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schizoauthoressTitle: All Our Best Men Are Laughed At II
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set after "The Death of Superman", goes AU from there. Spoilers for "Red Hood: the Lost Days" #5
Warnings: lots of canonical character death, broken grief process, eventual clonecest
Prompt/Fill: any, any, broken; also fills "Alternate History: Author's Choice" on my au_bingo card
Word Count: 1059
Summary: The boy is not a weapon. Bruce will make this true, no matter what anyone else wants.
Word of the Day: hsien, noun:
1. One of a group of benevolent spirits promoting good in the world.
2. In China, a county or district.
All Our Best Men Are Laughed At: Part One, click here
All Our Best Men Are Laughed At: Part Two
When he heard about the Cadmus Project's graverobbing, it took all the self control that Bruce had not to go up to Metropolis as Batman and terrorize them into submission. He knew what they wanted Superman's body for -- he wasn't the only one who had come to the conclusion that the world still needed a Superman. Where he was motivated by grief and (now he could admit it) friendship, however, the Cadmus Project's interest could only be in creating a supersolider. Bruce knew about the Guardian, after all.
A few judicious words in the correct ears, though, and Oracle was on the case. Bruce was sure he wouldn't be able to exactly trace everything she did to sabotage Cadmus's efforts at creating their own Superman clone, but he trusted Barbara to do a thorough job. When she reported back that Westfield was deep in Lex Luthor, Junior's pockets, well... Bruce had expressed relief enough at that bullet dodged that Barbara would probably believe that had been his motivation. But when he disconnected from their conversation -- and a few minutes full of security checks later -- he was down in his private sub-level laboratory, staring at the clone-child he'd created.
'If I was wrong in making you,' Bruce thinks silently, pressing one hand to the curve of the glass containment tube, 'at least you were made by a friend of Superman, and not his enemies.'
****
Bruce finds himself trusting more and more in his new Robin to handle petty crime and the nightly patrol. Important matters consume nearly all his attention, for there is plenty of information from the Cadmus Project on their plans for "a new Superman".
He implements basic knowledge downloads immediately after vetting the software to make sure there is no malicious programming. There's part of Jason in the clone, and as much as it would have made his life easier, Bruce balks at the idea of programming his son -- 'this clone is not your son,' a small voice of reason tries to tell him, but it's only true in ways that don't matter -- for obedience. There is training a child and shaping him to a moral standard, and then there is brainwashing the choice out of him. Bruce can't make himself overstep that boundary.
'It wouldn't be right,' Bruce tells himself, 'Clark would never forgive me if I did it.' Strangely, that thought comforts him.
****
The world has changed.
Jason Todd had once been gripped by the childish hope -- belief was too strong a word, he didn't believe in anyone or anything if he could help it anymore -- that things would remain the same despite his death. That his perceptions would remain reality, as though the world were preserved in the amber of his memory. Amber is not a hard stone.
Jason Todd has been broken -- cracked down to the core of his being -- and hastily reassembled with the 'help' of a poorly understood natural phenomenon. He wonders, idly, at times if perhaps he left some tiny pieces of himself in the Lazarus Pit -- some small yet vital aspect of his personality. He feels strange and somehow jagged, like his not-quite-mended presence doesn't fit in this changed world, and he's tearing at something by being here.
Talia looks at him with wounded eyes and he knows he's a disappointment. He's not quite what she hoped for -- no longer the boy who followed Batman with hope and bright eyes, no longer that which might turn back the clock and take the pain away. Jason wishes he could be.
He really wishes he could be.
But... he's not just broken in a way that hurts other people. He tears himself up just as badly, perhaps worse, because he has to be alone with his thoughts all the time.
Jason nearly killed the Bat. It was an endeavor that took skill and patience, and not just for the three hours it took to slip under the Batmobile undetected, place a bomb, and get back to his safe spot. But it isn't Batman that he wants to take out -- hell, some days he's not sure he even wants to kill the man. He wants to see remorse in Bruce's eyes. He wants his adoptive father to know what he wrought by his failure, not in letting Jason die (Jason knows it was his own misplaced trust that put him in mortal peril), but in letting the murder go unpunished.
But it feels like Bruce never learns.
Something in Jason screams like a tormented animal when he sees the surveillance photos that Talia shares. There aren't really words to it, and all the same there's a coldly clinical part of his brain that assesses the changes in costume and methodology displayed in those five photographs. But it's all betrayal, even to the changes in the costume -- they are half an acknowledgement of what happened to Jason Todd, and half a cruel parody of what he wore as Batman's partner.
Yes, the photos say to Jason, you died because you were Robin and you died because the Joker hates Batman but none of that mattered. You died and he found someone new. He knows how dangerous things are for Robin and he still gives someone else your name.
Jason keeps it all under wraps until Talia is gone again. She wouldn't -- couldn't -- understand. For all that they both love Bruce dearly, it's too different.
****
Jason is in Poznań when he hears that Superman is dead. He couldn't have avoided it; the whole damn city, hell, the whole world grinds to a halt with that news. He doesn't care what his latest teacher is going to do. On that day, Jason buys a big bottle of Sobieski vodka and locks himself in his room. He takes shots and toasts the Man of Steel and laughs himself sick imagining the look of disapproval that Superman would wear if he knew about Jason's underage drinking.
He wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache and a paper full of scrawled travel plans for this evening.
It seems drunken-him wants sober-him to go back to Gotham City.
Jason can get behind that plan.
