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Jason Todd was not a morning person. In fact, if given the choice, he would’ve slept in until noon everyday. Which is why it was strange for him to be up at 8:00 AM on a Sunday.It had only been two months since being taken in by Bruce and Alfred off the streets, and things were… actually great. For the first time in his life, Jason had full meals that didn’t leave him wanting more. He had a warm bed with all the blankets he could ever ask for. He had a huge library with all the books he loved reading. And best of all, he had a family that actually liked him.It wasn’t that his mom hadn’t loved him. But Jason wasn’t sure that she had liked him. At least, not more than she had liked the drugs. Jason wasn’t sure that Catherine had wanted him around all the time. Maybe it would’ve made it easier for her if she didn’t have to fend for Jason in addition to herself.
It was comforting to know that he was living with people who were capable of taking care of him. That Jason didn’t have to only depend on himself anymore.That being said, Jason may have neglected a detail in the time since living with them. Just a small one. It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, Jason wasn’t sure why he hid it. He thought they might laugh at him, or think it was silly. Maybe even… nah. They wouldn’t kick him out. Right?Sue him. Jason wasn’t expecting Bruce to be up at 8 AM. Why would he be? The man slept like a rock and grumbled whenever Alfred cajoled him to get up before ten. Thus far, Jason had managed to avoid Alfred in the mornings, since he knew his cleaning schedule. So Jason thought he was safe.Apparently not.Jason was fixing himself a quiet breakfast in the (enormous) kitchen. Avocado toast was today’s choice. Then, he heard a confused, low grumble.“Jason? What are you doing up?”Jason froze, knife hovering above his toast. That was Bruce’s voice.“Uhhhh… breakfast?” Jason squeaked, still not turning around.“Alfred does that. And it’s Sunday. You don’t get up until you have to.”“Well, why are you up? Same goes for you,” Jason said hotly.“WE called me in for a meeting in an hour,” Bruce responded.“Oh,” Jason said, putting the knife down.
“What’s going on, Jaylad?”Jaylad. Jason got a warm, fuzzy feeling anytime Bruce called him that. Made him feel special. Didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed and caught, though. He was still a deer in headlights.“Nothin’. Can’t a guy make breakfast in the comfort of his own home in peace?”
Bruce grunted. Code for funny, but I’m not letting this go.“What’s going on?” Bruce repeated.Jason sighed and turned around, crossing his arms and looking down at his feet.“Promise you won’t laugh?” He glanced up for a second to see Bruce’s expression turn confused and surprised in his wrinkled slacks and button-down shirt. Probably because Batman doesn’t laugh very often.“Of course I won’t laugh, Jason.”Jason took a deep breath. “I… I’m Catholic. I’ve been sneaking out to go to church every Sunday,” Jason said uneasily, refusing to look at Bruce in the eye.Everything was quiet for a moment. Jason started to get annoyed and looked up and snapped, “What?”Bruce had a stupid look on his face. “Nothing. I just… didn’t know.”Jason snorted. “World’s Greatest Detective, everyone.”Bruce smiled a little at that. Then it dropped suddenly. “Wait. Have you been going alone every week?”Jason stared at him dumbly. “Um, yeah. I take the bus. How else would I get there?”“You shouldn’t be going into Gotham alone, Jay.”Jason laughed. “Jesus, Bruce, I think I know my way around Gotham. I lived on the streets for two years. I’m freaking Robin.”“You’ve been on exactly one patrol with me. For two hours. And shouldn’t you not be taking the Lord’s name in vain?”“Still counts. And… yeah. Probably. But I don’t think vigilantism is in the Bible either, yet here we are.”Bruce frowned. “I’ll come with you.”Jason looked at him dumbly again. “What? You just said you have a meeting.”“Lucius can handle it.”“And I can handle myself,” Jason said, glaring.“I’d feel better if someone went with you. Please, Jay?”Jason huffed. He couldn’t say no to Bruce for something like this. He had been too kind to him to deny him something as simple as making sure he was safe. It wouldn’t be right. He wasn’t opposed to Bruce driving him, spending more time with him. But he was a little opposed to it if it was based on the idea that Bruce thought Jason couldn’t do it on his own.“Fine,” he said.
