Work Text:
It gets lonesome on the lonesome trail
So keep your head up high
Because, baby, we've been up all night
I built that road and walked it every mile
Takin' orders never been my style...
Don't worry 'bout making sure they won't forget
No, it's fine 'cause legends never die
“Legends Never Die” by Orville Peck and Shania Twain
Tim had figured out the identity of Red Hood in the first month. He knew that roundhouse kick like the back of his hand from three years on the streets sneaking photos of Robin. What Tim could not figure out was what hell was Jason doing? Why hadn’t he come home?
As much as Tim could not stand the idea of losing Robin - it wasn’t his, and with Jason back, it was even more apparent how much Tim did not belong. Bruce would have his son back, Tim just had to find some way to convince Jason to go home, to give up whatever crazy plan he had concocted.
Tim would go back to his lonely life, his time with the bats just some childish dream. It broke his heart, but he was always a temporary solution to Batman’s grief and rage – Tim was grateful for the time he had with the cape. The truth was that it never belonged to Tim, and he had never deserved the title. He had manipulated and coerced Batman into accepting him, but he was not Jason – he had never been able to fill the bleeding wound in Bruce’s heart. He was just a band aid, someone to help Batman remember his humanity. But he was not Bruce’s son – Jason was.
Now three months since Red Hood had popped into the Gotham crime scene, Tim found himself waiting for Hood to go home. But Jason, Hood, whoever – was building a very comprehensive crime network and Tim just needed to know why to bring Jason home. Like any good detective, Tim of course had a few theories, but he needed evidence and proof before he could take any action. Hence, Tim’s current position sitting on Jason’s sofa in his very decrepit safe house. Tim broke into the safe house to try speaking with Jason. Tim had to convince him to come home, to take back the mantle of Robin, and to end the grief and misery that had consumed Batman since his death. Tim had even brought the Robin suit - carefully wrapped in paper and in his backpack- to return to Jason.
The window of the safe house had slid open with ease and Tim was able to disable Jason’s trip wire and alarm in record time. Tim always admired Jason, but using standard Bat security practices, struck him as particularly stupid. For all intents and purposes, Jason seemed to be trying to hide his identity, but he was being so obvious.
The apartment was empty. Tim had snooped around. The apartment was purely utilitarian. He noted the lack of anything personal in the safe house, aside from a large duffel bag by the unmade bed. The duffle bag held a variety of guns haphazardly mixed with dirty clothes – Tim was disgusted.
He sighed to himself as he searched the pantry for some coffee, but the cabinets were empty, aside from the dead cockroach in one corner. Tim scowled at it and found himself wondering what the hell Jason was doing, for the millionth time.
He settled back into the sofa determined wait for Jason. He pulled out the uniform and placed it on the coffee table. He was going to bring Jason home, Tim would figure it out, he always did after all.
Someone was on Jason’s sofa – someone had broken into his fucking apartment and was going to get shot. Jason pulled his gun from its holster and crept down the hallway. His eyes never leaving the target and slowing taking in the details of the shadowed figure just fucking chilling on his sofa. He was supposed to be a terrifying villain and crime boss – goddammit.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are or what the fuck you think you’re doing, but if you don’t want a bullet in your brain, you better have a good fucking reason for being here,” Jason said menacingly as he entered the room. He noticed the figure straighten and turn towards his voice. Jason couldn’t help but notice how small the figure was – just a kid – fucking fantastic.
The shadowed figure sent Jason’s world into a green rage with one word, “Jason.”
Jason struggled to control the anger and violence surging through his blood. He attempted to take a deep breath but felt the echoes of his broken ribs and mutilated dead body, restricting him.
“How the fuck do you know that name?” He snarled, approaching the kid until the barrel of the gun rested on the kid’s forehead.
Jason froze as he recognized the bright blue eyes and sharp nose of Timothy Drake, his fucking replacement. Jason had so many delicious and painful plans for this twerp. A wicked grin spread across his face and Jason noticed the boy tensing with fear – good.
Before the boy can answer, Jason released a cruel laugh.
“Oh, oh, my Replacement! You have truly saved me so much leg work! Here I was making all these elaborate plans to kidnap you, torture you, and then murder you! And here you are! Right on my sofa! This must be my lucky day!”
The boy visibly gulped at Jason’s words.
“Jason, I-I-I don’t know how you’re here right now and I don’t know w-w-what you’re doing, but you need to go h-home.” The boy tried to keep his voice from shaking with fear, but clearly failed. Jason chuckled darkly.
