Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce Wayne is dead. Publicly, he died tragically in a horrible accident across the globe at a relief camp doing some type of charity work or another. Horrible stuff. Tragic, really. Poor Brucie, died trying to help out just like he always did. In reality, Batman died in what would end up being his final mission in his useless war on crime. He died alone in a warehouse explosion miles away from his family and friends because he decided that he had to do it alone. 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on anyone. The way Bruce died was… reminiscent of another wayward Wayne. Jason may be mostly back from the dead in the eyes of the public, but the memory of his fiery death is still fresh in everyone’s minds, as it probably always will be. The people of Gotham always did like a scandal and, well, tragedy sells. The adopted child of billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne, kidnapped and held for ransom, only to be blown up in some warehouse. That particular tragedy sold like crazy. The conspiracy theories around Jason’s death were wild. Strangely, Jason’s semi-public revival sparked less intrigue than his death. 

None of that really matters. Jason Todd died afraid and alone, that’s all anyone in the public needs to know. Robin got to die a hero in the eyes of the caped community. A small, childish part of Jason was a bit bitter about it all; Bruce got a story about dying trying to protect people, meanwhile little Jason was just afraid and alone. Another part of Jason was happy Bruce got to die a hero, even if Batman couldn’t die yet. It’s not what Bruce would have wanted, but it’s what the bastard deserves, no matter what Jason feels about him as his father. 

Bruce may be dead, and Batman may have died similarly to his second Robin, but Batman couldn’t stay dead. That’s where Dick Grayson came in. As the official heir of the Wayne estate and resident big brother to people everywhere, Dick, of course, stepped up. Took over everything. Jason watched from the corners and shadows that plagued the city as his big brother stepped in to handle and settle Bruce’s affairs, his companies, and his assets. Nobody knew Bruce like Dick did, and nobody could be trusted to ensure Bruce’s legacy. All the plans and projects he’d put in place to help his city, nobody but Dick could do him justice. Dick had big shoes to fill, and he did. He did it alone. Jason knew that a lot of the responsibilities Dick handled should’ve also been pawned off to him as the second oldest Wayne heir, but Jason never stepped up and Dick never asked, so Jason stayed lurking in the shadows as his brother drowned in work. 

The legacy of Bruce Wayne wasn’t the only thing Dick took over, though. He also took over as Batman, continuing to lead his family in and out of costume. Batman stayed alive as the protector of Gotham, their identities stayed safe, and the people of Gotham could barely tell the difference. It was a win-win situation for everyone involved, really. Jason knew, though. Jason knew exactly how awful this was. Dick never wanted to be Batman. He was Nightwing. When he heard that Dick was taking over the mantle, Jason couldn’t help but curse Bruce for screwing everything up the way he had. This was not how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to have time. Bruce was supposed to retire and give the mantle to Cass, or even Damian if he wanted it. But the bastard had to go off on his own and die just like Jason had. No thought of how it worked out for me when I pulled the exact same shit, you just had to do it. Now, Dick is drowning, trying to keep everyone afloat, being a shoulder for his siblings to cry on and a pillar to keep Gotham standing strong, and only Jason, coward that he is, seems to notice it or do anything about it. Not that he’s brave enough to really do much. 

See, Jason is legally alive. Bruce made sure of it when Jason and him settled their differences enough to rejoin Sunday night family dinners. Jason makes the occasional appearance at events, but there was no real announcement about it, no gala to celebrate his return. No, Jason (as per his request) was silently brought back from death through the eyes of the law and a single announcement from Bruce asking for privacy as they reoriented their lives again, leaving only a handful of articles about his official return, some gossip columns making wild assumptions about Wayne’s second son, and a pile of online forums of conspiracy theories that Jason liked to read on occasion when he was feeling especially self destructive. Jason could have stepped up with Dick to settle everything, he could have helped in an actually substantial way, but once again, Jason just didn’t have it in him to step up and Dick never reached out. 

Jason thought nothing of his lack of action until the funeral. It was a large affair, full of Brucie’s closest friends and family, as well as the rest of Gotham. With his gaggle of children leading, and speaking about the man who took them in and raised them to be the somewhat functional adults they are today. Even Jason spoke about Bruce. The good times with him. The whole funeral, Jason stood by Dick’s side while his brother stood tall. Dick stayed as stoic as he possibly could, shedding a couple tears as his siblings completely fell apart. Jason did his part in comforting too, but he’s never been quite as comforting as Dick. The second Wayne heir inherited a bit of Bruce’s emotional constipation, clearly. 

