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Trembling fingers reached across a bloodstained floor. The movement sent ripples of pain up shaking arms that were mottled with bruises, many of them oozing rivulets of blood from where the crowbar broke the skin. Quavering breaths wracked his battered body as he reached toward the steadily decreasing numbers. Those numbers taunted him. Taunted him just as that cruel laughter had just before it left.

His body ached, his lungs burning with each breath. Broken ribs pressed against bruised organs.

He had to reach the device. If only to stop it from killing her, his mother. His mother who had betrayed him. He choked on a sob.

Don’t think about that,

he told himself.

Bloodied fingers reached for the bomb. The continuous ticking of bright red numbers searing his blurry vision. Blurred with tears and pain, and betrayal.

No! Don’t think about that. Not now.

He wanted so desperately to give up. To let the bomb take away his pain. But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t give up on the life he’d worked so hard to build back in Gotham.

Bruce would come for him. And if he didn’t make it in time, he would avenge him.

Darkness crept toward him at the edge of his vision. But he kept reaching. His fingernails cracked against the floor as he pushed his body past its limits and dragged himself forward.

A groan escaped his lips as he pulled himself closer to the device. That hopeless part of him begged for him to stop. Begged him to give in and let the device go off. He gritted his teeth, tasting copper on his tongue. The Joker couldn’t win. Not today. Not while there was still breath left in his bruised and aching body.

His body pleaded for sweet release. But he wouldn’t give in. Warm, bitter liquid now coated his tongue, filling his mouth with its sickly scent.

The sound of his heavy breaths filled his ears along with the tick, tick, tick of the bomb he was trying to reach.

He paused his attempts to reach the device, instead trying to catch what little breath remained in his punctured lungs.

Traitorous tears leaked out of his eyes. Squeezing them shut, he tried not to think about how badly he wanted Bruce to be there. To pull him into his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Tried not to imagine the way Bruce would wrap his cape around him and whisper soothing words in his ears. No matter how hard he fought them though, his thoughts kept returning to Bruce, his dad. He wanted his dad.

Pounding filled his head as he opened his eyes and braced himself for another vain attempt to reach the bomb. The sound got louder as he reached his quivering fingers toward the device. If he  paused to listen to it he would almost think that it sounded like the pounding was coming from the door the Joker had left through seconds, minutes, and hours ago. But he didn’t pause. Couldn’t let himself think for one moment that any help was coming for him.

Then, the sound of a door crashing open had him turning his head toward the sound. A large shadow filled the doorway. The form froze, then it was rushing for him. He flinched despite himself. Bruce slowed and reached for him with gentle hands. His eyes went briefly to the bomb.

Pulling him close, Bruce whispered, “It’s okay, Jason. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

Strong arms lifted him from the blood soaked floor. Jason leaned his head against Bruce’s chest as he ran from the building. They had just made it a few feet from the building when it exploded behind them. Bruce dropped to the ground, covering Jason’s body with his own.

Jason could feel the shockwave of the explosion in the ground below him. Could feel each piece of debris that hit Bruce’s back as he lay over Jason, taking the brunt of the blast while cradling Jason close to him.

Only when the tremors and debris had finally stopped did Bruce lift his head. Dust instantly filled Jason’s vision. He barely had a second to register what had happened before Bruce was again lifting him into his arms. The dust around them began to settle as Bruce stood. It took some effort, but Jason managed to turn his head and look at the rubble. His body protested the action but he did it anyway. He had to know if Sheila was okay. If she was alive.

Bruce turned away from the remains of the building just as Jason caught a glimpse of blonde hair spilling out from under a pile of rubble. His pain-addled mind took a while to understand what that meant. He sucked in a breath as the realization dawned on him. Sheila was dead.

The arms that held him clutched him tighter as fresh tears spilled over. Bruce didn’t say anything. He just carried Jason over to a transport truck and climbed in, not bothering to set Jason down for even a moment.

Carefully, Bruce sat down, leaning against a wooden crate as he did so. The truck’s engine roared to life beneath them as Bruce shifted Jason into a more comfortable position. His arms never released their hold on Jason, and he was grateful for it. He clung to Bruce with all his remaining strength and listened as Bruce repeated his words over and over.

“It’s okay, Jason. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Wrapped in the arms of one of the few people he trusted, Jason embraced the now-peaceful darkness that he had kept at bay. Bruce’s words echoed in his mind as he succumbed to it. He could rest now. He felt safe now, protected in Bruce’s embrace.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason stared at his old Robin costume, still sitting in its glass case even after his decision. He could remember it like it was yesterday, the explosion, Bruce carrying him to safety, their return to Gotham and his immediate resignation as Robin. Initially, Bruce had been disappointed with his decision, but as time went on, and Jason had put forth more effort into his education, he accepted Jason’s decision, prided in it even. Jason remembered the day he’d gotten the acceptance letter to Princeton. Remembered the joyous look of pride on Bruce’s face when he burst into his study, a wide grin on his face as he told Bruce that he’d been accepted into their English program.

Despite Jason’s pleas, Bruce had planned a gala to celebrate the occasion. His reflection in the glass case before him showed the tailored tux his father had bought him fitting his form perfectly.

Heaving a sigh, Jason straightened his lapel and turned away from his reflection to begin making his way over to the elevator. He was going to be late if he stayed down there any longer.

As he stepped off the elevator, Jason was greeted by a familiar face plastered with an ear splitting smile. He froze, staring at his brother. His brother who was supposed to be in Blüdhaven on a case.

“Hey, Little Wing,” Dick said, waving cheerfully at him.

Jason felt his lips tug into a smile. “You finally cut your hair, Dickie.”

Dick shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. “Figured it was ‘bout time.”

“So Bruce persuading you it was too long had nothing to do with it?” Jason raised an eyebrow, his feet at last unsticking from their spot on the floor to join his brother in walking down the Manor halls toward the ambient sounds of a party already in full swing.

Dick winced, making Jason bark out a laugh.

Clapping his brother on the shoulder, Jason leaned in and said, “Be glad you got it cut on your own. I was one look away from buzzing your head in your sleep.”

With that, Jason entered the main hall, leaving his dumbstruck brother to follow behind him.

People greeted him with masterful smiles that masked their scheming minds. It had been years since Bruce had adopted him into his world of snakes and ghouls masquerading as Gotham’s elite, and still Jason found himself dancing away from the vipers dressed in sparkling gowns and silk ties.

Years ago Dick had tried to teach him how to create a public persona. A metaphorical mask he could don in the public eye to hide from them the things he spent his nights galavanting around the city doing while wearing a traffic light costume.

Needless to say, those lessons hadn’t panned out very well.

Regardless of his inability to put on a show for the parasites disguised as socialites and business men, Jason managed to make it nearly halfway across the room with barely a sentence exchanged with each person he passed—a remarkable feat in and of itself—before he ran into someone with whom he knew a brief sentence of small-talk would not work.

“Jason, I  believe congratulations are in order.” Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and close friend of Bruce’s, gave Jason a warm smile as he held out his hand. Jason took the offered hand and shook it, the smile on his face more sincere than it had been moments before. Lucius was one of the few people among the Gotham elite that was not only genuine in both action and words, but who was also part of an even smaller group of people who held both Jason’s trust and respect.

“So,” Lucius continued. “Do you have any fun summer plans before leaving?”

“Thank you. I–”

Jason’s response was cut off as a teenage boy, no more than two or three years his junior, squeezed between him and Lucius, giving them a quick, “Sorry!” before snapping a picture of them with the camera he had hanging around his neck and disappearing into the crowd.

“Tim! Excuse me, I am so sorry.” A woman in a maroon dress went hurrying after the boy. “Timothy Drake get back here.”

Distracted by the woman chasing down her son, Jason forgot what he’d been about to say.

Turning back to Lucius, he rubbed the back of his neck saying, “Uh, sorry, I just completely forgot what I was about to say.”

Chuckling, Lucius patted his shoulder and said something about tracking down his own son before flagging down a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses and walking away. Jason blew out a breath, grateful for the distraction the boy had caused so he didn’t have to participate in small-talk, even with a friend.

Feeling a light brush against his arm, Jason turned his head to see the boy from earlier—he was pretty sure his mom had called him Tim—peeking around him, his pale blue eyes scanning the crowd.

“Is she gone?” he asked.

Following his gaze, Jason searched the crowd for the woman in the maroon dress, but couldn’t see her.

Turning back to the boy—Tim, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Tim turned his attention to Jason, looking him up and down before saying, “You got tall.”

Jason blinked. “What?”

But Tim had already scurried off—not without snapping another picture of him though.

What the hell was that?

“What was that about?” Jason jumped, shooting a glare at his brother for managing to sneak up on him.

Even though it had been years since he’d worn the Robin suit, Jason still liked to keep up his skills. After all, Jason Todd-Wayne was a highly sought after kidnapping target and he preferred to

not

have to deal with that if he could help it. He supposed that not going out on high alert every night with Bruce had taken its toll on his abilities, meaning that he shouldn’t have been surprised Dick had been able to sneak up on him—intentionally or not.

“I have no idea,” Jason replied.

Dick nodded in the direction Tim had run off in. “You know that kid?”

Jason shook his head. “Nope. I think I’ve seen him around school though.”

“Hm.” Dick looked around the room, then asked, “You done your rounds?”

Jason nodded.

“Great.” Dick gave him a smile. “Roof. Ten minutes.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason watched his brother meld into the crowd. He waited a couple of minutes, spared a couple of pleasantries for a few more guests, then headed off to meet Dick on the roof.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dick was sitting on the edge of the roof when Jason got there, his legs swinging back and forth over the eaves while he waited. A gentle early summer breeze tugged at his freshly cut hair. His tux jacket lay draped on the roof behind him, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jason didn’t have to be facing him to know his bowtie was likely hanging loosely around his neck.

Moving closer, Jason sat down next to him, pretending not to notice the small box he was fidgeting with in his hands and instead choosing to stare off into the distance at the treeline, remembering all the times he came up to this very roof on his own and considered running away into the forest. But those had been the thoughts of a scared Crime Alley rat who had been thrown into a dazzling new world full of spastic texts from a new brother and a father who actually gave a damn about him rather than beating the shit out of him every chance he got.

The scent of petrichor filled the air, as it always did, reminding him of late nights patrolling with Bruce among the streets of Gotham. Those were some of the best nights of his life. But he didn’t want to go back. He had made his choice, and just the thought of putting on the Robin suit—even if it was a newer suit that would actually fit him now that he’d outgrown the old one—brought up memories he kept suppressed in the back of his mind. Memories of concrete slick with blood. His blood. Cruel laughter echoing in his head. He shoved back the surge of memories as they tried to claw their way to the forefront of his mind. If Bruce hadn’t made it in time… he didn’t want to think about what would have happened.

“I have something for you,” Dick said at last, lifting the box and offering it to Jason.

Jason took it from him. “What is it?”

“That would ruin the surprise.” Dick bumped his shoulder with his own, then shifted so he was sitting on his hands. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Jason stared at the small box for a moment before carefully lifting the lid. Inside was a very expensive-looking watch. He looked up at his brother.

“Thank you, Dick.”

Dick grinned excitedly.

Scrunching his brows together, Jason asked, “Am I missing something?”

“Well,” Dick’s gaze shifted to the trees in front of them, beyond that, toward the city. “It’s more than just a watch.”

Jason waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, he prompted, “So what is it then?”

Dick shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Don’t be mad at me, I just thought you might like it.”

“How can I be mad if I don’t know what it is?”

“Ok fine.” Dick sighed. “I, uh, I know you said you didn’t want to be Robin anymore–”

Jason stiffened. “Dick. We’ve been over this.”

“I know I know.” Dick ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not asking you to be Robin again, I just… The watch has an emergency GPS in it. All you have to do is press the button on the side three times to activate it and it’ll send an alert directly to me and Bruce. It won’t be like it was, you won’t be Robin and we can’t track you unless you activate it, but if you’re ever in any trouble and need our help, as either Nightwing or Batman, we’ll be there, okay?”

Turning his gaze back to the watch, Jason considered his words, then he smiled and threw an arm around Dick’s shoulders. “Thanks, Dickie. I really appreciate this.”

Dick returned the hug in full force. “Anytime, Little Wing.”

Pulling out of the hug, Jason looked Dick dead in the eyes and said, “You have got to stop calling me that.”

“No.”

“Please. I am literally begging you. I would get on my knees but I don’t want to fall off the roof.”

Dick’s grin widened. “Never.”

“Dick, please.”

“Not a chance. It is my duty, as your older brother, to call you by at least one nickname you don’t like,” Dick informed him.

Shoving him lightly, Jason said, “Fine. I’ll give you that, but please, anything else. You can call me anything else, just please, pick a new nickname.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with it?” Dick asked. “Would you rather me call you dipshit?”

“Actually yes.”

“Too bad, Little Wing.”

Jason groaned.

“Besides, you have no right to complain. Let me list off the numerous nicknames you have coined for me since the day I met you.”

At this, Jason covered Dick’s mouth with his hand, only to jerk it back when the older man licked it.

Flicking his hand and wiping it on Dick’s sleeve, Jason exclaimed, “Ew! You sick childish asshole. That was disgusting. Never do that again.”

Dick smiled triumphantly and shifted his gaze back to the trees. “Fine. But only if you let me call you Little Wing with no complaints.”

“Fine,” Jason grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said

fine

you deaf incompetent little–”

“Woah, easy there,” Dick interrupted. “No need to bring my height into this. I’m not even that much shorter than you.”

Jason rolled his eyes before pushing himself to his feet. “I better go back to the party before Bruce starts to miss me. You coming?”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe later. It’s peaceful out here.”

It was Jason’s turn to shrug. “Suit yourself. I just might tell anyone who asks that it was past your bedtime.”

“I’m sure they’ll all believe that lie,” His brother replied.

“With how childish you can be?” Jason offered, his hand on the rooftop door. “I’m sure half of them are already thinking it.”

The hallways were empty as he made his way back to the main hall where the party was still in full swing. Guests loitered about, many of them holding a glass of champagne in one hand. Somehow, in his absence, the number of people had doubled, the ambient chatter in the room almost loud enough to drown out the musicians playing on their instruments near the bottom of the main staircase.

As he approached the base of the stairs, he overheard a group of women gossiping just around the corner, none of them having noticed his presence.

“–really believe the story Bruce gave the press about the scars?” One of them asked.

Jason paused on the last step.

“About how he got them from a motorcycle crash?” A younger voice chimed in.

A murmur of confirmation went around the small group.

An older voice came next, sounding just like the old lady who used to live down the hall from him back in Crime Alley, saying, “I’ve seen my fair share of scars from motorcycle crashes, and the ones on that boy?.. I will just say that those would be the strangest scars I have ever seen come from a crash.”

“If he didn’t get them how they told us they did,” started the first woman. “Then how do you suppose he got them?”

A hush fell over the group. Jason had a feeling they were looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard.

Too bad for them.

After another moment of silence, a fourth woman’s voice whispered to the rest of the group. “I heard rumors that he got them from his father before his father’s death.”

One of the women slapped her lightly on the arm, at least, that’s what it sounded like. He couldn’t be sure.

“I heard,” came the youngest woman’s voice. “That he got them from the Joker while on a trip to Ethiopia to see his birth mother.”

“That is the most ridiculous theory I have ever heard,” the first woman ridiculed, her tone scornful.

The second woman scoffed. “Then how do

you

think he got them? I don’t hear you offering any theories of your own.”

A snort from the first woman. “That’s because you wouldn’t believe it even if I told you.”

A sigh from the third woman, and likely an eye roll if her tone implied anything, then, “Spit it out already, woman.”

“Yes,” replied the fourth woman. “Now we’re all eager to hear your theory.”

“Fine,” huffed the first woman. “I believe he got them from his tenure as Robin.”

The other woman all snorted, the third woman saying, “You think the boy used to be Robin?”

A pit started forming in his stomach. They couldn’t actually know that he’d been Robin. Nobody was supposed to know.

“There is no way he used to be Robin,” the second woman told the group, her comment being seconded by the fourth woman.

“Like any of your theories are any better,” defended the first woman. “I don’t think we heard your opinion, Deborah.”

“And maybe that’s for the best.” Jason straightened at the sound of Dick’s voice. Dick’s very pissed off voice. “After all, it’s none of your business, is it?”

A collective gasp went through the group, and then they were all scrambling to make up for whatever they thought Dick had overheard.

“Of course,” the youngest woman said.

“Mr. Grayson, it was a mistake on our part,” the old woman told him.

“We never meant to–”

“Get out.” Dick’s voice was cold, angry. “None of you are welcome here if this is how you are going to act.”

“But–” the fourth woman cut off, likely from whatever look Dick had on his face.

Jason watched as, one by one, each of the women in the group made an appearance around the corner, scurrying off toward the front door. Two of them noticed him standing frozen at the base of the steps and quickened their pace, whispering to the others as they did. He watched them walk away, the pit in his stomach growing.

“Jason.”

Shifting his eyes, Jason met Dick’s gaze. His expression was soft, concerned.

Jason cleared his throat, shoving aside the well of emotions threatening to make itself known. “Thank you.”

Dick clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Anytime, Little Wing.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

His apartment was huge. It didn’t help that it was currently empty, but the penthouse in Uptown Gotham was a lot larger than he had expected. Especially considering its location in Crime Alley. A location that Bruce had protested against vehemently.

Jason had initially planned on moving onto campus, but after the gala Bruce had thrown—and Dick’s intervention with the gossip-mongers—he had decided that he wanted to stay in Gotham. It was his city after all. And he couldn’t simply abandon it. Hence the decision, however disliked, to return to his childhood home—or something close to it.

Dropping the last of his bags on the floor in what would eventually become his living room, Jason scanned what he could see of the apartment. As far as penthouses went, this was certainly not as nice as the one Bruce owned downtown, but it was a big step up from the rancid apartment he had grown up in.

This apartment was on discount due to its proximity to Crime Alley, and the fact that its previous tenant, a formerly very powerful drug lord, had recently been taken down by Batman. Upon his sentencing to Black Gate, the drug lord had had his place cleaned out by the GCPD, leaving the apartment mostly barren. The only pieces of furniture left were the plasma screen TV mounted on the living room wall, a solid oak desk in the office, and a bookshelf along an adjoining wall in the office.

Wandering through the rooms, in awe of the fact that all of it was his. Not Bruce’s.

His.

He bought the place, with his own hard-earned money. It was exactly what he needed. Not too big the way the Manor had always been. But also not small enough to make him feel cramped or trapped the way his parents’ apartment had been.

As he entered the office, he walked over to the bookshelf. It was empty of any contents it may have once held, but something about it was nagging at him. On a whim, he tugged gently at the edge, and was pleasantly surprised to find that behind it was a hidden glass case. He had a feeling it used to house weapons of some kind. Pushing the door closed, he left the room, ignoring the surge of an unidentifiable emotion that pressed to the front of his mind as the thought of how he could have used the hidden space for his Robin suit had he chosen a different path. He did not regret his choice. Not for one moment. But that didn’t stop him from wondering what his life would have been like had he stayed the course and continued as Robin after the disastrous events in Ethiopia.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Jason headed out the door. He was in desperate need of furniture and appliances for his new apartment, but he needed a distraction even more and a trip to the library felt like just the diversion his brain required.
 
The sky outside the library was its typical storm gray, soft drops of rain occasionally slipping from the clouds to splatter on the ground like blood on concrete. Jason stood outside the library doors, a specter haunting the sidewalk. Then he was walking through the glass doors.

A hush fell over him as he was greeted by the soothing scent of books both old and new. To his right, he noticed an older woman sitting behind the checkout counter, half moon glasses with beaded strings looping down the sides and disappearing into the silver strands of her hair perched on her pointed nose as she typed away on an ancient computer. Walking over to her, Jason cleared his throat in an attempt to get her attention.

Looking up, the woman gave him a once over then took the glasses off, leaving them hanging around her neck like an unusual necklace.

“Yes?” she asked, her voice sounding much less witchy than Jason had anticipated.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jason started. “But I saw your sign out front asking for volunteers and—”

The woman instantly lit up. Her previously dour demeanor dismissed in an instant and replaced with a jubilant expression.

“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Your help would be greatly appreciated.”

Jason smiled, his shoulders relaxing at her sudden change of mood. He had no doubt that his scars had been off-putting to her. They were in Gotham so she had presumably dealt with her fair share of criminals and juvenile delinquents who likely had just as many scars as he did.

“So, what can I do?” Jason asked her.

The woman tutted at him, moving with surprising agility as she stood and walked around the counter. “You young ones are always in such a rush. Let’s take our time, yes? What’s your name?”

Jason’s smile grew. He was going to enjoy this more than he’d expected. “Jason. My name is Jason.”

“Well, Jason. It is nice to meet you. You can call me Ruth.”

“Good to meet you as well, Ruth.”

Ruth smiled, her dark eyes glimmering as she turned and led the way to a cart loaded with books. Gesturing to it, she said, “These books all need to be returned to their homes on the shelves. You can find their location by looking at the author’s last name and putting it on the corresponding shelf. The shelves are in alphabetical order with the first floor housing non-fiction and children’s books and the second floor holding the fiction books. Books that are part of a series will be marked with a colored sticker.”

Jason nodded along as she explained how to best sort the books and showed him where the rundown elevator was located.

When she was done, she added, “Library officially closes at six, but I will still be here for another fifteen minutes or so if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, running his hand over the spines of some of the books on the cart.

Ruth gave him another smile. “Thank

you

, young man. I don’t see many people your age in here as much as I would like.”

With that, Ruth waddled away, leaving Jason alone with a cart full of stories.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Sore feet accompanied Jason on the ride back to his apartment. He’d spent a better part of the day returning books to the shelves, and he had barely even made a dent in the amount of books that needed to be reshelved. Upon finishing his first cartload, he had returned to the front desk where Ruth had shown him to a back room where there had to be at

least

a hundred or more books stacked in piles throughout the entire room. She had taken one look at his bewildered expression and patted him on the shoulder, wishing him good luck before going back to her post at the computer.

His apartment was just as desolate as it had been when he’d left. The emptiness of it filling the space with a silence that both comforted and agitated his senses until he was unable to stand it. Turning the TV on, Jason set the bag of Chinese take out on the counter before pulling out the container of noodles and the chopsticks. Steam wafted into the air as he opened the carton, the sound of a news anchor flowing through the apartment.

Even from his spot behind the kitchen island, Jason could still see the TV through the arched doorway to the living room. Blowing on his noodles, he watched the weather forecast for the week before taking a bite. Spices soaked into his taste buds. He savored the flavor on his tongue despite the cheap taste of it. The restaurant he had bought it from was definitely not the highest quality, but it was close to home and the owner always gave him extra dumplings whether he ordered any or not.

Jason had just started in on his complementary dumplings when a story on the news caught his attention.

Setting down his chopsticks and the dumpling held between them, Jason grabbed the TV remote and turned up the volume.

“–disappeared last week on a trip to the Caribbean.” An image of a small family was shown in the corner of the screen. Jason recognized the woman and the teenage boy standing between her and the man who he assumed was her husband. “Jack and Janet Drake’s bodies were recently found on a beach along the coast of Costa Rica. Authorities have yet to determine a cause of death, but have reportedly decided to accept the offer of assistance from the FBI.

“In the wake of their deaths, the Drakes left behind a fifteen-year-old son. Timothy Drake was unavailable for comment, but sources have noted that Bruce Wayne has offered to care for the orphaned boy until his future can be determined…”

Jason didn’t pay attention to anything else that was said.

Picking up his phone, he immediately dialed Dick’s number.

Dick answered before the first ring had ended. “Hello–”

“Are you watching the news right now?” Jason interrupted, the rest of his food forgotten as he started pacing.

A moment of silence, then. “Bruce did

what?!

I’m calling him.”

The line went dead. Jason came to a halt midstep, his mind reeling as he recalled the night he’d met Tim. As far as traumatized orphans went, Bruce had definitely adopted worse. He thought of the way Tim had quickly snapped a picture of him just before dashing off into the crowd, twice. Tim had done it twice. It would be a miracle if either of those pictures weren’t blurry.

His phone started ringing, drawing him from his thoughts.

Dick’s contact lit up the screen as he answered it.

“What did he say?” Jason asked.

“He didn’t answer.”

“Call him again.”

“I did.”

Jason sighed. “Fine. I’ll call him.”

With that, he hung up on Dick and dialed Bruce’s number.

The tone sounded in his ear, ringing a few times before it stopped.

“Jason?”

“B, what the hell?” Jason asked, barely containing the urge to shout at him.

“You saw the news,” Bruce said simply.

“Uh, yeah! What is that all about?”

Bruce heaved a long-suffering sigh. “They were going to send him to the orphanage, Jay. He’s not old enough to access the fortune his parents left behind and the trust fund his father gave him is barely enough to buy him a week’s worth of groceries. Between that and what Dick has told me about his time at the orphanage… I couldn’t let that happen.”

It was Jason’s turn to sigh. Bruce had a point. The mausoleum that was the Gotham orphanage was a driving factor behind many parentless kids, himself included, choosing to risk scraping by on the streets rather than trying to forge out an existence behind those gated walls. Better to be fighting for survival against the rats than fear being sold as some rich monster’s plaything.

“Jason?” Bruce prompted, reminding him that he still hadn’t responded.

“Is he at the Manor right now?” Jason asked. At Bruce’s confirmation, he added, “How’s he doing?”

“About as well as you’d expect. He’s handling it pretty well though.” Bruce sounded tired. More so than usual, that is.

“I’m coming over,” Jason said, cutting off Bruce’s objection before he could even start. “No. You sound exhausted, B. Besides, the sun is almost gone and I know what that means for you.”

Another heavy sigh from the other end of the phone. “I don’t know if I’m going out tonight, Jay.”

“Fine. That’s your choice. You know I don’t want to be a part of that world anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am already on my way to the Manor.” And he was. He had his helmet in one hand and his keys in the other, his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he locked his apartment door and made his way over to the elevator.

