Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tim's dad is alive and recovering. Tim just wants to go home.

Tim should be happy. So many doctors said that his dad might never wake from the coma. Waking up and being able to leave the hospital is more than most of them had ever predicted. Jack is paraplegic and working to recover muscle strength. Jack let Tim help choose their new house. Jack had liked the thought of having Bruce Wayne as a next door neighbor and Tim had thought that maybe he could have his dad and stay on as Robin. Jack does not agree.

Bruce won't go against Jack's wishes. Tim can almost hear the words Bruce doesn't say. Tim wishes that he wasn't so grateful that Bruce only keeps the unspoken words to significant looks and the occasional pause in conversation when Tim manages to visit.

Bruce wishes that he had more time with his father. Tim doesn't need anyone to explain that to him. Dick has also carefully not said a word about Tim having his father back. Tim bites his tongue every time someone mentions fathers and lets someone else change the subject.

His dad has been out of the hospital for about two months. Two months is the longest his father has been home since Tim started at boarding school. It feels like his dad wants to make up for years of delegating parenting and discipline to someone else. Tim has been grounded more often than not since his dad came home. Tim is counting the days until school starts again. School will get him out of the house for hours at a time and make harder to justify his dad taking his laptop away again.

Tim has an open calculus workbook and a pencil on his nightstand next to an alarm clock. He'd lost his cell phone between the bed and the wall an hour ago. Shoving the bed away from the wall to grab it might wake Jack up early. His phone isn't worth the trouble. Tim hadn't bothered with making a secure partition on his phone when he used his laptop for anything secret. The last time Tim had been able to check in from his laptop, Oracle and Batman and Nightwing were all preoccupied with the Red Hood and Tim still doesn't understand why. From the little Tim had been able to read before losing his laptop privileges for the third time in a month, Red Hood was setting up in Crime Alley as a strange sort of crime lord that viciously protected children.

Tim will have to get his cell phone eventually. Bruce has texted at least once a day to check in for the past week. It feels nice even if Tim isn't sure just what Bruce is getting out of the brief exchanges.

Bruce says that his father is dealing with several drastic life changes and will calm down in time. Dick says he's proud of Tim for giving his dad time to adjust. Alfred says that his father is being strict while he accustoms himself to the role and that Jack should feel more comfortable when he realizes that such measures are unnecessary. Steph says that if Jack doesn't calm down soon she'll start reminding Bruce and Dick that her dad is a theme-villain and proof that not everything a father does is reasonable.

Tim looks over at his alarm clock. He should get up soon to help his dad get ready to leave. A medical transport service with a wheelchair-accessible van will bring Jack to his doctor's appointment, repeat imaging of his spinal cord, and physical therapy session. Tim will stay home and not log onto his laptop because the combined weight of disapproving stares from Bruce, Dick, and Alfred outweighs Steph saying that his dad would never know.

Tim is still lying on his bed staring at the ceiling when his window slides open.

He starts to push himself up, wondering if it's Bruce or Dick or maybe Steph stopping by for a rare afternoon visit, but freezes when a masked stranger climbs through his window.

The man is wearing a red helmet that covers his entire head and a brown leather jacket over body armor. He has a gun in his hand.

Tim is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The stranger's full-face mask turns toward him and so does the muzzle of the gun.

Tim doesn't move. The stranger hasn't spoken yet and Tim doesn't have anywhere to go.

“This is a little disappointing. Shirking your duties and you're not even doing anything fun? Just lazing around.” Whatever else the helmet does, it modifies the man's voice into a flat robotic drawl. The stranger's gaze drags around the room slowly. “I'm not impressed and that's a shame. If you want me to leave your dad out of this, you're going to need to impress me.”

Tim slowly sits up. “What do you want with my dad?”

“Shut up,” the man says sharply. “You only talk when I want you to talk.”

Tim looks between the mask and the gun and nods once.

“I heard you were smart.” The man's distorted voice sounds disappointed. Tim tries not to think about why. “Bit of a pushover, though. You really think you're a worthwhile replacement?”

Tim counts to three before he answers. If it was a rhetorical question... well, better to find out before the man gets even more worked up. Tim can only guess that the masked man is waiting for an answer. “No. I'm trying to help.”

The red mask is only broken up by the white lenses over the man's eyes. He still looks unimpressed as he slowly walks around the perimeter of Tim's room. He stops in front of the door. “You just shoved your way in like you'd be any help when you have no idea what you're doing, huh? It's not like you're good at this.”

“I'm working on that,” Tim says quietly, eyes on the man's featureless helmet. It's hard to help take care of his dad. The therapists and home nurse come for hours every day but they don't have someone staying through the nights. Jack takes a break from therapy on the weekends and it feels like they stretch on forever now with no one else in the house. Tim likes helping his dad but he also misses Bruce just as much as he misses being Robin.

Tim doesn't want to hear his doubts listed out by a stranger training a gun on his heart. It doesn't matter that the man's index finger is off the trigger, held flat against the side of the gun. Tim's only escape route takes him out the open window and he will not leave his dad at the gunman's mercy.

“I should finish what I started. It seems like your dad didn't get the message the first time we talked.”

“Please.” Tim stays as still as he can. If the stranger is an ally of Obeah Man... his dad still can't transfer to his wheelchair on his own. Jack can't defend himself against a man who moves like he was born to fight. “You don't have to bring him into this. You can talk to me.”

The distorted laugh that rings out is just as intimidating as the gun. Most of Gotham's masked villains start with riddles and clues and a theme. This man let himself in through Tim's window and started with personal threats. Tim had liked how easy it was to climb the tree outside and pick the lock and sneak right into his room. Maybe he shouldn't have been so desperate for company that his dad didn't know about. “So <i>noble</i>,” the man jeers. “What a prince of Gotham. You think that you're better off dealing with me?”

Tim doesn't know how to call for help. His Robin gear is gone and his cell phone is under the bed. Even if he could make a phone call, help won't get here faster than the man can shoot Tim and find Jack.

All Tim can do is delay and keep the man's gaze fixed on him. “You're the one that came here,” he says finally. “I don't know what you want but you came to find me.”

The man scoffs. “You weren't around when I was spending quality time with your dad, brat, and there isn't much I want from you. I'm probably wasting my time.” He turns and reaches for the doorknob.

“Wait! Please.” Tim doesn't dare scramble off the bed, not when the man's gun is still drawn.

Tim ignores the way his hands shake when he slides off his bed and onto his knees. All he knows is that if the stranger goes down the hall, Jack Drake can't defend himself.

“Please don't hurt him,” Tim begs.

The man freezes and Tim presses the first advantage he's had.

“Please let me get him ready for his doctor's appointment.” Tim keeps his eyes fixed on the helmet. He can pretend that there's a sympathetic face underneath the mask. “I just need to help him get ready. Someone else will drive him to the office.”

The gun's muzzle slowly trails down to point at the floor. “Aren't you in the wrong spot to help him get ready?”

Tim had tried, he had wanted to get his dad dressed and downstairs for breakfast, but Tim should have known better than to push after a rough night. Jack had eaten breakfast in bed. Tim had offered a few times that they could get someone who knew what they were doing and his father kept accusing him of caring more about Bruce Wayne than his own father.

“He's just down the hall,” Tim admits quietly. He can't hope to keep that secret for much longer. He's surprised his dad hasn't yelled for help getting dressed already.

The man takes a step back. “The fuck is he doing here?”

Tim bites his tongue against what he wants to say. His dad is right, backtalk will keep getting him in trouble until he learns how to control himself. “He lives here,” Tim says as mildly as he can. He slowly turns to look at his alarm clock and the gun doesn't move. “The transport company will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Transport... why do you need to hire a transport company?” the stranger demands.

Because the last time someone tried to kill Jack Drake, it hadn't worked. “It's easier for him to travel in his wheelchair right now.”

The man stares at him through the mask. Tim doesn't know what he sees but the man flicks the safety on his gun and drops it into a holster. “Go get him ready.” He takes another step back, leaving even more room for Tim to slip through the door.

Tim stands up slowly. “Um. The loud noise will be the wheelchair lift.” He walks out of his room and closes the door behind himself out of pure reflex. The corridor looks exactly the same and the hardwood floor feels strange beneath his feet. He associates adrenaline with Robin and the weight of body armor but he's wearing socks and his clothes feel paper-thin. His face feels naked without a mask.

For once, his dad's comments wash right past him and he's not tempted to make a single smart comment. Tim works quickly and has no time to get into an argument. He's listening for a footfall or a noise out of place when he sets up the wheelchair lift to carry his dad down the stairs. The door to his room is still closed and he can't hear anything.

The two usual men from the transport company are waiting in the driveway. Tim doesn't know their names and he's never been along for the ride. Jack says there is only so much hovering he can take. Tim knows these men, though, and if they were bribed recently, neither of them are showing any signs of nervousness or satisfaction when they greet Jack and roll his wheelchair into the van. They wave and don't look at all concerned when they drive off without Tim.

Tim's cell phone is upstairs and so is the window that overlooks the land between his house and Bruce. Running straight to Bruce might be asking to get shot. Running to a neighbor's house would get him puzzled questions at best and possibly get the neighbor shot. Saying anything out loud might not work but if he calls Bruce and leaves the line quiet, Bruce will come himself or send someone.

Tim is moving toward the kitchen landline when he sees a glint of light on a red helmet and freezes.

“I'm confused,” the man says from the middle of the open-plan kitchen and dining room. The man's guns are holstered and his gloved hands are relaxed against his sides but that doesn't mean Tim has time to run. “I thought your parents were killed.”

“My mother died.” The phone is so close but Tim's not faster than a bullet. “My father was in a coma for a long time before he woke up paralyzed.”

“You're leaving out the part where Batman looked after you while your dad was in that coma.”

Tim should have found a way to go with his dad. He should have called Bruce on the way to the doctor's office. Nothing would stop the man from following them to Jack's appointment, though, and it would have left two civilians and his father in danger.

Tim blinks at the blank features of the helmet and puts on the innocent act that fooled Bruce once and most of the Teen Titans the first few times he tried it. “I'm sorry. Did you say Batman?” he asks, eyes wide and expression earnest but a touch doubtful. “I don't know what you mean.”

The masked man sighs. “Fine. Bruce Wayne also known as Batman took you in. Where you took over someone else's colors, <i>Robin</i>.”

Tim's puzzled expression doesn't waver. “I'm not Robin and I think you're in the wrong house. If you leave now, I won't call the cops.”

“I'm not going anywhere until we see if you were ever worthy of the colors, kid.”

Tim is standing in his kitchen. His father won't be back for hours between the two appointments and the scheduled MRI. Bruce won't be suspicious if Tim doesn't respond to a text message right away. Robin had a panic beacon built into the costume but Tim isn't Robin anymore.

The man sighs. It comes through the voice synthesizer as a hiss of air. “You, Tim Drake, are Robin. Bruce Wayne otherwise known as Batman trained you and so did Dick Grayson otherwise known as Nightwing. Grab your staff. I'll even let you change into the uniform.”

“I don't even know who you are,” Tim protests.

“Sloppy, Robin. Big B didn't tell you to look out for Red Hood?” Even with the mask and distorted voice, the man seems more amused than angry.

Tim had expected Red Hood's outfit to resemble a hood, not a closely-fitted motorcycle helmet, and doesn't know why a Crime Alley drug lord would come to Bristol to fight an ex-Robin.

Red Hood shrugs casually like he hadn't expected an answer. “Maybe he's getting old. Suit up, Robin.”

“I'm not Robin.”

“You most certainly fucking are, Replacement,” Red Hood snarls, stepping closer.

Tim looks up into the mask's glowing white lenses. Red Hood probably outweighs him by sixty pounds before the body armor and combat boots. Tim is wearing a t-shirt with a joke about binary code. He'd feel braver with a mask but he doesn't have one anymore. “I used to be Robin.”

Red Hood doesn't look impressed. Tim doesn't blame him.

“Robin was on patrol with Batman last night, kid. I don't like liars,” Red Hood says flatly.

Steph.

Red Hood doesn't know that Steph is Robin now.

Steph lives in Crime Alley. Tim's dad had threatened Bruce when he found out. Stephanie's dad is Cluemaster. He could do worse than threaten Bruce after spending years trying to find out who Batman is under the cowl.

“Fine,” Tim says. Adrenaline gives his voice an edge and helps him focus on something that isn't how much this is going to hurt. “You caught me. I don't keep any gear in the house, though, so I hope that you aren't holding out for the costume.”

Red Hood chuckles. It probably sounds more threatening through the voice disguiser than it would be otherwise. “You're supposed to be prepared, Robin. Didn't Batman teach you anything?”

Tim is supposed to be Robin. Jack disagrees and Bruce... Tim knows that Bruce still needs a Robin. Stephanie wants the extra training and Gotham wants a Robin flying with Batman. Robin is much bigger than what Tim wants.

Tim has no armor and no advantage in the open lower floor. He doesn't have to win. Red Hood needs to decide that he can win a fight with Robin and leave. When it's over, Tim can call Bruce.

Tim drops into a fighting stance, bare fists against a massive armored man, and looks Hood right in the helmet's glowing white eyes. “I'm always prepared,” he says with more bravado than truth. “Let's go.”

Red Hood takes Tim at his word and lunges forward. Red Hood is alarmingly fast for such a broad-shouldered man, throwing out punches almost as quickly as Dick, and Tim knows that there's only so much dodging he can do. He should have put on shoes. When Tim ducks under a punch and snaps a kick into the side of Red Hood's knee, Tim's foot takes more damage than his target.

The kick keeps Tim still long enough for Red Hood to connect a sharp jab with Tim's right eye. It stings but it isn't enough to knock his head back. Tim can still fight but he needs to try leaving more space between them.

