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New York.
Dick tumbled from his bed, flopping on the floor with a thump, blanket messily wrapped around his legs.
Checking the time, Dick groaned in disbelief.
He’d woken up late. He’d have to miss breakfast. What would Alfred say if he saw him now.
Dick grabbed his suitcase before running out of the door.
8:10 now.
Dick sped through the streets of New York.
8:17.
Thirteen minutes to go. Dick sharply turned right. A dead end. Climb over that fence.
Dick grabbed the fence and gracefully jumped over it, landing on his feet with a soft thud. (Tribute to police officer dick grayson)
Dick slowed to a brisk walk as the FBI building came to view.
8:25 AM.
Nice.
-
Gotham.
Jason slid under a truck as Batman chased him through multiple buildings.
Bruce threw a rope at his foot.
Shit.
He was caught.
It’s fine. Just cut it.
Jason slid into a roll and continued running in the direction of his safe house.
The long way, obviously.
He wasn’t an idiot.
And apparently Dickface was dead.
Boo.
Jason ignored the bright flare of rage at whoever killed Dick. This was between him and the Joker.
Jason slipped tracelessly into his safe house, holding his breath until Bruce slowly backed away.
Fucking finally.
Old man’s still in top shape.
Jason dragged himself to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see stale grilled sandwiches.
He checked his clock.
8:25 PM.
He took a bite of the sandwich.
“Fuck you, past Jason. Who the fuck puts cucumber in grilled cheese?”
-
Dick waved eagerly to Peter as the man approached him.
Oh, Peter meant business.
“Neal.”
Dick’s smile faltered.
“Yeah?” Dick just stopped his eyebrows from creasing.
“There’s a case. Seven dead heads in a duffel bag. You gonna come? It’s gonna be gory.” Peter awkwardly stood as Dick contemplated his choice.
“Where?”
“Gotham.” Dick cringed internally.
“Sure. I’ve been there a few times. Lets go.” Dick rushed past Peter before the man could start questioning him why Dick had been in Gotham ‘a few times’.
Dick checked his watch.
11 AM.
Only in Gotham.
-
Jason shot another two crime bosses as they shot up from their chair, shots ringing out from the dark room.
The stench of the heads on the table overpowered the room, causing several people to wrinkle their noses.
Pin drop silence.
Time to give his weekly threat.
“Deal or no deal. Death or no death. Your choice.” Jason leaned against the railing, peering down with his helmet on.
The crime bosses gathered and murmured amongst themselves.
Like Jason couldn’t hear them.
The helmet was there for a reason, no?
Jason shot an impatient bullet near a man’s feet, causing him to jump away in fear. Jason held back his laughter.
“Hurry up.”
“I’m fine with 30%.” Bold move.
“15%.” The man opened his mouth in retort.
“Who has the gun here?”
“I- you. Fine. 15 percent.” Jason smiled and turned away, slipping into the shadows.
Like he’d give these fuckers 15 percent.
He watched them sit back down and discuss the situation in hushed whispers.
The police burst into the scene, arresting the crime bosses as they pleaded with them.
“It was the Red Hood! I swear!”
It was. Jason’s eyes flickered to the clock on the nearby wall that seemed to be on the brink of falling off.
11 PM.
A perfect ending to a perfect murder.
-
Dick swatted the air as the strong smell of blood enveloped him the moment he walked into the room.
God, what happened? He looked over Peter’s shoulder into the duffel bag.
Clean.
Whoever was on this job? Professional. His eyes danced on every one as he counted all the officers in the room. One, two, three, four, not considering him and Peter. Seven. Near the railing.
Dick’s eyes flickered to the railing, spotting a flash of red.
-
Shit.
Why was Dick here? Wasn’t he dead?
Shit, shit shit. Jason turned on his heel as Dick climbed the stairs and started chasing him.
Fuck. He wasn’t prepared to be caught. This wasn’t part of his plan.
Jason jumped off the rooftop and rolled to a nearby in-progress building.
Jason stopped in his tracks and spun around, nose-to-nose with Dick. The man nearly tripped at the abrupt motion, grabbing onto the side of a building pole.
