Chapter Text
Tim had predicted two potential responses to his hug.
Reaction number 1: Jason resisted.
When Jason was Robin, he made a show of it when Bruce or Dick tried to hug him. Besides, people didn’t like touching Tim. He’s reasonably certain the only reason Dick hugged him was that it was one of his core character traits. Marking Dick as the exception, the other data points were rather damning.
Once, Tim had photographed Batman tugging Robin into a tight hug after Robin missed a landing and nearly tumbled off a roof. A few weeks later, Tim crashed while skateboarding in front of his parents. Dad had rushed over, leaning towards him. Tim tried to return the hug, but his dad smacked his arms away and grabbed the splintered skateboard. Tim lay sprawled on the ground, palms bleeding, wrist and hip throbbing, as his dad lectured him over the price of the skateboard. After the lecture ended, Tim crept into the house to bandage his sprained wrist by himself.
Tim shoved aside the memory, squeezing Jason tighter.
Reaction number 2: Jason hugged back.
Here, Tim was banking more on Jason’s heroic nature and the past pattern of hugs, specifically Jason holding him in the grave, and when Robin had rescued Tim from the gargoyle.
But nope.
Jason remained…
limp.
Resigned. Drained of any fight or passion that made Jason… well, Jason.
Perhaps he was in shock? Surprised someone knew? That someone cared? If Tim died and came back, he’d be worried about being wanted.
“We missed you,” Tim promised.
Jason didn’t reply for a moment. “You don’t even know me, kid,” he said finally, his low voice coming out gravelly through the voice modulator.
Tim cringed, thinking back to his stalker days. "Well, actually…” He moved back and ducked his head. “We’ve met before.”
“When?”
Tim chewed his cheek for a moment, glancing at where Jason slumped against the cot.
“…You got me down from the gargoyle.”
There was a pointed pause.
“Baby stalker.”
“I wasn’t stalking!” Tim did not sound defensive, thank you very much.
Jason crumbled even further before moving like he was leaving.
“Wait, where are you going?”
Jason ignored him, but thankfully paused. Tim grabbed his oxygen canister and circled in front of Jason, unsure what to do if Jason moved towards his bike. Jason did not look in any way, shape, or form ready for a fight, but neither did Tim, and Jason had a foot and a hundred pounds on him. If Jason wanted to leave, Tim could not stop him. Didn’t change the fact that it was a really, really stupid idea. Even by Tim’s standards.
Jason buckled.
“Jason!” Tim lunged forward.
But Jason controlled his fall and collapsed back against the cot. Which was good. What was Tim going to do? Catch him?
“Jason…?”
No reply. Okay, not so good. Tim crept forward.
“Jason?”
Tim sighed with relief as Jason raised his head and then frowned at the lack of acknowledgement. With the red helmet, Tim couldn’t parse Jason’s expression, but his body language was limp like a bloodied rag. “Jason, you okay?” Nothing. Could Jason even see him right now?
Tim clapped his hands sharply, but Jason’s head just dipped back down. Okay, cool, dissociating crime lord. He bit his lip and desperately glanced around for something to help Jason, like a weighted blanket or ice. Both of which were in the Manor, weren’t they?
He stepped away, then hesitated. Jason would be fine…
Right?
But what if he recovered and left while Tim was gone? Tim could not let Jason leave. Not yet. Tim stepped toward Jason to be there, so Jason wouldn’t be alone as he drifted, when a speaker in the Cave crackled.
Tim whipped towards the batcomputer on the other side of the Cave.
Shit, shit, shit, shit―
“Go. I’ll watch him,” an electronic voice said.
S.H.I.T.
“Oh, um― Hi, O.” Tim smiled innocently at the main camera over the batcomputer. “I can explain.”
“Really?”
“Mmmhmm… you see… wait. How long have you been watching?” Tim asked. “Just so… Ya know, I’m not repeating anything you already know… Of course.”
“Of course.”
Tim opened his mouth and then closed it. “Don’t tell, B?”
A snort told Tim what Babs thought about that idea.
“Go,” Oracle ordered him again. “Grab your comm. And maybe this time, leave it on? I must say, it was lovely waking to a missing Robin and having no way to reach him.”
Tim winced; he’d turned off his comm when he commandeered Jason’s bike. Considering the not-so-sanctioned act he’d been about to commit, he’d wanted to limit the extent of the digital record he’d have to erase.
Like a disobedient child underneath a parent's withering gaze, Tim scurried around the Cave. As he took the blood sample from Jason’s injury and put it in a DNA sequencer, his mind raced to figure out how to turn this situation around. He’d hoped to puzzle out what to do with Jason before the rest of the family knew. Stupid, exhausted brain forgetting Babs would find out because it was Babs.
Though… she hadn’t found out soon enough to save him. Which was fine. There was no reason for the thought to sting as it did. He sighed, starting the machine. Later. He’d figure this all out later.
