Chapter Text
When he’s out of surgery and safe to move, Bruce packs him in the car and transports him to Stephanie’s place. Jason’s in and out of conscious for most of the conversation and only comes to when Bruce is leaving. “Dad?”
“Batdad’s a dumbass.” Stephanie flicks on the lights, leaving Jason blinking into the vaguely familiar setting. Stephanie’s condo is in the city, a ground level one in an apartment building in a redeveloping part of the city. She has wide door frames and low countertops, enough accessibility features that Jason guesses Bruce had a hand in finding the place. She’s not as messy as Jon, but there’s a pile of textbooks on at the desk and a stethoscope hanging on the side of her couch. “I guess you come by it honestly.”
“I’m adopted.”
“Fine. Then it’s contagious,” she says. “Red Hood shot you. Why would you go after him without backup?”
“Because it could have fixed everything, Steph. Tim Drake’s Red Hood. I figured it out and I thought maybe…”
Stephanie takes two very deep breaths. “You know you’re important, too, right?”
“Wait, you believe me?”
“Jon filled me. Damian and Bruce only talk in grunts.” Stephanie sighs and rolls closer. “Look, Tim was my best friend. But Red Hood shot you and if Damian had been slower, you’d be dead. I’d love to have Tim back, but not if it means losing you.”
“Tim Drake literally came back from the dead.”
Steph reaches over and cuffs him on the back of the head.
“Ow.” Jason’s hand flies to his hairline. “Stop it, I’m injured.”
“No joking about being dead, okay?” Stephanie says. “Or being shot. They decided you had to stay here because apparently a second year nursing student is equipped for potential complications due to gunshot wounds.”
Jason traces the bandages on his leg. Stephanie has always been frighteningly competent when it comes to first aid. “You know you should have just gone to med school.”
“Don’t you start on me, too,” Stephanie snaps. “I get enough of that from Damian.”
“We only say it because it’s true,” Jason sing-songs.
“Tim would have loved you. You’re both gigantic fucking nerds.” Her face clouds. “Did he seem okay?”
“He shot me,” Jason says.
“Yeah, but other than that.”
Jason blinks at her for a moment.
“He wore a red helmet the whole time,” he says. “But that feels a lot like dissociating.”
“Look at you with your two dollar words,” Stephanie teases halfheartedly. Her smile flickers like a mirage. “Damian said he was going to fix it with Tim. I’m not sure I want to know what that means.”
“Knowing Damian, probably violence.”
Bruce lets him come home after a week with Stephanie. He doesn’t yell at Jason, doesn’t ban him from Robin, just wraps him up in a tight hug and he’s suddenly sure that Tim Drake is dead again.
It’s not until almost a week later when he stumbles his way back into the Batcave’s computer system that he realizes that it’s Joker who’s dead and that Red Hood’s gone to ground.
He’s not sure if Batman has spent the last week looking into the Joker’s murder or chasing Red Hood. Either way, he can’t be looking too hard, because he spends four of the next seven nights watching movies with Jason.
Damian, when he finally makes it back to the manor greets Jason with a gun to the face.
“What the fuck?”
Damian lowers the weapon with a frown. “Just as I thought. You flinched.”
“Because you pulled a gun on me!” Jason shouts.
Damian pulls the trigger and a wooden dowel pops out of the barrel, unrolling a white flag that says bang. “You wouldn’t have been hit if you know how to act.”
“Robin’s never been bulletproof. And dodging bullets is impossible”
“Nightwing doesn’t suffer bullet wounds. Do you know why?”
Damian’s been shot before. More than once if he has to guess. Jason’s seen the scars, but he’ll play along. “Because your boyfriend is faster than a bullet and catches them for you?”
Damian shakes his head. “Because I know how to react before I’ve been shot. Father has most of Gotham convinced he can dodge bullets, when all he can actually do is anticipate fire. He has clearly neglected this aspect of your training.”