He could either distract Dick, or run.
Dick would catch up somehow, though.
He chose the first option.
He just had the best idea.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” Jason shouts, as Dick’s jaw drops slightly in confusion.
Jason pushes Dick behind. Dick in question doesn’t even react, his face scrunched up in disbelief.
“Did you just make a fucking chicken joke? Are you even like, a murderer?” Dick asks incredulously.
“I’m running out of ideas, okay?” Jason throws his hands up and Dick glares at him, showing Jason a thumbs down. Jason slaps the area where there should be his nose and sighs.
How was Dick one of the best fighters on this planet?
Jason pushes Dick off the building. Dick doesn’t even try to protect himself, falling off unceremoniously.
How was he shaking his head in disappointment while falling fifty feet?
Did he just cross his arms?
Jason looked up to the sky.
Was revenge even worth this?
Jason looked down again to see Dick gain his footing again fairly quickly.
Jesus, he was climbing up like some spider monkey.
Jason ran.
-
Dick was so fucking confused.
Firstly, why was Red Hood so fast?
Secondly, did a crime boss just make a ‘why did the chicken cross the road’ joke?
Dick walked back to where Peter was standing with his arms crossed, vein in his forehead pulsing.
“What were you thinking! You could’ve died! Did he shoot you? He definitely shot you.”
“No he didn’t shoot me. He made a joke.” Dick swatted away Peter’s hands from his face.
“What?” Even Peter was momentarily distracted by the absolutely absurd situation that was Dick’s life.
Guess Nightwing would have to step in.
-
Jason grit his teeth as he stalked back to his what, third safe house now? Swinging open the door he placed his helmet on the dresser, running his hands through his hair.
He walked into the kitchen to a half-asleep replacement.
Sorry, Tim Drake. His target.
Jason felt a sharp spike of rage threatening to burst out of his chest. He took two deep breaths before approaching Tim.
“You’re kidding me.” Jason reached up to his head to find nothing but hair. That he wanted to rip out.
No wonder Alfred had so little hair, he had traded it for sanity.
Jason watched, unimpressed as Tim startled awake and stared right through him.
He looked so young.
Jason had thought he would be at least his age, but Tim looked fourteen at best.
Jason’s hand curled around his gun before deciding, no, this is a kid, and settling down opposite Tim.
“Oh. You’re alive.” Tim seemed mildly surprised, instead choosing to yawn and pick at the cereal he had poured himself.
“Yeah. Help yourself to my food.”
“There was no food. This is store-bought and tastes terrible. How are you surviving?” Tim grabs a mug filled with coffee that sloshes around dangerously.
“I don’t even own that mug. Where did you find all this stuff?”
“At the regular people food arsenal.”
Jason pinches the bridge of his nose before deciding thats too much like Bruce and choosing to put a fist under his chin instead. The pit anger was still bubbling in his stomach, but it had settled for now.
“How old are you? How did you find me?” Tim looked away, instead looking into his bowl full of soggy cereal.
“Is your vocabulary limited to ‘how’s? I’m..twelve? Thirteen? Who knows. Want some? The pit must be starving.” Jason watched Tim munch on his cereal and shove his bowl towards him.
“You don’t know your own age? And uh, thanks?” Jason accepted the bowl, hesitating.
“And you didn’t answer my last question,” Jason added, suddenly remembering Tim averting his gaze.
“It’s not poisoned. Yeah, my parents and I never celebrated my birthday. Anyways you must be like, so confused right now. I know its the pit because there isn’t many ways to resurrect someone; Ra’s, magic, and faking your death were the only possibilities. And I’m pretty sure you did die, unless you were faking it, and you’re eyes are green now too, so that solidifies my inference.” Tim chewed for a good minute, leaving Jason to wait an uncomfortably long period of time for him to continue.
“For the identity part, it was pretty simple. I mean, you were practically leaving tracks everywhere. You said Bruce’s name at that train station, not many people can cut off the grabby leg thingies, blah blah blah,” He finished, jumping up to open the fridge and pour himself a cup of coffee.
