Chapter Text
Come on, Todd. Lighten up.
Jason frowned as Roy’s teasing words bounced mindlessly around the inside of his skull. He could be plenty light; just not here, in the basement of some backstreet, hole-in-the-wall joint that Roy had insisted on taking them to. Something about ‘properly’ introducing Kori to Gotham’s nightlife - though why that had to involve an underground dance club was beyond Jason. The pulsing strobes, the smoky haze, the scent of sweat and liquor swirling around the dizzying throng of people… everything about the place had Jason on edge. The tumult of the crowd would provide excellent cover for some less-than-legal dealing, and the whole ‘one way down,’ rickety staircase of an exit felt like Gotham Gazette front page waiting to happen.
He shook the thought from his head.
It’s just a night out, Jason reminded himself. So he found himself a corner - close to the stairs, just in case - and after eyeing the stain-spattered walls suspiciously, he settled in for the long night to come. He wasn’t sure how an alien princess became fascinated by human dances, but Kori was bound to lose interest eventually. It was only a matter of waiting it out.
The rhythm of the salsa music, however, proved hard to ignore. Not that he was particularly surprised. He had spent more than a few nights in clubs just like this, letting the rhythm distract him from thoughts even an all-out brawl couldn’t free him from.
...Or maybe that was just the pretty brunette with the crop top and the hips that twisted and turned like pulled taffy. As much as he had wanted to go, it only took a too-sweet smile and the offer of a dance to get Jason to stay.
“Hey,” Jason called to her, crossing the floor in time with the music as the fiery Latin rhythm began to pull at his body. The music drowned out the sound of his voice, but he knew he had caught her attention - she watched him with interest as he approached, her eyes gleaming under the flashing lights.
“Hey yourself,” she replied. She swayed as she moved closer, shifting to match Jason step for step. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said, leaning up to speak the words right into Jason’s ear. Jason could feel the heat of her breath on his skin. “You come here often?”
“Nah,” Jason replied. “Just droppin’ in. Although,” he continued, giving her a lopsided grin as he spun her in his arms, “I could certainly be... persuaded… to come a little more often.”
“I can be persuasive,” she replied.
By now they were almost too close, Jason’s hands slipping lower on her waist, her fingers tracing appreciatively over the hard planes of his arms, a question gleaming in her dark eyes. The music swirled around them, heady and intoxicating.
“No need,” Jason murmured into her ear. “Just dance with me.”
They started slowly, testing each other’s steps and searching for a spark, a common ground, before Jason found himself falling into a familiar pattern, his feet moving in time with the rhythm.
“You…” the women looked up at him quizzically. “What’s a gringo like you doing dancing a cha-cha?”
Jason smirked. “ Ay, bella,” he said, his accent flawless. Pulling her in close, he reached out to take her hand in his. “You’ve never danced with a gringo like me.”
In three long strides, they cut through to the center of the dance floor, a wild grin playing at the corners of Jason’s lips as he and his partner fell under the spell of the music. The rhythm thrummed through their footsteps, it sizzled at their touch; she moved like a firecracker, flashy and brilliant, and Jason was more than happy to oblige her, leading her through a dizzying series of dips and spins, their footwork moving faster and faster. Before long, a crowd had formed around them as they danced, moving freely in ever-widening circles until -
“Hey!”
The music came to a squealing halt.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
What Jason was doing at that moment was holding a very beautiful woman very close to his body, his eyes scanning the dance floor as he searched for the man who had shouted.
He didn’t have to search for long - a short, stocky, unpleasant-looking man was heading towards them, fury radiating from his every feature. “That’s my woman!” the man insisted as he drew closer, shoving people out of his path as he made his way through the crowd.
Jason might have considered arguing the choice of words had he not seen the gun tucked into the man’s belt. Before the man could reach them, Jason pulled his partner upright, brushed his lips lightly against her hand, gave her boyfriend a jaunty wave…
...and promptly bolted.
“Roy! Kori!” Jason barked, barreling through the throngs of dancers and racing for the exit. “Time to go!” He took the stairs two at a time without looking back. The man might not be fast enough to catch him but a bullet could do the trick, and while it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d brought his fists to a firefight, he decided that tonight he’d hedge his bets.
