tw. suicide attempt, overdosing, main character death

He hadn't meant to see her again.

Not like this.

He'd come back to Gotham a ghost in a red helmet — a revenant with a vengeance. He wasn't Jason Todd anymore. Not really.

He was what was left.

He knew what happened after he died. Bruce told him nothing. Dick told him less. But the city spoke louder than any of them.

He heard whispers.

About Melina.

About Maeve.

About a girl falling apart in slow motion.

He didn't believe it at first.

Couldn't.

But now he was here.

Kicking down the door of her apartment, the gun in his hand forgotten as soon as he saw her.

She was on the floor.

Thin. Pale. Lips blue. Skin cold.

She was wearing his scarf. Still. After all this time.

And her chest was barely moving.

Jason dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking.

"Maeve— Maeve, hey—" His voice cracked, breaking into pieces. "C'mon, not like this. Not now."

She opened her eyes.

Barely.

"...Jay?" she whispered, eyes glazed and unfocused.

He exhaled like he'd been stabbed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I'm here." He pulled her up, cradling her head in his lap. "I'm real. I came back."

She smiled.

And it broke him.

Because it was the kind of smile that didn't belong to the living.

"I thought... you were dead," she murmured. Her voice was soft and distant. "I thought... you left me too."

"I didn't," Jason whispered. "I didn't want to. I came back, Maeve. I came back for you."

Her hand reached up weakly and brushed his jaw.

"Too late," she said. "It's okay."

"No. No, it's not." His voice was rising, panicked. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to leave me again."

Her breathing was slowing.

Her eyes fluttered.

He grabbed his phone, dialing emergency services with shaking fingers, but he already knew.

He could feel it.

She was leaving.

In his arms, she felt warm for the first time in months.

She felt like she was sixteen again — sitting on a rooftop with him, passing stolen fries and laughing at the stars.

"I missed you," she whispered.

He didn't say it back.

He couldn't.

He was choking on his own breath, tears streaking down his cheeks as he held her tighter.

"You're gonna be okay. We'll get you help. We'll fix it—"

But she shook her head, just once.

"I love you," she said.

And then... she stopped.

Just like that.

No gasping. No flailing.

Just silence.

Stillness.

Gone.

He screamed her name.

Over and over, like he could drag her back from wherever she'd gone.

He pressed his forehead to hers, sobbing like a boy again — not a weapon, not a soldier, not the Red Hood.

Just Jason.

Broken and alone.

"I came back," he whispered. "Why couldn't you wait for me?"

The ambulance arrived ten minutes later.

But she'd been gone for nine.

They tried anyway.

Jason didn't move.

Didn't blink.

He sat there holding her body until they made him let go.