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Jason locked the door to his apartment and leaned back against it with a sigh. He'd been at the manor for nearly a week waiting for Bruce and Clark to get back and take care of their damned kids. Lois had been delayed and it had been days until Clark could come to pick up Jon. The boys had loved it, even Damian, though he was outwardly sedate as ever. Bruce was still out of town, but after Jon had been handed off, Jason left as soon as he could.
He loved his siblings more than he was willing to admit out loud, but he was glad to be rid of them for now. He wanted his space. And his freedom. Every time he'd tried to sneak off to be alone, one of the kids would come looking for him. Surprisingly, Dick had kept his distance. As the resident hugger in the manor, sometimes it was hard to pry him off long enough to get away.
Jason shook his head and pushed it all away. He wanted a long, hot shower, something light to eat, and his own bed. After patrol. He'd been going out this past week to do a shortened version each night, and he needed some time to make the full rounds. He wanted to talk to people and make himself seen again. Who knows who might have moved into his territory when he'd been away.
Gearing up in his full armor and arming himself completely made him feel more settled than he had in a while. Bruce, Dick, and Tim still disapproved of the guns even if Jason didn't kill anyone with them anymore. But he felt safer with them holstered at his side. Time to hit the rooftops.
Fortunately, beyond a handful of dealers that had tried their luck on his streets and somebody trying to sell weapons out of the back of their truck, there wasn't much going on in his part of the city. Darla and the girls were doing well, especially since the guy who had attacked her left the area. And the muggers seemed to be keeping a low profile. It was a nice, quiet night. But not so quiet as to be suspicious. When Jason got back to his place to settle down for the morning, he felt truly settled.
“You still up, Hood?” The female voice over his comms had Jason pausing while unclipping his holsters. How had Selina hacked into their lines? Bruce really liked her, but Jason doubted he would have cut her into their communications.
“'Sup Kittie? Missing B?” He winced at how much that sounded like a come-on. “He's supposed to be back tomorrow,” he finished lamely. Yet another reason he'd escaped the manor. He could tolerate most of the family, but the more distance between himself and Bruce, the better.
“Found one of his little birdies napping on a roof. Don't think he can wait for the Bat,” she said, not sounding nearly so coy and teasing as she usually did.
“Which one?” Jason knew even before he asked. Dick was filling in as Batman and Damian didn't 'nap'. The little demon would have made it back to the manor or a safe house while crippled and bleeding rather than call for help or let himself pass out. Tim was the one who drove himself to exhaustion on a regular basis. “Is he hurt?”
“Not that I can see,” Selina said. “But I've been here for a solid ten minutes and he's still asleep.”
Not good sign. Jason was already strapping his holsters back on and getting additional gear for dealing with an incapacitated passenger.
“Where?”
“Lexington and Fourth,” Selina said. “Better hurry, Hood. Dawn is approaching.”
“Any chance I can get you to stay with him until I get there?”
“You honestly think I'd leave him like this?” There was a layer of sarcasm, but Jason could hear the hurt underneath. He knew what it felt like not to be trusted. Sighing, he headed for the window.
“Sorry. I'll be there in ten minutes.”
He got there in eight.
Selina was crouched down in the shadow of an HVAC unit. Tim was stretched out on the roof beside her with his feet propped up on a control box. Even in the dim light, the unhealthy pallor of his skin was visible and there were probably shadows under his eyes beneath the mask.
“Any reason you didn't call Dick?” Jason asked as he knelt down to check Tim over. “He's probably still out here somewhere.”
“He got hit with a psychotropic drug earlier tonight. He's not going anywhere for a while.”
Why the hell hadn't Dick called for backup? With Steph and Cass still in Europe, Damian would have been the only one able to get him home unless they called Alfred to come to the rescue. But they all hated doing that and avoided it unless it was absolutely necessary. Jason frowned and noted Tim's steady, but thin pulse. Tim stirred at the touch and blinked up at him.
“Wha-?” Tim rolled onto his side and pressed his fingers into the surface of the roof as if trying to ground himself.
“Easy, Baby Bird,” Jason murmured. “Here,” he said as he held out a small bottle of nutrient water. He had some suspicions as to how he'd ended up in this position. Tim was notorious for not taking good enough care of himself and waving off any attempts at intervention. But he took the bottle without complaint and sipped. At least he wasn't going to fight him.
