Archive of Our Own

This was wrong.

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

Jason had planned it all out and this wasn't part of the plan… what was Nightwing doing in the Tower?

All the green washing out the world rolled and recoiled until there was a tunnel of color. Nightwing stood by the Replacement in a shock of black and blue, a smile on his face that looked too real and easy and reminded Jason of trainsurfing and ice cream.

It made the green haze snap at the corners of Jason's mind but it stubbornly remained clear in the face of Nightwing. 

Nightwing who should have been in Bludhaven.

Nightwing who was in front of a Jason who wasn't ready to face the ghosts of his Robin. Not like this.

Dick Grayson was screaming matches with Bruce, long weeks away from Gotham, long weekends away from the manor, and a sneer on the first to second dozen meetings.

Nightwing was train surfing, ice cream snuck in before heading back to the cave behind Alfred's back, and a Robin suit with a phone number.

Dick Grayson was Jason's own Robin that he replaced like a hypocrite… before failing and getting his wings clipped for good.

A ruined legacy.

He wasn't ready to face the hero in person. Not yet.

Bruce was one thing, a father with a ruined promise, and Tim Drake was an exception with the colors of a dead boy, but Dick was a whole other thing.

Jason snuck backward silently.

The alarms hadn't even gone off, he could leave with no one the wiser. He just had to get to the zeta tube and get out. Jason might even be able to come back using the same codes if no one checked the logs before he tried again. He managed to round the corner down the hall and turn around, ready to quietly dash down straight to the zetas, when he stepped on a pen. The snap echoed around the room and brought the conversation on the other side of the hallway to a stop. 

His heart hammered against the armor on his chest while his breathing slowed and steadied with years of training.

"What was that? Someone here with you Robin? I thought you said everyone went to sleep?"

"Everyone did." Everyone was, Jason had made sure of that.

"Stay here, I'll check it out. Probably just something falling in your pile of controlled mess." A laugh and footsteps.

Jason should move, should run, should get to the zeta tubes, and chalk today up as a failure before trying again. He found he was frozen. Could only turn to watch Nightwing's feet come around the corner and carry him forward to see Red Hood standing there. They stood frozen for a single second before breaking into a flurry of motion.

"Robin! Intruder alert!"

Jason darts away, hearing Nightwing's near-silent footsteps following close behind him and the clatter of Robin down the hall heading towards the computer room. Jason shut down the alert systems and the comms so he's not too worried about that; for all that the Replacement seemed to be a whiz on the computers Jason has experience on him. Experience and time to plan.

Even if those plans are up in smoke right now.

Jason rounds the corner and heads into the staircase, hooking his grapple line onto the railing while vaulting over it, and goes straight down seven floors. Swinging over into the exit he unhooks the grapple and hears the door upstairs open at the same moment he opens his own. The whirl of Nightwing's grapple comes a split second before the slam of the door behind him as Jason darts past empty labs. 

He skids around a corner as the door opens back up and Nightwing shouts, "Robin! Robin, come in!" He would smirk knowing that no one is about to respond, that the Replacement is isolated and ripe for picking, if only Nightwing wasn’t hot on his ass. 

There’s a tap-thunk-tap as Nightwing rounds the corner in a dead sprint and chooses to jump off the wall instead of slowing down to careen around the corner. Jason is really starting to panic now because he’s fast but he’s not Nightwing fast. Nightwing is built for flexibility which naturally means he’s more lean which fucking means he’s goddamn fast. Jason is flexible, he was a fucking Robin, but he’s packed on muscle that keeps him from being a natural runner like Nightwing.

He decides to take the loss for today and dashes away to this floor’s communal area; a sofa, some chairs, a table, a tv, and a different room off to the side that leads to a kitchen area. Tossing a few smoke pellets to different areas of the room he spins around to the doorway where Nightwing's just making his way through. They both freeze and size each other up; Jason sweating through his nerves behind his helmet and Nightwing eyeing his guns and knives.

“I gotta say, this is quite the welcome.” 

“Could’ve given you a better one if we knew you were coming.” Nightwing’s hand twitches to his comms as he speaks, probably testing it, and frowns. At least Jason knows they’re likely still down, and given the alarms aren’t going off and no supers are attacking him either his old plan was working at least. 

“Maybe I’ll just send in a formal complaint. Who should I send it to? The big old Bat?” 

“Feel free to stick around and tell me yourself.” Nightwing edges closer and Jason takes a step to the side, hand twitching to the gun on his thigh.