Focus, Robin. Wait, no, not Robin. Not for long―
Tim shoved that thought aside too. That wasn’t the problem or priority right now. What was the problem was dealing with the dissociating drug lord behind him. Tim took a deep breath, knowing he’d reached his dallying limit, and slipped on an active comm. As he warily climbed the stairs to the Manor, Oracle’s voice crackled in his ear. He prepared for a lecture.
“Are you okay?”
Tim almost tripped on a step, nasal cannula jerking painfully. “Uh, fine.”
“Robin.”
The name made Tim’s stomach twist. “I’m fine. Minimal scrapes and bruising, a migraine, and elevated breathing. I get worse on my average patrol.” Tim closed the doorway to the Cave and shuffled toward the kitchen.
“We both know that’s not what I mean, R.”
Tim remained silent.
“What happened?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Robin,” Oracle warned. “Report.”
Tim stopped halfway to the kitchen, letting his head thunk against the wall. Fifteen seconds. He’d give himself fifteen seconds. “I went on patrol. I know it was dumb. But I thought… I thought I could check out some leads at Crime Alley. I… I can’t remember, I just know― I woke up in a coffin.” Tim inhaled sharply, shutting out the memories. It felt like a lifetime ago. It had only been an hour. “Red Hood was on the comms, he... helped me. Found me, got me out. And well, I took him here.”
His fifteen seconds were up. Tim moved. He traveled the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence. “O?” He said as he stepped over the threshold.
“Don’t ever do that again. Do you understand me, Timothy Jackson Drake?”
Tim flinched from her tone. “Yes,” he whispered. Oracle had never sounded so pissed. “I’m― I’m sorry.”
“Do you realize―“ Oracle cut herself off. “I’m glad you’re safe. For your own sake, you should also be glad because I would have hunted you down and killed you myself if someone murdered you.”
“Um, Oracle. I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“Yes, it is because I say it is,” Oracle replied flippantly before her voice hardened again. “We will be talking about this later.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Now, I’m going to ask again. Are. You. Okay?”
Tim paused in front of the cabinet. Was he fine? No. Absolutely not. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, not tonight. He was functioning, which was more than could be said of the other current occupant of the house, and functioning was good enough for him.
He’d unpack everything later. Or never.
Besides, Robin needed help. The actual Robin. Solving the Caped Crusader's problems was the whole reason why Tim was here. He came because Robin was gone, but that had changed. Jason was back; The trick was to ensure he stayed back.
“How is he here, O?” Tim said instead, setting a teapot on the stove before hunting for a weighted blanket and pillows.
Oracle let it go with an annoyed sigh. “Are you sure it’s actually him?”
“Positive.”
“Robin.”
“…87% positive. Still haven’t ruled out clone.”
Oracle sighed again. “We’ll know in a few minutes anyway. Regardless, we will need to detain him.”
Tim almost dropped the weighted blanket he found. “What? Why would we do that?”
“He’s unstable, Robin.”
“But it’s Jason.”
“Might be,” Oracle corrected.
Tim pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s him.”
Oracle quieted for a moment. “Even if it’s him, we can’t let him go,” she said uncharacteristically gently. “We don’t know what’s happened to him. But he’s not… the same. The pattern of behavior over the past two months indicates a highly unstable individual.”
“Wouldn’t you have changed, too, if you died?” Tim snapped, piling up pillows.
Oracle was gracious enough to ignore the bite; she really did have the patience of Alfred. “He needs help, Robin.”
Okay… that was fair. Tim shoved another pillow under his arm.
“Help that he won’t get if he goes back on the streets,” Oracle continued.
Again, good point. Tim stalked back to the kitchen. “Jason won’t react well.”
“I know.”
Tim dumped the blankets and pillows on the kitchen counter along with the oxygen canister, the sharp rattle of metal on marble echoing through the cold room. He grimaced. Oracle was, unfortunately, right. Tim knew better than anyone that Jason wasn’t… well.
Jason needed help. Serious help, spend life in therapy kind of help. From what Tim pieced together, it was no wonder he’d gone slightly murderous. It wasn’t like he had other coping mechanisms. How do you cope with waking up in a coffin?
Regardless, Jason was extremely traumatized, prone to irrational and sudden breakdowns― whether violent or dissociative― and dangerous. Tim hadn’t forgotten that Red Hood had carried around a duffel bag of heads. It was hard to reconcile his child hero with a murderer, but the harsh reality remained. Jason was a criminal― well, they were all criminals, but he’d crossed even their line― Batman’s line.
Jason had killed.
He should be arrested. That made logical sense. Tim knew it did, but… “We’d lose him, O. We can’t―”
“Explain.”
“Why didn’t Jason come back?”
“Might be Jason,” Oracle corrected again.
“Humor me.”
“…Considering we are looking at almost three years of unaccounted history, who’s telling what happened to him to make who he is now? That is irrelevant to the fact that Red Hood is a volatile killer.”
