Dissonance

Jason Todd wants nothing to do with the Titans, but the reappearance of a familiar face forces him to reckon with the past he left behind.

Now

When Jason left Jump City all those years ago, he did more than leave a city of vigilantes in tights and garishly costumed freaks. He had left with a decision and a newfound resolve. A choice. A promise.

He would leave this life behind him — this life of masks and lies and shadows. No more tiptoeing around the law. No more fighting crime or committing felonies. No more bats or birds or Titans.

Jason promised himself he would start again. He would be normal, for once. Keep his head down. Get a job and maybe go to college. Act his age and do the ordinary things ordinary people did every day — like he should have done from the beginning.

So he left California. He hung up the mask and put the suit back where he found it. He went to Europe, Africa, Asia — anywhere that would take him far, far away from caped crusaders and alien superheroes.

And for a while, it had worked. He had something that resembled a normal, boring, average life. But his resolution to not interfere with the criminal underbellies of the world lasted as long as anyone who knew him — not that there were many of those to begin with — could reasonably expect.

Which was to say, not particularly long.

In his defense, it wasn't like Jason had planned it. He had been in Brazil at that time, doing the touristy stuff and enjoying the nightlife, when a young woman started screaming and swearing for all to hear. Someone had snatched and ran off with her purse, and the next thing Jason knew, he had knocked the would-be mugger to the ground without breaking a sweat.

It was a one-time thing, he told himself then. He had only done it because he had been at the right place, at the right time.

But the night after that, he witnessed an armed robbery on his way back to his hotel. He swooped in and, after a few well-aimed punches, the robbers were out like a light. Jason spent the next hour inside the small restaurant, trying to placate the elderly owners who were torn between sobbing on his shoulder and showering him with a steady stream of obrigados pela ajuda.

On the third night, he found a tiny wisp of a girl overdosing, slumped against the side of an unlit alley while people walked by, oblivious. She was barely older than he was, dressed in tattered clothes that had seen better days. Jason stole a car and took her to the nearest hospital, and he left before anyone could think to ask who he was.

The next night, he stopped another mugging with a red cloth tied around the lower half of his face. The scuffle that ensued was short and unremarkable, but it made his blood sing with adrenaline in a way that it hadn't for months.

By the end of the week, he was jumping across rooftops, dressed in his scruffy leather jacket and some makeshift armor. He had finally admitted to himself the truth — the chances of him quitting, of leaving this life for good, were well-nigh nonexistent.

So yes. His early retirement didn't last very long at all.

Jason didn't stay in the country after that. He spent the next few years hopping between continents, stopping small-time crooks and gang wars and, later on, taking out high-profile crime lords. The latter attracted some unwanted attention, and with it, a reputation and a new name. By then, he had worked his way through a handful of deceptively harmless looking helmets, several rounds of bullets, and more than a few mob families.

It took a phone call from an old acquaintance and a plane ticket in the mail to convince him to return to where it all began. Yet another promise broken, but what had he expected? Even Jason could admit it had been a long time coming.

Those first months back in Gotham hadn't been easy, but a dozen terse conversations and a number of drawn-out brawls later, things had finally settled into a routine. It was as uncomplicated as anything could ever be when it came to Batman and his brood, and Jason let himself pretend it was enough. He could learn to play by their rules, he told them, and he would stay out of their way so long as they stayed out of his.

Shouldn't be too hard, he had thought. And it hadn't been, surprisingly so. For the first time in a long time, things were almost . . . simple, for lack of a better word. Easy. Peaceful, even — or as close to it as a life like this could manage.

Jason really should have known better than to think it would last.

She looked different. Not entirely unrecognizable, but different.

Her armor was still the same shade of purple, but it wasn't the style she favored when they had been teenagers. Her hair was longer and literally on fire, the ends ablaze with orange flames, throwing weird shadows around them. Her face was thinner and more mature, set in a wary frown that told him she was scrutinizing him as much as he was studying her.

But more than anything, it was the expression she wore that caught Jason off guard. She used to be so animated, so open, and it had never been too difficult to tell what she was thinking. Her features were always expressive and unguarded, as though she couldn't care less for pretenses and facades.

