Chapter Text
The first time Jason meets Roy, he’s been Robin for almost two years. He turned fourteen only a few weeks back, and now his life is shaping up to be the kind he used to dream about on cold nights, huddled into the corner of an alley in Park Row. It was his second birthday at the manor, but his first as Bruce’s son. On paper, anyway. He didn’t think it would ever feel real.
The party had been small, as per Jason’s own request, and the presents mostly unremarkable, useful things he hadn’t thought to spend the money to get himself. He didn’t have any friends, really, or none he’d thought would show for him, not the manor, and so it was just Jason, Bruce and Alfred. Dick was… busy, or so he’d said. Jason almost believes him, now that he’s been called in to fill his spot on the Titans.
Point being, Jason thinks his recent birthday and accompanying rather sad display of a social circle might have played a part in Bruce allowing him to join the Titans on their mission at all. While Bruce seems to dislike Jason forming many relationships apart from with those residing in the manor (distractions, he said, they do important work, after all), one can only be so isolated before it stunts one’s growth, probably.
So here he is, in an unusually letter-shaped building, surrounded by a bunch of costumed twenty-year-olds. It was Donna who called him in initially. Donna, interim leader of the Titans and most beautiful woman Jason has ever laid eyes on. Strong arms, running up into narrow, but firm shoulders, draped by lush, dark hair. Big blue eyes, much brighter than his own, which are mottled by dirty sea green spots. Closer to Dick’s sky blue, maybe.
And most of all, she looks at him like he’s a hero in his own right. She looks at him the way Jason thinks people might have looked at Dick when he was Robin. It makes his chest swell with pride, and simultaneously fills his throat with a bitter taste, something akin to resentment, but not quite.
Jason looks around the room. Aqualad is staring at nothing, lost in thought, a deep sadness in those wet eyes of his. Hawk is making a fuss, throwing around angry words and accusations, so Jason decides to just tune him out. It’s the Flash that really catches his attention, anyways. The Flash, not Barry Allen, but Wally West, taking on his late mentor’s mantle to honour him.
The Flash, Jason thinks, he’s on a team with the Flash!
But he, too, seems haunted by grief. Though instead of Aqualad’s quiet detachment, and Hawk’s violent rage, Wally seems to have filled the hole in his heart with a cold determination. Jason isn’t sure he’s left space for much else.
Jason finds himself wondering, if he were to lose someone, now that he was Robin and not just some poor kid trying to stay alive, if he lost someone more important to him than anyone, which of the three would be his reaction. He thinks of losing Bruce, or maybe Alfred.
Jason has already lost everyone else in his life. And every time, he just got back up, wiped his tears, and kept going. He imagines he would do the same, now. Grief is something Jason is intimately familiar with.
But then, as he watches Hawk whittle a gun from a block of wood with smooth, precise strokes, he wonders, if he were the one who died, how would Jason want to be grieved?
He dismisses the thought immediately. Instead, a low, raspy voice catches his attention. It’s warm, distinctly West Coast in its accent. Jason could make a game of catching evidence of the California Vowel Shift in his speech, if he had the time, maybe. He’d learned about it in school recently, and Bruce had seemed proud when Jason was able to point it out. You can learn a lot about a person by the way they speak.
As is, he’s more enraptured by other, more interesting features. Speedy is a flash of bright red in the room, only having escaped Jason’s notice until now because it seems like red is the prevalent colour choice for most Titans. Jason’s eyes catch on the archer’s arms, a stretch of skin exposed between short sleeves and yellow gloves, which seem to play the function of bracers as well.
Speedy’s skin is fair, but tanned from the sun, freckles on stark display. Jason follows them up towards his face, cut and handsome. His nose is strong, and Jason thinks it might have been one of those pretty, straight ones, had it not been broken at some point in time.
“I uh— don’t like getting involved in politics,” Speedy— no, Roy, says, Jason remembers Donna calling him by name. He seems withdrawn, like he has a million other things on his mind, despite the very important nature of their mission. They’re supposed to provide security during a diplomatic discussion in Switzerland. Very important government work. Grown-up stuff. And Jason will be part of it. Of course he agreed.
He wonders, though, what Roy’s issue is.
“Since when?” Donna asks, seemingly wondering the same thing. “You work with the government, c’mon Roy, we need you,” she goes on, and Jason watches Roy turn his head and avoid her eyes. His neck is strong but slim, the neckline of his suit curving down to expose his collarbones. Roy has a strong upper body; all muscle and no fat.
“Okay… Okay, I’m just not happy about it, that’s all,” Roy replies, and his voice drags Jason’s eyes back up, over the collarbones, and the throat, all the way to his lips. Roy’s cheeks are freckled. Jason wonders if his lips are, too, but he can’t tell from where he’s standing. He tunes out the rest of the conversation, too focused on letting his eyes trail up and down those sharp cheekbones. Luckily, everyone seems too distracted to notice.
