A Bond Can Reoccur
“Seriously, when are you going to let me take you out on a date, (y/n)?” The voice of your arch nemesis or rather, Jason Todd, spoke as he sidled up to your side as you stood outside of your hotel waiting for the arrival of your limo. The moon was full, a great glowing orb that caused the highlighter dancing on your cheeks to dazzle and pop in an ethereal glow.Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, you turned to peer at the figure beside you, feigning surprise at seeing his hood clad figure on the empty streets. Ever since Jason returned as this “Red Hood” person, you were becoming more and more used to his intense personality and slightly disconcerting antics or the fact that he had taken it upon himself to become this vigilante of justice when it could surely steal his life away one day. The fact that he had confessed to it the moment you reconnected was a telling sign of the differences in him because Jason before- he’d been more of a liar, never this brazen or brass or bold- or down right crazy.
“When you stop sneaking up on me like you’re trying to mug me, Todd.” You shot back with a wry smile to hide the quiver in your stomach. As a Gotham native and princess to the public, it wasn’t often that you were ever alone, but Jason always took time out to sneak up on you just like this whenever he knew he could get away with it since there was no one else in the vicinity.
“Hey, it’s not my fucking fault you don’t have any bodyguards on you, Princess. Which, by the way, why the fuck don’t you?” And that potty mouth, he’d never cursed that much, but again, you were getting used to the drivel that left his mouth.
“I gave them the night off. Even bodyguard’s have families, and I can take care of myself. I kicked your ass that time-” You paused, ignoring the small twinge of what feels like regret that settles deep in your chest. He won’t remember . This Jason is different from before, not exactly yours, but not exactly not yours either. It bothers you, makes you feel too much all at once and irritation boils under your skin. This Jason is like a pretender in front of you; it’s the same face without the same mannerisms, but with enough of the same to keep you enthralled.
“Yeah, yeah, you told me. But that would never happen again and you know it, (y/n). I’m going to get that date, I can tell I’m wearing you down.” With a deep chuckle, Jason passes you, a gloved hand gently brushing against your exposed arm before he disappears into the night. You tremble as you watch him vanish, warmth flooding your cheeks just as your limousine pulls in before you. As your personal driver opens the door for you and you slide inside to sit comfortably, your mark, running vertically down the outside of your right thigh, gives a pleasurable throb.
.x.
You hate Jason Todd. The thought is full of no heat as you peer out your tinted limo window, watching the streets of Gotham pass you by as you make your way to the gala. Your mother and father were both affluent people, what with your father coming from a long line of royalty elsewhere, bringing the bloodline to Gotham sometime in the 60’s. Being a princess could be amazing, what with the constant travel back and forth between the city and your home country for diplomatic occasions and to keep of appearances. As a public figure, your people loved and adored you while Gotham news was constantly giving coverage about your endeavors and wonderful philanthropy means.
But- they also had a way of creeping into your personal life and the fact that you did not have a Bonded. It was a real bore to read about yourself in the papers because for the longest time, the paparazzi had become obsessed with trying to photograph your Bonded mark, the person’s name you were bound to be with. It was going to be the piece of the century if anyone could ever get a picture. But, you made a point of always wearing clothes that would cover it. You didn’t want the identity of your Bonded to be released to the public or to Jason- because well, Jason Todd would probably kill someone if he had any idea that you were turning him down despite knowing that he was made for you.
“Princess (y/n)! Princess (y/n)! Look this way!”
“Princess (y/n)! You look so beautiful tonight!”
“Smile, Princess (y/n)!”
The flashing lights pelt you and every inch of your figure. You were sporting a long, black dress made entirely of black diamonds that hung off of each side of your shoulders and a rather dangerous scoop neck that was centimeters from revealing your chest. A rather tarnished necklace with a small opal clung to your neck and diamond earrings encrusted all 7 ear piercings, 3 on the left ear and the remaining 4 on the right. Your red wedges matched the red matte lipstick flawlessly drawn on your lips and you’d gone for dark smoky eyeshadow with winged eyeliner to match. Fashion was your repertoire, it was your area of study, and the one thing you could claim for yourself. Your younger brother had sports and his Bonded, your older brother had a portion of the various companies your family owned and a family with his Bonded. You could at least say you were on the road to make pretty things for people.
After smiling for the cameras for as long as you could stomach it, you turn and strut inside, holding onto your black clutch tightly. The second you appear, your mother beckons you over with a small wave of her hand and a tight smile. Your father is probably on drink number four and spilling some embarrassing story about her that she’ll dislike and yell at him about latter. It’s a funny dynamic your family has. Your mother met your father while attending the same boarding school; he was the school president and she was the top in her class. It was amazing when they realized they each had the other’s name written somewhere on their body and the second they graduated, they were married, bonded together, and had your elder brother all with a perfect bow. He was a goofy boy then, always cracking jokes and never being too serious while your mother could suck the fun out of literally anything if she tried hard enough. Still, they had been together ever since with not a problem except your fathers slight need to be embarrassing. Only your mother seemed concerned with preserving the family name.
“(y/n), darling, I’m so happy you’re here. How was the ride over? Not too boring, I hope?” You smiled softly and shook your head, a loose curl hanging against your forehead shaking along.
“Not at all. It was nice to see the streets again, mother. Has father finished talking about the ski trip that ended in a broken leg?” Your mother gave an exasperated sigh as your little brother started laughing.
