Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason had never been the best at strategy. Sure, hand him a gun and he was your man for taking some bastard out, but he hadn’t been the best at thinking ahead, especially when his temper got a hold of him. Of course, he’d considered himself decently intelligent, despite his extended amount of time under Batman. He could certainly come up with a usable plan, he just. Didn’t always follow through. Especially when he was pissed.

See the unconscious Robin tied up in the trunk of his stolen van.

Right. Jason could use this to his advantage. After all, secondary locations are always better. Plus, unlimited time to fuck with his Replacement. A built-in punching bag. Maybe he’d even send a ransom video.

Or maybe not. He’d done a pretty good job of knocking out the cameras, and he hadn’t followed through on leaving the birdie to tell the tale. The Bats wouldn’t know who took him. Jason would have all the time in the world.

Actually, this was going alright.

From the backseat, the Replacement groaned lightly.

Jason grinned. Showtime.

Tim blinked. He blinked again. He was ninety percent sure he wasn’t meant to wake up in what seemed to be the trunk of a van, but maybe his team decided to do something so phenomenally stupid that he got kidnapped.

Wait. He did get kidnapped.

Fuck.

The Red Hood. The attack. The bruises and cuts and broken bones.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Tim flinched when Hood’s voice came from the front seat. “How’d you sleep?”

Tim could catch a trace of Crime Alley in his voice, but it was filtered by his helmet. He grunted, biting down on the gag in his mouth, tied tightly around the back of his head. Apparently, Hood knew his kidnappings, because with the way his hands and feet were tied, Tim could hardly pull free.

“Eloquent as always, Replacement. Don’t worry your pretty little head - we’ll get there soon. But, despite my wonderful job of tying you up, I don’t trust you to not make trouble. So I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, don’t worry.”

The van shuddered to a stop. Tim could only watch in horror when Hood clambered over the backseat and into the trunk, kneeling beside Tim. “You’re gonna be good for me.” He hand ghosted over the bloodied patch of Tim’s suit that had been torn by his own hand. “Right?”

Instead of giving a reasonable response like a nod, Tim shook his head once and glared up at Hood, doing his best to kick him. It didn’t work well, but the message got across just fine.

Hood didn’t say anything else, just dug his thumb into the wound, a memento of his own blade. Tim tried not to scream, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he did. What came out was a muffled cry.

“Sing for me, birdie,” Hood said in a wicked sort of voice. He shoved it in deeper, twisting it to pull at the raw edges.

Tim did scream this time when Hood used his other hand to pull it apart, tearing even more flesh. He desperately attempted to escape, thrashing for all he could to no avail while Hood spoke his approval.

“Good, that’s it. Scream.”

Tim did. He didn’t stop when Hood moved from the wound, leaving it far worse than the clean cut on the knife, to his snapped arm, moving it back and forth while the bones scraped against each other.

It was only until after Hood grew tired of that, and then pulling at the cut on Tim’s throat, that he pulled back his hands, slick with blood. But he couldn’t leave Tim for long. Hood grabbed a fistful of Tim’s hair and pulled his head backwards in a painful arch.

“I’ll ask again. Will you be good for me?”

Hood’s voice was dangerous. His hold on Tim was dangerous. His fucking car was dangerous.

Tim nodded, failing to keep tears from leaking out of his eyes.

“Good boy.” Hood released him just to run his fingers through his hair like he was a pet. “I knew you could behave.”

Tim went limp. He would - he would figure it out. He would escape. He had to. He was Robin.

Despite that, Tim still leaned his head into the touch like it was a light in the dark, gentle to contrast the burning in his injuries by the very same hand. “Alright, Replacement, this is how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna stay back here and mind your manners while I keep driving. No trouble. Right?”

Hood’s hold turned punishing until Tim nodded again. “Good.” He pushed Tim’s head down, grinding it against the floor, before he stood and made his way to the driver’s seat again. The van rumbled and started once more.

Tim groaned quietly. He was so fucked.

By the time they had seemingly reached their destination, Tim was half asleep. Listen, it had been three days since he got more than two hours of sleep (unconsciousness didn't count), and he’d also taken a knock to the head in the fight earlier. Also, the engine was surprisingly soothing.

Hood slammed the door behind him when he got out. Tim was instantly struggling to pull himself upright, chasing every bit of weariness away. He refused to favor his right side where his arm was useless, or his right leg with the torn stab wound in the thigh.

Tim swallowed, feeling it pull at where the skin on his throat was cut open, when Hood opened the trunk. “Hey, birdie. Ready to go?”

Tim did nothing, just glared at him and didn’t move.

“What? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”

No, Tim thought, he hadn’t. He wasn’t particularly good at knowing when to quit. From following vigilantes and 2am to training for hours on end with no break, he never could stop. But he sure could look it.

So he let his shoulders drop and his posture go carefully lax. And then he nodded.

“Well, then. C’mere.” And Tim did, shuffling awkwardly with what little give he had in his bounds. When he was within arm’s reach, Hood buried his hand in the collar of the Robin uniform and hauled him out.

Tim stumbled when Hood set him on his feet, but it was an act. He was ready. “Careful, Replacement. Wouldn’t wanna bruise you up before the fun has really started.”

Tim waited. And he saw it. That moment of weakness, however brief, where Hood’s guard lowered. Probably because Tim was tied up and beat up and a smarter - or less determined - person would’ve given up. But Tim was Robin. He couldn't give up.

Jason wouldn’t have given up.

Tim couldn’t either.

So when Hood’s focus drifted for just a moment, Tim made his move. He caught the rope around his wrists on the sharp edge of the trunk, and in one swift motion, used it to tear the rope in two. The metal front of Hood’s helmet whipped to face Tim, but it was too late.

Tim dug his elbow into Hood’s neck with force. It wasn’t much, but it threw him off just long enough for Tim to frantically undo the knots on his ankles. He had stared at them for a long ride enough to have figured out their basic structure and take them apart quickly.

And then Tim ran.

He didn’t get far.

All too soon, he heard the crunch of gravel beneath boots from behind, approaching far too fast. Around him were endless meadows and forests, and in the distance, the towering shadow of mountains. Tim would bet somewhere behind them was Gotham. “Replacement!”

The sing-song tone wasn’t mechanized. Hood wasn’t wearing his helmet. Tim almost paused to look, but that was clearly what Hood wanted, so he kept running until a hand wrapped around his broken arm and yanked.

Tim strangled a scream as he fell backwards and onto the ground with a thud that jostled his cracked ribs. “And here I thought you were the smart Robin.”

A boot was driven into his gut, forcing the air out of his lungs until he could barely move. Then he was seized by his neck, and lifted into the air, denying him any precious oxygen. It also stretched the skin around the wound, opening the thin scab that had formed.

“Little birdie tried to fly away, huh?” Tim looked up and - and that was Jason fucking Todd’s face looking back at him.

“J’son?” It was a weak thing, choked and carrying the last of Tim's air, but he forced it past his lips and the gag.

“That’s right, Replacement.” Jason - when had he become that angry? - lowered his arm so Tim was on his feet and breathing. “Let’s go. We have some unfinished business.”

Jason was the Red Hood. It had been his hand that tore Tim apart at the seams, bloodied and broken.

Tim couldn’t find it in himself to fight when Jason led him inside.

Jason wanted to keep the Replacement’s face in a frame when he saw Jason without the helmet. The perfect, utter horror and disbelief in those big blue eyes. Jason could see why Bruce went after this one - he looked like a trembling baby bird. Long, gangly limbs, lithe figure, and of course blue eyes. Black hair too.

Jason was honestly a little surprised that Robin recognized him - he doubted Bruce brought out the photo album, or even mentioned him for that matter. It had probably been Alfred, if anyone.

He couldn’t restrain his grin as he dragged the Replacement into the safehouse he’d spent months preparing as a project. It was definitely equipped for all of his kidnapping needs, and he was just glad that being a crime lord gave him enough day free time to set it up, otherwise he’d be screwed.

Once he’d procured a decent enough blindfold to go with the gag - foregoing it to begin with had been a mistake - he began the tedious process of entering. Only the best of security and multiple weapons would do.

Jason walked Tim downstairs, making several U-turns and pointless circles before arriving at his very own cell. Very top tech. He’d gotten Talia’s assistance for it. Once he used his fingerprint to enter, he dropped Tim on the cot. “Home sweet home, Replacement.”

He pulled off both the blindfold and the gag, watching Robin blink and look around, eyes adjusting to the light and the new environment.

“I - what the fuck, Jason.” The Replacement’s expression was flat in the way that only shock could bring about.

“This should be fun. Trust me, I Robin-proofed this cell. You’re not getting out. Feel free to try though.” He grinned, imagining just how that would turn out for the Replacement. He ruffled the Replacement’s hair. “I’ll be back with a change of clothes. That suit’s just gettin’ in the way.”

Jason felt the door lock behind him with a click, and Robin’s gaze on his back.

Tim was so fucked. Jason had meant it when he said he’d Robin-proofed the cell. He’d spent the better part of two hours investigating the cell. The walls were bare and solid, and the door was locked from the outside, so he couldn’t even attempt to mess with that. And from the looks of it, it opened inwards, so Tim wouldn’t have much of an advantage there. The cot had no loose ends or screws he could use for much of anything. And there was a goddamn toilet. Tim clearly wasn’t getting out anytime soon.

The best thing he could do was wait for rescue, Tim decided. It might take a while, but he really couldn’t see a way out. It was practically a prison cell, but even harder to escape. Of course, he’d take any chance he saw, but mostly he’d play the long game. Tim would “mind his manners”.

After thoroughly investigating - and trying not to look too hard at the manacles fastened to the wall - Tim sat on the cot. And waited. And waited.

It was half an hour later when the door opened and Jason appeared, still armored but lacking the domino or helmet. “Hey, Replacement. I brought something for you to wear ‘stead of those torn-up feathers.”

Tim couldn’t help flinching backwards. “How are you alive?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Death can’t stop me for long.” He tossed the clothes at Tim. Upon investigation, it was merely a t-shirt and basketball shorts. “Put ‘em on.”

Tim looked at them and compared the thin fabric to the armored kevlar of his suit. “No.” There went trying not to piss Jason off.

Jason stepped closer, danger in every line of his stance. “Put. Them. On.” He grabbed Tim’s chin with one hand and wrenched it up. “I promise I won’t look.”

His grip was punishingly tight. Tim couldn’t move, a deer frozen in headlights. He was going to get hit.

“Okay.” Tim’s voice was hardly a whisper. In fact, it was hardly anything at all.

“Glad ya understand what you’re dealin’ with.”

Jason walked to the other side of the room so that Tim was in his peripheral vision, but not actively watching him. Tim changed quickly, fiddling with zippers and latches and strangling a groan when he peeled the suit off his snapped arm and the stab wound in his leg. The new clothes were surprisingly comfortable, if a bit insulting.

“Well? Feelin’ all gussied up yet?” Jason turned around with an easy twirl on one foot. It was kind of impressive, seeing as how bulky he was, and also a bit funny. It was hard to laugh when you had a hole in your leg and a slit throat, though.

“Now, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna stitch you up, because you dying of infection would be no fun at all. Not when there’s much more entertaining ways out there.” Jason grinned, sharp teeth like a wolf’s snarl. Tim shuddered, resisting the urge to hunch over. “And you’re gonna behave yourself and let me. Otherwise, I’ll have some fun with that needle and you.”

Tim hesitated for a moment, but he nodded slowly. What else could he do?

Jason stalked closer and gestured for Tim to sit on the cot. Actually, even once he had sat, Jason put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him down. Tim didn’t resist even though it was unnecessary.

Tim let out a low hiss when Jason cleaned the wound by pouring hydrogen peroxide into it, letting the sting rise and fade away in good time. At least it wouldn’t get infected. Probably.

“Hold still,” Jason said, and was it just Tim, or did Jason’s voice hold a touch of unease.

“Fucking needles,” Jason muttered, barely loud enough for Tim to hear.

Tim stiffened momentarily when the first stitch went in, but forced himself to relax. Alfred usually insisted on painkillers, but it was hardly the first time his skin had been sewn together sober. Jason, for his part, didn’t drag it out nearly as long as he could’ve, only hesitating a moment here or there before continuing. It wasn’t long before the wound was closed, the familiar pull of stitches on his skin.

Tim rose on his elbows, but a cold hand on his neck stopped him, making the cut sting. “I think we have more to do, Replacement.”

Tim swallowed and considered his chance of breaking free from Jason’s hold, then his chance of receiving twice its worth in pain. Tim laid back down.

“Good bird. Now, this might sting a bit.” Jason grinned at him before shoving Tim’s head back to bare his throat and sticking an alcohol-coated finger in the open wound. It was deeper than a cut should be, but not quite deep enough to nick the artery pumping lifeblood below.

Tim was as helpless to stop the high-pitched whine as he was Jason. Jason pushed his finger around, stretching and pulling at the skin. The cut had been clean when Tim had gotten it, a neat slice, but it was ragged and wide now.

“Gotta make sure we clean this out!” Jason said brightly before pulling his hand away. Tim shuddered once before going still when the needle pierced his skin.

