Oof
“Why isn’t Spider-Man dead?” Fisk frowns down at him, his small beady eyes holding a very real, very serious threat to them. Jason sucks in a breath. As it turns out, he was very much not able to do this.
It was stupid. The fight had been brief. A few explosives here, a few knives aimed for his wrists there, and he’d managed to get the wall-crawling menace pinned. He’d been about to pull the trigger when all of the sudden, there had been a blur of white, and Jason had found himself stuck in a thick layer of webs. Not only was it embarrassing, it had gotten him stuck in his current predicament: being stuck in an office with one Wilson Fisk, who looks like his face is two seconds away from having steam shoot out of his ears.
“I didn’t think he’d-”
“You didn’t think?” Fisk leans forward. Jason subconsciously takes a step back. “No, you don’t seem to be doing much of that at all.”
Dread pools into Jason’s stomach. He doesn’t like where this is heading. “Why am I the only one getting any flack for this?” He suddenly bursts out. “I know I’m not the only one out there you’ve hired to kill him! Sandman, Electro, probably about a dozen others, if not more!”
“I heard reports that Robin’s still alive.”
Jason’s blood runs cold as he stares at Fisk. Underneath his helmet, his eyes are wide with shock, but also… Relief. He’d been angry when he’d killed- well, when he’d tried to kill Robin. He had been trying to teach Bruce a lesson, one he’d only realized was twisted and wrong after he’d already done it. So he was relieved. But that relief doesn’t last long when he sees the cool anger on Fisk’s face.
“So not only are you a failure, Red Hood, but you’re a fraud,” Fisk stands up. He’s taller than Jason by more than a few inches. Jason’s six foot two, and it’s not often he has to actually crane his head up to look at someone, but Fisk makes him feel small.
“I thought he was dead,” Jason sucks in a breath, glancing back at the door. It’s shut, and likely locked. There’s no window in this particular office. Jason’s trapped. The white LED overhead lights flicker as if warning him about his impending doom.
Fisk grabs him by the shoulder in one massive hand, holding it too tight to be comfortable. “I never liked you, Hood. You’re overconfident, arrogant, and at the end of the day a fool. Your death will serve as a warning to anyone else who thinks they can play my game without a consequence.”
Jason does’t have time to make a retort about his death already being a warning, or about games, or anything else. Fisk’s hand quickly wraps from his shoulder to his neck, and the last thing he hears is a sickening crunch.
***
Jason is crumpled on the floor of the office. He wakes up with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wide with horror. He’d just been dead. He’d died. Again. His hand flies up to his neck. His helmet is gone, ripped off of his head. He looks up to see Fisk’s utterly shocked face. The man comes to his senses quickly enough, and Jason finds himself knocked on the head, the world going black again.
***
This time, Jason wakes to the sound of a heart monitor’s incessant beeping. He peeks his eyes open carefully. The room was bright. Too bright. He lets out a groan as he tries to carefully sit up, but finds that his hands are cuffed to the side of the bed. “What…?” His voice is cracked and hoarse. There’s a brace around his neck.
“Careful,” A woman’s voice says sternly. It’s a nurse, or at least Jason assumes she’s a nurse. Her hair is pulled back in a bun, and she’s wearing the classic blue face-mask. “You’re lucky to be alive. You broke your neck.”
“Broke my…?” The memories flood back into his head quickly. He mutters a curse as he tries to move his head and he’s only met with a surge of extreme pain that makes him cry out.
“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you,” The nurse says flatly. Too little too late, Jason thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud. The nurse doesn’t look too friendly. He doesn’t want to push her buttons and have her snap and jostle his head around in retaliation.
“Can I get some water?” Jason asks carefully, his voice barely above a whisper. The nurse doesn’t seem pleased to have been given a task, but she mercifully brings a small paper cup to his lips. It’s not nearly enough to be satisfying, but at least it wets his dry throat. “...What happened?”
The nurse once again gives him a glare. “Why don’t you tell me, Red Hood?”
Shit, wait. He’d been unmasked. The cuffs on his wrists suddenly make sense. He lightly pulls at the cuffs as if they’ll suddenly vanish. This can’t be happening right now.
But wait a moment, Jason pauses. If she’d said Red Hood… “You haven’t been able to identify me yet?” He tries not to sound too pleased. The nurse glares at him again, but it’s the only response he needs. It’s basically a confirmation. No, the nurse’s eyes said, and I’m not too happy about it.