“Not even close, he’s about to start talking about the time you almost ate that bottle cap when you were 3.” Oh God, no. You cleared your throat loud enough to get your father’s attention, stopping him from starting the dreaded ‘Bottle Cap’ story. The second he sees you, his face brightens exponentially and it makes your previously bad mood lighten by far. It’s hard to be upset over other things when you’re able to be with your family like this. Your father is busy almost every day and your mother hosts so many events that you almost never see her at your penthouse in the hotel. Your little brother has his Bonded boyfriend and has soccer and basketball practice, and as a budding teen, a social life. Your older brother is boring and has a wife, kids, and a job like your fathers. Usually, it’s just you in the penthouse, or sometimes you and… Jason, whenever the vigilante is feeling more normal, less angry, less pissed off, less everything. When he feels like he can take his mask off and breathe and be the annoying horny teenager who enjoys getting slapped for trying to touch your breast.
You divert your father from the story, crossing the short distance to give him a hug and pose for a photo op, him ducking down to lightly kiss the crown of your head. He gives you a gentle squeeze and asks from the corner of his mouth as more photos snap away,
“How are you, honey? Did your event go alright? I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it. I’ve been working on a business transaction for the past month and it’s finally falling through.” You smile wider, trying to ignore the twinge of sorrow. He had been apologizing for a long time now, and it had become somewhat of an expected occurrence.
“It went well, father, I promise. I was given an advance and they want me to work on a few new pieces for the incoming fall line. Everything is going wonderfully.” He gives you praise, makes you feel like maybe you aren’t such a failure for being the only princess without your Bonded by your side. But you know why.You really do.
Jason Todd would never belong here because he would never want to. To be the object of everyone’s attention and forever in the spotlight? He would hate himself, everyone, and especially you for it because it would rob him of his separate identity. He would be expected to be by your side at all events, at all times, every moment of every day, and you knew that deep down, past Todd and this Todd would never have given up their alter ego for you. Not a chance in hell. And so- you could bear this; you could bear being alone as long as he could be near you sometimes, touch your hand or smile at you, or even try those ridiculous pick up lines to get you to take him seriously. Maybe he had been joking the entire time and you shouldn’t even be thinking of it. You had a feeling that whatever happened to him made him unable to sense bonds and that coupled with the fact that you would purposely try to shield yours from him when he was close made it more clear that he had no fucking clue that you were his.
As you peered at another camera, you also thought of the fact that he no longer had a tattoo. You were sure that there had been one carved into the dip of his back, but- you no longer remember if that had been true. Maybe he never had one to begin with, or maybe it vanished after whatever happened to him.
“Oh! Come here, (y/n),” Your mother called, causing you to glance in her direction. She stood with a taller, older gentleman decked out in an amazingly form fitting tux, and another, smaller teenage male in a similar fashion. With a curious smile, you gave your father one last squeeze before gracefully stepping over to your mother, peering over at the strangers with her.
“(y/n), this is Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises and the owner of this amazing gala. He saw some of your work with mens wear and wanted to greet you himself. This is his son, Tim.” Red Robin. Sure, Jason probably shouldn’t have told you about his family of sorts, but he had happily and grudgingly spilled his guts about the Wayne family he belonged to and loathed. Still, despite his hate, you did not abhor Bruce or Dick or Tim because you didn’t know them in any way. Bruce reaches out with a gentle, handsome smile in play and you gently take the larger hand in your tiny grasp, giving a firm squeeze and a bright smile.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne. I’m so happy that you’ve shown any interest in my work at all. I’ve been doing my very best.” You say, maybe a bit too ecstatic, but you couldn’t help yourself. Bruce Wayne is tall and solid and you are in awe of him.
“The pleasure is all mine, Princess (y/n). Your mother has told me so much about you and I would love to get some new ideas by you for some custom made suits and some other things.” You nod your head and let go of his hand, trying to figure out what there was to hate about Bruce Wayne.Then again, he isn’t in his Batman mode. You turn your gaze to Tim with the same bright smile on your lips and he’s taken aback, gazing at you for a long beat before blinking and raising a hand. You take it in kind and give it a tiny shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tim.” I’ve met your older brother, you almost add in but think better of it. Tim swallows dryly and sports a smile of his own. It’s a little awkward, but adorable nonetheless.
“You too, Princess.” He managed to get out, and you both lower your hands as your mother pulls Mr. Wayne away for more discussion about a different event or fundraiser or something that would probably not involve you. The moment they are out of earshot, Tim glances over to his father before discreetly looking at you and nodding his head to the side, where a vacant corner lay. He nonchalantly made his way over and after a couple moments you followed suite, intrigued about what it is he could want to talk to you about.
“If it’s not too much, I kind of have a question I think only you can answer? Because Bruce won’t tell me and it’s been bugging me for the longest time.” Your brows crinkle before you realize your only connection to them is through Jason.
“Ah, I’ll try my best so ask away.” You offer with a nod of reassurance. Tim clears his throat, sighing softly right after.
“It’s about Jason- to be honest, Bruce has kept tabs on him this entire time and I came across a file that was different from the rest. It’s like something happened to him and he just sort of changed? He hates Bruce and by extension, me, which is whatever, but Bruce always gets uptight when it comes to anything about him. I was wondering if you could tell me how he was like before? From the intel I have, he was close to you before and still is now?” Of course. It was hard to talk about, even to yourself, and although you and Tim had just met, he was Jason’s family, even if the moron would never admit it or come close to wanting it. You gesture to the abandoned chairs and sit, waiting for him to follow suit as you drape one leg over the other, the slit in your dress revealing a bit more of your thigh than you intended. You quickly lower it, not wanting anyone to ever see what lay there.