Now Starfire kept her face carefully impassive, her eyes betraying nothing of what she might be thinking. It was jarring, to say the least.

It wasn't that Jason had expected her to stay the same. He wasn't naive enough to think the real Starfire would be an exact replica of the one from his memory. But he hadn't expected her to be so changed. To be familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

She was a stranger to him, he realized. For some reason, he never thought she could be, and a pang of guilt twisted within him at the realization.

Who knows how long they would have stood there, regarding each other in silence, until Jason's voice tore through the quiet.

"You're a long way from home, princess," he said, putting as much annoyance and irritation he could muster into the words. "In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your turf."

"I am aware," Starfire said coolly. "I did not come here to fight, merely to offer my assistance."

Even her voice was different. Jason couldn't pinpoint what it was, but something about it seemed off, as light and melodic as it was.

"I'll pass, thanks," he sneered. Not that she could see it with the helmet in the way. "I don't need your Kiddy League. I can handle this on my own."

"That is fortunate, for they are not here."

It was enough to wipe the scowl off his face. "It's just you?" he asked, glad that the voice modulator hid his surprise.

"Indeed."

"They don't know you're here, do they?"

Starfire flinched. Barely, but it was there. Jason wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking.

"Perhaps we can discuss this after the villains have been apprehended, yes?" she said mildly, seemingly unfazed. "I believe time is of the essence in missions of this nature."

A part of him — the petty, grouchy, unreasonable side of him — wanted to disagree. He was torn between grilling her some more on her presence in his city and barking at her to stay out of his way. But she did have a point. They really did need to get on with it, and as unhappy as he was with her arrival, he wasn't an idiot. An alien powerhouse on his side would definitely make his job a lot easier.

"Fine," he grouched, "but we're not done here."

"I did not say we were," she agreed lightly. "What would you have me do?"

Despite the voice in his head reminding him of who she was, of his long-held promise, of every stupid reason he clung to since he left Jump City — he told her. Against his better judgment, Jason briefed her on the mission, telling her in short, clipped sentences of the kidnapped children and the human trafficking ring that had infiltrated Gotham not too long ago. It was the sort of case where one of the Bats would crawl out of the woodwork at the eleventh hour to offer their unwanted help — help the Red Hood didn't need, thank you very much. Jason was still half-expecting Batgirl to hack into his system and speak into his ear, being all judgy and bossy as was her wont.

He certainly hadn't expected Starfire to come, of all people. And no sign of the Bats appearing either. Maybe these past few months had left them more shaken and out of sorts than he thought. . . .

As he spoke, it occurred to Jason that Starfire had probably known all this since before she entered New Jersey's airspace. He wouldn't put it past the Titans' resources. Still, she said nothing, nodding occasionally as he gave her instructions — which admittedly weren't much, since he was used to working alone and going in guns blazing.

If Starfire disapproved, she didn't show it. Her features had settled back to its stoic mask. He almost wanted to ask her what she thought of the plan — what she thought of him and what he had become, most of all — but that didn't matter now. What mattered was getting the children out.

They entered through the back door, taking out the guards without a fuss. Starfire's starbolt knocked them out easily, and Jason knew it would keep them out of commission much longer than his chokehold could.

They slipped further inside, sticking to the shadows until they reached a forked hallway. Wordlessly, they each took a separate path, taking out each thug they came across swiftly, quietly, methodically.

From what Jason had gathered during his investigation, the children would be kept in a storage space, somewhere deep inside the abandoned warehouse. Where that was, exactly, was something he had yet to determine, and he knew his window to act was rapidly closing. Already he could hear the faint echoes of a scuffle — the scumbags knew they were here.

So much for stealth, he thought as he rounded a corner and found three armed men, standing on alert.

But Jason was faster. Before any of them could fire, he aimed two consecutive shots at the nearest goon's kneecaps, and nailed another with a swift punch. The last thug finally reacted, but each bullet fired missed its mark as Jason ducked with a roll then lunged, shooting at his shoulder. A kick to his stomach, another shot at his thigh, and the man fell on his knees with a shout.

