Chapter Text
One. Sharmin Rosen.
Two. Shiva Woosan.
Three. Sheila Haywood.
These are the three possibilities that stare back at him from the batcomputer, and Jason is excited in the way he has been ever since he became Robin. The world feels very wide, and unlike the stifling confines of crime alley, he can reach it.
Sometimes though, he misses what life used to be. He doesn't miss crime alley, of course, but he misses being in charge of himself. Sometimes, he hates his new life. It makes him angry. He misses not having to navigate the stern emotions of Bruce Wayne.
Jason takes a deep breath, looks over his shoulder, and backs out of his search until no trace remains. Then, he wipes it from recent history (he's not stupid enough to think it's entirely wiped, but Batman would have to make a choice to go and pull up the data and it'd be too late at that point.)
He doesn't risk using the Batcomputer more than he has to.
Jason prints all the times for flights to Israel from Gotham airport leaving next Saturday- and every possible connector, to be safe- from the library computer, stuffs one double-sided paper in his backpack, nestled between the pages of his history notebook to keep it hidden, and goes back to the manor.
It has to be hidden because Batman can’t know. Bruce won’t stop him.
“You’re home late, Master Todd,” Alfred says when he sees him. Jason holds back his wince- he was so so close.
“Yeah well,” Jason shrugs, and sneers. “It’s not like I have patrol tonight.”
Alfred frowns. “I was beginning to get worried.”
Jason pauses.
“I-” Jason sucks in a breath. “Sorry, Alf.”
Alfred’s face relaxes. “It’s quite alright, sir. But do call next time.”
“I was just distracted," Jason shrugs. “Went to the library. Didn’t want to be here.”
None of these are lies.
Alfred softens the crinkles at his corners of his eyes even further.
“Any good reading, young sir?” Alfred asks.
If searching through population census information for an hour before he even left for the library counts as good reading, sure.
“Some Wonder Woman comics came out,” Jason says, it's not a lie. “They don’t do her justice, of course, ‘cause everyone is a misogynist, but she’s still cooler than Batman.”
“Really now?” Alfred asks, slightly amused.
“Yeah, fuck that guy” Jason snorts, a little more derisively than he means to.
“Jason-” Alfred begins to admonish.
“Sorry, I know, language, whatever,” Jason huffs. “But, hey, I gotta be honest, if Wonder Woman ever needs a sidekick? I’m-” He smacks his hands together, “Outta here!”
Maybe he said it too seriously, because he hadn’t meant to make Alfred make that pity-concern face again.
"We would miss you," Alfred says.
“Sure, don't know why, it’s not like he wants me to be his sidekick anymore,” Jason shrugs. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He had Robin One out in his tighties before the kid could go to the funeral, but me-”
Jason breathes in hard through his nose, and ducks his head, embarrassed from having given away too much.
“I am not Bruce,” Alfred says, “And I can not justify his actions for him, but I can assure you he cares for you very much, Master Jason. Your absence from the manor would be felt as sorely as Richard's."
Jason jerks his head away. “Whatever, I’m going ta’ bed.”
“Did you eat dinner?” Alfred asks.
“Chili dog and a strawberry milkshake,” Jason says. “Got a problem?"
Another sigh goes unheaved. Alfred simply says: “Then, goodnight, sir. Do make sure you get to bed early, I’ve got plans for a good breakfast tomorrow."
Jason is halfway up the stairs when he responds.
"See ya.'"
"If you get hungry in the night," Alfred calls, "there's leftovers in the fridge."
-
Breakfast is really good. It’s the whole shebang- all the steps. French toast, and caramelized bananas, a fruit salad, eggs with more white than yolk, for protein, and the whole manor smells like sugar, coffee and butter. Jason eats well, thinks of it like a last meal.
Bruce and Jason are silent throughout it, which is probably petty but Jason doesn’t really give a shit. Bruce is the one getting disappointed Alfred glances for his behavior, not Jason. Jason finishes eating, and Bruce offers, gruffly, to drive him in.
"Can I say no?" Jason asks.
Bruce raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "You can take the bus," He says, evenly.
They ride to school in silence, too. Jason is already in a sour mood when he finds the envelope taped to the inside of his locker.