“I don’t know, you seem more like an assistant manager. I’d rather speak to a manager, thanks.”

Another side step for another tiny shuffle forward, and Jason flips his helmet sensors. “Sure, Karen, and who should I say is asking for them? Got a name I can put down on this formal complaint application?” 

“Actually, Dick,” and there is too much weight on that word to be anything other than a name and the flinch shows that Dick hears it too, “the name is Red Hood.” 

Jason whips out a gun to point it straight at Nightwing, who rolls to the side, and shoots straight at the smoke pellet that was behind him. He goes for the door visible through his helmet’s heat sensors, turning around at the doorway to shoot a smoke pellet sitting right in the corner to follow him out into the hallway. He can see Nightwing reaching and scrambling to switch his domino sensors so Jason moves quickly out of the way. 

“Robin! Report!” 

The frantic footsteps and voice of Nightwing follow Jason out of the room and down hallways and he’s honestly getting a bit fucking tired of this chase. Nightwing's not even bothering to search in any of the rooms? How the fuck. Jason is not loud no matter his size — all his training from Batman and then the League made damn sure of it. So how the hell?

Jason tries dashing to the staircase on the opposite end of the floor and goes up the stairs this time, two floors, and opening and closing the door before silently sprinting up another flight of stairs. 

He nearly screams when he doesn’t even hear Nightwing pause at the door before coming up the stairs after him.

Something is going on and he has to figure this out. He has to figure this out but he can’t because all the training in the literal world didn’t prepare him for his goddamn brother apparently. 

“Robin! Dammit, Hood! What did you do?” 

“Please submit a formal application of complaint!” Jason sprints down a hallway past recreation rooms, “I’ll get back to you within three to five business days!” He opens a door as he passes and hears a batarang thunk into the wood, “What name should I put on the form, Dick?” 

And maybe it’s cruel to taunt his civilian identity in his face like this but damn it, he ruined Jason's plans! Also at this point he just doesn’t care. The green is snapping at his heels and the batarang whistling past his knee is making everything get stained with it. 

“Stop right there, Hood!” 

“How about, no?” There’s the crackle of Nightwing’s escrima sticks behind him and it’s all the warning he gets before he ducks and sees Nightwing soar past him to block his way. 

They’re both at another standstill and Jason inches backwards, hand still on his gun that he’s halfway raised but reluctant to use. The hallway is just a bit too narrow and a bit too metal for him to want to risk the ricochet unless absolutely necessary. Nightwing inches forward with his escrima sticks crackling full of electricity. 

Jason grabs a knife from a sheathe by one of his holsters and swipes at Nightwing, making him jab out with an escrima while flipping back, but Jason has already pulled away and turned to try and run. 

He doesn’t want to fight Nightwing. Not today. 

Instead what he gets is Nightwing vaulting his fucking head like the damn show pony he is and brandishing his goddamn spark sticks. 

Only, now that he’s looking back at the way he came, Jason can see something black spotting the ground. It takes a few seconds but when it hits it takes everything in him not to groan out loud. The fucking pen. The goddamn pen he stepped on like some amateur that he apparently then proceeded to track around like a glaring neon sign to his location. 

The helmet is doing a great job of hiding his absolute mortification as his face flames red. He’s never living this down.

"For a crime lord who took Crime Alley in a single night, you're surprisingly easy to catch. Don't feel too bad though, you know what they say about pens and swords."

"What about pens and guns?" The gun comes up and he switches his safety off in the same motion, fuck the small hallway and all the metal. He’s never living down the shame of this anyway. He’s died once before. Maybe if he dies and comes back to life again he can forget this ever happened. 

“I think the sample size is too small on that particular fight.” A foot flashes out and Jason drops his arm to avoid getting his gun kicked out of his hand, aims a shot at Nightwing’s other foot, swipes the knife in his other hand at a backflipping Nightwing and gets nothing but air. “Although it’s not looking very good right now.” 

Jason bites back a grunt as Nightwing knocks his knife away with a well-placed hit, thankfully with the electricity off. 

“Now, what did you do to the comms? Why can’t I reach Robin?” 

“Did you try turning it off and on again?” He dodges a hit to the neck for that particular quip. 