Jason pressed the muzzle of his gun to the guy's forehead, ignoring the whimpers and pleas for mercy that tumbled incoherently from his mouth.

"You've got five seconds," Jason said, menace seeping into his voice. His meaning was clear. "Make them count."

He did. Jason brought his gun down hard against his head, then darted to the direction where the sorry brute had pointed.

The storage space was more heavily guarded, with more than a dozen kidnappers scattered across the room, surrounding a giant cage pressed against the back wall. Three guesses as to what was inside.

The view from the ceiling rafters made it hard to tell how many children were there, but Jason could see their gaunt faces, their tear-streaked cheeks, and it stoked the burning rage in his chest. The children couldn't be older than ten, all huddled together as far from the guards as the cage would allow.

Jason was outnumbered, that much was obvious, but he had never been good at waiting. Getting into position, he took a deep breath and moved, firing rapidly before the men below could lock on his location.

The trouble with not killing, especially in a fight of one against a-hell-of-a-lot, was how much difficult it was to aim. Firing nonlethal shots wasn't as easy as it seemed when the other guys weren't doing the same, and Jason couldn't move as fast as he would have had he been aiming to kill. The fact that there were children witnessing the shootout meant he didn't have plenty of space to move. He definitely wasn't going to take his chances with stray bullets.

All things considered, Jason was doing pretty well for himself, but he was under no illusion he could keep it up for long. He already had two close calls, and had he not moved away in time, the bullets would have grazed his shoulder and pierced his leg. Three more shots bounced off his body armor, but damn did it hurt.

The screaming below got louder when a sudden blast of green light sent the door flying off its hinges. The remaining men turned their guns to fire at the figure in the doorway, but the bullets melted before they could hit their mark.

Starfire entered, her feet inches from the ground, her eyes and hands glowing a bright, blinding green. With her hair aflame and floating about her like a halo, she looked like a vengeful, otherworldly being from legend come to life.

Jason jumped down from his vantage point, using his momentum to take down one of the goons, then shot at another poor idiot that tried to lunge at him. One by one, the kidnappers fell. A starbolt whizzed past Jason's ear, knocking out the last of them.

Breathing heavily, Jason holstered his gun. "What took you so long?" Trust him to waste precious air on useless jibes.

Starfire didn't rise to the bait; instead she looked around the area, taking in the scene. Her cool expression cracked just a little when her eyes fell on the unconscious goon at Jason's feet, her lips thinning as she eyed the pool of blood.

"They're not dead," Jason snapped before she could say anything, "if that's what you're worried about."

"It is not," she answered, hovering above the bodies. Her hair, he noticed, was back to its usual red, though he was certain he could still see the fire in them, dim but not smothered completely. "Your methods are of no consequence to me."

"Really? Your lot are always so anal about the whole no killing thing."

"My lot is a race of warriors from a planet light-years away from your own. I am adaptable."

She sounded . . . amused, almost. It struck Jason then what it was that had seemed off about her when they had spoken outside the warehouse. Earlier she had sounded detached. Indifferent. The Starfire he knew could never be indifferent — she brandished her heart on her sleeve and gave her trust too readily.

But that was then, he reminded himself. He didn't know this new Starfire.

Trying to ignore the tangle in his throat, he chuckled and said, "Right. How could I forget."

Jason bent to pick up one of the kidnappers' guns — it was a good model, and it would be a waste if it wasn't put to good use — and realized immediately what a mistake it was. A flare of pain in his abdomen made him wince, and already he could imagine the mural of bruises on his skin and the world of pain he was going to wake up to tomorrow.

"Are you all right?" Starfire asked, a slight frown creasing the space between her eyebrows.

His whole body felt heavy and sore, and every movement ached at his limbs. His ears still ringed with the echoes of gunshots and high-pitched screaming. He wanted nothing more than to take off his armor and his helmet, and to sink into his bed and never get up again.

"Never better," he said. He almost asked her the same question before he bit his tongue — it was a stupid question anyway. Looking at her, it was like Starfire hadn't even been in a fight, still as pristine and as put-together as she was when she had arrived.