“Jas–”

“Let me help, Bruce.”

“Okay,” Bruce relented. “Thank you, Jason.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Jason told him before hanging up and, sliding his phone into his pocket before putting his helmet on, climbed onto his bike.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tim was sitting on a couch in one of the Manor’s drawing rooms with his knees pulled up against his chest with a pillow smashed between them. His face was expressionless, his eyes empty of life. Devoid of any emotion. Almost as though the reality of what had happened had yet to set in.

Jason sat on the couch next to him, causing those icy blue eyes to lift and meet his.

“Hey, kid,” Jason said. “You need anything?”

Tim shook his head.

Paused.

Nodded.

Silver started lining his eyes.

Leaning over, Jason grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. Hugging wasn’t really his thing—it was Dick’s—but he doubted anyone had hugged Tim since breaking the news of his parents’ death, not even Bruce. A silent sob shook Tim’s shoulders, followed by a few more. Then it was over and he was relaxing into Jason’s comforting, albeit stiff, embrace, his breathing slowing incrementally. Jason had no doubt that his shirt was soaked with tears—in fact, he could feel it seeping through to his skin—but it didn’t bother him the way he thought it would. If anything it reminded him of all the times he had been in a similar situation and had soaked Bruce’s shirt with his grief.

The scuff of a shoe in the doorway alerted Jason to Bruce’s presence. Turning his head, Jason met his dad’s gaze.

Bruce nodded to Tim. “He asleep?”

Jason nodded. “Think so.”

“Your room is just how you left it,” Bruce informed him.

“Thanks, but,” Jason glanced at Tim’s small form huddled close to him, his arms still clutching the pillow. “I think I’ll stay here with him.”

Bruce nodded, his shoulders losing tension Jason hadn’t previously noticed. “Okay. I’m going… out. If you need anything, you can call Alfred. Goodnight, Jason.”

“Will do. ‘Night, B.”

Leaning his head back against the couch, Jason closed his eyes, hearing the flick of a switch as Bruce turned off the lights.
 
Dark green waters enveloped the world he knew.

Acidic liquid filled his lungs.

Deeper.

And deeper he fell.

Sinking into the depths.

Fire sprites of pain danced agonizing foxtrots over his nerves.

He couldn’t breathe without inhaling that poisonous substance.

And he was drowning

drowning

drowning

Bubbles swished around him as he dragged himself to the surface.

kicking

kicking

kicking

For a distant surface.
 
He woke with a gasp, barely remembering the sleeping teenager wrapped in his arms in time to not accidentally wake him. His heart beat frantically in his chest.

He ran his fingers through his hair.

What just happened?

Jason had had his fair share of nightmares in his life, most of them revolving around the deaths of his parents or his near-death experience at the hands of the Joker, but never had he had one like the one that had just gouged its way out of his subconscious. And that, more than anything else, terrified him more than he was willing to admit.
 
Sparse sunlight eventually found its way into the room. Despite his attempts to do so, he had been unable to get even a second more sleep than had been afforded to him, which wasn’t much.

A sudden, deep, inhalation of breath came from beside him. The cushions shifted as Tim sat up and took a good look around the room before coming to a stop on Jason. Whatever peaceful expression had been left over from sleep crumbled. Jason watched the memories from the day prior play in Tim’s mind.

Icy blue eyes turned watery for a moment, and then, nothing.

Empty.

Gone were the emotions that swelled like ocean waves.

Gone was the torrent of memories which had cascaded into the stream of consciousness.

All of it gone in an instant.

And Jason knew why.

He recognized the need to suppress the emotions that he didn’t want to deal with.

So, rather than acknowledge the depths of which he felt he already understood about the boy next to him, he asked, “You hungry?”

Tim nodded silently.

Patting his knee, Jason pushed himself to his feet, waiting for Tim to do the same before leading the way to the kitchen where the sound of Alfred preparing breakfast leaked into the hallway. The smell of bacon wafted into the hallway. Behind him, Tim’s stomach audibly rumbled. Jason carefully shot the boy a look out of the corner of his eye just in time to see the cherry-red blush spread across his pale features.

Clearing his throat to hide the laugh that threatened to escape, Jason ushered Tim into the kitchen behind him. “Hey Alf. Food almost ready?”

“Master Jason,” Alfred greeted him, his eyes sliding to Tim. “Master Timothy. Yes, I am almost finished. If you would like to join Master Bruce in the dining room it will be out shortly.”

“Thanks Alf,” Jason said, having to practically pull Tim away from the kitchen. Tim looked at him, a hint of betrayal in his eyes.

Well, at least he’s showing some emotion

. “Don’t give me that look. You’ll get some food, promise. For now, I think Bruce would like to talk to you.”

Tim froze in the doorway, his eyes wide. “H-he wants to talk to me?”

Jason blinked, feeling a smile tugging at his lips. “Would you look at that, he speaks. Yes, Bruce wants to talk to you. You are technically his ward right now.”

“Oh, right.” Tim’s eyes fell to his feet.

Holding back a sigh, Jason put his hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Hey, kid. Look at me. It’s gonna be alright. Bruce is nothing like how the media portrays him. Think of him like… like an oversized teddy bear.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Jason paused, then, throwing his arm around Tim’s shoulders he guided him into the dining room where Bruce was sitting at the head of the table, the edges of a newly forming bruise peaking over the collar of his black turtleneck sweater. “You have nothing to be nervous about. We’re all here for you. Whatever you need. Got it?”

He felt Tim’s nod.

“Thank you,” Tim told him, his voice small.

Squeezing his shoulders, Jason let him go just before making his way to his seat. “Anytime, kid.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Rain pitter-pattered on the ground around him as Jason walked toward the library from where he’d parked his bike. It was late afternoon, not that anyone would be able to tell due to the sun being hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. He had just gotten off his second shift at a car garage down the street from his apartment, a part-time job he had picked up to fill the empty hours of the day when he wasn’t volunteering at the library or visiting the Manor.

He had barely gotten off his bike when Dick called him.

“I mean, it was only eight in the morning when he was jumping onto my bed and telling me he’d already had three energy drinks.

Three,

Jason.” Dick was currently ranting about being woken up too early by the newest resident at Wayne Manor. “Please come back. I can’t handle him on my own.”

Jason laughed, pulling open the glass doors and waving to Ruth at the front desk before making his way over to his cart. “I can’t do that, Dick. In case you’ve forgotten, I have a part-time job now. Not to mention the time I spend volunteering at the library.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, you’re busy,” Dick grumbled. “Didn’t you start tutoring kids recently too?”

“Yeah, part of my volunteering at the library,” Jason replied.

It had been a couple of weeks since he’d started volunteering, and on his third day, Ruth had asked him if he could tutor a group of kids. Her usual volunteer had called in sick and she had no one else to ask. Of course he’d said yes. Ruth had been ecstatic, showing him to the crammed reading room that doubled as a study room. A small group of maybe four elementary school age kids sat scattered around the room, each of them looking up at him as Ruth introduced him.

Clicking the button on the elevator, Jason asked, “So has Bruce asked him yet?”

“Asked him what?” Came Dick’s reply. “Oh,

oh.

The adoption papers. No, I don't think so. I mean, it’s barely been a couple of weeks, Jason. I doubt he would ask so soon. He didn’t ask either of us until at least a few months had passed.”

“I guess,” Jason said, drumming his fingers on the back of a book in his hand. He’d recently bought a pair of wired earbuds to listen to music while he worked—either in the library or at the garage—and they helped keep his hands free for whenever Dick or Tim happened to call him during his shifts, which was more often than he’d expected.

“But,” Dick prompted, catching on to the way Jason had trailed off.

“

But

,” Jason continued. “I get the feeling that something is different this time around.”

“If you say so. Look, I gotta go. It’s getting late and I have to… uh. I’ve got things to do. Talk to you tomorrow?”

Jason almost snorted at Dick’s stumble. He appreciated the gesture though. Appreciated his family’s attempts to respect his wishes not to be included in their nightly activities.

“Yeah, Dick. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Music filled his ears in the absence of his brother’s voice. Placing the book in his hands on the shelf, Jason pushed the, now-empty, cart back toward the elevator.

Checking his watch, Jason closed the backroom door and made his way to the front entrance where he waved goodbye to Ruth and stepped out onto the street. Gotham’s usual gray storm clouds covered what Jason assumed was a beautiful sunset. The ever-darkening sky was quickly accompanied by the beginning of a downpour.

The roads were slick by the time he made it back to the block his apartment was on.

Cursing the constant rain, Jason climbed off his bike and started walking toward his apartment building. He was passing by an alleyway when someone ran into him, nearly falling down as they collided with him.

Steadying them, Jason said, “Woah. Easy there. You alright?”

The boy looked up at him, icy blue eyes wide with shock.

“Shit, Tim?” Jason pulled back, gripping Tim’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I was coming to see you,” Tim stumbled over his words, his eyes darting to either side. “And I… oh shit. Jason, I think they’re in trouble.”

“Who? Tim? Who’s in trouble?”

Tim didn’t answer.

The kid was scared, trembling. He’d clearly seen something and didn’t know what to do.

“Hey, kid. Look at me.” Jason waited until Tim had met his eyes. “Good. Now take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, Tim shook his head. “I—follow me.”

Then he took off, spinning around and leading the way into the alley he had just run out of. Left with no other choice, Jason followed after him. Somewhere in the alley he could hear soft moans of pain. Quickening his pace, Jason followed Tim around a dumpster to a nest of blankets, and lying on top of them…

“Shit shit shit.” Jason crouched down next to the man, his heart pounding in his chest.

The man was seizing, spittle foaming at his lips. Lying next to the man, just out of reach of his outstretched hand, a syringe. Jason cursed under his breath, again.

“Jason?” Tim was standing behind him.

“He’s overdosing.” Jason reached into his pocket, swallowing the acidic bile that was rising up along with the memories that threatened to swallow him whole. Memories of a skeletal body in a bathtub, bruises riddling the too thin arms. A permanent indentation on the insides of both arms from too many needles. Sunken in cheeks contrasted the wide unseeing eyes.

Clenching his jaw, Jason shoved back the memories of a woman in a cramped bathroom and focused instead on keeping his hands from shaking as he pulled the naloxone out of his pocket and pressed the needle into the man’s neck, pushing down the plunger. Slowly, the man’s seizure came to a stop, his breathing getting easier.

Jason blew out a breath then turned to Tim. “Call an ambulance.”

Tim opened his mouth to respond, closed it, then opened it again and said, “I, uh, left my phone at the Manor.”

“You, what?” Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

This kid.

Rather than mutter some choice words about the situation, Jason pulled out his own phone and made the call.

Then, turning to Tim, he pointed at the kid then up at his apartment building and said, “You are going to go up to my apartment where you are going to wait for me and when I get there you are going to explain to me

exactly

why you’re here and why you left your phone at the Manor like an

idiot

.”

Tim nodded sullenly as Jason handed him the key.

“Top floor,” Jason told him. “Insert this into the slot next to the ‘P’ in the elevator. It’ll take you to the penthouse. Go inside and

please

, don’t touch anything.”

Again, Tim nodded. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Jason standing next to the unconscious drug-user, an idea beginning to form in his mind. Storing the idea away for another time, Jason listened intently for the sound of sirens, and only once the homeless man was in the ambulance driving away did he go off in the direction of his apartment.

Tim had some serious explaining to do. Not the least of which being why he was even coming to visit Jason so late in the day.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tim was pacing back and forth in front of the TV when Jason walked in. He paused just over the threshold, watching him wring his hands nervously. His nerves seemed to have tripled since Jason had sent him up there.Clearing his throat, Jason closed the door behind him. Despite his efforts to do otherwise, his actions startled Tim, nearly making him jump out of his skin.“I’d offer you a seat,” Jason said, motioning around the room as he added, “But I haven’t had a chance to get any furniture yet.”Technically that wasn’t true. He had had enough time to go out and get a bed and mattress, but aside from that; the apartment was just as empty as it had been the first time he’d walked in. “T-that’s okay,” Tim mumbled, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. He wasn’t meeting Jason’s eyes.Blowing out a breath, Jason made his way over to the kitchen and patted the counter before hopping onto the island, the tips of his shoes brushing against the tiled floor. “Come on.”“Are you sure?” Tim eyed the counter suspiciously.“Sit your ass down. You have some explaining to do,” Jason told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Starting with why you’re so anxious. You’re stressing me out, kid.”Tim sighed then complied, climbing onto the counter and sitting cross-legged on the quartz surface.“Can I… can I ask you something?” Tim asked as soon as he was settled.Jason nodded. “Ask away.”“Why do you carry naloxone?”The question caught him somewhat off guard. He was used to Dick and Bruce’s non confrontational way of not asking him about his past. They had this way of simply letting him bring it up first. “My…” Jason started, his voice cracking a bit at the memory of a frail body in a bathtub. “My mother was a drug addict. After she, died, of an overdose, I made a promise to myself not to let that happen to other people. Not when I could do something to help.”Tim was quiet, letting his words sink in.“I’ve always carried at least one with me at all times ever since,” Jason said softly. He cleared his throat. “So, do you want to tell me what you were thinking, coming to Crime Alley in the middle of the night?”Tim looked away, avoiding meeting Jason’s gaze for a few moments. Then, he blurted out, “Bruce asked if he could adopt me.”“Okay. And?” Jason asked. “What about that has you freaked out?”“Well, it’s just…”Jason scanned his face. “Is it too soon?”“No.”“Not something you want?”“I–no.”“I can’t help you if you don’t give me something, kid,” Jason told him.Tim blew out a breath, dragging both his hands through his hair before saying, “I do want it. He just sprung it on me so suddenly and I-I freaked out. I told him I wanted to think on it, b-but that was hours ago and I didn’t realize I’d left my phone at the Manor until I was already halfway here and… what do I do?”His words were coming out faster and faster, reminding Jason of conversations he’d had with speedsters.“What if he changes his mind before I can get back to the Manor and say yes? I-I wouldn’t—”Jason cut him off before he could spiral any further. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. He’s not going to change his mind.”This at last had Tim looking up from his hands to meet Jason’s gaze. “He’s not?”“No. He’s not.”“But,” Tim’s mouth opened and closed a few times, like a circuit had gone on the fritz inside his head. After a moment or two he managed to find his words again. “What if he does though? What if he finds out I know he’s Batman and thinks I’m too much of a security risk? I can keep a secret, but he might not know that. I mean, how long was it before he adopted you after taking you in? Did he wait a super long time? What about Dick? Wait, did he even actually adopt Dick?”“Tim. Tim .” Tim’s eyes darted back to Jason, going wide as though he’d completely forgotten Jason was even there. “Bruce cares about you, okay? He probably felt like he waited too long for both me and Dick and didn’t want to make that mistake again.”Tim nodded, but his shoulders were still tense, like he was anticipating an outburst of anger–“Wait, what did you say about Bruce being Batman?”“Uh… I didn’t?” Tim snapped his mouth shut.Jason eyed the boy in front of him, then said, “Spill. Now.”Tim adamantly shook his head.Leaning closer to him, Jason slowly—for emphasis—said, “You are not leaving until you tell me exactly what you meant by you ‘know Bruce is Batman’.”Tim swallowed hard.“Well, uh, I guess I should start at the beginning,” he mumbled.“That would be a good place to start,” Jason told him, straightening.Tim cleared his throat. He started slowly, hesitant to share the details, but he seemed to get more comfortable with the story as he went along. Jason listened as Tim told him about the pictures and how he’d pieced together the identities of, not only Bruce being Batman, but of Dick being the first Robin before becoming Nightwing and of Jason, himself, being the second Robin until some unknown event had led to his disappearance as Robin.Silence settled in the aftermath of Tim’s revelations. All Jason could do was sit in stunned silence while his brain processed everything that had been said. His mouth opened. He had something to say. But the words sizzled and died on his tongue before he could utter a syllable. His mouth shut.“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Tim asked, studying him closely for a reaction other than the one he was presenting.It was all too much. Jason burst out laughing.This kid, this kid had single-handedly figured out Bruce’s biggest secret and had kept it to himself for years . Bruce was going to be livid. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it.So Jason laughed. And laughed. Because the odds of the orphaned boy sitting in front of him being offered a new home by the one person he idolized most in the world—and whose secret identity he had figured out at the ripe age of thirteen—was astronomical.A brilliant red blush flared on Tim’s cheeks.Forcing down a deep breath, Jason wiped away the tears that had lined in his eyes and said, “You have got to be the gutsiest kid I have ever met.”“What is that supposed to mean?”“It means,” Jason said. “That I am going to give you a ride back to the Manor where Bruce is no doubt having a full-blown meltdown at your disappearance, and you are going to say yes to his offer.”“But… what about—”Jason waved his hand through the air between them. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell him what you told me, but maybe do it when Dick and, or, Alfred is also in the room.”“Can’t you just stay with me while I tell him?”“I left that life behind a long time ago,” Jason said, suddenly sober from his laughing fit. “It’s not something I want to go back into anytime soon.”Tim sighed. “It’s not like I’m asking you to don the mask again, just sort of be there when I tell him. That’s all.”“That’s all, huh?” Jason teased. He sighed. “Alright, fine. You got me, kid. I’ll stick around and be your emotional support.”At that, Tim perked up, his expression lighting up. “Really?’Jason nodded. “Really.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So, how goes the studying?” Dick’s voice was cheery over the phone.

“It would be better if I didn’t have you yapping in my ear all the time,” Jason retorted, staring at the blank doc on the screen of his laptop, his frustration growing by the second. The singular sentence he had previously written had been scrapped as soon as Dick had called.

His brother was quick on the uptake, though, recognizing the terseness in his voice. “You’re staring at a blank screen again, aren’t you?”

Jason sighed, an answer in and of itself.

“That was only a level four sigh, which means you haven’t been brooding for too long. I must have called at the perfect time.”

“Yeah. Perfect timing,” Jason said absentmindedly while typing out a new intro sentence. He took one look at the complete line then immediately slammed his finger on the delete button. “It’s only the third week of semester, it shouldn’t be this hard to do this assignment.”

He was sitting at his desk in his, finally furnished, apartment. His shift at the garage had ended hours ago and he was still sitting there with nothing to show for the time he’d spent brainstorming for the personal essay he was supposed to write. He didn’t even know what to write about. It wasn’t like he could just up and write about his adventures as Robin—even though that would be infinitely cooler than any of his other ideas. So far all he’d gotten was a load of nothing. He hadn’t lived an eventless life, he just couldn’t talk about anything interesting without outing Bruce, Dick, and himself as Gotham’s vigilantes.

Not to mention Tim.

Jason shook his head.

Tim’s talk with Bruce had gone over way better than he could have hoped. No ensuing lecture. No lashing out at anything that breathed too close to him. Not even a lick of anger.

No. Bruce hadn’t been angry. He had been very… stoic about the whole thing.

But he hadn’t changed his mind. He had still sent in the signed adoption papers. Tim was officially part of the family.

Even more so now.

Bruce had made many decisions that Jason didn’t approve of, the latest of which being his decision to let Tim take on the mantle of Robin only a week after Jason had started classes at university.

Jason hadn’t been pleased—to say the least. But it wasn’t any of his business how they chose to spend their nights. Not anymore. And certainly not when he had broken his resolve.

The secret he had started carrying on his shoulders over the past week weighed heavily on his conscience. It wasn’t like he was necessarily doing anything bad, but he had a feeling his family would disapprove of his methods.

“Jay?” Dick’s voice jolted Jason from his thoughts. “You still with me?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just… trying to think of something to write about,” Jason said lamely.

“Guess coming up with topics would be kinda hard, wouldn’t it? What with the spending a good portion of your teenage years as Batman’s sidekick.”

“Dick,” Jason warned.

“Sorry, sorry. I know.” Dick sighed. “What about before that, though? It couldn’t have been easy growing up on the streets after your mom, uh… y’know. Why don’t you write about that? I doubt any of those Ivy League kids have anything to compare that to.”

Jason tapped the tip of his finger on his desk. “I don’t know, Dick. I’m not sure that’s something I really want to go into.”

“Hey, I get it,” his brother said, his voice soft. Then, slightly more enthusiastically, he said, “Hey, why don’t you write about volunteering at the library and tutoring those kids. Or, what about that guy you saved from an overdose the night Bruce asked Tim if he could adopt him?”

“Tim told you about that?”

Dick hummed his confirmation. “That was really great of you, Jay. You probably saved that guy’s life. You’re a hero, Little Wing. Yellow cape or no. Not everyone can say that about their life.”

Jason sighed, typing the idea onto the screen before shutting the laptop. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Dick.”

“Anytime.”

“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” Jason told him, pushing back his chair and standing. “Got some things to do. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Why’re you so

busy

all the time?” Dick whined, but Jason could hear the teasing tone underneath the childish complaint. “Fine. Go off and live your life, Little Wing. Just don’t forget about your big brother, ‘kay?”

Rolling his eyes as he walked over to his bookshelf and pulled open the secret door—he should really add a hidden keypad so none of his family members could accidentally find what he’d stored behind it.

“I could never forget about you, Dickie,” Jason reassured him. “You call me too much for that to ever happen.”

“You wound me, little bro.”

“Goodbye, Dick.”

“Bye.”

Dick hung up with a click, leaving Jason staring at the suit in a glass case, this one so different from the last one he’d worn.

The red helmet stared lifelessly back at him until he was pulling the suit out of the case and putting it on. He had things to do and standing around doing nothing wasn’t going to get him anywhere anytime soon.
 
Sounds of cars speeding down the streets filtered through his helmet despite how late it was. Jason crouched on the edge of a rooftop, guns in either holster on the sides of his legs. In his hands, he held a pair of binoculars aimed at a building directly across the street from him. So far five out of the eight major drug lords in all of Gotham had walked inside. Something big was going down, and he could only hope it was due to his activities throughout the week—which

possibly

included, but was not limited to, beating the ever living hell out of their best lieutenants and carving his name into their flesh along with a crude version of the red bat symbol he wore on his shirt. Each visit had taken barely less than an hour, and he had enjoyed every second of them. He needed to send a message to Gotham’s drug lords. A message, and a warning. A warning that, as soon as the last three people arrived, he would be giving, face-to-face, to each and every one of them.

Two more cars arrived in the next ten minutes. The envelope in his pocket burned with each second that passed. He was antsy. But he couldn’t make his move until everything was in place. He needed them to have a false sense of security before making his entrance.

As soon as the last person had arrived, he was in motion, making his way over to the neighboring building where he was able to sneak in through a broken window. Muffled voices floated up to the mezzanine he was on. Quietly, he made his way over to the railing and listened to their conversation.

“It was a massacre,” one of them said.

“And yet,” came a second voice. “None of them are dead.”

“You are not the only one who suffered losses at the hands of this

Red Hood

,” a third voice chimed in. A hum of agreement went around the group. “We all received his message.”

The first man slammed his fist on the table. “His

message

, you say? His message was to mutilate our lieutenants and burn all of our supplies. Profits were through the roof this past month and now? We have nothing. All but one of our warehouses were hit, and not because this

Red Hood

character didn’t know about it. No, he very much did know about it. He delivered a package with a finger from each of my lieutenants in it to that last warehouse.”

“He sent you one of those, too?” A fourth voice chimed in.

“He did,” another voice said, this one coming from the sole woman in the room.

“I would be surprised if there were one of us here he

didn’t

send one to.” The sixth man drummed his fingers on the table and turned to look at the seventh and eighth men who had been quiet throughout the duration of the conversation. “And what do you two have to say? You’ve been awfully quiet this evening.”

The seventh man met the gazes of each and every other person in attendance. “That is because, from the way you all have described it, you lot have it better off than either of us.”

The second man snorted.

“And why is that?” asked the woman. “What’s so different about what he did to the two of you?”

By this point, Jason was considering alerting them to his presence, but before he had the chance, the eighth man decided to speak up. “He is staking a claim. Over all of Gotham’s drug business, and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.”

This had the rest of the group staring down the two men. None of them said a word. They each seemed to be waiting for each other to break the tense silence before saying anything more. Their shock, and fear, was eminent in their posture. A few of them had the bravado to pretend they weren’t scared, but Jason could see the truth in their eyes. He had rattled their cages and now it was time to dance.

Jason broke the silence first, tossing the envelope he’d kept in his pocket onto the table below as he leaned against the railing and said, “Hope you don’t mind, but I took it upon myself to drop by and say hello.”

Eight guns were cocked and aimed at him in an instant.

He frowned—not that any of them could see it, but that was irrelevant.

“Is that how you greet all the people who come and take over your businesses?” Jason asked them.

The woman, the only one not aiming a gun at him, was looking curiously at the envelope he’d tossed onto the table. “What is that?”

Her question drew the attention of a few of the others. Three fingers were removed from triggers, their corresponding guns now aimed at the ground.

“That,” Jason said, nodding at the envelope. “Is proof that I am who I claim to be.”

The sixth man raised an eyebrow at him. “As if that helmet of yours would make us doubt that.”

Jason shrugged. “You never know. People in this town love to play dress up.”

“And what makes you think any of us would work for you?” asked the first man.

“Well, for starters I wouldn’t kill you,” Jason informed them. “Maim you for disobedience or simply because you pissed me off? Sure. But kill you? Never.”

“Ok,” said the fourth man. “Let’s say we agree to work for you. What are your terms?”

“Work for me?” Jason shook his head. “I don’t want any of you bozos working for me. I’m taking over and I don’t need scumbags like you trying to undermine my authority.”

His words were met with a shared look of confusion.

He checked his watch. Almost out of time.

“If that’s the case,” the fifth man started. “Then what are you doing here talking with us for?”

Jason smiled. “Keeping you busy.”

Then he was hurrying away, back out the window he’d come in through, listening to the sounds of Gotham’s finest breaking down the door and shouting for them all to get on the ground. The USB drive filled with all the proof GCPD would need to finish what he’d started had been left on the table in the envelope and would be collected as evidence. They would all go to prison for a long, long time. And he would be free to move on to phase two.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The air around him was stale and cool. He could smell soil all around him, the scent mixing with wood.

