Coming Home

by Fanfic_Floosy

Summary:

It's been over a year since Jason confronted Bruce in that god-forsaken apartment. Now, he's back in Gotham, back to protecting the people of Crime Alley, even if that means coming face to face with Batman again. What he doesn't expect, however, is to see Damian by Batman's side, wearing Robin colors and yelling at him for abandoning him. As parts of his past start to come to light, Jason struggles with wanting to keep the past in the past, and actually dealing with everything that's happened.

Notes:

Hi Everyone!
This is the first fic I've ever written so I hope you like it!
I will be updating the tags as needed.

Chapter 1: Home isn't a feeling, it's a place

Notes:

I've always enjoyed playing with the idea that Jason and Damian would know each other from their time in the League, and that Damian would have grown up looking up to Jason.
Anyway, I hope you like this!

Edited: 7.7.2025

Jason had been back in Gotham for less than a week before he ran into Batman and Robin. The minute he had seen them, he had grappled onto an apartment building and rolled before getting back to his feet and running. Honestly, coming across Batman hadn’t been a surprise, he knew that with how their last fight had ended Bruce would want to know the second Jason showed his big red chrome helmet in Gotham again, and really he had expected Robin too. Had expected the Replacement to be at Bruce’s side, bo-staff in hand, ready to fight the big bad Red Hood.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to come back and find Damian. To find him dressed up in red and black and green and to have the boy pull out his swords and block his escape. What he hadn't expected was to have Damian try and fight him, to try and bring his swords down in a way that Jason himself had taught him. To kick out at his opponent with grit teeth and rage, forcing Jason to block and roll and play defense. What Jason hadn't expected was for Damian to recognize him in an instant. Whether through his movements alone, or in already knowing his identity. He watched as Damian spat out a curse in Arabic, disengaging, pointing his swords down, chest heaving as Damian stood his ground and yelled at him for abandoning him.

 Abandoning him.

 Batman landed half a second later and Jason had prepared for another fight. He really had. He’d prepared for the inevitable beating that would have him gritting his teeth and remembering that this was the same man who had chosen the Joker over him more than a year ago in that apartment. That had thrown a batarang and nearly slit his artery. 

His mentor, his idol, his father. 

But Batman had stood stone still as he watched Jason through the cowl. As Damian demanded to know what he was doing here. 

“Gotham is my home.” The words had fallen from his mouth without permission. His feet cemented to the rooftop they stood upon. 

It was the truth. He had spent the better part of the last year with Kori and Roy kicking ass and getting into trouble all over the world, but Gotham called to him like a siren song. It was buried in his bones, his lungs had longed to breathe in the smog filled air of the decrepit city. Gotham was a shit hole, it was a mobsters playground, corruption ran deep, and Rogues of all kinds built their empires in the darkest holes and alleys. It was a toxin infested wasteland, but it was home. It would always be home. No matter how much Jason ran from it. 

So he had decided to stop running. 

To come back and deal. 

If Batman wanted a fight, he’d give it to him. If Dick and the Replacement came after him, so be it. 

But he hadn’t expected Damian. 

“What are you doing here?” Jason’s voice came out breathless, and he was grateful for the crackling of the modulator that made the words sound more like a growl. 

“You two know each other.” It wasn’t a question. Jason’s shoulders tensed, because that hadn’t been Batman speaking, it had been Bruce. 

Damian slid his swords into their sheath. “Tt. Of course I know Todd.” Damian didn’t elaborate and Jason wondered if this was something that maybe he should. He chanced a glance back at Bruce, who was just watching him from across the rooftop, a frown pulling at his mouth. 

“We were both in the League at the same time.” Jason supplied. 

“You were trained by the League.” Bruce once again stated. Jason knew this was all new information for him. Could tell by the slight lilt of shock that permeated his tone. One that would only be understood by those who knew him best.

“World’s greatest detective, my ass.” He sneered and Damian snorted. Jason couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips at hearing it. “The Lazarus Pit, remember?” Jason tilted his head. He had mentioned it that night with the Joker, he figured Bruce would’ve put two and two together. 

“Yes.” Bruce’s words were stiff. “But I didn’t think- Ra’s is particular in who he teaches.”

Jason couldn’t help the huff that left him. “Talia didn’t really give him a choice.” 

“Talia?” Now that was Batman. “Talia, trained you?”

Jason shrugged, “Yeah, " he was going for nonchalant, trying to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. "Jealous?”

Silence stretched out, until Jason couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. 

“Todd was an adequate student.” Damian interjected, breaking the stilted silence. 

“Thanks brat.” Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was the closest thing to a compliment Damian would ever give.

“Even if his oaths seem to mean nothing.” Damian snarled and Jason had to physically keep himself from flinching. 

“You two know each other well.” Another stated fact. Jason could almost see the lists and cross references Bruce was making in his head. Could almost hear the gears turning. 

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “Todd and I trained together most of the time.” It was the barest amount of information, hiding the deeper meaning that Jason didn’t think even he could voice aloud. After his drop in the pit Talia had brought him into the compound, had given him his own quarters, and had introduced him to a two year old Damian. 

Jason and Damian had been inseparable in the League. Talia had made Jason one of Damian’s personal bodyguards, had asked him to teach Damian what he knew, and Jason had gotten attached. In his own way.

Now he was face to face with the brother he had abandoned to the League for his own need for revenge. And here Damian stood now, by Batman's side, with bottled up rage and a sneer on his face as he glared at Jason. 

“We should get off the roof.” Was the only thing he could think to say. 

Bruce glanced around, seeming to realize that they were still, in fact, standing out in the open, on one of the grimy rooftops in Crime Alley. The mask slid on. Jason wasn’t unnerved by it anymore, not how he had been when he was younger. He watched as Bruce Wayne shifted, shoulders back, feet apart, hands clenched into fists, chin jutting out, and suddenly it was Batman once again standing in front of him.

“The cave, we can talk more there.” God and there was that fucking voice again. Gravely and deep and it had Jason gritting his teeth. 

“As fun as this reunion has been,” Jason took a step back, “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” The last thing he wanted was to step foot in that fucking cave. 

“I can’t allow you to just go back to your habits, Hood.” Batman snarled and that was Jason’s cue. Like fucking hell he was going to do this now, when he had been thrown off quilter at seeing Damian. No, no this fight would have to happen another time. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out, huh old man?” He called back before running and plunging off the roof. 

 

Chapter 2: This Neon City

Notes:

If anyone is out of character... well it's just how it is.

This was bad, this was so fucking bad. 

Jason crawled through the window of his dilapidated safehouse. Unlatching his helmet and tossing it onto the twenty dollar couch he got from the thrift store down the street, before quickly switching on all of the traps and motion detectors he had set up around the perimeter of the apartment. 

He hadn’t seen Bruce and Damian chase after him, hadn’t seen their shadows on his tail as he swung from rooftop to rooftop, taking narrow alleys and an overly complicated roundabout way to get back here. But just because he hadn’t seen them didn’t mean they weren’t there. 

Jason reached for his phone, quickly dialing a number he hadn’t used in years. It rang once, twice, then the automated voice of a woman saying sorry the number you have tried to reach is not in service please- Jason hung up, itching to throw the phone against the wall. Talia had sent Damian to Gotham, to Bruce, and she had said nothing, nothing to Jason about it. 

You left, why would she have to tell you shit? His thoughts were moving too quickly. Why would Talia send him here? Had something happened? Was this just temporary while she was on mission? What happened to his other body guards? What happened to- He shook his head, not wanting to follow that train of thought. His hands were beginning to shake and he knew where thinking about the League got him, what thinking about any aspect of his past got him. He just had to stop thinking. 

With trembling fingers he dialed another number. This one did pick up. 

“What’s up Jaybird, missing me already?” Roy’s voice sounded over the receiver. 

Jason’s shoulders instantly relaxed. Snorting, he let himself sink into the couch. “You wish Harper, just wanted to know what mess I’m going to have to pull you out of this time.”

Roy’s rich laughter eased him even further. “Got nothing lined up at the moment. Kori had her own shit to take care of so I’m on monitor duty.” 

Jason hummed. 

“How’s Gotham treating you?” Roy asked, the sound of mental clanging, and tickering sounding in the background. “Tired of that god forsaken city yet?”

“S’not so bad. Weather’s been alright.” Jason focused on a string that was jutting out of his pants. He needed to get out of his gear. 

“Run into the big bat yet?” Roy asked lightly. 

Jason couldn’t help but tense, and he could almost see Roy freezing up on the other side of the phone. 

“You okay?” The other man’s voice was tentative. 

He had never outright talked to Roy about what had happened between Bruce and him that night in the abandoned apartment. Had never so much as told him why he was pissed at Bruce or that he had hauled ass after, licking his wounds. But Roy was observant, smart, and had his own daddy issues that ran a mile long. There was an understanding between them, one that could only be gained when your parental figures, who also happened to be billionaire vigilantes, abandoned you and treated you as a mistake. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jason lied. 

“You sure? Cause I can head to Gotham right now and give old Bruce a piece of my mind.” 

Jason huffed out a muted laugh. “Nah, I don’t really feel like setting your bones tonight Harper.”

Roy gasped indignantly. “How dare you, He would not break bone! Especially since I would be breaking into the batcave’s speaker system from an unknown location to yell at him.” 

He couldn’t help but grin. “So what would be the point of you coming to Gotham then?”

“To hang out with you, obviously.” He could hear the clink of metal again, the awkwardness melting into the background.

“To bother me more likely.” Jason muttered as he bent down to unlace his boots and take them off. “What are you working on anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Roy perked up immediately and Jason knew that this was going to be a long call. He didn’t mind it though, knew it was what he had needed as soon as he heard Roy’s voice over the receiver. Stretching out onto the worn cushions, he tucked his arm behind his head and listened to his best friend ramble about his inventions. He would worry about taking off his gear and inspecting his guns and gadgets later. 

His hands had stopped shaking. His thoughts were still. 

* * *

Tim had been combing through some of the surveillance cameras in the city, hoping to catch something for this case he was working on when the batmobile rolled into the batcave. A disgruntled Damian exited the car, slamming the door shut. Tim raised his eyebrows and turned back around to the screen, he wouldn’t be touching that with a ten foot pole. 

“Damian, do not walk away from me.” Bruce snarled, pulling the cowl off his head. Oh, great, it was one of those nights then.  

“I have nothing more to say.” Damian continued to walk toward the showers. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew Jason? Why?” 

Tim froze. Fingers half raised from where he had been typing on the keyboard. 

Jason.

  Bruce had told them, had told Tim and Dick about how Jason had come back from the dead, how he had been the Red Hood. Dick had been pissed. He had screamed and yelled at Bruce for hours about how he had kept it a secret, even though he had been working with him on the case. How Bruce had still not said anything for weeks after the explosion, not until all his searching had come up empty. 

Now, Bruce was saying that Damian had also known, had personally known Jason, and hadn’t said a word. 

“I did not think my knowing Todd was relevant.” Damian tore his domino off of his face and crossed his arms over his chest. Tim watched their reflections on the computer screen. “I have not seen him in years.”

Bruce’s hands fisted at his sides. “When you saw the plaque under the display case, when you read the file on the Red Hood you didn’t think it was relevant?”

Damian glanced down for a second before shrugging. His posture was stiff, his fingers twitching, what Tim now knew was a fear response. 

“It’s not like we asked him.” The words slipped out of Tim’s mouth before he could stop them. 

“What?” Bruce called out.

Taking a deep breath, Tim fortified himself to back Damian up. He spun the computer chair around and faced his mentor. “It’s not like we asked Damian if he somehow knew Ja- Hood.” 

“How would we even know to ask that?” Bruce was growing exasperated. 

“I’m just saying, it’s not like he lied to us, he’s allowed to have a past and to want to keep parts of that past to himself.” 

Damian raised a brow at him. Tim just shrugged back. It had been a hard pill to swallow when Damian had appeared on the steps of the manor a year ago. Luggage in hand, demanding to speak with his Father, Bruce Wayne. Then he had nearly killed Tim and well, it had been a rocky road since then, but they were figuring it out. 

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point Tim. He had seen the case had-”

“Todd left the League and I had not seen or heard from him in over two years by the time I arrived,” Damian said stiffly. “There is nothing that I could have told you to aid in your search for him.”

“That’s not-” Bruce took a deep breath. “That’s not the point , Damian. The point is that you should have told us. We have been trying to be open and honest with you, I expect you-”

Damian scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That is a lie, Father. You out of everyone are constantly hiding things.”

Well, it wasn’t like Damian was wrong. Case in point, Bruce taking weeks to tell anyone that Jason was in fact the Red Hood. Honestly, if Dick hadn’t been the one to find the file, Tim wasn’t sure Bruce would have even told them. 

Silence swirled around the cave like one of Jokers suffocating toxins. Tim watched as both Bruce and Damian stared at each other, the same stubborn set to their brows, the downturned scowl, and clenched jaws. Bruce had run a hundred DNA tests when Damian had arrived. In Tim’s opinion, all he had needed was a mirror. 

“So,” Tim tried to break the tension. “How did this come up anyway?”

Both sets of eyes landed on him, and he forced himself to stay still. It was Bruce who answered. “We ran into Jason on patrol.” 

Tim blinked. 

Well then, this made more sense. Or actually, no it didn’t. Why would Jason come back? Was he committing to his Red Hood bit again? Was Bruce going to hunt him down and stuff him in Arkham? Oh god and Dick. Tim had to tell Dick. 

“Do we know why he’s back?” Tim asked. 

“No.” Bruce said just as Damian replied with “He said this was his home.”

Another beat of silence. 

“I am going to bathe.” Damian turned on his heel and headed for the showers, shoulders still stiff and high, nearly touching his ears. 

Bruce let out a long sigh and Tim turned around to face the computer again. Things just got a lot more complicated. So, so much more complicated. Pulling out his phone, Tim sent Dick a quick message. 

Jason is back in Gotham.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3: Everything's Simple Before you Do it

Notes:

TW: implied/reference to child prostitution. Reference to original character death and prostitution

Thank you so much for the Kudos!
In this chapter there is some Spanish thrown in, I will post the translation at the end.

Edited 7.11.2025

Dick stared at the screen of his phone. The bright white light illuminating the dark corners of his small bedroom. He had just gotten in from his patrol in Bludhaven. Had crawled through his window, limped to his room, and crashed onto the bed just to hear his phone buzz on the edge of his nightstand. 

He blinked. Rereading the words for the twentieth time since he had unlocked his screen. 

Jason is back in Gotham.

Oh Bruce must be losing his mind. Dick hadn’t yet forgiven him for keeping him out of the loop. He had gone to Gotham in good faith to help Bruce with the Red Hood case, since Tim was off on mission with the Titans, to watch his back because god knows he would work himself to death if someone wasn’t keeping tabs on him. Then Dick had gotten hurt, and Bruce had shut down. Dick had expected that, and hadn't been surprised when Bruce had told him to just rest, or when he stopped answering Dick’s phone calls and texts. What he hadn’t expected was that the Red Hood was in fact Jason, and that Bruce had said nothing to them for weeks. 

All he had said was that Red Hood disappeared. That he had rigged explosives and led Batman into a trap before bolting. It hadn’t been until Dick’s curiosity had gotten the best of him, that he recruited Tim to help get through the encryption in the Batcomputer. So imagine Dick and Tim’s surprised to see the case file with Jason’s name highlighted and bolded at the top. Seeing the DNA test that Bruce had run, and the pages upon pages of notes and theories that his mentor had put together, trying to figure out how long Jason had been alive and where he had been. 

Dick hadn’t been able to forgive Bruce for hiding this information. It was just as bad as when he hadn’t told him about Jason’s death. Worse really, because Jason was alive, he was alive and kicking and Bruce had kept it to himself because- well Dick couldn’t understand why. 

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, he sent a quick reply to Tim.

Be in Gotham by morning. 

* * *

Jason woke up with a stiff neck, half his body falling off the worn couch. His gear dug into his side and shoulders. Groaning, he stretched out his legs and arms flinching at the popping sounds that echoed in the silence. He had fallen asleep while Roy had been rambling on about his experiments and arrows. Looking around he found that his phone had fallen and was laying on the floor a foot away from him, the screen black. 

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going back to sleep, he snatched the phone off the floor and moved into the small kitchen, measuring out the appropriate amount of coffee grounds before turning on the clunky machine he had gotten from a Goodwill down the block.

Jason checked his phone quickly, and as expected there was a message from Roy.

Hung up once I heard you snoring ttyl

Jason snorted and placed his phone face down on the tacky laminate counter top.  He glanced toward the window and by the look of the grey light that was peeking in through the curtains, it was still early morning. Birds were just beginning to chirp and he knew he hadn’t slept for more than three hours. Running a hand through his hair, he shuffled over to the mattress that was pushed up against a wall and began to strip. 

He had found and rented this place the same day he had landed in Gotham, and boy did he need an upgrade. It wasn’t that he was picky really, I mean being raised in Crime Alley you got used to being grateful just to have a warm, dry place to rest your head. Unfortunately though, Jason had also lived at the manor for a couple of years and then was at the league compound for a couple more. Both of which made this place look like the back of a dumpster. He knew if Talia or Bruce saw the room in which he was staying in, with a battered up couch, a bare mattress with a comforter and no pillows and a kitchen with not even a pan in it, well they might be filled to the brim with pity. 

Kicking his armored pants away, onto a heap on the floor, he stumbled back into the kitchen and grabbed the only mug he owned. The smell of coffee had him rolling his stiff shoulders. He missed the coffee from Nanda Parbat. It had been rich and bitter, Talia would add a bit of cardamom to his and Damian’s cup, and they would drink it together while talking about how Damian’s training was going. If she was in a really good mood, then they would also get the treat of being served dates and nuts with the coffee. When Jason had decided to leave, he had taken a large tin of the coffee with him, but no matter how hard he had tried it had never tasted the same. 

The memories of the League were a mix of sharp and fuzzy, sometimes filled with a green haze he despised, especially in those early years. He knew there had been others, teachers, acquaintances, friends. Jason tried his best not to think about them, to not see their faces, her face… 

Jason shook his head. He didn’t like to think about the past, about all the things he’d done under the influence of the Lazarus Pit in that first year, and especially not about the people he had betrayed when he decided to leave the League. Damian being one of them. He ran a hand through his dark hair, before passing it over his face. It was too early for regrets. 

Pouring the cheap coffee into the mug, he went over toward the window, peeling back the curtain. The view was- well he got a lovely view of the trash in the alley down below and the brick building next to him. As he leaned against the window, watching the sun slowly rise from the tops of the graffitied buildings he made a list of all the things he needed to do. He had been gone for more than a year, and the hold he’d had on the Alley had waned. He needed to reestablish himself. Needed to figure out who had started to carve up his territory and remind them that this part of the city was off limits. 

Glancing over toward his gear that was in a mound on the floor, he knew he would also need to clean and check it before he headed out on patrol tonight. You also need to think of a plan in case Batman and the pipsqueak show up again. Which they might. 

Jason no longer had access to all of the latest tech and computer systems that Batman had to offer. He also didn’t have the manpower and spies that the League usually provided, but that hadn’t been a problem before. If there was one trait that defined Jason Todd it was that he was  resourceful. He’d figure out a way to get the intel he needed with his laptop and maybe some help from Roy. He’d never be able to crack into Oracle's network, but maybe he didn’t have to. There were always other ways to gain information. He had done a lot of that when he had first returned to Gotham. Had canvassed the old fashioned way, and made some strong alliances he hoped would still be intact.

He wondered what Babs thought about his return. About who Jason had become. He wondered what they all thought. How Bruce had broken the news that Jason was alive, how he’d told them about what happened with the Joker in that apartment building. He wondered if they would’ve made the same choice Bruce did, or if they would’ve let him just put a bullet in that clown's head and call it a day. He wondered if Bruce had told them about the batarang.  

Taking a sip of the black coffee he allowed himself a few more minutes in front of the window before turning around and getting to work. 

 

He hadn’t been lying to Roy about the weather. Gotham was in that state between fall and winter and that made the air crisp. It allowed him to wear his gear, leather jacket and his helmet without turning into a puddle of sweat. The summers, he knew, would be a nightmare, if he stayed that long. He didn’t know if he planned on staying that long. 

He didn’t know what his long term plans were, but for now, he could enjoy the cooler temps, and start thinking about how he was going to get coats and food to the homeless kids. Just another item to go on the very long list of things he had to do.

Luckily for Jason, he knew a good place to start. Gossip was kept close to the chest in Crime Alley, nobody wanting to get into any trouble with anybody else, but if you knew where to go and who to talk to the information came flowing out. So he made his way to one of his main sources of information. A lit up corner in a shoddy part of the already shoddy neighborhood, where the rich and desperate men of Gotham came to spend money. 

“Mira quien vino a vernos.”A woman called out, her smile all teeth, as she sauntered over to Jason. Her clear platform heels crunched in the cracked street, neon green top was bright thanks to the streetlight overhead. 

Jason couldn’t help his grin as he replied, “¿Cómo estás Estella?”

She leaned forward and pecked Jason’s helmet. “Ahi. Tu si que te ves bien, Rojo.” She grabbed his bicep and squeezed before letting out a low whistle. “Where ever you been, it’s done you good kid.”

Jason was smiling under the helmet. The trust of the girls that worked the corner had been hard won when he had first returned to Gotham. But once they got comfortable they all had been more than happy to give him names and even addresses. 

“We thought you forgot about us, Hood,” another girl called out. He remembered her name was Joy, her colorful skirt and afro made her stand out against the shadows. 

“Forget about you?” He put a hand on his chest, “Never.”

“Always a sweet talker.” she shook her head. “Where you been? We thought the bat had gone and ran you out for good.”

This was the hard part, that Jason couldn’t be as honest as he wished he could. Shrugging, he just said, “Had to take a vacation, cleaning up this city can take a toll, you know?”

“Must be nice to just pick up and leave when shit gets hard.” Joy’s gaze was sharp on Jason’s, and he was thankful he had the helmet to hide his reaction from her. Because fuck she wasn’t wrong. He deserved it, deserved worse than just a jab. He had had his head so far up his ass when he had left that he hadn’t cared what the fallout would be. He had just wanted to get away. Away from the Joker. Away from Gotham. Away from Bruce. 

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

Jason brought an arm up to scratch the back of his neck, his fingers grazing the edge of the helmet before dropping the arm and clearing his throat. “Sorry if my leaving made shit worse.” 

Joy’s gaze stayed on him a bit longer before she turned to look down the street, shrugging. 

Jason glanced around looking for another head of messy loose curls. "Where's Keke, she with a john?"

Estella pulled away from him, glancing over toward Joy before meeting his gaze again. Something nasty settled into the pit of his stomach, churning and making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Joy cleared her throat glancing off to the side. "Keke's dead."

The urge to bolt snaked it's way down his spine, but he stood his ground, muscles locking up. He had seen her before he left, shared some tacos from one of the food trucks they both liked.

Joy took his silence as a cue to continue. "Yeah, she uh, she got cut up by some pimp who wanted her to work for him." She shook her head, voice wavering slightly. "It took two days for anyone to find her, she'd been thrown in one of the dumpsters behind her building."

"Police didn't do shit." Estella murmured, arms wrapped around her middle. "Just another dead hooker why would they care."

"I- I'm sorry," was all he could croak out. The pit in his gut turning with acid, he could almost taste the bile on his tongue.

Estella shrugged softly, eyes still on the ground.

Joy's gaze was sharp on him, cutting, as if she could see his face through the helmet. "So, how long you planning on staying then, before you take another ‘vacation’?” 

The words felt like a slap to the face, but he deserved it. He had left, had told them that he'd look after them and when push came to shove and shit got hard with B he'd bolted.

Estella frowned. "Joy, that's not fair-"

"No it's okay," he decided he had to be honest. “I don’t know, but I promise I’ll give you a heads up next time.”

Estella raised a brow and then turned to look at Joy who just shrugged again. Before Jason could say anything a car slowed for a second, seeming like it was going to stop at the corner, before the driver saw the red chrome helmet and quickly sped off. 

Joy put her hands on her hips. “You better hurry up and ask your questions before you scare off any more of our clients Hood.”

Right. “I just wanted to know if there was any talk on the streets of who’s moved into the Alley while I’ve been gone.”

Estella hummed. “Black mask and some of the other's have been silent, you y ese pallaso de mierda really did a number on them.”

Jason tried not to stiffen at the mention of the Joker. That clown had survived the fucking bomb, and Jason didn’t have the bandwidth at the moment to think about another way to kill the bastard while he was still in Arkham. 

“Most of the fuss is coming from upstarters,” Joy supplied. “Small gangs that have seen the void in the Alley and want to throw their hats in the running.” 

Jason nodded, “Anyone in particular that’s making too much noise?”

“Only one I can think of. He’s been hiring teenagers to sell his shit.” 

“Any name associated with them? Colors? Blocks that they’ve tagged?” He asked. 

“There is an abandoned building a couple of blocks west. Some of the kids have been seen coming in and out of. He might distribute there.” 

“I’ll check it out.” Jason dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, handing half  to Estella and tossing the rest over to Joy. “That should cover the John I cost ya.” 

Estella shook her head and leaned in on her tiptoes to kiss the helmet's cheek again. “Que bueno verte Rojo, and thank you.”

“No es nada Estella, quisiera poder hacer más,” and it was true, if Jason had the ability to do more for the guys and girls working the corners he would. Jason knew personally the desperation for food and a warm place to sleep. After his mother had overdosed, he had been sleeping on the streets or abandoned buildings, and had done some fucked up shit for any bit of cash people would throw his way. It was another shadowed part of his past he didn’t like to think about. 

"And I'm sorry about Keke," and he really was, he was sorry he had left when he did, that Joy and Estelle had lost a good friend because of his emotional turmoil. He was supposed to be better than Batman, was supposed to bring hope to the Alley in the only form it understood, and he'd failed them.

Joy gave him a stiff nod, and Estelle returned his apology with a sad smile. he glanced at them once more over his shoulder before he grappled away, headed toward the building they had mentioned. During his time here he had made it clear to every gang and dealer that they weren’t to sell their shit to kids. Now, they were using kids as runners, fucking fantastic. He tried not to let his rage rise, tried not to think about the way Joy's gaze pierced through his mask when she told him about Keke. He wondered who the officers had been that were assigned to her case. If they had found the asshole who murdered her. Focus. He tried to breathe through it as he vaulted from rooftop to rooftop. One thing at a time. He began to count, one breath in, hold, exhale, One, another in, hold; just as Roy had taught him. 

Roy and Kori had done wonders for his anger management, teaching him all kinds of neat tricks like how to breathe and count to a million. As stupid as it sounded to Jason, it actually helped, and kept the worst of the green at bay. 

By the time he spotted the building the girls must’ve been talking about, the rage had settled to a low rumble of anger. Which was good, this way, unless things really went sideways, he wouldn’t have to kill anyone, and that would spare him some time before Batman came kicking down his door throwing more batarangs at his neck. 

He would take a look at Keke's case once he had put an end to whoever was using these kids. If her killer was still out there he'd make sure he received the appropriate kind of justice a piece of shit like him deserved. But for now, the kids were the priority.

Crouching down to the edge of the building he waited. The lens of his helmet easily zoomed in when he squinted his eyes and allowed him to get a look at the dark windows of the building. When he didn’t see any movement he resigned himself to sitting and waiting. 

Notes:

Translation:
"Look who came to see us."
"How are you, Estella?"
"alright. you look good, Red."
----
"-You and that fucking clown-"
----
"It's good to see you, Red-"
"It's nothing Estella, I wish I could do more."

So it's a head canon of mine that Jason picked up Spanish living in the Alley as a kid, and he speaks it well. He's also fond of the Latinx culture and likes the music and food, but we'll get into that later in the story.

See you next time!

Chapter 4: I Seem to Have Misplaced My Common Sense

Notes:

Hello again!
so for context for this chapter the attack on Tim in Titans Tower never occurred.
Also I have done the math and have decided the ages of the Robins are as follows:
Dick 28
Jason 22
Tim 19
Damian 11

Also, sorry for any typos, I really wanted to get this out before the weekend!

Tim knew what Red Hood's territory lines were. Everyone knew. During the manhunt that Batman had concocted last year, he had been meticulous in highlighting the border that Hood had made for himself. Park Row, or Crime Alley, was the main center of his activity, extending all the way to the Bowery. 

There were other things that had been meticulously categorized and observed. Like how Red Hood fought. B had written pages and pages on his precision, aim, and the way he used the buildings and his surroundings to his advantage. How he had outlined a convoluted plan to get the Joker out of Arkham, and how it had worked. And let’s not forget his proficient knowledge of explosives. Which, for a guy that got blown up in a warehouse, the fact that he kept explosives in his helmet was extremely unsettling, at least to Tim.  

Even with all the notes, Tim couldn’t help but look through all the footage Bruce had collected, both from the cowl, and from the cameras that Babs had access to. Maybe Tim was over doing it, but if Batman had taught him anything it was to always be prepared, and if he was going to go out and find Jason, then Tim did need to be prepared, for whatever could happen. He also couldn’t help the feeling of glee and awe that bubbled up in him as he watched some of the tapes. It reminded him of when he used to follow Batman around with a camera, back when Jason had been Robin. 

Tim had of course figured out Dick was Robin when he was nine, and that led to him figuring out Bruce was Batman. Then Robin had disappeared for a while, Tim remembered how much he had kept an eye out on the papers for any mention of the bright colored acrobat. How months had gone by and then suddenly Robin had reappeared, but he was different. The way he moved was different, the way he smiled and taunted was different, not to mention Robin was all of a sudden younger than he had been. Tim had begun to go out with his camera and take pictures, following Batman and the new Robin all around the city as they fought crime. 

Don’t get him wrong. Tim loved Dick, he was a great brother, and he had loved watching him on the television or seeing him in the papers, but Jason? Jason had been Tim’s Robin, he was the one Tim grew up admiring, grew up taking pictures of, and it was Jason’s death that had catapulted him into the Robin suit himself. 

Watching the tapes was like going back in time to when he was younger. He could see Robin in how Red Hood moved. Maybe if Bruce hadn’t thought it so impossible, he would’ve realized it was Jason sooner. Sure, there were other influences, the League, and others that Tim couldn’t pinpoint, but the core of how Red Hood fought was all Robin. 

Tim waited until Dick had been distracted, which by the way was no easy feat, he had kept eyeing him like a hawk all day long. Asking question upon question about what Bruce and Damian had said about Jason last night. Eventually, Tim made up an excuse about having to go do some work in his room for Wayne Industries. It wasn’t technically a lie, he did have that board meeting in two days, but that could wait. 

Once Batman and Robin had gone out on patrol, he donned his new suit and grappled and glided his way over to Park Row, hoping to catch a glimpse of a red chrome helmet and tactical gear under a brown leather jacket. 

It didn’t take long for Tim to find him, even in the darkness of the Alley. The red was really ostentatious. Not that Tim had any leg to stand on since he re-worked his costume to feature more red and was now called Red Robin… yeah, he couldn’t say shit. 

The impact of his land on the roof made little noise, but Tim could see the way Hood’s shoulders tensed before he tilted his head to the side. “Should I be expecting the big bat?” Hood snarled, the crackling in the modulator making it sound that much harsher. 

Freezing mid-step, Tim cocked his head. “No?” He had spent the last 24 hours looking over footage of Hood. Had been preparing himself to come across the towering form that he had seen on the screen, but fuck, he was much more intimidating in person. Tim couldn’t help feeling like maybe he had made a mistake. B would definitely be pissed and tell him he made a mistake if this went sideways. 

“Why are you here then, kid?” Hood asked, turning away from Tim to face the warehouse across the street. 

Tim narrowed his eyes at the term, the word kid didn’t sit right with him, I mean he was nineteen years old for crying out loud, and basically running Wayne enterprises. He wasn’t a kid. “I just heard you were back in town,” he winced at the unease he heard in his own voice. “Wanted to come see for myself.” 

Hood finally turns to fully face him. “Well, you’ve seen me, now goodbye.”

Tim shifted from foot to foot. Because like yes, this was the Red Hood, the same one that had taken Park Row by storm a little over a year ago, stuffing heads into duffel bags and starting a turf war with Black Mask, but come on, it was also Jason. Jason fucking Todd back from the dead and right in front of him, and God Tim had so many questions for him. You know? and sue him if he was a little tiny bit excited, not just to see his idol in the flesh, but Tim wanted to know everything about how he came back.

 He had read the notes Bruce had about his confrontation with Jason in the apartment, and Bruce had circled Lazarus Pit multiple times. He had tried to find the cowl footage but guessed the camera must’ve broken or something when Hood and Batman were fighting. The Lazarus Pit was so well guarded by the Al Ghuls that there is almost no information on it, and if Tim could just find a way to ask Jason about i,t maybe he could get him to tell him. To tell him how it worked, or what it felt like, then Tim could update the notes on the Batcomputer and-

“Could you stop staring at me like that, you're kinda freaking me out.”

Tim jumped slightly at Hood’s voice, he had been so in his head he hadn’t realized he was just standing there staring at Jason’s profile. He tries to go for casual, “So-”

Jason lets out a long sigh. “Listen Replacement.”

Tim flinched. 

“I got shit to do. So if you don’t mind-”

“Please don’t call me that.” His voice was small, hands clenching at his sides. Okay, now that sounded kid-ish. Fuck. 

Jason just turned back to him again, “Why shouldn’t I?” The faceless helmet with that cracked harsh tone almost had Tim taking a step back. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? My replacement?” 

Tim can’t help but glance down, he couldn’t deny that he had wondered if this would be how Jason would interpret him being Robin after he died. He’d thought about it so much when he had first been given the suit. Whether Jason would approve, whether he’d be happy that Tim of all people was Robin. Whether he’d be thankful that someone was looking out for Bruce now that he was gone. Guess now Tim had his answer. 

“I never meant to replace you. I-” he paused, trying to think about what he could say next, what would make Hood understand that Batman needed a Robin. “Bruce wasn’t doing well and-”

A loud grinding sound came out of  the helmet and Tim realized with horror that it was Hood laughing. “Oh Bruce wasn’t doing well, oh okay, I guess that makes everything okay.” 

“That’s not what I-” Tim tried to explain but Hood just cut him off. 

“You know, I was actually having a good day today. I thought wow, the weather is nice, I got some good intel, maybe just maybe, I wouldn’t have to kill anyone today after all, but now-”

“Look, can we not do this?” Tim pleaded.

“You’re the one that started it!” Hood’s hands fell to the gun at his thigh, leaning forward as if he was preparing to launch at him. 

 Immediately holding up his own hands, palms up, Tim began to think that this, in fact, had not been his brightest idea. “Sorry! I just- you can call me Replacement if you want, it’s fine, it’s whatever.”

Jason stared at Tim through that expressionless helmet for a long time. Then slowly, Hood took his hand off the gun and a loud sound that, sounded like a huff, came out of the modulator. 

Tim stood silent, waiting to see what Hood would do next. After a beat, Jason turned back to look at the warehouse across the street. Tim waited a bit longer, the silence growing thick and just on the edge of uncomfortable, before he plopped himself down on the edge of the roof next to the infamous Red Hood. 

“Can’t you just leave?” Hood's voice sounded next to him, but some of the fight had gone out of it. 

“No.” Tim knew he was punching his luck, but something told him he just had to hold out a little bit longer. Maybe, instead of tiptoeing he should just, well, treat him like he would anyone else?

An exasperated sigh, “Listen here Timbo, unlike you, I am currently in the middle of a stake out, so if you would kindly fuck off-”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Tim shrugged. “I just thought you were brooding.”

Jason snarls and turns to face the abandoned building again. Tim tried not to grin at having gotten under Hood’s skin. Yeah, maybe instead of being cautious he would just wing it- be himself, treat Jason the way he would Dick, I mean, they were technically family. Death certificate notwithstanding. 

Tim lets the silence stretch on. His feet dangling off the edge of the roof, his eyes scanning the building. Well this wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped, but it was going better than he’d planned. “So… why are you staking out this building?” Another bout of silence followed and Tim really thought that Hood was just going to straight up ignore him, but then there came a long sigh. 

“A gang has been using teens to sell to other teens and kids and-”

“Ah. and that was a pretty big no-no the last time you were here.”

Hood hummed. 

“So,” and Tim knew he had to be careful here, “You going to, well…”

“Fill ‘em up with lead?” Jason shrugged. “Guess it depends on how much they deserve it.” 

Well that was a better answer than Tim had hoped. He was about to say as much until a shadow caught his line of sight. “Hey, four o’clock.”

* * *

Jason instantly turned to look where Drake had told him to, and sure enough there was a kid, probably around sixteen, with a ratty grey sweatshirt with holes in the elbows and a backpack that looked like it was about to burst. His head swiveled from side to side as he crept his way toward the warehouse. Jason let out a sigh. He had expected this, desperate homeless kids selling was unfortunately pretty common in the Alley. Welp that meant his guns were off limits. 

“Alright, Timmy Tim,” Jason eased himself up, “Time for the baby-bird to go back to the nest.”

Tim stood with him, “wait, I can help.” 

“Like hell, Red Hood doesn’t work with bats and birds.”

“But-”

“I got a rep to protect, ok kid? ”

Tim paused. “Did you seriously just quote the movie Grease?” 

Jason faltered, not having expected the kid to have known the movie, not even realizing he had quoted it. “Shut up.” Then, pulling out his grappling gun, he quickly flew to the roof of the warehouse. He didn’t turn back to make sure that Tim had listened to him. This was business and he had to get his head in the game, or shit could go sideways. 

Glancing around the roof, he tried to find a way in, that wouldn’t attract attention from whoever was inside. Bruce had always taught him to scout first, to always know all of your exits and have a strategy planned; assess, inspect, and disarm. The league would say that he had to be quick on his feet; locate, find, destroy. That had been what he was used for in the league, that’s what he was good at. With the Outlaws, it had always been, charge in, make a plan later.

He personally likes to keep people on their toes, and would implement any number of things he had been taught at any given moment depending on his mood, and right now? Right now he desperately wanted to shoot whoever was using these kids to deal. Unfortunately, he had been gone for too long, and he knew, logically, that he should see what he was up against before going in guns blazing and then possibly hurting more kids just because he was feeling trigger happy. 

Making up his mind to take it slow, he scouts the roof and finds a way in through a nice big air shaft. A classic. Jason quickly pulled it from where it was bolted into the grate, it was rusted and damaged anyway, and squeezed his shoulders through the narrow space. God did this bring him back. He couldn’t help the shake of his head as he crawled through the vent, back when he had been Robin, he was always crawling through small spaces to get all the intel needed for Batman. He had loved it back then, feeling so sneaky and smart, even as cobwebs got caught in his hair and he sometimes ran into a rat or two. Now, well now the vents pinched at his shoulders and he was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t have first fully cased out the warehouse before finding a way in. 

Truly this was all Tim’s fault for showing up out of nowhere and distracting him. 

He gets to the end of the air shaft and peers out. He could see the kid, barely. The only thing that illuminated the interior of the warehouse was a streetlight coming in from the filthy windows. Jason shifted his shoulders trying to reach one of the buttons on his helmet that allowed him to turn on his night vision. Fucking hell. Why the fuck was it so dark in here? Did the assholes just want to add to the tension by meeting up in the fucking dark? 

He finally freed one of his arms from being pinned under his body and his vision was blanketed in a muted green.  He could see the kid now, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he faced someone. Across from him was a broad, older man. Jason looked around, but he couldn’t see anyone else in the warehouse, at least not from his position. Did they really only send one guy? Oh this would be super easy. He might actually get back to his safe house at a reasonable time. 

He continued to peer through the vent looking for- Bingo. Next to the man, was a nice laid out table filled with drugs. 

“Where are your friends?” The man asked, voice rumbling as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

The teen shrugged, but Jason could see the tense way he held his shoulders  “I dunno. They said they’d be here.” 

 The older man pulls out a knife, the silver blade glinting as it catches the light coming in from the window. Jason has to tell himself he needs to wait, and needs to see if others are coming. “You vouched for them, they’re your responsibility. They owe me.”

The teen takes a step back, eyes shifting around the dark room. “Look man, I don’t want any trouble. Those guys are probably just late or something.”

“Can’t do business when fuckheads who are late.” The broader man began to pace, his free hand clenching and unclenching. 

“You know what, fuck this-”

The man laughs, and takes a step toward the lanky kid, leering at him with the knife still firmly in his grip. “As if you’d turn down this deal.” He shook his head, his movements a bit jerky. “What would you do for cash then?” The man took another step. “Go suck dick at the corner? You ain't got no choice.”

The teen pales and clenches his fist. Alright, that’s enough. 

Jason times it perfectly, just as the older man takes another step, before he barges out through the grate. Both of them startle and curse as they turn his way. 

“You know taunting a kid about that shit is fucking low.” Jason couldn’t help the growl in his words. The edges of his vision tinted a brighter green than the night vision. The older man immediately takes out a gun he had tucked away in his waistband and starts shooting. The teen drops to the floor, hands covering his head. 

Jason rolls, using the table for coverage and pulls out his own gun, quickly shooting the guy in the leg. He screams, scrambling backwards, and Jason doesn’t hesitate. He immediately pushes forward, quickly batting the gun out of the man's hands, as he tries to aim again, before kicking him hard in the chest, sending him sailing backward into one of the steel pillars. 

The guy is on the ground, pathetically holding both hands up in front of him. “Wait. Wait!” He pleaded. Don’t kill me.” 

Jason fucking hated when they did this shit. Grabbing him by his shirt, he pulls him off the ground, his feet dangling, as he pinned him to the pillar. “Give me one good reason not to.”

“I’m just the distributor, please I have a family.”

“I’m sure they’d be better off without a piece of shit like you.” Jason shook him. “Who are you working for?”

“I- I don’t know! I found a phone in my locker at my job, then I just got a call from an unknown number and told where to be.” Unfuckingbelieveable. 

“And you just came?” Jason snarled. 

“Well, this- this wasn’t the first time, and- and they promised me money. Enough to not have to worry about it for a while I just-” 

“Give me the burner.” Jason snarled, he didn’t care about his sob story. He was willingly distributing to kids, blackmailing them even. He was a fucking piece of shit, that only cared about himself. The green singed the edges of his vision, and he pushed the Pit down, hearing the telltale whisper telling him to just end it. Kill him. 

“Man, if I don’t show up with the money they’ll-”

Jason presses his gun to the man's forehead. “I said give me the phone.”

“Okay, Okay!” The man fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a black flip phone with shaking hands. “Here.”

“Pleasure doing business.” Jason pulled his hand back and slammed the butt of the handgun against the guy's head. Pulling back, Jason watches as the body slumps to the floor. The Pit hissed in displeasure, but then receded just as quickly as it had come. He was getting better at pushing it down. Roy would be proud. 

Glancing down at the phone now in his hand, he couldn’t help but feel jaded. That was it? That was everything that the gang had been able to muster to sell in the Alley? Maybe he’d done a better job as Red Hood than he had thought. 

Jason fiddled with the gun, debating whether he should just shoot this guy or not, when suddenly the lights came on. “Fuck!” The light burned and he quickly scrambled to turn off the night vision on his helmet. Turning around he settled a glare on Tim, who was already looking a bit sheepish next to the light switch. 

“Sorry, didn’t realize you had your night vision on.”

“What the fuck, I told you to leave.”

He shrugged. “I thought I’d wait, see what you did.”

Jason threw his head back. Fucking christ. Then, irritation aside, he glanced around, “Where’s the kid?” 

Tim was already walking toward the table. “Bolted as soon as your back was turned.”

Jason frowns, he had wanted to talk to him. “It’s fine, I’ll find him later.”

That has Tim snapping his head up. “Why?”

Jason raises a brow, not that Tim could see it. “To talk to him?” He was sick of people assuming the worst.  “I don’t know,  the kid looks like he’s struggling.”

“And you would help?” Tim leaned against the table, clearly surprised by Jason’s words. 

Jason couldn’t help but scoff, of fucking course, Bruce probably had told all of them how much of a homicidal maniac he was. “Is that so surprising?” He couldn’t help the anger that now laced his words. Thinking about how Bruce, Dick, and even Alfred probably talked about him as if he needed to be thrown head first into Arkham, straight jacket and all. “I mean I know how fucking brutal the streets are, or did Batman never tell you how he found me squatting in a moldy run-down apartment?” 

He could feel Tim’s eyes on him but the kid said nothing, just shrugged and turned to look at the table full of packaged drugs. After a few deep breaths, Jason thinks it’s best if he got back to the mission at hand.

He made his way toward the table and began to look through the assortment of drugs himself.  Pills, weed, and some bags of H, all tied up in bags to quickly and discreetly distribute. 

Jason tried not to think about how Tim had asked him if he would help that teen. He really did, but fuck, it was bothering him that the third Robin had just, you know, assumed. As he continued to look through the shit on the table he couldn’t help but ask, “you really thought I’d hurt the kid?”

Tim shrugged, seeming unsurprised by the sudden question. “Guess I’m surprised you’re not immediately cutting people's heads off and putting them in duffel bags again.” He said it so nonchalantly, like it’s what everyone had been thinking. Is that what everyone had been thinking? Is that the only way any of them saw him? Like a bloodthirsty maniac who had no plan or reasoning just- was out for blood?

“That was a one time deal.” 

Tim tilts his head, seeming to consider that for a second, before nodding his head toward the unconscious man by the pillar.“So what are you going to do now?”

Jason hummed. He had been wondering that himself. Previously, He would’ve shot the man in the head and left him out as a warning for his boss. Maybe blow up the warehouse, you know so the message would really hit home, but if he did that, then he would just be proving Batman and his whole little klan of goody- two- shoes correct. B would be sure to fall on him hard. For murder, and arson, and then he’d send Jason’s ass straight to Blackgate, or worse, Arkham. God wouldn’t it be just his luck to get a cell next to the deranged clown? 