Jason stalked towards the cage, scowling at the bolt and chains that kept the children locked in. The kids gazed at him with looks of mingled fear and relief, and only one, a little brown-haired, blue-eyed girl, stared at him with something akin to curiosity. Looking at each face in turn, he felt something in him twinge painfully.

Those fucking assholes. He almost regretted the restraint he showed the kidnappers — god knows he could have made their lives a lot more miserable than they already were.

He looked away. Better to let the actual superhero do all the comforting, give out all the hugs and assuring words and say whatever it was you're supposed to say to a bunch of traumatized kids. Some gun-wielding guy dressed like a biker gang member would just scare the crap out of them even more.

"Care to do the honors?" he said to Starfire, gesturing to the lock.

She didn't need to be told twice. A single starbolt had the whole lock melting, and the children came pouring out of the cage, flocking to Starfire as they sobbed and clung to each other.

Jason kept his distance, but Starfire welcomed each child with open arms, whispering reassurances in hushed tones as she hugged and smiled at them, warm and sincere and inviting. It drew his breath away, seeing her smile again. Seeing that inimitable warmth that had pulled him in when they had been younger. That pulled everyone in, even now.

When the kids had calmed down, Starfire quietly ushered them out of the room. She turned to Jason, a faint frown pulling at the corner of her lips.

"I have informed the police department of what has transpired," she said. "They did not seem pleased by our intervention. In fact, they were quite adamantly opposed to it."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, they don't take too kindly to vigilantes doing their job for them. Hurts their ego, you know. They like to pretend they're useful."

"Nevertheless, I am glad you found the children. They are lucky to have you watching out for them."

Then she turned, following the last of the kids as they exited the room before Jason could respond. Which was for the best, because he had no idea what the hell he would have said in reply.

Outside the warehouse, Jason finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. The kids were safe, with no physical injuries from what he could see. They were still huddled together, keeping close as they murmured to each other. Starfire was with them, unharmed and without a scratch on her. The police would be on the scene soon, and probably with the Commissioner too.

It was done. It was over.

"You may leave if you wish it," Starfire said suddenly, gliding to his side.

Jason was too well trained to jump in surprise, but it was close. As he tore his eyes away from the children, he was startled to see Starfire hovering so close, just an arm's length away.

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked.

Her lips curled into what could have been a smile, but the look was gone as quickly as it came. "I have the hunch, if you will, that you do not wish to be here when the police arrive. You need not worry. I will watch over the children until then."

Jason wondered if his discomfort was that palpable, for her to able to see it despite the helmet. But he shouldn't have been shocked, really. Starfire had a way of reading him like an open book even then.

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"I insist."

In spite of himself, he considered it. The Red Hood and Gotham's law enforcement didn't exactly mesh. Having 83 confirmed kills to your name would do that to a guy. Not like Jason wanted to get on their good side anyway, corrupt pieces of filth that they were. Just 83? he had taunted them once. Missing a couple of digits there, boys. What's the matter? Too slow to keep up?

The only times Jason had ever worked with the cops had been when he had the Bats to act as a go-between. He didn't relish the thought of interacting with them now. The Commissioner would undoubtedly come with the rest of them, and Jason could never stand to be in the same room as the man for long. The glare James Gordon never failed to send his way, the unmistakable distrust and suspicion, made Jason's insides squirm with shame in a way that Batman's disappointed sighs never did.

"Well, if the lady insists," Jason said at last, bowing grandly. A bow he regretted at once, and he did his best not to wince. Damn bruises.

He cast one last glance at the children. They would be safe with Starfire, he knew. There was no one better to protect them than a literal alien princess.

One of the kids caught him staring before he could look away. It was the brunette from earlier, the one whose blue eyes had looked at him without fear or panic. She said something hurriedly to the rest of the group, before making a beeline for Jason amid the other children's hissed cries of "Sasha!"