“I don’t know what happened to him… but I wish I did. I wish he would tell me, but he won’t. The old Jason was… a trouble maker. But it’s not his fault. His father was a bad person and abandoned him, his mother was a bad person and then she… she died,” Jason still had torment over it, over how much he had wanted to save his mother from herself but was unable to, being left alone to fend for himself at such a young age, “He started doing bad things to make ends meet and that’s when Mr. Wayne found him, gave him a home and a way to channel all of that rage, that hate, into something bigger than himself, something better than himself. For a while, things were… better? I’m not sure if that’s the right word. Jason has always had a horrible temper, he’s brash, quick to get so upset at the smallest detail, and he never took orders well. He used to talk to me about cases, about how upset he was about being compared to Dick Grayson, about proving himself capable. But he was also kind when he wanted to be, he could listen, he’d say silly jokes and smile so much just from eating his favorite food” You speak in hushed tones, Tim leaning in close to you as you speak as the both of you continue to peer around and make sure no one is nearby. You ignore the pictures being snapped; there would probably be some idiotic headliner in the morning.
“But- something happened. Something with his mother not being his mother, and then he was gone…” That had been the hardest, because you had always been able to feel him through your bond, even if he had no idea. You had some kind of control that not even you could figure out, but if you ever needed to know where he was, you could sense him in a heartbeat. The day your bond grew cold was the day something inside of you cracked, crumbled, and you threw yourself into your work and here you are now, still slightly crumbled up with a Jason who is and is not yours, “When he came back… he was different. Off. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was really him for a while, but there are still things there- the way he… looks at me with that stupid smile whenever he takes the hood off or how comfortable it is to talk to him for hours about things. But… I can tell the difference, I can feel it-”
“Because you’re his Bonded, aren’t you?” Tim slips in with this statement smoothly, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly; your eyes slide away from his countenance and you give a short nod. He’s the first person to know.
“I- for me, he still is. I still have his name. I know he used to have one. I know it, but I don’t think it’s there anymore. I don’t know what happened to it and he doesn’t know about mine. I could never tell him… I could never hold him back like that.” You shrug and slather on a smile bright enough to burst stars, “But, I hope I was able to answer your question?” Tim hums low in the back of his throat before standing and offering a hand. You take it and help yourself up before gently slipping your hands up to hold onto his arm.
“You definitely gave me a few missing pieces, Princess. Thank you. I promise not to breathe a word about you-know. It’s not my place to and Jason probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.” You laughed quietly at the sentiment because it was true. He’d whined about how annoying Drake could be on multiple occasions recently.
“I’m happy I could help, I just wish there was more I could do…”
And despite your wishes, You were in for a few abrupt changes.
.x.
The next day started like any other. You awoke in your king sized bed, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth as light peeked at you through the slightly raised blinds you had forgotten to lower the day before. Sighing softly as rays softly tap at your cheeks, you sleepily yawn and open your eyes slowly. You stretch your limbs out and carefully slip out of bed, the chirping of the birds outside your window making you smile as you made your way towards your room door. You open it and glance down to see the awaiting paper since a butler always brings one for you. The penthouse is empty, you can tell. School won’t start again for another couple of weeks so your little brother has been missing in action for days and your mother had another early morning meeting. You didn’t have to work until late in the day for the final touches on some designs and a meeting with a Wayne Enterprises rep for more details on the customized suits.
Bending over, you gently snatch up the newspaper, opening it up as you pushed your down closed with your foot.
“I’ll enlighten you about the headlines, (y/n).” Shit- Jason fucking Todd kept thinking it was okay to just show up whenever he pleased and although it was always welcomed, right now was not the best time, especially with the big picture of you hanging off of Tim Drake’s arm took up the entire front page, “Care to tell me why everyone seems to think you’ve found your Bonded? Is it Tim? Did you not want to tell me because of how I’d feel?” Is that it?” His voice sounds bitter through the mask, and only worsens once he pulls the hood off to reveal his utterly ferocious expression. It’s rare that Jason lets his anger get the best of him while in your presence, or at least, it used to be. You close the newspaper, glancing at words such as ‘budding relationship’ and ‘could it be?’ before tossing the articles aside.
“Jason, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You cross your arms over your button up flannel, eyes narrowing as you fight to control the situation and appear nonchalant, “Tim Drake? My bonded? Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense from a stupid picture. There’s no way in hell I’d tell any of them who my Bonded is, that’s why they’re trying so hard to get a picture of the name. I can tell you it’s not Tim.” You try to reason with him and the rational side of his brain, pursing your lips and shaking your head disapprovingly, “I thought you of all people knew me better than that.”
“... If it’s not Tim, who is it? If he’s not your Bonded, then who is. Why won’t you show anyone? Or me, for that matter. What exactly do you have to hide?” He probed further, his questions making you gnaw at your inner cheek gently.You couldn’t tell him, not when he’s angry and livid like this. It wouldn’t end well.
“Why does it matter-”
“(y/n).” You flinch at the flat tone in which he speaks your name, your gnawing becoming almost unbearable.
“It’s not Tim. I promise.”
“Then why won’t you tell me who it is? Or at least show me your mark. I want to see it.” Jason takes a step closer which prompts you to take a step back, keeping your distance and glaring more.
“Not a chance, Todd. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you won’t show me your mark! What the fuck is going on, (y/n)? You’re never like this. You never lie to me or hide things from me. And all of a sudden, I see you with fucking Tim Drake and now you’re lying? It doesn’t add up and I’m not stupid. So show me your mark, or else I’m not coming back. I don’t have time to hang around with a pompous, stuck up little Princess who does whatever daddy or mommy tells her so she won’t be a big disappointment-”
You knew that he was just upset, angry at you for not being honest. And yet, knowing that did not ease how easily he crushed your feelings. But you saw the out and you took it; Jason Todd was a man of many things, but he was also unforgiving. You used that fact to your advantage. Steeling your nerves, you murmured softly.
