Straws
"Jason?"
I manage to peel my head off the pillow and force my eyes to open. I got so wasted last night; gate-crashing raging high school parties is so worth the trouble. Right now I'm paying for it. The taste of vodka and cigarettes is thick on my tongue and my head feels like there's a strobe light pulsing behind my eyes, but it was an awesome night. I'm still hammered; my eyes are struggling to focus on the guy I assume is Al standing at the foot of my bed.
"Yeah?" I manage to say; even a syllable threatens to dissolve into unintelligible mush.
"Where were you last night?" Okay, that's NOT Al speaking. Great, Bruce is about to rip me apart for being a teenager. I let my face mash itself back into the pillow before answering.
"Nowhere special." It almost sounds like somebody trying to play a tape backwards when I speak, it's that garbled. I think he could just make it out though. I need some water.
"Alfred says he caught you coming back into the house after three in the morning." Al gave me up? Ah, he was only doing his job; Bruce wouldn't even have noticed if the old mother hen hadn't told him. I should be sort of grateful. Jeez, I REALLY need some water. How much did I drink?
"So? It's the weekend." I point out, deciding to try and prop myself up on one elbow. "Am I still dressed?" I make a big effort to keep my eyes open and then a frankly herculean effort to focus them on the big guy. He shakes his head.
"No. Please cover yourself up." I clumsily pull the duvet over my crotch and rub my face a few times. I'm going to have to go get some water in a second or I will die. Okay, Jay-Jay, let's see if we can't salvage the situation with some tactful nous…
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I feel like shit, I probably look worse and I promise I'll tell you the next time I plan to torch the majority of my brain cells. Okay?" This pretty eloquent speech cum apology should help mellow out the incoming storm clouds and, given how stupidly drunk I am, I did very well to articulate anything in the first place; I was expecting the next thing out of my mouth to be vomit. Bruce frowns, sighs and then rolls his eyes in that order. I think he's actually easing up on me a bit.
"I just don't understand why you do this. Your conduct on patrol is much improved, your general attitude and bearing around the house is highly promising again and yet, you spoil it by acting like this." He sounds disappointed. This is still better than pissed; I can't argue with him right now, much less shout. I go to sit up and immediately lose my balance. Bruce looks away in disgust. Really? I fall over once and he's disgusted? Get a grip, rich boy.
"Hey, don't treat me like that. I don't deserve to be treated like some kind of wino who's fallen off the bandwagon for the umpteenth time. I'm a kid for Christ's sake; we do stupid stuff like this all the time. It's part of being young. Plus, did you forget the part where I let men rape me in motels for food? Most kids in my position WOULD be alcoholic no-hopers, so don't burn me for drinking once in a while." He knows I'm right. Hell, I know I'm right. He won't admit it though, definitely not his style, but hopefully the chances of this turning into something ugly have been put to bed. I admit that sometimes I play the haunted past card a little too much, but this time I think I'm justified. There's a potentially awkward silence developing here. So I break it as politely as I can. "Can I get some water please, Bruce? I'm kinda thirsty." He stares at me for a while. Then he gestures to my bedside table. When I glance over, I see there's already a tumbler of water waiting for me. That's an unusually kind thing for the big man to do; tee-totallers DON'T normally pity the drunk. I manage a smile in his direction. He just inclines his head.
Holy shit this water tastes like Heaven. I chug the whole thing in one go. God I feel born again. "Thanks, big man." I say putting the glass back on the table top, "So, you gonna ground me or give me extra chores or what? Stop me being Robin?" Bruce shakes his head. This is a weird development. The big guy DOESN'T want to burn me for being a 'wild' and 'self-destructive rebel'? Does he just not care anymore?