Tim noted the use of ‘Red Hood’ and ‘killer’. He briefly wondered how Oracle viewed Red Hood. He had assumed her opinions matched Batman’s since she fully backed his attempts to apprehend him. Did Oracle not view Jason as a murderer? It was the accurate term, as Jason had unlawfully and intentionally killed, and Oracle always chose the most accurate terms― to her.
“What do you think of Red Hood?”
The line quieted.
Tim added tea leaves and honey to the water. His throat ached from his strained lungs and how much he had talked; Jason must feel the same. “Come on, O. I know you’ve thought about this.”
“I think he’s a tripwire waiting to snap,” Oracle sounded almost sad. Strange.
Tim hummed in reply while he hunted down his phone.
“I’ve investigated every one of his kills. He’s never killed someone ‘innocent’, but that’s only a matter of time. At some point, his tactics will lead to civilians getting caught in the crossfire, and I see no difference between someone pulling the trigger themselves or prepping someone else with a gun and having them do it. His tactics have stabilized areas, but also led to others being incredibly unbalanced. Gotham is an inch away from an all-out gang war, and casualties if that happens could be catastrophic. And that’s not even my largest concern.”
“And that is?”
“He reminds me of Batman.”
Tim slipped his phone into his pocket. “How is that?”
“Why does Batman not kill?”
“Because it would destroy the entire message Batman sends?”
“Partly, but that’s not the actual reason,” Oracle said. “Look, there is a reason why I have multiple contingencies for B. No stable individual dresses up like a bat and fights crime.”
Tim kept his shut mouth at that while he strained the leaves and poured the tea into two mugs.
“Batman knows that,” Oracle continued. “And that’s why he doesn’t cross that line, because if he does, he will snap. Now, Red Hood exhibits the same single-minded, focused obsession, but he already has. How long can Red Hood continue like this before, by his own standards, someone should put a bullet in his head?”
Tim set the two mugs of tea down, staring down at his reflection. Oracle has a point. But she’s also wrong.
“Batman won’t cross that line.”
“Robin…”
“No. He almost killed the Joker.”
“Timmmm,” Oracle said slowly, “how do you know about that?”
“Found the footage when I was digging up everything I could on Jason’s death,” Tim said as he stacked pillows and blankets strategically around his arms. “But look. Batman didn’t cross that line because he had people in his life keeping him in check. Red Hood is at risk because he has no one to hold him accountable. No one to make sure he doesn’t step too far.”
“Point, but I don’t see how that changes things.”
“He’s actively worked against Batman,” Tim explained. “He’s angry, Oracle. And hurt. If we lock him up after I said it was safe for him to come back. After I twisted his arm to bring me here… that would be it. That will be what finally makes him snap.”
“Yes, he’s… killed people, but Jason is still in there. Look, Hood hated Robin. Jason saved me anyway.”
“Robin―”
“You weren’t there. Did you know Jason crawled out of his own grave?”
“What?”
“He said… Hood said he was buried alive. Or at least implied it. But when I figured out it was Jason… it makes sense. Kinda. Point being, despite the fact I know Jason was fighting an anxiety attack the entire time, he spent hours searching the city, before spending another hour digging out my grave by hand. Please. He’s hurting. We could still save him. We could still bring him back. But locking him up. Arresting him. Or even forcing him to stay here. Will ruin any chance.”
Oracle was silent.
“Please. Just check the comm recordings from midnight to 4:00. See for yourself. And then I guess if you still think that…”
“Fair enough.”
Tim picked up the mugs, oxygen canister tucked under his chin, and started his precarious trip back towards the Cave.
“Warning, though. I alerted N of your nighttime adventure. He’s roughly an hour out.”
Shit.
“Does he…”
“He knows Red Hood is here. He doesn’t know he’s Jason.”
“You can’t tell him,” Tim blurted.
“Why not?”
“Because you know how he’ll react. If he knows Jason is alive, he won’t let him leave. And Jason…” Tim trailed off as he caught sight of the figure huddled against the cot. “Jason, can’t. Look at him, O. I don’t think he can…”
Oracle sighed again, long and hard. A wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Babs was supposed to be resting from the fear toxin. “You’re right,” Oracle conceded, “But I also have yet to agree to letting Jason leave.”
Tim was too exhausted to argue further. “Thank you, O.”
“Anytime, Robin.”
Tim walked over to Jason, carefully setting down the mugs before spreading the weighted blanket over him. Jason jolted, muscles tightening, before he relaxed slightly. Tim piled the pillows around them, shifting a pillow behind Jason and crafting a makeshift nest.
“You should call, N,” Oracle commented.
Tim hesitated, eyeing the machine still processing the results.
“He’s worried, Robin.”
He caved, turning away. “Watch Jason for me?” He whispered softly.
“Of course.”
Tim quickly stepped into the changing rooms, removed the nasal cannula, yanked off his sweaty costume, and doused himself with water. He slipped on ratty sweats, a thick sweatshirt, and checked his oxygen levels before rehooking up the nasal cannula. Pulling out his phone, Tim paused to stare miserably at the screen. Dick was going to kill him.
