Mirror

by Kass

Notes:
Written for the "Isn't It Iconic?" challenge on livejournal. Many thanks to Justine for beta. And here's the icon out of which this vignette was written:

This kid is the new...me.

I can't begin to untangle how weird that is.

It's not like I still want to be Robin. Nightwing's a better name than Robin ever was: there's more power to it. It doesn't make you want to sing that stupid song about Capistrano. It's a little darker.

Okay, it sounds a little more like Batman. I don't like to admit how much that matters, even to myself.

But underneath the new costume and mask, underneath the new life and identity, part of me is still Robin. When you grow up, the kid you used to be doesn't go away. He's still in there. He's how you remember your first field trip, what second grade was like, what used to be your favorite flavor of ice cream.

The kid I used to be remembers losing my parents. The sickening snap of the trapeze wire. The unreal way time stretched as they fell.

I've worked hard to break away from being Robin. From being the second half of "Batman and..."

"Bruce and..."’—that's different. That's what I wanted. What I'd probably still take, if it were offered. But being sidekick to the superhero who doesn't open up? Thanks, but no thanks. I left on purpose.

When I heard he was taking in another Robin, I felt...good, kind of. Maybe it meant I'd been important all along. He won't say he misses me; I'm not sure he's capable of the words. But he must miss me, if he went out and found another Boy Wonder.

Not that a juvenile delinquent necessarily qualifies as a wonder.

And Bruce adopted him, right off the bat. None of this "ward" bullshit: Jason is his son.

Okay. So I wonder how come the punk who tried to lift the hubcaps off the Batmobile got to be Bruce's son, and I had to break away and move to Bludhaven before we could even open the conversation about who I am to him. Not that we're talking about it now. But that shouldn't surprise me anymore.

What is he thinking? He's just standing there, staring at me, like he can't believe I'm real. I think I know the feeling.

Anybody else spent that long staring at my chest, I'd think he was scoping me. But no way is Jason Todd scoping me: that's too weird.

They say you can never go home again. It's not like I expected Bruce to keep my old room empty, but.

I want Alfred to tell me, "It got quiet around here without you."

I want Jason to ask me, "Tell me how you did it."

I want Bruce to tell me, "He could never take your place."

(450 words)

The End