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He was off world when it happened.
The mission was simple. Roy and Kori could have managed without him easily. Some aliens had invaded the home world of a friend of Kori’s. When she had asked for his help, he hadn’t even hesitated in saying yes. He had left his apartment in Gotham only a few minutes after she called, leaving the latest letter Bruce had sent him unopened.
Jason walked over to his kitchen counter and picked up the envelope, rubbing his thumb over Bruce’s handwriting. He usually never wrote letters himself, Bruce had always been more for emails, but it seemed the old man had made an exception. When he first got it a week ago, a few minutes before Kori called, he planned on burning it.
While it killed him to admit it, he couldn’t bare to do that now. Not when Bruce’s last words were right in his grasp.
He walked over to his bed and sat down. The springs creaked at they took on his weight and the sound made him wince. He dug his left hand into the coverlet, and took a deep breath before sliding his index finger under the seal. The envelope opened easy enough, and after a few seconds of blank staring, he pulled out the letter.
It took him less than two minutes to read the whole thing. It took him ten minutes to actually digest it.
Bruce had sent him a fucking Christmas card.
It was simple, just a couple of sentences wishing him a Happy New Year. There was a photo inside, one with Bruce and his siblings, Cassandra, Damian, Tim and Dick all standing right next to one another, while Alfred lurked in the background. Bruce had a Santa’s hat on and looked highly put out about it. Given Dick’s and Tim’s grin, they were likely responsible. Cassandra’s grin seemed to take over her entire face, and her gaze was more focused on her family then the camera. Damian was curled up with Titus, with an elf hat stuck on the dog’s head. The boy wasn’t smiling, it would have been out of character, but the trademark smirk on his face seemed more legitimate than any false grin. Jason flipped the photo and read the note on the back.
“I hope to see you in this photo next year. You always have a home here Jason.” –Bruce
Jason let out a bitter chuckle. It was perhaps the most sentimental thing the old man had said to him in years. Soon he was laughing outright, clutching his stomach. It quickly morphed to full on sobbing. He tangled his fingers in his hair, trying to get a grip, and each sob came out even more ragged and harsh. It was like he was drowning in the pit all over again. His fresh tears fell onto the letter, staining the crisp paper. The photograph fell onto the floor, the picture right side up.
There were six people in that photo, taken just barely a week ago. Now there was only three left breathing.
***
Kori was the one who told him.
Roy had gotten the message over the communicators after they began to land onto Earth. They had told Jason to stay on board and get some sleep, and Jason had been so tired, that he didn’t notice the worried look in their eyes. When he woke up, they were sitting next to his bedside with red eyes.
“Jason, Bruce is dead,” Kori had said. Jason had expected that. He’d been expecting a message like that ever since he was Robin. Batman was a dangerous job. Bruce was down to fall one of these days. It was her second sentence that took him by surprise.
“It wasn’t just Bruce.”
***
These were the facts. The Wayne family, after a few months of planning by Tim, had set up a children’s center a block from Crime Alley. In celebration of this event, Wayne had decided (with some pressure from the mayor) for his whole family to attend the opening ceremony. Bruce Wayne and his flock had stepped onto the large stage in front of the masses of Gotham. Tim had given a speech. Dick had worn his best suit. Cassandra, whose adoption had never been public, smiled softly from her seat next to Damian. Damian had just scowled through the entirety of the proceedings.
Bruce had left a seat for Jason on the podium under the name “family friend.” It, of course, had been empty.
In all, the ceremony went rather well. At least until Bruce approached the podium and was shot directly in the head.
Jason had watched the footage that one particular sadist had put up on Youtube. The quality was horrible, and the camera shook with every second filmed. But he could still make out the events pretty clearly.
Dick lunged for Bruce as a bullet ripped right through his heart. Tim stood up just in time to be shot right in the spine, the place the public believed him to actually be shot almost a year ago. The first two shots aimed at Damian missed him, but Cassandra wasn’t fast enough to push him out of the way when the boy froze on sight of Dick’s body.
When the shooters gained enough sense to aim for Cassandra, she had already noticed them. One grazed her cheek, but the rest missed entirely.
The crowd screamed, beginning to run every which way. Tim had dragged himself towards Damian to try to stop the young boy from bleeding out. The shooting stopped, and the sirens of the police began to roar in the distance. Gordon ran onto the stage to where Cassandra was. There was a blur of red and blue in the sky, shortly followed by the sound of more gunfire. A small child cried in the background.
And then the camera cut out.
Bruce and Dick were goners as soon as they hit the ground, according to the record. Tim lasted his Superman escorted ride to the hospital, but his efforts to save Damian caused him to bleed out faster. He died on the table. Damian was put in critical condition. Cassandra was left to stand in her family’s blood.
Jason? Jason had been off world, probably taking a nap in his cot, as his universe burned down lightyears way.
***
The last thing he told his family was to fuck off.
He wondered if Bruce had thought so much about his last words when he died.
***
Jason ran into Cassandra a week after he got home.
She was waiting in his apartment wearing Bruce’s suit, the whole frame too bulky on her slim shoulders. She wasn’t wearing the cowl. She was sitting on one of Jason’s wooden chairs that he kept around for company. Jason opened his door and stared at her for a second before walking to the kitchen.
“How’s Damian?”
“Coma. They don’t know if he’ll get better,” Cassandra said. Her voice was steady, though Jason doubted she really felt stable. His older sister had always been good at cloaking her emotions. Jason reached for a beer in his fridge and threw it towards Cassandra. She caught it with ease, even in Bruce’s bulky ensemble, and stared at the label. “I don’t drink.”
Jason shrugged, grabbing one for himself. “If you wanted to start now, I won’t blame you.” He walked over to Cassandra with his own chair and sat down. “What do you want?”
“Help.” She tapped the symbol on her chest. Jason shook his head.
“I’m not going to be Batman. No fucking way.” He took a long swig of his drink.
Cassandra glared at him. Like his very assertion was ridiculous. “No, not Batman. I can do that.” She turned her gaze to the floor for a second before looking back to Jason. “Just help. Not as Hood, as something else. No killing, no guns. Something different.” Jason’s expression must have been something to see and her posture relaxed slightly. “I can’t do this. Not Batman; I can do that. But not right away. Not alone. Stephanie is going to help but-“
“It’s not enough,” Jason said. Cassandra nodded. He crossed his arms. “You sure about this? Me? You expect me to put down my guns and just go good?”
She looked into his eyes, and Jason saw something there that caused him to flinch. Resolve. “You can change. Anyone can.”
Jason looked at her for a long moment before sighing. He stood up and looked down at his right hand. It was shaking, He could still remember pleading with this very hand years ago an old damp cave with a wax candle as the only light source. They were all that was left. Cassandra watched him with curious eyes, and he looked up from his shaking hands.
“I’m in.”