Chapter Text
They never talk about him outright, the Robin that came before Jason.
Tim Drake was an ever looming shadow over Jason Todd’s head and it pissed him the hell off. There was no light to shine on him to combat it, and it was tooth and nail to even get a spark to begin with.
Bruce never answered when prompted directly, just grunting and waving him off or sending him away as a distraction. Damian only ever spoke about his Robin . Calculating, adaptable, a genius . Even Alfred refrained from speaking about him, instead repeating the same line like a lifeline.
“ Maybe another time Master Jason” .
The only sense of personality for the guy that Jason could get was from Tim’s ex-girlfriend Stephanie. She had stayed connected to the bat family still after Tim’s death, albeit not as close as before. Jason always felt a little guilty when he bugged her about it, but it really was his only chance at getting to know Tim Drake .
He would always apologize after asking and she would always sigh and say it was alright. Then Jason would sit and listen as Stephanie gave him the crumbs of whatever story she could think of at that moment, and it was his job to piece together what he had.
“He was a nerd. Didn’t really like going out. Or at least… I think he didn’t,” she said at one point. Jason would frown and tilt his head.
“You think?”
“I don’t know kid, he was different after we broke up. For the entire year before he… Tim just seemed happier. He was always out and about doing something,” she would say. Jason was at a loss about the fact that even his ex was doubtful in her word.
Tim Drake was his predecessor, his role model, but how was Jason supposed to know who he was if all he had were broken shards of a whole picture?
He steals the other pieces.
Jason could ransack the manor in isolated stints just to look for any trace of Tim without the threat of another Bat breathing down his neck. Most of the rooms were guest rooms left tidy and neat courtesy of Alfred, but once or twice Jason will come across a locked room tucked back in the furthest wing of the manor. Whoever picked one that far had liked to be left alone, or at least liked to have their own space.
When Jason breaks into it, he’s honestly surprised it’s as easy as it is. He mave have pretty good lock picking skills if he does say so himself, but you’d think some whose claim to fame was being a genius would put a little more effort into their security. Regardless, Jason steps into the room and is taken aback by the sheer state of it. Simply put it, it’s a mess. Organized chaos as one might say, also meaning I don’t take care of myself but I do well anyways so who cares . There’s band posters plastered on the wall, the bookshelves are overflowing, and the bed is left unmade while junk litters the floor around it. If he looks close enough, Jason can watch the dust floating in the air through the sun beam stretching over the bed. The air is stale and smells like old paper but Jason finds comfort in the room. It seemed well loved and thoroughly lived in, and Jason appreciates that there's more signs of life and personality in this room than there was in any conversation he’s had about its owner.
He takes another step in and finds himself tiptoeing around the piles of papers and game controllers and clothes on the floor to reach the bookshelf. It’s stuffed with titles for as far as it reaches, and Jason almost gives into his urge to steal and read a few.
After all, the dead can’t read, and he feels like it’s a bit of a waste.
There are classics like Sherlock Holmes and old comics stowed away carefully in their plastic sleeves, game manuals and textbooks on subjects Jason didn’t even know had textbooks . It’s all a bit overwhelming but Jason figures that this is what he asked for, so it’s time that he gets to work.
He coughs a bit when he dislodges some of them, the dust flying everywhere after staying stagnant for so long, and he slides them right back in if he deems them unusable. He’s confused when he comes across a few bigfoot and mothman fan novels, the inside cover page saying, “ To Bear, you weirdo. ”
Maybe to a friend? Bear certainly is an interesting name. Either way it’s becoming more apparent that the nerd label was sticking pretty well as Jason had never met someone who was interested in even one of these things that wasn’t a complete and totally dweeb.
Eventually he abandons the bookshelf in favor of rifling through his drawers. There are half chewed pens and old faded sticky notes, some filled with haphazard notes. Poor guy probably picked up Bruce’s paranoia and crippling anxiety. There are also some polaroid photos too, but they look like they never quite developed right. They're a depressing splotchy black and Jason can only make out half a head of blonde hair who he assumes is Stephanie and a back view picture of a boy with black hair like his who Jason takes a wild guess is Tim. He tosses them back into the drawer in favor of cracking open the filing cabinet in the corner when he hears a scraping sound as he closes the drawer, almost like something was sliding back. Jason yanks it back open and sees the tip of something thin and plastic, reaching in and grabbing it.
It’s a CD and on the front is written “ To My Love Bird” in red marker.
Jason wrinkles his nose at the obvious romantic gesture and pulls out his phone to text Stephanie.
Found your CD you gave to Tim.
He puts it down and flips over the CD a few times before feeling his phone buzz.
I never gave him a CD.
Jason frowns. Not Stephanie’s?
How many girlfriends did this guy have?