“Wow. Uhm, okay. Can we talk about the ‘parents not caring about birthday part first? And how old are you again? Because if you’re twelve thats just… really impressive. How long have you been with Bruce?”
“A year? We really don’t need to talk about that. I figured out your identities and chased you and B around.” Tim ducked his face into his cup, face burning.
“Me and B? We really do need to talk about you not knowing your own age.”
“You don’t know yours! Yeah, uhm, I followed you around when you were Robin. So I volunteered to be Robin after you uh, died. Sorry about that, by the way, I could give up Robin if you wanted to-“ Jason shook his head as Tim rambled.
“It’s fine. My problem’s with Bruce, not you.” Tim’s face brightened into a smile that was Dick-worthy.
“Also, I was dead. I have validity if I don’t know my age.” Tim rolled his eyes.
“You don’t have validity for shit. You wanna come back to the cave with me?”
“Tim.”
“What? Worth a try.”
-
Dick put down his phone slowly.
Very, very slowly.
Peter’s eyes flicked towards him.
In one swift motion, the phone was in a hidden pocket.
Peter stared at Dick with unnaturally large eyes before continuing talking with the police officer.
He just hoped thing’s were going better on Tim’s side, because at this point he wouldn’t be able to help with the Red Hood case at all.
He hoped Tim’s secret hunch was right.
If it wasn’t, he had just subjected his brother to possible murder.
But the call he had gotten seemed confirmation that Red Hood was, whoever Tim thought he was. This was like Red X all over again.
Dick sighed. And checked his lockscreen for messages. Nothing.
4AM.
-
Jason blinked at Tim.
Tim stared back, and snatched the mug, holding it like a newborn baby.
Jason sighed.
“I tried-“
“And failed.” Tim was beaming now, the little shit. He had broken into Jason’s home after figuring out his identity and now wanted him to go and talk to Bruce.
“Listen, Tim, you don’t get it.”
“Oh I don’t get it? Well, the feeling goes both ways, Jason.” Tim’s grin fell off his face completely.
“You’re just a kid. A scarily smart one, but still, a kid. I died and I came back. That stuff has an effect on you. It’s the Joker, or me. He has to choose.” Tim’s face smoothed over into cold professionalism, nothing like the bright sarcastic kid he’d met earlier.
His voice was emotionless when he spoke.
“I know you died. Everyone blames themselves, Jason. But what you’re saying, what you’re trying to do? It’s not what Jason would have wanted.”
“I’m not that Jason anymore.” An idea formed in his head.
An idea that made far more sense than a thirteen year old figuring out the Red Hood’s identity.
“Tim. Bruce sent you here to convince me that proving my point was bad, didn’t he? You didn’t figure all that out on your own. He did.” Jason’s vision was swarming with green. Tim had been manipulating him this whole time.
Tim’s eyes widened.
“No! No! Bruce didn’t tell me to come here, I came here myself, Jason you can’t-“ Jason stood up and leaned across the kitchen island, green eyes blazing. He extended his hand toward’s Tim’s windpipe.
Tim scrambled out of his seat, dropping the mug in the process.
It shattered, coffee slipping into the cracks of the ceramic tiles of the kitchen.
Jason’s vision cleared into a light green. He backed away, chest heaving.
Silence, except for Tim’s shaky breaths. He was pressed against the oven, hands trembling.
Tim took a deep breath.
Fuck. What had Jason done? Assuming it was Bruce all over again, letting the pit rage engulf him.
And worst of all, he had enjoyed it.
Enjoyed scaring Tim. Killing those henchmen.
What had he become?
Jason watched Tim collect himself, blinking several times at the ceiling.
Tim’s eyes darted to Jason’s horrified expression.
“I- Jason.” Tim licked his lips and carefully walked a step forward.
“Could you, at least think about it, going to Bruce and talking it out instead of killing? Just- just try.” Tim looked at Jason one last time before silently passing by as he walked out.
Jason sat heavily back down onto his seat, hand in his hair.
“I never wanted to be Robin, you know. I did it for Bruce.” Tim smiled sadly before closing the door behind him.
