Chapter Text
Jason is given a lot of help and guidance while he starts training as Robin. From Nightwing, from Oracle, from Bruce, even from Alfred. And, sure, Damian was Robin, and B’s worked with a Robin for years, but…
What’s really frustrating during his learning process is the way they talk, or don’t talk, about the Robin before him.
Damian is off doing his own thing most of the time. And when he is in Gotham, he absolutely refuses to talk about Tim Drake.
Alfred will mention him occasionally. Offhandedly, in casual conversation, things like ‘Master Tim helped me make these cookies often,’ or ‘I believe Master Tim enjoyed that movie,’ but he won’t talk about him for long.
Bruce… clearly blames himself for whatever happened. He has two modes: one where he will not acknowledge that Tim existed at all, and the other where he won’t stop thinking–or even talking–about Tim. That usually happens when he’s been fear-toxined, maybe inebriated, sleep deprived, whatever. And none of it is helpful, just recollections dripping with grief.
The only true exception to the don’t-mention-Tim rule is Oracle.
Jason doesn’t really get to talk to Babs often (she’s always busy), but she will talk about Tim Drake. She makes a point to bring him up in places where the others would uncomfortably gloss over any possible mention of the second Robin.
And, interestingly, Babs refuses to talk to Damian.
Sure, she’ll acknowledge him on comms, she’ll offer him the normal amount of assistance. She doesn’t sabotage him, or anything, but Damian Wayne al Ghul? Babs will not fucking talk to him. Jason isn’t quite sure why.
He’s tried to figure it out, of course. As little as Damian is around to give personal advice, Jason’s lived in Gotham his whole life. He knows a bit about Robin, and Robins snoop.
Out of curiosity if nothing else, Jason has read some of the reports of Tim’s missions.
According to other heroes, and things Babs, Alfred, and sometimes Bruce have said… Tim Drake was the perfect Robin.
He was brave, and incredibly clever, and he worked so well with Batman.
Damian’s time at Batman’s side had been extremely rocky. But with Tim as Robin? It was like they had always been meant to work together. Jason can see it in the footage he digs up: the way they fight together, plan together, and move with the surety that the other one will be exactly where he needs to be.
Tim is a shining example of what Robin should be.
And no-one will explain why or how well enough for Jason to even try to come close. He’s being held to an impossible standard that he doesn’t understand, and it’s completely unfair. Bruce picked him up for a reason, he knows, chose him to be Robin for a reason, but.
How can he be a good Robin if no one will tell him?
(How can he stay at Bruce’s side if he’s not good enough?)
Jason tries so hard not to let his jealousy turn to resentment.
But eventually, he gathers the courage (gets frustrated enough) to seek out Babs in person at the clocktower. She’s always been the most willing to actually talk about Tim, instead of just mentioning him, or ignoring his existence altogether.
Babs is half-watching one of her monitors while Jason sits on a nearby chair, fidgety and nervous. The others act like Tim is an almost sacred topic, and Jason doesn’t want to fuck this up.
But, eventually, Jason manages to ask.
“...Who was Tim Drake?”
The words are hesitant, and Babs can probably hear his apprehension. It’s possible that’s the reason Babs fully turns away from her screen and shifts her chair to face Jason more. Or maybe it’s out of respect for Tim’s memory.
Either way, she sighs a little, leans back in her chair, and quietly says, “That’s a big question, Jason.”
“Nobody gives me an answer.” Jason is careful to keep his tone neutral, pushing back his frustration. Babs might actually talk about Tim, and Jason isn’t going to piss her off before she can start. “But they expect me to be like him. I can’t be like him if I don’t know anything about him.”
“You shouldn’t have to be like him.” Babs tells him, flat and honest. Exactly what Jason wants to hear, but it doesn’t matter. Even if Babs thinks that, Bruce probably won’t ever stop looking at Jason and seeing Tim’s ghost.
Like some sort of mind reader, Babs continues. “If Bruce is making you think that’s what he expects, I…” she sighs, irritation flashing across her face. “Well, we all know how well adjusted Bruce is. But, I’ll have a talk with him, or something.”
“No, it’s just kind of what everyone seems to expect. I’m–” Jason shoves down his bitterness, “–I’m just here to, like…” he trails off. All his anger is just shifting into exhaustion. “I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why Bruce picked me up off the street.”
Babs tilts her head in acknowledgment. “Whatever his reason was, he cares about you now. More than just as Robin.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jason says dully. Truthfully. Jason’s not talented, not skilled. He isn’t good at combat and stealth like Damian, and he isn’t smart and perfect at partnership like Tim. He’s just…Jason. Street kid turned future vigilante, and not even a good one at that. “I thought that maybe if I knew a bit more about Tim, I could… try and emulate him a little? I dun–don’t know.”
He just wants Bruce to look at him, instead of the shadow of his last protege.
Babs pauses for a second, collecting her thoughts. When she speaks, it’s careful and measured.
“I… will tell you about Tim. But first,” she says, tone gaining a little sharpness, “I can tell you that Bruce definitely cares about you. And from what I know of him, he is trying to show it.” Her expression darkens. “Unfortunately, that’s a very low bar.”
Jason frowns. He can tell his nose is doing that scrunchy thing that Alfred seems to find endearing. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, “he does a bad job of it.”
“He was never this openly affectionate with Tim.”
“...This is openly affectionate?” Jason asks flatly.
Babs looks resigned. “It’s more, for what that’s worth. Tim was…” she takes another pause, clearly thinking about her words carefully. “Tim was very self-contained. Even to a fault, honestly. He didn’t like vulnerability. He wanted people to see exactly what he showed them, and nothing more.”
Jason narrows his eyes, but keeps his tone neutral. “So he was a liar.”