He answered on the first ring.
“Are you okay?” Dick demanded, voice hard with worry.
Tim cringed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Tim.”
“J― Hood is more injured than I am.”
“What happened with Hood?”
Tim forced his breathing steady. No reason to worry Dick further. Yet, his mouth betrayed him, voice cracking. “It― it was metal? And he had to shoot―” dammit, Tim, keep it together, he lectured himself. He stayed steady for Oracle, but when it came to Dick on the line, his voice filled with far more concern than seemed warranted. It was hard to be okay.
Tim cleared his throat. “Anyway, there was shrapnel, and he was hit, and yeah. But he’s okay! Maybe a little weak with blood loss.”
Another voice joined the call. “Hood got hurt shooting the hinges of the coffin to get Robin out,” Oracle explained.
“Yeah, that.”
“Okay. And you are sure you’re okay?” Dick continued.
Tim patted himself over. “Yes.”
“Good, that’s good.” Dick took a deep breath. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”
Ah, there it is.
“Sorry?”
“SORRY? That’s it!?”
“Sorry,” Tim whispered again, voice small.
“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?! You almost died, and all you can give me is ‘sorry’?”
Tim took a deep breath.
And lost it.
“Yeah, that’s it. Sorry. What else am I supposed to say?
“Go ahead, berate me for how much of an idiot I was for only trying to help. You and B never shut up about the danger Red Hood posed, going on and on, but refusing to give even the smallest details on the case, and instead, locking me in the Cave, barely letting me leave either of your sights for patrol, and wouldn’t even answer my fucking questions! I had to dig that up on my own! And I know what the name Red Hood does to you guys. I’m not stupid. The only reason I’m even here is because of that damn clown, so forgive me for trying to keep doing my job, which, may I remind you, is keeping Batman from killing himself!”
Tim panted― his anger and humiliation for the fucking shitshow of a night, at Jason not returning when he had been alive for at least months, towards Dick for choosing Damian over him, and lastly, at himself― bled out faster than a slit throat.
He collapsed against the wall, tears welling up in his eyes. “I was just trying to help,” he croaked. Just trying to help. Like always. But once again, it was never enough. He screwed up, and someone was disappointed in him. Again.
“Tim…”
Tim wiped his face, flushing with horror when he realized he’d yelled at Dick. Swallowing thickly, Tim forced himself upright. “Sorry.”
For a moment, all the line was, was static. “No, you’re not the one who should apologize,” Dick said slowly before a long pause. “I’m sorry, Tim. You’re right. We shouldn’t have shoved you out of the case like that. And I’m sorry for leaving.” Dick took a deep breath. “There’s more I want to say, but I think that will need to wait until I’m home.”
“Okay,” Tim whispered.
“Look, I want you to stay away from Red Hood, alright?”
“But―”
“I know. O texted me. He’s the one who saved you. But he’s dangerous. I want you to stay away from him until I’m there. O said he’s not going anywhere for a while, so I want you to leave him alone.”
“Okay,” Tim said again, crossing his fingers.
Dick released a slow breath. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon. About 45 minutes out. Just hang tight, okay?”
“Mmhm.”
Tim moved to hang up.
“And Tim?”
Tim paused.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
Tim smiled cautiously. “See you soon.”
He hung up and groaned, rubbing his forehead, but it failed to ease the sledgehammer rattling around in his brain. How did he fix this? How did he fix Jason?
Tim grabbed his oxygen canister and trudged back to the DNA sequencer.
[Match]
Tim allowed a quick, pleased smile to cross his face before he returned to his patient. Jason hadn’t shifted, body stiff yet empty at the same time. The nest of pillows and blankets at least softened the sterile clinic area.
Tim lifted the mugs from the cot and sank onto his own pillow, side by side with Jason, oxygen canister against his ankle.
And oh no, sitting down was a bad idea. Exhaustion seeped up through Tim’s veins, the adrenaline trickling to a drip. He shifted so the cold metal of the cot dug obnoxiously into his back to stay awake.
The blank white lenses of the helmet stared blankly at Tim. Rather creepy.
Tim cradled his own mug against his chest and offered Jason the other.
It took a few minutes, but Jason finally moved. Rigid arms reached up, fingers fumbling around the helmet. He did a weird, complicated pattern with his fingers before the helmet unlatched and slipped free. It dropped against the stone with a harsh crash.
Tim stopped breathing for a second. There was no mistake; it was Jason Peter Todd-Wayne. Sure, an older, rougher, grittier version, but undoubtedly him. The starkest difference were the sharp, green eyes and white tuft of hair in his black curls. Tim eyed the vibrant green eyes curiously. What had caused that?
Tim eased one of the mugs into Jason’s hands. “Not as good as Alfred’s, but my mom is pretty particular with her teas.” He wasn’t sure if Jason could listen right now, but talking won over sitting in the chilly, stilted silence of the Cave. “No son of mine will fail to know how to make a proper cup of tea.” Tim quoted with an awkward laugh. “Well?”
