Talia's fingers run through his hair as he lays sprawled out on the dojo floor, head in her lap and partially delirious after a brutal training session.

"You're so much stronger than he'll ever know than he'll ever hope to be," she whispers. Something that could almost be described as pride is barely detectable in her words.

"You are a survivor, regardless of circumstances, regardless of odds. That's not something that can be learned. All the training in the world won't give you the strength to continue the fight when all seems lost, to claw through six feet of dirt with nothing but your bare hands. It's something you had long before you were Robin. He did not give it to you, and he can never take it away. That will to survive? It's all you, Jason." She presses a chaste kiss to his bloody, sweat-covered brow.

"You burn and rage and fall and rise again. You are no Robin. You are a Phoenix and no one, not Batman, not Joker, not an act of man or even God himself, will ever hold you back."

Her sharp smile begins to fade as exhaustion catches up with him.

"You will rise, and they will all burn."

Jason jerks awake to the sound of every door in the cell block wrenched open with an almighty, echoing clang.

He drops his head back onto the sad excuse for a pillow and tries to push the hazy memories of the past away. He tries not to think about his time with Talia, to think about Arkham's walls closing in on him, to think about the Joker whose cell is three doors down from his and laughs in his sleep. He definitely tries not to think about the guards who've made a habit of dragging him from his cell in the middle of the night and shoving a ring gag past his teeth when he's too drugged up to put up any kind of defense. Just think about survival, he tells himself. Think about getting through the day.

Jason shudders and gags as he fails miserably and last night's memories come rising to the surface. Nausea builds, but he forces it back down. If he shows any weakness, anything, it will only get worse and he knows worse. Crime Alley beat "worse" into him young. He knows not to spout nonsense about how things can't get any worse, because Murphy's Law is a bitch. Things can always, always become worse.

But hey, who knows, maybe the esteemed and almighty Bat will swing by for a visit to reinforce that this is for his own good. Those nice doctors (who were definitely not on the Joker's payroll) and the pills (that the guards happily force down his throat every night out of sight of the cameras) aren't giving him hallucinations and screwing with his situational awareness. They're all here to help him stop being crazy and are you ready to come home yet and be a good, nonlethal, obedient Batboy, now Jason?

He throws an arm over his eyes with a groan. Maybe it's a good thing that none of the Bats have deigned to visit him in the two weeks he's been here. Having to listen to an actual Bat spout that self-righteous bullshit at him after everything he's been through since Batman dragged him through the front gates… Someone would die, and it would probably be Jason. He'd carve open his own wrists in a heartbeat to avoid another self-righteous lecture. Stop talking to me like you know me, you don't know anything!

Fuck it. Jason drags himself out of his cell and staggers toward the cafeteria. No point in thinking about what hell's waiting for him today, time to get some food in him quickly. With any luck, he'll be able to wash the taste of that guard out of his mouth or flush some of the drugs from his system.

Why did he have to start remembering his time with Talia now of all times, he grouses. He sinks into his usual corner with his back to the wall and looks at a plate of what he hopes is powdered eggs. He ignores the predatory states from the other inmates and takes a tentative bite. Joker's unwanted interest in him has made him persona non grata since day one. He sits alone, and unbidden, Talia's words echo in his memory.

"You will rise, and they will all burn."

He almost laughs at that as he dig in. Almost, because laughing alone for no good reason is a sign of insanity, and he doesn't need to encourage the good doctors of Arkham any more.

Glad one of us thinks so, Talia. Me? I think I'm going to die in here. Dead in some empty corridor, won't even get to go out with a bang this time. Or maybe I will. Fucking clown.

"Then why are you still fighting? Why not just end it? It's not as if you don't know how."

His fork stops halfway to his mouth. Now there's a thought. Jason could just deny Joker the satisfaction of killing him again. It wouldn't be too hard. All he'd have to do is break the plastic fork in his hand in half and slice open the artery in his neck. He'd be dead before anyone could stop it. The look on the clown's face would be priceless, not that Jason could get to see it, but he can definitely imagine it.

"So why don't you?"

Now there's the million dollar question. Jason could have offed himself on day one, but he didn't. He knew what he was in for from the very second Joker first laid eyes on him.

The Joker's twisted smile sprung to life, teeth flashing in the dim light as he leaned against the bars of his cell as the guards dragged Jason down the hall to his cell. He looked like his birthday had come early and he didn't say anything. He just laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed-

Bastard could have laughed for hours. Time has a tendency to get funny when all you can see is a timer hitting zero as you realize no one is coming to save you.

"Yea," Jason mutters under his breath. "No one's coming to save you and you're definitely not getting out of here alive at this rate, so what the hell are you doing, Jason."

