a/n: part three yay! this is the final part. if you’d like to read the other two parts here they are: 1 and 2. as usual, this is based off “pieces” by red.
summary: time doesn’t heal all wounds
trigger warnings: mentions of violence and death, cursing
i’m here again, a thousand miles away from you
“Any news?” Bruce asked. You stood right beside him, wringing your hands in anticipation.
The doctor looked grim, and you didn’t like the way she sighed. You’ve heard that sigh before.
“We don’t know a whole lot,” she said. Those were her exact words. “We put him in a medically induced coma to reduce swelling, but he’s showing no signs of waking up any time soon.”
You read between the lines.
He was showing no signs of recovery.
You stood in your apartment without him. Everything was the same way you left it. You hadn’t been home since two nights ago, instead finding sleep in the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting room. It had been a long two nights, you didn’t want to think about the rest of your days in the apartment alone.
The likelihood of him waking was slim. That’s what the doctor told you. But no one thought Jason could come back to life. In fact, everyone thought resurrection applied to the likes of Jesus Christ. Gods and Messiahs and Chosen Ones. That damn doctor didn’t know Jason like you did. She didn’t know that he had been through hell and back. She didn’t know him.
But you did.
So why did you feel so helpless? He had gone through much worse, hadn’t he?
You hadn’t cried since you arrived at the hospital, was that why? Did you need to cry? Because you didn’t want to. Crying meant that you had accepted his death. That you had given up hope. And you still had faith he’d wake up. It was dumb and not accurate according to the statistics, but you had faith.
Your heart reminded you of a promise he made long ago. He couldn’t leave you. He wasn’t allowed to.
So in your grief and anger, you decided to wreck the place. Picture frames were hurled across the room, as were glass plates. Your laundry basket was tipped over and the clothes in it were thrown around. Toiletries were shoved off the bathroom counter. But it didn’t help. The mess made it worse. He wasn’t even there to clean it up.
In the end, you found yourself sitting in a pile of dirty laundry, broken glass, and blood from the cuts on your palms.
a broken mess just shattered pieces of who i am
“Jason, I don’t wanna do this anymore! Can we do something else?” You whined. Your head was dangling off the edge of his bed while your feet stuck up straight in the air.
“This homework is due tomorrow. It’s important that we do it,” Jason refuted, writing some more on his sheet of paper.
“But it’s so boring. I don’t care about what Hamlet did or didn’t do. Let’s do something fun!” You exclaimed, nearly falling off the bed.
“Chemistry, AP Stat, Biology, Physics, Calculus-” You were cut off by Jason shoving you off the bed. “-Hey! That was rude.”
“Don’t say shit like that ever again.”
You pressed your forearms on the top of the bed while kneeling on the floor. “Do you kiss Alfred with that mouth?” You had seconds to dodge the thick English textbook he hurled at your head. “Damn Jason, calm down.”
“Talk shit, get hit.”
Your eyebrows shot into your hairline and your jaw dropped. “With a fucking textbook?”
Jason shrugged and wrote down another answer. “At least we weren’t in the kitchen. I’m crazy good with knife throwing.”
You didn’t even bother to ask where he learned it. Jason would never tell you. And honestly, you were used to his unusual talents.
It had been four nights since he was admitted into the hospital. You hadn’t gone home since that night you had a meltdown. You couldn’t. It was still a mess. And you didn’t want to clean it up. That was Jason’s job.
So you stayed with your parents which was probably just as bad considering the memories you had in that room. There were so many nights you spent on your bed with Jason, studying and watching some random movie you found in your living room. On the nightstand beside your bed, there was a picture of you and him from middle school. It was before you had braces and before he hit puberty. Any other time, you would laugh and cringe at the same time. Maybe you’d even turn the photo away for a moment so you didn’t have to see your sixth grade self. But when you saw it a few minutes ago, you nearly cried. You threw it in a dark corner of your closet so you didn’t have to see it.
You had no idea how many photos you had of you and Jason until it hurt to see them.
Additionally, you couldn’t walk past your parents without them giving you the same look the Waynes had given you.
The only person who didn’t look at you like that was your best friend, but that was because she didn’t know what happened. You couldn’t tell her you were dating Jason Todd, it would raise suspicion. She remembered him from school. As far as she was concerned, you were still heartbroken over some guy named Matt that you dated senior year. So when you weren’t sleeping at your parents’ place, you were with your friend and avoiding the Waynes as much as possible.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Your friend asked. You were sitting on the couch in sweats, with your English textbook in front of you.
