A boom tube that lasted that long couldn’t have taken him anywhere near earth at all.
This wasn’t Planet Earth.
This was somewhere far, far away.
She limped to Jason’s side, looking at the three suns setting peacefully. It was a beautiful sight. And he would have marveled over it if his heart hadn’t already dropped beneath his feet. She was silent. And tired.
But even as his body told him so, he didn’t feel like resting anytime soon.
WORDS: 10,270 | TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF PAST TRAUMA
“I’ve never met anyone who looks at the sky as much as you do.”
That made him snicker, and not just through a breath out his nose. Jason let out a hearty, soft chuckle from deep in his chest, and it caught more than just her attention.
WORDS: 11,262 | TW: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, DEATH
“Heal him,” she growled again. Anyone who heard her might have also been convinced it was that easy at all, the doctor included. His fingers were trembling when he touched Jason’s frozen head, neck, and chest.
Jason Todd is lost in an unknown realm light years away from Earth.
With not much hope to find his way back, his only companion is a cruel alien cyborg from the enemy fleet, one he’ll have to get along with to survive.
A/N: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S OVER. THIS SERIES TOOK ME THE LONGEST TIME BUT I WAS SO SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS TO EVEN MIND. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING AND I LOVE YOU
WORDS: 18000 WARNINGS:GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MIND CONTROL, BRAINWASH, MEMORY LOSS, NSFW SEXUAL CONTENT
Like the headlights that blind as death holds them to his face, the eyes that stared at him were as cold and empty as any blank red bulb. As they glowered like a sniper’s scope, she was gone. N/N lied through her teeth with her last words. Her humanity detached itself from its already weak ties; her face was as deathly as a gun’s smoking muzzle, ready to place a bullet between the eyes that crossed her.
Or crossed Z’arr. She had no thoughts. She had no feelings of anguish, vengeance, or anger. She was a machine powered by the hands of another, a robotic puppet no different from a remote-controlled toy truck. An android.
“Are you in the mood for a show?” Z’arr asked his men. They cackled in response and one of them clubbed the back of Jason’s head with his pipe of an arm.
All it took was a tap on Z’arr’s wrist, a control display that completely rid his precious N/N of her own mind.
A Kryptonian. And no other.
The machinery that held her arms opened, and before the rest of them could even hear the smoke exhaust, N/N obliterated the glass with her fists and leapt for the weakened Jason.
His back couldn’t possibly have broken that many walls on its own, but N/N held him by the shoulders, pushed without the aid of the wind to fly. With gravity being a feeble force no match for her strength, she threw Jason four rooms down.
Had his heart found its way to his head?
Because it was throbbing like one, like fists rattling a steel cage with an agitated gorilla calling for help.
But the blood had reached his eye sockets. For so long, all he could see was the red that spilled from his hairline; the stinging iron that would not leave his tongue. His back should have been in pieces. Perhaps it was, and that his flesh had the cruelty to hold itself together while none of his bones were intact.
He coughed a mouthful of blood. Around him, cyborgs were fleeing out of the food room. Some stayed, watched as if entertained. Some in horror. It was no different from the nosy crowds back at home.
Something grabbed him by the collar on his back, lifting him up so he hung like he was in the gallows. Jason clawed relentlessly at the static tightening in his neck, then he laid eyes on N/N who held him up like he weighed the same as feathers.
Her cold, red eyes. Nothing terrified him more. And she wanted him to have a slow fall into death’s arms, when he could feel his life being torn from his lungs. Jason reached for her arms, her shoulders. “N/N…”
Nothing. That was no longer her name.
“Please-“
It should have been a bullet that hit his chest, but nothing sliced his skin. Instead, it was her fist-with the might of an elephant’s foot leaving a crater on soil. The back of his head soon met a wall.
The shooting pains in his ribs stretched to every nerve stubborn enough to hold on. Already, N/N was in front of him, her feet not even touching the ground as she flew, then she held Jason by the neck to the wall.
“N/N,” he cried, “please. Please, it’s me…”
One hit to his ribs. Another to his face. The words only seemed to agitate her more. He couldn’t tell what was in his lips-if it was blood, sweat, tears, or all three. His jaw had broken by the third hit.
“Enough talking!” Cyborg voices echoed from outside. “Fight back, earthling!”
His body was skidding across the floor. Each time he rolled over his back, his bones punctured further into his lungs.
“He’s not even hitting back!”
“Is he crying?!”
More blood left his mouth. As his arms struggled to hold him above ground so it wouldn’t further shatter his bones, N/N slammed her foot against his back and for once, his screams were all to be heard. His vocal chords had distorted and he couldn’t even recognize his own cries.
Only once did he have this many bones broken before.
Just once.
That night.
But this time, it was worse. Because what gouged through his throat to rip his soul out was no one he hated. It was N/N. N/N.She was doing this to him.
This wasn’t her. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t her.
With the side of his face cementing itself to the cracking ground, he could move only his eyes. There was a wall in front of him: a wall tainted with his blood.
Still, his heart, granted with too many chances at life, would not easily slip away. His eyes trailed up to his assailant, a beautiful cyborg with the hands that once held him so gently, now watched his face distort as her foot dug further into his spine.
No pain was greater than having both the mind and body shatter all at once.
“Enough.”
A push of a button.
That was all it took.
N/N stopped and stepped away. She was as stiff as an object, a piece of machinery, standing still and upright just as Z’arr approached them from behind.
“What’s another assessment, earthling? It is the test before we’d bother to replace your parts.”
The Martian did not kneel to his side and only looked down on him like he was dead pest on the ground.
“You’re a stubborn one. We can work with that,” he turned to his me. “Take him back to his cell.”
That night, the pain could not lull him to sleep like it tends to. Everything was silent. Everything was deafening.
—–
She shattered all ten of his ribs.
More than that, he was sure. He couldn’t, quite literally, lift even a finger.
His breaths were counted. Even with shards of his own bones puncturing his lungs, he forced himself to breathe. Every time he did, it was like driving a knife further down his chest.
Nothing had ever been so broken within him that he wished death would just waltz in invited, but he wasn’t allowed that. Not this time.
N/N broke him.
N/Ndid this to him.
But it wasn’t her.
But it was her.
Always. She’d always been so capable of being so cruel. How was this any different from how she treated him the first time they met?
If only she were as capable at the Watchtower or at the deserts as she was now, he wouldn’t have died differently than in the pitiful state he was in.
One dose of their magical serum wasn’t enough. They had to come in and inject him twice for anything to work. Apparently, they never had a recruit with as much damage from an assessment as he did.
They never had N/N for a torturer either.
Days after, or perhaps it had only been hours, Jason had healed. The pain was still there, of course. And even when it no longer hurt to breathe, it hurt to still exist, to live.
From within his cell, he could only sit and watch as they did the same atrocities to Roy as they did him. Only less, since he was no Lazarus-enhanced earthling. But he was strong all the same and they deemed him worthy for a few parts. His eyes and arms especially. The better to shoot arrows with, dear.
When they left Roy with the serum snapping his bones back into place, he had the strength to look up to his friend. He should be furious, screaming at him for even having the heart to just sit and watch. Hell, Jason didn’t even have the decency to look away.
But he was just as quiet.
Even he knew Jason was long gone, even with all the wounds healed and fixed. He was shattered and no serum could ever fix that. This test wasn’t to see if their bodies were capable. It was to rid them of their humanity and hope.
He was only sorry he couldn’t save Roy, like all the other times their shenanigans were only saved by the strike of luck. Roy stared at Jason for the whole of the night. He accepted this. They’d accepted death. If only it was the same as dying, it would have been okay.
His Red Hood helmet disturbed the darkness with a beeping red light, as it did when it received a message from its transmitters. He didn’t hold it up to his head, but he at least had the strength to listen.
“JASON. IT’S ME, ORA. WE’RE GONNA GET YOU OUT. YOU AND ROY KEEP YOURSELVES ALIVE UNTIL WE-“
Deleted the message before it even finished. This was delusion at this point.
As if it wasn’t her doing, Jason closed his eyes and let the last lingering memories of N/N and her smile bring him that momentary peace. It lasted the night, almost as if her arms were close around his shoulders.
By the end of it, there were other hands that grabbed him, leading Jason out of his cell. There was no saving him. There was no saving this.
They made the hallways as narrow, cold, and empty as possible as if they purposely wanted their hope to further become ash. They held his arms behind his back, as if it were needed when Jason hadn’t the strength to even speak.