It wasn’t until everyone left that Dick broke down. Jason couldn’t bring himself to enter the graveyard with the rest of the funeral procession. He couldn’t bring himself to help bury his father, not with the memory of dirt and mud beneath his nails itching at the back of his mind. Jason stood by the gate like a shadow as his siblings carried their father’s coffin and buried him, wondering if the weight of that coffin on their shoulders would have been easier if he could have brought himself to carry it, too. Jason watched from a distance as the mourners all shared their final goodbyes with a headstone, wondering how many people did the same for him at his funeral.  

It never really occurred to him until that moment just how many people’s lives Bruce Wayne touched, how many people he knew and cared for even outside of the caped community and his children. The funeral itself was packed full and televised, but only family and close friends were permitted to enter the graveyard. Bruce always seemed so solitary, so alone, it dawned on Jason for a brief moment that his father probably never was aware of how many people loved him enough to help bury him. Too self absorbed and self sacrificing to notice.

It took a long time for all of them to clear out. Some left quickly in an attempt to give Bruce’s children their time to say goodbye– those ones eyed Jason as they left through the gate with thinly veiled disdain for the son who didn’t appreciate his father enough to even enter the graveyard to say goodbye. Others, Bruce’s friends and colleagues, took a little more time. Many of them gave Jason a nod of understanding as they left. Oliver Queen, shockingly, shook Jason’s hand and gave him an almost paternal, but firm shoulder squeeze before leaving in a hurry. 

Clark and Diana were the last of Bruce’s friends to leave. Diana walked directly to Jason and pulled him into a gentle little hug. It was much gentler than Jason expected, and it came upon so fast that he didn’t have the time to process before she pulled back to cup his face in her hands and say, “stay strong, my little warrior”. Then, just as quickly as Ollie had, she left. It wasn’t until Clark appeared in front of Jason that he registered the tears in Diana’s eyes and the sharp waver in her voice.

“I should be over there with them,” Jason mumbled mournfully, slumping his shoulders with a pained sigh without even thinking. Clark has that effect on people. He makes you want to be better, as if the Man of Steel has any real power over the actions of others. Like he can magically make you better just by confessing your sins to him. Like he’s God.

“Would you feel better if you were?” Clark sounded more tired than Jason thought was possible for a Kryptonian, but his voice was as soothing and comforting as ever.

Jason tried to think about it. Tried to picture himself carrying that coffin on his shoulder, leading his siblings opposite Dick at the head– Dick at Bruce’s right and Jason at his left. Jason tried to picture himself grabbing a shovel and helping to pour dirt over that mahogany coffin, but every time he tried his mind also provided flashes of the mud and the blood caking his fingers, his fingernails fully ripped off. Panic filled flashes of waking up in the dark, underground, injured and afraid, calling for his father to save him as he clawed his way out. 

Eventually Jason managed a weak, “I… he would have wanted me to.” There’s a heavy pause after he says it and Jason was compelled by guilt to continue talking. “I wasn’t a great son, I… the least I could do is prove that I loved him by being with him and the family when we sent him to his final resting place.” 

Suddenly, Jason felt so helpless and so small. So guilty. It threw him for a loop when Clark put his hands on Jason’s shoulder, so gentle for someone so strong and said, “Bruce never once doubted that you loved him, Jason. Not even when things were at their worst between you two. He never wanted you to prove that to him, and you don’t have to hurt yourself to prove it to anyone else, okay?”

Jason took a few seconds just looking at Clark, processing his words before letting out a tiny, “okay,” and looking away. 

“I wish I could have been there,” Clark admitted quietly as he let go of Jason’s shoulders and straightened out his suit, “Bruce was too stubborn to ask anyone for help. Even me.”

Clark was no longer looking at Jason, but he could still see a little bit of mistiness in those crystal blue eyes. It was far too sunny out for the occasion and for Gotham in general, and the sun shining down mixed with the glassiness makes Clark’s eyes look like the colour of the freshwater streams that flowed down and formed deceptively deep little pools around Nanda Parbat. It reminded Jason so achingly of those peaceful moments with Talia, before she threw him in the pit, when he was little more than a walking corpse. Those early days barely existed in Jason’s memories, but he would occasionally get flashes to those peaceful, almost maternal moments with Talia, when she talked about Bruce and how much he missed Jason, while Jason stared blankly into those little pools and streams, his broken mind trying desperately to grasp onto any sense of familiarity that it could. He wanted Bruce, back then. He wants Bruce now. He wants his dad.