It was dark.

So dark.

With each breath, it became harder and harder to breathe.

He was screaming.

When had he started screaming?

His throat was sore from it, his hands bloodied as he pounded against the wood above him until it splintered.

Dirt cascaded down on him.

But he was already digging, clawing his way up

up

up
 
He gasped down a breath of fresh air and sat up, breathing heavily. The sheets were tangled around him, draped around his hips as he gulped down as much air as his lungs could hold. His heart hammered in his chest.

This was becoming a regular thing. Every night dreaming of some awful thing he knew he hadn’t experienced but felt like a memory only to wake up in a cold sweat and realize that it wasn’t real. It hadn’t happened. But it

felt

real. It

felt

real that he had physically dug himself out of a buried coffin.

He had yet to tell any of his family about them. Didn’t want to bother them over something he could deal with himself. So, rather than picking up his phone from the nightstand next to his bed, he rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was almost seven anyway and he had things to do before he took Tim out for their weekly Sunday lunch.

Turning on the TV for some background noise, Jason pulled out a frying pan and cracked a couple of eggs into it before adding salt and pepper then beginning to stir them around.

While he cooked, he listened to the news channel playing on the TV.

“—arrested all

eight

of Gotham’s biggest crime lords last week after receiving an anonymous tip. Confiscated at the scene of the arrest was an envelope that contained detailed evidence against each of them. When asked about it, one of them blamed a man that calls himself the Red Hood, claiming that it was this mysterious character who had caused the collapse of their empires and set them up for arrest. This arrest was monumental for the police and the city as a whole. These men, and woman, will stand trial in the next couple of days…”

Jason tuned it out after that. The arrest of the drug lords had been frontpage news since the morning after the actual arrest, along with talk about Red Hood. This included speculation on his motives, his identity, and even a few mentions of sightings. There had been a few amateur pictures sent in, but they were all blurry, barely catching a glimpse of his helmet as he disappeared around the corner of a building on his bike.

He had just sat down to eat when his phone started ringing. At first he thought it was Dick calling for his daily dose of brotherly love—or as Dick liked to call it, Double-D-BL—but then he realized it was his work phone. One of his lieutenants was calling.

Walking back into his room, he pulled the burner from its spot under his mattress—he needed a better spot for it—and answered. “This better be important.”

“It is,” his lieutenant, Dobson, said. “The second shipment just came in at the dock. Boss, the container is empty.”

“What.” Jason’s voice was low.

“I called our man at the shipping yard. He said it was full when he checked it.”

“So, either someone stole from us, or…” Jason paused. “Or we have a traitor in our midst.”

It didn’t come as a surprise to him that there could be a traitor in his operation so soon after starting it. Not when his hostile takeover had resulted in a slight change in product. Many of his men had been unhappy about the change. They would soon change their perspectives, however. Because if one of them was a traitor, he would gladly teach them a lesson and make it a public display of how such acts would be tolerated—they wouldn’t. Anyone who so much as thought about double-crossing him would learn what it felt like to be beaten nearly to death. And he was the perfect person to teach that particular lesson.

Gotham’s doom-and-gloom mood was appropriate for how the day seemed to be going so far. It hadn’t started raining, yet, as Jason climbed onto his bike in full Red Hood gear and took off down the streets at breakneck speeds, careful to take back alleys for the first portion of his ride before pulling out onto any main streets. To any spectators it would seem as though he appeared out of thin air, weaving through cars on the bike he’d spent weeks customizing on the down-low at the garage.

Dobson waved him down as he neared the warehouse.

A moment later, Jason was climbing off his bike and joining Dobson as he walked over to the shipping crate and moved around to the front where both doors were wide open to reveal a completely empty interior. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. As he walked inside, he noted the scratches—claw marks—that covered nearly every surface, and all the crates were broken and scattered on the floor, the vials inside shattered and bleeding their contents into the packaging paper. Almost like a wild animal had been kept in it.

Jason ran his gloved fingers over one of the marks.

“Boss?” Dobson took a step inside the container, glass crunching lightly under his step.

Turning to face him, Jason brushed his hands on his pants. “Call the shipping yard, tell our guy we’re switching our schedule.”

“Yes, Boss.” But he was hovering, he had something he wanted to say.

“What is it?”

Dobson swallowed then gestured to the marks.

“It wasn’t an animal,” Jason told him. He recognized the marks, knew exactly which Justice League member could harness the abilities of wild animals. Vixen. She had raided his supply.

Dobson looked like he wanted to ask for clarification, but Jason waved him off. “It doesn’t matter who it was. Not yet at least.”

“But, what if it was the Justice League? We couldn’t handle their weakest members.”

Jason snorted. “I can assure you that I could deal with their weakest members. But it doesn’t matter anyway because we’re not big enough to garner the attention of them. We’re just small-time

drug

dealers to them. They’ll likely leave it to the Bats.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dobson trailed behind him as he exited the container and motioned for the men to close the doors.

“Because,” Jason said, climbing back onto his bike. “Do you really think someone like Batman would let anyone interfere with the dealings of

his

city?”

“Well…”

Jason shook his head, starting his bike as he said, “The answer is no, Dobson. The Dark Knight would be too proud to admit to his colleagues that he needs help.”

Dobson gave him a look he had come to expect anytime he said something regarding intimate knowledge of the Bats’ operation. It was a fine line he danced. He loved his family enough not to let anyone know too much about them or their nightly activities, but he couldn’t have his men questioning his motives too much either. And so he danced that line like a waltz. Careful not to reveal his secrets to either side of it. He just hoped it never came down to choosing between his family and his business because he didn’t know how he could choose between the two.

And there he went again, driving home in the pouring rain balancing precariously on a line he shouldn’t have been near.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Grease overpowered his sense of smell. Oil smeared his hands and face no matter how many times he tried to wipe it on his pants. The car he was currently working on was a piece of shit. It wasn’t a bad car per se, but the owner brought it in every week and a half for some new problem. And, because Jason was the one who happened to work on it the first two times, it became his sole responsibility to fix it—if that was even possible.

Last time it was a busted radio. He replaced it with a brand new one, bluetooth and everything. This time it was a problem with the starter. Or something. He had managed to get it started—once. And then it died. He checked, and double-checked, the battery, but it was a brand new battery—he would know, he’d replaced it two months ago.

Heaving a sigh, Jason wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm—likely smearing more oil in the process but he was too frustrated to care at the moment. His shift had officially ended over an hour ago, and yet he was still there. Groaning, he leaned back onto his heels, pressing his forehead onto his wrists in front of him. He had promised Tim he would stop by the Manor for dinner that night, and if he didn’t get out of there soon he wouldn’t be able to make it on time. But, he had resolved to fixing the problem at hand before leaving and he would stand by it.

Taking a deep breath, Jason leaned forward again, his eyes scanning the battery, again, for any signs of damage. Nothing.

Shoving down the urge to shout angrily and throw the wrench in his hand at the wall, Jason moved back over to the starter. Sliding the wrench into his pocket, he slid his hands over the control wire and battery cable to check for any possible damages they may have incurred.

They were perfectly fine.

Aside from…

“That’s it!” Jason exclaimed.

The starter was soaked in oil. Not a good thing for the owner, but at least he knew what the problem was. It had only taken him a good five and a half hours to figure it out, but hey, what’s a little bit of overtime that he wouldn’t likely get paid for.

Once he’d found the leak, he quickly replaced the damaged wire—that looked suspiciously like it had been cut—and cleaned the starter, making sure it was oil free before putting it back. With that done, he hopped into the driver’s seat and tried the ignition. A beautiful hum came from the engine. He left it running for a few minutes, ensuring that it wasn’t a fluke, then killed the engine and climbed out of the car.

Checking his watch, he swore under his breath. He had ten minutes. There was no way he was going to make it on time, let alone if he wanted to shower and change. At the very least he could go home, change, and rinse off his hands and face, but it would have to be quick.
 
Jason had just pulled up at the Manor when his phone started buzzing with incoming text messages. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he opened it and read the dozen or so texts from Tim and Dick, each of them asking where he was and if he was still coming. Electing not to answer them, he walked through the front door and made his way to the kitchen, his phone buzzing in his pocket all the while.

Coming to a stop in the doorway to the dining room, Jason crossed his arms and glared at Tim and Dick who were sitting at the table with their backs to him. Rolling his eyes, he walked up to them and set his phone on the table between them before making his way around the table to the other side to sit down. The pair of them watched his progress with eagle eyes. Neither of them said a word until he’d taken his seat. Bruce had yet to join them.

“Where have you been?” Dick.

“You said you’d be here half an hour ago.” Tim.

“Don’t tell me you have a secret girlfriend you’re not telling us about,” Dick teased, tossing his phone to him across the table.

Tim shot Dick a look. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s way too busy for that.”

Dick shrugged. “You never know. Maybe it’s all an act. Maybe all that time he says he’s at work, studying, or volunteering at the library he’s secretly at his girlfriend’s hav–”

“I do not have a girlfriend,” Jason said, cutting Dick off before he could finish his sentence. “I was stuck at work fixing a car, okay?”

“Told you,” Tim said to Dick. “He still has grease in his hair and everything.”

Running his fingers through said hair, Jason wasn’t at all surprised to see them come away covered in black grease from the car.

He was about to make a snarky reply when Bruce walked in and sat down.

“Jason, so glad you could make it,” Bruce said, offering him a warm smile. “How’s school going?”

“Good.”

Bruce nodded. “Not too stressful?”

Jason shook his head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Across the table, Dick snorted.

Jason shot him a glare, which Bruce didn’t see because he had turned his head in Dick’s direction and said, “Dick, how was your first day in the Blüdhaven police department?”

“It was fine. Nothing special, just learning the ropes,” Dick replied, thanking Alfred as he started setting food out on the table.

Tim watched Dick pile egregious amounts of food onto his plate as he said, “I still don’t get why you’d choose that occupation.”

Dick glanced at him out of the side of his eye. “And why’s that?”

“You know why,” Tim said, the unspoken words lying underneath his cryptic answer.

Of course, they all knew what Tim meant when he said it, but Jason didn’t understand why Dick seemed to be goading him into discussing their nighttime activities.

“Do I?” Dick asked, taking a bite of salad.

“Dick.” Bruce warned.

“Of course you do,” Tim snapped back. “You already spend most nights fighting crime and getting stabbed by wannabe criminals, and now you want to spend your time doing the same thing but during the day and getting shot at?”

“Tim–” Bruce started, but Jason cut him off.

“You got stabbed?!”

Dick winced.

Jason had noticed the cut above Dick’s eye when he’d sat down, but it wasn’t anything major or life threatening so he didn’t think too much of it.

“Maybe,” Dick offered tentatively.

Narrowing his eyes, Jason scanned what he could see of his brother for any sign of the injury. “Where? When?”

It was when Dick rubbed the back of his head that Jason noticed the slowness in his movements and cut him off before he could say anything. “You got stabbed in the side and didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Dick told him. “Besides I didn’t think you’d want to hear about me getting shanked by one of Two Face’s men while on patrol with Tim.”

Jason glowered at them both. “I may not want any part in that life anymore, Dick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still care if you get injured. Personal feelings aside, I would want to know if you’d gotten seriously injured.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart. “Aw, I knew you cared, Little Wing.”

Jason rolled his eyes, smiling as he said, “Of course I do. Just cause you can be a pain in my ass doesn’t mean you’re not my brother.”

Tim, however, still had that look on his face that told Jason there was more to the story.

“Tim,” Jason prodded. “You got more to add?”

His brother opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, “It wasn’t one of Two Face’s men.”

“Tim,” Dick said, his tone urging Tim not to press further.

Tim scowled at Dick, but continued anyway while Bruce sat eating his food gaining more wrinkles and gray hairs by the second.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it from him,” Tim reprimanded, slapping Dick’s hand away from the last roll sitting on a plate in front of them before grabbing it for himself and taking a bite. Once he’d swallowed, he added, “He lives in the same city as the guy he deserves to know.”

“Deserves to know what?” Jason asked, fully invested in whatever Dick was trying to hide from him.

“He was stabbed while investigating a new crime lord’s operation,” Tim replied. “Some new guy who showed up a couple of months ago and started wreaking havoc on the streets after taking over the city’s drug business.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason spared a glance at Bruce—who looked like he was going through a midlife crisis.

Jason opened his mouth to ask for the guy’s name—though he already had an idea of who it was—when Dick cut him off.

“Now is not the time, Tim. It doesn’t matter who stabbed who. Let’s just move on and–”

“Doesn’t matter?” Tim was practically yelling now. “You get stabbed by one of Red Hood’s dealer’s, leaving me to drag you out of an alley half conscious, and it

doesn’t matter

?!”

Jason’s heart froze. One of

his

men had stabbed Dick? One of

his men

had injured Nightwing enough for him to nearly pass out due to blood loss?

“That is enough!” Bruce shouted. “From both of you.”

Wood scraped loudly as Jason pushed his seat back and stood. He was already halfway to the front door, blinded by anger for whoever had hurt Dick, when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

He paused.

“Jay.” It was Bruce. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Jason replied. “You lot clearly have something to discuss, and it’s undoubtedly something you don’t want to discuss in front of me.”

“It can wait.”

Jason sighed, gently moving Bruce’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s okay, B. I made my choice. Just, don’t leave me out of the loop entirely. You guys are my family and I don’t want to lose you too.”

With that, Jason left, sparing a look back at Bruce, his dad, before closing the door and pretending he didn’t feel the twisting in his stomach.

There he went again, waltzing along that line between Golden Boy Jason and Crime Lord Red Hood. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep it from his family, especially if his men kept attacking them, but he had to. He couldn’t afford not to.

He shook his head. Those were thoughts for another time.

For now, he had a rule to enforce.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The crunch of bones and their accompanying wails of pain echoed in Jason’s head as he washed blood from his hands. It hadn’t taken him long to find who he’d been looking for. His men had watched, and squirmed, as he beat the dealer black and blue, all the while shouting at him for breaking his number one rule.

The Bats are off-limits. Do not go near them. Do not try and fight them. If you see them, run.

In an act of mercy, and his own moral code—which he held close to his heart because of the person he had inherited it from—he let the man live, barely. By the time he’d finished, the man was barely breathing and lying in a broken, bloodied mess on the ground in some grimy alley on Two Face’s territory with an ambulance on the way, the Red Hood symbol carved in jagged lines on his forehead. No matter what the man had done, Jason would never stoop so low as to kill him, but that didn’t mean he would regret what he did to him. Not for one second.

Leaving him in Two Face’s territory doubled as a message to the criminal underworld of Gotham; mess with Red Hood and this is the result.

Once he was sure most of the blood was off of his hands, he left the room and returned his suit to its place behind his bookshelf. In the past week he had finally installed security measures to keep someone, like Dick, from accidentally discovering the glass display case behind it. His brothers didn’t often visit him, at least while he was home, but that didn’t stop them from coming by and eating his food—usually while he was at school or work—so it was better safe than sorry.

With his suit back in its case, he returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the air before undressing fully and getting in. Watery blood rolled down his body and washed down the drain. He stayed like that for a long while, until the burning water felt numb against his skin, then he turned it off and got out.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Jason exited the bathroom and had barely managed to put on a pair of sweats when an urgent banging came from his front door. Withholding a sigh, he strolled over to the door and looked out the peephole. On the other side, he could see a girl with long blonde hair standing anxiously in front of his door in an obnoxiously purple costume, with a cape and everything. Clutched in one hand was a piece of paper. She glanced at the paper and knocked a few more times.

“Okay, okay,” Jason shouted through the door. “Calm down.”

Opening the door as much as the chain would allow, Jason peeked out at the girl. She looked to be roughly the same age as Tim, maybe a year or so older. Her long blonde hair was positioned carefully over her face in a way that barely hid a massive bruise on her cheek.

Looking down once again at the paper in her hand, she asked, “Are you Jason?”

“Who’s asking?”

The girl shifted on her feet and held out the paper to him. “My next door neighbor’s kid Georgie said I should come here if I ever needed help.”

Jason skeptically accepted the crumpled piece of paper, looking down at it, he recognized his own handwriting. He remembered giving this to one of the kids he tutored. Georgie. The kid’s dad was a known drunk who liked to beat his wife—and likely his kids based on how stiff Georgie typically was when he moved—although, no one could prove it. A few weeks after he’d started tutoring the kid, Georgie had come in with his arm in a sling, claiming he’d fallen at the playground and broken it, but when pressed had admitted to Jason that his dad had broken it. After that, Jason had offered the kid a quiet place to hang out and work on schoolwork if he ever needed it. Georgie had never taken him up on the offer, but apparently he hadn’t forgotten about it.

Returning his gaze to the girl, he opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “Please, I need your help.”

Running his hands through his hair, Jason sighed. “Alright, Blondie. Just, let me get a shirt on.”

Blondie smiled hesitantly then said, “Hold on, I have to go grab something.”

Jason watched her spin around and run to the end of the hallway. She turned the corner and bent down to pick something up. Something that was, apparently, very heavy.

Sighing again, Jason took one step into the hallway when he saw the edge of a yellow cape. Then he was sprinting down the hallway and rounding the corner. Wrapped in the girl’s arms was an unconscious, and very bloodied, Robin. Jason cursed under his breath and took the unconscious boy from the girl, hefting his body into his arms with ease.

“Come on,” Jason said to the girl, who was standing frozen in the hallway watching him. “I’m going to need your help.”

This snapped the girl from her reverie and she hurried to follow after him as he entered his apartment, closing the door behind her while he took Tim over to the living room where he laid him on the couch. Blondie trailed after him, watching him as he hurried into the kitchen to grab medical supplies. When he came back, he knelt next to Tim and quickly scanned his visible injuries.

“What happened?” he asked, gently prodding the edge of a newly forming bruise on Tim’s arm.

“Uh. Is that really important?” Blondie asked, suddenly uninterested in looking at him.

“Yes,” Jason snapped. “If I don’t know what happened to him I won’t know how to treat his injuries.”

“Oh. Right,” she paused. “Of course.”

When she didn’t continue, Jason shot her a look, but she wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at Tim.

“Look, Blondie—”

“Stephanie,” she interrupted him. “My name is Stephanie.”

Jason sighed. “Okay. Stephanie, I’m going to need you to walk me through how he got his injuries. Can you do that?”

Stephanie blinked, then, hesitantly, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great.”

While Stephanie walked him through Tim’s numerous injuries, Jason dressed and wrapped each one, keeping an eye on his brother’s face for any sign of Tim either waking up or getting worse. A fever had broken out on his skin just after Jason had bandaged a particularly deep lesion between Tim’s shoulder and neck. Stephanie had paused in her retelling when Jason ordered her to grab some blankets from the futon behind the couch, her eyes darting frantically to Tim as he started thrashing against Jason’s grip.

Eventually, they managed to get the fever under control. At least long enough for Jason to finish tending to his other wounds. They were extremely lucky none of the injuries were life-threatening—at least to the degree that Tim would have needed professional medical attention. As it was, Tim had a myriad of lacerations, bruises, and a possibly broken wrist—although Jason was pretty sure that might have just been a sprain, he wouldn’t be able to tell until the swelling went down more.

It was late by the time Jason had finished bandaging all of Tim’s wounds. He had forced Stephanie to leave, promising to take care of Tim—Robin. She had left eventually, but very reluctantly. Jason had only convinced her to leave after assuring her that he wouldn’t leave Robin’s side until he got better. It hadn’t been a lie, not even close. But it had reassured her more than he’d expected, and she had finally left, allowing him to release the tension that had built in his shoulders over the course of a few hours.

He knew Bruce was likely worried about Tim, but he couldn’t bring himself to call him. Not yet. It could wait until later. Maybe once Tim had regained consciousness. If he regained consciousness. Tim had lost a lot of blood. But, Jason didn’t want to think about that. No, all he wanted to do was wait by his brother’s bedside—couchside?—until he woke and Jason could give him a hug, and maybe a lecture.

Jason had to fight the instinct to treat Tim like his brother the entire time Stephanie was there. He doubted she knew Tim’s identity, and he couldn’t risk revealing how much seeing his brother like that was worrying him. How much it physically hurt to not be able to wrap Tim up in his arms and hug him close. This was one reason why he had chosen to leave the vigilante life behind. And yet, he would sometimes find himself wondering if his new lifestyle was much different. There were still so many secrets. Still a lot of injuries, most of which weren’t his, but that distinction didn’t count for much—if for anything at all.

He was a hypocrite.

His decision to leave behind that life had felt so final in the moment. He could distinctly remember the way Bruce’s face had fallen when he told him his choice. Could remember the way his dad had forced an accepting smile on his face. Could remember the way he’d been hugged tight against the chest of his greatest hero.

But things had changed.

And now he danced that fine line over and over again. Always wondering when it will snap. Always worried about staying on one side for too long.

But he danced it anyway. Because he was too far into this game to back out now.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Anger.

Rage.

Indignation.

That’s what he felt.

He felt betrayal too.

And somewhere deep down lay a small puddle of sadness and grief, but he buried it.

Buried it as he stared at the imposter.

Pretender.

Replacement.

He had been replaced.

Bruce had replaced him.

He stared at the broken and bloodied mess he had made of the boy’s body.

His breaths were ragged in his throat.

This boy was weak.

Easily shattered against his wrath.

His fury at being replaced with someone so fragile.

Blood dripped from his clenched fists.

Was spattered all over his face and clothes.

It never should have come to this.

Never should have come to the point that he’d beaten the life out of this boy. His friends.

He wanted him dead.

Gone.

Buried.

As he had been.

But instead of moving to finish what he’d come for, he stood, frozen, staring at him.

His replacement.

Tim.

The new Robin.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his gun and–
 
Jason woke with a gasp. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, didn’t even realize he’d done so until he’d been clasped tightly in the grip of a new nightmare. His breaths were jagged, seesawing in his chest alongside the hammering of his heart.

Tim shifted on the couch next to him, his face scrunching in pain as he finally regained consciousness. Pale blue eyes blinked open. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then, his gaze drifted to meet Jason’s.

A blink.

Two.

“Am I dead?” Tim’s voice was hoarse, dry and cracking as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Do you feel dead?” Jason asked.

Tim shook his head.

“Then no. You’re not dead. But, you will be.” Tim’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Jason continued, “That is, if you don’t call Bruce soon. I’m sure he’s been out all night looking for you.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, his phone rang.

Pulling it from his pocket, he lifted it, showing Tim the caller id before answering. “Hey, B. What’s up?”

“Jay, I need your help.” Bruce’s voice was strained.

For good reason.

“I can’t find Tim. I don’t know wh–”

“He’s with me.”

“What?”

“Tim,” Jason said, shooting the subject in question a look when he tried to sit up and groaned. “Is laying on my couch.”

Bruce released a relieved sigh. “Is he okay?”

Jason did a quick scan of his brother. “Well, he’s no longer bleeding all over my cushions so I’d say he’s doing

better

than he was.”

“Jas–”

“He’ll be fine, Bruce,” Jason assured him. “Go back to the Manor. I’ll keep an eye on him while he heals up.”

Bruce was silent on the other end of the call. Then, “Okay. Just, keep me updated. Please.”

“I will. Bye, dad.”

With that, Jason hung up, sliding his phone back into his pocket before returning his gaze to Tim once more. His brother wasn’t looking at him though. He was picking at one of the bandages on his arms. Jason placed his hand over Tim’s.

This caused Tim to lift his eyes to meet his.

“How did I get here?” Tim asked.

“Your girlfriend dragged you here,” Jason told him, pushing himself to his feet. He was hungry, and he had a feeling Tim was too.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Tim retorted, annoyance lacing his tone.

Jason smirked as he walked to the kitchen and pulled out a frying pan before placing it on the stove, turning it on with a twist of the knob. “She sure seemed like a worried girlfriend to me.”

“Who?”

“Stephanie.”

Sliding his eyes over to Tim, he saw Tim’s eyes widen. “She told you her name?”

“Yes.” Jason opened the fridge, pulling out the block of cheese and a stick of butter. “She probably didn’t think I’d help if she was dressed like a vigilante.”

“Was she right?” Tim asked.

Buttering the bread slices, Jason set them down carefully on the counter before cutting the cheese and saying, “Yes.”

“You are a deeply mistrusting person, Jay,” Tim informed him.

Hearing a shift on the couch, Jason said, “You better keep your ass planted on that couch or so help me I will strap you down.”

Tim huffed. “I’m fine.”

Jason rolled his eyes, placing one of the uncooked grilled cheese sandwiches on the buttered frying pan. “Last I checked you still have a fever.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Jason retorted, flipping the sandwich over to cook the other side. While it cooked, he grabbed two plates from the cupboard and said, “If you are not sitting on that couch when I get in there I’m eating all four of these grilled cheese sandwiches by myself.”

“Fine. Consider my ass sat,” Tim muttered.

“You’re lucky Alfred isn’t here,” Jason told him, placing another sandwich on the recently vacated frying pan and cutting the other one in half.

Tim grunted.

Once all of the sandwiches were cooked and cut in half from corner to corner, Jason turned off the stove, grabbed the plate and returned to the living room. Setting the plate on Tim’s lap, Jason took one of the sandwich halves and took a bite, watching Tim do the same as he sat on his coffee table.

Swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, Jason grabbed another one and said, “So, do ya wanna tell me what the hell happened last night or am I gonna have to guess?”

Tim was silent for a moment, then, “I thought you didn’t want to be a part of this life anymore.”

Jason sighed, took another bite of his sandwich.

Swallowing, he looked at Tim, the lies—semi-lies?—falling easily from his lips. “I don’t. But just because I’m not out there wearing a traffic light suit and a domino mask right next to you guys doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you.”

He’d given this same speech to Dick a few days prior, in front of Tim no less. He shouldn’t have to repeat it. But, maybe he did. Maybe Tim viewed it as his concern for Dick and Dick alone rather than his love for all of them.

Tim looked away, grabbing another sandwich and taking a bite.

