So, yeah. I can just hear my followers saying "there he goes again".To everyone else, hello! I hope you enjoy my story so far that will involve the Batfam quite heavily. Fair warning! I'm 98% newb to this entire fandom. I've tided (is that a word?) myself over with fandom wikis, fanart, and this site. I'd read the comics, but I live in Bumfuck Nowhere, America. Wish me luck finding a store for it.

As for continuity, I'm not 100% certain. I suppose New 52, as I prefer it when Jason has a more positive relationship with his family, or at least with Tim. But if I hit a lot of continuity errors, consider it Earth number whatever-they-haven't-used.

With that out of the way...enjoy!

What a great frickin way to enjoy Christmas Eve. Roy thought bitterly as he trudged down the sidewalk. His green oversized jacket didn't do a whole lot to keep him warm, but at least he wasn't freezing. The laces of his black converse smacked into the concrete with each footfall, threatening to tangle in each other or get stuck. He'd just slipped his shoes on without tying them as he ran out of the house. Figured. As he sighed and knelt to tie them, the wind blew the jacket hood off of his head, revealing a shock of messy, but straight brown hair. He huffed in annoyance and brushed his bangs away repeatedly as they tried to smack his eyes until the wind died down. He finished tying the laces and stood, sharp jade eyes framing a pale, rounded face and small nose turning up to the cloudy Gotham sky just as the first snowflakes began to fall.

He needed to get this over with. There wasn't much time before either his parents came looking for him or the GCPD came by. He doubted the freaking Batman would care, as he had no threat of being robbed or kidnapped. He had nothing of value on him sans his clothing, and even those were cheap and nigh thread bare. He looked ahead of him and began walking as he contemplated more reasons he was safe walking down the street at night.

Well, he was average (in his opinion) in the looks department, so he didn't think anybody would throw him in a human trafficking ring. Now, what else was a possible danger...?

Oh yeah!

It was too fucking dark.

He felt like a baby, a feeling he absolutely hated with a passion, but it was true. He hated the dark. He wasn't the type to see monsters in the shadows he passed or went through, but if somebody did attack him, he wouldn't be able to see them well enough to fight back.

Not that he could do much. He'd never learned how to fight. He'd been taught to cover vital places and just take whatever came. Self-taught, of course, or he'd have been in the hospital at least three more times this year. Courtesy of dear old Papa.

He was approaching the bridge now. Good thing it was fairly close to his house. As he walked, he sang quietly to occupy the otherwise silent night. Heh, see what he did there?

"Come with me...and you'll be in a world of pure imagination...take a look, and you'll see into your imagination..." He sighed, his breath flowing out in a billow of fog that disappeared a few inches out. He cracked a smile as he remembered that when he was little he would pretend to be a dragon when that happened. Back then, his Mama and Papa would have laughed or taken a picture.

But not anymore. And probably never again.

"We'll begin," He continued as he started the uphill climb as the bridge rose and went across the ocean to the next island that made up Gotham City, "with a spin. Traveling through the world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation..." Yeah, that was quite appropriate. Half of what happened in Gotham defied explanation.

Like how his parents transitioned from loving and attentive to neglectful and violent. But that was okay. He'd finally figured out how to make it all better.

He hummed the next verse of the song as he made it halfway across the bridge and stared down at the water. It definitely wasn't highest on his list of places to die. He hummed about changing the world and being free if he truly wished to be as he carefully climbed onto the railing and turned around so he was facing the road. No traffic, and nobody around. Perfect, the last thing he needed was for the police to be called. He took a slow, deep breath...

And pitched himself backwards off of the bridge.

It was a thrill. Like when the roller coaster races down the hill. That strong, tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach. The stars were so beautiful tonight...so beautiful...

He counted to five.

It always felt weird when he did this. He felt weightless, as if nothing were there but his mind and eyes. A red haze covered his vision, wavering and curling like smoke. That's what he was, after all. Just a red cloud of smoke.

Up. He thought. He went up, back onto the bridge, and counted to five again. Counting wasn't needed, but it calmed him enough to revert back. It was jarring, suddenly having weight and a body and clear vision again. But he felt better.

So much better.

With a smile, he sang much louder and more cheerfully as he made the trek back home. The blood red in his eyes and hair would fade by then, as it always did.

Elroy O'Hara wouldn't come back to the bridge for four months, and he had no way of knowing how much that particular night would change his whole life.

For better or for worse.