It took another fifteen minutes before Peter felt stable enough to leave the restroom.
Jason's bright eyes immediately took stock, but Peter was reasonably certain he wasn't in danger of falling apart, even if he felt a bit like Humpty Dumpty, broken and reassembled wrong, missing something integral to his body that made him Peter.
He tried to reason it out. So he had spinnerets now? So what? That just meant he had a backup if his web shooters broke. And who was to say he wouldn't lose them again the moment he got back home? For all he knew, he'd go through the same unravelling nightmare to return and find himself reconfigured as Peter Parker One, sans spinnerets and able to continue chugging coffee like it was lifeblood.
(Peter didn't know what he felt more sore about. The spinnerets or the new caffeine intolerance. Was this how freshly diagnosed lactose intolerant people felt? Forever struck by the temptation to have another go anyway and damn the consequences? It was the worst.)
"You good?" Jason asked as Peter shut the bathroom door behind himself.
Peter nodded, wordless. Jason did not appear convinced but didn't push. He was good at that.
A sandwich was held out to him, and Peter ate it mechanically as they walked back to the bike. It tasted of nothing, but Peter forced it down. New additions to his body or not, the empty feeling in his stomach suggested that his advanced metabolism was still up and running. Even if it wasn't, he knew he was underweight: again, thanks metabolism for that!
Time slipped again when they got back on the bike. One moment, they were veering around a truck that had come onto the highway; the next, skyscrapers loomed above them, and Peter was home.
Except… it wasn't. Because even though they were travelling through the familiar traffic of Manhattan, there was no Avengers Tower.
There was no Avengers Tower. Just another forty-something floored glass building that looked no different from its neighbours.
Peter already knew there was no Tony Stark here. He'd gone looking. Just as he'd gone looking for Doctor Strange. But it was one thing to know. Another thing to know. To see it in the flesh? The absence of the man Peter had idolised? The absence of a group that had been a stalwart of Peter's childhood? It — as with everything else he'd had to process so far — was hard to stomach.
He held onto Jason's jacket a little tighter and focused on the thrum of the bike and the stink of exhaust fumes that seeped through his helmet. The last thing he needed was to lose time again: Jason knew where they were going — he'd input the address back at the gas station — but Peter needed to be present for whatever he was about to find.
Even if he really, really didn't want to be. Because the churning in his gut suggested he wasn't going to like what they found (or wouldn't find).
Riding through the city felt surreal. Like he'd left for decades and come home again. There were buildings and shops that were familiar — places that were clearly so essential to the fabric of New York that they'd survived entire dimension jumps — but equally, there were buildings or shop fronts that were new and completely foreign to him.
No. Not new. Different.
Was this how Captain America had felt when they'd thawed him out of the ice? Plagued by the familiarity of home, but tormented by the changes? Changes he'd never seen, nor consented to. The real New York existing only in fallible memories, never to see the light of day again...
Bleecker Street looked much the same when they arrived. Hope surged, fizzing hot and happy at the sight of 177A — the Sanctum was still there! Sure, the door was green, not red; the familiar grid-shaped circular windows were missing; and the detailing around the windows was less ornate and geometric… but the green-blue copper roof and brickwork was familiar to Peter.
Jason parked them right on the pavement, indifferent to the rules on parking. Peter didn't bother saying anything. As the engine cut out, Jason kicked out the stand but remained seated while Peter dismounted and tugged off his helmet.
"Nice place," Jason remarked, peering up at the building with an assessing stare. "You live here?"
Peter shook his head. "Queens, remember? But… someone who can help does."
Probably.
He left Jason and walked up the short stairs with trepidation. The door was closed and there was no plaque to indicate if the building was a business or a home. Now that he looked closer, the door knocker was different, too. No brass, just painted iron.
The hope died down to a low simmer. Maybe it was like MJ used to say: expect disappointment and avoid the feeling altogether. But Peter couldn't do this alone. He needed help.
With a steadying breath, he knocked — three times for luck.