It was supposed to be their night off, after all.
He made it out without incident, pushing past the people at the door and running out into the warm September night. A few seconds later, the sound of breaking glass announced his friend’s escape - with Kori carrying Roy in her arms as she flew him out to safety.
“...don’t understand why this has to happen every freaking time,” Roy griped, pouting as Kori lowered carefully to the ground. “Going out by myself? Everything’s fine. Going out with Jason? Better have a fucking escape route planned if you don’t want to get hauled out princess-style before it all goes to hell.”
Roy stumbled out of Kori’s grasp as soon as she landed, clinging desperately to his half-empty glass of lemonade and the last shreds of his dignity as he turned to face Jason. “Really, Todd? The owner’s girlfriend?”
“What?” Jason demanded, throwing up his hands. “It’s not like I knew.”
“He just has a thing for dancers,” Roy stage-whispered to Kori, who grinned slyly at Jason and laughed. “He just can’t help himself.”
“Clearly,” Kori replied.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Jason muttered.
“And go to another club?” Kori asked hopefully.
“No!” Roy spat. “Not another club - not when Mister Latin Fire over there can’t keep the dance in his pants. No clubs.”
~~~
‘No clubs’ it was - instead, they wandered, taking to the Gotham streets without a care for where they might go or who they might find. The night was warm and sultry, with the last traces of the day’s heat rising off the pavement to be swept away by the thin summer breeze, and if they squinted, the lights of the downtown skyscrapers almost looked like stars.
Almost.
Eventually, the grunge of the downtown club scene gave way to the high-rises and the marbled facades of Gotham’s historic uptown. Jason rarely came here - let Bruce and his ilk take care of their own - and as they meandered the mansion-studded avenues and tiptoed around the manicured parks, Jason remembered why he stayed away. Rising above the squalor of life and death to laze about in the easy promises of wealth and greed, the crime in this part of town was of a different breed. Much like the people.
He scowled.
“Oh!”
Jason turned at the sound.
Roy knelt by the basement window of a stately brownstone building, peering down through the glass. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, leaning closer for a better view. “The preps built themselves a playplace.”
It was a theatre set, ornate and elaborate, spread out before them like a childhood dream. Dark velvet curtains had been drawn back to reveal a complicated set structure with bridges and balconies and doors that coaxed the curiosity to explore beyond them. Spotlights and catwalks hung from the ceiling, high above the seats for a small audience, and everywhere below, Jason saw costume racks and set collections and props from shows that Jason couldn’t even name - not that he could name many. But looking down at the auditorium, he found himself wishing he could.
He let out a low whistle.
“Hey, Jason,” Roy said, eyeing the stage with a thoughtful look.
“Yeah?”
Roy smirked. “Betcha can’t land a backflip from the catwalk.”
After studying the narrow bridge above the theatre for a moment, Jason grinned.
“You know what, Roy?” Jason asked slyly. “I bet you I can pull two.”
~~~
Breaking in was the easy part.
The old window frame gave without any problem at all, no complicated locks to pick, no cameras to catch them in the act, and then the three of them lowered themselves one by one and dropped into the theatre, each of them waiting intently for the sound of an alarm to give them away.
None came.
The hard part was maintaining some semblance of self control after they got in.
“Ho-ly shit look at this place,” Roy muttered. “These preps don’t know when to stop.”
It was like nothing Jason had ever seen. Wandering the almost maze-like sprawl of costumes and props, Jason got the distinct impression that he hadn’t broken into a theatre, but that he had fallen into a completely different world. From the ground, the stage and the set took on new life; towering and majestic, the structure and the painted canvas backdrop beyond it no longer looked like some child’s flimsy playground, but a scaffold for something greater. Something… magical.
“Hey Todd, you coming up, or what?”
Jason grinned. “You really want to lose that bet, don't you.”