Speaking softly, Jason asked him again. “What happened?”

“I was out on patrol, as usual, about to head back to the Manor when I…got jumped. By some of Two Face’s men,” Tim said at last, his gaze locked on the sandwich in his hands. “They managed to get in a hard hit to my head, disorienting me enough that I couldn’t… defend myself very well. Then, Spoiler was jumping in to help me–”

“Wait, Spoiler?” Jason interrupted.

“Oh, uh. That’s Steph’s vigilante name,” Tim informed him.

“I see.” Jason waved him on, the action an indication for him to continue.

Clearing his throat, Tim went on. “She managed to hold them back long enough for me to throw a smoke bomb. I made it up to the roof before I, uh… you know, blacked out. Then I woke up here.”

“Hmm.” Jason considered Tim’s story as he took another bite of his third sandwich half. “How do you know it was Two Face’s men who jumped you?”

“Well, I kinda just assumed cause I was in his territory, y’know?” Tim shrugged nonchalantly, finishing off the sandwich he was currently working on.

“Why were you hanging out in an alley in Two Face’s territory?” Jason asked him, noting the way Tim still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Tim.”

Tim’s fingers fidgeted in his lap.

He grabbed another sandwich. “I was looking for that Red Hood guy. Rumor on the street was that he’d beaten up one of his lackeys before dumping the guy in that alley with his symbol carved into the guy’s forehead. I figured it was as good a place to start as any.”

“Tim, why are you looking for him.?” Jason asked, suddenly concerned that Tim was starting to look for him. He may not know that he was Red Hood, but Jason knew how talented a detective Tim was. If Tim was actively looking for him, it wouldn’t be long before he figured out who was under the Red Hood.

“I wanted to thank him,” Tim mumbled under his breath.

Jason blinked. “What?”

Tim finally met Jason’s gaze. “For beating up the guy who almost killed Dick.”

Oh.

Oh.

Jason’s voice was low as he said, “What do you mean ‘almost killed Dick’?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He should have torn that man limb from limb.

Tim had reluctantly told him just how bad Dick’s injury had been. Dick had been benched from active duty for days while he healed. Was still technically in recovery at the Manor when Stephanie had brought Tim to Jason’s apartment.

But he hadn’t told Jason. None of them had.

And though that pissed him off, it hurt more when he remembered

why

none of them had told him.

The unspoken rule.

It had been a few days since his conversation with Tim over grilled cheese sandwiches. Stephanie had dropped by a few times—in civilian clothes rather than her Spoiler getup—to check on Tim, elated to find him safe upon each return visit. Between keeping an eye on Tim’s recovery, school, work, and volunteering at the library, Jason had barely had much time to go out as Red Hood. That hadn’t stopped him from doing his best to coordinate things from his apartment. Or as much as he could with the Boy Wonder in the next room eating all his food.

Tim was getting restless. Jason had finally allowed him to get up off the couch on his own after a day or two, and he had immediately started wandering aimlessly around Jason’s apartment. After his first loop around the apartment, he had sat back down on the couch. Jason had looked up to watch his progress from his spot at his desk, his eyes tracking the red, yellow, and green Robin suit as it passed in front of his open study door once, twice, three times before disappearing into the living room.

He’s almost as bad as Dick.

Dick was notorious for not taking the time he needed to rest and heal from injuries. It was something Jason remembered vividly from his time as Robin, Dick’s insistence to not let anyone know just how bad he was hurting. That and his need to always be moving.

In his desire to be up and about, Tim had insisted on making dinner. Jason had reluctantly agreed, if only so he could get some work done in the meantime.

The sound of boiling water reached Jason’s ears, even from behind his closed door, as he dialed Dobson’s number on his burner phone and put it up to his ear.

After a few seconds of listening to the dial tone, Jason heard Dobson’s voice as he picked up. “Yeah, Boss?”

“Update, go.”

Jason listened carefully, his fingers drumming on his desk while Dobson updated him on their latest shipment and the distribution throughout the city, nodding his head as his lieutenant spoke.

When Dobson had finished, Jason said, “Good. Tell Klaus to change the date of his trip to Blüdhaven. I want him making contacts and doing drops by the end of next week. Same thing with Marcus and Ford. They need to be in Metropolis and Star City by Wednesday. And tell Boris I need an increase in shipments.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Oh, and make sure you update the shipment logs before Sunday.”

“Yes, Boss.”

A knock on his door had Jason giving Dobson a quick farewell before hanging up and saying, “Yeah?”

Tim popped his head in the room. “Dinner’s ready.”

His eyes darted to the ledger sitting open on Jason’s desk. Jason closed it, slipping it into the bottom drawer of his desk—locking it—as he pushed himself to his feet.

“What was that?” Tim asked, following Jason into the kitchen.

“My will,” Jason deadpanned.

Tim gave him a flat look. “Uh huh, and I made a roast for dinner.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “It was just an assignment for school. So, what’s for dinner?”

His not-so-subtle change of topic did not go unnoticed, but Tim didn’t press the subject further.

Following Tim to the kitchen, Jason sat down on one of the bar stools placed at the island. As he sat down, Tim brought over the bowls he’d put the food into and set one in front of Jason.

“I thought you said you were cooking something,” Jason teased, eyeing the kraft mac and cheese his brother had placed before him.

Tim snorted. “You and I both know Alfred is the only one of us who can cook.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jason said.

His brother took a bite of his food, giving him a disbelieving look.

Rolling his eyes, Jason took a bite of his own food then, after swallowing it, asked, “How long are you going to sulk in my apartment before going back to the Manor? Alfred is only a call away, you know.”

Shrugging, Tim pushed his food around in his bowl before taking another bite.

“What? You eager to get rid of me so soon?” he asked.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s been almost a week, Tim.”

Tim shrugged again, adding on a sigh to this one before saying, “I’m not ready to, yet.”

“And why’s that?”

Tim took another bite.

“Don’t you dare give me another shrug,” Jason warned, knowing his brother was about to do just that.

His brother was being especially stubborn about sticking around his apartment, and he wanted to know why. But he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to kick him out. Jason had made it clear—to both of his brothers—that his apartment was open to them whenever they needed it. He hadn’t given them a spare key or anything, but they didn’t seem to need it anyway.

“Why don’t you want to go back?” Jason pressed when Tim still hadn’t answered.

“Because I don’t, okay?” Tim snapped. “If you don’t want me here then I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

“Tim.” Jason said softly. “Of course I want you here. I just hate leaving you here alone all the time.”

Tim shrugged, again.

The move was starting to grate on Jason’s nerves.

“It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before,” he mumbled.

Jason sighed, running his hand through his hair—a habit he seemed to have inadvertently picked up from Dick over the years.

“Stay here as long as you need, kid,” Jason said at last. “Just, if there’s something going on between you and Bruce, don’t take it out on Alfred. Okay?”

Huffing out a laugh, Tim nodded. “You sound like him.”

“Like who?” Jason took another bite, finishing off his bowl.

“Like Alfred,” Tim told him. “And Bruce, I guess. When he can manage to get over himself long enough to act like he’s an emotionally stable human being.”

It was Jason’s turn to laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A thud resounded through the room, the sound emanating from the massive textbook Jason had just hurled at the wall. Frustration burrowed under his skin. He had to keep from shouting at the damned thing.

“What was that?” Dick’s voice suddenly came back after a few minutes of silence.

“Nothing.” Lie.

“It sounded like something,” Dick said, his tone implying he would keep pressing until Jason told him the truth.

Jason sighed. “It was a textbook.”

“What did it ever do to you?”

Walking back over to his desk, Jason picked up his phone, turning it off speaker and plugging in his earbuds as he sat back down.

“Existed,” Jason muttered under his breath.

Dick snorted. He was supposed to be helping Jason focus on studying for his finals, but he wasn’t being much help.

Final exams were kicking Jason’s butt. He’d been so busy focusing on them that he hadn’t had any time in the past week to volunteer at the library for more than an hour at the beginning of the week. Ruth had told him not to worry about it. That the kids would still be there when he got back. But he missed the downtime. Missed being able to stroll the aisles with his book cart while his music played in his ears.

Unfortunately, he had three essays to finish writing, along with studying for a biology final—which he was currently taking a break from due to his textbook being on the other side of the room. Flashcards were scattered across his desk. Many of them sported biological illustrations that he could probably draw in his sleep at this point.

The sun had set over an hour ago, leaving the view outside his windows dark but for the fluorescent lighting of the skyscrapers and the headlights of cars zipping along the streets below him as he gathered his flashcards into a neat pile to go over, again, later.

“I have to go, Dick,” he told his brother. “Thanks for trying to help. Even though all you did was distract me.”

“Hey!” his brother exclaimed. “I was providing some quality brain breaks.”

Jason snorted. “Bye, Dick.”

“Bye, Little Wing!”

No sooner than Dick had hung up than Jason’s phone was ringing, but this time it was coming from his other phone.

Yanking out his earbuds, Jason picked up the phone, “What?”

Sounds of gunfire sounded from the other side of the call.

“Boss.” It was Dobson. “They’re here. We tried to run, just like you told us to but… damn it Walter I told you to leave hours ago!”

“Dobson, what’s going on?” Jason shouted over the phone.

“Batman is here,” his lieutenant informed him, sounding distracted. “He’s here, with Robin, taking down all of us who didn’t make it out before the exit was blocked, and they’re destroying our shipment in the process.”

Dobson cursed loudly, the line crackling slightly.

“I’ll be right there,” Jason told him, already punching in the code on the keypad behind a false book, any thoughts of studying thrown out the window as he began changing into his Red Hood suit. “Which location are you at?”

Another grumbled curse from Dobson, then, “West Village docks.”

The line went dead.

“Shit,” Jason muttered, tossing the phone onto his desk and shoving his helmet on his head.

Air rushed into his apartment as he climbed out the window, in too much of a rush to bother with his usual exit in the stairwell to the roof. In a matter of minutes he was in the alley climbing onto his bike and speeding off down the road toward the West Village docks where Dobson and the rest of his men were facing off against his dad and brother. At the very least he knew Dick wasn’t there. Small mercies.

He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Hoped he wouldn’t have to face any of his family as Red Hood. Clearly it had been pointless to hope for that.

It was a surprisingly clear night as Jason sped through the streets, his heart racing just as fast as his bike.

Cars honked at him as he weaved through traffic.

He didn’t even care that Bruce and Tim were destroying his latest shipment. What he did care about were his men. They had families to care for. Kids they had to feed. He did his best in paying them well, the profits of their distribution going far—especially considering he barely took any of it for himself. No, he had to get there before Bruce could send his men to the hospital, or Black Gate.

As he got closer, the sound of gunshots flying through the air flooded his senses along with the tang of gunpowder.

He parked his bike, then he was drawing his guns from their holsters while he bolted into the fray. Jason made quick work of climbing up the side of the building and entering through one of the two broken windows Bruce and Tim had likely smashed to enter the building. Bruce was a dark blur in the brightness of the gunfire, his cape swishing with each dash across the dockside warehouse. Crates lay shattered and burning throughout the warehouse. Smoke permeated the air thickly. Jason could hear his men coughing as they inhaled the fumes.

As he watched, Tim darted through the haze, his bo staff arcing high as he swung it down on an unsuspecting man—

Harold

.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jason was aiming his gun and firing off two shots at Tim. His brother grunted in pain as the first rubber bullet hit him in the chest right over his heart. The second bullet struck him in the shoulder. Then Tim was falling to the ground, Harold—one of the people in charge of off-loading the product from the ships and into the trucks for distribution to dealers throughout the city—took his chance to escape.

His heart pounded against his ribcage.

What had he done? What had he

done?

He’d

shot

Tim.

He could barely breathe.

He’d shot his brother. With a rubber bullet, but still. He’d

shot

him.

Bruce called out Tim’s name, seeing him laying on his back on the ground, struggling to breathe. Jason had done that.

Jason

had done that to him.

Snap out of it.

Dragging himself from the outreaching hands of a full-blown panic attack, Jason leapt down from his position in the rafters to the ground. Now blinded by the smoke, he hurried through it until he reached the far end of the warehouse where he’d last seen Dobson and some of his other men trying to clear debris from one of the exits. Men grunted all around him. Batarangs flew through the air, whizzing past him and getting way too close for comfort.

Dodging under a man Bruce had thrown through the air, Jason ducked around the corner where Dobson and two others were trying to clear large portions of half-destroyed crates from the door.

Walking closer, Jason stepped up next to his lieutenant and helped him lift a crate out of the way.

Meeting his gaze, Dobson blinked. “Boss. You made it.”

Jason nodded, his gaze turning to look at the small opening they’d managed to make. Not big enough for a grown man to get through, but they seemed to be making progress.

“You’re getting close,” Jason said, gesturing to the opening. “Keep going. I’ll start sending stragglers your way.”

“What about the Bat?” Dobson asked, wiping sweat from his eyes. “And the kid, what about Robin?”

“Leave them to me.”

Dobson put a hand on his arm when he turned to leave. “What if you can’t beat them?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, pointless as it was under his helmet. “Who said anything about beating them?”

“But–”

“I’ll keep them busy,” Jason told him. “You finish clearing a path and get everybody out. Tell everyone to scatter and keep low profiles for a few days. I’ll send out the all-clear in the advertisement section in the newspaper, just keep an eye out for Red’s air conditioner repairs.”

“Yes, sir,” Dobson said after a moment.

Rushing back into the fight, Jason almost ran right into one of his men.

Grabbing him by the arm, he directed the man to the exit then moved on. He managed to send two more men after the first before he was face-to-face with Batman.

Batman’s gaze darkened with anger as he took in Jason, the son he didn’t recognize under the red helmet he wore.

“Batman,” Jason growled, his voice distorted through the voice modulator in his helmet.

“Red Hood, I assume,” Batman replied, looking pointedly at Jason’s helmet.

“Guilty as charged,” Jason retorted, his tone light.

Batman glowered. “Your drugs are gone, Red Hood. Destroyed. Robin and I saw to that.”

Jason frowned. “How small of an operation do you think I’m running here, Bats? This is nothing more than a minor setback.”

The Dark Knight growled low. “You shot my partner.”

“He’ll live.” Jason shrugged, ignoring the pang that shot through his chest at Bruce’s words. His tone darkened when he added under his breath, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that Bruce wouldn’t, “Unlike most other thugs in this line of work, I don’t kill those who get in my way.”

Without another word, Batman was charging him. Jason fired off a couple of bullets, the rounds bouncing off the kevlar vest, before diving to the side as Batman threw a series of punches his way. As he dove, Jason turned and fired a shot in a place he knew wasn’t as protected. The chink in Batman’s suit was slight enough that the shot was tricky, but Jason was a good enough shot to hit the mark.

Batman stumbled sideways against the force of the bullet. He cursed under his breath, spinning to face Jason again, but Jason was already sprinting toward him, holstering his guns in the split second before he was sending a kick at Batman’s chest. The vigilante went flying backwards with a grunt.

Jason stalked over to where he lay on the ground, standing over him as he said, “You have no idea what you’ve done here today.”

Then he was running away, disappearing into the smoke and leaving a coughing Batman behind while he searched for any of his remaining men. He was running out of time. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer with every stale breath he took. Despite the filter in his helmet, he was starting to feel the effects of the smoke surrounding him on all sides.

After a few minutes of searching, and sending three more men scurrying toward the exit, Jason heard Dobson’s voice over the roaring of the flames. “Boss, we got ‘em all.”

Good.

That meant he could leave.

Spinning on his heel, Jason was about to sprint for the exit when he felt a hand grab his ankle. Looking down, Jason nearly gasped at the sight of Tim glaring up at him.

Tim’s grip on him was tight, but it loosened as his body was wracked with coughs, finally going completely slack as Tim lost consciousness.

“Dammit,” Jason swore.

Bending down, Jason scooped his brother into his arms and dashed for the exit. Tim was barely breathing as he ran them both out of the burning building and out onto the docks. Wooden planks groaned loudly beneath his boots as he ran for the cement.

The sirens had gotten closer. It was only a matter of time before they arrived on the scene. He had to be gone before then, but he couldn’t just leave his brother there.

Setting Tim on the ground, Jason cradled his head in his lap until he saw the first of the police cars approaching.

Carefully, he set Tim’s head on the cement, hesitating slightly as his brother’s eyes fluttered open briefly, accompanied by a groan. But then the police car was skidding to a halt and he had no other choice but to sprint in the direction of his bike.

Behind him, he heard the cops shouting after him, but he didn’t stop. Not even as he wanted to turn around and cradle Tim against his chest, apologizing over and over for shooting him in the chest. He would have to make it up to him later, and without Tim knowing why.

The whoosh of a cape was the last thing Jason heard before he was rounding the corner and hopping onto his bike.

That line he danced so precariously was beginning to blur, either side of his life fading into the other as his business grew with each passing day. His empire was scattered along all of the major cities throughout the eastern coast, and he had preparations for expansion, but none of that would be possible if he garnered too much attention from Batman. Unfortunately, the events that had just occurred had only enlarged the target on his back.

So much for balancing his work and personal life.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Do you have to go?” Tim asked, flopping onto Jason’s bed while he continued packing his suitcase. “I mean I know it’s part of your education and all that, but…”

He trailed off.

They’d had this conversation multiple times over the course of Winter break, and again throughout the Spring semester. It always ended the same. With Jason telling Tim he would only be gone for a month and Tim complaining about being left alone with Bruce brooding and worrying his way around the Manor.

Tim fidgeted with the strap of his sling, the latest of his injuries after a fight with Red Hood. It had been his own fault this time. They had fought each other multiple times since the first fight in the warehouse at the docks in West Village, and each time Jason tried his best not to hurt his brother, but there was only so much he could do when Tim was trying

his

best to take him down.

The punch Tim had thrown would have shattered his hand against Jason’s helmet had he not grabbed it and twisted Tim’s arm behind his back. Dislocating Tim’s shoulder had been a miscalculation on Jason’s part, but it was a significantly better injury than if Tim had broken his hand.

Dick had been there turning all his attention onto Jason upon hearing the loud pop of Tim’s shoulder, the zap of his escrima sticks powerful enough to leave a burn on Jason’s ribs. The burn stung under the dressing Jason had put on it as he tossed another shirt into the suitcase.

“But what?” Jason asked, walking into the bathroom to gather his toiletries.

“But,” Tim dragged the word out. “You’re an English major, why’re you doing a study abroad in Asia? Why Pakistan and not some place in Europe?”

“Because that’s where the program offered,” Jason reminded him, repeating what he’d already gone through with Tim in every other discussion they’d had on the topic.

What Tim didn’t know was that their Christmas vacation in Europe had accomplished exactly what he’d hoped for, new distribution sites. His empire had gone international and he had a contact in Europe who had set up a meeting between him and one of their contacts in the Himalayan mountains to help him expand to that region as well. It was a driving factor behind his decision to go on the study abroad program. But of course Tim knew none of this. Neither did Bruce or Dick. They weren’t supposed to know.

Tim groaned, throwing his free arm over his eyes. “Please don’t go. You can’t leave me alone with him. You have no idea how broody Bruce will be while you’re gone.”

Jason walked back into his room, tossing his toiletries into the suitcase before poking Tim in the side as he said, “You won’t be alone. I’m sure Stephanie will keep you so busy you’ll forget I’m even gone.”

At the mention of his girlfriend, Tim’s cheeks burned a cherry red.

“Shuddup,” he groaned, swatting Jason’s hand away.

Smirking, Jason neatly rearranged his suitcase then zipped it closed. His backpack lay at the foot of his bed, leaving him with nothing else to do before Alfred returned to drive him to the airport.

Tim eyed the massive suitcase Jason had just finished packing. “Are you sure you’re gonna need everything in there?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

What he didn’t tell his brother was that he’d hidden a variety of weapons in the bottom where he wouldn’t be able to see them. It would take a bit of careful manipulation, but he would get it through airport security.

Somehow.

He had a plan.

“What did you even pack in it?” Tim asked. “There’s no way that’s all just clothes.”

“You’re right,” Jason told him. “I packed a couple of guns in there, right next to my books.”

He had just told Tim exactly what he’d packed in his suitcase, and his brother simply rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, right,” Tim muttered, laying back on the bed with a flop. “I’m sure the only thing in there is a bunch of books, right under a single outfit.”

“That would be impractical.”

Not that he wouldn’t bring as many books as he could if he had the choice. But he wasn’t going on the trip for some rest and relaxation. He had work to do. Work that wouldn’t involve him sitting at the edge of his hotel’s pool reading his brand new copy of

The Hunger Games

. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have much time for that.

Tim sighed.

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“That’s probably Alfred,” Jason said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of his suitcase before heading to the door.

Alfred offered him a warm smile when he answered the door. Tim hovered over his shoulder.

“Master Jason, I am here to escort you to the airport and, apparently, to return Master Timothy to school,” Alfred greeted them, giving a not so discreet stink eye to Tim in the process.

Crossing his arms—or something close to it—Tim huffed something about it being his lunch break.

Shooing Tim out of the apartment, Jason locked the door behind him then—after begrudgingly letting Alfred take his suitcase from him—followed them to the elevator and subsequently out the front door upon reaching the lobby. Just outside the apartment building sat a sleek black limousine. After opening the car door for Tim and Jason, Alfred loaded Jason’s suitcase into the trunk then climbed into the driver’s side door and started the engine.

As Alfred began to pull away from the curb, Jason asked, “Where’s Bruce? I thought he was coming.”

“Master Bruce had an urgent meeting he had to attend,” Alfred informed him, his eyes meeting Jason’s in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before they returned to the road ahead. “We will be picking him up on the route to the airport after dropping Master Timothy off at school.”

Well-maintained leather creaked softly from the seat next to Jason as Tim shifted in his seat. “Can’t I just come with you guys?”

“Not this time, Timbo.” Jason patted his brother consolingly on the shoulder.

Tim slumped in his seat muttering some choice words Jason chose to ignore. Instead, he turned his gaze to the world speeding past them out the window. He watched various people walking in either direction, a part of him coming up with stories for each of them. The man in a suit carrying a suitcase was a lawyer, clearly late for a meeting with a client, his crooked tie blowing in the wind as he sped walked away from the car. A woman in a sweater, earbuds in, carried a tray of lattes for herself and coworkers, a paper bag in her other hand full of sandwiches for lunch.

Jason didn’t know when he’d started playing this game with himself. He didn’t do it often, but it was something he remembered doing with Dick on the rare occasions they would patrol together. It was likely a habit he’d picked up from the older boy.

The graffitied buildings of Crime Alley fell away as Alfred entered midtowntown, replaced with the cleaner buildings that were neatly lined up from block to block in the Upper East Side. Sunlight glinted off the panels of windows. The reflections distorted the people and cars that passed the polished surfaces.

Dreary clouds hovered over the city, the darkness lining them a telltale sign of a storm to come. Something not at all uncommon in Gotham.

If it was even possible, Tim slumped further in his seat as Alfred pulled up in front of Gotham Heights. He stared woefully out the window at the school.

Sitting up, Tim unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door to climb out, muttering under his breath, “One of these days I’m just going to drop out.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jason warned, giving him a hard look.

His brother rolled his eyes, mumbling a farewell to both him and Alfred then shut the door and began walking away. Alfred waited until he saw Tim entering the building before pulling away from the curb and continuing on the route to Wayne Enterprises to pick up Bruce.
 
People bustled around the busy terminal. Jason watched them scurrying about like mice in search of food.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder.

“You ready, chum?” Bruce asked him. He was no doubt refraining from repeating his earlier worries.

Not wanting to go through that conversation again, Jason replied, “B, relax. I’m going to be fine.”

Bruce blew out a heavy breath, seemingly forcing the tension from his shoulders as he said, “I know. I keep telling myself that, but… Jay, I can’t help but remember what happened the last time you went off on your own to that region of the world.”

Harsh flashbacks of his search for his biological mother tore through his mind, causing him to breathe in a sharp intake of air. Maniacal laughter pulsed through his ears, the sound accompanied by phantom pain from the myriad of scars he had collected on that disastrous trip. Bile rose up his throat at the image of blood seeping slowly into blonde hair, the only thing visible of his birth mother, Sheila, as Bruce carried him away from the explosion site.

Swallowing the bile, Jason forced a reassuring look on his face as he met Bruce’s gaze. “I understand, B. But I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Just, be careful, Jaylad.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder once then pulled him into a hug.

Jason returned the embrace, shoving back the horrid memories that tugged at his attention—he could deal with those another time.

Pulling back, Jason offered Bruce a smile while he took his suitcase from Alfred. “See you in a few weeks, old man.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Hot, arid air assaulted Jason as soon as he stepped off the plane. A bus was waiting for him and the three other classmates who had signed up for the study abroad program. The local who had been assigned to help them handed each of them scarves to protect the lower half of their faces from the sand.

Jason gratefully accepted the offering. Then he was climbing onto the rickety, and very rusty, old bus, taking a seat on a bench that had probably seen better days—maybe.

Once they were all seated on the bus, the driver closed the door and took off down the increasingly bumpy road. Knuckles bone-white as he tried to stay seated on the rollercoaster of a drive, Jason tried to pay attention to the heavily accented voice of the man who had given them the scarves. Most of what he was saying was regarding their safety throughout their stay. Foreigners weren’t taken to kindly by the extremist groups on the outskirts of major cities, so they were to stick to the main portions of the city and never go out without another person accompanying them.

Fantastic. A buddy system.

Jason had to keep from rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t have a problem protecting himself if he went out on his own, but he needed to keep that little fact from his classmates—that and the weapons he’d been able to sneak through airport security which, aside from the pocket knife he had moved from his bag to his pocket, were currently hidden in the bottom of his suitcase.

The man, Akhtar, paused briefly in his practiced speech to exchange a short conversation in Arabic with the driver before continuing, in English, to tell them that they would be staying with him during their visit, and that, should they decide to extend their stay—something he did not recommend—they would need to procure a hotel on their own once their official study abroad was finished.

Akhtar had barely finished speaking when the bus came to a halt outside a modest-looking house.

