Just Another Robin

Family Portrait

Soundtrack: Viva La Vida, By Coldplay

Hi all, so this is basically a giant fix-it fic for our very own Jason Todd. I wrote this because there are a lot of things that happened to him in the New 52 that really bother me.

I've also put together a soundtrack, there will be a song for each chapter. They aren't necessarily meant to be listened to while reading, though you can if you want to. I picked the songs more because I feel a lot of them fit Jason, the story, and the tone of each chapter.

Warning: This story is set primarily in the DC New 52 comics but has elements/personas from other timelines thrown in.
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Jason walked through one of the many winding halls of Wayne Manor, he was dressed head-to-toe in his Red Hood persona. He was sore just about everywhere, he mentally took stock of his injuries. He had a vast array of cuts and bruises, so he focused on the areas that hurt the most. Sprained right wrist, deep laceration on left forearm, a burn on his leg, and judging by how bad his torso hurt under his armor, he guessed that he had a very large bruise there too. Possibly a cracked rib or two.

He had just gotten back from a particularly nasty battle with one of the countless enemies of the Batman. The rest of the Bats had been there too, so it had been a very dire and potentially world ending situation. That was the only reason Jason had even helped, that was the only reason Jason was at the Manor at that moment. But now that the fight was over, he was leaving. He didn't want to be here any longer then he had to, and he was hoping to slip away unnoticed. He had been in the cave many times since his resurrection, but this was different, this was the Manor, this was a place that used to be his home. Those halls just held too many memories, good and bad. They were dredging up all kinds of emotions that Jason was too tired to deal with right now.

He quickened his pace down the halls and started heading in the direction of the cave, where his bike was. Alfred was busy patching everybody else up and Jason wanted to be gone before the butler came looking for him. Because when Alfred thought you needed medical attention, there was no arguing. You sat down, and you shut up.

He turned another corner and was just a little ways away from the cave entrance when he stopped in his tracks, on the wall was a large portrait. It was a painting, it had Bruce, sitting surrounded by Alfred, Tim, Dick, and Damian. Everyone was in it, even the dog. Everyone except Jason.

Jason had heard about the portrait sitting, he had made a rude quip about how his 'invite got lost.' Then he had taken the idea and the feeling associated with it and buried it deep deep down. Jason shouldn't care, it was just a picture. He wasn't a part of their messed up Brady Bunch, it didn't matter. Or at least that's what he told himself.

But as he stood there, he couldn't deny the sharp pang he felt his chest. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but Jason couldn't decide if it was because he was upset or because he actually had been punched in the gut during the battle. Jason tried to do what he had always done with intense emotion; bury it, or turn it into anger. Anger that he'd blow off by beating a villain or thug's face in. It didn't work this time.

As he stared at that picture, it hit him...again. They didn't care. He was the outcast, the red sheep, the outsider. He wasn't the one who would be remembered in a family picture. No, he was the one who would be remembered by the memorial case down in the Batcave. Because to them, he wasn't Jason Todd.

Jason Todd was dead, they buried him in a grave. To them, the Red Hood was just something that had crawled out. Some defective, broken copy of the once boy wonder, that was now screwed up beyond repair. Jason continued to stand there, stiff and unmoving.

Bruce didn't care. Of course Jason had known this for a long time. He knew it for sure since the moment Bruce had taken him back to the place of his death, taken him back to the worst place in the world. From the moment he had made him relive his own murder in hopes of gaining information to resurrect Damian, his real son. Jason knew about all Bruce had done to bring Damian back. What Bruce had been willing to do. He had marched into Apokolips, he would've taken on whoever he had to if he thought it would help him bring his blood son back.

But at the end of the day, Bruce wouldn't so much as kill the man that murdered Jason. Bruce had buried him and moved on, and there lied the difference between him and Damian. Everyone wanted Damian to come back, no one expected Jason to.

It's moments like these where Jason wonders if maybe he should've stayed dead. It he had stayed dead he wouldn't be around to cause so many problems. He would be around to feel the way he felt right now. He wouldn't feel the hollow aching feeling in his chest that spread through his shoulders and into his whole body. He wouldn't feel the sting of tears that threatened to escape his eyes. At that moment Jason was thankful he was wearing his helmet, that was the nice thing about the Hood, nobody can see your face. It moments like these where Jason is reminded of what he sometimes forgets. Of what he shouldn't allow himself to forget. The people in the picture were family. He was just another Robin.

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Tim's footsteps echoed through the halls, his left arm now sporting a sling. Alfred was currently fixing Cassandra up, and he had sent Tim to go find Jason.

The second Robin had disappeared, and Alfred knew him well enough to know that he probably had several injuries that he didn't plan on mentioning. You don't walk away from a fight like that unscathed, not even Bruce or Cassandra had. Knowing Jason he was probably in the cave already. Tim headed in that direction but stopped as he walked around a corner. He had found Jason, he was in front of the large family painting on the hallways wall, motionless and tense.

Oh crap.

Tim had almost forgotten about that. Until he had heard Jason say otherwise, Tim had assumed he hadn't wanted anything to do with a family picture. Had Bruce really not even asked Jason to come? As someone who was no stranger to feeling lonely and abandoned, Tim didn't want to think about how that must feel. Tim racked his brain for the appropriate thing to say, but the only thing that came out was, "Jay."

Jason jumped, evidently not realizing that Tim had been standing there.

"Oh hey, Timbers." Jason greeted once he realized it was Tim.

"I was just on my way out." He added, turning to walk away.

Tim was quiet for a moment longer.

"Jason, I didn't realize..." Tim started, gearing up for an apology, even if it wasn't his fault.

"Don't." Jason cut him off, stopping, but not turning around.

"Just don't." He stated, his voice devoid of the anger Tim expected. Instead he just sounded tired.

Jason started walking away again. Tim wanted to say something, tell him he's sorry. Tell him so many things. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

"Alfred's looking for you." Tim finally managed.

At the very least he wasn't going to let him leave without proper medical attention.

"Tell him, I'm fine." Jason continued moving.

After a moment Jason spoke again.

"Hey kid, don't sweat it, it's just a painting. The Red Hood will still help if you guys need it." Jason said over his shoulder.

He went down into the cave and few moments later Tim heard the familiar sound of the Red Hood's motorcycle roar to life. He revved the engine and the sound slowly got quieter and quieter.

A part of Tim would always be upset at Bruce. Upset at him for pushing Jason away like he does, for not even attempting to include him in 'family' activities. Upset at him for making Jason feel like he doesn't belong there. Tim sighed and racked his good hand through his hair. He just wished he could find a way to fix things.