“Well, boys. As fun as this has been, I'm off,” Selina said, as she skipped to the end of the roof before waving cheekily and flipping over the edge.
Tim blinked after her. “Catwoman?” he asked between sips.
“She called me to come get you.”
“What?”
“And she was here for nearly twenty minutes before I got here.” Jason eyed Tim gravely. “And you slept though it.”
Tim blinked again but said nothing.
The blush of morning light was starting to peek above the buildings. They needed to leave before they were caught outside in broad daylight.
“Come on,” Jason said as he helped him stand. “Car's around the corner.”
“Car?” Tim asked, sounding a little distant.
“Didn't know if you could stay on the bike.” And by the looks of it, he'd made the right choice. As it was, Jason had to hold onto Tim tightly as he repelled down the side of the building. Tim's halfhearted grip wasn't all that secure. By the time he'd gotten him into the car, he was nodding off again. He wasn't injured. He could be drugged. Jason would have to do some tests to confirm. He had a small lab at his place, but despite just getting out of the family's clutches, he wasn't above heading to the cave where there was a much better equipped med bay.
Most worrisome of all, Tim felt light in his arms. Far lighter than his build warranted. Tim had always been the most slender among them. Dick had been raised as an acrobat and he had the muscular flexibility from years of practice. Jason had started out small because he had a hard time getting enough food to fill out properly as a child, but after the Pit, it was like his body had made up for lost time. He had a few inches on Dick and he was heavier. Damian was still a child, but he was already as strong as a full grown adult. He might even grow up to be taller than Bruce.
Tim had to work for all the strength he had. He'd started from scratch on his own, coming from a wealthy family that hadn't paid much attention to him. He'd often been left to fend for himself which had made him seem most suited to independent work. Maybe they'd left him on his own too much. It seemed their Baby Bird had fallen through the cracks. He'd been eating pizza the previous week when they first convened at the manor. But how many slices? Jason had been preoccupied with Jon at the time. Had Tim eaten anything since then? It would have taken a while for him to lose this much weight, so it wasn't just from this week.
“Just take me to my apartment,” Tim murmured as Jason got behind the wheel.
“Not a chance.”
Tim rolled his head on the headrest to glare at him. “No cave. Dick will fuss.”
“Good thing I'm avoiding the manor,” Jason said with a snort. No need to mention that Dick wasn't in a position to fuss over anyone at the moment. Tim was silent for the rest of the short trip.
As they headed up the stairs to Jason's apartment, Tim was leaning on him heavily. Part of Jason bemoaned the loss of his solitude, but there was no way he could leave the kid alone like this. Dragging Tim inside, Jason set him down on the couch before getting two of Alfred's protein bars and two full bottles of water. He set them down on the coffee table.
Tim just stared at them.
Huffing irritably, Jason unwrapped a bar and shoved it into his hand. “Eat at least half of this,” he said as he started removing Tim's bandoleers and cape.
Tim wasn't much help as he was stripped down to his base suit. He nibbled at the bar and took another sip of the smaller bottle he still carried. He barely blinked when Jason waved a hand in front of his face.
“Earth to Timbo. You get hit with anything?”
Tim shook his head as he continued to nibble at the bar before letting his hands fall to his lap. Jason immediately got out his big med kit from the closet and took a blood sample. Tim frowned briefly at the needle but said nothing as the sample was drawn. He was still silent as his temperature was taken and a light was flashed briefly in his eyes.
No fever. Yet. No concussion.
It would take at least twenty minutes for the sample to run, more if Jason tested for more than one thing. He took the bar and bottle, setting them within reach on the coffee table before getting a pillow and blanket. Tim barely reacted as Jason lay him down on his side on the couch and tucked him in. His eyes slipped closed and he seemed to be sleeping, but it couldn't be more than a light doze. Jason sat on the coffee table watching him for a few minutes before finally going into the bathroom to take a shower.
What the hell was he doing? He should have dropped the idiot off at the cave and let Alfred handle it. But Alfred probably had his hands full with a doped up Dick. Jason's mouth curled in a sardonic smile. Damian was probably freaking out. Quietly. Though he didn't show it outwardly, Damian worried when family members were hurt, especially Bruce and Dick. What Jason had seen as disinterest when he'd first met him had turned out to be buried fear. Damian was terrified of losing the family he'd gained even if he didn't know how to show it most of the time. Jason would have to call the little gremlin to make sure he was okay.
One idiot at a time.