“No,” Babs says instantly, but without heat. “He was very private, and he didn’t open up easily. And because he was careful to act in a way that he considered right, that he thought he was supposed to, people believed it, and thought that behavior was all there was of him.”
Babs isn’t quite looking at Jason anymore, staring out at one of the walls of switches and wires. And quietly, she admits, “I don’t think any of us ever truly knew Tim Drake. Not in the ways that matter.”
That’s…
“Sounds lonely,” Jason says.
And Babs’ tone is bleak when she responds, “I think it was.”
Then she shakes her head a little, stirring herself from the memories, from the regret. “But they’re not wrong. He was smart, and funny, and brave. And an amazing Robin.” Babs looks back at Jason again, with a small smile. “I think he would be honored to see you carrying on the Robin mantle.”
Jason… isn’t sure how to feel about that. Does he want Tim Drake’s hypothetical approval? Does he need it?
Why does it feel so important?
Babs continues. “I don’t know how you could be like him, because I don’t know who he was as well as I should have.” She shrugs, looking pained. “And I didn’t realize it until too late.”
That doesn’t help. Jason’s stomach is full of swirling feelings, upset and resentful and tired.
“Everyone wants me to either be him, or–” he scoffs, “no. Everyone just wants me to be like him.” As if there’s another option. Jason knows exactly who he’s being measured against, but he has no idea how tall he has to be to surpass that expectation.
“I’m stuck living in his shadow,” Jason mutters. “No one looks at me. Nobody cares about Jason.”
He knows he sounds childish, but that’s how he feels. And it makes sense that he feels that way! The others sure don’t act like they want him. Just Robin.
They want Tim. They’ll settle for Jason.
Babs looks at him, sad and earnest.
“I do,” she says.
Jason has to suppress a wave of emotion, hope warring with disbelief. “It actually feels like you believe that. Not like the others.”
“He is trying to do better,” Babs says, sounding regretful. “I can’t say how much of that is guilt–or realization of his past mistakes–but… the care is real.”
It is nice, when Bruce gets his head out of his ass. He does things like buy Jason books, and sometimes when he’s not busy he’ll drive Jason to or from school, and he remembers Jason’s favorite things and his least favorites and gives him pats on the shoulders and hair ruffles and hugs.
Maybe Jason would be happy with that, if he didn’t have the shadow of Tim hanging over him all the time. Instead it just feels…appeasing. “He’s not good at showing it,” is all he says again.
“He’s not,” Babs agrees, immediate and blunt. After a pause she adds, “And Damian,” with the common bitterness that she says his name in, although she lightens up as she adds, “he’s trying.”
“I think he does better than B, at least,” Jason points out. Like, yeah, Damian is awkward as fuck, but he’s also pretty clear in saying something straight out when it’s important.
…And he doesn’t usually mind if Jason needs him to repeat what he says with simpler words.
“It feels like he looks down on me,” Jason says lightly, “but it also feels like he looks down on everyone? Like, including B. So it means he still sees me as equal to everyone else, even if it’s lesser.”
Jason’s used to being looked down on, as a street kid. The way Damian does it is different, but Jason can’t quite explain how. It’s got something to do with how Damian doesn’t actually doubt Jason’s skills or intelligence when it matters, he knows, but that’s all he can put to words.
Babs nods, resting her elbow on the desk. “That… is how it feels.”
Good to know that Jason isn’t alone. In this, at least.
Still, all the talk about Tim and Damian and Bruce…it makes Jason think, is all. Bruce made Batman. Robin came along with Damian, though Jason doesn’t really know the reason behind it starting? Probably something to do with Damian figuring out that B was Batman and then being ninja-assassin-y and stalking B on patrols with a sword until Bruce just went “fuck it, I can’t stop you, here’s some armor”.
And then Damian discarded Robin and became Nightwing, and Tim took it up.
Then Tim died.
Technically, Jason hasn’t actually gone out yet as Robin. Bruce says that he will when he’s done training, on Jason’s birthday. Which is so fucking cool; how many kids can say they spent their twelfth birthday running on rooftops with Batman? But…
But should Jason be Robin? Like–he knows Robin means magic, obviously, but. Is it not…rude, to wear the outfit after Tim died in it?
Shouldn’t Tim be remembered as a hero? Shouldn’t Jason take another name, at the very least?
“Is,” Jason starts slowly, knowing that Babs is probably the most unbiased but knowledgeable person to ask, “is Robin even a legacy that should be upheld?”
To her credit, and following Jason’s expectations, she takes a moment to think before answering. “I don’t know.”
Again, good to know that Jason isn’t alone in this.
“I think…” Babs starts, and then she pauses long enough that Jason isn’t sure she’ll actually continue. “Well. I don’t know if Damian would care. But I think Tim would want it to continue, as much as that matters.”
At this point, Jason doesn’t know. It’s not like he knew Tim. For all he knows, Tim wouldn’t have wanted Jason to be Robin, either.
“But, he’s dead,” Babs continues, “And you don’t have to make your decisions based on what I think he would want.” She looks down at her hands for a second, then back to focus on Jason. “But it meant something to him. And if it doesn’t mean something to you, create a title that does.”
Jason…wants to be magic. He wants to make people look up and feel safe. He wants to inspire kids to be brave. He wants to make Bruce proud.
He doesn’t need to be Robin to do that, but…it would be nice, to be the one on the other side of the interaction. To be the one offering the hand, the confidence, the certainty.
Robin saved Jason and the other kids, way back when. Now it’s Jason’s chance to do the same.
“I’ll think about it,” Jason settles on, because it is a big decision. “Thanks, O.”
“You’re welcome,” Babs tells him. “Now, are you ready to get back out there? Because I have some intel on…”