“Unless you’d rather have Alfred go with you?” Bruce said, looking at Jason with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Uh,” Jason said intelligently. “You’re good. I guess.”“It’s settled, then.”
“Um,” Jason settled for again.
Well. He hadn’t expected this to go that way.<<<<………>>>>Jason was confused when Bruce parked in the lot and tried to get out of the car with Jason.“Wait. Hold on. I thought you were just driving me here!”Bruce looked at him. “No? I’m coming in with you.”“But…”“Do you not want me to? I can stay in the car if you really don’t want me there,” Bruce said sincerely, still refusing to let up on eye contact.
“No! No. It’s okay. It… it would be nice. If you come.”Bruce smiled again and climbed the rest of the way out of the car, wrapping his arm around Jason’s shoulders. Jason smiled back, a little embarrassed, and leaned into the touch. This was… nice. It’d been a long time since he went to Mass with someone. And maybe a little part of him was excited to show Bruce that Catholicism wasn’t about, you know, crazy people running around and telling others they were gonna go to hell.He was glad Bruce had offered to come with him.————————————Bruce didn’t really know what he had been expecting when he woke up this morning, but it wasn’t his adopted son standing in the kitchen at eight in the morning in khakis, a short-sleeve shirt, and a sweater vest, leading Bruce to go to church for the first time in… a long time. He had only gone with his parents to church once or twice as a kid. They weren’t religious, but apparently had some Jewish roots. Bruce was pretty sure there was a menorah or two collecting dust in the attic. When a conversation between him and Dick had somehow reached that topic, the kid had excitedly asked whether that meant he had a Bat-Menorah and a Bat-Dreidel somewhere. The answer was no, unfortunately.Bruce himself didn’t really have an opinion on God. He thought it was possible he existed. But Bruce had never honestly put much thought into it. It seemed… useless. Bruce had always taken to believing in things that he could perceive with his mind and his senses. And faith was basically the exact opposite of that.But if Jason wanted to go to church, then Bruce would take him, no questions asked.So there they were: father and son, sitting in a big cathedral containing about as many gargoyles as one could expect in a Gotham church, while Bruce looked around at the architecture and all the people there and Jason knelt, hands clasped and eyes closed. Bruce wondered what, or who, he was praying for.A voice through the speakers startled him, telling the congregation to turn to a page in the hymnal as deep organ music started up. Jason nudged him with his elbow, sitting next to him in the pew, then gestured at the book of hymns sitting in the shelf attached to the pew. Jason flipped to the right page, and looked at Bruce to do the same. Bruce fumbled with the book, but did as Jason told him.Bruce had never been good at reading music, but he did his best to hit the notes, even if he felt a little silly. He didn’t even really believe in most of the words he was saying, but he did it for Jason. Jason quietly sang, sneaking glances at Bruce to see if he was staring, so Bruce pointedly looked straight forward as the priest, what was probably a deacon, and a few altar servers filed in.Mass passed in a blur. Bruce stood, knelt, and sat when everyone else did. He listened intently to the first and second readings, not recognizing them from his limited knowledge of the more obscure passages in the Catholic Bible. They were hard to keep track of—there were a lot of names, places, and of course, an outdated way of speaking. The first was from Leviticus, stating how placing trust completely in one’s self was pointless and would ultimately lead to failure. It reminded Bruce of himself. He had gotten better at not pushing his family and friends away when they wanted to help him in various endeavors, but it was still hard most of the time. He just didn’t want anyone to get hurt on his behalf. Bruce decidedly ignored the fact that the reading was talking of trust in conjunction with putting faith in God, not humans. Some things were just beyond Bruce’s capabilities of belief.The second reading from St. Paul described the concept of the dead being raised, and how futile it was for Christians to not believe in the possibility since they put their all of their faith in the fact that Christ had been raised himself. Bruce was highly skeptical of the fact that Jesus had been raised from the dead. It was more likely that his body had been stolen from his tomb by a zealot. Still, Bruce hoped that there was a chance for resurrection. He’d like to see Barry, Kara… his parents again someday. He only wished he lived in a line of work where he needn’t even think about the idea of people he knew dying. Grief was an awful thing. It didn’t matter if his loved ones came back eventually. It still hurt in the here and now. It tore Bruce apart