“It’s Tim,” You force between clenched teeth, “It’s Tim. It’s always been Tim.”
And it’s enough for Jason to take one last long look at you, as if he was seeing you for the first time or he had never truly seen you at all, before turning and heading towards the window where he had come.
“I hope he takes care of you,” Jason gripes out gruffly before swinging out of the window easily and leaving behind a mess. Jason did well with messes, he made them all over and never gave a fuck about what he did or why. You don’t really comprehend it until your body goes into shock and your entire thigh flames up with pain. The impact causes a hiss to leave your lips as you press a hand to the throbbing flesh and hobble over to your bed before slipping right back under your covers. You could reschedule the meeting and finish the pieces another time. But you wouldn’t be of use to anyone right now, not when you could feel Jason getting further and further away until there is nothing to feel but an emptiness that swallows you whole.
.x.
The tears come later in currents and waves. You’ve never been much of a cryer before because a long time ago, you realized that no matter how many people sought out your face on the newspapers or in real life to take pictures and gawk, you would always feel so alone. It was alright once you came to terms with it so it became easier not to cry in anguish over always being overlooked. Now things are different and you can’t stop crying. The sobs wrack your chest and make you feel infinitely worse because of how weak you are. You are nothing but a stuck up little Princess just like Jason said. You always do what your parents tell you to do because why rebel? You are not happy, but you are also not unhappy, not in the slightest. Your family spares you the time they can and how can you feel anything other than appreciation for that?
You’d always been good with suffering in silence and this was no different; you kept telling yourself that you did the right thing, that it would all work out as long as Jason never found out about your lie. As long as he thought you were this monster, he’d stay away and just live his life without the insistent need to see you, or be around you- God, it hurts, you think to yourself a few days later, pain enveloping every bone in your body as you shuffled around the kitchen. It’s becoming harder to move, breathe, and not cry as every hour brings a new stinging pain to your tattoo. You’d managed to finish the work on your clothing and the meeting with Wayne Enterprises had gone well, especially with the representative being Tim. Then again, it was probably made worse with how many people took pictures for a new headline. You were sure Jason was somewhere off in the city, playing more dangerous games without a thought being spared your way. With every headline coming out pertaining to your so-called ‘love life,’ it was becoming harder and harder to smile.
You miss his laugh, the loud obnoxious sound with snorts and shoulders trembling with his head thrown back in a boyish manner. You miss that stupid smile when he thinks you don't notice him staring, or the time he held your hand to guide you through the darkness when you were lost in Gotham. You miss his hugs although they were far and few between because being close to him made you crave too much. You miss Jason Todd and the sensation of his kisses against your forehead when he thinks you've fallen asleep, of the sound of his tired voice after he's slipping into your room with no sunlight and the smell of grime on his skin. You miss everything about him, the angry lines of his face and the stark difference between angry Jason and playful Jason and happy Jason and Jason . Jason . Jason.
“Hey, darling, is everything alright?” You blink and look up from your position by the fridge, a small smile slipping onto your face at the sight of your mother, chipper as usual, “You’ve been a little down lately. Do you want to talk about it?” You shake your head a few times and keep smiling for her and for yourself.
“Are you sure, honey? Is this about the papers and Tim? I could ask for a retraction if it’s been bothering you so much. I’m sure having everyone make assumptions like that is bothering you.” She isn’t wrong, but you can’t tell her about Jason or Red Hood or Batman and Red Robin or the fact that your Bonded is a bad person who does bad things to bad people yet still makes your heart ache so much being without him.
“It’s alright, mother. I’m hoping all of it will just blow over soon. Tim isn’t upset about it and apparently his Bonded doesn’t care that much. They think it’s funny how many bad pictures the paparazzi can get of Tim in one sitting.” You laugh quietly, the sound hollow. Your mother remains quiet and stares at you for a few minutes. You ignore it, try to shield yourself from her prying eyes as you shift a little and reach for the fridge door, pulling it open to reveal too many various wines and juices and not enough milk. You can’t tell, but she’s staring at your leg.
“Then… is this about Jason?” She asked softly, gently probing with a knowing tone. The sound of someone else speaking his name offsets the water works, your eyes quickly filling with fat droplets as you sniffle quietly. You can’t lie to your mother. You didn’t know how long she had know about Jason, but it didn’t matter now.
“I- h-he’s better now, mother. He d-doesn’t have to try and b-be something he isn’t just for m-me… He can be h-himself, right? I d-did the right thing.” You try to reason, more with yourself than anything else, as your limbs visibly shake. Your mother stands from her seat at the expansive dining table and quietly walks over to you with her arms outstretched. The touch of her arms around you quells some of the ache, the sting, and you crumple in her arms, letting go of the fridge to hold onto her instead. The sobbing comes unexpectedly, as does the pain it brings to your chest. You could die right now and Jason would never know how much you loved him- a bittersweet realization that has you clutching at your mother even more.