You looked at her with a furrowed brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You seem a little off.”
“Just tired, I guess.”
She nodded and walked into the kitchen. The conversation ended.
i’ve lost so much along the way
You hadn’t moved from your bed, even a week after the funeral. You were still in that god awful dress with makeup stains on your pillow case. You hadn’t bathed in two days, hadn’t eaten in four. Both seemed pointless.
If you could, you would hold your breath until you died, but that was impossible. You remember reading somewhere that you can never commit suicide by holding your breath. Your body will eventually force you to breathe. Eventually, it will force oxygen back into your lungs. Because instinct trumps all, just not death.
You hated how you felt, like the world was ending, like any purpose for breathing meant nothing because you could never spend those breaths of fresh air with him. How does someone even move on from the death of a best friend? How does someone move on from that gaping hole in their chest?
You were learning that you don’t. You just learn to ignore it.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks. No word from the doctors or Bruce. Not that you had gone out of your way to make contact. Any texts you got from Dick or Tim were ignored. You had stopped going home and it was worrying your parents. They left so many voicemails all talking about how they hoped you were okay.
“You need to tell me what’s going on with you,” your best friend said.
You hadn’t eaten in two days. “Why? I’m fine.” Except the bags under your eyes were dark as night.
“Barbara called. She told me about what happened.” She sat beside you on the couch. “She said Jason was alive and that he was the guy you’ve been dating.” Her hand was placed on your knee. “She said he was in the hospital, and has been for a week now. She also said that you haven’t been responding to anyone’s texts or calls.” You said nothing. You were too busy staring into empty space, pretending that the ache in your chest wasn’t increasing in pain. “Y/N, is this true?”
“I need some air,” you said abruptly. You got off the couch and went out into the cold and drizzling rain in your pajamas and a pair of slippers.
Should you just run away? It seemed that you couldn’t escape him no matter how far you went. He kept catching up to you like a sick reminder.
You started heading down the neighborhood streets. The cold rain quickly soaking your pajamas in a matter of minutes. No one was out, it was nearly midnight in a suburban part of Gotham. Your life felt like a sad indie movie. The moon was hardly out, being blocked by the clouds in the sky and your boyfriend was unresponsive in a hospital bed with his family surrounding him while you walk around the streets at night, searching for answers in the loneliness. You’ve never felt this lonely before, even when Jason died the first time. You hadn’t known his kisses then, you had never felt his embrace after a nightmare, you had never seen him waltz in your shared apartment looking so damn happy to see you. A sob started to raise in your throat, but you kept it down. You had made it a week without crying, you could survive another.
“Hey! Wanna hear a fun fact?” You ran up to Jason when he arrived at school. He looked tired and worn down, but he had his days, and you had learned to stop asking about them.
“I bet you I already know it,” he teased. A small smirk was left on his lips.
“Did you know ‘O Captain! My Captain! was inspired-”
“By Abraham Lincoln?” Jason raised an eyebrow before his smirk widened. “Why yes, I did know that.”
Your heart dropped just a little right before you started pouting. You shoved him a little. “You jerk.” His laugh bounced off the school walls as you walked inside. “Why do you know that?”
“Why do you?” He countered.
“I asked first!”
Jason sighed and laughed in the way that he does. It was easily the most attractive sound you had ever heard. “I really love literature and books. There’s very little I don’t know about.” You rolled your eyes in what you thought was discrete, but he saw it and heaved a heavy sigh. “Listen, you can run circles around me in physics, chemistry, biology, statistics, the list goes on. Just let me have this one?”
You sighed and found yourself sitting on a curb. After Jason died, you had found yourself reading O Captain! My Captain! more than you usually would have. You had gone to him every day before school hoping to surprise him with a fun fact about literature, but he knew each one. It frustrated you to no end, but you kept trying anyway. It eventually led to you reading more and more poetry. Walt Whitman intrigued you first. Jason had suggested him when you asked for good poets. Naturally, you read O Captain! first. After all, it felt like your poem. Most people have songs.
You and Jason had poems.
O Captain! My Captain! was yours.
You just never expected him to be the Abraham Lincoln to your Walt Whitman. Not at fifteen. And certainly not now.
i tried so hard
“I still don’t understand why Fate makes a tragedy even more tragic,” you mumbled.
Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. It was something he usually did when you questioned his favorite subject. “It’s the idea that it doesn’t matter how hard you try to work against your destiny, it’s gonna happen. And you have no say,” he replied.
You were still sitting on the curb. Your lips were probably blue and you were probably on the verge to hypothermia. Not like you cared though. You were trying to get on with your life but it wasn’t working. Two weeks after the whole incident and you couldn’t pull yourself together.
You didn’t even think your friends and family had faith in your recovery. Wouldn’t they be looking for you right now if they did? Or had they given up? Most people in the TV shows are upset for a few episodes and some people in reality are upset for the rest of your life. So maybe your grief was normal? Of course you had no idea. The only person you had lost was Jason. But you were fifteen years old then. You were too young to understand. Too innocent. You didn’t know that Jason was Robin. You didn’t know that Dick was Nightwing or that Bruce was Batman. But you knew now, and that was enough for you.
You wanted revenge. And you wanted it right then. You wanted to know who hurt Jason. You wanted them dead. Surely Dick would cover your tracks if you left behind a mess, he did the same for Jason on multiple occasions. You stood up with confidence and anger in your bones. You started heading out of the neighborhood and into downtown Gotham with every intention of grabbing the weapons Jason hid back home.
There was really no point to your pajamas anymore. They were soaked in rainwater, as was your hair. You were sure that you would feel the cold settling in if you weren’t so angry. A few cars passed by you, splashing cold rainwater onto you. One part of you wanted to key their car and slash their tires, but you had a mission. Nothing could stop you.
Part of you remembered a time when you thought you and Jason were opposites, hence why you worked so well together. But you remembered how he died for his mother. You remembered how Dick told you that Bruce wasn’t even enough to deter him from saving her. A vague segment of your mind told you that you were doing the exact same thing. Nothing was going to stop you from avenging him. People thought you were weak and simple minded, but you weren’t. You were as tough as nails. You have lost so many hours of sleep waiting for your boyfriend to come home. You could sew up any wound with trembling hands and blurry eyes. You could clean up blood better than anyone.
You walked up the flights of stairs to your apartment, fully prepared to swing the door open and see the mess you left behind. You were fully prepared to spend fifteen minutes sifting through the dirty clothes and trash to find a gun or a knife. But when the door opened, all you saw was nothing.
No trash, broken glass, dirty clothes. It was all cleaned up.
Any ounce of hatred left in your bones had disappeared.
You shut the door weakly as tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced them down. You weren’t going to cry. You walked further into your home, half expecting no one to be there, half expecting Jason to jump out at the same time.
Who else would clean your apartment?
A throat cleared from behind you. “It was disgusting in here. I had to do something.” You turned around, your heart still racing from the scare. “Master Bruce requested that I pick you up.”
You crossed your arms and looked the butler in the eye. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to clean up the disaster you left behind,” Alfred retorted. “Your friend called Miss Barbara who called Bruce who told me to come get you.”
You shifted weight onto your hips. “Why are you always the one who shows up right as I’m about to do something stupid?”
“Call it Fate.”
Your heart stung painfully. You took a seat on the couch in front of the coffee table. The same couch where you stitched up Jason on multiple occasions. You let out a sarcastic laugh. “You know, in order to have a tragedy, you have to have a higher working force. A Moral Order or Fate. It’s the idea that it doesn’t matter how hard you try to work against your destiny, it’s gonna happen. And you have no say.” Your voice got softer at the end of your sentence and your heart started to crack a little more with each word.
Alfred sighed heavily, in a way that wasn’t condescending or cold and took a seat beside you. “I think those things only really apply to literature and cinema, Y/N,” he said.
“Do they?” You looked down at your hands. “Because right now, I feel like it’s just my destiny to keep going to Jason’s funeral.” A sob started making its way up your throat. “He just got back from the dead, Alfred. He can’t die yet. Not yet.” You looked at him with such pain and such grief, you didn’t think you could hold it back anymore. “This was our second chance. I thought they were giving us a second chance!” You threw your head into you hands.
“And I didn’t even say ‘I love you,’ Alfred.” You stood up and started pacing around your living room. Your hands were being dragged through your hair at a furious rate. “I said ‘yeah’ like he asked me if I wanted fries for dinner.” You looked at him, feeling so utterly helpless and useless. “He may never hear me talk again, Alfred. He may never hear me say ‘I love you’ ever again. I may never hear him speak, or feel his embrace. Or look at that god awful helmet he wears.” You collapsed onto the floor in a dramatic heap and sobbed for the first time in two weeks.