Staying out of reach is difficult when Red Hood is painfully fast. He fights like one of Ra's assassins but without any of the predictability that so many of Ra's fighters develop. Tim takes a hit to the left eye when he automatically tries to follow dodging a kick with a counter-move that would have put Ra's usual assassins on the ground. That punch lands hard enough that Tim feels like his head is ringing. Tim manages to slip away when Red Hood tries to grab him but can feel Hood's gloves almost catch his arm.

A couple experimental jabs prove that punching Red Hood anywhere on the chest or upper arms feels a lot like punching Batman. The armor is heavy and Tim will hurt himself if he tries to land a full-strength punch. Red Hood doesn't have that same problem against Tim's unarmored torso.

There aren't gaps in the armor large enough for a nerve strike to the neck or shoulders. When Tim tries a nerve-strike to Red Hood's right wrist, for a moment he thinks it'll work, but Red Hood twists away at the last moment in a fluid motion and slams his fist up in an uppercut that hits Tim right under the jaw. The impact of the punch leaves him dazed and Red Hood doesn't waste the chance.

Red Hood wrenches Tim's right wrist up behind his back. Red Hood follows that by tackling Tim to the ground, keeping Tim's wrist pinned against his back. Tim's left arm is free but that won't do much for him when Red Hood is leaning his weight against Tim's back.

“Pathetic,” Red Hood says, pushing his elbow just to the side of Tim's spine. “You really think that you're worth the colors, squirt? You should give them to someone better.”

“Not if you're going to attack them, too,” he says into the carpet.

Hood laughs. “Find someone else stupid enough to follow Batman around with a target on their chest and I won't touch them. You're the only Robin I'll come after.”

Tim shouldn't trust that promise. Red Hood broke into his room looking for a fight. Red Hood threatened Bruce and knows far too many names. Theme villains, though... they usually keep their bargains.

Red Hood leans his body weight against Tim's back. “Understood?”

“Got it,” Tim forces out. Red Hood is heavy and has enough of his weight pressed against Tim that it's hard to draw in a breath.

His dad is going to be furious. Bruce is going to be furious. Steph will be pissed. It will be worth it if Red Hood doesn't follow Steph home. Steph deserves time to learn how to capture the magic that Tim had never quite managed.

Red Hood leans back slowly and releases Tim's arm. “Heard you were brainy,” Red Hood jeers, but something in his posture looks less confident. “No one else wants that gig, kid. You should stay home.”

Tim doesn't protest that he's still home. He wants Red Hood to go away and not come back. His jaw is painful enough that there might be a tooth loose and his head throbs. His right wrist is circled in vivid red finger-marks.

Tim doesn't get up. He turns his head just enough to see Red Hood. The man looks gigantic from the floor and doesn't have a single dent in his armor. Red Hood turns on his heel and walks out Tim's front door.

Tim hears the door click shut behind Red Hood and scrambles for the kitchen landline. He punches in Bruce's cell phone number and hopes that Bruce will know Tim wouldn't call unless it matters. Tim hasn't called before, all the times he just wanted to hear Bruce's voice, so maybe this time—

“Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce, Red Hood was here,” Tim says, eyes on the front door. His breath hitches when he catches a glimpse of his face in the stainless-steel refrigerator. Jack won't believe that Tim was in his room with his calculus book when this all started. Maybe Jack will believe Bruce. “He knows a few names.”

Bruce is silent until Tim hears the quiet chime that means the phone call is secure. “When you say a few...”

“Yours, mine, and Dick's, in and out of costume. Red Hood wanted to fight Robin and wouldn't believe that isn't me. He came in through my window, Bruce, and he...” Tim hasn't talked to Bruce in over a week. He is not going to cry about some bruises. Red Hood hadn't done any real damage and he could have. “My dad's going to be so mad.”

“Tim. Are you hurt?”

“Bruises.” Red Hood could have broken bones. Red Hood hadn't drawn his guns or his knife. When the fight was over, Red Hood had walked away. “I took a few hits to the head, though.”

“I'm on my way,” Bruce says firmly. “Alfred will be taking the phone and I want you to stay on the line, Tim.”

Tim stays on the line. Bruce handles everything.

Maybe it would have been easier to do something, if Tim was still Robin, but it's not Batman calling the police and reporting a home invasion gone wrong. It's Bruce telling Tim to pack his suitcase for at least a week before driving him home.

Dick is already there, waiting impatiently on the front steps. Tim goes straight from Bruce's fussing to Dick lifting both of Tim's feet off the ground with the force of his hug.

Bruce drives off in the wheelchair-accessible van he keeps in one of the garages to tell Jack what happened and to bring him back to the Manor. The police don't want either of them to go home until the investigation is over.

The handicap-accessible guest suites are on the first floor. Alfred mentions that he has already looked over several companies for a daytime health aide. Nobody wins against Alfred and Tim doesn't want to win that fight. Tim will even be polite enough to not watch his dad lose if he tries to fight Alfred. Tim's hastily-packed suitcase is already in his second-floor bedroom.

Maybe Red Hood had done him a favor. Tim doesn't have anything worse than bruises. He gets to stay with Bruce for at least a week. Tim didn't lose anything by telling Red Hood that he won't take up Robin's colors again. Bruce already replaced Tim.

Chapter Text

Jason knows the second that he sees Robin take a running leap across an alley, her long blonde hair streaming behind her like a banner.

Keeping a cape billowing in a dramatic way and not flapping straight into your face is not as easy as she makes it look. If that isn't enough of a clue, Batman is nowhere in sight. This isn't her first time out as Robin.

Blonde-Robin stops after her next graceful leap. She lifts up her left foot, wiggles it slightly, and then sighs before bracing her foot on the edge of an abandoned raised garden bed. She's focused on adjusting her boot when Jason lands behind her with cat-feet, one foot dropping just before the other, and drops into a crouch to absorb the impact.

Robin doesn't turn. She still has her left foot braced on the failed ruin of a garden. Someone had gone through the trouble of making a raised circle of paving stones and filling it in with dirt to plant a garden only to give up and let the weeds take over.

Jason straightens and moves closer. He's still deciding what to say about her shoddy situational awareness when she stands in a burst of motion, whirling to face him with her right arm extended.

He only tracks that she grabbed a paving stone half a second before she slams it into the side of his helmet.

She keeps her momentum and ducks beneath an anticipated blow that he doesn't deliver. She keeps moving and darts forward to leap off of the roof.

By the time he's turned around to race her, he can see her grappling line connect on a building across the street. He watches through a cracked lens in his helmet as she hauls hard on the line to zip feet-first into a different alley and out of his sight. Nightwing must have helped train her on grappling lines because Batman could not move with that kind of innate flexibility that if he tried.

He doesn't follow her.

Steph makes it three more nights on patrol before she catches a glint of red in the distance. He's approaching slowly, as vigilantes go, but making good enough time there's no chance for a conversation he won't overhear. She clicks her comm twice to give Oracle a heads-up and to decrease the length of the inevitable Bat-lecture. This time, Red Hood stops on the next rooftop over.

“Helmets are expensive, you know.” Red Hood has a creepy mechanized voice to go with the completely-covered face. He's built like Batman, tall and broad-shouldered and muscular. The brown leather jacket is doing a decent job at concealing a holster at his lower back and she can't be sure what else he's hiding with the jacket and in the cargo pockets. He's openly wearing twin pistols in thigh holsters but he's keeping his hands away from the weapons.

“So is sneaking up on me.” Steph looks pointedly at his intact helmet.

He doesn't take the bait. “I want to know how long you've been Robin.”

Steph glares at him. He doesn't move. Even after several seconds of silent glaring, he stays statue-still.

“I've been patrolling for almost two weeks.” She watches Red Hood carefully but can't read much out of his reaction. He doesn't look hostile so she pushes a little harder. Bruce might tell her off for the risk later but fury has been building under her skin since she looked at Tim's matching black eyes and filled in the parts of the story he wouldn't tell. “I heard that you called someone a liar because of me.”

“Had some bad intel.” It's hard to make out his tone through the distorted voice and he's standing still enough that she can't read much from his body language. “Did he quit?”

“You didn't believe what he had to say when you were talking to him.” Stephanie doesn't move any closer and stays ready to run if he goes for a weapon. Both of his hands stay away from his guns. “Why are you asking about him now?”

“He's behind decent security lately or I might ask him,” he says in that distorted voice that gives her no clues about what he's feeling. “You're out on the rooftops, though, and without Batman anywhere in sight.”

It is not reassuring that Red Hood went looking for Tim. It's worse that he might know where he is, even if Bruce's security is a lot better than the average billionaire's. Red Hood also seems just a little bit more scary when he growls B's name through that helmet. Steph keeps her cool. Robin does not panic when the bad guy gets threatening.

“You made assumptions about the last Robin that ended up wrong,” Stephanie says. Her voice is as even as she can make it. She pretends that she has Oracle's vocal masking to turn the words smooth and it helps even out the raw edge of her real emotions. “I think you shouldn't make too many assumptions about just how far away Batman is right now.”

“Batman was talking with the cops at the precinct four blocks north. Just far enough away that he'll have a hard time if he bothers chasing me down,” Red Hood says coolly. “Stay out of trouble, blonde Robin.”

Red Hood has a grappling gun of his own and he's definitely not a novice to traveling fast. Stephanie watches him leave and starts a mental countdown from twenty.

She's at four when Batman appears on her rooftop.

Steph gives him a few seconds to look her over, because she can forgive a little protectiveness after what Red Hood pulled with Tim, but she doesn't wait for Bruce to put together what he wants to say and then grunt out something completely different.

“Red Hood wanted to know how long I've been Robin. He knows or guessed that Tim is living somewhere with better security than his house. He didn't even try to hurt me.” Stephanie frowns when Bruce looks contemplative instead of surprised. “You know something about Red Hood.”

“I suspect something.” Bruce is making a conscious effort to not clench his jaw. She probably wouldn't have noticed that without Dick's crash course in 'Batman's Non-Expressions And You.'

Steph huffs. She doesn't want to end the night frustrated because Bruce is keeping something from her. “I'm giving you a week,” she warns. “An entire week of not pestering you about Red Hood because I'm expecting answers afterward in full sentences. That week started ten minutes ago.”

There's a tiny flicker of a smile. “Very reasonable. The police did give a lead on the Tricorner smuggling ring, however unintentionally. You're right about which warehouse Black Mask is using as the first staging area. Up for a race? End point is where we had the stakeout two nights ago.”

Steph beams. She's going to lose but that's not the point. Batman's doing better than she thought if he's willing to engage in the silliness only a Robin can bring out. “You're on!”

Rule one of racing with Batman is never waiting for him to say go. She's moving before she's done saying 'on.' Rule two is upholding the tradition of shameless cheating.

Bruce still wins but she's only forty seconds behind this time. It leaves him smiling again, that tiny hint of a smile that she's seen Tim draw out of him before, but doesn't get her any answers about Red Hood.

Bruce knows something about Red Hood that he isn't sharing. Making Bruce talk when he isn't ready is an exercise in starting fights and being frustrated. Steph isn't worried. Bruce isn't the only detective in town.

Steph is up to something, Tim knows that much, but he's just happy that someone else is with him.

Lunch had turned awkward fast. Tim had assumed that he would be part of the discussion when Barbara came over to talk about security upgrades to his house with Jack and Bruce. Barbara had very casually said that she had thought Tim would be busy so she hadn't planned to bring him in on the initial discussion. Bruce had looked caught off guard, Jack had looked a little surprised that Tim expected to be involved, and Barbara had been the only one to look Tim in the eyes.

Barbara had winked at him and left for Bruce's office without another word. Jack and Bruce had both hesitated as if they weren't sure if they should say something. One of them might have said something if the other man wasn't there, but they both kept looking at each other and not talking to Tim. Tim had been sitting there with the remains of his lunch in front of him when Stephanie had breezed in through the front door with a plastic grocery bag full of VHS tapes and saved them all from someone having to break the silence and possibly talk about emotions.

Tim doesn't have to ask which movies Stephanie brought. She loves buying the worst martial arts movies possible from thrift stores downtown. She has an entire shelving system in her bedroom upstairs with the VHS and DVD cases lovingly arranged in order of just how many times someone had cringed while watching them.

“B's not telling me anything about Red Hood,” Stephanie says a few minutes into the movie. She sets her empty bowl aside and reaches to steal from Tim's bowl of popcorn. “What do you know about him?”

Tim turns the bowl toward her without looking away from the screen. “He's had a lot of training in how to fight and some of his moves reminded me of Ra's al Ghul's fighters. Red Hood really doesn't like me or Batman and knew our civilian names but he didn't know that you're Robin now.” Tim doesn't look away from the screen while he rolls a piece of popcorn between his fingers. He should tell Bruce first, probably, but Bruce has had his chance to be Batman and ask some questions. “Red Hood called me replacement.”

Stephanie shifts closer and bumps her shoulder against Tim's. When he doesn't pull away, she drops her head onto his shoulder without any of her usual complaints that he's bony. “I'm sorry.”

Tim watches a particularly bad fight scene with the appalled appreciation it deserves before he replies. It gives him enough time to decide that he does want to say it. He doesn't want to keep avoiding the conversation and hoping it might be less awkward later on. “That he said it or that you're the new Robin?”

“Both,” she says.

It's more than they've said before about Robin. It's still enough that they silently agree to pay attention to the movie for a few minutes. Steph laughs when the stunt doubles on the screen nearly fall over attempting a move that he's seen her manage in a fight. She'd had that combo down as Spoiler.

“Red Hood talked to me last night,” she says during some disappointingly flat dialogue.