Jason blinked at the mug, seeming to finally realize it was tea. With mechanical movements, Jason took a sip. “It’s… nice.”
Tim smiled and let them settle into a steadier silence. He had 45 minutes till Dick arrived, and he either needed to a) somehow convince Jason to stay or b) convince Oracle to let Jason leave. Not the worst. Timing had been tighter... a specific coffin came to mind.
Questions were the obvious approach. But what to ask?
“How did you know?”
Tim startled, jerking his head to look at Jason. He blinked, mind scrambling. He’d been too busy thinking about what to ask; he’d failed to consider what questions Jason had. Oversight on his part. “Well… a lot of things. But…”
Throughout the night, little clues had built and built before reaching their natural conclusion. But which one had finally done Jason in? Which one had been the tiny detail leading Tim to bring Jason back despite it going against every form of logic to exist? It clicked, and Tim set down his cup.
“Everything was…” Tim shut his eyes, hugging the pillow as he allowed his mind to sink back to the night. The flashes of fighting, the sudden new memory of someone grabbing him, the dawning horror of waking in a coffin, the shock and relief as someone yanked him out of an anxiety attack, the terror, the bantering, the storytelling… he let his mind flick to the muddy pit. The ripped-open coffin gaping behind him, as rain hailed from the sky, the glow of the flashlight casting everything ghastly, sickly white. “Everything still is… a blur. But. I think the first moment I actually thought it, even though I didn’t realize it at the time, was well…” a smile pulled on his lips as he remembered the strong arms that had found him. “When you hugged me.”
Jason stared hollowly at Tim, something aching in his unnatural, green eyes.
“You hugged just like Robin did when he saved me.”
“How?”
Tim cocked his head and tilted his back, spine scraping against the cot. “I know my hugs.” A surprising fact considering how few he received, but like gold, rarity increased value. Every single one he could recount as if it were happening now. When he was three, Dick Grayson hugged him at the circus, and the night ended as the most influential event of his life.
Years passed before he was held again, and even then, few and far between, but he burned each one into his mind. So while the number of hugs he’d received was laughably low, Tim fancied himself an expert.
“Sure, you’re like a tank now, and I have a lot of questions about that by the way, but,” he smiled again. “Everyone has their own unique way of hugging.”
Jason swallowed, a tear slipping free, voice barely a hoarse whisper as he asked, “And how do I hug?”
Tim paused and closed his eyes. Within Jason’s voice lay a broken desperation cutting Tim a little too close to home. The craving, gaping desire to be wanted. For someone to look at your life and all its crumbling pieces, the fucked up parts hidden in the closet, the pile of failures one more away from collapse, and still give a damn. Still stay. Still say that you― brokenness and all― were enough.
Perhaps Jason staying didn’t require a clever little plan, or finding the right question to uncover the secret to why Jason left... Perhaps Jason didn’t need to stay at all.
“Fiercely.”
A second tear joined the first, sliding down Jason’s face.
Tim’s mind flicked back to the second hug he’d ever received. Robin’s. It had been a cold night, cold even for Gotham’s standard. Someone had locked the gate down to the fire escape, not realizing Tim was there.
Then it had begun to rain.
He was trapped by a gargoyle, slowly dying to hypothermia. Then, in a blur of red, green, and yellow, Robin scooped him up and set him down on another roof. There, Robin had held him. Like all the others, it was burned into Tim’s memory, and nothing could erase how it felt to be hugged by Robin.
Perhaps what Jason needed was someone, for once, to show the same bullheaded resolve back at him.
“You handle hugs the way you handle anything in life. That through sheer willpower and spite you can make it better. When you give a hug, it lets me know that it will be okay, because you will make it okay.”
Tim stared at Jason to make sure he got it.
Perhaps Jason failed to grasp that someone could care. “I don’t know what happened since… Look. I don’t know what’s gone on, and I don’t really care who you are now. You were― are― my hero. And nothing will ever change that.”
The steady storm of tears building in Jason’s eyes broke free. Jason buried his head into his arms, and Tim set down his mug, wrapped his arms around Jason, and held him like Robin had held him up on that rooftop and Red Hood had in that grave.
Fiercely.
Jason drifted. He wasn’t sleeping yet. He wasn’t disconnected like before either. He simply… hung between darkness and consciousness. The kid had passed out on Jason’s shoulder. It had been kinda adorable watching the kid try to fight it, but adrenaline crashes were one hell of a withdrawal. He could follow, but something hissing in his mind stopped him. In the center of the haze, he couldn’t remember why it was so important he didn’t crash here on the floor, but the warning bells ringing in his head were too relentless to ignore.
“Hood.”
Somewhere, a part of him screamed to Get Up. But he was tired.
“Red Hood.”
Still, he refused the tug of sleep; the self-discipline beat into his body holding. Talia would be proud. After all, he was in unsafe territory. He couldn’t sleep here.