"You've been good for the past few months. And this time I didn't have to pick you up from jail. So I'll let this one slide. They'll be no punishment on this occasion, son." Wow. This is the probably the coolest attitude he's had to me being myself in our whole relationship. Am I actually starting to win him over? Does he see Jason Todd instead of Golden Boy in this bed? Maybe he finally understands that I'm not a puppet or someone he can force to conform to his ideals. Or maybe it's just because this time I didn't beat the crap out of six people in a drunken brawl outside a strip club. No bruises on my knuckles THIS time. Any way you slice it though, score one for Jason Todd making Batman see he's a person, not a replacement.
"I think I love you, right now." I offer with a lop-sided grin. Bruce narrows his eyes and manages a thin smile.
"DON'T let this happen again, Jason. Please just be more considerate in future." Oh my God. That was an Al tagline if I ever heard one: be more considerate in future. Al's been at him this morning. Mr Pennyworth has probably talked Bruce down from his high horse and got him to look outside his black and white view of the world. Al would never openly admit it, but he went to bat for me and, considering the guy he was taking on, that's damn impressive persuasion on my behalf. I owe that man a great deal, a great deal. Bruce is waiting for me to give him a reply.
"What did he say to make you act like this? Honestly, it must've been good." This time I manage to sit up without falling down. The big man rolls his eyes and sighs.
"Alfred pointed out that, although I never got involved in drink-related escapades during my youth, I still managed to accomplish some fairly idiotic things that are on par with yours." This is interesting. Bruce's past is all grim and full of predictable B revenge movie plot twists; there's very little room for comedy or light-hearted moments so I want to hear about them. I mean, my past is pretty much a badly-written lifetime movie too; something you couldn't pay me to watch, but it doesn't do funny. I clap my hands before rubbing them together.
"Come on then, let's hear 'em. Confess your sins and be clean in the eyes of the lord." Jeez, I'm up and running in record time this morning; Bruce not being a sanctimonious asshole to me is as good a hangover cure as I've ever had.
"I think I've been accommodating enough for one day, Jason. Perhaps another time." I shrug my shoulders and lie back down on the mattress. Freebies are good enough for me; the story would've just been a bonus. So I'm going back to sleep for the next four hours.
"You should definitely be this guy more often, Bruce; I could live with him." I offer, already drifting back to unconsciousness. I'm tired enough to really want this sleep. I miss the big man's response but do feel his hand make brief contact with my hair in leaving the room. So far this morning, everything's coming up Jason.
I wake up some time around midday. I flirt with the idea of being a lazy bastard and sleeping all day, but think I'm gonna break out in bedsores if I carry on so I drag my ass out of bed. A quick shower followed by brushing my teeth four times and downing another litre of water gets me to leave my room for the outside world. Lucky I'm still drunk or else this would be so much harder. I head downstairs decked out in just my board shorts and go hunting for Al in his normal haunts. It takes about five seconds to find him in the ten acre plot of land we call a back garden, pruning roses.
"Rip Van Winkle awakens. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Al begins without even looking up at me approaching. I shrug my shoulders.
"I'm just a lot more sober." The old guy glances up from the bud he's about to clip and smiles.
"Indeed you are. I must say this is a great improvement on earlier this morning." He comments, snipping the bud off. He's got some green fingers…maybe it's gangrene. I know, not funny, but still sort of hung-over so cut me some slack. Moving on…
"Oh, do go on and embarrass me, Al." I say genially. Al feigns disappointment.
"If only I could, Sir. I doubt you'd be at all surprised by your behaviour."
"What, I hug you or something?"
"Actually, after finding you eating ice-cream and pepperoni slices in the kitchen, we had a very nice conversation." Unfortunately that does sound exactly like me when I'm hammered. I always eat weird combinations of food when I'm totally past being considered wrecked, even if I hate them. I also run my mouth. So, no, I'm not surprised.
"So, what's the damage, Al? I just bore you about being a blue-movie version of Oliver Twist again?" I inquire, sitting down next to where the man is kneeling. He shakes his head and returns to his pruning.
"Not this time, Master Jason. You were altogether more cheery than usual. You talked a great deal about your mother and long summers in Gotham. It made quite a refreshing change from the typically dark stories this household is infamous for."