He gets up and looks around to the old box tv - seriously who still has those - and blows on the DVD slot to clean it. He covers his nose as a wave of dust floats off it and he cracks open the CD case. There's nothing inside that could give anything away specifics wise, but there is a tiny note tucked away behind the CD when he pops it out of its case.
Love you even if you dress like a country club boy sometimes. If you ever miss me, here I am.
Here who is?
Jason sets the case down and carefully pushes the CD tray into the slot, a sudden sense of reverence overtaking him when handling it. He’d like to think that if someone were to ever find a gift like this, he’d want them to treat it with respect.
The tray settles in the TV and the static on the screen blinks to a warping scene. The audio cuts for a second as well before it all seems to click together, the shreds all fitting into one.
“Look at the video! It's recording right now,” a voice says. In front of Jason is a full, clear, unedited view of Tim . He seems relaxed, the work in front of him left behind as he turns. There’s a small scar on his neck and light blue eyes directed right at the person holding the camera. They’re sitting on the bed while Tim works at his desk and Jason feels oddly out of place with them being in the same room right next to where he’s sitting himself.
“Babe look,” the voice says again, and Jason is suddenly realizing that the voice is even deeper than his, which wasn’t saying much since he was a prepubescent teen, but still. They laugh and Jason feels like he’s still stuck in the three seconds previous while the video keeps going.
Jason felt like he was… like maybe he had dug a bit too far.
He let the video keep running.
Tim ducks his head into his arms and looks away. The camera falls a bit down and the other person laughs again.
“What, you don’t wanna be on camera?”
Tim shifts his head so only half of it peeks over his elbow and his eye squints as his lips turn up into a soft smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says. The person’s foot pokes at Tim’s side and the chair wobbles with the movement. Tim swats it away but the other person keeps kicking and laughing.
“Bernard I swear to god,” Tim laughs.
Bernard. A boy.
Jason feels like he’s not watching Tim. Or maybe, he’s not watching the version of Tim he had been told about. They had never mentioned that Tim… liked boys. Maybe it was out of respect or maybe it was just because it had never crossed his mind. Most of all, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t know .
Bernard stops kicking and Tim spins the chair towards him. He crosses his arms and looks at Bernard with a face that is obviously trying to be annoyed, but he’s fighting a smile so much that it looks a little funny.
“What’re you lookin like that for?” Bernard teases. Tim sighs and Bernard snorts. The camera tilts down and he can hear the shifting of the sheets and the creak of the chair as someone moves around.
It settles beside them on the bed, the screen cutting off everything above their chests and only showing hands and legs entwined.
“I love you,” Bernard says quietly.
Jason tenses up and he doesn’t know why. It’s just a strong word. Love.
The audio is quiet for a moment and Jason thinks that maybe it cut out completely.
“I love you too,” Tim whispers.
Jason grits his teeth and feels like he should eject the CD right now, like he should close it up and put it back where he found it. He thinks that maybe this should have stayed dead with Tim.
The video cuts out and switches to a different clip. The streets of Gotham are lit up and distant below the camera. Legs are dangling over the edge of the building and the little shapes of the car are moving so slowly compared to the feet swinging. If it were so consuming in the way that Gotham often was, Jason could honestly say it was pretty, beautiful even.
“Baby bird,” Bernard says, “Look, look at our video! It’s all so small…”
A second set of legs appear in the video as Tim sits down beside him. Their feet bump against each other and Tim hooks his around Bernard’s. The camera is suddenly brought up and turned around.
Jason stares as Tim and Bernard appear on screen. Bernard is blonde, Jason now realizing that those blotchy photos might just be him and not Stephanie, and it’s grown out just past his ears. He has a big smile and green eyes, face lit up by the city lights below.
Jason wonders if there’s a way to salvage those photos.
Tim looks at the camera for a second before looking down at the city below.
“This is my boyfriend that I’ve been with for…” Bernard says trailing off, laughing when Tim gives him a look.
Boyfriend , Jason thinks. He obviously knew that they were something, the I love you’s said with such adoration that it felt almost criminal to call them just something .
“Say something,” Bernard tells him quietly, a tease playing on the tip of his tongue. Tim instead just looks at Bernard with a smile, eyes watching Bernard’s expression and his hair flit around in the bit of wind that came up around them.
The video cuts again to a different bedroom, this one probably being Bernard’s with the familiarity they seem to have with it. Tim is lying asleep on his side, hand tucked under his cheek, and the faint sound of crickets can be heard behind it all. A hand comes up to push a bit of hair out of his face.
“You know I’m gonna put all these videos together,” Bernard whispers, careful not to wake Tim up. “All of them, I swear. I’m gonna put all of them together so when we get older and older and older, we can get out a whole bunch of videos.”
Jason feels sick.
“You can watch them and I’ll be right here.”
The video cuts off completely and Jason is left to look at himself through the black screen of the TV.