the first time someone he loved had been taken away from him. With the current trends, it looked like it would continue to do so each time.Jason flipped his book to the very first page, where a list of prayers were printed for people who didn’t have them memorized, and showed it to Bruce during the prayers and songs so he could read along. Bruce said “Amen” and “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ” when the others did, a few seconds behind, and crossed his mind, lips, and heart when Jason made the small gestures. There still wasn’t much sincerity behind any of it. But this was for Jason, not him.They listened as the priest read the Gospel—that day’s passage was the classic prodigal son parable. Even non-Christian folk knew that one: in which a father gave all his son’s inheritance to him prematurely, and he spent it all foolishly. Days later, starved and broke, the son returned and begged for forgiveness, saying he would be one of his father’s servants instead of his son if he so wished. Instead, the father welcomed his son back with open arms and held a feast for him, celebrating his return and change of heart.It was a nice story.
After the priest finished reading, he went on with his preaching, speaking of seeking forgiveness for those you have wronged in the past and swallowing your ego in repentance. He was making some good points. Jason listened intently, and Bruce caught himself staring at his kid more than the priest. He was quite adorable, looking serious-like as he took in the priest’s words in all his four-foot-ten glory. Every so often, the boy would look up at Bruce, smile, and then go back to listening. Whether the smiles were at Bruce’s cluelessness on what to do or out of happiness that he was accompanying him, Bruce wasn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both. Bruce decided to pretend not to notice the looks his son was sneaking him.When the time came for the Our Father, Jason not-so-subtly grabbed Bruce’s hand without looking at him and spoke the words.“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” Jason said softly. Bruce looked down at him again, and squeezed his hand. He was a cute kid. A really good kid, too. Bruce couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he lost him.When they began the sign of peace, Bruce first turned to Jason. Jason stuck out his hand, but Bruce ignored it and pulled him into a hug instead.“Peace be with you, Jason. I love you.” He ruffled his hair.Jason’s ears poking out from under his curly hair were turning red. “Love you too, Bruce,” he mumbled.“Thank you for sharing this with me, Jaylad.”“Yeah. Thanks for coming, B.”“I’ll always come for you. I promise.”————————————Jason was not at peace.Bruce couldn’t come for him in the end, while Jason had been in pain and crying out to God for help.And now, Jason was… lost.He was getting ready for the moment. The big showdown he had been fantasizing about for months. He would see where Bruce’s loyalties lied. And he would prove to him just how wrong he was. But Jason paused midway through fastening on his holsters and various explosives.
What was he doing?
Was he really going to fight Batman? Kill Joker? Was he strong enough to face the man that had done so much for him… but also far too little?No.Jason’s fingers wouldn’t go any farther. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do the one thing he had been leading up to for months. Years, practically. Fear spiked through him. What was he doing?In a panic, Jason changed out of his suit and threw on a sweatshirt and jeans. He needed air.Jason bursted out of the rusty old apartment building he had bought (courtesy of Talia) and shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down and trying to keep his breath steady. It was pouring rain, but Jason didn’t care. He just needed to clear his head.He didn’t know where he was walking, but he let his feet carry him down familiar roads and alleyways. Suddenly, he stopped. Jason slowly glanced up, and realized he had found his way to the church he used to go to, years ago. St. Joseph’s Cathedral. He’d recognize the gothic arches and statues anywhere.Jason stood for a few seconds, just staring up at the looming building. Then, he took a deep breath and wandered in. Jason hadn’t stepped foot in a church since he’d died. Three years ago, now, he believed.It was just as he remembered it. Beautifully tiled floors made into mosaics, stained glass windows depicting the Multiplication of Loaves, the Resurrection, the Annunciation. Cushioned pews with kneelers that slid out from under the bench, red hymnals with Bible passages and songs inside, the altar with the monstrance displayed, the Eucharist proudly visible inside, the cross in the back with Jesus staring into the heavens with a painful expression.It hadn’t changed a bit.There was no one inside. Which made sense. It was 10 PM on a Wednesday. Honestly, Jason was surprised the Eucharist was out, but he had long since forgotten the adoration schedule.