His first thought is that it’s probably a dumb prank (see: highschool shitheads, and Jason is an orphan- a label they sometimes think is as good as a slur).
His second thought is that it might be a meaner sort of prank he needs to take seriously (and beat someone up maybe). But, either way, it is a situation that can be handled.
Open when alone is written across the front in pen. The handwriting is small.
Jason snorts and rolls his eyes. Yeah, right.
The envelope opens to a manilla folder. Jason raises an eyebrow but opens that too. Three familiar faces stare back at him from the papers within. His cocky attitude immediately falls away.
“Bruce, this is not what you think it is,” Jason says into the cellphone a minute later. “You need to turn around, we’ve got a problem.”
Jason flips through the pages in the secrecy of the single stall bathroom by the principal's office.
A fourth person, one immediately recognizable, is pictured on the final page. However, the last person is not facing the camera, instead they are intently staring at the blue of a computer screen.
It is Jason's own head of black hair framed by the narrow lines of bookshelves, turned away and unaware.
"A big one, can't emphasize enough. You need to pick me up, now."
Little handwriting, the kind that is halfway to cursive, lines the bottom of the photograph, and it's written in blue ink- maybe from a ballpoint pen.
Please, be more careful.
-
Sharmin Rosen never had a baby in Gotham. She briefly got pregnant and got an abortion in the city. She was not in a line of work favorable to mothers.
Shiva Woosan, known as Lady Shiva in most circles, is a mysterious, ruthless killer. She might’ve had a kid, Jason doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter because she's not his mom.
Sheila Haywood is his mom. But she is no one for Jason to trust or to love.
Sheila Haywood has left a trail of victims in her wake from illegal operations gone wrong- organ harvesting for the black market, and enough money embezzled from her half-fake charity that she owns two holiday homes in Europe. She saved some lives as a doctor, a lot of lives even, but left so many to die.
Then, two days after Bruce gets the envelope, the Joker gets Sheila Haywood to replace several truckloads of medical supplies with laughing gas, and she kills thousands of people.
A week later and she's facing a long, long public trial. Jason watches on the TV as she is dragged home by a combination of American, Ethiopian, and UN forces.
The envelope is a mystery, Bruce is a paranoid mess, and Jason is grounded-
“Not grounded,” Bruce had said, stern. “Benched for safety.”
Okay, whatever, for all intents and purposes, Jason is grounded. Bruce had not been happy to find out about Jason’s plans to run away, and Bruce was pissed off that Jason put them at risk by doing his research at the library. Possibly even more pissed about the latter.
Jason was given several days of awkward, pained silence before Bruce finally decided to talk- no, not talk, lecture. Apparently, several days after their initial confrontation, Bruce finally had his words thought out enough to yell at Jason for an hour- Well, he hadn't been yelling, he'd been more softly talking about the need to act with a little more maturity, the need to- but it was an hour.
Or, it would’ve lasted that long if Jason ever let him finish it. Jason had just stood up, and left. Disappeared to a less used part of the house so he could be alone.
Dick is called in, because any breach of identity means that Nightwing is in trouble as well. Dick Grayson, that guy who used to be Robin and Bruce look over the file obsessively, but there’s nothing to help that they haven't already analyzed and come up short on. Nothing.
No DNA, no matches on handwriting, the picture was taken on film and not processed in any darkroom in Gotham.
They can build a very vague profile, but it's like curling two threads around each other and calling it a knot- it can come undone.
Smart, obsessive, neat, organized, speaks multiple languages in some capacity, because the gathered information on the three women comes from a variety of international sources, definitely skilled with technology. All that, and he was able to sneak into a school building and get into the lockers, so he’s either quiet and stealthy, or able to fit in with the teachers.
But there's nothing definite. Just a lot of traits that apply to a lot of people they know. According to the profile, Bruce is the ideal candidate.
Bruce calls Jason down to the batcave via Dick coming to get him from the kitchen, and Jason sighs, but acquiesces because he's bored... and curious.
“The security cameras have to be checked in person,” Bruce says. “And it is important we not tie Bruce Wayne or Batman to this incident any further.”
Jason crosses his arms across his chest.
“So you need me to do it.”
“Correct,” Bruce says.