“Hood. What did you do to the comms.” Jason is getting pushed back and he hasn’t fired a single shot after that first one to the foot. He’s not really trying to die here, coming back to life isn’t a walk in the park he’s looking to risk again. Nightwing isn’t giving him time to let go of his gun to reach for his other weapons though — he might just have to resort to shooting in a bit. There’s only so long his arms can take blocking those stray hits he can’t duck before they crack.

“Not sure what you’re talking about there Wing, mine are working fine,” mostly due to not having anyone to comm, “maybe you should ask for a refund.” 

Nightwing pushes forward more and Jason can feel each hit on his forearms land and disperse along his armor but he could also feel the bruises forming. He could feel the stinging and the Pit was eating at the pain and the frustration and everything was jade and green and emerald and —

Bang! 

“Enough.” Jason could practically hear the Pit snarl in satisfaction at the red blooming along the edge of Nightwing’s arm as the bullet grazed him. The voice modulator turned him into a nightmare. "I would think you’d be less worried about the comms and more worried about yourself, Nightwing. All alone with me… anyone’s head could roll.” 

Jason takes the moment of stillness to take out his other gun and shoot at Nightwing again — sidestepping when he rolls away and moves to try and jump into Jason’s space to get at his guns. There’s red dotting the floor right next to those black spots Jason tracked in now, like some kind of macabre artwork. Jason wants to throw up but the Pit is purring in his head and he lifts his guns with only half a thought. 

Ricochet is a distant worry now. 

There’s footsteps from the fire exit and he does a quick backflip to get some space before raising a gun to Nightwing and one to the staircase. Robin runs out not a second later and everyone freezes. 

“Nightwing?” 

“Robin. Easy.” And it burns to hear him call the Replacement ‘Robin’ to his face like this. It was easy enough to ignore when he was screaming it over the comms but like this Jason has to face the facts that Dick Grayson is calling Timothy Drake ‘Robin’ and it hurts. His fingers tighten on the triggers as the green surges, a snarl overtaking his face behind his helmet, and the two heroes don’t so much as breathe for a second.

“Well, don’t be rude, Dick.” A jerk from the Replacement, “Why don’t you do some introductions?” 

“Sure. Robin, Hood. Hood, Robin.” And Jason is willing to bet his entire arsenal he introduced the both of them that way to make that specific damn pun. 

“I would say nice to meet you Timothy, but it’s my New Year's resolution to not lie.” Another near-violent twitch from them both at the name reveal. 

“Hoo–” 

“Is it really?” There’s an awkward silence as everyone stares at the kid who just stares at Hood. 

“No. Obviously not. I have a secret fucking identity, obviously not.” The kid’s face slowly turns pink before it turns red all the way from his neck to his domino and Jason doesn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. “Did… you were… when did you last —” No, no he’s not about to brother his replacement. 

Except the world is suddenly a wash of color again and he can see the too-pale pallor of the kid's skin and the way he’s practically locking his knees to keep standing. 

“The fuck is this kid doing up?” He didn’t mean to say that and now everyone is staring at him as if he doesn’t have guns trained on them. 

“... that’s… coming to bring you in, Hood.” The end of that sentence comes up a bit as if the kid isn't sure and Jason is starting to feel like he could just push the brat and that would be it. Fight over. Game over, knock out. 

“You and your Vitamin D deficient ass?” Jason swears he hears Nightwing stifle a laugh but when Jason glances over he is as stoic as he was earlier.

“Are — do you get any Vitamin D in that get-up? Why are you even lecturing me about my vitamins? You broke in!” Which, yeah… why is he lecturing the kid about his vitamins? He came here to beat him up, not make sure he was getting enough sun. The world is still a wash of color though. 

“I wasn’t born in this get-up, genius. I can take my gloves off.” And suddenly Nightwing and Robin seem to both be examining his helmet more closely. He's excusing the Replacement on account of the fact he seems to be about to topple at the faintest breeze… he'll excuse Nightwing on account of Dick was always an idiot.

"I wasn't born in the helmet either, morons." They both seem far too relieved to hear that.

"Anyway. No one is waking up, what did you do to them?" And the Replacement whips out his bo staff as if he isn't struggling to stand straight. As if he wouldn't probably just walk into the bullet's path instead of ducking. 

"Robin?" Nightwing tenses back up. Great. Jason stops shuffling back.

"Everyone is knocked out. Comms and the system seem to be down. I only found your direction from the gunshots because the cameras aren’t working." Well fuck. Jason should have considered more than the ricochet.

If he can just get to the zetas… he could still leave. He won't be able to come back but he could leave.