There was no answer.
Peter waited a few minutes. This time, he tried the intercom. It rang four times before someone picked up.
"Hello?"
Feet shifting nervously, Peter swallowed. He didn't recognise the voice and wished the camera by the intercom worked both ways. "Hi. Um. Is there a Doctor Strange that lives here? Doctor Stephen Strange?"
"No?"
"Are — are you sure? He's a sorcerer?"
There was an incredulous pause. "… Is this a prank?"
"No! What about a — uh —" Crap, what was his name again? Stephen had barely introduced him in passing! "A… Wong?"
God, he hoped he got his name right.
"No Stephen's or Wong's here, kid. Look, this place is a nightclub; I just rent out the top floor."
Peter clutched his arms and dug his fingers in deep enough to bruise. They could be lying to him. Could be concealing their origins. But the niggling voice in the back of his mind told him they were telling the truth.
Just in case, though… "Okay. Maybe I got the wrong address. If you do meet a Dr Strange or Wong, could you tell them I was looking for them?"
Another pause, then a heavy sigh that was grainy through the crappy speaker. "What's your name?"
"Peter. Parker. Tell them I'm — uh — well travelled and was hoping for guidance."
"… Sure, kid."
The intercom clicked off. Peter waited a little longer, just in case they opened the door for him anyway, but there was nothing. He stepped back, but not before peeking into the windows on the ground floor. Sure enough, he could make out the dim shape of a bar and tables between the green velvet curtains hanging down.
"Fuuuck," he whispered, and rested his head on the cool glass for a second. His limbs felt heavy with dread. Today seemed to just be filled with Ls.
A Parker Luck kind of day.
"No dice?" Jason asked when he finally mustered enough energy to unglue himself from the window.
"Did it look like I was lucky?"
Rather than be offended by Peter's knee-jerk snark, Jason chuckled. "Naw. Looked like you tanked it. Guess they're not here yet?"
It took longer than it should for Peter to remember that Jason's leading theory was that he was a time traveller.
He nodded. "I guess not," he said, and hoped the strain in his voice was interpreted as disappointment.
"Is that it?"
"No." He breathed in deep to ground himself. "There's somewhere else I want to go, first."
Jason pulled up his navigation and Peter rattled off the familiar address.
"Alright. Hop on. Good thing it's a Sunday — I don't want to even think about what this would be like at peak hour tomorrow."
The ride to Queens was uneventful. Peter forced himself to take stock of what had changed and what remained the same and was over-joyed to learn that Delmar's was still around. It was tempting to ask Jason to stop by and get some sandwiches, but he wasn't sure how well he'd deal with seeing a familiar face right now (or not seeing one). Chances were he'd fall into the same creepy behaviour he'd done with Ned and MJ right after the Erasure.
They slowed as they reached their destination, but Peter didn't even need to get off the bike to know it was a dead end.
The apartment block wasn't even there. In its place was a park. A big fat empty absence where there should have been a six-storey building. He couldn't keep the pained noise at bay when he saw it but was protected by the road noise and his helmet from detection.
Jason pulled up by the kerb. He flicked up his visor as he turned around, so all Peter could see of him were his pale eyes and slightly squished cheeks. "I'm gonna guess this ain't what you're looking for."
Peter shook his head. He refused to lift the visor, so Jason did it for him. It must have been uncomfortable to twist around like that, but the man showed no signs of discomfort.
"What was meant to be here?" Jason asked.
It was a struggle to find the words, but he managed. "My apartment."
But that was a lie. It hadn't been his apartment for close to a year. Not since they'd been forced to relocate after Beck's doxxing. But that little two bedroom was his home. Sure, it wasn't the same place they'd lived in before the Snap, but to Peter it had felt close enough. The furniture and belongings — saved from being sold or lost by Mr Stark — had history. A life spent with Ben and Ma—his aunt, and later, just Peter and Her.
