Jason Todd's eyes snapped open, breath returning to his lungs in a heaving gasp. His hands shot out in front of him, smacking into a solid surface. But he felt no pain. Not anymore, not since…

He twisted in his seated position, eyes scanning wildly for the Joker. The last thing he remembered was the Clown Prince of Crime swinging a crowbar wildly over and over again before leaving him in some abandoned warehouse. He remembered waiting for Bruce to come and save him. Then there was an explosion before… whatever this was.

"He's not here, Jason." The sound of a voice right behind him startled the young man and he swung back in his seat, finding himself starting face to face with someone. He couldn't really make out who. But the confusion over his current company washed away as he started to recognize his surroundings.

He was sitting inside an ice cream shop where his mother had brought him the few times she could scrape together the money. The décor was straight out of the 1950s, but Jason remembered the old diner booths with their worn but comfortable red vinyl seats and scratched black-covered particle board tables like it was yesterday.

"Mint chocolate chip cone?" Whoever, whatever, it was sitting across from him gestured and suddenly a double mint chocolate chip cone, the one he would always have as a child, was brought over by a smiling waitress. Jason hesitated for a moment before taking the treat, watching the figure across from him before taking a nervous nibble of the ice cream. It was exactly as he remembered it. The waitress also handed the figure a tall glass with a milkshake and a straw in it before walking away.

"Who isn't here?" He mumbled the words through the mouthful of ice cream, which didn't seem to be melting at all. The figure smiled.

"The Joker. Bruce. Whoever you were looking for." The last sentence seemed dismissive, but Jason had a funny feeling that this being, whoever they were, knew exactly who he had been looking around for in a moment of panic. He took another bite of the ice cream.

"So. I'm dead." The matter-of-factness of his statement surprised even him. The thought hadn't even crossed his brain until the words came out of his mouth. But even without the figure across from him nodding slowly, Jason knew that it was true. Even Batboys didn't survive explosions to the face.

"That would make you God, then." Another blunt statement of fact, but this time the figure across from him shrugged.

"I am different things to different people. I am whoever people choose to believe in." Another bite of ice cream followed as Not-God sucked their milkshake through a straw.

"Are you a guy or girl? I'm not getting a real clear picture here," Jason gestured in a quick circle with his free hand in the being's general direction. A short laugh followed as the figure sat back across from him.

"People see me however they want to Jason. You'd be amazed how people who say they follow the same faith see me completely differently, and the arguments that can cause." The mirth from the being's voice faded as it leaned forward. "You can't get a clear picture of me because you stopped believing that I existed a long time ago."

Jason took another slow bit of his ice cream cone that was suddenly beginning to feel like a last meal. "So you're here to send me to Hell? Hades? The bad place? Fire and brimstone and all that eternal damnation stuff?" A low chuckle from the other side of the table, warm and inviting, not shrill and filled with evil like the last laugh he heard, grew louder.

"There are some people who would have you believe that, my boy. But no, you're going to paradise. It's just on the other side of that door." The being gestured to the front door of the ice cream parlor. "We just need to have a little talk first."

"But why?" The words were blurted out, far too loud for the quieter conversations going on around him. But no one stopped talking or even looked over. Jason lowered his voice. "Why am I not being sent to… the bad place?"

"Do you want to go there?"

"No, I just thought…"

"You were just a child, Jason. You did the best you could having been dealt a very bad hand. Just because you had to make bad choices because of bad circumstances doesn't mean you're going to be punished for all eternity." Those words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, Jason felt himself leaning back against the familiar vinyl seat. Relief, sadness, and grief washed over him at once, an emotional wave crashing through his body that brought a tear down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, not out of anger, but embarrassment.

"It's okay, my boy. Everyone handles their death differently. But it is what you did in life that matters. And you did good while you were alive."

"Why didn't you stop him?" Those words were snapped, harsh. They surprised Jason but didn't seem to surprise his companion. A slow smile crept across its face.

"The Joker? Or Bruce?"

"Why do you keep bringing up Bruce? He didn't kill me. He's not the reason I'm dead."