"What did you do to them, Hood?" Robin inches forward and Jason tightens his finger on the trigger in warning, making everyone freeze from where they were trying to make their way to him. 

"Just gave them a good night's sleep. Just what the doctor ordered." 

"Somehow I doubt you're a practicing doctor." 

"I admit you'd be right. Still, I can scribble on a piece of paper and call it a note if you want me to." He inches back some more, he's pretty sure the zetas are behind him past the communal dining on this floor.

"I think we'd prefer a comprehensive list of what exactly you gave the members and what you did to the systems." Nightwing takes a big step sideways, inching to stand more in front of Robin who is starting to flag. He really is looking pale.

"Well Nightwing, unfortunately, I just don't fe—" there's a loud crash as the kid drops to his knees clutching his staff and Jason ends up having to stifle his startle reaction to keep from shooting by accident. Nightwing moves to lunge and cover the kid, probably thinking Hood shot at Robin, before realizing belatedly there was no gunshot.

"Robin? Robin!" Nightwing moves to lay the kid on his side and Jason should take this time to leave, it's the perfect opportunity but he's fucking frozen again. The world is in startling clarity and the Pit is quiet and the kid is white, Nightwing tapping his clammy-looking cheek, and Jason still has his guns trained on them. "Hood! What did you do to him!"

Well, that's just not fair.

"Me? I didn't do jack shit! I didn't get to touch him!" And it was looking like he never would because Robin was looking more and more like a kid and it was making Jason uncomfortable in the knowledge of what he had planned to do, "He probably just passed out from not eating enough! Look at him! He's a twig!" 

Jason gesticulates widely with one of his guns while keeping the other trained on Nightwing — safety off. Nothing scarier than a Dick Grayson when family was in danger and he clearly saw the kid as family.

"He’s been eating!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I don't need you to lecture me about his eating habits, Mr. 'I chop off people's heads and put them in a duffle bag'!" 

"What does that even me— Crime Lords need to eat too! And are you sure he's been eating? None of that sugary cereal you consider food either?" Dick freezes at another reminder that Jason knows who they are. "I mean fucking real food with vegetables and shit!"

"I can't even — is this even happening right no— yes! Yes! I'm sure! What the fuck?" 

There's a groan from the kid that causes Dick to whirl back around and Jason to flash his guns back up, he didn't even realize he brought them down, as they both look at the kid.

"Wha'?" 

"Stay down, Robin. Hood is still here and you fainted." Nightwing rests a hand on the kid's chest and presses lightly when he tries to get up.

"Hood? Wing?" 

"Yeah. Stay down." Nightwing stands up and stands between the guns and the kid. Jason is cursing up a storm in his head because he officially lost his chance to run out since he lost his mind or something. Unless the kid pulls another fainting act he's probably not losing Nightwing again. "Turn yourself in, Hood. This doesn't have to get messy."

"The kid just fainted like a fair maiden clutching her pearls. I'd say this is already messy enough." 

"I did not!" 

"You totally did kid, clutched at your staff and everything." Jason should not be bantering with the kid. He should be shooting at the kid. The Pit was quiet and the world was in technicolor and the blood on Nightwing's suit seemed far too bright.

"I'm not about to be sassed at by a guy in a helmet who’s trekking pen marks everywhere." Fucking smart ass. Jason really wasn't living this down.

"Take a nap you little vampire. Maybe by the time you wake up the sun will be down again and you can take a little trek for proper nutrients."

"Maybe if you weren't beheading people and murdering people left and right I cou–" 

"Enough, Robin." Nightwing's calm tone cut through the conversation and Jason realized his grip on the guns had suddenly gotten a lot more firm. The world was green and — oh, there was the Pit.

"They deserve to die. I'm not murdering people left and right. I'm not doing this shit mindlessly, those fuckers deserve to die," Jason could feel the Pit singing in his veins and with how green everything looked he knew his eyes would be shining too, "I'm doing what none of you do: letting people feel safe."

Nightwing tilted his head at him, "You're doing this to help people. You think you're some kind of vigilante?"

"More of an anti-hero if anything. Considering the killings and all."

"What the kid said."

"Regardless, if you want to help people why don't you stop killing and just work with us?" 

Green surges and a bullet whizzes uncomfortably close to Nightwing’s shoulder, grazing the suit and ripping it but not drawing blood. Nightwing and the kid both flinch away.