When Jason got out of the bathroom, Tim wasn't on the couch anymore.
It sent a brief surge of adrenaline running through him before he noticed other vital details. All of Tim's gear, including his boots, was still laying in a heap on the floor. The pillow and blanket were gone and the door to his bedroom was open. Jason moved to the door to see Tim curled up in the bed, the deep and even rise of his chest showing that he was actually asleep this time. Well, that could have been a fucking disaster. What if he'd wandered outside while he was that tired? Jason heaved a sigh before eating a protein bar and downing half a bottle of water before climbing carefully onto the other side of the bed. Tim didn't stir.
*******
When Jason woke mid-morning, Tim was still curled up on the bed next to him. It looked like he'd barely moved. Jason gently checked his pulse before getting the thermometer and checking his temperature. No fever. Good. The last thing he needed was for him to get sick, especially when Tim was missing his spleen. His med kit contained a full course of antibiotics, just in case. All of their kits did now. They'd nearly lost him last Christmas when an infection got out of hand before anyone realized what was wrong. Jason was pretty sure Bruce had bought an entire pharmaceutical company to make sure they'd always have access to something.
Going into the kitchen, Jason poked around in the fridge looking for breakfast options. He needed to do a supply run. After a week at the manor, his fridge was a bit empty and half of what was still there needed to be thrown out. He snarled silently as he tossed a few containers into the trash. He absolutely hated food waste. Having nothing when he was younger had made him appreciate having things now all the more. But he didn't dare leave Tim by himself to go out.
Dialing the manor, Jason was surprised when Damian answered.
“How's it going, Runt?” Jason drawled.
“What do you want, Todd? I thought we finally got rid of you.”
“Put Alfred on.”
“He's. . . indisposed.”
Jason stood up straighter. Alfred was never indisposed. He was never not available. “What's wrong?”
Damian sighed. “Richard regurgitated on his footwear and he's changing.”
Jason barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. “He barfed on Al's shoes? Wait? Is he still messed up from last night?”
“Eavesdropping on our comms again?” Damian asked with disdain.
“Hey, I have every right to monitor those channels,” he said defensively, though he hadn't been listening last night. “I have my sources, Short Stack. Why didn't he call for backup?” Jason could practically hear the kid seething over the phone. “Did he not take you with him?”
“No. I was not informed of his predicament until after he arrived at home.” He muttered something that Jason couldn't quite hear.
“What was that?”
“I had to prepare a book report,” Damian sighed.
“Are there any books you haven't read?” That shouldn't have been a challenge for him. He was more well read than most adults four times his age.
“Of course not,” Damian huffed. “This imbecilic idea that Father has about me integrating with children. . .” He trailed off in a growl. “It's a waste of my time.”
“So what book was it?”
“What?”
“What book are you embarrassed to admit you had to read?” Jason kept prodding him, knowing that if Dick was in real trouble, Damian wouldn't waste time pouting over the phone.
“That's irrelevant,” Damian snapped. “I was reading Tolstoy and Sun Tzu in their original languages by the time I was seven. What do you want?” There was a quiet murmur and Damian pulled the phone away from his ear before Alfred came on the line.
“Master Jason. How are you this morning?” His tone was polite, but Jason knew him well enough to hear the wariness beneath. He couldn't blame him. It was rare for Jason call for anything, so he probably assumed something was wrong.
“How's Dick doing? Heard he got drugged last night.”
There was a quiet inhalation before Alfred spoke. “Your brother is mildly ill this morning, but much better than last night. He should be fully recovered in a day or so.”
“How are you doing?” Jason asked. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“It's very kind of you to inquire after my health.” Alfred softened his tone. “I'm fine, my boy.”
“You have enough time in your schedule for a supply run? Tim's asleep and I need to feed him, but I'm short on groceries.” He looked toward the bedroom door where he could see a sliver of the bed. Tim still hadn't moved. “Was he eating enough this week?” Jason asked.
“Not nearly,” Alfred said quietly. “Do you need anything specific?”
“I'm set for dry goods, but if you could get me some eggs, milk, plain yogurt, any kind of fruit, and some more nutrient water, that would be great.”
“Of course. Allow me to see to a few details, and I shall head to the market.”
“Thanks, Al.”
With that settled, Jason started working with what he had. Baking was soothing and the scent of baked goods made his heart settle, especially bread. And it didn't require anything particularly perishable so he usually had everything on hand.