“Replacement, that’s so funny, coming from you. You took my home and now I’m going to take everything from you and the Bat.” Jason couldn’t restrain his rage as he brought the pistol down, striking the boy across the face. The boy spit blood from his mouth and instead of running (How fucking stupid was this kid?! Where the was his self-preservation?), he turned to face Jason, tears filling his eyes.
“I know, okay! I know I shouldn’t have taken it! It’s yours, it’s always been yours. But-but-but you must understand” the boy’s voice was firm, but frantic “Batman needs a Robin. I-I-I know I’m not good enough, but you’re back and everything will be fine now. I brought the suit for you, and I will get out of your way.”
“Oh, this is rich coming from a brat who stole my fucking father and my fucking family!” Jason yelled as he brought the gun down again. He was consumed by rage, his vision filled with bright green, the feeling of The Pit fresh on his skin and the memory of the graveyard dirt under his shredded nails overwhelmed his mind. He brought the gun down again and the kid fell limp.
“No one should have the suit – especially not a kid. You’re just a kid.” Jason’s voice broke and his hands shook. He took in the kid’s limp figure, blood gushing from his nose and split skin over his eyebrow. Jason was lucky (or fucking unlucky) that he hadn’t crushed the kid’s eye socket. His own words hung in the air. Just a kid. He had pistol whipped a fucking kid.
Tugging at his hair, Jason wanted to scream. The kid was so small! In all his intelligence gathering, it had never occurred to him that his Replacement was just a waif – something he recognized from the streets of Crime Alley. He knew the boy was close to fourteen, but the kid in front of Jason appeared closer to twelve. Jason remembered the stringy, stunted figures of himself and the other abandoned children of the streets. Jason felt like the breath had been stolen from his chest and he found himself going to grab the first aid kit.
Tim woke with a gasp. The smell of ammonia and smelling salts rebooting his brain. Tim noted the dull throbbing pain coming from his face and the sharp throb of his very clearly broken nose - the familiar clogged, congested feeling and the sharp throbbing pain unmistakable.
He groaned and weakly tried to move the smelling salts away from his aching nose.
“Alright, there you go, kid.”
Tim’s eyes struggled to focus on the figure in front of him, his vision wobbling and wavering – most likely a concussion on top of everything else. Damn, Jason had done a number in only two hits and for the first time it crossed Tim’s mind that this may not have been the most intelligent or safe plan. No one knew where he was, and he had carefully removed his phone, panic button, and communicator before coming to the safe house. He had no way to call for help and no one was coming for him. He had been too naive to think Jason would appreciate Tim’s efforts.
“Okay, calm down, kid. Take a deep breath.” Jason’s voice broke through Tim’s foggy brain.
“Are you going to hit me again, asshole?” Sometimes Tim wished hits to the head didn’t always break his brain to mouth filter, taunting an angry Jason was probably a bad idea. Why was Jason angry though?
Jason let out a sharp bark of laugh, causing Tim to shift farther from the hulking figure kneeling in front of him. Jason was huge, now. He was taller than Bruce and seemed wider than a truck. Tim was fucked if they ended up fighting, he might have stood a chance before the hit to the head, but with the world wavering around him, Tim knew Jason could beat the shit out of him.
With the knowledge that there was no way for Tim to get out of this situation without Jason’s mercy, he figured he might as well fuck around and find out – a bit. It was probably the concussion, but Jason’s words had rattled Tim, and he was feeling reckless.
“You got pizzaz kid, but I’d expect nothing less from my replacement,” Tim could hear the subtle sneer in Jason’s voice.
“You keep calling me that and it’s stupid, asshole.” Tim snaps back, he really did not have patience for this. His head, eye, and nose felt like they were throbbing in unison.
Tim watched as the man’s eyes went from a vibrant blue with hints of green to a swirling, bright, sick green color. Oh – a Lazarus Pit – that made so much sense! It explained the anger, the irrational behavior, and most importantly, the reason Jason had not gone home. The missing bit of evidence snapped in place in Tim’s mind, but something bothered Tim.
“Wait, wait, before you go all Hulk on me. I have a question!”
Jason seemed so shocked, that the bright green haze left his eyes, and he looked down at Tim sardonically.