Jason stares at the clock on his oven where Tim was covering a few second ago.
4AM.
-
Dick hugs Tim tightly when he bumps into him at a coffee shop with Peter.
Tim, in question, only seems slightly shocked, but immediately hugs Dick back, eyes blurry.
“Tim?” Tim blinks before his eyes cleared.
“Oh. Dick.” Tim nearly choked Dick with his grip on his torso.
“I knew it. I knew you were alive.” Dick opened his mouth to question Tim but decided against it.
“I missed you.” Tim looked down at his shoes, and Dick’s heart nearly bursts out his chest. Definitely not how he wanted his cover to be busted but hey, not complaining.
“I missed you too, Timbo. So much.”
A beat of silence passed.
“..Dick? Can you sleep with me, tonight?” Tim asked, so quietly Dick nearly missed it. Dick pulled away slightly from Tim, sending him a baffled look.
“What? Tim, what?” Dick’s face contorted in disgust. Tim turned pink, obviously embarrassed.
“Like sleep in your bed? I just, I, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Tim pulled himself from Dick’s gorilla glue grip and fiddled with his fingers.
“You look like Clayface.”
“Ouch. Huge punch to my ego, Tim. Of course you can sleep in my bed. You’ll never escape my grasp though, and I’m pretty sure I snore.” Tim actually glowed with happiness. Neglected kid who was subjected to Dick’s hugs forever.
“Neal, what the hell?”
“Hi! I’m Alvin. Alvin Draper.” Tim waved.
“You have a alias?” Dick whispered.
“Yeahhh.”
“You’re thirteen, right? Not thirty-one?”
“I’m actually not sure, and it keeps me up at night.”
-
Jason approached the Bat cave.
He should just leave.
He had taken off his helmet, and his face felt bare without it.
This was a mistake.
Ok, he was leaving now.
“Master Jason?” Alfred’s voice was disturbingly fragile. Jason nodded jerkily.
“Surprise.” Jason cringed at the pure shock on Alfred’s face.
Alfred carefully placed his hands on Jason’s shoulders, like he thought Jason wasn’t real.
He wasn’t sure if he was.
Alfred enveloped Jason into a tight hug, and it reminded him of nights spent up reading, where Alfred would tell him to go to sleep but eventually bring cookies, a half-hug every time they went on a mission, and the calm that came whenever Alfred talked him down.
Jason stood stiffly, not knowing how to react.
Alfred pulled away seconds later, eyes dancing with contentment.
“My dear boy, how I’ve missed you. I’ll get Master Bruce.” Alfred noiselessly stepped up into the Manor.
Jason waited, and Dick came rushing down, Tim hot on his tails.
Tim looked exuberant. Buoyant. Beatific. Dick-like.
Dick melted into Jason while Tim stood beside the Batcomputer nervously. Jason tried to pry Dick off him but the man was sticking to him. Jason eventually gave up, complaining loudly about acrobats.
Super-glue his ass, they should use whatever was in Dick’s blood.
Finally, the man of the house. Jason repeated the basics of what he would say to Bruce.
The man looked horrified. Bruce basically sprinted across the room to touch Jason’s cheek.
Jason coughed.
“Awkward.”
Bruce embraced him so tight Jason was sure at least three ribs broke.
“Jason. Jason. Jason.” Jason’s whole evil villain monologue that he totally didn’t steal from a Disney villain blanked.
“Are you trying to summon a demon?”
Bruce laughed wetly from his place on Jason. Jason could feel a wet patch on the back of his shirt.
“You crying? This is a new shirt, you know.” Jason tapped his foot, waiting until Bruce pulled away.
“Jason. How?”
“Lazarus Pit,” Tim answered for him.
“Can I have some cookies? I’m like starving and Tim ate all my cereal.”
“There weren’t any in the first place.”
“Also, isn’t Dick dead? What is this, a reunion party? Did Talia put up a ‘Lazarus Spa’ ad or something?”
“Right? Like imagine the switch from rich neglected child to richer company heir with zombie brothers.”
“Hey I wasn’t neglected!”
“The first stage is denial, Timmy.”