They passed a room where the cyborgs stood eerily still, without the mind to at least twitch.
A cyborg with the face of a beautiful blue-skinned alien was being rid of her arms, replaced with the same as the Brainiac’s androids. Beside her was one who’d already gone too far to be saved, a friend of hers that no longer had a face, but a cold, empty skull he’d seen far too many times. Soon enough, they’ll be supply for Brainiac’s next invasion.
He couldn’t understand the thin cyborg-with the same built as a grasshopper-holding a holographic clipboard. From the looks of Jason’s anatomy projected above the screen, they were replacing a whole lot of him, more than they should. His arms, already so large, looked double its size. The cybernetic replacements for his thighs looked deadly enough to snap three necks at a time. His brain would be completely ripped from his skull and his chest no different from a steel shell of a machine’s engine. His handsome face would be no more, and instead by a faceless plate of metal with two slits for eyes and a mouth nothing more than a dent. It looked exactly like the Red Hood.
His heart: a cold piece of fuel, like the battery of a ship.
His hands, most of all, no longer looked to be of a human’s. In place of fingers, palms that flushed red of his blood, he had blasters out of his wrists; guns like the ones Bruce repeatedly told him not to use. Karma was not just a bitch. She was sadistic, too.
A tank. Of course. They wanted to build him to be a tank. Like N/N.
He all but rolled his eyes.
The room they took him in had a pod where he’d lie down. They strapped the large man to the bed, even when he showed no restraint. Above him was a blinding white light: the last he’d ever see with the eyes he had now.
He always did think he had pretty eyes. Blue. Like the dust clouds of a nebula on the black skies.
Jason closed them, wanting the feel of his fluttering eyelids to last. Then he let the dreams play out: the dreams of home. The visions were peaceful, gentle.
He thought those visions would stop when they’d drill a screw into his skull.
But it stopped when no other than a sudden flash of fire that scorched the room in black, dispersing ash. Then there were the shrieks of frantic pigs, or the horrified cries of birds.
His eyes shot open when the fire hit too close to his face. Once more, his blood was pumping like it only took then for anything to wake him. He struggled with the shackles but couldn’t move. The fire killed more of his captors. The only one who lived was the grasshopper who put up no fight and instead, curled at the corners of the room begging Ora to spare him.
She did, thankfully. Ora shed her disguise as one of Jason’s guards and sighed as her mohawk almost touched the ceiling. “We don’t have much time,” she said, already throwing Jason his helmet and weapons. “We’ll get you out of here.”
Was this that very delusion?
Should he take it?
The Fleet did an awful good job making sure there was none of that, even when hope was being served on a shiny platter with a bib around his neck.
Ora tore the shackles apart. “Come on-“
“Are you sure?” Jason asked. If it were any other case, they’d already be out the door. This was the days of mental torture talking. “We can’t get out of this-“
“Aya has Roy. A ship is waiting for us. Let’s go-“
“Why are you helping me?”
Ora shook him by the shoulders.
“N/N made me promise. That enough of a reason for you?”
N/N.
N/N.
No prison cell could keep her down.
Or at least, stop her from saving Jason one last time.
Ora didn’t wait for Jason to object. She sped out the door, shooting fire out of her hands at anything that moved. The alarm blared through every speaker in the Station, and already, he could hear the many cyborgs coming in from the ceiling, the corners, even the floor.
“Ora,” Jason pleaded when his legs grew too weak, “N/N is too strong-“
“I know you’re afraid of her,” Ora held Jason by the waist, “we all are. There’s no one in this ship with half her strength.”
“I wasn’t going to say I was afraid, but that was reassuring.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t have to run into her.”
When her fire could no longer melt the steel, they ran by foot out of the food room for the hangars. The walls suddenly broke down at the might of a Mace of the strongest metal.
Aya shielded herself from the flying debris with her gigantic metal wings. At her side, strapped like a babe, was Roy shooting arrows at incoming cyborgs they didn’t even see.
He raised a hand to Jason like a salute. Then Jason grabbed his guns from his hips.
Roy jumped to his side and they paved their dangerous ways into the rubble. Soon enough, the ruckus would reach the Captain and they couldn’t afford to allow them the time. Aya grabbed them both by the collars, Ora used her fire to free their path, and Jason and Roy shot at anything that even moved. The androids for Brainiac, the cyborgs that looked still too similar to him, all crowded to stop them.
But they reached the hangar, thankfully, after breaking down several walls. The ship couldn’t possibly have lasted, and the floor quaking beneath them only sealed that. Finally, as if a rush of air was there to greet them, they reached the main deck where the plasma ceilings distorted the vast, open skies; the stars singing their misses for Jason as he realized it’d been days since he last saw them.
Ora started for a ship that would have immediately left the terminal. It was then. Hope. As easily as it’d left him, his soul rushed to every ends of his body until there could only be that haste to save themselves.
That ship, however, did not even get to say its finalities. Hope had a little setback as everyone with a sense stood stiff in helpless fear.
N/N shot from the sky, or wherever she came from, with her red, unblinking eyes much like the burn of a star. Her feet landed on the ship itself and it posed no fight nor chance against her weight. The whole ship broke down beneath her; not even with a dent or a crater. It exploded like a canon shot through the whole of it until it was nothing but ash and flying debris, fire catching like a warm, dramatic welcome.
N/N,the Cyborg, grabbed what was left of the ship and tossed it until it drifted out into the vacuum. Like waves parting for a terrifying deity, the fire subsided and the other cyborgs, a whole army of them, stood at the side.
Earthlings stood no chance. That wasn’t a question.
Tamaranians and Thanagarians could. They were strong by themselves.
But against a Kryptonian?
Perhaps not even the Justice League could easily get out of this, like they hadn’t when the whole team went against Clark.
Silence.
Like death in space.
Like the stars that made no sound.
Or the hovering asteroids that wouldn’t whisper even as it collided with its own brethren.
Ora shot what she could out of her palms. But the flames were subtle. Scared.She was so terrified of her own friend, she couldn’t even hold the sweat from extinguishing her own flames.
Aya was no different. Perhaps out of everyone, she feared N/N the most. The largest, most capable being out of the ones on his side, the mace on her hand was shaking like something quaked her.
Jason and Roy. The supposed helpless earthlings. They should be afraid. For what was left out of their lives, they should at least anticipate what would come.
The glowing red eyes had set them as targets. N/N stood unmoving, arms stretched and ready to pounce like a waiting lioness. Her feet looked unshaken even with the ground beyond repairs beneath her.
Help her. Save her.
The voice that echoed, he hoped to ignore.
At Z’arr’s unspoken command, N/N tore through the winds like a bullet shot out of a large gun.
He wasn’t spared the warning of at least having seenher move. The next thing he knew, Jason was pinned to the wall several yards away. His back tore a crater once again, but the pain thankfully didn’t have to last. As he stared at N/N’s eyes, bright enough that it hurt to look, there was nothing but blankness. Not N/N. M-812
Aya’s mace reverberated through the whole part of the ship. The impact was so large, so loud, the clang of metal sounded the same as a ship crashing on cold grounds. To the side of her head, finally, something was strong enough to throw N/N off her stance.
Then her aim was set on Aya, a grit showing that it at least hurt. N/N and Aya pounced at each other like two panthers at a brawl from opposite ends of the ship. No wind stood a chance in their way.
Jason fell but he didn’t wait for the rest to come for him. Not with the cyborgs and half-done androids coming for them. Ignoring everything in him that shattered, he shot at anyone and anything, hiding behind a large cart that’d been thrown to its side.
Roy was at the other side of the hangar, shooting at the bots that flew over his head. Some of the arrows struck just the right place for it to come crashing to the floor. The others that missed, he sadly could no longer retrieve when it escaped out of the plasma walls and out drifting into space.
He could last like this. He could survive the thousands of cyborgs. With a blaster or two and a best friend who stuck to his side, they could last.
But what happened above them was infinitely more interesting.
Aya’s wings shot her miles above the plasma threshold. Holding her throat, N/N did not scream. The wings that flapped like a hawk caught in a storm blurred what they could make out of the scene. The shards where the feathers should have been were terrifying. They pounced for N/N’s skin, but none could pierce it. Aya flew them both further to the sky as N/N thrashed in her hold. When Aya threw her off, immediately she clubbed her with the mace to her head before N/N could recover.