...As soon as he doesn't feel like vomiting when confronted with bright light.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set after "The Death of Superman", goes AU from there. Spoilers for "Red Hood: the Lost Days" #5
Warnings: lots of canonical character death, broken grief process, eventual clonecest
Prompt/Fill: any, any, broken; also fills "Alternate History: Author's Choice" on my au_bingo card
Word Count: 1059
Summary: The boy is not a weapon. Bruce will make this true, no matter what anyone else wants.
Word of the Day: hsien, noun:
1. One of a group of benevolent spirits promoting good in the world.
2. In China, a county or district.
All Our Best Men Are Laughed At: Part One, click here
All Our Best Men Are Laughed At: Part Two
When he heard about the Cadmus Project's graverobbing, it took all the self control that Bruce had not to go up to Metropolis as Batman and terrorize them into submission. He knew what they wanted Superman's body for -- he wasn't the only one who had come to the conclusion that the world still needed a Superman. Where he was motivated by grief and (now he could admit it) friendship, however, the Cadmus Project's interest could only be in creating a supersolider. Bruce knew about the Guardian, after all.
A few judicious words in the correct ears, though, and Oracle was on the case. Bruce was sure he wouldn't be able to exactly trace everything she did to sabotage Cadmus's efforts at creating their own Superman clone, but he trusted Barbara to do a thorough job. When she reported back that Westfield was deep in Lex Luthor, Junior's pockets, well... Bruce had expressed relief enough at that bullet dodged that Barbara would probably believe that had been his motivation. But when he disconnected from their conversation -- and a few minutes full of security checks later -- he was down in his private sub-level laboratory, staring at the clone-child he'd created.
'If I was wrong in making you,' Bruce thinks silently, pressing one hand to the curve of the glass containment tube, 'at least you were made by a friend of Superman, and not his enemies.'
****
Bruce finds himself trusting more and more in his new Robin to handle petty crime and the nightly patrol. Important matters consume nearly all his attention, for there is plenty of information from the Cadmus Project on their plans for "a new Superman".
He implements basic knowledge downloads immediately after vetting the software to make sure there is no malicious programming. There's part of Jason in the clone, and as much as it would have made his life easier, Bruce balks at the idea of programming his son -- 'this clone is not your son,' a small voice of reason tries to tell him, but it's only true in ways that don't matter -- for obedience. There is training a child and shaping him to a moral standard, and then there is brainwashing the choice out of him. Bruce can't make himself overstep that boundary.
'It wouldn't be right,' Bruce tells himself, 'Clark would never forgive me if I did it.' Strangely, that thought comforts him.
****
The world has changed.
Jason Todd had once been gripped by the childish hope -- belief was too strong a word, he didn't believe in anyone or anything if he could help it anymore -- that things would remain the same despite his death. That his perceptions would remain reality, as though the world were preserved in the amber of his memory. Amber is not a hard stone.
Jason Todd has been broken -- cracked down to the core of his being -- and hastily reassembled with the 'help' of a poorly understood natural phenomenon. He wonders, idly, at times if perhaps he left some tiny pieces of himself in the Lazarus Pit -- some small yet vital aspect of his personality. He feels strange and somehow jagged, like his not-quite-mended presence doesn't fit in this changed world, and he's tearing at something by being here.
Talia looks at him with wounded eyes and he knows he's a disappointment. He's not quite what she hoped for -- no longer the boy who followed Batman with hope and bright eyes, no longer that which might turn back the clock and take the pain away. Jason wishes he could be.
He really wishes he could be.
But... he's not just broken in a way that hurts other people. He tears himself up just as badly, perhaps worse, because he has to be alone with his thoughts all the time.
Jason nearly killed the Bat. It was an endeavor that took skill and patience, and not just for the three hours it took to slip under the Batmobile undetected, place a bomb, and get back to his safe spot. But it isn't Batman that he wants to take out -- hell, some days he's not sure he even wants to kill the man. He wants to see remorse in Bruce's eyes. He wants his adoptive father to know what he wrought by his failure, not in letting Jason die (Jason knows it was his own misplaced trust that put him in mortal peril), but in letting the murder go unpunished.
But it feels like Bruce never learns.
Something in Jason screams like a tormented animal when he sees the surveillance photos that Talia shares. There aren't really words to it, and all the same there's a coldly clinical part of his brain that assesses the changes in costume and methodology displayed in those five photographs. But it's all betrayal, even to the changes in the costume -- they are half an acknowledgement of what happened to Jason Todd, and half a cruel parody of what he wore as Batman's partner.
Yes, the photos say to Jason, you died because you were Robin and you died because the Joker hates Batman but none of that mattered. You died and he found someone new. He knows how dangerous things are for Robin and he still gives someone else your name.
Jason keeps it all under wraps until Talia is gone again. She wouldn't -- couldn't -- understand. For all that they both love Bruce dearly, it's too different.
****
Jason is in Poznań when he hears that Superman is dead. He couldn't have avoided it; the whole damn city, hell, the whole world grinds to a halt with that news. He doesn't care what his latest teacher is going to do. On that day, Jason buys a big bottle of Sobieski vodka and locks himself in his room. He takes shots and toasts the Man of Steel and laughs himself sick imagining the look of disapproval that Superman would wear if he knew about Jason's underage drinking.
He wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache and a paper full of scrawled travel plans for this evening.
It seems drunken-him wants sober-him to go back to Gotham City.
Jason can get behind that plan.
...As soon as he doesn't feel like vomiting when confronted with bright light.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*