Chapter Text
Jason Todd was no stranger to Death. In fact, he was willing to bet he had died more than the average person. Granted, the average person only died once, so that was a low bar, but the point still stood.
Jason had met Death at least eight times. Plus a whole lot more depending on how he counted. Death was never much of a talker, but Jason didn’t mind. Sometimes they’d sit quietly together until it was time for Jason to go back to the land of the living. Sometimes Jason would catch Death up on what he’d been doing. Death didn’t get many repeat customers, so she was usually pretty invested in Jason’s tales.
The first time he’d met Death had been stock standard as far as he knew. He’d been beaten to death by a clown and blown up. He'd been led away to Death’s realm, passed on to heaven, the whole nine yards.
It hadn’t lasted though. He’d woken up in his grave roughly six months later.
The second time, he could tell that Death was surprised to see him again. Jason had been sheepish, clutching at where his throat had just been slit by a batarang. “Whoops, it’s me again,” he’d wanted to say, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out. Instead he’d sobbed in her arms for an irrelevant amount of time.
Jason had made Bruce choose between him and the clown and Bruce had picked the clown. He shouldn’t have pushed Bruce. Jason had brought that one on himself.
After his second death, he knew there was nothing left for him in the land of the living.
He had ended up back there anyway.
Jason shouldn’t have been surprised when his next meeting with Death was also orchestrated by Bruce. This time it had been through angry fists rather than a batarang. This one hurt more somehow. Maybe because of all the words Bruce threw in between the punches.
The craziest part? Bruce was angry at Jason for killing the Penguin, and the Penguin was still alive. Jason had never intended to kill the Penguin. He’d shot the Penguin with a blank. Bruce hadn’t asked though.
But Jason had deliberately tried to trick people into thinking he was killing the Penguin, so he supposed that one was on him too.
Some time after that he’d been killed by a feral Deadshot while in Task Force Z. That was… yeah. He’d like to say that wasn’t Bruce’s fault, but he was only there at Bruce’s behest for an undercover mission so it kind of was his fault.
His next death was via Bruce again. Bruce had altered Jason’s brain to freak him out in times of stress. Then Bruce had fucked off.
It was supposed to keep Jason in line. Keep him from going out and getting into fights.
Jason had died of a heart attack almost immediately, because of course he had .
Jason was more hazy on if he deserved that one, but apparently it had been Bruce’s self-inflicted alternate personality so maybe he couldn’t count it against Bruce?
Jason had died of a few more heart attacks for the same reason, but he liked to count them all as one visit to Death, since they had the same cause.
Also because he’d lost count around the eighth heart attack.
Shortly after returning from his chain of heart attacks, Jason had died again, flying a jet into a meteorite to save the city. Long story. He’d had a few more heart attacks after that, until the fear gas response was countered with Joker gas. The knowledge that a clown was fixing something his so-called father had done to him was violating, but it had worked.
Then he’d drowned in Gotham Harbour after crashing a flaming blimp full of clown gas into the water. Another long story.
His most recent visit to Death’s realm involved Bruce again, but Bruce had let Jason volunteer this time. Or at least, he had made it seem like Jason was volunteering. Bruce had said he himself was going to be the one to die. It was a sacrificial play, but Bruce said he had a shot of Lazarus fluid to kick himself back to life.
To say that the plan was risky was putting it mildly. And Jason knew that Bruce had gotten him alone and told him instead of anyone else for a reason. Jason knew what Bruce expected Jason to do, and so Jason had done what had been silently asked of him. Jason had known that he was the expendable one. So he’d volunteered to die in Bruce’s place.
Jason had to wonder if Bruce knew about Jason’s visits with Death.
Sometimes he liked to think Bruce did. He liked to think Bruce knew he could be a bit rougher with Jason because Jason would come back. Knew that it was fine for Jason to volunteer to be the sacrifice, because Jason would return even if the shit hit the fan.
But that would mean Bruce had knowingly and willingly murdered him several times, because he’d decided murdering Jason didn’t count.
So sometimes Jason liked to think that Bruce had no idea. That Bruce had never known he’d ever put Jason’s life in danger, much less killed him. That he’d never meant for the batarang to hit Jason’s neck and that he’d never meant to hit Jason so hard that Jason’s brain started bleeding.
But that would mean Bruce had cared so little for Jason that he’d broken his sacred rule out of carelessness, and let Jason volunteer to die because he thought Jason was not good for much else.
Jason wasn’t sure which option was worse, and most days he hated both options.
Or there was the third option. That Bruce had tried to kill him in earnest, repeatedly, and was confounded that he hadn’t succeeded yet.