“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne.”
The mechanical voice sheared through the haze, and Jason jerked.
Tim stirred at the motion while the voice echoed again, and Jason bit back a curse. He eyed the Cave but found no one.
“If you plan on leaving, you need to go,” an electronic voice continued, echoing softly from the batcomputer.
Jason’s tightened muscles relaxed. “Oracle,” he greeted tiredly, head dropping against the cot, Tim slumped over on his shoulder. Oracle. The mysterious badass hacker backing the Bats. Babs, if Jason had to guess. Someone who knew him from before.
…Shouldn’t that mean something to him?
Jason swallowed, the cold realization creeping down his back. He’d never thought about Babs until today. Had his mind really been so entangled with the Bat and clown that he’d never stopped to think about Babs? Not Oracle. But Babs. His pseudo-older sister, who tutored him, snuck books into his backpack and helped him play pranks on Dick.
And he hadn’t. Instead, he had only ever thought of her injury to further fuel his fury against Batman for letting that monster live.
But not her.
The old Jason would have. Red Hood shut his eyes, cutting off that train of thought. “You’re letting me leave?” he asked hoarsely.
There was a long silence, enough time for Jason to raise his head and find the batcomputer camera trained on him.
“Today.” Oracle finally replied. “As a thank you for saving Tim.”
Jason nodded, glancing down at the kid curled up next to him. Fuck, even sleeping, the kid looked exhausted. Tim would be pissed he left but…
While Jason’s head was hollow, body numb, and heart dead, the instinct woven into him and trained into a weapon in and of itself― the instinct to survive― forced him to his feet.
Jason didn’t know what would happen if he stayed here, but some part of his mind―
He couldn’t― it wasn’t even a possibility in his mind. He needed space to unclutter the jumble his brain had become― somewhere even the rats didn’t care about for when the Pit came crawling back. He needed to go. Because the Cave was for Bats and Birds, the Manor for family, and Jason wasn’t either.
Jason eased out from beside Tim with the caution and precision of a brain surgeon. Tim stirred but didn’t wake. Jason draped the weighted blanket Tim had given him back over the kid. His foot knocked against his helmet, and Jason took a slow breath before slipping it on.
“Hey, Jason.”
He expected it, but Bab’s calm voice iced his veins. Jason limped away from Tim toward the computer. “Hey.”
“I would remove the footage of the Cave and the comm recording for the night. However, if Batman knows I was the one who did it, it will be pointless. I’ll guide you through how to do it.”
Straight to business, like always. Fuck, he’d missed that: zero tolerance for bullshit or useless meandering around the bush. Bruce should have taken notes. Jason sank into the chair. “Why are you helping me? And don’t say because of Tim. The actual reason.”
Static.
“I don’t know,” Oracle finally admitted. “So you better hurry up before I change my mind.”
He smiled sadly at the bluntness. It echoed vaguely of Talia― and wow, that combo never should end up in the same room. On the other hand, maybe that was precisely why Jason should introduce the two. Not that Babs wanted anything to do with him, or the fact that he remained unsure where she resided on his ‘Have Shit With’ list.
With her instruction, Jason hacked into the batcomputer. Before he erased the video footage of the cave and deleted the comm recording, a thought struck him. He grabbed Tim’s mug, jotted a quick note, and placed the mug over it on the desk, before clearing all evidence of his involvement, then logged off.
And sat there in the chair. If Jason were better at imagination, he could almost trick himself into believing it was old times. Babs holding a finger to her lips as she taught Jason how to hack right under Bruce’s nose―
Fuck. He forgot about that. How many memories could one night drag up?
“You need to leave,” Babs prompted through his comm.
Jason snapped back to the present, cursing. He heaved himself up, ensured Tim was settled, and headed to his bike, but stopped. Jason looked at the damn glass case with the torn costume. And felt nothing.
He mock-saluted the camera over the batcomputer― like a good little soldier― and left the Cave.
The rainstorm had returned with a vengeance, a sheet of water falling from the sky. His bike skidded through the currents of water, the sting of icy droplets against his skin welcome. At least he felt them.
“Can I ask you a question, Hood?” Oracle asked as Jason shot out of Bristol and into Gotham.
Hood. Not Jason.
Nice to know where he stood.
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
Jason clenched the handlebars. Why indeed. Jason could give answers all the way back to his safehouse, most laced with sarcasm, many bitter and pointed, and half gunning to start a fight. If someone had asked him yesterday, it was because Batman didn’t deserve him back. If someone had asked him an hour ago, it would have been why go back to a lie? But now… “I’m not Jason.”
He knew he’d changed. But he’d considered it the natural reckoning of a naive kid learning the dirty, harsh truths of a cruel world. He couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Being back in the Cave, he remembered Jason. For once, he remembered the time before, without anger, without the Pit, without the excuses built up by the convenience of not having to see the truth.