In half an hour, the theatre was a kingdom laid to waste. While the catwalks could bear the strain of some Flying Grayson-esque acrobatics, the costume racks were not designed with Olympic-level uneven bar techniques in mind. The set structures had a similar problem; while it tolerated walking and careful running, it quickly became clear that it hadn't been built to withstand a good chase… or parkour. Toppled props and and scattered costumes littered the floor, a trail that led right to where Roy and Kori were laughing - Kori wrapped in a heavy faux fur robe and crown, Roy bedecked in a chintzy feather boa - as Kori threw clothing into the air and Roy shot at them with a toy bow he'd found.
Jason watched it all from his perch atop the battered set tower, taking in the chaos with a quiet grin. From up here, he felt weightless, untouchable.
From here, he could see the glow of flashlight beams sweeping across the dark hallway that led straight to them.
Shit.
“ Guys!” Jason barked, scrambling off his perch. “We’ve got company!”
The mirth evaporated immediately.
“Aw, hell,” Roy drawled, looking up to the window they had entered through and watching the arrival of the familiar red and blue lights of the GCPD.
“I can fly us back through the window,” Kori said, “but unless you want me blasting through the building, it'll have to be one at a time.”
“No blasting,” Jason replied. “Who knows how old this dump is, we don't want it collapsing on us. Kori, take Roy. I'll be right behind you.”
“Seriously?” Roy griped as Kori held out her arms. “I'm getting carried again?”
“Well unless you've recently learned how to fly,” Jason bit back, “you're just gonna have to get used to it. Now hop in, Princess, we don't have all night.”
The lights were getting closer. Down the hall, Jason could now hear footsteps.
“Guys, go!”
Kori needed no further prompting - she swept Roy into her arms and took off with a burst of light, no doubt leaving police cars and stunned policemen in her dust. They'd be hard-pressed to chase after her.
Jason snorted. Now for his escape.
Just then, the doors to the auditorium burst open and the police rushed in.
Why, hello, Commissioner,” Jason said, calmly taking a seat at the edge of the stage. “Didn’t realize this old dump was so highly treasured by the GCP; you brought an awful lot of friends to come see little old me.”
And indeed he had. Jason counted a good fifteen officers, all wearing Kevlar and armed to the teeth.
Gordon frowned, lowering his gun slightly. “Jason,” he said, blinking slowly as if not believing what he saw. “Jason Todd.”
“In the flesh,” Jason replied, spreading his arms wide. “Miss me?”
The commissioner blinked again, hardly daring to move. “You… I thought you were dead… the Joker...”
Jason laughed - a harsh, heartless sound. “Is that what the big bat told you, Commissioner?” Jason asked coldly. “Was that his story for bringing on the new bird?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “He lied to you, old man. Straight through his teeth. The Joker didn't get me.” The hard, mirthless grin on his face grew bitter. “Just my mother.”
The commissioner lowered his weapon, and after a moment’s tension, signaled for his men to do the same. “Sounds like you've got a story to share, Todd,” Gordon said slowly, tucking his gun into his holster. “And this isn't the place for it. Why don't we take this downtown and have a little chat - for old times sake?”
Jason stilled. Thought for a moment.
“Sure, old man,” Jason said quietly. “For old times sake.”
~~~
“You really gonna make me go over the story of Ma’s death again, Gordon?” Jason asked, slumping into the seat across the commissioner's desk. It had been a long time since he'd last been here - almost four years.
A lot had changed since then.
Gordon settled into his chair with a sigh. “Just the summary, if you'd prefer,” he said. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a tin of butter cookies and offered one to Jason.
Jason took it.
“I knew your mother, even though I didn't know her well. I was concerned when she disappeared all those years ago - I had hoped, somewhat naively I suppose, that she had gone someplace to get better after your… passing.”
Jason scoffed. “You got it backwards, old man,” he said. “The Joker killed her . I'm the one who left.”
“Why?”
Jason was quiet for a long moment.
“...because… B did nothing. After all that, after all fucking clown has done, he's still alive…” His knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists. “He was going after me, you know. Told me he was gonna beat me to death with a crowbar, that he was going to count how many strikes it took before The Batman shot him dead…”
The commissioner watched him sadly.