“We could just call the cops.” Tim suggested when Jason took too long to answer. 

He sighed, they couldn’t do that. “You know as well as I do that the GCPD is corrupt as fuck. These drugs will be out on the street in a week.”

“And they won’t be able to take him-” Tim jerked his head toward the unconscious man again, “in, without the drugs for evidence.”

Hmm, he had a point, but maybe there was a way Jason could both destroy the drugs and send a message. “You should go. I’ll handle the rest from here.”

Tim froze looking at him. “Wait, I mean we can find a solution you don’t have to-”

“I’m not gonna kill him!” He growled. “I’m going to let him go.”

Tim couldn’t hide his shock, even through the domino. “What?”

Rolling his eyes, not that Tim could see, he let out a loud breath. “I’m going to destroy the drugs, that’s what is most important right now. This idiot is harmless, he isn’t the main guy anyway, probably just short on cash and being extorted.”

Tim was silent for a minute. “So, you’re not going to kill him.”

“What did I just fucking say?” Jason was losing patience. 

Tim tilted his head at Jason and then nodded slowly, before digging into his pocket to pull something out. “Here.”

Jay looked at him skeptically. “What is it?”

“Just take it.”

Jason extended his hand and Tim plopped a small nearly clear earpiece into his hand. He raised his brows. It was a com. 

“Just in case you ever need help. Or you know you want to chat or something.” Tim shrugs. 

What the fuck. 

“Anyway, I’m going to take some of these,” he gestured to the drudge with his hand, “with me to test. I can send you the results later if you want.” That- that would be good. Jason didn’t have the tech needed to extract the components of the drugs, see if there was anything off with them, or anything that might match the signature of a maker. “Don’t worry about me telling B. I’m good at keeping secrets.” and just like that Tim grabbed a couple of samples and grappled up through a window that Jason hadn't even realized was open. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Notes:

Jason being Tim's favorite Robin means everything to me. I know that canonically he figures everything out because he loved the flying Grayson's and thought they were so cool, and Robin did a quadruple somersault that only the Grayson's could do, BUT with the age gap between him and Dick being so large I think it makes sense that he would mainly be taking pictures of Jason as Robin.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and if you have any questions, suggestions or just wanna say hi feel free to leave a comment! They really help push me to keep writing. (gotta love the need for external validation).
Edit: I almost forgot to mention, that the beginning of this chapter was inspired by this artwork by jjmk on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/jjmk-jjmk/172823086112/red-hood-jason-todd-fan-art?source=share

Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Find Solace in Knowing We're the Same.

“And then the kid, he just gave me a com,” Jason told Roy as he paced around his tiny apartment. “Didn’t even berate me for shooting that guy in the leg.”

“Wait he gave you a com?” Roy asked, and Jason knew that he had put whatever he was working on down to listen better. “Like actually gave you a com? Do you know if it’s logged into their frequency?”

Jason shrugged, not that Roy could see him, as he picked up the clear earpiece and looked it over again. “He said to use it if I needed help or if I wanted to chat.”

Roy hummed, “maybe it connects to just him?”

“Man I don’t know, it’s not like I’m going to use it anyway.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Jason could almost see Roy’s eye roll. 

“I’m not," he insisted.

“Jay, if you weren’t going to use it, you would’ve thrown it out already.” Jason huffed, he hated that Roy knew him so well. Was he really that predictable? “If I were you though, I’d check to see if he put a tracker in it.”

“I already checked and didn’t find anything.” Jason had taken the thing apart and put it back together twice, just to make sure he wasn’t being tracked. He could never be too careful when the bats were involved. Hell, Tim could’ve done all of this just to give Bruce his coordinates. 

Roy hummed from the other end of the line, “And you trust your replacement?” 

That was the question now wasn’t it. Could he trust Tim? “He said he wasn’t going to tell B about yesterday.”

“Really?” Roy's voice hitched, “Why?”

“The fuck should I know.” Jason had been taken by surprise by Tim, had been surprised to see him in his territory, had been surprised he stuck around, and finally had been surprised that he said he’d run the tests on the drugs while keeping it from Bruce. Why would he do that? What possible motivation could Timothy Drake Wayne have to keep his secrets?

Roy was quiet for a couple of seconds, seeming to be thinking through what Jason had said. “So the brat just appeared, waited to see what you would do and then handed you a com.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it sounds like recon to me.”

Fuck, that made sense. “Yeah, I guess he just wanted to see what I was doing back in Gotham, I mean I don’t think he was around when I had been here the first time.”

Roy hummed again. “I mean, you haven’t even told me what you’re doing back in Gotham.” 

“Yes I did, I-”

“No, no you fucking didn’t.” The tone of irritation that coated Roy’s words wasn’t lost on Jason.  “Kori left for that mission with the Titans and then you said ‘I have shit to do,’ packed up and left.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at the phone before putting it back to his ear. “Okay first off, I don't sound like that.”

Roy snorted. 

“And second of all, I do have shit to do!”

Roy was silent for a moment before he responded. “So you're back to doing your crime lord schtick then?”

Jason rolled his eyes, “oh come on, I wasn’t, like, a real crime boss.”

“Uh- I can think of a duffel bag with eight heads in it that would all argue otherwise.”

“Why does everyone always bring that up?”

Roy let out a chuckle that had Jason’s own lips twitching upward. “How could they not, it was-”

“Incredibly badass?” Jason supplied.

Roy was silent for a moment. “Maybe a little.” 

Ha! Jason couldn’t help but laugh. He knew Roy didn’t really care if Jason killed or not, but it was hard to shrug off a hero complex, and Roy liked knowing that everything they did, in the end, was for the greater good. Jason, as much as he bitched and moaned about how Batman wasn’t effective in Gotham because he didn’t kill, knew that deep down, he also did things because he thought they were the right thing to do. It’s why as much as he had cared about Damian, had gotten close to Talia and the others, he couldn’t stay in the League, he wasn’t doing good. He was just killing. No matter what the League’s fucking propaganda said. And Bruce? Bruce could say whatever the fuck he wanted about Jason, but Jason did have a code. 

“So,” Jason started. “Kori’s still with the Titans?”

“Yeah, I talked to her a little bit ago, it sounds like they might want her to stay.”  The hurt was palpable in Roy’s voice. They had all been pretty fucked up when they began working together a year ago, now it seemed like their team was falling apart. 

“You know how much the Titans mean to her.” Jason bit the inside of his cheek as he said the words out loud. He didn’t like thinking that the Outlaws had just been a placeholder for Kori, but it kind of felt like that at times. 

Roy hummed. 

“Why didn’t you go with her?” It was a fair question, Roy had been a part of the Titans once too, unlike Jason. 

There was quiet for a while. “Nah, you know I can’t.” 

Jason didn’t say anything, he knew Roy didn’t want to face the Titans after everything that had happened with his addiction and rehab and the relapses. It was a touchy subject, and well, if Jason was a little relieved he wasn’t going to lose his other best friend, who could really blame him. So he dropped the subject. “Well, if you ever get bored of the beach and sunlight, you’re always welcome to come crash with me.” 

Jason meant the words but he couldn’t help glance over at his dingy old bare mattress by the wall just as Roy replied with, “you know, I may take you up on that.” 

* * *

“What are you looking at?” Tim nearly jumped out of his skin before he slammed shut the laptop he was looking at. 

“Nothing.” Right, because that wasn't conspicuous. 

Dick raised a brow. “Didn’t look like nothing.” 

He leaned an elbow on his laptop and waved his hand, “yeah well-”

Dick sighed, leaning a hip against the table, “You went to go see him right?”

Tim’s brows shot up. “What?”

 Dick crossed his arms over his chest. “I said, you went to go see him right?” Dick tilted his head. Tim didn’t answer, didn’t know how to answer. If he said yes to Dick would this break the promise he made to Jason to not tell Bruce? Would Dick berate him? Tim watched Dick look him over carefully before letting out a breath. “Well, you’re not dead, and no more bruises than usual so I’m guessing it went okay?”

“You’re not mad?” Tim couldn’t help but ask, He had assumed he’d have to convince everyone, including Dick that Jason was not actually a rampaging murderer. He had even begun putting together a power point with statistics and slides to make his case. 

Tim watched as his brother’s eyes fell to the floor, and his lips quirked down. “To be honest, I think you’re the only one who might be able to see him for who he is, and not the kid he used to be.” Dick’s lifted his shoulders and let them drop again. “Which is why I pretended to not know you were gone when B came back.”

Tim contemplated that. Sure, he had photographed and followed Jason around like a lost puppy when he had been Robin, but Dick was right. Tim didn’t know him, not really. Dick and Bruce had told him stories, but they were always brief and tinged with grief. 

Dick cleared his throat. “So, uh, how is he?”

Tim glanced over at Dick, he knew how much Dick had blamed himself after Jason’s death. How he had blamed himself for not being there. Much as he may scream and shout that Bruce had to take care of himself, and that not all of the world's problems fell on his shoulders, Tim knew that his older brother struggled with feeling responsible for everything. 

Tim let his shoulders drop and sighed. “I think he’s doing okay, he’s investigating a new dealer working in Crime Alley who’s using kids to sell.”

Dick leaned forward. “Oh?”

Tim nodded. “He found the distributor yesterday while I was there.”

“And- how did that go?” Tim understood Dick’s worried tone. 

“Actually pretty well, no one was killed, and he even let me take some samples to put through our database.” Tim opened up his laptop to show Dick what the computer had grabbed from the samples so far. “See? I plan on calling him about them later today, once all the tests are done being run, but I don’t think it’ll lead us anywhere.”

Dick blue eyes scanned the ingredients on the screen, before he turned back to face Tim with a guarded expression. “He’s- he’s letting you work on a case with him?”

“Well,” Tim moved his head from side to side, “he’s not really letting me.”

Dick snorted and leaned in to ruffle Tim’s hair. 

“How’s Damian been?” Tim regretted the words the instant they left his mouth as it wiped the smile from Dick’s face. Oof that bad huh? 

Dick sighed. “I asked him why he hadn’t said anything about knowing Jason, if he thought we wouldn’t have wanted to know and he just said the same thing he said to Bruce, that he thought it was irrelevant.” Dick shook his head. “But I know something is bothering him, he just won’t talk to me about it.”

Tim snorted, “yeah, well, good luck getting him to talk.” Tim knew he wasn’t being fair, but whatever. He knew that Damian had it rough growing up, he couldn't imagine what the  League was like, let alone being the heir to the Demons Head. Couldn’t imagine what that would entail, especially since Damian was still so young. That didn’t, however, mean he fully forgave Damian for trying to kill him the minute Bruce had turned his back. Tim had even been trying to be nice and welcoming, and Damian had almost stabbed him in the kidney!

“I’ll keep trying.” Dick murmured, snapping Tim back to the conversation. 

“How’s Bruce been handling it?” Tim couldn’t help but ask, remembering how pissed B had been the other night. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “You know how he is, he’s been brooding, not speaking a lot with Damian just focusing on what the Red Hood could want.” Dick shifted slightly from foot to foot. “You don’t think he’s going to start up the whole crime lord thing do you?”

Tim shrugged, and pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I don’t know, but he didn’t seem, well he didn’t seem unstable when I spoke with him, just kind of short tempered.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, leaning in slightly as he watched Tim. “You’re gonna continue to stalk him around.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yup,” Tim popped the P. “I think we need more data and that means surveillance.”  

* * *

Damian had been hiding out in the library all afternoon. Not wanting to run into his Father, or be pestered by Grayson’s inane questions. So he sat back on the leather chair, buried his socked feet under one of the pillows and continued to try and get through this book. He had picked it up a few days ago because he had remembered hearing the title before. It had been a paperback that- well that Todd had read to him when they had both been in the League. 

Damian tried not to roll his eyes at himself. He had picked it up out of curiosity, and while he had been remembering afternoons spent out on the courtyard, the heat of the day washing over him while he did his Katas, and Todd sat a few feet away reading out loud to him. Loathe as he was to admit it to himself, he had cherished those afternoons, and had looked forward to them after his long day of studies and training.

Then one day, Todd had simply left. Hadn’t even stopped by and told him why, hadn’t said where he was going, when or if he would return, nothing. Then when he and Mother had run into ukhtuh, she had been irritable, speaking quickly and in a disrespectful tone that had Damian worried would get her whipped. She had been the one to tell him and Mother that Todd had left. Packed his things, and left to enact his acts of revenge. She had accused Mother of knowing, and encouraging him, and when Mother hadn’t responded ukhtuh’s face had morphed into one of rage. Cheeks flushed, with a burning so deep in her brown eyes they nearly mimicked Todd’s on his worst days with the pit. He had never seen her look at his Mother that way. 

Damian let out a breath and closed the book, letting it settle on his lap. He had known, of course, that Todd had died at the hands of the Joker, and had later put together that he had most likely gone to seek out his revenge on the clown. He had hoped that maybe, after his endeavor was over, he would return home. Return to Nanda Parbat and continue Damian’s training, securing his place as his second in the League. He had not, however, expected to see him on Batman's most wanted list. Had especially not expected to run into Todd, after not seeing him for two years, running across a roof on a random night on patrol. 

Leaning his head back, Damian ran his fingers over the cover of Hamlet. He should’ve known better. Should’ve hid his shock at seeing Todd better, maybe then Father wouldn’t be angry at him again. Everything in this horrid city put Damian on edge. He had trained with the most skilled assassins, and had proven himself a worthy heir of the Demon’s Head. He had studied, learned several languages before the age of eight, and had gone on plenty of missions. Yet, trying to figure out how to please his Father and earn his rightful place at Batman’s side was proving far more difficult than what he had previously expected. Throw in Todd as a distraction and Damian felt as if he were standing at the edge of a blade. 

Letting out a loud huff, Damian shook his head. It was just like Todd to muck everything up. Damian thought it would be best if he kept his distance if he saw him again. Better to not further anger Batman. 

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Hopefully, I'll have another out by the end of the weekend- fingers crossed!

If you have thoughts, questions, concerns or just want to say hi, drop a comment. It really helps to keep me pumping out chapters!

Chapter 6: Somethings Are Easier If You Have Friends

Notes:

Spanish is used, translation will be in the end notes.

This was not where I thought this chapter would go, but as most writers know, the characters sometimes lead you, and this was very much what ended up happening here.

Jason crouched on the edge of the Park Row Public Library as he looked over the Alley, making a list in his head of all the places the homeless teenager might be. He knew of some hideouts, remembered some from his youth and then some more from when he had been operating as a crime lord in Gotham, but nothing was up to date. 

There were endless places that kid could be. Empty warehouses, parking lots, sleeping in a public restroom in the high schools nearby. Jason cursed under his breath. It was going to take him all fucking night to figure out where he went. God what he wouldn’t do to get access to one of the bat computers. 

Putting his hands in his pocket he felt around for the com Tim had given him. He could use it. Could reach out to see what he had gained from the drugs he’d taken. Could ask him to drop by so they could split up and search the Alley faster.  Aside from the kid being his best lead to where other distributors might be, since the phone he took from that one guy hadn’t rung yet, Jason also wanted to look out for the kid, wanted to make sure he was okay. 

A familiar whistle had his shoulders tensing. Fuck. “What are you doing here?” Jason asked.

“Cazando un pajarito que voló muy lejos del nido.” Catwoman tilted her head, a grin spreading across her lips, Jason couldn’t help but turn to face her, not wanting to leave his back open. She was crouched on the adjacent roof, eyes on him. 

“Did Bruce send you to watch me?” The mechanical drone of his voice made the words harsh and brisk, masking his unease. She always had a way of making him feel small under her gaze. 

Catwoman gracefully slunk off her perch and flipped in the air, landing on the roof with ease. She stalked up to Jason, and he waited, hand inching toward the gun at his thigh. “I haven’t spoken to him since I found you wandering around in that alley, bleeding out from your neck.”

Jason smirked under his mask as the memory of breaking into her apartment, blood gushing from his neck, floated through his mind. “Aw, you worried about me?” He teased.

She shrugged before sitting down next to him,  nudging his shoulder with her own, a genuine smile tugging on her lips. “I always worry about you chiquitin.”

Jason snorted, letting his shoulders relax before reaching up and pulling off the red helmet. “I don’t think I’m that little anymore jefa, been taller than you for a few years now.”

Selina reached up and removed her goggles, her green eyes intent as she roamed over Jason’s features. Then slowly reached out a hand to touch his face. The tips of the metal claws brushed across his cheek giving him goosebumps. “You’ll always be my chiquitin,” She says, her voice almost a whisper. Jason couldn’t help but glance down, cheeks hot. He didn’t think she would still see him that way, didn't think anyone would, Bruce certainly didn’t. 

Jason hummed. “So you’re not here to spy on me on his behalf.”

Selina sighed. “No, I’m not here for Batman. I heard word that you were in town and wanted to see how you were doing.” 

Jason forced himself to lean back on his hands, shrugging. “I’m fine.” He could hear the lie in his own voice and he wanted to kick himself. Selina, for some goddamn reason, always disarmed him. Made him feel like a ten year old kid back in the Alley trying to have a stiff upper lip while his mom shot up in the living room of their rundown apartment. 

Selina nudged him again. “No mientas, dime qué estás pensando.” The use of Spanish was meant to placate him further, it was the way they’d spoken to each other while in the manor, or when they had the rare team up. Not that Bruce didn’t know Spanish, but it made Jason feel like he could speak to Selina without his constant eavesdropping. And fuck if it didn’t still work. 

When he had first met her, Selina had been impressed that he knew how to speak it, she shouldn’t’ve been. He had picked it up in the Alley, kicking a ball around with other young kids, his neighbors had all spoken Spanish, and on the days that his mom hadn’t paid their electric bill and the nights fell below freezing he’d be taken in by them, fed, cared for, and tucked into their couch while they spoke to him quick and quiet. He realized then, he needed to pick it up. There were a lot of different cultures all intermingled in the Alley and the Narrows, but Spanish was the second language of the streets and it was crucial for Jason to know it, and luckily, he had always been a quick learner. 

Then when he was in the League, Spanish had functioned similarly, especially since she spoke it too and-

 “¿Has hablado con él?” Selina asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

Jason shook his head. “No quiero hablar de Bruce.” He huffed out. He felt like a petulant child, but he really didn’t want to talk about Bruce. 

“Bueno, entonces de qué quieres hablar?” She pushed.

Jason shrugged again. He didn’t particularly want to talk, but he knew Selina wouldn’t let up. She had a protective streak that rivaled his own, though she would deny it if asked. Jason wasn’t even fully sure why she had attached herself to him all those years ago. Back when he was just starting out as Robin, and Bruce chastised him constantly for his foul language and dark sense of humor. On the rare nights that Catwoman appeared, she would laugh with him, or they would gang up on Batman to make fun of him. She had made Jason feel comfortable in a way that Bruce Wayne just couldn’t. Not that he hadn’t tried but- it was different. She understood, knew what it was like to be on the streets, knew that you did what you had to to survive, no matter how unpleasant. Now, here she was again, speaking in Spanish and nudging his shoulder as if no time had passed, and Jason couldn’t figure out why. 

“You know,” She started up again. “I remember what you were like back then,” there was a wistful look in her eyes as she spoke. “all skin and bones with round pink cheeks and messy curls,” Selina mussed his hair and Jason’s cheeks heated as he batted her hand away. “But even then, there was a hardness in your eyes, a determination that reminded me of myself.” She shook her head. “I told Bruce that you were going to be a force to be reckoned with.” 

“Yeah,” Jason glanced down at his gloved hands, scrutinizing them, as if he could see the blood that had coated them so many times before. “I guess this wasn’t what you had in mind though, huh?”

Selina shrugs. “You’ve been through hell Jason, more than most, I don’t judge you for how you survived. It’s not my place.”

Jason didn’t know what to say to that. Everyone always seemed to have an opinion on how he did things. Always seemed to think they would’ve done shit differently or made better choices. But they hadn’t been in Jason’s position. Hadn’t lived through the shit Jason had, hadn’t died and somehow been brought back to life. So why did they get to villainize him for how he handled it? 

“Bruce does.” The words just slipped out, and he couldn’t help but glance over toward Selina, waiting for a reprimand, but it didn’t come. 

“Bruce is Bruce and he will always think he’s right about everything.” She rolled her eyes, a thread of anger running through her words. “But he didn’t grow up like we did.”

“Does he know?” Jason couldn’t help but ask, “that you helped me that night?”

She was quiet for a while, gazing out toward the city's horizon, before she turned her jade colored eyes back to him, reaching out to tug at the edge of his domino. Jason sighed, and  peeled the mask off of his face. He watched as her brows pulled together. He knew what she was seeing, the green tinged circle that now appeared around his irises, mixing with his blue eyes, turning them into a teal. A gift from the Pit; that and the white streak that sat at the forefront of his bangs, making sure that his trauma was at the forefront of his appearance from now on. Lucky for him, at least the majority of his scars had been wiped clean when he had been dumped in the acidic green sludge. 

“You know you scared me half to death when you showed up that night.” 

Jason snorted, running a hand through his hair, feeling exposed without his domino on. “Yeah, seeing a dead bird alive and bleeding out in your living room probably wasn’t what you had expected.”

Selina frowned. “No, it wasn’t.” The silence lingered for a moment. “You know I’m not one for sentimentality, but when you-”

“Don’t.” Jason cut her off, clenching his jaw. The last thing he fucking wanted was to talk about his death. 

Selina sighed, “por lo menos dime porque volvistes.” 

Jason let his head hang back and let out a harsh breath, “I don’t know.” 

She quirked a brow. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know! I don’t know why I came back.” Jason reached up and ran a hand through his hair, stopping midway and letting his fingers tug on the curls at the top of his head. He had told himself it was because he needed to make sure the Alley didn’t forget about him, so that crime didn’t rise there once again in his absence. Maybe it really was Gotham. The city having seeped itself into the marrow of his bones the moment he was born. Hell, did Joker venom or scarecrow toxin have a withdrawal effect he didn’t know about?

Selina watched him, lips pressed tightly together. “It’s not like you to not have a plan.” 

For the first time in years, Jason felt adrift. 

He didn’t know why he was back in Gotham, he didn’t know what he was doing. Not really, not anymore. When he had first arrived he had had a plan. Lure Batman to the apartment while disrupting the drug trade in the Alley and kill the Joker. But that had all gone up in smoke, or well in a fiery blaze. So now, what was he supposed to do? And fuck Jason hated not having a plan. Hated not knowing what came next. The bats could sit there and think he was volatile and impulsive and reckless but he wasn’t. He was careful, strategic, he had months of work planned out and Bruce had ruined it all by just not fucking doing what he was supposed to do. Jason had prepared for either outcome, had meticulously set up the explosions, the words he would say, everything, and Bruce had gone and ruined it all with a batarang to the neck. 

“Jason,” Selina’s voice tugged him back and he hated the pity he heard in it. Hated the look she was giving him as if he was some cornered wild animal. Hated how everyone knew he was broken. 

“Why are you here?” He shot back. “You’re not my mom, or my mentor, or anything, so why do you care what I do?”

Her eyes hardened, her face wiping itself free of all the emotion she had just shared with him, and Jason felt his chest tighten at the sight. “I told you. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well I’m fine,” he snapped. “Fucking peachy actually so you can go and fuck off and tell Bruce to stop sending people to watch me.” He knew he wasn’t being fair. Knew that Selina had been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t spoken to Bruce, but he didn’t care. He needed her to leave. 

She wasted no time in standing up and putting her goggles back on, hiding her eyes, burying her kindness and replacing it with a sharp charm. Selina was quietly put away and Catwoman stretched her arms over her head, hips swaying, the end of her rolled up whip moving with her like a tail. 

She stood at the corner of the building and turned to face Jason again. “You know, some things are easier if you have friends, Jason.”

He watched her leap to the next roof and disappear into the dark. Pressing his palms to his eyes he tried to breathe, trying to ease the green that had begun to appear at the edge of his vision. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the com that Tim had left him and rolled it between his fingers. He should just destroy it, then pack his shit up and head back to the island with Roy. 

His fingers shook. Just fucking do it, what the fuck is wrong with you, just crush the stupid thing. 

But he couldn’t. 

Tucking it back into his pocket, he stood and placed his domino back on before grabbing his helmet.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Why the fuck had he come back?

Notes:

Translation:
"Hunting a little birdie that flew too far from the nest."
Chiquitin= nickname equal to kiddo.
jefa= boss (feminine)

"Don't lie, tell me what you're thinking"
"Have you spoken to him?"
"I don't want to talk about Bruce."
"Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"at least tell me why you came back."

I've always like the idea that Selina and Jason were close while he was Robin, that she became a bit of a comfort to him when she was around.

Thanks for reading!

If you have thoughts, questions, concerns or just want to say hi, drop a comment. It really helps to keep me pumping out chapters!

Chapter 7: What the Hell Am I?

Notes:

I believe I now know how long this fic will be. I am hoping to keep it relatively short and do-able especially since this is part one of a series and I have already started working on the sequel.

This chapter ran away from me a bit, but I hope you like it!

A song that kind of helped inspire this chapter is Indigo by Sam Barber and Avery Anna

In a surprising turn of events, to absolutely no one, Jason had not, in fact, found the kid that night. He had stopped a mugging here and there, but the Alley had been unusually quiet, and that made his skin itch. Something big was bound to happen and he felt as if he was waiting for the inevitable bomb to go off. 

Ha.

 Selina’s interruption the night before had left him angry and raw, unable to concentrate on anything except for the fucking look she had given him before he’d gone and lost his temper. This morning wasn’t much better. He felt the short fuse burning away as he laced his boots. 

He was putting on his jacket when the phone rang. The phone he had taken off of the guy from the warehouse was there, sitting on his laminate countertop, but the ringing wasn’t coming from there. Following the sound, he snatched his personal phone from the edge of the couch. 

“What?” Jason snapped into the receiver. 

“Well hello to you too Jaybird,” Roy’s voice sounded on the other end. “You didn’t call me last night.” 

Jason let his head fall back as he stared at the water stained ceiling. He hadn’t called because he hadn’t wanted to talk. Still didn’t. “What do you want, Roy?”

“Does a guy have to have a reason to call his best friend?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jason let out a long breath. “He does when said friend is busy.” He was so not in the mood for this. 

“Ah, still haven’t figured out who’s dealing out the drugs?”

Jason began to pace. “No.”

There was a pause. “You sound more annoyed than usual, did something happen last night?”

Jason debated telling Roy about Selina. About how she had approached him and how he’d nearly bitten her head off when he had seen the pitting look on her face. “Just want to catch the guy is all.” God, when had he become such a liar?

“Okayyy then.” 

Jason could almost see Roy roll his eyes and he felt the heat in his stomach rise, making his skin hot and his vision green. “What do you want, Harper?” 

“Jeez, you know what? I’ll catch you later Ja-” 

Jason didn’t even wait for the rest of the sentence before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the couch. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair. Anger had a way of holding onto him like a vise. There had been multiple times in the last year where he would’ve blamed the Pit, but Jason knew that this was a quality he’d had since before his death. Rage had carved a spot out inside of him and squatted, waiting for its chance to raise its head and snap or shoot at anyone in the vicinity. It was a cruel twist of fate that where he used to see red, now all he saw was green. 

He fucking hated the color green. 

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he glanced over at the phone he’d tossed on the couch. It wouldn’t surprise him if Roy randomly showed up to his apartment with a bag in hand just to yell at Jason for being an ass. I’ll apologize to Roy later , he promised before grabbing his helmet and sliding out of the window. 

The night air tugged on his curls and he blew a white strand out of his eyes as he climbed the fire escape up to the roof. He would have to get a haircut soon before it became a nuisance. Placing his helmet onto his head, he tapped the buttons on the side, turning it on and activating his failsafe. 

Standing on the edge of his apartment's roof, he glanced down at the modest five story height. Nothing too crazy. He took a few steps back, going for a running start, his right foot pushing off the edge of the roof launching him into the empty air. His heart pounded, sticking in his throat, as the feeling of weightlessness overtook him before gravity caught up, pulled, and yanked him down, down. He was plunging back toward the ground, the asphalt coming closer and closer into view before he shot off his grappling hook, dipping low before the rope reversed, the pull flinging him up high. 

He’d ever get used to it. To the rush that swinging from roof to roof gave him. 

Flipping backwards in a move that would’ve made Nightwing smile, Jason spread his arms wide, air rushed up at him, opening his jacket, and he almost felt as if he had his yellow cape on once more. He missed soaring through the city. Had spent so many years with the League, his feet planted firmly on the ground, that when he had returned to Gotham he worried that he wouldn’t remember how to fall, that he’d forget when he should shoot out his hook and when to disengage. It turned out that he needn’t have worried. Flitting through Gotham buildings was etched into his core, once he’d learned, he could never forget. 

He hit one of the rooftops hard and rolled with the movement, letting it carry him back to his feet as he pushed himself forward. The ache in his legs tugging a smile onto his lips. The rage from earlier dulling, the green fading so he could see the light of the city ahead of him. There was nothing like it in the world. The smog and heat of the day fading into a fog that made the sharp white lights glow. 

Reaching the end of the roof he leapt, trusting his body as he dove into the empty space between the buildings before once again releasing the grapple. He waited until the perfect moment to disengage, a laugh bubbled up in his chest, and as he released and flew once more, he couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold the feeling in any longer. 

“WHOO HOO!” He yelled loudly, chasing it with giddy laughter, as he arched high, somersaulting through the air, his muscles straining with the pull of gravity. He let himself fall, let himself feel that dangerous swoop in his stomach before once again shooting out the grapple at the last minute, his jacket scraping the ground as he was pulled upward again, laughing as he did so. 

Batman had hated when he did that, had snapped and bitched at him about how reckless it was. But what was a kid to do when he realized he could fly?

Jason couldn’t help his grin, couldn’t help remembering how donning the green underwear and cape had made him feel like he could take on anything, like he was a blazing star in the dreary dark of this city. Being Robin had been everything, had been his whole world, had made him feel like, well like magic . 

The thought slammed into him so hard that he nearly let go of the grappling gun. 

Quickly disengaging he landed in a crash and roll on a wooden scaffolding on the side of a rundown building. Shaking his head, he rolled his shoulders and wrists. He was good, he was fine. Standing up, he glanced at the windows he was standing in front of, his reflection staring back at him. The faceless, emotionless mask of the Red Hood, he had picked the mask not just to intrigue Joker, but because it hid his expressions, the ones Bruce had always claimed were too easy to read and exploit. 

Reaching out a hand, he placed it against the surface. What would his younger self think of him now? That kid that had smiled and kicked ass beside Batman. The one that had seen the violence and corruption on the streets long before he had put on the cape? The one that had flown through the Gotham skyline, feeling as if he had finally found his calling. The kid that looked at the Bat as if he hung the stars. Jason could almost see his younger self looking up at him with a disappointed scowl.

“ This is what we become ?” He’d ask. 

What was Jason supposed to say to that? How was he supposed to explain to that kid that he didn’t have a choice, that he was sick and tired of waiting for someone to give a shit about him. Tired of waiting for someone to do what needed to be done.

“Maybe, we were better off dead.” He’d hiss.

Yeah, maybe.

Curling his hands into fists he resisted the urge to punch at the glass. To shatter his reflection. Fuck what was wrong with him? He couldn’t even allow himself to enjoy a swing through the city without feeling what? Guilty? Angry? Fucking disappointed in himself? He wasn’t that kid anymore, that kid died, and with him so did all those ideals of grandeur and the illusion of being a fucking hero. The world had enough heroes, and even they hadn’t been able to stop the Joker from beating the shit out of him and then blowing him up. 

And sure, Jason didn’t see himself as a villain, but he sure as all hell wasn’t a fucking hero. So, what the hell was he?

Pulling away from his reflection he turned away, aiming the grapple and letting it fly. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t sit and contemplate why he was alive. All of these feelings festered inside of his body like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It’s what fed his rage, what fed the Pit even on good days. He didn’t want to look closer, didn’t want to see what would come up. Just knew he wouldn’t like it. It was better to bury it, leave all of that six feet under. 

The sound of arguing pulled his attention and he quickly settled back into his body. 

Get it together Todd. 

Pushing the memory of his younger self down, he rolled his neck and let the burden of his past fall from his shoulders as he landed on a flat concrete rooftop, his steps silent thanks to his boots. 

“What part of ‘get lost’ don't you understand?” A woman's voice sounded. Jason narrowed his eyes, he was pretty sure that was Joy. 

“I just want to know where he is.” Fuck, that was Tim. Great. 

“Do we look like snitches to you?” Yep, and that was definitely Joy. Jason glanced down from the edge of the roof, watching as she glared at Tim with her hands on her hips. Her afro had been braided down, red intermingled between her dark strands. 

Tim held his hands up placatingly. “I’m not planning on arresting him or anything.”

“Bats aren’t wanted here kid,” Joy advanced on him, “haven’t you gotten the memo?”

Alright, maybe he should cut the kid a break. Jason dropped from the rooftop, landing on a dumpster loudly, making all three of them jump, and he couldn’t help the tug of a smirk, knowing he caught his replacement off guard. “You better have a good reason for being here R. Birdies don’t do well in the Alley.” 

“El chico te estaba buscando.” Estella supplied, crossing her arms over her chest, her own glare leveled at Tim. 

“Said he was a friend.” Joy mimicked Estella’s stance, and damn did they look like a force to be reckoned with. Jason couldn’t help but feel a little mushy seeing them there, refusing to tell Tim anything. 

“I am a friend!” Tim snapped back. “Tell ‘em.” He turned to Jason, his voice almost falling to a whine. 

Jason arched a brow they couldn’t see. “You wish. Now what are you doing here?” 

Tim glanced at the women and then back at Jason, tilting his head in a very Nightwingish move. “I have that info you wanted.” 

Jason continued to stare at him for a moment longer, silently relishing the looks of suspicion that Joy and Estella had on his behalf. “And you couldn't pick up a phone?”

“That would require having your number.” It was Tim’s turn to cross his arms over his chest. 

Jason smiled and then huffed for show. “Fine, let’s talk.” Pulling out his grappling gun, he shot it toward the apartment building that overlooked Joy and Estella’s corner. Tim quickly followed suit. 

“What the hell was that?” Tim asked. 

“What the hell was what?” Jason asked, playing dumb. 

“Are you like...” Tim glanced down at the girls and then back at Jason, moving his head from side to side. 

Jason's smile vanished. “If you’re asking if I’m their pimp I’m going to shoot you.”

“Okay,” He tilted his head again, “then what are they to the Red Hood?”

Jason glanced down at the girls, who were whispering to themselves. Shrugging, he turned back to Tim. “Acquaintances.”

“They seemed awfully protective to be acquaintances.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Jason snapped, sick and tired of playing Tim’s twenty-one  questions. “The Alley looks after itself; they don’t go around telling others everybody's business.” Jason shook his head. “You should know that though, the Alley has always distrusted the bats, even before I came along.”

Tim hummed, and he would bet money that the kid had his eyes narrowed at him right now. Fucking Christ they were all paranoid shitheads. 

“Now, you got info for me or were you just sayin that to get me alone?”

Tim pressed his lips together. “I did try to contact you through the com you know, I didn’t just show up here as a first choice.”

Jason felt a twinge of guilt at that. “Oh.”

“Anyway, all the tests came back pretty normal, nothing that would pinpoint any one dealer or anything.” 

“So you didn’t actually have any information.” Jason once again crossed his arms over his chest. 

Tim placed his hands on his hips and shrugged. “Well, I figured we could spread out, maybe check some places outside of the Alley.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust that B will stay away?”

Tim glanced off. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

Jason scoffed. Right. “Just go away, I’ll figure this out myself.” He didn’t wait for Tim to reply, just dropped back down to where Estella and Joy were still muttering to each other. 

 “What was that about?” Estella asked as they turned to face him. 

“Yeah, since when do you run with Birds, Hood?”

“I don’t.” His mechanized voice sounded harsh, and he aimed to lighten the mood. “The kids just attached himself to me or something.” Which wasn’t a lie. 

Joy snorted. “Must be your stunning personality.”

 “Hey, fuck you, I happen to have charm when I want to.” He was grinning now. 

“Si tu lo decis, Rojo.” Estella mocked, looking skeptical. 

“I mean, it can’t be your good looks, ain’t no one knows what’s under the mysterious red hood.” 

“Damn right, and they ain’t gonna.”

The women snickered. “You just come by to shoot the shit or you got work related stuff to ask?” That’s what Jason loved about Joy. Her no nonsense attitude. Estella could flirt with the best of ‘em, but Joy was all business. 

“I did come for some answers.”

“Well you know we got ‘em baby, what can we do for you?” She flashed him a sweet smile before jutting out a hip. 

“I found the distributor who was selling to the kids in that warehouse, but I wanted to know if you knew where some of the homeless kids were staying.”

Estella and Joy glanced at each other, seeming to have a quick conversation without saying a word. Finally Joy responded. “You scared the kids are in trouble or somethin’?” 

“I think that the distributor said he was missing money from some of the kids he’d given the drugs to. So either we got a bunch of shithead dealers looking for their money, or worse we got kids that are using.”

“You won’t like-”

“You know I ain’t no snitch, especially when it comes to kids. I plan on handling this on my own, plus winter is around the corner and I know how cold it fucking gets out here.” Gotham mid-winter was a hellscape when you were living on the streets, especially when it snowed. 

The girls looked at each other again before nodding. “There’s a small group of them that have been lookin out for each other.” Estella said. 

“They’ve managed to find a crawl space that leads into the basement of Monarch Theatre.” 

Thank god for the mask that hid his surprise. “No shit.” Jason hummed. That was pretty ballsy for a handful of kids, but damn if it wasn’t a good spot to squat in. “I’ll check it out.” Jason pulled out some cash and handed it over to them both. 

“You take care of those kids, Hood.” Joy nodded toward him, pocketing the bills. 

“Make sure they’re safe.” Estella took a step forward and gave a peck the chrome helmet where his cheek would’ve been. “Cuidate.” 

Jason nodded to them both before he grappled back up to the roof to find that Tim was still there. 

“I thought I told you to leave.”

Tim didn’t say anything, but he could feel his eyes on him, and that made Jason a little jumpy. What was up with the kid hanging around anyway? “What?”

He shrugged, “you’re good with them.”

“Thanks?” Weird. “Anyway, I got a lead, so you can scram.” Jason was walking to the other side of the roof, mentally mapping out how to best get to the theatre from here. It wasn’t far. 

“It’s fine, I’ll go with, I don’t have anywhere to be anyway.”

Jason highly doubted that. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I know, but I just figured-”

He turned on Tim, “Then why are you here?” His patience was threadbare. He didn’t need some fucking kid stalking his every move. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah,” He let the word hang. “but I figured I could use this to, I don’t know, get to know you?” and what the fuck did that mean? 

“Why? Why do you even care?” And wasn’t that the exact same thing he had asked Selina? Hadn’t he also demanded to know why she gave a shit about him?

Tim however, didn’t seem offended by the questions. “I don’t know, I guess, I don’t think you’re actually that bad.”

Jason didn’t know how to respond to that, except to call Tim out. “You were about to ask me if I was a pimp to Joy and Estella, and you were surprised that I wasn’t going to kill a kid, so sorry if I don’t believe you.”

“I wasn’t surprised you weren’t going to kill the kid, I was double checking, there is a difference.”

“Same difference. You still thought I might!”

“I was seeing what you would say!” Tim threw his hands up in the air. “I get a lot of contradictory information from B and what I’ve read up on you okay? I just want to make sure.”

“Read up on me?” He what the fuck was this kid up to? “Have you been stalking me or somethin’?”

“Investigating is not stalking.”

“It’s just a fancy word for stalking.” Jason crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Look, B has his issues, and his biases, he thinks you should be taken down.”

“Oh and you don’t?” Jason’s hands immediately fell to the gun at his thigh. If this had all been a set up to turn Jason in, if Bats was about to fall from the sky, then he was going to give as good as he got. 

“I don’t.” Tim had his hands up, palms forward toward Jason. “You’re scary sure, you’ve killed, not ideal. But you’ve been good for the Alley, crime has dropped and the people here like you.” Tim glanced down to Estella and Joy as if to offer them as an example. “I mean they would never talk to me or Batman about anything.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Jason still kept his hand on his gun. 

“Meanwhile, not only did they willingly offer you information. They also had your back, Batman hasn’t been able to manage shit like that here.”

Jason waited, watching as Tim continued to keep his hands up, and no Bat appeared from the darkness. After removing his hand from his gun, Tim dropped his own hands. “That’s cause B is too busy looking at the city from up high.”

“And you aren’t?”

“No, I’m not.” Jason shook his head. “He’s so busy dealing with megalomaniacs and psychopaths that he doesn’t see the small shit that’s happening in the dark corners. The real villains that regular people deal with day in and day out.” It was another flaw in Batman’s long list of flaws. He was so worried about the Rogues that cycled through Arkham Asylum like a rotating door in an office building, that he didn’t have time to look out for the small shit that went down in Gotham. Sure the Wayne Foundation brought in millions of dollars, but they were tied up in regulations and votes and politicking that the projects rarely benefited the communities that needed it the most.

“Like what?” Tim sounded genuinely curious. 

Jason rolled his eyes, and these were the heroes people depended on. Didn’t have a fucking clue. “Like hunger, addiction, homelessness.” 

Tim tilted his head. “Prostitution?”

Jason shrugged. “People do what they have to when they’re desperate.” 

Tim stared at Jason for a long while. He forced himself to not move, to not shift his weight with the unease. He opted to break the silence instead, “so, are you going to leave or follow me anyway.”

Tim shrugged. “Probably follow you anyway.”

Wonderful. 

Jason didn’t wait for Tim, just moved from roof to roof, headed straight for the theatre. The kid was good though, and kept pace with him without much of an issue. 

It wasn’t until Jason landed on the roof of the Monarch that Tim finally spoke again. “You really think kids are squatting here?”

“It’s big, it’s warm, probably has costumes and shit they can snatch up.”

“It’s where B’s parents died.” Tim frowned, as scanned the alley behind the theatre. 

Jason couldn’t help but follow his line of sight. His memory tugged on a different event. He pointed to another spot in the Alley, “And that’s where I stole the wheels off the batmobile.”

Tim smiled. “I still can’t believe you did that.” 

“B told you about it?” A part of him couldn’t help but feel warm at the thought of Bruce sharing stories of him with Tim. He had just assumed he would have just acted as if Jason never existed. 

“Nah, Dick told me.” Ah. That made more sense, of course dickhead would share with Tim. “Said he was impressed when he heard. I’m not surprised though, that that was B’s deciding factor to take you in.”

He tried not to think about the fact that Bruce hadn’t told Tim the story. That he might not have told Tim anything about him. He probably hadn’t wanted to talk about his failure of a Robin. Swallowing down the green that had begun to seep into the edge of his vision again, he forced himself to speak. “I actually think he decided to take me in after I hit him with the tire iron.” 

“You what?” Tim’s voice rose two octaves. 

And that had Jason smiling. “Well yeah, I wasn’t about to let him snatch me up, I didn’t know what he would do to me.” Jason shrugged. “So I swung as hard as I could and booked it out of there.” Jason turned to see Tim staring at him, mouth slightly agape. “Close your mouth, you look like a fish.”

Tim shook his head, chuckling. “Incredible.” 

They fell into silence after that. Each of them maneuvering around the roof looking down and around the different entrances. The theatre was big, and had been deserted for a long time. The Joker and other Rogues loved to use it as a staging house to lure Batman in. The fact that these kids had decided to use it to squat in, proved how young they were, or how utterly desperate they were. 

“I don’t know if-” Tim had just started when Jason spotted the same kid from the warehouse. He made a sign for Tim to get low and be quiet. Lucky for him, there was no arguing. 

Jason followed the kid as he wandered down the alley, checking over his shoulder a couple of times, the same holes in his light grey hoodie as before. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  

Opting for being dramatic, Jason climbed down a little before dropping down in front of the kid in true vigilante fashion. “Well look what we have here.” 

The kid jumped a foot in the air and a muttered “shit” escaped him as he dropped the cigarette and turned to run. Staying in theme, Timbo glided down and blocked the kids only remaining exit. “Look man, I didn’t do anything I-”

“We’re not looking to arrest you kid, I just want to know where the drugs are coming from.”

The kid shook his head, eyeing him up and down. “How the fuck should I know? I don’t do that shit.”

Jason tilted his head. “You’re really gonna go with lyin’?” 

“We saw you at the warehouse.” Tim added, and the teen quickly turned so that his back was facing the wall and not leaving himself open to either of them. Smart. 

“Look man, the guy you took down, he had found me, told me I could make a few bucks if I sold some of his shit, I don’t know anything else.” The kid was young, probably fifteen or so, greasy dark hair was half hidden under his hoodie. Hell, he reminded Jason so much of himself at that age that he was sure that if Bruce took a look at him, he’d have shoved the adoption papers at the kid without a second thought. 

“He was the only person you ever saw there?” Jason pressed. 

The kid glanced toward Tim, shifting his stance. 

“Come on kid, I’m just trying to help.” 

He scoffed, fixing his gaze back on the Red Hood. “What the fuck you gonna do to help?”

Jason rolled his eyes. He couldn’t blame the kid for being cautious, couldn’t fault him for being so distrustful, and honestly? It was probably best if he stayed that way. No one would fuck with him, but currently, it was getting in the way of Red Hood business, and that annoyed Jason. Still, if he wanted to help the kid and any others that might be around, they needed to trust him. 

And trust was not an easy commodity to come by in Crime Alley. 

Sighing, Jason admitted defeat. “Just let me know if you or the others need anything. I know winter is still a bit away but-”

“Who said there were others?” The kid jutted out his chin as he spoke. 

Jason just stares at him, lips twitching into a smile.

