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Jason let himself fall into the familiar softly cushioned chair that he sat at most nights for his second job. Look, being a crime lord and all that was fun, at first, but now Jason had a lot more time on his hands and he was starting to feel like he wasn’t doing enough to help save his city. So he started to work at a hotline to anonymously help people.
He sunk down into the chair, letting the day's tension roll off his shoulders for a few seconds. His shift technically didn’t start for another five minutes, and he had just finished a patrol as Red Hood so fuck off, he deserved some time to just take a break and simply exist.
Sadly that break didn’t last long as he carefully placed a headset over his ears, making sure the mic was sitting right and working. He let out a small, almost content, sigh as he opened his line for any incoming calls to be allowed through to him- three hours and then he would be able to go home and sleep.
The first call came in not even a minute after the line was opened, typical. Jason quickly accepted the call with a cheerful greeting that was practically ingrained into his memory.
“Hello, you have reached Gothams psychological hotline! How have you been today?”
He was answered with silence other than the blow of wind on the other side. As the seconds ticked by Jason thought that maybe this was an accidental dial, that he should hang up and move on if no one was there.
Just as he moved his hand over the ‘end call’ button a soft sigh came from the other side before the person was talking, their voice drowned out by the winds.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jason asked politely.
“Y-yeah,” The reply came quicker this time, “I said, I don’t need physiological help.”
Jason pauses at the voice, a wave of uncertainty rolling over him as his eyes flickered down to the end call button again. He could recognize that voice anywhere, it was Bruce Wyane. Jason's vision momentarily went green as he took in a deep breath and pushed the rising anger away.
This was like any other call, he told himself, He doesn’t know it’s you.
“Right,” He forced the cheerfulness into his voice, “How can I help you?”
The silence returned briefly before Bruce was answering Jason's question.
“My son…he thinks I need it even though I am fine.” He insists, “However, I want to fulfil a promise I made, for once.”
The response made Jason roll his eyes as he wondered which one of Bruce's kids could have pushed Bruce enough into promising something like this. Likely Dick, maybe even Tim. He doubted it would have been the demon brat though.
“I see,” Jason keeps his voice light as he takes a breath, following the protocol for these calls. “I’m sure he will appreciate you keeping your promise. Will you tell him about this?”
“If I see him.” Bruce's breath hitched at the end of his sentence. Jason can imagine how he looks right now, leaning against the chair in the batcave, tense with an air of regret around him. He knew Bruce hated talking about himself, so it was a bit jarring to be on the receiving end of it. “I- he only appears in my dreams..my boy.’
Caught off guard Jason let out a strangled hum that Bruce would have definitely heard.
“I’m sorry?”
“He-” The man hesitated. “He’s dead. My son, is dead.”
No. No no no, that couldn’t be right. Jason hadn’t heard anything about another robin being dead. A frown finds its way onto Jason's face, replacing the forced smile he had on just seconds ago. He slips his phone out of his pocket and quickly pulls up google.
A quick search of the name Robin revealed nothing devastating. His brows furrowed in confusion as he searched up ‘Nightwing’ and ‘Red Robin’ next, getting the same results as the first search. Nothing. But then..what was Bruce on about then?
A small cough pulled him out of his thoughts as he stupidly realized he was still on call with Bruce.
“Sorry, right,” he apologized quickly, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts. Maybe he would head home after this call..say he started feeling ill or something. It wouldn’t be a complete lie. “Do you wish to talk about it?” He offered up, selfishly wanting more clarity for his confusion rather than looking to actually help the man.
This time when the silence stretched for over five minutes Jason didn’t even spare the button a glance, he wouldn’t be the one to end this call.
There was a heavy sigh before Bruce was speaking again, “His name was Jason. He was..well, everything.” The longing heavy in his voice.
Jason had to mute his audio as he let out a desperate breath. His heart rate rapidly increased as he tried to force down the wave of nausea trying to cause him to vomit.
Bruce must have taken the silence as an invitation to continue because he started talking again, unaware of the effects his words were having on Jason. Unaware that he was speaking to the son who he thought was dead.
“It’s been a few years since he passed, but I can still clearly picture his smile in my head. Like I said, he was everything. Was my happiness. Losing him, well, it cost me everything too.” he let out an airy chuckle, one that didn’t sit right with the heaviness of this conversation. “I can admit now that I didn’t handle it well, it took a while for my family to pull me out of my grief.”
Jason wished he had the strength to hang up now, but he felt like if he moved his hands away from his mouth he wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to vomit. When had he even covered his mouth? Bruce's words were like a knife to the heart. This whole time Jason had hated Bruce so much, and his father had done nothing but love him with his entire being even after his passing.