"Well, I'm glad you liked them. And I'm glad they inspired you to save my ass from Bruce's temper this morning, props to you. So where is the big man?"
"Where else? He's in the cave. Can he expect you to make an appearance?" Yeah, sure I'll trade the sun for a dark hole in the ground and a man with a mind as open and flexible as the Berlin Wall. Good luck on selling that to this intrepid sidekick. I shrug my shoulders.
"I don't know; it's a beautiful day outside. Maybe I'll just hang out with you." Al ceases his activity again to look at me. He's got one of his earnest expressions on. The time for serious point-making is now it would seem.
"As delightful a prospect as that may sound, I do believe Master Bruce would like your company." I can't help but scoff at that bad line. Get a new writer, Al.
"Just because you're not Pinocchio, Al, that's no reason to lie your butt off to me."
"Please give him a chance, Master Jason. He is trying awfully hard today." Right, because you TOLD him to be nice to me, Mr Pennyworth; without you, he would've torn my head off about last night. Let me try explaining my predicament succinctly for you…
"But he sucks, Al. There's no nice way to say that; the man sucks…he just totally sucks."
"Then please go spend some time with him for me, Jason." Stop defending him, Al. Just stop pushing him on me like I want a meaningful relationship with this man. He had his shot to bring me in and all he did was push me out. Don't use your friendship with me to try and coerce me into this situation either, okay? It's not cool. I don't even have to say this out loud for Al to understand my position; I just look so despondent about the whole idea it must be obvious. Al puts a gloved hand on my shoulder and holds up just his index finger with the other. "One hour, Sir, just one single hour to try with him. You may be surprised." I let out what can only be described as a groaning, reluctant sigh. It's perfect for how I feel right now. Al just shakes his single digit harder for me. Fine. I'll play ball. He's got an hour to show me something fresh or I'm walking. I'm not trying anymore after today. That's a promise.
I jam on a hooded sweatshirt, actually one of those novelty items that's designed off the Robin tunic and sold to tourists, and head into the abyss. They do a Batman one too, but on this one I could have my initials on the back. I went with just JT and sacked off my middle name; JT sounds cool, JPT sounds like a pharmaceutical drug for constipation or something. Bruce thinks it's the tackiest thing he's ever seen and hates me wearing it. So I wear it all the time. I'm annoying like that. I find him hunched over bone fragments in the forensics lab. For the first time ever, he looks up right away when I approach.
"Hello Jason. How are you feeling now?" He asks. This is a promising start. He's clutching at straws. I shrug my shoulders.
"Fine. Al said I should come see you. What you working on? Is this part of that murder case?" I gesture to the bone fragments on the table. Bruce nods.
"That's right. I think this might be the killer's first victim."
"I thought it wasn't a serial killer."
"Officially it's not, but I believe the similarities between the current investigation's victims and this one from a case fifteen years earlier are too convenient to ignore. If I'm right, I may deduce their identity before Sunday evening."
"That's good."
"Yes." Bruce pauses to consider something. He puts down the fragment in his gloved hand and considers again before finally speaking. "Jason, can we talk about something?"
"Yeah, sure. Look, I know plastic surgery's risky, but you need a new face; this one you're trying to snare women with now, it's just not good enough. I was thinking rhinoplasty, face lift, maybe some pec implants…"
"No jokes, please." Fine, no jokes, just the way you like to ratchet up tension and make me feel uncomfortable and inappropriate in my own skin. I lean back against one of the support struts.
"Okay, just come out with it."
"Have you ever been truly happy living here? I just feel like…you hate living here sometimes. Is that true?" Hold your tongue, Jay-Jay. This is a golden question, one that demands some careful thinking before you do a role-reversal and tear him apart for once. Be diplomatic.
"Anything I say would make me seem ungrateful."
"I really don't care. Please speak your mind."