A life they'd had to abandon because Peter was too naive to know that he was just being used by Beck ('It's only temporary,' she'd promised. 'Only until things calm down.' Only, things hadn't calmed down. Things had gotten worse and by the time he couldreturn, She was gone and all of the pictures that used to have Peter and his family in them now only showed his family with a half-smudged face of a stranger).
A heavy hand resting on his shoulder ripped him from his spiralling thoughts. He blinked back the tell-tale burning in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Jason said. He sounded sincere. "… Is there anywhere else?"
There were other places. Of course there were. Ned or MJ or Happy. Maybe even the Stark's house, out in the countryside. They should check. At least one. Third time was the charm, as the saying went. Only… Peter was pretty sure the charm here was 'give Peter Parker a full-blown breakdown' and he would much rather avoid that when travelling with a man he barely knew, on a bike that would kill even him if he fell off.
Peter shook his head. "Sorry you couldn't get your adventure."
Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. "Nah. I don't mind — think of it like a day trip. Plus, it's as good excuse as any to stop by O'Keef's."
"O'Keef's?" Peter didn't recognise the name.
"Oh. You'll love it. Best burger joint in New York." Jason glanced at his watch. It was a smart watch, and a heavy duty one at that. The glass was thickened with additional protection, a little chipped at one corner, and the strap was a wide woven material that Peter could guess would be hard to break. "They should be open by now, though it's a little early."
"I could eat," Peter said softly, then again, louder when Jason looked up in askance.
"Cool. My shout."
Ordinarily, Peter would have protested. But he had less than ten bucks to his name and was facing homelessness the moment he and Jason parted ways. He wasn't going to turn down a hot meal. Not when he could already feel the gnawing hunger creep in. God! Give him a few square meals at regular intervals and suddenly his body forgot how to acclimatise to going hungry!
Jason drove a little more sedately this time, perhaps because he was less accustomed to the scenery. He took them into Brooklyn (ew) and they stopped outside a diner. The name O'Keefs was written in large blue and white lettering over the glass windows.
"I stumbled across it a few years back," Jason explained as he took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. Peter took one look at his own reflection in the glass and winced before doing the same. Mostly he just succeeded in making it look even more like a rat's nest. "I always try to stop by when I'm in the city. Don't be fooled by the decor — this place is legit."
Peter immediately understood what Jason meant by the decor. It was a vision straight out of the fifties — and looked about as old — with tufted red vinyl seats and stools; brown and cream checker tiles that stuck stubbornly to his shoes; glossy tables with peeling veneer; and a long line of fluorescent strip lighting carried along the bar. The place smelled of old oil and coffee, sunk deep into the very fabric of the building.
Despite the rundown nature of the place, it still boasted a healthy number of patrons — though most of them had to be close to the same age as O'Keef's itself.
Jason didn't bother waiting to be served. He led Peter to a booth by the window, taking the side facing the oncoming traffic. Thought the move didn't surprise Peter, it left him feeling antsy, knowing his back was to the door. At least he had a window, so he wasn't totally blind.
"Get their burger, if you know what's good for you," Jason recommended. "They're filthy. Eat with a knife and fork kinda filthy — if you wanna get freaky. But so good."
"Noted," Peter drawled.
It didn't take long for a waitress — middle-aged, strong 'mom' vibes — to wander over and take their drink orders. Peter nearly asked for coffee, before remembering the disaster of the morning. He wasn't quite prepared to accept the sudden caffeine intolerance, so asking for decaf was out of the question. In the end, he settled for lemonade and a caramel milkshake — again, at Jason's recommendation.
"Did you seriously not know you were caffeine intolerant?" Jason asked when she'd left.
Peter grimaced. "… No?"
"Did you just, never drink coffee?"
God. How was he meant to answer that? No, I used to drink cheap, shitty instant coffee like it was water but then I travelled the multi-verse and came out all wrong? It felt a bit too heavy for eleven-thirty on a Sunday.
He settled for a half-hearted shrug.
"Weird," Jason said, pointing at him for emphasis. "And tragic. You know that means you can't even drink tea."