“Honey,” She soothes you, one hand stroking your (h/c) back the same way she used to when you were a child, “I don’t know what happened, but Jason is your Bonded, which makes him family, no matter what. I don’t care if you didn’t want to introduce him because of his social class or economics or whatever. I can see that you really love him, and that whatever choice you think you had to make, you didn’t. I know the feelings you have can be scary, your father almost lost me to some basketball player in the day because I didn’t have the guts to tell him I had his name tattooed on my back. Look at you, you’re shaking like a leaf and warmer than a furnace. I’ll make you some soup, okay?” You nod into your mother’s chest, breathing in the sweet scent of her chanel no.5 as you come down from your crying fit, leaving you exhausted. Your mother helps guide you out of the kitchen and towards one of the large leather couches to lay you down, worry crinkling your brow because soup is not enough.
.x.
Tim admits that he isn’t perfect. Conner had first been annoyed seeing him in the paper with (y/n), but after seeing the sidekicks awkward smile, it turned into a long running joke between the two and Tim felt relieved that Conner wasn’t behaving like a jealous prick. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Tim peeked over the edge to the ground below, keeping a hawk-like awareness of his surroundings and listening out for any trouble in the city. It was a quiet night, a rare occasion, so the Robin incarnate loosened up and gave playful bounds all the while keeping a careful watch. After fifteen minutes of his normal patrol route, Tim notices the first sign of a disturbance, off to his left. Someone is following him, and rather well, too. They try to cover themselves up under the dark shadows spanning from buildings, but Tim sees through the guise.
“Are you going to keep following me, or come out and talk?” He called to the hidden figure as he landed on top of a skyscraper, turning to face the darkness barely morphed by moonlight. He stares for a moment before smiling and turning to his left, the red hood glinting before Tim does a backflip out of the way of an oncoming fist. Figures Todd wouldn’t even bother talking with his mouth. Tim ducks out of the way of another fist, less agile than Dick, but with more agility than Todd could fathom.
“Nice dodge for a Batman puppet.” Jason hissed, his rage too much to look past as he tried to land a hit, not to kill, but to harm for sure.
“Nice mask for a social pariah,” Tim countered with a snort, childishly spinning and prodding at the hood before he does a cartwheel to sit along the ledge of the skyscraper. He pats the spot beside him, sure enough that Todd won’t try and push him off. He’s right, and Jason sighs as he stalks over to sit beside his ‘little brother’ and replacement. They sit in silence for a while, simply staring out into the only home they’ve ever known, the city teeming with degenerates and crooks.
“Want to try telling me why you’re trying to kill me?” Tim questioned, curious but already making mental notes in the back of his head.
“If I were trying to kill you, I could just shoot you between the eyes, small fry. I have a couple questions and you need to answer them before I do shoot you.”
“Hey, come on, no need to be so upset. Can we have a normal conversation that doesn’t start and end with you threatening to kill me? Not even Dick was this much of a douche.” Dick was a touchy subject for the two, but Tim hadn’t meant any harm by it. He knew that Jason hated Dick for being the first, the best, while Tim had always, always looked up to the first Robin since he was a child.
“Whatever. He’s also a fucking boy scout, but that’s not why I’m here. Just tell me the truth. Is (y/n) your Bonded?” Tim rolls his eyes behind his mask, literally, head tilting back as he stared up at the stars still visible with the present lights.
“You’re an idiot, Jason. I can’t believe this. You are seriously this stupid- I mean- you’re so dramatic.” Tim isn’t in the habit of instigating anyone or goading Jason on but he can’t take this insistent game of push and pull and knowing (y/n) didn’t tell Jason just- ugh. He did not intend to become a negotiator or mediator when he took those horrible pictures at her side. As an answer, Tim pulls up a part of his glove on his right hand, holding it up for Jason to see the name safely tucked away against the veins running over his wrist. Kon El.
“For someone who used to be Robin, you aren’t too good in the observational department. I mean, it’s pretty obvious who (y/n)’s Bonded is, right? Think about it. I get that you’re not the same person you were before, sure, but you must have an idea of what it feels like to be around your Bonded. You don’t want to be anywhere else. You’re pulled to them no matter what you do or where you are. It doesn’t suddenly just go away, you know. Moron.” To stop from Jason finally pushing Tim over the edge, the Red Robin quickly launches himself off of the ledge himself, giving a cheeky smile and a salute as he shot out a cable and swung away.
Shitty little brother .
Your health takes a steep decline after two more days and you know it’s bad when you wake up to your father’s tired, worn face. He’s usually always smiling or telling a horrible dad joke but there is no laughter in his eyes right now. He looks overworked and underfed and his fingers softly stroke through your hair as you try to sit up. As the rest of your senses come back to you, you realize you aren’t on the couch in your penthouse anymore. There is a distinct beeping and some tubes uncomfortably shoved down up your nose and one glance to your left shows an IV bag full of fluid and what is going on here?
“.....Dad?” You grumble, face scrunching up as a slow ache builds back up with your returning awareness.
“Hey sweetpea, how’s my little girl?” And through his strength you see his pain, the anguish so set in his face that it’s hard to get past. He should be at work right now but it looks like he never went from the very unbusinesslike clothes he’s wearing.
“Mm tired… Hospital?” You murmur out your question with your weak tone raising at the end of the sentence, face scrunching up more as the burn in your chest amplifies.
“You passed out, that’s all. The doctors have been running tests and taking a look at you. Everything is going to be alright, sweetpea, I promise. So please, just rest.” He sounds strained which meant he’s lying… but why? You exhale slowly, mouth open to take in breaths as you close your eyes once more and start to drift along your thoughts, most of them too out of focus to settle on one thing.