Jason can’t help the small smirk that makes its way onto his face. No one was looking for a dead kid from Gotham. Bruce keeping his DNA out of any criminal databases was going in his favor. “My name’s Henry Cloves.”
“Sure it is,” The nurse doesn’t look like she believes him in the slightest. Which is fair.
“Worth a shot.”
“Uh huh,” The nurse frowns at him. “I’ll let your attorney know you’re awake. I’m sure you’re going to need him.”
Jason squints. They’d already figured out an attorney for him? How long had he been out?
It’s a couple of hours before a couple of men in suits make their way into the hospital room. Attorneys. Plural. Jason’s not sure if he should feel better or worse about that.
“Hello, Red Hood. My name is Mathew Murdock, and this here is my partner, Franklin Nelson. We’re here to represent you in accordance with New York law,” Murdock holds out a hand. Jason squints at him for a long moment. Nelson nudges the man.
“Matt, he’s handcuffed to the bed,” Nelson whispers, if it can be considered that.
“Right, sorry,” Murdock’s hand goes back to his waist. He clears his throat.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys,” Jason huffs, a bit irritated. It’s not that he’s not appreciative, it’s just… Well, for starters, Harvey Dent has left a sort of bad taste in his mouth as far as lawyers go. And then there’s the fact that he’s in extreme pain. And then there’s the fact that he’s pretty sure this is hopeless considering the fact that he’s pretty sure Fisk handed him over to the police in his suit. He’s also got a lot of money and a lot of hands in the department. There’s no way Jason would actually have the trial go in his favor, not even if he had Bruce’s entire pr team and legal defense on the case.
“We have a few basic questions to ask you,” Nelson hums, pulling two chairs over from the wall, placing them closer to Jason’s hospital bed. He gently nudges Murdock again, and the man feels for the chair behind him before he carefully sits down.
“We’ll start easy,” Murdock hums. “The police haven’t been able to identify you. Would you be willing to share your name, birthdate-”
“You know, if the police can’t identify me, then it seems like a bit of a stupid idea to give them my name and birthdate,” Jason points out.
“It might seem that way,” Nelson tilts his head to the side. “But at the same time, they might be willing to reduce your sentence if you cooperate. I’m going to be brutally honest with you, the chances of you being found not guilty are-”
“Pretty much impossible,” Jason cuts him off.
“I was going to say slim. But sure,” Nelson hums, seeming unbothered. Jason supposes he’s probably used to being cut off in this line of work. God, he wouldn’t be able to stand being a lawyer.
“How about just an age?” Murdock hums after a moment.
“I don’t know,” Jason answers, and that’s truthful. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that he’d been pondering this exact question.
“You don’t know?” Nelson says flatly, like he clearly doesn’t believe him. Jason doesn’t blame the guy. Most people know how old they are.
“You’re not going to get much out of me,” Jason narrows his eyes at him. “Did I make a stupid decision? Maybe. But that doesn’t make me an amatuer.”
“Look, kid, we’re not the bad guys here,” Nelson huffs. “In fact, we’re the only help you’re going to get in this situation. The cops don’t give a damn about what happens to you. We’re the only ones that you have in your corner right now, but we can’t help you if you don’t give us something to work with.”
“I’m dead,” Jason frowns right back, detesting the fact that with his hands cuffed and his neck in the brace, he’s not really able to move too much at the moment. He feels like a kitten that’s been grabbed by the scruff, defenseless and with everyone knowing it.
“Clearly you’re not.”
“No, you don’t get it. Fisk snapped my neck with his bare hands. I should be dead.”
“Fisk?” Murdock suddenly seems more interested, his head tilting at the man’s mention. Jason glowers a bit. Of course that’s the bit they take more interest in. Not the fact that something is terribly wrong with Jason, not the fact that he just told them he had genuinely died and yet was somehow not dead at the moment. “Is he the one that did this to you?”
“Keep up,” Jason huffs.
“No, this is… I don’t think you realize how important that information is,” Murdock says carefully, his sightless gaze fixed towards Jason, but not quite actually meeting his eyes. “I’ve had a… Hunch about Fisk for a while now, but no way to prove it. I think most people that might prove to too much of a risk for him… Well, they end up dead.”
Jason hums. That makes sense. “Don’t expect me to be much help in that. There’s not a lot of people who are going to take my word for it.”