They take the T-Jet to Switzerland, a tumultuous flight, to say the least. It seems like Donna overestimated her own piloting skills. It doesn’t matter. Jason is sure she’s way better at other stuff, and they do make it to their destination without any big incident.
Zermatt is beautiful. The small town sits right at the foot of Matterhorn, close to the Italian border. The entire place is covered in snow, white and bright and breathtaking. And Jason would appreciate this, if someone hadn’t decided to make the Robin costume constitute of what amounts to underwear. He drapes his cape around himself, shivering as the wind bites at his cheeks.
As they tread through the snow, the elder Titans check the surroundings for any people. According to Donna, the resort has been closed for the week in anticipation of the arrival of the ambassadors.
Jason watches in fascination as Roy sends an arrow into the air in an effortless display of skill.
“Here’s a special reconnaissance arrow I picked up from Green Arrow,” he brags, showing Jason the small monitor attached to his belt. It shows a video feed transmitted from what must be a camera attached to the arrow.
He watches on in fascination, teeth clacking.
“Does he have anything to keep me warm?” he asks, voice shaky with cold. “I’m freezing in this Robin costume! Whoever decided on these short pants must have been a sadist…”
The others turn to him, and Hawk looks at the cloudy sky, snowflakes still falling freely.
“Yeah, let’s get inside,” he agrees, “It’s starting to chill my feathers too.”
Jason has to suppress a snort at that particular choice of words.
Roy sends him a look, and Jason grins at him, and he’s so busy being looked at by Roy, that he almost misses Donna speaking.
“…Cheshire is probably here. And that means she knows we’re here, too,” she cautions. Jason doesn’t know how The Flash could have missed an international assassin when he checked out the perimeter earlier, but Donna seems like she knows what she’s talking about, so he trusts her.
Jason spends the next few hours warming up and passing the time. He didn’t imagine he would be bored on a Titans mission, but here he is, cheek resting on his hand as he watches Roy and Wally play chess. They both wear teasing smiles as they taunt each other. Jason knows they’ve all been close friends for years, both from Dick’s stories when he deigned to show his face to play at brotherhood, and Bruce’s files. But seeing them play like this, their troubles momentarily forgotten, he can really see it. The way they are quietly there for each other. The way they cheer each other up just by spending time together.
There is no magical fix-it for whatever is troubling them at the moment, but Jason can see how they build a small safe haven for each other.
It’s… nice. It makes a hollow feeling spread in his chest, expanding, making his belly ache and throat close up. There’s a pressure behind his eyes, and he has to bite his lip to make it stop.
It takes three repetitions of one of Bruce’s breathing exercises until he’s got himself back under control.
It all goes to shit just as they decide to get some sleep.
There are shouts, then the building explodes, and Jason just barely makes it out, curled tightly into a ball, cape wrapped around himself.
The snow is cold as it hits his face, but the fire is hot at his back.
It seems like Donna was right after all, Cheshire is here, and she is not in a chatting mood. The fight is messy, all over the place, multiple armed men having accompanied Cheshire up the mountain. Her entourage is well trained, and the Titans seem scattered, making for a clear advantage on their opponent’s side.
Jason barely manages to stop Hawk from getting shot, throwing himself at Cheshire in a desperate manoeuvre.
Somehow, Donna and Hawk end up fighting while Jason is distracted, busy fighting off one of Cheshire’s men. He tries to pull her off, but he is useless against an Amazon’s strength. Only when she stops on her own, tears falling down her face, does he let go, however. Jason never was good at giving up.
She walks away, wiping her face, and he follows, tiny green pixy boots doing little to protect his feet from the snow.
They talk, as they make their way through the wide expanse of white. It turns out the reason Donna had been so ready to listen to Jason, looking at him as an equal, instead of a kid, was because who she saw was the old Robin. Her friend Dick Grayson.
It hurts, more than a little. She apologizes. They move on. She will not look at him as she did before. Jason wishes he could be glad.
When they head back to the rest of the group, Cheshire and her pawns are gone. They quietly make their way into another cabin, grabbing what resources they have that survived the explosion before heading to bed. They all need some rest before the actual negotiations tomorrow.
Jason finds himself struggling to fall asleep, which isn’t anything new for him, really. But tonight, when he closes his eyes, it seems like all he can see is a caped back, forever turned to him, forever too large, too far to reach.
The next morning, they gather in the living room to discuss last night’s attack. Jason stands off to the side, sipping on a glass of water.
He watches on, silently. His eyes keep drifting to Roy, though he tries not to stare. Which is why he notices the way they tend to flicker away whenever someone mentions Cheshire.
Bruce taught him how to read people. And he’s been paying enough attention to Roy to know. Roy knows something. But Jason decides to keep that to himself for now.