With a grating squeak of rusted hinges, the doors were opened and Jason followed his fellow classmates off the bus, thanking the driver as they exited the vehicle. Squinting against the glaring brightness of the midday sun, Jason followed Akhtar into the building.

As he entered the house behind his classmates, Jason brushed sand from his hair, making a mental note to start wearing a hat while he was there.

Turning to face them, Akhtar began speaking once more, “Before I show you to your room, I would ask that you respect this place, as it is my home and you are my guests in it. You are free to come and go as you please, so long as you adhere to the rules I laid out on the journey here. Dinner is an hour before sunset every night. You are all invited to join me, but if you wish to find dinner elsewhere, that is your choice. Now, do any of you have questions?”

Jason studied what he could see of the house as Akhtar spoke. Taking in the muted tones of the walls, ceiling, and floor that was typical in this region, he was relieved to notice the absence of the pressing anxiety that had pooled in his stomach on the flight. Seeing that it didn’t dredge up any unwanted memories, he felt himself relax somewhat.

When Akhtar finished speaking, leaving the note of his question hanging in the air, Jason met the gazes of his fellow classmates in the ensuing silence.

One of them shrugged, pulling the scarf down from his face as he said, “No questions here.”

Jason and the two girls in the group nodded their heads in agreement when Akhtar sent a questioning glance in each of their directions.

“In that case,” Akhtar said, turning around and leading the way to a room roughly the size of Jason’s childhood apartment. “This is your room. I will let you get settled.”

With that, Akhtar did as he said, and left the room.

Four small mattresses were placed neatly on the floor in pairs with two on one side of the room and two on the other side. Barely a foot or two separated each pair, but there was a good twenty feet of space in the center of the room.

Jason was the first to move, claiming one of the beds closest to the door, his instinct to be close to an exit taking over in that brief moment. The other boy in the group shrugged and tossed his backpack onto the other mattress, leaving the two girls to carry their things to the other side of the room and settle onto the mattresses over there.

While his classmates were settling in, Jason did a quick survey of the mostly barren room. There were no pictures on the walls. No decorations. Nothing, really, to indicate that anyone actually lived there aside from the mattresses on the floor and the blankets and pillows that accompanied them. None of this surprised Jason, they weren’t in a first-world country after all. Once again he found himself struggling to take deep calming breaths as the empty walls started to look too much like the ones that plagued his dreams. His chest was tight.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t–

The girls on the other side of the room started talking in low voices, their sudden disturbance of the silence jolting Jason from the emerging panic attack. Blinking rapidly, he sucked down a deep breath.

Shaking himself from the waking nightmares that haunted his every move, Jason hoped none of his classmates had noticed his brief episode and sat down on his mattress. He thought he’d been over episodes like these. It had been at least a year since his last one.

Jason had just laid back on his bed and closed his eyes when he heard the two girls walking over to them. Peeking one eye open, he watched them approach. He didn’t say anything as they stopped a foot short of his mattress.

“We’re going to go check out the city,” the one on the left said, tightening her brown hair in its ponytail.

The second girl added, “Did you two want to join us?”

Jason shrugged, fully opening his eyes and casting a glance at the other boy before saying, “Sure, why not?”

Sitting up on his mattress, the other boy pushed himself to his feet and brushed dust from his pants. “Alright, let’s go then.”

Following suit, Jason stood and brushed dust from his own pants—not that it would do any good once they stepped outside again.

Smiling, the girls hurried after them, introducing themselves.

“My name’s Scarlett,” the brunette girl said.

“Mine’s Della,” the other girl added, pulling her blonde hair into a messy bun as they approached the door.

Turning his head slightly to speak over his shoulder, the other boy introduced himself, “Name’s Tony.”

The three of them turned expectantly to Jason.

“Jason,” he replied.

Tony paused at the front door, giving Jason a once over before saying, “Where’re you from again?”

“Gotham.”

The girls’ jaws dropped slightly. Jason knew what they were likely thinking. Something along the lines of wondering how he could have lived in such a crime-addled city and survived to adulthood. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. If he had a dollar for everytime someone had asked that question or looked like they wanted to he would be richer than Bruce.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” Tony said, smirking slightly. “You’re Wayne’s kid, aren’t you?”

Jason nodded. “We gonna go out and see the city or what?”

Tony smirks, pulling his scarf over his mouth before opening the door and exiting the building. Jason and the girls did the same as they followed after him, Jason taking up the rear of their little group.

The streets of the city were mostly empty until they got closer to the market. As they approached, the nervous fidgeting coming from the girls disappeared and they were soon disappearing together into the crowded market to

window shop

. This left Jason and Tony standing near the entrance staring at the viper’s nest of people.

“So,” Tony started, shooting Jason a look. “Where should we start?”

Jason shrugged. He knew exactly where he wanted to go. His contact told him what booth he could meet him at. Said he’d be there every weekday until sundown.

Of course, he couldn’t very well tell any of this to Tony. As far as his classmate was concerned, Jason was simply the son of a very wealthy businessman who was on a study abroad trip for a program they were both a part of.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Jason replied. “It’s not like we know what to expect anyway.”

“True enough,” Tony said, stepping forward into the crowd behind Jason.

People parted around them as they pushed their way through the crowd. Jason wandered up to a few stalls, pretending to be interested in their wares when he was really looking for the clue his contact had told him to keep an eye out for. The first few stalls he tried were pointless shops that had nothing to do with what he was looking for, just diversions for Tony, but after a few of those he started checking out stalls that also sold weapons. These sorts of shops were so deep within the market that they bordered on illegal contraband. Tony, not knowing that Jason had discreetly led them into the black market section of the market, continued browsing nearby stalls.

Jason made sure not to wander too far from Tony. It wouldn’t be a good idea to break one of Akhtar’s rules on day one. Eventually he would probably break almost every rule laid out by their host. Such as sneaking out, alone, after dark to do something that was probably illegal. But that was technically the real reason he’d decided to go on this study abroad trip. Not necessarily to do something illegal, but to do business. Which, depending on how one looked at it, could be considered illegal the way he was doing it.

The Sun was starting to near the horizon when Jason finally spotted what he was looking for, a batarang painted red laying on a table in front of a man seated at a stand that didn’t seem to be getting much traffic when Jason walked over to it. Tony was across the street, looking at a scarf similar to the ones Akhtar had handed them, perfectly distracted while Jason struck up a conversation with who he hoped was his contact. Thank goodness for predetermined code phrases.

Picking up the batarang, Jason said, in near-perfect Arabic, “This must have cost an arm and a leg. Not many people make it out of Gotham with one of these without losing something.”

The man behind the table narrowed his eyes at Jason. He hadn’t followed the script, but he was waiting for the other customer standing next to him to leave before doing so.

Once the mercenary-looking man walked away, Jason picked up where he’d left off, this time following the script, “Nothing like a reminder of home.”

The merchant’s glare faltered. He blinked.

“Feeling homesick, my young friend?” he replied.

“That’s one word for it,” Jason said, setting the batarang back on the table before adding, “But what am I to do when business needs to be done?”

Though he couldn’t see the lower half of the man’s face due to the scarf, Jason had a feeling he was smiling underneath the fabric. “Mr. Red Hood. Julian did not tell me you were so young.”

Jason snorted. “Works to my advantage, Rafiq.”

Shooting a subtle glance over his shoulder in Tony’s direction, Jason made a show of pretending to be interested in purchasing the batarang. “So, Julian told me you know someone who may be interested in helping me expand my business to this region of the world?”

Rafiq rocked his head side to side. “Not exactly what I meant, but pretty close.”

Jason’s hands stilled, his eyes lifting to meet Rafiq’s. “Then what did you mean?”

“These people,” Rafiq started, his eyes darting around the market quickly before continuing, “They are notoriously hard to get the attention of. You see, you do not seek out them, they seek out you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. In his line of work, something that ominous-sounding wasn’t a good sign. He knew of plenty of organizations that could fit a description such as that. But only one came to mind that was stationed in this region of the world. As to why their leader would be seeking him out, that was a mystery.

“Why is Ra’s Al Ghul seeking me out?” Jason asked, risking the man’s name being said aloud despite the clear taboo Rafiq seemed to think it had on it.

Rafiq’s body language became more nervous, his eyes darting around for fear of being overheard if he said the wrong thing.

“Rafiq,” Jason said, drawing the man’s gaze back to him. He paused, noting the lack of anxiety in Rafiq’s gaze. It was a good act, but not good enough to fool someone raised by Batman. “You’re one of them. You’re a part of the League.”

Any sign of nervousness left Rafiq’s body instantly. “I am. Ra’s said you’d be a perceptive one.”

“What does he want?” Jason asked, keeping his voice low.

“To meet,” Rafiq replied simply. “And to make you an offer.”

Jason snorted, resisting the inclination to walk away from something that would probably be a waste of his time. Instead, he asked, “And what is it that I can offer the great Ra’s Al Ghul?”

“That is for him to say. I know not what the Demon’s Head wants from you, Red Hood. I was merely instructed to extend his offer to meet.”

Jason huffed.

“If you wish to accept the offer, meet me here at sundown two days from today,” Rafiq told him. “If you do not show up, I will assume the offer has been declined.”

“I don’t need two days,” Jason informed him. He’d already made up his mind. Whatever it was Ra’s wanted, Jason was curious to see what it was. “I accept the offer to meet.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After accepting Ra’s Al Ghul’s offer, Jason had returned to his market browsing with Tony. They had somehow run into the girls again—their arms carrying a couple of bags each—and together the four of them returned to Akhtar’s house. Jason was the only one of the group who hadn’t bought anything on their little expedition, but he’d technically gotten what he’d come for.

Rafiq had told him that he would relay his acceptance to the Demon’s Head when he returned to Nanda Parbat, but had informed him that the meeting likely wouldn’t take place for another couple of weeks. Ra’s was apparently a very busy man. Jason agreed to the date, knowing it would mean coming up with some bullshit excuse to offer Bruce about extending his stay.

Those next few weeks were full of cultural learning experiences. Jason’s classmates were surprised to learn that he knew Arabic, and had relied heavily on him to translate for them. By the time the study abroad was starting to come to a close, the others were ready to go home. Della kept complaining about blisters on her feet from walking so much. And when it wasn’t the blisters, it was the constant sand in unpleasant places—something both Jason and Tony had not wanted, or needed, to hear about.

As they were packing up their things on the day the others would be leaving, Jason listened to them talk excitedly about returning to the States and how nice it would be to have air conditioning again. The three of them were discussing what the first thing they would do upon returning home would be.

“I’m going to take a steaming hot bath with a scented candle burning in the room,” Della said. It was a wonder she hadn’t had too much of the oppressive heat to dissuade her from a hot bath being the first thing she wanted to do when she got home. Then again, she had consistently complained about not being able to feel like she was clean even after a bath throughout the duration of the study abroad.

Scarlett hummed her approval. “I’m going to eat a whole tub of rocky road ice cream while watching cheesy rom-coms.”

“I plan on spending what’s left of my summer vacation visiting my family in New York,” Tony said, zipping up his suitcase before standing. “What about you Jason? Got anything you’re looking forward to?”

“Actually, I’m not going home yet,” Jason told them. “I think I’m gonna stick around and do some hiking in the mountains.”

Della gawked at him, her jaw dropping wide open.

Scarlett politely pressed her mouth shut with her hand as she said, “Haven’t you been gone for long enough? I’m sure your family must be missing you.”

“Oh, they are,” Jason informed her. “I’m sure my brothers are overly distraught in my absence.”

Tony chuckled.

“So why aren’t you going home yet?” Della asked, momentarily distracted from finishing her packing.

Jason shrugged. “Guess I just feel like climbing some mountains. I mean, I’m already here, so why not?”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Tony said, “Good for you, man. If we have any more classes together back at school you’ll have to tell me about it when you get back.”

Jason smiled. “Sure thing.”

A moment later, Akhtar entered the room, telling them it was time to leave for the airport. Jason watched them leave from the doorstep of Akhtar’s house before heading to the cafe Rafiq said to meet him at.

The small cafe was decently busy when Jason arrived. Rafiq was seated at a table just inside, waiting for him. When Jason noticed him, he stood, leaving money on the table before walking over to the entrance and leading Jason over to a pair of horses and a pack mule. After helping Jason load his luggage onto the pack mule, Rafiq climbed onto one of the horses, leaving Jason to climb onto the second horse. Then they were off, heading for the mountains.

Sandy dunes quickly turned to grassy hills. The grass slowly turned to flowery fields the closer they got to the looming mountains. They passed a couple of farms on the road, but aside from that there were no signs of civilization to be found until a couple hours after their departure when they arrived at a glistening lake. It was here that Rafiq had them pause for lunch.

Jason was sore from the constant hours in the saddle so the break was an immense relief as he climbed down from his horse and led it to the water’s edge for a drink, Rafiq doing the same for his horse and the pack mule.

Their lunch was bread and cheese, chased down by some mountain lake water—very medieval in Jason’s opinion.

Once they had rested for about fifteen minutes, they filled up their water then climbed back on their horses. As they rode, Jason could see the makings of a small village on the other side of the lake. That was the last sign of civilization they would see until they arrived at their destination, Rafiq had told him.

While they were riding, Jason answered a call from Dick—extremely surprised he still had cell service. “Hey Dickie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were staying longer, Little Wing?” Dick whined over the phone. “I had to find out from B. And he only told me about it an hour ago.”

“Nice to talk to you too,” Jason replied dryly. “I’m doing great thanks for asking.”

Dick huffed but didn’t deign to respond.

Jason sighed. “I thought he would’ve told you sooner.”

“I’ve been a bit busy, Jay.” Dick’s voice was strained. He sounded stressed and… worried.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I really thought you knew,” Jason said, trying to ease his brother’s concern. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I just wanted to see more of the sights. I didn’t get a chance to do that during the study abroad. It might be another couple of weeks that I’m gone, but I’ll try and text you when I can.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Dick said it so softly Jason wasn’t sure he’d really heard it. He wanted to ask about it, but changed his mind. If his brother wanted to elaborate on it, he would. Besides, Jason was trying to keep his mind off of his concern.

“How’s Tim?” Jason asked, trying to shift the topic.

Dick was silent.

“Dick?”

“Huh?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Did you hear me?”

Dick sighed. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I just asked how Tim was doing,” Jason said, huffing out a laugh as he added, “Geez, dude. Are you okay? You sound super stressed.”

Dick sighed again, likely dragging his fingers through his hair as he did so. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, like you said, super stressed. Work has been very hectic lately.”

“Ah.” Jason knew Dick wasn’t referring to his civilian job, not with how vague his answers seemed to be. Deciding to break his own rule, Jason asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Dick said a little too quickly. Then amended his answer by adding, “Sorry. I mean, I don’t want you to bring you into this. I know how you feel about this sort of thing.”

Jason nodded even though he knew Dick couldn’t see it.

“Tim’s fine, by the way,” Dick told him. “Just to, uh, answer your earlier question.”

Smiling, Jason said, “Thanks. Look, you’re starting to cut out. I’m probably leaving cell service. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, Little Wing.”

After hanging up, Jason turned airplane mode on and slipped his phone back into his bag. As he did so, Dick’s muttered words came back to him. It had sounded like Dick was relieved Jason was staying a few more weeks in the Himalayan mountains. The conversation left Jason with more than a few unanswered questions. He felt inclined to turn around and rush to the airport, canceling his meeting with Ra’s and heading home instead. Something had Dick seriously worried, and Jason wanted to help in whatever way he could, but he couldn’t just leave now. He’d already come that far. Besides, if his being on the other side of the world made Dick happier than him coming home then he would stay until he completed what he’d come for.

As they climbed further up the mountain, the cool air turned bitter. Jason pulled his scarf more securely around his face, lifting his hood over his head as the wind blew its icy breath over the mountainside.

The road narrowed the closer they got to their destination, but then, after maybe a six hours’ ride from the lake, it widened again to show what looked like a monastery built into the side of the mountain.

Slowing his horse until they were side by side, Rafiq said, “Welcome to Nanda Parbat, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason took in as many details as he could as they approached. As they got closer, he took note of the assassins encircling them. If he were anybody else he might not have noticed their presence, but, again, being trained by the world’s greatest detective had its advantages. Being a renowned crime lord didn’t hurt either.

When Rafiq brought his horse to a halt, Jason followed suit. Waiting for him to dismount before doing so himself. Once their feet were on the ground, the assassins made their presence known, emerging from the shadows to take the reins of their horses. One of them brought Jason his luggage. Jason nodded his thanks to the man then followed Rafiq as he began ascending the steps up to the door.

At the top of the steps, a regal-looking woman with discerning green eyes and black hair waited for them.

Rafiq stopped in front of her and bowed his head.

The woman accepted the gesture by turning around and leading the way inside. She led them to a large room that reminded Jason of a medieval throne room. There were uniquely designed pillars on the sides of the room. At the front of the room a large chair—which could only be considered a throne—stood atop a dias. And seated on said throne was a middle-aged man, his graying hair slicked back and his goatee neatly trimmed.

“Welcome to Nanda Parbat,” Ra’s Al Ghul greeted them. With a wave of his hand he dismissed Rafiq. “I am so pleased you accepted my invitation, Jason Todd.”

Jason started. He shouldn’t have been surprised Ra’s knew his identity, but he was.

Lifting his hood off his head, Jason tugged the scarf down from the lower half of his face. “Ra’s Al Ghul. Have to say, I never expected someone like you to seek out a lowly little crime lord such as myself.”

Ra’s gave him a knowing look. “You and I both know you are more than that.”

“So,” Jason said, not-so-discreetly changing the subject. “I’m here. What was it you wanted to meet with me for?”

“I heard rumors of your expansion to Europe,” Ra’s said. “You’re making quite the name for yourself. Turning lots of heads, including those belonging to our superpowered friends in the sky.”

Jason shrugged. So the Justice League knew about him. What did he care?

“I also heard of your desire to expand your business to this region of the world,” Ra’s continued, leaning forward slightly. “I am willing to assist you in this endeavor.”

“And?” Jason asked. This wasn’t a one-sided offer. Ra’s wanted something in return. “What do you get out of this arrangement?”

Ra’s leaned back in his chair. “I want you to train here for a while.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. There was definitely more to it than that, but who was he to argue. Training with the League of Assassins was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“Ok,” Jason agreed. “Before I accept this arrangement, I want to know how long ‘a while’ would be. Bruce wasn’t exactly thrilled at my extended stay here.”

“I do not doubt that,” Ra’s said. “I know of the events that happened the last time you were in this part of the world.”

Jason snorted, turning his head slightly and pretending the knowledge that this all-powerful man knowing of his near-death experience at the hands of the Joker didn’t send a spike of panic through him. Near the edge of the room, he caught a glimpse of a young boy hiding behind one of the pillars. He couldn’t be more than ten years old, and yet he seemed to be a part of the shadows that enveloped him. As he studied the boy, something seemed strikingly familiar about him. Then the boy’s piercing green eyes met his.

Between one blink and the next, the boy slipped away into the darkness. Turning his head back to Ra’s, Jason pretended that the split second interaction hadn’t happened.

“Yeah, well, Bruce has his reasons for everything,” Jason stated, meeting the older man’s gaze. “So are you going to answer my question?”

Ra’s chuckled at his petulance. “You may stay as long or as little as you wish. It does not matter. I simply need someone skilled enough to spar with my grandson when his mother is unavailable.”

Jason blinked. Since when did Ra’s Al Ghul have a grandson? “Your… grandson?”

“Damian,” the woman next to him said. “My son. He has grown far too skilled for any of our assassins.”

Turning to the woman, Jason studied her face for a moment before it clicked. Talia Al Ghul, Ra’s Al Ghul’s eldest daughter and Bruce’s ex.

“And you thought someone trained by Batman himself would be more capable?” Jason asked, trying not to think about the fact that Talia had a son.

“I believe,” Talia said, turning to face him. “That someone trained by

my beloved

would be more capable.”

Shoving down the urge to laugh at her referring to Bruce as her

beloved

, Jason said, “Ok. I agree. I will train with your grandson while you assist me in my endeavors.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jason stood alone in his rooms after Talia had left, staring at the large bed hours after agreeing to the arrangement. He had no idea what he had just gotten himself into, but he hoped he wasn’t going to regret it later.

Heaving a sigh, he moved further into the room until he was standing at the window. The view was spectacular. Dark hues of purplish blue streaked across the sky as the Sun fully sank beneath the horizon, the last tendrils of its light reaching out over the blanket of brightly twinkling stars that were starting to become visible without the brilliance of the daytime star.

After a few moments like that, Jason turned around and laid down on the bed, closing his eyes.
 
His hands were coated in blood.

Not his but someone else’s. Multiple someones.

The blade in his right hand dripped that same blood onto the ground for the few moments before he dropped it.

Then he was strolling through the wreckage of his attack, the bodies strewn about the floor unmoving as he passed them by.

In his other hand he held a duffel bag which he hefted over his shoulder as he left the building and hopped onto his bike, heading for a building on the other side of the city.

When he arrived, the men and women were arguing loudly as they sat comfortably at their table. That is, until he announced his presence.

Each of them rose quickly to their feet as he started speaking.

Lifting the bag from his shoulder, he tossed it onto the table, watching at the people below him opened the zipper.

One of them turned to the side and heaved up his dinner.

The others stared in disbelief at the contents of the duffel bag.

Inside was what he had taken from their lieutenants.

Seven heads of the lieutenants of the crime lords of Gotham.

Seven heads that had once belonged to seven drug dealers.

And he had severed each and every one of them before presenting them to their bosses.

It didn’t matter how disturbed the sight might have made him in the past. He wasn’t the same person he used to be.

The Joker had made sure of that.
 
Sucking in a breath, Jason sat upright, the dregs of his dream clinging to him even as he watched the beams of sunlight stretching across the floor of the room.

Shoving down the remnants of the nightmare, Jason clambered off of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed water on his face. These memory-like nightmares were becoming more frequent. Nothing he did to stop them was working. He couldn’t focus on that now, though. Ra’s was expecting him.

Dressing quickly in the training garb Talia had left for him the night before, Jason retraced his steps back to the throne room. Ra’s and Talia were already there, waiting for him. Whatever they had clearly been arguing about prior to his arrival was cut short when they noticed his presence in the doorway. Jason slowly entered the room.

“Good morning,” he said, coming to a stop in the center of the room.

“You are awake earlier than anticipated,” Talia replied. “That is good. I will lead you to the dining hall for breakfast, then you may begin training.”

Jason nodded, trying to appear more respectful than he had been the night before. He knew plenty of men like Ra’s Al Ghul. Knew the Demon’s Head would only tolerate so much childish petulance. If he wanted to keep the arrangement going, he needed to make sure he stayed on his good side.

Talia led the way out of the room and down a maze of hallways that Jason tried to memorize before pushing open a door to what could only be the dining hall. There were a few assassins in the room, but it was mostly empty.

After showing him to the room, Talia left with the promise to return in no less than fifteen minutes to show him to the training room. Jason gathered himself a good portion of food and sat down to eat.

Fifteen minutes later, Talia did indeed return. Following her out of the room and back through another labyrinth of hallways until arriving at the room where he would train with her son, Damian.

The room was empty of people. The walls were covered in a large variety of weapons, only missing anything modern such as guns.

As he walked deeper into the room, he turned to watch Talia retreat. “I have business to attend to. You may train as long as you see fit.”

“Ok,” Jason replied.

Turning back to the empty room, Jason looked around for any sign of the kid only to come up empty-handed. On instinct, he looked up, spotting the little gremlin crouching on a small ledge at the edge of the room.

The boy jumped down from his perch and stalked closer. “So you are to be my new sparring partner.”

It was the same boy from the throne room. Jason was startled by the resemblance he had to his mother, but there was something about him, something about his eyes, that reminded him of someone he knew only he couldn’t quite place who.

“Guess so,” Jason replied, studying Damian as the boy returned the favor.

“Mother should have found someone more competent,” he stated matter of factly.

Jason withheld the urge to snort. “You haven’t even fought me yet.”

“I do not require such a pointless exercise,” Damian responded, giving him a judgemental look that did not befit someone his age. “I can already tell you are no match for my talent.”

This time Jason did nothing to hold back his snort. “Whatever you say, pipsqueak.”

Damian scowled at him.

“Look, your mother and grandfather want us to spar. I would like to not waste any of our time, so, let’s get to it, brat.”

Damian’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t argue.

The little runt didn’t hesitate before launching into an attack. Jason threw up a block, shoving the lighter boy to the side and using the momentum to start a counter strike. They continued the dance of attacking, blocking, and parrying, neither of them able to land a hit for a while.

After another minute, Jason found his legs being swept out from underneath him. Then Damian was standing over him, smirking ever so subtly as Jason stared up at him.

Taking advantage of his cockiness, Jason swept the brat’s feet out from under him as he made his way to his feet. Damian turned the momentum of his fall into an attack, aiming for Jason’s kidney. Jason narrowly dodged the attack, countering with a punch that Damian barely managed to block.

As they continued their fight, Jason couldn’t help but admit to himself just how good the kid was. He found himself struggling to keep up with some of the kicks and punches thrown his way. The kid was agile, using his small stature to his advantage. Jason remembered doing the same thing during his time as Robin. Bruce had taught him to use his size against his opponents, and it had worked well. Up until that day in Ethiopia.

At the thought of Bruce, something finally clicked in Jason’s mind. The realization had him fumbling in a block and suddenly he was on his back staring at the ceiling yet again.

Rather than sitting up immediately, Jason laid there on his back, his mind reeling from what he could only see as a major discovery. If it was true that is.

Forcing himself to sit up, Jason turned his head to the door. Just as expected, Talia was standing there watching them. At his attention, she raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Jason glanced at Damian, the boy standing with his arms crossed a few feet away, then back at his mother. He raised his own eyebrow, as though to say,

really?

Talia pressed her lips into a thin line.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jason turned to face her fully. Moving slowly, he approached her, stopping once he was barely a foot from her.