*******
By the time the bread was on its second rise, Alfred was letting himself into Jason's apartment, deftly deactivating the security system as he carried the bags inside. Jason spotted several vegetables poking out of one of the bags. Because of course, Alfred had bought him a bunch of healthy veggies. Jason took some of the bags from him and set them down on a clean patch of counter. Along with everything he'd asked for, there was also a bag of clothes for Tim.
“How is he?” Alfred asked quietly as he started putting things away in the fridge.
“No fever or concussion. But he passed out on a rooftop.”
Alfred turned to look at him, holding a bag of carrots. “Where?”
“On the edge of midtown.” Jason frowned. “Selina called me.”
Alfred frowned. “I shall have to thank Miss Kyle for her insight.”
“I know. It surprised me too.”
Jason shrugged and put the jar of protein powder in the cabinet. When Tim appeared in the bedroom doorway blinking at them sleepily, Alfred plucked the jar back out and went to get Jason's blender. He knew his way around the kitchen after sneaking in to cook occasionally when Jason wasn't looking. That Alfred was so worried about Tim was actually worrisome. The more you pushed, the more Tim pulled away. If he was dodging Alfred's practiced care-taking techniques, Jason was in for a challenge.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Jason said as he went over and cupped Tim's chin in his hand to check his eyes again.
Tim blinked at him, raising a brow. He winced as the blender started running.
“Apologies, Master Timothy,” Alfred said as he poured some of the protein smoothie into a mug and handed it to him. “I would have come better prepared, but Master Richard required my attention this morning.”
Tim paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. “What's wrong with Dick?”
“He got doped up last night and apparently he's still sick,” Jason told him.
Tim's mouth thinned before he took a sip. He took a moment to swallow before drinking again. He finished it without complaint and Jason hoped it wasn't just because he felt like he was being watched. He set the mug on the counter and eyed the towel covered pans of rising dough curiously. Then he zeroed in on his own bag that sat on the couch.
“After a shower, I'll get out of your hair,” Tim said.
“Nah, stick around,” Jason said as he accepted a mug with the rest of the smoothie in it.
Tim eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because I missed your face,” Jason said with a shrug.
“When you couldn't wait to get out of the manor? Try again.”
Jason sighed and took a gulp of smoothie. Alfred was unobtrusively preparing ingredients in containers that could be put in the blender later.
“Tim, you passed out on a rooftop last night. Either your not sleeping enough or you're not eating enough.” Or both, he thought. Jason paused and waited for Tim to say something. When he stayed quiet, he continued. “So I'm going to cook and you're going to take a vacation.”
Tim shook his head. “There's a merger and a shareholder meeting this week. I have to go to work.”
One of the many problems with getting Tim to take care of himself was that he tended to spread himself too thin. It had almost been a relief when he'd dropped out of high school. But as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he was pulled in several directions on top of his night job.
“I took the liberty of calling Lucius this morning,” Alfred said calmly as he sliced bananas and strawberries. “The merger is on hold due to the need for further negotiations of terms. Discussions will resume in a week's time and Lucius will handle the shareholders.”
“You didn't have to do that,” Tim said, his brow furrowed. “I can handle it.”
“Well, now you don't have to,” Jason said as he threw arm over Tim's shoulders, hating how the younger man almost seemed to buckle under the weight. But as Tim leaned into his side, Jason pulled him in closer. “Take a break, Timbers. You need it.” He gave an exaggerated sniff. “And you really need to start with that shower, Little Bro.”
Tim gave him a blistering side eye before slithering out from under his arm and grabbing his bag to head into the bathroom. Jason watched him go with a smirk before finishing the smoothie and going to the sink to wash the mug. Alfred was just finishing his prep work and putting the containers away. He gently maneuvered Jason out of the way so he could wash the blender and the remaining dishes from the bread.
“Thanks, Alfred,” Jason said, his gratitude genuine even though he hated it when he did that. The man's devotion was astounding. Jason often felt humbled by it. He grabbed a bottle of water to try and drown the lump in his throat. The gentle hand on his back almost made him flinch and he forced himself to relax.
“Easy, my boy,” Alfred murmured.