Again, seeing how much Jason enjoyed drawing things out, he went through the stitches relatively quickly. Of course, it was unsurprisingly he knew how - Jason was Tim’s Robin - but Tim expected him to milk the pain. Not that he was complaining.

“And now we have that arm. Do ya want me to set it?”

“No.” Tim could do it himself. He didn’t trust Jason to so much as touch it. He’d been the one to break it, after all, and though Tim couldn’t make himself angry, he certainly wasn’t about to let him mess with the bone.

Jason’s voice dropped dangerously low as he sat back. Tim didn’t move. “Either I set it, or I break your other arm, and maybe your leg if I’m feeling like it. Make it harder to run.”

Tim hesitated, and Jason’s hands settled on his good arm, threatening. “Fine.”

“Don’t sound so upset, Replacement. I’m an expert.” Jason gave no warming, just abruptly shoved the bone into place. Tim bit back a scream. At least it was effective, because he could feel the pain fading while Jason wrapped it. Where he was getting those medical supplies, Tim didn’t know, because they weren’t in view when he walked in.

“There ya go. Lights out in ten.” Jason ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, grinning when Tim stiffened before relaxing into the touch, even when Jason’s grip tightened and pulled. “Enjoy your cage.”

And then Tim was alone with his thoughts. Not for long, though, because he promptly passed out.

Waking up was awful. He felt like he’d drunk an entire liquor store - not that he’d ever done that before - in one go. Everything was too bright, too much, and fuck he was in a cell wasn’t he. Yep. Right. Kidnapping, psychotic, undead former Robin turned crime lord, and stitches. Tim wouldn’t have been surprised if Jason dosed him with a sedative under the guise of sewing up his skin, but he’d also just been very tired.

Oh, and Jason was currently straddling his hips and pinning him to the floor with a knife to his throat. Good times.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Tim went perfectly still underneath him. His instincts over the last day or so had rapidly switched from fight to freeze. Of course, that was because flight wasn’t an option. Not yet, anyway.

Jason traced the fresh stitches with the sharp edge - honestly, what was the point if he was just going to cut them open again. “Pathetic.” Jason’s voice was filled with disgust, like he meant it. Like Tim really was that much of a disappointment, to Jason, to Bruce, to Dick, and to everyone who’d ever cared for him.

Tim lifted his hand and placed it over Jason’s. “Please. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Not really. But don’t worry, Replacement.” Jason’s exchanged the knife for an iron grip. “You will be.”

Quicker than a man of his size had any right to move, Jason was off Tim and hauling him in the air to press against the wall. Tim’s feet weren’t touching the ground, no matter how much he stretched. He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know how long it was, probably a couple minutes, before his vision clouded over, on the edge of unconsciousness. He went for it, surrendering himself to the darkness - and then he was frantically inhaling. Jason looked down at him, smug.

“Anything else to say?”

“Jason, I -” Tim didn’t get the chance to finish, because then he couldn’t breathe again, and Jason was laughing like it was some sort of game to him, and it probably was.

“Too late.”

Again and again, just as Tim was on the edge of relief, he was drawn back for a few seconds before it was repeated. Tim’s lungs burned. Everything hurt. Finally, after what seemed an age of waiting, Jason dropped him on the ground and stepped back. “Seems you’re good for something after all, Replacement.”

Tim forced himself to make a soft sound that could be interpreted as questioning. Anything to keep the suffocation from starting once more. No matter how he filled his lungs with air, it never seemed enough. He lay there, chest heaving.

Jason crouched beside Tim once more. Tim couldn’t even make himself stiffen, remaining lax when Jason buried his hand in Tim’s hair, running through it in repetitive motions like one would treat a pet. Tim hated that it felt so nice.

“Stress relief.”

Jason’s touch lingered even when Tim leaned into it. Jason had been right - Tim was pathetic. Tim couldn’t stop himself from taking whatever gentleness he could get, even when it followed pain. He was too tired to try, anyway.

“You’re a good little Robin, aren’t you?” Jason said. If anyone else had said it, Tim would’ve labeled it as fond. But now it was malicious. “We’re gonna have lots of fun, you and I.”

Here’s a secret; Jason had no fucking clue what he was doing.

Chapter Text

Jason really hadn’t been prepared for this. Sure, it was shaping up to be pretty fun, and the Replacement was plenty entertaining, but he didn’t really know what to do next. Obviously he couldn’t let him go, but he couldn’t keep Robin forever - Batman and co. were already on the hunt. Jason had done his part spreading rumors and keeping his forces active, but he was still on their list. That left one option, but as much as he enjoyed the birdie’s pain - no more dead Robins.

So Jason was at an impasse. With himself. Great.

Really, he was lucky this safehouse had been the result of his copious amounts of free time before the Red Hood really got his grip on Gotham. He was a bit more Pit-mad back then then he was now - though green still crept into his vision at inopportune moments - so that would explain the plentiful amount of torture devices. He probably wouldn’t get around to using all of them, but the League taught him well.

He hadn’t even done any permanent damage to the Replacement, but the little bird still practically trembled when Jason neared him. It was a invigorating - disgusting - euphoria that always followed. And even with that, Robin practically melted at the softest of touches. It was the softness that was the reason, he suspected. It seemed the newest Robin was touch-starved.

The manacles were still unused. Jason would like to change that. And he knew just how.

“Rise and shine, baby bird.” Tim forced his eyes open to the sight of Jason’s green eyes inchest from his own. He flinched violently, but found himself quite unable to move. Jason’s had him on the bed, one hand pressing his down between the shoulder blades. “We have lots to do today.”

“Breakfast?” Tim had an unfortunate habit of losing his brain-to-mouth filter when he was newly awakened, and he hadn’t eaten since shortly before Jason’s initial attack at the Tower. That had to be days ago now, and though Tim never was much for a healthy eating schedule, he was definitely peckish. Or starving.

Jason actually chuckled at that, rubbing a thumb over Tim’s cheek with aching softness. If Tim wasn’t already limp, he would’ve been then. “Maybe if you’re good. You can be good, can’t you?”

It wasn’t like the last time Jason had asked near the same question, a threatening hand over his wound, face hidden by his helmet. This time, though he could certainly hurt Tim, every touch was gentle. Tim should fight, but every time Jason ran a hand through his hair or a stroke of his thumb, he fell deeper and deeper into a trance.

Tim nodded.

Jason’s smile was eerie, but it was negated by the careful hand tracing his face. “Good boy. I happen to be a great chef.” He started to pet Tim’s hair in that way of his that really shouldn’t have been as pleasant as it was, considering it treated Tim like a dog.

Tim was all of a sudden not on a solid surface, instead dangling in the air by Jason’s questionable one-armed hold on his waist. He started to thrash, attempting to escape, but Jason’s shush held a hint of danger even when his other hand went through Tim’s hair. Tim went still. Nothing hurt - nothing new, anyway. It was okay. He would be okay.

Something cool closed around his wrist. And his other one. And his ankles. And then Jason’s warmth was gone and the cool press of a wall against his back was all he felt. “That was easy.”

Tim had been locked to the wall by the manacles, tight and restricting.

He thrashed, pulling at his bonds, but it was a fruitless endeavor from the start. Jason stood before him with a grin. Tim glared at him, even when he stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Too easy, huh?”

Tim was struck by a sudden bout of viciousness, and found himself snapping his teeth at Jason’s hand. He caught on the edge of Jason’s skin, managing to draw a bit of blood. He grinned, aware of the red in his teeth. It was all he could do not to flinch when Jason leaned in, breath brushing Tim’s ear

“Savage little thing thing, aren’t ya?” Jason covered his mouth with one hand, dangerously close to smothering him.

“Not normally. You just bring out the good in me,” Tim said through his hand. And then he screamed.

Jason pulled the bloodied pocket knife out of Tim’s shoulder. It wasn’t even that bad of a wound, it had just caught Tim off guard. Oddly enough, he hadn’t been prepared for an attack. Jason hadn’t actually wounded him since before he’d taken Tim. Tim’s rage was already fading into something less potent, more passive.

If Tim was smart, he would’ve harnessed it while it lasted. But this was Jason - he knew every move and strategy, every defense and every trick that Tim had learned, and then some. Tim had no hope of escaping like this - if he could even get through the door.

Tim stared up at Jason, trapped, nowhere to run. A red stain was spreading over the gray of his t-shirt. His stomach growled. A strand of hair fell into his eyes, greasy and dark. He hardly breathed.

Jason stepped back so abruptly that Tim thought for a moment he had been pulled. “I - fuck.”

Jason whirled around and slammed the door shut behind him. Tim was left standing, alone.

Here’s a secret; Jason really fucked up.

He wouldn’t bore you with the specifics of exactly how he’d done it - among the highlights were stabbing (multiple times) and kidnapping a literal child - but rest assured, it had been done. And Jason also had no idea what to do now. With the teenager. That was currently locked in the equivalent of his basement, chained to a wall and bleeding from another stab wound.

Jason was racking up the failures today.

Alright, plan. Maybe he could just - not say anything. Feed the kid, fix up that new gash, and leave him be. Jason knew he couldn’t let him go. Not without a contingency, anyway, because the Bats would be on him in a hot minute if they realized that Jason was the one who caught their precious little Robin. So, releasing the bird into the wild would be inadvisable. Jason could at the very least not hurt him. A sanctuary, if you will.

Go time. This was gonna suck.

When the door opened again, Tim was still chained, hungry, and bleeding. Life was going great. He was going to die before he got his driver’s license. And his wrists hurt from the shackles. Fuck vigilantism. He wanted food and sweatpants. And a hug. He really, really wanted a hug. Maybe some hot chocolate, too. Alfred would’ve been ideal at that moment.

Tim stiffened when Jason walked in, armed with - food? God, Tim hoped he wouldn’t have to earn it somehow. He just wanted to eat. He’d found a plastic bottle of water a few hours previous. Upon seeing that it had been sealed, he’d downed it, and taken the edge off his thirst, but he was still parched.

Jason was eerily silent as he approached Tim. He set the food - it looked like scrambled eggs, on a paper plate - on the floor and slowly undid the locks binding Tim’s wrists and ankles. The shackles dropped. Tim didn’t move.

Jason nodded once towards the bed. Tim took his cue and slid past him, trying not to jostle his shoulder, all too aware of how it was bleeding. He would probably need to patch that up before it got too out of hand. Luckily, the blade itself hadn’t been too big. He’d probably be fine.

Tim sat down watched Jason. This was odd. Usually, Jason was talking, taunting, generally messing with Tim’s head. This time, not a word escaped his mouth. Tim nearly jumped when Jason dropped the plate, along with a plastic fork, on his lap. Tim stared at him for a moment, before tentatively taking the fork. Jason didn’t stop him.

Tim started eating. Fast. He startled when Jason pulled back the stained sleeve of the t-shirt, but he decided to leave it. It wasn’t like he could stop it. Jason prodded at the wound with a carefulness Tim was not expecting. He winced but tried not to move when Jason started to clean it out. Effectively, though, not drawn out. The stitches were precise and neat. It was over in a minute. Tim stashed the plastic fork in his waistband. That could be useful. For something. When Jason pulled away, he stood and held his hand out.

“What?” Tim slowly extended his arm, but Jason’s flat expression didn’t change. “What is it?”

“The fork. Now.” Of course Jason’s first words were that.

“What fork?” Tim played dumb for a moment, just to humor himself, before he groaned and dropped it in Jason’s outstretched hand. “Fine.”

A small smile crept across Jason’s face. He reached out again, ruffling Tim’s hair for a split second before pulling back. “Clever bird. Not clever enough, though.”

Tim looked at him until he left. He didn’t know if he was scared or confused. Or both.

Every time Jason returned, it was along the same lines. He gave Tim food - usually corresponding with a breakfast or lunch or dinner, which really helped keep track of time - checked the stab wound, and confiscated whatever Tim managed to snatch. He practically had a sixth sense.

He hardly talked at all, unless Tim was being particularly obtuse to his nonverbal commands. Jason didn’t touch Tim, either, outside of the routine infection check. It was seriously throwing Tim off. It wasn’t so long ago he was being literally stabbed and starved.

“What’s up with this?” Tim decided to grab the bull by his horns. Metaphorically. Obviously. “You’re weird.”

“Hm?” Jason looked up from Tim’s shoulder.

“Like a week ago you were having the time of your life making me scream. And now you’re barely looking at me. Not that I’m complaining, but why?”

Jason heaved a sigh and leaned back. Tim couldn’t help but notice the dullness of his eyes. He’d gotten used to the vibrant green that clearly wasn’t natural. It was gone, leaving a teal. “I’ve been thinking. About attacking you. And kidnapping you. I was wrong.”

“This just occurred to you?” Tim needed to start watching what he was saying, but he had a point. It was a pretty straightforward concept - not assaulting teenagers, that was.

“Kinda. If you hadn’t noticed, after I - died - I took a dip in the Lazarus Pit.” He gestured at his eyes. “It messed with my head. I really fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“I - you mean it? Really?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have done - well, any of it.”