Peter smiled banally. No hot leaf juice? Oh no. How would he survive.
'You're shit at lying,' Tony had once told him, not long after he'd finally begun opening up to Peter after the Vulture Incident. 'You're better off just keeping your mouth shut and letting people draw their own conclusions.'
Peter had taken that advice and ran with it. Better to keep quiet then let the lie slip.
The waitress returned with their drinks, and they rattled off their orders. Jason didn't comment on the extra serving of fries Peter ordered for himself.
As soon as she left, Peter immediately tried the milkshake. It was thick enough to plaster walls with, filled with crushed cookies that clogged the straw, but so so good. Jason was pleased by his reaction and sipped his coffee.
"What are you going to do now?" he asked, tone light in a way that immediately put Peter's hackles up. "Did you have a mission, or was your trip an accident?"
He held back a wince at the word 'trip'. If he could, Peter would like to never hear that word again, if it meant he'd not have to think about how he'd fallen through that stupid portal.
"Accident," he confessed. "Why else would I be looking for places that don't exist?"
Jason shrugged. "Maybe you've got a bad boss? Or you really suck at research."
If he had a fry, Peter would have flicked it at him. He was feeling petty enough for it. "I'm a free agent. No agendas here except to get back home."
Jason studied him over the rim of his mug. Peter held his stare boldly for once and refused to be the first to blink.
Jason broke first, huffing and rolling his eyes. "I believe you. Though I don't think you've any idea on how to manage that."
That makes two of us.
"I'll work something out."
"And until you do?"
"… I'll work something out."
"Hmm." Jason sipped his coffee. "Thought so… Come back with me."
"Huh?"
"Come back with me. To Gotham."
Peter scrubbed his face tiredly. "Back to Gotham? I've got nowhere to stay!"
"You've got nothing here either," Jason said with a dismissive shrug. He slouched back in his seat, the picture of self-assuredness. "I've got a spare room. You can stay with me."
Anger flushed through him, bright and irrational. "What's your deal, dude? First you tell me Gotham isn't for me. That it'll eat me alive. Then in the same breath you tell me to go back with you?"
"Well, not technically the same breath—"
"Jason!" Peter hissed.
Jason laughed softly, entirely unmoved by Peter's anger. "Look, ki—Peter. It's clear that whatever you were hoping to find ain't here yet—"
"I'm—"
Jason waved off his immediate attempt to defend. "I told you; I won't ask questions." Peter rose a brow. Jason smiled, sardonic. "Okay. More questions. Don't see much point when I know you're just gonna lie to me."
Peter glared, mulish.
"My point is, I've been around the block a few times. Trust me when I say you're not even the thirdstrangest thing that's happened to me. Not even close. Not even in the last year."
He wanted to chase that line of thought, but suspected Jason would simply pull the same trick and obfuscate. The man seemed to enjoy playing the enigma.
"Good news for you is, I'm a guy with connections. I can probably find someone to help you, if you stick around."
Peter studied Jason warily. His offer felt genuine, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the man still had another agenda at play. The instinct was sharp and clear and these days, Peter tried not to ignore his Tingle.
"You want to keep an eye on me, don't you?"
Jason's expression remained carefully neutral. Peter dug deeper.
"What are you? Military? Secret service? A cop?"
"You fuckin' wash your mouth out," Jason growled. Though his tone was playful, he looked disgusted by the very suggestion. "I'm a force of chaos and you best not forget it."
"Chaos..." Peter thought of the clear care and attention he'd shown for the unaccompanied children in the playground. Those weren't the actions of someone who thrived on chaos. Rather the opposite.
Jason read his disbelief and grimaced. "Okay, fine… Chaos against the instruments of systemic violence, then."
Peter's mouth twitched. "Are you worried I'm going to try and change the future?"
Jason shook his head. "I've seen what happens to travellers who meddle with time. Trust me: if that's what you were planning, I'd already know."