Jason was suddenly thrown back to one of his first weeks in the manor. He'd been so standoffish and suspicious in those early days. And jumpy. Alfred could be just as quiet as Batman when entering a room and he'd startled Jason in the kitchen, making him drop the mug he'd been holding. He'd stood frozen on the spot, suddenly convinced that this would be the day he'd finally be thrown out. But Alfred had simply picked up the pieces and cleaned up the mess before making him another cup of tea. Jason had been so confused. When Alfred had knelt down and hugged him while murmuring a quiet “Easy, my boy,” into his ear, twelve year old Jason couldn't hold back the tears.
It was the first time he'd believed he was truly welcome in the manor.
As Alfred hugged twenty-two year old Jason in his own kitchen, he couldn't hold back either. It wasn't a full blown cry, just stinging eyes and resigned pride. He thought he heard a door open and close again, but ignored it. He wasn't so stubborn that he would hide his tears from anyone. That didn't matter. Not anymore. So he just stayed in the older man's embrace until he felt ready. Alfred never let go first. When Jason finally pulled away, he'd calmed enough to feel stable, though he was still a little punchy. Being this emotionally open was hard to manage on a good day.
“Should you need anything else, Master Jason, please don't hesitate to call.” Alfred held him briefly at arms length, his expression warm.
“I won't,” he promised, and meant it.
After Alfred left with Tim's gear so it could be laundered, Tim came out of the bathroom wearing an old Superman t-shirt and sweatpants. His wet hair was plastered to his neck where it trailed down to his shoulders in the back. His bangs were falling over his forehead into his eyes. He needed a haircut. Tim stood in the doorway with steam wafting out around him looking uncertain.
“Are you okay?” Tim asked.
Jason sniffed and rubbed his eye with the heal of his hand. “You scared me man. What if someone else had found you?”
And that, he realized was part of his problem. Jason tended to bury his fear nearly as badly as Damian did. It was harder to ignore when it was standing right in front of him.
“I. . . sorry.” Tim suddenly looked years younger, standing there in a shirt that was two sizes too big. It hung off his shoulders, making his low weight more pronounced. He glanced toward the door like he wanted to escape.
“You don't have to stay here,” Jason said suddenly. “We can hang out at your place if you're more comfortably there. Just. . . please. . . let me feed you,” he finished lamely. When Tim said nothing, Jason continued, knowing that every word could push his little brother out the door that much faster. “If you're having trouble, I know I'm not the first one you'd go to for help-”
“You're always the first one I go to for help,” Tim said, interrupting him.
“What?”
“You're always the first,” Tim repeated. “I always think of you first. When I need . . . help.”
“Why?” Jason felt so off balance. He was already emotionally tender from Alfred's kindness. Tim's confidence in him was hard to accept. For crying out loud, he'd tried to kill him when he first came back from the dead.
“Because you always help,” Tim said with no hint of sarcasm.
“No I don't,” Jason said, feeling like he had to backpedal suddenly. But he wasn't being accused of anything. He really didn't help every time. “I hang up on you assholes half the time.”
“Not when it matters,” Tim said quietly. “You're there when we need you. You pitch in even if you don't want to because you know we need it.” He huffed a quiet laugh, but it almost sounded sad. “You just spent a week holding Jon's hand because he was scared.”
“Well I wasn't going to just leave him.”
“Of course not. Superman asked you to babysit. I'm not sure you realize how big a deal that is.”
Oh, he did. Jason knew exactly how much of a big deal that was and it still made him want to hyperventilate when he thought about it too hard.
He'd felt woefully unprepared when he'd received the strangest request of his life. Clark had called him a good kid and he'd meant it. When he'd come to pick up his son, he'd thanked Jason and had been genuinely grateful that he'd taken care of Jon when his powers started to develop unexpectedly. Jason had left the manor within the hour because he hadn't been able to handle it. And mere hours later, he'd gone out of his way to take care of another good kid who had trouble taking care of himself. He suddenly wasn't sure what to do.
When Tim came over and wrapped his arms around him, Jason hugged him back, not caring that Tim's wet hair started soaking into his shirt.
'Why aren't you eating, Baby Bird?” Jason whispered around the lump in his throat.
“I don't mean to,” Tim said softly. He almost seemed on the verge of tears himself.
An alarm in the kitchen went off, starling them both.
“Ah, I've got to put the bread in the oven.”
“Bread?” Tim asked as he pulled back. “As in bread from scratch?”
“Yeah. It makes great toast.” Jason went into the kitchen and put both loaves in the oven before setting the timer again. He blew out a breath and braced his hands on the stove until the warmth of it soaked into his fingers. The tense, emotional moment seemed to have passed and now he was tired. Tim came over the lean against the counter next to him.
