Gotta give the boy points! He came all the way back from the dead to make this shindig happen! So, who's got a camera? Oh! Oh! Get one of me and the kid first. Then you and me! Then the three of us. And then one with the crowbar! Then…."
Said crowbar swung down on The Joker's shoulder, knocking him over onto the floor with a sharp yelp.
Jason crouched by the man's head; the barrel of his pistol pressed to his temple threateningly. "You'll be as quiet as possible, or I'll put one in your lap first."
The Joker gave barely any reaction, simply side eyeing the weapon with a pout. "Party pooper. No cake for you."
Bruce's eyes narrowed at the display of violence as well as the obvious signs that the Clown Prince of Crime had been through one hell of a beatdown before this. However, he didn't say a word, just waited for his son to speak. Jason wondered what was going through his mind but silently dismissed it.
"Ignoring what he's done in the past. Blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he's filled, the thousands who have suffered, the friends he has crippled? You know, I thought…" he trailed off, fighting to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. Damn it, he was supposed to be in control of this situation. He wouldn't give either of the room's occupants the satisfaction of seeing him breakdown. Still, it was far easier said than done because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't hide the wobble in his next words. "I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt. If it had been you that he'd beat to a bloody pulp; if he had taken you from this world, I would have done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil, death-worshiping garbage and sent him off to hell!"
The last sentence was spoken at a near-shout. Once he finished, he waited in the silence for a response. He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting really. Guilt would be most ideal. Maybe anger or annoyance. Instead, what he got was a blank stare. Maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of consideration. The Red Hood tensed slightly. This wasn't quite going as he had anticipated.
"You don't understand." Batman finally spoke. Tone even, betraying nothing. "I don't think you've ever understood."
Jason bore his teeth in a sneer. "What? What your moral code just won't allow for that? It's too hard to cross that line?" the teen goaded, somewhat distressed.
No, this wasn't going the way he wanted at all. He determinedly ignored the ache in his chest as he realised it really was going to take a lot of persuading to convince his father to do this. It shouldn't have. It shouldn't have to be a challenge to get him to do the right thing, to make up for his mistake. To protect him. What happened next threw him off completely though.
"No, God almighty no." Bruce fired back, a deep-set frown visible on his face. "It'd be too dammed easy. All I've ever wanted to do is kill him. A day doesn't go by when I don't think about subjecting him to every horrendous torture he has dealt out to others and then…..end him." The dark knight explained, a menacing tone emphasizing the truth in his words.
From the floor, an amused and mocking voice butted in on the conversation. "Awww, so you do think about me?"
Jason started warningly down at his captive, fury threatening to take hold again at the interruption. Bruce continued to speak, distracting him from doing anything. "But if I do that. If I allow myself to go down into that place, I'll never come back."
Jason tilted his head in contemplation. He had a feeling there was something else Bruce wasn't telling him. He was annoyed. The man was always hiding things, treating him like he was a child. He supposed it didn't matter in the end. He wasn't interested in hearing more excuses.
"Why? I'm not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow, or Dent." He reasoned, voice nearly breaking again as emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Why? Why was this happening now? The last four years had been a blur of fiery rage and calculated plans. Why was he nearly messing things up now? "I'm talking about him, just him, and doing it because," he stumbled. For the first time in years, his mind almost completely cleared of the pit's influence. A sob almost worked its way out as he near whispered, "because he took me away from you."
The first true moment of vulnerability to push though since his death and resurrection. He waited with baited breath; eyes begging, pleading with Bruce to understand why he needed this. It was the justice he deserved. The payback for all these years of suffering. He just wanted to feel safe again. He wanted to go home.
A look of regret passed over the man's face. For a second, just a split second, he hoped. Then Batman spoke. "I can't, I'm sorry."