Without warning, the girl — Sasha, if that was her name — launched herself at Jason, arms curling around his waist. It took a moment for Jason to register that he was being hugged, and he looked at Starfire in alarm, unsure how to react. He let Sasha hold onto him and tentatively brought a hand up to ruffle her hair, deciding it best to stay silent and wait it out. A blank red face and an altered, mechanical voice didn't exactly seem like a comforting presence, and he would probably end up saying something lame and inappropriate anyway.

Thankfully, Sasha pulled away quickly, running back to the rest of the kids before the moment could drag on for too long. Feeling awkward, Jason cleared his throat, and looked up to find Starfire staring at him with a strange expression on her face. No longer blank or detached, but something . . . softer. Gentler. It reminded him of when they were younger, when a smile from her was all it took to make him feel like he was special. As though he was a good man — a better man than he actually was.

Some days, Jason had even believed it.

If he looked at her, really looked at her, he liked to think he could almost see her as she once was — as she had been, when they had their almosts and not-quite friendship between them. He liked to think he could still see it — her telltale signs, the curve of her lips, the crinkle in the corner of her eyes.

He could have left then and there. He should have. He could have turned away and left and not have to deal with the painful conversation that would inevitably ensue.

But that look, that damn look of hers, made him say, "You know the Sprang Bridge? The one in the East End?"

"I am certain I can find it."

"Good." He gave her his standard two-finger salute and left before he could say anything stupid.

The Sprang Bridge was, technically, not part of the Red Hood's territory. It was one of the few places in the East End that he and the Bats, through some unspoken agreement, considered neutral turf. Still, Jason liked to think of it as his. After all, Batman and his army of child soldiers could have almost every rooftop in this godforsaken city to angst on, but him?

There weren't many places in Gotham that Jason could genuinely say he gave a damn about. The view atop the bridge, if he kept his back to the bright lights of the Diamond District, gave him a perfect view of those few places.

It was a beautiful sight. Anything would look beautiful when you were this high up, far, far away from it all. Yet even when he stood here and looked down at all these lit buildings and skyscrapers, all he could ever see were the darkened streets in between, the alleys and neighborhoods hidden in shadow.

For a moment, Starfire's appearance illuminated the city below. She was quite literally glowing in the night air, the tips of her hair leaving behind a trail of glowing embers in her wake as she flew. Pretty, he thought, but so was the rest of her, really.

No doubt her arrival would be all over the news by now. It wasn't often another superhero dropped in to lend a hand, and even then they were rarely as striking and conspicuous as her. Even Superman was a lot more subtle, his visits more under the radar.

God, Batman would be so pissed. The thought was almost enough to make Jason think this whole thing was worth it. Almost.

"So," he began, drawing the word out as she landed. "The hair. That's new."

"As is your mask," she said. The fire in her hair had died down, the last of the flames dimming just as her feet touched the ground. "It is good to see you again, Red X."

Hearing his name, his old name, sent an unpleasant weight plunging to the pit of his stomach. "Haven't gone by that name in a while, cutie."

The nickname slipped out without thought, but if she noticed, she didn't show it. Starfire simply tilted her head at him, watching him with that intense, inscrutable look, like she was trying to make out his face under the helmet.

"Would you prefer it if I called you Red Hood?" she asked.

"X is fine." Again, the words fell past his lips before he had time to rein them in. Goddammit. "And it's not a mask, by the way. It's a helmet."

"It hides who you are from the world. Allows you to pretend you are someone other than yourself. That is a mask, is it not?"

"Touche," he said. "But you didn't cross the country just to philosophize at me. The Bats know you're here?"

"They do not."

Jason let out a low whistle. "Batman isn't going to be too happy about that. He's got this strict no meta interference rule — fucking stupid, if you ask me, but everyone just humors him and goes along with it. Leaves us to our misery and all that."

Starfire lifted her chin, looking every bit like the royal she was. "I do not intend to interfere with his business," she said. "And my own is of no concern to him"

He couldn't help but smile at that. She had never been afraid of the Batman, had never been intimidated by him when so many else were. That much, at least, hadn't changed.

"And what is that exactly?" Jason said. "This business of yours. What brings you to our sunny, sunny city?"