“Are you really serious about me staying here?” Tim asked. “You get weird about your space sometimes.”
“Yeah, I'm serious.” He straightened to look Tim in the eye. “We can go get anything you want from your place, but I want to keep an eye on you. I was serious about the cooking too.”
Tim's lips thinned. “I don't do it on purpose,” he said. “I just. . . forget.”
“To eat?”
“Yeah.” He went over to grab his bag and brought it over to the couch. Jason stiffened, worried that he'd just said something to make him leave. But Tim just sat down and started going through it to see what Alfred had brought him. “I get busy,” he said with a shrug. “And sometimes if feels like too much work.”
Jason could absolutely not relate. He'd spent his formative years struggling to feed himself. Most of his time had been devoted to securing food or money to buy food. His first Thanksgiving in the manor, he'd nearly eaten himself into a coma. He'd never seen such a big spread in his life. As an adult, food was much more readily available and his pantry was never empty if he could help it. Food was almost always on his mind when he wasn't actively focused on something else. It was half of the reason he'd learned to cook.
He wasn't sure what to do to fix Tim's problem. Feeding him this week would be easy, but Jason couldn't become his personal chef. They'd have to come up with a more permanent solution or at least some way to improve the situation. At some point, he'd have to go Tim's apartment to see what he had on hand. And then he'd have to call Alfred again to ask him what he did when Batman was too busy to eat. Of all the traits Tim could have picked up up from Bruce, this was one of the worst ones.
When the bread was ready they sat with warm slices of toast and mugs of homemade hot chocolate to watch cheesy action movies. While watching, Tim started to slump in his seat on the couch until he was leaning on Jason with his head resting on his shoulder. Jason pressed his cheek to his little brother's hair and sighed. How did he end up like this? He wasn't cut out for taking care of other people. Sometimes he could barely take of himself.
“It's hard to live up to all of you,” Tim murmured.
Jason turned his attention to him with a frown. He thought he was asleep. “What do you mean?” Dick was certainly a hard act to follow. The Golden Boy of the Wayne family had set a nearly impossible standard.
“It feels like I have to try harder to be as good as the rest of you.”
Jason snorted. “It's the other way around, Timbo. You're by far the smartest out of all of us. You even out-think B half the time. You're running the damned company and keeping up with the night job.” Mostly, he amended silently.
“Yeah,” Tim hummed half-heartedly. “I'm keeping up so well, I'm on an enforced vacation.”
“You're not a prisoner here, Tim,” Jason told him seriously. Though he wasn't sure what he'd do if Tim decided to leave.
“Would you really let me leave if I tried?” Tim turned his head to peer up at him.
Jason's lips thinned and he closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn't going to tie him up or handcuff him to keep him here. He'd just get out of it anyway. He was as good as Dick at getting out of restraints. But he also didn't think he could bear to forcibly keep Tim here if he really wanted to go.
“Yes. If that's what you really wanted.” Jason swallowed heavily, afraid that he'd just given him an opening to actually walk out.
Tim huffed a sigh an sank further into the couch, pressing harder into Jason's arm. “Nah. Alfred took my shoes. Might as well stick around.”
Jason let out a surprised chuckle. Alfred was sneaky like that. Jason's mood shifted and he frowned again. “There's nothing to live up to when it comes to me.” He snorted. “I did everything wrong. Got lectured more often than not.” He shrugged. “The only legacy I left behind is the emotional scourge Bruce uses to flay himself when he's feeling even remotely happy.” His lips curled in a snarl. One of these days, he was going to take down that stupid memorial in the cave. The child he was may be dead, but he'd never been a soldier, let alone a good one.
“Is that what you really think?” Tim asked quietly.
“It's what everyone thinks,” Jason spat before he could rein it in.
“It's not,” Tim said. “He needed you.”
“Not by a long shot, kid,” Jason said, feeling his mood continuing to turn.
Tim shifted in his seat so he was kneeling next to him on the couch. “Jason, you were my Robin.”
“What?” When Jason turned to look, Tim's eyes were bright and focused, his gaze almost uncomfortably direct.
“You were my Robin. I figured out who Dick was when he was Robin and watched him become Nightwing. But you were the one I admired more.”