“What did he say?”

Steph shrugs. He can feel her shoulder move against his arm. “He asked how long I'd been Robin and then he asked if you quit. I said he'd had his chance to talk to you. He—um. He said you're behind better security lately. I have no idea how public it is that you're here, but he already knew about B when he talked to you. It's not that shocking that if your house is empty you'd be staying with Bruce.”

“Hood said that I'm the only Robin he'll come after,” Tim says after an action scene that was worth watching. “I'd feel better if you didn't take him at his word.”

“There's something weird about Red Hood. B doesn't spook easy and that's just the start of it. It's not just that he knows names or went after you, either.” Steph straightens up and stretches as the credits start. “I told B that he has a week and then I'll want some answers.”

Normally, Tim would take that as a challenge. 'Normal' for him is having access to the Batcave and pulling up whatever cowl footage or police reports that he wanted. He isn't banned from the Cave, exactly, but Bruce doesn't want to overstep his truce with Jack. Without the Cave... he has one fight and a bunch of rumors, and that's not enough to figure out the puzzle.

“I can hear you thinking,” Steph stage-whispers before she slumps back against the couch. “Don't worry about it. Whatever Red Hood's deal is, he'll drop more hints soon enough.”

Barbara wheels into the media room during the movie's closing credits. “Go talk to your dad, Tim. We'll set up another time to talk about security upgrades for your house. We got a little distracted.” She looks about as smug as Catwoman had the time that she'd faked Tim and Bruce out and they'd ended up with chunks of rough limestone instead of the museum's jade statuettes.

Steph perks up. “Which dad?”

Tim rolls his eyes.

Barbara doesn't. “Biological,” she says. “He's still over in B's office.”

Tim hesitates. He feels like he should correct them, because Bruce is not his dad no matter what Stephanie says, but he doesn't know what to say when Barbara is looking him right in the eyes like she's waiting for a fight. It's not like he wants someone else to tell him Bruce was never his dad. For all Tim knows, Jack is ready to explain that Bruce was just a temporary guardian all over again and say that they're going home right away.

If that was it, though... Babs would never set him up to hear that with no warning.

Tim keeps that in mind when he finds Jack alone in Bruce's office. He nods Tim over to Bruce's chair.

Tim eases into the ergonomic chair that feels a lot like a less-flashy version of the chair that stays at the Batcave's main computer station. He's never seen Bruce's office from this perspective before. It's even stranger to look across the desk at his dad.

Jack waits until Tim settles. Jack has his 'CEO of Drake Industries' frown in place and won't be giving many clues about what he's feeling. “Did Miss Gordon say anything?”

Tim frowns. The comments that would disappoint his dad had been from Steph. “Just to come here to talk to you,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

Jack drums his fingers on the edge of the desk. “She's very direct. From what she mentioned, she gets that way from running communications from a secure base and helping with cases.”

Tim does not assume. “She's really good at it,” he says as calmly as he can. “She helps the Justice League out, sometimes, and I've been to her base a few times.”

Jack looks up. “That's a bit of a commute. She—ah—look. I'm not okay with wondering if you're going to make it back. You're my son and this is my chance to be a father. I can't... I know you trust him, Tim, but I only trust him with Gotham. Not with you.”

Tim swallows back disappointment. He's getting pretty good at that. “I know.”

Jack is looking at him like he's seeing Tim instead of the son he expected based on emails and report cards and things other people have said about him. “I imagine that I won't be able to stop you, once you're eighteen.”

“No. You won't.”

Jack sighs. For once, though, he looks fond instead of exasperated. “Your schoolwork comes first,” he says firmly. “If your grades start slipping, we are going to renegotiate this, and I also will want you to start as an intern at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises next summer. Maybe both, I'm an idiot if I don't let you learn how he manages things over there. We have dinner together unless there's some kind of crisis and you tell me about it.”

Tim doesn't want to be wrong. “Dad?”

“We live next door. It's easy enough to tell the truth. Bruce took you in when I was in a coma and nobody thought I was going to wake up. The two of you are still close and it makes sense that you'd want to spend some time over here.” His dad's lips quirk into a smile that Tim hasn't seen outside of pictures in years. “I can't argue that the Batcave is safer than our house, not after last week. Comms only, Barbara said that she has a standby account until you come up with a codename, and so help me you do not sneak into the field if he's in danger. You call in Superman or whoever else you know.”

Tim's answering smile is a little shaky. He doesn't know what Barbara said but he's pretty sure that he owes her so many hours of scanning through surveillance video. “Pretty much the entire Justice League.”

Jack shakes his head. “I'm still trying to get over living next door to Batman. I know I didn't react well. I'm sorry about that, Tim. That's not the example I want to set for you.” Jack sighs and straightens up. “I did apologize to Bruce, if that helps. I have the impression that Miss Gordon already knew about that altercation.”

“It does. I—um. Thanks.” It didn't matter if Babs hadn't known about the time his dad threatened Bruce with a gun. She does now and it will be yet another data point in how she might handle Jack next time.

“We'll figure this out,” Jack says, voice quiet. “You remind me so much of your mother, Tim. She had a way of cutting right to the heart of a problem and finding the solution. Even the solutions everybody else ignored as impossible.” He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes roughly. “Enough of that, though. They're going to need you downstairs. Barbara said that you've got a streak going against the Riddler.”

Neither of them are much for hugging, not usually, but Tim thinks this deserves to be an exception. It's a little awkward, bending over and trying to not jab his shoulder into his dad, but the brief embrace is better than they've managed in weeks.

“Thanks, dad,” he whispers.

“Go on,” Jack says gruffly. “Apparently Batman does better at these things with my son helping him. It's just a pity that you can't put that on your college applications.”

Steph's curiosity about just what Tim and his dad are saying to each other has to wait. Once Tim's out of earshot, Barbara's expression shifts.

“Time to go,” Oracle says. “Riddler got out of Arkham again.”

Stephanie heads for the elevator with Oracle. It almost feels like she's talking to a different person. Stuff like this is why so many people in Gotham can look right at Bruce Wayne's obnoxiously square jawline and never connect him to Batman. Tim does the same thing. He stands taller, as Robin, and there are a few expressions she's never seen out of costume. Steph is still used to hiding her face in the cowl. She's not sure how she feels as Robin yet.

Oracle heads for the secondary workstation once they get downstairs. Bruce is already suited up and talking on the phone and using the main computer. He waves her over to the lockers. Steph runs for the smaller changing area and throws her costume on as fast as she can. Muscle memory from weeks of training and patrol makes dealing with all the costume's secret catches and hidden traps feel almost as easy as pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

She stops in her tracks when she's halfway to Bruce. Tim is in the Cave. He's still in his hoodie and jeans but he's standing there with Batman listening in on the phone call.

Stephanie hasn't been anywhere near Tim as Robin. She always changed into civilian clothes when she went to visit him and tried to not think about why.

She shouldn't have worried. Tim looks her over for a second and then he smiles. If it's a little forced, she will never, ever give him grief about it, because she knows how much Robin means to him.

“Robin,” Tim says. His smile is real by the time he steps away from Batman. “I like the red.”

Steph hugs him.

She only lets go when Batman clears his throat. “I know, I know,” Stephanie grumbles. “Duty calls.”

“I'm with Batman on comms,” Tim says. He tries to be cool about it but his smile is just as wide as Stephanie's. He was miserable staying out of all Bat business. She was miserable not wanting to talk about being Robin with him while he was so unhappy. It had been hard to talk to her friend while leaving out such a big part of their lives. “Maybe you can help me brainstorm a permanent code name later.”

“Flamebird is great,” Dick protests as he exits the main Cave bathroom. Steph hadn't even known that he was in town. “It's part of a Kryptonian legend!”

“Just because you managed to have Oracle owe you a favor and burned it on having that as a default identity in the Batcave and with the GCPD,” Tim grumbles, still smiling. “No promises past this week, Nightwing.”

Dick beams and grabs Tim in a hug. “Maybe you can be on comms with me sometime before you swap it out. B called dibs on having you in his ear tonight.”

Steph leaves them to it and sidles up next to Bruce. He changes his call back over to speaker so that she can hear what Commissioner Gordon is saying, too.

“What do you think, Batman?” he asks.

“If your men can cover the locations you discussed, we can investigate three,” Bruce replies. “Nightwing will work the location closest to your precinct and I will look into the activity near the docks. Robin will look into that warehouse near the Bowery.”

Stephanie's eyes widen behind her mask.

Batman's lips twitch.

“Got it,” Gordon says. “I also let my men know that someone might hear from an operative with codename Flamebird today. Any chance they'll recognize the voice?”

“There's a decent chance, commissioner,” Tim says in a voice Steph hasn't heard in a while. He always sounded more confident when he was Robin. It carries right through to Flamebird.

Gordon sighs. It's one of his extra-loud sighs that mean he's actually happy but has no intention of admitting it. “Nice to have you on the team, Flamebird. Gordon out.”

Batman steps away from the computer chair and nods to Tim. For a few seconds after Tim sits down, the chair seems comically large for him, but Tim straightens his shoulders and draws on everything that used to make him Robin. He works through security checks and logs on as Flamebird for the first time. By the time that there's a stylized phoenix logo in the corner of the screen and a live feed of the sites where Riddler might be waiting after he releases his next clue, Steph is resisting the urge to hug Batman. Bruce looks so happy and it's all in the way that his shoulders have relaxed and there's just a bit of tension at the corner of his jaw as a sign of a hidden smile. Tim's focused on the screens and still smiling. Dick looks like he's holding himself from hugging someone only so he doesn't break the moment. It's no hardship at all for Steph to hug Dick and exchange a silent happy look about how happy Tim and Bruce are.

For the first time since she started as Robin, she can trade stories with Tim about what happened on patrol. It's the first time she's ever been excited to deal with Riddler.

Chapter Text

Riddler has no idea that the new Robin's dad thinks that Riddler is a poser.

Steph gets through the traps on the warehouse door without a problem before the screen unfurls and the Riddler pops up for a video chat. She keeps her cool and politely ignores the implications that he would go easy on the new Robin. She is not going to give a single hint that some of her few happy memories with her dad involved tearing apart Riddler's latest scheme together, from the riddles to the execution. Cluemaster could be pretty funny when he wasn't planning crimes of his own. He'd talked to her like a person instead of an inconvenient child that happened to live in his house. When she figured out Riddler's plan before he'd explained it halfway, he'd even looked a little proud of her.

Riddler is honorable as Rogues go. She answers his riddles and lets him preen a bit over his own cleverness and the traps he'd put in place. As long as she follows the rules and solves the puzzles, she isn't going to get hurt, and she has Oracle on the comms with her if she needs backup.

Riddler looks as happy as he ever does when she aces the verbal quiz. He shuts off the video, retracts the projector screen, and leaves her to sort out the maze of traps and packing crates he'd created with the next clues somewhere toward the middle.

Oracle's murmuring compliments in her ear as well as updates about how B and Nightwing are doing. Oracle even fills her in that Flamebird and Batman broke B's prior record for frustrating Riddler into cutting off his spiel early. Riddler loses a lot of steam when Batman intones the answer to the riddle in a monotone without a bit of expression on his face. With Tim and Bruce's combined full attention on Riddler... Steph almost feels bad for the guy. She probably would feel bad for Riddler if she wasn't dealing with a maze of all his classic frustrations that he liked to put in Robin's way.

She is already composing how she'll brag about her flawless work to Tim (in between letting him tell her in detail about Bruce shutting Riddler down, of course, because she wants to hear it and Tim's probably got cowl footage of the look on Riddler's face that she needs to see) when company comes charging into the warehouse right over the two traps near the door that she'd avoided easily.

“O, I've got a problem.” Steph's voice is level. “Someone just tripped two of Riddler's traps and they're still moving. Four men, no visible signs of affiliation.” She's in a warehouse. She can just run, possibly, but she's been avoiding traps and doesn't know just what Riddler's finishing trap is here. There's usually a showstopper somewhere toward the middle and she's been staying toward the edges of the room while she looks over the green platform in the center of the warehouse. The four guys running straight through all the subtle tripwires haven't noticed her yet and she is not about to draw their attention to her. If they're dumb enough to not notice a Riddler crime in progress, they're probably dumb enough to fight her instead of letting her try to save all of them.

“I've got cowl footage, Robin,” Oracle says.

Steph nearly looks over her shoulder for Tim, but that's her now. She's Robin. She's Robin and the Riddler's traps are not smart enough to know that she's not the idiot setting off every single trap. “I need a route out, Oracle,” she says as a few red laser lights start illuminating the door she'd taken in. “That or Riddler to come back on his video chat and taunt me. He'd at least be pissed with amateur hour messing up all his work.”

“I have a trace working to try for his video connection but that's usually a secondary trap on its own. Give me a visual sweep of the warehouse, Robin.”

Steph looks around the warehouse in a careful grid pattern. The four men have thankfully stopped, if only because one of them was nearly split in two by a swinging blade after someone tripped right over a tripwire in between rows of crates. If someone at Arkham let Riddler read Edgar Allen Poe again, she is going to file a complaint.

“I think I don't need to fuss with the keypads puzzle anymore,” Stephanie says. She focuses on the center of the warehouse where the four men had belatedly realized that this was not a great place to hang out. They'd only figured that out after crashing into the raised platform and doing something that triggered rapidly expanding clouds of bright green gas.

“Oracle, unknown gas deployed. Putting on rebreather now.”

“Confirmed, Robin. Batman and Nightwing are en route. Three taps on your comm if you need urgent extraction.”

The rebreather fits snugly against the lower half of her face and she checks the seal on her mask. Everything should be fine for her. One of the men is already down. The other three look nervous and they're starting to look unsteady on their feet. She doesn't want to be next.

