#pre season training | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redjaybathood · 16 hours

Text

Beacon Hills was a sleepy Californian town where nothing ever happened, complete opposite to Gotham - and that's why Jason chose it for his new place of residence. Talia didn't get it.

"You have spent a year with the All Caste, trained with swords and mysterious arts that are forgotten everywhere else on Earth..."

He refrained from reminding that he was kicked out by the cult she put him in when she just restored his higher brain function. For reasons such as prophecies foretelling the doom of said cult.

"And I can give you resources, contacts, everything you need to get revenge..."

He put his hand up.

"I don't want revenge, I never did. I wanted justice, and I see that it's a futile pursuit. Now, all I want - I want just some peace and quiet."

"So just like that, you changed your mind." She looked at him not quite with judgment or dissatisfaction - more like she really didn't get that he wanted to stop.

He shrugged, warming his hands on the coffee cup.

"Look, All Caste? You know what sort of place it is. You were taught by Ducra. You had Trials of your own. You saw it, didn't you? Every variation of you, in 52 Universes. Was either of them happy?"

"I'm not in the League for happiness," she said, almost scandalized.

"Well, why are you in the League at all? I was pondering that, all the year I was in All Acres, a doorway from any point in my life. I could go right through and warn myself, I could go kill Joker before Joker even existed. And it never helped. Gotham's cursed. Batman is its white knight in shiny armour. I'm just..."

He shrugged.

"Poor boy," Talia sighed, cupping his face.

"Don't. I don't need your sympathy," he put his hands over hers, but didn't remove them from where she was touching his skin. "I could use your company, though. I'm serious - why are you even doing all this? Just... Go with me. Take him, and let's settle down where nobody knows us, nobody will..."

Talia froze, then took her cup in both hands.

"I will not ask how do you know about him, even as your father does not. How fast, do you think, it will take Ra's to find us? With our edges dulled, our blades rusty, how fast will he end our lives - and take him?"

Jason shook his head.

"If you want me to believe Damian is the reason you're still in the League..."

Talia put the cup down with a clunk.

"Don't. Ever. Say his name. Even if you think we're alone, if you think nobody is listening in. I will not risk him."

"You already are. You do. He is at risk, and will be until one of two things happen - and maybe even then..."

"I'm aware," Talia said dryly, standing up. "This conversation is over. Do with your life whatever you will. You will find me if you change your mind."

"You too," he said, but the room was empty already. "Jeez."

In one of these 52 Universes, they got together. Jason didn't cultivate with mystical immortals in that universe. He had taken something like a gap year, traveling, mostly Europe, and learning from the specialists League of Assassins sometimes employed. Killed most of them - for good reasons. Reasons he supplied anonymously to Interpol and Checkmate, in this universe.

Because in that world, no matter how many people Jason saved by killing "animals", "monsters", he left behind a piece of himself. At least, with the Soul Swords, he knew what was fueling them, what he was spending.

The story of him and Talia wasn't a happy one. Or even particularly romantic. Both of them were hurting, Bruce-shaped wound in their hearts, but also what was done upon them, what they were made to do, what they thought they should do. Their hearts were more sieves than anything else. One night, they had to each other, and then they never talked face to face ever again.

He didn't want that. He very much hoped, knowing it was futile, that Talia just - went with him, to a sleepy Californian town where nothing ever happened. They would raise her kid - maybe he could be her partner, maybe her son's brother, he would take it any way she could give.

But he couldn't stay for her, and she wouldn't leave for him.

So, he went alone.

***

He had fake documents, keeping the first name and changing the last, using the same day and month of birth and making himself a year younger. Only fair, seeing how he was dead for six months, and catatonic for another six. He put down a local attorney's phone number for his contact information on the school application. That same attorney, Whittermore, had helped him with emancipation, seeing how he was only 17, still, and would need to find someone to pretend to be his parents, or go into foster care, otherwise.

Enrollment in the school was easy. Finding a place to live as well - there was a lot of property built during a dot com bubble era that still was sitting empty. Rent was cheap, compared to Gotham. But without League's backing, he needed income. So he started to check jobs.