Unfortunately, it was all she could manage. Aya couldn’t keep up with N/N as she narrowly drifted and swerved away from the mace.
Aya was too slow. When she lunged herself forward, N/N threw herself to grab the Thanagarian by the shoulders, squeezing until the metal crushed beneath her fingers. Then she spun, fast enough for a whirlwind to appear even in a vacuum. Aya was thrown back to the ship with an impact that engulfed a part of it in flames.
Ora had only just held off an army of androids from her tail when she looked up, knowing she was the next target.
Up.
Up.
N/N.
She hovered like a star and shone like one.
Like the Kryptonians Jason knew before her, she was flying over the ship. To no force that could pull her to the grounds. To no wind that could stand in her way; like a deity, like a god who saved, only she wasn’t. She floated above their heads, fixating her aim on Ora.
Ora thrusted herself up like a rocket. A blast was enough to hold her off, for a while, but N/N escaped the dark flames unscathed without even her skin twitching from the burn. The red from her eyes shone through the ash and she soar from yards up the ground like a failing comet, a light trailing behind her as she dove, and grabbed Ora by the throat.
They disappeared beneath the ship’s deck, destroyed as they shot down stories below and obliterating everything in their way. Past the floors, breaking at each impact of Ora’s back; the hole on the ground was enough to quake the whole ship, and for how large it was underneath, it took minutes long before they exploded out of the hull below.
Somehow, Ora lived through that. She was fleeing back up to the heights above the Station, even with it slow to collapse possibly into two halved pieces. Her shots of fire did no damage and her punches couldn’t make even a dent.
When N/N threw her miles from where they hovered, Ora propelled herself with powerful thrusters bursting past the lack of light. And with that built strength and speed, she pushed N/N off her steady hover until her back ultimately met with Aya’s mace.
The Earthlings on the hangar, surviving with whatever thread of a life they could helplessly hold onto, would soon run out of ammo and arrows. Thankfully, they’d put up a fight against the relatively weakercyborgs. If Jason had the sense to be sarcastic, he’d joke about being the baby. When Roy rushed to his side of the cart to hide with him, however, he beat him to that.
“How does it feel not being the big guns for once?” Roy screamed.
“It’s a fucking treat!”
The battle above to the stars and the one below it was the kind of chaos that shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did.
When N/N had her attention set on Aya, she flew them away from the ship to the stars none of them could see.
Then Ora fell to their side, shielding Jason and Roy before the cart that protected them lost its stretch of life. They rose from their place on the ground.
“The lower decks!” Ora cried through the screams. “Get the Mother Box!”
“What?!”
Ora overheated an android just before it would have come for Jason.
“The Mother Box! He can save N/N!”
She didn’t need to say more.
Jason and Roy might as well have held hands when they paved their way through the unforgiving crowd of debris, laser blasts, and even limbs thrown to their direction. He shot his blaster, praying the ammo wouldn’t die until they’d reached inside the ship, and Roy used the last of his arrows and even picked up stray rods from the ground to shoot at the cyborgs.
Through the hole N/N made on the main deck, Roy stuck an arrow to the floor, fashioned a rope to its end as quick as a boy scout tying a knot, and they suspended themselves down to the collapsing floors and slabs that was almost falling out of their beams. Just before someone cut the ropes, they fell to the lower deck and they rolled to extinguish the fire on their clothes.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“Just run!”
More tailed them. Some flew. Some crawled like insects. One thing was for sure: too many of them were after a couple of earthlings supposedly posing as no threat. They blindly shot behind them, but as they reached a hallway that curved corners like a maze, not a lot of them could keep up.
When one android grabbed Jason by the foot, Roy had blown up its head with an arrow that short circuited its brain, frying the rest of its body until it was limp on the floor. Another jumped for Roy, and with Jason being larger, he kneed the cyborg to the stomach, shot its head with a blast between the eyes.
A large door at the farthest end of the hallway; probably meant to hold a prized prisoner.
As he should be.
And it was open. Someone was inside.
The incoming mob was growing. Only instead of actual pitchforks being thrown their way, their hands morphed into steel shards like the ends of a knife and they pounced for the earthlings’ flesh. “Hide!” Roy screamed, and they rushed behind the door, bolted it shut before a hand would have grabbed their throats.
Jason didn’t know if locking the door would be any help without thinking of how the fuck they were going to get out of that place.
But it was the least of their worries when the silence overcame the conundrum. Jason tapped on Roy’s shoulder to calm him. He was not calm. None of them should be calm. But they were quiet, unlike their beating hearts.
Captain Z’arr hovered like a ghost. His face, sharp as if his chin could cut steel, was as unmoving as his glare on them. His eyes were red, but they didn’t glow like lights. They were blank and dark. And in his hand, the damned scepter with a shred of Kryptonite encased near the tip.
Roy drew an arrow from his quiver, only having so much left behind, before Jason held out an arm to stop him.
Behind Z’arr was the very answer to this discourse: the bright, blinding beacon that so suddenly filled Jason with the needed hope.
It was all so tragic.Of course, the Fleet of cyborgs would want him. A Cyborg that could change bank numbers at just a thought, who had a connection to every artificial intelligence or anything with a circuit board in the universe.
Whose physical strength was just the tip, the verytip, of what he could do.
Perhaps the King of all Cyborgs.
Victor Stone had grown thin and worn. Whatever horrors they’d put him through, months after he was last seen, it’d taken its horrific toll. He posed a fight, that was certain, but he was alive. He was intact.
He was asleep, stuck to the wall with his arms outstretched like the Vitruvian Man.
Had they rid him of his humanity? Of his mind? Had they already done their damage enough that saving him would only risk the whole universe?
His face, bruised from unspeakable horrors, did not answer. But it moved as if to take a breath. Cyborgs didn’t have to breathe if they weren’t programmed to.
They could save him still.
Z’arr hovered to them, and the wall stopped Roy and Jason from backing up any further.
“We might be pretty fucking useless out there,” Jason gulped, “but I wouldn’t underestimate us against you.”
The Martian did not laugh. “I would not underestimate me either, earthling,” he grinned. “You might know of my kind-“
“Yourkind, who you were supposed to fight with for your own planet,” he shot at him.
Z’arr took no liking to his knowledge of his history. “Watch your tongue.”
“Or what?”
“Iam the Captain of this Fleet-“
“And you are a weakling who sucks up to superiors by sacrificing his own men. And you’ve done it twice.”
Z’arr shot a shard of metal he got from God knows where at their direction, and it bounced off the steel door before Roy and Jason separated.
“You do not know of what you speak-“
“I know exactly what I speak.”
Roy, at the other side of the cell’s holding, hid behind the crates and desks while Z’arr shot another slab of metal at Jason.
“You betray the Green Martians,” Jason shot with his blaster, “and now you betray the Fleet-“
Z’arr flew to where he thought Jason hid, but the asshole somehow made it to the ceiling, and he jumped for Z’arr with a knife to his shoulder. Z’arr shrieked before he pried it out, but Jason already hid somewhere he couldn’t see.
“First the White Martians, now Brainiac? Is you being a suck up ever going to stop?”
“Enough!”
Z’arr swung his Kryptonite scepter at Jason as if the rock had any effect on him.
“Face it. You’re no Captain.”
Blasters shot for Z’arr’s shoulder. His ear-piercing shriek almost threw him off.
“Iamthe Captain.”
“A Captain leads his army to war,” Jason said, “All you do is throw your loyalty around because you can’t protect yourself, even at the cost of your own men.” Another knife thrown at Z’arr’s shoulder. This was too easy. “You’re the biggest coward in the galaxy, Z’arr.”
That surely set him off.
The Martian cried but no longer to fight the pain. None of the crates could hold him, and as Jason managed to lift one over his shoulders, throwing it at Z’arr’s direction, it merely passed through his body as if he were made of air. Right. Martian. Almost forgot they could do that.
Z’arr grabbed him by the shoulders, pinned Jason’s body to the wall just at Victor’s side. His punches were strong, though none he hasn’t already seen. Jason grabbed his fists, twisted it enough to make him lose his hold. He struggled. He shook. It was enough.
“You are of no worth, a brat owned by that annoyance of an earthling, the Batman,” Z’arr growled, “do not underestimate me.”
“I think I overestimatedyou.”
“Have you always been this much talk, you insect?” his static voice eerily crept to his ear. When Jason grabbed him by the throat, he snarled back.
“My guy, that’s the point.”
Z’arr looked at him quizzically amidst their struggle for power.