Jason swallowed hard and tried to find any sign of deception. But Tim's gaze was steady and calm. He could still be lying. He could probably beat a lie detector test if he needed to. But Tim wasn't manipulative. He didn't fuck with people even though he could probably twist them all around until they didn't know which way was up. But he wouldn't. That wasn't the kind of person he was.
“Dick had the acrobatics,” Tim continued. “He had great parents.”
Jason couldn't quite hide the flinch.
“Sorry,” Tim murmured before pushing on. “But he already had a lot to work with when he started. You had to start almost from scratch. You came out of one of the worst parts of the city after experiencing things no one should and you still helped people with everything you had. You're a good person, Jason.”
You're a good kid, too. Superman's words echoed in Jason's ears even as he shook his head.
“Good people don't kill,” Jason said, his voice hard. “It's why Bruce can barely look at me.”
“He can barely look at you because he knows he failed you.”
Jason couldn't figure out if he want to be incredibly angry or unbearably sad. The tightness in his chest decided he'd be both and he clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.
Tim sat still on his knees radiating worry. If pity seeped into his eyes, Jason wasn't sure he'd be able to stay on the couch. But Tim's gaze was clear still.
“You still give everything you have, sometimes more.”
Tim reached out slowly and put his hand on Jason's shoulder, moving slowly enough that he could move away if he wanted. But Jason sat still despite the sudden urge to run. Too much. This was getting to be way too much. Tim's fingers were warm through the fabric of Jason's shirt, the touch almost electric. Jason focused on his breathing, taking in air slowly and holding it before letting it out again. A few more breaths and he felt a little calmer. At least he no longer wanted to jump out of his own skin. As his muscles relaxed, so did Tim.
“I'm sorry,” Jason said, his voice tight.
“You don't have anything to apologize for,” Tim told him.
Jason raised a brow. He'd never really apologized for trying to kill him. Twice.
Tim's expression turned wry. “Well, maybe a couple things.” His gaze turned serious again. “But you know that wasn't really you, right?”
“Tim-”
“We can agree to disagree on this, but don't try to tell me that's what you really wanted.”
Truth be told, those years were mostly a blur and Jason only remembered snatches of conversations and watery images, with a few clear exceptions that he ran over in his mind when he was feeling particularly down. Whatever it had been, he hadn't been firing on all thrustsers at the time. He wondered if he'd ever be able to let go of all of it.
“Thanks, Kid,” Jason murmured as the strength seemed to drain out of him. It left him feeling hollow and tired. Tim settled down again, resuming his position slouched at Jason's side. Jason wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. He needed to call Roy. It had been far too long since he'd hung out with someone who wouldn't let him get away with his bullshit.
“Can we order pizza?” Tim asked.
“I'll make some later.”
“Wait,” Tim said and he titled his head up to look at him. “You can make pizza?”
“Who taught you how to cook?” Jason asked, aghast at the question. It certainly hadn't been Bruce, whose food knowledge didn't extend much farther than sandwiches. Really good sandwiches, certainly, but nothing more complicated than that. Dick tended to burn water when he tried and he ate cereal half the time. Damian mostly ate lawn clippings because he refused to even look at meat.
Tim gave him a sheepish grin. “I grew up with a housekeeper, remember? She wouldn't even let me in the kitchen.”
“Alfred had to have taught you something. He loves sharing that shit.” Some of Jason's best memories in the manor had been watching Alfred cook and bake. And the stalwart butler had always seemed pleased when Jason asked him questions about what he was doing, especially when he asked to help.
“Really? I. . . I guess I never asked,” Tim said thoughtfully. “Food just always seemed to appear when I lived there.”
“Maybe you should moved back in for a while,” Jason told him as he ruffled his hair. “At least until you can pick up some food skills.” He was surprised when Tim stiffened up under his arm. “Whoa. What's up, Baby Bird?” he murmured.
“I don't. . . they don't need me there.”
“Are you kidding? Dick would be thrilled to have you around more. He's always bitching that he barely sees you these days.”
“He has a funny way of showing it,” Tim muttered.
“What did Dickface do?”
Tim snorted quietly. “He didn't. . .” He huffed and tried again. “He'd rather spend time with Damian than with me.”
It was Jason's turn to snort. “The Gremlin's got nothing on you. You're way more fun.” When Tim huddled down further into the couch, Jason hugged him tighter. “What's wrong?”
“Dick chose Damian to be Robin over me.” His voice was dull and hollow. Shit.
“Is that what you think happened?”
“It's what did happen,” Tim said bitterly.