“Thought I was being fired,” Jason says.
“He was what?” Dick asks.
Bruce winces. “You were never fired, Jason. Benched, temporarily, for safety.”
Jason shoots a look over to Dick. “You get the broken-record response too?” Jason asks. Then he turns back to Bruce. “Can’t you think of another way to put it?”
"That's what it is," Bruce says, and furrows his eyebrows, clearly upset. “Do you want to help with the investigation or not, Jason?” He asks.
“I-” Jason huffs. "Yeah, I'll help, but I'll do that whether you want me to or not. You can't stop me."
Bruce digs his fingers into his forehead.
Jason rolls his eyes "What? That's all the fight you had in you? You-"
Dick sighs, long, interrupting him.
"What happened, Bruce?"
"He almost got shot," Bruce says.
"Hm," Dick's lips straighten into a line. "Right. Have you actually talked to Jason about how guilty you'd feel if he got hurt?"
Dick looks at Jason, and Jason shrugs.
Bruce grunts. "This is not about guilt, it's about him being ready."
"Because you think it's unsafe," Dick says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just admit it."
Jason curls his fists at his side.
"I've been ready the last few months, haven't I?" Jason asks before Bruce can say anything, "I take down crooks just fine, don't I? And I-"
I wear your suit. I do your bidding. I sleep in your house. I play the part of your son, the one you lost because of how controlling you are-
"And," Alfred stresses from the stairway, fixing his sleeves. "Perhaps this exercise will be a chance for you to show us your ability to take things more seriously, master Jason," Alfred says.
"I do take things seriously," Jason says, swiveling around.
"You do," Alfred agrees, taking each step down while balancing the tray in his hands. "You are correct, that is not the right word. Perhaps this time you just try for a more… reserved approach, master Jason?"
Jason scowls. "I'm fucking reserved."
Alfred's eyebrow rises, thin and poised.
"Careful, then."
Jason knows he's being rude, and he's being a little unfair to all of them. He's self-aware, really, he is just not so good at applying that self-awareness, and he gets angry and then he just feels like horse shit.
Whatever, they're all jerks.
"Fine," Jason says, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "I'll be careful."
Jason turns to leave, not catching the sigh of Bruce's shoulders, the worried look in his eyes.
"Hey kid," Dick says, making Jason swivel his head towards him instead. "You'll do great."
Jason blinks.
"Oh," He says. "Yeah, uh, thanks."
Dick smiles at him, and Jason averts his eyes.
Bruce grunts. Ever so eloquent, he is.
"We need to lay down more details of the assignment," Bruce says, his eyes look over Jason with a weary sort of fondness that Jason doesn't like (though he's not sure why, it just makes him inexplicably itchy, angry, and embarrassed.) "This is an important mission, and a potentially dangerous one."
Dick has a thoughtful expression on his face as Jason sighs, turns back around, and steps forward to join them over by the computers.
Alfred sets out a platter for tea, and they all politely take a cup.
-
Jason must make an ugly face when he sees Dick waiting for him at the dining room table on Monday morning, already eating his lot of eggs and toast, because Dick immediately points it out.
Jason shrugs. "It's five in the morning, what do you want from me?"
Dick chuckles. "Not to look at me like I spit in your breakfast?"
"Nah, I'm good," Jason says and pulls out a chair.
Bruce does not join them, he is still sleeping. He was out late last night trying to dig up clues.
As predicted, the security footage from the library provided no answers. It was not a well-funded library, there were only two cameras, and they weren't by the computers.
The only lead they have is on a possible witness, not an assailant. The city camera outside the west entrance spotted a kid coming in. The more popular East entrance that Jason went through had no cameras on it.
They don't have a name. What they know is: He's small, maybe ten years old, but anywhere from eight to thirteen, wearing a green lantern T-shirt and a jacket a couple sizes too big and a backpack of a similar proportion. They don't have a face, just a big fluff of straight black hair halfway down their neck, and a sliver of pale skinned hands as they push the door open.
Jason really hopes the kid isn't a witness.
Dick passes the hot sauce when Jason asks for it.
"That's a lot," Dick says, teasingly. "You sure you can handle it?"
"Only thing that would make food edible in the soup kitchens" Jason says, meanly, "Dick."