Because Batman hates guns in the same way Jason does. Batman can’t help but be brought back to the night his parents died just like Jason can’t help but flashback to his own childhood and the neighbors he’d lost in shootings. The way his Mom used to look when Willis pulled his piece.
“See,” Damian says. “Wherever you just went, that will get you killed.”
“Oh and here I thought that was Tim.” To his horror, Jason hears his voice shake. The neat line of stitches from his surgery pulses under his jeans.
Damian pushes the unraveled flag back into the fake gun, walks to Jason’s side and pats him awkwardly on the back.
Jason bats the hand away. “Everyone else he hurt was a bad guy. And he decided to hurt me.”
Damian squeezes his eyes shut. “He decided to hurt Robin.”
“Same difference!”
“Not to Drake.” Damian sighs. “He was brought back using technology from the League of Assassins. A Lazarus Pit. It’s side effects… well, I don’t believe you’ve met my grandfather but suffice it to say he’s lived most of his life under the Pit’s influence.”
“Your family is fucked up.”
“Careful,” Damian says, “they may decide to take an interest in you as they did Drake.”
“So wait, Tim got brainwashed by the League?” Jason turns the idea over in his brain. “And you didn’t make him come back here? We could help him!”
“He shot you,” Damian says. “I truly don’t think it was personal. Which only makes him more dangerous to you. Drake is a tactician above all else and you’re an unknown variable. So he tested it.”
Jason frowns. “Did I pass?”
Damian spins the fake gun in his hand. “Getting shot means you definitely didn’t pass. In fact, I think this is a good time to reconsider your position as Robin. And the fact that you should really stop being Robin because Robin will get you killed.”
Jason doesn’t answer. He’s painfully aware that Damian’s fought with Bruce over Robin more than once. That he didn’t approve of Tim wearing the suit. That he doesn’t want Jason wearing it for different reasons.
But Jason is just as aware of how much of a difference Robin makes. Of how he’s saved Batman, saved his Dad. How the kids on the street smile when they hear his accent. How much that would have meant to him back when he was on the street. To know that Robin could be just like him.
“You can teach me to stop flinching, right?” Jason asks. “You know, since Dad neglected it.”
“Steph says you’ve got at least two more weeks until you’re fully recovered.”
“In two weeks then,” Jason concedes. “Unless you’re still out looking for Tim.”
“I don’t think Tim will be a problem for you. At least not anymore.”
“You talked to him?” Jason feels his voice tick up in surprise.
“Talking to him is useless,” Damian scoffs. “I made the only overture that matters. It’s up to him what he does with it. I can’t imagine it’ll be enough to sway him, but I’ve been wrong about Drake more than once.”
When Jason’s allowed back into the Cave, he finds Joker’s case still open and Bruce pouring over an autopsy report. He shuffles the file when he catches Jason looking, like Jason hasn’t seen worse autopsy files before. He’s read Tim’s after all.
Jason curls his hands around his cup of tea, leaning forward and asks, “Did Gordon ask you to look at Joker’s death?”
Bruce looks up from the papers and then back down. “No.”
Jason narrows his eyes and tugs the official death certificate up just far enough to read natural causes. “Then why waste any time on this sicko? Especially when it was natural causes.”
“There are poisons that will not be detected on a standard toxicological screen.”
“Oh.” Jason blinks. “You think Tim did it.”
“That would be the obvious solution.”
No, the obvious solution would have been that Joker accidentally poisoned himself making some kind of hard to detect laughing gas, but Jason doesn’t say that out loud. “I think Tim should be allowed.”
That finally draw’s Bruce attention. “To murder people.”
“Not everyone,” Jason says, thinking with a wince of Red Hood’s series of bombings. “But the Joker murdered him first. Honestly, I was a little surprised you didn’t do it. I mean I would have. If it was you or Damian.”
“Joker was locked up,” Bruce says.
“I’ve seen locked up in Gotham. It doesn’t work.” He frowns when he catches sight of the glass case with Tim’s Robin suit. “Of course death might not work either. Is there anything else we can look at?”