The peace talks will be held on the peak Klein Matterhorn, and they use a cable car to make their way up.
The view is unlike anything Jason has ever seen. He spends the entire ride glued to the window, watching as they rise above the clouds, Klein Matterhorn rising up through and above them. It sure is a change from the gloomy Gotham skyline.
Donna has returned to her position as leader, briefing the team on their surroundings and once more cautioning them not to underestimate Cheshire. It should be impossible for anyone to follow them up here but given Cheshire’s reputation of never having failed an assignment before, she is sure to be resourceful.
When they reach the peak, Donna steps out to speak to whoever must be in charge. Jason, for one, is once more freezing his ass off. They really should come up with a winter variation of the costume; this is ridiculous.
When he voices his complaints, Roy suggests waiting inside the cable car tunnel. “My costume wasn’t made for this weather either,” he says with that impossible smile of his.
Jason wraps his cape tight around his body. The tunnel is less unforgivingly cold, shielding them from the harsh wind, but by no means is it warm.
“Penny for your thoughts, Jay?” Roy prompts, as they stand together next to the cable car.
Jason can’t help the way his face heats up at the nickname. He hopes the cold has tinted his cheeks enough for Roy to be unable to tell the difference.
It’s unwise for them to go very far, so they stick close to the yawning mouth of the tunnel, just deep enough to shield themselves. That means Jason can look outside, over the vast landscape of snow-covered mountaintops. Dick said he would take him skiing one day. Jason really, really wishes he keeps his promise.
“Um, nothing much,” he mumbles into his cape. “Just how beautiful everything is here, and how I never expected I’d ever join you guys.”
His eyes flick up to Roy’s, and the look in his eyes is kind. Maybe even a little fond. But Jason can’t let himself be distracted by those eyes, no matter how easy it would be.
“And, well… maybe something else, too.”
He turns, properly facing Roy. He can tell Roy doesn’t think of him as much more than a kid. He’s right of course, Roy is at least six years older than him. But Jason isn’t your usual, run of the mill fourteen-year-old. He’s seen things, done things most people wouldn’t ever have to. But he is more than that now. He was chosen by the Batman. Trained.
Jason needed to be smart to keep his mom and him fed when his dad went away. He had to be smarter once his mom died, and he lost the apartment.
And Bruce saw that. Taught him how to use his smarts, helped him get the kind of education no street kid could even dream about.
“The Batman keeps telling me to watch people’s eyes,” he says to Roy.
“Yeah?” Roy replies, indulgently. He isn’t taking Jason seriously. He’s entertaining a kid, while the grown-ups talk. That’s okay. Jason isn’t particularly thrilled by Roy seeing him as a child, but he can be pragmatic about this.
“And every so often,” he goes on, tone conversational, “I notice you become awfully agitated. Like something was going on that you didn’t want to be part of.”
Jason takes a step closer. Roy’s smile looks less friendly now, more alert.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Jason finally asks.
“What do you mean?” Roy responds carefully. Jason sees through his faux-casual attitude easily.
“When we were talking about Cheshire, earlier. Flash said she told him something. And when Wonder Girl was wondering what that meant, I noticed you looked away.”
Another two steps, and Jason’s face would meet Roy’s chest.
“Like you knew,” he pressed, “but you didn’t want to say anything.”
Roy looked at him, really looked at him for what Jason was sure was the first time since they met. His hands are resting on the top of his bow, his expression contemplative.
Finally, he smiles. But not that nice, indulgent smile he wore before, no. This smile is more. A little crooked, an imperfect kind of smile that seems to dance on the border to smirking. It makes a dimple pop on his right cheek. The sight makes Jason’s heart skip a beat.
“Are you sure you’re just a kid and not a very small man in disguise?” Roy says with a chuckle. He doesn’t seem upset at being called out, more like… pleasantly surprised. Maybe proud, even. It makes juvenile excitement bubble up in Jason’s chest, warm and electric.
“Then something is wrong. I was right!” he exclaims, gratified. But before he can fully bask in his success, another voice cuts in.
“Yes, child, you are right,” comes Cheshire’s unmistakable hiss.
Jason only has time to turn and see her descend from the cable before pain flares bright and hot, and then everything goes black.
When Jason comes to, he’s still in the tunnel. He can hear fighting, somewhere… Outside, probably. Because when he looks up, it’s still only Cheshire and Roy in the tunnel with him. The former of which is holding a gun.
Cheshire is pointing the weapon at Roy and speaking to him, her tone furious. Jason is missing something. He tries to listen to what she’s saying, find out what’s going—
Oh, God.
“…fathered our child, then left me. Only later did I learn you worked for your government, that you were assigned to track me down.”
Oh, what did you do, Roy…
“I didn’t turn you in, Jade. I couldn’t… I loved you, even though I didn’t want to.”