Dick sighs. "Are you going to be like this all the way to school and back?"
Jason looks up from shoveling eggs in his mouth "You're driving me?"
"Yeah, I am," Dick says. "And you know how long the drive is with morning traffic."
"Well, then we don't have to talk at all," Jason says.
"I'm not Bruce."
"Yeah, but you don't like me. Didn't you make that clear before?"
"I-" Dick chokes.
Jason motions to him. "Point made."
"I'm," Dick huffs. "I'm sorry, Jason. Honestly, I'm sorry. The last time I was home, and, all the times before that, I guess, I was always coming back because I was angry at Bruce and I took it out on you too. It was mean of me, I know that, and uncalled for. It was really shit of me. I haven't been a good person to you- and I haven't been around at all to help you with Robin, and I'm sorry," he takes a breath, "And I'll do better."
Jason's fork meets the plate with a clatter. He swallows, pretending like he hadn't dropped it.
It takes him a minute. "Fine. Cool," Jason relents, cause he can feel Dick's big, pleading eyes on him, even though his own are burning into a piece of toast.
"Cool," Dick echoes him, a little cheekily.
Jason nods. "So, you'll…" He clears his throat. "Be around more?"
Dick shrugs. "I'll be around until we find this stalker," He says. "After that, I don't know."
Jason nods. "Cool."
"Yeah," Dick says. "Now eat up, I'd rather try getting over the bridge before it's six."
"Yeah, usually I'm not out of here until seven thirty."
"Bruce wants less people around the school when you go in."
"Of course he does."
-
Dick whistles as they walk to the garage, nursing an extra thermos of coffee, and Jason fights the urge to kick his teeth in.
Okay, not really, Jason doesn't want to kick the guys teeth in. If he's being honest with himself, Dick doesn't annoy him, he terrifies him.
Dick is just… he was the first Robin. The better Robin- more fast, flexible, a little taller at this age, and while Jason is catching up fast it's not quick enough. And he was a better kid for Bruce. A happier, nicer, gentler Robin who took less stupid risks and made less bad jokes. Bruce probably never accused Dick of pushing someone to their death.
Jason is just… he's Jason. He's the inferior kid. The street rat who stole Batman's tires, taken in as a pity case, to get one more potential supervillain off the street.
These are insecurities he'd had from the moment he heard about Dick Grayson, but they weren't always so prevalent.
He'd actually been excited to meet Dick Grayson at first, it had taken almost two years for the guy to come back, and Jason was excited.
But, then they met and Dick hated Jason on sight. It was because of Jason that he and Bruce got in this fight that lasted three hours, and even though Jason should've been used to grown men and their anger, and he knew at that point that Bruce would never hit him, he didn't know if that applied to Dick as well, and it was rough
Getting loud enough that Dick left, and Bruce's voice was hoarse from screaming the next day, rough.
Dick was rarely over after that. Jason was around, Bruce was as stern as ever. Dick was busy with the Teen Titans and Bludhaven and everything else and Jason was just that stupid kid who took his place that he fucking despised.
But then- Dick said he was sorry.
"So," Dick says once they're both buckled in. "You like music?"
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Does anyone not like music?"
Dick fiddles with the screen in the dashboard until its set to Bluetooth. "Loud music?"
"Hell yeah."
Dick hands him his phone, and puts the car into reverse. "Let's crank it."
Jason snorts, opening Spotify and thumbing through it. He can't hear crank without hearing meth.
"What's so funny?" Dick asks.
"Oh," Jason blinks- he didn't expect the question, "Uh."
Frantic for an excuse that isn't my adoptive mother was a drug addict, his eyes flick to Dick's phone.
"This is a lot of movie soundtracks and singalongs. And musicals."
"Hey, I like those!" Dick defends. "And there's lots of other stuff too."
"Which is mostly Taylor Swift."
"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it."
Jason smiles, "I wouldn't dream of it," He teases. It'll be a cold day in hell when he admits how similar their taste in music really is. "Damn, you have the soundtrack for Comet of 1812 on here?
"It's good," Dick says. "Underrated"
"I think so too," Jason says.
"You like it?" Dick asks and smiles at him, and Jason's face warms a little in response before he nods. "Then you should play it," Dick says.
