My Ghost

one

jason's point of view

I stand at her grave, a single rose in my hand. Roses were always her favorite, specifically blue roses that faded into white. She knew they were painted but she loved them anyway.

I set the rose before the headstone, joining all of the other wilting roses from every day I had been here. I crouch and brush some grass and snow off the headstone and out of the letters engraved in the marble. She deserved only the best.

I stand up straight again and just stand there, staring at the grave before me. I wanted to speak with her, apologize for not attending her funeral, for not staying when she asked me to, for never being the man she deserved. I would give anything to hold her just one more time. To tell her that I loved her just one last time. To hear her laugh and see her smile. I sigh and allow my head to hang. I missed her with every bone in my body.

It's been three months and still I have not missed a single day of her time here. My guilt ate at me for weeks on end after her death and still does. I reread the words again and again.

Ray Hady

Beloved daughter.

April 4, 1996-September 17, 2016

This was never what I wanted for her. This was never supposed to be what happened. I was supposed to protect her, to love her, and of course I managed to fuck it up. Just like everything else.

I sigh, digging in my sweatshirt pocket for the note. I read it again. I can recite the words from memory... but I read it again.

Dear Jason,

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you. I'm sorry we couldn't be together like we once were. I'm sorry that we had to say good-bye like that. I don't hate you, I don't blame you. I love you more than anything and I always will. Thank you. Don't forget me, Red Hood.

Love,

The shadow of Ray Hady

I shake my head. How could I have pushed her away? How could I have caused this? She didn't blame me but how could she not? 

"I'm sorry," I whisper, as I shove the crumbled paper back into my pocket.

"I thought I would find you here," I hear the all-too-familiar voice say. I turn and find Bruce there, wearing a long navy coat and black boots to combat the snow. His face is expressionless, and he stands there awkwardly.

"You were right," I say, turning back to Ray. I listen to his boots crunch on the snow behind me as he joins me at my side. 

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm fine," I say coldly. Bruce and I had reconciled slightly, but nothing major. 

"Is that why you come everyday?" 

"Knock it off."

"Jason I just want to-"

"Can you stop?" I snap. "I don't want to talk about this with you."

We stay silent, standing together at Ray's grave. It was wrong, if anything it should be the other way around. She should be standing at mine, not that that would be much better.

"It's my fault," Bruce states, breaking the silence.

I look at him and he stares forward. "Your fault?"

"I pushed so hard for her to be exactly what I wanted her to be. I pushed her over that edge."

I shake my head. "That would never be enough to kill her. No offense, Bruce, but your opinion of her wasn't her biggest concern."

"That doesn't erase the guilt, Jason," he says to me. I nod, he wasn't wrong there.

"I just don't understand, she would never jump. That was never who she was," I tell Bruce. "It just doesn't add up."

"She may have been pushed, but that doesn't explain the note and the pile of equipment she left behind. It doesn't help that we weren't able to examine the body."

"See and that's it!" I exclaim. "That's the issue. If she threw herself off of that roof then where is her body? How is that a coincidence?"

"The note wasn't framed though, Jason. We did the analysis, she wrote it."

"But what if she was forced to?" I press.

Bruce looks at me. His eyes are tired and sad as he shakes his head at me. "Jason, the facts point to a suicide."

"But then who would want her body? Why take it?" I can feel myself growing angrier by the second. Why couldn't he just trust me on this? I knew her better than he did.

"I don't know."

"Something doesn't add up," I speculate. "I just don't think she's dead. She either faked it or there's more to the story than we realize."

"Jason, I-"

"You thought I was dead too, Bruce," I interrupt. "Sometimes the facts aren't right."

"I thought you were dead because of my own ignorance, Jason. I should've visited your grave more often than I did, I admit."

Silence falls over the two of us. We've avoided talking about my death as much as possible. It was odd, discussing with Bruce as if we were friends/allies all over again. It felt... better knowing that Bruce and I were no longer at each other's throats. Clearly, we still disagree on our vigilante antics, but Bruce and I handled our differences much, much better now. For example, since Ray's death we've only fought each other once or twice. This was partially due to my inactivity at night after her death, but also because I didn't want to fight him. It was tiring and exhausting, it was a fight no one was ever winning. It was a waste of time.

"If you think there's more to it, then I hope you find what you're looking for," Bruce tells me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I almost slap his hand off of me, but I allow it. Just this once.

"Thanks old man."

And the silence falls over us again, but for the first time in a long time, it's not tense. It's two grieving soldiers enjoying the peace they never truly get to have.

a/n: welcome to the second book! this is the sequel to Not Dead Yet so if you haven't read that book yet I highly recommend you do, everything will make much more sense. I am so excited to continue the story of Ray and Jason and to further explore the complexities of each of them. thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy book 2!

p.r.