"You don't get it, do you, Officer Grayson? You don't help people, you never did. People get desperate, people do crime. Fine. I know that all too well." He remembers cold nights and hungry days. Remembers trying to steal tires that ended up with the best three years of his life. "But not everyone who does crime hates it. And sometimes you put people in jail to get reformed but they never do. They go in, they come out, and it just keeps happening. Some people don't stop because they don't want to stop."

Catherine was just desperate to make the pain stop when she chose drugs. Willis was desperate when he first chose goon work and then everything regarding Willis just became complicated. 

He's not touching him with a ten-foot pole unless it involves a bullet in the head at the end of it.

"That doesn't mean we can just kill th—"

"If I kill someone who deals drugs to kids also cuts the drugs with something, how many kids am I saving from possible overdose or poisoning from whatever they cut it with?" Both Nightwing and the kid who is trying to sit up freeze, this is too real a question. "Not just kids but adults? One life to save how many?" 

"It's not just one life though." Nightwing looks firm but the kid is back there eyeing Jason and Nightwing like he’s trying to solve something.

"No, it's a lot of lives because some people don't learn. But in the end, it's the same thing every time. One life to save many."

"You don't get to pick —"

"Why you?" They whip around to look at the kid again. "Why you? Why did you decide you had to be the one to do it?"

The world is battling between technicolor and emerald green and Jason doesn't know which he wants to win.

"Why not me? No one else was doing it." And because right now the green is winning, "Why you? Why you, out of the thousands in Gotham, to replace the dead Robin?"

"I forced my way in. What made you decide it had to be you?"

'I forced my way in.' What the fuck does that mean? What? 

"Robin, that's no—"

"Yes it is, it's fine. Hood, what made you decide it had to be you?"

What the fuck is going on. Everyone told him he was replaced and everything he researched had told him he was replaced. What does the kid mean 'I forced my way in.'

"What? Are we playing 20 questions?" To be quite honest Jason doesn't think he could last that long because his arm is starting to hurt from holding his guns up for so long after being wailed on by Nightwing with his escrima.

"If you want to, sure. Answer the question."

"No thanks. Maybe you can unlock my tragic backstory at the next sleepover."

Jason inches back some more and Nightwing follows him. The kid tries to get up and just falls flat on his face when he tries to stand and clearly becomes so dizzy he trips.

"Kid!"

"Robin!"

Dick turns right back around and kneels to try and help Robin and Jason does an awkward half-step forward with already outstretched arms with hands full of guns. He's not sure if he was trying to catch the kid or what but he's desperately trying not to think about it. Decides, instead, not to waste this opportunity too and spins on his heel to head for the zetas. He's only a corridor away when he hears running coming up behind him and tries to speed up.

"Hood! Stop!"

Ignoring Nightwing — and trying not to think about the kid just laying on the ground by himself back there — he sprints and slams open the door to the zetas. He skids into one, holsters his guns, and is just about to enter his code when Nightwing grabs him, flips him out of the tube, and plants himself in front of them. 

"I'm only gonna say this once," standing up and grabbing a knife as he plants his feet, "move."

He can't use his fucking guns and risk shooting out the zetas. No point using a smoke screen when his goal is the zeta. The only way is through Dick fucking Grayson.

"Not happening, Hood."

Nightwing darts forward and Jason has to duck and twist around an escrima and block a second one to his face while twisting with his forearm. He tries to grab the wrist and slash at the arm to try and make Wing drop the stick. He gives up partway when Wing ends up just flipping over his head, making him lose his grip and he has to spin around and stand up quickly when Nightwing vaults back over to stand back in front of the Zetas to avoid getting stuck on the floor for the rest of the fight.

He sidesteps a jab at the solar plexus and does manage a slash down the forearm at this point, not as much as he would like, but still enough. It makes his stomach roll in a funny way to see Dick's blood on his knife but he's focusing on the fight rather than the colors.

Kicking out at Nightwing he forces him back and steps to the left as he slashes at Nightwing and makes him step to the side. Wing is only in front of half the tube now and Jason is forcing him back little by little to the side. 

There's a sudden clamor from the doorway and the kid is standing there mouth hanging open, paler than before. 

"Robin!" Nightwing gives up a bit of ground in order to try and get in a better position to knock any shot off course if he aimed a gun at the kid.

"Jason…" and Jason freezes and takes a kick straight to the solar plexus. His armor disperses the hit letting him keep his breath in his lungs but he still gets knocked on his ass and goes flying a bit away, just that much further away from both his exit and the gaping kid.