With sudden courage, he does just that.
Although, he might just do it so quickly so that he doesn't have to deal with the awkwardness of talking to Dick. He's satisfied with this little sliver of niceness Dick has shown him today, and doesn't want to ruin it.
-
The room to access the security camera footage is up by the office, which means Jason is ducking in and out of the way as the staff move through the halls and get ready for the day to start.
Jason still manages to catch the eye of a passing office aide as he looks for the right door- 72A- and it's easy enough to tell her he's looking for the attendance office.
She points him down the hall and he thanks her. It helps, because he knows the attendance office is only two doors down from the room he wants.
He stops in front of the attendance office, waits for the aide to turn the corner, and the hallway is empty, to quick spring to the security room.
Jason could pick the lock himself, had picked enough locks like it in his life to make quick work of it, but… Batman's gadgets didn't leave the same evidence.
He's just about to pull the little machine out of his pocket, when he tries the door and finds the handle already unlocked.
He squints-
That's not right.
Something clatters inside the room.
Jason pushes the door open so fast it smacks into the person trying to dash past it. The person is small enough that the impact sends them to the floor.
Two big, big blue eyes stare up at Jason from behind a skewed pair of sunglasses too big for the pale face they've been put on. There's a red mark on his forehead, probably from bashing against the door, and it's mostly hidden by the fringe of dark, feathery bangs.
"Shoot," Jason says, to the kid from the library's security footage. "Witness, my ass."
The kid scrambles backwards and up. He fixes the glasses on his face and turns the hood of his jacket up.
The kid looks silly, Jason thinks, the way someone has tried to dress him like an undercover cop. Generic Vans for shoes, plain blue jeans, a nondescript grey beanie, big puffy red coat, no insignia on it, aviator sunglasses that are big enough to cover up his eyebrows.
It'd be sillier if it wasn't clear that it would work, should Jason have just been passing him in the hallway.
It'd be sillier if he wasn't a kid.
"I need to talk to you," Jason says. "But I think you already knew that, didn't ya, pipsqueak?"
"I'm not that short," The kid says.
Then the kid frowns- it's almost completely unnoticeable, even though his mouth is the only visible thing on his face. It's kind of like how Bruce frowns, just the slightest twitch of movement, so small, and almost smooth enough to be like nothing at all.
Jason perks an eyebrow up. "Yeah, yeah," then he steps forward, looking to gently snag the kid's jacket sleeve, just enough to grab him, not to hurt him. "Come on, kid."
"You're barely older than me," He says, apparently not looking to lie about his reasons for being there at all. "I'm fourteen."
It's like crowding a scared animal- one step forward from Jason sends the kid one step back. Jason doesn't really like doing it, he feels like a predator, stalking the kid into the corner. He's small, too small to fight back, but that doesn't mean he won't try, and Jason doesn't want to hurt the kid- he's clearly too young to be doing this.
Once Jason is close enough, his fingers brush the kid's wrist-
Pain erupts in his knee, and then the kid uses him as a pushing off point to start running. Two little hands push Jason back, and the kid is off- sprinting through the door like a snake darting through the gas.
Jason, of course, is right on his tail.
The kid is fast, shoes squeaking on the tile as he's weaving in and out of the hallways. He's smart, too- clearly he has a destination, because he keeps moving to the same part of the school, but he's also taking any detour necessary to avoid teachers or students that are there this early, and doing it successfully on the fly.
It's only five minutes before they've dashed across the whole school.
They're out in the teacher parking lot- dashing across the car rider lane, to the confusion of some startled early-rising kids and parents- and onto the streets.
What the kid doesn't have are Jason's longer legs, or the stamina built up from being Robin. He flags quickly once they're out on the streets, and Jason, who'd been steadily catching up, jumps onto him, latching both hands around the kid's torso, and pinning his skinny little arms to his sides.
"You hurt my knee, you little shit," Jason says. The kid wriggles and squirms with fury, even though his breaths are very high and wheezy. "Come on, I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm sorry, Jason, I'm sorry," the kid says, and kicks Jason's knee again.
He uses Jason's grip against him, leveraging himself up into the air so he can bring both feet back at once.