“Okay, so clearly somehow a Lazarus Pit – judging by the creepy eye thing you have going on and the crazy shit you’ve been doing – is involved. But Lazarus Pits don’t bring back the dead? And Bruce -”
Tim was interrupted by Jason’s hands slamming around his throat and choking him. He felt tears fills his eyes and his hand weakly tried to pry Jason’s fingers away. Suddenly, the hands were gone, and Tim sucked in a desperate breath. Jason stood on the other side of the room, looking at his hands like they had personally betrayed him.
“Alright,” Tim rasped, “no mentioning the Bat. Message received, loud and clear.”
Jason looked surprised and reluctantly met Tim’s eyes.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I get angry.”
“Duh, if you’ve been tossed in a Pit, I’m sure your brain is doing some wild stuff.”
“How- how, do you know that? How did you find me?”
“I’m a detective, duh.”
Jason rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Kid, you’re like eight. I don’t know how you found me, how you know a-a-bout the Pit, but I have a hard time believing you’re some Sherlock Holmes prodigy.”
Tim snorted loudly.
“I’m fourteen. And I’m literally the apprentice to the world’s greatest detective. Also, I figured out your and Batman’s secret identities when I was seven. Finding people and figuring shit out, is what I do.” Tim couldn’t help the smug tone creeping into his voice as he crossed his arms and shifted back on the sofa – mocking Jason’s posture.
Jason rubbed a hand over his face, appearing exacerbated and a little guilty.
“I don’t know what the fuck you mean and, frankly, I don’t want to know. I think it would be best for everyone involved in this particular shit show, if you went back to the Bat and left me the fuck alone.”
“No, absolutely not,” Tim immediately replied. Jason appeared to grow only more agitated, beginning to pace quickly across the room.
“Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I planned to torture and murder you. Like, that was what I imagined these past weeks – hurting you a lot. This is not a safe place for you to be. I’m not a-a-a safe person.”
Jason sounded almost choked and Tim wanted to yell about how that was stupid. Jason was Robin, of course he was a safe person. Jason clearly just needed some help to get through whatever coming back from the dead had scrambled inside of his head.
“Well, I figured that from the lame speech you gave earlier.” Tim said in his most aloof tone, something his mother had taught him.
“You don’t understand! I’m dangerous, I’m particularly dangerous to you! I’ve spent almost three years thinking of different ways to hurt you and to make you suffer!” Jason yelled while throwing his hands in the air. Tim found the display a bit dramatic.
“Okay, I hear you. But you didn’t?” Tim was very confused by Jason’s logic.
“Oh my god, what is wrong with you?! I broke your face and strangled you less than five minutes ago! You’re a kid!” Jason looked at Tim in exacerbation and shock.
“No, I’m not.”
“What?”
“I’m not a kid, I’m an adolescent.” Tim arched his eyebrow at Jason in annoyance.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason was practically pulling his hair out.
“If you wanted to hurt me, Jason, you would have tied me up while I was unconscious and done whatever insane plan you had cooking in those scrambled egg brains. Instead, you brought out the First Aid kit. The evidence is literally right in front of you. Yes, you think you want to hurt me, but that’s probably just Pit Rage. If you had really wanted to hurt me, you would have already.”
Tim couldn’t help rolling his eyes while he spoke. Jason had stopped pacing and just looked at Tim aghast.
“I’m a little confused, though," Tim continued "You said three years, have you really been back that long? Why haven’t you told Br-the Bat?”
“None of this is your business. Robin is not your business. I am not your business, kid, fuck!”
“Now, you are just being willfully obtuse,” Tim replied in his most condescending tone. “I am the current Robin, so yes, it is my business. And it has always been my business to protect B-the Bat.”
“You’re a kid! You should be off hugging your parents or hanging out with friends playing fucking video games! Being normal!”
Tim scoffed.
“I’ve never hugged my parents and I don’t have friends. I have Robin and Gotham. I don’t need those things.”
Jason’s face did something strange, it appeared to collapse into itself.
“B-B-B doesn’t hug you?”
Tim scoffed again, “Of course not, we are professionals in a professional relationship! He’s not my dad.”
That seemed to catch Jason’s attention, his face transforming from someone kicked a puppy to appraising Tim. Tim felt a wave of nervousness rise, tightening his throat. Even he knew this was not a normal response to someone telling him to hug his parents. His internal alarm bells began going off, like the time Miss Haywood had asked about his parents’ traveling and then called CPS. At least, Tim knew how to play this game.
“You have parents, then?”