“You know what the Batman taught me?” Jason grinned, “Keep your enemies talking.”
The realization hit him like a brick.
Roy had unknowingly placed bombs all over the walls and crates that scattered around Z’arr. All it took was for Jason to kick him to the ground, brace for cover, then Roy shot at the trigger. At the slightest impact of the arrow’s tip to a bomb that wasn’t even an inch in size, the whole side of the wall exploded into bursting flames: the one thing Z’arr could not stand.
He disappeared into the cloud of smoke and the flares too bright for them to see through. Maybe he perished, burnt to a crisp. It sounded that way when his shrieks were as painful to hear as a knife being driven into their drums. When the explosion subsided and the room was covered in debris, their first instinct was to rush to Victor.
“You alright?” Jason asked Roy.
“I’m fine. How do we wake him up?”
Any wrong touch could be lethal to Victor.
What they did to the holding cell, however, didn’t afford them the chance to find out. There was a lever, much like the throttle for a ship, that was pushed way up on the control panel. The rest of it were buttons he no longer understood. That red lever looked to be the obvious answer.
Without warning, Jason pulled that lever down.
The tubes that held Vic to the wall exhausted open, with month-old smoke spewing out of the many cracks. Only a tube that clawed itself to the back of his head held onto Vic. He fell to the ground, the rest of him thankfully unhurt, but he was cold and unconscious.
“Come on, Vic, wake up.”
“We got company.”
The door burst open at last with a whole mob coming for them. “Cover us,” he told Roy.
The tube to his head. That was what reprogrammed N/N.
But Vic was a Mother Box. They couldn’t have possibly reprogrammed him so easily.
It was a stretch that could go horribly wrong, and none would forgive him even himself. But there wasn’t the time, and the rest of the cyborg army was getting too much for the archer to handle.
With his bare hands, Jason pried the tube from Vic’s skull, its claw shooting sparks when it finally detached.
Vic gasped for breath like he’d been held to the ocean for months, the air to his lungs bringing color back to his skin which had grown so noticeably lifeless.
Shit.
Shit.
Vic shot up to his feet and threw Jason to the wall. Roy ran for cover.
It wasn’t Vic. It was his armor’s defense system.
The mob of cyborgs stood stiff at the sight of the Mother Box. Mindlessly, Vic’s first instinct was to fire at anything that posed a threat.
As long as they didn’t move, they’d be fine. “Roy, hide!”
They took cover behind the crates. All he could see was this blinding beacon out of Vic’s machine arm that tore through every shape of matter that stood its way. Some escaped, leaped from its way before the shot would have completely burnt their bodies to ash. Vic did not stop until none of the mob was left behind.
When it subsided into smoke, there was silence.
Jason and Roy peaked from over the crates and Vic had fallen to the floor, grabbing his head. “Vic-“
Victor aimed his arm at them, instinctively anxious. They raised their hands to surrender and with a voice the friendliest it could be, something Vic could recognize, Jason hummed.
“It’s us. Jason. Roy Harper. You know us.”
“Stay away-“
“Jason Todd.” He tried reaching out but Vic only kept with his aim.
“It’s us. You’re Victor Stone.”
Another throb in his head threw him off his stance. Vic fell forward, clawing at his skull like it was gnawing at his bones. His screams were as low as whispers, but spoke the same pain. When Jason rushed to grab him by the shoulders, Vic no longer threw him away.
“It’s us. We’re here to help. Please, Victor.”
When Jason held his head, as if it were any help to ease him, Vic met his eyes.
“Jason. It’s me. Jason.”
His eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. They spoke to Victor when they had him in their hold. Perhaps it was a reminder of the oceanic blue of Earth, or the homely gaze of welcoming arms.
“J-Jason?”
“Yes.”
He hugged Victor. He never hugged him before. But it was the first of what he needed.
“Jason…”
“What did they do to you, Vic?”
“I-I was…” he choked, perhaps still contemplating if he spoke at all, “t-they took me, did all these tests…”
“Do you remember anything?”
“I remember everything.”
When his voice dipped into that recognizable depth, he knew it won’t be long before they had their friend back
“We need your help.”
“Jason, we have to go,” Roy said when he looked out of what was left of the door. Jason reached for Vic’s arm. “I can walk,” he insisted, pulling himself on his feet.
“I hope you can do more than that, pal.”
When Roy and Vic headed out the door, Jason set his eyes on the Kryptonite scepter left unmoving amid the debris.
And every voice of reason begged him to take it, if their lives meant anything to him at all.
If they meant more to him than N/N.
But it wasn’t N/N anymore.
That thing could kill her.
She’d never forgive him.
He’ll never forgive himself.
They didn’t need it. They had Vic.
But Vic was no Kryptonian.
He couldn’t face N/N alone and win. No one can.
And a voice, the only one he both wished to hear and begged to forget, was echoing into the walls in his head, with the ringing that deafened him and the trembling grounds that pushed him.
Bruce.
Only Bruce had ever singlehandedly faced a Kryptonian and won.
A powerless earthling.
And all that plagued his mind was just that.
How did Bruce do it?
He didn’t have to be Bruce. Not just yet.
But the part of him that wasBruce, a product of fighting years of desperately trying not to be, grabbed the scepter and strapped it to his back.
It at least didn’t take too long for them to rush back out to the halls, past the corridors they’d blown up and the remains of fallen cyborgs left on the ground. Cyborg grabbed them both with his arms and flew them up to the surface.
They suddenly wished they hadn’t.
There was too much blood, the engineered blue that spilled on the floor, for anyone to have survived.
Aya laid close to lifelessness in the midst of the fiery debris, without a muscle twitching or moving her mace away from being horribly stretched behind her back. A crate weighed on top of her so she couldn’t heal or even move.
Ora’s screams were horrific before they were finally silenced. Where she laid: a crater the size of a meteorite’s impact on hard soil. Her own flames burnt her, with her arms pinned to the sides of her body and a steel slab that hugged her like a python. Only N/N’s hands could have possibly molded the steel to bend that way.
They should have cowered away like any sane man would, but they only took a step back when N/N slammed herself on the ship’s deck once again.
Her red eyes fixed on them, and her head tilted as if it was curious.
On Vic, of course. Her sensors were probably going nuts at the sight of the Mother Box.
Vic’s defense system was quick to act. When his arm molded into an impressive blaster the size of a tank’s machine gun, the beams that shot out of him were enough to throw N/N across the hangar. She crashed to the wall.
And even when it barely made a dent on her skin, it was enough for her systems to react.
N/N flew like a bullet aiming for Victor’s head. The beams, at least, had the sense to keep shooting quick enough before she would have crashed him. N/N came to a screeching halt, swerved before the blast hit her. And when she was all but hovering over them to avoid every blast that came her way.
But the blasts couldn’t hold N/N for too long. She pounced at Vic like a speeding hawk and grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him across the metal grounds to scrape it with his body until a long trail marked the main deck. She threw Cyborg for the plasma walls possibly knowing he couldn’t breathe in space.
But he saved himself with his thrusters just before his head crossed the threshold. Vic flew back on safer grounds, firing his beams to keep N/N at bay.
Vic had no chance of getting close enough to N/N’s head, rid her of Z’arr’s control without possibly dying himself.
Perhaps Ora was in that same delusion that N/N still could be saved.
How do you save someone when she was that very thing they were fighting against?
She was a weapon, built to go after anything that posed a threat.
Jason held the scepter, gripped on it tight until his fingers were worn, then he shot the last of his blasters at N/N’s head. It only bounced against her skin, but it caught her attention.
When she set her eyes, her sensors,on Jason, the blank look on her face was much like a recalibrating machine.
With this plan of his, or the lack of it at least, he had to remember this wasn’t N/Nhe faced.
The Kryptonian Cyborg eyed the scepter and he could have sworn he heard a hiss out of her lips. The first instinct of any programmed machine was to destroy the biggest threat in its way.
What bigger threat was there, other than the only piece of matter in the galaxies that could ever pierce a Kryptonian’s flesh?
Her head turned for a crate. Quickly, N/N flew for one and grabbed it over her shoulders, tossing it at Jason’s direction before he could even move to avoid it. He couldn’t, and it shattered above him. He lost his grip on the scepter and when the crate broke, N/N grabbed for his throat and flew Jason to the closest wall to pin him against it.
She could not touch that scepter if she didn’t want the Kryptonite to burn her. She could only kill the one that held it.