Alfred was by your side and rubbing circles into your back. He soothed you like a child and waited for your sobs to quiet down.
“I don’t think your last words to him really matter,” he said. “He knew how you felt, and that’s all that matters.” Alfred sighed heavily. “Master Bruce requested that I take you to the hospital to see Jason.”
You looked at Alfred, completely alarmed. “Have they made the decision yet?”
“They don’t want to make it without you there.”
You nodded numbly and stood up on shaky legs. “I’ll be a moment. I have to grab something.”
“And change into dry clothes,” Alfred reminded.
You nodded once more and went into the back
i’ll find everything i thought i lost before
It was a long trip to the hospital. You rode in the front with Alfred and he didn’t protest. The backseat had too many memories. You and Jason used to goof off in the backseat after school freshman year. Those afternoons included gummy worm fights and sheets of blank paper found in random corners of the car.
You were glad that Alfred was neat because if you happened to find a random balled up paper with Jason’s fourteen year old handwriting on it, you might’ve just died from heartbreak.
Alfred pulled up to hospital and you were out of the car before he had even pulled to a stop under the portico. You had a book clutched to your chest as you raced inside.
“Y/N!” Tim called from his spot in the waiting room. No one else from the Wayne’s were there, probably on a separate floor.
“Where is he?” You asked, not even bothering with a salutation.
“Third floor, room 313,” he said. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked you over. “Hey are you-”
You were halfway to the elevator by the time he spoke up. You pressed the elevator button fifteen times before it finally opened up. You closed the doors before anyone else could join you right after you hit the level three button.
Tears started streaming down your face. Now that the elevator doors were closed, you could finally see yourself and the mess you had become. Over the past two weeks, you had avoided any reflective surface, afraid of what you’d see when you came face to face with your reflection. But you saw yourself now, and you weren’t happy with the way you looked like something out of the Walking Dead.
The elevator opened at the third floor and you sprinted down the hall.
Only to realize you weren’t going to right way. In fact, you really had no idea where you supposed to go. And you must’ve looked absolutely pitiful because a kind nurse came up to you without a hence of hesitation.
“Down that hall, take a left. He’s the fourth door on the right,” she said kindly.
You didn’t thank her, nor did you ask how she knew who you were. You stumbled down the halls, your wet hair hitting you in the face as your turned that sharp corner. That book still clutched to your chest. You flew down the hall until you got to that fourth door on the right. You stood in the doorway and your breath left you while your arms went limp.
Barbara, Dick, Damian, and Bruce were all standing around the bed, but you couldn’t see him. Bruce’s tall figure was blocking your view. But Dick saw you and he cleared his throat, gathering the attention of everyone. He nodded towards you as you stepped into the room. Dick and Barbara gave you the same look of pity and empathy they’d been giving you since you’d seen them last. Damian looked indifferent when he stared at you, but you knew he was hurting. And Bruce had yet to look at you.
No one said anything, but they left the room anyway. Everyone but Bruce that is.
You walked around him and to the foot of Jason’s bed. If you weren’t already crying, you were sure that seeing your boyfriend hooked up to a bunch of machines and bandages all over his body would’ve done the trick. He looked as fragile as you felt.
“You weren’t here,” Bruce said. The man made you uneasy. Sure, you had known him for a long time. But being in his presence with his once dead son in critical condition made him distant.
“I know,” you said. “I thought if I just ignored everyone and everything that-”
“You could pretend like it never happened.”
You let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah.”
Bruce took a look at the book in your hand and let out a exhausted laugh. “He always loved that guy,” he said. “I’ll leave you two.”
You waited until Bruce was out of the room before you sat down in the chair beside Jason’s bed. You took his hand in yours and nearly cried at how cold it was. Nonetheless, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles just like you used to. “Hey, Jase,” you started. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I just wasn’t strong enough. I tore up our apartment and then I left it like that. I ignored my family and yours. I nearly got hypothermia. I even seriously contemplated committing murder of those bastards who put you in here.” You gave a pathetic laugh. “And that happened in the course of fourteen long days without you.” You waited a little longer before speaking again. “I love you, Jason.” You wanted to say more, but you’ve run out of your own words.