Peter's mouth fell open with surprise, but he supposed he shouldn't be so shocked. This place was as crazy as his world was and they'd managed time travel just fine. Brought back to half a universe to boot. Who was to say this world hadn't done the same?
He'd have to look it up when he had the chance.
Their food arrived then: a mountain of a burger with smashed patties, dripping with cheese, hot sauce, and the extra pickles Peter had asked for. The additional serve of loaded fries were set between them, which was cute. But there was no way Peter was letting Jason have any of them.
"Anything else, hun?" the waitress asked. Peter shook his head, already salivating at the food.
"We're good, thanks," Jason said with a winning smile — the cleanest Peter had seen from him yet, and entirely foreign on the man's face. The woman left them to it. Peter immediately fell upon the burger and had to bite back a moan of pleasure.
It had been months since he'd been able to enjoy something so good and he took the time to savour it. The patties were juicy, the lettuce gave a satisfying crunch, and the pickles added an acidity that cut through the fattiness of the cheese and meat.
"You're right," Peter said after he'd swallowed his first mouthful of heaven. "They are good."
Jason grinned back, all teeth. "When I'm right, I'm right."
There wasn't any more talking until both had finished their burgers and moved onto the fries. Jason was a mayonnaise kind of guy, and Peter wrinkled his nose at the sight.
"It's what they do in Europe," Jason drawled.
He pointedly sprinkled hot sauce over his, brow raised in challenge. "I guess we can't both be sophisticates."
Jason snatched the bottle off him, sneering. "I was just getting to that."
Peter wolfed down his fries, mouth tingling pleasantly from the hot sauce, and then descended on the loaded fries.
"You really can pack that away," Jason mused. He was still only halfway through his plate. "Where's it all go?"
"Hollow limbs," Peter deadpanned.
Like he hadn't heard it before. He'd long since stopped getting embarrassed about his appetite. A feat made easier when he justified it in terms of the needs of Spider-Man. Spidey needed food to do his job to the best of his ability, therefore, Peter needed to eat as much as he could afford.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"I never said I'd go back with you."
Peter slapped away Jason's hand that tried to creep towards the fries. Jason stole one anyway. It was one of the extra cheesy ones Peter had been saving. Prick.
"You never said you wouldn't."
"I still don't really understand why you're offering. Seems like a bit much for a guy you've only just met, even if you do want to keep an eye on me."
"I'm a good judge of character. And… if I'm honest, Pete, you look one bad day away from a mental breakdown. Call it a favour."
Rude… but not untrue. Peter kept his response to himself and chose instead to throw a spanner in the works. "What if I'm, like, a freak? What if I really like feet? Or ate pizza with a knife and fork?"
"And do you?"
Peter was already grimacing at the thought. "No. But I could be!"
"Then I guess I'm make sure to keep my shoes on and put a lock on the utensils drawer when I order take-out." Peter laughed despite himself, and Jason's eyes glittered with amusement. "There'd be ground rules, of course."
"Of course." He frowned. "Like what?"
Jason nicked another fry. Peter curled an arm protectively around the rest. "Don't touch my weapons. Stay inside after nine."
"A curfew? I'm not a child!"
"No," Jason said calmly. "But you aren't a local, either. And if your attempt at getting mugged is anything to go by, you're not built for Gotham streets after dark, extra strength or not. I think nine is generous."
"Oi! I didn't attempt to get mugged. I was mugged. Not my fault you turned up before the deed was done."
Jason barked with laughter. This time, when Peter smacked his hand away, he kept it back. "You've got the makings of a Gothamite, I'll give you that. We can work out the rest when we get back."
"Sure. And a chore chart," Peter drawled.
"I take it that's a yes, then."
"I've resigned myself to the idea." He offered Jason the final two fries — a little sad and soggy — to settle it. Jason eyed him wryly but ate them anyway. "It's better than being homeless. Plus, you have Dog."
"Ah. Did she sweeten the deal?"
