[Week 28, Day 5, Dream]
Rain on concrete. Jason breathes in deep, letting the scent curl around him, just filling all of his senses. It’s his favorite scent and it washes everything else, soot, garbage, exhaust, all of it gone, all of it fresh and warm, lingering in his nose, in the back of his throat.
He can feel every raindrop, freezing cold spicules, stinging at his cheeks, dampening his hair until it’s lying heavy against the nape of his neck, dripping down, soaking the collar of his white shirt as it drips past the upturned collar of his jacket.
He realizes with a start that he’s not wearing his mask, and that the jacket he’s wearing isn’t his tactical one; there’s nothing inside it, no weapons hidden on him. He feels so light, and he grins just for a moment, running his fingers through his wet hair, head tipping back, letting the water drip over his bare face.
His hand slips up, and strokes over the old leather of the jacket, turning in a little, pressing his nose against the inside of the collar. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, the dark, musky scent overtaking the scent of rain for a moment.
Bruce.
It’s a simple thought, but there isn’t any anger that comes with it, no frustration, just a simple bit of warmth and he’s calm, and cuddles deeper into the jacket. It just feels safe, the warmth of the thick, heavy leather protecting him from the frigid rain. Right now, it’s okay, but right now all he Jason Todd, not the Red Hood, not anything.
The smile’s still there, a little softer, and he pushes his hands deep into the pockets of the jacket, strolling through the crowd, letting people jostle him. He’s lost in the crowd but that’s okay, he’s anonymous, just a regular citizen, nothing more.
He hums, and peers up at the dirty sky. The thick clouds glow with the sullen light of the city, eerie almost a burnt orange hidden in their dark depths. There are no stars, not even a moon. But it’s a sky that Jason recognizes, a sky he’s grown up with.
His eyes cut to the side and the corners of his mouth tighten and then he just shrugs, letting impulse pull him as he turns down off the crowded street and on to Park Row. It looks the same as it did when he was kid, but it always looks the same, dark, furious, but worn down, all colors muted and washed out, rickety buildings towering over him, blotting out the sky. .
It’s choking down there, and Jason needs space, but that’s easy enough as he just leaps up a fire escape, clambering up the rusting balconies quick and easy the metal cold, wet but solid under his hands, and then he’s up on the rooftop, up to where he can breathe.
The roof top is just as dull and washed out as the rest of the place, which is why he stands out so much. The garish canary yellow of his cape, the tunic red bright as fresh blood. His legs are bare but he doesn’t look cold, and Jason never remembered being cold either. His back is pressed up against the dirty concrete, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on the low wall.
“Hey. Hey mister.”
Jason turns, and his mouth quirks a little. “Yes?”
“Got a cigarette?”
Jason just laughs, but he’s already reaching into his jacket. “Aren’t you a little young for these?”
All he gets is a shrug, and a small hand reaching out. Jason places a single stick and a lighter in the boy’s hand and feels callouses as thick as his own on slender fingers. The boy isn’t shitting him about the cigarettes though; he lights it with an easy practiced movement, inhaling deeply, blowing out a thin silver cloud.
“Thanks.” He hands back the lighter and Jason nods as he takes the lighter back, and reflexively takes a cigarette out as well, lighting up. They’re silent, but it’s companionable, and Jason slides down alongside him, jacket pressed against the filthy wall.
Jason stares down at the boy, and his mouth twists, heart twisting harder. “....Hey, kid. How old are you?”
The boy glances up and then just shrugs, “Fifteen.”
So soon..
But Jason is quiet, silent, though he feels his good mood melting away and he leans back, eyes sliding shut. He flicks his cigarette away, barely smoked, and watches the streak of sparks as it lands, the hissing inaudibly as the drizzling rain extinguishes the light.
He grits his teeth as he stares out the city, his city, and when he closes his eyes it’s still all he can see.
“....He’s going to take you to Sarajevo soon.” Jason whispers, and he can feel the boy next to him jerk in surprise, but Jason ignores it and continues on. “Don’t go. Please, Jason. Don’t go.”
“What?!” Jason’s eyes pop open and he looks down at the boy, and sees the anger there, the stubbornness standing out. “How could I just leave him like that?”
“He has no qualms about leaving us!” Jason snaps out, the anger, frustration and hurt flaring up, hard and hot in his chest. “And he’s going to leave us, and it’s going to be too late. Do you understand Jason?”
The boy looks up,and just shakes his head. His eyes are clear and bright behind his mask, and of all things he grins. The expression shines with a radiant fierce joy, that childish certainty and assurance. “You’re wrong.” He says simply. “I know you’re wrong because he loves me. And he’ll always be there to catch me. No matter what.” And that’s it, and he’s leaping up, lithe and easy, jumping off the edge of the building.
Jason’s reaching out, hand grasping, the words screaming at the tip of his tongue, No, no, he won’t one day he’s going to fail..... But it’s too late and the rippling cheerful yellow is lost in dark.
[Jason jerks awake, his breathing too hard, his eyes low and heavy. He laughs, the sound soft and bitter.]
I don’t even know why I bothered.