"Fucking hell." His ass is hurting, his armor may have done a hell of a job dispersing that hit but that doesn't mean it was fun, and he swears the kid said his name.

"Jason… Jason Todd?" Yeah. Fuck. 

"Robin? What are you talking about?" Dick sounds fragile and like he wants to yell to keep from breaking. Like the only reason he isn't is that this is the kid and if it was anyone else they would be getting absolutely ripped apart.

"He — he used Jason's codes to get in. I was checking the logs to see how he got in, checking the systems to see what still works, he used Jason's codes."

Nightwing looks fucking livid. The kid looks ecstatic.

Dick marches up to him with escrima sticks lit up dangerously, "Where. Did you get. Those codes." And oh. Oh. Dick isn't livid. He’s way past that. 

Jason heard this tone only once before and that was when Dick had just found out Jason had replaced him as Robin. Jason needs to leave. He needs to get out of here but Dick is still standing between him and the tubes and Jason is on the ground now and Dick is standing over him and those escrima sticks have not stopped sparking.

"Dick?" Tim sounds scared, like he's never seen Dick like this before.

"Names." Redundant because Hood clearly knows it but Jason's not about to mouth off right now with Dick looking like that. "How did you get those codes, Hood?"

Fuck.

"Dick, it's Jason's codes."

"Jason is dead, Robin! Jason is — Jason is…" Dick's breath hitches, "he's dead."

Fuck.

"How did you get those codes, Hood? I'm not going to ask again." There's a sharp crackle as Nightwing swings his sticks close together and electricity courses between the two. Shit. He must have those settings on max. Dick is really fucking pissed.

The kid is watching with a pale face and hunched shoulders, scared of Dick. Dick who is standing over him right now asking a question Jason can't answer without ruining all his plans. 

But his plans are ruined anyway and he can't exactly get past Nightwing the way he is to get to the zetas so…

"I got them from Bruce, Dickface."

There's nothing but the sound of electricity for a handful of seconds. 

"What?"

"I said, I got them from Bruce." One last push and everything will fall apart, "Old age getting to ya, Big Wing?"

The crackles stop. Nothing happens for a good long while and then, like ice melting, Dick Grayson slowly kneels on the ground to collapse by Jason.

"Little Wing?" The small hopeful voice is all Dick, nothing about it is the vigilante Nightwing, and it seems odd to see the mask with this voice. "Little Wing? Is that… is that you?" 

"Sup bird brain. Turns out dying just wasn't for me. I'm here to file a complaint."

Nightwing drops one of his escrima to grasp Jason's wrist and feel his pulse.

"What happened after we went out trainsurfing?"

"What?"

"Identity check." Oh, he almost forgot about the kid.

"What happened after the trainsurfing, Jason?" Dick's voice chokes up and cracks on his name and he can't even make fun of him for it. The world is technicolor again and he's finding the blood on Dick's arm and shoulder something to avoid and ends up staring somewhere above his mask line instead of into his eyes. The kid is still staring at Jason like he's afraid Jason will disappear too.

"You took me for ice cream. We tried to sneak back in the cave without Alfred finding out but we were basically bouncing off the walls…" Dick grips his wrist even tighter.

"What else?"

"Oh come on Dickhead, don't make me say it in front of the kid." 

"What. Else."

"Fuck." The helmet is really getting its use today, "I threw up! I threw up in the cave all over you because I was motion sick and didn't tell you and the sugar rush didn't help."

The kid seems to be holding back a laugh which is nice of him, Dick seems ready to rip off his mask and lunge in for a hug. 

"Take off your helmet."

"No."

"Little wing. Take it off."

"No."

"Jason Peter Todd. Take. It. Off."

He tries to yank his hand back to take it off but Dick won't let him have his hand back.

"Let go Dickhead, I can't take it off if you won't let go." 

"Tell me how to do it, I'll do it for you." The kid comes closer and kneels next to them, apparently satisfied enough with Hood knowing the codes and an embarrassing memory that passes a check. He keeps looking at Jason weirdly though and it's freaking him out. 

"Hell no. First off, I'm not telling any of you how to use my shit. Second, I'm not letting you touch my helmet unless you wanna blow us up." The grip on his wrist gets so tight he swears his bones creak.

"Jay? What do you mean 'blow us up'?"

"There's a bomb in here that may or may not go off if you take off my helmet wrong."