"Honestly, you should have just led with that. I've known her less than a day and already I would die for her."
Jason's eyes crinkled and warmed as he grinned. "See? Good judge of character."
"I could still be a freak."
"I know how to deal with freaks."
Peter wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. It was funbantering with Jason. The lightest he'd felt in more than half a year.
"Just so you know," he warned, "I could totally just break the utensil drawer lock if we order pizza."
"I guess I'll just hide it, then," Jason smirked back. And that was that.
— + —
They hit the road after lunch. There was the usual traffic to weave through leaving New York and entering Gotham, but otherwise, a clean run. Without caffeine in his system, Peter was a much better passenger and Jason was reasonably certain, now that the guy had actually agreed to it, that he wouldn't try to run off when they returned.
He felt safe enough, therefore, to leave Peter in the apartment with instructions on how to operate the TV and a (joking) promise not to drink any coffee while he was gone.
"Shame," Peter had snarked. "I was going to enjoy my four PM psychotic break."
Wise ass.
The journey up to Bristol was easy: not a lot of people wanting to spend their weekends in Gotham. As always, Jason was awash with feelings of nostalgia and unease as he drove past the palatial homes and gated manors. He zoomed through familiar streets and took the front entrance to Wayne mansion.
Predictably, Alfred was waiting for him by the front doors despite his unannounced visit.
"Been a while, Alfie. How you been?" Jason said breezily in an attempt to conceal his discomfort. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead back at the manor unless something serious was going on — especially after his banishment during the whole Penguin saga[1]. But he had things to pick up and had it on good authority (Damian, the hellion) that Bruce was away on 'business'.
"I'm well, Master Jason. It's good to see you back in Gotham." Alfred's gaze was calm and non-judgemental. That was why Jason liked him best.
"I'm here for a while, I think," he confessed as Alfred shut the doors behind him.
Alfred smiled with sympathy. "I heard of the incident in Qurac[2]." Jason chose wisely not to ask him howhe knew. "How is Madame Gunn and her new charges?"
"Charged," he grinned. "But they'll come out okay." Probably. As good as a handful of teens who've been raised to be villains could, he hoped.
"May I ask why you're here? As much as I wish it were, I doubt this is a social call, though you should know it is a Sunday."
Jason winced. "Yeah… I won't be staying around for family dinner." Not now. Not ever. "I'm, uh. Picking up a few things. I'll be needing the truck too, if it's not being used."
"It is not."
Jason followed Alfred to the kitchen, where the keys were kept. He paused when he saw Tim, sitting at the kitchen table nursing a coffee while he flicked through something on a tablet. Jason imagined he was here early for family dinner.
"Timbo," he said warily. The kid could be a mixed bag: they definitely got on leagues better than they used to, but he was always acutely aware of the heavy past that hung between them.
"Jason," Tim said with a wry twist of the lips, as though he saw straight through him. "I hear you're setting up shop again."
"… Yeah."
"No Outlaws?"
He narrowed his eyes. As if he didn't know. Brat. "No."
"Shame." Tim huffed and leaned back in his chair. "Kon was hoping to meet Bizarro."
"Ah." Fat chance of that now. Unless Connor Kent was willing to travel to Hell for him. Literally.
He swallowed back the soft swell of grief. He'd barely had Bizarro and Artemis back before they'd left him again. Artemis at least, was easy to find, but Bizarro…
Well, there was no easy way of getting to Hell except death, was there?
"Here, Master Jason." Alfred interrupted his pity party with his usual poise and grace, handing over the keys to the truck. Tim's gaze narrowed in on them immediately.
"Taking something?"
"Yup." He held up the keys and made a swift retreat, calling back a 'Thanks!' as he left, but he paused at the stairs as a thought occurred to him. He circled back, peeking his head around the doorjamb.
"Hey, Alfie?"
Alfred looked up from the counter where he'd returned to the preparation for dinner. That was something else to consider. Peter could eat. They'd have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.
"Yes, Master Jason?"