“Maybe not alone, but with enough evidence to back up your claims-”
“Or I could just kill him,” Jason shrugs his shoulders a bit, only to wince in pain as it flares up his neck. “Ow.”
“I don’t think that’s the wisest thing to say while you’re in police custody facing several murder charges.”
“I frankly don’t give a fuck,” Jason frowns at the lawyer. “I’m not scared of cops.”
“Maybe it’s not the police you should be worried about,” Murdock hums, tilting his head to the side.
“Is that a threat?”
“Not necessarily. More like a warning. A jury can be more powerful than you think.”
Jason snorts in disbelief at that. He knows one thing for certain. He won’t be going to jail. He’s already been heavily underestimated. All he needs is for a nurse to get close enough that he can swipe a pen off of her and he’ll be out of here. He’s fairly sure that nobody will expect it either - not with his broken neck making him as “fragile” at it is. Jason internally scoffs. He’s been through worse.
“Listen, you guys seem like you’re great people, but I’ve been doing just fine taking care of myself-”
“Have you?” Murdock counters. “Because right now you’re sitting in a hospital bed with a broken neck so bad that even the doctors are beyond surprised you’re not dead.”
Jason stays silent. He doesn’t owe these lawyers any sort of explanation. “Just get out.”
Neither Murdock nor Nelson say anything after that. They pack up their bags, and they do leave. Jason’s a bit surprised, but definitely not disappointed. He lets out a long breath of relief as he’s finally alone.
Nothing eventful really happens the next few days. The nurses keep coming in and out at regular intervals, checking his vitals, changing his IV, the usual sort of thing. The cops come in a few times too, but Jason stays silent the entire time. Talking with the lawyers was one thing, but Jason’s not stupid enough to try arguing with the cops.
A week into his hospital stay, though, and the unexpected happens.
When the nurse came in later that evening telling Jason he has a visitor, he’d assumed the lawyers were back. Or maybe it was Fisk, coming to make due on his promise of making Jason’s life a living Hell.
The old British man that steps into the room catches Jason entirely off-guard.
“Alfred?” His voice is barely above a whisper as he stares at the man. He doesn’t look like he’s aged a day since Jason’s last seen him, although he does look a bit more tired. Circles under his eyes that Jason’s never seen present, maybe a few extra wrinkles.
Other than that, he’s staring at the same man who he’d last seen when he was fifteen years old.
Guilt instantly pools itself into Jason’s stomach. He’s been avoiding Alfred since he came back from the dead, especially after the whole… Well, trying to kill Bruce fiasco. There are some things that Jason’s pretty sure even Alfred would find unforgivable, and killing the boy he’d raised as a son might just be one of them.
Yet there he is, giving Jason a tight smile and pulling up a chair.
“I’m sorry,” Jason’s the first to speak, although a small part of this is starting to think maybe he’s hallucinating a bit. How did Alfred know where he was? Does this mean Bruce knows where he is? He supposes there’s the horrifying possibility that the media had caught wind of Red Hood’s capture and had blasted the news all over national television.
Alfred hums, looking Jason up and down with a look that is clearly of disapproval. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bloody mess, haven’t you Master Jason,” And while the voice is certainly sarcastic, Jason melts in relief at the fact that his tone isn’t angry.
“I’m sorry,” Jason says again, a bit quieter this time. “I know I messed up. I just- Alfred, I don’t know what to do. I think I’m in over my head.”
“I’d say,” Alfred hums. “...But I must say I have never felt more joy than seeing your face again, Master Jason.”
Jason blinks up at Alfred in surprise. “Huh?”
Alfred stands up and carefully pulls Jason into a hug. Jason would hug him back if it weren’t for the cuffs he was attached to. He can’t keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Alfred doesn’t let go for a solid few minutes.
When he does, he gives Jason a smile. His eyes are damp, like he’s also doing his best not to cry. “I hope you know that Master Tim was never meant to replace you. Your place in Wayne Manor will always be there for you, should you ever wish to come home.”
“...I’ve killed a lot of people, Alfred,” Jason says slowly, carefully, his shoulders a bit tense as he waits for the reaction from the world’s best butler. He knows Bruce wouldn’t approve of him. He knows Bruce doesn’t approve of him.
Alfred looks Jason dead in the eyes as he says some words that sends shivers down Jason’s spine. “Master Jason, I do not hold the same code that the Batman adheres to.”