"Isn't he though?" The figure leaned forward again, pushing its milkshake to the side. "The Joker may have struck the final blow, but I was going to meet you far earlier than I should have from the moment Bruce Wayne found you in that alley and decided to take you in, Jason Todd."

"I… I don't understand." The figure reached over and grabbed one of those table kiosks Jason had seen in restaurants and few times and pressed a finger into the screen. Images slowly began to form in front of them.

"Life is about choice, Jason. If I had interfered, if any of my kind had interfered, then you would lose your free will. The decision was made long ago that all of our creations would have the ability to choose their own paths. And while we did have plans for all of you, sometimes circumstances we had not foreseen, choices other people made, would interfere with those plans." A quick swipe of the finger and the being showed Jason a scene very similar to what he last remembered before he died, but he and Bruce were arresting the Joker, and he was still very much alive.

"If you had followed Bruce's orders tonight instead of rushing off on your own, you would have taken down the Joker together and taken him to Arkham. You would have still been killed wearing that uniform one day, but I would have needed to wait a little longer before meeting you."

Another swipe of the finger and another scenario, this time showing Dick and Bruce arresting the Joker. "If your older brother and Bruce had made up in their fight, they would have been on this mission together, not you. You would have survived, but I still would have seen you relatively soon."

Scenario after scenario flashed before his eyes. In each one, Jason eventually died down the road. He would have eventually ended up in this very spot. It seemed inevitable. "So that was it then? That was your plan for me all along? To die young?" There was anger in his voice, but it was twisted with a hint of hurt and despair. Finding out there was nothing to your life except dying a gruesome death had its way of doing that to a person, even in the afterlife.

"No. This was never our plan for you at all." Now sadness and regret seemed to creep into the figure's voice as well. That was surprising to Jason, a twist he wasn't expecting. "This was how we saw your life playing out."

The scenario that appeared before his eyes was a foreign one. It showed Jason, an older Jason, perhaps in his 40s or 50s, wearing a priest's frock. There was a light in his eyes that had never been there, and an easy smile played across his face. He was surrounded by parishioners and children. There was a momentary fast-forward, and Jason was now older, and still happy. He was tending to his religious flock. He was comforting those who needed it, helping those who requested it. It was a life of service, still taking care of those most in need, but in a very different sort of way.

The figure looked over at him again. "This would have been your life if Bruce Wayne had not taken you in. You would have remained on the streets for another year before being taken in by a priest. Your love of reading would have manifested in reading the Bible countless times and devoting your life to its words."

There was a pause as the images before them disappeared. Jason's eyes, fixed on the now-black screen, saw the figure's reflection in the screen begin to change. By the time he had shifted his gaze back up, the figure sitting across from him had transformed into his mother.

"Mom?"

"This is what we wanted for you, my boy. Not the broken life you've led. The moment Bruce Wayne took you in, he killed you."

Tears were falling down Jason's face again, chasing each other down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away. "Why are you showing me this," he asked, his voice barely audible but still cracking.

"Because I am offering you a gift, Jason. You will decide where Bruce Wayne spends his eternity." The force of the words slammed Jason back in his seat. While he never would have believed such a proposition coming from anyone else, he had no reason to doubt the sincerity of this offer. Thoughts too fast to document raced through his brain. Jason closed his eyes to steady himself.

"And what I say goes?" His mother nodded. Jason offered it a half-smile as he leaned back in his seat and took another bite of his ice cream.

After what seemed like an eternity itself, but in reality was only a few minutes, Jason looked at the being in the shape of his mother. "Bruce… he was just a kid." The words were stilted, almost as if they were being forced out of him. "He did the best job he could - what he thought was best - while being dealt a very bad hand." Jason paused and took a deep breath. "Just because he had to made bad choices in bad circumstances doesn't mean he should be punished for all eternity."

His mother sat back, taking in what he said. A smile creased her lips as she nodded slowly. "That's your choice."

"Yeah. It is." Jason pushed himself up from the table.

Jason felt the cool metal of the front door of the ice cream parlor against his hand. He turned back to see his mother still sitting in the booth. "I'll see you around, Mom." He pushed the door open. He'd made his decision.