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Jason’s got plans for his replacement…or at least the start of them.
He knows he’s gonna show Tim Drake what a real Robin looks like, make him sorry for stealing a dead boy’s cape, put him in his place, all of that—he just doesn’t know how best to do it. There are too many options (break into the kid’s house? lie in wait in the Batcave? surprise him in Titan’s Tower?) and there’d be poetic justice in any of them, so Jason’s having a hard time choosing.
You only get one chance at a first impression, after all. Jason intends to make his memorable.
In the meantime, knowledge is power, and he can always use more. Not like he’s got much on his plate beyond revenge anyway, right? No reason not to follow Tim Drake all over Gotham, learning his schedule and identifying his civilian friends, gathering intel he may never use.
(He also hasn’t decided if he’s gonna kill the brat. Should he give the old man another shot at learning the lesson that kids don’t belong in costume? Or would that be too much? Sure, the replacement stole Jason’s cape and his name and his fucking family, but…
Decisions, decisions.)
He means for his stalking to stay long-distance, but as the weeks pass, he gets curious. Sue him. He’s only seen Drake through League-provided photos and binoculars. Before their first (final) confrontation, he wants an actual look at him.
Just a quick one, of course. Nothing that’s gonna get him trapped in conversation with him—no way could Jason hold back on the urge to hurt him if he’s forced to listen to the kid’s no doubt grating voice, and that’d spoil the whole plan. No, he just wants to pass him on the street, get a quick glance in, that’s all.
After all the stalking, finding him on the street is easy. Walking past him should be, too.
But Jason’s casual glance over ends with their eyes meeting, and color blooms.
Jason freezes.
Color takes over everything, from the sidewalk to the sky to the replacement’s wide, wide eyes. It’s arresting. Beautiful. So much more than he ever expected as a kid memorizing color charts, matching shades of grey with names that meant nothing to a little boy who hadn’t met his soulmate yet.
…..His soulmate. He met eyes with Tim Drake and saw color, and that means—
That means—
“Oh my god,” his goddamn soulmate says quietly.
Tim Drake is his soulmate.
Fuck.