Hey Jason , you think softly to yourself, remember how we first met? You conjure up a picture of a six year old you, having wandered away from the tabling event your mother was holding to raise funds for that haggard part of town. You were put on display and fawned over, but the moment your mother had taken her focus elsewhere, you were wandering off as quickly as your tiny legs could carry you. You quickly toddled around a corner, and then another, and another, your eyes fixated on the unkept buildings and old, gothic styling to pay attention to where you were going or where you had come from. The sun shone brightly at the peak of the day, shining down on you in your tiny, glittering armani dress, your wild (h/l), (h/c) hair up in two buns. With your head tilted back, you stare at the building before you in awe.
After a while, you continue to teeter along, so fixated on your exploration that you don’t notice the slightly older boy staring at you from the doorway of a nearby building. You miss the awed expression on his face as he tries to stop comparing you to an angel in his head before his feet started to move without his permission.
“H-Hey!” He called out, catching your attention and making you turn to look at him, head tipping to the side curiously. Your sense of right, wrong, and especially danger had been rather lacking back then, but you weren’t afraid of him. Something inside you said he meant comfort, safety.
“Hi? Wha’ your name?” You ask, blinking. Your speech classes hadn’t to take away your odd drawl just yet.
“I’m Jason. Jason Todd. Who are you? Why’re you here? This ain’t no place for little girls in pretty dresses.” You huff quietly, puffing up your cheeks petulantly.
“M’ (y/n)! I- expworin’. Mother busy...too busy to expwore too. She back that way.” You make to point at the direction you come from, only for your face to go blank when you realize you don’t remember. You were so caught up with the buildings that you had lost your place. You mouth falls open as you look around. This boy, Jason, sighs and shakes his head.
“Tell me the building she’s at and I’ll take you back safe n’ sound. Promise. Don’t want you getting hurt.” He’d been so sweet as a child, so open and warm and the way he held your hand when you grew afraid made everything better. He makes everything better. The two of you walk slowly because your little heels hurt your toes and you won’t let go of his hand because you don’t want him to go away as you step around corners to find your way back to your mother. He explains the area and a little bit about his parents and why he’s by himself most of the time because of his father being in jail and his mother so passed out all the time that it’s equivalent to being alone. You don’t know him, not really, but you feel sad knowing that his life is the way that it is. It is unfair, that a boy with hair the color of a warm fire and eyes so blue could be so sad. But he smiles and gives your little, chubby hand a squeeze when you say he can be a part of your family if he wants. He even laughs and calls you too pretty and too sweet and how he’s happy to have met someone like you, someone sweeter than any flower, sweeter than anything he’d ever encountered.
When you step around the last corner and see your mother’s turned back, your grip tightens on Jason’s and you start to tug him along but he won’t budge.
“Dwason, come on! You can come wi’ me an’ we can pway!” You smile, so fucking bright that he can feel a twinge in his back that he can’t ignore. He shakes his head though, and smiles, those blue eyes drowning you before you even know what drowning is.
“Can’t, (y/n). But you’ll see me again, I promise.” He gives a small squeeze to your hand before releasing your fingers. You little face scrunches up cutely before you take a step back, fingers balling into little fists.
“Dwason, promise?”
“Promise.”
The second time your mother decided to do another fundraising event, Jason was there alone, taller, less light to his blue eyes, and more scars on his fingers than you could remember last time. You were hovering around 12 and despite the years that had past, you never once stopped thinking of the boy with hair like fire and warm hands that led you back to safety. You stand beside your mother, sporting comfortable jeans and a oversized sweater, your hair let loose to frame your face. Your mother had wanted you to wear another dress, but you refused, even going as far as to wear your custom converse. They were way more comfortable for walking around outside.
You glance around the crowd, anxiously peering at the different faces and the cameras snapping pictures in your face as you searched for a certain red head. When you see him, your (e/c) eyes light up and you beg your mother to give you time to greet people like a respectable Princess, but really you’re carefully circling the crowd to the boy in the back. It’s almost funny, how easy it is to fall into his presence even if he’s different and you’re different. He’s taller now, towering over you even more than before with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
“You’re not going to wander off again this time, are you, Princess?” You hate that title, hate it with a burning passion, but the second the word leaves his mouth as a tease, your face fills to the brim with warmth and you smile despite your embarrassment.
“I was six, you jerk.” You hiss with a little pout. He’s meaner than last time, but then again, so are you. It’s a relief to not be treated like porcelain by at least one person in Gotham, and Jason continued to pick on you the entire time, tossing in offhand compliments to soften the sting.
“I’m surprised someone like you would even remember me from back then.” He said after a moment. The two of you were sitting against a building near the fundraising event, thighs lighting touching as you relaxed in each other’s company.
“Someone like me? Just because I’m a princess doesn’t mean anything. Jason. If you didn’t help me that day, who knows where I could’ve ended up. Anyone could’ve taken advantage of me and you didn’t. I’m grateful to you and I consider you a friend, no matter how much time passes between now and the next time I get to see you and your bad personality.” You tease back, happy to see his grin of mirth. He’s loosened up somewhat, but there was something about him that just felt sad. You could feel it course through you from where the two of you were touching.
“I thought about you a lot; it didn’t help that I saw your face everywhere since you’re so famous, but I sometimes wondered if you remember that kid with the red hair who held your hand.” Of course you did.
When the event began to clear and your mother called for you, you turned to give Jason a smile as a thought popped into your head. You reach into your back pocket for a pen and reach to take his hand, hunching over it and writing out something quickly.
“What are you-”
“My address. So you can come and see me wherever you want to. And my number if you have a phone! If you ever want to talk about anything at all, I’m there. But I gotta go now, Jayson. I hope I can see you again sooner.” Everything is said in a flurry because of your nerves and you push yourself up off of the ground and pat dirt from your bottom and sides, sparing Jayson a grin.
