Bad Days - An Account by Certified Zombie, Jason Todd

Jason was having a terrible day.

And, no, it wasn't just any terrible day. It was a terrible Bad Day, and that made it all the worse.

Bad Days were far fewer than they'd been even just several months ago, but when they came around, they hit with a vengeance. Green flooding his vision, fury roaring like an uncontrollable wildfire, snarling and raging after being set off by the slightest things, blood thrumming with the desire to kill, maim, tear anything and everyone to bloody shreds... it was always best for him to stay in his room on Bad Days. Safer for the family and for himself.

And usually, it would work. He'd spend the day smashing mirrors and bellowing at phantom cackles as he dug his nails into his scalp to try and control the Pit, screaming some more when it didn't work. His lungs felt too small, too big, like oxygen was getting sucked out, only to push back in. He'd throw things—vases, pillows, anything he could get his hands on—at the door if someone dared to tentatively knock and ask if he was okay.

He wasn't okay—was it not obvious?

The Old Man had learned his lesson after Jason, eyes green with Pit madness, had shrieked at him like a banshee, desperately trying to launch himself at him with a knife. Even on good days, he'd think to himself, How dare he? How dare he ask me if I'm okay, tell me to calm down, when he stands there calling me his son while the Joker is still running around murdering a dozen other kids every week? It was hard to forget, and even harder to forgive. He was trying, really, he was! But the Bad Days dragged his progress down to rock bottom each time.

It was easier with Dickwad. He'd killed the Joker, after all, and it wasn't his fault Bruce had brought the clown back to life. But he couldn't forget. Couldn't forget the harsh glares, the bitter glances, the sharp anger in his eyes whenever he looked at Jason wearing his precious "R", even after they'd started getting along better. Couldn't forget how easily he had accepted Tim when it had taken so long for him to ever look Jason in the eye...

Tim... it was hard to be mad at Babybird. They'd talked, and Tim had explained that he was only a placeholder, not a replacement. That he wasn't really Bruce's son, and nothing could debase the man's love for Jason in his heart. Jason didn't quite agree with that at all; he saw the affectionate looks and proud not-smiles that Bruce flashed when the third Robin wasn't looking. It was hard to hate someone who thought so little of themselves. But the aching feeling of replacement pounded like a burning drum, so it was hard to remember that it wasn't the kid's fault on Bad Days.

With Damian—well. He wanted to kill the little demon brat on a daily basis, so that was nothing new. But there wasn't enough history between them to make it personal (he was just annoying). Nevertheless, he steered clear of him on Bad Days, just like he did with the others.

So, yeah. Bad days, and even more so terrible Bad Days, were the worst. There wasn't much he could do about it though, besides go to the therapy sessions Bruce was probably paying a heck-ton of money for, despite Jason's protests. So, he sat on the ground, legs tucked in tight and blood streaming from his clenched fists as he pressed them against his temples. The Pit began to subside, whispers of it still stroking the edges of his mind, but he still couldn't find his breath. He wheezed, suffocating on nothing.

Why? Why was he so broken, so wrong? What was he even doing in the manor? Putting everyone in danger just because he wanted to—what—play house? Pathetic.

It ached. Oh, yes, it ached to know his family had forgiven him. But as painfully comforting as that felt, he knew it was only a matter of time until the Pit—no, he did something even worse. The anger, the utter betrayal and disappointment in their eyes would kill him. He had to keep them safe, especially from himself. So, he tipped back his head and let his back hit the floor with a thump. He lay there.

He lay there, idly taking notice of the once-bright morning sky turning dark as the hours ticked by.

He lay there when Tim checked in, eyes wide and wary, yet determined as he picked the lock and cracked open the door.

He lay there when Bruce stepped in, Tim's worried face peeking in behind him.

He lay there as Bruce brushed his hair back with a gentle hand, whispering something to Tim, who nodded firmly and slipped out of the room with his phone pulled out.

He lay there when Dick hurried in, concern dripping from his every move, and huddled close to him.

He lay there when Damian stomped in to see what all the fuss was about, huffing at Jason's limp form. Nevertheless, he joined Dick and Bruce on the floor, Tim soon following.

He lay there when Alfred quietly tucked a blanket under his chin, righted the armchair next to them that Jason had overturned, and sat.

Jason lay there...

And breathed.

A/N: Ok. I know I should be working on Witchling (and even more than that, my homework, but let's just ignore that for now), but I just couldn't help myself. For those of you who are mildly concerned that I've abandoned it, allow me to put your fears at rest. I'm still working on it. Slowly, but I am.

Several months ago, I got back into the Batfamily with all its angsty, emotionally constipated glory. Just a heads-up, I have never actually read any of the Batman comics. All my knowledge is purely from fanfiction. My two favorite members are Tim Drake and Jason Todd, especially when they do hair pets. I've been loving the potential of a really great relationship between them, and what better way to indulge in my wishes than reading fics about it! Anyways, after reading about a hundred or so Batfam fics, I figured I'd try my hand at a Jason-centric. Let me know how I did! As always, no flames, but constructive criticism is always welcome!

A huge thanks to @brey_says_cheese for her invaluable feedback! Love ya girl!! 💛