“So I can go?” Tim looked at Jason, hope spreading through him and lighting the darkness.

“No.”

It was dark again.

“What?”

“I can’t. Does it look like I want Batman and his friends on my ass? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gonna like, torture you or anything, but ya can’t leave. Sorry. At least ‘til I figure out what to do. Obviously I can’t keep ya here forever, but. Y’know. Good luck.”

“Can I get like, a walk?”

“You can have a book.”

“Ew.”

“Have some culture. Have you read any Jane Austen? Shakespeare? Mary Shelley?”

“That sounds boring.”

“If I were still murderous towards you, I’d kill ya for that.”

“Mhm. I don’t want to stay here.”

Jason’s expression, which had been a grin, hardened. “Tough luck. You’ll survive.”

“But you stabbed me! Twice!”

“And, again, that was shitty of me. It won’t happen again.”

This certainly presented a challenge for Tim. Escape was still in the cards. And, if he waited for the perfect chance, he wouldn’t even get tortured again. If Jason was telling the truth. If Tim was smart, he wouldn’t give Jason the benefit of the doubt. But Tim wasn’t smart, and it was Jason, so he would.

“Asshole.”

“Yup.” Jason froze when Tim leaned against him, dropping his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Uh, Tim?”

That was the first time he’d used Tim’s name. “Yeah?”

“Whatcha doing?” Jason sounded more unsure than Tim had heard him.

“Getting comfortable, obviously.”

“On me?”

“Why not?”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Jason muttered, but his hand went to Tim’s hair regardless. The way he carded his fingers through it was remarkably similar to the way he’d done it before, but softer. Less like Tim was being rewarded for good behavior and more like he cared.

“Mh,” Tim said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Plan Lure Jason Into Being Reluctantly Fond of Tim Until He Lowers His Guard was a go. Otherwise known as Plan LJIBRFTUHLHG. He might have needed to work on the name a bit. This plan also came with dental insurance and affection.

“You’re reading Pride and Prejudice.” Jason dropped the book on the bed next to Tim when he walked in, armed with lunch and hot chocolate. “Stop stealing my dishware, by the way.”

“It’s not even reusable, why do you care?”

“Because I get the feelin’ you’re gonna stab me in the leg with a spork. So give it.”

Tim threw said spork he’d hoped had managed to escape Jason’s notice at his head. It bounced off his nose while Jason stood motionless before snatching it. “Mature.”

“Says the kidnapper.”

“Touche.”

“What are we, French?”

“It’s better than being a Gothamite, birdie.” Jason pulled his shirt back to inspect his shoulder. “Why do you heal so freakishly fast?”

“Why do you keep stabbing people? It’s because I eat my veggies, by the way.” Tim pulled back and reached for the book.

“You absolutely did not eat your veggies. You’re like four feet tall.”

“That’s 5’4 to you.”

“Sure it is.”

“Can I go upstairs?”

“Fuck no, birdie. I don’t trust ya.”

“Ugh.” This sucked.

“That bastard!” Tim had gotten surprisingly into Jane Austen’s world. Tim was sprawled on the bed with his head in Jason’s lap, furiously making his way through the emotional roller coaster of Pride and Prejudice.

“Darcy?” Jason was engaged in his own book, one hand in Tim’s hair.

“Wickham.”

“Ah. You’re there. Trust me, it gets better.”

“I hate you. And this book. If I start sobbing inconsolably, know that it was your fault.”

“Duly noted, baby bird.” Jason’s newest nickname for him was actually pretty pleasant. Tim liked how fond it sounded. It made it impossible to imagine that this was the same Jason that had chased him through Titan’s Tower.

“You owe me a cake for this pain you’re putting me through. And I should be there to watch so you don’t poison it like fucking Hamlet.”

“Nice try. And Hamlet doesn’t poison anyone, dumbass. His dad got poisoned.”

“Nerd.”

“That ending would’ve been better if there was less child marriage.” Tim rolled onto his back to look up at Jason. Jason dropped a large hand from his own book - The Song of Achilles - onto Tim’s face. Tim wrinkled his nose and tried to bite him.

“Brat. The child marriage didn’t happen at the end, though you gotta point there.”

“But it’s still there.”

“Do I look like Jane Austen to you, Timberly? Don’t blame me.”

“With a little more hair and a little less -”

“I’m gonna stop ya right there. Shut up, I’m getting to the good part.”

Tim waited in silence for a few minutes, entertaining himself by imagining Jason in a regency-era ball gown before the man himself dropped the book with a choked gasp. “Patroclus.”

“Oh, he’s dead? Finally.”

“You’ve read it?”

“I know the story. They’re gay, Jason. I know.” Actually, it was one of Tim’s favorite books, but he’d never let Jason know that. Imagine revealing you willingly read. Tim could never.

Jason looked heartbroken. “But Patroclus -”

“Trust me, it gets better. It might be helpful to have a window while you’re reading so you don’t get too depressed. I’ll go too, I’m very not depressed.”

“Stop lying, and tough luck. No.”

Tim groaned, only saved from total despair by knowing what Jason was about to read. He would never recover. And Tim would laugh.

“Come here, you brat!” Jason called, stalking through the cell with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Tim shuddered from his hiding place, tucked under the cot. It was a tight fit, only accessible because Tim was on the smaller side.

“You need a shower.” While that was objectively true, Tim was having too much fun messing with Jason to admit it and emerge. Also, if he seemed to eager, Jason might not let him out out of pure suspicion. It would be very typical of him.

“C’mon, birdie, you’ve been practically begging me to leave for ages. And now you change your mind? I don’t think so. I’ll give ya ten seconds or I’m leaving and no dessert.”

Tim wasn’t a child, contrary to popular belief, but come on. No way he was letting that stand. He needed both a shower and sweets, so he slid out reluctantly, making sure to glare extra fierce. Fuck captivity.

“Good boy.” Jason grinned at him, a familiar action with a terrifying origin, but Tim could ignore it just fine. “Turn around.”

Tim gave him a skeptical look and obliged. He squawked indignantly when he felt handcuffs click around his wrists, tight enough to be near impossible to worm out of but not tight enough to cut off his blood flow. “Hey!”

“Did ya really think I was gonna walk you outta here unrestricted? You’re smarter than that.” Jason tousled his hair and shoved him to sit on the cot. “You’re lucky this is all I’m doing. If you even think about making a run for it, rest assured that I’ll knock ya out in a heartbeat.”

“That’s very reassuring, thanks.” Tim twisted his wrists and found no give. Jason tied his ankles with practiced movements that were uncomfortably restricting. He even waited for Tim to relax his muscles. “Fuck you.”

“Not ‘til you’re older.”

“Ew.” Tim wrinkled his nose

Jason blinked, as if he didn’t quite expect to have said that. “To clarify, that was a joke.”

“I hope so.” Tim smirked up at him, but Jason shoved at his face lightly and dragged him towards the door. Tim - Tim stopped moving. He hadn’t been out in weeks. And now he was just - just leaving.

“Easy there, baby bird. You’ll be alright.” Jason pulled his legs out from under him until he was being carried bridal style so Tim didn’t have to hobble along. Tim huffed at the indignity at it.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” And then the door was open and Tim was staring at - black. Jason had fucking blindfolded him right then and there.

“Fuck you.”

“You already said that, but okay.” Jason’s breath ruffled his hair as he started walking. Tim groaned.

It was barely ten seconds of walking before Tim was set on his feet and a door clicked shut behind him. “We’re here.” Jason untied the blindfold and Tim saw - a bathroom. A completely normal bathroom, with a shower and a curtain and a toilet and a sink.

“No shit.”

The toilet was separated from the rest by a side wall, so that the view was mostly blocked. After removing Tim’s binds, Jason sulked back there. “You have fifteen minutes.”

“Is there hot water?”

“I’m not a total monster, Timmers.”

“Thank God. And debatable, but I’ll take the hot shower.” Tim turned on the water while he started to strip, thankfully hidden from Jason’s view. “I demand new clothes.”

“You have like ten sets. You’re fine.”

“Half of them are bloodstained.”

“And? Perfectly wearable. Most of my clothes are bloodstained.”

“Maybe if you stopped killing people - ah, that’s fantastic.” Tim stepped into the hot shower, which was perfection and all God’s creations’ best.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice. Could’ve given you cold water.”

“You literally kidnapped me, but go off I guess.” Tim ran shampoo through his hair. It had been getting greasy, which sucked.

“Whatever.”

Silence fell as Tim took full advantage of running water and various body products. Even conditioner, which Jason had no good reason to have considering how short his hair was. It was also a nice time for thought, though he tried not to lose track of time. Jason conveniently called out warning when it passed.

Tim had been gone for what - four weeks now? Give or take a few days. Bruce and Dick had to be looking for him. They might have stopped by now, given it up as a lost cause. Tim certainly couldn’t blame them, And though he couldn’t attest to just how well Jason had covered his tracks, he did know a lot of the tricks. And his safehouse wasn’t even in Gotham.

How long would he be here? Jason was pleasant company, sure, but there was certainly a power imbalance. Jason could practically do whatever he liked and Tim couldn’t stop him. Not that Tim didn’t trust him, but it was mainly based off Jason’s years as Robin and the couple weeks of tolerable interaction. Jason wasn’t the first person Tim would pick to have that sort of power over him. That would be Dick. Jason took second, but only because of the rough patch at the beginning.

“Time’s up, kid!”

“Five more minutes?”

“No.”

Tim groaned and took one last moment to soak up the heat before shutting down the water and pulling a towel off the rack. After drying off and throwing on a t-shirt and sweatpants, he walked to Jason. “So?”

“Now we go back.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Do I need to gag you too?” Jason grabbed his jaw in what was clearly meant to be a threat, but his grip was far too careful to be taken as anything but playful.

Tim rolled his eyes, letting himself collapse on Jason. Startled, he pulled Tim upright. He looked worried for a moment before he saw Tim snicker, than dropped him. Tim grinned up at him.

“Brat.” Jason put his foot on Tim’s back, keeping him still while he redid Tim’s binds. As much as Tim protested, Jason probably had the right idea. Given the chance, Tim would bolt. He was playing the long game. Eventually, Jason would loosen up.

He’d probably look back on this kidnapping one day and laugh. Hopefully with Jason, who would be successfully integrated back in the family by that point. It would be a nice story to tell. ‘Hey kids, wanna hear about the time Uncle Jason brutally attacked and tortured Uncle Tim and kidnapped him and then they chilled for a while?’

Jason hauled him upright by the collar. “Let’s go, birdie.”

“Can we go somewhere else? Please? I’ll be on my best behavior.” Tim widened his eyes pleadingly, blinking slowly.

Jason groaned. Tim internally smirked - victory was close. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Tim pointedly didn’t protest when Jason tied the fabric around his eyes again, leaning his head back against Jason’s chest as he was lifted again. Better than shuffling awkwardly. Jason sighed against Tim’s head.

“Easy there, baby bird. I think it’s about time ya head to bed, yeah?”

Tim shrugged, yawning reluctantly. Jason started walking, and in no time they were back in Tim’s personal hell. Jason dropped Tim on the cot, but Tim refused to let go.

“Time to let go, Timmy.”

“No.” Tim kept his voice soft. He kept his grip even though he was cuffed. “Don’t leave.”

“Jesus Christ, birdie, you’ll survive being alone.” Jason tried to shimmy out of his hold. He probably could if he really tried, but that would involve some dislocation, and they were on better terms than that.

“Please?”

Tim could feel when Jason caved, the way his muscles went lax. “Fine. But you’re staying tied up. I cannot express how little I trust ya.”

Tim wanted to mention his circulation, but he’d survive. “Blindfold?”

“No.”

It would probably come off when he slept, anyway. Tim settled for low mobility and zero sight. Jason sat down on the bed, then laid down beside Tim. Tim wriggled to press against his side, but was generally ineffectual. Jason pulled him closer.

“Needy brat. Can’t just get kidnapped, no, you have to get attached to your kidnapper.”

“You got attached to me, too. Admit it.”

Jason grumbled something along the lines of ‘still don’t trust you’ and took the liberty of arranging Tim so his head was pillowed on Jason’s chest and he was tucked securely between Jason’s arms. It felt safe. And if he ignored the bindings and blindfold, it felt like home.

“If I wake up and find you anywhere but here, you’ll fucking regret it. If this is a trick, you’re never getting out of here.” Jason’s voice rumbled from his chest, a low warning right before he drifted off.

Tim made a noise of acquiescence and burrowed closer. This would be a lame escape attempt anyway, and kind of pathetic. He had more pride than that. Maybe he was getting attached. That was a problem for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

”It’s been a month, Bruce!” Dick couldn’t stop pacing. He had tried, but even Alfred’s mild scolding hadn’t put a stop to it. At this rate, he would wear a hole into the Cave.

Dick wanted his baby brother back. Sure, he’d never really called Tim that to his face - Tim was always so skittish, so careful not to tread too much and ‘impose’ - but Dick had been thinking it for a while. He had barely begun coaxing Tim into staying longer than strictly necessary, enjoying the occasional brunch, and then he vanished.