It's pretty off-brand for Riddler to try to kill Robin without taunting Batman at the same time. It's also pretty weird for Riddler to not warn ahead of time if some element of the puzzle was fatal. Maybe Riddler's expecting to show up and grab an unconscious Robin to bring somewhere else. The man sprawled on the floor is still breathing and the others look dazed and tired. They don't look like they need an immediate rescue. If the gas is the Riddler's main fallback plan for a failure to solve his riddles...

Stephanie is about to try her luck with the light show on the door or the skylights when someone makes a flying leap through the moving web of lasers covering the door. He comes close to not touching a single laser but he's a pretty big guy and the openings in the grid were designed for someone her size.

Red Hood straightens up and looks incredibly disappointed through his helmet. “Really. You try to recruit kids in my territory and for your second stupid trick of the night you run straight into the middle of an active Riddler operation?”

Steph is still thinking about trying her luck with the laser show when the Riddler's voice crackles through several speakers in the room. “Just a recording, little Robin, but I've got to say I'm disappointed. I'll see you soon.”

There isn't time to hear what Oracle has to say about the new threat. There's a bright flash of light, a loud bang, and the comm goes quiet.

Steph taps on the communicator. No response.

The motion draws Red Hood's attention to her shadowed part of the warehouse.

“No wonder he has all the bells and whistles.” Red Hood's voice sounds muffled instead of robotic. “Idiots, drag your friend out of here before the Riddler shows up looking for a Robin and finds you. Robin, let's get out of here maybe without triggering something else.”

Hood walks away from the men and pulls his helmet off. Steph doesn't have much time to wonder why he's wearing a domino mask underneath his helmet. He hurls the helmet right at a bricked-over door before quickly walking her way.

“Brace yourself,” he says curtly.

Before Steph has time to ask why, his helmet explodes. Nothing else is anywhere near the door. His helmet sits there, tossed aside and looking harmless, and then the helmet explodes. Red Hood grabs her hand and runs with her out the explosion-created doorway. He stops half a block away.

Stephanie is dazed, from the explosion and the rescue and the rescuer, and she can't be held responsible for falling back on her only conversation with the guy.

“Are your helmets expensive because they explode?” she demands as she fumbles to put her rebreather away one-handed.

Red Hood half-smiles. “That's part of it. I'll have to rework the wiring to make sure it doesn't go off any time someone hits me with an EMP. It was also rigged to blow if someone tried to yank it off without knowing the right way to work the latches.”

Stephanie had hit him in the face with a brick. She'd hit the guy in the helmet when there was a bomb inside his helmet. It's not her fault that she wants to be sure on that point. She isn't concussed, probably, but she'd almost died in Riddler's trap her first time out as Robin when it wasn't even her fault. She's still trying to process a lot more than a guy keeping a bomb inside the helmet that he wears.

“You were wearing a bomb on your <i>head,”</i> she repeats.

The muscles under his jaw tense. She has a good view of them considering he's really tall. “I'm pretty serious about keeping my identity a secret,” he grits out. “So let's not play twenty questions.”

She isn't going to demand answers right after a big rescue, that's a Batman move and Batman isn't here yet. “If you don't want anybody to know your identity, you aren't going to want to be anywhere in the area in a couple minutes.”

The expression on his face is hard to read and it's not just because he has a red domino mask on. “B cut you loose? He was staying pretty close to you those other times.”

“Batman knows that I can handle Riddler.” She taps at her comm and doesn't even get static. She is going to have so many people panicking soon and it's a relief to talk to someone that is just cagey instead of losing their mind. “I was fine until those guys came in. I was probably going to try getting out through the skylight but Riddler knows that Robins always love a skylight exit.”

“They were running away from me. I let those losers get a little space hoping they'd go back to home base. I didn't think they'd run straight past a couple warnings that Riddler had that warehouse claimed.” He runs a hand through his black hair, disrupting the white streak that had been curling down his forehead instead of staying up with the rest.

Steph isn't sure what she expected, with a shiny red helmet blocking any hint of his face, but she was not expecting someone that looks so tired. If anything, she had anticipated someone that looked mean, someone with a hard face that didn't show much expression, but he is a lot younger than she'd guessed and there are a lot of micro-expressions that don't match with his unchanging body language.

Now that she's had time to breathe past the panic and stop looking for clues that she's in danger, she has the chance to realize that he looks familiar.

“If you want to keep a secret, you should head back to home base. I am absolutely tattling that you have a bomb in your helmet but not...” She gestures toward his face. Domino masks only do so much to hide recognizable features. “I owe you that much, Red Hood.”

“Hood's fine.” His voice is a lot softer without the vocal modifier. “Guess I'll see you around, Robin. If you happen to see the previous Robin... would you tell him I'm sorry? I shouldn't have gone after him. It's not going to happen again.”

“I'll tell him,” she promises. She could leave it there, maybe, but she's always liked to push. She's also pretty sure there isn't a single kid in Crime Alley that wouldn't recognize the kid that pulled a Little Orphan Annie and ended up living with Bruce Wayne. “I'm heading back to the scene of the explosion before Batman completely loses it. B doesn't do so hot with explosions and not having eyes on Robin right away.”

It's like staring at one of Batman's not-expressions. Jason Todd deliberately drops his shoulders, slowly, and the false ease doesn't match his hard expression. “Is that so.”

Stephanie smiles at him. “Just let me know if you want to hear more, sometime,” she says. The airy delivery combined with the biting smile is Dick's influence. “It's not a secret to anyone in Gotham even if most people don't know why Batman came really close to crossing the line.” Her smile doesn't falter when he glares at her. He's annoyed but he doesn't look like he's going to do anything about it.

“See you around, Hood.”

For once, Jason isn't the angriest person on a rooftop.

That dubious honor goes to the vigilante in purple.

He hadn't seen Robin for almost a week. He'd expected Batman to keep the little birdie close but it seems that Robin expected to be back out on patrol sooner. Batman had let her face off against a big Rogue for the first time and she'd almost ended up in one of Riddler's death traps as the bait.

It isn't hard to link Robin to the moody figure in the purple cloak that heads straight for his rooftop. Spoiler had vanished off the rooftops shortly before Robin showed up with long blonde hair. It's not hard for the rumor mill to put it together. When the lasting silence starts to feel awkward and she shows no signs of talking, he asks if she is allergic to anything and leaves for a few minutes. When he hands her a chocolate milkshake, she peels up the mask under her hood and drinks most of it down before the sulking eases up a touch.

Jason sets his helmet aside. He'd been thinking about a milkshake before he got a sulky Robin on his hands and it's a good excuse to get a Neapolitan shake the way no one outside Gotham makes them. His reputation in Crime Alley is good enough that the cashier doesn't blink at Red Hood ordering two milkshakes and paying in cash.

Jason's milkshake is gone and so is his patience with the awkward silence. Robin still isn't talking.

“What'd he say about the bomb?” Jason asks.

That wasn't what he'd meant to ask but he can't take the words back.

Spoiler smiles over her milkshake. “Not much, really, but it completely derailed him off of fussing over me for almost an hour. Thanks for that.”

“It was going to explode anyway. EMPs screw with the wiring and I didn't have it all shielded.” Jason likes feeling the breeze in his hair. It's also nice to have company that seems to know who he is but isn't fussing about it. “I rewired a few things to make sure an EMP won't work a second time.” Even if he had planned to go anywhere near Riddler's setup, he hadn't known Riddler was up to using electromagnetic pulses to wipe out the Bats' equipment.

She frowns beneath her rucked-up mask. “It's still a bomb, then.”

Jason looks away. “It's a bomb, I'm a bomb. Same difference.” He reaches up to his mask and clicks the lenses away. He knows his eyes are unnaturally green when he turns to look at her again. “Talia al Ghul pushed me into a Lazarus Pit. I was alive before that, apparently, but don't remember anything. Don't worry about telling the truth when B keeps pushing you. It's going to be a lot safer for everybody if you're the one having that talk with him.”

Robin stares at him for several seconds before she pushes back the purple hood and clicks her own lenses away. Her eyes are blue and steady. “Anger problems, supernatural style. Got it.”

If she sounded anything but pragmatic, he'd be furious, but she doesn't look like she pities him or like she's going to start asking questions he isn't ready to answer.

“I gave B a week to tell me the truth. He suspects something about you but he won't talk to anybody.” She sips at her milkshake with a lot less enthusiasm. “The week ends tomorrow. It's just... I'm not the Robin he wants. It's probably going to be an ugly conversation.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Preaching to the choir, blondie.”

Spoiler pulls her mask up further, all the better to glare at him and to prove that there's familiar blonde hair under that full-face cowl. “Look. I don't know what you think you know, but you thought Flamebird was still Robin and you think Batman did not absolutely lose it when you died, so maybe ask questions before you assume you know what's going on.”

Asking questions isn't the worst advice. He can even ask one that would be hard to figure out on his own. “Flamebird?”

“Nightwing,” Spoiler says with a shrug. “He left it as a default identity in the system. When Oracle managed to talk people into letting Flamebird on comms instead of sitting out of all Bat business for years, Flamebird was ready to go when we were.”

Jason frowns. “Nightwing,” he repeats. “What was up with him and Riddler, anyway? Riddler never folds that easy. All the gossip said that Riddler went meekly to Arkham and no one was surprised that he was dead terrified of Nightwing. I mean... Nightwing.”

Steph raises a brow. “Nightwing was already pissed off by the time he found Riddler. Most of Gotham, myself included, has only heard rumors about just what happened when Joker came back to Gotham. Riddler's heard enough rumors that he surrendered fast and confessed to escaping custody and a few other felonies.”

“Does Nightwing... did the old man tell him anything? About me.”

“I don't think so. It can be hard to tell, but I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't go this long without having Nightwing find you if he had any idea.”

It's a reasonable guess. He'd thought Nightwing might not want to take over as a big brother again but he'd been filtering a lot of memories through a possibly unreasonable amount of anger.

He needs a new topic. “How'd you end up as Robin, anyway? You had your own thing going.”

She tugs at the purple cloak thoughtfully. “This isn't armored and it was a bit of a directed crusade.” She looks him in the eye and holds out a hand. He shakes it on reflex. “Hi. I'm Stephanie and my dad's Cluemaster. I called myself Spoiler because why not and went out of my way to mess up his crimes and I smacked the third Robin with a brick when he was reaching for my mask and I panicked. We ended up as friends anyway. Batman apparently doesn't know what to do with himself without a Robin around, and precedent says he's probably right, so he offered me a shot at being Robin when the past Robin's dad came out of a years-long coma and decided to be mostly awful.”

Jason stares at her. She beams at him and polishes off her milkshake.

“How'd you meet B, anyway?” she asks. “There are so many rumors and the official story is so boring. Just happened to meet up in Crime Alley, pfft. All of Crime Alley tried to figure out what happened but the only people that had a clue won't say.”

“You don't know?”

“Jason.” Stephanie meets his eyes and doesn't turn away. “You were dead. Of course I wasn't going to go asking questions when B missed you so much.”

Jason freezes. It's weird to hear his name from anyone that isn't Talia. It's weirder to hear her confidently say something that doesn't feel true.

“It's okay, if you'd rather not say.” Stephanie flattens her empty cup and tucks it into a plastic bag. Her lenses and mask and hood go back into place next. “Thanks for the milkshake.” She's got good instincts, and whatever's showing on his face, she's ready to politely excuse herself before he loses control.

She'll leave and won't ask again. That makes it easier to take a couple slow breaths and answer her question.

“I jacked his tires.”

Stephanie freezes and slowly lowers her grappling gun.

“Batman's tires,” he adds.

Stephanie drops cross-legged onto the roof and laughs. The laugh is almost a cackle, loud and uncaring, and she keeps laughing long enough that he almost laughs with her. It

“That is amazing,” Stephanie says when she stops laughing. “Maybe I should try that when B fires me.”

“Look, if he's going to fire you...” Jason doesn't know why he's sure it would work out. Maybe it's because she's from Crime Alley. Maybe it's because her biological father is in jail. Maybe it's because he would get to scoop up someone that Batman pushes away. “Be my Robin. There's plenty of room in Crime Alley for someone that's a little less scary to the people that need help.”

Stephanie thinks for a moment. “'Batman and Robin' is a hard thing to re-brand and I don't think I want that much heat. Would the offer be open for Spoiler?”

Jason shrugs. “Red Hood and Spoiler sounds a bit like a chop shop, but sure. I won't turn away some help. You grew up here. You know what Crime Alley needs and it isn't a revolving door in the prisons.”

She pushes herself up to her feet. “I won't kill anyone. And I'd rather not see anybody killed.”

“Fair enough. Just let me know when you'll be watching or no promises.” Jason stands up. “I'll see you around, Spoiler. Robin. Whatever you're calling yourself next time.”

She's smiling beneath her mask when she waves and dives off the building. She heads back toward downtown and he watches until she's out of sight.

Spoiler reminds him of his younger self, a little, and he doesn't know what would happen if she felt like she was on her own. He wants her any teenage rebellion of hers to have a better ending.

Chapter Text

Steph had given Bruce a week to come clean about Red Hood. The promised week is over and she is done waiting.

Bruce probably wants to have their conversation on some quiet rooftop where she has to be careful about what she says and how loudly she says it. He probably wants to time it so that they have to get back to work as soon as it gets uncomfortable. He might already have the exact timing worked out as part of their patrol schedule for the night. He might have his talking points all laid out and know just how long it will take for him to bulldoze over her attempts to try to bring emotions into this. Stephanie is not interested in having this talk anywhere that they can't be honest and keep talking until the conversation is over.