‘If you think one death is fine if it stops more death, then shouldn’t I kill you? ’ Bruce had demanded shortly before all the brain fuckery. Maybe he’d meant it.
But Jason knew that option couldn’t make sense. Bruce’s mind was certainly twisted, but even he wouldn’t try to break his one rule because Jason had done it first. Even Bruce wouldn’t make someone he claimed as his son the deliberate exception to the rule. That didn’t make any sense.
It didn’t, right?
Of course it didn’t.
Jason would never ask the Bats if they knew about his deaths beyond the first. Most days he’d rather not know what they truly thought of him. Most days he tried not to care what they thought. It was easier not to care. The problem was, Jason had always been bad at not caring.
Bruce would tell Jason he loved him one moment and attempt to permanently alter his brain chemistry the next. He’d tell Jason that Jason shouldn’t kill, even the Joker, and then slit Jason’s throat. Jason had given up expecting any consistency from Bruce.
And yet, Jason couldn’t give up on the idea of Bruce being his father. Because Jason couldn’t forget the good years. The years when Jason had been Robin and he’d never felt so looked after. The years where Jason had truly had a father.
And Jason knew it was his fault that he didn’t have a father anymore. Jason had come back wrong. How could he expect Bruce to still love the monster he had become? He couldn’t even die right anymore.
But some moments Jason tried anyway. He tried so hard to be the son Bruce wanted. Sometimes he almost felt some affection from Bruce. Other times all he felt were Bruce’s fists.
And even if, for a moment, Jason wanted to forget about Bruce completely, he couldn’t. Bruce owned Gotham, and Gotham was Jason’s home. Bruce had power and influence that could get Jason locked up on a whim— something he often threatened to do. Bruce stood between Jason and the other Bats— people Jason had grown close to despite the ups and downs.
Jason couldn’t afford to be on bad terms with Bruce.
But he wasn’t sure how much more of his and Bruce’s bad days he could take before he was worn away entirely.
So Jason had learned to grin and bear Bruce’s presence. To tolerate and appease Bruce where he could. To graciously wave off Bruce’s meaningless apologies. To say whatever Jason needed to about family and forgiveness, not meaning a word. He couldn’t fight with Bruce anymore. He wouldn’t survive if he did, and not only because Bruce might kill him again.
It was the only way to keep his freedom and his sanity.
It was the only way to keep his family, because no one would be choosing Jason over Bruce.
But sometimes it was hard to pretend all the effort was worth it. Times like today, when he hadn’t been invited to pick a room in the new family home.
Bruce was happy to let Jason die for him, to call him his son and say he loved Jason when he needed Jason’s help, but when it came time to be a happy family, Jason wasn’t invited.
And Jason couldn’t blame Bruce for that. Jason had done this to himself. Jason was the one who had bent their relationship until it broke.
So instead of storming over and starting a fight he wouldn’t win, Jason was lying on the floor of his safe house, scrolling through his family’s social media posts about the work they were doing on the new manor. He didn’t know why he was torturing himself like this. He didn’t know why he had to live in a world that revolved around Bruce Wayne. Why couldn’t he be in a world that didn’t?
Jason’s body spasmed and his phone clattered to the floor beside him.
“Shit!” he gasped.
The floor disappeared beneath him as golden light obscured his vision. Then he was falling, but just for a moment, before his back met a new wooden surface.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled as he looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
“An apt sentiment,” a woman said to his left.
“Is that… me?” a man asked from the same direction.
Jason propped himself up on his elbows and took stock of his surroundings. He was in some kind of meeting room, lying on a boardroom table. The only other people in the room were an older woman and a young man. They appeared to be in the middle of a private business meeting.
Jason recognised the people immediately. They were Martha Wayne and Jason Todd. A Martha Wayne who looked at least three decades older than she was when she got shot, and a Jason Todd who looked like he had grown all the way up without the intervention of an untimely death and a Lazurus pit.
“This definitely isn’t my universe,” Jason said blankly.
“What the fuck?” Alternate-Jason asked, his crassness clashing with his neat business attire.
“Language, Jason,” Martha Wayne chided with a fond smile.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Jason eased himself off the boardroom table, keeping Martha Wayne and Alternate-Jason well within his view. He was wearing ratty sweats and had been in his safe house, so he didn’t have a single weapon on him. Hell, he didn’t even have shoes on. Jason really hoped this wasn’t one of those universes where everyone was evil because, if so, he was going to have a rough time.
“Umm, hi,” Jason tried. “Sorry for umm… dropping in unannounced. I err… didn’t mean to.”
“It’s quite alright, dear,” Martha said, seeming remarkably unconcerned about the whole situation. “Are you injured at all?”
“No,” Jason said. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “You mentioned this wasn’t your universe?”
