Titans: Chasing Mayhem

End of the Beginning

Dick Grayson leaned back against the cold brick wall of the rooftop, arms crossed. Across from him, Jason Todd sat on the edge, one leg swinging over the side, his usual air of defiance softened by the quiet tension between them.
"Y'know," Dick started, his voice steady but carrying an edge, "when I was Robin, I thought the suit made me invincible. Like, if I wore it long enough, I'd figure out how to outrun the bad days. Turns out, the bad days don't care what you're wearing."
Jason smirked faintly, kicking at the air. "You're not exactly selling me on the whole legacy thing here, Grayson."
Dick shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh. "It's not about the suit, Jay. It never was. It's about... what happens to you underneath it. You start out thinking you're just helping people, making a difference, but eventually, it eats at you. Every mistake, every loss, every call you didn't make in time."
Jason tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more guarded. "You think I don't know that? Come on, Dick, I'm the guy who came back from the worst mistake."
"I'm not saying you don't know it," Dick said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "I'm saying it's a lesson that never stops. You think you've hit bottom, that you've seen it all, but there's always another layer. Always another decision waiting to screw you up."

Jason studied him for a moment, his usual bravado giving way to something quieter. "So, what? Are we just supposed to carry all that forever? Seems like a raw deal."
Dick glanced at the city below, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, it is. But it's not about carrying it. It's about learning how to live with it. I used to think I could save everyone, and when I couldn't, I'd spiral. But the thing is... sometimes it's not about saving the world. Sometimes it's just about saving yourself."
Jason frowned, the words hitting somewhere deeper than he wanted to admit. "And what happens when you can't?"
Dick looked back at him, his voice soft but firm. "That's why we don't do this alone. You're stubborn as hell, Jason, but even you've got people who care. People who want to pull you back when you get lost. You just have to let them."
Jason let the silence hang for a moment before muttering, "That's rich, coming from you."
Dick smirked faintly, the tiniest bit of warmth breaking through his otherwise serious demeanor. "Yeah, I guess it is. But I'm still here, aren't I?"
Jason didn't respond, but the weight of the conversation settled between them, an unspoken understanding in the shared burden of their masks.

"The Titans and I"-
"No offense, but no," Jason said flatly. "You and I both know I don't belong there."
Dick's lips formed into a thin line, his dark eyes falling to the floor of the rooftop. "If"-
"I know," Jason said, giving Dick a slight nod. For how cold they could be, they were the same when it came down to it. Too prideful and hard for goodbyes. Jason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, worn object, turning it over as he leaned forward on the ledge. The faint glint of silver caught Dick's attention, but he couldn't make out what it was until Jason tossed it casually in his direction. Dick snatched it mid-air, his reflexes automatic. When he opened his hand, his breath hitched. It was a coin, tarnished and scratched from years of wear. But he recognized it instantly—the intricate design on one side, a rune... It was hers.

"Where did you get this?" Dick asked, his voice low, the weight of the coin suddenly heavier than it should've been.
Jason shrugged, though there was an edge of seriousness in his expression. "Found it buried in some of your old junk back at the Manor. Figured it wasn't just a spare dollar for the arcade."
Dick stared at the coin, memories flooding back. He could still see her smirk as she handed it to him years ago, her voice playful but layered with something deeper. "Dad gave me it. It's supposed to be a lucky charm, but I have a feeling you'll need it more than me."
"Didn't think you to be the sentimental type," Jason added, his tone a little sharper, trying to cut through whatever moment Dick was having.
"I'm not," Dick muttered, but his hand closed tightly around the coin as he spoke. He turned away slightly, his shoulders tense. "I forgot I even had this."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Right. So, why do you look like you just got punched in the gut?"
Dick ignored the jab, his mind elsewhere. The coin wasn't just a keepsake—it was enchanted. He remembered the way it seemed to hum faintly when he held it, like it was alive. She had insisted it was nothing, just a small charm for luck. But now, after everything... he wasn't so sure.
Jason hopped off the ledge, brushing off his jacket. As he walked away, the coin that pressed against Dick's leg felt heavier than ever. It wasn't just a piece of the past—it was a reminder.