She's ready to patrol but she leaves her mask off. When she walks right up to Bruce, he pulls the cowl down when he sees the look on her face.

“It's been a week, B.” Stephanie is not going to change the terms again. She agreed to seven days and Bruce knows that time is up. “You know something about Red Hood and we need to talk about this.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Tim freeze over the keyboard. She feels a little bad that he's stuck in the middle of this but she would feel worse kicking Tim out of the Batcave so that she could talk to Bruce without him. Tim doesn't know much of anything about Red Hood yet and he deserves the truth. Dick doesn't know, either. Steph had asked point-blank what Dick knew about Red Hood earlier in the day and his answer was not much.

Bruce doesn't look impressed. “We can talk on patrol.”

Steph crosses her arms over her chest. “No. When we're on patrol, we're stuck with code names and whatever brief interlude you set up before you go vanishing off the building like I'm Commissioner Gordon and you just delivered a snappy one-liner. You know who Red Hood is and you need to admit it to yourself and the rest of us. You can't keep denying this forever.”

Nothing on his face changes but he shifts his weight back. “Suspicions only. There is no convincing evidence.

“You need to say it, B,” Stephanie pushes. “It's not like he's ready to talk to you, not for a while, but if you would just admit that you know who the Red Hood is—”

“He <i>died,”</i> Bruce interrupts, voice low and growling and raw with unhealed grief.

Maybe she shouldn't have done this with Tim here. Possibly she should have at least warned him. Tim is facing them, now, and he looks more calculating than stunned.

“Get your Sherlock on, Bruce.” Steph's voice is softer than she expected. Bruce looks angry to someone who doesn't know him well. She's gotten to know him pretty well while learning the tricks he only teaches to Robins. She knows that he's hurting and that most of the others would not push him so hard, especially not when it's about Jason. “When you've eliminated the impossible...”

“You've spoken with him,” Bruce says.

“A few times, yes. You still know him better than I do, Bruce. ”

“I can't... he won't talk to me.”

“Talia pushed him into a Lazarus Pit. He doesn't think that raised him from the dead,” she continues loudly when Bruce looks ready to interrupt again. “He doesn't remember anything about being alive again before that.”

Bruce looks devastated. Maybe going straight for the jugular wasn't the right approach but she can't just wait for this to explode. Bruce needs to understand just why Jason is having so much trouble dealing with anger before Bruce accidentally corners Red Hood and Jason lashes out. She's read plenty of research on Bruce's own computer that talks about just how hard it is to bring the Lazarus Pit rage under control.

Tim is looking between the two of them. “He called me replacement,” Tim whispers.

For the first time, Bruce lets himself look at the memorial case. He doesn't look back to Stephanie for several seconds. “I think so. The evidence that I have fits. I'm glad that he's talking to you, Stephanie.”

Steph takes the tacit admission for what it is. It might be the best Bruce can do and he's taking this a lot better than she'd expected. “Jason isn't ready to talk to you yet, Bruce. I don't know much. Last night was the most we've talked and I kind of maybe agreed to patrol with him sometimes,” she admits in a rush. “He was probably joking, but he offered I could be his Robin, but I said Batman-and-Robin is not something I want to mess with, but Spoiler knows Crime Alley. He agreed that he won't kill anyone while I'm working with him.” She gulps in a breath of air when she can stop the flow of word and holds her breath.

Bruce looks thoughtful. Tim looks interested.

Steph lets out the breath. “I mentioned the part where Red Hood has a bomb in his helmet and nobody should try to take it off him. The EMP shorted out the wiring and he took the helmet off before it exploded. I didn't admit that I recognized him. I've never met him before but I'm from Crime Alley. Everybody was talking when Jason Todd went from homeless kid to Bruce Wayne's kid.” Steph relaxes when Bruce still looks thoughtful instead of immediately telling her it would never happen. “It's a lot less personal with me. Everything is less personal with me.”

“I...” Bruce hesitates. “I need to talk to Dick. And Alfred.”

“I'll stay for a bit,” Steph promises. She holds herself back from hugging Bruce only because he won't appreciate it when he's busy keeping his emotions in check. “I'm not dropping that on Tim and then just leaving. Plus Jason wanted me to pass on a message for Tim.”

The worry held in the wrinkles around Bruce's eyes lessens slightly. “Thank you. Comm me if you want to head out later. You can take one of the motorcycles and meet up with me.”

Steph doesn't say anything while Bruce and Alfred have a quiet talk. She isn't surprised when they both vanish afterward. Alfred won't be seen until he has his composure back, probably, and Bruce pulls on his cowl and drives off in the Batmobile.

“It's not just that,” Tim says when the sound of the engine echoing through the tunnel has died down. “It makes sense that Bruce didn't want to say anything when he didn't have any evidence that Jason was the Red Hood, and when it probably would have sounded really weird for him to say it, but that's not the only reason Bruce is upset.”

Steph frowns. They'd known for days that Jack and Tim would be going home soon. “Because you're going home tomorrow and the security system isn't quite as good the Manor's? Bruce said that getting everything set up to his standards could take months.” It's easy to feel fond of Bruce for being over-protective when he's finally going to tell the others in on Red Hood.

“You heard about Mrs. Dibney, right?”

Steph's teasing smile vanishes. The entire Justice League was shocked that Elongated Man's wife had been killed in their home. Justice League members usually had pretty good security in place. “I did, yes. Did Bruce find more information about the case?”

“Not exactly. Somebody attacked Jean Loring, the Atom's ex, and threatened Lois Lane.”

Steph winces. “Right after Bruce and Jack agreed on the security system and when you guys were heading next door.”

“Exactly. Bruce wants to try pushing it back further but my dad is pretty tired of being a guest in someone else's home. They get along a lot better now, but if it managed to get worse, someone was going to be in the hospital.”

“That's the truth,” Steph says. “The first few days are kind of funny in retrospect but that was so awkward. Both of them wanted to do dad things but felt weird if the other guy was watching him.”

“I'm just glad they can talk to each other now,” Tim says. “Speaking of talking. Um. Jason...”

“Jason asked me to pass on an apology,” Steph says right away. She can't leave Tim any time to start thinking that the apology was grudging or insincere or for someone else's benefit. It's hard to claw insecurities back away from Tim when they settle in. Bulldozing him ahead of time is a lot easier. “He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry. He shouldn't have gone after you and it's not going to happen again. His words. You know I'd tell you if I didn't think he meant it.”

Tim's not hiding anything, not right now, and she can see the words sink in. The shy expression that started when he asked just what Jason had to say doesn't leave but it goes from worried to cautiously pleased. Stephanie gives up on waiting and hugs him.

“I'm glad that he has a friend, too,” Tim says into her shoulder. “It's a lot less awkward since he apologized. I'd like to meet him properly, sometime, but that probably won't be for a while.”

“Probably a long time,” Steph agrees. She reluctantly ends the hug so that she can see Tim's face better. It keeps getting easier to read his expressions when she keeps up the habit of talking about emotions instead of hoping that they can just figure things out without a conversation. “I want to talk him into seeing Dick or Alfred first. Even if he won't, though, I think Jason will help me with the Black Mask case in his territory.”

“I think he will,” Tim agrees. “He's been fighting with him near the edges of his claimed territory as far as I can be sure from here. Are you going out with B tonight?”

“I'll call him on my way into Gotham,” Steph says. “If I'm already halfway there on a motorcycle, he's a lot less likely to tell me to just stay here for the night.”

Tim's smile is a lot less wobbly. “Expert-level Batman management,” he says. “My dad decided that he'd rather have guests coming in through the front door. We won't have to just meet up here even after I move next door.”

Steph seals her mask in place. She likes the extra intimidation of the classic domino mask. “I'm glad that your dad is doing better. But if he backslides...” She smiles and admits to herself that she's also wearing the mask so that any misty-eyed look is mostly covered up. “I shared a file with you. My dad sent me a letter from prison. If your dad screws up again, I reserve the right to tell him he's losing to Cluemaster.”

“Steph?”

“Nope, Robin now!” she calls, heading for the bikes with a goofy smile on her face. Her dad is proud of her. Her dad wants to be better so that she can be proud of him.She'll have her emotions back in check by the time she makes it to Gotham and she has no guilt about pulling a Bruce. “Just read the letter!”

She rests her hand on a motorcycle on the way to Robin's usual ride. She isn't sure just when someone had time to change up the paint job but there is an absolutely gorgeous motorcycle in the perfect shade of eggplant waiting with a matching helmet. The paint even has a glittery finish.

She's very tempted but that is going to have to wait for another night. She pops on the helmet in Robin colors instead and waves to Tim before firing up the motorcycle with bright red detailing and taking off down the tunnel.

Tim lets her escape and doesn't fire up her comm or the helmet's integrated communicator. They can talk about her dad when everything is easier for her to believe. She listens to the roar of the engine until she's close enough to downtown.

“Robin to Batman,” she says. “Where are we meeting up?”

“Diamond District,” he replies a few seconds later. “No need for the quiet approach, we'll travel on rooftops to the docks. I have a few leads that might help Spoiler's case.”

Steph turns toward the Diamond District and thinks over Bruce's phrasing. “If Spoiler and Red Hood work that case together, would they be able to plan it out in the Batcave? Maybe tomorrow, if he's available? I'd rather not try to scribble some of the details out longhand.”

“I suspect the Batcave could be cleared for the two of them to work,” he says after a long pause. “No one else will go down unless Spoiler seems to be in trouble. Video only, no audio.”

Steph is the one with the shaky smile this time. “I guess I'll swing through Crime Alley when we're done. I think he's trying, B, and he might be ready for more company someday.”

“I think he needs a friend. I'm very grateful that he has one.”

Stephanie can't decide if blushing or smiling is winning but she's probably as red as her helmet. “Thanks, B.”

She lets herself take a few blocks to regain her composure. She thought she'd have to fight for this. She hadn't realized just how much Bruce might want Jason to be home for a little while, even if Jason wasn't ready to be anywhere near him. “I'll meet you up top in about six minutes. Robin out.”

Bruce and Barbara separately ask Tim to stay out of the Cave for the day. Both of them offer an unsolicited favor before he has time to agree, and if they find out later that Tim is holding onto two favors for staying at home with his dad... he would have agreed for nothing. It's not Tim's fault they both were very eager for him to agree without asking too many questions.

It's a lot easier to stay away when he's in the Cave most nights. It's even easier when Steph already texted him to ask if he'd stay out of the Cave for the night so she and Jason can do some background work on the smuggling case she's been handling. Tim had texted back a thumbs-up emoji and decided to try making dinner instead of seeing how long they can last on the leftovers still in the refrigerator.

Tim had meant to start dinner earlier but he and his dad had been talking about archeology after lunch and it had put them both off schedule. His dad had told a few stories about some of his favorite archeological digs. Most of the stories barely mention his mom but it's more than Tim's ever heard about why they used to travel so much. His dad had mentioned that he still had the occasional offer to spend some time at a dig site and maybe Tim could go along with him sometime.

Chopping up vegetables and chicken is easy enough. Alfred only sends him very specific recipes that say exactly what size the different things should be and how much seasoning to start with. If Tim messes up a sheet-pan dinner, Alfred will be able to deconstruct the problems as long as Tim takes enough pictures along the way. The photos of previous misadventures in trying to make an edible meal are probably destined for Alfred's scrapbook (the soup had been particularly bad) but at least Tim hasn't come close to some of Bruce's infamous mishaps.

Tim is reaching for the cutting board when he notices a brown box on the counter. It's about the size of a shoe box with a shallow unmarked lid.

There's a handwritten note on top of the box. Someone had written 'JACK D®AKE' and nearly every letter was scrawled in black ink. The circled R is red and looks a lot like the Robin symbol.

Tim backs away from the box.

“Dad?” he yells.

“Upstairs!” his dad calls back.

Tim leaves the box where it is. The front door is still locked and the light on the security system is still blinking green in a familiar pattern. He grabs a communicator and a collapsible bo staff from the front closet. It isn't that unusual for someone in the Gotham area to want to have a bo staff around. They're not as common as knock-off batarangs but it isn't odd to have a decent staff.

The communicator looks a lot like a wireless earbud and there aren't any signs to let someone know just where it connects. It's solid black with no sign of a bat or an R anywhere. Muscle memory makes it easy to get the communicator in place while snapping the staff out to full length.

“Oracle? Batman?

“Hearing you loud and clear, Flamebird,” Batman says.

“Someone got past the security system.” Tim doesn't stop until he's in his dad's office. Jack looks fine, if a bit worried that Tim has a bo staff and is checking the windows. “They left a box and a note with my dad's name in the kitchen. Someone circled the R. I didn't open it and we're both upstairs in his office now.”

“I'm downtown,” Batman says curtly. “Stand by for backup, I think I can get someone there faster.”

Jack is already pulling a safe out of a desk drawer. “The Justice League threats?” Jack asks.

“Maybe,” Tim says. It could be a strange coincidence. He isn't willing to take the risk or try opening something that could be rigged to explode. “I'm sorry.”

Jack presses a finger against the lock of the safe and loads the handgun inside with easy, practiced motions. “I don't exactly have kung fu for watching your back. This will have to do.”

Tim smiles shakily. “That's just how Alfred would do it. He usually prefers a shotgun, though.”

Tim shuts off the light in the office. The hallway light is on, giving them enough light to see by, and that makes it harder for anyone coming across the yard to see into the office. With any luck, if there's an imminent threat, they'll try the downstairs first. It's a lot harder to get through the windows without special equipment after the tree outside his window was pruned back.

They're both on alert, they have Batman looking for backup, and whatever that box is, it's downstairs and on the other side of the house.

Someone had thought his dad would be alone with Batman and Robin out on patrol. They had guessed wrong two times over.

