Fic: what if

[cat_13145]

Title: What if
Author: Cat_13145
Characters: Jason Todd, Alfred, Commisioner Gordon
Warnings: references to child pornography, child abuse, drug abuse, HIV and child prosisition. Sorry, but Jason's early life isn't a happy place.
Summary: What if he had known/acted when he had the chance?

 

 

During the course of his chosen careers, as a spy, and as butler to batman, Alfred Pennyworth had seen a great deal of child pornography.

He had never however, lost the sense of revolution and disgust that came from it.

And from these ones in particular. He gazed at the photos that Police Commissioner Gordon had sent over, trying to keep his last meal down.

The blue eyes gazed up at him from the photos, the face barely recognizable.

He would never forgive himself for this. Both he and Bruce knew that Jason would have had to do things, to get by, to survive, but in his worst nightmares he’d never considered….

His fingers ran over a brown folder that he’d acquired from social services before the adoption. He had refused to read it, to violate Jason’s privacy like that, but now…

The file was four inches thick.

He swallowed slightly, brewed himself a cup of tea and opened it.

The first thing is a report. First time Jason was taken into care. Aged 3. He read the description in the limited language of the social worker that said what had happened.
How Jason had been flung…he wasn’t quite sure if it was into or through a wall, by his father. That he had been unconscious on the floor for twenty four hours minimum.

The next few years could be pieced together from the reports. Jason had been returned to his mother’s care within a year. The home where he’d been had been closed down with in the year following sustained allegations of physical and sexual abuse. Jason’s name came up a couple of times among the victims.

There were reports of home visits, a surprisingly small number under the circumstances. Willis Todd had apparently remained at home until Jason was five. More than one worker had expressed the view that he was hurting both Catherine and her son, but no one seemed to have done anything about it.

Following Willis’s departure (which was hinted to be quite sudden), there had been a succession of boyfriends, one of whom had beaten up Catherine Todd, stolen the little jewelry she owed and left her for dead. Jason had apparently witnessed all this. Another, from when Jason was six, mentioned that the man she was living with had convictions for pedophilia. There was no evidence of the reports being followed up.

At least one report mentioned the suspicion that his mother was using drugs.

There were also reports from the school. Complaints of truancy, and the rare occasions that Jason was present that he was dirty and often half starved. One report complained that he’d been caught stealing from other kid’s lunch boxes.

There’s also a report into allegations of abuse at the school.

A report from the free clinic adds that Catherine Todd was diagnosed as HIV positive when Jason was 11. The report mentioned that Jason was clean of the disease, although the doctor had expressed that in her opinion that was nothing short of miraculous.

There’s a report from the attempt to take Jason into care following the death of his mother. He had apparently bolted from the clinic and had vanished into the night. The social worker had mentioned her suspicions that the child had been sleeping rough for some time before the death.

Police reports indicated that the kid was a serial runaway. No one seemed to have bothered to ask why?

There are a couple of arrest reports as well. Solicitation. There’s undoubtedly more, especially as they date from when Jason was about 8 or 9. It’s probable that after that he learnt to give a false name.

He scanned the report into the death of Richard Milton, aged 12. OD on meths. Only witness, Jason Peter Todd aged 10, high on cocaine when the body was found. Some of the photos do show faint needle marks on his arms and there’s a couple of arrests for procession. In spite of everything, a feeling of pride engulfs him. Jason got clean on his own.

The last one barely makes any impact. An arrest for petty theft, tires off a car.

The file was four inches thick. Under the circumstances it seemed very thin.

“Ow!” he let out the gasp as hot liquid nearly engulfed his hand. He looked down and realized he’d smashed the cup.

Slowly, carefully he got to his feet and ran it under the tap.

He had to do something.

Under the circumstances, being Robin was hardly suitable, as it had to be intensifying the trauma suffered. However it did offer an explanation for Jason’s behavior, especially since the women in the Garbage can case.

Equally forcing Jason to give up being Robin would not help either, increasing his shame and lack of self-worth.

While he would never play favorites, Alfred had to admit an attachment to Jason that had never being present with Dick. The lad reminded him so much of Master Bruce at the same age, that a couple of times he had to remind himself that he was not his flesh and blood son.

The anger, the stubbornness, the lashing out at the world, they were all too familiar. Except… that he had always being there for Bruce. And from the look of these documents, no one had been there for Jason.

He needed to have a talk with Jason. And then he needed to have a talk with Bruce, but he would talk with Jason first.

While (and he would admit this only in the privacy of his own head) it was debatable which one needed help the most, the lad was more likely to be willing to accept it.

Carefully, he headed up towards Jason’s room.

He wasn’t surprised when he pushed open the door that Jason was still awake. Another thing the two gentlemen shared was a virtual disregard for Morpheus’s grasp.

He placed the photos down on the bed.

Jason’s eyes never left him, or his hand, something he remembered noticing before, but never properly thinking about.

He looked at the photos, and then looked up at Alfred.

He was never quite sure what he expected Jason’s reaction to be, but a sigh and him to begin removing his clothes certainly wasn’t it.

“What on earth…?”

Jason shrugged. “You know right? That I’m just a fucked up little whore who made a good decision one night? That I’m a kid from the wrong side of the tracks so I’ll be easy? That I’m not good enough to fight back? That I’m…?”

He grabbed at Jason to stop him; he should have expected that it would make the situation worse.

Jason’s fighting was pure instinct, pure reaction, pure anger. It would have been easy for him to stop it, to pin Jason, but something in him told him that would only make a situation worse, possibly encourage Jason to bolt. He forced himself to relax, to roll with the punches, until the rage seemed to have subsided, the shouts and screams reduced to sobs and whimpers.

“It keeps coming back.” Jason voice was soft, but the house was quiet, so he could hear it with out any trouble. “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try it keeps coming back.”

“Your old life?” Alfred guessed.

Jason looked up at him with blue eyes that were far too old. “Everything.”

****

Jim Gordon sat at his desk, finishing off some paper work on the women in the dumpster case.

As it had almost all day, his eyes ran over to the file sitting on the corner of his desk.

He hoped he’d made the right decision.

Ballock, whose case it actually was didn’t think so, pointing out that for all they knew the kid might still being abused.

“Rich single eccentric GUY adopts Teenage boy? Come on Comiss, you know the score.”

He had wrestled with his conscience all day, only deciding to take the photos around at nearly nine at night.

Dam it all, the kid had been hurt. He’d need help, counseling to deal with what had happened, and even if he had his suspicions about the reasons for Bruce’s adoption, he trust the old butler to make sure things were done.

“Commissioner.” He jumped at as female detective (dammed if he could remember her name, she was a new transfer), stuck her head around the door.

“For you. Line 4”

He answers it, expecting Sarah. Angry that he’s still here.

With good reason, he thinks as he glances at the clock on the wall.

“Commissioner?”

The voice is English and perfectly controlled. “I wished to thank you for your help. The situation is under control.”

Normally those words would fill him with a sense of dread, but coming from the old English Butler they reassure him.

“Oh. Thank you.” He says good bye and glances at the clock. Now he can go home.
TBC