There was not a lot vacancies that could be filled with a teenager who was still in school. Waiting tables, washing dishes, making coffee, retail - that was about it. Gabby, his friend from another life - life before Bruce, even - was a waitress. So that's what he applied to. There was no real training, but he had the skills he needed already. Good memory, from the time he used to devour dossiers on criminal individuals and organizations. Coordination, from his movement training. Cheerful smile and small talk, from all the times, infrequent as they were, that he had to follow Bruce to some event or another. He didn't like them then - now, he was just grateful for experience, because life in Himalayas didn't nurture his social skills, to say the least. And good thing Bruce never allowed his picture to be taken, unlike how it was with Dick. At the time Jason was self-conscious, thought Bruce might have been - finding him lacking in some way. Not fit for the public to see, regardless of the new suits he ordered from his tailors for him, or haircuts Alfred gave him. Who knew, maybe Bruce indeed didn't want him to be recognized by anyone from Jason's past who would come knocking. Still, it let Jason feel free in his new life. Nobody will see his tag and his face and put it all together as American most eligible millionaire's dead son.

Beacon Hills was so small a town, Jason had learned the names and occupations of the regulars in his first week on the job. One of them, the local Sheriff, asked a few questions about where he moved from and how old he was. After finding out that in a few weeks he was starting as sophomore at high school ("I was held back a year, sir, after a car accident"), Sheriff asked him not to tell to his son, Stiles, that he's eating his lunches here.

"He's making me those low salt, low cholesterol lunches," the Sheriff chuckled. "His heart is in the right place, I can't bring myself to tell him that it all tastes like a wet cardboard."

"I can tactfully suggest a few recipes to him," Jason offered. "There are nutritious and healthy options that are quite tasty. There's so much you can do with chickpeas."

"What, and leave Robby without steady income? I couldn't do that, not until he sees his daughter through college. Who taught you to cook, by the way?"

"My grandfather."

It took a lot of Jason to keep the smile on his face. But it might have been a wrong choice.

"Well, pass along my greetings. There's not a lot of teenagers nowadays who have the skill."

"He... I'm alone now, after the accident." Jason didn't like to lie about anyone dying, it seemed like he was cursing them in this way, so he picked his words carefully.

"I'm so sorry, there's a foot in my mouth, I swear it's a family trait," Sheriff rummaged in his pocket, and then thrusted a card to him. "Here. If you need anything, you can reach me on a cell, it's written on the back."

Jason briefly considered - he had some cards with his personal number on it on him. Always ready to offer assistance to the needy? Or... Noah Stilinsky seemed like a good guy, and Jason, pocketing his card, hoped as hell that he was.

Because there's another kind of explanation why nothing big came up when he researched Beacon Hills. All sorts of things can be covered up and never see the light of the day when it's the police doing the covering.

He will call, he decided, as soon as he can find a suitable reason. He needed to know if the Sheriff and this town was what they seemed.

***

Before the school started, though, Jason couldn't find the time. He was a freshman when he died, and he had no access to schooling after his resurrection. Even with all the knowledge learned under the tutelage of a former Batgirl, there was a lot of ground to cover, to catch up with the rest of the class. It wasn't his first rodeo, and arguably it was way easier now than when he also had Robin training. But he had a job, now, working as long the hours as the diner's owner would allow him before the school started. Besides that, he took up running in the Preserve, as much to familiarize himself with his new habitat as to stay in shape. It also replaced the meditations, in part - he cut them down from the recommend by Ducra two hours per day, to half an hour, before going to sleep.

He met some people in that way, too. His new classmates, actually: Jackson Whittermore, son of Mr. Whittermore whose services he employed - finding that out, Jackson toned down his smirk and offered a handshake. He was running with his friend, Danny Mahealani. Both of them were on the school's lacrosse team, and invited him to the tryouts that would happen before the Spring.

"Maybe," Jason said. "I don't know much about lacrosse, though. And never played any team sport at all."

"Really? Not even football?" Danny gave him a once-over. "Seems like a waste."

"Believe it or not, I was a tiny, skinny kid up until recently." Jason shrugged.

Jackson asked him about his regimen. Jason couldn't explain that it was a magical fountain of youth and cure-all that fixed his stunted by malnutrition and smoking growth. He wasn't even sure that was it. Maybe years with Bruce, and then the time spent in cultivation, changed his body as well as his mind and spirit. He didn't need to eat that much now, although he didn't progress to inedia. So he bullshitted, recalling the diet Bruce was on.

It actually inspired him to start a side hustle. Food blog for teenagers who wanted to bulk up. He always loved writing, and he had some expertise on the topic, although he ended up posting more about training and exercises, than food. Every recipe required pictures, so he had to make everything from scratch, and sometimes redo the whole thing because his cell phone photos were simply shit, videos (face always out of the frame) not much better.