After a minute the kid shifted from one food to the other, his eyes moving from Hood to Red Robin, who had stayed ominously quiet. 

“You ain't gonna call the cops?” he asked, a fearful edge to his voice. 

“Why, so you can end up in the foster system?” Jason shakes his head. “Nah kid.”

The kid once again looked him up and down, then over at RR. “Since when does the Red Hood hang around bats?” Deflect and redirect. 

“I don’t, but help is help, and I want to catch that drug dealer.” 

Kid narrowed his eyes, and fuck if Jason didn’t get it. He had been so hesitant to trust Batman as a kid too. Hell he grew up and still didn’t trust any of the fuckers. 

Jason sighed again. “Look kid.” he shuffled in his pocket for a minute, before pulling out a piece of scrap paper with a number on it, and extending it out to the kid. They were getting nowhere. “If you need anything, just call me.” 

He looks down at it and then back up at Hood, tilting his head. “My name is Riley, not kid.” He snatches the paper from Hood’s hand and then just stands there. 

Jason nods. “Alright then Riley, I’ll be around.” Jason nudged his head as a sign for RR to follow. Taking a step back he shot the grapple out, and was off onto the next roof over. Watching as the kid stood there a second longer, craning his neck to see if he could spot them. 

Smart Riley, good on you.

* * *

Tim could tell that Jason was still watching the kid from this distance, whether to figure out what entrance they used to get in, or to just make sure the kid made it into the theatre safe. It was a toss up, but from what he had seen tonight, Tim would bet money on it being the latter. 

“Why not just follow him to where the others are?” He couldn’t help but ask. Tim thought he knew the answer already, but it’s like he had told Jason earlier, he wanted to check his facts. 

“Because he won’t trust us,” Was Jason’s cool reply, and Tim filed it away with the rest of the data he was gathering. Trust was a big deal to Jason it seemed, probably fragile too.

“Shouldn’t we try to contact social services or something?” Again, he was fishing. He would cross-reference everything he gathered with the notes Bruce had about Jason’s upbringing. He’d already gone through them what felt like a million times, but Tim had the nudging feeling something was missing. Or at the very least, incomplete. 

Jason snorted, or that at least what Tim attributed to the noise that came out of the modulator. “Most of those kids have probably fled from their foster homes, if we turn them in we could be putting them in dangerous situations.”

Tim is silent for a moment. “Is that what happened to you?” 

Jason stopped. Then turned to glare at Tim. “I’m not answering that.” 

He narrowed his eyes, Jason’s shoulders were tight, but he was trying to act unbothered and Tim couldn’t help it. “You were on the streets for a while weren’t you?” Not new info, Bruce had cataloged as much. “It’s why you care so much about helping those kids, even if it has nothing to do with the dealers.”

Jason shrugged.

Tim thought about the women on the corner. About the timing in which Jason had barged in on the distributor. “And that talk earlier, about needing to do what you had to,” Tim watched as Jason tensed, “about being desperate.” 

Jason moved like a flash, shoving Tim into the roof access door. His head bounced off the metal, and Tim’s eyes widened, hands scrambling as Jason held him pinned by his throat, the light glinting off of the red chromed faceless helmet. Suddenly all the footage he’d seen of Hood and Nightwing fighting, all the contingency plans he had made, all of his sure fire ways to beat Hood if it came down to it, meant nothing. Jason had been holding back. Even fighting Batman, he’d been holding back.

Jason leaned in, pinning his shoulders into the door behind him too, fingers digging into his throat making it harder to breathe. “Don’t you ever fucking bring that up, do you understand?” Tim grabbed at his wrist, trying to tug it away, but Jason squeezed harder. “I fucking mean it.”

Tim nodded, or tried to, hands still trying to pry Jason’s hands off of him. “Okay, yeah, my bad.”

The voice modulator made a grating sound and for a moment. For one moment Tim was unsure if Jason was going to let go, or if he was going to actually snap his neck and call it a day. Boy had Tim miscalculated. If he died like this Damian would never let him live it down. 

Finally, Hood shoved him away. Tim let the door at his back keep him up as he inhaled a deep breath, hand going to his throat. He prayed Hood hadn’t left marks. As he gathered himself enough to snap at Jason, he could see his silhouette swinging to the next rooftop. He debated chasing after him. He should apologize or make him apologize. Or whatever it was you were supposed to do when your now back from the dead, kind of related through adoption, older brother, who obviously had a past he didn’t want to talk about, threatened you.

They were so fucked up.

It was probably best not to chase after Hood until Tim figured out what he was going to do next. At least what he was going to say.

“Red,” Oracle's voice sounded from his com. “You okay?” 

Fuck, had she caught the tail end of that? “Fine.”

“Batman is wondering where you are.” 

“Crime Alley.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “I’m not telling him that.”

“I’m gonna do a round in East End then head back to the cave.” He needed time to come up with a new plan of attack anyway.

“Sounds good.” 

Tim continued to watch the direction in which Jason had left. Had B known about what Jason had done those years on the streets? Had he guessed or had he just ignored the signs? Or worse, had Jason hidden it well enough that Bruce just never caught on?

This threw a wrench in his plans that was for sure. He’d have to adjust the timeline a bit, but Tim was sure that with more research, with time, and with a little brute force he’d be able to wiggle Jason back into the family. One way or another. 

Bruce couldn't lose him again. None of them could.

Notes:

Translation:
"The kid was looking for you."
"If you say so, Red."
"Take care/ Be safe."

So for those of you that have read Red Hood and the Outlaws: Rebirth, you might have noticed I couldn't help to use some of the dialogue of when Jason see's his younger version. I've always thought of it as such a heartbreaking scene and well, it just came naturally in this instance.

Aside from that things should start to pick up action wise- soonish promise.
Thanks for reading and if you can leave your thoughts or comments, I love to see what you guys think.

Chapter 8: Everything is Falling Apart at Once

Notes:

Hello everyone, sorry for the late update, work has been super hectic this week.
But hopefully I can make it up to you by giving you a long chapter!
I've already started writing the next chapter and so hopefully I'll get that out pretty soon as well.

Tim had been up all night, combing through the records over and over and over again. It was different than when he had been looking through the footage. That had been purely selfish, wanting to see how Hood moved, how he thought in a fight, trying to make contingencies in case his plan to bring him into the family fold failed. This time, well this time, Tim needed to know what his motivations were, as well as trying to figure out how to go about befriending him without causing a repeat of last night. 

In short, trying to figure out what would trigger the Red Hood, as well as why he was in Gotham in the first place. 

He tried going back to the basics, back to reading through his old Robin reports, and some from when the Red Hood had first made his appearance. Tim cross referenced his information, seeing how Jason had a hard time pulling his punches on rapists and human traffickers while he had been Robin. It matched with how Hood took care of those types of criminals currently. Hell, even the infamous duffel bag fiasco had been on par with his m.o. All of those eight men had been rapists, traffickers, or dealing in child pornography. 

Although Tim agreed with Batman's no kill rule, it was hard to feel particularly bad about those men being dead. 

Not that he would ever tell Bruce that. 

So, it made sense that Jason would want to look out for the kids of the Alley, and the girls that worked the corners. He thought back to how he had let the distributor live as well, telling Tim that the guy was probably just desperate for money. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jason was particularly sympathetic to people in the crime business just to feed their families. From what Tim remembered Jason’s father had been working for two-face to provide for him and his mom after all. Would that mean that Jason would be open to getting help from the Wayne Foundation or Drake Industries if Tim could come up with a good enough proposal? Maybe that could be a way that Tim lured him to the manor, and got him to work with them, by funding some passion projects that Jason could oversee. 

Tim sighed. He was getting ahead of himself. 

First things first. Why was Jason back in Gotham? What was his goal?

Jason had obviously had a very specific purpose when coming back to Gotham the last time. Tim couldn’t help but be impressed, not that he hadn’t known that Jason was hella smart, but Hood had methodically planned almost every step of his rise as a crime lord. Every interaction he had with Batman and Nightwing had an air of drama and calculativeness that was no doubt why Bruce had thought Hood was out to get him. It was very different from this time. Where it seemed that Jason hadn’t planned for anything. Or if he had, he’d had to abandon that plan and try something else. Tim couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

There was, however, one thing that kept nagging at him. It was the report from the apartment explosion over a year ago, where Jason had confronted Bruce. Tim had wanted to see the footage, to hear word for word what Jason had said to B, but it had cut out while they were fighting at the top of the cathedral. Something about the report was off. Bruce was normally meticulous, reports could be long, like, novel length long, but this one- he shook his head. He didn’t know if it was due to Bruce’s compromised state when faced with the reality that Jason was alive, not that he’d ever admit to it, or if Tim was just being paranoid. 

He looked over it again, that same nudging feeling tugging at him. Sighing, he scrolled back to the top of the report to comb through it again. 

“You’re doing a lot of Bruce level sighs, everything okay?” Tim wasn’t surprised at Dick’s appearance, or worry, he had decided to stay in Gotham for a while, to ‘help the family’ he had said. Tim was positive it had more to do with being able to eat Alfred's cooking more than wanting to help Bruce, who he avoided like the plague. The possibility of seeing Jason was also probably high on his list. 

“Just looking through these old reports.” Tim could feel Dick behind him, reading over his shoulder. 

“Again? Haven’t you read this like a dozen times already?”

Tim sighed again, reaching for his third cup of coffee, his eyes burned slightly. Damn, he really was turning into Bruce. 

“How long have you been down here?” Dick asked, as if to reiterate his earlier point. 

“It doesn’t matter, look. Something just doesn’t add up here.” He waved his hand toward the screen. 

“Like what?”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Then he thought back to his encounter with Jason on the roof. Swiveling in his chair he looked up at Dick. “What do you know about Jason’s past?”

“His past?”

“Yeah, you know before he became Robin, or even after that.”

Dick frowned. “I-” He shook his head. “Not much, I mean, he and I went out a couple of times to eat or patrol but, I mean, I didn’t-” Dick let the sentence fall off as he glanced over to the case that held Jason’s tattered and bloodied Robin suit. Tim was all too aware of Dick’s guilt when it came to Jason. It had been quite the sore spot for him as Tim was becoming Robin. 

Tim decided to let Dick off the hook, “I’m trying to figure out why he came back, what’s his end goal. Is he staying, is he looking for something?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Dick shrugged a shoulder. “He came back to kill Joker.”

Tim shook his head. “Then why not break into Arkham, shoot him, and make a break for it?”

“Maybe he wants to lure B into another trap?”

“No, I don’t think so, he’s been focusing more on the small crime in the Alley. Like he’s cleaning house.”

“You think he plans to stay.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s the point.”

“Well, how can I help?”

Tim thought for a moment, scrolling through the report as he did so. Well, now that Dick was here… “What are your thoughts about what happened in that apartment a year ago?”

Dick leaned in closer, scanning the screen intently now. “You think B missed something?”

“No.” Tim wondered if he should tell him. Dick might have his issues with Bruce, but at the end of the day he trusted B. Not that Tim didn’t, just- fuck it. “I wonder if B didn’t report everything that happened.”

Dicks brows shot up as he glanced over at Tim. “That’s a pretty big accusation Tim.”

“Oh come on Dick.” He waved toward the screen. “You’ve read the report. With how everything went down, didn’t you expect it to be longer? For B to have recited every single thing Jason said to him in that room?” He scrolled back to the paragraph in which Bruce had described how Jason had tossed a gun to him, telling him to choose to either kill him or kill the Joker. “Tell me that you don’t feel as if something is missing.” 

Bruce had described the fight in the Alley and on top of the cathedral in agonizing detail. Down to what the air smelled like, and how he noticed that a scar Jason had had on his jaw from his Robin days had miraculously been erased, probably due to the Pit. Bruce talked about the way Jason fought, how it was all power and anger mixed in with thought out precise hits where he knew Bruce would be weak, either from a previous injury or just faults in the Bat suit. He wrote out the things Jason had said that got a rise out of him during the fight, keeping him distracted and one step behind. The man had even recorded the type of sole Jason’s boot had, for crying out loud. 

Then once you get to the apartment. It’s all broad statements. 

Jason had led me into an abandoned apartment, pulling the Joker out from a closet and pointing a gun to his head. Stating that I was to make a choice, it was him, or the Joker. I decided not to play in to his game. Decided that there had to be a third option. Turning my back on him, I knew it would cause an emotional reaction, knew his anger would overpower his rational thinking, and used that to my advantage. Throwing a batarang, I was able to disarm him before he could get a second shot off. Unfortunately, he had planned for something to go awry, and set off an explosion, using it as cover to disappear while I dug Joker out of the rubble. 

Dick hummed. 

“Tell me it’s not suspicious.”

“Maybe there wasn’t much to it.”

Tim stared up at his older brother. “Dick. He didn’t even write down what specifically Jason said.”

“The cowl footage-”

“Stopped recording after the cathedral.”

Dick frowned. 

“Dude, that’s what I’m saying. It’s weird.”

“So maybe Jason said something that really hurt B?”

“Maybe, but like, that bad that he wouldn’t put it in the report? After everything else he’d said?” Tim looked back at the screen. Maybe, but it felt like more, like something bigger. 

“Why does this matter anyway if you’re trying to find out why he’s here now?” That was a fair question. 

“It might give us a clue.” Tim muttered, rereading the paragraph again. 

“Did something happen the last time you went to see him that has you all-” Dick gestured to all of him. 

Tim bit at the skin of his lip. “Sort of, I just want to know what he’s doing here and he’s not very forthcoming.”

Dick snorted. “Yeah, even as a kid he was pretty tight lipped.” 

“Do you remember anything from that time? Places he would go or what he did before Bruce found him?”

Dick’s brows pulled together. “I know Bruce said he was living on the street when he found him. That his parents were dead.”

Tim nodded, “Yes, I’d read that too, it makes sense as to why he is so protective of the kids in the Alley.”

Dick nodded slowly, “yes, but that’s not what you’re asking for.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, if you tell me what happened, maybe I can be more specific?”

That was the problem now wasn’t it? Tim had a feeling that Jason would be pissed if he told Dick what he figured out last night. Well, more pissed than he was currently anyway. So, Tim couldn’t just tell Dick, but if Dick figured it out on his own? Ugh, but also, did it matter? Sure, it helped Tim piece together more of Jason’s background, so that he could theoretically, know how to help Jason or what to expect from him, but it didn’t help with answering why he was back, did it? 

Tim hated not having all of the pieces of a puzzle, and right now it felt as if he were floundering around with a puzzle that had a huge hole in it, obstructing what the image was supposed to be. How was he supposed to do anything with that?

“Tim, I can see smoke coming out of your ears.” Dick tilted his head. “What’s going on, what happened?”

Clearing his throat, Tim reached up to scratch at the side of his neck, remembering the feel of Jason’s fingers pressing down on his skin. “You know how I’ve been helping Jason with this case right? So-”

“You’ve been what?” Bruce’s voice came from the shadows and a chill slid down Tim’s spine at the tone. Well, then, this was…perfect. Tim turned to Dick, who just pressed his lips into a fine line. Great. Wonderful. 

“Hey B,” Tim was going for nonchalant, but it did not land as Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You knew about this Dick?” Ugh and there was the Batman ‘I am disappointed’ voice. 

Dick grinned sheepishly, “technically?”

“Dick hasn’t been a part of this. I approached Hood on my own a few days ago.”

Bruce turned his gaze toward Tim. “He’s dangerous.”

“So are we.” Tim didn’t even hesitate, having known this argument was going to happen sooner or later. “Besides,” he continued before Bruce could interrupt, "he's doing real good in the Alley.” Tim was quick to minimize the screen he was on and pull up his power point, to show Bruce the graphs. “Not only is violent crime down, but so are petty thefts, and, and-” He pulled up his domino footage of Hood talking with the working girls from yesterday. “The residents trust him, they kept his location from me when I asked, and then you should’ve heard him talk to the kid-”

“What kid?” Dick asked. 

Tim waved the concerned tone away. “He found where some of the homeless Alley kids are squatting, and he wants to help-”

“We need to call CPS.” Dick immediately said.

“No.” Tim shook his head. “He was adamant about not involving social services.” 

“But, the kids, they-”

“No.” Tim insisted. “Jason knows what he’s doing, you think I didn’t ask him all of these questions myself? He was one of the kids right?” He looked at Dick and then Bruce. “Right?”

Dick shifted on his feet, while Bruce nodded hesitantly. 

“So, he knows what they most likely need or how they’ll react if the authorities are called.”

Bruce sighs. “Tim, this is dangerous, we don't know why he’s back, that makes him an unknown variable.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m looking into it.”

“He could hurt you Tim.” Bruce insisted. 

Tim was extremely proud that he didn’t flinch, didn’t even reach up toward his neck. If B found out about the incident from last night it would just be further proof to him that Jason was unstable. No, Tim had to take this to his grave. Or, at least, wait until everyone was on good terms again. 

“He hasn’t hurt me B,” Which, Tim would argue, wasn’t technically a lie. Jason hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t even left bruises. “We’ve already interacted twice, and he was fine.” He shrugged. “I’ve been helping him track down a dealer that’s been selling to kids.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what do you think Hood will do once you find the man responsible?”

Tim did flinch at that. “I’m working on it.”

“You’re-” Bruce let out a long sigh. “Tim,” oh no, not the gentle bad news voice. “Hood, he needs help, he-”

“It’s Jason, B, you can call him by his name you know.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he was being particularly stubborn, even a little cruel, but Bruce would never get anywhere if he kept separating the two. Jason was Hood and Hood was Jason, that had been very clear to Tim from their first meeting. 

As if on cue, Bruce shook his head. “He’s not Jason anymore,” Tim caught the way he glanced toward the glass case and felt a spike of anger at his mentor, his father. 

“It is Jason,” Tim stated. “Sure, things have happened to him since then.” He nodded toward the case. “But it’s still Jason,” Bruce looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Tim continued, “I can prove it.” 

Dick squeezed Tim’s shoulder. “I agree with Tim, Bruce. We should at least try and talk to him, see why he’s back.” 

Bruce’s face fell into the emotionless mask he wore whenever something bothered him. Tim tried hard not to roll his eyes. “If something happens-”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Dick and Tim said simultaneously in a droning tone. 

B narrowed his eyes, then pointed to Dick. “You-”

“Are in charge of all further interactions and will be monitoring Red Robin's meetings with Hood.” Dick did in fact roll his eyes. “I got it B.” 

“Hn.” Was all Bruce had left to say before picking up Tim’s computer and flipping through the PowerPoint.

He watched as Bruce’s lips twitched. 

This had to work. 

* * *

His grip tightened around the kid's throat, Jason could feel Tim’s heart beat against his palm as he pressed down. Hands scrambled up, shoving at his face, blunt nails digging into his cheeks and jaw, trying to go for his eyes, but Jason just ignored them, barreling down harder. He couldn’t let him get away. He had to pay. He had to- Jason blinked. 

Wait, no. No he didn’t want to do this.

 The kid was gasping, making choked wheezing noises, blue eyes wide as they stared up at him. But Jason couldn’t stop. Couldn’t let go.  

“Do this and you’ll be welcomed back.” He knew that voice, had heard it barking out orders and assigning his missions for the past five years. 

Jason glanced around him, looking for the telltale sign of the Leagues green and black robes, but there was no one there. 

“The detective and his kin stand in our way.” It came again, “we must cleanse the world if we are to rebuild.” Jason knew the mantra, knew the mission, but he had never believed it. Not really. 

He shook his head against the order. “No,” his own voice was a whisper. 

“Do it.” It hissed. “Kill him.” 

Jason glanced down at the broken kid under him. Black hair was matted with blood, his eyes bloodshot. His mouth moved, open and shut, trying to get words out but Jason didn’t know what they were meant to be.  “ No.”

“Would you rather end up in a grave once more?” A knife pressed against his throat, and Jason froze. “Nothing but the worms to keep you company?” Jason shook his head, but his grip was falling away. “Fool, you’re useless, better off dead!” Ra’s voice spat in his head as bugs began to crawl up his arms. 

The kids' open, bloated mouth was host to all sorts of insects, now making their way up Jason’s body. Centipedes, ants, and maggots moved across his skin, causing it to itch and burn. They began to dig into him, their sharp pincers tearing at his rotting, melted flesh. He scrambled away from the body underneath him, his fingers scratching at his skin, batting away insects and dirt.

 There was so much dirt. 

Kill him.  

The green edged on the corners of his vision as he tasted the coppery tang of blood and earth on his tongue. 

Kill him or go back into the dirt. 

He couldn’t go back. Couldn’t be shoved back in that box and thrown away. He was here, he was alive and no one was going to bury him again. 

“Jay?” His head snapped up to see the broken bird crawling his way toward him. “Don’t listen to them Jay.” His Robin suit was tattered, the red and black mimicking the bruises and cuts on his skin. 

It’s you or him big guy, who’s it gonna be?

Jason couldn’t go back, wouldn’t. He still had so much to do, still had so much he wanted to see, he couldn’t. 

Taking a step forward he twirled the weapon in his hand. He could end it. Just one bird, what did that matter in the scheme of things right? His death hadn’t stopped the world from turning, neither would his. What was this random Robin’s life to his own? He had already paid the price, maybe this is what every one of them had to go through, the lesson that Batman had to learn so long as he kept putting kids inside of that damn suit. 

And if that was the case, then who was Jason to defy fate? 

“Jay?” The kid asked again. 

Do it. 

The green hissed again, a laugh sounding out in the distance as Jason raised the crowbar over his head. 

“What’s one less bird in the flock?” He heard himself say, a cackle bubbling out from between his lips, as the crowbar came down with a crunch. 

 

Gasping, he bolted from the mattress and onto his feet. Gun in hand as he looked around for the sound of the laughter.

His ears were ringing, heart pounding as he tried to take deep enough breath. The clammy feel of the sweat coating his skin were all symptoms he was well acquainted with, he’d had a nightmare. Nothing else. But he had to check anyway. Had to make sure. There was no way in hell Jason was ever, ever going to let that white and green freak put him in the ground a second time. 

He circled his small apartment. Hands steady as he moves into the bathroom, checking behind the curtain and into the tub. Empty. His steps were soundless, as he opened his closet, using the barrel of the gun to move through the hung t-shirts and jackets there.

Nothing.  

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Jason pointed the barrel down and flicked the safety back on. He slumped against one of the walls, and slid down until he was sitting at the base, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. 

Fuck that had been bad. So fucking bad. He had known the minute he had wrapped his fingers around Tim that it would come back to haunt him. Had known that it had been one of the many things the Pit had whispered to him in those early days. Especially after he had found out about Tim. He had thought about it over and over again. Going out and finding the new Robin and beating him within an inch of his life, if only to teach Bruce a lesson. 

Jason shuddered and shook at the sudden cold that was seeping into his skin. Pain blossomed behind his eyes as he glanced over toward the neon clock on his microwave. 3am, the witching hour his mind supplied for him. Remembering the sighing voice in his ear that would remind him of the superstition anytime they’d wake up in the dark. 

Jason gave a last shudder and hauled himself off of the floor. He tried to remember the last thing that happened before he had fallen asleep. The rooftop was crystal clear, along with the green haze that had come over him when Tim had gone and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Of fucking course the replacement had gone and figured out his darkest secret, one that he had kept from even Batman. One that he had held on to so tightly that he had literally taken it to his grave, only to come back and have the fucking child detective go and figure it out after only meeting him twice. 

He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the hollow dark knot in his stomach whenever the thoughts of those icy, desperate nights slithered their way back into his memory. Heading back toward his bed he found his phone face up on the floor, his blankets a tangled mess next to it. Right. He had called Roy. Had called after the shit show that had happened with Tim. Had called him in a panic, his breath coming fast and his hands shaking. Roy had picked up with a huff, but at least he had picked up.

 Roy always picked up. No matter the fight they’ve had before, even when Jason had been a jackass and even when Jason knew he didn’t deserve it. Roy was always there. 

He could hear his voice in his head. 

“Deep breath Jaybird, it’s okay, talk to me. What happened?”

Jason had gasped out a response, something choked and broken but Roy had been patient. Had waited him out. Guided him through a few minutes of breathing exercises until Jason could finally speak without hyperventilating. 

Then after he had calmed down he had fallen asleep. Like an asshole. Damn it. He glanced at the clock again. He could call, he might still be up. It’d be good to hear his voice.

Jason reached toward his phone, hand outstretched toward him. 

Hasn’t he put up with you enough?

He flinched. Pulling his hand back toward himself. Well, the voice wasn’t wrong. He had already bothered Roy, had already called him and freaked the fuck out and forced him to deal with his shit. He had to get a grip. By himself. He couldn’t always run to Roy. Roy wouldn’t always be there, Roy had a life outside of him.  

Jason stared at the phone on the ground. Glared at it really, until he felt the burn in his eyes from a lack of blinking. Shaking himself off, he headed toward the fridge. As he pulled the door open, he blinked against the white light, the pain behind his eyes getting worse. He should get some advil or something, before the migraine got worse. Grabbing a water bottle from the bottom shelf he twisted the cap and chugged half of the liquid down before he had even gotten a chance to step away.  

Turning toward his worn, stained couch he sat down in the dark. There was no fucking way he was going to be able to fall back asleep. So instead, he pulled out his laptop from under the couch and opened it up. 

He needed to look through his shit anyway. See if anything had been pinged, when his order of gear would reach Gotham, and what the weather would be like tonight. You can always be more prepared. He frowned at the familiar baritone that sometimes flitted through his thoughts. 

Bastard. He couldn’t even leave Jason alone in his own head. 

Turning his attention back to his computer he began to create a list. He had to look at what things he could get together for the kids in the theatre. He wanted to make sure that he dropped off blankets, and tarps to keep the moisture out, but he also wanted to see if he could gain enough of Riley's trust so that he could let him know if the others needed shoes, or coats, food, anything that Jason might be able to supply. 

The laptop flashed a black screen and then returned back to the main screen. “Come on.” he snarled as he smacked the device a few times. Fuck he needed a new computer and badly. If there was one thing the crime lord life was good for, it was money.  Being a vigilante meant that you spent money, with not a whole lot of ways to pocket any for yourself. Jason missed having Bruce Wayne as a financial backer that’s for sure. Now? Well, he wasn’t broke but he had to make sure that if he was going to drop the big bucks, then he should do it on his gear. Especially, since he didn’t have Talia’s money to throw around anymore either. 

Fuck he had to figure out a way to make money. Fast. 

 

The anxiety from the evening before had melted into the afternoon. He had been unable to do much at the safe house, and had gone to the store the minute the doors had opened. Piling the cart high, eager to just get this night over with. He couldn’t help but wonder if Tim would drop by again, or if he would finally get the memo to leave him alone. Something ugly and painful twisted in his gut at the thought. 

Why the fuck was he back in this city?

What the fuck was he doing?

Shaking his head, he rolled the cart down the next aisle and tried not to think about the possibility of the entire bat clan descending on him tonight. Hell, maybe if they did Jason could finally have a fucking reason to high tail it out of Gotham and never look back. Maybe this time it would actually stick. 

The twist in his gut at the thought, however, told a different story. 

 

As soon as the sun had set and the dark gloom of Gotham had settled over the city Jason headed out. He felt like fucking Santa Claus as he grappled from roof to roof with a giant sack thrown over her shoulder. Sure, the bag was filled with wool socks, blankets, and a couple of large tarps to keep the water from seeping into their things instead of toys, but you know, same thing. 

Dropping onto the roof across from the Monarch, the same one he nearly strangled Tim on,  he slowly lowers the bag off of his shoulder and tries to figure out where to leave it. It needed to be somewhere tucked away enough that not just anyone would open it, but also be enough out of place for Riley to look into it the next time he walked back into the theatre.  

After placing the bag near one of the basement windows that Jason had seen Riley squeeze through yesterday, he sat back up on the roof. He really should do a sweep of the Alley proper, make sure no other kids were dealing, and make sure that Estella and Joy were doing alright, but something made him sit down on the edge of the roof and let his legs dangle.

Taking his helmet off he fished out a carton of cigarettes, that he only really smoked during long stake outs just to have something to do. The smoke stung his lungs as he inhaled, and you would think that dying of smoke inhalation from a bomb would curb the habit, but nope. Jason couldn’t help but grin at the irony as he exhaled through his nose. The comforting feel of the cigarette between his fingers had him dropping his shoulders a little, letting him settle on the cold roof as he looked over the deserted alley.

He hasn’t even finished his smoke before he feels eyes on him. The hair on the back of his neck raises slightly, but he doesn’t turn to look toward the shadows, where he knows the intruder is lurking. Call it a sixth sense, something that had been bludgeoned into him from before his time as Robin. Being on the streets meant danger, and that meant you had to always have your guard up, always be aware of your surroundings. Jason doesn’t miss the irony in that either, that he had so dumbly trusted someone he’d just met, even as his instincts had yelled at him to run. The last mistake of his life. 

“I told you to leave me alone.” The words had no bite, guilt still churned in his stomach from last night. He turned to face the shadows, “Next time, I might not-” A flash of blue cut him off. His eyes widened behind his mask as Nightwing stepped out of the shadows. 

“Hi Jay.” His voice was soft as he raised a hand to wave, “long time no see.” Then he was removing his domino, and suddenly it wasn’t Nightwing, it was Dick, who’s blue eyes were wide as they looked Jason over.

This couldn’t be happening. When was the last time Jason had seen him? He couldn’t remember. Jason hadn’t seen Dick since- since before his death. He’d seen Nightwing, but that- that was different. Had Tim sent Dick here? Jason immediately got to his feet, cigarette forgotten as it fell to the ground. He snatched his helmet from the ground and fastened it on, letting his hands fall near his guns. 

Jason didn’t know what to think, he couldn’t just run away, couldn’t aim and shoot, not when Dick had his mask off and Jason could so clearly see his eyes. So, he reacted the only way he knew how to, when his back was up against a wall, and his hands were tied. “You here to tell me off for what I did to R?” He snapped. “Tell him to not stick his nose where he ain’t wanted next time.”

Dick tilted his head, his gaze flicked to the way Jason hovered over his pistol. “Something happened between you and Red Robin?”

Oh so Tim hadn’t told him, well, didn’t he just step right into it. “He didn’t- “ Jason stuttered. “I mean, if he-” He needed to get a hold of this situation. Now. “Why are you here Nightwing?” God this was a nightmare. Only Bruce would’ve been worse.

Jason could feel Dick’s eyes on him, watching him carefully, before shrugging. “Tim told me he’d been seeing you and I wanted to see you too.”

“What, no daddy bat behind you to make an arrest?”

“Nope.” Dick popped the p. “Not this time.” Dick took a step forward. “I- how have you been?” And fuck he sounded genuine. 

Jason didn’t know what to say to that. What did you say to your estranged brother who had tried to put you behind bars when you had been pretending to be a crime lord? To be fair he had also shot at him so… Complicated did not even scratch the surface. 

In the end though, after an extremely long moment where they just stared at one another,  Jason shrugged, because although he had fought Nightwing a year ago, he had never been mad at Dick for what had happened. Dick was just well… Dick. 

“Can I-” Dick took a step forward, raising his arms. 

Panic hit Jason so hard at the thought of Dick wrapping his arms around him that he went to take a step back and his foot was met with empty air. His eyes widened the second he realized his mistake and then he was falling, arms waving frantically as he tried to catch his balance, but there was no use. The air caught in his throat and he choked on it as his stomach flipped, his body wobbling and falling off the ledge. 

Then Nightwing was there, hand grasping at his jacket, hauling him back from the edge and throwing him onto the concrete roof, before Jason could even register what had happened. He landed on his stomach with a thud, his helmet bouncing with an undignified boink. Fucking christ. Just kill him now. Fuck trying to catch the dealer, fuck helping the kids, Jason just wanted a black hole to appear under him right now.

“Jay, are you okay?” Dick was at his side in an instant, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him up. 

Jason shrugged him off. “Get off me dickface,” he snarled as he got his feet under him again. “God what the fuck is-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Dick had pulled him into a hug, squeezing the last of his breath out of his body. 

His hands were pinned to his sides, his chin of helmet pressing against Dicks forehead awkwardly. A small ball of warmth bloomed in his chest at the feel of Dicks arms around him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever have the chance to be annoyed about his all consuming body hugs again. Hadn’t thought Dick would ever want to hug him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Dick’s voice sounded wet, like he was crying or possibly trying to hold tears back. “I tried to find you once B told us, but you were gone. Where did you go? How have you been?” When Jason didn’t immediately answer Dick glanced up at him. 

“Can’t. Breathe.” Jason gasped, as Dick continued to squeeze whatever life Jason had left out of him. 

“Oh.”

His lungs finally expanded as Dick pulled away. Jason aimed a halfhearted glare his way, instantly missing the warmth as his brother stepped back, giving him space. When was the last time Jason had been hugged like that? Fuck he was so pathetic. Instantly appeased just by some physical contact. 

“So if you’re not here to yell at me, or throw me off the roof.” He emphasized the last part harshly. “Then why are you here dickwad?”

Dick frowned. “I told you, I wanted to see you.”

Jason scoffed. “What, got jealous that Timmers got to tag along on a case and not you?”

“Yes, actually.” 

What the fuck was going on! Did he just step into an alternate universe? Jason shook his head, “I told him and I’ll tell you, I don’t need any help. I can handle this shit on my own, I was Robin too you know, once upon a time. I know how to do the whole detective thing and the whole hacking thing.”

“Oh, you have a good set up nearby?” And fuck Dick, fuck him all the way to hell. 

“I-” Because no, he didn’t have a good set up, he had a barely functioning, slightly sandy laptop. “Fuck off.” Was the best he could come up with and it made him grind his teeth. How was it that out of the two of them, it was him that was floundering? Hell Jason had broken Nightwing's fucking leg the last time he got within ten feet of him. It had been an accident, but still!

Dick was grinning, teeth gleaming in the low light of the Alley. Jason rolled his eyes, rubbing his chest as that warm achy feeling flooded him at seeing the grin. As much as he hated to admit it, he had missed Dick. Had nearly forgotten how nice it felt to be hugged or teased by him. Jason had looked up to him when he had been younger. The first boy wonder, Nightwing, tentatively, his big brother. 

“Huh.” Dick began circling him. 

Never mind, fuck whatever sentimentality he had just had. “What?”

“You’re a lot less,” Dick moved his hands around, “I don’t know, murdery than you were the last time I saw you.” 

Jason rolled his eyes, “Yeah well.”

“Was it the Pit’s side effects?”

Jason groaned, the modulator making a grinding noise. “Does everyone in this family need to know everything about everyone?”

Dick just continued to watch him, albeit amused, the message clear. Besides, if Jason was being honest, it’s not like he wasn’t a snoop too, he just- you know, was more subtle about it. 

“So, the Pit-”

“Yes, the Pit does that thing where I get angry and you know-” he moved his arms emphatically, mimicking Dick’s earlier gesture. 

“But you’ve handled it now, right?”

At that, Jason crossed his arms over his chest, glancing away from Dick. 

“Oh.”

“It comes and goes.” He muttered.

“So that thing with Tim…”

“I didn’t hurt the kid!” He growled. “I-” but he didn’t know that, did he? Hell, had he hurt the kid? Had he left fingerprints on his neck? Jason’s nightmare fluttered along the back of his mind. “Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine.” Dick waved his concern away. “I didn’t even know you guys had fought until you told me.” 

Great. So Jason had just gone and willingly given dickhead the information without him needing to pry. He didn’t know why he was so off his game. Everything had been going wrong since he returned, at every turn he was met with something unexpected. First Damian, then Tim, then Selina, now Dick? 

“What happened?”

Jason rolled his shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine. But can you at least take off your helmet?”

“No.”

“Please?” He moved a step closer. “I want to see your face, I haven’t-” Dick cut himself off. 

Jason didn’t know why that hesitation had him reaching up. Why the minuscule mention of how Dick hadn’t seen him since his death had him unlocking the helmet and lifting it off of his head. Wind tugged on the tendrils of his curls and he felt exposed. Naked, even with the domino still in place. 

Dick took a step forward, stepping into Jason's space, his gloved fingers running up Jason's jaw before he nudged at the edges of his mask. Letting out a breath, and stepping further away from the edge of the building, Jason obliged, removing the domino as well. 

“There, happy?”

Dick looked up at him with a sad smile as his eyes took in Jason’s face. “You’ve grown up so much Jay.” It was barely a whisper. 

Jason’s cheeks heated and his eyes fell to the ground. He knew what Dick was seeing, the white streak in the front of his hair, the teal tinged eyes, the new scars that nicked his skin, and the old ones that he’d had, that were no longer there. “Yeah, well-”

“Why didn’t you come home?” 

Jason let out a gruff laugh. “Right, as if Bruce wants me anywhere near the manor.”

Dick shook his head, taking a large step back, all the softness leaving his tone. “Not now, back then. A year ago, or when you first woke up, or I don’t know, how are you even here Jay?”

Jason was the one shaking his head now, taking another step away from Dick. “You think I didn’t want to? I couldn’t I-” This was so convoluted complicated. Jason hadn’t been able to go home. He’d died, and by the time he had been thrown into the Pit and his brain had sewn itself back together he belonged to the League. He’d had a debt he needed to pay off, and then- “Bruce replaced me Dick, Bruce threw me away like I was nothing. ”

“That’s not true.” His brother pushed back, and there was the Dick that Jason remembered. The same one that would get into screaming matches with Batman himself. 

“Oh isn’t it?” Jason hissed back, pulling the collar of his shirt down to show off the jagged scar made by that batarang. “He nearly fucking killed me, to get to the Joker , Dick. Nearly slit my fucking throat, it get to him.”

Dicks eyes went wide, and he was shaking his head. “No. he didn’t know-”

He didn’t know , Jason realized. Batman didn’t tell him. The green squirmed and hissed in pleasure. 

A laugh fell from Jason’s mouth, “Of course.” Jason felt the tug of a cruel grin on his lips. “You think he didn’t know it was me?” He shook his head, stepping further toward Dick until they were nearly nose to nose, tilting his head, so Dick could take a good look. “He knew Dick, He knew and he chose. Had rather throw himself over that demented clown as the building blew up around us than to check on me.” 

 Jason’s fists were shaking now, his vision nearly green as he remembered the pain, the heart wrenching realization that he would always be second to Batman, always be second to his precious ideals, his precious rules. What was Jason’s life compared to those? Jason didn’t matter, he had never mattered. He had simply been a placeholder, a replacement for Dick once he had flown the nest, and once he was no longer useful Bruce was always going to throw him away. He was street trash, nothing more. He’d have found someone else to take his place, he had. Because Batman had to have a Robin, and Bruce Wayne could always find another underprivileged child to fund. 

“Jay,” Dick spoke slowly, hands up. “Jay calm down, your eyes-”

“Fuck you.” Jason snarled, pulling out one of his guns and pointing it at Dick’s face. “Fuck all of you.” 

Dick tried to extend a hand. “Jay please-” Jason shot at his feet and he jumped back. 

“Leave.” Jason heard himself say. His hands were steady, but the green was washing over, and he knew, knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it at bay much longer, not if Dick kept pushing him. 

“Okay!” Dick nodded, taking another step back. “Okay, I’m going. I-” his hands fell to his sides, and he gave Jason a long look, one he couldn’t interpret, it was… soft and muted and filled with- with so much sorrow. “It was good to see you Jay.” 

It wasn’t until after Nightwing had grappled away that Jason’s hands began to shake. That his lungs wouldn’t fill and his cheeks were wet, and all Jason could think about was turning the barrel of the gun toward himself. His entire life had been filled with pain, and grief, and loneliness, what would it matter if he just ended it, again?

No. There was a sharp voice that snapped him out of it. No, he had come back, and he had shit to do. He had sworn to himself, and another, that he wouldn’t let it consume it. That if nothing else, he had to protect Crime Alley, had to protect Damian, had to live. Not everyone got a second chance, and he wasn’t going to just allow the Pit to consume him. To eat him up until there was nothing left. He wouldn’t let it win. 

Las circunstancias no te hacen, solo te revelan. A familiar voice whispered in his ear, and he settled the gun back into the holster. 

Glancing back down into the alley he noticed that the sack of items was gone. Good, at least he’d done something right.

Notes:

Translation: your circumstances don't make you, they reveal who you really are.

Just as a hint, the voice he hears at the end isn't Selina's.
Hope you enjoyed!!

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Chapter 9: Sometimes You Just Have to Give People a Chance

Notes:

Okay so, sorry for not updating sooner, I thought this was going to be a shorter chapter, and then I went and sprained my ankle over the weekend and had to deal with that before I could sit back down and finish this up for you guys.

As usual, translations will be at the bottom.

Days had passed by, Jason couldn’t tell how many, couldn’t even remember what the month was, but he knew it was Tuesday because that was when the thrift shop down the road put out their newly donated items. Jason always wandered in on Tuesdays to look for clothes for himself and the kids in the Monarch. 

None of the bats or birds had reached out since the disastrous conversation with Dick. Was it that they finally got the message to keep away? Or were they keeping their distance due to the handful of dead traffickers and dealers that showed up gift wrapped for the GCPD at the edge of his territory? 

He had kept a lid on the killing to try and keep the bat at arms length, but the green had raised its ugly head and refused to be locked back in until it tasted blood. Jason had been coated in it, had it splashed over his helmet and on his gear. It had been a bitch to clean. To scrub and keep it from sinking into the leather of his jacket and gloves. And once he had been done with that, he had slept for nearly twenty hours. 

No nightmares. 

No green. 

Just glorious, blissful blankness. 

Then he’d woken up to ringing silence and even the peaceful darkness began to look morphed and malicious. He’d called Roy after. Was desperate to hear something other than the static of the quiet apartment, or the hiss of the voice in his head telling him to check every corner. 

The tension in Jasnon’s shoulders eased as soon as Roy’s voice sounded over the receiver, and he quickly asked about the improvements he had been doing on Kori’s spaceship. Jason didn’t tell him about what happened with Dick, couldn’t. He had been so close to losing control, hell he’d pulled a fucking gun on him for crying out loud, and even if Roy and Dick weren’t really on speaking terms right now, Dick had been his best friend once upon a time. Plus, Jason had been telling Roy he was getting better, using his breathing techniques and being cautious about not bringing Batman down on him. 

Boy did he sure throw that out the proverbial window. He had not only pulled a gun on the bat’s golden boy but had hunted down and killed five men in one night. Dick was probably suiting up along with Tim and Bruce to take him down. He had fucked up so bad. He was always fucking up, and now he was lying to Roy. The only person who still gave a damn about him. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sighed.

“You okay there Jaybird?” Roy asked. “You sound stressed.”

Jason let his arm thunk onto his armrest. “How can you even tell?”

“You sighed.” Roy said matter-a-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I sigh all the time.”

“Yeeess,” Roy sang. “But that was your ‘I don't know what to do’ sigh.” 

He was trying not to smile, he really was. “You know it’s kind of creepy that you’ve cataloged my sighs.”

“I’m sure you’ve done the same with me.” Metal clanked in the background, and Jason glanced over at the clock, seeing that yes, his best friend was up tickering with his inventions at 5:30 in the morning. 

“I have not.” He had. Although Roy didn’t really sigh, he was more of a hummer. Jason knew when he was paying attention, distracted, pissed, happy, or horny just by the way the man hummed. Jason had just thought it was residual training from when he had been working with Batman. B was a man of few words, grunting being his main source of communication. Robin of course, had to be an expert at decoding the Batman's signature grunt.  

“Come on Jay,” Roy pulled him from his thoughts “Tell me, what’s going on?”

Jason had to think fast, he couldn’t tell Roy. Well, he could, but that would just open a whole other can of worms he didn’t really feel like dealing with. “I’ve been thinking about reaching out to Selina.” Not a lie. Technically. 

“Catwoman?” Jason wasn’t shocked at Roy’s surprise. He hadn’t exactly been super open about who Selina was to him. Although he was sure Roy had at least put some things together.  “You sure you wanna do that? I mean last time you were-”

“Yeah, I know.” Jason pulled his feet up and laid down, stretching his legs out on the sofa, while he tucked an arm behind his head. “But I feel like I should apologize.”

Silence. 

Jason waited for a bit, but even the tinkering had stopped. “Hey, you there?”

“Sorry, what? Did you fall and smack your head or something, I thought you said you wanted to apologize.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. I apologize.”

Roy snorted. “If by apologize you mean pretend it never happened, then sure.”

“Yes, well, not everything needs an overly elaborate apology.”

Roy hummed. 

“Hey don’t do the ‘sure, whatever you say',” hum.”

Roy chuckled. “Oh Jay, you know me so well, I knew you cared.”

Jason couldn’t help the grin. “Look I just- I might have jumped to conclusions and she’s you know, been there, when she could, so I wanna just mend that.”

“I get it Jay. She stitched you up and kept your secrets. I think it’s good that you want to seek her out and apologize.”

It was Jason’s turn to hum. “What if she doesn’t accept it?” Jason wasn’t really thinking about Selina anymore.

“You really think she won’t?”

“She might not.” Jason let his gaze fall to a stain that was on the cushion he was laying on, it was dark brown, and he wondered if it was made by coffee or blood.

“Well…” He could almost hear Roy shrugging. “All you can do is apologize. It’s up to her if she accepts it or not.”

“But what if she doesn't, what do I do then?” he scratched at the stain, seeing if any of it would flake off. 

“You accept it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes,” Roy’s voice had lost its teasing edge, and Jason was glad he knew instinctively when he needed him to be serious. “and leave the door open for if she ever wants to reach back out to you, but ultimately it’s their decision.”

Jason swallows. What if Dick and Tim didn’t forgive him. Hell, Jason isn’t sure he would forgive himself either. Fuck. 

“Look, it’s not the easiest pill to swallow, but after, well after-” Roy struggled to find the words and Jay knew that he was talking about his addiction. All the shit that had gone down because of it. All the people he’d lost. 