"Look, you're not a bad guy, okay? Anybody who has as much money as you do and still manages to be selfless is amazing. And Al, you know, the guy is the nicest man I've ever met and both of you are pretty patient with me. You plucked me off the streets without really knowing the first thing about me and gave me an opportunity that only one other person in the whole world has had. And I worked my ass off to make good on that chance. And you also gave me a home and an education and a really good life. I wake up every day happy that I sleep in a warm bed in a safe house with the world's greatest detective as my guardian and a butler whose cooking is sensational. So I'm thankful for that. But as much as I respect you and admire you and all that stuff, I've never really loved you like you wanted me to." And gauge his reaction: doesn't seem all that surprised here. Let's continue.
"And it's not because of the high expectations and my disappointing you that I feel like this, it's none of that. It's because of how you tell me I've failed you. You come down on my every misstep and error like a ton of fucking bricks, every single time without exception. Even if I perform well, you inevitably focus on my mistakes and belittle my achievements, make me feel inferior and useless at every turn. You know the best compliment you ever gave me after a patrol was? In the last four years, you know what you said? 'Good job'. That's it. That is the highest standard of praise I have ever wrenched from your mouth in the four years I've been busting my ass for you. 'Good job'? Jesus Bruce, even a damn six-year-old gets better than that for making a macaroni picture; I apprehend a gang of deadly thugs single-handedly, nearly killing myself in the process, and all I get is 'good job'? Are you on crack?" Okay, dial it back, starting to spit here. I compose myself. "And it suffocates me. All your nit-picking and glowering and finger points makes it hard for me to breathe. I feel so trapped sometimes, like a rat in a fucking wheel in a cage. So I escape sometimes. I go out and I drink and I smoke and I party my ass off to release the pressure, ease the tension. And, for a few hours, it's great. Then I come back and you come down on me even harder. Fuck the bricks; you just topple the whole building on top of me. Honestly, I get so angry about it all I feel like I could kill someone. So yeah, sometimes I do hate it here. Sometimes I do." Boom, done and dusted. The big man's rebuttal to this torrent of criticism? He nods his head once and speaks as if I had never spoken at all.
"I see. Thank you for enlightening me, Jason." He turns back to the bone fragments and is about to continue his tests. It doesn't show, but I hurt him a little with what I said. It's almost imperceptible, but he's upset by my response. Somehow, despite meaning everything I just said, I still feel bad for making him experience just a fraction of my angst. So I backtrack slightly.
"Bruce…" The man watches as I round the table and stand toe-to-toe with him. "Look what you did this morning, letting me off lightly, you know that was really cool. That was what I want more of, just a little bit of give and take between us." He nods but articulates nothing to reply to that. "Look, I get I'm not the easiest kid in the world to work with either. I'm moody, hot-tempered, too good-looking and talented for my own good and don't give you an inch when I should give you a mile. So, how about we're both sorry about the past, yeah? We pretend like none of it happened for a while and try to start fresh. That sound good to you?" Bruce smiles.
"That would be something." I nod in agreement.
"So, we hug on it and give it a shot." The big man raises an eyebrow.
"You would willingly hug me to seal a deal like this?"
"One time only, Jason Todd will let you hug him. Show me a sixteen-year-old boy who'd ever show that kind of security in himself and I'll call you a lying bastard." He's lucky I'm still feeling last night; it makes me lenient and way less spiteful than he deserves. I shouldn't bother hugging him, but I'll try anyway. I don't wait for Bruce to lurch forward like Frankenstein's monster and bear hug me; I just reach out with my arms and latch them round his waist. There's no stiff body to be found. Bruce expected this and is cooperating nicely. He wraps his massive arms round my back and squeezes me gently. So far, so good. "Look, I'll try if you try, big man. This is a two-way deal."
"I understand. Thank you for the opportunity, Jason."
"Ah, call me Jay-Jay. Your nickname will be Wide Load."
"Bruce will suffice. You try and I'll try."
"Check."
That's right folks; we're remaking the pilot of this show again. Hopefully this time, I won't drop the F bomb as much and maybe Bruce will be funny…
No, but I'll seriously try to be good.