“He doesn't care about me, about us. He doesn't care who ends up dead, as long as he's not the one pulling the trigger. I'm done with him. I'll save Gotham my own way, with my own hands.”
“And is that what you were doing tonight? Cleaning up Gotham?”
“It was just a little fun-”
“Fun?” Gordon repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You call the destruction of that theatre fun? That was the work of thousands of student-hours, the culmination of years of effort, down the drain in a night’s callous actions.”
“They can just pay for a new one!” Jason snapped.
“No, they can't,” Gordon cut back. “That theatre and everything in it was made by hand by the students of that school - kids no older than you who want to make this place a little brighter.”
“Why should I care?”
“...Your mother did.”
Jason froze.
“She worked there, you know. When she could. And they took her back every time, because addicted or no she loved those kids. She saw something in them that she also saw in you.”
Silence.
“I got you tonight on trespassing, breaking and entering, destruction of property and slew of other offenses that would make any judge worth their coattails throw you in jail for the next few months - and with the attitude you're giving me now, I have half a mind to let the justice system have you.”
Jason scowled.
“But…” Commissioner Gordon took a long pause, studying the young man in front of him intently. “But if you go to the school tomorrow and confess, I will let you off the hook.”
“For a simple confession?” Jason snorted, moving to stand and leave. “You got yourself a deal.”
“Not so fast.”
Jason sat.
“You must confess,” Gordon said slowly, “and then you have to offer to make up for it. Despite what you may think, not every one of those students are there on mommy's and daddy's money. Many are on scholarship, scholarships that will have to be cut to pay for the repairs to the theatre. I'm sure the service will be greatly appreciated - no matter who it comes from.”
~~~
The next morning found Jason sitting outside the office of principal, a prim woman whose thin lips pursed when she was told who had come to see her and exactly what he had come to say. Once he had said his piece - confession and all, just as the commissioner had requested - he was promptly kicked out of the room, instructed to wait as the principal… and then the head of the theatre department… and then the other department heads of the Very Illustrious and Self-important Gotham Conservatory for the Arts filed one by one into the conference room and discussed his fate.
Jason scowled.
After what felt like ages, the door opened and the staff members walked out. No one looked at Jason.
“Mr. Todd?” someone called from inside. “The principal will see you now.”
“Hurray,” Jason said under his breath. He rose and entered.
"The head of the theatre department," the principal began after a long moment, "has estimated that you and whoever you were with last night caused upwards of $50,000 of irreparable damage to the auditorium. The creative efforts of countless students, for countless hours, have all been for naught.”
“I can help rebuild it-”
“No,” she retorted, “I sincerely doubt you can. The professional scouts who come to this Conservatory are not interested in the mediocre work of an artless young man and his destructive tendencies, they are here for the students. As such,” she continued, silencing Jason’s argument with a sharp look, “the faculty and I have decided that several of the maintenance staff will assist the students in the repairs to the theatre. You, Mr. Todd, will make up for the lack of labor. I'm talking maintenance. Janitorial work. Scrubbing toilets, painting walls, polishing floors - you know the deal.”
“When do I start?” Jason grit out.
“Right now,” the principle replied. “The commissioner informed me that you have no current daytime engagements, so I will expect you here every weekday from eight to five, and weekends if the work isn't getting done. Is that clear?”
“As crystal,” Jason muttered.
“Excellent. One of our maintenance staff will show you where to find the cleaning supplies.”
Ten minutes later, Jason stood outside the bathroom, freshly dressed in a full-length brown jumpsuit and armed with a bucket and a mop. Around him, students passed on their way to their classes, chattering and talking amongst themselves.
“Did you hear about the theatre?”
“I heard the punk confessed.”
“That's him right there.”
Jason turned.
Another boy, not much younger than Jason himself, stood at the door of a dance studio down the hall. He was speaking to a girl, blonde and pretty, but the boy’s glare was undoubtedly for Jason.
Jason glared back.
“Shut it, Twinkletoes,” Jason hissed. “You don't know who you're messing with.”
The other boy scoffed, sweeping a lock of his dark hair out of his face.
“Neither do you.”