Tim sniffed, “Yes, of course. Jack and Janet Drake.”
“Oh, you’re that tiny kid who lived next door!”
“Yes, obviously.”
“And your parents are alive?”
“Clearly. You should have researched that if you really planned to hurt me.” Tim said dismissively, he didn’t like where this was going.
“Whatever. So, you have parents, and you do the Robin thing for fun?”
“No, I do it because someone has to.”
“Okay, that’s fucked up, we will circle back to it.” Jason moved across the room, slowly approaching Tim, and sitting on the coffee table. He locked eyes with Tim and maintained eye contact as he dropped his last bomb into the conversation. “Your parents don’t hug you.”
Tim felt himself freeze. Jason had not asked it as a question, he had stated the truth plainly, but the way he said it made Tim think it was one of those not normal things – like his parents’ trips or the way they would fight and throw things at each other or grab his arm too tight. He felt cornered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a child. I am a Drake and hugs are silly and childish” Tim tried to mimic his mother’s tone, remembering a similar conversation they had had when he was only three.
“What the fuck?” Jason muttered. Tim raised his chin in defiance.
“I told you; I have Gotham. I’ll give you Robin because it belongs to you. And keep the fuck out of my private life, thank you.”
“Okay, kid, listen very carefully. I am not Robin anymore; I don’t want it. Some fucked up things happened to me and I’m beginning to feel like maybe my anger toward you was misplaced.”
“You think?” Tim said sarcastically.
“I’m just trying to understand, okay? I don’t know how this works, you’re right, I didn’t do my research.” Jason was clearly trying to appeal to Tim’s reasoning, but Tim was incredibly skeptical.
“What exactly are you trying to understand, Jason?” Tim sneered.
“How this works, I guess? The Bat just picks you out to be his little sidekick and what your parents don’t even notice you spending your nights fighting crime or hanging out with B?”
“Well, Jason, my parents are busy and important people. They are rarely home and, frankly, it is none of their business.”
Tim recited the words his parents had repeated to him every time Tim asked them to stay. Tim had stopped asking when he turned five. His parents were busy and important people who provided everything Tim could possibly need - food, shelter, video games – he was hardly lacking.
Jason seemed to roll with this – all traces of anger gone from his face as he nodded to Tim’s words.
“Okay, so they aren’t home a whole lot. When was the last time they were in town, Tim? And I’ll know if you lie to me.” Jason raised two fingers to his eyes then pointed them at Tim’s face. Tim found the gesture stupid and childish.
“I don’t know, they were around in January for the annual board meeting?”
“Tim, it’s fucking July! Your parents haven’t been home in almost six months!”
“Yes, well I hardly see how that’s an issue,” Tim sniffed dismissively, “I know how to care for myself and I’m not a child. I'm hardly alone, our housekeeper comes most days of the week. In fact, last year they were traveling for about nine months, and I did just fine. My parents were even impressed and said I was very well-behaved, compared to my peers.”
Jason was covering his face with his hands and muttering to himself. Tim managed to hear “-what the actual fuck? How is this kid more fucked up than me right now? Where did the Bat find him?”
“Well, like I stated before, I figured out your and Batman’s identities ages ago. I found him, if you will.”
Jason’s hands fell into his lap, and he looked at Tim incredulously.
“Okay, explain. And explain like I’m some idiot, no leaving out details or missing important pieces, okay?”
Tim rolled his eyes.
“Fine, I saw the Flying Graysons before their murder and I saw Dick do a quadruple flip. Anyway, later I saw Robin do the same thing and connected the dots. I started following Batman and Robin when I was seven to take photos and help however I could. And then, well, you died-”
Tim watched as Jason’s expression collapsed again and he took a deep breath as green crept into his irises. Tim added talking about dying to his growing mental list of Jason’s triggers, right next to Bruce’s name.
“Right, that’s a sore spot for me, I’m gonna do my best to stay over here. If I get angry, I want you to run out the fire escape, okay?” Jason moved to the other side of the apartment, putting distance between them.
“Whatever. You’ll know how I’m trying to escape and you’re faster than me, so running out the fire escape seems pretty stupid, but whatever.” Tim rolled his eyes again.
“Right, whatever. So, when I d-d-” Jason’s voice shook and pressed his fingers firmly over his eyes and tried again, “When that bastard murdered me, what did you do?”