“Hey you don’t have to-”

“No, I do.” Roy took a deep breath. “After everything I had done, after all the bridges I’d burnt I went back and apologized. Not many people wanted much to do with me afterwards, and that’s okay, it’s shit I gotta live with after what I did.”

Jason sighed again. “Yeah okay, I guess you’re right.” He pulled his hand away from the cushion, no longer intrigued by whatever stain the previous owner had spilled on the fabric. 

“Wow. Wait, can you say it again? I wasn't recording.”

“Oh fuck off Harper.” But Jason was grinning, his chest feeling a bit lighter. Hell, if his so-called family didn’t want anything to do with him, at least he had Roy.

 

He hadn’t been lying to Roy when he had said he wanted to apologize to Selina. He’d been thinking about it in the days after his confrontation with Dick. Had been thinking about seeking her out and starting up a conversation. 

The sun was dipping below the skyline by 6pm giving Jason plenty of time to search the streets for the classic cat ears and whip. Gothams Diamond District was far out of Jason’s territory, but he knew it would be a good place to find her. Old money always got Catwoman’s attention. He would just have to be careful, Bats hadn’t come after him yet, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he had stuck to the Alley or if it was something else, and he couldn’t afford a confrontation at the moment. Not until he was able to get his hands on new gear at least.

Luckily it didn’t take long until the familiar singsong voice sounded on a nearby roof. “Escucho las alas de un pajarito?”

Jason didn’t waste any time shooting off his grappling gun and landing gracefully in front of her. “Uh, if by alas you mean a grappling hook.” He rotated his wrist to make a show of inspecting it before he tucked it back into a holster. “Then sure.”

Selina jutted out a hip as she smiled up at him. “Something on your mind mi petirrojo?”

“I’m not a bird any more Selina.” The vibration in his modulator made it sound harsher than he meant it. 

“I wouldn’t sell yourself short chiquitin.” She turns and points to the symbol on his chest. “Or do you prefer I call you a bat?”

A frown tugged on his lips, not that she could see it, and he gently batted her hand away from his chest. “Don’t do that.”

She tilted her head, “why did you decide on the red bat as your symbol then?”

Jason sighed, unlatching the helmet and pulling it off of his head. “It was mean as a fuck you to the old man. You know, show him that he didn’t own the stupid fucking symbol.” 

“That he didn’t own you.” Selina supplied as she pushed the goggles to the top of her head. “Why are you here Jason?”

He shrugs. “I wanted to see you.”

Selina places a gentle hand on his shoulder, then leads him to the ledge. They sit down and Jason pulls out his crushed carton of cigarettes. He was almost out. The familiar burn had him throwing his head back, letting the smoke settle deep in his lungs. 

“Dime qué pasa.”

 Jason groans before he exhales and looks down at the ground thirty stories down. This was so stupid. He hated fucking apologizing. “Te quería pedir perdón,” he mumbled. 

Selina’s brows rose. “Que?” 

“Por el otro dia. Me estabas tratando de ayudar y yo-” 

“Ya, basta.” She shook her head. “I don’t need to hear you apologize Jason.” 

“Oh well, that’s great, it’s not like I spent the whole day thinking about what I would say to you or anything.” He took another drag of the cigarette, desperate for anything to calm his nerves. 

Selina rolled her eyes, but there was the tug of a grin on her lips. “Siempre tan dramático. I’m just saying. I knew you were going through shit, I just wanted you to know I was here if you needed me.”

Jason nods, he had sort of gotten that from their last conversation. But he had also thought he’d gone and blown it, like he did everything good in his life. He takes another quick drag, so he wouldn’t have to answer.  

“I’ve seen you leaving things for that boy.”

Jason starts. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Of course.” She doesn’t even have the decency to look caught out, just leans back casually to inspect her nails.

He lets out a breath. This whole family was a prison. He could never do anything without someone knowing about it. “So you saw-”

“The dead guys you roped together with a grapple and left on the sidewalk with a cardboard note for the GCPD?” She nodded once. “Yes.”

Great. “In my defense.”

“Oh don’t bother, I don’t really care about that, I saw the vermin they were.” She waved his concern away. “I want to talk about todos los niños que estás ayudando en el barrio. Las muchachas, too.”

He just looked at her. Not knowing what to say. 

“I always see you drop the stuff off and then the kid, the one with the grey hoody, comes out to get it.”

Jason nods. 

“Why not take the kid in?” She tilts her head.

“Hi name is Riley, and I gave him a way to contact me if he needs it, but you know how those kids are, you gotta give em space or they’ll bolt, and it’s not like I’m in a place where I can take care of a teenager.”

Selina hums, leaning forward to run her fingers through a weak point in his armor, before rubbing at a singed hole in his leather jacket. “Si, ya veo. No longer have friends in high places?” 

Jason knew she was fishing, knew she was looking for weak points, but did it really matter if she knew? It wasn’t really a surprise, especially with the state his fucking armor was in. “The consequences of goin’ out on my own.” 

Pulling her hand back she let it settle in her lap. “I think the kid, Riley, could be good for you. I’m sure at the very least he’d make a good informant, he probably hears more about what’s going on in the street than the corner girls.”

Jason laughs, “yeah, right,” he shakes his head. “There ain’t no way I’m bringing a kid into this mess of mine. Hell, then he’ll want me to show him how to use a grappling hook and how to shoot a gun.” He shakes his head again, taking another drag. “No way, I’m not encouraging kids to get into this life.” 

Catwoman hummed as she looked him over. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was seeing, what were all the things she was cataloguing . “Do you resent Bruce for getting you in?” 

His shoulders stiffened, and he tried really fucking hard to try and let them drop. Pretend that didn’t have him feeling twitchy. “Sometimes.” It wasn’t a lie, there are days where he sits and wonders what he might’ve been if he had never become Robin. If Batman had never been in Crime Alley that day. Would he have been able to push forward on his own? In reality the majority of those scenarios Jason always dies on the street whether to violence or just due to exposure. 

Then there are nights where he wonders what it would’ve been like if Bruce had taken him in, but hadn’t allowed him to be Robin. Would he have gotten to finish school, gone to college, made a life for himself outside of vigilantism? Would he have gotten to grow up?

It was pointless to think about really, because there was no way to truly know, because that isn’t what happened. 

In the end Jason had been saved from the streets by Batman. He had been saved and then given impossible shoes to fill only to later die at the hands of the Joker. That’s just how it went. And Jason couldn’t help but feel like that’s just how it was always meant to go. How his story was always supposed to end. 

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t supposed to come back. So, why was he here? Why did he come back to a city that didn’t care if he lived or died? To a family that hated who he’d become? Why had he even bothered to try and get Bruce to understand? Jason Todd had been dead and buried and even after his resurrection he felt as if the person he had once was had been left under that fucking tombstone. 

He’d be damned if he put another kid through that. So, yeah there were times he sat back and hated Bruce for handing him that Robin costume. For filling his head with dreams of flying over this city and making a difference. 

Selina leaned in pressing her shoulder against his. “Relationships aren’t meant to be easy Jason.”

He leaned his head back against the brick, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. The burn was a comforting distraction to his thoughts, if Leslee knew he still smoked, he was sure she’d kill him all over again. Exhaling, he watched as the smoke floated upward.

“You and B always seem to do that push and pull thing so well.”

She snorts. “If only you knew the arguments we get into.” She reaches out and Jason hands her his cigarette. Watching as she takes a deep drag before handing it back. “Bats has his ideals and I don’t always,” She tried to think of the right word before settling on, “share them.”

“Right.” Jason nodded. “I can imagine that Bats can be pretty bad for the thieving biz.” 

Selina smiles. “Yes, well like I said before Bruce is Bruce, and he always thinks his way is the only right way.” She crosses her arms over her chest and Jason can’t help the snicker that escapes him. 

A shadow crossed over them and Jason immediately stiffened. Fuck. 

He glances around, his domino looking for any change in the shadows that surrounded them. They were so high up that the glow of the city was coming from below, which made these taller rooftops more cloaked in darkness than the others. 

“What’s wrong?” Selina asked, looking around herself.

“I thought I-” He glanced around once more before shaking his head. “Never mind.” 

“Hey.” Selina nudged his shoulder with her own. “Gracias por venir a verme.”

“Yea yea,” Jason leans in toward her. “Y si te quiero volver a ver?”

Selina grins, resting her head on his shoulder. “Tu sabes como encontrarme.” 

* * *

She doesn’t know how long they sit there, watching the bustle of the city from the quiet top of the skyscraper. If you squinted you could even see a star or two peeking out from the smog logged clouds that hung over Gotham’s Diamond District. It was a nice night out, although being this high up made it chilly, but her suit kept in the warmth, and with his lack of shivering she was sure Jason’s did too, even if his suit was in rough shape.

They sat there in silence, sharing a second smoke and every now and then reminiscing about the few times Selina had taken Jason out for ice cream or a movie back before- well before he had died.. There had been a handful of times he had gone out with Catwoman too, and they had run across rooftops and played tag, had busted a few petty criminals and had categorized their favorite music. It had been a surprise to her when she found out he liked Salsa and Merengue. Had been an even bigger surprise to know he knew some of the steps. 

“Yes, well, I stayed with my neighbors a lot when moms dealer was around, and they would play music all the time, they taught me.” 

Selina smiled. “That’s a good talent to have in your back pocket.”

He snorted. “What am I gonna do, Salsa a criminal to death?”

“No,” she smiled. “But I bet if you ever go to another gala you can blow them all away.”

“Eh, they don’t really dance like that, it’s all stiff waltzes and stuff.”

Selina shrugged, “True,” Plans were already being formed in the back of her mind. 

“Anyway,” Jason stretched his arms up above his head. “I gotta do my rounds.” Jason flicks his cigarette into the air and stands, putting his helmet back on. “But it was nice to see you again, jefecita.” 

Selina doesn’t bother getting up, not when she knew she wasn’t going to go anywhere yet. “Ten cuidado mi chiquitin.” Jason leans down to allow her to kiss the cheek of his helmet. She squeezed his arm tightly for a split second before letting go. “Te vere pronto.”

She allows herself a moment to watch as Jason gives her a two fingered salute before dropping off the side of the building. Then, taking a breath, she braced herself before turning to look toward the shadows. 

“Alright, come on out.” She knew he would come looking for her at some point. Honestly, he had respected her space for far longer than she had expected. 

Batman lands on the roof, his cape flapping around him like wings. 

Selina rolled her eyes before giving him an award winning smile. “Hello Bat, you’re a bit early, I haven’t stolen anything… yet, so no need to bring me in.”

A beat of silence. “I wanted to see you.”

“Why, I am popular tonight aren’t I?” She grinned. “You couldn’t drop by during the day?”

“You’ve stayed away.”

“Yes, well,” she leaned back looking at her claws, “I’ve been cross with you.”

“Hn.”

Looking up at him she raises a brow. “That's all you have to say?” She watched him as he loomed over her, the cowl and white out lenses made it near impossible to see his expression, but the slight shift in his shoulders clued her in that he was uncomfortable. Good. 

One of the reasons she and Bruce worked so well together was because she wasn’t afraid to wait him out. She knew he was uncomfortable with emotions, with having to face how people weren’t alway logical, that not everyone was driven by what makes the most sense. It’s always what Batman struggled the most with, when it came to his Robins. Bruce was better… unless he felt cornered. 

Finally, he spoke. “You’ve been speaking to Jason.”

Selina turned to face the horizon before humming, “how long were you listening to us?”

She could just make out the movement of his cape in her peripheral vision, and she assumed he shrugged. She wanted to roll her eyes again, but didn’t. She was an adult and had to be the one to portray healthy emotions in this discussion.  

“You know,” She started. “Jason wouldn’t like to know you were eavesdropping.” 

“He lost that privilege the minute he stepped into Gotham and began to kill.” He snarled. 

“I don’t agree on the killing either, you know.” She still refused to look at him. 

“Then why protect him?” He took a step toward her. “He’s a grown man, you can’t coddle him. He needs to face the consequences of the decisions he’s made.”

Selina sighs, pulling herself up to face him. This was so not going the way she wanted it to. “You always talk about second chances, giving people the care and space to change. Why not give Jason, your son, the same benefit?”

“I don’t know if he wants to change.” Bruce gazed out toward the city. “He’s angry at me, and his rage blinds him.”

“He’s hurt.” 

“Rightfully so, I failed him.” He clenched and unclenched his fists that hung by his sides. 

She shook her head. “Stop being a martyr. Jason loves you, he just wants to know you love him back.”

He snapped back to look at her. “He knows I do!” 

“Does he? Have you told him?”

“I-”

“Bruce.” Selina let out a breath through her nose as she stepped into Batman's shadow, giving him time to step away, but he didn't. As gently as possible, she peels his cowl back from his face, getting to see the dark circles and the strain in his blue eyes. 

He leans into her touch. “I’ve missed you.”

The words melt into Selina. This stupid man, this stupid, foolish, soft hearted man. She never stood a chance. 

“Talk to him,” she begged. She wished she could shake him. Take him from those strong broad shoulders and shake some common sense into the man. 

Bruce reaches up holding her hand to his cheek. “You’ve always been so good with him, always knew what to say when I didn’t. That’s why he went to you.”

“Why Bruce,” She teased, stepping further into him. “Have you been spying on me?”

He shrugs but doesn’t deny it. “I followed him after I-” the words seemed to stick in his throat.  

“Why did you do it?” The words were a whisper. Selina remembered that night, vividly. The way she had jumped out of her bed as someone broke through her living room window. Grabbing a gun from her bedside table. Then she’d walked out to her living room, had seen the man hunched on the floor under the shattered window, blood seeping into her carpet. At first she thought it was Bruce, due to his height and build, but when she looked at his face… 

“It was a miscalculation, I didn’t mean to cut-” He shook his head. “I needed to disarm him.” 

“It was bad Bruce.” There had been so much blood. It had soaked into his gear, had covered his hand and was dripping from his elbow. She thought he was going to die all over again.

“Which is why I followed him.”

“ After you took the Joker back to Arkham,” She accused. 

“Yes,” his whole body seemed to slump at the admission. “I had to put him away.”

Selina removed her hand from his cheek. “He sees you as choosing the Joker over him.”

“You think I don’t know that?” and the steel in his voice was all Batman, forcing her to take a step back. “I know he’s disappointed, I know I’m not who he wishes I was and I wish I could be, Selina. I really do.” He shook his head. “I wish I could just go in there and kill the Joker and make everything better but I can’t. And I can’t condone him killing either.”

“He isn’t you Bruce.”

“He was meant to be better than me!” That steely blue of his eyes were hard, and pained, and it made her shudder.

Selina took a step back, dropping her hands back to her sides. “Jason is Jason, he isn’t you and he isn’t Dick. You need to meet him where he is not where you want him to be.” 

“But the killing-”

“I don’t know how you go about fixing that issue. But I do know that if you don’t give him a chance, if you don’t talk to him and try to understand, you will lose him.” Selina took another step back, and Bruce took one forward, a hand twitching in her direction. 

“I can’t lose him again.”

“Admitting it is the first step.” She gives one last glance at Bruce before pulling down her goggles “Talk to him. Give him a chance, he might surprise you.” She didn’t wait for a response before flinging herself off the rooftop. 

She didn’t know if he would listen to her. Didn’t know if Jason was ready to hear Bruce out, but she did know that they cared for one another. She knew it. 

Jason had always felt things deeply, his emotions were always brimming right below the surface. It had been one of the many reasons Bruce and him had fought so often. He just didn’t know what to do with those emotions, so it was easier for him to lash out. He relied on anger to express emotions he didn’t know how to verbalize. 

She had seen it in how defensive Jason had been the first time they talked. Had seen it when he had crashed through her living room window and back in her life. His neck bleeding and his eyes rimmed red as he told her Bruce had chosen the Joker. That he had turned his back on him for good. Jason had cried and screamed and snarled that he hated Bruce, hated Batman. 

She hadn’t had the whole picture then, and hadn't known what to say to calm him down as he panicked and swung his fists toward any reflective surface. Had barely wrapped her mind around the fact that her Robin, her chiquitin, was alive. He was alive, and bleeding out all over her new carpet. 

It wasn’t until the morning, when she had woken up and saw the blood still on the floor mixed with the shards of glass, the pillows and blankets she’d leant him all neatly stacked on her couch and a handwritten letter telling her to forget she ever saw him, that she had even realized it hadn’t all been a dream. Jason Todd was alive. Jason Todd was alive and Batman had cut him open with a batarang and she needed to know why. 

It hadn’t taken long for her to read the morning paper and put two and two together. It also hadn’t taken her long to know she was angry with Bruce and hadn’t wanted to see him until she was sure she could speak to him without yelling. Knowing him, he was probably wallowing in self pity and flagellating himself for not being able to handle the situation better, and at the moment she would have simply made it worse. 

Now though? Now, she just hoped they would both be able to sit down and talk about what happened. She won't hold her breath however, Bats wasn’t known for being open emotionally, and as much as she cared for Jason, him and Bruce were two sides of the same coin. 

Her boys. She shook her head. 

What was a girl to do?

Notes:

Translation:
"Do I hear the wings of a little bird?"
mi petirrojo= my robin

"Tell me what's wrong."
"I wanted to ask your forgiveness."
"What?"
"For the other day. You were trying to help me and I-"
"Stop it."

"Always so dramatic."

"about all those kids that you're helping in the neighborhood. The girls too."

"Yes, I can see that."

"Thank you for coming to see me."
"and if I want to see you again?"
"You know how to find me."

"Be careful mi little one."
"I'll see you soon."

I hope you guys enjoyed it. Emotionally shit is going to hit the fan. Plot wise, shit is also going to hit the fan. I have a lot planned for the next couple of chapters so it might take me a little longer than usual to get those out since I want them to be, well not perfect, but close.

As always if you have any thoughts, questions, concerns, or just want to say hi, drop a comment! It really helps me to continue to pump out chapters.

Chapter 10: I'm Already Regretting This

Notes:

Alright, I've edited this as much as I could. I'm just posting it.
Shout out to @starz_3000 You were right, so have some Damian! There will be more of him I promise.
Enjoy!

Light was creeping up in the horizon, coating everything in a dingy yellow gray as the sun broke the surface of the water. Jason could see the harbor from this height. Could see the clouds of smoke that puffed up and out of the factories near the shipping yard, and the men that got up at said break of dawn to start the day, trying to make ends meet for their families. A small smile tugged on his lips as he took a second to watch Gotham wake up and shake itself off from another night.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs for what felt like the first time since stepping foot back into this city. His shoulders eased as he swung from roof to roof and headed back to his safe house. It was nice to know he had another person on his side. That he had somewhere to go if something went wrong. Roy would be so proud of him. The question then was, could Jason also make amends with Dickie and the baby bird after the shit he'd pulled. Would they even want to hear him out?

Jason quickly disarmed the traps around his apartment and slid the window open, ducking in before any prying eyes from the alley below could make out the red helmet. The window clicked shut as he slid the bolt into place and went about rearming his traps. The last thing he needed was a break in while he's trying to catch some shuteye.

Just looking at his makeshift bed brought the ache in his muscles to the forefront of his mind. Every step felt sluggish, his eyes burned wanting nothing more than to close, at least for a little while. That mattress on the ground called to him. Even in it's shitty state, he knew it would be the most comfortable thing in the world just as soon as he got out of his gear. Sure, he hadn't gotten into any fire fights or anything crazy, but even swinging through Gotham could be a workout. And he was also emotionally drained after his conversation with Selina, even if it had been more subdued than he had expected.

Once he is satisfied that everything is secure he goes about pressing the right buttons to disengage his helmet. A quiet hiss sounds in his ears before the latch clicks free and he can pull it off. Wet, sweaty strands of hair cling to his forehead and he quickly runs gloved fingers through it, enjoying the cold air that moves through his soaked curls. He had to find a way to get air conditioning or something in that helmet, cause wearing it in the summer was a bitch. Rolling out his neck and shoulders Jason thought about the shower he was going to take. There was nothing like washing the grime of the city streets off of you in the early morning light before collapsing into bed and going comatose for a few hours. He hoped it'd be a dreamless sleep.

Unclipping his armor, he's careful as he pull it away from himself, checking for any sudden pains or deep aches, the cold air making him shiver as it hits his warm skin in thin underclothes. The removal of gear had become a ritual of his left over from the League. In his robin uniform he'd always been eager to move on to the next thing, and if he was injured he'd had Bruce and Alfred there to worry about him. In the League, if he was injured, it could mean he died on his next mission, or that one of his own might try to take him out.

So he took his time. Catalogued each shift of muscle. Where the aches were the deepest. If there were bruises or cuts he would have to watch out for later, and then he rolled and checked his joints. He wasn't the young teen he had once been, and even the Pit could only heal so much. There were certain injuries that still echoed in his body. His right wrist being one of them. It was a bitch to have to learn to actually take care of himself. That if he didn't take time to recover and stretch and all that shit, then it could mean he wasn't quick enough one day, and he wasn't like some of the other vigilantes. He didn't have super powers and super strength or magic. He was human.

He was halfway through unbuckling his pants when a loud chime sounded, making him tense for a second. It's probably just Roy calling for his nightly chat. Rummaging through his pockets, he searched for his phone but once he pulled it out, the screen was blank, no missed calls or messages. The chime continued and this time he follows the sound, catching sight of the phone on the counter, vibrating as the shrill chime continued to echo in his apartment.

It’s the one he took off the distributor. 

Nearly tripping over his gear, he lunged toward the phone before the ringing stops. Pressing the talk button he puts the phone against his ear and waits.

“Hey, bossman wants us at the warehouse in the Bowery tomorrow, 0100 hours. Got a new shipment coming in, and he wants it handled fast. It’ll just be the five of us like last time so don’t be late.” Then the line goes dead. 

Jason couldn't help but blink. He had nearly given up on the phone ringing. Had thought that the distributor had most likely warned his associates and they had gone underground. Tonight he could go out and get his hands a little dirty, can carve and toss out another piece of rot from this city, from his Alley.

Fucking finally. 

* * *

Something had happened.

Damian knew that something had happened. He was not sure what it was, but he knew it was something big. For starters Grayson had been avoiding him… for days. Grayson never avoided him, on the contrary, Grayson occupied his space and sought him out even when all Damian wanted was to be left alone. His self appointed older brother was insufferable. Always checking in on Damian, always wanting to chat, or watch mindless television together. Always around. So why was he all of a sudden keeping his distance? 

His first clue had been that Grayson was not answering his texts, except with a smiley face. Even when he asked if they were still going to go to the park, all Grayson had sent was a sad face. A sad face! no context, no explanation. Then at dinner he was avoiding eye contact, and that finally led up to last night, when he had left the manor all together. Said he was needed back in Bludhaven, but Damian had been keeping up with the news, he knew that the city was doing alright, or well, as alright as Bludhaven could be. 

Damian knew he had not done anything wrong, nothing to make Grayson angry with him. He had been good. Had finished his homework after dinner and before patrol, had not had any fights or issues at school, at least none that warranted a phone call home. So why was Grayson acting strange?

Then there was Drake. He was, well he really was not acting all that strange, except for the amount of time he was spending in the batcave. He was drinking pots and pots of coffee, and wasn't sleeping. And although Damian knew that there were times that Drake became obsessive, the second clue was the fact that neither Pennyworth nor Father had insisted that he take a break. 

The third and final clue however, was Father. Besides making it clear that Damian was not to go out patrolling without him, he had not broached the subject of Todd since that night in the cave a few weeks ago. Had not even mentioned his name. Damian had been expecting an interrogation. Had been waiting for his Father to gather himself, and sit him down and demand answers, demand to know everything that Damian knew. That had never happened however, and that made Damian especially suspicious. 

They were keeping something from him. He could feel it. 

Yes, something had happened. Something big.

No matter, he would find out what it was. 

* * *

Jason hadn't slept, hadn't been able to after the phone had rang. He needed to plan, to figure out where the meeting would be and be prepared to crack some skulls and get some answers.

The sun had barely gotten any higher when he left his safe house in civvies, and made his way through the crooked alleyways, a cigarette hanging from his lips, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, as he staked out the Bowery. He was looking for possible locations in which the shipment would be brought in. From the phone call this morning, it was a warehouse that they used regularly.

The entire day he spends walking the streets, planning. Finding the best alleyways to escape, noting where all the CCTV cameras are, and using his phone to plug himself into them. He unfortunately couldn't set up any explosives or set any long term plans without knowing exactly where the meet up would take place, nor did he have many to spare anyway.

The Bowery had multiple empty warehouses, and he was nothing if not meticulous. So yeah, Jason went through and checked each one. One by one. What he wouldn't do to have access to the batcomputer right about now. Maybe if he made up with Tim the little bird would give him access.

By the time that noon hit he was getting irritated. Do you know how many fucking abandoned warehouses there were on in this stretch of four blocks alone? The majority held nothing, didn’t have so much as a mouse scurrying around. Okay, that was an exaggeration, he was more than positive there were multiple mice and nesting birds in the last place he’d been in, and possibly even a dead body, or at least a body shaped bag. He should probably report that. 

Having a vague idea about what the job would need, he guessed at what the warehouse would need to have, or lack, for the operation to be a success. No camera's for one, and truck access that could be used for a quick delivery. He had mapped out three possible warehouses that would have enough space, weren't surrounded by run down apartments or locals that could compromise the distributors identities.

It took a bit more walking and stalking for him to finally find a warehouse that met all of his criteria. Including having enough space for more than one car. He hoped he was right. He needed a win, not that talking with Selina hadn't been a win, but like, he needed a win where he could kick ass.

Once he did a final check, making sure there weren't any hidden surprises or cameras, he tagged it, so that it would be easy for him to find quickly once he put his helmet on. He couldn't chance to stick around the place too long, and he knew he couldn't wander the area later tonight with his Red Hood armor without possibly tipping off the distributors.

He hated to admit it, but he missed working with a partner. If Roy had been here he would've had some type of surveillance arrow that he made the night before and stuck it into the walls of the warehouse. He would also be able to use his trick arrows for anything that Jason didn't have on hand. But Jason was alone, and he had to work with what he had.

Once back in his apartment he looked through his toys and gadgets as he scarfed down some take out. Most of his money had been blown working with the Outlaws in the past year. Boy, Roy might've been a genius but fuck did that man know how to blow through money. What ever had been left was what Jason had brought to Gotham, and looking at it now… he was sorely under armed. One smoke bomb, a dozen League stars, a grappling gun with a single replacement line left, he was seriously lacking in the C4 department too.

He needed to update his gear and supplies after this. He couldn't keep going out there with just this stuff as back up.

Shaking his head he made his way toward the computer he'd left on the coffee table and checked on the shipment he was still waiting on. It was taking far to long than he had originally expected for it to arrive, and looking at his suit casually thrown on the back of his sofa, he knew he needed a replacement. The Kevlar had begun to degrade after so much use and lack of available repair. At least he'd managed not to shatter his helmet in the last few weeks. Roy's upgrades had really gone a long way in keeping it intact.

Worry about that later, right now we got a lead.

He couldn't let this fall through. He needed a win, and it should be easy. Rolling his neck, he stretched his shoulders then began to gear up. Luckily, he had more than enough ammo to keep his guns loaded and backed-up just in case anything went wrong.

As he heads over to the window he stops mid-step and glances over at the comm that Tim had given him. It sat idly by the distributors phone on the counter of his kitchen. He hadn’t used it. Hadn't needed to. Plus, with everything that had happened in the last few weeks, with both birds, he highly doubted that if he did reach out they would answer.

Still…

No, he was sure they wouldn't, and this was supposed to be an easy job. In and out. He turned back toward the window undoing the latch to open it and then stopped again. It's always good to have back up. Groaning, he didn't let himself think about it before making a quick turn and snatching up the comm, placing it in his ear.

Just in case.

 

There's a few minutes before the meet-up and he is running contingencies through his head, while he is sat across the building squatting and waiting for it to hit 1 am. Adrenaline was beginning to slowly pulse through his veins, after years of fights and training he knew how to use it to his advantage, but that rush before a fight never fully went away. It made him jittery and impatient, so he spent the time constantly checking his watch, and that his guns were properly loaded. He had to be smart about this. If he fucked it up, he might not get another chance for months.

Five guys wasn’t a big deal, not if they didn’t know what they were doing. Jason hoped they didn’t. At least if they were anything like the distributor he’d taken the cell from, then he’d be fine, but what if they weren’t? They could be added muscle. Could have guns, and that could be a problem. Especially, with the lack of toys he currently had on his person.

He checked his guns again. Let his fingers trail over the knives he had hidden under his jacket, and fiddled with the smoke bomb he was keeping in his pocket. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist one more time.

Two Minutes.

Once 1 am hit, he waited, fingers gripping the edge of the roof, ready for the distributors to arrive, ready for the truck to roll through the narrow trash filled alley, ready to jump down and quickly disarm and stun before asking his questions. His muscles bunched, tensing as he readied for the sound of voices to tip him off, ready to leap into action. But nothing happened. No truck came speeding through. No random cars. No lights were turned on.

Nothing.

Pushing buttons on the side of his helmet he activated the thermal scanner, trying to see if there was something on the street that maybe he couldn't see, but there didn't seem to be anything out of place. Switching to night vision he decided to take a look inside. Maybe he'd missed something?

Oh, he would fucking kill himself if he missed something.

Stepping back a few feet he took a running start before jumping the distance between the roof and the warehouse. Rolling onto his feet and easily finding a window that he had left open this afternoon. Silently, he peeked inside.

He couldn't see anything.

A knot was forming at the pit of his stomach and he felt the tell tale twinge that something was off. If they had enough forethought to be able to cloak the drugs or even themselves then what did that mean? How much influence did the boss have?

Don't jump to conclusions before you have all the facts. B's voice sounded in his head, forcing him to take a breath before carefully pulling the window further open. Allowing him to slide in and then launch himself onto a wooden beam. He should've thanked Talia for those extra lessons, because the air didn't even shift as he landed on the beam and walked across it, finding a good place to slide down onto the ground. His boots absorbing any noise that he would've made.

Once fully on the ground, Jason takes a step toward what looks like a crate, and pulls back the top before he is suddenly blinded. Light makes his eyes burn, bright white coats his vision and forces him to scramble to turn off the night vision. God damn it, if people kept doing that he was going to go fucking blind!

Taking a second to blink away the spots that appeared across his vision he narrowed his eyes, finally getting his bearings enough to see that there were guns pointed at him. Multiple guns. Like way more than the five he had been expecting. Glancing down, a red sniper light was pointed directly at his chest.

Crap. 

* * *

Tim took a sip of his energy drink as his fingers click clacked over the keys of his laptop. He hadn't heard or seen Jason in days. Not that it surprised him, he knew he needed to give him space. Knew that it was best to let Jason work out whatever issues he had and then let him contact him. Which is why Tim had been patched into the comm link that he had given Jason ever since.

Just in case.

Sure, Tim could probably go and stake out the Alley like he had before. He could sit on the roof across the Monarch until he inevitably saw the red chromed helmet dropping off clothes and other necessities to the kids there. But he knew that wouldn't help. Jason would see it as an intrusion, and although Tim was fighting with his urge to just seek him out, he had to be patient. Just one more week. If he doesn't reach out then, then we'll go back to dropping in. Tim would have to come up with a plan of action on how exactly he would do that without getting into a fight with Jason. Or you know, getting shot.

Now, however, he was just keeping tabs on Jason the only way he could. How you may ask? Well, by hacking into every CCTV camera available to him obviously. Jason was good however, and he knew the Alley so well that knew where all the cameras were and avoided them like the plague. It made Tim's job that much harder.

Aside from keeping tabs on Jason he was also filing things away for Bruce. Making sure that all of the searches were coming along and putting them in the correct files.

He'd been at it for a while. looking through files and putting them in the correct place, mindlessly while his system also worked on going through internet searches, tweets, anything that mentioned the Red Hood. That was until Tim ran into something that didn't quite make sense.

“That’s weird.” He murmurs to himself. In all his thinking about Jason, he'd almost missed something. There was a shipment that had been flagged by B. He had tagged it for inspection, and re-routed it to be delivered to the cave but it didn't seem to be attached to any case. “What the fuck?”

Tim pulled up the shipments contents, reading quickly through the items. Kevlar, throwing stars, reinforced tempered steel, all of the ingredients needed to make like four different types of bombs. Did B order some things from Lucius and accidentally put it in the case files folder?

He expanded the list, it look so weird. B's request looked different, and they were usually so much longer with varying quantities of-

The elevator dinged and the stomping sound of Damian's footsteps had Tim rolling his eyes before the brat even spoke. The youngest of the bats had been in a foul mood the past couple of days, narrowing his eyes and scoffing at everyone. Even Dick.

Tim did his best to ignore his presence, even as his footsteps stopped a few feet back and then his foot began to tap. Don't give into him. Tim said to himself as he scrolled to the top of the list and began reading through it again, wanting to catch the discrepancy.

After another moment Damian broke the silence.

“You have gone to see Todd," he sneered. "Even after Father gave his explicit orders not to.”

Shit. Rubbing his eyes, Tim decided to keep them on the screen. “Yes, well, one thing you gotta learn quick is B isn’t always right.” Not a lie. "Besides a part of being Robin is disobeying orders." Hell, Tim had done it even before he was Robin. "It's a time honored tradition."

Damian scoffed. “In the League this type of insubordination would have had you strung up and whipped.”

Tim sighs leaning his head back slightly. To be honest, he'd forgotten to tell Damian. It just hadn't been on his radar. What with trying to figure out a way back into Jason's good graces and Bruce's busy work, he hadn't even thought about telling him.

Damian continues scowling, crossing his arms over his chest, Tim could see it on the reflection of his screen. “Are you not afraid of Father’s wrath? What if he finds out? he could-”

Tim can't help but snort at that. “What’s he gonna do, revoke my access?" Tim rolled his eyes. "To the system I helped build?” he shook his head. “I'd like to see him try. Besides, he already knows.”

Damian is silent for a minute. “He… he knows you have gone to see Todd.”

“Mhm.”

“And Grayson knows." It wasn't a question.

“Dick went to go see him a few days ago.” Tim supplied before taking a sip of his energy drink, because well now that it was all out in the open anyway. What was the point in lying?

“And none of you thought to inform me?” The rage that laced Damian's words had Tim fingers freezing on his mouse.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he finally turned to face Damian. “Look, it’s not like we were trying to keep it from you. We just-”

“You do not trust me.”

“No, no that’s not it. We just didn’t-” Shit how did you tell a kid you didn’t want to bother with it? He wasn’t sure why Dick or Bruce hadn’t said anything, but as for Tim, well Tim had his own plans, he was trying to find a way to bring Jason back into the family. Trying to see how he could convince Jason that he wasn’t going to just out him and tell Batman all of his secrets. He was also trying to warm Bruce to the idea. Showing and proving to B that Jason wasn't a threat. But then Jason and Tim had that misunderstanding and he hadn't been thinking about anything else except how to fix it. How to lure him back in.

“You did not trust me not to tell Father, or to go run off, and see him myself.” Damian twisted his face into that ugly scowl he wore when he was hurt. Fuck.

“I-”

Damian glared. 

“I’m sorry.” Tim exhaled, because what else was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell Damian everything that had happened. Couldn't be honest with him.

“Tt." Damian turned his nose up. "I do not need your false apologies Drake, it is beneath the both of us.” Another beat of silence and Tim didn't know if that was the end of the conversation or not. If he should just turn back around or- “How is he?”

Tim’s brows shot up to his hairline. “What?”

Damian glanced down to the ground, his feet shuffling slightly. "I said. How is he?" he enunciated slowly, as if Tim were hard of hearing, or just stupid.

Tim blinked. "You want to know how he-"

“Yes.” Damian hissed throwing his hands in the air. “Yes, I would like to know how he is doing. Whether he is…" Damian's mouth twisted, searching for the right words, "alright, I suppose.” His small shoulders shrugged, before he let his gaze fall to the side.

And that? Well once again Tim didn't know what to say. Did he lie? Yeah, he’s fine. Totally great actually, not like he threatened me or anything. Well, that had really been Tim’s fault for pushing, but still. Tim knew something must have also happened between Dick and Jason because Dick had returned to the cave quiet and with red rimmed eyes. This wasn’t fair, he wasn’t trained on how to deal with a freaking assassin little brother. 

Thankfully before Tim could put his foot in his mouth any further a voice came through his comm. 

“Hello?” 

Tim immediately pressed on the comm in his ear. He didn’t know that voice. “Who is this?”

“Hey R, You busy?” 

“Jason?” It was the only other person outside of the family who had this line. Damian immediately glanced up. 

“Hey hey, watch the name dropping.” Jason sounded breathless, loud sounds echoed in the background, before he swore under his breath.

“What is happening?” Damian hissed, getting up in Tim's space, trying to get onto the chair, as if he wanted to press his ear to the comm as well. “What is wrong?” 

Tim waved a hand to stop Damian from talking, but allowed him to press his ear to against his. “What- are you okay?”

“Well." There was a loud scuffle and then loud pops in the background. "Take that you fucking-”

“Are those gunshots?" Tim's voice rose and Damian flinched at the sound. "Are you being shot at right now?”

“I mean, technically?”

unbelievable. “Where are you?” Tim was shoving Damian off of his lap so he could stand up.

“Fuck that hurt you piece of-" More shouting, more pops, and grinding sounds that had Tim's pulse jumping. What the fuck was going on. For Jason to contact him, for him to be willing to use the comm. he could be injured he-

“Hood!” Tim was already moving, already getting up from the chair and grabbing his suit. “Where are you?”

“Bowery, A warehouse off 4th street north. You can’t miss it.”

"How many?"

Jason huffed out a breathless chuckle. "Definitely more than five that's for sure."

"What?"

"Just hurry up." The line goes dead and Tim was pulling on his suit and cape, shoving his feet into his boots before he could even think about it.

“You’re going to help him.” Damian was hovering close behind him, hadn't left his side since Jason had called.

“Yes.”

“Then I am going too.”

“No Damian." Tim shook his head as he put his domino on, going to grab his utility belt and bo-staff. "I don’t know what Jason has gotten himself into, but I can’t risk something happening to you.”

Damian scoffs. “I was trained by the League of Assassins.”

“Yes,I know, but-”

“I have been fighting since I could walk Drake. I can help!”

Tim was already shaking his head, walking around Damian to get to his bike. “B said you weren’t allowed out without him, and I said no.”

“You cannot tell me what to do, you are not the boss of me.” Damian snarled.

He so didn't have time for this right now. Jason called, Jason needed back up! “Damian-"

“Todd is my brother." His voice rose as he tapped his chest. "Mine. I will not stay behind if something is wrong!" Damian’s hand were shaking, his cheeks pink with anger.

Letting out a long breath, Tim settled Damian with his own glare. The little brat was worried, that Tim could understand, that he could work with. "Okay, you want to help?” He waited for Damian to nod. “Then get on comms.”

“But I can-”

“I know!" Tim was losing his patience. He had to go. "I know you can fight, but I can’t help Jason and be looking after you too. From the sounds coming from the comm Jay might need medical care so you can set that up and stay updated through the comm. If something happens I’ll need backup.”

Damian looks like he's about to argue before finally taking a deep breath and giving a stiff nod. “Fine, but only because we are wasting time arguing.”

"Good." Tim turns and runs over to his bike, quickly turning it on, the loud rumble echoing through the cave before he switched gears and shot forward, the hidden entrance opened and Tim reached to his ear, to engage the comm link that connected to the cave.

“Robin, you there?” He checked.

“Here and online," Damian's voice sounded crystal clear in his ear.

“Status of other bats in the area?”

“Batman is currently unavailable due to a social engagement.” Right Tim had forgotten that B had that gala tonight. “Therefore he will not be of any help, and Nightwing’s ETA would be 45 to an hour.” 

“What about O?” He could use her eyes on the camera's in the Bowery.

“Mission with the Birds of Prey, is currently unavailable.”

“Fucking Christ.” Of course this is the one night everyone is fucking busy. “I’m heading in, but I don’t know what I’m walking into.” He swerved in and out of traffic, the sound of honking cars and screeching breaks following behind him.

“The CCTVs are out in the area.”

“Of course they are.” Because nothing could ever just be easy.

“I can still get suited up and meet you there, Red Robin.”

“Not yet." Tim made a particularly hard right turn, nearly colliding with the asphalt before he righted himself and sped down the narrow alley. "Let’s see what we’re getting into first before we decide to disobey Batman.”

Tim could hear Damian hum on the other side of the comm. Tim revved his engine, ignoring as someone shouted obscenities at him for running a red light.

* * *

He had been fucking shot! Oh he was pissed. No, no that wasn’t even the right word he was livid. These stupid fucking goons had gotten the drop on him, what the fuck type of suits did they have on? Were they military grade? Was fucking Lex Luthor arming mob bosses now? Well, actually, that would be pretty par for the course now wouldn't it.

He pressed his hand against his stomach, sharp pain shot up his side and knocked the breath out of him. This was bad. Pulling his hand away, he saw the slick red that now smeared his gloves. Fuck this was really bad.

“Come out Red Hood.” One of the fuckheads called out. Taunting as they tightened around the crates he was currently hiding behind.

He had thrown himself behind a few of the metal bins after releasing his last smoke bomb. It hadn't been enough cover however, and one of the assholes had gotten close enough to shoot him in the gut before Jason was able to put him down.

He was now ducked behind a stack of wooden crates but he couldn’t stand up without his head being blown off, and he couldn’t see another exit, at least not from here. There were too many of them. It had been a little while since he had called Red Robin and he couldn't help but wonder if they would show.

Or would they see this as a blessing in disguise, a way to get rid of the Red Hood problem. Bats wouldn't do that. He tried to reason with himself as he pulled out medical gauze from his belt, ripping it free of the packaging before shoving it into his open fucking bullet wound to try and ebb the flow of blood.

Fuck that hurt. He hissed through his teeth, biting the side of his cheek to keep from crying out as he packed the wound tight. Leaning his head against one of the crates he took deep breaths through his nose. c'mon Jason, it's just a bullet wound. it's no big deal. He'd dealt with pain worse than this, so much worse than this. Just breathe, and focus. Find an exit.

"We've got you surrounded." One of the fucking assholes shouted out again. no shit.

"Boss says the clock is ticking now." he could hear their boots as they stepped closer, the clicking of their guns as they aimed. "Just come with us before you run out of time."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Yeah, he just wanna talk," another said. "no point in dyin' here."

Jason rallied as he breathed, willing not to let his voice waver. "Like hell I'm letting you asshats take me to a secondary location." His fingers ran through his belt once more, searching for anything he could use. "Haven't you seen the ID channel? Shit's brutal."

Muttering sounded as they spoke to each other, no doubt tried to get closer. "Your funeral shithead. Mickey, go bring the truck around. This piss-ant is coming with us one way or another."

Was this really how he was going to go? No, No they didn't want him dead. That meant there was another way. If RR didn't show he could give up, go with them, then figure something out later. He'd been in tight spots before. He wouldn't die, not like this. The fucking Joker hadn't been able to make death stick he wasn't about to die a second time to these second rate dipshits.

"Hood you there?" RR's voice sounded through the comm and fuck Jason could kiss the kid.

"Fucking finally." He hissed. "You take a detour through the Fashion District or somethin'? the fuck took you so long?" He could hear the roar of a truck being pulled up, then the opening of a door. Good, an exit.

"I wouldn't be talking so much shit if I were you."

"Where are you?"

"Looking down at the small unit you got blocking you in."

Jason hummed. "Yeah, well-"

"We need a distraction, you got any smoke pellets?"

"Used my last one already."

"really?"

Jason was about to retort when he thought of something. "Wait I got another idea." Quickly he disengages his helmet and takes a second to look at it. Man, he really had hoped to keep this one for a little while longer. Oh, well. Turning it over, he began to strip some of the wires. He no longer had explosives in his helmet, thanks to a very anxious and exasperated Roy Harper, but maybe he could make it into a big enough flash bang to give Red the cover he needed.

"Any time now would be great." Red sounded impatiently in his ear.

"Hush." Jason finished, twisting the wires and then pressed the needed buttons on the side before tossing the helmet over his shoulder and pressed his hands to his ears.

He waited only a second. Hearing the bang, accompanied by the grunts and shouts of the men that surrounded him. Ducking, he rolled unholstering one of guns, and grabbing his knife. He easily found two targets in the confusion, as double R dropped from the ceiling, his own Bo-staff moving quickly as he dodged bullets and fists.

It gave Jason just the opening he needed to begin to take out the men closest to him. He went with non lethal, disarming and knocking out only, if only to keep the bird on his side when this was all over. Pushing the pain from his wound to the back burner, he focused on making sure that double R and him got out of this unscathed. He would deal with the bullet later.

Between the two of them it was a methodical, brutally efficient sweep. Jason taking one side while Tim took the other. He'd missed this. Missed the effortlessness of fighting alongside a bat. Roy and Kori were great, but it had taken them time to figure out how to best compliment each other while they fought. Here, now? It was as easy and if Jason had slipped into his old Robin costume and was fighting along side Dick or B. That easy push and pull, keeping their backs to one another, watching each others blind spots. A level of trust that Jason didn't think he would ever find with any one outside of this fucked up family.

Bodies hit the ground with force and pained cries sounded more than once as bones snapped, or a bullet went through a leg. And then it was just the two of them, standing in the center of that warehouse. Panting with grins tugging on the side of their lips.

Jason kicked the head of one of the armored men, knocking him out cold, when he reached for a fallen gun. Before finally turning to Tim.

“This is what you call a rescue?”

“Shut up," The kid leaned forward, propping his hands onto his knees as he caught his breath. Tim scanned him from head to toe, eyes catching on the now red gauze sticking out from his abdomen. "Were you shot?"

Jason shrugged. "Yeah." he knew it was thanks to the adrenaline that he couldn't fully feel the pain of the bullet still lodged in him. That it was thanks to the rush he was still riding that he wasn't even worried about it.

