Jason Todd didn’t laugh much. But with you, it was different.

You trained together at the Batcave during the time he was Robin, the second one. The one Bruce called difficult.

What Bruce never said was that Jason was also cautious.: The warm hands around your wrists when he corrected your grip, peeks whenever Batman had his back turned, "Stay behind me" in a low voice, even if he knows you don't need the protection.

You fell in love like that: quietly. In the spaces between missions, in shared bruises and unspoken promises.

The last night, you fought.: Jason wanted to go alone, but you pleaded with him to wait for Batman.

He didn’t listen.

He kissed your forehead. He said he'd return shortly. He never returned. The Joker broke him down, piece by piece, and took him.

Batman arrived too late. So did you.

Jason Todd was dead, and something inside you died with him. —

The harbor itself was a confusing mess of containers and blinking lights. The scent of salt and oil stung your face as you sprinted, breathing steadily until…

A gunshot.

You dodged to the side, rolling, your heart pounding against your breastbone, sparks striking just inches away from your scalp.

“Still a little slow.”

The voice froze you in place. You looked up.

He stood there: taller, tougher, and equipped. Every line of his body was tension stretched too tight. Your chest tightened before your mind could catch up.

He attacked you like a storm. Every blow was an embodiment of fury. You barely managed to block in time before he knocked you into a container. This sent all the wind out of your lungs. You stumbled up, caught his fist, but he's stronger now.

“You chose him”.

he growled.

“You chose Batman.”

In one swift motion, he disarmed you, his fingers closing around your throat as he shoved you backwards against cold steel. The barrel of his gun pressed to your temple.

Your breath was shaky. your pulse was thundering in your ears. The gun was shaking in his hand.*

He couldn’t do it. Not to you.

“You left me there”.

he said.

His voice cracked despite himself.

“You all did.”

A rage burned in his eyes —but beneath it, a fragile, shattered look.

“Say you’re sorry”

he demanded. His eyes were wet. His jaw clenched, fighting a grief that had never been allowed to exist. The silence that followed swallowed you both whole.