"Yes, bird boy, what are you doing?"

Jason's head snaps up just in time to see the Joker stroll over to his table. God damn it, Jason's usually out of here and on the move long before the rest of the inmates even have a chance to get out of bed. The less time he spends in common areas, the less chance he had of running into Joker, the less chance he has of running into trouble. Of course today he just had to spend time talking to himself and not watching the clock and now he's face to face with the damn clown. Fucking great.

"What? No answer for your old uncle J? You don't call, you don't write, and then you come into my house," Joker says, gesturing widely, "and I hardly see you! It's almost like you're avoiding me! Tch, tch, tch, honestly, kids these days have no manners."

He shakes his head with comical disappointment, "Oh well, if I couldn't beat some etiquette into you while I beat you to death, I guess there's just no helping it." He leans forward, grin turning predatory "But I'm not about to give up on you!"

The Joker opens up his arms, projecting his next words to the room. "Just what would dear Batsy say if I just gave up on his wayward Robin, especially after he entrusted me with your care. Why, he'd never forgive me!" He turns back to Jason with a disappointed look on his face. "We can't have that now, can we?"

All the noise in the room cuts out as the tension skyrockets. Everyone from the inmates to the guards watch them with wary eyes. Jason grinds his teeth and desperately tries to stomp down his rising panic. Living in this nightmare was bad enough but now they all know… Fuck fuck fuck!

Cold sweat coats the plastic fork in his hand, and he is tempted to try his (admittedly pathetic) fork-through-the-throat plan just to escape the scrutiny. Before, everyone knew that the Joker and the Red Hood had it out for each other, but now that they knew that he was a Robin-

"You are no Robin."

His rapidly derailing train of thought slammed to a stop.

"You are a Phoenix."

He grinned as he slowly rose to his feet.

A Phoenix, huh Talia? Well, I'm either dead or I'm not, and if I'm going to die in here, I might as well go out in style.

"Avoiding you? Why the hell would I be avoiding you?" Jason stalks around the small table until he's standing uncomfortably close to the Joker. He can see the scars in detail and the madness in those dead eyes.

"What, you think I'm afraid of you? Don't make me laugh! Why the hell would I be afraid some third rate clown reject who couldn't even kill me properly?"Jason felt his grin go downright feral as he stared death in the face. "Go back to mooning over some lunatic in a bat suit, and I'll let you know if you're ever worth my time."

You could have heard a pin drop on the other side of the island. The entire room held its breath as Joker's smile went from mocking to downright terrifying.

"Not worth your time, huh, boy? Well, maybe you're right. After all, here I am, the host of this little mad house, neglecting the newest member of our little family. This must be remedied at once! What do you say boys?" He proclaims, spinning to face the rest of the room. "What do you say we give our wayward Robin a proper welcome?"

The roar of approval is deafening as the entire room was on its feet in seconds. The handful of guards that were patrolling the room slip out the doors.

"Just be careful not to break him too badly boys," Joker laughs as he disappeared into the crowd. "We're not done with him yet."

Jason's back hits the wall as he's rushed on all sides.

He's backed into a corner, outnumbered fifty to one, reaction time dulled from a cocktail of drugs and nightly beatings, and Jason hasn't felt this alive in years.

Two inmates break out ahead of the crowd, trying to pin him to the wall. The first one falls back, clutching his throat where his Adam's apple had just been crushed while the other is thrown back into the mob. There's an audible snapping sound when no one bothers to help break his fall. The crowd surges forward.

No need to pull my punches.

Another drops screaming, clutching his shattered kneecap.

No one in this room deserves to get out of here alive.

Jason is knocked back into the wall when punch catches him across the face.

Except for me.

He grabs the arm before it can retract and strikes at the joint.

I earned to live when I dug my way out of my grave three years ago.

He drives his fist into a lean stomach and ignores the kicks to the back of his knee.

I refuse to die in this never ending nightmare.

Dodge, counter, break, repeat.

I'm done waiting to be saved.

A fist slams into his side and something shifts. The injury fuels his rage.

I'm done waiting for a miracle.

He locates the person responsible for breaking a rib and roughly grabs both sides of his head and twists.

I finally found a reason to keep going.

His breath is driven out of him as he's slammed into the wall.

Survival isn't about winning.

A blow to the side of the head has Jason seeing stars.

It's about winning just enough to stay in the game.

More kicks to the back of his battered legs send him to the ground.

I'm getting out of here alive.

He curls in a ball, wrapping his arms around his head for protection from the blows and spit that rain down upon him.

And when I do, I'm coming for you, Bruce!