He’d been a rough kid. Brash, vengeful-tempered, crude, but so kind. The type of person who wouldn’t hesitate the minute they heard a whimpered cry over a comm. The kind of kid who deserved to wear the Robin mantle. In that life―that lie― Jason no longer fit. The Red Hood didn’t fit. Couldn’t go home if you didn’t have one.
“That boy died in Ethiopia, O,” Hood continued softly. “Something… something else crawled out.”
Oracle hummed. Whether in agreement or simple acknowledgment of the answer, Hood didn’t know.
“Why ‘Red Hood’?”
Hood entered Gotham, motorcycle howling as it shot over the cracked pavement. City lights glistened off the soaked streets, and overhead, the sky rumbled like a warehouse exploding. Hood made a split-second decision, turning back towards the cemetery.
“Because that’s who I am,” Hood said. “Red Hood has always been the name of a monster.”
“Hey, baby bird.”
Tim groaned, blinking his eyes to see a face with black hair swimming over him.
“Jason?” he whispered.
The hand carding through his hair stiffened before continuing smoothly. “Nah, it’s just me.”
Tim blinked, his vision clearing to see Nightwing, mask off, kneeling next to him. Wait, if he’s here―
Tim shot up. “Where’s Hood?”
Dick frowned. “O said he left.”
Tim relaxed slightly before jerking up again, this time to his feet. “On his motorcycle? He can’t― he was injured!” He searched around the cave and found it empty, well, besides the demon brat standing twenty feet away, glaring daggers at him and looking very much like he wished Tim had stayed in the coffin. And honestly? Part of Tim would rather be back in the coffin than in the same room as Damian. But no Jason. Good. But also crap. He passed out before he plotted how to get Jason out of here.
Useless, his mind hissed.
“Hood’s fine, Robin,” Oracle soothed, voice coming in through Tim’s comm. “I’m keeping an eye on him. You’re done, you can relax.”
Tim bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that she let him go, and the millions of questions that arose because of that. Instead, he puffed out his cheeks and turned his attention back to the next problem on the list.
Not dying.
He glanced between Damian and Dick, Damian in bed-ruffled pjs and looking distinctly peeved. Tim weighed which one was the bigger threat and lunged at Dick. He wrapped his arms around him, soaking up Dick’s heat, and as he predicted, the anger Dick tried to hide melted from him.
Dick crushed Tim against his chest. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I― okay.”
Damian ‘tsked’ and Dick released Tim from the hug. Tim tried not to miss the warmth. Dick craned his neck towards Damian. “Go to bed, Dami.” His gaze flicked towards Tim, and Dick squeezed Tim’s shoulder. “You too. We can talk later.”
Damian stormed past, muttering a quiet, “If you’re going to let a serial killer escape by falling asleep, you should have stayed in the coffin.”
“Damian,” Dick rebuked.
The demon brat only scoffed and left the Cave.
Tim took advantage of Dick’s distraction and darted towards the batcomputer.
“Tim, I’m pretty sure your bed is in the opposite direction,” Dick called after him, footsteps not far behind.
“I just need to check something real quick.” He stopped at the computer, smiling softly at his mug on top of the heated coaster pad. Lifting the mug, Tim spotted the note hidden underneath and quickly sneaked it into his pocket before Dick noticed.
“Hood already erased everything,” Oracle told Tim over the comm as he settled down into the seat and sipped his still-warm tea thanks to Jason. He hummed in reply, not wanting to clue Dick in that Oracle was whispering in his ear.
“Tim…” Dick warned.
“Shush.”
Tim checked the video footage log, and yup, tonight had been erased along with the comm audio from when Tim first asked for help. Good.
Anyone from before likely could have pieced out Jason’s identity from the audio comms. The only reason Tim took so long to put it together was that ‘dying’ tended to take up a surprising amount of brain energy. The fact that the recordings were erased meant Jason had stabilized enough to recognize that, which meant Tim felt so much better about Jason driving a motorcycle in a rainstorm.
Dick reached the computer and did a double-take at the screen, the action cutting off the beginnings of a lecture. “Hood hacked the batcomputer?”
“Apparently,” Tim said, clicking on the video footage from ten minutes ago― all that remained of the night.
Jason sat in the chair for a long moment before glancing up at the camera above him. With a pointed click, he shut off the computer and strolled towards the door. He stopped by his bike, swiveled around― pausing briefly in the direction of the Robin case― and faced the batcomputer. A middle finger saluted the camera. Dramatic much.
It would have been a lot more threatening if it weren’t for the weighted blanket wrapped around Tim’s trembling shoulders, the taste of warm honey and cinnamon in Tim’s mouth, and a crumbled note stuffed in Tim’s pocket.
Tim relaxed. It appeared Jason’s identity was safe for now.
“Hood really saved you?” Dick asked quietly, gaze on the monitors as the video of Jason looped.
“Yeah.” Tim rose, tucking the mug of warm tea close. “He’s not just some crime lord. He’s―” your dead brother. “He was hurt and―” died, came back, and found an imposter in his place― “I think he needs help.”