It feels strange going back into Tim’s room knowing he’s not dead. But he did shoot Jason, so he figures it all evens out. He knows what he’s looking for this time, heading straight for his stash of photos, the ones that Alfred had replace in the false bottom of the dresser. He picks through the photos and grabs the few with Tim in it, a few with Damian and Jon and everything that involves Stephanie. Batman’s still out on patrol, so he sneaks down to the cave with a roll of scotch tape and sticks pictures of Tim and his friends all over the glass of the weird Robin shrine.
Tim’s not even dead anymore. But so long as they’re pretending, they may as well remember someone with a personality. He’s looking through the other photographs, the ones of Stephanie aping Bruce behind his back or Jon and Damian grinning at each other or Damian and Bruce standing together on a rooftop and suddenly it all clicks.
Family.
That’s what Tim’s been testing.
Jason’s done the same thing himself. Time after time. Testing boundaries. Seeing how much he can get away with before he’s dropped because everyone has their limits.
He leans back to admire his work.
“I don’t think Master Bruce will appreciate your project,” Alfred says from behind him.
Jason has to keep from jumping at the unexpected sound. “Yeah, well, Dad would probably be madder if I smashed the case.”
“Destruction of property is most unlike you,” Alfred replies with a wry quirk of his mouth.
Jason figures getting shot would have been a good enough excuse to mess with Tim’s stuff, but he’s not sure Bruce really understands the larger issue. “He’s not dead,” he says. “It’s weird that we keep pretending that he is.”
Bruce keeps him off patrol for twice as long as the doctor’s orders would have suggested. Jason checks in with Stephanie about it who just shrugs and tells him to throw it back in Bruce’s face the next time he’s being a hypocrite about injury. Jason’s pretty sure the delay is Bruce hoping he’s changed his mind about being Robin.
He pushes himself on school since patrol’s not an option. He’d tested well below grade level when Bruce first picked him up, product of dropping out in third grade. Bruce and Alfred had offered homeschooling him until he caught up but Jason decided he’d rather attend school. He’d been a year older than all of his classmates when he started, but his time on the streets had level him undersized and skinny so it didn’t really show.
The letter at the end of the year offered to skip him a grade, back to the right age group and he reads it with wide eyes before handing it to Bruce who gives him a hug and ruffles his hair. Tim, he learns later, was always smart enough to skip grades, but never cared enough to put up the marks to prove it.
He’s allowed back on patrol again as summer arrives with a sweltering heat wave that almost makes him reconsider the design of his costume. But Alfred comes up with a different fabric for his hoodie and each iteration of body armor gets lighter.
Jason forgot how much he loved this. The wind whipping through his hair, the look the bad guys give them when they realize Robin’s on scene, the silent communication with Batman.
He spends a few weekend with Damian and Jon, nominally because Bruce thought that brothers should get along, but functionally because Damian wanted to do some training of his own.
Jason still flinches at firearms, but he’s getting better. Even Damian says he’s getting better.
No one in the family has seen Tim since Joker’s death. At least as far as Jason knows. Bruce and Damian spend a lot of time talking around the issue though, so it’s entirely possible one or both of them have met up with Tim and just refused to pass on the confrontation.
“Tim’s not really one to draw attention to himself,” Stephanie says, flipping through a handful of the photos Jason brought her. “Taking the pictures instead of being in them, you know.”
“That’s deep,” Jason deadpans. “Especially considering the stack of Tim’s pictures you’re literally holding.”
“I liked you better back when you thought sass would get you kicked out.”
Jason barely blinks. “No you didn’t.”
He grabs a particularly unflattering photo of Stephanie out from the pile of photos and flips it over. Stephanie pulls a face and makes a grab for it, but Jason pulls it back.
“You’re a little shit,” Stephanie says, but she can’t quite hide a smile. “But I guess I’ll forgive you since you found all of Tim’s photo stash.”
“Think he’d want them back?” Jason asks.
Stephanie puts the photos back down slowly. “He shot you.”