She flew them far away from the Kryptonite before it could possibly weaken her, and her hand no longer felt the throb of blood beating through her veins. Like a steel rod was being pushed to his throat, it shouldn’t have been long before his neck breaks like shards of glass against a boot.
But he wasn’t dead just yet.
That second was all that mattered.
This.
This time, he had to fight back.
He was Jason Todd.
He died.
He lived again.
And if there was one thing not a lot of people knew,
It was how this was not the first time he ever broke a Kryptonian’s hold.
No earthling should have done it. Hell, he could feel every eye on him twitch, staring widely at the scene so unbelievably true.
His hands were shaking.
But they pried N/N’s indestructiblehands from being wrapped around his throat, and as the air shot back up to his head, he only grew stronger. It was quick, a flash one would have missed in a blink.
Jason pushed himself off N/N’s grip and ducked before her fist landed on the wall.
It shouldn’t have happened.
But it happened.
Jason was back on his feet. A voice called out from afar. Roy.
His friend tossed him the scepter.
N/N’s face couldn’t physically distort to look mortified, but she no longer pounced so easily. Not when Jason had the scepter.
With that little shred of Kryptonite, he could end this.
He could end her.
She would have wanted him to.
How did Bruce do it?
How did Bruce defeat Clark all those years ago?
With his undying wit, the immovable willpower to subdue his loved ones when needed, and a pound of Kryptonite.
N/N was gritting. She couldn’t feelanything, but even then, she looked furious.
But when she jumped for Jason, all it took was a swing of his scepter and already, she was thrown yards across the ground.
Jason held it close enough until she was crawling, shielding her eyes from the Kryptonite’s glow.
He had to be Bruce this time.
Of all times, it had to be now.
Now. To N/N.
This was not the N/N he survived with, kissed, held, and made love to. This was a thoughtless android who’d kill him at any moment’s hesitation. It was no different from their first brawls. ThatN/N, he needed to subdue. He could do it now. Suppress everything else that happened after.
Tears drenched his face. Was this how it was supposed to end?
Any contact with the rock was lethal. If she doesn’t live through this-
Do it, Jason, Bruce screamed.
“I’m sorry…”
The scepter stabbed N/N by the shoulder. Only then, even when her mind couldn’t possibly have allowed her to feel pain, her screams were the deafening cries of help he wanted desperately to come aid. But he was there to cause it, to draw more of it. The Kryptonite glowed until the light couldn’t allow them to see through their own cries, and when he couldn’t shield it with his arms, Jason lifted the scepter up, lifting N/N along with it impaling deeper into her arm.
She grabbed its hilt, her stubborn, willful spirit still there despite the reprogramming that shouldn’t have allowed her the thought. And when she caught Jason’s tear-flooded eyes, fighting through her screams, he knew there was no going back.
Even when she loses, she does not accept defeat.
So there was a trace of her left after all. Only N/N would have used the last stretch of her strength to spit at her killer’s face.
With wide eyes, Jason saw the end of him. N/N blew onto the scepter and a deathly crawl of icy frost formed where her breath blew like a storm’s wind.
And he couldn’t move fast enough before her freeze breath reached Jason’s hand.
Screaming at the ice that tore through his flesh, N/N crushed the scepter’s staff with the last of her strength, and a string of destruction crept to where he could no longer move. Just as she did, only then did Vic finally get close enough to her, his hand like a claw as it sunk deep into N/N’s skull.
Jason couldn’t feel a thing. Not at first. The ice was enough to subdue the pain.
But once he laid eyes on his frozen hand that’d shattered into pieces, torn from his wrist like it was so easily detached, all the excruciating pain surged in an instant’s wave.
But he couldn’t fall out of consciousness, not when everything was screaming at him like this.
With his hand gone, the pain felt eternal.
Like the stars burned beneath his skin. There was no finger for him to reach the sky with. Nothing he could writhe and shake to show just how terrified he was. He looked up, at the unending stars splattered like paint. How he used to watch them like a marvel. Now, they faced him in death.
Turning to his side, he was so suddenly drawn to N/N’s screams that echoed out into the chasms.
She was on her knees, crying both from the Kryptonite still lodged into her flesh and Vic’s claw on her skull, rewiring her brain once more. It was belittling, going against everything she’d fought relentlessly against for years. She wanted so badly to have a mind of her own, and she couldn’t even have that.
This had to happen.
Vic held on for the most of it. When it was done, when the light out of her eyes finally was rid of the blank red so at loss of life, her screams came to a halt. Vic released the claw from her head and she fell limp on the ground.
Someone so strong never looked so helpless. So innocent. Not a trace of fury etched on her face.
Even when he just had his whole hand frozen off, and his blood pooling all over the ground, Jason was already crawling to her body. His tears were never so painful to sting his eyes. His good hand reached for her, helplessly. He could barely sit upright, but that was what he did.
Jason crawled to her side with his whole body like hauling a sack. Crying her name in a whisper only he could hear, his pleas were inaudible. Her name, repeatedly out of his lips, was like a prayer. Roy held Victor off from rushing to help Jason. No one can help him.
His senses slowly came rushing. Or what was left of them, at least.
Jason dug through her flesh with his fingers, crying at the obvious pain that would have caused her and the lack of screams, the lack of color on her beautiful lips. He grabbed the shards of Kryptonite that had dug itself deep into her shoulder and he tossed every trace of it far away, past the plasma walls so they may be lost into space.
Every trace of it. Every rock.
When it slowly started to heal, his breaths slowed. His whole body wanted to just fall. Jason held her face, his tears falling onto N/N’s bloodstained cheeks. The loss of blood out of his hand would soon take its toll. As it long should have.
Jason pressed his forehead on N/N’s, begging that she wake. “Please… Please… N/N… Don’t die on me, Tiger…”
Roy kicked the last of the Kryptonite far off into space.
Then her beautiful, soft lips flushed a faint red.
Her cheeks rose with color. And her chest rose as her lungs filled.
When her eyes opened, no longer did a cruel gaze of red light stare back at him.
It was her. Hereyes.
And they stared at Jason like she’d seen the first of a star’s shine. With it, a trace of confusion. Reprogramming rids her of her memories.
She didn’t know who he was anymore.
But she was alive. She was N/N.
The blood loss didn’t allow him the time to revel. Everything had grown dark before he could speak.
—–
The man that held her fell to the floor before she could say anything.
His hand was gone, soiling the metal grounds with his blood. A red-haired earthling rushed to him at the instant, and the many cyborgs that circled them watched her stand as if she was an unfolding scene to witness. And it was.
Thousands of heartbeats surrounded her. She could hear everything. Seeeverything. And every single heart was frantic at the sight of her like they were afraid. They twitched when she moved and their hearts sped faster.
Her fists tightened, ready to pounce at any wrong slight of hand.
There was a cyborg, one that looked different from the rest, that spoke to her through voices that echoed only in her mind. His skin was dark, with half a face left of what used to be his flesh. An earthling, or he used to be one. His voice, only she could hear, was soothing.
Curiously, N/N took a step to the cyborg.
‘We are not the enemy,’ he whispered to her.
She was right to be skeptical.
But his heartbeat was steady. He had one, beneath all the steel. There was no trace of a lie. Like flashing scenes that took its time to gradually come to her senses, he helped her remember.
There was a bright yellow sun.
Tears. There were tears that seeped out of her. Until there wasn’t.
Everything was red. It was all she could see.
Then there was a man, a cruel man with a cruel mind she could read. That very mind was what spoke to her. A man with green skin, red eyes. And for a while, his was the only voice she could hear.
And it told her to do so much she didn’t want to do. The first order he gave was to take the life of the earthling on the ground, then of the other cyborgs like her, of everything that was a threat to him.
‘He is the enemy,’ the cyborg spoke again. ‘He tortured me, too.’
Torture.
It only lasted days-the resurfacing memories only a handful.
But she could tell there was more to it.
She looked down and the floor faded from sight. Everything was transparent, like the hearts beneath the steel. Her x-ray vision saw past the many layers down to the ship’s hull, searching for that one, frantic heartbeat of a coward running for his life.
When she caught that very heartbeat, she shot herself into the ground, breaking through those borders like a blast out of a gun. Everything broke to her touch, fragile to hold; nothing was comparable to her might.
There.The heartbeat. A coward’s heartbeat hoping none could see him. He was rushing for a ship. Not this time.