Chapter Text

Tim waits in a corner of his dad's office that gives him a good view. He has a comm in his ear and a bo staff. His dad has a loaded gun and his wheelchair backed into the opposite corner to give him a clear shot at the door and window.

Tim could be overreacting. Maybe the circled R written into his dad's name meant something else. Lois had been the only other person to get a warning and Superman's wife was a way bigger target than an ex-Robin's dad.

The security control panel on the wall of his dad's office stops flickering in its comfortably irregular rhythm of green LED lights. The indicator light for the fence and gate starts to blink red.

“B? Perimeter breach.” Tim's voice is quiet. It could all still be a coincidence. He doesn't have any guarantees that the implied threat and the perimeter breach are related to the Justice League killer.

“Tracking,” B replies curtly. “Oracle doesn't have a good visual without turning on the porch lights but someone is crossing the grounds on foot and heading toward the front door. None of the Justice League or Teen Titans speedsters are available.”

Tim should have asked for an extra comm for his dad. He hadn't thought that he would ever need to use it in his own house for anything but remote backup. “Someone's on the way to the house, dad,” Tim murmurs. Jack nods sharply in acknowledgment.

Tim knows that the Titans are off for the week. His recently-upgraded phone is secure enough that he's back in the groupchat and overrun with awful suggestions for a new code name. Tim had hoped someone from the Justice League would head to Bristol.

Downstairs, something collides with the door. The impact is too quiet to be a blunt weapon. A much louder crashing sound follows seconds later. It sounds a lot like someone kicking down the reinforced front door.

“Front door is down,” Tim murmurs.

Downstairs, someone is laughing and calling for Jack to come out. The voice isn't familiar. The malice is. Tim's heard that before in Rogues and henchmen willing and ready to kill.

“You've got help on the way.” Oracle's voice is calm. “ETA fifteen seconds.”

Tim expects a Justice League member with superspeed. Any of them might immediately head out to deal with a crisis.

It's not a speedster. It's someone on a motorcycle. The rider races across the lawn, curving around from the back of the house before heading straight for the front door.

“Hold fire, dad.” Tim's voice is just loud enough to be heard over the taunting from downstairs. “I think that's the cavalry.”

Something glimmers in the dim light from inside the house as it hurtles toward the person on the motorcycle. The rider leaps off the motorcycle, leaving the bike to crash into the freshly-trimmed hedges the landscaper had fussed over just that afternoon, and ducks beneath a second glimmering object that curves close to his head. When the man straightens, his red helmet catches the light.

Tim's eyes widen. Red Hood stalks toward the door and dodges a third projectile.

“Captain Boomerang,” Jason Todd says. Tim can hear the mechanical echo of the words downstairs but in the comms Tim can hear Jason's voice. “Unless you're a knockoff of the guy the Flash usually deals with. Did you get lost?”

Tim can't quite make out Captain Boomerang's reply. Whatever the man was expecting, it wasn't Red Hood.

“Tim? I'm upstairs,” Steph murmurs into the comm. “Oracle opened up the lock on a guest room window for me.”

Tim doesn't relax his grip on his staff. He won't relax until he's sure Captain Boomerang didn't bring backup. “We're in my dad's office.”

Downstairs, Captain Boomerang's renewed jeers abruptly cut off with a loud thud. It sounds a lot like two men crashing into a wall or the floor.

“And stay down,” Jason says irritably. “Finally. Boomerang is pinned and I didn't see anyone else. I let him jabber long enough that any backup would have had time to show their hand. Boomerangs aren't supposed to be sharp, you think he'd know that. Spoiler, you still checking perimeter?”

“Upstairs is clear so far,” Steph says.

“I don't see anyone else on the cameras.” Barbara's voice is warmer without the computerized edge she almost always uses on the comms. “The Justice League is updated. ETA of about ninety seconds for Batman. Spoiler can keep the guy down if you want to get out of there, Red Hood.”

“Spoiler's not coming near someone this stabby until we finish that costume redesign. Her body armor is shit,” Jason scoffs. Tim doesn't know him well enough to guess what emotions Jason could be hiding in the dismissive reply.

Spoiler pauses in the office doorway and nods approvingly when she takes in their positions and Jack's confident grip on his gun. “I've got eyes on the Drakes. They're both okay. Captain Boomerang never made it upstairs and neither did any of his weapons.”

Jack opens his mouth. He shuts his mouth. He blinks. “Captain... Boomerang,” he repeats uncertainly.

Steph shrugs and points at the communicator in her ear. “That's what I hear. I don't think I'd recognize the guy even if I was downstairs.”

Tim looks out the window when he sees the glare of headlights. Bruce parks the Batmobile in the driveway and walks in. It is surreal to see Batman walking right up to Tim's front porch.

“Batman,” Jason says evenly. “Got a couple things to deal with here. The box the kid mentioned is up there on the counter, figure you might as well scan that first.”

The house is silent for several seconds. “Not a bomb,” Batman says finally. “No trace of known toxins or poisons, either, and no signs of something that will trigger with the movement of the lid. Opening it now.” A few seconds later, Bruce speaks again. “There is a gun in the box. There is a second note, similar handwriting to the one on top of the box, that says 'protect yourself.' I doubt this was Captain Boomerang's work.”

Tim watches Bruce carry the small box outside and set it on the passenger seat. Bruce looks toward the house for a moment. Before Tim can understand just how many emotions are leveled in that expression, Bruce's face smooths to polite blankness and he walks back inside.

“Makes sense to take all the trash with you,” Jason says when Bruce goes back inside. “I'm glad it wasn't a bomb. Kind of sick of those.”

“Agreed,” Batman says quietly. His voice probably sounds normal to a Flash villain like Captain Boomerang. He sounds a bit choked up to anyone who knows him better. “Thank you, Red Hood.”

“Whatever, old man.” Jason might be trying to sound unaffected. His helmet probably makes that easy. His voice is quiet in the comms. “Spoiler, are we hanging around until he finishes up with this loser?”

“Sure,” Steph replies without skipping a beat. “We'll stay around until Batman's back or someone else is watching. O said that Nightwing's on his way.”

Captain Boomerang's arms are cuffed behind him when Batman leads him out of the house. He struggles but still ends up in the back seat of the Batmobile. “On my way to rendezvous with the Justice League. I'll be back when I can,” Bruce says. “Spoiler, are the Drakes okay with the plan?”

Tim guesses that's meant for him. It's not like Batman is going to ask after him by name with Captain Boomerang listening in. “We're fine. We've got backup here in case he has any friends that stop by later.” Tim knows that isn't what Bruce is really asking but he's not sure what he wants to say with Jason listening in.

Red Hood probably wouldn't offer to stay right in front of Batman if he had a rematch in mind. Tim is pretty sure that Jason won't start something with Stephanie around, not when the two of them seem on track to be good friends, but Tim won't take that for granted. He knows just how quickly Jason can turn from calm to furious.

Tim deliberately loosens his grip on his bo staff. Stephanie said that Red Hood's helmet was going to be bomb-free for at least a couple weeks and she already established that a moderate amount of force can put cracks into the helmet. If it turns into a fight, Tim will have a bright red target to hit.

Jason watches the Batmobile leave and for once doesn't feel like the rage is too much to control. It helps that Bruce hadn't even tried to make it personal. Jason isn't sure if the unexpected self-control was because they'd had Captain Boomerang of all people as an audience or if Stephanie had convinced Bruce that memory lane was not a happy place.

Jason doesn't know that he's waiting for someone to break the silence until the communicator he'd integrated into his helmet crackles slightly. The connection's too good for that to be an accident. Jason had invested in a good setup and hadn't asked himself why he'd put in the extra work to make it compatible with the basic communication setup the Bats used.

“You got something, Oracle?”

“Always.” Barbara's voice is fond and wry and doesn't sound anything like the chirpy Batgirl he still remembers. The line clicks slightly. “Just you and me for now. First up... thank you. Seriously. Thank you. Let me know if I can help you out sometime.”

Jason wants to say it's no big deal, but maybe he can just accept it. An hour ago, being anywhere near Batman would have felt like a huge deal and he would have guessed there was no way he could talk to him without anyone getting hurt. Captain Boomerang didn't count, Jason had tackled him and the guy deserved worse than that. “You're welcome. Any updates yet?

“I don't know much yet. It looks like somebody hired Captain Boomerang as an assassin. B's already running fingerprints on the note.”

Jason frowns and scans the room. He was just in the open-plan kitchen a couple weeks before and there wasn't a security panel there, with or without the lights still blinking red. “Huh. Any clues on how the box ended up in the kitchen?”

“So far it looks like a clean bypass. Someone felt brave enough to walk right into the kitchen but not to finish the job on their own.” There's quiet tapping in the background. “I'll keep you in the loop, if you're interested.”

“I'd appreciate that,” Jason says. “There's a lot I'm still catching up on. Steph already passed on the bit about the Lazarus Day Spa?”

“Zero out of four stars, do not recommend,” she quips. “Seriously, though, I'm still glad you're back and would love it if you stopped by sometime.” The joke sounds like Batgirl. The confidence is new and Jason wants to be that comfortable talking about emotions someday. “Speaking of being back...”

“Batman?”

“Nightwing, actually. He's about twenty minutes out and very much wants to see you. He doesn't want to push, though, so he's been on a side channel. He only dropped his speed out of drag-racing territory after you took Captain Boomerang down.”

“Seeing me isn't much of a rare commodity anymore,” Jason says slowly. He'd exchanged a few words with Batman without planning homicide. He can handle Nightwing. “Tell him to go grab somebody else when he gets huggy, though, he's like an octopus when he's worried and danger's over.”

Barbara laughs. “You're not wrong, Jay.” She hesitates. “Hood. I should have asked.”

Jason rolls his eyes. His plan for keeping everyone at a careful distance is probably shot already. He'll be lucky if they keep it to wistful looks for a couple more weeks. He'll probably have to actually start thinking how many memories seem to line up with the facts. He has the Batcave as an option now, when he wants to sort out ancient history or a current case, and maybe he can mention it wouldn't be bad if Alfred happened to be around.

“If someone hacks your comms tonight, I've got the last identity for anybody to worry about. Don't worry about it, Barbie.”

Barbara laughs again. “If I wasn't so happy you were alive again...”

“Well, get used to it,” Jason says. “Justice League still doing their thing?”

“They made an arrest. Jean Loring wanted to get back together with the Atom, her ex-husband. Palmer took her back after she survived an attack. She showed her hand tonight when asking if the danger was really over. She knew there was a second note before Batman even made it up to space. No one else knew there had been a first note.”

“That's...” Jason doesn't have words. Steph had filled him in on the case, earlier. They'd talked it over while he was sketching just how they could build up her usual look but with better armor worked into the design. “I need a minute. Thanks for telling me, Barbie.”

Oracle clicks off without a word.

Pacing usually helps when he doesn't have a target that deserves a little violence. Pacing here... it's hard to picture anything but the one-sided fight two weeks ago.

Jason can just wait downstairs. He can let Dick go deal with the close call by hugging Tim and refusing to let go. Jason can grab his motorcycle out of the bushes and tell Spoiler that they can reschedule the rest of their talk about costumes. Spoiler and Nightwing can handle anything nasty until Bruce gets back from space.

If Jason avoids Tim, he'll have to keep being careful with just when he's down in the Cave. He'll have to schedule around everybody instead of stopping by on a whim. Surprising Batman would make the old man happy but Jason doesn't want to show up behind the kid sometime when no one else is around. He doesn't want to scare Tim and he's a little scared about whether his own control could hold up to seeing Tim in the Batcave when nobody's there to pull Jason out of his head.

He needs to get it over with. If he takes one look at Tim tonight and can't control himself, he knows Steph will smack him. Nightwing's on his way and he could soothe hurt feelings after if Jason can't handle being in the same room as a teenager.

Jason won't have a better chance to try to apologize. He should probably think about it and take his time and plan out what he's going to say. He could wait for Nightwing. He doesn't. He heads up the stairs. He doesn't want to avoid everyone but Steph forever and maybe helping to save Tim's dad can work against the part where Jason had threatened the guy a couple weeks ago.

The three of them are in a spacious office. The amount of space makes a lot of sense when he remembers passing the wheelchair lift on the way upstairs. Steph smiles when she sees him. Tim looks cautious but he doesn't look afraid. Jack Drake glances at him for half a second before the pistol in his hand is aiming right between Jason's feet. Jack's finger is straight, not curled around the trigger, but Jason knows how quickly that can change.

Jason exhales slowly and tries to work against the way he's linked adrenaline and rage.

“Red Hood, I presume.” Jack Drake's voice is calm and his hand is steady.

“I told you that he's working with Spoiler.” Tim's grip on his bo staff tightens but his voice is calm. “She asked me to stay home for the night so they could have the Cave to themselves. He's the one that took Captain Boomerang down.”

Jack frowns but shifts so that he's targeting a blank section of wall instead of the floor at Jason's feet.

Jason reaches up slowly to take the helmet off. This is definitely not the time for taking advantage of how hostile he can look without facial expressions that give away what he's thinking.

Tim's got a pretty good poker face. He also has traces of green and yellow from fading bruises all around his eyes and streaked along his jaw. Jason can feel guilty about the amount of bruising he caused two weeks ago after he makes sure that Jack isn't going to shoot.

Steph already knows that he hadn't bothered with a domino mask. His excuse was that doing too much reading through the lenses gave him a headache. She had beamed at him and hadn't said a word about retracting the lenses on his mask. Her only reaction to seeing him take the helmet off again is to reach up and pull away her hood and full-face mask.

Jack is studying him thoughtfully.