“I remember,” Jason says. “Damian said he made some kind of overture and Tim stopped showing up in Gotham.”
“Damian was a dick to him when they were kids. Must have been a pretty big overture to even get his attention.”
“Do you know what he did?”
“I have a guess.”
“What!” Jason shouts. “Steph, you’ve got to let me in on this. Dad’s been mad at him ever since this whole whatever happened!”
“Batman’s mad at everyone pretty much all the time,” Stephanie says. “Except maybe you and Alfred.”
“Steph!”
“Look, Damian didn’t tell me anything and Tim, the jackass didn’t even bother trying to get it touch after he came back from the dead. I have some guesses, but…”
“Damian killed Joker, didn’t he?” Jason guesses.
“Oh my God,” Stephanie says. “You fucking Bats always have to know fucking everything.”
Jason’s eyes narrow. He’s always had a knack for reading people and Stephanie has never really been one for guarding her expression. “Dad was right. It was murder. You saw something on the autopsy report and then you didn’t tell him because…”
“Leave it alone, Jay. You don’t want to know any of this.”
Jason’s not good at leaving things alone.
He’s also not the best at thinking things through.
“You survived,” Red Hood says.
The helmet gives nothing away. The voice modifier makes him sound like every evil AI in the sci-fi movies he watches with Jon and Damian. He swallows, trying to keep his face neutral. “I had worse injuries before Robin.”
Blatant lies. For all Jason’s emaciation when living on the streets, he’d managed to avoid actual bullets. There’s no way he would have survived them.
“Just wait,” Red Hood says ominously.
And they stand there for a minute, two vigilantes who could have been family. And Jason wonders if Tim knows that. “You changed everything, you know,” he says in a rush. “Spoiler and Agent A told me what they were like before."
“They were dicks,” Red Hood says. “Nightwing especially.”
Damian made every effort with Jason. He introduced him to video games and tutored him in chemistry when he’d been behind in classes. He’d let Jason hang out in his apartment over long weekends and tried his best to make sure that Jason was safe. And yeah, Jason can see where Damian comes off as a dick sometimes but… “I don’t think B would have adopted me if not for you. And I realize how much that sucks from the other side. The best thing that happened my whole life only happened because you died.”
That wasn’t his fault.
Tim’s never been his fault and he thinks they might both know that.
Jason’s honestly just glad there hasn’t been another gun pulled on him.
It’s about as good an encounter as Jason could have reasonably hoped for and he’s turning to preserve that win when Tim offers, “I’ve got a lead on a drug trafficker. What to tag along?”
This is a mistake, Jason thinks about ten minutes into the venture.
He’s made sure to keep Tim in his line of sight—he’s trying to be an optimist, but he’s not actually stupid—and Red Hood moves from building to building checking vantage points that looked like sniping positions. Jason follow behind him, noting each location just in case he has to report this to Batman later.
Not that reporting to Batman would be a good idea. If Jason was in Tim’s shoes...
…Well, he’s not entire sure what he would have done, but it would have probably been a lot more pointed than Tim’s very quiet murder spree. He would have made sure Batman knew it was him instead of pretending it didn’t matter.
“How long have you been back?” Jason asks on the fourth rooftop.
“How long have I been undead or how long have I been back in Gotham?”
He wants to say both, he opts for a choice instead: “Back in Gotham.”
“About two weeks,” Tim says. “I was in Bludhaven for while.”
“Because of Nightwing’s overture?”
Jason can hear the smirk through the helmet. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“He misses you, you know. Him and Dad both.”
“Damian feels like he owes me something. Which is funny considering I stabbed his Mom. Maybe she doesn’t count as family anymore. I wouldn’t blame him. She’s a monster.”
“She’s his Mom,” Jason protests.
Jason’s Mom was a drug addict. He can see in hindsight all the ways she was a mess. How she sometimes prioritized a fix over food. How she let Dad go after him when she was too strung out to fight back.
But Jason still loved her. Remembered all the good days. The way she’d dance him around their cramped living room. The way she’d curled around him to keep him warm the one winter when their heater broke.