Every wall in her way broke against her fist. With speeds blurring the matter that couldn’t keep up with her sight, she tore through the ship’s innards until she reached the secret hangar.
And the man, the Captain, was hiding by the crates, shaking like a lone pup. He posed no fight even with him thrashing like a child in her hold, when she grabbed him by his cloak’s collar to fly them both miles away from the Station.
Where no eyes could see, where only the twinkling lights from faraway stars could witness her doing, she floated into the airless chasm and looked to the skies for the nearest fiery sun.
The Captain figured what she was doing long after she’d flown them another few million miles for a star, a shining yellow with dangerous flares reaching for this man’s skin to burn it. He pleaded, but no sound could come out of his mouth, not when they were here.
She could only remember so much.
But his eyes were as dark as they were desperate.
They told stories; his voice was the same that’d ordered her mind as if it weren’t her own. They told of years, decades, centuriesof torment over people like her. They no longer could hide themselves. The truth wanted to come out by itself.
They told of cruelty.
That was enough of a reason.
He mouthed his pleas to her, gasping for breath when she held him by the neck.
The coward was as good as dead, floating into deep space so helplessly. But he looked into hereyes, and his only bore fear. As if the Martian Captain always knew he’d be staring at them when he dies.
Powerful, blinding beams of red light shot out of her eyes the same as the flaring blasts of the star. It burned the Captain’s flesh that withered away into ash, and the force pushed and threw him into the star’s even more scorching flames. Her heat vision did not stop until his body was no longer to be seen, when it was long lost into the star’s burning core, and the last of his life was nothing more than drifting ash.
There was so much hate, her own cruelties. She woke up and already, the blackness in her soul was the first of the slow-moving thoughts; so much fury she couldn’t even remember. Her eyes had grown dark, even against such a blinding sun.
The beams out of her eyes finally came to a slow halt.
Then there was a second of peace.
Peace.
With the stars and clouds, the flares that colored the black plane of unending space and hummed a song. No star, even with such a fiery core, could hold that much quietness. It went against everything in her heart that screamed from behind the metal bars of a cage.
How could she remember what they were, even when she had no memory of seeing one before?
She was drifting, floating. The stars had no end no matter where she faced and turned her head. It was a garden, limitless. Some stretched their arms to reach for their brothers, light rays of all colors. Some were clustered in clouds in the deepest shades of lavender petals. Some had drifted from the crowds like they wanted their light to show for themselves.
They called for her to calm, whispering for her heart to slow and her thoughts to rest from such a race.
Then she was tired.
Even with such strength, she fell limp.
Then her eyes were too heavy.
So she closed them, listened to the star’s humming of the song only they knew the melody of. Sometimes, when they wanted to, she heard a note play out like they sung. Everything was quiet and black. She didn’t feel the pair of arms that took her away.
—–
It didn’t take much to wake him.
Perhaps it had been days of staring at the shadows beneath his eyelids, counting the hours of the overhead bulbs coming to a dim. He didn’t count them literally. He just knew it’d been a while. The voices changed, too. And the feel of hands that often turned his arm around.
It started when the shadows burned red, the way it did when closed eyes looked up at fluorescents. Then came the feeling of his toes and fingers that wriggled and twitched, his lips that chapped, his chest that hurt after every breath.
Finally, when breathing wasn’t too much of a pain, Jason opened his eyes.
On top of his bedside, his Red Hood helmet watched him wake.
The quietness was eerie. Somehow his head made up an ever-playing note from a key he didn’t know where from. The infirmary was a busy room, but that time, no one had anything to speak of. Not even his friend, Roy, asleep on a thin chair just at his cot’s side. When Jason sat up, already, Roy was awake.
“Thank fuck, Todd,” he gasped when the surprise died down. “Thought you were actuallydead this time.”
“My seat in hell’s been long overdue, but I’m not taking it anytime soon.”
“Spare me the death jokes,” Roy gently slapped his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“You’ve been conscious?”
“Barely. But nothing hurts too much anymo-“
He should have figured why the passing wind on his left hand wasn’t as gentle on his right. But it didn’t take until he actually saw his own fingers for it to sink in.
“Yeah, uhm,” Roy gulped, “your hand-“
“I know. I remember.”
It looked impressive.
A cybernetic hand. Skin-like touch feedback. Stainless black steel and rods that folded when he stretched his fingers.
“Looks cool though,” Roy said.
“You’d say that if it weren’t you.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I blew up her arm once before. We’re even now.”
The cycling debt finally stops.
Really. Don’t apologize. He’ll have to deal with a lot of sorry’s and pitiful looks possibly for the rest of his life. But he was more looking forward to the children gawping at how awesome his robot hand was.
Soft, feathery sheets against his fingers were all the same. He ran his new hand over the surface until it warmed.
“Where’s Vic?”
Roy pointed to a few beds behind them. Vic was sitting upright, talking to the Fleet surgeon with a bag held to his head. He smiled and waved at Jason when their eyes met.
“And N/N?”
Roy didn’t look too worried, at least. Better than what was worst. “Can you walk?”
Jason stretched out his toes and followed his friend down the hallways the Fleet already had repaired. “Ora’s leading the Fleet for now,” Roy told him. “We’re safe here.”
“What happened to N/N?”
They had to go to the Station’s lower decks, through many doors before they got to a holding area with a glass window, and behind that window was a prison cell for a very specific prisoner.
A red sun prison; that had to be what glowed from a compacted star they contained just above the glass dome. No one else was inside, and even outside the dome, it was locked.
But they could see what went on inside.
And she was there. N/N. She looked calm, quiet, peaceful. Sitting upright on the floor with her back against the glass. To just run to her, hold her; it would have been too easy.
“They said she gets more violent when she recovers from reprogramming.”
“She’s always violent,” Jason snorted.
“Yeah, this time she almost killed a hundred guards when they tried to contain her. The place is lined with lead, so she can’t even see or hear out of these walls.”
“She’s just confused. And afraid.”
He couldn’t look away. Not from her glowing eyes. This time, full of life, full of feeling, even with it being darkness. But distant.
“She can’t remember a thing…”
When he said that, it only cemented what he wanted so badly to slip from his mind. “She was so afraid this would happen again,” Jason longingly whispered, hoping she was listening.
Roy slapped his shoulder. “Well, you’re in luck. It won’t last. She’ll remember you. She’ll remember everything soon.”
He was about to scowl at his friend’s delusional attempt to comfort him before Roy grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Ora told me to tell you. You know how N/N can record everything she sees?” Roy stuck his finger to Jason’s head. “Turns out that Martian dude was a secret hoarder because he just took out the recorded memories from her head so she could be his puppet, but he never got rid of any of them. It’s all stored in the archives they found days ago. Why else do you think Z’arr knew so much about her that nobody else did?”
The soul in him must have gone for a time, because something filled his body like a cold gust of a storm.
“Don’t play with me, Harper.”
“I’m not.”
They didn’t know. They didn’t know what this meant to her; how this changes everything.
How much her eyes stepped out from the shadows as each day they spent together passed.
Her past. Her identity. What she longed to know.
And to think that could be brought back? After the many dark days he sulked in a scratchy infirmary cot, pretending to be unconscious? Because the thought of N/N forgetting everything was so hard to even think about?
Jason was already reaching for her, and even that he didn’t notice. When his palm cooled against the glass, her voice was all he could hear. ‘I could never forget you.’
She said it so reassuringly, like there had never been anything more of a truth.
Just as Jason couldn’t forget her. Not even after decades worth of his antics.
They didn’t know what he and N/N made, what they went through, and promised to remember; when they were alone, the silences and bickers, the stars that watched them and the journey of a lifetime.
But.
Maybe she can have all that.
Without him.
“What if,” Jason whispered, “what if she doesn’t have to…”
What if she can remember the smiles, but not who was behind it?
There was that rage he recognized from the first time they met, the rage that came with fear. But her heart wasn’t hurt, not like how it was going to be.
‘Don’t forget me.’
‘I wish I could.’
What heartaches was she spared from? How many tubs of tears ceased now that Jason wasn’t so much as a distant memory?
She can remember everything else; the journey, the stars, their discoveries. Just not him.
Ora walked into the waiting cell. In her hands, a holographic clipboard. N/N’s anatomy was on display with letters he couldn’t recognize.
“Roy must have told you the news by now. I think we can transfer her recorded memories by today-“
“Can you leave out a few things?” Jason interjected. “Like choose the memories to give back to her?”
“Of course,” Ora said.