“Well, Batman was out of control. For months, he grew more and more violent. More reckless than anyone has ever seen. His grief was consuming him, and he had abandoned everything else. No Brucie Wayne appearances, the board almost completed a coup, all that was left was a dark twisted version of the Batman. Alfred and I think he was trying to get himself killed…”
Tim was interrupted from his dark memories of Bruce during that bleak first year by Jason punching a hole in the wall.
“Right,” he gritted out “the Bat was sad, so what?”
Tim eyed Jason, speculatively.
“So what? SO WHAT? Gotham needs Batman! The city needs Batman’s justice and compassion. It’s essential! The people need him to hope and to make Gotham a better place!”
“Ah, you’ve drank The Mission Kool-Aid,” Jason said while shaking out his hand. Tim could not see any green spiraling in his irises, so he assumed it was safe to continue.
“It was actually Flavor-Aid used at Jonestown-”
“Oh my god, not the fucking point!”
Tim sniffed, “I just think it’s important to be factually correct, especially when referencing true crime events…”
“Still not the point, so the Bat was sad? How do you fit into this fucked up picture?”
“I was still following him every night,” Tim looked down at his shoes, “I had a front row seat to it all – the violence, the grief, the suicidal behaviors – okay? I was the only one who understood that without a Robin, the Batman would be consumed by grief. That’s the way Batman works – he has to have a source of hope and lightness. He has to have a Robin!”
“Okay, I hear you, but I disagree. A grown man does not need a child to keep his violent vigilante work in check, but we are so far from fucked up already,” Jason shook his head, “Carry on, why you then? Other than you being there?”
“Well, I asked Dick first-”
Jason snorted, “I bet that went well, right?”
Tim squinted up at him, “No, he turned me down. And, I couldn’t think of anyone else. At this point had been following Batman for years on the street and I had been taking martial art classes since I figured out his identity – so, it just made sense?”
“And the Bat, just replaced me – just like that.” Jason snapped his fingers, emphasizing how quickly Bruce had replaced him. Tim was beginning to understand the strange twists and turns of Jason’s logic.
“No, no, of course not. I fought with him for months. He was all ‘No more Robins, no more children dying,’ in that stupid tone of his. But things just kept getting worse! Finally, he went out while he was injured and got captured. I stole the Robin suit and rescued him. After that he said he would train me because he clearly couldn’t stop me, and he’s right. I forced him into it, Jason. He never wanted to replace you – he never could anyway. I’m just a coworker, I go home after patrol, and we don’t talk outside of the suits. I’m not Dick or you.”
Tim couldn’t keep the choked, broken emotion out of his voice. Jason was right, Tim was a poor replacement forced onto a grieving man by some childish obsession. God, Tim was the problem, clearly. He refused to meet Jason’s eye and continued quietly.
“That’s why I brought the suit back for you. I love being Robin, it’s all I have, but I stole it from you. If I had known you were alive, I would have never taken it. I’m sorry, I’ll stop now that you’re back.”
Jason was suddenly back in front of Tim, sitting on the coffee table, with both of his hands gently pressing into the tops of Tim’s knees.
“Tim, listen to me. You didn’t steal Robin from me if anything you stole it from my ghost. Do I look like a ghost to you?”
Tim snorted, “No, but I could see a resemblance to a zombie…”
Jason laughed, sharply.
“Fair point, but I’m trying not to be mad about it. I don’t really want Robin back; I think I just wanted a reason to be mad at you and B-Br-the Bat.”
Tim nodded, “Pit rage?”
“Yeah, I guess and everything Talia al Ghul said while training me. Everything is all twisted now.” Jason pointed to his head mockingly.
“I figured the League was involved based on the Pit Rage, but if you were dealing directly with Talia, it makes perfect sense why you’ve been doing what you’ve been doing. It’s not your fault, Jason. Bruce and Alfred will understand – all they want is for you to come home.”
Jason just stared at him, mouth slightly open in shock.
“Huh, okay. But I’ve broken the main rule here, I’ve killed a lot of people in the past three years, Tim. Also, the Bat just let my killer walk free and alive after murdering me. I can’t forgive him, and I can’t go home.” Jason stood up again and began his agitated pacing and his eyes glowed with green. Tim watched with a cold look on his face as Jason took a breath and reigned in the rage.
“That’s fucking absurd, idiot!”
“What?!” Jason spun around, glaring at Tim.