So you referenced Whitman.
“My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still / My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, / The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, / From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; / Exult O shores, and ring O bells! / But I with mournful tread, / Walk the deck my Captain lies, / Fallen cold and dead.” You were a sobbing mess at the end. Leaves of Grass was covered in tear drops by the end of the poem. You only read the last stanza, but that was your favorite by far.
Your hands were shaking and loud sobs were leaving your mouth. You clutched Jason’s hand and sobbed into his cold and motionless arm.
He was going to die, you knew it. You knew it from the moment everyone left the room. Bruce didn’t ask Alfred to bring you here to discuss his plans as much as he wanted you to say goodbye.
“I love you, Jason Todd. I love you. I love you I love you,” you cried.
A sound of rustling sheets were heard, but your crying was so loud, you didn’t take notice.
“I find it really pathetic that it took me almost dying for you to finally open a poetry book willingly.”
Your heart stopped. There was no one else in the world who sounded like that. There was no one else in the world who would make a joke about death like that.
You looked up and saw him staring right back at you with a cocky smirk on his face. And this time, you were sobbing for a whole different reason.
hey big brother you should download flappy bird :)
it's a REALLY fun game super easy too my high score is 138
I can beat that!
then download it
I will !
- 20 minutes later-
BY THE FUCKING ANGEL NO I CAN'T PLAY THIS I ALREADY STABBED THE BED WITH A FUCKING KNIFE I DON'T KNOW WHERE I GOT THE KNIFE BUT THIS GAME THIS FUCKING GAME NEEDS TO GO TO HELL BY THE ANGEL I JUST NO FUCK THIS FUCK ALL THIS I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS SHIT NOPE I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW ANYONE CAN ENJOY THIS GAME FROM THE PIT OF HELL WHERE FATHER IS BECAUSE BY THE ANGEL NO I'M GOING TO GO ON A MASS MURDER I AM NOT EVEN JOKING
opinions on joe click baiting everyone in his big announcement video? and then making it known that he basically didn't care bc haha sorry lol
i’m gonna have a rant about joe now im sorry right ok
the clickbaiting: holy fuck. hoooooooooly fuck. nah. nope. stop. literally stop. u wanna know what’s not cool? using a thumbnail to pretend that you identify w the lgbtq community in order to promote your fucking “graphic novel” to make money. wanna know what’s super not cool? doing it completely unashamedly and not even apologising for it and literally admitting to it without apology. as a member of the lgbtq community, this is so damn offensive, coming out is not a joke and should never be treated as such, there are so many fucking people in the world who are literally threatened with violence if they come out so making a mockery of that process is most definitely not ok. people in the youtube community have done this before (ie. Luke) but at least they have realised what they’ve done and damn well apologised for it, but nope, this is literal unashamed piss taking and i am so done with the whole video before it even starts. (and then when it does start, there’s that lovely joke about sex changes, nice way of poking fun at the trans community joe)
there’s no doubt in my mind that many people will be expecting me to express an opinion on the “graphic novel” due to my views on Girl Online, and hey, y'kno what, i’m not going to shy away from saying this. quite fucking frankly, it’s down right dirty to me. yet another gleam team youtuber is publishing a story (i know it’s not a novel, but i’ll get to that in just a sec) and people are still buying that this is their dream and they are genuinely passionate. fans are still genuinely supporting these people and i don’t understand it.
joe himself has admitted that he isn’t even doing the illustrations for this and he isn’t doing it anywhere near by himself (i doubt he’ll have much of a hand in this), and the book is coming out in september and they havent even got character names yet, once again proving that this is a rushed affair in order for gleam to make a bit of cash. and not only that, but in joe’s own words, “originally i wanted to write a book”, literally saying that he was not originally passionate for this, and basically admitting that gleam probably asked him to write a book first but then figured it would be too obvious after Zoe and decided to get him to do a graphic novel instead!!!! what the actual fuck!!!!!
the only thing i can even start to give joe credit for on this is that he’s at least being somewhat transparent about it, unlike zoe (who only admitted to the ghost writing near the end), but somehow i fail to believe this is merit on joe’s part, and think it’s much more likely gleam have learned from what happened with zoe and the shit storm it caused that they need to at least admit when a youtuber’s work isn’t their damn own. still, doesn’t seem like they’ve learnt to stop taking the absolute piss out of the hard work genuine people put into creating stories and graphic novels, does it?