He looked up Donna's work, one of those times. But in the end, Jackson introduced him to Matt Dalaher, whose hobby was photography. Matt's advice and explanations were shit, and he was all too glad to tall about girls, topic Jason could offer nothing on.

"Come on, there's don't kiss and tell, and there's me starting to suspect where's nothing for you to say," Matt joked one time.

"That's exactly it," Jason smiled back, not even particularly trying to hide the edge anymore. "I'm saving myself for the marriage."

"What does Whittermore see in you? This, and the cooking shit..."

"I have amazing thighs, I was told," Jason spread them to empathize the point. "One of my best features."

"Oh, so it's like that, huh? He's trying to set you up with Danny? Damn, he did the same thing with me, he gotta give it a rest."

Jason wasn't aware Danny played for the home team, and wasn't particularly trilled to find out like it was a butt of the joke. He still smirked.

"Do I have a chance, you think?"

Matt sputtered, apparently not expecting him to, Jason didn't even know, freak out because of the gay cooties. That was the last time they really spoke. It was fine, though - Matt's speciality was more portraits than still life, anyway.

***

Before the school started, Jason was invited to a party at Jackson's girlfriend house. He had work that day, but his shift ended at seven, so he could, in theory, make it.

"Come on, man, the whole school will be there," Jackson said, running along him. Danny was a few feet ahead of them.

"I don't know anyone from school, except you and Danny," Jason pointed out.

"And Matt," Danny called over his shoulder.

"Matt isn't worth knowing!" he called back.

Danny laughed. Jason smiled to himself. He liked that sound.

He didn't know whether he liked boys, to be honest - he didn't even know if he liked anyone. Things with Talia were circumstantial - and not even in this universe. Before his death, he certainly flirted with girls - older, cooler, the ones he would have no chance in hell with, like Babs, like Koriand'r (and oh, here's another trait they shared: Dick's ex/girlfriends). But the only time he approached dating was with Rena. And they went out only twice: when she thought he could score her some drugs, and when he ditched her for Bruce. For a case, he meant - but essentially, for Bruce.

It was all kinds of fucked up, Jason was starting to realize, how Bruce was all over his life. His father, his boss, his teacher, the only friend he managed to keep - up until he wasn't anything, anymore. It left Jason unmoored, swayable to the winds. They blew, and here he was in Northern Africa, on the quest to find a woman who didn't want to be found. Here he was, letting her know a secret that cost him his life, when he didn't even manage to save hers.

He wanted someone, anyone, in his life. It made him blind to the red flags. He might be better off without feeling this way ever again - but with his new life finding its rhythm, he started feeling those pangs of loneliness again. Thinking of people he left behind. Meditation became more difficult again.

He needed to prevent that, he realized. He couldn't just will and discipline himself not to need people. So the only way was to... Find new ones.

It wouldn't be the same, of course. Nothing like life or dead situations forging a bond between two persons. But it would, should be enough.

"You know what?" He said, looking briefly at Jackson and then back at Danny's back. "I'm game. I will be there."

And then he sped up, to run along with Danny.

***

The party itself was everything that the early 2000s romcoms warned him about. If you were Jason, first time in this sort of environment, sober (he didn't know how he will react to alcohol, and wasn't about to experiment in this sort of environment), knowing no one - he didn't manage to find neither Danny nor Jackson yet - it was awkward and boring.

He knew how to talk to people if you wanted them to open up to you, but it was when he had a mask on his face. He tried very hard that his new life didn't become a new sort of costume, so he didn't want to construct a persona around his future classmates.

He found a relatively quiet corner where only two people were sitting, and sat down with his half full beer cup (poor rhododendron, but he wasn't drinking this shit for real, and an empty cup would attract a refill, and full - askance glances to why wasn't he drinking). He nodded and smiled at them. They stopped talking, although the one with darker, longer hair smiled back and nodded.

"Hey, I don't know you," the other guy said.

He had a shaved head and a graphic T-shirt, like the one Eddie wore. Eddie, flashed in Jason's mind - last time they were in touch, he lived in California, too, although way closer to Hollywood. But getting in touch with anyone from his old life was dangerous, so he didn't. Now, he kinda felt a short pang of regret.

Jason shook his head to ward away this dangerous feeling.

"Yeah, I don't know you either. But then again, I don't know anyone here, except Jackson and Danny. I'm Jason."