"Whoa, What is going on with your gear?" Tim asked reaching out a hand. Jason slapped it away.

“Sorry if not all of us have trust funds.”

Tim deadpans. “You do have a trust fund though.”

Jason wanted to throttle the kid. "Is this the time?"

"Right. Well, Robin is already contacting GCPD."

“Good so we can get the fuck out of here." Jason glanced around at the job well done. There were nearly twenty bodies strewn around the warehouse, they'd done good. He nodded toward the partly open door, he could worry about a lead later. Maybe go see one of these assholes in jail and get something out of them then.

A chuckle sounded from against the wall, making both Jason and Tim glanced up. One of the goons was propped up against a broken crate, his nose dripping blood, and his knee had definitely been shot.

"The fuck are you laughing at?" Jason nudged his injured leg.

The man hissed in pain before glaring up at him. "You ain't gettin' out of here."

Jason squatted down, gripping the mans calf and forcefully twisting his leg to the side. The man screamed.

"Hood." Double R warned, but Jason didn't listen to him.

"Don't you get it?" Jason turned the man's leg a little more. "GCPD is on their way, you're done."

Letting out a grunted laugh the man grinned. "They won't get here in time."

Jason's stomach lurched, ice coating his veins as that same sinking feeling he had had earlier returned. "What do you mean."

"Orders were to bring you in, or wipe you off the map." He nodded toward a shadowed corner of the warehouse. Jason and Tim both turned to look toward it. Bright red numbers were counting down from eight.

No.

The man laughed again. "Told you the clock was ticking."

Jason didn't think. Didn't hesitate, as he grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him toward the door of the warehouse that was cracked open. Shouting for him to get down as he shoved him through the door.

The last beep of the countdown rang in his ears before the warehouse exploded.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed, will try to update before the end of the week!
As always if you have any thoughts, questions, concerns, or just want to say hi, drop a comment! It really helps me to keep updating.

Chapter 11: ... Jason?

Heat. There is so much heat. His ears rang, and someone is talking, yelling, trying to get his attention, but all he could hear is a deafening ringing. Shaking his head, he tried to remember what happened, where he was. There is something heavy on his back, and as he pushes the crumpled metal off of him he see's the crumpled warehouse a few feet away.

Flashes of memories. Riding his bike through the streets of Gotham, fighting in the warehouse, a call on a comm. Jason! Jason had called him, had needed help That's why Tim was here. That's why-

Oh god.

"Red! Red Robin ANSWER ME!" A young voice screamed in his ear. Shit, Damian. He'd been online, he'd-

"I'm here." His voice was rough, his tongue coated in a layer of soot. Taking a step he stumbled forward, still off balance from the blast. Jason had shoved him out the door, Jason had- pain pulsed deep on the back of his head and he lifted his hand to pace it on the dampness of his hair. His fingers running through the wetness there.

"Are you and Todd alright?" Damian's voice sounded wire thin. As if he was doing everything in his power to stay calm, to not scream. "I have already contacted Batman."

Good, yes he needed B, Jason had been shot he'd need- Where was Jason?

"I-" He looked around. The blast had thrown him a few feet from the where the remains of the warehouse stood, no one else was around him. "I don't see him."

"Well, find him." Damian snarled, and he sounded so much like Batman in that moment that Tim couldn't help but flinch.

“Hood!” Tim stumbled forward again, rubbing the the ashes and sweat off of his face smearing it on his white lenses.“Hood!” He calls out again, now knee deep in rubble. Jason had shoved him out the door, the blast had thrown him and the door a few feet away. Jay had been inside… he had been inside.

Panic begins to wind itself up Tim's spine. Jay had been inside, he had shoved Tim out the door, he wasn't answering.

"Hood!" Tim yells again, louder as he starts digging.

No No No. This couldn't happen again. They couldn't lose Jason again, not like this. Not again. Bruce wouldn't survive it he wouldn't- and Dick. God Dick would hate him. Dick would blame Tim. Dick would- he would never come back to Gotham, and Damian. Fuck, Damian cared, he actually cared about Jason.

Tim dug through the fallen brick, his hands aching as he pulled at slabs of concrete and wood. Feeling the elastic on his fingers rip and shred as it gets caught on jagged edges, glass, and splintered beams. The acidic smell of smoke had him doubled over coughing as it sank deep into his lungs, but he couldn't stop.

There had been bodies in that warehouse. The bodies of the men they had taken down, and as Tim steps over a blown apart arm, he gags.

“Jason!” He lets the name fall from his lips as he continues to scramble over the fallen rubble, only looking close enough at the bodies to determine that it wasn't his brother, before moving on and peering under another slab of bricks. He could hear the sirens in the distance. He didn’t have much time left before they reached him, and he still hadn't found Jason.

“Red Robin status report.” A shiver ran down his spine. He knew that gravelly voice above everything. Tim tried to take a breath. He needed to tell him. He had to- He deserved to know. “Red Robin status report!”

“I’m okay.” His voice was soft, too soft, tears already stinging his eyes. “I need back up, there was an explosion." Tim couldn't keep the tremble out of his voice. "Hood is trapped under the rubble, I- B, I can’t find him."

There is silence over the line. 

Tim wanted to crawl in a hole. Wanted to bury himself right along with Jason, how could he have let this happen? How hadn’t he clocked that bomb the second he walked into that place? He should've called B, should've told Damian they needed back up. Now he was gone. He was dead, again, and it was his fault. It was all his fault. 

Now everything would fall apart. He knew, he remembered how fractured the family had been the first time. How it had made Bruce distant, and even after he agreed to train Tim, B had still been very hands off. It had taken years for Bruce to start to invest time in him, to even squeeze his shoulder or tell him he did a good job. It had been one of Dick and Bruce’s many arguments. Now it was happening all over again, the darkest time in their fucked up family was happening again, and this time Tim wouldn't be able to help them. He wouldn't be able to be there for them, because it was his fault. Stupid, stupid.

He kept digging. Kept picking up and tossing debris until the pads of his gloves were completely gone and the skin of his fingertips was cracked and bleeding. Until he could no longer see because the tears in his eyes were stuck in his domino and it was like when you got water inside your swimming goggles, and how would he ever live with himself?

Jason had called him, had reached out to him, and he had failed. He had so monstrously failed. How would he ever look at Bruce in the face again, look at any of them? Dick's little brother was gone all over again, and Damian, whatever peace they had reached was gone, dead and buried alongside Jason. 

His foot hit the side of something and he was falling. Tumbling forward, his breath ripped out of him as he landed hard in his stomach. This was fine. He should just stay here. Just wait for B to find him, he couldn't keep digging, didn't want to be the one to find the body.

Coughs raked his body again and he tried to relax onto whatever had tripped him. Just wait for B. He couldn't mess anything up if he just laid still. He gingerly peeled his mask off, Blinking, away the tears, that were no longer trapped. They carved their way down his filthy, ashes covered cheeks. Eyes stinging with the influx of heat and smoke.

"I'm sorry." He whispered though he didn't know to whom he was saying it to. He had long stopped believing in any god.

Something pressed uncomfortably into his side, poking into his ribs, and causing him to his as he shifted. Glancing down to see what it was, he was met with a tuft of white hair peeking out from under a fallen beam. It was the handle of a knife that dug painfully into Tim's side. A handle that was sheathed at Jason's waist.

Jason.

It was Jason slack jawed and out cold, under him, but breathing.

 

Batman got to them just as Fire and Rescue had arrived. Had hauled Tim up and then lifted the beam off of Jason before picking him up as if he weighed nothing. Holding him tight to his chest as he ordered Tim into the bat plane.

The rest had been a blur. He didn't remember the ride back home. Didn't hear anything as he went and sat on one of the med-bay chairs and waited. Damian was there peering over at Jason's limp body and talking to Tim but Tim couldn't hear him.

Then the cave had gotten crowded. Dick, Leslie, Alfred, all of them swarmed him, asked him what happened over and over while they checked his head, and hands. Forced a mask over his face with an oxygen tank by the bedside. And all Tim could say was "Jay needed help. Jay was shot. Explosion." Over and over again, he repeated the words. Like a record stuck and scratched in the manors upstairs music room. Jay needed help. Jay was shot. Explosion.

They left him alone a little while later. Wrapping him in a tight blanket, when he had started shaking.

He didn't know how long he sat there. Wrapped up and staring out into space, replaying the events again and again in his head. All the ways it could've been different. All the ways he could've corrected course, all the things he did wrong.

It wasn't until Alfred came up to him with a change of clothes that he was pulled out of his thoughts. "Perhaps, you would feel better after a bath and change of clothes, Master Tim?"

He shrugged, he didn't really feel like doing anything. Didn't feel like talking, but he did need to know, "Is Jason…?"

"Master Jason is in surgery at the moment. Dr. Thompkins is doing her best and assured us that the Master got lucky." Tim didn't know how Alfred was so strong. How he kept himself together after everything he'd seen, everything he'd been through. "It will be some time yet, you should wash up and then I will bring down something for you to eat."

Taking the clothes, Tim thanked him, watching him exit the med-bay and go and speak in a hushed tone to Bruce, who was sitting at the Batcomputer, still in his gear going over what looked like footage and a hastily written report. Matching CCTV cameras from around the area, pulling up police scanner reports and talking to Oracle through the comm as he went over every detail.

Tim couldn't blame him. He would be doing the same in his place. Glancing down at the clothes again, he forced himself to stand up. He should talk to Dick, to Damian, he should say something. Apologize.

When Tim exited the Med-bay he could see them all sitting there, waiting. No one spoke. The tension rippled through the atmosphere and Tim wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, under his heavy covers and cry himself to sleep. 

Tim’s gaze zeroed in on Dick’s leg as it was bounced erratically, even as Dick tried to smile when he saw Tim emerge. It was all wrong, too tight and straight, and it didn't reach his eyes.

"How are you feeling baby bird?" He asked, leg still bouncing, eyes quickly taking in Tim's state before falling to the monitor above the med-bay, one that Tim knew was connected to their operating room.

He shrugged as he shuffled over to Dick's side. Watching as Dr. Thompkins worked around Jason. Tim couldn't look anymore. Seeing the way the tubes were all connected to him, the way the red blood looked bright against the sterile sheets and metal table.

Turning, he found Damian. Arms crossed over his chest as he too watched the live feed of Leslie operating on Jason. He was deathly quiet. Not making a sound, barely looked like he was breathing as he kept his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn't say anything to Tim, didn't even glance at him as he walked past and toward the showers.

It felt good to get the grime off of his skin. To have a a few minutes to himself as he shook off the reminder of the way Jason looked under the rubble. Soot and blood coating his forehead and dripping down his cheek, the white lenses of his domino making it look like his eyes were open and still.

Tim gagged and doubled over, his body pushing to expel what little was in his stomach. He waited it out. Breathed deep through his nose and out of his mouth until the need to throw up subsided and he was able to finish his shower in peace.

When he came out, droplets falling from his wet hair onto the cave floor, he saw that no one had moved. Bruce was still at the computer, Damian and Dick huddled closer together but still watching the monitor, and that left Tim in the middle of the cave not knowing what he was supposed to do.

Did he just go up to his room? Did he head back into the med-bay? Did he open up his laptop and try to see if he could find a lead on the man who had orchestrated the ambush on Jason?

Tim was frozen, feet stuck, as he thought about what it was he should do, what his next step would be. Should he say something? What would he-

Then a phone rang.

It was loud and piercing in the silence of the cave. Making all of them jump slightly, even the bats up above them fluttered their wings in irritation.

All of them turned their heads toward the sound. Tim's breath catching in his throat as he saw that it was coming from the bundle of Jason's bloody and torn gear.

The chime stopped, and for a minute Tim thought maybe that was it. Who ever it was would leave a voice mail or something. Then the ringing started up again. They couldn't ignore it, could they? What if it was something important, what if it was the Alley kid Jay had given his number to?

Walking over toward the sound, Tim tried not to look too hard at the blood on that was crusted onto the leather jacket, just shoved his hands blindly into Jason's pocket until he was able to pull out the phone and answer it.

Immediately the person on the line starts talking. "Hey Jaybird." Tim knew that voice. Had met the man a handful of times when he was younger. "How'd the op go? I know you said it would be in and out, did you-"

"Roy?"

When Roy did speak again all the bubbliness in his voice was gone. "Who is this?"

"It's Tim." Although with the way his voice shook, he wasn't surprised Roy hadn't recognized him.

"Where is Jason?"

"He's-" Tim glanced over at the camera in the med-bay, meeting Dick's frown before he answered. "He got hurt."

Silence.

"I'll be there in two hours." Then the line goes dead.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Hope to update as soon as I can, thanks for reading!!

As always if you have any thoughts or questions or just want to say hi leave a comment, I love going through them!

Chapter 12: They Say You Can’t Pick Your Family

Notes:

I have been WAITING to be able to post this. I hope you guys like it.
Edited: 6.23.2025

Roy was going to kill the bats.

Well, not kill, lightly maim, maybe? There were lots of them… would Kori help if he called? He was sure that between the two of them they could at least give the big bat a run for his money, but would she be okay with lighting up her ex and his family? You know, now that Roy thought about it, it was weird that it had never come up before with how much Jason had claimed to hate the bats.

The moment that Tim had told him that Jason was injured he had called and pulled as many favors as he could. Pulling up at the gates of the manor in a record breaking 1 hour and 45 minutes. The tires screeched to a stop as he hopped out of the drivers seat of the convertible, taking the stairs up to the front door two at a time.

He didn't even get a chance to knock before Alfred was opening the door, greeting him. "Nice to see you again Mister Harper."

"Pleasure as always Alfred, where's Jason?" He ducked under the butlers arm and was making his way through the entryway on quick legs.

"He just got out of surgery."

"Good, so I can see him." Surgery, he just got out of surgery? What the fuck had this idiot gotten himself into?

"Follow me. I am sure Master Jason will appreciate your presence." Alfred steps quickly overtook Roy's, maneuvering around the manor and opening up a secret elevator that led to the infamous batcave. The seconds ticked away and Roy found himself tapping his foot. All the money in the world and this fucking thing couldn't go any faster?

Slate gray doors opened up to, yup, that was definitely a cave, bats hanging from the ceiling and everything. Huh, Bats really went all out on the aesthetic didn't he? No wonder everyone in this family is so dramatic. He thought, remembering Dick's moods exaggerated demeanor when they had been in the Titans together. Roy didn't give himself time to look around, to explore something that he had wanted to see back when he had been running around in a red cap and yellow boots. He needed to see Jason.

"Where is he?"

"Med-bay is this way sir."

Roy followed close behind, his eyes roaming over the state of the art machines and operating equipment. Hell, bats could open up his own hospital in this place if he wanted to. Not sure how the possible exposure to rabies through bat would be taken by the public, but you know.

"Here we are. I should warn you that he is still unconscious from the procedure, but Dr. Thompkins said he was out of all immediate danger."

Jesus. "What happened?"

"Apparently, Master Jason was shot, and then the warehouse he was investigating exploded."

Christ.

Something must've shown on his face because Alfred nodded solemnly.

"Thanks Alfred."

"Of course, I shall leave you two be." Alfred bowed his head, "Please let me know if you require anything," then turned to leave.

Roy couldn't help but hesitate. An explosion, why was it that it was always Jay that found himself in these situations? Always worrying Roy to heart palpitations.

Taking a breath he opened the door and stopped short. There on a hospital bed was Jay. Oxygen mask on his face, monitors beeping along with his heart rate, numbers flashed as an IV bag pumped fluids and probably pain meds into him. He looked so pale, tucked in and wearing what looked like hospital grade PJ's. His hair was plastered to his forehead, a bandage just visible on the side of his head.

Yeah, Roy was going to fucking kill the bats.

* * *

Jason groaned as he blinked against the white light. His lids heavy and his entire body ached. He tried to move, to turn onto his side and a flash of pain jolted through him so violently that white spots dotted along his vision and a breath hissed out of him. Fuck, he felt as if a fucking building had fallen on him.

Oh, wait-

"Easy Jaybird," he'd know that voice anywhere, "You don't want to tear your stitches." Roy sounded from somewhere on his right. He blinked again, willing his stiff neck to turn. Sure enough, there sat next to him, was the red headed mess that was his best friend, trucker hat sitting idly on his lap.

"You're here?" Jay couldn't help but ask. Couldn't help but feel all mushy inside knowing that Roy was there, folded in an uncomfortable med-bay chair waiting for him to wake up.

"Of course I am." He grinned. "You miss me?"

Jason lets out a huffed laugh, a pull on his side making it more of a gasp, but a smile tugged on the corner of his lips nonetheless. "Yeah." He confessed. "I did." If anybody asked, he'd say he was high on pain and meds.

Roy smirked, leaning forward and pushing some of Jason's hair away from his forehead. He didn't even try to pull away, or fuss. In truth the contact felt nice, it had been years since someone touched him so casually.

"You really look like shit Jay," Roy muttered shaking his head.

Jason let out a snort. "Thanks Harper, you really know how to make a guy feel special."

"Ah well, you know," Roy shrugged. "What are friends for?"

"How long have you been here?" Jason glanced around, his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Roy leaned forward and grabbed a cup of water on the table, "eh, nothing too crazy."

Jason gratefully sipped from the straw, "who-"

A knock cut him off.

"Yeah?" Roy answered for him, and in came a blotchy faced Tim.

Popping his head in, he looked at Roy, "Hey, Alfred said- Oh you're awake." Tim's gaze found his and then it immediately fell to the floor. The kid looked like shit, dark circles carved themselves under his eyes, and Jason knew he had been beating himself up for the way the op had gone. Jason knew this because it was what any Robin would do, they all had martyr complexes, lovingly passed down by their mentor, and Jason wished he could tell him that it wasn't his fault. Really, truly, it had been Jason's. He should've clocked that bomb long before Tim ever got there. But he'd botched the whole job, had gotten cornered, worse had gotten shot, had almost gotten Tim fucking killed.

Guilt bubbled up in his gut, hot and ugly but he pushed it down, he could beat himself up about that later, once he was out of this fucking cave and once Tim wasn't right there, eyes cast downward and red rimmed. "Hey Timbo, how're you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that."

"Eh, I've had worse." He shrugged a shoulder.

Roy rolled his eyes.

Tim's eyes slowly rose, his brows furrowing.

"So," Jason continued, catching Tim's eye and nodding toward him. "What's the verdict? Am I gonna live?"

It was Tim's turn to roll his eyes before blowing out an exasperated breath. "Hairline fracture on your right tibia, bruised ribs from the beam that fell on you, and a concussion with a bad cut on the right side of your head." Tim stepped the rest of the way into the room and shut the door behind him. "As for the bullet. Leslie fished it out and had to stitch together some of your insides before stitching up the wound so you know, try not to like tug on them or anything."

Jason hummed. He'd gotten lucky.

"Jesus fuck Jay, you're a danger to yourself and everyone around you, I can't leave you on your own without you somehow finding a way to end up in an exploding building."

Jason put on his most charming smile before turning to Roy. "Hey, I have an explosive magnetism what can I say?"

"I hate you." Roy shook his head.

"Sure you do Harper," Jason rolled his eyes and flinched at the pain that twinged behind his sockets.

Tim took another few steps in, sitting at the edge of Jason's bed, hands fidgeting in his lap. "Honestly, Leslie was surprised you got off with so few injuries. She thinks that the beam that fell on you must've taken the brunt of the debris."

Jason frowns. "You'll have to thank her for me."

"You're not staying." It wasn't a question. "You need to rest, even with the time you've been out, Leslie said that-"

Wait. "How long have I been out?"

Roy and Tim glanced at each other and oh, Jason did not like that at all.

"How long." He pressed.

"A little over 48 hours." Tim flinched at the look Jason settled on him. Two fucking days? He'd been out for two days? "Leslie knew you'd want to leave as soon as possible and she wanted to make sure you would at least have rested some before you stubbornly got to your feet."

Jason groaned and fell back into the pillows.

"You gotta admit Jay," Roy gave him a sympathetic look, patting his shoulder. "She knows you well."

"Yeah, yeah." He shrugged him off, turning to Tim. "Where is everyone?"

"Dick and Damian are out, and B is upstairs, actually he wanted me to let him know when you were up. I should-" Tim started standing.

"Oh no." Jason shook his head ferociously, the heart monitor beeping loudly, amplifying his now quickening heart rate. "Fuck that."

"Jason he just wants-"

"I don't give a shit. No." Pulling the sheets back, he grunted as he swung his legs over the side trying to get up.

Both Roy and Tim jumped up, putting their hands up, trying to tuck him back in. "Wait, Jay please-"

Batting away their hands he shook his head. "Nope. I got medical supplies at the safe house, and I got shit to do." He pulled the monitor clip off his finger and it fell flat, then he went to work on the IV in his arm. Nausea roiled in his stomach, he fucking hated needles, too many bad memories.

"Jay please." Tim begged. "I won't tell him, not now anyway. Just- Just stay, let at least Alfred see you."

Jason paused. "Alfred." No, Jason wasn't ready to see them. To remember the time before the Joker, before he was dead and buried, back when he didn't have blood on his hands. He couldn't, couldn't face them yet, he hadn't had time to think about what he'd say, how he would answer all the questions their eyes would ask. He had faced Bruce's disappointment already and almost died, he couldn't face Alfred's, not right now, not when he was still trying to get his feet under him, and he was so doped up on pain meds that he might say something wrong.

"If you won't talk to Bruce. Just let me call Alfred," Tim continued to insist. "Just… Just let him get you something to eat and-"

"Okay, okay I'll talk to Alfred." He lied.

Tim paused, letting out a relieved breath, before nodding. "Okay, okay let me go get him. I'll be right back." The kid shot out the door and Jason held his breath for all of a second before turning to look at his best friend pleadingly.

Roy sighed, "We're leaving aren't we?"

"Yup," Jason popped the P. "Now, help me up."

Roy immediately stood and grabbed onto his arm, helping him balance as Jason finished untangling himself from the cords and machines that conspired to trip him if he wasn't careful. The cave's floor was cold against his bare feet, but looking around he didn't see any of his clothes or gear and he knew Bruce had probably hid them. He was controlling like that, knowing that it would be that much harder for him to leave.

As if he had read his thoughts Roy said, "I don't know where they stashed your gear."

"Fuck the gear, I need new shit anyway, let's just get the fuck out of here, Where's your car?" Jason asked as he wrapped an arm around Roy's shoulders and in turn his best friend held him by the waist, being careful of his bandages.

"I left it out front, but-"

"It's okay there is a second entrance that leads out to the garden we can just go through there."

They were going at a snails pace, but he hoped that if Bruce was in his study, and Alfred in the kitchen, then they would at least make it into the shadows before either of them could make their way down the elevator.

Once they cleared the med-bay Jason tried not to let his eyes roam. He really did, but the curiosity was too great. So much of the cave was the same, it was like looking back in time. As if Jason hadn't been gone for six years, as if his entire life hadn't shifted and been tinged with blood and Pit green. The computer was still where it's always been, still the same massive screen just sleeker, the frame thinner. The T-Rex, the giant penny, the cases of trophies that Batman kept from his Rogues. The mats and exercise equipment was still off to the right. Jason could even see the parallel bars and rings that he knew B had installed for Dick.

All of it made bile rise in his throat. Memories crashed into him from every direction. Him and B working on a case by the computer until Alfred had to come down and usher Jason up to bed. Dick teaching him how to use the rings, telling him how to point his toes and the best way to train his upper body to hold his weight.

Jason had to grit his teeth against the onslaught, eyes pricked and burned and he tried to take deep even breaths as they moved past the place that he had once loved, the place that he had once called home.

"You alright there Jaybird?" Roy's voice was soft, calming.

Jason cleared his throat, "yeah, just want to get the hell out of here."

"Almost there. Look I see the batmobile."

He could see it too, although that had changed significantly since the last time Jason had laid eyes on it. It was black, because would Bruce ever make it any other color? But even just looking at it from a distance he could tell that the security it now had would make it near impossible for a kid to steal the tires. There were hidden cameras and sensors everywhere. He couldn't help but wonder all the other neat tools and gadgets B must've updated it with since he'd been gone. How fast could it go now? If Jason found it on the street how long would he need to be able to leave it atop cinder blocks before it notified the Bats. Maybe one day he'd try.

His lips quirked upward at the thought, and he let his eyes roam toward the other cars and bikes all neatly parked in a row. Then near the entrance, right where everyone passes to enter and leave the cave there was a glass case.

That's new. Jason couldn't help it, he'd never seen that case before and for a second, for a split second he was curious. Maneuvering with Roy he took a step toward it, his brows bunched together as he looked into it, then froze.

Roy hitched in a breath next to him.

There in that case, was his old Robin uniform. It looked so small, barely reaching his chin. The mask was tattered, blood speckled throughout the costume. Certain areas looked like they had been hand stitched back together, and he wondered if it had been Alfred, or if Bruce had done it as a way to punish himself.

Blood roared in his ears as his eyes further scanned his old uniform. Although places of it had been stitched others had been left as is. Tears that were too big, places where the fabric had been singed from the explosion, the blood, dirt, and soot that seemed to have seeped deep into the fabric, all of that had been left untouched. And Jason remembered how he had felt in it. How the blood that had leaked out of him had stained the concrete below. How he could barely breathe as one of his ribs punctured through a lung and he could taste his coppery blood in his tongue, could feel it dripping from his lips and out his nose. How the dirt had gotten into his wounds, and stung. How the smoke filled the small free space in his lungs when the bomb exploded. The feel of heat and pain licking at his right shoulder but he could no longer scream, couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

He remembered the rumble of the batmobile, remembered how he had tried to reach toward the sound. Had tried to crawl toward it before everything had gone black. Then he was choking on dirt and on green burning acid and then he had screamed. He had screamed over and over for Bruce and he had never come.

His forehead plopped itself onto the cold glass. He was shaking, he knew he was, but he couldn't stop, not as his eyes took in every detail of that suit, as they roamed lower and he saw-

No.

He shook his head, a gasp falling from his lips.

"Jay, Jay breathe." Roy held onto him tighter, pulling him in closer.

Jason pressed his free hand onto the glass, using it to hold himself up as his eyes burned into the plaque at the bottom of the case. As he tried to remember how to breathe, tried to feel his lungs expand, because he wasn't in that warehouse anymore. He wasn't, he was here, he was alive, but his eyes wouldn't stop reading and re-reading that plaque over and over and over again.

A roar sounded through the cave, but Jason didn't look up. Even as Roy tugged on him gently. He felt his best friend trying to coax him away from the case, trying to pull his gaze from the plaque but he couldn't- he couldn't just turn away just-.

"You're up." The voice cut through his panic. Cut through him so completely that he leaned back to watch as Damian jumped off of Dick's bike, clicking his child sized helmet onto the back of it.

He had been out. Tim had told him, had said that Dick and Damian were out. They had been patrolling. Damian had been out in Gotham wearing those colors, those same colors that he had fucking died in, was standing there, watching him, standing at the entrance to the batcave, with a cut on his fucking cheek and walking toward Jason. Walking toward him as if another Robin hadn't almost died just the other day.

Dick gets off the bike next, taking off his helmet and standing warily next to Damian and fuck he was so small. How had he never noticed how small he was? He was smaller than he had been before he had been buried. Jason could see it, could imagine what it would've been like if Damian had gone with Tim to that warehouse. What would Jason have done if there hadn’t just been one bird to shove out of the way but two? Damian was still so young. What if Jason hadn't been able to get to him in time? What if he had been shot too? Would there be another memorial case next to his with an even smaller suit in it?

"Dr. Thompkins said-"

Jason doesn't give a shit what Dr. Thompkins had said. "What the fuck?" the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Damian freezes. "What?"

Jason uses his hand pressed against the case to help keep him upright as he turns. Rage was burning low in his stomach, churning and lighting his veins. The image of Damian's suit in a case next to his burned behind his lids. "Fuck, was a fucking warehouse exploding not warning enough?" He snarled. "Was my fucking death not warning enough?" he smacked his hand against the glass in emphasis. "Get out of that fucking suit."

Damian blinked before wiping all emotion from his face. “Tch.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I think you hit your head too hard when that building fell.” 

“You shouldn’t be wearing it Damian.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “I earned this suit." He points to the R on his chest. "It is my birthright, mine. You don’t get to tell me it is not.”

“Don’t you understand?” Jason hissed, taking a step toward the kid even as Roy tried to keep an arm around him.

“I understand just fine." Damian sneered, voice rising. "I see that you’re jealous, jealous that I have these colors and you don’t!”

“You’re going to die doing this!” He yelled, pointing to his own suit. “You’re going to die in that stupid costume.” 

“I am not you, Todd." His voice icy cold. "I was trained-"

"God, are you fuckin- It's not about skill you little shit. You had me in the League to look out for you, you had Talia and- "

"I do not see how that is relevant."

“You’re a kid!” He slammed his palm on the glass again.

“I am not!” Damian yelled back, cheeks red. “I am the demons heir. Batman's heir. I was born to be a weapon, I-.”

"Do you hear yourself?” Jason snarled. “Don’t you know how fucked up that is? You’re fucking eleven Damian. Eleven!”

“That means nothing.”

“What is going on here?” The gruff voice made his skin crawl, and he turned to see Bruce walking into the cave with furrowed brows, a frown tugging his lips down and as Jason turned to face him. As he laid his eyes on Bruce Wayne for the first time in over a year, the rage that lapped and churned in his stomach hissed.

"You." Jason turned his accusatory gaze toward his old mentor. His father. "How could you let him put on that fucking suit? How could you give it to another kid after what happened to me?”

Bruce's brows rose for a millisecond before he wiped his face of any emotion. Just as Damian had, a miniature carbon copy. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh don’t I?” Jason took another step forward.

“Jason,” Roy tugs on his arm. “Let’s just go man.” 

Jason pulls his arm out of Roy’s hold. "No."

“Jay-” Dick took a step forward, palms up. 

“Stay out of this Dick. This has nothing to do with you.” Jason turns his full attention back to Bruce. “How could you do it?” He pointed toward the glass case, at the plaque at the bottom. “I wasn’t your fucking soldier, you fucking asshole, I was your son!”

“You need to calm down.”

“Fuck you. I don’t gotta do shit.” Jason could feel the green creeping through his veins, mixing into his blood stream, the fucking Pit hissed and crawled through him in excitement. His own anger fueled it, and boy was he fucking livid. “You’re a real fucking peace of work you know that?" He held Bruce's hard stare. "Talia showed me the photos. She showed me the news articles. I wasn’t gone six months before you shoved another kid in that god forsaken suit and set him loose on the city. Did you hold auditions? Or did the Replacement just fall in front of you one day and you decided that he would do?” Jason knew he wasn’t being fair. Knew that the third Robin was still just a kid, but damn if it didn’t fucking hurt to know Bruce just up and gave the suit to someone else after he had died. 

“You don’t know the whole story.”

“I don’t need to!” Jason reeled on Bruce. “I died, and nothing fucking changed. Nothing. You didn’t stop Joker from killing again. You didn't stop him from paralyzing Barbara. No, you just got another fucking kid to fill in the cape. How old was Timmy when he stepped into those pixie boots? Twelve, thirteen?” Jason shook his head. “Fuck Bruce. You shouldn’t have even given me the suit, this, all of this and for what? Gotham is still a fucking shit show."

“You’re right.” Bruce sighed. “I should never have given you the suit. I thought it would help you. I thought that like Dick it would-” but Jason didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Of course, of course. It had never been about Jason. Nothing was ever about Jason, it was about Dick. Bruce had felt left behind, lonely, so he’d gone out and picked the first kid he had seen off the street and stuffed him in Dick’s green undies and called it a day. 

Jason wasn’t special, hell he had died and Bruce had given the suit to the fucking neighbor’s kid. Batman needed a Robin, and Bruce needed a kid. That was it. There really wasn’t anything to it. Jason wasn’t special, never had been, he wasn’t an acrobat, or an incredible detective and inventor, he wasn’t raised by assassins. There was nothing remarkable about him. He was just fucking street trash and had died like fucking street trash. 

Jason shook his head, a ringing returning to echo in his ears. “I don’t want to have this conversation.” He turned and began walking toward the exit. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t be here anymore. Couldn’t see that torn and bloodied suit staring back at him. Couldn't see Damian in those Robin colors and pretend that he wouldn't end up just as he had. Six feet in the dirt with worms wiggling in his gut.

“Jason don't run away.” Bruce’s voice followed him. “You can’t just turn your back on us as soon as something is hard, or a conversation is difficult."

“Like you're one to talk.” Roy shot back, gripping Jay close to him.

“This is a family matter Harper,” Bruce growled. “I’d appreciate it if you kept out of it.”

 Jason stopped, stepping in front of Roy, “You don’t talk to him like that.” he hissed. “Ever.”

“Jason please just listen.” 

“I don’t wanna talk. I’m done with this shit. I'm done with you.” He turned back to Roy, hanging his arm off his shoulder.  

“You’re right it was my fault, I shouldn’t have-”

“Oh, fuck off Bruce.” Jason shot back.

“I thought it would help, I-” Bruce was still chasing after them. His strides quicker since he hadn't gotten fucking shot. “ I knew you were volatile, you hadn’t processed your mothers death, and the way Two-faced had taunted you, everything you went through-” 

Jason whirled, pointing a finger at his once mentor. “Don’t fucking talk about what I went through. You don't have the right, as if you’re so well-fucking-adjusted, running up and down Gotham in a fucking bat suit. Gimme a fucking break.” His heart was pounding in his ears, and he could feel it. See it at the edges of his vision, neon green whispering to feed it. 

To just let go. 

His fingers ached for a gun. 

“I was scared of what you would become, that if you didn’t channel that rage it would consume you, and I was right. You were violent even then Jason!” 

“I WAS A KID!” He roared. “I was a fucking kid, Bruce. I was lost and had no one. Dick was barely here, I had no friends, and all you would do was nag and nag and compare me to the first boy wonder any chance you got. And even then I was still so fucking desperate to please you.” Jason tried to take a breath, tried to keep his emotions under control, but his eyes prickled with tears, the green taunting him. “And yes, yes I fucking lost my temper at times-”

“Lost your temper?” Bruce growled. “The incident with Garzonas-”

“I didn’t fucking kill Felipe!” He rubbed at his wet face, tears now flowing freely. Fuck he hated crying. Hated how raw and young it made him feel, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Bruce had stood there and accused him of killing that vile fucking man and he hadn’t. And he knew, he knew even as a kid that Bruce had never believed him, but hearing it again, fuck he couldn’t fucking stand it. 

The next words that came out of Jason’s mouth were horse and cracked but he had to get them out. “You want to stand here and call me a murderer? Say that I’m no better than the criminals and psychos locked up in Arkham? Fine, but at least use the names of people I’ve actually killed.” Jason shook his head, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I never killed Felipe Garzonas. I just didn't save him." 

Bruce paused for a second, then hammered in the last nail in the coffin. "That's the same thing."

“Jay," Roy tugged on his arm. "Come on, let's go,” and Jason let him, let Roy drag him out of the cave, his eyes trained on Bruce who was looking at him with, with fucking pity and something else he couldn't place. He made no move to follow and so Jason had Roy half drag him toward the convertible and shuffle him into the passenger seat.

As soon as the door shut on his side Jason scrubbed his face furiously, tears streaking down his cheeks without his permission. His fists clenched and unclenched before they connected with the dashboard. Once, twice, and then again and again as a sob-choked yell escaped him, his knuckles bruised and split as pain flared up on his left side causing flecks of white to dance around his vision.

Leaning back into the seat he huffed in deep breaths, pressing a shaking hand to his side. His fingers coming away crimson. Fuck.

Roy started the engine and silently peeled out of the driveway. The shadow of the manor disappearing into the dark as they sped away.

"You pulled your stitches." Roy said in a cool tone.

Jason shrugged, leaning his head against the window, watching the lights of Gotham flash by as they drove deeper into the city. His city. Jason couldn't help but think about what Selina had said to him, how she had asked him why he had come back.

Closing his eyes he allows himself to think the words for the first time since he returned. Think them in despair, knowing he'd fucked everything up, because that's all he knew how to do. He just fucked shit up, especially the good things in his life.

The truth circled in his head, squeeze his lungs making it hard to breathe. I had missed it. Missed the life I used to have. A life that was no longer his. A life he could never return to.

In memory of Jason Todd.

Robin

A good soldier.

Notes:

I never believed that Jay pushed Garzonas, if you think he did, I understand the comic is vague for that reason. I just think it was more of a "he fell I just chose not to do anything about it" situation.
Bruce is trying he's just has his own issues he refuses to deal with. WHICH doesn't excuse him but you know. It's complicated.
As always thanks for reading and if you have any questions, thoughts or just want to show some love leave a comment!! I love to see them and they help me to keep posting.

Chapter 13: What has Batman done with Jason Todd?

Dick's hands shook as he watched his Jason limp out of the cave, an arm thrown around Roy's shoulder, tears dripping down his cheeks. Jason had never learned to hide the emotions beneath a mask. Not even the domino could hide them, even as Robin, he had struggled with it, and now as Dick looked at him, he could see the way his eyes widened, the way he paled, a look of utter devastation on his face at Bruce's words. This was Jason, their Jason. The one they had mourned for 6 years. The one that Bruce had lost, the one who's death Bruce had blamed himself for until he was nothing more than a husk of the man he had been.

Dick remembered those early months, how utterly destroyed Bruce had been, how careless he was getting. Sending muggers and petty criminals in heaps to the hospital with permanent damage. Dick had been worried that it wouldn't be long before Bruce followed Jason into an early grave. Had been preparing to receive Alfred's phone call. Had struggled himself with guilt and anger and self-hatred at not being there. Jason had called him, his brother had called him, and he hadn't been there.

Then months had passed and he could still see him sometimes in the corner of his eyes. It's why he refused to come to the manor, because Dick would see him everywhere. Would see him in the kitchen talking Alfred's ear off as he helped cut up vegetables. See him lounging on the leather couch in the library reading through old classics, brows pulled together as he contemplated what he was reading.

Then Bruce had erected that memorial case and Dick could hardly stand being in the cave. Could see Jay's ghost hanging like a noose around their necks but neither of them had the heart to let him go.

Now he was back and here was Bruce lashing out, making the same mistakes that he had made all those years ago. He hadn't learned, and Dick wasn't about to let that slide. He wouldn't fail Jason a second time.

The silence in the cave was deafening. The sound of rustling bats hanging from over head was the only sound that could be heard.

Dick held his breath as Bruce finally turned to looks over to where Damian and him were standing. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Damian turned on his heel and walks away toward the showers. Dick could see the tension in his shoulders, the way Damian's scowl permeated through his very stance. No doubt angry at both Jason and Bruce for the argument.

Damian had been anxious when Jason had been brought in. Eyes taking in every bit of him, unconscious and covered in soot and blood. He had shoved his way to the front, demanding Leslie do something. Had turned a growl toward Tim asking him how he had allowed this to happen. That if he had been there it wouldn't have happened. Tim had been in shock, not hearing Damian's accusations, and Dick had been grateful for it, that he wouldn't carry the weight of the young Robins words along with his already piling guilt.

Bruce watched as Damian turned away from him, but said nothing to stop him.

Dick couldn't take the silence anymore. Couldn't take looking at Bruce, hearing the words he had just said to Jay reverberating in his head. That's the same thing.

"How could you say that to him?" Dick's voice was a barely contained snarl.

Bruce sighed. "I don't want to have this fight Dick."

"Well too fucking bad." Dick stepped in front of his father. The man that had raised him since his parents death. The man that had taught him the value of empathy and kindness even in the midst of pain and grief. Yet here he stood, so emotionally constipated that it was a surprise that the rest of their strange family could show any amount of vulnerability at all.

"Do you really think he murdered Garzonas?" Dick hissed. "Do you actually blame him for not saving him after he was going to get away with rape and murder?" Dick had read the case after Jason died. Had tried to understand what had happened. And maybe, maybe this was personal for Dick too, because he knew that Bruce knew about Blockbuster. About how Dick failed to save him, about what happened with Catalina, and Bruce had forgiven him. Had, in not so may words, told him it wasn't his fault. But if he blamed Jason, then had Bruce lied? Did Bruce actually blame him for not saving Desmond?

A light shuffle caught Dick's attention, and he could see that Tim was hovering in the shadows. How long he had been there, what he had caught, Dick didn't know. Tim stood still, just watching, like he normally did when Bruce and him got into it.

Bruce let out a long breath, not having noticed Tim. "What do you want me to say?" He ground out, "yes, I believed Jason killed Garzonas. He had previously shown acts of aggression and then-"

"So did we all Bruce!" Dick's hands shot up into the air. "We're all angry and sometimes we go too far that doesn't make us murderers."

"Dick, What was I supposed to do, I got there and-"

"Did you ask him?" Dick turned his cold glare back on Bruce.

"What?"

"Did. You. Ask. him?" Dick repeated slowly.

"I-"

"No, because you don't fucking ask B, you just assume. " He was losing his patience. This was the same fight the always had, the same argument, nothing ever changed. "You just go to the worst case scenario and go based off that. If it's not you making the call then it's always the wrong one. Jason was your son, he was-" Dick shook his head. "No wonder he fucking left."

"Are we done here?" Bruce asks jaw set in the way that let Dick know he was angry. Well good.

"You can't just run away from conversations you don't want to have, isn't that what you just said to Jason?" Dick crosses his arms over his chest. He wasn't going to drop it. Like hell he was going to drop it.

"I don't have to defend myself to you Dick." Bruce hissed. "The things that happened with Jason are my problem. You weren't here, you don't get a say-"

Dick scoffs, "And who's fault was that?" He knows it's a low blow. Knows that throwing their past failing relationship in Bruce's face wasn't going to make anything easier, but he couldn't stop himself. "I left because you fired me! Because at the end of the day you cared more about Gotham, and you know what? It's the same reason Jay left!"

Bruce was quiet for a long time before finally speaking. "That's not true."

"Oh isn't it? So you didn't fire him after what happened with Felipe? You talked to him, you got him help?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"I didn't think so." Dick shook his head, there was something that was on the tip of his tongue. That had been there since he saw Jason in that rooftop across from the Monarch. Since he had seen that jagged scar on his neck. "He needed you, Bruce."

"You think I don't know that?" Bruce hissed. "You think I don't think back and whish I'd gotten there sooner, that I-

"I'm not talking about when he died!" Dick was losing the fight with his temper, could feel it bubbling to the surface but he needed Bruce to understand, to hear him. "I'm talking about a year ago, in that apartment off Crime Alley."

Bruce didn't respond, simply let that icy mask fall back into place.

Curling his hands into fists, he tried to control their trembling, the way that rage coiled around his chest. Dick could hardly form the words, the image of the scar flashing through his mind. "He told me about the batarang B." Dick's voice was hard. "That's why Tim couldn't find the cowl footage right? Because you didn't want us to see it."

"What batarang?" Tim asked, finally stepping out of the shadows.

"The cowl footage was damaged." Bruce responded automatically, face neutral.

"Don't lie to me Bruce!" Dick was losing it. How could he just stand there and lie. Tim had been looking into it. Jason had shown him the fucking scar.

"I'm not lying." Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly. "Yes, I threw the batarang, it was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Oh he was going to kill him. Dick's fists were at his sides as he took a step toward his mentor.

"I miscalculated a throw I-"

"You slit his throat open! YOU COULD'VE KILLED HIM!"

"You what?" Tim was looking at Bruce horror struck.

"It was-"

"I swear to god if you say mistake one more time." Dick pointed a finger at Bruce, words coming through gritted teeth. He began to pace, couldn't keep still any longer. He was seconds away from swinging on Bruce. "You didn't even put it in the report. Didn't even tell us Red Hood was Jason until you couldn't find him!"

Bruce looked down, lips a tight line. "Jason was my failure. The incident with the batarang was my-" He searched for the right word, "error." Dick rolled his eyes. "One that was my burden to fix."

"It's not just about you!" Tim was yelling now, eyes hard and accusing. Cheeks red with an indignation that Dick understood all too well. "It's about not telling us. Not trusting us, Jason is our family too. We had a right to know."

Then suddenly Tim's eyes widen and one of his hands reach up to grab at his hair. "Oh god," That big brain of his was working through a problem, Dick had seen it a hundred times.

"What?" Dick can't help but ask.

"The shipment." Tim groans. "Jason's gear, he was waiting for a a shipment wasn't he? That's why he'd been so low on gadgets, why his armor was so worn that the bullet penetrated." Tim was staring wide eyed at Bruce, mouth slightly agape. "You stopped the shipment. Had it delivered here instead."

Bruce's brows pulled together, confused. "Yes, I've been tracking his purchases. I thought it would slow him down if he couldn't get-"

Dick sighed before running a hand through his hair tugging at the end of the long strands. "Fuck Bruce. His gear…" Dick shook his head. "That bullet could've killed him. You heard what Leslie said."

Tim's face morphed into one of rage. "I told you!" He yelled. "I told you he wasn't a threat."

"I couldn't just take your word for it." Bruce snapped.

"But we have to take yours!?" Tim snarls.

"B." Dick's voice is softer as he takes another step toward him. "B please you're killing me here. All of these secrets, all of this distrust. It has to stop."

"I'm just trying to keep everyone safe." His gaze was shifting between Dick and Tim.

"Then you have to trust what you've taught us." Tim said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We are partners, you have to trust us." Dick reiterated. It was something he had said multiple times, and knew he would have to repeat again.

"You are also my children." Bruce tone was sharp. "It is my responsibility to keep you safe." His eyes shifted to the glass case. "To make sure nothing happens to you."

Dick sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Look," they were getting nowhere. "What are we going to do about Jason?"

Bruce frowned, turning his gaze to the floor.

Tim rubs the back of his neck, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"What did you do?" Dick asks, because that was Tim's guilty shifting.