There's a still silence before Dick is throwing his hand off and both he and Tim are pushing and pulling him up to sit properly instead of leaning on his hand.

"Get up! Get it off! Jason, get it off!"

"Jay! What is wrong with — get it off now!"

Jason throws all their hands off and scooches away, batting their hands away as he goes. "You get off of me! I want this on my head, thanks!"

"Jason Todd get that bomb off your head now! I can't believe you would — why would you even — why di— your dramatic ass really just decided that was okay?" Dick's voice is loud and verging on screeching and Timbit is on his knees trying to get closer.

"Jason, please. Dick just got you back. Can you take that off please?" That’s just playing dirty. 

"No." It comes out harsher than Jason means to and the voice modulator makes it that much worse.

The kid flinches the tiniest bit and Jason feels maybe the tiniest bit something in his chest at that so he sighs nice and loud to show just how put out he is about this before reaching up to take his helmet off. Not for the kid, it was just getting a bit warm and Dick looks like he’s gonna cry. The kid still replaced Jason. Jason doesn't care about the kid. Fuck him.

Both of them surge forward to reach for his helmet as soon as it's clear of his head and kind of awkwardly knock into each other. Jason takes the time from them getting their bearings back to scootch further back and hug his helmet to his chest protectively. Both Dick and Tim look up to see Jason further away than he was before and frowns before seeing him with his mask on and frowning harder. 

"A mask? Really? You had a helmet." Jason doesn't wanna say that it was supposed to be for a dramatic reveal. He really doesn't want to. He would never live it down, worse than the pen.

"And I suppose I'm supposed to just eat and drink on patrol with the helmet on?" Fuck yeah. Oh, he has never been so thankful for quick thinking. 

"That makes sense. It must get hot in there too." Tim is eyeing the helmet like — well, like a bomb. Jason is really resisting the urge to wrap around his helmet like a cocoon with the way the both of them are looking at it. It's just a little tiny bomb, Jesus, he’s been in bigger ones.

"Jason, give that here now." 

"No, fuck off. This is mine. I worked hard on this." 

"It's a bomb! On your head!"

"It's my helmet with a lot of cool shit that I worked fucking hard on that happens to have a bomb!"

"Jason!"

"Dick!"

"Tim!" They both look at the kid, "I wanted to be included and also needed a chance to jump in and say: it's a very cool helmet but it's also a bomb that goes over your head that could go off and kill you again. Please don't put it back on."

The green is seeping back into his vision because his plans are ruined and his ass is still hurting and now they want his helmet and the Replacement thinks he can lecture him.

"Maybe you should be more worried about your friends and what exactly I was doing here in the first place, Replacement." And both the heroes freeze and the kid looks all kinds of hurt.

Nightwing swipes forward to scratch at Jason's face and green flares at the sudden attack making the Replacement and Nightwing stare, not even breathing. His domino isn't as high tech as the bats, it's a backup and not outfitted with as many of the things the bats have on theirs because Jason’s main tech sight is his helmet. So this means there isn't as much technology in the lens to hide his eyes when they flare green with the Pit. This means they can see the glow through the whiteout lens.

This means they see Red Hood, clutching his helmet, with a faint scratch that shows he isn't Clayface, and eyes glowing Lazarus green behind his whiteout lenses.

"That answers that I guess." The Replacement mutters with hurt in his voice.

"He didn't mean that, Tim." Dick whispers and reaches out to try and hold the Replacement's hand but the kid just moves to the side and away. "Tim, he didn't mean that. He doesn't mean that. Look at his eyes, he doesn't mean that."

The world is jaded and the Pit is singing.

"Is little Robin upset? Probably shouldn't have taken a seat you weren't ready for then."

"Jason! Enough!" Dick snaps but the damage is done and the Pit is laughing and there's a sneer on Jason's face that's been more at home there ever since he came out of a green green hole in the ground. The Replacement jumps up, takes one deep breath, holds it in his chest.

"I'm sorry."

Then before Jason has time to process that Tim is running out of the room down the corridor and out of sight. Fuck.

"Jason Todd. You… I love you but I cannot believe you just did that."

"Whatever." He refuses to feel bad. The kid replaced him. He made his death meaningless. Maybe if he didn't take over the fucking colors Jason's death would have meant something. Maybe it could have been something in the long run. Instead, he's a cautionary tale and a grave in some cemetery far from the Wayne's right next to his bitch of a mother that sold him out.

