Author's Note: Just a taster for things to come. Bruce auditions Jason and is pleased with what he discovers about his new protégé. More tomorrow.
Audition
I am not sure what I expected. I believe I considered the implications of giving such an angry and stubborn teenager a 'tryout'. I thought I would encounter violence and ill-temper with every assessment I made the boy perform. I was convinced he would prove unsuitable for training, regardless of potential. I was resigned to failure. These conceptions of Jason are bleak and somewhat biased. In truth, I felt sorrier for him than impressed and that is why I brought him back to the cave to begin with. But, I was mistaken in my motives. I know now, I expected him to fail. I did not expect this.
Jason is not Dick. Comparing this abused youth to a prodigious and naturally-gifted athlete is unfair on so many levels, but I do it regardless. The results are remarkable. All of Dick's strengths, both in character and physicality, are Jason's weaknesses. But all of Dick's perceived weaknesses are Jason's strengths. This new boy is mentally stronger and more determined than Dick could ever hope to be. I think that, were I to train him to the same extremes as I did his predecessor, Jason would prove far more resilient and focused. Added to that is Jason's impressive ability to survive events and experiences that would cripple ordinary people. I admit, aside from anger, the boy is numb to several emotions we take for granted. With his history, such things are to be expected. One thing I am wholly convinced of his Jason's drive, his hell-bent determination to succeed; he is not a quitter. The way he stands before me at the audition's conclusion, dead on his feet, drenched with sweat and gasping for breath should mean he is not fit for the task. But his eyes are not glazed over; they are burning with intense desire and daring me to turn him away. They say no to the painful cramping he is feeling as an excuse to go to his knees. They scream 'fighter' in a way mine can never replicate. They tell me, in spite of physical weakness, his slight physique and his total lack of refinement, he is tough enough to be my partner. I smile at him.
"You pass, Mr. Todd." The boy's immediate reaction is to throw-up at my feet. His knees buckle slightly, but he remains upright.
"I've been holding that in for ten minutes." He informs me, spitting the last of it from his mouth. There is a grunt as he forces his head back up to look at me. Then he smiles. "Thanks, rich boy."
"You probably won't be thanking me tomorrow when training begins."
"Maybe the street urchin will surprise you." Jason replies, visibly wincing when forcing his body to take a single step, "We'll just have to see." Oh yes; the boy is very tough, very hard inside. I have picked the right recruit.
"Sir, I consider this a mistake." Alfred informs me after directing our guest to the bathroom and supplying him with some of Dick's old clothes to wear after. We are in the library, 'discussing' matters. "The young man you have brought into this house tonight is nothing but a stray. His current plight is one that generates immense pity, I admit, but he is not suitable for this life. He is not Master Dick." The old man adds as if Dick's leaving did not wound my pride enough. I turn from the bookcase and regard him in silence. After a time, I speak.
"I do not want a clone, Alfred; I want a partner. Jason is not the athletic or acrobat Dick was..."
"Is, Master Bruce, the acrobat that Dick is..."
"Do not interrupt me again, Alfred." I say with a blunt tone to ensure the old man is clear about who is serving whom here. "Jason may not be the talent Dick is, but I am certain he will work hard to attain the same level. Alfred, if you could've seen his eyes tonight, seen his raw potential, you would not side against me." Alfred looks at me with disdain.
"This young man is the son of a known criminal. He possesses a criminal record of his own. He is not a suitable candidate for a life dedicated to hunting criminals. It is, as they say, the 'wrong fit'."
"You haven't spoken to me once yet, Al. At least get to know me before you hang me for thievery." We both turn to see the very object of our conversation standing in the archway to the library. Dick's clothes are a far more appropriate fit for his frame and suit his face quite well; he could pass for a member of Gotham's most affluent...so long as he did not open his mouth. His elocution of the word 'thievery' and the choice of the word to begin with are most impressive. Even Alfred raises an eyebrow in response to its use.
"How are you feeling now, Jason?" I ask when the old man fails to give the boy a verbal reply.