"Well," He opens his hands in a placating manner. "I may have put a tracker on him while he slept."

"Tim…" Dick groaned burying his face in his hands. "We've talked about this."

"I had a feeling he'd run and this way we can find him again!" Of course he'd try to justify it. "Granted he'll probably find it at some point and be angry but-"

"And then what did you think would happen?"

"Well," Tim shifts again. "I was kinda hoping that we would be able to talk to him before he found out."

Bruce had the audacity to look amused. A slight curl of his lip, that would be invisible to those who didn't know him, is what gave him away.

Dick closed his eyes, letting himself take a minute before turning back to his younger brother. "Okay, how about we pull up the GPS, maybe we can talk to him before he decides to leave the country."

Tim nods, immediately heading for his computer. "On it, and besides if he ditches the tracker we still have Oracle."

Dick has to physically restrain himself from glancing up in resignation. Instead he turns his gaze back to Bruce. His lips tight as they watch each other. The uneasiness crawling up his arms as he tries to find the right words. "I-"

Bruce holds up a hand cutting him off. "Don't worry about it." Clearing his throat he gives Tim a sideways glance before nodding to Dick. "I'll leave you to it then."

Dick watched as Bruce stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes his way toward the elevator. He stopped for a beat, turning and seeming to want to say one last thing before shaking his head and disappearing behind the metal doors.

Dick let out a breath. "Alright Tim, show me what you've got."

Notes:

To me, Dick is always a breath away from picking a fight with Bruce about any and everything, but especially about his siblings.
I do mention Blockbuster and Catalina Flores (Tarantula) here because even though it isn't fully touched on in this fic, I do think these are monumental moments for Dick's character, especially when thinking about how Dick could've stopped Catalina and didn't. So who knows maybe one day Jay and Dick will talk about their shared trauma.

We can only hope.

Hope you enjoy and as always if you have a question, or just want to say hi, leave a comment I love reading them and they help keep me on track for posting!!

Chapter 14: I Got You Buddy

Notes:

I'm so sorry for taking ten million years.
These next few chapters are tricky, I really thought it was all going to go in one chapter, just have it jump around a bit, but really they need to be separate. So, the chapter count has been tentatively updated to reflect that. The good news is I have the majority of the next few chapters fleshed out a bit so I shouldn't have to go so long between posts for a while.

Jason was only half paying attention to Roy as he drove through the streets of Gotham. The multimillion dollar mansions filtering away to suburban homes, to townhouses, to condos, and then finally the more run down apartments. Like with any city the closer you got to it's core the dirtier the streets got, the more worn down the brick and cement were, and the more cautious the people became.

Once Roy turned toward the streets with broken lampposts, potholes littering the road every few feet and trash crowding the corner. That's when Jason knew they were close. He signaled for Roy to pull the car into a tight alley and then to an inconspicuous garage that he paid extra for so he could stow his bike.

Roy followed his instructions, pulling in carefully and then cutting of the engine. Jason quickly opened the car door, clenching his jaw as he pulled himself up.

Roy didn't wait for Jason to ask for help. Grabbing Jason's arm and putting it around his shoulder to keep the weight off his bad leg. "Where's the elevator?"

Jason snorted. "There is no elevator, I'm on the fifth floor." Jason nodded toward the stair access door off to the right.

Roy groaned, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult, as he helped shuffle Jason toward the door.

The climb up the stairs was mind numbingly slow. Jason had pulled his stitches in the car and the white of his shirt was stained red as the wound leaked. Every step up felt like someone was stabbing into him. God he hated getting shot. They stopped to rest every couple of steps, and that alone had Jason grinding his teeth and filling with an indignant rage. Roy didn't complain though, didn't mention how they should've stayed at the manor, or maybe rented out a room in a hotel. He just stayed quiet, bushy brows pulled together as Jason breathed through the pain from his shredded side, limping up one stair at a time, making sure not to put too much weight on his left leg, and trying desperately not to think about Bruce's words.

It's the same thing.

"Jay?" Roy shook him a little. "Jaybird I need your keys."

Hissing, Jay patted his pockets and then sighed.

"It was with the rest of your stuff wasn't it?"

Jason simply nodded.

"Alright, no problemo, I got this." carefully leaning Jason against the hallway wall, Roy knelt down and got to work on the locks. Once they heard the final click of the fifth lock being undone Roy opened the door and gingerly shuffled them past the entryway, then stopped cold.

"Jay, please tell me you haven't been living here." Roy glanced around the bare thread apartment, to be fair, Jason had left it a bit messier than he usually would. Some of his discarded boxes of gear, he still needed to fix, were strewn about his living room, and of course what Roy called his white board of crazy was sitting in front of the T.V. Jason had been busy circling areas in the Bowery as well as adding other hand written notes and images all attached with magnets, his scribbled handwriting was visible along the empty spaces.

"What?" Jason shrugged. "It's fine." Sure, it wasn't the nicest place ever but it was clean, and warm, and it got the job done.

Roy frowned, "it looks like a serial killers hideout."

"Technically?" The joke didn't seem to land. Okay, maybe Jason could've sprung for a bit more comfort but he was low on cash, which was Roy's fault, and he hadn't really made up his mind if he was going to stay.

Roy shook his head. "Whatever, let's pack up whatever you need and hit the road." He leaned Jason against the counter as he went over to start grabbing boxes and looking into them. "I don't want to be around when the big bat gets his shit together."

Jason pauses, "What, no, I ain't leaving."

Roy paused, brows coming together. "What the fuck do you mean you're not leaving?"

Jason grunted as he tried to take a step forward and felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg. "I can't leave. At least not yet."

Roy raised a brow, dropping one of the boxes back onto the coffee table. "Why not?"

"I got shit I gotta do here Roy. I came back for a reason-"

"Did you?" Roy was crossing his arms across his chest, tilting his head, eyes trained on Jay. "Then come on and share with the class, because from what I remember you just up and left one day without an explanation, and every time I've asked you just change the subject.

That ugly churn of guilt gnawed at his insides. Jason did not want to have this conversation. Not when he had just had a fucking break down in front of Batman, not after losing it on Damian, not while he was dripping blood onto his sticky, stupid fucking counter-top.

"Can we not fucking do this right now?" He hissed.

Roy pressed his lips together into a thin line, and Jason could see him struggling with holding his tongue. Roy was a good friend, the greatest, but that didn't mean he didn't also have a mean streak that could rival Jason's own.

"People depend on me," Jason hoped that'd be enough.

Roy's jaw clenched but then he cut is gaze to the side and blew out a breath. "Who the fuck is gonna depend on you?" the words were harsh, but Jason saw the quirk in his lip that let him know he was just being an asshole. That Roy was giving in to not touching the subject, at least for now.

Scowling, Jason simply said, "Fuck you." He had told himself he wasn't gonna run anymore. That he wasn't gonna just back down the minute Batman decided to get on his case. Of course, Jason hadn't anticipated it exactly going the way it did. He honestly expected it to be on a rooftop somewhere, where he could at least take aim and keep Batman at a distance. But you know, gotta roll with the punches and all that.

Roy had the nerve to roll his eyes as he moved to shut the door with his foot and then wrap an arm around Jason's middle, half dragging him over toward the mattress in the corner.

"Wait, Roy, c'mon man," Jason protested. I so need a shower." He glanced down at the spreading red stain on his t-shirt. "And to restitch up that wound."

Roy paused, regarding Jason's appearance for a minute before the asshole wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, two day old post med-bay and explosion doesn't sit well on you Jaybird."

"Man, fuck you."

Roy said nothing, just chuckled under his breath as he helped guide Jason into his tiny as all hell bathroom, setting him down on the toilet. The bathroom is what Jason would consider the literal iteration of a water closet. It's cramped and small, the smell of mildew permanently circling the air of the tight space, no matter how much bleach Jason had poured on the tiles. Their knees brushed together as Roy turned on the hot water in the shower.

Jason lets himself relax, cataloguing the discomfort that was thrumming through his body. the categories going from 'fucking shit that hurts' to 'man that's annoying'. The pain in his leg was minimal, only really bothering him if he put too much weight on it. Then it's the throbbing on the side of his head. He didn't know if he had stitches there too, but he didn't feel like meddling with the bandages there, not when the main source of all his suffering was the gun shot wound on his left side. The ache of his bruised ribs making it that much worse anytime he tried to move, or breathe, or just exist really.

"Com'ere let me take a look at that." Roy crouched down, sitting between Jason's legs, so he can roll up the hem of his shirt and then begins to remove the bandage. The tape tugging on the sensitive skin around the wound and making Jason tense.

Jason didn't look down, didn't want to see the scars that marred his skin from a life of fighting, of surviving. His dip into the Lazarus Pit had wiped away many of his old scars, the ones he had gotten on the street, or in his early days as Robin. The one's he had used to hold in high esteem. They had been a reminder of where he had come from, of how hard he had worked to stay alive. Now they were gone, and the ones the Pit hadn't been able to wipe away were the deeper marks of his death. The burns that he knew began at this right shoulder and moved halfway down his back. The gauges from the crowbar on his left hip, slicing his eyebrow, and even that white streak that now marked his hair. Then there was the autopsy scar. A jagged and ugly y shaped thing that marred his chest and stomach. He fucking hated it. Hated the reminder every time he undressed. He was more than his death, more than what had happened to him that one night. It wasn't fair that the scars he had been proud of had been wiped clean and the ones he despised were what stayed behind. Jason Kept his gaze on the shower curtain that he had gotten from the dollar store as Roy pulled out all of the things he needed. There on the center of the curtain was a clown fish, orange and white popping against the blue of the background. Eyes wide, mouth open, looking as if it were screaming.

Roy whistles.

Jason blinked, shaking himself. "That bad?"

"Nah." Roy shook his head. "Just gotta fix it up a bit is all. Where's your-"

"Under the sink." Jason nods toward it, and Roy awkwardly moves to the side, leaning over Jason's good leg to jimmy open the cabinet under the sink and grab the med-kit he has stashed away there.

"You know this really is a shit hole Jay, I mean I thought my place in Star City was bad but this-"

"Hey, I haven't been here long," He didn't know why he felt the need to defend the place. "You know, I could spruce it up."

Roy hums, and Jason narrows his eyes, turning to see Roy's brows pulled tight, a frown tugging at his lips as he pulled out some hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. "C'mon man," his voice was low, like someone trying to coax a wild animal. "Why not come back with me to Kori's ship? She's due back from the Titans any day now, and we can figure it out from there."

"I can't Roy." He said leaning against the side of the sink, turning his attention back to the clown fish. "I still have to find the guy that set me up and-"

"Dude, no offense, but you're not going to be doing anything for a while, not until those stitches heal and that leg." Jason could hear Roy opening up a package of medical grade suture needles. "Just come back, take a load off, you can come back to this once you're all patched up and ready. Hell, I'll even come back and help if you want."

Jason was quiet for a bit, knew that Roy was just trying to help, that he hated getting a random call that Jason had gotten hurt out of nowhere. Hell maybe he was even bored being on Kori's spaceship all by himself in the middle of a deserted island. But Jason had come back, and all he could think about was how cold Joy had been when he said he had to get away the last time.

Must be nice to just pick up and leave when shit gets hard.

Jason sighed. He couldn't do that again. Couldn't just up an leave.

"Oh no, not that sigh." Roy's lips turned down as he pushed the needle through Jason's skin quite a bit harder than he needed to.

"Roy, I can't-"

"Can't or won't? You know, you bats are such martyr's, why won't you just let yourself take a break. After everything your so called family said to you today-"

"Hey! That's not fair."

"No, You know what isn't fair? The fact that you let them treat you like that Jay. Dick just stood there while Bruce fucking tore into you man. like what the fuck."

Jason couldn't fault Roy for being angry on his behalf, couldn't fault him because he was still pissed at Oliver Queen for the shit he had done to Roy before Jason and him had gotten close. Even if the asshole and Roy were on speaking terms now he still held a grudge toward his best friends mentor. "Dick is just-"

"Don't. Do not make excuses he could've chimed in if he wanted to."

Jason narrowed his eyes. He wasn't making excuses. "Don't take out your unsolved shit with Dick out on me. You wanna fight so bad, go yell at him. But I told you I ain't leaving, and I fucking mean it."

"Fine." Roy says, words uncharacteristically icy. He finished taping up the bandage and shoved the kit back under the sink before loudly shutting the bathroom door and marching off.

"Fine!" Jason shouts back, feeling like a toddler.

Fuck, how had everything gone to shit in such a short amount of time?

Jason watches the steam that begins to collect in the small bathroom and decides that if there is one thing he's going to do, is wash the stench of warehouse off of him.

Pulling the t-shirt off of his back, he winces as the movement pulls at his fresh stitches. The blood had soaked through a bigger portion of the shirt. His lips twist downward, he could almost hear Leslie chastising him for not being more careful.

Inspecting the shirt some more Jason felt the fabric between his fingers. He knew he had been put into what was likely Bruce's new updated medical garments. Soft and comfortable, but practical enough that if they needed to be cut or removed they could easily be.

Narrowing his eyes he began to inspect the seams. It was an old habit, an old reflex really from his time in the League and maybe even from his time as Robin. Back when he wanted to go somewhere and didn't particularly enjoy being tracked down. If he had been thinking straight at all he would've checked for any devices in the car, or as soon as they had parked. But well sue him, he had been a bit distracted.

Then he see's it.

He should have known better, known Bruce would've jumped at the chance to track him. The device is small, just barely tucked in under the tag at the collar. He goes cold, staring at the tracker embedded into the shirt he had been wearing. It wasn't really inconspicuous, honestly, it was almost like the person had wanted Jason to find it, which means it couldn't have been Bruce. If Jay wasn't so paranoid he might've not found it. Maybe Roy was right, maybe he should just pack up and leave Gotham while they still have the chance.

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

Also I posted a deleted scene from Damian's POV of when the warehouse exploded. So check that out if you haven't already.
As always if you have any questions or just wanna chat leave a comment I love to see them!!

Chapter 15: I see a Problem, I Fix It

Notes:

So I keep lying and this keeps getting longer. So I guess we'll see where this ends.

Translation at the bottom.

"We can't go after him tonight." Dick leaned against the computer, leg bouncing as he watched the screen, the tracker Tim had planted on Jay easily visible on the monitor.

"But Dick, we could-"

"Jay needs his space." He rubbed his burning eyes with the base of his palm. They had been bickering and arguing for hours. "He had his fill with Bruce, we need to respect that." Tim wanted to act now, while the tracker remained online and they knew where Jason was. Dick knew Jason was a flight risk, knew that if they pushed when he wasn't ready he'd flee anyway. Just to get space, just to keep himself safe.

"Aside from the fact that he could dispose of the tracker and be halfway around the world before we get to him, I really think Jay wants us to find him."

Dick sighed, they couldn't keep going in circles. "Tim, if we chase after him now when he isn't ready, we're no better than Bruce."

Tim opened his mouth to respond and the huffed out a breath. Glancing over toward his computer where the tracker continued to blink, a continued taunting beacon that Dick was trying actively to ignore.

"Am I wrong?" He pushed.

Tim grumbled under his breath, fingers click-clacking on the keyboard, pulling up the address from where the tracker was still active, hours later. "I'm just saying, he hasn't left Gotham, nor has he trashed the tracker. Which means he knows we're tracking him and he's not gonna run."

Dick wasn't so sure. "You don't know that he knows he's being tracked."

Tim scoffed. "I put the tracker under the tag, there is no way he hasn't found it by now."

"What if he hasn't looked for a tracker?"

At that Tim turned to look at him with a deadpanned expression. "Come on Dick, be for real right now. One of the first things Bruce taught us was to check our gear for trackers."

Dick again, wasn't so sure.

Tim had this habit of operating with an amount of certainty when it came to Jason that bothered Dick at times. As if his time spend watching from behind a lens had allowed him to garner some sort of understanding that Dick didn't have.

It had been a point of contention the first few months Tim had been with them. That somehow this kid thought he knew Jason better than Dick had. Not that Dick had ever said anything, nor would he say anything now. Tim's words from all those years ago echoed in his head.

Well, you didn't really spend that much time with him.

It made Dick grind his teeth even now. The knowledge that Tim had been watching them that entire time, that he had seen clearly what a joke of a brother Dick had been to Jason. It was made that much worse knowing Tim didn't say it to hurt him, it wasn't a finger pointing at his failure, it wasn't a confrontation and a demand to know why, it was simply a fact.

At the end of the day Tim was right, of course he was, Dick hadn't spent a lot of time with Jay. Hadn't spent as much time as he should've so he could get to know the kid, to be a safe space to land when Bruce was too busy brooding and being an asshole. He didn't want to make the same mistakes now, he wanted to be there for Jay, but do it the right way.

He couldn't lose him again.

Dick blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "Fine, but I still think we should wait, give him some time to cool down."

Tim waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, but we should go tomorrow at the latest."

Dick glanced over toward the gear that Tim had tracked down after their confrontation with Bruce. It was Jason's. His signature tough Kevlar, leather jacket with far too many pockets and secret compartments, and of course, a chrome red helmet.

Dick ran his fingers over the expressionless mask. "Okay, tomorrow then."

If his tracker was still on by tomorrow, then Dick would send Jason the box that held his new gear. It would be a way to let him know they knew where he was, and if the tracker wasn't disabled after that, then it would mean Jay knew, knew they knew where he was. That he was okay with them finding him.

Dick thought that was a better plan than to just show up unannounced, because even with the minimal time Dick had spent with him, he knew Jay valued his space. That he was a flight risk when it came to anything that could be taken away from him.

With that in mind. They had to proceed with caution.

"Where's Dami?" Dick asked suddenly, glancing around the cave. Bruce had gone up after their argument, but Dick hadn't seen Damian slip out from the showers and it wasn't like him to not want to be involved.

Tim shrugged, not bothering to turn around from the where he was typing. Already moving on to riffle through case files and security cameras.

Dick shook his head, exhaustion beginning to seep into his bones. Having been awake for the two days that Jay had been under, trying to gather as much evidence from the warehouse explosion as possible, as well as needing to be awake to monitor Jason's recovery. Turning one last glance toward Tim, he saw that he was fully sucked into whatever was on the screen and decided it was best if he left Tim to his business. He knew better than to try and keep his attention when he was wrapped up in a project.

"Imma head up to bed." He muttered, turning toward the elevator.

"Night." Tim murmured back.

Dick entered the manor with a yawn. His feet dragging on the hardwood floor as he headed toward the kitchen. He hadn't eaten anything since before patrol, and he knew he'd wake up with his stomach cramping if he didn't get something in his system before bed.

When he entered the kitchen however, he found Alfred there, still up, washing dishes and scrubbing down the countertops. Dick paused, seeing the tense slope of the butlers shoulders. "Hey Alf, everything okay?"

Alfred hummed. "Master Damian has barricaded himself in his bedroom. I believe the young master is currently on a hunger strike due to the events that occurred this evening."

Dick blew out a breath. "He didn't come down for dinner?"

"No, he did not." Alfred continued to scrub at the granite countertop, as if it had personally offended him.

"Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce felt the need to reflect alone in his study." He turned to level a look at Dick and he got the message loud and clear. Bruce was brooding, probably replaying the fight he had with Jason, and then the things Tim and Dick had said to him afterwards.

"I'll go see how Damian's holding up." Dick said, because someone should check up on the kid, and Bruce was probably too deep in his head to do it. \

"Please see that the young Master eats what I left out for him." Alfred said, giving Dick a nod before continuing on with the scrubbing.

Dick didn't waste time and made his way up the stairs, toward the family wing of the manor. Standing outside the kids door, he used the toe of his shoe to nudge the untouched food Alfred had left out on a serving tray for him, before he lifted his fist and knocked lightly. There was some shuffling on the other side and then silence.

"Dami? Can I talk to you for a minute?" He was hoping that hearing that it wasn't Bruce or Alfred would make him more likely to answer.

"I am not hungry, tell Pennyworth that his efforts are futile." Damian's voice was muffled through the thick wooden door.

Dick sighed, resting his forehead on the frame. "I'm not here to make you eat."

"Then why are you here?"

"I just wanna talk."

Silence settled through the doorway, and for a minute Dick wondered if Damian wasn't going to answer him at all. Then the sound of muffled footsteps sounded on the hardwood, and the knob turned.

Damian opened the door with a pinched look on his face. His eyes roaming up and down the hall before he let the door swing open, leaving Dick to follow. He took it as the invitation it was and shut the door behind him.

Damian had already gone back to sit on his bed, a sketchpad on his lap. Dick glanced around the pristinely kept bedroom. Damian had been at the manor for a year now, showing up a few months after Bruce and Jason's confrontation. Yet his room was still practically bare. The only added item being his League swords that he now kept on his wall above his dresser, and a few books and scattered papers on his desk. Dick didn't know what being in the League was like, but he knew Talia, and could only imagine her cold stare and disapproving frown directed toward Damian, forcing him to bury any sense of personality and originality. It made his fists clench just at the thought, then again, Dick was biased, he'd never liked her.

Even that might be putting it lightly.

Dick went and took a seat at the edge of the bed, peering over to see the room that his kid brother had been drawing. All wood, with intricate accents and a fireplace in in the far wall, books spilling from built in shelves on the wall. It looked warm and inviting, the complete opposite of his current room.

"Was that your room in the League?" Dick couldn't help himself.

"laqad kanat ghurfat 'akhi." Was his only response.

Dick frowned, "Sorry Dami," and he really was, "I-I don't speak Arabic."

Damian let out a long breath through his nose, keeping his eyes on his paper. His hands expertly moving over the sheet, shading in and adding small linework.

They stayed in that stilted silence for a while. Damian keeping his hands busy with his sketching, and Dick glancing over his shoulder to watch as he added more details. The fire of the drawing almost seemed to flicker, and Dick knew that this was a place that Damian actively missed. One that had made him feel safe.

It was a long while before Damian spoke. "He said I was going to die in the suit."

Dick glanced at his brother's face. Damian wasn't looking at him, eyes still on the room he was bringing to life on that piece of paper. His brows furrowed, jaw tense. He wished he could reach out to Damian, could wrap his arms around him and bring him into a hug, but Damian, much like Jay when he had first arrived, didn't do well with physical affection.

Swallowing, Dick tried to look for the right words. "He's just worried about you is all."

Damian paused his shading for a moment before shaking his head. "I understand his fears, but I didn't appreciate his lack of confidence in my abilities."

"I don't think he was criticizing your abilities Dami. He's just scared." Dick knew that fear all too well, carried it with him every night. Knew from how they had found Jason in the cave that he was imagining Damian's own suit next to his. It was a reoccurring thought Dick himself had, with both of his youngest brothers. "Afraid of something happening to you and him being unable to stop it."

Damian scoffed. "Then he should have stayed as my bodyguard, continued my training as was commanded." He shook his head, mouth turning down into a sneer. "The only reason I am here is because he left. If he did fear for my life, as he claims, then he wouldn't have left his post to begin with." He shoved the sketch pad off of his lap and tossed his pencil onto it, crossing his arms over his chest, hands clutching his sweater. "He has no right to intrude in my life now."

Dick tilted his head, a frown tugging at his lips. "You two were really close, huh?"

Damian scoffed, fingers twitching against the fabric, the side of his cheek spasming, as if he were biting it, brows pinched. He looked so much like- Dick felt the air leave his chest, as if someone had punched him in the diaphragm, he struggled to take a breath. He looked so much like Jason. The scowl that scrunched up his nose, the way he cut his eyes away, how he bit the inside of his cheek when trying to stay composed. The face was Bruce's, but the mannerisms were Jason's. Dick swallowed hard. How hadn't he noticed it before?

Guilt crested deep in his chest, forcing him to press his hand against it. As if trying to physically hold it down, but it pooled into his stomach, prickling along his skin.

Well, you didn't really spend that much time with him.

He let out a long breath. There was nothing he could do about it now. Nothing that he could do to change the past. All he could do now was to be better, to be there for Jay now that he was back. To be there for Damian even when he pushed everyone away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dick urged, shoving his own feelings down. "Maybe it would-"

"With all due respect Grayson." Damian started, with the most disrespectful tone he could muster. "I have known Todd longer than you have, and my issues with him are none of your concern." Damian reached back to his sketch pad and pencil, picking them up and turning to a new page. "Please get out."

Dick faltered for a minute, wanting to stay with his brother, knowing that there was something deeper under the surface, but he also knew that if he continued to push, Damian would simply fortify his walls. "Okay I'll leave." He stood, letting his fingers run along the green silk comforter that Damian preferred. "But if you want to talk, I'll be right down the hall."

Damian didn't move, didn't even bother to show that he had heard Dick at all. After another beat he made his way to the door, pausing to glance back at Damian, who's brows were still pinched as he moved his pencil over the page in a rapid pace, lips moving as he spoke quietly to himself.

Dick didn't linger, his shoulders dropping as soon as he closed the door. He leaned back against it, hearing Tim's words circle around his head again.

Well, you didn't really spend that much time with him.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't make the same mistakes again. That he would be there for any other Robin that came along. He had helped train Tim, had embraced Steph and Cass when they had arrived, and had been eager if a little shocked to meet Damian. But Damian proved to be far more difficult than all of the others, distant and weary. Not unlike Jay…

"I don't know what I'm doing." He whispered to himself, and wondered if this is how Bruce felt not for the first time.

***

A full 24 hours passed with Jason's moody sulking circling around the apartment. Roy tries to give him his space, knows that there is no good that can come from bringing the idea of leaving Gotham back up. So he does the only thing he can think of. Makes himself useful. He runs to the laundromat a block over and does their laundry, goes and picks them up food and groceries, and basic kitchen necessities because Jason apparently only owned one mug and one plate and one fork and how had he decided that this mess of a human being was going to be his best friend?

But Roy supposes that isn't really fair of him, he had been a mess too when Jay had first found him. Locked up in that prison in Qurac, awaiting his execution. Man, how time flies.

Roy even tries to look through Jay's notes full of crazy. Tries to put together his scribbles and coded phrases when he isn't looking. Tries to piece together what Jason had been up to in the two months he'd been gone. What had made him come crawling back to Gotham, and what was making him stay now.

Not that Roy had much time to piece things together when every time he came back from an errand Jason was on the couch, staring at that tracker he had found. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, as if it would magically disappear the second he looked away.

That's how he finds him when he returns in the afternoon with takeout. Jason all hunched over on the couch, hands pushing down on the cushions, shoulders near his ears, furrowed brows pinched together as he glared at the tracker on the coffee table.

Rolling his eyes, Roy sighs before closing the door a little harder than necessary. Jason doesn't even budge. "We can't stay here."

At that, Jason opens up his mouth to argue but Roy cuts him off.

"I mean we can't stay in this apartment, Jay. I'm not as young as I used to be and that couch sucks ass dude."

Jason deflates immediately, looking down at his couch and running his palms over the scratchy material. "We could get a second mattress."

Roy snorts and shoves the plastic container toward him. "Sure, just put it next to yours, it'll really bring an air of class to this place, should I drop some beer bottles and syringes around the floor to make it more authentic? Maybe puke on the floor over there? "

"Shut up." Jason says around a mouthful of pad thai, not waiting for Roy.

They eat in silence for a while, Jason's eyes falling toward the tracker every so often. It isn't until his gaze flicks back to the coffee table for the tenth time in five minutes before he speaks up again. "Jay, come on man stop looking at that thing."

Jason gives Roy a halfhearted glare before sighing, "look, I actually do wanna talk to you about something."

"Shoot."

"So hypothetically…"

Roy stopped mid-bite. "Isn't that usually my line?"

Jason glanced off to the side. Oh this could not be good. "Just hypothetically, what if I asked you to, you know, patrol the Alley for me?"

Roy sputtered, "what?" Jason was a protective bastard. Protective of his emotions, of his past, of his gear and gadgets, and especially of this damned city.

"Just 'till I'm back on my feet."

"No, nuh uh." He shakes his head viciously. Roy would actually like to see another sunrise, and with all the crazy that ran around Gotham, not to mention Batman himself was probably out there right now looking for them. Nah, Roy would pass.

"Come on Roy," Jason rolled his eyes, putting his fork and container down on the coffee table. "People have to see me out there. I've been gone for days already." This was as close as Jason got to begging. Roy knew that, knew that this was a big ask, that it must've taken Jason hours to finally bring himself to actually say the words out loud.

"Why can't we just lay low? Just until you can go out yourself."

Jason scoffed, "I didn't know you to be a coward, Harper."

Bastard. "Can't I just patrol as Arsenal?" This was not him agreeing.

Jason snorts. "This is Gotham."

Roy rolls his eyes, "So they're attached to the chrome helmet and bad attitude?"

Jason just stares at him. Deadpan.

"Jesus Christ."

"Just until I can get back on my feet." Jason snatched up his food and taking a bite before shrugging. "Besides, I'll owe you."

Roy looks down at his own food, pushing it around in the container. It would be nice to get out and do something for a change. Not that he doesn't appreciate Jay's sullen mood on a good day, but he hadn't been doing much of anything even before coming to Gotham.

Fuck he was so going to regret this. "What are the chances of you taking no for an answer?"

Jason didn't miss a beat. "Slim to none."

Roy rolled his eyes. "You owe me big time."

Jason grinned, all teeth.

Notes:

I don't speak Arabic, so feel free to correct me in the comments.
- "it was my brother's room."

As always let me know what you guys think! I appreciate every single on your your kudos and comments, they mean the world to me!

Chapter 16: I Don't Want To Talk To People.

Notes:

Honestly, this was a bit of an indulgent chapter for me, but I hope you like it anyway.

I'll probably edit it a bit more as time goes on.

"Uh Jaybird, How old is this helmet?"

Jason waved his comment away, eyes looking over the chest armor and adjusting it as best he could for Roy's measurements. "I haven't gotten a chance to work through some kinks with that one."

Roy groaned as he clicked through the buttons. It hissed as it sealed itself around the base of Roy's neck. Blinking he looked through the white lenses, letting his vision adjust before continuing to push buttons and test out the helmets capabilities, making mental notes for any updates he could make to it. "It doesn't even have infrared."

"Then don't need it," Jason retorted without looking up. Rude.

Roy rolls his eyes again, glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror, the red faceless helmet stared back. This was ridiculous. He looked ridiculous.

"Jay-" He began to whine and was promptly cut off.

"Just go around wave to the girls on the corner, drop off the bag by the Monarch on the alley I pointed out, and that's it."

"Yeah, yeah I got it." He did. Jason had spent a horrendous amount of their evening going over the territory that he had carved out for himself. Explaining where he would find the girls on the corner and their names, just in case. He told him about the kids he apparently gives food and clothing to at a near weekly basis. Even some of the low level dealers and assholes that might cause trouble while he's out.

It surprised Roy how many people Jason was on a first name basis with. Not that Jay wasn't nice to be around, but Roy was used to his tough guy routine when the mask came on. Sarcasm and bravado was Jay's bread and butter when on a mission, so he hadn't expected him to show him the list of names and people he kept tabs on, on a regular basis.

"Oh, and try not to you know, talk to anyone." Jason called out from the living room. "With that big mouth of yours no one is gonna believe you're me."

Roy snorted. "Please, I can so pass for you." He poked his head out from the bathroom and deepened his voice to mimic Jason's, "Do I look like Batman to you?"

Jason's lip twitched. "Funny. I mean it Harper, don't engage."

yeah, yeah. The last thing Roy wanted was to get made and have to deal with the fallout with Jason. "What if crime happens?" Because this was Gotham, and a quiet night was too much for Roy to ask.

Jason glanced up at him with that same exasperated expression from earlier. "Then use the guns." He motioned toward the two hand guns laying out on the counter in the kitchen. "You're just as good a shot as I am and you know it. Use it."

This was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever agreed to do. "And if there are bats?"

"Shoot and run."

Yep. Definitely the dumbest thing he's ever done.

"Here, put it on." Jason holds out the armor to him, shaking it in his hand when Roy takes too long .

Snatching it out of Jay's grasp Roy isn't ready for the weight. It's fucking heavy, far heavier than his Arsenal suit. "Where the fuck was this suit when a building fell on you?" He asked as he ran his thumbs over the thick Kevlar and tight knit stitching.

"It was just a bad night." Is all Jason is willing to say. Roy doesn't buy it, but doesn't call him out on it either. HE quickly fastens the armor around his torso, then reaches for the tactical pants on the back of the couch next, the pant leg sagging slightly and feeling loose around his thighs, especially as he attaches the holsters.

Jason watched him with critical eyes, brows pulled together, head tilting.

"I feel stupid." His shoulders hunched as he finished putting on the leather jacket, the sleeves tight on his biceps. It was weird to be so covered up. To have his face hidden and feel the bulkiness of the Kevlar along with the weight of leather overtop. It felt even weirder to have guns strapped to his thighs instead of his quiver on his back.

"You look fine." Jason affirmed. "Now turn around let me see the back."

Roy turns, feeling the difference in weight, the way he has to adjust his movements with the guns and belt weighing his hips down. He'll have to compensate if he gets into a real fight.

"Remember, you're just gonna circle the territory and drop off the stuff at the Monarch." Jason reiterates, as if reading Roy's thoughts. "Try to be seen, but don't get pulled into anything big."

"Circle around the Alley and drop off the bag. Got it." Roy checks the safety on the guns one final time before awkwardly giving Jason a salute and hoisting up the trash bag full of clothes, blankets, and food over his shoulder.

The faster we get this done, the faster I get to come back and take this shit off. That was all the pep talk he was able to give himself before he ducked through the open window, clambering up onto the fire escape. God he felt so fucking stupid.

Pulling the grappling gun from one of his many pockets, he aims and shot it out toward the nearest building. This for the most part was familiar. He had built and used so many different trick arrows in his lifetime as a vigilante, that the pull of a grapple wasn't new, but fuck if he had ever been on roof tops like these.

There was a reason that so much of the outside world thought Gotham was cursed. The whole city was covered in smog, the lights weren't the shining bright that he was used to from Star City, they were darker, duller. Sure, all cities to some extent looked the same. But Gotham, true to it's word was well, was it stupid to say gothic? The mixed gargoyles and skyscrapers, the brick and cement mixed with the high raised points of spires. It threw Roy's footing off. Every building different from the last. Not to mention that it wasn't like Gotham was known for it's stable architecture, especially not the Alley. Roy had to pay more attention than he was used to on make sure he didn't step on a faulty ledge or rotten beam.

Then there was the heaviness of hood's gear. The helmet moved slightly as he turned to look over his shoulder and behind him. Stupid Jay and his stupid big head. The weight on his neck was already starting to bother him, and he had just crossed over a handful of buildings.

Pausing on one of the apartment buildings, Roy flexed his fingers in the thick gloves, and shifted the weight of the sack on his back turning to look for the telltale sign of the Monarch. Jason had drawn a map, had explained to him where he could find it, but Roy had only been half listening while he was looking through Jay's array of gadgets.

Fuck. For how bulky this damn helmet is he couldn't install GPS? Roy shook his head, regretting the moment he let Jay talk him into this. He missed his trucker hat and domino.

 

It took him far longer than it should have to find the Monarch. The dingy, worn and abandoned theater looked like a mausoleum in it's own right. A decaying ghost in the center of one of the poorest areas in Gotham. A marker to how poverty has continued to spread like a disease with no one the wiser. One would think that the great all mighty Bruce Wayne would've put a dent in it by now, but shit was never that easy. Roy shook his head, moving to drop the bag off where Jay had said to.

"Yo, Hood."

Roy froze. Fuck, He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone.

A kid kicked off from a dumpster that was coated in shadow. The light that came off from the end of his cigarette was bright against the all consuming dark. Jason had mentioned that the sack was for kids, but hadn't mentioned that one of them might come out looking for a midnight chat.

"What are you doing out this late kid?" Roy tried to do his best impression of Jason under the hood. "You know that shit will stunt your growth dontcha?"

The kid paused for a second tilting his head as he sucked the last bit of nicotine out of that cigarette before he tossed it to the side, letting out a cloud of smoke. "I told you, my names Riley, not kid." He nodded toward the sack. "Watcha got for us? temperature's due to drop in a few days, they even sayin' we might get snow early this year."

"See for yourself." Roy dropped the bag in front of Riley and took a step back.

Riley made a face, eyeing Roy up and down before he looked in the bag. Shuffling through it's contents and muttering too low under his breath for him to pick up on any real words.

Roy thought maybe he should bolt. Leave the kid here with the bag and just try and do that thing that Jay did all the time where he just melted into the shadows, like he was one with the darkness himself. Roy wondered if it was a bat thing, or if it was an assassin thing.

"Right well, uh, gotta run Riley, so see you 'round."

"Whatever. Just tell Hood to expect a message from me later."

Roy froze mid step. "What?"

"See you new guy." Riley gave Roy a two fingered salute and then disappeared around another alley, the sack heavy on his back. Roy tooka few steps forward and looked around, but didn't know where the kid could've ducked in.

Maybe it was a Gotham thing then.

Fucking Gotham.

With the sack now off of Roy's back, he was able to swing and run across the roof tops with more ease. The guns still felt heavy on his hips, and the jacket added a certain amount of wind drag that Roy detested, but he managed. He was a professional after all, had run with Green Arrow and then the Titans.

Roy jumped and rolled and tried to make sure that the stupid helmet on his head caught the light as he passed by. Jaybird had said he needed to be seen. Seen and not heard, He'd already blown it with the Alley kid, Riley. He didn't need anyone else figuring out that he wasn't the original Red Hood under this helmet.

Roy rounded the block and hit the corner that Jay had marked for him, not that it was hard to find, with the only working street light in the Alley that Roy could see. He stood at the edge of the roof, glancing over the side. There, just as Jason had said were two women working the corner. They were wearing barely anything, even with the chill that was now settling into the city. Roy desended the fire escape and waved when one of them caught his eye.

Jay's safe house was only a few blocks away and he figured he'd make himself seen, then walk the rest of the way. Fuck Gotham and her roof tops. Roy was sure he had a fucking blister on his hand from using the grappling gun with Jay's rough ass gloves. He had completed his tasks. Drop off the bag, wave to the girls on the corner, don't get into any messes. Sure so one street kid knew it wasn't actually Hood, but the kid didn't seem like he was gonna go spilling that secret around. So all and all Roy did a pretty good job if he says so himself.

One of the girls, the one that he believed Jason said was named Joy smiled and waved back, nudging the girl next to her, who was speaking rapidly, her hands gesturing wildly. She stopped mid-sentence and turned a grin toward him.

"Hood!" She called out. "Ya me estaba empesando a preocupar." oh no.

"Come over here, where have you been?" The other one, Joy, waved him over.

"Uh, I gotta run, but you know, just wanted to check in."

Both of them froze, looking at eachother from the corner of their eyes. Yeah, Roy had to get out of here fast. He, unfortunately, didn't get two feet away before they called out to him again.

"Escuchamos sobre la explosion que paso la otra noche. Estavamos preocupadas cuando no te vimos despues." Estella said, speaking low, head tilted. Fuck shit damn it damn it, Roy didn't fucking know Spanish, and of course Jay knew Spanish, damn him, damn him and his damned talent with languages. "Que te pasa Rojo?"

When Roy fails to respond to the question Joy is quick to pull Estella to her. "You're not hood," she grinds out, eyes narrowed at him.

Estella wastes no time falling behind the taller woman, sticking to her side, while she pulls something out of her bag.

"Woah, woah," Roy spread his hands wide, unarmed. "There's no need for that."

"What did you do to him?" Joy barks out, while Estella turns away from view. Fuck, did she have a gun? Was she really gonna shoot him? Why hadn't Jay fucking warned him about the Spanish?

"Me? I did nothin'. Look I'm just filling in!" He needed to de-escalate the situation. He'd hate to drag his sorry ass back to Jay bleeding.

"Bullshit, Hood's never had anyone fill in for him before."

"Yeah, well he's learning to trust, it's rough on the guy give him some slack." And since Roy's night couldn't get any fucking worse, Catwoman decided that was the perfect to to drop in.

Selina drops down from a dark ledge, putting herself in between the girls and Roy, her whip curling around her body, a threat that didn't need to be voiced. And if Jason wasn't already injured Roy would've kicked him in the shin for getting him into this mess.

Selina tilts her head looking Roy up and down with a predatory gaze that has him snuffling down the urge to shudder. "This boy bothering you girls?" She purrs, eyes still fixed on Roy.

"Look I don't want any trouble." Especially not from Catwoman, really he didn't want any trouble from anyone, but he knew that Catwoman, Selina, was sweet on Jay. Knew that she had looked out for him as a kid when he had been in the pixie boots. He also knew she was close to Batman, and that made her dangerous, and someone Roy especially did not want to piss off right now.

"Hmm," Catwoman began to circle him, her steps silent even on the rough cracked asphalt, then a crack had him ducking his head. "If you're here," She came to stand in front of him again leaving a few inches of space, her sharpened metal claws tapping the side of the helmet. "Does that mean my little bird has broken a wing?"

"You could say that." Roy's voice was steady, and he was going to take any win that he could at this point. He'd never really asked about Jason's relationship with her, but maybe it was time he did.

"I see. Do you know where he is?"

"Well, I don't think-"

"If you have any self preservation Arsenal, then you'll let me know how to get in touch with him." Her words were low, dripping with honey and venom and Roy tensed as she so easily clocked his identity.

Of course, of course she would somehow know who he is. Fucking Gotham. "Don't you have his number or something, can't you just text him like a normal person?"

"He's not answering." Estella finally spoke up as she peaked out from behind Joy, a phone pressed tight against his ear. Oh great, so it hadn't been a gun.

Roy shakes his head, "fuck, he must've left it-" he cuts himself off before he can further shove his foot in his mouth. It was one thing for them to figure out he wasn't Hood. It was another to have them know Jason's business.

"Yes…" Catwoman tilted her head, whip still in hand, "you were saying?"

"He must've dropped it, look I'll tell him you're looking for him." Nice one Harper.

"I have one better." Then Catwoman is pulling out something small and sleek from her back pocket. Roy is about to take a step back before she hands him her phone.

"Go ahead and enter your number."

"Wait-"

"It wasn't a question. I know he must trust you if he gave you his helmet, but I don't and neither do these girls. Now you can go ahead and give me your number and I can check in with him when you get back, or I can tell the entirety of Crime Alley that there is a fake Hood running around." She shrugged a shoulder. "It's your choice."

Roy glanced between her and the girls. She couldn't be serious. No way. "You wouldn't."

"You willing to stake your life on it?" She asked, her goggles making it feel like she was staring right through him. Then she shrugged, jutting out a hip and looking at her razor sharp claws. "Or maybe you just don't care about Hood and are willing to paint a target on his back for when he returns."

This fucking- "Fine! Fuckin' fine." He growled, punching in his burner number into the cell then tossing it back at her. She easily swipes it out of the air and tucks it away into a hidden pocket Roy can't see.

A smile curled the corner of her lip. "Wonderful. I'll check in soon." Catwoman's voice dripped with acrid sugar. Then she turned to the girls, as if Roy were no longer there. "How about I walk you home hm? We can call our little Red while we drink some hot coffee."

Estella and Joy shot Roy one last look over Catwoman's shoulder before nodding and following close behind her. The light from the street lamp flickered as they slunk back into the alleyway, the darkness enveloping them completely, the city sucking them back into the fold until they disappeared from Roy's view.

Jay's gonna fucking kill me. Fucking Gotham.

Notes:

Translation:
"I was starting to worry."
"We heard about the explosion that happened the other night. We were worried when we didn't see you after.
"What's the matter, Red?"

Can you guys tell me what tipped Riley off to knowing it wasn't Jason?

Thanks for reading and as always let me know what you guys think, I love seeing your comments!

Chapter 17: Why Can't He Be As Understanding With Me?

Notes:

well, I told y'all that I was going to be updating a lot since I had most of this all written out. :) I do think it was a good idea to spread them out rather than have it all squished in one chapter. I like having a bit of space sometimes, especially when using multiple POVS.

I hope you like this one!

Jason was locked in a stare off with the tracker. He had been waiting for the bats to make their move, and then today, out of nowhere, his armor had finally arrived. He hadn't wanted to worry Roy, not if this was their way of warning Jason that Bruce would be stopping by tonight, or worse, Batman. They knew he wouldn't be able to go out there, but he thought that maybe if people saw the Red Hood, it would keep them away. It's why he'd asked Roy to patrol. Well, that and the fact that he really did need to check in on the Alley, on the girls, on those kids.

Fuck. He was being worn thin.

The gear had arrived in the late afternoon, when Roy had been out getting food. Everything was brand new, bought with the rest of his money from various military experimental companies, not unlike Wayne Enterprises. He put all the contacts he had gotten from the League to use, keeping himself and the Outlaws well supplied, at least until he had returned to Gotham.

Ha hadn't gotten the chance to tweak the gear, especially the helmet to his satisfaction yet. Had spent more time than he would've normally checking the body armor, making sure that if for whatever reason Roy took a bullet, that it wouldn't penetrate. Last thing he needed was his best friend getting shot and ending up on the couch next to him, or worse, dead.

So what were the bats waiting for? Were they just biding their time? Seeing what Jason would do once he got his hands on the shipment? Did they expect him to run? Tail tucked between his legs like last time?

Was Bruce fucking with him?

A knock sounded and he felt his muscles lock on instinct, his eyes slowly making their way and settling on the aged and worn door. Roy had a key, he wouldn't have knocked. The sound of the knock echoed in his ears, pulse jolting as adrenaline seeped into his veins. He cut his gaze to the window on his right. He could reach it in seconds, throw it open fall to the ground below, but he had a busted up leg and the pain meds were starting to wear off. He wouldn't make it 20 feet before Batman caught up to him.

Even if he did get away, what then? Roy was still out there, in his gear. He had no money, no phone, couldn't reach his bike in time either. Was he going to limp out of Gotham and leave his closest friend behind? He wasn't that much of an asshole. Besides, he said he wasn't leaving. He had meant it. 