Jason holds on still, but his grip weakens as his knees threaten to let him topple.
The kid drives the back end of his heel into Jason's crotch with another- this time, teary-eyed, guilty-sounding- "Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry!"
Jason crumples with a noise of grit-teethed pain. The kid wheezes his way into an alleyway and it takes a minute for Jason to follow.
He finds a dead end, and no kid in sight.
When he turns around Dick's car is waiting for him at the mouth of the alleyway.
"You good?" Dick asks.
Jason grumbles. "In a lot of pain," he says. "But I found our," He sighs, sarcastically, "our fucking- witness."
-
"Well, the footage was gone when I went back," Jason says. "But does it matter? It's pretty clear to me it must've been the kid who slipped it in- he's sneaky, he knew his way around the school, and he would've fit in with the other students-" Jason snorts. "'Specially if he wore something with a platform and a heel."
"He's short, Jason," Dick rolls his eyes, and playfully hits his shoulder. "We got it already."
Jason blinks, surprised by the… affection in the movement. Dick suddenly pulls his hand back, like he's not sure, but then Jason smiles, and they both relax.
Bruce doesn't see it, his elbows digging little indents into his knees, his face in his hands.
"No fingerprints," Jason adds. "But he did leave something."
Bruce looks upwards. "Something…" he repeats.
"Well we talked about how they logged the security footage on some separate sort of software instead of to the school login or the computer itself, remember?"
"And we made a fake account, just to get in-" Dick says with him, they'd gone over this in the car already.
"So did he. The memory had the username AlvinDraper, no spaces," Jason finishes.
Bruce's eyes narrow, in what looks like recognition. "Password?"
"Bunch of asterisks was all I could see," Jason says. "You'll have to look it up somehow."
"Alvin Draper," Bruce says. "I know that name."
"You know him?"
"No, not exactly," Bruce saya. "He's the titular character in the Grey Ghost detective series. The main character's... informant."
"Oh," Dick says.
"What?" Jason asks. "So the guy thought he was doing is a favor?"
"I, probably," Dick tells him. "But the Grey Ghost- that's Bruce's favorite book series."
Jason looks at them weirdly. "I don't get it."
"Batman," Bruce says. "Is a reference to a passage in the series. You see, already I'd been considering bats as an inspiration, but there is a part of The Phantom Man which convinced me of the name Batman in particular. It's a scene with the main character, the private detective, and his partner, drinking at a pub together after an unsuccessful chase. The main character is telling a story to his friend to cheer him up. It's a sort of fable in which a Knight seeks to defeat a monster by fashioning himself into the most terrifying thing he has ever seen- to 'have the spirit and strength to scare the monster to death, to become a worse monster than him, even if only in image. For, what is image, but the truth?' The Batman is one of the monsters he imagines himself becoming to defeat it- not the final choice, but something the knight considers for almost a whole page."
"And, of course, the knight is a reference to the main character himself, and so, Batman is, too. Smart, shrouded in darkness, strikes fear in the heart of the guilty. But," Bruce sighs. "This particular example of a bat was redacted before widespread printing, it was seen as extraneous, though I would disagree. Only the staff of the printing press got copies with the Batman referenced in it. There's only, perhaps... fifty or so prints known to exist. I own two of them."
"Oh," Jason says. "So, he knows-"
"Knows it's Bruce, knows the reference," Dick completes Jason's thought. "It's a wink- he's telling us a lot all at once about just what he knows, and he's calling himself Batman's informant at the same time."
Jason gives a low whistle. "He's bold."
"But I don't get the kid," Bruce says. "Why would he use a kid?"
"Anonymity," Jason muses.
"Deniability," Dick tries. "Very loyal."
"I don't know," Jason shrugs. "Why do you use a kid, Bruce?"
"Partnership," Bruce says. "Reliability, honesty. An opportunity to teach someone- nurture them."
Huh. That was a nicer answer than Jason expected.
"So," Dick says. "He's either a protege, or a tool."
Protege or a tool. A fine observation, given the information available to them at that time.
Yet, Jason would think back on this moment later with more than a little amusement at their expense. At the time, the three of them really thought as much- tool, or protege. Just some Jim Gordon wannabe.
And they were, of course, wrong.