“Don’t let her remember me.”
He might as well have told them he wanted to jump out the window. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jason turned to Ora. “Leave out as many recordings you have of me. That’s only four months. She wouldn’t miss it.”
“Yes, she will,” Ora exclaimed. “You don’t get to decide what she wants to remember.”
“She won’t want to remember me if she doesn’t even know.”
Roy felt no differently. “You’re being delusional, Todd.”
“I’m not.”
The sight of her alone, unknowing. There was that slight of innocence he didn’t want stripped away.
She was right all those weeks ago. It should have just been one night. It should have been less, much less than that.
“We’re finally going home, Harper,” he held his friend’s arm, “and I’m never gonna see her again.”
Roy’s face fell. He always understood.
“I just don’t want her to get hurt anymore…”
This could be salvation. From him.From how scared she was of getting hurt; how long he had to wait before she finally gave in against what she thought she wanted.
And he knew for a fact that N/N once wished Jason never should have happened.
There will never be a greater length of pain. But at least it would all be on him. This could be his turn to save her.
“Can I talk to her?” Jason said, holding back the flooding throb in his throat. “Just to say goodbye.”
She wasn’t stable. She was a machine being contained before she tears the whole place apart.
But it was an act of pity, a charity case with it a risk of his own life. Ora opened the gates to let him pass. Hesitantly, Jason stepped in with his heart tucked away, frozen stiff when almost immediately, N/N watched him move like a hawk.
He wasn’t anything more to her than a potential threat. He had to be careful.
N/N walked slowly to the glass like a defensive lioness. Even with no weapons, she looked dangerous. Her eyes were darker now that they were hooded, like she wanted the shadows on them. He never realized she did that on purpose to look even more threatening.
Jason hoped the glass between them was thicker than it looked. Through the filtered audio, her voice echoed out a speaker at the side.
“Let me out of here.”
“I’m not one of them,” Jason shakily gulped. “I’m not the staff.”
She eyed his robot hand but didn’t question it. Jason tried to ignore the coldness in her voice that stabbed him wi
Jason didn’t pay much attention to holidays. Nope. That was for the living. He didn’t have much of need for it. But he did know that Christmas was quiet and New Years was busy for patrol. He guessed everyone ate Christmas dinner and and then got bored of playing nice. Or maybe that just wanted to start the new year with a big ass bang. Who knows?
Even when he was a kid, he didn’t celebrate the holidays. Too poor, mom too lost in drugs, and dad? Well fuck him. He was a piece of shit when he was around.
Jason kicked a beer can out of his way into the pile of trash on the sidewalk. They didn’t get the trash again this week it looked like. Daddy Bruce could play bat but couldn’t throw his money around enough to keep trash from piling on the street.
It was fine. He had more important things to do anyways. He had to buy a Christmas present. He didn’t care for the holidays but the sweet girl he had at home was a doll and fuck, if she didn’t deserve something. So Jason went down to the local pawn shop. Usually not a problem but it was 2 AM. Not exactly prime business hours.
So yes, Red Hood was breaking into a pawn shop to get a bracelet. He was leaving cash, $20 over the cost too. It was something you had seen earlier in the week and had admired. Gems of some kind shaped to look like a butterfly. You’d taken a minute longer to stare at it.
He left as quick as he came. And it wasn’t long until he was opening the window of your apartment dressed in street clothes. You were asleep. Jason had used the excuse of patrol to get out. But in the early morning hours of Christmas, he wanted to wake you.
“we’re not just friends and you know it + stay, please.”
“Okay, now you’re just insulting me.”
“Come onnn Jay, you know he’s dramatic.”
Jason snatched the copy of Hamlet from your hands, and held it protectively.
You laughed at him.
“I can see why you defend him though, you’re just as dramatic as he is.”
You laughed even louder at his visibly offended expression that followed your statement.
“ ’m not dramatic.” He grumbled out, cheeks turning a light shade of pink.
“So, let’s rewind shall we? How did we find out about you- ” before you could finish your sentence he cut you off.
“Okay, I’m never sharing my books with you again.”
He stood up from his seat next to you. You turned slightly, watching him put his book back with the rest of the collection on his bookshelf.
You emptied the glass of wine you had with you, and reached for the bottle to refill your glass.
“I just think you can’t handle the truth.”
Jason turned back to give you an indignant look, walking back to the couch. “You know, I don’t think I wanna be friends with someone who’s mean to me.”
He ignored your feeble protest when he took the bottle and glass away from you. Saying you’d had enough.
Had you not been inebriated, maybe you wouldn’t have said it. However, there were no restraints to your thoughts at that very moment.
“We’re not just friends and you know it. I like you, and uh.. well.. not sure how you feel. But we’re definitely not just friends. C'mon.”
You continue to mumble incoherently, but he wasn’t too worried about what he couldn’t hear when what you’d just said had made him pause in surprise.
His eyes light up with something like hope, something like joy, that you said what he’d been thinking but could never bring himself to say out loud lest he break the little bubble of happiness he had with you.
He tried not to get too excited, because it was after all a drunk confession, but the words couldn’t stop playing over and over again in his head.
“Okay, you’ve had too much to drink,” he gently lifted you up to stand “Let’s get you to bed so you can sleep.”
“Woah, slow down. At least buy me dinner first, Todd.” Your words were a little slurred but the furious shade of red on his face was an indication that he’d heard you loud and clear as he helped you get to his bedroom.
“Come on.” He managed to grumble out.
Once he had you tucked in, he turned off the light and was about to leave, you called out to him.
“I’m scared. Stay, please? We can be cuddle buddies. I’m sure you’re awesome at giving cuddles. Please?”
Jason sighed, resigning himself to the immensely awkward ordeal of sharing a bed with you. He hated how hot his face got when you snuggled closer to him as you sleep.
The one thought that occupied his mind was that there would be a very interesting conversation you two would have in the morning.
Summary:It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.
Word Count: 9,000
A/N:I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic.
Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.
Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.
He crouched down to his knees.
Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.
“Y/N,” he whispered.
She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.
My prompts were Accidental love confession and “Get in the blanket fort (character name)! We’re reliving our childhood tonight”
This is how I imagine Jason passing the time until he can go on patrol again xD
—————
Bruce Wayne always held the most extravagant galas. This one Jason invited you to was no exception. It was held in a beautiful hotel and took place in the biggest ballroom they could offer.
You were chatting with Tim when you heard it.
A loud crash, champagne glasses breaking and Dick’s unmistakable laughter.
“What the fuck.” The noise startled you, causing you to whip your head around in search for the source.
Jason was on his back, Dick laughing, guests in shock, and Bruce looking like the most disappointed father in the world.
You and Tim began laughing as you made your way over to your best friend.
“Are you okay? What happened,” you chuckled.
“Well see, I bet Jason he couldn’t—“ Dick began in between laughter.
You raised your hands. "Say no more,” you quietly laughed, giving Jason a once over.
“Shouldn’t someone call an ambulance?” asked a worried guest.
Jason waved his hands, “No, no. I’m fine. We’re good.” He grunted as he started to get to his feet only to grimace and hold onto you as he put pressure on his right foot.
"Fine, huh,” you teased, poking his chest.
Jason only narrowed his eyes as Dick and Tim snickered.
Bruce nodded for you to go so you headed out.
One Wayne boy laughing, holding up his brother—you and the third chuckling close behind.
Having just returned from the hospital, you put away your and Jason’s coats and headed toward the living room of the manor. Well, the nearest one. The warmth from the fireplace was a welcome change from the freezing Gotham winter.
“Here,” you offered as you fluffed the couch pillows. “Lay here and I’ll be right back with some hot chocolate.” You gave his arm a pat, and a warm smile.
“This is bullshit,” he groaned.
“Well, think of it this way. Now you get to have a week-long vacation with me,” you exclaimed from the kitchen, “and you don’t have to attend any Wayne events for the week.”
“Yeah but that also means no patrols…”
You could hear the pout.
You made your way back to Jason and set the mugs down.
“Come on, I can be fun too,” you whined. “I’ve spent enough time around you three to know how.”
"From me, yes. From Dick and Timbo, no,” he said very matter of fact.
The two of you were laughing as Alfred walked in.
“I’ve prepared a downstairs bedroom along with some clothes for you, Master Jason. I’ve also set aside some comfortable clothes for you as well, Miss,” he gave a kind smile as he set down a fuzzy blanket on the couch. "Is there anything else I can do?” he offered.