Jason hesitates for a second longer, eyes still in the window, going through all of his options. Then the knock comes again.

Steadying himself with a breath, he hauls himself off the couch. Jay grabbed the crutch that Roy had gotten him from the CVS after he had caught the way Jason was limping around the apartment on that first day, and leaned into it. Roy had come back and nearly chucked it at him huffing about staying off the damn leg. Now, he used it to carry part of his weight as he braced himself for whoever might me behind that door. At the very least it might make a good weapon if it was the Bat coming to call.

It takes him a minute to unbolt all of the locks, call him paranoid but he was crashing in Crime Alley at the end of the day, around here, you could never be too careful, and he also maybe, used the time to try and get his heartrate under control.

Pulling the door open, he was met with blue eyes, they were not, however, the steely blue he had been expecting.

"Dickface." He greets letting his face fall into a neutral mask. Jason leaned heavily on the open door, aiming for casual, even as his pulse thudded in his ears. "Can I help you?"

Dick's gaze searched his, moving down as he took in Jason's appearance, eyes staring at the crutch under his arm.

"I'm not leaving if that's why you're here, so you can tell B to shove it."

"Oh," was all Dick said, eyes still fixated on the crutch. "Can I come in?"

Jason narrows his eyes slightly, then sticks his head out of the door, looking up and down the hall. When he didn't see any other bats hiding in wait, he shrugged, leaving the door open as he shuffled back toward the couch. It was the only invitation Dick was going to get.

"I was actually coming to talk you out of leaving-"

Jason snorted. "Well then your work here is done." He waved toward the open doorway, "don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Dick's mouth twists into a frown as he shuts the door behind him, "and to see if you were alright."

"Why the fuck would you care golden boy?" Jason snarled. Of course Dick had volunteered to come and keep an eyes on Jason. Probably had a mic in his pocket, feeding everything he was saying back to the Batcave for Batman to dissect. He felt cornered, back against the wall, no way out, and Dick, Dick didn't respond.

Instead his eyes roamed the place. Tracking the dirty dishes in the sink and full trashcan, the comforter tangled on the lone mattress, the papers and writing scribbled on the whiteboard in front of the TV. Jason can see Dick breaking down and categorizing his entire life since he came back to Gotham. Making inferences and forming opinions that he had no right to. Finally, his eyes fell on Jason's and whatever expression was on his face had the big blue bird glancing away.

Good.

"Of course I care Jay." The words were a whisper. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Jason doesn't say anything. Just keeps his eyes locked on Dick, not wanting to believe that the words were true. Because if they weren't- if they weren't and Dick was playing him, Jason would have no one to blame but himself. So he kept his gaze on Dick, watching him as he began to fidget with his fingers and then move from foot to foot, eyes constantly roaming, as if being here made him anxious too.

His brother had changed in the five years he'd been gone. Ditched the high collared nightmare that was the disco suit for one. How Dick had willingly left the house in that get up was beyond him. The again, Jason had his predecessor to thank for the scaly green panties and pixie boots. A bird of paradise stuck in the gothic tragedy that was Gotham.

Now though? Now Dick looked more subdued, as if life had beaten the brightness and color out of him. His flamboyance coming out in his banter and fighting style, and less in his everyday life. Jason found that an odd ache had formed between his ribs at the realization.

"So," Dick's voice pulled Jason from his thoughts. "This is where you've been staying huh?"

Jason sighs. "Dick, why are you here?"

"I just want to talk."

"About what?" And maybe the words come out harsher than he meant them to. "What on earth do we have to talk about?"

Dick is silent for another minute, gaze burning into Jason, and he catches the way Dick's fists clench. Finally he breaks the silence, "I remember Bruce telling me about Garzona's."

Jason can't help but roll his eyes, "here we go."

"He was worried about you, he-"

"Save it Dick, I don't want to hear about how poor old Bruce was so distraught over the loss of some cartel scum." He didn't need this, didn't need to hear how disappointed Bruce had been in him, had already relived it down in that cave. He didn't need to hear Dick agreeing with him.

"It's not about that."

"That's all it was ever about!" His temper flared, because why couldn't they just leave him alone? He'd gone back to the cave, had confronted Bruce once again and all that had gotten him was ripped stitches and the confirmation of something he had already known. That he was the Batman's greatest failure. That he would never be accepted, that he was better off buried six feet under.

"Jason-"

"He was mad at me because Felipe fell and I didn't catch him. He fired me, and I told him I didn't do it, I didn't push him but that wasn't good enough. He wanted me to be upset, to mourn. He wanted me to have caught that asshole because in his fucked up world view that would've been the right thing to do. Don't matter that he beat and raped and fucking scared a girl so bad she hung herself in her fucking bedroom. That he was gonna get away with it too! No, that didn't matter, all that mattered was that I didn't save the asshole so I'm the fucked up one right?" He didn't know when he had stood up, when he had taken a step toward Dick, crutch abandoned on the floor, ribs protesting as he heaved in breath after breath.

Dick stood frozen, lips presses into a thin line, eyes hard. Jason glanced away, blinking, as he saw the green starting to trickle into the edges of his vision.

It always came back to fucking Garzona's. Jason was the evil one, the one that had let him die, he was to blame for his death whether he pushed him or not that's what Bruce had said right?

It's the same thing.

Blood had covered his hands even then. He'd deserved what he got in that warehouse in Ethiopia for being a fool, for believing Bruce when he had said that Jason would always have a home in the manor. For believing him when he had said he was his son, that he could make mistakes, that they were a part of growing up. But that was a mistake Bruce could never forgive, so Jason had run, and then Jason had died.

At the end of the day whose fault was it then? Was it Bruce's for turning his back on someone he saw as broken? Was it Garzona's for falling off that damned balcony? Was it Joker's for beating him within an inch of his life? Was it Sheila's for luring him there? Or was it Jason's?

At the end of the day was it truly just all his fault? Is that what Dick and the other's thought?

Dick's gaze was beginning to burn a hole on the side of Jason's cheek. He could feel the pity rolling off the first boy wonder in waves and all it did was churn his gut with acid.

"What!?" He snapped.

Instead of startling however, Dick just sighed. "Jay, you don't know what he was like when you died. What we were all like."

Like hell he wanted to hear this. To hear the woes of the great Bruce Wayne, martyring himself over something that hadn't happened to him. "Oh fuck off Dick." Jason moves to take a step, to shove Dick out of his apartment, but before he can even step Dick is right there, arms out trying to help him. "Don't touch me." Jason hisses, pulling away.

"I'm just trying to-"

"I don't care, I don't care what you're trying to do, because nothing you can say will fix anything. You heard what he said down there, you heard it, I've never been anything more to him than a fucking soldier. Someone to take your place once you left, and the minute I stopped being useful I was tossed to the side. So save your fucking pity for someone who wants it, it's not like you gave a shit until I was gone anyway." Jason saw his words hit like a whip.

Dick recoiling at the accusation. "Jay please, I just want you to understand."

"Get out."

"No." Dick shook his head.

"I swear to fucking-"

"No." He snapped and all the hesitancy and anxiousness that had been in Dick was suddenly gone, as he stood his ground stepping into Jason's space. Jason was taller now, forcing Dick to look up at him, still his older brother didn't back down. "See we're not doing that. I'm not B, and you're going to listen to me." Determination draped Dick's shoulders like a shroud and Jason knew he was well and truly fucked. There was no getting rid of him now.

Knowing there was no easy way out of this one, he just grumbled under his breath before sitting back down on his couch. Huffing as his leg, ribs and stitches all decided to make themselves known. When he was done breathing through the pain he stared up at Dick with as much 'fuck you' attitude as he could muster.

"You don't get to come back here and tell us we didn't give a shit about you."

"You weren't even at the fucking funeral Dick."

"Will you just shut up!" Dick's voice boomed in the small apartment. "Just shut up and listen, just for once."

Jason clenched his jaw to keep from retorting, and cut his gaze to the wall.

"You're right," Dick's voice lowered, the fight leaving him just as quickly as it had come. "I wasn't at your funeral, because B hadn't told me you had-" Jason hears Dick swallow. "He hadn't told me until I got back."

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but Dick cuts him off.

"And if you think Bruce didn't get a fucking earful for it, if you think I didn't-" Dick pauses and Jason has to turn to look at him, to see him shake his head as he struggles to find the words. "Jason I was devastated when I found out. I saw that you had called me and I-" his voice trembled, eyes falling to the floor. "B and I didn't just move on. He was a wreck, he was damn near suicidal and I-"

Jason didn't want to hear this. Didn't want the excuses and flagellation that came with Dick's words. He didn't want to know how they had suffered. How they had been hurt, how Bruce had been hurt. Because at the end of the day it changed nothing.

Dick had been gone, Dick was never around, and though Jason didn't fully fault him for it. Not really, he still had had no one. Bruce had fired him, and Jason had called Dick because he urged told him to when he needed it, and who would know what to do better in that situation than his older brother? But Dick had been busy, hadn't been there and so Jason had fled. It wasn't Dick's fault, it- it wasn't, but Jason had still been left alone.

Bruce hadn't gone after him when he left the manor, hell not even when he had left the country.

It was a coincidence that they found each other on the other side of the world.

Jason had been running

He was always running.

He had fled, had chosen to trust in the wrong person, that was on him. They however, had decided to go ahead and get another kid and stuff him in the suit. To what? To replace Jason? Was he so disposable? Jason couldn't help but say as much, "so the answer was to get another Robin?"

Dick sighs. "Tim…" he shook his head. "Tim came to us, he had figured it out. Batman's identity and all of ours. He had figured out that you had died." Dick lets out a breath. "He saw how bad B was. How he was putting petty thieves in comas, barely able to pull back. How batman was leaving himself open for attack. He begged me to be Robin again, because Batman needs a Robin."

Jason looked away, couldn't bare to watch the fond look that had come across Dick's face. His knuckles white as he gripped the arm of the couch.

"I told him no, B and I weren't on speaking terms, I hadn't forgiven him for- well for not telling me… about you." Dicks heaves in a breath. "Anyway, Tim took it upon himself to save Batman from Two-face one night and I don't know it just stuck."

"hmm, lucky him."

"Don't do that Jay. He's a good kid, and B," Dick goes and moves toward the couch, sitting on the other side, next to Jason. "B treated him kinda shitty the first couple of years, wouldn't let himself get close."

"Wonder why." The words were meant to be mean, but they just sounded hollow.

"Don't be an asshole." Dick chided anyway, nudging his right knee playfully. "The kid fucking adores you."

This had Jason scoffing. "Sure he does." He didn't hate the kid, not anymore anyway. He was nosy, but what bat wasn't? But he was supposed to believe that Tim, that anyone had looked up to him? That was laughable.

"Oh he does Jay." Dick assured. "He would go down to the cave and just talk to the case you know? Ask for pointers or talk about his issues with B. He didn't think anyone was watching him but I caught him a couple of times." Jesus, and Jason thought he was lonely. "And the pictures! Oh my god you should see the pictures."

Jason tentatively glances up at Dick. He was grinning, perfect teeth all on display. "Pictures?"

"Yeah, he has a ton of pictures of Robin and Batman. But the majority of them are of you as Robin. Kid idolizes you man." Dick leaned into Jason's side, and Jason for once doesn't pull away. Enjoying the contact more than he'd like to admit.

Jason's brows pulled together, because he hadn't known that. Talia had told him how Bruce had replaced him, had told him that the Joker was still breathing. That Dick went back to Gotham more often now, had even been seen on multiple occasions with the new Robin, but never that the kid had known him. To be fair, would that even be something her spies would have access to?

"I know we can't make everything alright. I know B fucked up when you- and well, now too, but you can't say we didn't love you Jay." and fuck if Dick didn't sound genuine. "That we don't still love you."

At that Jason couldn't help but feel that burn in his chest. The one that forced a lump into his throat and made it hard to swallow. The same one that made the green disappear and had his eyes stinging and watering. But all he could think about was how it couldn't be true. Bruce's words swirled into the front of his mind again.

It's the same thing.

Jason glanced at Dick, saw his brother frown, the way he now had the slight signs of age around his eyes. Nothing extreme, but proof that he was no longer that 19 year old kid that Jason had known. He wondered how many times Dick went around cleaning up after Bruce. "Why can't Bruce be the one to say these things to me? Why do you have to come and give me his excuses?"

Dick's frown deepened. "They're not excuses, he just, well he's Bruce you know?"

Jason scoffed, but it sounded more like a choked sob as it rolled out of his throat. Hadn't Selina said something similar? "He hates what I've become Dick." His words broke as he spoke them aloud.

Dick's brows pinched and he pressed his knee harder against his. "No, Jay, B could never hate you."

"How can you say that? I came back and nothing's changed. There's another kid in the suit, like- like it didn't matter. As if all I was, all I was ever meant to be was a cautionary tale."

Dick shook his head. "Jay, no-"

"Then why did he choose him huh?" His voice wavered and he was losing the battle with his aching throat and stinging eyes. Dick's face twisted into one of pity, and Jason didn't have the energy to be angry about it. "Why couldn't he just let me kill him?" He whispered, but the question he really wanted to ask burned in the back of his mind. Because it wasn't just about the Joker was it? It never really was. He felt the words rise from his chest like bile, coating his tongue and forcing themselves out. "Why aren't I enough?"

Dick reaches a hand out cautiously, and Jason feels the weight of it on his arm, leans into it. Then he's being tugged into a tight embrace. Jason can't put up a fight anymore, doesn't want to. Not with a broken leg and bruised up ribs and a blown out side to show for it. He's tired of fighting. So tired. He leans into the warmth that his older brother offers, burying his face into the crook of his neck, fingers tightening around the fabric of Dick's shirt as silent sobs claw themselves out from deep inside of him.

Dick just holds him tighter. "I'm sorry." He breathes into his hair. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there Jay. I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother when you needed it."

Jason bites his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. He was so sick of crying. All he had ever wanted was an apology, now Dick was giving it to him, so why did it still hurt so damn much? He shrugged, not knowing what else to do with himself.

"I'll make it up to you." And that almost sounded like a promise.

Notes:

Okay so before you come for me, I actually LOVE the Discowing suit, so don't blame me for Jay's opinions lol.
Also, I know somethings here might be OOC, but if I was working fully within character, well, then these boys would never have the conversations that they need to have. We would just see them making the same mistakes they make in comics and I for one intend this to be a semi happy ending. I think Jason and the family deserve it, plus I personally need it.

Anyway, as always thank you guys for all the kudos and comments, they mean everything to me. I am so glad to see so many of you enjoying this story!
Let me know what you think or what you would like see moving forward! I do take what you guys want/ say into account and I have a lot of fun one shots planned for the future with this series.
Till next time!

Chapter 18: No Matter How You Feel or What You think, You’re Never Alone.

Notes:

I'm posting this chapter now, fuck it.

Jason hadn't expected to have Dick barging into his apartment and forcing him talk about all their shit. Hadn't expected an apology, or to have Dick say he was going to make it up to him.

So when the moment faded, Jason was left with his arms around his brother and an awkwardness that was beginning to settle into the room. Clearing his throat he pulled away, shifting out of Dick's immediate space.

Dick frowned, but didn't move one way or the other.

As conversations went. It hadn't been horrible. It did, however, have Jason wondering how much of what Talia had said to him was the truth. Maybe she hadn't known, or maybe it didn't suit her plans for Jason to know. He needed to get his phone back from Bruce, or at the very least needed to get a burner and try calling her again. Aside from wanting answers to his new questions, he still wanted to know what her plan had been in dropping Damian off in Gotham.

Eventually Dick helped Jason back onto the couch, then moved toward the kitchen, rummaging through Jason's fridge. Trying to fill the uneasy silence."You have any beer?" Dick asked.

"Nah." Jason called back. "Cause you know, Roy."

"Right." Dick shuffles uncomfortably. "How's he uh, how's he doing with all of that."

Jason rolls his eyes. Dick's guilt spun around him like a web. "Hes fine. You could ask him yourself you know." He hated playing mediator, wasn't good at it either. Even when he had been Robin, and Dick and Bruce got into fight, Jason did his damn best to stay out of it. "I know you guys had a falling out, but he doesn't tend to hold grudges."

Dick hummed, his fingers thrumming against the fridge handle. Jason craned his neck so he could get a better look at his brother. Dick was watching him with a thoughtful expression. "You two seem pretty close."

Jason shrugged. "Yeah, well," It wasn't a secret or anything, Roy was his best friend, they'd gone through a lot of shit together in the last year. "We bonded over having asshole billionaire dads who think we're fuck ups, you know?"

Dick hummed again his eyes moving to the side. Jason followed his gaze to the single mattress and comforter. "So uh, you two been together long?"

"I mean a couple of months," He had found Kori on accident, when he had been on the run, then had recognized the archer on the fucking news of all things. "I broke him out of a prison in Qurac with Kori."

Dick's brow pulls together. "That was quick, were you guys uh, close like that before?"

Jason glances up, suddenly confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you were a kid before." Dick makes hand motions. "You know everything, were you two seeing each other behind my back or something?"

"What are you-" Jay blinked and felt a blush scatter across his cheeks. "Are you asking if Roy and I are dating?"

Dick shrugged, trying and failing to look nonchalant. "I mean it's fine, but if you're telling me that it was a thing before you died then you know I have a right to be a little concerned."

Jason couldn't help the incredulous laugh that erupted from his lips, this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "First of all we're just friends, and second of all, you really think one conversation after 6 years and imma tell you about my personal life?"

Dick smiled. "Hey, it was a pretty heavy conversation, a good hear to heart."

He snorted. "Whatever dickhead, No need to get all weirdly over protective, Roy and I were not close before. The idiot and I became friends post mortem I promise."

Dick glanced over at the mattress again before seeming to take the answer for what it was. "Alright."

"Yeah, whatever," Jason shook his head, he could feel the heat still coloring his cheeks. Roy was going to have a riot when he told him about this later. "What are you even looking for over there?"

Dick's head was buried in a cabinet, "you don't have a kettle."

Jason sighed. "Just use a small pot, Dickie."

Dick lifted his head and scrunched up his nose. "What would Alfred say?"

Jason rolled his eyes so dramatically, there was no way Dick didn't catch it. "Don't be pretentious, a pot works just fine to boil fucking water."

"Fine, fine." Dick grabbed a small one from under the cabinet and set it on the stove. Fingers thrumming the counter as he waited for the water to heat up.

"Tea is in the cabinet to the right of the stove." Jason called out, letting himself sink a bit more into the couch. He was tired, hadn't slept since Roy and him had arrived in his safe-house. The pain in his side and ribs wasn't letting him rest, and Jason didn't want to rely on pain meds, especially since he had been waiting for the Bat to come crashing down on him. He had wanted to be lucid, but now the two days without sleep and the whirlwind of the last half hour had him feeling drained.

Dick is surprisingly quiet as he makes their tea, and Jason can't help but hope that he'll leave soon. He could only handle so many confrontations at a time.

Softly padding his way into the living room, Dick places the mugs on the coffee table as he sinks into the couch besides Jason.

"So, uh," Dick started.

Christ's sake. Jason really had been hoping for too much.

"I spoke to Damian recently."

Jason's fingers twitch. He hadn't wanted to think about Damian.

"What's the brat saying?"

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at odd ends. "That's just it, I don't know to be honest. He doesn't really talk to me."

Jay's brows pull together. "Damian, not a talker?" He snorts. "Wait till he gets comfortable, then you won't be able to shut the kid up." He couldn't help remember how Damian had talked his ear off back in the League, always asking questions, always thinking he knew best. Always making demands of him and the others.

"That's just it Jay, I don't know if he will." Dick shakes his head. "He just showed up one day at the manor. Swords strapped to his back, all 'I am Damian Wayne, heir to the bat, I would like to speak with my father please.'"

Jason tried not to laugh at Dick's imitation. Could just imagine the little demon brat waist high, standing with his arms behind his back trying to look as intimidating as possible. Then he thought about how scared the kid must've been, out on his own for the first time, dropped off on the steps of some guy that he had never met before. The thought made his fists clench. Talia was lucky she had disconnected her number, or she would be getting a very strongly worded phone call from Jason.

"Then, he tried to kill Tim."

Jason snorts.

"It's not funny Jay!"

"Right, right sorry very traumatic, yes." He didn't tell Dick that he had been on the verge of dropping in on little Timmy himself in the beginning, when Talia had first show him pictures of the kid. He'd had to be talked out of the idea by someone with more sense than him.

"He never talks about the League." Dick pauses. "Well except to tell us how we would've failed and been a disgrace." Yup. That sounds like Damian. "But then again with Talia as a mother…"

"She wasn't that bad." Jason doesn't know why he's so quick to defend her, why he still feels any sense of loyalty towards her. Sure, she wasn't the worst mom he'd ever had, but she still trained Damian as an assassin, still forced Jason to kill, and to compete for his position in the League, but they had good days too. Days where Talia would allow them to take breaks from the studying, or training. Where she would look the other way when Jason played with Damian out in the courtyard. Evenings where she would gather him, Damian, and her protege around a small table and they would drink tea or coffee and talk about themselves. Evenings where the League wouldn't even be mentioned.

"Did you spend a lot of time with her?" Dick asked, pulling Jason out of his memories.

He shrugged. "Sometimes." He didn't think anything he told Dick would warm him up to the woman. Not if he remembered Dick's hatred for her accurately. "But as for the Tim thing." Jason shook his head, leaning forward to grab his tea and flinching, his ribs groaned in protest.

"I got it." Dick said, reaching forward to grab Jason's mug for him and handing it to him.

Jason nodded, holding the mug closely, enjoying the warmth that seeped into his stiff fingers. "Anyway, the League is all about prestige I mean, you know this. You need to earn your place there. Damian probably thought that he had to defeat Tim in order to earn his place next to Bruce."

He didn't mention that maybe, just maybe Damian had also possibly felt a sense of loyalty to Jason. Having seen Jason's mood sour just at the mere mention of the new Robin.

Dick was quiet for a moment. "You had to earn your place?"

"Everyday."

Dick's usually expressive face stayed blank. "How long were you there?"

"Five years." Flashes of memories that he normally kept tied down drifted to the surface. Being challenged by other assassins for the honor to guard Damian. Talia's stoic face as she put him through trainings meant to break him. The curl of her lip when it didn't. "I was good too, much to Ra's disdain."

"You know, when you came into the cave, Damian was worried, I'd never seen him like that before." Dick nudged his shoulder against Jason's. "We didn't even know you two knew each other until he saw you that one day on the roof. I was… surprised to see his reaction."

A warmth spread along his chest knowing that Damian had been worried about him. Fuck, Damian had been worried about him and he'd gone and yelled at him.

Nice going asshole.

He was going to have to find a way to make it up to him. That is if the kid ever even gave him the chance. Damian did hold grudges, held them like they were old friends that kept him company.

"You said you were his guard, or teacher. How old was-"

"He was four when I met him."

Dick let out a long breath. "So you were close?"

Jason hummed.

"So, why didn't he tell us about you?"

"I betrayed him by leaving," and then he finally allowed himself to voice his fear out loud. "I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for it."

Dick didn't respond. Just let the memories encircle Jason's mind. he couldn't help chuckle as he remembers the pinched expression of a four year old Damian. The air of displeasure that hung around the kid. "He was a bratty kid." Jason smiled. "Thought he could do anything and everything I could do. Would get so frustrated whenever he didn't immediately master something. God and teaching him patience on a mission was probably Talia's favorite form of torture. I swear it was a test, to see if I would throttle him or not by the end of the day."

He had spend so much time with the kid. Training him yes, but also just being around each other.

"He was demanding as only the heir of the demons head can be. Would order me to read to him, and when I finished and it was time for bed he'd pull out another book and then order me to read that one as well. Oh, and if he fell asleep while I read, he would sneak into my room and whack me in the face with the book to wake me up and continue reading."

Dick smiled. "You almost sound fond. Like you liked being there."

Jason shrugged. "It wasn't all bad, I had Damian, and Talia and-" he cleared his throat, "friends. I had a place there." He'd had a lot of issues and pent up anger but he'd been working on it. Had felt he'd found a place where he might actually belong.

Dick was quiet for a while. Jason could feel his eyes on him, knew that he had a question or comment on the tip of his tongue. Jason let the silence be, let it fester until Dick finally said what he wanted to.

"Why didn't you come home?"

Jason lifts a brow. "You really gonna ask me that? You're the detective figure it out."

"I just," and there was that fucking expression again, anguish and pity all wrapped up into one. "Jay we- we mourned you, I mourned you and you were alive, why didn't you come back?"

"Dick," Jason punctuated the word, making sure his brother would listen. "I woke up and Batman already had another Robin, Bruce had another kid. I learned you hadn't even bothered to go to my funeral, and that B hadn't even noticed my dug out grave. Oh, and let's not forget that the Joker was still out and about terrorizing the city. I don't know about you, but what about that says, 'come home Jay we miss you'?"

Dick runs a hand over his hair, "but none of that-" He groans. "We could've explained what happened, B didn't know about the grave because the cemetery workers covered it up, and I already told you about Tim."

"I didn't want to hear your excuses. Talia gave me a purpose, one I was good at." He shrugged. "It wasn't a hard choice."

Dick was quiet for again. Jason took the time to take a careful sip of his tea, and he couldn't help the surprise when he realizes that Dick remembered how he liked it, sweetened with no milk.

"How are you alive Jason?" When Dick spoke again his voice was small, soft in the quiet of the apartment.

Jason let his gaze flick upward to meet Dick's own, how was it that Dick so easily pulled back the stoicism to reveal what was underneath? Jason had never been good at hiding his emotions, but Dick? Dick could put on or pull off the mask as if it was nothing. Jason could see the pain buried behind the curiosity and felt his shoulders drop at knowing it was genuine. Fuck.

"I mean, I read the autopsy report Jay. You died."

Jason turned his eyes to the murder board covering his T.V. "Yeah, it was a neat party trick. Popped right out of the ground like a daisy."

"Jay…"

He sighs, throwing his head back, he hated thinking about this shit.

“I read the report, when I got back. About- well about how you-” Dick shifted in his seat. “B had documented everything, meticulously, I think he was using it to punish himself."

Jason scoffed. Of-fucking-course he would.

Dick's eyes flicked over to him but he kept going. "There um," he cleared his throat. " there was a video and-” he shakes his head.

"I was a fucking moron." He took another sip, pushing the itch in his throat down.

"No," Dick shook his head. " No, you died a hero Jay.”

Jason shook his head. “No.” he glances down at the scorching tea in his hands. “Robin died a hero.” Jason Todd died a fool.

“Jay…” Dick inched closer.

Jason couldn’t explain it to him. Couldn’t explain how much he fucking hated Sheila, how much of an idiot he felt thinking back on it all, how it replayed in his head like an old VHS tape. He had died a fool, a desperate kid searching for love and understanding from someone who hadn't ever given a shit about him, and now he was back in Gotham, still the same fool he was back then, still chasing after that same love and understanding that he knew he wasn't going to get

“Jay,” Dick pressed his fingers against his shoulder. “You died protecting someone. Even if they didn’t deserve it. You died doing what you knew was right, even after that person hurt you. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

Jason clenched his teeth. “I should’ve known better.”

“You were fifteen. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Fuck off." he shrugged off Dick's hand on his shoulder. "What do you know?”

“They hurt you." Dick frowns, crowding into his space again, brushing his shoulder against him. "That’s on them.”

Dick was watching him closely, the deep blue of his eyes churning with… it wasn't pity, but Jason couldn't name it. He had to restrain himself from shoving Dick away. From growling that he didn't know anything and to get out. Jason didn't want to think about his death. He'd spent so much time thinking about it when he'd first come back.

"So…"

Fuck did the asshole not know how to take a hint? "I don't know Dick!" He snapped. "Talia and Ra's were desperate to find out how I had survived. Or how I came back, but-" He shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't really care to go looking into it that much to be honest." It was an accident of fate, a fluke, a mistake. His entire reanimated existence had been a huge cosmic error of that he was sure.

Dick hums this time, "and the Pit?"

Jason lets out a loud breath. He should've known that was his next question, he had mentioned the Pit to Dick on the roof all those days ago. Jason probably hated thinking about the Pit nearly as much as he hated thinking about the Joker. Hated remembering how painful that gulp of ugly green bath water had been. How it had scorched his throat and burned his lungs worse than the explosion had. How he had choked and gagged on it as he reached for the surface, not knowing what way was up or down. "Talia found me I guess, wandering around Gotham after I dug myself out of my grave." He saw Dick flinch at that, but kept going. "She snatched me up, I don't remember much of it, most of it are things I've been told, but I remember waking up in my coffin." His throat catches for a second. "And then I remember being thrown into the Pit. Then-" he presses his index and thumb into his eyes rubbing the sting away. "Then I was just back."

"What about the rage?" Dick was quick to ask. "I mean Bruce has files on the Pit, on how it can twist and damage the brain, how-"

"Eh," Jason cuts him off. "I think that's a load of bull. Sure I gotta be in control of my anger, what else is new?" He takes a sip of his tea, letting the warmth chase away the chill of the memory of the Pit.

Dick presses his lips together brow furrowing. "Your eyes glow a little funny sometimes, but- just when, well when you-"

"Yeah..." Jason let's the word hang there. He knows he's a fuck up, that he's always had a hard time controlling his anger, the Pit just made it worse. Made it overwhelming, feeling like sometimes the liquid was itching just right under his skin.

"How does it happen?" Dick pressed. "Does it just rush at you, or?"

Jason shakes his head. "No, it-" He struggles to find the right words. "It's more like something has to trigger it. Reminding me of," he pauses again, "of some of the things that have happened before and it just-" Fuck why is this so hard?

"So like PTSD?" Dick tilts his head at him, fringe falling into his eyes. There was no judgement there, no anger, or worry that Jason is gonna fly off the handle and pull a gun on him, just pure genuine curiosity. He didn't want to admit that it helped ease his discomfort. That knowing that Dick actually seemed to care for whatever fucking reason made Jason more loose lipped than he otherwise might be.

When he first been back he felt like he had been drowning in green. Suffocated by it. It was something that pressed into the edges of his vision and hissed in his ear all the horrible things he thought about himself, about others, about the world. It was all the hurt and pain and rage all mixed into one and sometimes he couldn't contain it, it would leak out of him and then explode if pushed.

And boy did the League love to push.

The first days were the worst, he was raw and flayed open, anything could set him off. He barely slept, nightmares and terrors haunted his sleep like ghouls and that only made it worse. By the end of the first year, by the second, it was so rare for him to have an outburst, especially after he had found her. She and Damian had always known how to talk him down. Bring him back.

Honestly, it had been pretty dormant until he decided to come back. The first time… that was-. Everything made him remember, every corner he turned he was met with green.

huh.

He hadn't really thought of it like that before. About why the green haze only came about when something reminded him, when someone said something, or he saw something, that brought him back to the worst moments of his existence. Maybe it was like extreme PTSD. Maybe it was the pit amplifying it?

Was his reason for coming back more akin to exposure therapy? Jason shoved that thought away. God forbid he'd be that stupid.

Bruce's words circled in his head, you were violent even then Jason!

Or maybe Jason's always been a loose canon, who deserved what he got.

He shook his head. No, he'd been a kid. "I never got that you know," He needed to change the subject. "How I got labeled the angry and violent Robin. You were more violent than I ever was." He couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into his tone.

"I know." The admission had Jason glancing over at Dick. "I think it's just different. Bruce didn't know what he was doing with me, then you came along and he wanted you to be better, he saw the potential in you, so he expected more."

Jason bit his tongue as he felt the burn of indignation burn in his chest. "Yeah well, it was shitty." Jason takes a sip of the hot liquid, burning his tongue, he focuses on the pain. Pin pointing the location and letting himself zero in on it.

"Why then," Dick began softly, "did you end up leaving the League?"

And wasn't that the grand question no one had thought to ask. Bruce probably thought it was just that Jason thought he was ready to face him or whatever, but it was deeper than that.

"I came back for the Joker," was all Jason said, because fuck if he was just going to give Dick all the answers so easily.

"That's it? After five years you just decided to-"

Jason shook his head. "No." Because he needed Dick to under stand this, he himself needed to finally say it out loud. "I had resigned myself to stay in the League, like I said, I had Damian, I had-" He shrugged, "I don't know, a life there." And it was true, he did, he had. He'd burned those bridges coming back to Gotham.

"Then why-"

"Because I found out about the Joker almost killing Tim." Jason snarled. His older brother's eyes widened, and Jason tried not to let his lips twist into an ugly smirk at having caught him off guard. It wasn't the whole truth. Not really, Jason had left Nanda Parbat for vengeance yes, but he'd also been running away. Warm brown eyes swam into view in the back of his mind and he shoved them down. shoved them back into a box under lock and key.

"You-you knew about that?"

Jason hummed as he glanced down at his tea. "Talia kept tabs on Gotham. It's how I knew about the funeral, about Tim becoming Robin." She'd used that information to keep him there at first. To show him how much Bruce and the other's had moved on without him. Jason was slightly ashamed to admit that it had worked. It had kept him away, but Talia had her reasons for doing that. Well, she'd had one pretty big reason. Damian. "Sometimes she'd share the info, other times I would sneak in and open her messages, or maybe she'd let me find them," he shrugged, "but I saw that letter, saw the report that showed how Tim had almost died, how even then the clown was still alive and I just-" He shook his head. "I couldn't just do nothing."

There were times where Jason wondered if Talia had known he'd find it. If maybe she had used it as a way to force Jason to leave. There was so much that had happened in that last year, so much that Jason hadn't yet put together. Memories and moments he didn't want to sort through.

Dick let's out a long breath, quiet for a long time. His gaze stuck on a spot on the floor by the coffee table. Jason could see the tightness of his shoulders and wondered what his brother was thinking if he was reliving that night they way Jason relived so many others. But before he could bring himself to ask, Dick spoke.

"I almost killed him that night." And Jason blinked not knowing if he'd heard him right. "I saw what he did to Tim, saw another one of my brothers broken and bleeding and I-" Dick's face hardened the lines in his jaw tight as he ground his teeth. He took several breaths before speaking again. "I lost it Jay."

Jason pulled his gaze down to his cup. Almost wanting to give Dick some semblance of privacy as he spoke.

"All I could think about was you. How he had hurt you and now he'd gone and hurt another kid. He'd already paralyzed Barbra, had killed so many others and I just. I lost it." Dick took a shuddering breath. "I couldn't stop hitting him. Every time I looked at him all I could see was that deranged smile, hear his laughter over and over, then I wrapped my fingers around his throat," Dicks voice was barely audible, hollow. "And I could feel his heart beat against my palms. Could feel it quicken and then struggle to keep beating. Then they began fluttering, faltering, coming slower. Then he stopped struggling and-" then he was silent, eyes glaring into floor in front of him.

Jason leaned forward. "And?"

Dick let out a breath, pulling his gaze up to meet Jason's, almost apologetic. "And then B was shoving me out of the way, giving him CPR," Dick snorted. "I couldn't sleep that night. Feeling the crunch of his jaw under my knuckles. His blood felt crusted under my fingernails, even though I'd had my gloves on." He let out a long breath.

Jason sat staring at his older brother. He'd never thought that Dick would- that he could…

Dick glanced up at Jay, eyes rimmed red. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to kill him. I'm sorry I couldn't do it for you little wing."

Jason felt words stick to the back of his throat, burning his esophagus as he choked down more tears. Fuck, he was going to have to rethink this whole opening up nonsense.

Shifting on the couch, and huffing as the movement jostled his ribs, he moved to press his shoulder against his. "Its okay Dickie. You did your best."

Dick snorted, leaning his head against Jason's shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a while. The two of them drinking their tea, pressed together in the only way Jason could show comfort. Still unable to wrap his head around what Dick had just confessed to. He had almost killed the Joker, might have honestly succeeded if Bruce hadn't been there. What would that have meant? Would Talia have told him? Would Jason have come home differently if he'd just done it?

A sound by the window had Jason's head snapping up.

Then Dicks hand was on his shoulder, sighing. "I told him to give me a head start."

Jays heart stuttered in his chest. What did that mean? Had this all been a set up? Had Dick been the distraction until Batman could get to him? Jason tried to scramble away, mug spilling and clattering to the floor as Jason tried to stand up, but Dick's hand on his shoulder held him in place. He had to leave, he had to-

A thunk and then an "ow fuck," had Jason freezing. He knew that voice. That wasn't Bruce.

Watching, as a black haired scrawny teen scrambled into his window. "Oh for fuck's sake." The tension left Jason in an instant at seeing the red cheeked face of fucking Tim as he broke into his apartment.

Tim scrunched him nose as he looked around. "You live here?"

Jason scoffs. "Sorry we can't all be the world's youngest CEO. How the fuck did you get past my security system?"

Tim arched a brow. "What, like it's hard?"

Jason sputtered. That's it, Jason was going to rethink his no beating up the new Robin rule.

Dick just shook his head. "You've been spending too much time with Steph."

Tim just shrugged, his foot kicking at the bare mattress. "Dude, seriously?"

"Did you have a reason for coming here? Or did you just drop by to insult me?"

"It is kinda bad Jay." Dick adds from beside him. Traitor.

"Well no one asked you dick for brains."

Tim hums and then heads over to the kitchen opening and closing the drawers. brows rising as he pulls out a small tin can. "This is the good coffee from that shop in the west end, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I may be frugal that doesn't mean I have bad taste."

Tim mumbles something under his breath as he plugs in the coffee machine and scoops out a few table spoons of coffee.

"What was that Timtam?"

"Nothing, nothing don't mind me."

"You're lucky I can't get off this couch."

Tim waved a hand dismissively.

Jason turned to glare at Dick. "And you let that be Robin?"

Dick had a smirk pulling at his lips. "He grows on you."

Jason huffs, "like a fungus I bet."

"I can hear you, you know?" Tim called out.

"It's why I said it so loud, Timmers." Jason was smiling even as he retorted. Jason didn't actually mind Tim very much. Had been annoyed at his brown nosing when he'd first arrived but, well, the talk with Dick might have eased his mind a bit. "Can you bring some paper towels when you're done, you made me spill my tea." He grimaced down at the wet carpet by his feet.

Tim rounded the corner with a mug of fresh coffee in his hand and the paper towels in the other. Jason handed them to Dick who simply rolled his eyes and unraveled a couple, pressing them into the carpet with his foot.

Tim meanwhile leaned forward looking at Jason's white board. "You still tracking that drug dealer?"

At least the kid wasn't trying to get touchy feely like Dick. "Yup."

"B did some digging at the warehouse explosion but couldn't find much. Even the bodies had been recovered by the time he dropped us off in the med-bay."

Jason frowned at the mention of Bruce. More a reflex than anything else. "So he found jack shit."

Tim hummed in confirmation. "They have to have gone underground."

Jason sighs, "I'll have to look through the mess of that warehouse once I'm up to movin' again."

"You think B would've missed something?" Tim arched a brow at him.

Jason rolled his eyes. "God forbid the great Batman ever miss something."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "He swept it already, he didn't."

"I know, but I am also a control freak and would like to check the area out myself."

Tim opened him mouth to retort, but Dick cleared his throat and he simply grumbled out a, "I can get you everything we've got by tomorrow, or the day after." Then he turned back to the board, head tilting. "Things will probably be quiet with the Red Hood gone. He might think he actually succeeded."

"Nah, Roy is out in the hood right now, I need the Alley to see I'm still around. That I won't leave em this time 'round."

"So you're not leaving." Tim asked, gaze cutting to Dick with a knowing smile.

"Nah, I ain't leaving. At least not right now. So if B wants to run me off he's gonna have to try harder."

Dick takes a sip of his probably now cold tea. "Back to the warehouse, who do you think put out the hit on you?"

Jason looks down at paper towels, watching as the liquid seeped into the cloth. It was odd, the way everything had gone since he came back. The distributor using kids as runners. Using homeless kids as runners. The way the girls had seen them and known where they were operating. It's as if they had been laying the trap from the moment the Red Hood had stepped foot back in Gotham. But who knew about Jason and the way he operated? Who knew he had a soft spot for kids and the working girls in the Alley?

Jason glances over at Dick and Tim, "has anyone checked on Black Mask lately?"

Dick furrows his brow. "He's in Blackgate. I don't think-"

"He knew I had a tendency not to sell to kids, and I had killed more than one of his pimps when I came into town the first time. So, if he was fishing to see if I really was back in Gotham, he could've easily set that trap." It would make sense why the distributor had been alone, why everything had seemed so off to Jason from the beginning. He would have the money for the firepower that he had been met with in that warehouse.

"Revenge." Tim sighed, leaning back against the couch. "For all the shit you pulled the first time you were here."

"He's locked up though Jay."

"Right because no one could ever pulls strings while locked up."

Tim rubs his temples. "Fuck, let me look into it before you do anything. See if I can track down any money that's been moved or phone calls that he might've made while in there."

Jason sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. "Not like I can do shit about it right now. It gives us time at least."

"And Roy?"

"Told him to keep his ass in the Alley, not to leave the perimeter."

At that, the door opens and slams shut.

"Speak of the devil."

Roy pulls the helmet off of his head and puts it roughly on the table before bee lining to the coffee machine. Grabbing one of the new mugs he bought from the cupboard and pouring some in there.

"How was patrol?"

"This place is a fucking nightmare." Roy shook his head. "I got stopped by the girls in the corner and they looked like they were about to string me up on the light pole when they realized I wasn't you."

Jason groaned. "Man, I told you not to talk to anyone!"

"They didn't give me a choice Jay!" He put the mug down hard against the counter. "Basically cornered me, started speaking Spanish and I guess they saw my confused ass face even with the helmet on because they immediately clocked me."

Dick and Tim were trying not to laugh in the back ground.

"Fucking Christ Harper." Jason put his head in his hands. God they were probably freaked. They'd be calling his phone. Which he didn't have!

"Oh, also, Catwoman dropped by and demanded I gave her a way to contact you so here." Roy tossed something, and thank god for all his years of training, or the phone would've brained him. "And you better pick up when she calls too, because she knew exactly who I was."

Jason stopped, face turning several different shades of red. "WHAT?"

"Well, that's our cue." Tim said standing up and stretching. Dick wastes no time taking their mugs and placing them in the sink.

"Take care of yourself Jay. Call us if you need us!" Dick is calling out as he's shuffling Tim toward the front door.

"Yeah yeah, you too."

Tim turns suddenly, batting Dick's hands away from him, trotting back towards Jason. Then pulls out a comm. "Try not to call when you're already in the middle of a firefight next time."

Jason blinks. Picking up the small ear bud. "Right."

They head to the door again, and right as Dick grabs the handle Tim turns around. "And as for the apartment," he wrinkles his nose like he had when he'd first come in. "I'll get you something better."

"Please, with two beds!" Roy called from the kitchen.

"Shut it Harper." Jason calls out and sets a glare on Tim. "Don't you dare."

Notes:

Hope you guys enjoyed it.
I feel like I had to Frankenstein stitch this one together from blurbs I had written ages ago, so I hope it makes sense.
As always leave a comment on what you thought, if you liked it, or if you have anything you'd like to see in the future.
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 19: Red Hood Perfect Timing

Notes:

phew, Sorry for the long wait, been in a bit of a block lately so if this is a bit disjointed that's why.

As always, translations at the end of the chapter

Slinking down to the Batcave, Damian's shoulders tensed as soon as the cold air his him. He had been avoiding it since Todd had screamed at him, had spewed ire and malice and then turned it toward their Father, the green fire of the Pit making his irises glow in that way that Damian knew meant danger. He had left before he could see the outcome of the fight, hadn't wanted to be there in case things had gone awry, hadn't wanted to have to choose.

Damian had been avoiding everyone in the manor. Had been taking as many meals as possible in his room, and had been grateful when Grayson could no longer excuse his absence from Bludhaven and had left. Back to his inane job in the BPD, back to texting once every week or two, depending. Drake in turn was more than happy to pretend Damian didn't exist, and he repaid the past Robin in kind. He still patrolled, at least as much as Father would let him.

Now, he stands in front of the glass case that holds Todd's old suit. He'd seen it before, a thousand times since he had come to the manor, since he had begun his training with Batman. Had seen it every time they departed on a mission and every time they made it back, in passing glances as he made his way to the computer or when he was going to suit up. He had seen the suit from a distance nearly everyday in the last year, but had never really looked at it. He thought he had understood why his father had kept it, a reminder to all other's of how far they had to fall. As a way to motivate success and push them to achieve greatness. It's what the League would've done.

Now, after the argument his father and Todd had had he wasn't so sure.

Worse, Todd had left again. Pointed a finger at Damian and prophesied his own demise in that same suit, and vanished once more. He knew Grayson and Drake knew where he was. Had heard them muttering and conspiring behind his back. He'd nearly followed them, wanted to catch them out, but then, what if Todd didn't want to see him?

Damian's fingers curled at the thought. Remembered the way Todd snarled in his direction, eyes burning, teeth bared.

You're gonna die in that suit.

The elevators doors hissed open and Damian blinks away the words from his mind. He won't die. Not the way Todd did. He had to believe that, that he was made to take up the mantle, that was what Mother had said. Why Todd had trained him as hard as he had in the League. It was his birthright, it was in his blood.

Damian doesn't stir as his father makes his way toward him, not even as he feels his steps come to a stop up behind him, to stare at the case. "You're worried about him."

It wasn't a question, Damian scoffs anyway. "To worry about Todd would be irrational and a waste of time as he is no longer in harms way." As much as he wanted to believe the words that left his mouth, Damian knew deep down, that the uncomfortable twisting feeling in his chest was due to not knowing if Todd was well. Back in the League their rooms were right next to each other, whenever Todd did get hurt, which was a rare occurrence in and of itself, Damian had always had unlimited access to him. Now, he was here, in the cave, and did not know where he might be. Did not know if he was taking the proper care Doctor Thompkins had ordered. It would be like Todd to push himself more than he should. How many times in the League had he ripped open stitches, or re-broken a bone because he hadn't known when to stay down. He'd never been able to back down from a fight, even when it was for his own good. Of course, Damian could not complain too much about that, since many of those times had been in service to him.