He’s never met Damian’s Mom, but she can’t be all bad.
“She’s League of Assassins,” Red Hood says. “I mean, Nightwing was too, for a little while so it might not count. I’m never been sure of how Nightwing keeps score.”
“Minus several thousand for shooting me,” Jason says.
“Probably fair, but dying gained me some major points or I would have been arrested by now.”
“Batman couldn’t find you.”
The red helmet turns to watch fix him with a stare. “Batman can absolutely find me. Nightwing already has once. You did, too.”
Which means Batman has no answer for Timothy Drake. He’s killed too many without apparent remorse for Bruce to welcome him back and locking him up meant putting someone with the identities of half the capes in the justice league in jail with people who'd kill for that information.
“Look,” Red Hood says, pointing. In the shadows is a small cargo ship without lights on, drifting slowly but deliberately towards the docks where a broad shouldered man waits with his hands in his pocket. Jason notices a tractor trailer and a pair of SUVs in the otherwise deserted area. The man at the dock puffs slowly on a cigarette as he waits.
“Why don’t they just write drug trafficker on the side of their boat,” Jason groans. “I mean come on. Even the GCPD should be able to sew this one up.”
“The GCPD is short staffed,” Tim says. “And they’ve received multiple phone calls about this drop. I think I missed one.”
Red Hood had killed two dozen corrupt city officials and cops in his initial debut. Since then the police have been better. It’s nice to see if Jason divorces it from the murders. He’s been able to tell the kids who need help to go to the police for help and they don’t have to worry about specific officers or the gangs hearing and retaliating.
“Which officer?” Jason asks. “Me and Batman will make sure he gets fired.”
Red Hood stares for a minute but apparently deems the remark unworthy of reply. The ship has docked, which apparently is a cue Red Hood’s been waiting for because he leaps over the edge of the building, landing with a neat roll as he makes his way towards the figures. He pauses only briefly, and looks back up at Jason, jerking his head in the direction of the dock as if to say you coming or what?
And he knows this is a mistake. He’s known it since he first decided to talk to Tim again.
But Red Hood’s one of them. Stephanie’s best friend. Damian’s little brother. Robin.
He grapples off of the roof and falls into step behind Red Hood.
This isn’t how it usually works with Batman. They’d have called the cops for something like this and if the cop they called first didn’t listen, then they’d have called Gordon. If that still didn’t work they’d beat some people up and leave them tied up for GCPD to find.
Red Hood says, “New shipment? Very exciting.”
Shady dock guy turns, hand in his trench coat, very clearly holding a gun in his pocket. “The fuck are you supposed to be?”
Red Hood raises both hands. “Look man, I don’t want any trouble, I just heard you got some of the best shit this side of the country. Was wondering if I could get my hands on some.”
“What kind of junky wears a shiny red marble on his head?”
Red Hood glances back at Jason as if to say can you believe this guy. He raises both hands as he turns back around. “Hey man I don’t want any trouble, just wanted to see if you got that new shit. You know the stuff that’s been killing people in Metropolis.”
“Fucking junkies,” Shady Dock Guy says.
Jason knows junkies. Rumors that a drug’s been killing people only makes them more likely to chase it. He feels his fist curl in his gloves.
“Did you bring your kid with you?” Shady Dock Guy he catches a glimpse of Jason, scrawny and undersized in his dark red hoodie.
One of the advantages of Jason’s costume has always been that it’s not immediately recognizable as the costume of a cape. At least not until you’re close enough to differentiate the domino mask from the shadows under his eyes.
“Wait a second,” Shady Dock Guy says. “You’re Robin!”
Tim snaps his finger which is apparently some kind of trigger because six different warehouses explode behind him. Jason ducks, throwing his hands over his head for protection from the debris. Shady Dock Guy lets off two rounds, but Tim’s already moving, towards the gunfire, the same efficiency that Damian had tried to drill into him for facing firearms and the man’s gun goes off twice more into the air before Red Hood tosses it into the bay before knocking the man down and walking over his chest on the way into the boat.