“Later, Jay.”
“Later, Princess.”
The first night Jason snuck into your room, you had just turned 15 and you had only seen each other twice, but spoke on the phone every night. God, every time you saw him, he just kept getting taller, more muscular, more handsome- You grinned at the sight of your friend and sat up in bed, tugging an earbud from your ear.
“Not out on patrol? Being a hero? Wearing tights?” You cackled softly as Jason rolled his eyes and scooted aside for him to flop down on your bed. Telling you about his alter ego had been easy, like telling a friend a story or a joke. The first time you saw him decked out in Robin attire, you realized he’d been serious about the hero business and it only fascinated you more.
“Hush. I’m free tonight so I thought I’d come bother you tonight. Are you busy?” He arched a brow and looked over at you, and you tried not to get too caught up in the close proximity or his eyes or that annoying smirk.
“Nah, I finished up all of my assignments earlier. I’ve been listening to that new album you told me about.” The Gorillaz wasn’t one of your favorites, but you had to admit that the music was amazing. The redhead reaches to steal your discarded earbud, pressing it into his ear and laying back.
“I knew you’d like it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now hush, it’s my favorite song.” Humming along to the melody, you close your eyes. Your father was never home at night anymore and your mother was away in Dubai or Tokyo or only God knows where and your little brother was busy spending the night at his friend’s place, leaving you utterly alone again. As the song comes to an end, you feel a sudden warmth engulf your hand as fingers slot against yours and squeeze.
“You know I’m always here when you need me, right, Princess?” The nickname seemed to stick.
“Mm, I know Jayson. I know.” You squeeze his hand back and feel yourself starting to drift off, not so alone anymore.
Your mark appeared on your 16th birthday after Jason gave you the opal necklace, the last remnant he had of his mother who had passed away. And maybe that was the moment you realized you were in love with him, really and truly in love with him. The way he looked at you that night, fingers gentle as they curled around you in a tight embrace. Maybe he had felt the same at one point in time.
Maybe.
He was gone soon after, and when he came back, he was different, new, meaner. He’d forgotten so many of your shared memories, forgotten moments that meant so much to you. And the mark you swore he bore was gone too, with the rest of him. But you still loved Jason Todd, the man with blood on his hands.
Jason feels like he’s fucking losing it. Nothing is really making sense anymore and he hates it and hates himself with this sadness that digs deep into his bones and guts and why is he like this? Why is he so angry all the damn time? Why can’t he remember enough? And you, why did he hurt you when all he wants is to be by your side? He can remember the mean things he said to you in the midst of his pissy fit, but you lied. You never lied to him before, ever, but the second he’d bring up bonds and bonding and why you didn’t go find yours, you’d always diverted his attention or gone cold, clammy. After talking to Tim and not trying to kill him, everything was starting to add up, make sense to him and his twisted mind. Jason is stupid. He really is. He can admit to it as he revs up the engine on his motorcycle and blasts off down the street towards Gotham General Hospital. Through intel (newspapers and Tim because Tim is good at the detective side of Robin), he learned that you were at the hospital, undergoing surveillance and being given fluids because your body continued to burn through them too quickly.
He couldn’t wrap his head around why you didn’t tell him. Yeah, he fucking died and came back and he’s not the same Jason or even sure he wants to be, but you’re the one solid thing he’s always had. The fragments of his memories are fresh with your smells and voice and how you always shine no matter the lighting. He’d like to think that once upon a time, your name was somewhere written on him too, but since coming back, there is nothing. He didn’t know what it meant and he didn’t really care as long as you were safe and careful and cared for the way you deserve. He’s not all too sure why you even count on him so much, why you appreciate his company, when he is nothing and you are everything. You’re kind, creative, beautiful, so beautiful it makes him feel ashamed for even wanting you, with a heart of gold. You could throw a tantrum or hug him close and remind him that he is someone too, he doesn’t have to be alone if he doesn’t want to be.
He should’ve known. Pulling into a handicap parking spot because fuck everyone else, Jason parks and shuts off his motorcycle, pulling off the hood and his gloves and stowing them on his bike. He wants her to see his face, and her family too if they’re there. He can’t hide from them or anyone else anymore, not when you need him so much. The automatic doors easily slide open as he stalks inside, clad in a black t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans that hugged every ounce of his thick thighs and a worried expression. He reached up and tousled his hair as he strode towards the nurse’s station.
“Hi, how may I help you?” The nurse chirps, not even subtle in the way she eyed him up and down.
“I’m here to see… my Bonded, (y/f/n) (y/l/n).” That makes her stop, and a self satisfied smirk works its way onto the vigilante's lips as she blubbers out directions and points. Jason stalks past her, not used to having eyes on him and his actual appearance as he makes his way for an elevator to make it up to one of the private floors. People keep staring and it’s irritating beyond belief but he lets it be, stepping into an empty elevator and quickly pressing the closed button so he could be alone. The dark haired male, having abandoned his fiery locks a while back, leaned back against the wall as the elevator slowly moved up floors, steeling his nerves and taking in deep breathes. He even counts down from ten before the door slides open and he steps off. He makes a left and stops when he sees your mother wringing her fingers together down the hall. She looked distraught with her cheeks flushed and wet. Her husband held her close to try and soothe her as another, younger boy sat in one of the waiting seats with a sad expression. Another boy stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead. Don’t just stop and stare, go get your girl . The anti hero rolls his shoulders back before walking down the hall and towards the little alcove in front of your closed door. The closer he gets, the more awkward it all feels to meet your parents that he’s heard about for years but never really met before because of his weariness for parents.