The Titans remembered nothing, saw nothing, sedated and helpless. They couldn’t stop anything from happening to their leader. Not a hair on their heads had been harmed. Tim’s blood had been smeared on the walls.

Dead Robin #3

And Tim was still missing. The one month mark had been yesterday.

The logical part of Dick knew that the chances were slim to none. Hell, if this was a regular case, they’d be looking for a body at this point, not a person. But this wasn’t a regular case. This was Tim. This was Robin.

“I know, Dick.” Bruce looked tired. Far too tired than he should, but Dick had been witness to the countless nights spent scouring for clues. They could find none.

“There’s got to be someone we haven’t checked.” The two of them had already cleared out the usual suspects - Black Mask was rotting in Arkham, the Joker alongside him.

And yet Tim hadn’t been found.

“I know, Dick.”

“Has Babs dug through the old traffickers files? They might’ve taken interest in him.” Dick was grasping at straws and they both knew it.

“I know, Dick.”

“I can’t lose another brother,” Dick whispered. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Bruce looked at him anyway. There were dark circles under his eyes.

“I know, Dick.”

“Stop saying that!” Dick whirled on Bruce, trying not to cry. He wanted comfort. He wanted his father. He wanted Tim.

He wanted Jason too, but some dreams really were impossible.

“I - alright. Dick, I’m trying. I really am. I know you are too, but it’s difficult. I’ve got Clark and Diana on it too, but they’ve found nothing. Tim is in Gotham somewhere. We will find him, son, I promise.” Bruce slowly opened his arms, and Dick was struck by the oddness of his father realizing his child needed him.

Not that he wasn’t right. Dick didn’t hesitate to take the hug, sinking into Bruce’s warmth and security. Every embrace with Bruce, no matter how brief, always made Dick feel like a kid again - protected. Nothing could get to him in Bruce’s arms. Dick was safe.

For a moment, anyway, because he couldn’t stay there forever. Dick pulled away with a glint in his eyes. He could find his brother. He had to.

“Is there anyone we haven’t talked to yet?” Depending on the level of suspicion, ‘talk to’ meant an interrogation complete with a little bit of pain - for Tim

Bruce thought for a minute, before turning to look at Dick slowly. “Crime Alley’s -”

Dick finished it for him. “Red Hood.”

Tim had been waiting with no small amount of apprehension for Jason’s visit all morning. When he had awoken, Jason was gone, and so were his restraints. Usually, Tim was not near that light of a sleeper, so he was unsurprised to find a needle mark in his neck. Coward. It also explained the lingering drowsiness, but there seemed to be no other ill side effects.

Why he was excited, one may ask. Tim’s answer was the fact that yesterday, Jason had promised to take him somewhere else. Well, promise was a strong word, but Tim was confident enough that he could bribe Jason into it. He was very much excited for it. He wouldn’t even try to escape unless Jason made it too easy. Seeing as Jason was fucking paranoid, that wouldn’t happen.

“Tim?” Jason shut the door behind him.

Tim was instantly wary. Jason never used his proper name. That couldn’t be good. “Yeah?”

“I’ve gotta leave for a few days. Three or four. Something urgent came up in Gotham, and I’ve been neglecting my crime lord stuff for a while, so I’m gonna leave in an hour.”

“But - you said -” Tim really didn’t want to sound like a child, but he did anyway.

Jason cut him off by pulling him into a hug. “Yeah, I know I did. We’ll do it when I get back. Promise.”

Compose yourself, Timothy. Nobody likes a snot-nosed brat. Be thankful for what you have, his mother said, her voice ringing through his mind.

So Tim composed himself and stood straight. “Okay. What came up?” Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Timothy Tim would be perfectly fine on his own for a few days. In a cell. He had been fucking kidnapped. Being alone was nothing compared to that.

“I’ll tell ya when it’s over. I’ll drop off some food and water before I go so ya don’t starve. ‘Cause I’m nice.” Jason scrutinized him carefully, but Tim’s face had gone neutral.

“Sure. Go on, then. Get.” Tim made a shooing gesture.

Jason rolled his eyes. “This is my house.”

“And I’m your prisoner, whatever. Shoo.”

“It sounds so mean when you put it like that, baby bird. Prisoner’s such a strong word.” Jason grinned playfully, smoothing down Tim’s hair in a surprisingly soothing gesture.

Tim allowed himself to lean into his hand before Jason left. And Tim was alone.

Jason was, to put it lightly, nervous. Also a bit guilty, leaving Tim so suddenly like that. But he couldn’t think of Tim at the moment, because he had an important meeting. If he fucked up here, he’d never recover. Nothing would be the same, and he’d pretty much be screwed for life. Not for the first time, he was grateful his helmet hid his emotions and face so well.

Jason had a date with destiny. Or, to put it simply, with Batman and Nightwing.

This was gonna go so, so badly.

Jason arrived first, leaning against the pillars with perfectly imperfect casualness. He had already planted explosives as a last resort exit, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use them. Explosions were only fun when he was watching, and even then his stomach turned on bad days.

“Hood.” Batman landed with a light thump, Nightwing on his heels. “You came.”

“I value punctuality. So did you.” Jason kept his breathing carefully controlled, and the Pit even more so. He couldn’t afford to get angry, not now.

“We need help.” That was Nightwing, stepping forward with his chin high. Jason could see the slight pull of his lips. He was scared. Not of Jason, though. For Tim. He was scared for Tim.

If Jason was a good person, he would’ve felt guilty. “What for?” Unfortunately, he wasn’t. Sucks to be them, they should’ve kept a closer eye on their Robin. He was Jason’s now.

“Robin’s missing. I’m sure you’ve noticed, though you’ve been inactive recently.”

“I needed some me-time,” Jason said dryly. Nightwing seemed to take the cue to leave it, especially seeing that he was asking him for help. Oh, and Jason had been running his operations just fine, he just hadn’t made many appearances himself. He would fix that.

“Anyway, why should I care? You should be able to find him just fine.” Jason had always been a good liar, first from the streets and then a secret identity. It came easy to him. It was helpful.

“It’s been a month. Hood, I know you don’t like us, but you protect kids. Everyone knows that. Robin’s just a kid. I’m not asking you to come with us, but if you hear anything, tell us. Please.”

Batman, who had been relatively quiet so far, gave Nightwing a sharp look and gestured for him to take a step back. Nightwing did. Jason could practically smell Dick Grayson leaking from him. He had the infuriating urge to hug him. “As Nightwing said, any assistance would be appreciated. A lot.”

“If he’s just a kid, why is he out here? You should take better care of your birds.” Jason turned to Batman, trying to quell the urge to go for his guns. He was right there, and he lost another Robin, and if Jason hadn’t been sure Tim was safe right then, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.

“Working with us can have certain benefits, Hood. We may be able to … overlook some of your more incriminating deeds for some time.”

Jason grinned. He’s really gonna do it. He’s bribing me. Too bad it won’t go anywhere.

“You bribing me?”

“Well -”

“‘Cause it’s working. Sure. I’ll work with you two. If I hear anything, or my men do, rest assured, you’ll be the first to know. Probably.” Jason allowed enough amusement in his voice for it to pass through the modulator.

Nightwing sighed. He looked a little relieved. “Thank you, Hood. Really. We need to find him, before it’s too late.”

Batman merely nodded, then gestured at Nightwing. The two of them were gone in ten seconds. Jason sighed once, a long, shuddery exhale, and made for his nearest safehouse.

And if once he was there, he destroyed a bathroom or two, well. At least he wasn’t on the suspect list.

Being alone was boring. Sure, Jason left him a complete collection of Jane Austen’s work, Circe, and various other paperbacks, there was only so much he could read before it too was boring. He was currently taking apart the panic button Jason had given specific instructions not to touch unless of an emergency.

There was no way Jason actually thought he would leave it be, but it was the thought that counted.

Jason seemed to have gotten it pretty foolproof, though, because no matter how he tweaked it, he couldn’t seem to change the frequency to reach anyone but Jason. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat, so he kept at it.

“This sucks,” Tim said aloud, like that would help anything. He had enough food and water to last a week, even though Jason said he would only be gone for three or four days. And he didn’t even bother to tell Tim why. Bastard.

If Jason didn’t follow through and let Tim out for a little while when he returned, Tim would find a way out out of pure spite. Not that he wasn’t already looking, but he’d have a higher success rate if he was lied to. You know how it is.

Speaking of which - why was Tim here? He’d never been held longer than a day or two without escaping, and aside from his bolt when Jason took him inside - a smart kidnapper would’ve just drugged him, but no, the drama - he had made no escape attempts.

Was Tim going soft?

Don’t get him wrong, Tim wanted out. As enjoyable as it was, it fucking sucked sometimes. He’d had far worse kidnappings, but they didn’t last nearly as long, and it was getting exhausting.

So Tim went through another inspection. He dug through every nook, every cranny. Even his bed was just a mattress on the floor. No lockpicks to be scavenged. Jason really had cleared this place out, and he still hadn’t relaxed his watch. He really meant it when he said he didn’t trust Tim, which, fair. Tim wouldn’t either.

So he cracked open Emma and settled in for the long game, gears turning in his head. There was much to be done.

Tim had been counting down the days until Jason’s predicted return. It was day four, which meant he was incredibly on edge. Tim was used to being alone, though. He found himself falling back into old habits, reciting bits of poems and TV shows that he remembered. It helped pass the time and numb the loneliness.

“Baby bird!” Jason was still wearing his jacket and body armor when he walked in. “I’m back!”

“You just wasted the perfect opportunity to say ‘honey, I’m home.’ I’m disappointed.” Tim tried to hide his delight.

“Aw, you did miss me. C’mere, twerp.” Jason opened his arms with a smug grin.

Tim reluctantly stood and took a couple steps over to him, letting himself be embraced. Tim sunk into Jason with a sigh. “Sorry I left ya alone for so long. It was important.”

“How so?”

“I’ll tell ya after I make dinner. You can help with the ingredients.” Jason granted him a sly smile.

“Wait, really?” Tim brightened instantly, a grin splitting his face.

“Yep.” Jason took a step back. “Hold still.”

Tim groaned when Jason shackled - actual fucking shackles, by the way - his wrists and elbows together with no give, then shoved him on the bed to do his legs. Ankles and knees, while Tim waited impatiently for him to connect it all with a single chain. It was a leash.

“Jason -”

“What do you think I’m going to say, Timmy? Take a wild guess.”

“‘I don’t trust ya, birdie,’” Tim said in a terrible imitation of Jason’s Crime Alley drawl. He tried, okay?

“Exactly. So silence yourself and behave.” Jason gave him a severe look that Tim returned with a sweet smile.

Jason didn’t even bother letting Tim try to walk this time, just threw him over one shoulder. “Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“Is there no other way that you could carry me?”

“Yeah, but this one’s more fun.” Jason walked out, making a sharp right turn towards one of many doors. A whole ass dungeon down there.

Tim tried to peer at the security, but Jason used one hand to shove his face into his jacket and blocked his view. Tim huffed and settled, hanging there until Jason continued - up the stairs!

Once the door had been shut behind them, it looked remarkably like a regular house, aside from the various gun safes that Tim probably wouldn’t be able to open without some time. The kitchen, however, was very nice, very Jason. There were lots of windows. One of them had a nook that Jason set Tim on.

“Do I have Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Eh. Maybe. Do you sympathize with me?” Jason didn’t look up from attaching Tim’s leash to something driven into the wall, which was definitely symbolic, but Tim couldn't be bothered to think about it.

“I mean, in some aspects, yeah. The whole… thing couldn’t have been fun. But the kidnapping thing I do not relate to.”

“So, like, if I were to kidnap someone else or rob a bank or something, would you help me?”

“Fuck no. Make me dinner.”

“Of course, honey. That means no, I think. The fact that I’m not actively torturing you anymore probably helps. Also, we’re legally brothers, I think.”

“How?” Tim blinked, because he definitely didn’t recall having Jason as a brother.

Jason’s voice tightened a tad. “B adopted both of us, right?”

“I’m not adopted.” Tim rolled his eyes.

Wouldn’t it be nice, said a treacherous voice in his head, to have Dick and Jason as our real brothers? Bruce as our father?

“No way, Replacement.” Jason’s eyes were sharp. He hadn’t called him Replacement in a while, but it lacked its previous vitriol. “The way they talk about you? You’re family.”

“I have a family! Parents! They’re alive?”

“Shit, really? Then why haven’t I seen missing Tim Drake on the news?”

“Well, they’re… not home right now.”

“Baby bird, it’s been over a month. They should’ve noticed by now. How - how often are they home?”

Tim should’ve sensed the danger right then and there, but Jason was tucking a blanket around him with an achingly gentle touch, brushing hair out of his eyes. Tim leaned into his touch and spoke. “Maybe two months? Out of a year, that is. For a week or two at a time. It’s fine though - I have all I need. They’re probably just angry I haven’t texted them back.”

Jason stiffened. “Shit. Whatever, fuck them. You’re mine now, ya hear me? My baby brother.”