Jason wasn't going to give him some trite reassurance that Dick loved all of them equally. It was true, but that's not what he needed to hear.
“You don't need Dick the way that Damian does,” Jason told him quietly.
“Right,” Tim huffed. “The Gremlin doesn't need anyone.”
“Which is why he needs Dick the most.” Jason took a breath and debated for a moment before continuing. “Are you aware that ultra-independence is a symptom of trauma?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“Did they skip psychology with you?”
Tim shot him a flat look.
“Right,” Jason said and plowed through. “Being forced to take care of yourself from a young age creates major trust issues. When you feel like everyone lets you down, it's hard to rely on other people.”
“I'm seeing pots and kettles here,” Tim muttered.
“Shush. I know your parents weren't around much.” He paused for a moment to make sure he wasn't pushing too many buttons. When Tim remained calm beside him, he continued. “You had to do everything yourself. The housekeeper doesn't count. She was way stuffier than Alfred. All that disapproving without the empathy to back it up. That must have been hard to deal with.”
“Wait. How did you know what Mrs. McIlvaine was like?”
“You think I wouldn't look into my tiny little stalker to see where he was from?”
Tim was quiet for a moment. “I . . . I didn't know you knew.”
“I didn't put it together until later,” Jason said, as sadness came welling up beneath the humor. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Did you really think your camera magically reappeared that night after you dropped it down by the docks?”
“Oh.”
He squeezed Tim and held him tight. “You could have gotten your little white bread ass killed that night. Two-Face wouldn't have taken it easier on you because you were a kid.”
“I know.” When Jason squeezed him harder, he laughed a little. “I know now, anyway. What does any of that have to do with Damian? He grew up with people waiting on him hand and foot. He was hardly independent.”
“Don't mistake that kind of grooming for lack of independence. They started sending him out on solo missions when he was four.”
“Seriously?” Tim's shock was quiet and sad. “I wasn't even allowed out in our own backyard by myself when I was four.”
“Seriously. And he didn't have a single friend,” Jason said quietly. “He was taught to fight before he could walk and he wasn't allowed a single shred of affection from anyone because they told him it would make him weak.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. I know it's easy to forget all that when he's trying to stab you half the time.”
“Or when he's cutting my line and making me fall twenty stories,” Tim muttered.
“When did that happen?”
“Doesn't matter. I had enough time to catch myself.”
And Damian had probably known that.
“He's scared.”
“Of what? Disappointing his homicidal mom?”
“Tim.”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“He's scared of losing us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, his tone grave.
“What happened when he was over here?”
“Pretty much the same thing that's happening right now. A little surprise brotherly bonding. An opportunity to pull our heads out of our asses for a little while. Although to be fair, yours isn't shoved up there as much as the rest of us.”
“Is he going to keep trying to stab me?”
“Probably. Jon's a pretty good influence and he's learning, but he's got a long way to go. Dick knows that which is probably why he asked him to be Robin. Damian needs it more than you. Dickie Bird is a pain in the ass most of the time, but he's had practice dealing with violent asshole little brothers.”
“Did you attack him on sight?”
“Not quiet. He did kick my ass though.” Which was something Jason had been grumpy about for a long time afterwards. “You're getting to a point in your life where you're not a side-kick anymore. You operate pretty independently already, but it might be good to try to figure out your own thing.”
“The way Dick became Nightwing?”
“You don't need to go through the whole premature mid-life crisis thing the way he did, but yeah. It might be good to create your own identity. Red Robin is a pretty good look, but probably not far enough from home.”
“Hm. I've thought about it, but haven't come up with anything yet.”
“You'll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Jason,” Tim said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Anytime, Tim.”
They sat quietly for a while. The movie had long since run through the final credits and the screen was blank, but it was a comfortable silence. Eventually Tim fell asleep. Jason didn't want to move him quite yet so he propped his feet up on the coffee table and settled down for a while.
*******
Alfred paused drying the plate in his hand to look at his phone. It wasn't an emergency signal, merely a message from Jason. Alfred smiled at the selfie of Jason with Tim curled up asleep under his arm. The caption read “One nap at a time.”
Something in Alfred's chest settled. The boys were all accounted for and mostly healthy. Richard was well enough to keep down simple solid foods and would be able to get out of bed in the morning. If only Alfred could get Master Bruce to slow down long enough to get some proper sleep. Then he could finally rest easily himself.