"Do you still have my old clothes? Y'know, from when I was a teen?"
Pete was probably close to his old size. The guy was pint-sized: anything of Jason's now would swamp him, and he saw no point in buying something new when there were perfectly good clothes just lying around for the taking. Even if he did feel a little weird about giving Peter clothes he used to wear before he'd died.
Alfred blinked slowly, then his expression grew distant in thought. "… Yes. I believe they were put into storage in the attic. Shall I fetch them for you?"
He waved off the help. "Naw. You're busy. I can manage on my own."
"May I ask why?"
"I've got a guest."
Alfred's brows rose, as did Tim's. "A guest? Has Miss Artemis returned already?"
"Nah. Last I heard she was kicking around Mexico. I'm taking a mattress, too. I need a better one ASAP. Let Bruce know he'll be needing to buy a new one: I ain't giving it back."
At the kitchen table, Tim's brows rose even higher. "What do you need another mattress for?"
Jason frowned. "I just said?" He turned back to Alfred. "FYI, I might come back for the bed frame."
"I will have it unassembled for you. Do you need anything else?"
Jason pondered on it, but clothes and a mattress were the most pressing items. He shook his head.
"Would you like to stay for supper? There is no Master Bruce, but many of your siblings will be here."
"Sorry, Alfred. Won't be changing my mind: I've gotta get home."
"You could always return with your guest?"
Jason laughed outright. "We're good, thanks Alfie."
He heard Alfred sigh as he left again, and only felt a little guilty. He loved the man like a grandfather but sitting down for dinner with the ever-growing brood of siblings — Bruce or no Bruce — was where he drew the line on most days.
Besides, he had an apartment to return to and a guest he had to make sure hadn't broken into his coffee supply.
— + —
Click [HERE] for text only
[1] In RHATO (Rebirth), Jason shoots the Penguin when he learns that his father had been framed for a crime by him. This is set up to be attempted murder by Jason, but is later (arguably) retconned to have all been a plan by Jason to take control of Penguin's empire… What's really important though is that the deal he'd made with Bruce was, if he killed anyone, he'd be out for good. Long and short of it, Bruce beats the everloving shit out of Jason (who barely fights back. He'd also lost Artemis and Bizarro the same day, so he was hanging on by a THIN thread), Roy sweeps in and saves him before it looks like Bruce will actually kill Jason. The first volume of Red Hood: Outlaw has Bruce make it clear Jason's not welcome back to Gotham, even if he didn't actually kill the Penguin. But in later volumes he's allowed back in Gotham so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯¯ hooray for zero character resolution I guess…
[2] In the final RHO (Rebirth) volume, there's a big show down between the Outlaws and the Untitled in Qurac (the place Jason's death was retconned to) and an attempt to free Trigon from Hell. It ends with Bizarro killing him and then kinda getting stuck in Hell as the new king of the demons, so they don't wreak havoc on Earth. Sad for Jason, as he's now lost another bestie.
There's also a storyline thata's resolved at this point where Lex Luthor had asked Jason to train up some villain kids, but Jason ends up dissolving the program and having Ma Gunn take the kids in, to be taught by a few other reformed (???) villains.
[3] BATFAM: YOUNG ADULT EDITION
Rude-Robin 4:55PM: News! (add image)
Rude-Robin 4:56PM: 1! RH has a guest. 2! He was cagey about who they were. 3! He said he needed, and I quote:'a better mattress ASAP' and he wouldn't be giving it back.
I'll Spoil YOU 4:57PM: ?!?!
Rude-Robin 4:59PM: He said he might come back for the bed frame. Sounds like a long-term guest
Orphan Annie 5:00PM: ?!?!?!?!
Rude-Robin 5:02PM: He's also taking all the clothes he used to own as a teen
I'll Spoil YOU 5:03PM: OMGGG
I'll Spoil YOU 5:05PM: HAS HE PULLED A BRUCE?!?!?!
SIGnature moves 5:06PM: If he has I will literally die