“Ah, I’m Jason Todd.. I know we haven’t met before,” He clears his throat and tries not to sound so much like a little bitch, “But I’m (y/n)’s Bonded and I came to see if I could help in anyway.” Your father is wary of Jason, but your mother is quick to agree, giving him a nod towards your door. You’re in a light, pain induced doze when Jason enters and closes the door behind him, already frowning at the sight of your pallid form under blankets. He quietly walks over to the chair beside your bed and lets his weight guide him down, growing weak at the sight of you. He rose a hand to reach for one of your own, sighing from the contact as he began to ramble.
“I don’t even- what the hell am I supposed to do, (y/n)? After I died, the only thing I knew was that I had to find my way back to you. Mark or not, I don’t care. I’m yours. You gotta know that by now. You have to- I’m sorry I’m a fucking walking disaster and I can’t do anything right when I try. I want to keep you safe, but being closed off made you sick… Why didn’t you just tell me you were mine? I’d drop everything for you. I’d give it up if it would make you happy. I fucking mean it to. I’m sorry I was such a dick to you for no reason- I was so mad at thinking maybe I had it wrong, maybe I wasn’t supposed to come back and Tim was the right now. But I was wrong about everything and I was wrong about you too. I’m not really good with this whole feelings thing, but I’m trying here. I love you, (y/n). I’ve loved you since I was 8. I’ve loved you since the first time I held your hand. I loved you when I was in a dark place for a long time. I loved you past the pain and the hurt and regret, and I love you now. I know I’m not the same- I’m not. I can’t be that person again, but I can be the best version of me you’ll ever fucking see, yeah? I want to do that for you, (y/n). I want to make you proud of me, to have me, to be your Bonded. I don’t want to let you down anymore…” Somewhere along the way, his eyes began to sting, but he refused to cry. Leaning forward, Jason carefully brushes his lips against the back of your hand before pressing a feather soft kiss to each of your knuckles, “So just wake up and look at me.”
“Is this the part where you cry?” Your faint whisper takes him by surprise, his lips leaving your hand as he peered up into your light eyes. You’re smiling despite how retched you feel, but his presence is comforting the pain in your chest, pushing it down.
“I just pour my heart and soul out to you and you hit me with that? I should be really upset with you right now,” He starts, only to pause and shake his head, “But I love you too much to care right now, (y/n). I love you so much… Do you get that?”
“I do… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Jay. I didn’t want me being tied to you be the reason you gave up things you didn’t want to just to make me happy. I have so many people who do what I want when I want… I don’t want you to lose parts of you just because I want them gone. But not telling you was selfish and unfair,” You whisper back, catching his eyes. Those baby blues are shining, like that first day in the sun.
“It was- I nearly killed Tim because of you,” He strokes your hand to calm you when your pulse spikes on the monitor, “Easy, easy. He helped me out and that’s when I realized you were mine. You could have anyone, but you always chose for me to be around, wanted me there. I should’ve known, but I’m- I’m different now. It takes me longer to notice things right in front of me when I’m too angry and stubborn.” You hum low in your throat, managing to shift a bit closer to the edge of the bed if only by a few centimeters.
“I’ll forgive you if only this once and I’ll even show you my mark.” That gets his attention. Jason is instantly on his best behavior.
“Push the blanket aside and my gown a bit. It’s on the side of my thigh.” You direct him carefully and watch the cautious way his free hand moves to complete the task. It’s nice to feel the cold air brush against your heated skin as the blanket is pushed back and Jason lightly brushes your hospital gone aside enough to reveal the ink running a line down your flesh. It’s the same way it’s always been, written in an angry scrawl, thick and inky and just like Jason.
“Can I?”
“Y-Yeah,” You whisper as fingers gently brush over the tattoo, causing a series of sensations to thunder under your skin. Your breath hitches and you bite at your lower lip as you watch Jason closely and the way he stares at your tattoo, carefully tracing his index finger over every letter once, twice, until he’s satisfied. And as he’s hunched over, you notice something- something you hadn’t seen before. With his leather jacket raised from his hunched position, you can see the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. Is that what you think it is? Blinking, you squint through your slight haze and you can’t be mistaken.
“J-Jason- you’re tattoo-”
“I don’t have one,” Jason murmurs, still concentrating on touching your own.
“Yes, you d-do, Jason, oh my God- It’s on your n-neck.” You try to speak a bit louder, your excitement causing your stomach to churn as Jason sits back and lets go of your hand, brows furrowed as he sheds his jacket. He touches at the front of his neck, feeling around but shaking his head when he feels nothing. He shifts his hand back, feeling along the back of his neck when- He feels the raised skin. But it wasn’t possible. There had been nothing there before.
“It used t-to be on your back before… but it moved?” You didn’t know how it was possible, but his Bond tattoo was sitting there against his neck and he pulls down his collar even more before turning his head away from you.
“What does it say? Does it say-” He teased, although his voice is tight, reedy, with anxiety.
“Don’t you dare, Jason Todd,” You threaten with a tired smile, “It’s me, stupid.” Before he can help himself, Jason starts to laugh, really laugh, with those stupid shoulder shakes that you love. He takes your hand and leans in again so that you can touch what belongs to you.
Your handwriting is much more tame, thin with a large cursive ‘J’ and ‘T’ and pretty vowels to match.
Bonds are still a mystery to the world, no matter how much information is learned, something new can be learned every single day. Jason soon learned that every near death experience shifted his tattoo across his body, making him believe he didn’t have one anymore.