The guilt was crushing Jason, the thoughts he had chased away months ago resurfacing.
“He was the brightest boy I had ever met, despite never getting proper schooling. He was so strong too, almost strong enough to fight off anything that tried to stop him from getting what he wanted. Almost.”
The pride and fondness in his voice only pushed the metaphorical knife farther into Jason's heart, twisting it painfully. Any bitterness he may have had towards Bruce Wyane immediately turned towards himself, confusion close behind.
How had Jason let himself hate Bruc- no, his dad this much. He let Talias lies sink their claws into his mind until it was the only thing he could believe.
“He sounds amazing-” Jason managed to reply with a clear voice once he had unmuted himself. Gaining some composure over himself.
“He was more than amazing.” His voice wavered, like he was holding back tears.
“I blame myself every day. For his death. I..I keep thinking that maybe if I were a better father, or if I had just been a few seconds faster than maybe..maybe he wouldn’t have” Bruce didn’t finish the sentence as he choked back a sob.
Jason was glad that he didn’t finish. The rawness of his voice, the vulnerability of it was enough to bring Jason to tears as well. Hearing his dad blame himself for what happened opened old wounds.
He never blamed Bruce for what happened. Not even in his darkest moments, vision green and pit induced rage so bad that he would blackout for hours and wake up soaked in blood did he ever truly blame Bruce for what Joker did to him.
“I wish it was me instead.” Bruce whispered over the line, likely hoping that Jason wouldn’t really hear what he had said.
He did. The words squeezing at his heart and forcing the air from his lungs. Jason felt overwhelmed, the days exhausted mixing in with the tornado of emotions that currently wrecked his body and mind.
“Don’t say that,” Jason replied before realizing what he was saying. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you thinking things like that.” He continued, might as well, right?
He doesn’t. Jason desperately thought, wishing with every ounce of his being that he could just talk with Bruce right now. Not as some random guy on a hotline, but as his son. He wanted Bruce to know he was here, alive and well, he was here. Right here.
“I’m not sure what he would have wanted.”
Bruce let out a self deprecating laugh, “he sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted this. The man I have become. God he would be so disappointed in me, I can almost hear him scolding him, the way his voice would always raise an octave when he would complain about something I did.”
“I miss him so much. Sometimes I wish he could come back to him, come back to home. We live in a world of magic and aliens, and yet there isn’t any way for me to get my light back? He was magic, and now I will never see him again.”
Jason had to mute his mic again as the first of his tears began to spill down his face, like a dam had been broken. He was glad for the privacy provided for the employees or he would have been embarrassed as hell to be caught crying at work.
A sob ripped its way out of his throat before he could stop it. Taking a few deep breaths and trying to take back whatever control that still remained over himself he unmuted again.
“I am supposed to discourage thoughts of resurrection. As much as losing someone hurts, what is gone should stay that way. Bringing someone back doesn’t guarantee that you will bring all of them back.”
He knew that first hand. The first of his days out of the pit completely lost to the green mist that settled into his mind. Now he had better control over that rage, but he lost so much time to it, and was so influenced by it.
“I know.” Bruce responded sadly, “I know.” He repeated.
“Thank you, for letting me talk to you.”
Jason let out a humorless chuckle, it was his job to talk to these people. If he started ignoring calls or hanging up on people he would be fired.
“I think I am going to go now. Again, thanks.”
There was a click over the other line, before Jason had the chance to reply, letting him know that Bruce had hung up.
“Bye, Dad.” He softly spoke into the static as he whipped the tears that were still falling from his face.
One call. One accidental call was all it took to completely tear down Jason's walls and leave him raw and emotional. A call that Jason had been avoiding making for weeks now, that was forced on him from a promise Bruce made him years ago before he died.
Some part of Jason was pissed at his younger self for ever forcing Bruce to make that promise, another part of him hated himself for not transferring the call and hanging up on Bruce, and then he was kind of glad that the call came to him, and that he hadn’t hung up.
Letting the headset fall ungracefully to the table in front of him Jason pushed his chair back, taking a few more measured breaths before forcing himself to his feet. He was the fucking Red Hood, he could make it a few more minutes here and go home before he probaly has a breakdown over this.
He made his way back to his safehouse in a fuzzy blur, Bruce's words bouncing around in his head like a TV logo for the rest of the night.
Jason wanted to call Bruce again, explain everything, and maybe he would. Just not as himself, he wasn’t quite ready for the world to know Jason Todd was alive again. But he’s talked to Bruce before and the man didn’t recognize his voice, so maybe he could get away with it again. He might even try calling Dickie, or even Tim and Damian to start to get to know his other brothers.
Jason will eventually call, but for now he would rather sleep.