You looked at Jason and he shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
"We’re good for now, Alfred. Thank you.” You returned the smile and got up to get Jason’s crutches.
He gave your arm a gentle pat. “Well, if you two need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He gave a slight nod and walked off.
You turned back to Jason, presenting his crutches. "Alright, let’s go get out of these fancy clothes and into some comfy ones,” you spoke with a bright smile taking over your features.
“You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked,” he teased.
You grab the nearest pillow and throw it at his smug face. “Shut up and go,” you chuckled.
Settling Jason into bed, you follow suit and snuggle into his side.
"I don’t know what I’m going to do for a whole fucking week,” he signed, running a hand down his face.
"Heal,” you scoffed.
"Ha, ha.” He rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smile. “Really though, it’s going to be torture not being able to go on patrol—and I know torture,” he said, eyebrows raised to exaggerate his point.
You scoffed, smacking his arm.
You could feel the deep rumble of laughter in his chest and you couldn’t help but let out laughter of your own. “You’re terrible,” you giggled.
“Nah, but this week will be,” he said as he brought his free arm up behind his head.
“Hey! I have an idea,” you shot up, startling him. “What was your favorite thing to do as a kid? Sleep over, baking, watching movies,” you began rattling off activities.
“Not dying?” he joked but you caught the solemn hint in his tone.
“I mean. I didn’t have the best childhood but I remember the times I was able to spend with my cousin. Those few times were the best.” You looked down at your hands, a sad smile on your face. “We would watch whatever pirated movie we had on hand and if we were lucky, we’d have a couple snacks.” This time your smile reached your eyes.
“A cousin? I don’t think you’ve ever talked about them?” his voice soft as he gently held your hands. He cocked his head slightly, prompting you to go on.
“I don’t really talk about him.” You looked back down at your linked hands. “He died when we were in our teens and I just…” your voice broke.
“Hey, it’s ok, sweetheart,” he sat up and pulled you in for a tight hug. “Let’s do the stuff you liked.” He pulled back and looked at you with a grin. “You can show me what I missed out on and that way this week won’t be so boring.”
You sniffed. “I’ll make a list,” you said with glee.
Four days in and you had watched countless movies, ate all the best snacks, and even got him to let you curl his hair.
You had to admit, you were running out of ideas but the best one was for today. A pillow fort and you were determined to make it the most grand of all pillow forts.
You were busy finishing up the final touches when you heard Jason hopping into the living room.
“What in the actual–“ he began
“Don’t,” You froze and raised a finger. “Just trust me.” You turned your head and gave him a sly smile.
He raised a hand in defeat and gave you a lopsided smile. Watching as you finished, he sat on a nearby recliner, setting his crutches to the side.
“Aaaaand done,” you exclaimed, standing up in triumph.
“And what is it that you’ve done,” his tone laced with humor.
“A pillow fort!”
“Well, yeah, I can see that, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I mean, what’s your great plan for the pillow fort?”
“Reading inside the pillow fort, duh!” To push across your point even further, you raised your hands to your sides and cocked your head. Then, bringing your finger to your chin, “We can also watch movies.”
“Nah, I’m already comfortable here,” he reclined further and closed his eyes.
“Get in the pillow fort, Jason! We’re reliving our childhood tonight,” you called out, one hand pointing toward the fort and the other on your hip.
He sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, fine,” he sat up and made grabby hands toward you, “help me up.”
You gave a little happy squeal and jump. You helped him up and onto the floor near the fort entrance.
You crawled through the blanket door and sat against a wall of plush pillows. You grabbed a fuzzy blanket that you’d stashed inside and motioned for him to sit next to you.
“I…don’t think I’m going to fit,” he chuckled.
“I made it as big as I could, of course you’ll fit!” You switched on a small lantern.
“Yeah, speaking of which. How many couches did you raid for this?” Laughing as he crawled toward you.
You looked at the blanket and pillows above you and then back at Jason. “I promised Alfred I’d put them back.” You gave him your biggest, most innocent smile.
He paused to look at you only to shake his head and chuckle.
Finally, he settled next to you. His broad shoulders taking up most of the pillows you’d set to lean against and his head hitting the blanket above you.
You couldn’t help but smile at how big he was compared to your fort.
“Okay. So what now?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well. I brought a few books, some snacks and my laptop. We could read or watch a movie?” You looked up at him expectantly.
He put his arm around your shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. “What was your favorite thing to do in your pillow forts?”
You looked down at your hands, realizing they were playing with Jason’s free one. “James and I would share secrets. It was always at the end of the night, when no one else could listen in. We would share the things that no one else knew about us, things that we feared, and even crushes we had,” you have a breathy laugh.
You looked back up at him. “Are you willing to share any secrets, Jason Todd?” you asked mockingly.
He burst out laughing, head falling back into the pillow.
Trying not to laugh, you questioned him.
“Sweetheart,” he smiled down at you. “There’s nothing I could tell you that you don’t already know.” He punctuated the thought with a lick of his lips.
You had been best friends for two years. You pretty much did know everything about each other and spent every other day together. But, you’d never noticed the warmth spreading through your chest and into your cheeks.
You leaned your head back onto the pillow. “Come on. There has to be something that I don’t know about you. Like…” Rolling your head toward him, “What did you first think of me when we first met?” You looked up at him with innocent, wide eyes.
He also leaned his head back and hummed in thought for a second. He looked down at you, “Too cute to actually be interested in books.”
You nudged his ribs as you both laughed.
He wasn’t too far from the truth.
“Come on! I’ll be honest.” You shifted a bit in your spot to turn and lean your legs on his.
You were NOT going to be honest. At least, not completely. You couldn’t risk it…
“I did think you were cute–“
“What do you mean ‘were’?!” He interrupted, with an offended look on his face. “Why do you think my face is the most shielded part of my body on patrol?!”
Your eye roll was so big your head rolled along with them.
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway. I was curious why a cute guy was in the library. I figured you were with someone or doing homework.”
You leaned against the pillow and looked at his shoulder.
“I was pleasantly surprised to learn that you’re the whole package,” you smirked, “attractive and smart.”
He chuckled and looked down. If you had been looking up at his face, you would have seen the blush that spread across his cheeks.
You giggled, “Really though.” This time you did look up. “It was nice to finally find someone intelligent and not just someone looking for a hookup.”
He heard the sincerity in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride.
“Well. I honestly thought you were an interesting person. Not different just to be different and you genuinely seemed like a good person.” His tone was kind.
Jason was caught off guard that day in the library, but not just because you were cute. He was so glad he went up to comment about the book you were reading because he finally found someone he could have conversations with about his favorite books.
The longer you two talked, the more he admired you.
The more he admired you, the less deserving he felt.
It was amazing and shitty all at the same time but he couldn’t bear to not at least have you as a friend.
“Hell, you didn’t run away or cuss me out when you found out I was Red Hood. It was the most nervous I’d ever felt in my life.” His voice grew softer at the end. His shoulders dropped and his face somber.
“I love having you around, (Y/N), and when I decided to tell you,” he gulped. “I was so afraid you’d hate me or be scared of me.”
He didn’t even try to hide the quiver in his voice.
He had realized along the way that he had feelings for you but refused to believe someone like you would ever feel the same for someone like him.
You hugged his arm and lay your chin on his shoulder. “I could never hate you, Jason. Much less be afraid of you.” You tried to pour all the kindness and sincerity into your tone to show him how honest you were.
He let out a soft chuckle, “I just couldn’t believe someone like you would ever stick around with how fucked up my life has been.” He sighed.
“You’ve been here with me all week when you don’t even have to. You help me, you bring me things just so I don’t have to get up,” a warm smile brightened his face. “You accept me for me and don’t give me crap about it. When shit hits the fan, instead of scolding me like Bruce or teasing me like my brothers, you listen.
“I don’t deserve to love someone like you…” his voice was almost a whisper.
You slowly registered what he had said last and slowly rose your head from atop his shoulder.
“You what…?” Your face a mixture of surprise, hope and confusion.
Jason realized what he said and froze. His chest tightened and he waited for the worst.
“Jason.” You loosened your grip on his arm. “Do you really?” Your voice in a low whisper.
He nodded.
You gently reached up to turn his face toward you.
“I love you too.”
All the tension and the breath he didn’t know he was holding all dissipated and he felt lighter, happier. He embraced you with such vigor, his head on yours and just sat there.
Jason never imagined being thankful for a sprained ankle