“Does Bruce know?” he asked her.

Talia said nothing.

“Does. Bruce. Know,” Jason repeated.

“No.” The one word is all Jason needed to hear, but she wasn’t done. “And you cannot tell him.”

“Why not?” Jason didn’t need to point out the fact that Bruce deserved to know. Didn’t need to announce to Damian who his father was, though he wasn’t sure if the boy knew already or not.

Talia’s gaze briefly flitted to her son. “This is something my beloved needs to hear from me. Not you.”

Jason stared into her eyes for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Okay, I won’t tell him. Either of them. Assuming the kid doesn’t know either.”

At her nod, Jason knew his assumption had been correct.

“I will keep this secret so long as you promise to tell him soon,” Jason told her. “It shouldn’t have to be said, but I’m going to say it anyway. Bruce deserves to know, and if you don’t tell him after I’ve left then I will.”

“You may not be his biological son,” Talia said, her eyes scanning his. “But you remind me so much of my beloved. I agree to your terms, Jason Todd.”

Jason nodded, turning slightly to glance back at Damian. “I hate to admit it, but he has the chance to be better than me. Maybe even better than his father.” He turned his attention back to Talia, reading her expression though she kept it blank. “That’s the point though, isn’t it?”

Talia didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to. His question was rhetorical.

Rolling his neck, Jason turned away from her and returned to where Damian stood, gesturing for him to start again.

They circled each other, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. It was Damian who ended the cycle, throwing a small dagger Jason’s way with the slight flick of his wrist. Jason barely sidestepped it in time, the blade making a shallow cut on his cheek regardless of his efforts. Ducking under the next one, he ignored the sting. Then Damian snatched one of the larger daggers from the rack behind him and threw it expertly in Jason’s direction. Dodging to the side, Jason reached his hand out and snatched the dagger from the air. In one move, he flowed with its momentum, spinning around and throwing it back in Damian’s direction.

With Damian’s attention on the dagger, Jason sprinted for him. When Damian ducked under the flying blade, Jason swept his leg toward the young boy’s feet. Just as he’d expected, Damian managed to avoid his foot, but between that and the dagger that clattered into the wall behind him, he barely managed to block the punch Jason threw.

Damian’s arm shook with the effort of holding Jason’s wrist. His feet faltered beneath him, causing him to widen his stance against the force of Jason’s punch. This gave Jason all the leverage he needed to pull the kid closer and throw him to the ground, successfully sweeping his feet out from under him while simultaneously breaking the hold Damian had on his wrist and pushing against his collarbone while he was in the air.

The wind was knocked from Damian’s lungs with an audible gasp. Jason held him to the ground for a moment. His breaths were steady in his chest despite the thundering of his heart. He had to admit, the kid was good. Really good. Too good. Too much like the assassins he had grown up fighting.

It would infuriate Bruce to know that Talia was raising the son he never knew he had to be a killer. More than that, it would probably break his heart.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It surprised Jason how well Ra’s was able to help him in just the first few days at Nanda Parbat. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, the man was centuries old and was the leader of a notorious group of assassins. He was a businessman through and through—technically.

With each new day spent sparring with Damian before joining Ra’s in working on expanding his empire, Jason learned more about the gremlin than he wanted to. He was a fierce fighter with immense skill in various forms of combat. Every time they fought, Jason couldn’t help but compare him to Bruce. He was so much like his father even if he didn’t know it. It pained him to think about that sort of thing while knowing that Bruce would never likely meet his son.

Jason hated each new  detail about Damian that reminded him of Bruce. Hated that he wanted to store that knowledge in his heart. Hated that he couldn’t stop thinking of what could be once Bruce found out about his son. Because of this, he tried to avoid Damian any chance he could. At meals. In the halls. Everywhere. It certainly helped that Damian seemed to be avoiding

him

too, but, given how closely Jason was working with Ra’s, he continued to see Damian more often than he wanted.

Every day Ra’s would take Jason to a different town to build contacts for his business. And every day Jason would send a text to Bruce telling him he was fine and about how much he was enjoying the fresh mountain air. Guilt weighed heavy on him with every message he sent that didn’t include the bombshell of Talia’s secret. But he kept his word. His promise to Talia of not telling Bruce about Damian was not something he would break, but neither was the second half of that promise. If she didn’t tell him about his son by the time Jason returned to Gotham, Jason

would

tell Bruce himself.

Dick had sent him a few messages, but not nearly as many as Jason had come to expect, especially during his actual study abroad. It was starting to make him uneasy. His brother could be a bit of a mother hen when it came to family, and his near radio silence was so out of character that it had Jason wanting to return home more and more with every half-hearted response from him.

On the morning of the third week of his stay at Nanda Parbat, Jason woke to the same warm rays of sunshine spilling over his floor from the window. It was exactly the same as it had been every day since he’d arrived. Except it wasn’t. As he sat up, he paused when he saw something disturbing the trail of sunlight on his floor.

Damian was facing the window, seated on the floor with his legs folded underneath him. His eyes were closed against the warmth of the sunbeams. If Jason didn’t know him for the demon brat he was, he would have thought he looked peaceful.

“What are you doing in here?” Jason asked, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Not moving an inch, Damian opened his eyes. Something was different in them. His normally cold and emotionless expression seemed… fractured.

Pushing the covers off of him, Jason stood and walked over to where Damian sat, ready to forcibly remove him from the room. Stopping in front of him, Jason froze. A vibrant purple bruise was blossoming under Damian’s eye. It was large, and Jason could see the details of what looked like the imprint of someone’s hand around the edges of the bruise.

Damian angled his face away.

“Grandfather would never think to look for me here.” Is all he said before clenching his jaw shut.

Jason’s hands formed fists at his sides. He knew Damian well enough from their short time spent together to know that he wasn’t likely to take kindly to any form of comfort. Damian would likely react like a wounded animal, lashing out at anyone who attempted to care for him. There was also no way he would actually tell Jason what had happened should he be prompted, but Jason knew where he could go to get that information.

So, instead of pulling the young boy into his arms the way he wanted to, Jason said, “Stay here as long as you want. I’ll be back.”

Stepping around the boy, Jason exited the room and made his way to the chamber hall he still considered to be a throne room. It took immense effort not to run there. Not to throw open the large doors and demand answers. Ignoring the protective instincts he hadn’t known he had for Damian, he forced himself to remain calm.

As he approached, he heard muffled arguing coming from behind the chamber hall doors. One of them was open a crack. Pausing just outside, he listened.

“This is not your decision to make, Talia,” Ra’s was saying, his voice hard. Only his daughter could hear the threatening tone lacing his words and survive. Anyone else would have been dead on the ground seconds later.

Talia’s normally calm voice was razor sharp as she retorted, “Yes, it is. He is my son and I will do as I see fit.”

“If you do this,” Ra’s tells her, the edge in his voice softening ever so slightly. “He cannot return as my heir. His future as Heir to the Demon will cease to be a possibility.”

“I have made my decision,” Talia replied, her voice returning to its normal cadence.

Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Jason knocked on the door, acting as though he hadn’t heard anything.

“Enter.” Came Ra's voice.

Stepping inside, Jason took in the two people standing in the center of the room. It was a miracle he managed to keep his rage contained as he approached.

Coming to a stop a few feet away, Jason said, “I came to tell you that I will be heading home today. I appreciate your help, but I need to return to Gotham.”

Ra’s nodded.

Talia narrowed her eyes nearly imperceptibly as she looked at him.

“Very well,” Ra’s replied. “Why have you chosen to leave today?”

Jason shrugged.

“You are angry,” Talia said, her eyes still searching his face.

Damn

. She’s better at reading people than he had initially given her credit for. A mistake he shouldn’t have made.

Jason didn’t respond. He thought he’d hid it well enough. Apparently not.

Talia waited, clearly expecting an answer to her not-a-question.

Their silent standoff was interrupted by the soft creaking of one of the doors.

“Mother.” It was Damian.

Jason clenched his jaw. He should have known the brat wouldn’t stay where he was.

Understanding lit in Talia’s gaze as she took note of Jason’s reaction to Damian’s presence.

“You requested my presence?” Damian asked.

Ra’s, surprisingly quiet throughout the conversation between his daughter and Jason, said nothing on what had just been discussed.

“When you are ready to leave, Talia will meet you at the entrance to take you down to the nearest airport,” Ra’s informed him.

Taking that as his dismissal, Jason nodded. “Thank you. For that, and for your assistance.”

With that, Jason turned and left the room, his fingers itching to reach out and take Damian with him as he passed. He knew there was still more he could be doing to continue the expansion of his business, but he also knew that he couldn’t stay any longer. Damian was not his responsibility. It was none of his business how Talia and Ra’s chose to raise him. Even still, he couldn’t stand idly by with their decisions on how Damian would grow up.

So he decided to leave. It made him feel like a coward. Like he was running away—and maybe he was—but he couldn’t stay, had been wanting to leave for a while and this was the perfect excuse to return home. He didn’t like leaving Damian in this pit of vipers. But there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t bring Damian with him. Couldn’t take him from his mother and not expect there to be any consequences. Couldn’t show up at the Manor expecting Bruce to believe him when he told him he had a biological son.

Packing his things didn’t take him long, and soon enough he was walking down the halls toward the entrance. Talia was waiting for him at the top of the steps just outside the door. With Damian. Jason said nothing on the boy’s presence.

Talia led the way down the steps to the horses. Once the three of them were mounted, and Jason’s luggage was secured, they began on the journey down the mountain. They passed through the craggy pass, the narrow and rocky path slowly turning to the flower fields Jason had seen on his journey to Nanda Parbat. The smooth mountain lake sparkled reflectively in the light of the Sun when they passed by it. Flower fields shifted to grassy hills. Those hills eventually traded in their greenery for rolling dunes of shimmering sand.

When the hot air of the town at the base of the mountains hit him, Jason immediately missed the fresh air of the mountain passes as he pulled his scarf over his face. Sandy wind pressed on them from all sides.

True to her father’s word, Talia took Jason all the way to the airport, making sure he got checked in. To his surprise, however, she and Damian joined him as he made his way through security and into the waiting area.

“I didn’t know you were going to escort me all the way home,” Jason joked as the pair each took a seat next to him.

“Tt.” Damian crossed his arms, avoiding looking at his mother.

“That is not what is happening,” Talia informed him.

It was then that Jason recalled the conversation he’d overheard between Ra’s and Talia before leaving.

If you do this, he cannot return as my heir.

That’s what Ra’s had said.

Talia would be keeping her promise after all, it would seem.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Alfred was not waiting at the airport when Jason got off the plane. And that was when Jason realized that he hadn’t informed him or Bruce about his trip home.

Heaving a sigh, he gathered his luggage from the baggage claim and pulled his phone out from his pocket. He was just opening the messaging app when he paused. Talia was walking up to him, Damian reluctantly trailing behind her.

Right. How was he going to explain that??

“I have a car waiting,” Talia told him before heading for the exit.

Jason blinked. Well, at least the inevitable awkward conversation could wait.

Lifting the handle on his suitcase, Jason followed after her and Damian. The airport was crowded enough that Jason had to push his way through the people milling about.

Talia waited for him at the car, gesturing for him to climb in first. Jason allowed the driver to put his luggage into the trunk before climbing in.

Closing the door behind her, Talia gave the driver directions to Wayne Manor—not where Jason had intended on going first, but he wasn’t about to correct her. The driver took off down the rain soaked streets. Gotham’s typical sky of storm clouds hovered over them as they drove. Light rain drizzled on the car, the drops trailing down the windows.

Soon enough, Wayne Manor appeared on the horizon out the windshield. The driver turned onto the drive lane, quickly approaching the front steps of the Manor. Upon reaching them, he put the car in park and climbed out to open the door for them. Talia exited first, followed by Jason and Damian. While the driver retrieved Jason’s luggage from the trunk, Jason found himself staring up at the towering Manor. He was anxious to see his family again. And to figure out what had Dick so stressed over the past couple of weeks that he wouldn’t tell him about.

Gathering his luggage, Jason carried it up the steps after Talia and Damian, stopping at the front door where Talia waited for him to knock. After a few moments of waiting, the door swung open to reveal Alfred standing on the other side.

The butler blinked as he saw Jason. “Master Jason. I did not know you were on your way home.”

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot to text you,” Jason told him, scratching the back of his neck. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Masters Bruce and Timothy are eating dinner at the moment,” Alfred replied.

“Who’s at the door, Alfred?” Bruce came up behind the butler, his eyes instantly going to Jason as he looked out. “Jason, I thought you weren’t coming home yet.”

Jason cleared his throat. “I, uh, changed my mind. Listen, B, there’s something you need to know.”

Bruce’s brows scrunched together. Jason stepped to the side, looking over his shoulder at Talia and Damian, both of whom had been hidden behind his tall frame. At the sight of Talia, Bruce’s expression darkened with memories.

“Talia,” he said.

“It’s been a long time, my beloved,” Talia replied. Beside her, Damian remained silent, staring up at Bruce from the corner of his eye while keeping the bruise on the side of his face hidden from him. “This is Damian. My son.”

Blue eyes met green as Bruce shifted his gaze to the young boy. “Your son.”

Talia nodded.

“How old is he?” Bruce asked, his eyes returning to Talia’s.

Jason could see in his gaze that Bruce was already piecing it together.

“Ten.”

Bruce swallowed, his gaze going back to Damian.

He didn’t need to ask the question they could all read in his face, but it got answered anyway.

“Father,” Damian said quietly, lifting his head to fully look Bruce in the eye.

Jason saw the moment Bruce noticed the bruise, a muscle in his jaw twitching. But Bruce didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to, one look at Talia was all it took. To her credit, Talia did not shrink away from the anger in Bruce’s eyes.

Rather, she stood her ground and said, “Ra’s did not approve of my decision to bring him here. But you deserve to know your son.”

“Talia,” Bruce started, but Talia was already turning away.

Maybe Jason had just imagined it, but he could have sworn it was tears he’d seen in Talia’s eyes as she glanced at Damian before starting down the steps and returning to the car. Damian watched his mother walk away without so much as shedding a single tear.

From inside the house, Jason could hear Tim calling to Bruce asking about what was taking so long. Then his brother was appearing in the doorway, a grin splitting across his face as he saw Jason. Tim’s expression faltered when he noticed the looks on their faces. And then he noticed Damian.

“B?” Tim asked, his voice tentative as he followed Bruce’s gaze to where Talia was climbing into the car at the base of the steps. “Was that, Talia Al Ghul?”

None of them answered. Alfred sighed, gently leading a reluctant Damian into the Manor with murmured words of dressing the bruise on the young boy’s face.

“Great, guess I’m just gonna keep talking to myself then,” Tim stated, looking like he was two seconds away from waving his hand in front of Bruce’s face.

Draping an arm over Tim’s shoulders, Jason guided him away from the shell-shocked Bruce and into the house. “Why don’t we go to one of the drawing rooms and I can tell you all about my trip?”

Tim brightened at the idea, glancing back at Bruce a moment before agreeing. “Yeah, let’s do that. While you’re at it, you can tell me why that kid looked like he could be Bruce’s son.”

Jason cleared his throat.

“You’re kidding,” Tim gawked, shooting him a look of disbelief. “No way. That was definitely Talia I saw walking away though, right?”

Huffing, Jason nodded. “Yes, that was Talia.”

“Bruce had a secret love child?” Tim muttered under his breath.

Jason snorted, pushing open the door to the drawing room and flopping onto one of the couches.

Throwing one arm over his eyes, he said, “That’s one way to put it.”

The cushions at his feet sank as Tim sat on the couch next to him. “And how would you put it, mister

I-just-showed-up-unannounced-with-Bruce’s-ex-and-child-he-didn’t-know-about-without-offering-an-explanation.

”

That was something Jason didn’t want to get into. He hadn’t really thought about how he was going to explain their presence to Bruce and Tim, let alone the fact that they were arriving together.

Shit.

Now he had to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t oust him as Red Hood.

Tim poked his knee. “So? Are you going to tell me why you showed up with them or what?”

Lifting his arm enough to see his brother, Jason opened his mouth to reply when he paused, seeing Bruce hovering in the doorway. He sighed. Might as well get it over with, he supposed.

Sitting up, Jason shrugged off the straps of the backpack he was still wearing and set it on the floor next to the couch. “There’s really nothing to it. We just happened to run into each other at the airport. Talia recognized me, and when I realized that I’d forgotten to text Alfred to pick me up, she offered to give me a ride here.”

“That’s it?” Tim asked, visibly deflating. “You didn’t know Damian was Bruce’s son?”

“I never said that,” Jason told him. “It’s kind of obvious just looking at him.”

“Right? Dick is going to freak when he finds out.” Tim glanced over at Bruce. “Is he still coming over for game night? Or is he

busy

again?”

The disdain in Tim’s voice as he asked the second question was chalk full of insinuation of something that had apparently been a common disagreement in Jason’s absence.

“Has Dick been busier than usual lately?” Jason asked, looking back and forth between the pair.

Bruce gave Tim a warning look, but that did nothing to dissuade Tim from saying, “That’s one way to put it. The two of them benched me from patrol because—”

“Tim,” Bruce cut in, his voice low with reproach.

Rolling his eyes, Tim leaned back against the couch—and Jason’s legs—and crossed his arms. He was sulking like a child who’d just been told he wouldn’t be getting ice cream for dinner. His reaction was somewhat alarming to Jason.

Turning his gaze to his father, Jason asked, “Bruce, what is he talking about? What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Bruce replied, his tone implying that he wouldn’t be discussing the topic any further.

Fine.

If Bruce wouldn’t talk about it, Jason would have to figure it out on his own.

The tense silence was disturbed by Alfred’s entry into the room, followed by Damian. Damian’s eyes shot to Jason as he lounged on the couch. Just as quickly as they had found him, they had moved on to look at Tim and then Bruce. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the slamming of the front door.

Footsteps pounded down the hall as Dick’s voice echoed through the air, “Bruce?”

Dick came barrelling through the door, barely coming to a stop without toppling over. The gathered group all looked over at him. Whatever he’d intended to say prior to entering the room died on his lips as he saw Jason on the couch. Then his jaw dropped when he saw Damian.

“Dick,” Bruce said calmly as he gestured toward Damian. “This is Damian. My… son.”

“Your…” Dick looked at Damian, his blue eyes scanning the young boy’s features as though trying to see Bruce in them. Then he was grinning, the action offset by the distinct dark circles under his eyes. Taking the two steps closer to Damian, Dick knelt in front of him and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Damian. I’m Dick. Welcome to the family.”

Damian raised an eyebrow but remained otherwise expressionless. “Your name is… Dick?”

Dick chuckled. “Well, technically it’s Richard, but everyone just calls me Dick.”

“But that is not your name,” Damian replied. “Your name is Richard.”

Jason coughed, trying not to laugh. Damian shot him a glare.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjected. “Would you like to show Master Damian to his room?”

Bruce straightened, pushing off the doorframe he’d been leaning against. “Of course. Damian.”

Once Bruce and Damian had left the room, Alfred following after them, Dick stood and walked over to the couch. He took a seat next to Tim, lifting Jason’s legs so they were resting on his lap. Jason was too jetlagged to care that his brothers were invading his personal space. If he were willing to admit it to himself—which he wasn’t—he enjoyed their closeness in the moment. Enjoyed the fact that, after having spent nearly two months away, he had missed their presence and wanted to stay in the moment. But moments like that had a way of slipping through your fingers the harder you tried to hold on to them.

Dick’s phone started ringing, the vibration felt throughout the couch. Pulling it from his pocket, Dick took one look at the caller ID and then he was answering it, “Hey, Babs. What’s up?”

He listened to Barbara for a few moments, then he was rushing to his feet. “You found him?! Yes, I’ll tell Bruce. Send me the location.”

“Dick?” Jason pushed himself into a seated position. “Where are you going? What’s happening? Who did Barbara find?”

“Don’t worry about it, Jay,” Dick replied, running out the door without offering an explanation.

This left Jason to turn to Tim for answers. Tim knew something, and since neither Bruce nor Dick would tell him, he would have to get the answer from Tim, even if he had to pry it out of him.

“Tim,” Jason started.

Tim adamantly shook his head. “Nope. I am not telling you. If B and Dick don’t want you to know then–”

“Tell me what?” Jason pressed.

His brother pressed his lips together. Jason narrowed his eyes, then leaned back against the armrest.

“I guess if it’s something that important I’ll just see it on the news,” Jason stated, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Tim’s eyes widened and then he was snatching Jason’s phone from his hands and saying, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Jason asked, trying not to glare at his brother.

Fingers tapping restlessly on his leg, Tim glanced at the door, probably hoping to make a quick escape before he was forced to tell Jason anything. Grabbing Tim’s hand, Jason forced his brother to meet his gaze.

Tim swallowed, then, his words coming out rapidly, said, “The Joker escaped from Arkham.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

His heart thundered in his chest.His breaths came in short gasps.And all he could think was, no.No. Nonononono. The world blurred around him, noises turning to static in his ears, only to be replaced with different images and sounds. Things from another lifetime.White skin disrupted by a crude red smile and acid green hair. Its owner cackling and laughing at the desperate cries, the screams of unrelenting pain echoing through a warehouse.He shoved away from the hands that reached for him, backing away from where he’d been sitting.His chest was tight.Dark spots gathered at the edges of his vision.He needed air. Needed to breathe.His lungs ached, but refused to take in the plentiful air around him.Someone was saying his name, but he could barely hear them over the roaring in his head.He wanted to scream.His hands were clawing at his chest, a choking sound coming from his throat.His back met the wall and still he couldn’t breathe. Someone was shouting. He could hear it over the din of cruel laughter. But he couldn’t distinguish the words. He couldn’t think clearly enough to care. He couldn’t breathe.Suddenly, Dick’s face was swimming in his vision. Jason reached out and grabbed his brother’s arms, hot tears streaking down his face as he tried to breathe.“You. Lied,” he gasped out.“I know. I know, Little Wing,” Dick murmured, his voice drowning out the screams in Jason’s mind despite the soft tenderness of it. “I need you to breathe for me.”Jason shook his head. His grip on Dick’s arms tightened as he squeezed his eyes shut against the world that spun around him.“Can’t.”“Yes you can.” Dick’s voice was gentle, calming. “Breathe for me, Jay.”Again, Jason shook his head, feeling the salty tracks of his tears making his face sticky.“Hurts,” he choked out, removing one of his hands from Dick’s arm to clutch at his chest.“I know it does. So breathe. Breathe, Little Wing.”Jason sucked in a shaky breath. Then another. And another, his lungs greedy for the oxygen.As he breathed, Dick pulled him into a hug. His breaths started getting easier. Sagging in his brother’s embrace, Jason buried his face in Dick’s neck, whispering over and over, “You lied to me. You lied. You…”Dick said nothing. He simply held Jason close, keeping him from falling apart.“You told me he wouldn’t get out again,” Jason accused, pulling away from the hug despite his every instinct not to. “How is he out?”His brother gave him a sad look. “We don’t know.”Jason searched Dick’s eyes, reading the answer to his questions in their deep blue depths. “He’s the reason you didn’t want me to come home yet, the reason you’ve been so stressed and busy.”Dick nodded.Jason sighed, then waved for Dick to leave. “Go. I’ll be fine. Just… go get the bastard.”With a grim look on his face, Dick nodded again and left.Tim hovered in the doorway. “Are you okay?”“I’m good,” Jason told him, walking over to the couch. “Where’s Alfred?”“I don’t know. Why?”“I want him to take me to my apartment,” Jason replied, picking up his backpack and slipping the straps onto his shoulders.“No.” Looking up, Jason saw Tim shaking his head. “You’d be safer here.”“I can’t be here right now, Timmy,” Jason told him, avoiding looking anywhere but his brother’s face. “No, you can’t be out there right now,” Tim said adamantly.Jason gave him a look, grabbing his suitcase and starting for the door. “I’ll be fine.”“Will you, though?” Tim searched his eyes, his own flooded with fear at what he had just witnessed when he had told Jason of the Joker’s escape. “At least here you’re miles away from that madman. If you go back to your apartment, you’d be in his territory. Doesn’t that scare the hell out of you?”“Of course it does,” Jason replied, pausing next to Tim in the doorway. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stay here.”“Why not?” Tim asked, stepping in front of him to block his path. “What’s stopping you from staying here where you’d be safe?”His fear. His fear is what was stopping him. He was scared, terrified, that if he stayed at the Manor he would never leave. The Manor was home. It was the one place he felt truly and completely safe. But if he didn’t go out there and face his greatest fear, he would never forgive himself.But he couldn’t tell this to Tim.“Get out of my way, Tim,” he said softly. “Jason,” Tim started. “Don’t go. Please.”When Jason didn’t budge, Tim sighed and moved out of his way.“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jason told him.“Yeah. Okay.” Tim turned and walked down the hall toward his room.Staring after him, Jason didn’t realize that Alfred was making his way toward him until the butler was a few feet away.“Alfred,” Jason said. “Could you drive me to my apartment?”“Of course, Master Jason,” Alfred replied. Despite his insistence not to, Alfred had stood firm in his resolution to carry Jason’s luggage up to the penthouse.After thanking the butler, Jason entered his apartment and flipped the lights on. It was exactly as he had left it. Maybe a bit dustier, but that was to be expected.Moving into his bedroom, Jason set his things at the foot of his bed then walked over to the nightstand where he had hid his business phone. Turning it on, he dialed the number at the top of his short list of contacts.Dobson answered on the third ring. “Boss?”“Dobson,” Jason said, walking into his office and punching in the code to his bookshelf door. “I’m back, and I have good news. Business in the Middle East is all set and ready to go. Tell me you’ve got something for me.”“Numbers are up for our sales and distribution,” Dobson replied. “Our shell corporations are holding up under some serious scrutiny.”Switching the call over to his helmet, Jason asked, “What scrutiny?”“Boss,” Jason could hear the smile in Dobson’s voice as he spoke. “We are officially in business selling to some big buyers. I assume you’ll be doing your usual check up tonight?”“I am,” Jason told him, turning off the lights in his office after closing the hidden door.“I can tell you more about it when you get there,” Dobson told him. “I’m about to head out for the warehouse in the Upper East Side.”“Great. I’ll meet you there.” With that, Jason hung up.Stashing his phone back in the locked drawer of his nightstand, Jason exited his apartment and made his way to the rooftop stairwell access. As soon as the door was clicking shut behind him, he was running for the edge of the roof and leaping off of it and spinning midair to fire his grappling hook. When the hook was attached, he used it to slow his fall. Then his boots were splashing in the grimy water of the alley and he was reeling in the grappling line and pulling off the cover of his motorcycle. Climbing on, he started the engine and took off down the road.The streets were more deserted than usual as he sped past building after building. There were still people walking along the sidewalks, but a few of them would occasionally dart their eyes about them, searching for the evil that once again lurked in the shadows. Not that it had ever left, but the Joker was an evil that everybody feared, even Batman—to an extent.As he approached the warehouse where Dobson was going to meet him, Jason heard the distinct sound of gunfire coming from the park to his right. Slowing the speed of his bike, he looked over to see if he could catch a glimpse of the firefight. It was close enough to the warehouse that it could easily be his men.Jason moved closer to the park, stopping his bike at the side of the road and adjusting the zoom in his helmet so he could scan the area.Orange rays of dying sunlight spilled over the playground where a group of four kids were hiding behind anything big enough to keep them from the sights of the men in suits split perfectly down the center, making them two different colors. Two Face’s men stalked closer to the playground. On the other side of the kids was another group, many of whom Jason recognized as his own people. His people were hiding in the bushes and behind trees, attempting to make a stealthy retreat, but every once in a while, one of Two Face’s men would spot them and fire off a shot.Killing the engine on his bike, Jason climbed off and ran for the playground. Those kids were in serious danger, and he would not let them get caught in the crossfire of this fight.As he ran, he saw one of Two Face’s men lifting his gun, preparing to fire. Jason was feet away from the playground when one of the kids decided that was the perfect moment to try and run from the men with guns. The girl ran right in front of the line of fire as the man pulled the trigger. Leaping forward, Jason tackled the girl to the ground, putting his back between her and the bullet. Stinging pain etched its way up his arm as the bullet grazed his shoulder. Beneath him, the girl screamed, clutching Jason’s jacket as tears streamed down her face.“You’re okay,” Jason whispered. “Get back to your hiding place and don’t leave until it’s safe. Got it?”The girl nodded, scrambling back to where she’d been moments before while Jason pushed himself to his feet and spun around to face the remainder of Two Face’s men only to find himself in a staring match with Batman.“You saved that girl’s life,” Batman stated.Jason didn’t respond. Instead, he drew his gun and shot the man trying to sneak up on Batman in the chest. The rubber bullet hit its mark, taking the man down when it was followed by another shot to the man’s knee.Scowling at him, Batman spun around and turned his attention back to Two Face’s men. With Batman dealing with them, Jason turned back around and returned to where he had left the little girl. There was a slightly older boy next to her. She was holding onto his arm tightly.Holding his hand out to her, Jason said, “Come on. I’m getting you all out of here.”The girl didn’t hesitate to reach for his hand, but the older boy—probably her brother—grabbed her wrist, staring at him with fear written all over his face.“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason promised. “But those men Batman is fighting? They will if you don’t come with me.”Peeking around their hiding place, the boy looked at the men Jason had spoken of and quickly turned back to him and stood.Keeping himself between the men with guns and the children, Jason led the pair in the direction his men had gone until they reached the other two kids. One of them was barely a toddler, sucking on his thumb while tears and snot ran down his chubby face. Picking him up, Jason pretended not to notice the lack of parents. The first girl gripped his hand tightly.Darting a glance over his shoulder, Jason saw Batman still in the midst of the fight. Then he was hurrying the kids away, heading for the botanical garden where there would be better hiding places. As he walked, his men gathered around him, a couple of them picking up the two kids not clinging to Jason, who swept the girl into his other arm. Once the kids were off the ground, they started running. Gunshots hitting the ground at their feet and embedding themselves into the trunks of trees they passed. The kids were crying, but they didn’t fight against the grips of those holding them.As they entered the botanical gardens, Jason led the way to what looked like a good place to hide before setting down the two kids he’d been carrying and demanding a phone from one of the men around him. One of them handed his over and Jason dialed the emergency number before handing the phone to the oldest of the group, a boy no older than eight.The boy looked at him, confusion on his face. Then a dispatcher’s voice came from the phone and the boy was lifting it to his ear and telling the dispatcher where they were and what was happening.Gesturing for his men to follow him, Jason turned to start heading out. He still had a check in to do at the warehouse. He was stopped by the tugging on his jacket.Turning back, he saw the little girl gripping his jacket in her fist. “Thank you, mister.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tim was ignoring his calls. The first couple of times it happened, Jason had assumed he was just upset about him not staying at the Manor. But it had been nearly a week since then and his brother was still not answering. Jason had tried calling Dick and Bruce about it, but they weren’t saying much. Dick had mentioned that Tim had gone out on patrol after Jason had left, but that was all he would say on the matter.

