Work Text:
Dividing Line
The first sign that things are changing goes almost completely unnoticed by Jason. He's been angry for so long - at Bruce, at the Joker, at himself - that when he finally stops being angry, it's such a relief that he bypasses kneecapping two mooks who were robbing a five-and-dime, and doesn't even notice until he arrives at his 'nest' for the night and realizes that his gauntlets aren't covered in blood like they usually are after he's been out all night. Jason doesn't even have time for the shock to register before his memories start slipping from his mental grasp, and he can't even remember why he was angry in the first place. Then he does, and almost flinches as his memories start rewriting themselves in his head, pain and pleasure and love and hate all swirled together and none of it making any sense. Things happen faster after that, until Jason finds himself wandering around the cemetery where he's buried with no recollection of how, or better yet, why he's there. He stands in front of his grave and wonders why he doesn't feel sad. Just...depressed. Apathetic, as if all the anger has been drained out of him and replaced with acceptance. He's always had a rather cynical, dark, sarcastic edge to him, but this much morbidity is really beyond the pale. Jason knows he's changed; he's just not sure how. He shivers inside his T-shirt and jeans, and wishes for his Robin costume, even though his legs would be bare. Then, almost of their own accord, his eyes drift across the night-dark lawn to the Waynes' double headstone. He knows what he has to do. As light dawns over the darkest, grimiest city in America, Jason heads towards the Manor. He doesn't know what's happened him, but he knows who can help him deal with the changes. Robin needs Batman, after all.