Before she would have frowned at him, would have looked at the sky and argued with him for saying such a blatant misnomer. Now, she did away with the pleasantries completely and said, without preamble, "I need your help."

Jason looked away, turning his head toward the view below — the city that birthed him, shaped him, molded him. He had thought, for the longest time, that he would never return here, that he would never lay his eyes on this shithole again. It had been one of his promises, one of the first he had made to himself in the days after he had burst from a pool of neon green, still reeling from the waters that burned in his throat and the acid that bubbled in his veins.

How foolish of him to think he could keep this one promise. How stupid of him to believe he could stay away from her for good.

"Thought as much," Jason said at last, leaning against the edge. "But why come to me?"

"It is a matter that requires your expertise."

His eyebrows rose, and he was surprised enough to swivel back to face her. "You want me to kill a guy?"

Starfire frowned. "I did not mean those expertise," she said slowly. "I . . . was not aware you have become a mercenary for hire."

"I'm not," he said tersely. "I don't waste my bullets so I can get paid, princess. I do it because there are scum who need to be put down. Permanently."

Her frown etched itself deeper into the sides of her face. "I see."

Jason couldn't tell if it was judgment, disappointment, or indifference that colored her tone. It made his chest ache all the same, and he pushed the thought away before he could convince himself it mattered.

Because it didn't. Shouldn't. This wasn't the first time his methods had been questioned, and this certainly wouldn't be the last. He was tired of having to defend himself — as if what he did and who he was now even needed defending — and he had no interest in starting the same old debate, of sounding like a broken record played again and again and again.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, princess," he seethed. "Just because you and your friends think I'm no better than —"

"But you are. You have never been like the villains we fought."

"Careful there, cutie. It almost sounds like you care about what they think of me."

Her jaw clenched, and she stilled, eyes hardening to stone. Jason, too, had tensed, his muscles coiling tightly beneath his skin.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. God, what had he been expecting? For her to say yes? To say no? Which would have been worse? Fucking idiot.

"We are getting sidetracked," Starfire said, in a commanding voice that brooked no argument. "I am here because I need you to find someone."

"A criminal?"

"A friend."

"Missing persons case?" At her nod, he added, "You need a detective for that."

"And you are one, are you not?"

"Oh, I'm definitely qualified," he drawled. "But aren't you friends with Bird Boy Number Three? Why don't you go to him?"

She looked away. For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. With her gaze downcast, Jason could almost believe she felt as out of her depth as he did. "I have," she started, "and he . . . he does not approve."

Ah. Well, that explained some things. The secrecy, the sudden visit. . . . Not like he had been dumb enough to think she came here for him, but it was nice to have some assurance on that front.

"And what makes you think I will?" Jason said, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"I do not need your approval. Only your assistance. You do not need the former to do what I ask of you."

He snorted. "Must be bad, if you're coming to me for help."

"Will you? I need your word, X."

"Didn't they ever teach you not to trust strange men with guns?"

She looked at him then, her face softening. For one fleeting moment, it looked like she would step closer and reach out, like she would cross the space between them, but she didn't move an inch. "You are not strange," she said quietly. "You were my friend. I trust that you will not go back on a promise."

Were. Past tense. The word stuck in his brain and held there, even as he scoffed and told himself he didn't care.

"I haven't said yes, cutie," he pointed out. "You still haven't told me what this is about."

But who was he kidding? It wasn't like she needed to. Even before she had asked, he knew. The moment she arrived, the moment he caught sight of her for the first time in years, he knew.

He would say yes. Whatever it was she asked of him, he would say yes. He didn't think it was even possible to do otherwise.

"What do you need?" he asked.

Her hair began to burn on the ends again, casting her face aglow at an odd angle. It made her eyes — as bright and inhumanly green as he remembered — seem even wider, warmer and more imploring.

Honest to god, what chance did he really have to say no? Was there ever really any doubt that he would? That he even could?

"I need your help," she repeated. "I need you to find Dick Grayson."

Jason laughed, hollow and mirthless. He couldn't help it. Because of course it was about him. Of fucking course. He shouldn't have been surprised.

It was always about Dick Grayson when it came to her.