and maybe she made him die twice

lazarus in the shape of x

Patient John Doe, or code number #816, remained in care for a single day after that fateful conversation. Physically willing himself out of brain death, he nabbed keys off a dozing nurse and snaked away like a thief in the night. 

It turned out to be exactly what'd he become. 

Many things can jog a memory. A song. Smell. Taste. Touch. Most of all, instinct. 

But instincts can only take you so far. 

Where Jason's own took him was back to the streets. The hair-thin newspaper blanket, the bitter frostbite, even the same alleyway where he scrapped with thugs over food as a child. In a way, this was home. 

He was biding time. Talia's grief-fueled respects had been coated with unspoken advice. 

One: Don't contact Bruce.

Two: Don't reveal your identity—to anyone. 

Three: Learn the truth.

He decided to meld the second and third steps into one. 

"Hear the news 'bout that Red X creep?"

Jason's wanderlust for answers led him to a dive bar. The pit's rejuvenating waters replenished the year or so of puberty he'd lost, so especially in the ragtag law enforcement system that was Gotham, it was easy to pass as of age. Not that the cop he'd beaten to a pulp outside would check.

He wasn't there to wash his past down with liquor. He was there for the only thing that kept the illusion of time separate—the news on TV.

"Yeah, and what of it?" He eavesdropped on the two thugs taking swigs from their flasks.

"Some wannabe thief stole data chips from Wayne Enterprises and tried to turn 'em over to Slade. Heard trust fund himself was pissed." He let out a whiskey-coated chuckle.

"So what? The whole thing's gonna blow over in a week. Doesn't affect our business." Jason could almost sniff the coke hidden in one's bulky trenchcoat.

"No, but you know who's under the mask?" The lowlife's boozy grin stretched wider to unsheathe his chipped teeth. "Our very own Boy Wonder."

Jason's ears perked up. He shuffled closer, nabbing a faraway barstool so their view was blocked by a waitress sponging tables down.

"No shit." The other wiped the alcohol from his slathered mouth in shock. "For real?"

The drug-peddler nodded.

"Public know?"

"Yup. Kid was on the tube earlier today. Makin' an apology to the press in tights and everything." He slurred. "Course, chuckles got away with it with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. He's the city's golden boy."

"Imagine if someone on our side got a hold of that kinda tech." The second criminal daydreamed. "No one would know the difference. The guy in the suit could be anybody."

"And where are they keeping the suit?" Jason interjected, sliding into the seat adjacent to them smoother than elbow grease. He signaled the bartender for a brew. "Titans Tower, yeah?"

"None of your business, stranger." The hoodlums scanned his steely eyes as if they could match the wayward ghost of today to the pirouetting youngster who'd shut down their crack trade a trip to heaven ago. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Anybody." He smirked devilishly.

He'd stolen Dick's identity once. He could do it again.

"And nobody."