"Cramped to hell, but at least I look nice. Even if the clothes are a little flashy for my taste." He offers without moving. It is strange that, were this Amusement Mile or Park Row, and were he surrounded by the noise of the city and its millions of inhabitants, Jason would not feel uncomfortable. At this very moment, he looks unnerved by the intimate and quiet surroundings of the house. Alfred's coldness is not helping him feel any better. I nod and smile at him.
"When we arrange things properly tomorrow, you can buy whatever clothes you like. For now I'm afraid your current attire will have to suffice." The boy shakes his head.
"I don't mean I don't like them; I just mean I feel over-dressed." He gives us both a nervous smile and a slight laugh. Alfred exchanges glances with me. He does not want this boy in the house. I tell him silently that Jason is staying whether he approves or not. In response to this, the old man adopts a far sunnier disposition. When he addresses the boy, he sounds warm and friendly.
"Not at all, Master Jason; I was just about to serve dinner." Jason's eyes flit to my suit and tie for a moment before going back to Alfred; he now seems even more uneasy.
"I don't know anything about table manners or napkins and junk." He tells the old man with more than a hint of panic. Amazing. Jason does not fear The Batman or the roughest streets in Gotham, but he is scared of a formal dinner. Alfred walks over to him and places a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. He pats it gently.
"Not to worry, young man. Do you know how to use a knife and fork or do you not know what I am talking about?" I smile at the old man's friendly mockery of Jason's roots, but am anxious the boy will take offence. Jason's decision to give him a genuine smile, one that says Alfred's particular brand of wit is appreciated, puts me at ease.
"Yeah, I know how to use a knife and fork, Al."
"Then you should encounter no problems tonight, Sir."
"Don't call me 'sir'; it's really weird."
"Would you prefer Master Jason?"
"Anything but sir or Jay-Jay; my mom called me that and I hated it." He announces to both of us. Alfred adopts a dean-pan expression and nods.
"Yes, Master Jay-Jay." Jason laughs and shakes his head.
"Very good. I said anything but Jay-Jay so you put 'Master' in front of it."
"I shall not do it again." The old man assures him with his typical sincerity. Jason nods his head in gratitude.
"Thanks."
Dinner is a subdued affair. The boy is exhausted from his earlier trials in the cave and only seems interested in sleep; he is presently manipulating the chicken breast round his plate rather than attempting to eat it. When he observes me watching him do this, he gives me a wry smile.
"I guess throwing-up four times kinda ruined my appetite." He explains. I nod in agreement.
"Yes, I apologize for the severity earlier. You are not seriously injured, are you?"
"No. I thought I was gonna break down and cry earlier when I was doing push-ups two-feet above the ground, but I didn't." Jason puts his fork down and presses a hand to his forehead. "I guess I'm tougher than I thought I was." I nod again.
"Yes, you are."
There is a brief silence. I watch the boy take gingerly sips of his water and wait patiently for him to speak. He seems willing enough now he understands I am not going to hurt him.
"So what happens now?" Jason inquires after a few more minutes of quiet. I lean back in my chair and shrug.
"I will let my attorneys deal with all legal matters pertaining to your adoption as my ward. There will be some red tape of course, but you will not have to appear before a judge or go back into the fostering system like before. You do understand what such matters mean for you, don't you?"
"I'm gonna have to work my ass off in that cave down there, aren't I?"
"It took me six months to train the previous Robin candidate. He was already an accomplished gymnast and incredibly fit when he began however. To train you to the same standard will take three months longer, if you pass all assessments first time. If you fail certain elements badly, it will take almost a year. You must obey my instructions at all times. You must follow my rules. You must never admit defeat. If you do not comply with any of these guidelines, I will not train you. This is a serious commitment, Jason; once you begin, you cannot give me anything but your absolute best. Any less from you would not be sufficient to pass. Do you understand?"
Jason's expression has yet to change. He nods his head without hesitation or regret. "I never give less than my best in anything I do. You need my best? You got it, big guy, nothing but the best." His voice oozes with conviction and heart, too things he will need if he is to get through the gruelling next few months of physical training to attain enough lean muscle mass to begin formal training as Robin. I nod in approval, something I find I do frequently with this youth; it is a good sign.
"Good. Training begins tomorrow morning. Alfred will take you to your room."