Return of the Wayward Son

Chapter 2: Make a Choice

Jason's POV

Four words. Just four measly words was all it took to shatter him completely. The fog had receded entirely, leaving him with agonising clarity to take in what had just been said. I can't, I'm sorry. Four words that brought out all the insecurities, the terror, the anguish. Bruce really had chosen The Joker over him. Had chosen his precious rule over his son. Had chosen being The Batman over being his father. Some small part of him hadn't wanted to believe it, had clung on to hope through it all. That was gone now. His father had never cared. He'd just been an extra set of hands to him, someone to watch the older man's back. Nothing more. A few tears slipped out in spite of his best effort to reel them in. He didn't want Bruce to see him like this. Didn't want him to know just how much those words had broken him.

"That is so sweet." The Red Hood couldn't find it in him to react to The Joker's cooed words. His eyes were locked firmly on the rotting floorboards. He couldn't do this. Couldn't handle the barrage of painful emotions. A whimper caught in his throat as he hastily clawed through his mind for the darkness that had helped him survive these four years of hell. The mist surged forward with a vengeance, briefly sending his vision a sickly green. He looked up, meeting the Dark Knight's uncaring, heartbroken, gaze with unsettling calm.

"Well, you won't have a choice." He raised the gun in his hand, flipping the safety switch and pointed it squarely at Bruce's chest. Fishing out the second pistol; he tossed it across the room with ease. He silver firearm bounced off the older man's chest and fell into his hands. Jason was certain he saw the man's eyes widen under the cowl. For the briefest second, he felt guilty. Dad never liked guns.

As if to prove his point, Bruce spoke while still holding the weapon like a live viper. "I won't…"

Jason scoffed scornfully. No more excuses. He never had been the most patient person, and this was taking longer than he had wanted. "This is what it's all been about. This! You and me and him." He stomped his heel down on the remainder of the rickety wooden chair the clown was tied too, breaking the wood, and ripping the ropes open. Grabbing his killer before he could attempt an escape, he yanked him up off the floor. "Now is the time you decide." He snarled at Batman while he pointed his own pistol at The Joker's head, the threat seemingly clear. It wouldn't matter that it was only a half-truth though. He wasn't going to be the one pulling the trigger if he had his way, and he would. "If you won't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will. If you want to stop me, you're gonna have to kill me."

Bruce shook his head, the stoic expression on his face cracking with a flinch at the suggestion of killing Jason. "You know I won't…"

Jason's glare doubled in intensity, his eyes twin orbs of sapphire fire "I'm going to blow his deranged brains out and if you want to stop it, you're gonna have to shoot me, right in my face!" The last words were shouted; taunting, demanding the man to pull the trigger, daring him not too.

From his place pressed to Jason's chest, the pistol still resting on his head with a deadly promise, The Joker beamed. "This is turning out even better than I had hoped."

The silence that followed was deafening. Time itself seemed to slow as the three men waited for what would come next. Jason could barely breathe in anticipation. This was the last chance he had. He'd thrown everything he had at his adopted father, done everything he could to convince him to make up for allowing the maniac to live. If he didn't fire that shot…..

Please Dad.

The gun clattering to the floor was the last straw. The few shards of his soul holding him together shattered. In an instant it had all come crashing down. He was supposed to get his revenge. It was going to fix it all. No more pain, no more waking up screaming in the middle of the night, no more checking around every corner for the too wide grin of the madman who ruined his life. He'd planned it out so carefully. He'd brought them all right to this point. All they had to do was play the final part. How could it all go so horribly wrong? How could his father hurt him like this?

The fury flared up in outrage. They ruined everything! Had they not done enough to him already? How much more would they make him suffer?

Bruce turned away from him. Coward! He snarled; a vicious animalistic sound. "It's him or me, you have to decide!"

The vigilante made no move to turn around. Can't even look at me, can he? Please, please just look at me! "DECIDE NOW! DO IT! HIM OR ME! DECIDE!"

Please, just choose me….

…

Bruce's POV

"I can't, I'm sorry."

They were perhaps the hardest words Bruce Wayne had ever had to speak.