He offered a handshake to both of them. The dark-haired one responded first, albeit slightly awkward in the movement.

"Scott," he said.

"Nice to meet you," Jason nodded.

"Uh, you too?"

Shit, don't people say that anymore?

"I'm Stiles," the shaved-headed one said, shaking his hand, with the emphasis on "shake". "Though I don't know how nice it is to meet you if you're friends with Jackson Whittermore."

"Stiles," Jason remembered. "I heard about you."

"Definitely not nice, then."

And yet, he was still shaking Jason's hand.

"Don't worry, it was only complimentary. Well, almost."

His cooking was shitty, Jason recalled. Everytime the Sheriff took his lunch at the diner, Jason made a point to ask what his son prepared for him that day. Even texted his blog's URL to the Sheriff, so he could pass it along. Some of Stiles' attempts at his recipes were a success, it seemed, because as the Summer progressed to the end, Sheriff patronized the diner less and less.

Stiles scrunched his face.

"No way in hell would Jackson say anything positive about me."

"He isn't my sole source of information," Jason smirked.

Stiles looked at him for a second or two, and then snapped his fingers.

"Jason! From the Robby's!" He elbowed his friend in the side. "The dude who runs that fitness blog? We're, uh, we started some protocols you describe, to enhance our physic and all."

"Yeah, but I'm afraid it's not gonna help us, come Spring," Scott smiled sheepishly. "I really can't do some of it without wanting to cough up my lungs afterwards."

"That's, uh, that's not supposed to happen," Jason said carefully.

"It's fine," Scott said. "I have asthma, I'm used to it."

"Even more, then. I was basically describing some of what I was doing, when I had started to," train as a vigilante, to kick ass and take names. "Bulk up. But I had no underlying conditions except I was somewhat... Thinner than other kids my age. Look, it's important to talk to your doctor, but if there's, you know, issues with that - you should always start small. Steady wins the race, yeah?"

Jason shared some tips, and then the topic switched to lacrosse - Jason still had only the vaguest idea of what this sport entailed, or how expensive it was. That topic - the money - wasn't the one he wanted to broach with Jackson or Danny. They were under impression he has it - from him being able to afford Whittermore's law firm fees - and worked at the diner basically for shit and giggles, because he was sad son of the bitch who knew almost no one in town. He didn't dissuade them, not because he thought they're gonna be assholes about it, but... He didn't want to chance it either. He knew how some things about you that were quirky if you had the money, like reading newspapers during breaks between classes - they added to the character. Weird, but a character. But if you didn't have the money, reading newspapers was just another proof of it. A sign that you can't afford any other entertainment, like a cell phone.

Scott was just telling him where to find used gear and armor when someone walked up behind Jason's back. He managed to keep himself relaxed, so even when the hand lowered at his shoulder - and Stiles and Scott's faces tensed - he didn't lost his cool.

"Hey," Jason said, turning to see Jackson behind him.

"Why are you here with the loser brigade?" Jackson scrunched up his face. "We were waiting for you."

"I was lost, and I found myself some company. Jealous? Should have responded to my text twenty minutes ago."

"Ugh, come on, come on, I will introduce you to Lydia."

"Now's my turn to be jealous," Jason said, getting up.

He didn't quite know what to say, so he said everything that came to mind. Jackson was kind of used to it, from their weeks of running together. Stiles and Scott, though, gaped.

Jason hoped they weren't like Matt. He waved at them on the chance they weren't, and Scott waved back. Though, not Stiles.

Jackson noticed his sigh.

"What?" He looked back and scowled. "Stilinsky said something funny to you?"

Jason shrugged.

"I mean, he seemed pretty chill. But might have disliked my jokes about jealousy. And I don't know him enough to know if it's the gay thing as in, me treating homosexuality as a joke, or gay thing as in, he is going to stay away from the gay guy thing."

"Don't worry, Stilinsky is an asshole, but he's not that kind of asshole. If he was, I would kick his ass to the next Tuesday. But, uh, you're gay?"

Jason shrugged.

"I dunno. I don't know if I'm anything, if that makes sense. My father... Was pretty strict. I didn't have much friends, and. I dunno, it's just never came up. But," he stopped Jackson with the hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "I really was joking about jealousy. You're not my type."

Jackson punched him in the shoulder, and they both laughed.

"So what's your type? I know you said it never came up, but, the best you figure."

