Title: Born Under a Bad Sign

Fandom: DCU [which does not belong to me btw]

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Warnings: the first section of this fic will be set almost entirely in a prison – so expect some very adult themes; Violence and the threat of sexual violence, torture and fucked up situations. I will give detailed warnings chapter by chapter and if you would rather get a synopsis of the more explicit chapters PM me and I will send you one!

Summary: The world is in ruins, the justice league is gone, and like many others who have tried fighting for their freedom, Jason Todd is in prison. He finds help from an unexpected source.

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Prologue

Gotham was a city that loomed; she towered above her streets and old, gnarled buildings stood side by side with newer more modern constructions that shone with reflective glass.

Or they had, before the fall.

Now half were crumbled, inhabited by desperate people, survivors of another cataclysmic event. You would think Gotham and her citizens had suffered enough, but apparently fate had one last stone to throw at her.

Jim Gordon's feelings about the city had always been as muddied as the water that lined her streets after a rain. He loved her, and he loathed her.

But it hurt him to see her so battered and her people so lost.

She stretched away below the streets too, tunnels and sewers like pervasive roots under the city. And it was this dark underbelly that gave Jim and his ragbag collection of survivor's sanctuary.

Jim poured himself a cup of week, lukewarm coffee from his thermos and looked over the city from his watch post. He, Gotham, and her people had gone through a lot together and he had feared this might be the end, but his city's people were like rats. He didn't mean this as an insult - on the contrary; they were used to dark places, hardy, tenacious and adaptable, they survived against all odds and he loved them all the more for it. That wasn't to say they were all good people worthy of his respect though. Today had been rough - he had the unhappy task of prosecuting his own people; if they were caught stealing or worse they would be locked in the cells below the city, fed on scraps. It was no way to live, but there was no other way to keep order except for outright execution, and he would rather avoid killing his own kind when the Anathema were so happy to do it for him.

It had taken three days to bring the city to her knees, three days. The world had followed in only a few scant weeks.

No one was coming to rescue them.

There was a slight rustle of cloth behind him and Jim spun around. Robin looked up at him through the white lenses of his mask. He held out a few bags, no doubt containing medicine or food – it was becoming more and more risky to find even the necessities, and Jim suspected Robin had taken to raiding Anathema supply trucks, a very dangerous thing to do.

He took the bags, needles, antibiotics and painkillers. "Thank you Robin," he said. The kid looked exhausted and beaten down - his uniform was tattered, the laces on his boots didn't match and his mask was held on with tape. "Coffee?" Jim offered, holding out his battered cup. Robin took it with a muttered thanks; he looked like an old man, weighed down with the weight of the world.

"How you holding up kid?" Jim asked

"Better than you old man." He was clearly trying for his old arrogance, but he just sounded tired.

"How's Red Robin?" He wished he didn't have to ask.

"Still dying."

Jim winced. He has spent a life time dealing with people and had developed a good sense of body language. Robin was upset, afraid in a way Jim hadn't seen him show before. It was the fear of loss, of the survivor.

The fear of being alone.

Jim wished he could take some of the weight from those narrow shoulders. "You should bring him here" he said, but he knew it was pointless. "We have a nurse, and you wont have to care for him by yourself". You wont have to be alone.

"No. Vigilantes are worth food, currency, safety – do you think for one minute that there isn't one person here that would hand us over to save their own sorry skin? Their families?" Robin stared at his tattered boots, and Jim wished he knew his real name. "When he dies I will continue to help you. It's my duty, its what he would have wanted"

Him. The batman, the man had been gone since the first wave of assassinations – world leaders, influential men and woman, meta humans and the justice league.

"Is there no one else?" Jim asked gently

"No, even Todd left us - he said he would help!"

"Todd?"

Robin shook his head. "Just a guy. He went for supplies, but he never came back – dead, captured or run away. Now its just me and Red Robin." He finished off the coffee and straightened his little shoulders ."It doesn't matter. There is a delivery coming through new town tomorrow – I might need a distraction, but I am almost sure I have away to access the supplies without letting on I have done so. I will need a blockade to the west to achieve it."

"What ever help you need Robin"

The boy nodded, stepped back into the shadows and disappeared into the night, much like his mentor would have done.

Jim hoped one day that he would the courage to ask what became of Batman, Nightwing and Batgirl. He wished he had no need to ask.

He wished he didn't already suspect the answer.