"Have you ever loved someone so much that you would go to Hell and back for them?"

It was winter when Jason strolled through downtown Gotham. The streets were lined with snow, and the air rung of Christmas carols and the laughter and bickering of children from the ice rink across the street. At one point, Jason may have rejoiced in the cheers that the holiday season brought with it, but as it was, he left solitary footprints in the snow as he lingered on, a nameless, faceless boy. The only place his wished to return to, he could not muster the courage to seek out, and while he had forgiven Bruce for his death, he still resented him for the Joker's life and his pride would not allow him chase after him like a desperate, forlorn lover.

Crossing the street to Gotham Central Park, Jason took a seat on an empty bench across from the ice rink, and as he allowed his mind to wander from its usual contemplations of vengeance, he watched the careless children in awe. There was a time when he was much like any of them, laughing, jesting, and carrying on as a kid should. Those were the days he spent at the side of the Batman, Bruce Wayne, as his ward and partner, his companion and livelihood. He chided himself for such idle, childish nostalgia, though in reality, Jason Todd was still merely that: a child. Perhaps he had grown in skill and knowledge, and his mind had been tainted by the dark adult obsession of revenge, and there was now blood on his hands, but his heart remained unchanged, though hidden. Jason Todd was still a child, a bitter, misguided child, but a child nonetheless.

He of course would never recognize this about himself, seeing himself as grown up, his own man. While he prided himself for no longer being in the shadow of Batman, of Nightwing, he felt lost in the world of the living being apart from the only source of light the cruel world had given him. This light, he would never admit, was his mantle of Robin. It was not the prestige or the glory that appealed to him. No, rather it was what the mantle implied. There was no Robin without Batman, and there was no Jason Todd without Bruce Wayne. Yes, being Robin ensured that he would be at Bruce's side. It ensured that he was his priority, his pride, but mostly, it ensured that he has not forgotten him, that he still loves him.

The last time Jason saw him, he had meditated Bruce's death and had without fail, set the necessary gears into motion in order to obtain the ends. However, upon seeing his Dark Knight, as brave, bold, and enigmatic as he had always been, swoop down from the roof top like the shadow of night itself, Jason could not press the detonator. Regardless of how bitter he remain, he was smitten, is smitten still, with the Batman. He did not want that one secret glimpse to be his last, could not bear the thought of losing him once more, of causing his own lost. His resentment gave way to the love that had transcended death, and he was helpless against Bruce's effortless charm. It was always that air about him, that silent, triumphant air that proclaims justice has been done, that Jason was infatuated with. He stopped to admire the man he had yearned to see since the moment of his resurrection. It was only once he made off without him that he recalled the reason for his ire, and at once, his admiration gave way to his scorn. It was the same proclamation of justice that left his murderer among the living. It was the same heroic, righteous ways that left him little more than a vengeful zombie.

Shaking the thought from mind, Jason cussed quietly to himself for entertaining such inane revelries, and in a fluster, reached with a quivering hand into the pocket of his black leather jacket for a pack of cigarettes. With numb, clumsy fingers, he pulled one out and shielding his lighter against the wind, lit it and inhaled a long, shuddering drag. Taking another puff, he held his breath a moment as he took in the winter scenery around him. The man at the next bench was reading his newspaper and drinking his coffee, minding his own business and seeming quite pleased with his mundane morning routine. Down the lane, a woman and her two year old daughter was walking their Yorkshire terrier, the small, fluffy dog yapping cheerfully along as its masters chattered indistinctly about a ballet recital. Another shapely woman jogs pass him sporting a flamboyant workout suit, countering the Christmas carols with her earphones. Jason exhaled, the smoke leaving his dry lips intermixing with his cold breath and dispersing into the grey December sky like a cloud. These people were living such simple lives, doing such boring, trivial things, but he could not help but envy each and every one of them. He could not put words to his jealousy, but he knew that it had everything to do with that man he came back to see, that man that he could not bring himself to find, that man that he begrudged. He would have given anything to be like them, carrying on with their lives uninterrupted, doing the boring, daily things, and living by routine. All of these simple things were what he missed most from life because all of these simple things involved him.

Exhaling a sigh before taking another drag, Jason turned his attention upon the strings of colourful lights that spanned the wrought iron lampposts and a small smile twitched his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Even now, he could not help but reminisce of those old rose coloured days he spent with Bruce, recalling the silly Christmas tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life with Dick when he came to visit and how happy and warm the air was in the Wayne manor, surrounded by those he loved. But mostly, Jason reminisced about how genuinely excited Bruce always seemed when he received his presents, no matter how silly or useless they were. He always seemed to cherish them, and that had always be Jason's favourite thing about Christmas.

But now, surrounded by all these lights, colours, and happy people, Jason found it all heartbreaking, and because it was easier to channel his sadness into anger, something he had in common with Bruce, he came to resent the holiday and everything it stood for. There would be no movie night for him this year, no Dick, no Alfred. There would be no warm fireside storytelling, no Christmas dinner. But most of all, there will be no Bruce. That smile that Bruce Wayne seemed to set aside for just the occasion, the one that he only showed Jason, would not be his this year, and that was all he ever wanted for Christmas, one moment of Bruce's approval for the year.