Jason glanced at Jackson, who was trying for nonchalant but missing a beat. Maybe Matt wasn't far off when he suggested that Jackson was playing a wingman for Danny.

He smiled to himself, feeling a bit nervous. He didn't really know how to answer the question best.

"I really have no idea. It's not about the looks, for sure. I grew up around professional model-looking types. Nobody really rang a bell for me. I like chill people though. People with a nice smile. Or a mean smile, maybe. A genuine one."

Not like the one he himself wore, most of the time.

He shrugged again. He did like that, but he wouldn't call it attraction.

"Alright," Jackson said, and clapped him on his back. "You will figure it out."

***

Jason might have been mistaken in thinking that Jackson wanted to set him up with Danny. Or maybe his answers were unsatisfactory, and he changed his mind. Over the course of the night, Jackson introduced him to a shit ton of people. Presumably, to help him "figure it out".

It wasn't hard for Jason to remember their faces, names, and basic facts they shared about themselves, but it was hard to come up with the topics of conversation. Jason didn't follow sports, or celebrities, knew nothing of local gossip, wasn't even into online gaming. He talked a bit about his blog, but in the end, the topic bored him before it could bore the new people, so he just shared a link when they asked.

When Jason noticed Danny, he wanted to make his way other, but noticed a guy who struck up a conversation with him. Danny had a nice smile. Damn.

He didn't feel particularly crushed. Maybe it answered the question, maybe it didn't. He was a bit overwhelmed, and went to catch a breath outside.

There were people by the pool, but not further into the backyard, where the garden started. He almost bummed a cigarette from a random guy, just so he wouldn't feel out of place, but then he thought, fuck it. He was out of place. He wasn't relapsing his smoking habit because standing alone in the middle of a crowd of unfamiliar teenagers was unsettling. Because if he did, he would smoke all two years of high school that were left, and then he simply wasn't stopping.

It was a short lived relief, being alone in the garden, because very soon he was not alone so much. There was Stiles, and a girl with a small designer dog.

"Uh, how did your summer..."

"What do you want, Stiles."

"Nothing! Just saying hello. It's your party, after all, would be rude if I didn't even say a word to you."

"And this is why you followed me when I took Gucci for a walk. Sure. Because I'd talk to all three hundred of guests currently in my house. Otherwise it's rude."

Jason tensed. So that was Lydia. And Stiles was... Stalking her a bit?

"No, not you-rude, me-rude. Sorry. I can leave if you want."

"Oh, wouldn't it be rude of me if I sent you away."

"Not that it stopped you ever before. Like when you publicaly ignore my existence."

"And you don't think I have a reason for that?"

"Sure. Your boyfriend thinks I'm a loser, ergo, you feel I'm a loser."

"Oh, Stiles, it's not that - it's that I have a boyfriend at all, and your puppy crush is obvious from space. I don't need the drama. And FYI? That's not how you use 'ergo', unless you think I have no mind of my own."

She picked up the dog and went back. Stiles stayed, sighing frustratedly.

Jason thought for a second, whether to disappear or come out. In the end, he whistled, before Stiles turned to head back.

Stiles immediately turned around, but it took him a moment to find where Jason was standing.

"Enjoyed the show, Greenberg?" He asked, harshly.

"Not particularly, no," Jason said honestly. "I really don't like when guys don't get the hint."

"You friends with Jackson for a month and now you're going to be teaching me a lesson on his behalf?" Stiles squeezed his fists.

Jason could see that he wasn't scared, but he was expecting an attack. And that wasn't who Jason was - not now, and not ever.

He put his hands in the air, placatingly.

"You keep your hands to yourself, I keep mine."

Stiles was taken aback.

"You think I would?.. I wouldn't!"

Jason waved his hand dismissedly.

"If I got a penny every time I heard "I would never" when a guy, in fact, would or had - I'm not saying I would be a Lex Luthor, but I might have no need for a waiter job."

"I know, I'm the son of the Sheriff, you don't need to..."

"Even if you were a Sheriff yourself, I don't care," Jason cut him off. "Okay?"

Stiles huffed, and then went back to the house.

Jason, though, he decided to call it a night and went back to the place he rented.

#jason todd #dc comics x teen wolf #crossover #my fics #wip #red hood and teen wolf i swear i don't understand why there's no more crossovers #because red riding hood get it? get it?#anyway #au for jason past his training with all caste #pre season 1 teen wolf

7 notes · View notes