Jason shuffled silently into a pew near the front of the altar, dropping down on the bench and putting his head in his hands.“What am I doing?” he whispered.He got no reply.Jason looked up and glared at the big crucifix. “No answer, huh? Well, that makes two of us.” He ran his fingers through his hair.“This is useless,” he said. “No point in being here.”It’s not like God had answered his prayers when he was dying in a warehouse with no one but his biological mother who didn’t give a crap about him. He had still suffered that day. Still died.
And… Jason didn’t remember anything from his time of being dead. So maybe Heaven and Hell didn’t exist, either.Jason stood up, muttering under his breath, until a voice startled him.“Excuse me? May I ask what brings you here, son?”Jason whirled around, hand in his pocket where his switchblade sat.Oh. It was just a priest. He was wearing the whole collar garment thing. Jason forgot what it was called.“Sorry,” Jason said gruffly. “I’ll go.”“No! No, please don’t leave. If you’re having troubles, maybe I can be of some assistance?”Jason snorted. “I don’t think so.”“How come?”“That’s a tall order, man. I don’t think you want to get into that.”“I am always hear to listen and help. Please. Tell me what troubles you.”Jason studied the priest’s face. He was fairly old, with smile wrinkles and a kind face. Probably not one of the questionable priests who didn’t act very Catholic.Fine, Jason thought. He’d humor the old man.Jason sat down again and slid over, making room for the man. He quickly sat down, too, staring at the monstrance with Jason.“I don’t know if what I’m doing is right,” Jason started by saying. “I have a whole plan. I’ve been working on it for over a year. It’s all I’ve thought about. And… I was just getting ready to put it into action tonight. But… I don’t know if I should anymore. I think I’m making a mistake. But at the same time, I can’t stop. Not now. Not after everything.”“If you’re a bit more specific, I could offer advice,” the kindly man said, Jason stubbornly avoiding eye contact.“I already know what you’ll say. That I'm wrong and I should never have thought of doing it because it’s twisted and evil and all different kinds of messed up.”The priest shifted. “Then why did you come here?”Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Felt right.”The priest turned to him. “Are you Catholic, son?”Jason paused. He had been baptized as a kid. But… did dying erase that? Was he supposed to get baptized again? Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t been anywhere near a church since the day of his death. He hadn’t even tried to do anything faith-related since his mind came back to him. He’d prayed at first, when he was catatonic. That was a strange time in his life, walking through the streets of Gotham and the League of Assassins base like a ghost. He couldn’t remember much, but he did vaguely recall making pleads in his head to God and Jesus to take him home. To help him understand what was happening, why his mind floated away from him, why he couldn’t remember, why everything still hurt. To let him see Bruce again. When that didn’t work, Jason eventually just… gave up.Still. Baptism couldn’t be undone, right? Jason thought he had learned that from his mom.“I… yes. I guess so.”“Would you like confession?”Jason froze.“I am sworn to secrecy. No priest can repeat what happens in confession. Even if what you say admits to a crime.”“That’s what they all say. Next thing you know, I’ll be in a prison cell eating slop and rooming with a psycho,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off the Eucharist.“I have taken an oath. I will never tell anyone what you tell me.” Jason could hear the sincerity in his voice. He wanted to believe him so bad.“I…”Was Jason even sorry? He had killed people. A lot of people. But they deserved it. And he was so, so very angry at Bruce for not killing the Joker, the one who deserved it most of all.