The Joker had escaped... Twenty-eight had died in just one night. It was like something from a nightmare - to see him. The maniacal look in his eyes; was cold and devoid of any humane emotion. Thirteen-year-old Dick Grayson stalked through the halls of the lavish Wayne Manor - to anyone, it would be luxury. To him, it was a glorified zoo, and he was an animal on display. Not that he wasn't used to the attention, he was, after all, one of the Flying Graysons. But the thought of being Bruce Wayne's charity project was nearly unbearable. That with the crippling weight of watching his parents die before his eyes- the line being severed, and his parents falling to their deaths... That alone would torture any child... Bruce Wayne's alternative nighttime activities only iced the cake.

Dick stormed into his room, throwing one of his - Robin's if he were being technical - Wing-Dings across the room. He froze as a girl caught the Wing-Ding, startled by the girl's presence. She had to be about his age, maybe a year or so older... After the initial shock had worn off, he took a moment to truly take her in. She was pretty, with fair, porcelain skin. She had silky onyx hair that fell in soft waves, a petite frame, soft pink lips, and eyelashes that framed impossibly sapphire eyes. She sat cross-legged on his bed, and observed the Wing Ding, moving it in between her delicate fingers.
"I've always wanted one of these," she said with a shy smile as she looked up at him. He was momentarily stunned by how incredibly blue her eyes were.
"I thought I heard Bruce talking to someone downstairs," Dick said finally, straightening his stance.
"Zatara, it's a Justice League thing. I wheedled him into bringing me along... I thought we could get into some trouble, but I guess I missed all the fun."
"It's not fun," he corrected solemnly. "It's the Joker."
"Oh," her smile fell, and her gaze dropped to the bed. "Even Dad thinks he's scary."
"Bruce didn't want me there... I went anyway... I'm starting to think he was right," he didn't know why, but he felt as though he could trust her... Like she could understand.
"What happened," she asked, her lips forming into a pout as her brows scrunched together.
"A lot of people died... We couldn't save them," Dick turned away in shame. "I just... I just feel like quitting," he huffed, his mind a whirlwind of emotion, none of which were particularly pleasant.

"I don't blame you..." She paused, searching for the right words. "Do you think he is too?"
"Who," he asked, turning back to look at her. She was different, he realized. Any normal or sane person would've immediately run the other way at the mere thought of the Jokker or the web of secrets that was his life.
"The Joker," she said, the slight inflection in her tone making it sound like an obvious answer.
"No... Bruce says the Joker kills people just because he can. He's never gonna stop..." Dick paused as he realized her point. The Joker wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to quit, he would keep killing people. And so Dick couldn't quit either. "Dammit," he sighed and paced towards his window.
"What," she almost hummed, her gaze following his movement.
"Why do you have to be right," he asked, turning back to look at her.
"Because I'm older, smarter, and prettier," she teased, biting her lower lip. "You and Bruce will stop him. It's what you guys do," she added with a shrug.

"Thanks... Y'know, Bruce is good at a lot of things," Dick took a few steps towards the mystery girl. "Not so much the pep talks."
She bit her lower lip and pulled a small item out of her pocket, tossing it to him. He caught it easily, out of muscle memory. "Dad gave me it. It's supposed to be a lucky charm, but I have a feeling you'll need it more than me. If things get dark, and you need someone to talk to... I'm always here," she smiled, and he was in genuine awe. Since his parent's murder, he didn't believe he could ever feel something warm or even remotely resembling hope again. But her smile felt like the Moon breaking through the darkest of nights, or the North Star guiding home.
"I'm trying to be all nonchalant here, but"-
"Why," she raised a brow and tilted her head with a grin. "Be as chalant as you'd like." He paused and cracked a small smirk of his own as his eyes met hers, creating butterflies in the pit of his stomach that was just recently churning from the horrors of earlier.
"You never told me your name," he pointed out.
"I know," She said as she threw the Wing-Ding with surprising accuracy back to Dick. "Nice to meet you, Boy Wonder."