“I miss him,” Jason mumbled thickly, looking away from Superman’s glassy eyes and back towards his siblings, still standing by their father’s grave. Dick was holding a shaking Cass to his shoulder while keeping an uncomfortably still Damian as close to him as possible. Tim was kneeling by the stone, resting a pale hand on it. It could almost look like he’s praying if you didn’t know anything about the kid. No, based on how Stephanie is standing uncomfortably behind Tim and the way Dick looked, even from a distance, like he wished he had another arm to use to hold Tim with, Tim was kneeling because he couldn’t find the strength to stand. Alfred looked weak where he stood next to Barbara. He looked sick with how he leaned against her chair, holding a hand to his mouth. Duke was standing on Alfred’s other side, keeping close enough to catch the old man if he fell, but also close enough to receive what little comfort Alfred could give him. 

“I miss him, too,” Clark sighed sadly. Jason couldn’t look away from his family as he continued to speak, “you’re strong, Jason. Just don’t forget that they’re there for you, too.”

Jason barely even noticed when Clark left, too hypnotized by the family he wished he could be standing with. He watched as Dick held his little siblings up alone, knowing he could be there too if he were brave enough. They stayed like that for a long time, but eventually they started to trickle away, back to Wayne Manor. It starts with Tim and Steph defeatedly walking back with their arms linked together. Jason hid before he had to face them, using his training to melt into the shadows cast by the setting sun and the trees on the Wayne estate to avoid being seen. Tim still paused to look in the direction Jason disappeared into, knowing he was still there, but not seeing him, and gave Jason a small nod of understanding before moving on.

The rest of his family slowly left in pairs with little to no acknowledgement of Jason’s presence. If they knew he was there, which they probably did, they were kind enough to let him be. When Cassandra and Alfred left together, Jason finally removed himself from his hiding spot to see Dick still standing at Bruce’s grave, all alone. He watched from the graveyard’s gate as Dick’s shoulders slowly began to shake, as the shaking gradually took over his whole body until Dick was falling to his knees on the freshly disturbed dirt and digging his fists into it like he’s halfheartedly trying to bury himself along with Bruce. It made Jason cringe just thinking about dirt on his hands and under his nails. 

Dick looked so devastated, so broken, it made Jason want to run into the graveyard and hold Dick like he held everyone else. Just seeing his brother like that overwhelmed his already grief stricken heart with a sharp, painful sense of urgency. Somehow, Jason even managed to walk into the Wayne family graveyard, the graveyard he was buried in. He managed to make it halfway there before stopping himself. Dick waited. He waited until everyone else left to break down. Dick waited for everyone to be gone to even consider shedding more than a few tears. Dick probably didn’t want anyone to see this. He probably didn’t want anyone's comfort, let alone Jason’s. 

He was about to turn away and leave his brother alone to grieve when another instinct took over, taking Jason to his knees and his palms together, and Jason said the prayer of eternal rest. 

"Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen."

It’s a prayer he barely even remembered from a faith he hasn’t been able to fully align himself with since before he died. A faith he’s only believed in in theory and on holidays since his resurrection. Jason remembers saying this prayer at his mom’s gravestone the one time he was able to visit her after she died, when he was freshly homeless, and painfully scared and lonely. He would have done it over Willis’ grave if he’d had the chance. Hell, he would have done it for Sheila if he hadn’t died with her. Still, it feels fitting to do it now. Even if it’s just to bring himself some comfort. 

Once he’s done his stupid prayer, he gets up and takes one last look at his big brother, only a few yards away from him, audibly sobbing into the dirt of his adoptive father’s grave. Dick had loving parents before Bruce, Jason realized. He had reliable, safe parents that he had to watch die in front of him. Even if Bruce was a jackass, Dick always trusted him when the going got tough. Jason never had that. Any of that. No matter how good a father Bruce was before Jason’s death, it was still hard to fully put his trust in him. Any sense of trust blew up with the warehouse. Of course Dick is going to feel Bruce’s death ten times more, and Jason knows with sudden certainty that if he goes over there, he’ll break down just like Dick, without even really deserving to, just because of the dirt and the godforsaken grave that they buried Bruce’s body in. Then Dick will have to pick up Jason’s broken pieces, too. 

Jason may be a complete asshole. He may be overly emotional, violent, rude, crass, and harsher than he means to be, but he’s not so selfish as to make Dick take care of him on top of everything and everyone else. So, Jason leaves the graveyard, leaves his sobbing brother, and goes back into the Manor to watch the rest of his family from the corners of the house where they won’t see him right away. The only indication he leaves to any of his family that he’s still with them is a dime at the gate of the graveyard for Dick to find. He’ll do what he does best: watch from a distance and help from a distance. He can’t help Dick to stay afloat by his side, but he’ll do what he can from where he stands.