Finding out that the new crime lord in Gotham was going by the name The Red Hood of all monikers was surprise enough but finding out who was under the hood? That had been pure agony. He hadn't wanted to believe it at first. He'd tried to find any other solution that made sense. However, all the evidence had led him to one, frightening conclusion. The way the new mysterious Hood fought, his uncanny ease navigating the city's rooftops, his sarcastic nature, his apparent knowledge of Batman's fighting style and equipment. What really sold it was his attempts to gain Batman's attention.

One part of him had been over the moon with joy to learn The Red Hood really was Jason. Somehow, someway, his son had been returned to him. However, it was also heartbreaking. It was obvious to anyone who'd known Jason Todd that this boy wasn't him. Not really. Jason may have had his issues with anger and a reckless nature that got the best of him at times, but he was no killer. Something had happened to change the mischievous, fun-loving, brave and bright child into this cold, resentful, angry killing machine. While he could draw it up to his torture and murder at the hands of The Joker, another part of him felt there was something more going on here.

Still, hope was a powerful thing. He refused to believe that Jason was beyond help. Beneath the madness and rage he could catch glimpses of the boy he used to be. The way he pulled his punches in his encounters with Batman and Nightwing. The way he saved Bruce's life while fighting The Fearsome Hand of Four. He was in there. Broken, afraid and lonely but still there. It was that hope that held him back during their fight. It was that hope that led them to where they were now.

Bruce took in the sight of the boy, because he was still a boy deep down, standing before him. He was taller, stronger. Almost the same height as Bruce now. His face was harsher; the softness of youth almost gone. There were new scars. Bruce couldn't be sure if they were marks from that horrible night in Ethiopia or were the result of the last four years. Maybe it was a mix of both? His hair seemed slightly longer and was styled differently, though still the same midnight black it had always been. There was a new addition to the raven strands he noticed. A white streak he had never seen before. His eyes used to be a bright, sapphire blue. Eyes that shone with laughter, joy, confidence, mischief and determination. Now, they seemed different. They were no longer gemstone blue but a dark, almost navy hue.

It was still his son, still the child he remembered, stood before him. And yet, it wasn't. Bruce felt sick.

He tried to catch the boy's eyes. He wanted, needed him to understand why he couldn't do what he asked of him. He was expecting to see anger, desperation, madness, hatred burning in the blue orbs. What he hadn't anticipated, what he never could have been ready for, were the tears. The last time he saw Jason cry it had been during the first few months after Bruce took him in. The nights where demons from the past would haunt his young charge's dreams. The witching hour would often see him holding a distraught child; trying everything he could to chase away the monsters that tormented him in his sleep. Bad dreams could be conquered with some comforting words, a nightlight and teddy bear though. Memories, they weren't so easily laid to rest. Bruce would know. The faces in his worst nightmares were all too real. Still, he would always try his best to help. He'd have done anything for his son. He still would.

Almost anything.

Before he could begin to figure out how to explain though, the moment was gone. Jason was staring at the floor, shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

Bruce felt his heart sink. He wanted to step forward and pull the boy into a fierce hug. He wanted to tell him how terrified he was when he realised Jason had been caught by The Joker. He wanted to tell him how his whole world was broken beyond repair when he found the child's body buried under the rubble. He wished he could explain just how furious he was when he saw how much the monster on the floor between them had hurt him; the blood, the broken bones, the charred hair and burnt skin. He wanted him to know how much of himself he lost to grief and guilt in the last few years; how many times he took fights too far, how far he pushed everyone away who wanted nothing more than to help him, how he very nearly killed the very person Jason was asking him to kill right now. He wished he could show him the stack of books in the library that still remained untouched, the bedroom that no one dared enter, the seat at the dining table that had gone unused. He wished he knew how to put into words just how much he loved him; how strongly and fiercely he'd been missed.

"Well, you won't have a choice."

The click of a gun's safety switch followed. It was a sound he'd become unnervingly accustomed too.

Bruce felt his muscles tense in preparation to fight as he waited for what would happen next. He watched apprehensively as Jason's hands shakily drew another of those dreadful weapons, tossing it to Bruce with little concern.

The gun bounced of his chest, landing flat in the palms of his hands. Bruce held it as if it were a ticking bomb waiting to explode. He'd never liked guns. Not since they'd taken away two of the most important people in the world to him. These horrible inventions brought nothing but suffering and grief. Anyone who was remotely close to him new just how much he hated them.