There’s a sound from behind him and he sees the driver from surrounding vehicles emerging. Six of them, all almost twice Jason’s size. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the marbles in his belt, scattering them in the path of his attacker. It takes out three of them and he flips over one of the remaining to deliver a few kicks to make them stay down, by the others have recovered enough to turn on him. Jason draws the bo staff from his belt and extends it, taking one of the men by surprise when he lands a solid blow to the midsection. One of the other henchmen, grabs at him from the back, but Jason stomps down hard on a foot and brings an elbow up to crash into the man’s nose. The man howls, sticky red blood coating Jason’s sweat shirt.
He sees Red Hood walk off the boat, helmet gone to reveal nothing but a plain black domino mask. He watches Jason dispatch the remaining henchman with detached interest before he turns, his chest heaving, to look at Tim.
“Not bad,” Tim says. “I mean, that’s no how you’re supposed to use the staff, but still, not bad.”
He looks younger than Jason would have expected. Pale, with dull blue eyes and, something red on his cheek.
“Fuck you.” Jason points Tim’s old bo staff for emphasis. “You could have told me you had a plan.”
Tim grabs the end of the staff and yanks it smoothly out of Jason’s hand. He flips it over once in his hand, collapses it, extends it again and swings. Jason ducks it and kicks for Red Hood’s legs, but Red Hood flips away. Jason draws a pair of birdarangs and throws, but Tim spins the staff neatly to deflect both of them before dropping it in favor of a gun.
Jason freezes.
“Oh come on,” Tim says. “Like you didn’t see this coming.”
A gun on him again. Jason traces the movement. “You never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. You want the same thing as the rest of us. A safer Gotham.”
“And here I thought what you wanted was a family,” Tim taunts. “Isn’t that right, Jason Todd?”
Jason glances behind him to make sure the henchmen are still unconscious. In the distance he hears the whir of sirens, Gotham’s response to the explosions. They don’t have much longer.
“It’s Jason Wayne now,” he says.
Tim holds his gaze for another long moment.
Jason presses his advantage. “Dad misses you. So does Nightwing.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Spoiler, too.” Jason says.
The gun falls. “Spoiler…”
“Yeah,” Jason says. “She’s great. Finishing up nursing school. Pissed at you, but so is everyone else.”
Jason might be imagining it but Tim’s expression cracks. Just a little. “How’d you wind up Robin?”
“Stole your gear,” Jason says. “No way Nightwing would have let me out here after what happened to you.”
The sirens are closer now, close enough that any more delay would have them found. Jason reaches for a smoke bomb only to find that Tim had already beaten him to it.
“What you did was dangerous,” Damian says.
“I know,” Jason says.
“Tim Drake is unstable and has several dozen confirmed murders to his name.”
“Damian, I know.”
“I should tell Batman.”
“I should tell Batman about your overture.”
Damian falters. “Stephanie?”
Jason doesn’t bother answering. “You want him back, too. And you know Dad’s just going to mess it up.”
“You are… not wrong.” Damian sighs and sits down next to him. “But Drake is not the same person he was when I knew him. He might never come back.”
“He’s our brother,” Jason says, leaning his head on Damian’s shoulder.
“Family does not cure everything,” Damian says carefully. “You’ve never met my mother. I forfeited my birthright when I chose to come back to Gotham.”
“Yeah, but we’re better than that.” Jason looks sideways.
“I’d like to believe so.” Damian’s face is conflicted. “After all, father forgave me of similar transgressions. But I was young. And I learned the error in my ways. Drake...”
“Tim’s way works.”
“Drake's way is prone to collateral damage and leaves no room for errors in judgement. We cannot afford to treat him as an ally unless he alters his methods.”
“And treating him like the bad guy will be better?
Damian’s face flickers. “Of course not.”
“So what do we do? We can’t ignore him. We can’t arrest him. We can’t make him come back.”
Damian is quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s us.”