If he wasn’t swamped with school, work, and his business, he would be going to the Manor and demanding answers from the one person who might offer them, Alfred. He hadn’t had a chance to go back to the Manor since showing up with Talia and Damian, who Bruce had apparently given a phone to. The kid had somehow managed to get Jason’s number and had been spamming him with texts for the past few days.

Sitting at his desk, Jason drummed his fingers against the wooden surface. His phone was sitting in front of him, the screen dark. He wanted to try calling Tim again, but knew it would just go straight to voicemail just like it had for the past week. The screen lit up, making him sit up in his seat, only to lean back again. It was just another professor emailing him the syllabus for their class.

Jason huffed. He’d left Tim at least a dozen voicemails, asking if he was upset with him and a whole variety of similar questions. Had called him more than double that. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe Tim was just busy. With school or his internship at Wayne Enterprises or something.

Yeah. That had to be it.

He sighed.

He was definitely overreacting. Tim was fine. He didn’t have to answer every single call he got from Jason. But he usually did. Unless he was asleep—which was rarely—Tim would usually answer any call he got from Jason. Even if he should have been studying.

Despite everyone around him insisting that Tim was fine, Jason couldn’t help but worry that his brother wasn’t okay. Tim wasn’t the type to ghost him.

Jason sighed again. He needed to clear his head.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jason made his way over to the bookshelf and started to punch in the code when he heard a knock at the front door. Pausing, he turned his head in the direction of the door, then started toward it.

Opening the door, he saw Stephanie standing in the hall wearing her Spoiler outfit with the mask pulled down around her neck. Her eyes were wide and her hands were fidgeting in front of her.

“Stephanie?” Jason asked, confused at her presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” she told him. “Tim’s in trouble.”

Jason felt his stomach sink. “What?”

“H-he…” Stephanie swallowed then said, “Look, what I have to say shouldn’t be said out in the open. Can I come in?”

Jason nodded, stepping to the side to let her in.

He had no sooner closed and locked the door than she was spinning to face him and saying, “Last week, Tim went on patrol when Bruce told him not to. I ran into him and he told me he just wanted to make sure you made it home safely. But he seemed distraught. And when I tried asking him what was wrong, all I got was something about knowing who Red Hood is and then he was rushing off.”

Jason felt the blood drain from his face. Tim knew. He

knew

who he was, but, where was he?

“How does any of that mean he’s in trouble?” Jason asked, forcing himself to appear calm.

Stephanie’s blue eyes were frantic as she said, “I tried going after him, but by the time I caught up to where he should have been, he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing I could find was his bo staff, and it was covered in blood. As if that weren’t bad enough, I nearly got hit by a van when I went to pick it up and the Joker was driving.”

Cursing under his breath, Jason dragged his hands through his hair. “Shit shit

shit.

”

Joker had Tim. This was bad. This was so bad.

He couldn’t afford to let the panic attack clawing at his chest take over his senses. His brother needed him. Tim was in danger. He couldn’t let this happen to anyone else.

Jason paused his frantic hands as they started another pass through his hair. Bruce and Dick knew. They

knew

and they hadn’t told him. They had lied to him. Tim was in danger and they had said

nothing

. As much as he wanted to be angry at them, though, he knew he couldn’t hold this choice against them. They didn’t know he was Red Hood. How could they? He’d been lying to them for months. As far as they knew, he was just a regular college student with a past that he had left behind him.

He had to go after Tim. Had to find him since clearly Bruce and Dick weren’t having any luck.

His feet had automatically taken a couple steps toward his study when he remembered that Stephanie was still standing in front of him.

Looking at her, he asked, “Why are you coming to me with this? What do you expect me to do? You should have gone to Bruce, or Dick.

Hell

you might’ve even been better off going to the cops.”

Tears lined Stephanie’s eyes as his voice got louder with each sentence.

“Why did you come

here

?” Jason shouted, angry tears forming in his eyes. “I can’t do anything about this. I’m not some vigilante hero like you. I’m just a regular guy who goes to college, works at a car garage, and volunteers at the library! This isn’t a homework assignment you're asking me to help you with, Blondie. This isn’t even dressing Tim’s wounds after he nearly got beaten to death. This is something much,

much

worse. You have no idea what him being taken by the Joker means. You have no idea how much it terrifies me to think of him in the hands of that psychopath!”

Stephanie’s cheeks were wet with her tears. The collar of her Spoiler outfit was damp with them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I just didn’t know who to go to. Bruce wasn’t answering the phone. I think he’s up at the Watchtower right now with Dick.”

“What the hell are they doing up there?!” Jason yelled, dragging his hands through his hair once again. “They should be down here looking for Tim.”

“What should I do, Jason?” Stephanie asked him. “I can’t look for Tim by myself. I don’t know how. I can’t even focus long enough to try.”

“Go to the Manor,” Jason told her. He needed to get her out of his apartment so he could go look for Tim on his own. But he also needed to make sure she was safe, and the Manor would be one of the safest places for her to go. “Tell Alfred I told you to go there. Don’t tell him why, just… he’ll take care of you.”

Stephanie nodded, taking a step toward the door.

As she reached for the doorknob, she paused and turned her head to look at him. “Thank you, Jason. Can I ask what you’re going to do? Why don’t you come with me to the Manor?”

Jason shook his head. “I’m going to do what I can to find Tim. You just… get to the Manor. It’ll be safe there.”

Stephanie reluctantly nodded. Then, grabbing something from her belt, she handed it to him and walked out the door without another word, leaving Jason alone in his apartment staring at the bloodied bo staff in his hands.

With her finally gone, Jason rushed into his study and punched in the code on his bookshelf. Changing quickly into his Red Hood outfit, Jason clipped Tim’s bo staff to his belt then snuck out of his apartment and onto the roof before leaping down into the alley and climbing onto his bike. As soon as the engine purred to life beneath him, he was taking off down the road. Stephanie hadn’t told him exactly where she had found Tim’s bo staff, and it was on him for not asking her, but he knew the patrol routes Tim would often work so he figured those were as good a place to start as any.

Jason had barely ridden over the bridge into midtown when he was slowing down and parking in front of an alley. He could have sworn he’d heard a kid calling for help from the alley he now stood in front of.

Drawing one of his guns, Jason made his way into the alley. As he entered, he spotted the form of a young boy standing in the center.

Lowering his gun, Jason said, “Hey, kid. You alright?”

The boy didn’t respond. Jason took another step closer. Then another. And another, until he was right in front of the boy. He was about to kneel in front of the kid to see if he was okay when the kid shouted something, and suddenly Jason was being tackled by a grown man, his gun clattering to the ground as his body hit the concrete. Above him, Captain Marvel’s fist hovered, poised to strike.

“Red Hood,” Captain Marvel said. “You’re under arrest for attacking the Justice League.”

Then it was lights out as Captain Marvel punched Jason in the face, cracking his helmet with the force of it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Justice League Watchtower - Two Days Earlier
 “This is what you called us up here for? Clark, I have more important things I have to deal with in Gotham.” Bruce stood in the Watchtower’s landing bay. He was supposed to be helping unload the crates of their latest shipment onto the Watchtower, but figured the heavy lifting would be best left to the metas and other heroes with superstrength while he tried negotiating with Superman about his decision to call him and Nightwing up to the Watchtower when they were in the middle of tracking down the Joker.“We need you up here, Batman,” Superman told him. “You’re the one who said we should start keeping a stock of naloxone on hand, as well as the antidotes for joker gas and fear gas. We need you to oversee their arrival.”“Besides, isn’t it like every other week that one of your villains breaks out of prison?” Bruce shot a glare at Wally as he sped over to them, a small crate in his arms.“Mind your own business, Flash,” Bruce told him. He watched the speedster zip away with the crate to where Dick stood on the other side of the bay organizing the crates with the help of Black Canary and the Elongated Man.Heaving a sigh, Bruce turned his gaze back to Clark. “I understand that it’s important for the League to abide by the laws that allow it to stay formed, but this is one of those times when said laws could have been bent.”Lowering his voice, Clark said, “Bruce, we can’t just pick and choose what rules we follow. If we do then we’re no better than those criminals you hunt down every night.”Bruce glared at him, crossing his arms as he said, “This is different and you know it. The Joker is different.”Clark sighed, his attention snagging on his cousin, Kara, who was flagging him down. “Look, I’m sorry that I pulled you away from looking for that madman, I am. I remember what happened in Ethiopia, but you’re already up here so why don’t you just stay until—”Something loud crashed to the ground across the landing bay.Looking over, Bruce scanned the makeshift assembly line until he located the source. Kara had dropped one of the naloxone crates and was standing next to it, swaying slightly. A moment later, she collapsed.“Kara,” Clark shouted, starting to run toward her.Bruce started after him, stopping only when he realized that Clark was starting to stumble.Moving in front of his friend, Bruce braced his hands against Clark’s shoulders. “Superman, what’s wrong? Hey.” Clark groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head before he collapsed. “Superman!”Bruce did what he could to ease Clark’s fall before turning around to see the other members of the League starting to collapse. His attention darted back to Supergirl when she started screaming. Then, one after another, all of the other League members started screaming. All of them, except for…“Martian!” Bruce shouted. “Lockdown the landing bay! Now!”“Batman, what’s happening?” J’onn’s voice flooded his mind with its gentle touch.“A dangerous gas has been released in the landing bay. Shut it down before it reaches the rest of the Watchtower,” Bruce ordered, hurrying to meet Dick at the crate Kara had dropped.Sirens blared in harmony with the terrified screams of the heroes around them as Bruce knelt next to the crate, noting the soft hissing of gas coming from the container.“B?” Dick said, crouching next to him. “What is it?”Prying open the broken container, Bruce grabbed one of the naloxone needles and held it up to his nose. “Fear gas. Likely dosed with kryptonite.”Dick swore. “How did it get in here? Where’s this shipment from?”“That’s what we need to find out,” Bruce replied. Then, to J’onn he said, “J’onn. Do we still have that sample of fear gas antidote in the medbay?”“Yes, would you like me to administer it?” J’onn asked.“No. You’re not inoculated. Nightwing and I are, we can do it. But I need you to replicate it. We’re going to need enough for everyone in the landing bay aside from Nightwing and myself, plus some extra, just in case.” Bruce pushed himself to his feet. The screams and whimpers of his teammates badgered for his attention, but he had work to do. He had to find out who they had bought the naloxone from, and who had laced it with kryptonite infused fear gas.Taking one of the unbroken needles, Bruce made his way over to the door and asked, “J’onn. Can you tell if the gas has been cleared from the room yet?”J’onn’s reply came a moment later. “It is gone. Do you want me to stop the lockdown?”“Only long enough for Nightwing and I to exit the bay,” Bruce told him. “There are probably a dozen superpowered heroes in here high on fear toxin. It would probably be best if they stayed here.”“Okay.”Bruce waited another moment or two before the door hissed open and he and Dick exited the landing bay. Once they were through, the door hissed shut behind them, cutting off the terrors of their friends and leaving them in silence while they made their way to the main level of the Watchtower.As they exited the elevator, Bruce immediately made his way to the nearest computer, ignoring the questions from Hal and Diana, and pulled up the shipment records. Behind him he could hear Dick speaking, but it wasn’t to him. Whatever was happening around him, Bruce pushed it to the back of his attention, focusing on the task at hand.The more he looked into where they had ordered the naloxone from, the shadier it seemed. At first look, the company that it had been purchased from seemed to be legitimate, even to him. But after a bit of digging, he discovered that it was a shell company for a different company. This company held up under his search. It was based in Gotham, and shipped through…Bruce cursed under his breath. He recognized where the shipment had come from. It was a warehouse run by Red Hood. The crime lord had suddenly jumped from being a minor inconvenience in Gotham’s underworld to prime suspect in Bruce’s mind.“What did you find?” Dick appeared at his shoulder, his eyes scanning the screen.“We need to go back to Gotham,” Bruce said. “We have a crime lord to speak to.”“And how do you suppose we do that?” Dick asked, shooting Bruce a look. “We haven’t been able to get anything on him in months. He’s not an easy person to get a hold of. It’s not like we can just call him up and ask to speak with him.”“How do you even know he’s the one who’s behind this?” Hal asked, coming up on Bruce’s other side.Bruce didn’t say anything at first, then, “I don’t know that he’s the one behind this. Which is why we’re not going to do anything until we have proof.”“And if you do not find this proof?” Diana asked, her tone implying just how little she liked the idea of waiting.“Then we pick him up anyway and try to get answers from him,” Dick replied. Bruce nodded, pushing himself to his feet and turning around. “In the meantime, we can analyze this sample of the tampered product and make an antidote.”Despite his words, Bruce had no intention of spending the next few days searching for proof that it was Red Hood who was behind this attack. The digital trail he had found just in that short span of time was enough to make him start to believe he had found the culprit. But he wanted to be sure. So, he was going to break down the contaminated compound to see what it could show him, and if, by the time he was finished with that, they hadn’t found any other suspects… Well, he had a plan in mind for how he would be able to trap Red Hood. All he had to do was call Captain Marvel and get him to help.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The sound of his heavy breaths filled his ears along with the tick, tick, tick of the bomb.

He paused his attempts to open the door, instead trying to catch what little breath remained in his punctured lungs.

But then, the ticking stopped.

His breath froze in his chest, and in the split second before time resumed, he found his mind replaying every good memory he had ever had.

And then the world went up in flames.

The world around him shook with the blast as he threw himself over his mother to shield her from the explosion. Chunks of the walls and ceiling crumbled quickly around them, crashing to the ground among the burning embers that erupted along anything that would burn.

Smoke filled the building as it collapsed around them.

He felt his skin melting into the beloved Robin suit he had worn with such pride. The brilliance of the sunshine cape he wore as a shield singed at the hem, the fire eating away at the fabric with an endless appetite. His failed promise to Dick burned with the mantle he had inherited from his brother. Any magic he had felt as Robin was incinerated as what little life he held onto began to fray at the edges.

And there, in the distance, the dark shadow of a father he had carelessly abandoned but who had come after him regardless.

Choking on the smoke pervading his lungs, he wished for a second chance. A second chance to do better. To

be

better.

If he could do it all again, would he be the same as he was?

If he could do it all again, would he still make the same decisions?

If he could make it past this moment, would he choose to be a better person? Would he try to fix all the things he had experienced in his life, prevent others from feeling as abandoned as he had?

In the seven minutes of life before death, Jason Todd wished he could imagine a better life for himself, but then the world went black.
  
He wasn’t alone when he woke up, his hands restrained behind him. His arms dug painfully into the chair he was tied to, his head hanging limply against his chest.

Pain radiated from the left side of his face, and as he started to open his eyes, he could see through the crack in his helmet.

Damn Captain Marvel.

He’d cracked Jason’s helmet.

Keeping still, Jason listened intently to the hushed conversations around him, but they were too quiet for him to pick anything up so he groggily lifted his head—which, thanks to Captain Marvel, was pounding with a major headache that bordered on concussion. As he lifted his head, he quickly took stock of his surroundings and silently cursed. He was surrounded by half a dozen members of the Justice League, including Batman and Nightwing, which meant he was likely on the Watchtower. To say he was screwed was putting things mildly.

Letting out a coarse laugh, Jason said, “I’m touched, you guys think I’m a big enough problem to warrant your attention.”

Bruce scowled at him.

“You wanted our attention?” Green Arrow asked. “Well, you got it.”

“Who said anything about

wanting

your attention?” Jason snarked back, the modulator in his helmet crackling from the damage. “If I wanted to get your notice, I would have done so.”

“Why did you do it?” Bruce asked.

Jason raised his eyebrow at the vagueness of the question, forgetting for a moment that none of them could see his face even with the crack in his helmet. “What exactly did I do? I’m afraid I haven’t broken a single one of your little laws so you have no grounds to—”

“Stop denying it,” Dick snapped, cutting him off. His tone had Jason shutting his mouth hard enough that his teeth clacked together. He was mad. No, more than that. Dick was

angry

.

Dropping the nonchalant attitude, Jason said, “I can’t stop denying something when I don’t even know what it is I’m being accused of.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” came a voice from behind him—Wonder Woman. “Let us just see who he is.”

Jason didn’t have a moment to process what she had said before his helmet was suddenly being lifted off his head.

Shoving down the panic at the forced reveal, Jason shook his head in an attempt to fix his helmet hair, then, meeting Bruce’s gaze he said, “Hey dad. I can explain.”

If there were crickets in space, Jason was sure they would have been chirping their little hearts out in the silence that chased after his words. Then Dick was bursting out in laughter. Bruce continued to stare at him in disbelief while the other League members looked nervously to Batman.

Between bouts of laughter, Dick turned to Bruce and said, “There’s no way he’s the one who laced the naloxone with kryptonite infused fear gas.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Jason asked, his eyes darting to Dick then back to Bruce. “B, what is he talking about? Naloxone laced with kryptonite infused fear gas?”

Bruce still didn’t say anything. He was staring dumbfounded at Jason, who was tempted to slip the cuffs they had put him in and slap Bruce from his stupor but decided it was best not to do that so as to show he would be cooperative—for now.

“Batman,” Wonder Woman had moved from her position behind Jason, stopping next to Bruce. She still held Jason’s helmet in her hand. “My suggestion still stands.”

“We went over that,” Green Arrow retorted. “Using your lasso to force the truth out of him isn’t—”

“Hey, if it means you lot realizing that I’m not behind this kryptonite fear gas, then go for it,” Jason interrupted, his eyes returning to Bruce. “I didn’t do this, B. You have to believe me.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Bruce, but his were on Jason.

“Batman, we don't have time for this,” Jason snapped. “Joker has Robin.”

That finally snapped Bruce from his thoughts. “What?”

Clenching his jaw, Jason slipped from the cuffs and stood. Storming over to Bruce, he got right up in his face and said, “Don’t you dare tell me that while you were busy up here doing who knows what, Robin has been in the hands of your greatest enemy for

days

and you didn’t know about it.”

Dick paled at Bruce’s side, no doubt thinking about where he’d been the last time this had happened.

“I can’t leave the Watchtower,” Bruce said at last, his voice pained. “Not after what happened.”

“Then let me go,” Jason pleaded. “Let Wonder Woman use her lasso to prove my innocence and let me go look for him.”

Bruce shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to.” Taking a step back, Jason looked at Wonder Woman and said, “Are we doing this or not?”

Wonder Woman looked to Bruce, who, reluctantly, nodded. Then she pulled her lasso from its place at her side and looped it over Jason’s shoulders.

“What is your connection to the contaminated naloxone?” she asked him after speaking her incantation to activate the truth compulsion abilities of her lasso.

Jason could feel the power thrumming through the rope around him. Could tell that if he so much as tried to resist that it would be painful. “It’s mine. I’m the supplier.”

“Explain,” Wonder Woman demanded.

Keeping his eyes on her, Jason replied, “Nearly a year ago I took over the drug trade in Gotham, but rather than pushing drugs through the already established channels, I’ve been distributing naloxone, joker gas antidote, fear gas antidote, you name it. Over the course of the next few months I expanded along a majority of the Eastern states and even into Europe and eventually the Middle East.”

Dick snorted, muttering, “Hiking in the Himalayan Mountains, huh?”

Jason felt the corner of his mouth twitch up in a half smile. “Not exactly.”

Wonder Woman turned to look over at Bruce, who had visibly lost some of the tension in his shoulders. Then she asked, “So you are not a drug lord?”

Jason shook his head. “Never have been.”

“Ever the golden child,” Dick muttered under his breath.

“That enough for you?” Jason asked, meeting the eyes of each hero standing in front of him. Wonder Woman. Green Arrow. Captain Marvel. Green Lantern. Nightwing, and eventually, Batman.

The others looked to Bruce, who nodded. Wonder Woman released the lasso and looped it back at her hip.

Rolling his neck, Jason stepped closer to Bruce once more. “You lied to me. Both of you. I called you and all you said was that T–Robin was

fine

.”

Bruce flinched.

“We didn’t know,” Dick told him. “We thought he was ignoring our calls.”

“How could you not know? He got taken when he went out on patrol against your wishes. Where were you when that happened? Not there.”

“Do you know where the Joker took him?” Dick asked, changing the subject.

Jason shook his head. “I have a few ideas of where to start, but I couldn’t exactly get anywhere because you decided to abduct me before I could.”

“I should be going with you,” Bruce said, his hands clenching at his sides.

“No, you should be here,” Dick told him. “With Superman and the rest of them still down for the count even after the antidote was administered, you’re needed up here.”

Bruce nodded reluctantly, leading the way to the transporter.

Pausing next to the control system where Bruce had stopped, Jason said, “I’ll keep you updated, just, keep your phone on, yeah?”

Then, reaching behind him, he grabbed Tim’s bo staff and handed it to Bruce. His father accepted it wordlessly, his fist clenching tightly around the bloodied metal before attaching it to his utility belt.

“Red Hood.” Jason turned to the person who had called his name, watching Wonder Woman approach, his helmet held in her outstretched hand. “I believe you will be needing this.”