It stung more than a little that his own son would pass one to him so casually.

"I won't…" He knew where this was going. Jason didn't need to tell him his plan. He watched as Jason scoffed, a desperation leaching into the words that followed. "This is what it's all been about. This! You and me and him. Now is the time you decide."

The teen pulled the clown up from the floor, holding him hostage. The consequences for Bruce refusing his demand were clear as Jason raised the pistol in his gloved hand, the barrel pressing warningly to The Joker's head. The moon's reflection in the shiny metal of the gun glinted ominously. "If you won't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will. If you want to stop me, you're gonna have to kill me."

Bruce, despite years of self-discipline and training, couldn't prevent the flinch at those words. He would never, could never, kill his child. There was nothing on this planet that could ever force him to do something so horrible. It broke his heart Jason would even suggest it. "You know I won't…"

A crazed kind of anger seemed to take over his son as he glared. He'd never seen Jason look at him, or anyone for that matter, like that before. It was chilling, just how much he had changed. "I'm going to blow his deranged brains out and if you want to stop it, you're gonna have to shoot me, right in my face!"

Bruce paid no attention to The Joker's delighted statement of "This is turning out even better than I had hoped." He had far more important decisions to make then how to best go about shutting up the aggravating man. Decisions like how to save his son.

The Batman found himself staring silently back at his blue-eyed boy as silence once again descended upon the room. Outwardly he appeared just as composed and stone-faced as ever. Inwardly though his heart was in utter turmoil. He hadn't been prepared to see the anger and hatred disappear from Jason's eyes. All that was left was a heart-shattering mixture of emptiness, grief, agony and despair. The desperation remained. Not that of a madman; not one of a person with a desire to win the game but of a person who'd been brought to the very brink. The desperation of someone with nothing left to lose; someone who was clinging onto hope by the tips of their fingers.

A part of him wants so strongly to believe that there was an easy answer there. Shoot. Shoot the piece of scum that got them to this point. Rectify the mistake he made all those years ago. Stop The Joker from hurting anyone else, just as Jason pleaded. He could see how desperately Jason wanted this. Could see how much a part of him needed this to ever feel safe, to even have a chance of moving on. He could see the fear that haunted him every single day The Joker remained on this planet. A bullet could take it all away.

It would be easy too. So very chillingly easy to squeeze the trigger. All he needed to do was close his eyes and see the hundreds of faces this man had taken from this world. To remember the moment he arrived on that burning hilltop, his son's body buried in the rubble. All he had to do was open his eyes and look to that same young man before him, pleading with everything he had to end this madness right here and now.

It would be easy and that was why he couldn't.

He needed to be better. His father used to tell him 'An eye for an eye and the world goes blind'. Bruce hadn't understood then. He hadn't for a long time. He did now though. The world didn't need another killer. If he went down that path, if he started that vicious cycle, there would be no going back. He needed to be better. No matter how hard it was, he needed to be a better man than the criminals he caught.

It was also why he dreaded the idea of letting Jason go through with this either. He didn't want his child to make that mistake. Could not bear the idea of him taking that final step over the line with no way to ever truly return. He was toeing the proverbial line as it was, he already he had a body count he would need to live with for the rest of his life, but there was still some hope, still a chance he could be rescued from the edge. If he killed The Joker though, that'd be it.

Bruce was stuck. If he pulled the trigger, he would either be going against everything he stood for or he would lose his son again. Neither of those were options he wanted to take. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution that would get them out of this.

Jason wanted him to fix this. He wanted Bruce to make the choice that would solve it all or end it all. What Jason hadn't realised was he couldn't do either. His son wanted him to save him, and Bruce wanted to. He truly, desperately did. But he couldn't. He hadn't been able to save Jason from The Joker. He hadn't been able to save him from the Lazarus Pit. He hadn't been able to save him from the years of emotional torture. As much as it broke his heart to admit, there was only one person who could save him now and Bruce wasn't it.

There was only one option left.

It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do but instead of pulling the trigger, he dropped the gun and turned away.

He could only hope now that there was enough of his son left to save himself.