“I… yeah. I think so. You’re extremely dead in my universe.”
Shit, that was probably rude of him to say. Alternate-Jason looked horrified by the idea of Martha being dead, but Martha seemed as unfazed as before.
“Umm, no offence,” Jason tacked on, just in case.
“And you said you didn’t mean to be here?” Martha asked, ignoring his comment about her being dead.
“Yeah. I was in my s— my apartment. Then I was here. No clue why.”
“But you don’t seem terribly alarmed to find yourself in another universe,” Martha said. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Yeah umm… I’m a… Well… Do you have Batman in this universe?”
“Bat-what?” Alternate-Jason asked.
“That’s a no,” Jason said. “What about the Justice League? Heroes? Vigilantes?”
“We have the Justice League and all it entails, yes,” Martha said. “I partially fund it.”
“Right, well, in my universe, I’m a… vigilante of sorts. I work with Batman, the vigilante of Gotham in my universe. This isn’t my first time visiting another universe.”
“I see,” Martha said. “Then you are from one of the universes where my son was the sole survivor of the shooting, rather than me, and grew up to become Batman. You were adopted as a Robin, correct?”
Jason blinked as he saw a spark of Bruce’s intellect in Martha Wayne’s eyes. “Yeah. You know about other universes?”
“As I help fund the Justice League, they send me reports of the missions they have undertaken. We have a hero called the Flash, who frequently travels the multiverse. He has written up several reports detailing the key differences between the universes he has visited. Bruce Wayne becoming Batman and joining the Justice League is common enough to be noteworthy. The various Robins are also common themes. I understand that me being the sole survivor is proportionately unusual within the multiverse.”
Jason nodded. “And your Gotham is alright… without a Batman?”
Alternate-Jason looked like he was wondering if he should be offended by that question.
“I like to think things are going well,” Martha said. “After my husband and son were killed, I dedicated all my time to stopping such events from happening again. I poured billions of dollars into improving Gotham’s infrastructure and reducing corruption, but no matter what I did, Gotham only seemed to be getting worse. After ten years of continuous effort, I realised the lack of improvement just didn’t make sense. I started hiring people who specialise in the more mystical side of things. Sorcerers. Wizards. The works. Turns out Gotham was layered with some very dark curses. I spent five million dollars on a team of curse breakers, and everything started improving from there. It’s not perfect, and the work never truly ends, but it’s certainly better.”
“Huh,” Jason said. “You got a Joker here? A Scarecrow? A Black Mask?”
“I’m not even sure what most of those are.”
“Then yeah, it sounds better than the Gotham in my universe.” Jason looked at Alternate-Jason. “It certainly looks like I lived a better life here. You ever been a homeless kid on the streets of Crime Alley?”
“Crime Alley?” Alternate-Jason asked. “Who would name a place that? I grew up in the Narrows. My parents aren’t exactly rolling in dough, but we’ve never been homeless.”
Jason froze, taking note of Alternate-Jason referring to his parents in the present tense. “Willis and Catherine are still alive here?”
Alternate-Jason’s eyes widened slightly at the question. He nodded, looking grim at the prospect of his parents being gone. This must really be a better Gotham.
“Do you umm…?” Alternate-Jason began tentatively. “Do you want to see our parents?”
Jason flinched.
“They’re your parents,” he choked out. “Not mine. My Willis and Catherine died a long time ago.”
“Yeah, but they’re still a version of your parents right? Don’t you want to see them again?”
“I… No, thank you. I… Just no.”
Alternate-Jason shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer.”
“Wait, so if your parents are still alive,” Jason said, “How do you know Martha Wayne?”
“I don’t know what those two things have to do with each other,” Alternate-Jason said, giving him a funny look, “but I work here, man.”
“Jason is the community outreach coordinator for the Wayne Foundation,” Martha clarified. “He’s one of my most cherished employees.”
Alternate-Jason blushed heavily at the praise.
“O-oh,” Jason managed, feeling oddly choked up by the idea.
This was the kind of job Jason could have had in a better Gotham. It sounded nice.
Now he was trying really hard not to be jealous of Alternate-Jason.
All of sudden, Jason felt like he wanted to leave. He couldn’t stand being here in Better-Gotham with the happy Alternate-Jason working at a respectable civilian job and the surviving Wayne who figured out the best way to help.
Jason wanted to go back to his shitty universe where he wouldn’t be bombarded by the good things he couldn’t have.
Then he was.
One moment he was in the boardroom, and one flash of golden light later he was back in his safe house.
He found his phone on the floor where he’d dropped it.
Jason decided to pretend that whole thing had never happened, and have a nap before patrol instead of thinking about it.