“Uh - that’s kinda a weird statement to make when I’m chained to your window, but okay.” Tim chose to ignore the part about his parents. Jack and Janet Drake were perfectly acceptable parents. More than that, really. They provided Tim with everything he could want except for a hug.

“Shut up, I’m about to make you dinner. What do you want?”

“Can we have pasta?”

“Fine. I think I have some dough I made a while ago in the freezer. Otherwise we’d be here for hours.”

Tim huffed - there was a reason he’d picked pasta. He knew Jason would refuse to use store-bought dough, and making it from scratch would take forever. Jason grinned at him. “I know what you’re up to, brat. We can eat dinner here and then we’re going downstairs. But only because I feel guilty for leaving you.”

“Don’t you have crime lord duties? It can’t be good to stay here for so long.”

Jason shrugged. “You’re not wrong, but I can still run things from here. I’m a crime lord, remember? Lots of underlings to do my bidding. I’m probably gonna take a day every week and show up, just to keep ‘em on their toes.”

“Just a day?” Tim watched him carefully as he pulled a couple plastic bags out of the freezer. Jason started doing cooking things, Tim guessed.

“Yep.”

Silence fell, but it wasn’t as awkward as Tim would have imagined. He simply lay there, feeling quite comfortable but for the occasional tug of his chains. Jason hummed a song under his breath. Tim couldn’t remember the last time he saw him so peaceful.

After about half an hour, Jason came over to Tim, who was half-asleep, basking in sunlight. “Hey, birdie. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet. Dinner’ll be ready soon.”

Tim blinked sleepily. “Jason? I have a question.”

“Oh?”

“Are they still looking for me?” Tim didn’t have to say who ‘they’ were.

“I - what? Of course they are, baby bird!” Jason’s expression had that tautness that always showed when Bruce and Dick were brought up. “Harder than ever. That’s why I was gone, actually.”

Tim looked up at Jason. He was honestly shocked. In your average missing person case, most people would assume him dead, especially seeing as who would kidnap a Robin. And Tim? Why would they bother for Tim? Jason, Tim would understand, or Dick, or Kon, but Tim? Why?

“Really?”

“Really. They were - get this - asking for my help to find you.” Jason smirked. Tim rolled his eyes and tried not to think too hard for once.

“Lemme guess - you said yes.”

“I’m sure I’ll be very helpful. Won’t rest ‘til you’re found, Timmers. But seriously, kid. They’re wrecked.”

“Why am I here?”

“Because I kidnapped you? Thought that was pretty clear.” Jason ruffled Tim’s hair and - kissed the top of his head? That was new, but it was affectionate and fond and it made Tim feel wanted, so. Not all bad.

Jason had stood up by the time Tim recovered, heading back to the food. Tim shifted, pulling at the chain that kept him in the alcove.

“No, I got that. Why am I still here? It’s not like I’m gonna snitch on you.”

“First of all, how dare you not appreciate my company. Secondly, there’s no way you could avoid telling B who held you captive for a whole ass month, and until I come up with a way to keep the heat off me, I’m not gonna risk that.” Jason didn’t even look up from making his pasta.

Tim thought the answer was fairly obvious. “Can’t you just tell them you’re - well, you? There’s no way they’d care after that, especially because you haven’t really hurt me recently.”

Jason whirled to face him, eyes glimmering green. “No.”

Tim went perfectly still. It took all he had not to hide under the blanket Jason had tucked carefully around him just minutes earlier. “Okay. Sorry.” Tim’s voice was so soft he barely heard it himself, but Jason nodded. The green faded.

“So am I. But it’s not going to happen, Tim. Understand?”

“Yes.” Tim wasn’t being released anytime soon.

“Good.”

It was quiet once more, and this time was significantly more awkward. Tim exhaled slowly and fell limp. It was another half hour until another spoke again. Jason was dishing out the spaghetti.

“Behave.” Jason bent over to undo the chains on Tim’s arms. Tim stretched them out, enjoying his newfound freedom.

“Yeah, okay.” Tim accepted the plate from Jason and took a bite. It was good.

“Look, kid. I was wrong to snap at you like that - it’s not your fault. But just - don’t push me on that, okay? It pisses me off, and you’ve seen me when I’m pissed.” Jason pretended not to look when Tim’s hand went to the barely-healed scar on his throat.

“Oh. Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I - will you really let me go?” Tim met Jason’s eyes unflinchingly. He needed the truth.

“I - yeah, baby bird. I will. Tell ya what, if I haven’t gotten my shit together in two months, I’ll toss ya the key.”

If Tim’s counting was correct, it was July third. He didn’t give a shit about Fourth of July, but it had been late May - the twenty seventh, to be exact - when Jason had taken him. So, two months would be early September. He wouldn’t even miss any school.

But two months was a long time. He was restless now, and it had only been one.

“That’s not to say I won’t have it sorted earlier. I can probably find a way to blame this on the League of Assassins.”

“I’m remarkably unharmed for being held by Ra’s Al Ghul for a month, y’know.”

“I can change that,” Jason said, brandishing his fork.

Tim rolled his eyes and took another bite. He turned to look at the window for the first time. Rolling hills, lush green grass, the outline of mountains in the distance. It was as a whole very picturesque. For a crime lord, Jason did have a certain taste.

“Nice place you got here.”

“I keep it for when I kidnap annoying birds.” Jason mussed up his hair roughly.

Tim playfully snapped his teeth towards Jason’s hand.

“Watch it, brat. Eat your dinner that I slaved over.”

“Yes, dear.”

Yeah, Tim thought. He could get used to this. With a little more freedom and a little less chains, he could get used to this.

Chapter Text

Jason was actually starting to like the kid. More than that, really. He cared about Tim. And that was a weakness.

Sure, he was feeling a bit guilty for keeping him in that cell for so long. It was why he was starting to let him out more, under constant supervision, of course. Tim just looked so happy when Jason let him sit in the window, and it wasn’t unpleasant to have company while he was working.

Jason was a weak, weak man.

Right now, Tim was working him to go outside, just for a little while. Jason found himself, infuriatingly, caving to Tim’s wide, pleading eyes. Fucking cute kid. Jason hated him. Didn’t even read Jane Austen without being forced.

“Please?” Tim said from his spot curled around Jason, who was leaning against the mattress.

“Maybe if you stop stealing my cutlery. Give it.”

Tim reluctantly dropped a spoon in his hand. “You’re so mean.”

“And you’re so predictable. I’ll consider taking you outside.”

“I feel like a dog.” But Tim allowed Jason to shush him and pet the top of his head.

Jason grinned where Tim couldn’t see him. He did act like a dog sometimes. “Don’t get kidnapped, then. That’s hardly my fault.”

“You beat me into unconsciousness. Don’t blame me.” For words like that, they lacked any bite, just a tad of resentment that Jason could agree was fair.

“You just have a punchable face.” Jason brushed his thumb over the bridge of Tim’s nose and under his eye to make his point.

Tim hummed and tipped his head into it. He said nothing, but the look through slitted eyes said enough. Sometimes Jason was amazed by the amount of trust he had been given in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was pummeling Tim’s face in, and yet here he was. Unflinching.

“Fine, fine,” Jason said with a laugh. “Only slightly punchable.”

Tim closed his eyes as if conceding to Jason’s point and curled himself around him even further before heaving a sigh and going still.

Jason smirked. “Woe is you.”

“It really is. I’m being treated like a POW. What side was I on, Captain? Did we win?” Eyes flickering open, Tim did his best to imitate an old forties-era radio voice. He didn’t do well.

Jason grinned and seized his hands to fold them behind his back like he was cuffed. “Ya lost, soldier. Welcome to hell.”

“Fuck off.” Tim tugged at his hands, but Jason refused to let go. Tim seemed to find it a losing battle and gave up.

“Atta boy.” Jason buried his fingers in Tim’s hair, scratching his scalp in a way he knew made Tim melt. It didn’t fail this time, either. Tim’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into Jason.

“Fucking dog,” Jason said, not unkindly. Tim hummed disagreeably but did nothing else.

“Can we watch a movie?” After a few minutes, Tim cracked one eye open.

“Maybe later. I’m not gonna bring my laptop down here with your grubby little fingers.”

“Be honest - you’re more worried about me dismantling it than you are about me getting it dirty.”

“Yeah, fine. My answer stands. We can play Monopoly, though.” Jason really had a lack of faith in Tim to ot make an escape attempt. Not that he could blame him - Jason would too, in this situation. Tim had a Robin’s training, which included a near endless supply of tricks. He’d certainly use them.

“Fine. I’ll beat you.”

“Sure ya will, twerp.”

Really, who could blame Jason for going soft on the kid? He’d certainly earned it.

Tim woke up coughing. That was the first sign. The next sign was when his voice came out a raspy whisper, no matter how many times he cleared his throat. Of course, this started overnight, and the following morning was a day Jason took off to attend his growing empire. Tim had no way to contact him other than his panic button, and this certainly didn’t qualify as an emergency.

The next morning, Tim could hardly go a minute without coughing, and frankly his entire body ached. Whatever. He was probably fine, anyway. Jason didn’t agree.

He walked in, helmet tucked under his arm, already mid-apology for being late, when Tim failed to stifle a cough. Jason’s head, which had been looking around, checking for anything broken in an escape attempt, snapped to him. Jason winced.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby bird. You look like shit,” Jason said in an increasingly worried tone.

“‘M fine.” Tim didn’t look at him, pulling a blanket around himself. He shivered.

“The fuck you are, birdie. I’ll be right back - don’t you move.” Jason was gone in a moment, shutting the door behind him. Tim groaned and pressed his forehead to the cool metal wall.

“Timothy!”

Jason was really fucking concerned. He’d whipped up some chicken noodle soup - you were supposed to give that to sick people, right? - and a thermometer. He’d figure the rest out later. He probably brought something back with him and Tim’s immune system probably wasn’t great at the moment and fuck this was all his fault, wasn’t it?

In all, it took half an hour to properly make the soup and go downstairs without it. By the time he opened the door, Tim was huddled in the corner of his bed, trembling. “Tim?”

“No - stop, please, I’ll be good,” Tim gasped out, his voice weak and broken. “Please.”

Was Tim - was Tim hallucinating?

“Stop, it hurts!”

A better question - was Tim hallucinating him?

“I’m sorry, please, I know I’m not good enough, just - stop.” Tim was still shaking, chest heaving.

Jason approached carefully. He didn’t want to spook the poor kid any more than he had too, and guilt churned in his stomach. Tim had stopped speaking, only whimpering and shivering and curling even more in himself.

Jason had done this. Not even indirectly, at that. He had kept the kid here until he was sick, and his mistakes were fueling Tim’s fever-induced terror. Maybe it wasn’t even based on his temperature - maybe it just lowered Tim’s inhibitions. Maybe he was that scared all the time.

Jason needed a solution, and fast. Not just for this flu, but for Tim. He didn’t deserve this. Not really.

“Dad, I’m sorry!”

Jason was going to kill that man.

“Hey, hey, baby bird. It’s me, Jason. Can you look at me?” Jason kept his voice soft, careful.

Tim slowly turned his head to face Jason. His eyes were glassy. “Jason?”

“That’s right. Can you sit up? I need to check your temperature.”

“Mh.” Tim sat up grudgingly.

Jason was struck with a thought - this cell had to be full of the flu, especially since Jason hadn’t sterilized it since Tim arrived. It would probably be best to take this upstairs. It was less cramped and Jason could keep an eye on him.

“Hey, birdie. D’you wanna go upstairs? I can make you some soup.”

“Upstairs?”

“That’s right. You up for it?”

Tim nodded slowly. Jason gave him a smile and walked closer. “I’m gonna pick you up, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

Jason forgowent the fireman’s carry for a bridal style hold, carefully making his way to the window seat. There was no way he could properly bind Tim, not with how wretched he looked at the moment. Jason was too soft. So he settled for tying a rope around Tim’s ankle and hooking it to the wall. If Tim was all there, it wouldn’t take him ten seconds to escape.

In fact, if he tried, he could probably do it now. But Tim didn’t move but to shiver, even as Jason bundled him in blankets. “There ya go, birdie. You’re alright.” Jason ran his hand through his hair soothingly, unafraid of catching it himself. The Pit was especially helpful in killing any chance he had of getting a sick day.

“Good bird,” Jason said softly. “I’m gonna make some good old chicken noodle soup. My mom used to make it for me when I was little.” Jason still remembered fuzzy winter mornings filled with soup from a can in their crappy apartment. It hadn’t been the best, but she had cared. That was what mattered.

“Sounds nice.” Tim hardly whispered.

Jason bent down to kiss the top of his head, then started the soup after washing his hands thoroughly. It took fifteen minutes for him to throw it together, glancing back at Tim every minute or so. When it was done, he poured some into a bowl and set it aside to cool before returning to him.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’ve got the soup cooling down. Just remember, your temperature’s really hot. You know the symptoms of fever, yeah?”

“Hallucinations,” Tim said grimly. “I know.”

“Clever birdie, huh? So, to summarize, what’s real?”

“You. This. Pain.” Tim blinked and shivered before he was wracked by a cough.