It’s with those words that Jason thinks that Alfred has definitely buried a body somewhere in the garden, and that there will never be anyone who has the skill to find it.
“Are you sure I’d be welcome in the Batman’s house?” Jason frowns.
“I believe that Master Bruce would like nothing more than to see his son again,” Alfred sighs heavily. “Perhaps not as the Red Hood, but as Jason Todd. And if you think he doesn’t have the heart to forgive you, I don’t think you know Master Bruce hardly at all.”
Jason blinks at him a few times. It’s hard to refuse Alfred. But he can’t escape the churning feeling in his gut that he has some unfinished business he needs to attend to. “...I don’t think I can go back to pretending everything’s the same as before, Alfred.”
Alfred simply nods in understanding. “I suppose. Still, the offer will always be there for you.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
“I do expect to be seeing more of you, Master Jason,” Alfred warns. “Perhaps you’d like to come for tea sometime?”
“...Just me and you?”
“If that is what you would prefer,” Alfred nods.
“Of course, Alfred,” Jason swallows. After all, how could he refuse when Alfred had taken the time to come all the way to New York just to see him. “After I get out of this mess.”
Alfred lifts an eyebrow at him. “I am surprised you have stayed here this long.”
“I have a broken neck.”
“Hm. I suppose.”
“It’s a pretty good set up, actually. I get free food, they’ve got me on some decent pain meds, I get to take as many naps as I want, and you’ll be extra proud of this part, I’m actually getting some rest so I can heal up,” Jason gives the old man a wry smile.
Alfred chuckles, lightly ruffling Jason’s hair. He’s careful not to actually jostle his head too much, which Jason’s neck appreciates.
“...Hey Alfred? Can I tell you something?” Jason suddenly says, a small frown forming on his face as he looks up at the man.
“Of course.”
“...I don’t think I can die,” Jason slowly gets the words out. “I mean, I did. The first time. I don’t… I don’t know for how long, but… Um. I don’t know. There’s been a few times after where… I think I really did die and I just keep coming back.”
Alfred is quiet for a long moment. “...There are worse abilities to have.”
“I want to be dead,” Jason’s eyebrows pinch. “Not in like… A suicidal way or anything. It’s just… I think that’s where I belong, and I can feel it. All the time. My chest just aches and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Alfred tilts his head to the side for a moment in thought before he sighs. “I don’t know how you have come back to us, Master Jason. We may never truly know, and I do wish I could help you in this matter. However, I am truly glad to have you back. I have missed you more than you could ever imagine.”
At least someone did.
“...How did you manage to convince the police to let you visit me?”
“Master Jason, I have full access to Master Bruce’s credit card.”
“That would do it.”
Alfred hums, and in no time they’ve delved into some idle chatter. Jason tells Alfred about what he’s been up to since he woke up, about training with Talia, about how he’d been so angry with Bruce, about how he’d decided to go to New York to start over and had ended up just making everything worse. He tells him about how he’d caught Spider-Man, and how he had "decided" to go against Fisk and not kill him, and how it all ended up getting him a broken neck.
“I definitely died there, by the way. There’s no way I didn’t,” Jason frowns. “I mean. He literally crushed my neck with his bare hands.”
“I see. And you intend to… Enact revenge on the Kingpin of crime?”
“Well yeah,” Jason huffs.
“Hm,” Alfred looks a bit judgemental to Jason’s plans, but he doesn’t voice anything out loud. He looks at Jason with a deep seriousness in his eyes. “I hope you know, Master Jason, that there will always be a home for you to return to at Wayne Manor.”
The man doesn’t say anything more than that, standing up silently and heading for the door.
“...Think I can borrow a pen?” Jason asks before he can get there. Alfred glances back at him, gives him a wry smile, and comes back over, slipping a paperclip to him.
“I do expect that you’ll take the opportunity to think things through a bit more. And I had better not hear any news of you attacking Master Timothy again. Understood?”
“...Yes sir,” Jason winces at the scolding.
Alfred gives him a sharp nod, and just like that, he’s gone.
Jason decides to wait a bit before using the paperclip though. He doesn’t want it to be too suspicious. If he disappears right after he’d received a visitor, that would look far too suspicious. Instead, he closes his eyes, letting himself get some much needed rest. He’d need as much of it as he can get.