Accepting the helmet, Jason replied, “Thanks.”

Pulling the helmet on, Jason stepped onto the transporter. When Dick didn’t join him, he asked, “Nightwing? You coming?”

Dick shook his head. “Not right now. I’ve got some things to finish up. I’ll join you later.”

Nodding, Jason turned his head back to Bruce. “Ready when you are, B.”

“Little Wing.” Jason shifted his attention once again to his brother as Dick said, “Bring him home.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Watchtower’s transporter dropped Jason off in the same alley where Captain Marvel had knocked him out. Giving the sky the middle finger, Jason made his way back to his bike. It was exactly where he’d left it. Which was a miracle in and of itself in this city.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Jason started the engine and… sat there. His mind was still reeling from the whole kryptonite fear gas. There were plenty of people with ample motive to want to take out the Justice League, but Jason had a feeling they were just a decoy. Like whoever had done it was trying to get them out of the way. He shook his head. Now was not the time to be focusing on that. That was Bruce’s problem to figure out.

He knew he was just stalling, but he really didn’t want to have to face what he had to do next. She was going to be so pissed with him.

Jason sighed. No point avoiding the inevitable.

His tires splashed through stagnant puddles as he sped for downtown Gotham. As he zipped through the streets, car horns honked at him, stopping only when those who knew saw his infamous red helmet. Before long, the old Gotham clocktower rose before him. He parked a few streets away then grappled up to a neighboring building before leaping onto the Clocktower’s roof and making his way over to the rooftop access door.

The door was probably locked, but he tried the handle anyway. To his surprise, it opened with ease, not even squealing as he swung it open and entered the building.

When he reached the bottom of the short staircase, he found himself at the end of a large gun. Barbara sat on the other side of the small room, aiming a shotgun—likely a gift from Alfred—at his chest.

“How did you get in here?” she asked.

Jason lifted his hands in the air as a sign of surrender, tilting his head to the side. “The door was unlocked.”

Barbara swore under her breath, muttering something about Dick never locking the door when he left. “What do you want?”

“I need your help, Barbie,” Jason told her.

Lifting an eyebrow, Barbara let out a laugh. “And what makes you think I would help a crime lord such as yourself?”

“Because,” Jason slowly moved his hands to his helmet and lifted it off his head. “Tim’s in trouble.”

“Jason?” Barbara gawked. “You’re Red Hood?”

He nodded.

“Do Bruce and Dick know?”

Jason scowled. “They do now.”

She gave him a questioning look.

Waving it off, Jason said, “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to find where the Joker took Tim.”

“What are you talking about?” Barbara asked.

“Could you put the gun down?” Jason retorted, looking pointedly at the weapon still aimed at his chest.

“Oh, right.” Barbara set the gun on the desk beside her then asked, “What do you mean the Joker took Tim?”

Taking a step closer, Jason said, “That’s what Stephanie told me. She said Tim went out after I left the Manor last week to make sure I got home and after briefly trying, and failing, to talk to him, she followed him. When she finally caught up to him, all she found was his bo staff covered in blood before she almost got hit by a van driven by the Joker.”

After he finished speaking, Barbara turned her wheelchair back to her computer and asked, “Where was she when she found the bo staff?”

Jason moved closer, stopping once he was standing next to her. “In the Burnley district. She didn’t tell me the exact location.”

Barbara nodded. “Okay. I can start scanning what cameras I can for footage, but that could take me a while.”

“That’s fine. I can go out on the streets, just let me know if you find anything,” Jason replied, taking a step back and putting his helmet back on.

As he turned to leave, Barbara said, “Wait. You’ll need this.”

Turning back to face her, Jason’s eyes went to the small earpiece in her hand. Accepting it, he thanked her and then spun on his heel before walking toward the door he’d entered from.

The sky was crying when he stepped onto the roof, the drops of rain smattering the concrete around him as he made his way over to the edge and leapt off. Aiming his grappling hook, he fired it off and swung down onto the street. His boots landed on the sidewalk with a thud. Once he reached his bike, he was quickly starting the engine then speeding down the streets heading north toward uptown Gotham where Stephanie had last seen Tim.

Lightning flashed in the sky as the light drizzle of rain turned into a downpour. Thunder rumbled in the distance as Jason rode across the bridge and into uptown Gotham. As he rode, he couldn’t stop the clawed fingers of his panic creeping back to the forefront of his mind. It took a great deal of effort not to focus on the terror sluicing through his veins.

Shaking himself from his rising panic, Jason nearly missed something in the alley to his right. Tires screeched as he came to a sudden stop. Turning into the alley, Jason climbed off his bike and walked further into the alley before coming to a halt in front of a bricked up wall lit by a dim light from above the door of one of the buildings.

His hands shook at his sides as he stared at the graffiti mural on the wall. He remembered seeing this piece of art before. It was an image of Batman and Robin swinging through the air. But someone had painted a red smile over Robin’s face, the red spray paint dripping down the image toward the blood covered utility belt lying abandoned on the alley floor.

Walking closer to the wall, Jason knelt and picked up the belt. Inspecting the contents, he pulled out a birdarang.

Cursing under his breath, Jason spoke over the comms, “I found his utility belt.”

Barbara’s reply came almost immediately, “Where are you?”

Jason gave her the location, then, after a few moments of waiting, asked, “You see anything?”

“Barely. I can only see partway into the alley, like, maybe a couple of feet past your bike,” Barbara told him. “Hold on a second, I’m going to rewind it back a couple of days.”

While she did that, Jason looked around him, inspecting the rest of the alley. The walls were clean—for an alley. But as he scanned the ground, he noticed the blood spatter. It made a trail from the wall until it abruptly halted halfway toward the entrance of the alley. Retracing his steps, Jason returned to the muraled wall and inspected it once more. His stomach churned as he leaned in close and caught a whiff of iron coming from the large red smile over the image of Robin.

“Red Hood?” Barbara said over the comms, her voice tight.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He answered. “You find something?”

She was silent for a moment, then, “Stephanie was right. Joker did take Tim. I followed the van as far as I could, but I lost it when it crossed the bridge into midtown.”

Jason huffed. “Great. So we’ve got nothing.”

Lifting up Tim’s utility belt again, Jason started examining it. As he began digging through the pouches, a piece of paper slipped from one of them and floated to the ground. Bending to pick it up, Jason unfolded it.

“I found something,” he said, reading and rereading the short message on the paper.

“What is it?” Barbara asked.

“A note,” Jason replied, staring at Tim’s handwriting on the small piece of paper. “I know where he took Robin.”

Shoving the note in his pocket, Jason clipped the utility belt around his own waist then ran over to his bike and climbed on, starting the engine. The rain continued to fall heavily on him as he sped through traffic, running multiple red lights on his way.

“Red Hood, where are you going?” Barbara asked. “Where is he?”

Jason didn’t answer.

“Red Hood answer me!” Barbara was practically shouting now. “What did the note say?”

Jason remained silent for a while, swerving around cars and through puddles. Then he found himself muttering under his breath, “This is all my fault.”

“Jason!”

Tuning out Barbara’s demands for answers, Jason turned a corner and pulled up in front of Ace Chemicals. Killing the engine to his bike, he climbed off and stared up at the towering building.

“Call B,” Jason said at last. “Tell him I’m at Ace Chemicals and to come if he can.”

Standing there, staring up at the barely visible building, Jason could almost imagine it being a warehouse in the middle of the desert. Could almost hear a woman’s voice speaking to a teenage boy as she revealed her betrayal. Distant thunder growled across the sky, but to Jason it sounded a bit too much like an explosion. The bright flash of lightning cracked above him, silhouetting the building before him.

Chatter in his ear turned to static as his mind replayed every hit of the crowbar. Every scream that had torn his vocal chords to shreds. Every vicious laugh that accompanied both.

And still, Jason’s feet kept moving. Closer and closer to the man who had very nearly killed him. But those steps also brought him closer to the boy he’d begun to call his brother.

In the face of his greatest fear, his love for his brother gave him the strength he needed to keep walking toward what could only be a trap. A trap set for Batman, but a trap nonetheless.

He wondered if the Joker would recognize him. Wondered if seeing the face of his nightmares would make him unable to save Tim from the fate he’d almost had. A fate that could only end with pain and regret.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Metal groaned as Jason opened the door and stepped inside. The comm piece in his ear went silent the moment the door closed. Drawing his guns, he started making his way through the building. Walking through the abandoned hallways, Jason had the feeling he was being watched from the shadows, but couldn’t see anything when he checked.The note he’d read replayed in his head as he stalked through the halls. Tim had known that the Joker might return to the place that had created him. Had been on his way there, alone. Jason knew his brother well enough to know that Tim wouldn’t have done that without having at least told Bruce or Dick. But they might not have believed him. Greatest detective in the world and Bruce wouldn’t even consider that the Joker would return to his origins.His footsteps echoed through the cavernous hallways he walked through. The sound haunting the building’s emptiness. Jason wondered if he could’ve been mistaken. Maybe Tim’s note had been wrong. Maybe the Joker wasn’t one to revisit his old haunts. Something metal clattered to the ground echoed off the walls, jolting Jason from his thoughts. Lifting his guns, Jason tried to pinpoint the sound. Then he was adjusting his route, taking the next left and entering a large room full of equipment. Aside from the factory equipment, the room appeared to be empty. But something still felt off as Jason moved closer to the equipment. It looked like some of it had recently been used. Something that shouldn’t have been true because nobody had stepped foot in the building since it was shut down years ago.Moving away from the equipment, Jason continued his search through the room until he rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was standing a few feet from him, their face covered in shadows. They were facing toward him, but Jason didn’t feel like they were looking at him.“Well, well,” An eerily familiar voice echoed through the room. “You’re not who I expected.”Casting his eyes around the room, Jason tried to locate the source of the Joker’s voice to no avail. When he completed his circle, the figure in the shadows was gone. “What, expecting someone like Batman to show up?” Jason asked, still looking for the Joker.“Something like that.” Came the reply.Jason shrugged. “Too bad, so sad. Now you get to deal with me. Where’s Robin?”Maniacal laughter rang through the room, and this time it wasn’t all in his head. “What do you care? You’re a crime lord.”“I have my reasons,” Jason responded, completing his scan of the room. His eyes returned to the empty space before him where previously the shadowed figure had stood, still as a statue.“Ooooh. Do tell.”Adjusting his grip on his guns, Jason replied, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”“I guess the saying’s true after all,” the Joker said, his voice suddenly much closer than it had been before. “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”Jason stiffened, spinning around just as the Joker swung his crowbar at his head. The hit sent him to the floor, his guns sliding across the surface as they were knocked from his hands. His already damaged helmet cracked further, and with a second hit, it split open and fell to the ground in pieces. One of the pieces pierced his skin, leaving a small cut on his face. He could feel the heat of his blood as a small droplet rolled down his cheek.Joker started laughing as he saw Jason’s face. Even with the domino mask he always wore underneath his helmet, Jason felt exposed. His heart pounded in his chest as he was forced to face his worst nightmare. His lungs were tight, refusing to bring in enough oxygen. “Boy Wonder! I knew you were still here in Gotham somewhere.” Joker brought his crowbar down toward Jason, but he managed to roll away from it and push himself to his feet before the hit could connect. “I was so sad to hear that you’d survived the explosion. And to think I’d worked so hard to put it all together. I had a feeling we might see each other again. Too bad you went and changed your name, otherwise we might have reunited sooner.”“Is that so?” Jason asked. His hands felt empty without his guns, but he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the Joker long enough to see where they’d ended up.“It is! I was just saying the other day that the two of you would get along great together,” Joker told him, the grin on his face wide and psychotic as always.Jason felt his face scrunch up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”“It really is too bad that Batman couldn’t be here to see this,” Joker continued, ignoring Jason’s question. “Guess he’ll have to miss the introductions.”“What—” Jason’s words got cut off by the sound of laughter behind him. Turning abruptly to face it, he searched the darkness for the source but came up empty.That was a mistake. Taking advantage of Jason’s distraction, Joker took the crowbar to his knee. Jason cried out, falling to the ground as the sound of bone breaking against metal filled his ears. His shout of pain muted the crackling static of a familiar voice returning in his ear. As he fell, Jason reached out blindly for one of his guns. His hand scrambled around for a moment before grasping one in his hand and aiming it at the Joker, who swung the crowbar at his hand, knocking the gun from it. Jason stifled another cry as he felt the bones in his hand crack under the force of the hit. Noise filled his head. 
Not again.

Notagainnotagainnotagain. 
This couldn’t be happening again. Cold metal struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Stars danced across the darkness that blossomed in his vision, his head hitting the concrete floor with a thud. He could taste the metallic stench of blood in his mouth. Joker swung the crowbar again, this time connecting with Jason’s back. Jason grunted. The air in his lungs quickly evacuating with the impact. His arms shook as he tried to push himself up, but Joker pushed him back down with the bottom of his foot with a laugh. Then, leaning down and grabbing Jason’s upper arm, Joker began dragging him into the shadows. Jason struggled against his grip, the movements sending him to near unconsciousness. “Now, now. None of that. There’s someone I want you to meet.”Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as he hoarsely said, “And what if I don’t want to meet them?”Joker laughed, throwing Jason in front of a metal table, looking like it had been taken right off the page from Frankenstein. Ignoring the pain radiating from most of his body, Jason forced himself to his feet. Reaching into the pouch at his waist, he pulled out a birdarang. His breaths shallow in his chest, Jason watched Joker move closer to the table then push a button on its side. Mechanical whirring filled the air as the table was tilted toward him. In the dimly lit room, Jason could barely make out the vague shape of a person shackled to the table. Shifting on his feet, Jason tried not to lean too heavily on his injured leg. “Red Hood,” Joker said, his grin widening as he pressed another button on the table, releasing its captive from the metal bonds at their wrists and ankles. “I’d like you to meet my son, Joker Junior.”His hands went slack at his sides, the birdarang clattering to the ground as he watched Tim, dressed to the nines in an identical outfit to that of the Joker, stepped off the platform. He wore a smile that rivaled the Joker’s in its manicness. Jason watched as he leaned his head back and laughed. The sound brought goosebumps to the surface of Jason’s skin. It was so similar to the laughs that often dragged him from his sleep. So similar to those belonging to the man standing beside him and claiming to be his father .“Robin,” Jason breathed, barely remembering not to use Tim’s real name.Jason barely heard the voice crackling in his ear as he subconsciously took a step closer to Tim. Tim who tilted his head predatorily to the side. Eyeing Jason like he wasn’t the brother who had stitched up his wounds and let him crash on his couch for a few days afterward, Tim turned to face the Joker, accepting the offered crowbar from the clown. He saw Joker’s mouth move, but the words didn’t reach his ears over the noise buzzing in them.Air whooshed as Tim swung the crowbar. In his shock, Jason didn’t move in time, allowing the crowbar to connect with his gut. He grunted at the impact, falling back a step. But he was still too slow to stop the next swing. Or the next. Blood splattered on Tim’s face, coating the white makeup in red, as he kept swinging. His laughter was joined by the Joker’s, the sounds making a haunting harmony in Jason’s ears. Despite his every instinct to do otherwise, Jason didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. If he fought back he’d be hurting Tim. Just as they had before, Jason’s cries of pain were the sole sound floating in the air. His blood coated the ground. Dripped from the crowbar. And sprayed Tim’s face with red. In a brief moment of reprieve, Jason looked up at Tim, the boy’s arms shaking as he held the crowbar, ready to strike again. Joker leaned in and whispered something in Tim’s ear. Jason didn’t need to hear what he’d said. He knew a kill order when he saw one. Tim’s arms trembled, and for a moment Jason could see the boy behind the painted mask. Could see the tears streaming down his cheeks. His brother was still in there. Still fighting to be free. But, beyond the horror in his eyes, Jason could see the pain behind the carefully crafted makeup. Joker had broken something in Tim. And Jason didn’t know if either of them was strong enough to break the hold the Joker had on them. So, rather than fight back. Rather than reply to Barbara’s voice in his ear begging him to respond. Jason made a decision he knew might destroy his family. He made a decision he knew neither him, nor Bruce, nor anybody else would be able to come back from. But he knew it was the right thing to do. Because it would bring Tim comfort. And in that moment, that was all Jason could do for his brother. “It’s okay,” Jason told him, his voice cracking as tears slid down his own face, the salt water mixing with the scarlet red of his blood. Tim shook his head ever so slightly.Jason nodded. “You’ll always be the little brother I never asked for.”Joker laughed. And laughed. “Batman isn’t coming to save you this time, Boy Wonder.”He was right. Bruce wouldn’t make it in time. If he could even manage to leave the Watchtower in the first place. Jason didn’t know if Barbara had told Bruce where he was. Didn’t know if she’d even heard him tell her where he was. In the final moments of life before death, Jason wondered if this was how it was always meant to be. Was he always destined to die at the Joker’s hands—even if it was through indirect methods? His near-death experience in Ethiopia had been one step away from being a full-death experience. One choice different from it being Jason buried under the rubble next to his mother. One small piece of the puzzle changed from Bruce dying with him in his arms as he protected him from the blast. So many things could have gone wrong that day. So many things had. And yet, both Jason and Bruce had walked out of there alive. The only person who had died was someone who might have deserved it. Sheila’s betrayal had stung deep in the moment. Her choice to turn on her own son had ultimately led to her own death, and Jason found that the wound had gone numb with time. Symmetry marked the two moments. Similarities popped out at Jason as his mind replayed the two scenes. They were both tied together with acidic green string. Something felt different about this one though. And Jason couldn’t help but think that it was good Dick and Bruce were off planet dealing with another problem. It was good that they wouldn’t be hurrying to save him only to realize that they’d arrived too late. Maybe it was better this way. Better for them to not have a choice in getting there too late to save Jason, but they would be there for Tim. He knew they would. Even if it was his fate to die at the Joker’s hand, it wasn’t Tim’s fate to fall. Tim would live to see himself become the kind of hero he’d looked up to his entire life. It wasn’t his fate to die a hero. It wasn’t his fate to live long enough to see himself become a villain. Jason wouldn’t let that happen. So he would offer Tim what he could.Forgiveness for an act that wasn’t truly his. “Do it,” Jason said, meeting Tim’s gaze, hoping he would see in his eyes that he meant it. He could see the moment his loving brother was once again overtaken by Joker Junior, his tearstained face turning to a psychotic grin once more, but as the crowbar swung down toward his head, he closed his eyes and said, “It’s okay.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Night air brushed his skin, blowing through his jacket and leaving him with a slight chill that seeped into his bones as his boots thudded on the blood spattered rooftop where a boy knelt next to his mentor. The others were there too, each of them scattered in various places across the roof.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around the young boy in a traffic light costume, trying to keep him from falling apart completely. Their faces were stained with their own tears, but they did their best to comfort the boy in their arms as he wailed, begging them to let him go. Pleading with the figure in front of him not to leave him. The girls whispered words of comfort in the boy’s ears. But he had a feeling the boy couldn’t hear them.

Another stood frozen a few feet away, the red of his suit a near match to the blood that seeped into the gravel covering the roof. He stared and stared at the unmoving figure laying prone next to the others. His statuelike stillness could almost be compared to that of the figure on the ground. Almost. If not for the rise and fall of his chest.

Gravel crunched beneath his boots, the soles of which were now likely stained with the blood of a loved one. As he approached, he braced himself for the image. Even still, he wasn’t prepared to see the pool of scarlet flowing from a bullet wound to the neck. Even still, he couldn’t bear to shift his gaze past the partially open mouth.

Somehow he found it in himself to look at the face beneath the cowl. Rage boiled in his gut as he took in the features of a beloved face. A face that didn’t belong to Bruce—for Bruce hadn’t been Batman in a long time, not since he’d disappeared and since been assumed dead.

No. It wasn’t Bruce lying dead on a random rooftop.

It wasn’t Bruce whose unseeing eyes stared up at the sky.

It wasn’t Bruce whose blood that coated Damian’s hands.

It was Dick.
 
Metal connecting with flesh filled the space above Jason’s head. Only it wasn’t his body that was hit. Peeling his eyes open, Jason watched as Tim swung the crowbar at the Joker. Anger and pain lined Tim’s face as he swung again and again until the Joker was no longer laughing. Until the clown had joined Jason on the ground.

New blood mixed with old as Tim’s attack drew blood from his new victim. The grin akin to that of the Joker was long gone, replaced with what was underneath. With the shattered remains of a brilliant detective who had undergone horrors Jason couldn’t even begin to imagine. Or maybe he could. Maybe he was the only person in the world who could understand just what Tim had been through.

The Joker collapsed beside him, his eyes closed as he passed out. Tim adjusted his grip on the crowbar, getting ready to swing again on his unknowing victim. Jumping to his feet, Jason bit down against the pain that tore through his leg as he put weight on it and grabbed Tim’s wrist before he could follow through.

Jason could feel the tremors in Tim’s arm. “It’s okay. You can stop now.”

All the anger and wrath melted from Tim’s face as his fingers peeled away from the crowbar, letting it fall to the ground with a clang, and leaving only the broken pieces of the boy he’d been. The only thing left in his face was grief and pain.

Releasing his grip on Tim’s wrist, Jason reached up and started wiping at the makeup. Tim’s arm dropped to his side. He let Jason wipe away the makeup on his face, his tears aiding in the effort. Once he was mostly finished, Jason pulled Tim into a hug. The action was the last thing holding Tim together. Sinking into the embrace, Tim fell to his knees. Jason went with him, clutching his brother close to his chest as sobs wracked his body. He felt Tim grip his jacket in his fists as he cried.

Only once Tim was wrapped in his arms did Jason remember the earpiece Barbara had given him. “Barbie?”

“Jason! Oh thank goodness,” Barbara replied, her relief evident in her voice. “Batman and Nightwing are on their way. Is Robin okay?”

Jason looked down at his brother, feeling his breathing getting slower. He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. He’s gonna be okay.”

That was when he heard the footsteps getting closer, two sets of them, moving quickly. Nudging Tim, Jason helped him to his feet just as Batman and Nightwing ran into the room. Tim stumbled over to Bruce, falling into his arms as Bruce wrapped them around him. Dick stopped next to them, seemingly unsure of whether Tim would accept a hug from them both.

Jason blew out a relieved breath.

It was over.

Joker had been wrong. Batman

had

gotten there in time.

Turning his head to look at Jason, Dick gave him a grateful smile, relief written all over his face even as worry creased his brow at the injuries covering Jason’s body. Jason returned the half-smile with one of his own. The movement hurt like a bitch, but it was worth it.

Bruce lifted his gaze to Jason, opening his mouth to speak, but then Dick was calling out his name, “Jason!”

Something sharp slid across his throat, cutting deep. Jason’s hand went to his throat, feeling the blood gushing from the wound as he fell back a step. He could hear the laughter of the Joker behind him as he dropped the weapon, the birdarang Jason had dropped upon first seeing Tim, and backed away to watch the chaos ensue.

Jason looked up to see Dick, Bruce, and Tim running toward him as he fell, first to his knees, then to the ground. In the span of a blink, his family was hovering over him. Bruce pulled him into his arms while Dick and Tim knelt next to him.

Warm blood gurgled up Jason’s throat as he looked Bruce in the eye and said, “I’m sorry I lied.”

“Shhh,” Bruce whispered, cradling Jason closer to his chest while pressing one hand against the wound. “Don’t worry about it. Just, hang on, okay? Hang on, Jaylad.”

Jason gasped for air, the effort futile as blood began to seep into his lungs. “Hurts.”

Bruce shook his head, looking away from him as silver started lining his eyes.

“Bruce.” When Bruce didn’t look at him right away, he said, “Dad. Please.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bruce let the tears fall down his cheeks before opening them again and meeting Jason’s eyes and saying, “I know. I know it does. I’m so proud of you, Jay. Just hang on a little longer.”

His breaths were getting caught in his throat. He could see the darkness settling in.

“Dad,” he whispered. “I lo-ove y-you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He was surrounded by nothingness.

It wasn’t dark. Nor light.

Only nothing.

It wasn’t warm. Nor cold.

Only empty.

He felt no pain. No bliss. No anger. No sadness.

Only numbness.

And it stayed like this.

Until there was everything.

It all happened at once.

He felt as though he’d been drenched in agony. As though he could feel his bones knitting back together. As though his very cells were forging themselves from nothing. His throbbing head was suddenly an unforgettable presence in his thoughts. The aching in his chest burned with the wounds he didn’t know he had as something seared its way into his flesh.

His sense of touch came first. At first it was empty, and then he could feel the liquid around him. Could feel the way his body soaked up its tainted strength. He felt it share that strength with him, but he didn’t want it. Didn’t want that burning liquid to consume him.

Then came his sight. Where once there had been nothing, now there was green. Green all around him, but it wasn’t that same acidic green that had locked him away with an explosive. It was a dark all-consuming green that sought to bring him back from a place he couldn’t remember.

His hearing came last. The sounds of his underwater screams reaching his ears at last, the bubbles rising to the surface. He could hear the movements of his body falling through the depthless pool of corrupted life-giving water. Could see the streams of bubbles floating above him as he sank. Could feel the water moving along his skin.

Suddenly, his downward motion stopped and began to reverse. He was viciously pulled upward until his body broke the surface, an agonized scream tearing through his chest and up his throat as frigid air met newly formed skin.

The ceiling above him was distorted as he blinked away the water from his eyes. All around the pool, figures in cloaks hovered. They watched him as he lifted foreign limbs, examining a body that was much too large to be his own. Turning his head, he met the eyes of a woman familiar to him yet still a stranger. And next to her, stood a man, ancient and ageless, victory alight in his eyes.

A dream so fantastical it could never have been real drifted from his memory. He tried to grasp it in his hands, but it slipped away from him, taking with it the what ifs and the happy endings.

He wasn’t meant for a happy ending.

Nothing ever lasted in this life. Not for him anyway.

Nothing good would ever come of being the Robin who died.

Nothing good ever lasted for the boy named Jason Todd.