Jason is not supposed to be hearing any of this.
Roy has a daughter. A daughter. And you’re fourteen.
“…and I never knew about a child. You never told me.”
What a mess. What a mess! Jason has no idea what to do, here. Is this some kind of lover’s spat...? Are they talking it out?
It soon becomes clear that, no. They are not talking it out, and Cheshire intends to kill Roy as an act of revenge. The world has enough of parents fighting, no need to pour homicide into the mix.
He springs to his feet and delivers a punch before she can pull the trigger. She retaliates, barely missing him with her claws, and Roy takes that chance to use one of his trick arrows, binding her arms to her torso.
“Move it, kid,” he shouts, “help the others with her men. I’ll handle Jade!”
Jason isn’t exactly thrilled at leaving Roy to fend for himself, but he has no idea if the others need him more, and so he complies.
The fight outside is scattered, and it’s not looking good. They barely make it out in one piece. Wally ends up critically injured, and it turns out the entire mission was a setup from the start.
The Titans leave Klein Matterhorn even more fractured than they came, minds and bodies having taken heavy hits as their reputation lies in ruins before them.
Jason’s first mission, and it goes pretty much the worst way possible. He should have expected this.
Roy Harper has a daughter.
It’s a strange thing to consider. Difficult to fathom.
Roy is older than Jason, a little older than Dick, even, he knows. But he can’t be more than 22. That would be young to have a child, even back in the Narrows. He’s only ever known working girls to have children that young, and never on purpose.
Still. Somehow, Jason knows Roy will make a good father.
But that doesn’t matter right now. Because Jason is fourteen, and he is Robin, and today he failed.
His first mission, alone with the Titans, and he failed.
When he gets back to the manor, he doesn’t talk to anyone. He makes his way up to his room as quietly as he can.
Dick wouldn’t have failed. Bruce wouldn’t have failed.
It can never happen again.
Jason can do this, he can.
He just… he needs another chance. He can…
He kind of misses his mom.
He wonders that night in his big bed, in his big room, in the even bigger, empty manor, what Roy’s daughter might look like.
Jason has always liked kids. The younger ones tended to come to him for help, back on the streets. He hopes they’re doing okay now.
He hates himself a little, for having left them behind.
Jason falls asleep thinking of small, curled fists and a fond, freckled smile.
He wonders if he would make a good dad one day.
He hopes so.
He doubts it.
The warehouse floor is cold, and hard.
His lungs won’t fill, and they rattle as he tries to drag in air.
The sound of a crowbar scraping against concrete must be the most awful sound in the world, he thinks.
Then he hears the clink of a lighter — Sheila Haywood holding the flame to the butt of her cigarette — and he changes his mind.
He hurts, he hurts, he hurts, and his mom is smoking just a few feet away and Jason hurts.
He finds himself thinking of long, cold fingers. Gently removing a syringe from between them, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor.
He thinks of a large hand and being offered a balloon. Of a booming laugh, full of joy —despite everything.
He thinks of dark hair and blue eyes. A quare jaw and a firm palm on his shoulder. Of being handed a costume — a legacy.
He thinks...
He thinks his sixteenth birthday is less than four months away.
The explosion is hot, Sheila’s body soft when he throws himself atop her.
(When Roy learns what happened, he does not cry. He holds Dick and listens to him explain how it’s all his fault, his legacy, his mantle. He thinks of the boy with the bright smile and mischievous grin, the dark curls and twinkle in his eye. He remembers a boy, bright and young and dead.)
Everything hurts, and Jason can’t breathe, because there is smoke in his mouth, in his lungs, in his eyes, beneath his skin. He coughs and he cries and oh, he really thought Bruce would come for him. He really, really did.
(Roy Harper has a daughter, and her name is Lian. She is the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on. Big dark eyes, and a gummy smile.)
When Jason crawls his way out of his grave, no one is there to pull him up. His hand breaks through the dirt and the mud, reaching and reaching into the cold night air, but no one takes it in their own.
When he spits earth and bugs onto the ground, coughing as his destroyed lungs struggle to take in air, no one is there to rub his back or hand him a glass of water.
He stumbles his way towards home and barely notices when the car hits him.
When Jason wakes up in a Pit of burning, chemical green, he screams.
When he realises where he is, there is blood under his nails, and his body is too big.
Jason Peter Todd never had much to his name. But even when he had nothing, he had both hope, and love — for his mom, and once, long ago, for his dad, too. He had love, and an unyielding, undying determination to just hold on.
A naïve belief that things would get better if he just kept going.
His eyes are greener than they have ever been. Barely any blue is left in them.
His face is different, too. Ripped apart and stitched back together by a violent surge of green, always green.
Jason never did like the colour.
He used to have something. Something almost beautiful.
Now all he has is Talia, and hate.
It has to be enough.