"Well," his Father spoke up, pulling him from his thoughts. "That's the thing about worry, it isn't rational." He gazed fixed on the case. "I worry about him too."

"He's survived worse." The battered Robin suit in front of them was proof of that.

Father hummed. "Am I right to assume your mother didn't," he paused searching for the right word, "encourage worrying?"

Damian frowned and echoed his Mother's once spoken words. "Worrying would be an insult to his abilities, and his training." Damian remembered his mothers icy tone, and her unmoving features, but her eyes would blaze green and Damian knew she worried about them. Knew it in the way she would be stiff until they returned home. Knew in the way her gaze would roam over them checking for hidden wounds and fractures. No, his Mother would never encourage worrying, but Damian knew she had worried about them, and in turn Damian had worried as well, in his own way.

"Why not reach out to him?"

"He does not wish to see me," the answer was quick, and Damian felt the tug of a frown on his lips. He couldn't risk being told to leave. Couldn't risk Todd's ire at seeing him, at having to drag his feet back to the manor alone. Not again.

Damian could see his father's frown in the reflection of the glass. "How are you so sure?"

"If he wanted to see me, then he would have made it a point to do so." It was as simple as that. Todd had never been one to stay away when he wanted to be around Damian. Had fought his way to his side, had won every challenge, had killed when he needed to. Then he had left, and had never sought Damian out again. No, Todd didn't want to see him.

"You know," his father started again. "In my experience sometimes it's best to make the first move."

Damian couldn't help but turn around then and arched a brow. "I would believe that better coming from Grayson." If there was anyone in this farce of a family that did not know how to leave well enough alone, it was Grayson.

"He might have a point."

"No offense father," And Damian had to carefully leave the venom out of his words. "But you no longer know Todd well enough to give me advice on our association." Damian didn't miss the way his father's brows pinched, even for just a second. "Now if you excuse me, I have homework I have to finish." He didn't wait for an answer, simply walked off toward the elevators. Turning to look over his shoulder once he was sure that his father wasn't following him.

He still stood there, in front of that case, lips turned down and brows pinched once again. Damian had long thought that the case was a reminder of Todd's failure as Robin, as a way to immortalize what could happen if orders weren't followed, but perhaps it was meant as a reminder for his father. A reminder of how he had failed one of his own Robins. Damian couldn't help but wonder if his father would ever mourn him, as much as it seemed he had mourned Todd, if he were to ever parish due to a mission.

He shook his head, turning back toward the elevator doors. He was spending too much time with Grayson, it altering his thoughts, of course he wouldn't die. This is what he had been made for, this was his destiny. Still, Todd's words echoed in his head.

You're gonna die in that suit.

***

Jason had been banned from patrolling, or really functionally doing anything 'strenuous' for six weeks. Six long ass fucking weeks. Really, Jason had planned to try and be good for about three, before heading back to his normal activities, but Roy had been oh so generous, and Jason meant that in the most derogatory way possible, and decided to stay and bitch at him any time he so much as stood up without his crutches. Personally, he thinks Roy should just quit the vigilante business and become a professional mother hen with how much he clucked and fussed over him.

That first week Jason had focused on fixing up his new gear and playing around with his helmet, updating and plugging in a new software. He made sure it had infrared like Roy had asked, and some other neat tricks. He left the explosives out of this model, at least until he knew Roy wasn't going to be wearing it anymore. God forbid the idiot forget the combination and blow his head off. That would really ruin Jason's day.

By week two Jason decided that it would be the perfect time to put those skills that Bruce had so painstakingly passed down to him to use. Using what he had learned, and his new found free time, he looked into Back Mask's every move. Bruce's words rang in his ears as he pulled up Mask's arrest record, and then it was as if he was back in the cave, back to being twelve and desperate to please.

"This is taking forever." He'd whined as they looked through camera footage of the same corridor for the third hour straight.

"This is important Jason. You can't always be the fastest or strongest, but you can always be the most prepared." Bruce sat forward in his chair and replayed a small clip of the footage, showing the goon on the phone talking rapidly. He pulled up the audio and cleaned it up.

Jason rolled his eyes, the guy was just putting in an order for take out. "How is knowing that the guy likes Mediterranean supposed to help us?"

"It's not enough to know your enemy. You have to know everything about them." Jason watched as Bruce opened up another screen, cross referencing the order the man had put in, as well as the time and seeing as the system generated two different locations. Neither which were restaurants…. It had been a code. "You may not be able to outgun them… but you can always out think them."

The memory faded, just as his younger self smiled up at Bruce. Jason scrubbed a hand over his face shoving the memory back down into a box in the back of his head.

He had too much time on his hands and the last thing he needed was for his mind to begin playing memories on a loop like old reruns of shitty sitcoms. If he allowed that to happen he was going to go fucking bat shit.

So, Jason threw himself into the work. He had the time to be meticulous and so he was, he looked back on Black Masks calls from six months prior to Jason's return. He found guard rotations in Blackgate and cross referenced the names, seeing if they would show up in his archive in any way. He dug into the criminals that were currently locked up with Mask, to see if there had ever been any cooperation between them before their incarceration. Jason tore through Black Mask's life. Banks statements, video footage of his building, and current cell, anyone he had access to or had spoken to in the last three months. Hell, he even had the names of his most visited restaurants, bars, and fucking golf courses for crying out loud.

His scribbles and tacked on notes expanded out from his whiteboard and now covered an entire wall in his living room, and was slowly fanning out to a second. Jason knew that his living room probably mimicked what he would imagine a cell in Arkham to look like. Every inch covered in pictures and words and lines drawn across multiple articles, but hey, sometimes one had to fight crazy with crazy, and he wasn't above out working shit stains like Black Mask.

By the middle of week two, Jason had taken to putting in the comm and turning it on when Roy was out patrolling as Red Hood. Letting the bat-chatter fall into the background and fill up the silence while he worked. It was… nice. To hear them night in and night out, cracking jokes or calling out locations and tactics. It made him feel like he was out there, if only in spirit. Reminded him of his Robin days too, whenever he heard Bruce's voice come through. The deep gruff of Batman asking for a sitrep or roll call.

Tim and Dick had also gotten into the habit of texting him once he got his new phone. Although Jason had no idea how they had gotten his contact info. Roy had been particularly avoidant when Jason had asked if he had done it. They rambled about nonsense on most days, talking about shows or movies that Jason didn't know. Dick particularly liked to send selfies and random pics of things he was doing or he had found funny. Jason had to admit that there was a specific photo of a three legged rat eating a slice of pizza on Dick's cop cruiser that had made him snort.

Selina had also been messaging him since their phone call. Hers however, were quick, and mostly asked him how he was doing and if he was taking care of that bullet wound. She'd harassed Roy more than once about Jason's well being since their first encounter, and each time Roy had come home looking thoroughly chewed out. She apparently didn't think Roy was fussing over him enough.

By the end of the third week Jason was bored. He was still looking through Mask's external properties, but he was feeling the pull of the city more and more. It didn't help that he had barely left his apartment in those weeks, and Jason thought that if he really did have three more weeks of this, then he might as well blow his brains out, cause either way he wasn't gonna survive it.

It was in this state, where he was leaning back against the couch, his leg elevated on the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest while he glared at his wall of prime detective work, that his phone rang.

He glanced over to the arm of the couch, where it was balancing precariously, the caller ID simply saying #3.

Letting out a breath, he answered. "What you need Timtam?" He tried to sound irritated, but in all honesty he was desperate for some type of interaction that didn't involve Roy or the blank peeling walls of his apartment.

He hears a resounding sigh coming from the other side of the receiver. "Is this gonna be a thing? You know what don't answer that."

Jason tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear, as he leaned forward to pick up some papers he'd been tearing through earlier, leaning back fully on his lumpy sofa cushions. "So, why you callin?"

"Just checking in." Tim said, and didn't that sound suspicious. "Hey, do you prefer yellow light or white light?"

Jason blinked. "What?"

"You know, for reading or working, do you prefer yellow light or white light?"

"I guess I prefer yellow light to read in, and white light to work in?"

"Gotcha." The clacking if keys sounded clearly from the other end of the phone.

"Why you asking?"

"Just curious."

Jason let out an irritated breath. Was the kid putting together a Jason related spreadsheet or- "You better not be lookin into apartments. I told you I don't need your hand outs and this one suits me just fine."

"Yeah, yeah. Oh, by the way I was able to get some info on Black mask."

Jason's eyes narrowed at the sudden subject change, but he didn't comment on it, instead glancing over toward the extensive papers and post-its that now littered his walls. "Yeah me too."

"Cool, I'll send you what I have if you want to take a look at it."

"Sure, that's fine."

"Great, talk to you later."

Jason glanced at his phone as he heard the dial tone. What the fuck? He was going to have to talk to Dick about Tim and his weird ass meddling behavior.

When week six finally rolled around, it was honestly a miracle he'd actually managed to not die of restlessness. By the fifth he had been looking at his window with such longing that Roy had threatened to seal it shut if he even so much as saw Jason trying to shimmy out of it.

Now though, with his cast taken off, and the stitches on his side removed he was eager to get back out there. Who knew he'd miss the feel of the cities putrid air, as he swung from building to building, so much. Jason shrugged on his brown leather jacket and flexed his fingers in his gloves. Reveling in the feel of his gear. He hadn't realized how exposed he'd felt, how much he enjoyed the weight of the Kevlar hugging his torso, the tug of his holsters on his thighs. He had missed the ritual of putting on his armor, of checking his guns and gadgets, the feel of his kris knife at his hip. It felt right, comfortable in a way that reminded him of the fist time he'd tugged on his Robin suit and felt his cape flying out behind him.

Lastly, he put on his helmet, blinking as he adjusted to the view.

Roy whistled from the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lookin' good there Jaybird."

Careful," Jason warned a smile tugging on his lips as he checked his grappling hook one final time. "If Dickie hears you whistling like that he might think you're trying to hit on me."

"Oh god," Roy snickers, "I wish I would've been there for that."

"Alright there Romeo, you got all your stuff?"

Roy nudges his duffel with his foot. "Yup, all packed up. But remember I'm just heading to New York, so I'm just a phone call away."

Jason waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"And don't push yourself, that doctor lady of yours had said you probably needed a few more weeks to fully heal and-"

"Roy, I'll be fine, I'm just gonna do a round or two and then head back to bed."

Roy narrowed his eyes.

Jason rolled his eyes, even though Roy couldn't see them. "What you don't trust me?"

"Not one bit." He shook his head and hefted up his duffel over his shoulder. "Don't die Jay."

"Yeah, you too Harper." Jason watched as his best friend gave him a two fingered salute and walked to the door, yanking it open and shutting it behind himself with a distinct click.

Jason let out a long breath through his nose and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He'll just be an hour away. Roy would be back as soon as he was done with his contract work, but even knowing that Jason turned in the small space and hated the silence that mocked him.

Turning to the window that led out to his fire escape, he cracked his neck and once again flexed his fingers.

Time to get to work.

After over a month's hiatus Jason's muscles ached with the disuse. He felt the tug and pull of them and reveled in the feeling. He had promised Roy that he would keep it light. He needed to do do some more PT and work before he just went back to kicking ass at full capacity.

So, he settled for swinging around the Alley looking for those who had noticed his absence the most. He finds Riley making his way through the dim lit streets, heading toward the Monarch. Jason drops down a step behind him, the kid doesn't even glance up.

"You got an extra smoke?" He asks, the modulator in his helmet filling the alley with an electronic buzz.

Riley jumps a near foot in the air and turns, hand pressed to the back pocket of his jeans. "Jesus fuck man."

Jason tilts his head, a shit eating grin luckily covered by the helmet. "You gotta be more aware if you're gonna be walking around the Alley like that."

Riley narrows his eyes and looks Jason up and down before relaxing, letting his hands drop to his side. "So you're back huh?" He asks as he bends down to pick up his dropped cigarette, blowing on the butt before taking another drag.

"How'd you know it wasn't me?" Because Jason had been curious.

Riley snorted. "Aside from the fact that the other one looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin?" The kid shrugged, "he told me that smoking would stunt my growth…. and that I was out too late."

Jason sighed. He had told Roy to keep his mouth shut.

"Bit of a rookie move if you ask me."

"Yeah, well, didn't have time to train him on Alley speak and mannerisms alright?"

Riley smirked and dug in his pocket to pull out a carton, offering it to Jason. He gladly accepted, pressing a few buttons on the back of his neck and took the helmet off his head, lighting the cigarette.

"huh," Riley eyed him up and down.

"What?"

"I expected you to be older."

He rolled his eyes and took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, the nicotine easing a knot he hadn't realized was between his shoulder blades. "Yeah well, can't judge a book by it's cover or whatever."

Riley hummed. "So, you were hurt."

Jason shrugged. "Somethin' like that, all better now though."

The kid watched Jason under dark lashes. "You were an Alley kid too weren't you?"

Jason nodded, pulling the cigarette from his lips. "Born and bred."

Riley nodded. "You got the accent, and not the fake one that some of the assholes from the upper east side do."

Jason hummed, pressing his lips together as he remembered the way his teachers at Gotham Academy had snapped at him about pronouncing words correctly. He'd tried, had even gotten pretty good at masking it before he'd died. But his accent always found a way to come back, especially once he was in the Alley proper, or any time he was pissed.

Letting the cigarette drop to the ground, and crunching it under his boots, Jason turned to look at Riley. "How many kids are living in the Monarch?"

Riley narrowed his eyes, and took his time inhaling before he finally speaking. "There are six, sometimes eight of us. Though I'm the oldest. Most of the kids are between twelve and fifteen."

"And there is no chance any of you are going to school or have somewhere to crash once the cold settles."

Riley raised a brow before shaking his head. "Nah, most of us stopped going once the teachers and admin started asking questions. Or in my case, once I took off from the foster home I was in."

Jason nodded. He'd expected as much.

"Why? You tryin' set up a Red Hood day care for at risk youths or somethin'?"

Jason snorted. "Or somethin'. Nah, I just wanna make sure yous all got a place to lay low once winter hits. Maybe find a way to get you back in school."

Riley threw his own cig on the ground, the embers flickering against the dark asphalt. "Now you sound like my old man."

"He still alive?"

Riley shrugged. "I don't know. Last I heard he had been picked up by the cops for working for Penguin." Riley turned his gaze toward him. "That was three years ago."

God how many other kids had a similar story. Hell Jason's own dad had worked with and then been killed by Two-Face, trying to make ends meet. Gotham's elite talked a big game about helping the needy in the city. Threw their gala's and money around to paint themselves as paragons of society. In truth they knew nothing about the people that lived below them, in the old tenement apartments filled with mold and asbestos, too poor to make too much noise when shit stopped working, or when someone got sick.

He'd lived on the other side too. Once he had gone to live in the manor. Saw the way the other half lived and wasn't it a bitter taste in his mouth to see that while he had been starving on the streets the manor had held more food than he could feasibly stuff into his pockets. Bruce hadn't understood Jason's need to hoard food in those early years. But in the street's food was never a guarantee.

"I'll see what I can do to make sure yous all have a warm place to lay low in the winter." Jason said kicking off the wall and pulling on his helmet.

Riley didn't reply, and Jason didn't wait for a response before he shot out his grapple and sailed up toward the rooftop and away from the memories that the Alley streets so easily brought forward.

Next he had to drop in on the girls. Roy had given them his number, but besides the time he had spoken with them with Selina on the phone, they hadn't reached out again. He couldn't help but wonder if they had gotten pissed at him for disappearing again. For not letting them know, or possibly for just trying to pass Roy off as himself instead of warning them that he was a stand in.

Jason watched from the top of the roof as they huddled near the lamp post, arms wrapped tightly around themselves, their coats short and showing off their legs.

He dropped down on the other end of the street. "Linda noche para estar afuera no?" Jason teased.

"Rojo!" Estella beamed quickly making her way to wrap her arms around his torso, causing him to hold in a wince as she pressed against the still tender flesh on his side. "Que lindo verte."

Jason chuckled, wrapping an arm loosely around her shoulders. "It's nice to see you too Estella." He glanced over to Joy, who still had her arms crossed and was leaning heavily on the lamp post.

"Hood." She greeted with a nod.

"Joy." He replied back, yeah she was definitely pissed.

"So you're back?" She narrowed her eyes. "Catwoman told us you were injured."

Jason restrained himself from sighing. "Catwoman, should be minding her own business."

"You sweet on her?" Joy tilted her head.

Jason snorted. Wasn't that the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Sure, Jason might've had a huge crush on Selina when he had been a kid. But he'd seen far more than his fair share of Batman and Catwoman's flirting up close, to know he did not want to ever get involved in whatever that was.

"Or maybe she's sweet on you?"

"Let's just leave it at we know each other and she can be a bit protective of me, although she shouldn't."

Joy hummed then shrugged. "Alright."

Estella pulled finally pulled away, shivering. "She told us you'd been shot, are you okay?"

Oh he was going to have a few words with Selina about spreading his business around the Alley that was for sure.

Estella must've noticed his change in mood because she bit her lip sheepishly. "Solo nos conto porque estavamos preocupadas. No le hemos dicho nada a nadie."

He didn't really expect them to gossip about him. In the Alley's snitches didn't last long. "Esta bien, no estoy molesto con ustedes." And he really wasn't. He just hadn't expected them too care so much about him not appearing, hadn't really thought that anyone would care to notice that it wasn't him under the hood to be honest.

"Do you at least know who put the hit out on you?" Joy asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm cornering him." He hoped that with the all the info he had gathered as well as some phone calls that Tim had uncovered from some guards, he'd be able to nail Mask soon.

"You plan to stick around still, yeah?"

Jason stared Joy down, she had a hard expression on her face and even with the voice modulator and the red helmet, he knew she'd be able to tell if he was lying. "Yeah, I ain't goin' nowhere any time soon, besides, I made you a promise and I plan to keep it." Keke's murder wouldn't go unavenged, even if he had to fight Bruce all over again because of it.

Joy's lips twitched upward. "You better."

Estella grinned at him. "Good, who else is gonna come visit us on slow nights?"

Jason snorted. "You two take care of yourselves, and you got my new number yeah?"

Joy made a point to pull out her cell and wave it at him. "We got you on speed dial if anything comes up."

Good. Thought Jason, and felt his shoulders relax. Pulling out his grappling gun he gave the girls a final wave before being lifted up into the air, then released. Spreading his arms just as Dick had taught him years ago, free falling. There really was nothing in the world quite like flying over the Gotham skyline.

He ran over the rooftops of the Alley, feeling his weight shift as he maneuvered around the slight weakness in his left leg. He still wasn't back to tip top shape, but he'd get there soon enough.

Once he'd done his rounds Jason was left on the rooftop of the old Park Row library that he used to visit with his mom. Back in the day when she had been doing better and could actually get out of bed. Back before the cancer had gotten bad, back before the drugs had made everything worse.

He wasn't ready to go back home just yet, had spent so much time inside those four walls that being able to swing from building to building made his blood sing. He wanted to stretch his legs, see if maybe he could find someone out and about the Alley causing trouble, hoping for a fight, hoping to feel that hum of dopamine that came with the rush of adrenaline.

Jason sat there, on the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling off the side and smoked a cigarette. Staring out seeing the skyscrapers that littered the horizon, the lights blinking bright and luminous even this late into the night. He let out a long breath through his nose, the smoke from his lungs drifting off and mixing with the smog of the city.

He'd finish his cigarette then do another round, maybe even check in on the bats, see if any of them needed any extra help. Anything to keep him from having to go back home alone, and see the same four off white cracked walls.

Just as he took another drag his comm beeped in his ear. A smile tugged on his lips as he answered. "Hey baby bird, what's up? You near the Alley?" He could be up for a game of Robin rooftop tag. "I could-"

"We have a problem." Tim's voice was strained as shouting and screaming sounded in the background.

Before Jason could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, a siren sounded throughout the city, loud and boisterous, nearly making the ground quiver. He dropped his cigarette and stood, turning to glance south. As he peered up, he could see the blinding dot of the Bat signal shining off the cloud covered sky from the top of the GCPD building. It looked like a spot light from all the way in the Alley. Blood rushed in his ears, felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides.

He knew what that blaring siren meant.

All of Gotham knew what it meant.

"Arkham breakout," came the confirmation through the comm.

This was so not what he meant by wanting to stretch his legs.

"We could really use your help."

Notes:

Translation:
"Nice night to be out, no?"
"Red! It's good to see you."
"She only told us because we were worried. We haven't said anything to anyone."
"It's alright, I'm not upset with you guys."

I couldn't help myself and had to use a bit of the conversation that Robin Jason and Bruce had in RHATO: Rebirth.

Also, I have the rest of the fic planned out, the ending has been completely written and edited. HOWEVER, I have a bit of a climax planned, and the ideas for it keep changing and reforming. I don't want to give you guys something half assed or messy just for the sake of trying to post it quickly. So fair warning the next two chapters might take a bit of time for me to work through and edit and then post.

In the meantime, I have posted Dick's POV of Chapter 17 called All The Things I Can Never Say, so feel free to check that out if you haven't already and thank you for being patient with me.

As always let me know what you thought, if you liked it or ideas you might have or something you'd like to see. I love reading your comments and they help a ton to keep me motivated. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 20: The Robins, Red or Otherwise

Notes:

I'm sorry for taking so long to update. When I tell you the beginning of the school year has made my job ten million times more hectic I mean it. T.T

I'm not the best at action scenes, but I hope it's not too disjointed and that what I was trying to do comes across. Enjoy!

"Who's out?" Jason barked before he could restrain himself, scanning the roof tops, making sure none of the shadows were watching him.

"I'm putting you through to Oracle." Tim grunted and the line went to static before Jason could respond. He made his way to the edge of the roof he was on, squinting as he continued to stare southwest, where he knew Arkham lay, miles away. His fists clenching and unclenching with barely concealed rage. When was Bruce going to learn? When were they all going to learn? Arkham was a revolving door. The petty criminals, the homeless kids, the girls on the streets, the men and women driven into the criminal enterprises due to lack of available resources, and a fucked up prison system was one thing. Those people could change, could be saved, deserved second chances, but the others? The ones locked up in Blackgate? The psychopathic narcissists that flocked around B, like a moth to flame. The same ones that that cycled through Arkham like clockwork? Why did they deserve to live more than the innocents they killed?

Every couple of months one of the Rogues in Batman's own personal gallery would get free and wreak havoc on the city, and who paid for it? Not the fucking rich of Old Gotham. Not the corrupt politicians, or the menaces that tore up the city baiting Batman from one fight to another. It was the average men, women, and children of Gotham with no ability to defend themselves. Their blood painted the streets of this city in a rusty red. Batman couldn't look out for all of them, couldn't feasibly look after 9 million people. None of the Rogues would change. None of them wanted to change.

Jason's hands curled around the pistols at his sides, his fingers lightly running along side of the trigger guard.

You could do it.

He could. If he got the chance. All he had to do was point the gun-

His comm vibrated with static, before a familiar voice sounded through it. "Hood?"

He couldn't help the twitch of his lips. Letting go of his guns, Jason felt their weight settle back into his holsters. It had been such a long time since he had heard that voice. "Hey Barbie."

"It's- it's good to hear your voice again." It was a whisper, and before Jason could fully comprehend the emotion behind her words, she was clearing her throat and he knew it was back to business.

"Who's out?" He dreaded the answer.

"As of right now, we have confirmed Riddler, Scarecrow, Two-Face, and Calendar Man."

He snorted, the tension in his shoulders ebbing, if only slightly. "Calendar man?"

"Yeah, we're not worried about him right now." Oracle states, keys clacking in the background. "I think he just managed to hitch a ride out with the others."

And Jason can't help but ask. "What about Joker?"

"According to camera footage, he's still in his cell."

He scoffs. "We really going to trust that?"

"No." And that did nothing to ease Jason's worries. "But it's what we got until B can get onto the island."

"What's the sit-rep?"

She was quiet for a beat. The sound of a keyboard being worked over filled the silence, and then Oracle's mechanical voice was back in his ear, all traces of Barbara gone. "It looks like scarecrow masterminded the escaped from Arkham. He's set up containers of fear toxin to be released in different sectors via the subway. B and Red Robin are dealing with them at the moment. However, B could use your help with evacuation in the subways station near Robinson Park, at least until Nightwing can get into the city."

Jason huffs, but he's already moving, already heading to where he had stashed his bike. "I'm surprised the big bad Batman needs back up."

"Scarecrow was able to talk Nygma into helping him out and you know how that goes."

"Fucking narcissists." Jason's mind immediately returned to his earlier thoughts, his fingers twitching toward his holsters, and he briefly wonders how bad the fallout would be if he just put a bullet through Crane's head.

"You're telling me." Oracle mutters, pulling him back to the task at hand.

"What about Two- Face?" He asks to get his mind off of his more bloodthirsty inclinations. He had to get to his bike, and get to the Robinson Park station. He could contemplate his moral obligation to shoot the Rogues dead later, when they weren't currently trying to hold the city hostage… again.

"Red Robin is dealing with him in the City Hall District."

Makes sense. That follows Two-faces usual patterns.

Running across the roof tops, he half thought about giving the girls a call and telling them to get inside, maybe doing a loop near the theatre again. But there was no way they would miss the sound of the siren. they were probably already all tucked away, and if B really did need back up, then Jason couldn't waste time.

Nightwing was coming in from the Haven to help, Red Robin was handling Dent, Robin was probably being told to deal with the civilians, while Batman handled Scarecrow and his toxin. That at least, had been what he would've told Jason to do way back when he was wearing the cape. It was about to be a full on bat-family reunion, and Jason wasn't sure if the flutter in his stomach were nerves, or excitement, or if it was just the regular jitters that he normally got right before a fight.

Swinging onto his bike, he revved the engine, pulling out of the Alley like a bullet from a gun. The normally busy streets of the Alley and Bowery were deserted as he wound through the narrow streets. Jason takes a sharp turn and leaves the grim alley into the brighter part of the City. Store fronts already shutting down, pulling their grates in front of their doors expecting the terror that comes with an Arkham breakout. God Gotham was so fucked up. Cars were beginning to pile up as citizens raced home. Jason had to swerve forcefully to the left to avoid nearly hitting a car that pulled out and almost toppled him over. The honking faded into the background as he raced over the bridge into the upper east side.

Once he reached the edge of Robinson Park, Jason could make out the screams. Memories of Bruce being struck with fear gas trickled into his head, from back when he was Robin. His mouth tightened as he tried to shove them back into a box. Bruce had so rarely shown fear, and even under the toxin it had been hard for Jason to see it. But once Jason had known what to look for he would see it in the way his mentors lips would tighten, the way his hands would ever so slightly shake. The way Batman would hold Robin jus a little bit tighter, as if not knowing if he was really there or not. Jason had never asked Bruce what he saw under fear toxin, but he wonder's briefly if since his death, Bruce had seen him. Fuck this was so not the time. Jason shook his head, he didn't think about his time as Robin. He didn't think about his time before his death. He didn't care if Bruce saw him or not, it didn't matter. I couldn't matter, especially not in the middle of a fucking Arkham breakout.

Get your shit together, Todd.

Carefully ducking into a side alley, he shut off the cycles engine and propped it against a dumpster. Jason hoped that the stink of garbage and the chaos would keep any would be thieves from taking it. He gave it a half second glance before aiming his grappling gun to a nearby building and swinging up onto a roof to get a better view of the station.

People were pouring out of every exit, streams of them fighting to get through the crowd. Some were screaming, others rolling on the ground, and Jason could just barely see the hints of the fear gas filtering out from the open doors. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to find a reason as to why Scarecrow would attack this particular station? Was it the closeness to Arkham? It made sense why two-face was further south in the City Hall District but Robinson Park? What were they playing at? Sure the reservoir was here, but then, why dose the station? Why not just dump the canisters in the water supply and call it a day?

Pressing a button on the side of his helmet he took a breath of filtered air and then shot off toward the top of the station. He would have to figure out the why later. Right now, he had to focus on damage control.

The glass roof made it easy for him to navigate and gather intel as he stepped gingerly. The fear gas left a slightly orange tinge Jason knew, but it was so thick and the lights were flickering on and off throughout the station it made it hard for him to see, let alone for him to be bale to make out where the tanks were hidden. The lights that were steadily on, were tinted a ghastly green, the Riddler's own calling card. Jason rolled his eyes. Nygma was so unoriginal.

"Batman is on the north side of the building." Oracle called out.

Jason's eyes roamed over the station again, slower as he looked north. His own helmet had been calibrated a long time ago to find Batman and outline him in orange for Jason's visual ease, something he had worked on during his initial outing as the Red Hood.

Now that he knew where to look, it was quick to pick up B's signature. "I got eyes on him." He calls out, already moving.

Batman was on the upper floor of the station, fighting off what looked like- Jason narrowed his eyes, and his helmet zoomed in automatically on the metal creatures surrounding the Bat- animal like robots, equipped with claws and everything. They were no doubt some of the Riddler's new creations. The glowing green eyes seemed to scan as they fought, no doubt analyzing Batman's fighting style and adjusting accordingly.

Great.

he watched as b tore through the metal work with hard and precise hits, the robots fell to the ground, and then began to mechanically reattached themselves. "You seeing this O?"

"Yes. Looks like Nygma's been busy."

"There are still too many civilians we can't just blow 'em up," and if he sounds a bit disappointed by that well, sue him.

"Just try to keep them at bay until Nightwing gets there, or find something to electrocute them with."

"Copy that." he replies, just as he see's Nygma's face show up on the main screen of the station.

"Welcome Batman to our own personal game. It's been a while. I hear that a new birdie, or should I say old birdie, has returned to the nest." The Riddler's laugh crackled through the speakers. "So many young men and women have fallen for your heroism Batman, but you and I know the truth don't we? We both know who you really are. We both know you can't save them."

"Seems like the word that Red Hood is back has spread." Oracle states.

Jason simply nods, before remembering she can't see him. He had wondered if Joker would blab about who was under the hood once he was hauled back to Arkham. Guess Jason should've figured he would. "Can you trace where the video signal is coming from? See if we can pinpoint where Nygma is?"

"Looking into it now, but it might take me a little bit."

That was fine, Jason needed to get down there to help B anyway.

"So tell me Dark Knight," Nygma taunted from the screen, "What can you break without touching it?" Jason let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll even give you a hint, it isn't a heart."

Rolling his eyes at the riddle, he quickly shoots out the skylight, and tumbles in, landing easily next to the caped crusader. "A promise." He answers, a smirk pulling on his lips. "That the best you got Eddie?"

Nygma growls, face contorting on the screen, the red of his cheeks clashing with the green of his suit. "Calling in for help isn't allowed! You know the rules Bat!"

Jason falls into place next to Batman, back to back as they divide up the dozen or so robots that surround them, their movements jerky and unnerving as they scamper forward. Jason pulls out his guns and shoots.

"Watch the Civilians!" Batman Barks.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I'm offended you don't trust my aim," but he tucks his guns back into his holsters, much as he's loathe to admit, B was right, with the metal on the bots a bullet could ricochet and hit a nearby civilian. Jason might be reckless with his own life, but he wasn't with other's. No matter what they thought.

"Rebreather." The bat growls.

Jason simply taps his helmet as he dodges out of the way of one of the bots. "Built in, I'm good."

Batman grunts and then returns to his half of the bots.

Jason watches as he knocks a bot down, and they re-twist themselves up, making their way back up to their feet, and boy didn't he wish he had one of Roy's electric arrows right about now. But no, the asshole had to go and leave for New York.

As he turned away from a swing of metal, B grabbed the bots arm and quickly dismantled it tossing the metal to the side. Jason ducks out of his way, returning to watching Batman's six, and isn't it everything he had missed? The flutter in his stomach grows, somehow their dynamic still worked, even after more than half a decade apart, even with Jason's broader frame. It still works. Even as Jason pulls moves that B never taught him, even as the Bat turns and hits harder than Jason remembers him hitting. They still work.

Maybe it's that turning in his stomach, or maybe it's the way that he can't help the grin that's plastered on his face under the helmet. Or maybe, just maybe he just actually missed this. what ever the reason, the words fall from his lips easily as he lands a particularly hard hit on a bot B tossed his way. "Just like old times, huh B?"

"Shut up and fight." Batman orders, with an almost indiscernible twitch of his lips. Almost.

Jason knows, in his bones, that was almost a smile. "What do you think I've been doin'?" He says, dodging a bot with a work saw for a hand from nearly cutting him in half.

B doesn't reply, but Jason is used to that. He's used to filling the silence in a fight. Used to being the mouthy one next to the brooding shadow. Everyone had always said he had a mouth on him, it wasn't until The Bat had found him that Jason found a good use for it.

He knows B's moves before he makes them, knows when to turn, when to give him room. Knows when to duck or toss a bot right into his already moving fist. Jason still manages to flip over Bruce when he needs to, words streaming out of him as he mocks and taunts Riddler just as he had back when he was wearing green pixie boots and a cape. He couldn't hold back the grin that tugged at his lips even if he tried. Fighting at Batman's side was entrenched in his DNA, it was what Jason had lived for as a kid, and somehow, eve after everything, the same glee still filled him up as he moved with his back toward Batman, trusting his mentor to cover him.

Kicking at a bot, he whirled around searching for something he could use as a weapon. As much as his gloves were reinforced with metal knuckles, if he kept bashing his fists against them he was going to regret it later. Luckily, it doesn't take long to spot a torn off railing lying on the floor. Dodging the arms of the metal contraption he rolls and easily picks up the metal bar, twirling it with a grin.

Now we're talking.

"Head's up!" He called out, the first swing hits one of them straight on and makes a satisfying clang, as the head goes souring to the other side of the station. The reverberation of it rings up his arm, and he tightens his grip, falling back into place next to B.

Nygma's laugh rings harshly throughout the speakers. "Even with the aid of a murderer, you're no match for me Dark Knight. I will always be your intellectual superior. My reforming bots are learning with every punch and kick you make!"

"We need an electric source." Jason grunts out at he barely rolls out of the way. He wishes he had had the foresight to charge up his new taser.

"I don't-"

"Mind if I lend a hand?" And Nightwing flips onto the scene shoving one of his escrima sticks into the body of a bot, electricity crackles and courses through the creatures body before it collapses.

Jason scoffs, "show off," but his grin holds.

"What can I say, I'm electrifying."

Jason groaned loudly. "Please, no puns."

"But they're puny." Dick grins and makes a show of shocking another two robots with a graceful summersault over their heads.

"I so didn't come back from the dead just to hear your jokes."

"Focus!" B's stern voice came from the comm. "You two dismantle the bots, I'll handle the tanks of fear gas." he didn't wait for a response, already fading into the shadows of the station.

"No!" Riddler screams through the subway speakers. They crackle harshly and Jason flinches as he takes up position next to Nightwing, pipe still in hand. "It doesn't matter, You've only scratched the surface of the games laid out tonight. There is more in store for you Batman, than just a couple of bots."

Once again he is shocked at how easy it is to fall back on old habits. Though unlike his dynamic with B, Jason takes on the most sure footed brawler position while Nightwing flips through the air using the robots as spring boards, his escrima sticks crackling with blue energy that nearly matched the blue of the bird on his chest.

"You know we're pretty good at this." N shouts over his shoulder, reading Jason's mind.

"Almost like we were trained by an obsessed Bat."

Dick snorts, kicking a bot Jason's way, but missing the one that is behind him.

"Wing!" Jason acts before he thinks. Knocking the bot shoved at him to the side, before slamming into Nightwing, forcing him out of the way. The bots claw clamps down hard on Jason's still healing leg, a string of curses spew from him as he twists to bash the pipe over the bots head, snarling.

"I had it!" Dick yells, as he hauls Jason up, shoving his electric escrima into the mangled head of the robot for good measure.

"Like hell you did." Jason groans, leaning onto his good leg.

"Hood, disengage and help the rest of the civilians."

"But-"

"That's an order." There was no room for argument.

Jason huffs, shrugging off Dick's hand on his shoulder and hissing through his teeth at the ache that now throbbed through his leg. Roy was gonna be pissed.

Moving quickly out of the way of Nightwing's escrima's, he starts to help up some of the cowering civilians that are still on the inside of the station.

"Get away!" One of the men yell, hands moving to strike at Jason. He tries hard not to let his exasperation show, he really does, but when it's clear the man isn't going to come willingly, he half drags the man out the door. Emergency vehicles have pulled up to the side of the station, and Jason knows that the antidotes are being dispersed. He goes back in, pushing the pain from his leg away and into a box to deal with later. Compartmentalize, that had been what the League had taught him. Shut of the pain, finish the mission. The sounds of bots clanking filled the background but he tried not to look in N's direction. It's when he goes out for the fourth time with another group of civilians that Jason has the nagging thought to wonder where Robin was.

The kid should be out there helping the medics disperse the antidote. He should be running his mouth and telling Jason how much of an idiot he is for getting hurt.

He's is about to ask when Oracle sounds through his comm. "Riddler has begun shutting down the bridges along both upper and lower Gotham."

"Do we knew where he is yet?" Jason asks, because the faster they found him, the faster they could figure out what exactly the plan was.

"No, he's put up some defenses that I'm still breaking through, It'll be a few more minutes."

"Two-face is taken care of," Tim's voice then sounds, a little breathless but firm. "GCPD is picking him up now, I can get the bridges in the south."

"I can-" Nightwing starts.

"No, I got it." Jason calls out, already shooting out his grappling hook toward the nearest building, and making his way to the alley where he stashed his bike.

"You're injured," N reprimands.

"Awe, you worried bout me big bird?" Jason uses the fire escape to jump down into the alley. His leg hurts, yes, but it's nothing he hasn't dealt with before. "I can handle a couple of riddles and bridges." Revving the engine he pulls out quick, cutting off a cop car as he goes.

"You sure?" Dick asks, and Jason almost gets pissed, at the genuine concern he hears in the boy wonders voice. "He'll be pissed B didn't go face him."

"Exactly." Riddler hated admitting defeat to anyone, but especially to anyone other than Bruce. Fucking arrogant ass narcissist, even as Robin Jason loved ruining that assholes plans. "Besides, you and Bats got the station covered, and those bridges is too fucking close to the Bowery and the Alley for my comfort."

There is humming on the other end of the comm, but he doesn't know from who.

"Start with the ones near Arkham first." Oracle says, "then make your way east to Sprang Bridge. We don't want any more issues allowing for more escapes."

"Any idea what the game plan is?" Jason calls out, taking a sharp turn, forcing him to lean dangerously close to the ground to avoid splattering into a wall.

"I'm keeping an eye on the reservoir." Oracle states. "It wouldn't be the first time Crane wanted to douse the whole city in fear toxin."

Jason almost smiles, knowing he had, had a similar thought earlier.

"It makes sense, especially if he's closing off access bridges and subways, no one can get in or out and stop him." The sound of a grapple going off could be heard behind Tim's voice.

"Nah," Jason shakes his head. "It seems too simple. Plus, we got in just fine," and there was that nagging gnawing feeling in his stomach that told him they were still a step behind.

The lights of the bridges that let into Arkham Island were just up ahead, and it has him pushing down on the gas. Jason swerves to the side and cuts off his bike, quickly sending himself up into the cords of the bridge, toward where he knows is the electric panels are. How may times had Batman and Robin had to override the bridges in emergencies? How many times had B forced Jason to study the architecture, and energy grids of the city? There was no where in the world that Jason knew so well, every nook, every etch in the stones, every gargoyle, and light fixture. Jason knew Gotham intimately, it was like mapping out the very palm of his own hand. So, it was easy to find where Riddler had gone in and fucked around with the wiring of the bridge.

"What do you see?" Oracle sounds in his ear.

Now, it was important to note that Jason had gone around the world studying the various arts of murder. Had used all of his League training to find out and pick up everything he could before he returned as the Red Hood. It was also important to note that even though he died blown up in a warehouse, Jason did not steer away from explosions, in fact he actively sought out to learn more about them. Call it exposure therapy, paranoia, or a need for him to be in control. Jason knew his way around explosions, because of that knowledge, it was obvious to him that what he was looking at now, on top of this bridge, was a coded bomb.

For fuck's sake.

"Hood?"

"Riddler has set up multiple explosives around the bridge. It looks like they are meant to be-"

"Solved?"

He hummed in displeasure.

"I can-"

"No," He knew what she was going to say. "No, I got it, it's just annoying, the priority is still to find Scarecrow and Riddler."

"You got this little wing," and damn if the nickname didn't have Jason's lips twitching.

"It looks the same here." Tim states. "Riddles and bombs."

"Just another night in Gotham." Jason snorts, as he begins to slowly make his way through the wires and contraptions laid out. He needed to focus. Sighing, he supposed it was time he began to put his years in the League to good use.

 

It was near an hour later when the lights of the last bridge flashed green and the bombs were diffused in their entirety. Jason gathered up the pieces and set them aside, just as he had done for the other three bridges, knowing Bruce was going to want to look them over and analyze them before writing up the report. Leaning against one of the railings in the maintenance area of the bridge he let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Hood to Oracle, Sprang Bridge disarmed."

"Copy," was the only reply.

He could feel the exhaustion start to creep into him as he leaned further into the railing, taking as much weight off of his left leg as possible. An ache had begun to fester deep in his left leg from the mangled claw of that damn robot clamping down around it, and he knew it was going to feel like a cement block fell on it tomorrow morning.

Reaching back, he unclasped his helmet, tugging it off of his head, sweat trickled down his temples and he ran a hand through his damp hair. The cold air from the top of the bridge hit the heat of his face and sent a chill down his spine, his breath puffed out in front of him and he thought of the smoke he exhaled after having a cigarette. Which, sounded pretty great right about now. Nothing like a hit of nicotine after a job well done.

He was halfway to fishing the carton from his pocket when Oracle came through on the comm again. "Red Robin's secured the expressway and B has dealt with the fear toxin at Robinson Park station."

"Any news on Nygma?"

"Following the lead now." N comes in, the sound of a motorcycle loud in the background of his comm.

"and Scare-" but before Jason can finish asking the question, a high pitched whine sounds through the comm, causing Jason to drop the carton of cigarettes, fingers pressing into his ear.

"Batman." The voice is low, gravely, and sends the hair on the back of Jason's neck standing.

"Crane." Came Batman's growl.

"I have something that belongs to you."

He let's his hands drop to his sides as he listens, of course it couldn't be this simple. When was it ever so simple as just disarming a handful of bombs.

"Batman will be here soon and you will regret ever putting your hands on me you filth!" Damian snarled.

Jason stops breathing.

No.

"It's no secret that one of your birds wings was already clipped. If you ever want to see this little bird again, you'll come and face me, alone." And just like that, the comm went dead. Damian's cursing cut off abruptly and all that was left behind was the low hum of the comm link connection.

"How the fuck did he get Robin?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about it. "I thought he was at the station!"

"Robin was ordered to stay home." Batman's low voice responds. "Per the protocol."

"What pro-" the rest of the question was lost on his tongue as he realized that things had changed since he had been Robin. Of course somethings had to have. Like Robin being told to stay home and away from the psychos of Arkham. Jason didn't know if it infuriated him more or less that Bruce had actually implemented new rules after his death. Was it a good thing that he had actually learned something? Or was it still just a moot point because the assholes were still fucking alive.

Jason ground his teeth, it didn't matter, not really, because even with the change in protocol Damian would never have accepted those orders. Cursing Talia, not the first time, he snatched his helmet off of the ground and slid it back on. Of course the little shit would defy those orders. He'd want to prove himself, would feel that he was being told he didn't have the skill to handle himself. Especially since that protocol hadn't existed before, Damian would know that, would've looked over the files and seen that Dick and Jason had helped B out during Arkham breakouts all the time. Would see Tim being allowed to dawn his red and black suit and he'd take it as a challenge. He wouldn't see it as Bruce trying to protect him. "Where is he?" The snarl of his mechanized voice echoed in the empty space of the maintenance area of the bridge.

"I tracked the comm to Amusement Mile." Bab's voice sounded in his ear, quiet, almost apologetic.

"Amusement mile? " Jason felt as if he'd been tossed off the bridge and into the icy water of the sound below. "That's not his usual M.O. Do we have eyes on Joker?" The more time lapsed the more this whole chaotic scheme smelled like the fucking famed clown prince of crime. Right down to trying to get B's attention. Right down to the way both Nygma and now Crane had taunted Batman over loosing Jason.

"Just the cell footage."

"Fuck." Jason was already moving, flying. Hurling himself from the top of the bridge, arms out, the rush of adrenaline that kicked into his system made his hands shake ever so slightly as he reached out to shoot off his grapple line near a street light next to his bike.

"I can be there in 20." B's voice sounded, and then a grunt. He was clearly still busy with whatever other traps Riddler had set up for him at the station, and Dick was no longer there to help him.

"I'm 5 minutes out." Jason's voice sounded breathless even to himself. The roar of the bike drowning out the curses and honks from the cars of the dumb asses still out during a fucking Arkham breakout. Or was that the rushing of blood in his ears that was beginning to clot them like cotton?

"I can't get eyes on him, but the comm link is still pulsing strong in one of the empty buildings."

"Hood-"

"Don't." Jason snarled. "Handle your shit Double R. I'll get our baby bat home." If it was the last thing he fucking did.

No more dead Robins.

Notes:

Can you tell that I've been re-playing Batman: Arkham Knight?
Anyway, thanks everyone for reading, do leave a comment if you can, let me know what you think!
and I hope to have the next chapter up soon!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Past Can't Stay Buried