“I said it’s stupid and absurd and wrong!” Tim had stood up from the sofa to make his point and ignored the world tilting a bit, “Bruce would do anything to see you again. He lost everything when he lost you! He wouldn’t care that you’ve killed people, Jason, sure he’d probably be disappointed, but it wouldn’t matter! Moreover, it sounds like you’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting this way! It’s just the Pit Rage and Talia’s brainwashing!”
Jason suddenly punched another hole in the wall, his eyes glowing green. He struggled to take a deep breath and Tim watched, wondering if he should run.
“No, you don’t know me, kid!” Jason roared, “I’m just some street trash, I’ve always wanted to kill and now I don’t think I’ll stop! I wanted to kill Willis, I wanted him to suffer, like he made my mom suffer! I fought on the streets of Gotham, and I wanted to kill everyone who came after me! I wanted to kill my own birth mom as I watched her smoke cigarettes while I was beaten to death! I wanted to kill the Joker as he smashed my head in with a crowbar! Now, I wanted to kill you for replacing me and I wanted to kill the Bat for not killing my murderer! I’ve always been like this! I’ve always been a monster! Dying only opened the door to what has always been here!”
Jason was fuming. This whole conversation was a shit show and Jason was tired – so fucking tired. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to calm the rage boiling inside him. Suddenly, two thin arms were wrapping around his torso. Jason was so surprised, he found himself sinking into the embrace reflexively. The tingling and burning rage fading from Jason's body.
God, when was the last time someone had hugged him? It was probably Bruce sometime before Jason ran away, which felt like a knife wound to the gut. The kid was talking into Jason’s stomach, his words muffled by Jason’s body armor.
“Batman can’t kill Jason, I’m sorry, but he can’t. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, and I know he wants nothing more than to kill the Joker for what he did to you, but he can’t do that.”
Jason barely felt as his body collapsed forward, suddenly holding Tim to him, and crying silently.
“He doesn’t love me enough, Tim. I always just some charity case for him.” Jason muttered bitterly.
“No,” Tim pulled back and forced Jason to make eye contact with him, “No, Jason, you are his son. If Bruce was just a man, maybe he would have killed the Joker, but he’s Batman and Batman can’t kill no matter what. It’s not that he doesn’t love you or want revenge, he has his hands tied and it destroys, Jason. I’ve seen it.”
Something about Tim’s word and his serious stare seemed to click in Jason’s brain, but the pain was like touching a live wire and Jason needed to deflect. Jason shrugged out of the embrace and ran a hand over his face, wiping away the – stupid, fucking – tears.
“Okay, fine. We’ll have to circle back this some other time, kid. I’m tired. I’m sure it’s past your bedtime. Time to fly on back to the Bat, okay?”
The kid stubbornly shook his head.
“You can’t stay here and there’s no way I’m going anywhere with you-”
“You have to take me back to the manor.”
Jason sighed, sensing the beginning of another absurd and emotionally draining argument with this insane child.
“No way, absolutely-fucking-not. No chance.” Jason said while shaking his head and raising his hands in placating gesture.
“Jason, I’m very concussed right now and I need Alfred's medical attention. You cannot expect an injured adolescent to travel all the way across the most dangerous city in the middle of the night.”
Jesus, Jason was trapped and judging by the kid’s smug look, he knew it.
“God, you are a manipulative bastard. Whatever, I’ll drop you off, but I’m not sticking around for some lame ass reunion.”
“Well, I was technically born in wedlock, so I think asshole, or something works better?” Tim shrugged.
“Oh my god, not the point!”
Jason helped the wobbly kid to his motorcycle and felt a strange sense of grief and longing as they drove to the Batcave. He would need to be in and out before the Bat even knew he was there.
God, pulling into the Cave flooded Jason’s mind with memories, overlapping on each other, distracting him. The feeling of wonderment coming back in the Batmobile that first night, riding in with Dick after Dick got over himself - his big brother, the euphoric joy of coming back from a successful patrol, the way Bruce would ruffle his hair or wrap him in a hug before sending him to bed while he worked on the nightly report. All Jason's memories tracing back to that feeling of home. The memories felt like a physical weight on Jason’s skin.
They pulled into the Cave's garage and Jason informed the kid while practically pushing him off the bike, “Alright, skedaddle, I don’t want to ever see you again.”
The kid wobbled, dramatically, “You have to help me up the stairs.”