“We can just talk, if you’d like. I think you need someone to talk to right now, if you don’t mind me saying.”“I… okay. Yeah, okay. Let’s talk.”The priest nodded. “Go ahead. Tell me what ails your mind and heart.”Jason took a shuddering breath, still mostly sure this was pointless. “Would you believe me if I said I was murdered three years ago?”<<<<……….>>>>An hour, a rant, and a lot of anger issues later, Jason caught himself saying, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three years since my last confession…”<<<<……….>>>>For your penance, I ask that you go to your father and talk to him—without violence involved. Let him speak and try to see his side of things.
Jason stood on the doorstep to Wayne Manor, breathing tightly. He couldn’t do this. He had already done so much that Bruce hated. He wouldn’t welcome him back. What was Jason supposed to do, say, Sorry I killed about two dozen people! I’m back now, please love me? He could barely bring himself to the neighborhood, let alone look Bruce in the eye and apologize. He couldn’t. It would be stupid, belittling, and embarrassing. And he was still angry. Jason was still trying to decide if he had actually done something wrong.
Stop your pursuit of revenge. And pray a rosary for every life you’ve taken. I… recommend you turn yourself in.
Jason steeled himself. He had to do this. He had to make things right. Killing the Joker and watching him suffer still sounded incredibly appetizing. But he couldn’t, knowing how disappointed that priest would be. He couldn’t imagine the man sitting at home, seeing a newsreel stating that Joker was dead at the hands of Red Hood. It didn’t matter that Jason had never told him who he was. He would know it was him. Divine intervention, or something.He had to do this. If not for his own peace of mind, then for the priest’s.It was still raining out. Lights were on inside the manor. Batman wasn’t patrolling yet, Jason had checked.
Jason raised a hand hesitantly, staring at his own reflection in the window. He could imagine himself here, years ago, laughing and talking with Bruce and Alfred, with the occasional visit from Dick along with a game or two of Mario Kart.So much had changed. Jason remembered that first day when Bruce had taken him to Mass. Jason had been so excited to show him everything. He had whispered to him throughout what to do, how to go to communion and get a blessing since he wasn’t Catholic, all the right words to say. After that, Bruce or Alfred had gone with him every time. Neither of them had ever converted, but it was a nice gesture that they accompanied him. Bruce would make sure to ask questions—probably ones he already knew the answer to—just to get Jason talking. He even wrote out a big fat check for the offertory, just because it made Jason happy. Those were the days, when Jason had little to fret about except getting a B on his math test.Jason knocked three times, then put his hands above his head in a surrender position so Bruce didn't try to punch his lights out immediately.Jason heard familiar footsteps. His own heart was beating fast. He had to do this.The door opened, revealing Bruce standing in front of him. Jason hadn’t seen him in person without the cowl since that day in Ethiopia. They were at eye-height now, and Bruce had a few more grays. It was… strange, to say the least.Bruce’s eyes widened, his mouth open.“Jason?” he breathed, staring at his raised hands. He looked… sad. Jason hadn’t expected that. He’d expected anger, hate, pity. But he just looked depressed instead.“It’s Red Hood now,” Jason replied, looking him dead in the eye. Jason assumed Bruce had already figured it out, what with all the clues he had left him. But Jason suspected Bruce wanted true confirmation from he himself.Bruce took a step back. “I… what do you want? Please, Jason, just tell me what happened to you… I want to help.”
Jason fought back anger. What had happened to him? A crowbar, C4, and a radioactive pit, for starters.But Jason choked down his pride.“I didn’t come here to fight, Bruce. I just want to talk,” he got out.“No weapons?” Bruce asked.“No weapons,” Jason confirmed.
“I… I’ve missed you, Jason. More than you could ever know.”Liar, a part of him said. If he had missed you, he would’ve killed Joker. Jason ignored the voice.“Yeah.” He paused for a beat. “Me too,” he said quieter.Bruce stepped back from the door, motioning for him to come inside. It looked like he was restraining himself from reaching out, to see if Jason was real.Jason nodded, putting his hands down and crossing them instead.
The prodigal son had returned home.