“Oracle said she let him go as a ‘thank you’,” Dick said thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “You’re distracting me. You need to go to bed.”
Before Tim could protest, Dick scooped him up and bridal carried him through the manor.
“Dick, let me go!”
“’Fraid not, Timmy. Punishment for scaring me to death.”
Tim pouted but allowed Dick to deposit him in his guest room. However, Dick didn’t immediately leave.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asked again, scrutinizing Tim.
Tim planned on deflecting, but the concern in Dick’s eyes led him to stutter off. “I’m― I’m tired,” he admitted.
Dick smiled sadly, pressing a quick kiss on Tim’s forehead. “Goodnight, baby bird.”
He slipped out of the room as Tim collapsed back on the bed with a sigh. “O?”
“Here.”
“You let Hood go.”
“I did.”
Tim burrowed under the covers. “Why?”
“Batman says he doesn’t kill because even criminals deserve the chance to try again. I don’t see why Hood should be any different.”
Tim smiled. “Thank you.”
“When are you telling everyone?” She asked.
Tim lost his smile. “Um―”
Should he tell Bruce? Bruce deserved to know his son was alive, right? Dick needed to know his brother was back. But the minute Bruce and Dick learned the truth, they wouldn’t rest until they found Jason and brought him home. Jason wouldn’t… it was a delicate situation.
“―when Jason is ready.”
She hummed. “I’ll help you. But if Jason becomes too unstable, I will tell Batman and Nightwing.”
“Fair enough.”
“It’s not your responsibility to fix this, you know?”
Agree to disagree. That was literally why Tim was here. “I just want to help,” he said instead.
“I know,” Oracle said, fondness in her voice. “Get some sleep, Tim. We’ll talk later.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Tim muttered.
Oracle laughed. “Oh, Tim, there are going to be many, many conversations in your future.”
“Joy.”
She laughed again. “Goodnight, Tim.”
“Night, Babs.” Tim slipped out his comm while grabbing his phone. He flicked the flashlight on and uncrumpled the note from Jason.
Hey Timbers,
Few things since you decided to drool on my shoulder, and I had to ditch before you woke up. The nightmares tend to be a bitch, trust me. Might want to take something to knock yourself out for the upcoming nights.
Speaking of which, I better not hear about you hitting the streets for the next few weeks or I’ll kill you myself. I mean it. The person you think I am is gone.
Don’t waste your time trying to look for someone not there. Letting you delude yourself into thinking anything else would be cruel, even by my standards. Don’t be stupid and try to hunt me down.
I’m not safe.
I don’t want another dead kid.
Tim cocked his head, reread the note to ensure he understood it correctly, then rolled his eyes. Poor move on Jason’s part. Jason had failed to consider how his thinly veiled threat only gave Tim more incentive to try.
Leave it alone? Ha. Tim, if nothing else, was a good employee. He knew his job and spent two damn years doing it, and… just. Fuck!
Tim crumbled the note.
How many people were going to keep telling him to behave?
Be here. Be useful. But not until you’re inconvenient. Not until you might get in our way. Just behave like a good little boy.
Tim was Done. With. It.
And damn him, he knew that mindset had led him into the freaking coffin in the first place, but― ugh. He still was seen as― not expendable, because they did want him around, but more―
He buried the note in his trash.
Tim was a position.
That’s what Robin was. He had a role to play, and that was it.
It wasn’t that Tim wasn’t expendable, it was that Robin wasn’t. And damn, did the distinction hurt.
Robin hadn’t figured out who Jason was; Tim had. Robin hadn’t convinced Jason to come back; Tim had. Robin wasn’t the one who connected with Jason; Tim had.
All him. He had done that. Without the costume or shoes of a dead boy, and every single damn one of those things had been something anyone would have called stupid.
Babs thought he had been foolishly naive for thinking Hood was Jason. Surprise, surprise, he had been right. He didn’t even stop and think what Babs, Dick, and B would have said had they been there when he had brought Jason back to the Cave. And he could not forget Dick insisting Tim stay away from Jason.
Yet, the results didn’t lie. But there would never be recognition because all of it came from something Robin wasn’t supposed to do. And considering what he was scheming, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
Tim flicked off the flashlight and chucked his phone down on the mattress.
He wouldn’t do anything that would cause alarm. He’d continue to be the good little Robin. And what had that role been but to fix this whole damn freaking family?
Tim was going to get Jason back, even if it meant dragging Jason back kicking and screaming. Though as cathartic as that would be, it was far from the most optimal plan. Some level of fineness was necessary.
Tim pulled the covers up to his chin.
Which was why he had nixed Bruce and Dick’s would-be approach from the beginning. They’d force Jason to stay even under duress. But Jason wasn’t the one who needed to stay.
Tim closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his bed.
Jason needed someone willing to chase.
And unfortunately for Jason, Tim happened to be a patented expert in bird stalking.