“Easy, baby bird. I’ve got ya.” Jason put his hand to the side of Tim’s head. Tim leaned into it, sighing once.

“You’re alright.” Jason stayed with him for a minute or two before he retrieved the bowl and offered it to Tim. Tim took it carefully.

“You got that?”

“Yeah.”

Jason kept a close eye on him regardless, occasionally reaching out to steady him. Tim was too drowsy, too detached, to bother being offended. Tim looked at him slowly. “‘S good.”

“Of course it is. I made it. Almost done?”

Tim nodded, tipping the bowl to down the last of the broth.

“Atta boy.” Jason tapped his nose lightly before taking his bowl and putting it in the sink.

Tim shivered again, pulling the blanket even tighter around him. Jason filled a glass of water and set it near the window. Tim made a little huffing noise, drawing Jason back to him to sit cross legged. Tim burrowed into him, letting himself be halfway drawn into Jason’s lap and rewrapped in the thickest blankets he could find.

“Gonna get sick.” Tim’s sleepy protest was muffled and also adorable. Poor kid.

“Pit benefits. Flus don’t do shit.” Jason started running his fingers through Tim’s hair. Tim yawned, coughed once more, and fell asleep.

Stupid fucking kid. He was Jason’s stupid fucking kid, though.

It was several days later before Tim had enough clarity to maintain a conversation, and a stable enough mental state to require further restrictions. He had been allowed to stay upstairs with Jason for the duration of his illness, which wasn’t quite over yet, as Jason told him firmly when he got impatient.

“But I’m bored,” Tim said, stifling a cough.

“And? I don’t give a shit, birdie. You’re gonna recover if I have to drug ya first.” Jason waved him off. “Movie?”

“Fine. But only if it’s something new.”

Jason’s laptop was a couple feet out of Tim’s reach as he put on some action movie Tim only watched to note the inaccuracies. Jason merely scoffed at the snipers. “Pathetic aim.”

“You could do better?” Tim already knew the answer.

“You could do better.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather leave that one a mystery for now.”

“If you say so. Anyway, you should be right as rain by tomorrow, thanks to my dedicated care.”

“It’s your fault I’m sick, anyway.”

“Fuck off.” Jason sounded dismissive, but Tim could see the way his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. Jason agreed with Tim. Tim instantly felt guilty, before remembering himself. He didn’t do anything. Right?

Regardless of whose fault it was, Tim was feeling much better. But in the stark light of the filtered sun through the window, Tim noticed something. He was pale. Tim had never been tan, even when he went out more - namely at night. But now his skin was practically milk-white, veins blue beneath it.

It was a bit off putting, Tim had to admit.

Jason returned with a sandwich for Tim, who had verbally grown tired of soup, and unlocked his cuffs to allow him to eat it. Tim grumbled and rolled his sore wrists, sinking into Jason’s side. Jason slung an arm around him.

“I’m tired.”

“Maybe you should sleep. That’s generally what people do when they’re tired.”

“But I have pa- no, I don’t. Wow. Reflexes, am I right?”

Jason looked at him with a bemused expression. “Sure. Go to sleep, dumbass.”

Tim made a face like he was still a child and not a teen vigilante, before pressing closer to Jason and closing his eyes. It was only a few minutes before sleep dragged him under.

Tim woke up screaming. In hindsight, it was humiliating, but at the time, all he could feel was sickening terror.

“Sing for me, Replacement.” Jason loomed over Tim. His helmet was on. He was far bigger than he should have been, the Goliath to Tim’s David. But David wasn’t winning. Tim was trapped, on his knees and begging.

Tim did indeed sing, the sound torn from his throat with a brutality Tim knew all too well. Dark blood clouded his vision; a mist of it blurred his world, dulled the edges of Titan’s Tower. Everything burned. With every twitch of a finger, every blink of an eye, every cry ripped from within, the fire in his veins grew more hot and more vicious.

“Pathetic little pretender,” Jason spat, words like venom. They burned into Tim’s skin worse than any blow could do. “You didn’t think I cared about you, did you? The poor little Robin. Not even that. You were always just a worthless placeholder.”

Tim’s eyes welled with tears, but he couldn’t linger on it when Jason’s fist slammed into his cheek, again and again. Tim fell backwards with the force of it, scrabbling at any hold he could find. But all around him were the cold, steel walls of Tim’s cell. There was nowhere to go, even when he pulled himself to his feet and pressed against the door.

Jason stalked closer, a predatory line to his stride. Tim was going to die. He knew he was going to die.

There was nowhere to run.

Jason’s boots halted in front of Jason. Tim wasn’t looking up, but then he was. A snarl twisted Jason’s lips.

“You were never good enough.”

A knife as in Jason’s hand, and then it was in Tim’s heart, and then -

Tim’s eyes snapped open with a scream.

He had barely managed to snap his jaw shut, cutting off further noise, further weakness, when Jason shoved the door open. “Tim!”

Tim flinched, curling a little tighter. Jason. He was mad. “I’m sorry, don’t - just don’t. Please.”

“Hey, hey, baby bird.” Jason looked stricken for a moment before his features softened visibly. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

Tim blinked. Jason had - Jason had hurt him. But he didn’t hurt because that had - that was weeks ago. They were friends now. Remember? Tim remembered now. He was okay. Jason wouldn’t hurt him. It was only a dream. A dream that sprung from truth, yeah, but still only a dream. Tim was fine.

“Yeah, birdie?” Jason had to keep his voice quiet. He had to keep his posture lax, his expression kind. Otherwise, he’d spook the kid. Who had a nightmare, if the sweat beading his forehead and the rumpled sheets spoke the truth.

“I know. I know you won’t hurt me. It’s okay.”

It was so typical, Jason thought, of Tim to reassure Jason when he himself was the one trembling in the effects of a nightmare. Jason knew it was okay - if he had never laid a hand on Tim, it would be - but Tim? Tim wasn’t okay.

“Good,” Jason said anyway, “that’s good. Clever bird.”

Tim smiled. For something so small, it lit the room wonderfully. Jason smiled back, carefully. “Do you want me to stay here, leave, or come closer? It’s fine, whatever you choose. I just need you to be honest. Can you do that for me?”

Tim nodded once.

“Good birdie. So?”

“Can you - I want - stay there?” Tim looked so terribly uncertain, and all of this was Jason’s fault, wasn’t it?

“Of course, sweetheart. That’s perfect. Good job telling me.” Jason smiled gently at him. Tim heaved a sigh and went limp.

“It was you.” Tim was unprompted. That really must have lowered his inhibitions to openly admit something he saw as a weakness. Jason had seen Tim’s nightmares a few times before. None of them were this bad, and none of them were revealed to them. Sometimes he murmured a name Jason couldn’t catch, but it had never been Jason’s.

Nightmares from Jason were the worst.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” Now wasn’t the time for that argument, but Jason had to correct him.

“Not really. It wasn’t even a memory. You can’t help what my mind comes up with.”

Tim was being far too reasonable about this for someone who was wrong. Jason sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. “I gave you a reason for it, though. It was hardly unfounded. I don’t think now’s the time to get into that, though.”

“Probably not. Time?”

“3:15.”

“Not bad.”

“It is if you’re fourteen.”

“And? I regularly patrol at three am. It’s fine.”

“Not anymore, you don’t. You’ll probably do it again, but now you should be sleeping. How ya feeling now?”

“A little more stable after talking. Kinda hungry.”

Jason grinned. There was one thing he had an answer for, and that was hunger. “Ice cream?”

“What, did you make it yourself?” Tim’s smirk held a playful taunt to it.

“I can,” Jason said primly, “but I don’t have that kind of time on my hands. Store bought will suffice.”

“That actually sounds great. Can I come up?”

“Yeah, but behave yourself. Will you be alright if I touch you?”

Tim paused. Jason was glad for it; it meant Tim was actually considering it. Maybe he’d get an honest answer out of the kid.

“I think I’ll be good.” Tim offered his hands with a smirk.

“Brat.” Jason had taken to carrying a rope with him just for this as he tied Tim’s hands.

This wasn’t okay. They weren’t okay. There were so many problems, so many issues, just so much that was wrong. But maybe they would be okay one day. Jason had hope, even when he saw the dark bags under Tim’s eyes. They could make it through this. They were brothers.

Holy shit, they were brothers.

Chapter Text

Tim particularly enjoyed lounging in the two feet or so of space between the side of his bed and the wall. It was just large enough he wasn’t cramped, but he could see the rest of his room and feel confidently secure. That was where he was right now, flipping through Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Harry had just opened his Golden Egg for the first time when Jason walked in.

“Birdie! Where’d ya get off to?” Jason looked around, puzzled, for a moment before Tim poked his head out. “There ya are. Is that comfortable?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Other than breakfast, I’ve made a decision.”

“Mhm. What is it?” Jason was notably lacking in food, but made up for it with the sheer amount of ropes and actual shackles he had with him. “Am I being moved to a secondary location?”

“It would be a tertiary location, and if you were, I’d drug your food and save myself the trouble of dragging you kicking and screaming. And biting.”

“I wouldn’t bite,” Tim grumbled, but accepted his point “So, since you’re not drugging me, what’s going on?”

“I’ll give you one guess.” Jason jerked his chin towards the door.

Tim scrambled out of his hiding place like it burned him. “Outside? Wait, really?”

“Nah, just to mess with ya.” But the glint in Jason’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tim pumped his fist. “Yes!”

“Alright, facedown of the bed, birdie.”

Tim rolled his eyes - paranoid bastard - but obliged, hardly even protesting when Jason laced the rope between his wrists and elbows as far as they could go without hurting, then the same to his knees and ankles.

It was only when Jason pulled out an actual fucking muzzle did Tim object for real.

“What the fuck, Jason? No way. Nope. Nada. I deserve a voice. Gay rights.”

“I really don’t need Superman on my ass because you called - or Superboy, for that matter. Gay rights, huh?”

Tim flushed and fell silent. That was below the belt and uncalled for. He knew Jason was smirking, but he didn’t look. Asshole. Jason fastened the muzzle over his jaw with an air of smugness, but he did stop to check if it wasn’t too tight, tugging at the band carefully. Tim glared at him.

“The silence is so refreshing.” Jason ruffled his hair lightly. “Alright, up we go. Ready for some sunshine?”

Tim nodded enthusiastically. Jason hadn’t actually brought breakfast, and he was kinda hungry, but it wasn’t nearly as important as going outside. He suspected this was Jason’s way of making up for his recent illness and last night’s dream, which was hardly a bad thing. Unnecessary, but Tim quite literally couldn’t say anything.

Tim couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a whiff of fresh air. Well, he could. He’d just been running from Jason during it, and ended up with a chokehold for his troubles. This would hopefully be more pleasant.

Jason slung him over his shoulder. Tim exhaled sharply but allowed Jason to press his head down onto his back. Better than a blindfold. Tim went limp, content to be hauled like a sack of potatoes out the door and up the stairs.

And then they were at the front door.

Tim didn’t have a moment to prepare himself before the door was opened with little ceremony and the sun was suddenly very bright in his eyes. Tim groaned and squinted. The surrounding field/meadow was full of vivid green grass that went halfway up Jason’s shins when he stepped into it, the occasional flower speckled in. An oak tree stood solemnly a few yards away. The sky overhead was bright blue and dotted with clouds - a perfect day. Tim had to admit, though, he was partial to grey skies. But this was nice.

Jason dropped him abruptly to the ground. Tim made a little ‘oof’ sound when he hit the ground, but it was soft enough to be unbothered. The sun was warm on his back. Tim stretched out, tipping his face away from the bright light so it warmed his cheek. It was wonderful.

He had only sat there for a minute or two before Jason hauled him up again. Tim froze, a question not quite making it past the muzzle. Jason chuckled. Tim felt it rumbling in his chest and relaxed.

“Don’t be so fussy, birdie. I’m just movin’ ya ‘fore you get burned.” Jason placed him under the tree’s shade. Tim figured it was for the better - he was pale, and had forgone sunscreen. It was still warm here.

Jason sat next to him and threaded his fingers through Tim’s hair. Tim’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “How ya feeling?”

Tim looked up at him brightly. He couldn’t quite say anything - gay rights - but his eyes seemed to do the trick. Jason smiled. “Good. You’re too pale to be out there long. I’ll bring sunscreen next time.”

Tim rolled his eyes and lounged easily. The air was hot, which wasn’t pleasant with the rope. Still, Tim appreciated the ropes instead of the metal. After a few moments, Tim was quite content to lie for a bit.

“You’re a good kid, y’know. I really am sorry to keep you like this, but the second you’re back and they know it was me, I’ll never get past that. It’s B. But I think we can work out an agreement, yeah?”

Tim tipped his head to the side and watched him carefully. This could be an interesting conversation. Birds sang nearby. They were robins, Tim thought with a smirk. He could recognize that call anywhere. Maybe it was a sign.

“Listen, I know this is a lot to ask. If I take that off so we can actually talk, could you, I don’t know, refrain from calling for help? I don’t blame you if you say no, but just - don’t lie, okay?” Jason’s expression was reluctantly hopeful. He was giving Tim a chance. He was giving Tim his trust.