Jason probably won't get a better chance. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have attacked Tim two weeks ago, or threatened you, or any of that.” This is usually the point where he promises not to do it again but it's just been a couple weeks. He doesn't know how slowly the ideas had built up until it all felt like something that had to happen. Robin hadn't been patrolling, Robin wasn't seen anywhere near the Teen Titans, and it had all felt like a personal slight against Jason. He hadn't even been able to consider that the kid had quit. Not when he'd let Talia build Tim into Bruce's ideal sidekick.

Tim drops a hand off of his staff. He doesn't seem to know what to say. Jason can't judge him for that when he's also at a loss for words. Jack is still frowning at him, yet another thing Jason can't judge.

“He's working on his supernatural anger issues,” Steph says into the silence just before it turns awkward. “Bruce's ex-girlfriend pushed Jason into a Lazarus Pit and then told a very one-sided story about just how Tim ended up as Robin.”

“She had pictures,” Jason says. It's not an excuse, he knows that, but Tim deserves an explanation. “You and Bruce... B can't fake that smile. He wasn't looking at you like you were some new Robin he'd hired. He looked at you like you were his son. It made the rest of what Talia said make sense. Even past knowing everything Dickie used to say about how Talia was never going to be good for Bruce and that B should stop trying.” He can't look at Steph right now, not when her face is bare and she looks at him like he's doing something right. He focuses on Tim. “I don't know how much you know about what happened before I left Gotham. I'm still trying to figure out what I was assuming and what B actually thought.”

Tim takes a few seconds to think. Micro-expressions flicker across his face, so quick and subtle that Jason can't quite understand what's behind the tightening around Tim's eyes or the flickers of movement in the muscles around his jaw.

“I don't know much,” Tim says finally. “If you ever want to talk about it... maybe it would help that I hardly know anything. Just that Bruce still hasn't forgiven himself.”

Jack looks from Tim to Jason to Stephanie and then back to Jason. “You know my name, so pardon me if this is rude, but who are you?”

Jason doesn't know what to say for a moment. “Ah—Jason. Jason Todd.”

Jack's puzzled expression doesn't clear.

“The street kid Bruce Wayne adopted?” Jason prompts.

“Ah. I'm sorry, I was not paying much attention at all to news back in Gotham back in those days. I didn't have much attention for anything that wasn't my company or the next archeological dig.” Jack slowly sets the gun on his desk and wheels forward slightly. “Were you...” Jack pauses and a sympathetic expression slowly overcomes the suspicion. “Were you dead?”

“Woke up in a coffin,” Jason says. Steph's eyes widen and Tim's poker-face falters. Jack has a look Jason hasn't been familiar with for years, not since Jason was the one getting used to wandering down for breakfast and finding Wonder Woman chatting with Alfred while she helped to set the table. “Can't tell you much about how that happened, how I got out, how Talia found me... any of that. She pushed me into the Lazarus Pit and I came out of it angry.”

Jason can see the moment Jack almost asks about a Lazarus Pit and then decides that he does not want to know. Jack shakes his head instead. “I suppose I'll have to get used to it eventually,” Jack says. “Thank you for apologizing. I – ah – am less than familiar with supernatural anger issues, but I've had my own anger to struggle with.”

Jason is pretty sure that his eyes flicker to a brighter shade of green for a moment. One of his teachers had described it, once, and she'd said it happened right when Jason was angry enough to almost lose all control.

He'd seen that guilty look before. He'd seen it way too many times.

“Whatever you're thinking, Jason, he always stopped at destroying things.” Tim's voice is firm and confident and doesn't sound anything at all like the kid Jason talked with a couple weeks back. The tone snaps Jason out of dark thoughts. “He never hit me.”

Jason feels like he is suddenly back in control of his body. He hadn't known that he was in danger of losing control.

Jack's looking at Tim like he wants to talk it over but doesn't want an audience. He looks like he knows that not hitting doesn't mean that it was okay. Tim... Jason's not sure if Tim knows that's not enough.

Stephanie moves to link her arm through Jason's. “We'll give you guys a minute. Adrenaline's really hard to come down from sometimes. We'll be downstairs.”

Steph hauls Jason away. She doesn't need to put much work into it. Jason does not want to be there for that talk, whatever's coming next, and he knows that it isn't his business but he has to know. He's been wrong about almost everything else when he made his own assumptions about Tim.

“Jack Drake,” he says at the bottom of the stairs.

“Bit of a jerk sometimes,” Steph replies immediately. “Trying to do better, lately, and jury's out how much of that is because he was living in Bruce's house for a week and a half which was really awkward after the time he was threatening B with a gun despite knowing that he's Batman.”

Jason stares at her. Her confident expression doesn't change.

“I know, right? It was awful. Bruce took care of Tim while Jack was in a coma for over a year and then Jack wakes up and he's mad that Tim actually had someone to look after him.” Steph pauses just long enough to look at him thoughtfully. “You might've done Tim a favor in the long run. Even Jack couldn't argue his security was up to keeping Tim safe so he had to stay with Bruce for a week.”

Jason isn't smiling. That attack should never be counted as a favor. “That was a good thing?”

“Bruce was incredibly awkward about it, of course, but Tim was functionally an orphan when Bruce took him in. Even Jack could tell that Tim wanted to stay close to Bruce so he agreed to a week. That started it off. The rest was Alfred and Barbara.”

“Alfred's...”

“Missing you.” Stephanie's blunt, as always, but she doesn't have any of the judgment that he still worries about. She just tells him and lets him figure out what to do about it. “He already told me that he'll send on dinner for you, if you like, or come visit at your apartment.”

“I'll think about it.” Thinking about Alfred makes him want to bake and that sounds a lot better than wearing a groove into the kitchen tile by pacing. If Alfred was here... “You know if Tim or Jack are allergic to anything?”

“No allergies,” Steph says. “Whatcha making?”

Jason raises a brow.

Steph nudges her shoulder against his bicep. “That was Alfred Pennyworth's 'I suppose you may have cookies just this once' face, I know that one. Luckily for you, I am just useful enough in the kitchen to fetch ingredients, find the baking trays, and clean all the leftover cookie dough out of the bowl for you.”

Tim's dad has apologized before. This is the first time Tim is convinced that he might not have to expect all the old tricks to come back.

This time, his dad is specific. It makes the apologies take a lot longer when Jack goes through exactly why different behaviors are wrong. Jack even brings in a few points his therapist had made. Tim hadn't even realized that the extra therapy appointments on Jack's calendar weren't for physical or occupational therapy.

They talk until Jack is yawning from the adrenaline crash and Jack even says that it won't be the last conversation. Tim's pretty sure he believes him.

Jack's going to bed. Tim goes downstairs holding onto his bo staff like a bizarre security blanket.

He'd taken his communicator out when he started talking to his dad. He'd thought maybe Nightwing would be around by the time that he made it downstairs. He was not expecting to see Dick, fully out of costume, lounging at the dining room table and looking like he'd been there for hours.

“You guys had it under control so I stopped at the Manor first.” Dick looks at Tim and seems to understand that if anybody even tries to hug him, Tim is going to cry, and that is not something he is okay with when Jason's probably around somewhere. Dick doesn't move from his sprawl at the table. “Alfred sent along a care package and Steph told me which movies to grab. We told B to finish up the case so the Justice League could calm down and we could give your dad some detailed answers in the morning.”

The egg-timer dings. When Tim turns toward the kitchen, Jason is wearing the Star Trek oven mitts Steph had bought for Tim's birthday last year and taking a sheet of cookies out of the oven. Steph's wearing a Farscape apron over her Spoiler costume and wielding a spatula.

“Dark chocolate cake cookies with chocolate chunks and walnuts.” Steph grabs a cookie off of a cooling rack. For a moment, it looks like she'll throw the cookie at him, but a disapproving glance from Jason has her rolling her eyes and walking across the room to hand him the cookie with exaggerated care. “Dick brought over a few of the supplies that you didn't have or we couldn't find. Sorry not sorry for stealing your oven.”

“My oven's probably happy someone knows what they're doing without detailed step-by-step instructions from Alfred.” Tim collapses the bo staff and clips it to his belt. Jason looks a lot less intimidating when he's distracted with cookies and Dick would not look that boneless if he was worried about anything. The cookie vanishes in two bites.

“Cookies, popcorn, and movie marathon?” Steph offers. “Dick brought over the entire top shelf of my collection.”

Tim could probably eat half the batch of cookies on his own. Coming down from adrenaline is hard enough without his dad showing more emotional vulnerability in fifteen minutes than Tim has seen in his entire life. Eating cookies and watching a movie he knows by heart sounds perfect.

“I want to watch the one with the attempt at bo staff fights first.”

Steph laughs. “I'm still tempted, you know,” she says as she starts moving still-warm cookies onto a cooling rack. “I just don't want Lady Shiva to show up and kick my butt if we really do send her a copy and she gets offended.”

Jason almost drops a sheet of cookies. “You want to mess with Lady Shiva why?”

“There's a reason Tim fights with a bo staff and her name is Lady Shiva,” Steph says cheerfully before Tim can think of a way to stop her. “I'm surprised Talia didn't fill you in on who trained him if she wanted you to have a fight.”

Jason's eyes seem to flash a vivid green for a moment. “Did Bruce...”

“Long story, not his fault,” Tim interrupts before Steph can make it worse. “It's a good weapon for me even if Bruce never would have set that up on purpose. He sent me to learn from someone completely safe and boring.” He relaxes when Jason does.

“You can still have a word with Bruce if you want, Jay,” Dick says. He's smiling and it is not a kind smile. “I sure did.”

Tim rolls his eyes but he's learned the hard way that there is no way to stop Dick from his self-assigned duties as big brother. “Not tonight, though,” he says. “Bruce can sort out why Jean Loring apparently sent Captain Boomerang after my dad, Jason can pick the second movie if he wants, and I want to eat a lot more of those cookies.”

Bruce comes back sometime during the third or fourth movie. Tim is dozing on the oversized L-shaped sectional and not inclined to move. He doesn't mind sleeping through one of Steph's favorite terrible martial arts movies when he knows that she'll watch them with him any time. He and Steph had settled legs-to-legs because they usually don't kick each other.

Dick's hand stops combing through Tim's hair. “Company,” Dick murmurs. “B wants to check in before he heads home for the night.”

“I'll talk to him,” Jason says quietly. Tim's sleepy enough to not wonder why that should be a surprise. He just knows that he's happy Jason's handling it. “If you move, Tim's going to wake up.”

Tim could argue he's already awake. He doesn't. He's comfortable and Jason sounds calm. Jason sounds like the guy that made cookies in his kitchen and it's easy to start replacing the old memories when everything is still so calm.

The quiet murmuring at the front door goes on for longer than Tim expects. He falls back into true sleep before the conversation ends.

Chapter Text

When Jason says that he left Tim an idea for a costume and codename, Tim thinks that it'll be another prank suggestion. Steph has put more joke suggestions than real designs into the shared file of costume ideas for Tim. Tim can't tell which of Dick's designs are sincere and which are pranks but none of them quite fit. Steph will never stop making fun of Tim for the vaguely dragon-inspired coloring he'd titled Drake. Tim will never admit if Drake was a temporary title based on costume theme (Bruce's guess), a moment of forgetting his own last name (Steph's theory), a joke (Dick's idea), or a double-bluff because there's no way anyone would assume Tim would run around calling himself by his own surname (Jason's guess).

Jason hadn't been pranking him and he's justifiably smug when he came up with Tim's favorite by far. Stephanie and Jason fabricate the Red Robin costume with Tim's alterations without asking him first. Nobody teases Tim when he trades up from sweatpants to Red Robin for running communications.

Jason starts spending a little more time in the Cave. Tim starts to feel like he can relax even with Jason behind him. Eventually, Jason asks Stephanie about the tall case someone had shrouded in black fabric.

Steph and Jason don't ask permission. They take down Jason's memorial case together one night while Alfred silently hands them screwdrivers. They move the costume over to a long line of displayed costume before Steph and Jason head out on patrol. Jason's kind enough to let Tim try out the video feed from his helmet. Stephanie and Jason have a lot of fun arguing about how much thermite is enough when they destroy the plaque that said 'good soldier' before obliteration.

Oracle tells the Bats that she's off radio for a week, minimum, and that Tim has admin access to her systems if they need something. She makes vague promises of an explanation at some point in the future before signing off.

Tim is on comms for the entire amazing week where Jason scares half of Gotham's criminals silly just by publicly spending time with the Bats. It is not how Tim planned to start as Red Robin but it is a great week to listen in on all the best conversations and put the most fun parts of the night's reports together for everyone to see in a highlights reel.

The criminals are still a little leery after all the rumors about just what Nightwing might have said to the Riddler on the way into Arkham a couple weeks ago. Riddler isn't talking and also is not going through his usual henchman to work on the next escape plan yet. Gotham's underbelly is even more nervous about why Red Hood is suddenly working with Batman on a couple cases in Crime Alley. The criminals get openly superstitious when Red Hood starts publicly hanging around with the bats outside of cases. Gotham's criminals had been absolutely convinced that Red Hood loathed Batman and Robin but Red Hood doesn't just go get ice cream with Spoiler. He walks right into restaurants with Robin to pick up a to-go order.

Jason never explains the change, not even to a few thugs he's been working with for months, but does make several quiet threats with his comm turned off after one of his men is rude to Spoiler. By the time Jason turns his comm back on, the man has already apologized twice. After that, all of Jason's hirelings address her as ma'am.

After the first week, the chaos dies down slightly, and it's a little easier to focus on work after Jason's non-hostile presence becomes less of a novelty.

