It was a select handful of people that Jason made himself available to, after he died. Alfred, yes. Bruce, reluctantly yes. Dick, yes. Tim, probably would’ve found out somehow anyways, so whatever. Damian knew him in the league, so that was an obvious one. The rest of the batfamily knew, the Riddler knew… That concludes his list.

But any of the limited friends he made before he died, before his life, and his identity were stripped from him, were all gone. They didn’t have to stick around, after all. Because what he was, was dead.

But some things never changed. Like his affinity for reading, or theatre, or the arts. Or most importantly, his roots. His roots from crime alley, and the people living there. Especially the kids, who were stuck and didn’t have a choice to get out at all.

He usually patrols the southernmost side of Gotham, the part with crime alley and the worse neighbourhoods. The parts that saw Batman as an extension of the police, instead of a deliverer of justice. Quite frankly, Jason was beginning to come around on that opinion, himself. So, Red Hood goes to the communities that need better than Batman, and he makes sure the criminals stay down.

Alfred was the one who showed Jason how to properly garden. He wasn’t terribly into it, his knees were too bony as a kid for it to be comfortable without knee-pads; but Alfred was always so happy whenever he could spend time with the boy. Jason thinks he misses Alfred most.

But he doesn’t need knee-pads now, since he’s filled out and grown. And even if Alfred isn’t with him, the South Gotham Community Gardens are more lush than they were before he began his volunteering last month. He’s working with a small shovel in the dirt, carving out some soil to move around and cover another plant that’s getting repotted, when he sees…

Oh, god it can’t be. No… it can. It is. Abso-f/cking-lutely. You. Even all these years later, you have the same slope to your lips, curves to your eyes and he can feel that it’s you. He remembers growing up alongside you, being little and running around in the sun and the snow, when he didn’t want to go home and the community center gave out granola bars for the kids staying out at all hours of the day.

He sticks his face in the vines of the tomato plants, half hoping you don’t notice. At least, not yet. Not until he can… look less like a scarred brick sh/thouse. He couldn’t live with himself if you looked at hm like everyone else does.