Tim nodded. It was trust for a dumb reason, but trust nonetheless.

“So? Can you not shout for backup?”

Tim nodded.

Jason’s hands reached behind Tim’s head to undo the latch with practiced certainty. It fell away easily. Tim yawned once, then took a deep breath, as if preparing to scream.

Jason gasped, rushing to cover Tim’s mouth, but it was too late. Tim exhaled suddenly, face splitting in a grin. “Gotcha!”

“You little bitch. I don’t remember why I like you.”

“It’s because I’m charming and you owe me. So?”

“I’ve told you I’ll let you out at the start of September, right?”

“I’m holding you to that. The only reason I haven’t ran.”

“Good to know. That still applies, but I have to talk to you. So, being held captive probably sucks. I’ve had experience, obviously, but not for too long.”

“This had admittedly been one of my better kidnappings.” Not that is was hard to compete with the various torture of earlier occasions. Sure, this one held a bit of that pain, but the good food canceled it out.

“I should hope so. Listen, that date may come around sooner rather than later. I have an idea.”

“Tell me. Now.” Tim narrowed his eyes.

Jason did, with all the necessary flourish that came along with it. Tim smiled slowly. “That's fucking stupid.”

A couple days later found Tim curled on his bed, a book propped on his pillow. He was on Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince when the paperback was plucked from his grasp. “Hey!” he protested, sitting up to scan the culprit. Jason’s thumb kept his place, though.

“Patience. Anyway, I’m off again to Gotham. You got everything you need?”

“Yeah,” Tim said after a moment, mentally checking off his list of supplies in his cell.

“Cool. I’ll be back soon. See ya.”

Tim was alone again. Luckily, he had the Harry Potter series to finish.

Jason should be paying more attention to his ever-growing empire, but walking out from the looming manor, cold and empty now, hands bloodied, he couldn’t regret it. After all, revenge tasted so much better. And revenge it was. Jason had a reputation, after all, and some things hit too close to home and the things that were his.

Two weeks until two months. That was how long Tim had been missing. Bruce had been concerned when he hadn’t shown up for patrol, but it hadn’t progressed past that mild worry until news of Titan’s Tower’s attack came. Then he was frantic. He didn’t know who had invaded, or what they’d done to Tim. There was no blood, but there was no dust either. Someone had cleaned up after themself.

Then Bruce had been frantic. He’d torn through hideouts, lairs, and traps, all for nothing. Two weeks ago he’d promised Dick that he would find him. Hell, he’d teamed up with Hood of all people. That had brought nothing but fragile peace on the Crime Alley front, and no news of Tim.

Nightwing was perched beside him as he pulled on the cowl. Batman stepped out of the Batmobile and into the streetlight. Hood had given them a tip, a rumor that caught his attention, that Robin was being held in an underground club in Bludhaven. Bold move, using one of the Bats’ cities, though not quite so bold as to use Gotham. They would find it.

Batman went first at his own insistence, blending into the shadowed alleys with an ease that came with years of practice and dark clothing. Nightwing followed suit, only the gleam of blue on his chest visible. The two of them, father and son, Batman and Robin, and most importantly, brother and father to Tim, slipped into the old shop, dusty in its misuse save for a path leading to a hidden door.

Sloppy. Batman opened it, undoing the locks. Granted, they were rather complicated, including several digital ones, but he took care of them with a shock. Nightwing leaned on the wall, watching him with sharp eyes. Batman recognized them from the mirror.

The door swung open with a push. Batman didn’t hesitate to go down the stairs, a worn concrete. This could be it. Batman could imagine the pattering footsteps of thugs and traffickers making their way down to the main event. He would catch them tonight. They would catch them tonight.

Nightwing’s footsteps were silent as his, but even then Batman heard nothing. Hardly surprisingly, seeing as the criminals may well have installed sound-proof walls. Still, it was off putting.

Another entryway at the bottom of the stairs, and Nightwing brought out his escrimas. This was it. Tim could be there just beyond the door. Batman opened it without further adieu and -

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Batman felt Nightwing deflate beside him, sagging with the weight of another defeat. The room had been emptied. There were scuff marks from hastily moved metal - cages? It was a mediocre way of keeping people contained, and half the time more for show than anything. The real bounds were the guns and the drugs. Old blood stained the floor. The entire scene was rather fresh, as if they had left in a hurry.

The two vigilantes exchanged a dark, purposeful look. This lead wasn’t such a failure, ultimately. After all, the traffickers had to be running from someone. Maybe it was them, because they made the mistake of taking their Robin.

It wasn’t until they were back in the security of the Cave did Dick dare to bring it up. Another unsuccessful raid, but it led to something. Maybe they could follow the trail until ‘X’ marked the spot - Tim. It was the best they had, and Dick couldn’t give up. Not on Tim. Not again.

“So? Any ideas where they’re headed?”

“Not to Gotham, if they know what’s good for them, but they might not. Maybe another hideout in Bludhaven. Maybe even Metropolis, but I wouldn’t count on that one either.”

“So, Gotham,” Dick summarized, a skill forged from years of interpreting Bruce’s refined rambling.

“No.” Bruce gave him a reprimanding look that had long since given up its effect. “But I suppose you have a point.”

Dick smothered a smirk before it fell away into pieces like rotted wood. He couldn’t be triumphant until Tim had been brought home. Not to that wretched mausoleum of a house. Tim deserved better. He deserved a family, and Dick would rather die before he let that go.

Bruce’s face was appropriately solemn when he looked up from the Batcomputer. “Jack Drake was murdered last night in his home. He had just stopped by to pick up a passport. From the looks of it, he didn’t even stop by Tim’s room. The kill was brutal, Dick. The details won’t be in the press, but Oracle got them for us.”

“This was pointed. Someone was trying to send a message. To us?”

“Maybe. It could’ve been some sort of revenge kill. Drake Industries have stepped on many toes on their way up. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone snapped. From the mutilations, the murder was definitely fueled by anger.”

“I hope they don’t turn to Tim next.”

That’s only if they can find him, Dick thought wearily.

“I just - not again, Bruce. Not again. We have to find him. We have to.”

“You’re right. We have lead. We’ll follow it. And we’ll keep searching. I’ve got Clark and his boy covering Gotham for now. The Titans are helping. We have help.”

Dick smiled a bit - Batman, asking for help? Only for his family. He struggled sometimes, but he did what he could.

Wordlessly, he stepped closer and found himself enveloped in Bruce’s embrace. He sank into it like a port in the storm. “We’ll find him. I know we will.”

“We will.” Bruce’s voice rumbled out, low and soothing. Dick was being handled, he knew, on the brink of an emotional breakdown, and he found he didn’t quite mind. It was better than crying.

Dick had already failed one brother. He couldn’t do it again.

Bruce held his son as close as he could - the only one he had left. And maybe Tim was still out there, somewhere, but they had yet to find him. Bruce was losing hope. He kept pushing forward, of course, because if there was one thing he refused to do, it was give up. Still, discovering the hideout empty was weighing on him more than he’d like to admit.

He held Dick until the choked sobs faded into nothing and Dick pulled away, blinking harshly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Bruce took a deep breath. “We should go upstairs. I believe Alfred has pulled a late night snack together for us when we returned.”

“How does he know?” Dick chuckled a bit, straightening out.

He was grown now, Bruce thought with a sigh. He had his own name and his own city and his own home. Bruce could still remember him at ten, gap-toothed and grinning as he flipped off the chandelier. Sometimes he couldn’t believe time had gone so fast.

He’d gained and lost another son between then and now. Twice.

“I suppose that’s a mystery. Let’s go.”

“Fine. Do you know what he made?”

“Brownies.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t get high. Bad example for the kids.”

“Not that kind of brownies, Richard.” Bruce restrained another sigh. Kids.

But he still smiled when Dick vaulted himself out of the Cave and towards the kitchen. He’d never expected a family, but it was his now. He had to protect them.

Bruce had already failed one son. He couldn’t do it again.

Tim couldn’t help but notice what a strangely good mood Jason was in when he returned from tending to his crime lord duties. It was not unlike his usual bitter satisfaction that came from righting the wrongs in his territory, but it felt more personal somehow. Like he had taught someone who had offended him a lesson.

Needless to say, it left Tim a bit suspicious, but not altogether unhappy. After all, the darkly pleased attitude ended with more indulgence for Tim. Right now, they were outside again. Tim wasn’t even being silenced this time. He felt guilty on some level, for ceasing his escape attempts, but it was Jason. His Robin.

And in just over a month he’d be gone anyway. He wouldn’t even miss any school, unfortunately. Of course Jason chose to kidnap him over summer break. He did miss the last week, though. He preferred Jason’s brand of torture to a week of English. When he said as much to Jason, he looked more offended than Tim had ever seen them.

“What do you mean, you’d rather be literally tortured than sit through English? English is awesome!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s really not. And I have Mrs. Radcliffe. She’s the worst.”

“There’s no way she’s still teaching. She was talking about retiring when she was teaching 9th grade English. You’re a freshman, aren’t ya, pipsqueak?”

“I’m a junior, actually.”

“You’re a fucking what? You’re barely a teenager!”

“It’s called skipping two grades.” Tim didn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“And you call me a nerd.” But Jason wore an oddly proud expression, so Tim didn’t take it too personally. “You’re right about Mrs. Radcliffe, though. She doesn’t even teach properly. Once, we were doing a unit on Lord of the Flies, and she just left us in the classroom for ten minutes. The only thing ‘wild’ that happened was talking and someone threw a pencil.”

“Everyone does that.”

“Yeah, but she should’ve known better. That was a shitty unit anyway. The kids on the island were actually doing pretty well until a dead guy crashed a plane there.”

“We’re not getting into this debate, Jason. Restrain yourself.” Tim flashed him a smug look, and before he knew it, he was flipped onto his back and Jason was fucking tickling him like a child.

“Stop that,” he wheezed, attempting to shove him away. It didn’t work.

“Nah, this is too fun.” Jason boasted a satisfied expression, continuing to torment Tim for a while longer before letting up.

“This is unfair,” Tim complained. “My hands are tied.”

“I feel like that too, sometimes. You’ve just gotta work with whatcha got.”

“It wasn’t a metaphor and you know it.” Tim rolled back over on his stomach and watched Jason. He had recently acquired a ‘make your own jewelry’ kit and seemed to delight in his creations. Some were admittedly acceptable, but some were simply horrendous to gaze upon. Jason was having great fun adorning Tim in the latter, despite Tim’s vehement protests.

“Come on, Timmers, try this one on.” Jason held up a gaudy green necklace that clashed with the red chain.

“Is it Christmas already? No.”

“Too bad.” Jason draped it over his neck. Tim groaned.

“I hate you,” he said, louder than necessary as if it were to prove his point. “I’m going to die here and it’ll be your fault.”

The wind picked up a bit, and a shadow crossed the sky, hidden by cloud cover. Tim was betting on vulture.

Jason frowned a bit. “Let’s go in. I need to start dinner.

“Can I stay with you?”

“If you mind your manners, brat.”

Tim smiled indulgently and agreed. They had spaghetti that night. Tim’s favorite.

Hood. Of course it had been him, this whole time. Dick had been so stupid, thinking he would actually help them. Hood was notorious for his hatred of the Bats, and yet when he’d agreed, Dick didn’t even question it. And he’d had Tim the entire time.

Dick had seen the bodies. Dick had seen the victims. The mutilations. The needless violence. All by Hood’s hand, and now Tim had been under his thumb for weeks. Hood was smart. Dick knew that, and he didn’t want to think about what that meant for Tim.

In the end, it had been Superboy who pinned him down, not Dick or Bruce. He’d heard Tim’s voice wheezing out a breathless plea to stop on his way to the farm. Naturally, he had gone straight for the source, only to be blocked by some sort of kryptonite boundary. So he’d gone for the big guns.

Dick was getting his brother back.

Batman and he looked at each other for one long moment when they found the house, a picture-esque one story cottage. It looked innocuous. It wasn’t. When they arrived at the front door, they found nothing more than a regular lock, but there was a Bat-grade camera hidden by the gutter. Dick disabled it. Tim could’ve done it faster.

They opened the door as silently as they could but it creaked. No one emerged. Dick took care to silence his steps, just as Batman did the same. After some poking around, they found a door. This door had significantly more locks that took them a while to do.

By the time they ventured past it and down the stairs, Dick could hear the screams. It was Tim.

“Why are you doing this? Stop!”

Batman didn’t bother with the locks on this door, even more thorough than the last, just running at it and throwing his weight against it. It groaned before the wood and cracked and Batman sprinted through, Dick on his tail.

Tim was still shouting, incoherent in his pain. Dick turned sharply left down a hallway lined with identical doors, but the sound was coming from one along. Batman didn’t hesitate to shoved the door, but it swung open easily, unlocked.

Dick saw his brother.

Tim had been quite fine playing Uno without vigilantes bursting through the door. Prior to that, he’d been sprawled over Jason’s lap, shielding his face with his deck. One of Jason’s hands rested on Tim’s neck, absent-mindedly tracing the scar he had left months ago. Tim didn’t mind as much as he probably should’ve. It was a bit soothing, and it grounded Tim whenever he felt distant.

