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“Replacement, what the fuck are you doing?” Jason growled lowly as he emerged from the shadows. Tim didn’t look surprised by his presence. Asshole.
Taking a defensive stance and eyeing the only way out of the alley, which was currently blocked by Jason’s hulking silhouette, Tim sighed. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re a delusional bastard who’s running out on his family,” Jason said flatly. He wasn’t one for pussy-footing like the rest of the bats seemed to be.
Tim scoffed, crossing his arms. “My family? My family is Bruce, and none of you jackasses thought to come help me find him.”
Jason took a deep breath, trying his damnedest to allow the mounting fury within him to dissipate. He came here for a reason, and he wasn’t going to fuck up. Whether he liked it or not, this was a situation that had to be solved with words, not violence.
“What about Dick? And Damian? And Steph and Cass and Duke? What about me?” he asked instead. He thought of each of his adopted siblings, his family spinning out of control, fractured and lost without their center of gravity.
“If we’re all one big happy family, then why isn’t anyone here? I’ve got a lead, and--”
“We buried him, Timbo. He’s dead.”
“Yeah, and it's very like the Batman to stay dead. I know he’s out there, and I’m going to bring him home.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Didn’t Tim understand that this was hard on everyone? He couldn’t just run off on his own, not when they needed to stick together. He had to get him to understand. Unfortunately for Tim, his sarcastic comment only served to break down the barrier that Jason has been attempting to sequester his rage behind.
“Fuck you! How can you not see that we-- This stupid family is falling apart! You need to come back to the manor,” he practically yelled, hands instinctively falling to his sides where his pistols were holstered.
Jason knew Tim took note of the movement, saw him shift into a ready stance. It would’ve been hilarious, how they subtly read each other's movements and reacted to every twitch, every tell, except that it was just another reminder of the broken man who had raised them. Raised them and left them to fend for themselves with nothing but PTSD and anger issues.
“Why would I come back? To play mediator when you or the demon brat go on another murder spree? Or wait around for Dick to suddenly play dead again?” his little brother snapped. Jason saw green, and he was tired enough of Tim’s shit that he didn’t attempt to reign it in.
“Jesus Christ, Tim, you know what happened after the Crime Syndicate! And Blüdhaven, fuck.” Jason knows he and Tim were shitty after Spyral, knew that they’d reacted without all of the details. And fuck, the details. Dick Grayson had died, had actually died, and then Bruce fucking Wayne had sent the prodigal son off to do undercover work just because he knew Dick couldn’t say no. If that didn’t sound like textbook abuse, Jason didn’t know what did. (But that was a different can of worms that Jason was not willing to deal with right now.)
Dick had come back, finally, and instead of the happy reunion with his family he’d probably been expecting, he’d been given the cold shoulder for almost a year before Jason dug up the truth with the help of Midnighter. And by the time Jason had finally managed to settle that… Blüdhaven had been blown sky high. Dick had had a rough time of it, something every other bat seemed to forget while they let Goldie fawn over their health and happiness.
“Dick Grayson has been through hell, and now everyone he loves is either six feet under or half way around the globe. He’s raising Bruce’s fucking son by himself!”
“I talked to him,” Tim replied carefully, though Jason could see a crack emerging in his little brother’s facade of strength and determination. “He said he was fine.”
And wasn’t that a riot?
“Since when has Dick ever asked for help?” Jason said bitterly, watching as Tim’s blank face finally creased in a frown. “He’s falling apart, Tim, he needs--”
But just like that, the other was back on the defensive. (Although Jason is certain that Tim thought he was going on the offensive. For all of his powers of deduction, the little twerp wasn’t as skilled in the field of social interaction.)
“Why do you have to make this about Dick? He’s not the one that tracked me down and begged me to come home. He respected my decision. Cut the bullshit or get out of my way, Jason.”
This time, Jason didn’t manage to stifle his laughter. Timothy Jackson Drake, you’re a certified moron.
“Why can’t it be about Dick?” he rumbled after his laughter subsided. “You know I’m right about this and you just want to turn it around on me. I get it, I’m the family fuck-up, I’m a murderer, I should’ve stayed dead, yada yada yada. Believe me, I’ve heard all of that before,” he said, and almost laughed again when Tim had the audacity to flinch in guilt. “I’m here because Goldie has a hard on for self-flagellation and I’m done watching him stroke it. You need to be home, Tim. You can help him.”
A heavy silence descended upon the two brothers. All of Tim’s walls had finally crumbled, and now Jason could see him for what he really was. A scared kid who’d just lost his dad and was looking for answers. But God knew he wasn’t going to find them in some back alley thousands of miles from Gotham. Jason couldn’t see Tim’s eyes hidden below the cowl, but he suspected from the body language that Replacement was on the verge of tears.
“Bruce is gone, but Batman isn’t,” he said simply, and then he let out a soft oomf as one broken bird buried himself in Jason’s arms.