Tim likes being the voice in Bruce's ear. He understands how Bruce works and it's easy to anticipate just which questions he'll ask. It's really nice to work with Dick and feel more like an equal than a sidekick. Jason and Steph let him in on jokes that could have stayed between the two of them. When it's the three of them on comms, Tim is Red and Jason is Hood. Whenever anyone else joins them... somehow, Tim always knows when he is Red and when Steph means Jason. Bruce does not, possibly because Steph always insists he guessed the wrong Red.

Tim's two weeks as substitute Oracle ends with setting up a meeting on her behalf. He isn't the only person that freezes when Jason walks into the Cave and taps a fist against Bruce's shoulder as he walks to his spot at the conference table. Bruce, suited up as Batman with the cowl off, clears his throat a few seconds later and tries to look stoic instead of thrilled. Jason's making the same expression so Tim does his best to hide a smile. Stephanie and Dick don't bother.

Barbara doesn't drive in through the Cave. She parks her handicap-accessible van upstairs and comes down in the elevator with a guest quietly trailing after her.

“I was thinking about making introductions one at a time but she convinced me to get it over with,” Barbara says. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Cassandra Cain. Cass, these are the people I told you about.”

However shy the young woman seems, her eyes are sharp when she looks over them all in turn.

Barbara smiles at her before looking back to the group. “She's going to be staying with me for a while and no I will not be accepting comparisons to Bruce at this time.”

Cassandra's last name could have been enough of an explanation, possibly, but Tim hasn't read the file on her. If anything, he guessed she was a distant Kane cousin with a rough past and an abusive father and didn't ask too many questions. That's his first mistake.

Cass sees him with a bo staff and makes the tiny pleased expression that's the closest she comes to smiling before taking up a bo staff of her own. She gestures in a clear invitation to spar. He accepts without asking any questions and thinks he'll have to be careful to not hurt her. That is his second mistake.

The fight doesn't last long before he's on the practice mats with nowhere to go and Cass's eyes shining with triumph as she pins him. She looks like there might be a tiny smile when she hops back and nods to him happily.

Tim decides to look at the stalactites for a little longer before he gets up. “Ow.”

Barbara laughs. “Sorry, Tim.” She doesn't sound sorry. “Lady Shiva trained you. She gave birth to Cass.”

Cass is happy to give Tim a rematch whenever he wants to lose. Once in a while it feels like he's making Cass work for the win. By the time Jason and Tim are comfortable enough with each other that Jason asks for a sparring match with bo staffs, Jason doesn't stand a chance.

After a few weeks of sparring and working cases together over the comms, Tim isn't nervous when Jason is the only other person in the Cave.

At least, not until Jason says one of the most threatening sentences possible.

“We need to talk.”

Tim doesn't know if he wants to have any conversation that starts with those words but Jason doesn't look angry. “Okay.”

“First up...” Jason looks away, clearly uncomfortable, and something in his gaze sharpens. The hand that had been loose at his side tenses and then flashes the hand-signal all Robins use for 'pretend to act natural because no one actually acts naturally on cue Bruce.'

Tim does his best to act naturally. That means he stops trying to pretend that this is awkward. “It's okay. We don't have to talk about it.” He turns away, partially, trying to scan the Cave without giving away that he's looking around intentionally and not just to avoid Jason's eyes.

Jason's gaze focuses somewhere behind Tim for just a moment. “I think we do. It's just awkward, otherwise, with you living right next door.” Jason steps forward. “Your dad's doing alright?”

Tim hesitantly steps to the side when Jason keeps moving forward. “He's fine, yes.” Tim isn't sure why but he's pretty sure Jason wants him to keep talking, and if Jason brought up his dad... “I—um—guess he and Bruce had a talk. Because both Jack and Bruce had really awkward conversations with me a couple days ago. I'm still not sure if I should say thank you or be mad at everyone for getting involved.”

“Save the thanks for Steph, I'll take the angry. If anybody—” Jason lunges toward the display case. Seconds later, he's trading blows with someone half Tim's size. The brief fight ends with a katana hurled one direction, a zigzag-bladed knife thrown in another, and a surly child pinned in Jason's arms.

Jason says something in a language Tim doesn't speak. He sounds incredibly casual about it, as if it's something he's said dozens of times, and the child sulks as if he's heard Jason say it that many times.

“He still expects me to finish a sentence,” Jason says after the child grumpily replies in the same language. Both of the kid's arms are pinned tight to his sides, keeping his back pressed tight against Jason's chest, but his legs are free. He keeps trying to get in a decent kick then struggling to move for a better angle. “I have a few tricks but that one's worked way too many times. This is Damian al Ghul, Talia's son.”

Tim raises a hand in a half-hearted wave. “Hi, Damian.”

“He's too impatient to pass up chances to stab me and I gave him a couple before I started the fight. He had his eyes on you.” Jason looks unaffected by the squirming, kicking child muttering something under his breath that sounds very insulting. “If Talia sent somebody after you again, I'll let Bruce handle her this time.”

Tim feels about as plaintive as the apparently-stabby child still trapped in a modified hug. “Me?”

“Baby assassin was gunning right for you. Sorry for implying you only have one dad but confusing Dami slowed him down enough that he started hesitating instead of diving toward you katana-first. Everybody but you knew that Bruce is your other dad. That's why we all harassed Bruce until he went and admitted it to you so you'd stop feeling like you were imposing by thinking of B as your other dad. Would you summon him, by the way?”

Tim gapes at him.

Jason doesn't seem to notice. He's frowning at the child in his arms and looking at their reflection on one of the mirrored trophy cases. Damian is still kicking at him but with less enthusiasm. “Timmy. If you were going to compare this kid to baby pictures you might've seen around the house...”

Tim's always been good at putting clues together. Talia al Ghul's son has a familiar scowl, one ill-suited to the baby fat in his cheeks, and a very familiar jawline. Any of Tim's best guesses on the child's age line up with Dick's stories about when Talia was dating Bruce.

“I think I'll call Bruce now.” Tim reaches for the phone without looking away from the tiny child that had broken through the Batcave's security. The call connects with the series of chimes warning that Bruce is somewhere in public, probably surrounded by civilians.

Tim looks at Jason. Jason looks at Tim. Tim puts the phone on speaker.

“Congratulations, Bruce, it's a boy.” Jason doesn't relax his grip on Damian. “Even if he isn't biologically yours, a black-haired boy with a rough childhood just showed up at your house. We all know he isn't going anywhere.”

Damian is Bruce's biological son and he expects to begin patrolling with Batman very soon. He's also a lot more used to assassins than vigilantes. Dick reworks his 'Batman's Non-Expressions And You' slides into a detailed lecture about how to work with Batman and why Batman does not condone killing. Babs sources some additional images for Dick's talk and brings Cass over. Tim doesn't want to miss Dick's new presentation, Jason refuses to miss it, and Steph brings popcorn.

At the end of the presentation, Dick bows, Cass beams at him, and the rest of them clap. Damian joins in the applause but he looks hesitant until Jason takes him aside. After a brief talk, again entirely in a language Tim doesn't speak and wants to learn, Damian looks determined instead of nervous. He also gets a lot more polite with Alfred and Tim and Stephanie.

Damian's politeness to Stephanie pays off after about a week.

“I spend half my time patrolling as Spoiler anyway, and Cass already has a costume ready for her whenever she's ready to be Batgirl,” she says after Damian makes it through an entire family dinner without even a threat to stab somebody. He'd even thanked Alfred for the meal. “Maybe we can split Robin for a while.”

Stephanie doesn't ask Bruce before she makes the offer. Bruce tries to explain that Damian is far too young to patrol anytime soon. Dick has no sympathy and tells a lot of stories of Robin's first patrols with Batman. Babs makes it over to the Cave a few times for Cass to work with the others and to tease Bruce in person. Jason has less sympathy than Dick, if possible, and works with Damian to explain hand-signals and protocols in Damian's first language.

Steph laughs at Bruce and introduces Cass and Damian to the wonders of poorly-choreographed martial arts. Cass watches an entire movie in silence before explaining that one of the stunt doubles had just what the various stunt-people had been thinking about instead of the fight. Damian is aghast at the lack of professionalism but has a lot more fun recruiting people to help him show how the fights should have been done. When Cass tags Tim in for a bo staff fight, Damian watches with rapt attention and starts paying more attention to what Tim has to say.

When Damian starts out as Robin, Gotham seems to collectively shrug after a week where he and Stephanie swap off in Robin's colors. Damian is Spiky or Stabby Robin almost immediately. Steph is mostly called Robin or Blonde Robin. When she patrols with Jason or Cass or both, she's mostly the smiling vigilante criminals go to first when they want to be smart and surrender before the rubber bullets or Batgirl's fists started flying.

Tim has a countdown of how many days are left before he turns eighteen. Training and running communications in the Cave or Titans Tower is nothing like being out on patrol.

By the time news about the Arkham breakout makes it to the nightly news, Tim has already checked the security system and he's ready to run next door. The news broadcasters are still dealing in rumors but Oracle's already sent the confirmed list. The only good news is that Joker is still locked up tight in the high-security wing.

Jack's waiting at the door when Tim's about to head next door to do what he can from the Batcave.

Tim slows, wondering if his dad is going to ask for family time now of all nights, because he's seen that determined expression on his dad's face before. It rarely ends well for Tim.

“I want you to be careful out there.”

Tim freezes. “Dad?”

“From what you said yesterday, two of your usual crew are out of town,” Jack says mildly. It's the usual family turn of phrase but funny to hear his dad talk about Dick and Damian's trip to space with the same casual excuse the rest of Tim's family uses to explain why someone isn't around. This time, 'out of town' means that Nightwing and Spiky Robin are in space fighting against non-sentient robots and having the time of their life since the things are vulnerable to both katanas and electrified escrima sticks.

“You mean...”

“Text if you're spending the night and I expect someone to let me into that Cave of yours if you're hurt.” Jack shrugs uncomfortably when Tim stares at him. “The World's Greatest Detective asks my son for help and it's starting to feel like I'm holding you back instead of protecting you. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about it?”

Tim beams. “Tomorrow,” he promises. This hug is a lot less awkward. They've both been making an effort, lately. His dad's therapist has invited Tim in for a few sessions, now, and physical therapy is going really well. His dad can pull himself halfway out of his wheelchair and the physical therapy team is starting to talk about when he'll have enough strength to start working on standing.

Bruce and the Batmobile are long gone before Tim heads out the back door. Jason and Dick had both been very serious about motorcycle designs for Red Robin and it's so much more fun to ride the new motorcycle without the civilian cloaking and civilian speed limits.

“Red Robin to Oracle,” he says after taking a few minutes to breathe and get ready to sound professional on the comms. “I'm heading downtown now. Anywhere I should go first?”

“Spoiler and Batgirl are holding steady, Red, and Batman's moving in on a new lead. Red Hood has a two-for-one special if you can head to his location.”

“On it, O.”

“Perfect. I missed bossing you around,” Barbara says before opening up the line. “Hood, you've got help on the way. ETA two minutes.”

“Thanks, Oracle,” Hood says. He doesn't sound out of breath but his voice is flat even without a distorter in the comms. “Killer Croc and Mad Hatter can never have a tea party again and I'd be a bit happier.”

Tim watches a few seconds of the footage from Jason's helmet when he parks. Jason's mostly trying to fight Croc from a safe distance while Hatter hangs back, muttering, and fiddles with some contraption intermittently letting out sparks. Tim uses his grappling gun to head straight to the roof.

Tim swings down from the skylight and aims himself straight at Mad Hatter. Mad Hatter's in cuffs and sputtering by the time the two of them land. Behind them, Mad Hatter's device sparks and lets out a tiny puff of smoke.

Killer Croc freezes. Red Hood takes a cautious step back.

Killer Croc growls and doesn't close the distance. It sounds much more like he's annoyed than ready to resume the fight.

“If Mad Hatter got a hat or microchip on you, you know that's a freebie,” Red Hood says. The robotic drawl sounds almost comforting. “Your parole hearing's coming up. If you walk back to Arkham, that's going to look a lot better for you.”

Killer Croc reaches up to the back of his neck and grabs at something. He throws a small metallic device at Red Hood's chest and it nearly bounces off a red bat emblem. “You say something at the parole hearing and deal.”

Jason catches the microchip before it can hit the ground. “You might want a Bat with a better image but sure. Red Robin back there will keep Mad Hatter under control. If Hatter gets a clever idea, he gets a rubber bullet somewhere painful.”

Killer Croc stomps out to the street and a team of very nervous police officers take him into custody without issue. Red Robin frog-marches Mad Hatter over to a second transportation van and ignores a few overheard comments about just how many new Bats there are lately.

Tim waits for the second police escort to drive away. “The red looks good,” he says, nodding to the bright red bat on Jason's body armor.

Red Hood's helmet doesn't look intimidating anymore. Not when Tim knows Jason well enough to track just what expression matches that tilt of his head. “Same to you,” he drawls through the voice disguiser. “Crime Alley next? I promised you the nickel tour when you made it out on patrol and Firefly might have headed that way.”

Firefly does not head toward Crime Alley. Spoiler and Batgirl catch him right before he can head out of his rented garage over by the docks. He's the last escapee to be checked back into Arkham.

Red Hood and Red Robin find Mad Hatter's most recent lair on their way through Crime Alley. No matter what Bruce says, Tim's pretty sure that only three of those explosions were unnecessary. No one had been hurt by the blasts, the property damage was confined to buildings that were already slated for demolition, and they'd even gotten the evidence out first. It was possible that using a glitter-bomb was unnecessary as a finishing touch but leaving a warehouse covered in biodegradable red glitter sent a message and would make it easier to find anyone picking through the fragments of tech left behind.

Bruce's mostly-feigned look of fatherly disapproval is worth it.