He pointed to the steel staircase that went up into the main part of the BatCave. Jesus, Jason was an idiot. He didn’t even where his mask and he knew that place was rigged with cameras. Bruce probably already had eyes on him. Suppressing the wave of nauseas fear, Jason tried to be nonchalant as he shrugged.
It was, perhaps, a little petty to scoop the kid up in a fireman’s carry and haul him up the stairs, but Jason had always been a bit petty. Jason ignored his protests and gently moved the kid back to his feet. As Jason did a quick scan of the Cave and froze when he noticed the shocked face sitting by the BatComputer. Oh, fuck.
“T-t-t-im, what is going on?” Bruce was barely able to control his voice, Jason had only ever heard Bruce’s voice waver when he spoke about his dead parents. Jason felt his heart stop. Oh jeez, Jason was fucked ten ways to Sunday, all his plans demolished by some kid.
“Bruce, it’s Jason. He came back.” Tim’s voice was sure, and Bruce’s face turned skeptical. God, what an ass, of course he didn’t believe it was him.
“That’s impossible.” Bruce’s hands were shaking, Jason eyed them.
“Whatever, great reunion, but I’m out of here, fuckers.” Jason tried to keep his tone nonchalant and dismissive, but it felt like his lungs were trying to squirm out of his ribcage. He turned and stalked back to the staircase.
“Wait-” Suddenly, Bruce’s hand was on his shoulder.
Jason’s dad was touching him for the first time in three long years. All Jason had thought about - while the bomb ticked down and his broken body slowly gave out on him - was Bruce rushing into the warehouse and scooping him into his arms. Jason had imagined all the hugs Bruce would give him while he recovered from his injuries – his dad was funny like that, becoming more tactile whenever he was concerned or worried about Jason.
“Jason?” Bruce voice trembled as he spun Jason around. Catching Jason’s face in his hands, like he had done when he wanted Jason to hear him – to make sure Jason understood. Jason felt his eyes fill with tears as he met Bruce’s disbelieving gaze.
“Dad?” And Jason was in his father’s arms, the two weeping openly. Nothing else mattered in this moment. Nothing was more important – all the anger was gone, only hope remained.
Tim was very proud of himself. His plan worked out better than he expected - a rare treat. He had – of course – known that Bruce would be at the BatComputer when he had exaggerated his concussion to get a ride from Jason and forced him to carry him up the stairs. It had worked perfectly.
Despite the warm glow of pride, Tim could not stop watching as Bruce and Jason cried in each other’s arms. Father and son reunited; Jason was home. Tim should be overwhelmed with joy, but he felt a sick, jealous, sort of sadness rising in his throat.
His father had never held him like that and never would, most likely. Tim didn’t realize he wanted to be held like that until now and he felt overwhelmed with unfamiliar yearning – stupid. Suddenly, the hug puddle of Bruce and Jason was separating. Jason pulling away from the embrace to glare at Tim.
Tim gulped loudly, filling the silent cave.
“You-” Jason was yelling and pointing at Tim, “You manipulative bastard! You knew he was going to be here!”
He was rising to his feet and walking over to Tim. Tim frantically looked between Bruce and Jason, Bruce’s face was a mask of confusion. Tim searched Jason’s eyes for any green –
When he was suddenly scooped into a crushing hug, Jason’s strong arms lifting him in the air. Jason murmured a soft “thank you” into Tim’s hair.
“Um-” Tim started to say, uncomfortably.
“Nope, Timbo, you told me you never hugged your parents, therefore as your older brother it is my duty to hug you constantly. Bruce, get over here!”
“Um-” Tim tried again, shocked to feel Bruce’s arms wrapping around Jason and him.
Jason turned to Bruce and raised an eyebrow, “How the fuck did you find a kid more fucked up than me? And what the fuck are you going to do about it?”
“Language, Jason,” Bruce said, while looking sheepishly between the two boys. “I had a plan, Jason! But I didn’t want to impose on Tim-”
“Impose?! God, I’m surrounded by idiots! Tim, Bruce is going to adopt you, end of story. Welcome to the family.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and Tim was surprised to recognize one of his own mannerisms on the man. Tim was looking frantically between Jason and Bruce. He felt overwhelmed, warmth flooding through his body.
“Tim, I think your current situation is harmful and if you would like, I would love to provide a safe home for you?”
“Holy shit,” Tim was stupefied.
“Bruce, that’s a yes, don’t let him argue with you.”
“Okay, well, either way it will be a much longer conversation later. Right now, I just want to hold my sons…”