Wearing the Red Hood

Chapter 5:

This chapter is dedicated to @MJManoj Thank you for the vote on the first book !!! :)) 

Jason

I couldn't sleep. I lay awake, even until I could hear Bruce and Damian return from their patrol. Sighing, I threw my covers off of myself and began pacing around restlessly. Sleep was never easy for me, not even when I was a kid. Back then, I could never drown out the shouting of my parents. When I came to live with Bruce, nightmares of my mother had already haunted me. And after what I went through with the Joker, things just got worse. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt like I was going to see them all over again. Even after months of not really dreaming about any of the things that happened, I was afraid they could come back.

My helmet glinted from where it sat on top of my desk. It seemed to be taunting me. The fact that I hadn't been wearing it very much ever since I came back to Gotham hung heavily in the back of my mind. Slowly, I walked towards it. I stared at the empty hollows where I could see through every time I put it on. Reaching out, I took it in my hands, contemplating on whether or not I should do it. It felt like it was calling out to me. Frustrated, I made my way back to my bed and sat on the edge.

I remembered the first time I decided to put the helmet on, back when I'd been so full of rage that there was no room to feel anything else. I had so much rage, I barely thought anything through and let the feeling guide me. It was a wonder I didn't die a second time for those five years, before I went to confront Bruce. In truth, I had been angry at him after my dip in the Lazarus Pit. I trusted him, and he let me die.

But I realized it was also my fault.

Bruce had left me safely in the Manor, and I was the one that went looking for trouble. I was the one that went looking for my mother, who had given me up. I went looking for her, even though I already had Bruce. Bruce who had been nothing but kind to me, who thought me what I needed to know, and who made me something better than I was. Bruce gave me a home, and I'd thrown it all away. I couldn't blame him for that.

The rage had subsided for a time, and I thought about just going back to Bruce and apologizing for what I'd done. For what I'd put all of us through. But then I came back to Gotham and learned that the Joker was alive, put in a body cast by the Batman. And I felt it. The rage. The fever. It came back full force. He had gone as far as to put Joker in a cast, but he couldn't kill the maniac? Not even for me?

That's what I couldn't comprehend. Couldn't live with.

After that, I had... wandered. Bruce did care for me. In his own way. But no matter what I did, he wouldn't go down the dark path of killing. And now I understood. He was right when he said it was something that was hard to come back from. But I was trying.

Still, I had to wonder. Did I have to put the helmet on again? Why? I'd only come up with it to get back at the Joker, and to make Bruce understand why I'd been angry. But now that all of that was through, did I have to keep wearing it? I wasn't a hero anymore. I wasn't Robin, and I definitely wasn't going back to being that. But could I try to live a life away from everyone, letting criminals run around and not do anything about it?

The sound of a door slamming somewhere down the hall pulled me out of my reverie. With a start, I shook my head and got up from bed. I needed to go out. Knowing that someone was after my Jason Todd persona made me reluctant to go out as my handsome and devilish self, so I had no choice but to be the Red Hood again. Leaving my helmet on the bed, I went into my closet to grab my clothes and my babies. Unlike the rest of the rooms, the back of my closet didn't just contain my suit. It contained my toys. Shrugging on my new biker jacket, I decided to take my knife tonight and just a couple of batarangs. I needed more of the exercise anyway, and my guns wouldn't give me that. Lacing up my boots, I walked back into my room and placed the helmet on my head.