Of course, Jason was demolishing him - probably cheating, the bastard - at Uno. Tim may have gotten a wee bit enthusiastic in his protests. As in screaming.

But he hadn’t expected Nightwing and Batman, completely suited up, to burst into the room, practically smoking. Tim froze. To the contrary, in the space of a half second, Jason pulled his helmet on his head before the intruders could see his face.

“Hood!” Batman snarled, getting ready to lunge. Nightwing stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something Tim couldn’t hear. His expression was smoldering, though.

“B!” Tim went to sit up, but he was stopped by Jason’s hand on his neck holding him down. Tim went still on instinct, looking up at the blank face at the helmet with pleading eyes. He was unused to lacking Jason’s face as a guide.

“Tim -”

“Let him go, Hood. This is your last chance. Release Robin. Now.” Batman sounded angrier than Tim had ever heard. He almost wanted to hide, and it wasn’t even directed at him. He didn’t know how Jason stood it.

Between one moment and the next, Tim was pulled to his feet with a knife to his throat. “How about no.”

Everyone went still. Aside from Jason and Tim, that was. So really only Nightwing and Batman.

“Hood, don’t - just don’t. He’s just a kid. Don’t hurt him.” Nightwing sounded so broken, so scared. Like it mattered whether Tim lived or died, if Jason slit his throat right there.

“You will regret this, Hood. It’s going to be bad enough -”

“I can make it worse, I think. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Jason’s blade didn’t waver.

“Oh, fuck off, Jason. Stop being so dramatic.” Tim rolled his eyes. This was going to go to shit either way, and he’d rather it be over faster. He reached up and pushed the knife away with no resistance, but leaned back into Jason. Strictly so he didn’t get attacked.

“Tim?” Nightwing looked concerned, hurt, and Tim really wanted to hug him but the moment he stepped away from Jason it was over.

“Guys, listen to me. This is Jason. Todd. Yeah, he kidnapped me, but after the first couple weeks it’s been pretty alright. No torture or anything, we’ve just been talking and reading and playing Uno and - no, I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome.” Tim cut off Nightwing’s presumed reply.

“Jason Todd is dead, Tim. Hood is alive.” Batman’s eyes were narrowed. “Come over here, Tim, and then we can talk it out.”

“Was dead. Don’t lie to me. I know you're going for him the second I walk away, so, no, I’m good.” Tim lifted his chin and met Batman in the eye for a moment. He wanted to go home. He wanted them to believe him so he could curl beside Dick and Bruce and Jason and fall asleep somewhere safe.

He wanted Wayne Manor. He didn’t want to go back to Drake Manor.

“Tim, I promise. We can be civil. Trust me?” Nightwing looked at him imploringly, even going so far as to stow away his escrima sticks. And Tim had always trusted Dick and his promises, so he looked at him for a long moment and nodded. Then Tim stepped away, ignoring the way Jason stiffened and made a muffled protest.

Two strides forward and Tim was seized by painfully familiar arms and drawn close to Nightwing - Dick. He allowed himself a moment to sink into Nightwing’s chest before pulling away a bit.

“B. Don’t. Please.” Batman stilled where he was moving towards Jason with purpose, and Jason from unholstering his gun. “Jason. Please. Take it off.”

For a long moment, all eyes turned to Jason and his blank red helmet, facing Tim. “Okay, birdie.”

And then they could all see Jason’s face.

“You’re - you can’t be him. Jason’s dead. You don’t get his face.” Batman looked even more furious, but Nightwing - Nightwing rushed forward to throw his arms around Jason.

“Little wing,” he whispered, like a prayer to a long forgotten god.

Jason went rigid for a moment before allowing himself to return the hug awkwardly, looking out of place before he settled.

Tim felt quite suddenly like he was intruding, backing up a step. Batman looked the same, fury draining from his face and settling on awe. He reached out in a silent request, and Tim drifted the two feet to him until he was wrapped up in his father Bruce. It was okay now. They would be okay.

“I think it’s time to go home.” Dick pulled from Jason, one arm still slung around him - and he was Dick now, uniform or not. “Take some tests to satisfy B’s paranoia, get

Tim some rest.”

“I’m perfectly well-rested, thanks.”

“I have him on a strict sleep schedule,” Jason volunteered, looking quite smug. “Nine hours a night.”

“That was the real torture.”

“That and the actual torture.” Jason smirked. Dick looked between them with an expression of dawning horror.

“You two are going to be unbearable, aren’t you?”

Jason snatched Tim from Bruce and held him on his hip. “Yep.”

Dick snagged Tim right back. “No. He’s mine. You’ve had him for like three months.”

“Boys,” Bruce said with a sigh, then looked surprised. Apparently old habits were easy to fall back in.

Tim dropped his pretense of humor and buried his face in Dick’s shoulder, trying and failing to blink away tears. Dick held him even more tightly, murmuring comforts into his ear. “We have you. You’re coming home, baby bird. It’s alright.”

Tim still cried.

Jason stood to the side, all too aware that he was the reason Tim was crying. He had kept the kid away from his family all those weeks, and now it was coming back to bite him. And now his estranged family knew he was alive. He had to wonder how they’d found him, hidden as he was.

Jason had forgotten how much he had missed Dick’s hugs. He was bigger than Dick, now. He was almost as big as Bruce.

At least Tim was still small.

Jason could go back. He could stay. He could have his family again.

The same family that let him die.

“Can we - can we go home?” Before Jason could spiral any further, Tim’s voice broke through, bare and earnest.

“Yes, we can, Tim.” Bruce looked uncharacteristically soft. “Clark and Kon are outside waiting if you want them to take you. We can take the Batplane, too. It’s only a few minutes from here.”

“Plane. I’ll talk to Kon later.”

“Gay rights, huh?”

“Shut up, Jason.”

Dick lifted Tim off the ground and started walking. Jason hesitated, but Bruce jerked his head and they both followed. This was it. He was going.

“Welcome back, Jaylad.”

It had been a week. Dick had promptly refused to be farther than arm’s reach of either of his brothers at any given time, and tests had been run on Jason to confirm that it was in fact him. Jason had insisted on returning to Crime Alley after a few days, and Tim had provided the optimal distraction by having a conveniently timed nightmare. Jason had checked in on him before surrendering him to Dick’s care and making his escape.

The three of them were outside at Alfred’s insistence that Tim needed fresh air and sun after being inside for so long. Dick had lathered him in sunscreen, obviously, because, though his brother had always been fair, he was paler than Dick had ever seen him.

Dick watched carefully as Tim circled the base of a tree. Dick knew from experience that said tree was perfect for climbing, with low, wide branches that weren’t too far apart. So he was hardly surprised when Tim went to clamber up on a bottom branch.

“Tim, stop that.” Tim ignored Dick’s order, not even bothering to look at him.

He was pulling himself up when -

“Tim, no. Get down.” Jason hardly glanced up from his book, laying on the grass.

Tim paused, dangling halfway up the branch. He wrinkled his nose, then dropped down to his feet and ambled over to Jason. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Good bird.” Jason tugged him down beside him. Tim went down without a fight, seemingly content to lounge under Jason’s arm, though he eyes the tree longingly.

Honestly, Dick was a bit put-off by the ease of which Tim followed Jason’s directions. Tim seemed to only listen to authority figures, and even that was more a childhood fear than a respect. It usually worried him, the way he barely even thought before obeying Batman’s orders, something neither he nor Jason had done. Tim had been growing out of it, though.

“Wait a second, you asshole. I don’t have to listen to you anymore!” Tim went to dislodge himself, but Jason didn’t let him.

“Too late now, birdie. You’re gonna fall and break your neck. And, yes, you do. I’m still your older brother.”

“I’m not that dumb! And I don’t listen to Dick, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“You should, though.” Dick cut in smoothly, wary of letting the conversation continue along that path. So there was the reason. Tim had adjusted to captivity. It was hardly surprising, and while he doubted Jason was a particularly cruel kidnapper - after the Pit, that was - it was still a difficult experience.

Dick had worked with victims of long term hostage situations. This shouldn’t be so difficult.

Those victims hadn’t been his little brother, though. And their captor hadn’t been another brother.

“Nah. Don’t think I will.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but Dick just smiled. He had missed Tim and his wit. It was easy to forget the terror, the panic, the sheer hopelessness of his absence when Tim was right there in front of him, grumbling good-naturedly and trying to escape Jason’s hold.

God, Jason. He’d gotten so big, so tall, so dark. Dick couldn’t say he was the same boy that had died in that warehouse, bright and full of laughter even as he faced the worst in people. This Jason held that same fierce desire to help those who needed it, but it had grown more vicious, more vengeful. He still fought, but now he wasn’t afraid to end it.

Dick was afraid of ending it. He had been afraid when he’d beaten the Joker until his hands were bloodied, reeling from Jason’s agonizing death at the man’s hands. He had been afraid when Bruce brought him back, too.

He was still afraid, in a way. Only now it was easier to push it down and keep moving.

He had to keep moving. He didn’t know what would happen if he stopped.

Sometimes Dick wished he could cry. Not alone in the dark, but with someone who cared.

But now, he was happy. He had both his brothers, and his father was just inside. For now, he would be okay. He had to.

“Brother knows best.” Dick sang a purposely off pitch parody of ‘Mother Knows Best’ to lighten the mood.

“Shut up.” Jason shoved him when he sat on his other side. “You sound like Bruce in a musical.”

“Says the drama kid.” Dick dropped on top of his little brother - goddammit, he was still the little brother - and grinned. “I remember you in Hamlet. What were you - oh right, Laertes. Beautiful performance, really.”

Jason’s ears went red at the tips like they did when he was embarrassed. Good to see not much had changed. “You went every night, don’t pretend you weren’t invested.”

“Ooh, clever retort, Jason, really. Brilliant.” Tim smirked, but it vanished when Jason rubbed his head hard with his knuckles. “Stop that!”

“Behave yourself, brat.” Jason pushed Tim’s face to the grass when he snapped his teeth at Jason. “Nobody here wants your rabies.”

“Aw, don’t be so mean to him. He’s so cute - he can’t have rabies!” Dick cooed at his adorable baby brother, who scowled at him good-naturedly. He was a good kid, really. Dick was just pleasantly surprised the two of them were getting along so well after the whole kidnapping thing. He’d expected more bumps.

Obviously there would be some, because this was their family he was talking about, but it could be going worse.

“He definitely has rabies. I bet if I gave him some water he would freak out. Or if I sprayed him with water. Fuck, I need to get a spray bottle.” Jason looked delighted at the possibility, and Dick made a mental note to tell Alfred to never give him a spray bottle ever.

“Do not!”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Tim complained, but looked rather pleased as a whole.

“Participate in conversation. And get off me, Dick, you weigh more than Batman.”

“Like you can talk. I’m pretty sure you actually weigh more than Batman.” Tim tried and failed to sit up. Jason refused to allow it. “Jason.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, twerp. Stop squirming.”

“You said to participate in conversation. Let me go.”

Dick suddenly related to the exasperated sigh he had heard so many times from Bruce.

“Both of you, quit it.”

“Yes, Dad,” Tim grumbled.

“I wish I was an only child,” Jason said quite suddenly.

“Says the middle child.” Tim smirked at him, jerking out of the way of his hand. “Dick! He’s being mean.”

Dick rolled his eyes and pulled Jason’s arm back. It would’ve been easier if his little brother hadn’t grown up to be bigger than him. Asshole. But Dick would rather have a tall Jason than a dead one. He was just glad he managed to have both his little brothers.

“Relax. We should be enjoying the sunshine.” Dick had to quell the urge to scramble up a tree and see if he could flip off it and land squarely on both hands. It wouldn’t be that hard, he could probably get it first try.

“Dick, I know that look. You wanna jump off that tree, you dumb bitch.” Jason grinned at him.

Sometimes it amazed him how well Jason could read him even now.

“Ooh!” Tim perked up. “That sounds fun!”

“Absolutely not.” Jason and Dick spoke at the same time.

“You’re already injured -” Dick continued with a stern glance.

“You’re dumb enough already -” Jason said at the same time.

Tim snickered.

So, really, it didn’t matter that Jason had grown and Tim was a little rougher around the edges than before. They all had. They all were. What mattered was that they were home, and they were together. Dick could work with that. As long as he had his family, he could work with that. After all, there were fates far worse than this. He wasn’t alone.

Jason was happy. Happier than he’d been in years. He’d made mistakes, he’d hurt people, but he was welcomed back. He had his family back. The world was clear again, the green tint was gone, and he could see. He could see that they would be okay. He knew that even when he fell back into the rage, he would be pulled back. He wasn’t alone.

Tim thought he could get used to this. Surrounded by his brothers, his father waiting inside. He was safe here. He had to be. He had a home. Maybe one day he would stay. Even being kidnapped hadn’t changed that. Now his childhood heroes laughed and grinned and called him baby bird like he mattered. Tim wanted to matter. He wasn’t alone.