"What did you do to the Teen Titans?" 

"They're just knocked out, they're fine, Dickwing."

Dick searches what he can see of Jason's face before relaxing.

"And the system?" 

"I can bring it back online when I feel like it. Nothing wrong with it." Or if someone outside notices something is wrong and turns everything back on. Or if the system works through the bug on its own.

"Bring it back online."

"No."

"Jason."

"No. If I bring it back online you're just going to bring me to the cells and I'm not going to just turn myself in just like that." Dick jerks back a little before swaying forward closer immediately, looking like he swallowed a lemon.

"No — Jason, I would never."

"Right, the whole killing thing just becomes a moot point now that you know who I am?" Dick's mouth opens and closes as if he forgot about the fact that Jason is Red Hood. Red Hood who was just fighting him and debating the merits of murder. "Let's just say you won't bring me in, I bring back the systems and someone else will. No. I'm not turning them on."

Another stalemate.

"Well, I'm not letting you leave without knowing if I'll ever see you again. You're alive, I found you, and I'm never letting you leave again." It shouldn't hurt to hear that.

It shouldn't make the world turn startling green to hear that.

"Oh? Ask me what I was doing in the Tower and maybe you'll reconsider."

Dick searches his face again, silent and still. "No, I don't think I will. I don't think that was actually you and I don't think this is either. Whatever you had planned, I don't think it matters anymore."

There's a snarl on Jason's face and he opens his mouth to tell Dick exactly what he had planned to do to the kid when Dick beats him to the punch.

"You're his hero, you know?"

"And you used to be mine." Dick's face does an interesting freeze–skip, going straight from smiling to disbelief. It takes that shift for Dick's words to truly sink in, 'you're his hero.'

"What?"

"What?"

"No. What do you mean I was your hero? I was yours? Was?" Jason resists squirming under Dick's narrowed gaze and fights the urge to just get up and walk away. It'll be exactly what Dick deserves, exactly the non-answer he should give, but Jason's going to be better than that if only because he knows the truth will hurt Dick more.

The world is still washed with shades of the Pit and his lungs burn with memories of smoke. He wants to spit out words that hurt as much as the phantom ache of the crowbar he feels every day.

"I mean you used to be mine. You were my Robin, of course you were my hero." The memories of Robin saving him flash through his mind before he shakes them away, "Of course then I find out who you are and I get to be Robin and you were my brother and you hated me so…"

Dick's face is stuck looking confused. Like it doesn't know how to properly show just how elated and devastated it really is. It just means his eyebrows are wiggling up and down, and some muscle near one of his eyes is jumping and causing his domino to twitch, while his lips are so flat they're white. Jason would laugh if he wasn't fighting the mortification of being truthful. He would laugh if he wasn't finding it wasn't as satisfying to spit the truth like this as he thought. He always imagined it with shy shuffling feet when he was younger — not barbed tongues with holsters on his thighs.

"Jason…" One of Dick's hands reaches out but Jason leans away and glares. The hand goes back down. "Jason, I never knew. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you were my hero? Wow."

"Jason, no."

"Jason, yes."

"God," Dick rests his face in his hands and Jason fights a smirk, "I forgot how much of a brat you could be." Dick's shoulders are shaking and it's hard to tell if Dick is laughing, crying, or just vibrating like a speedster. Inching away seems like the safest bet in any case so he proceeds to do just that. 

"You decided to forget the dead boy, that's your problem."

Dick's face snaps up and there aren't any tear tracks or suspiciously wet looks in his eyes so Jason's gonna bet he wasn't crying at all. "I didn't forget you, Jason. No one forgot you. Don't ever think that, how could you ever think that?"

And Jason is still repeating, ‘I forced my way in’ and 'you're his hero' in the back of his mind and it's throwing him off his game. Dick is sitting next to him, his big brother is sitting next to him, and Jason is missing home more than ever.

"How could I not?" His voice does not crack, but the green comes up and his hands twitch for his holsters and his heartbeat jumps and his voice does not crack. "How could I not think that? I claw my way out of my grave and climb my way out of the Pit to see myself replaced. I wasn't dead six months, Dick."

"Tim didn't replace you. Just like you never replaced me, Jason." And isn't that hilarious? A string of Robin's who never feel good enough. He can see it in Tim already and Jason‘s only been following him for a few weeks. 

"Because that logic worked so well for you, right Dick?"

The silence speaks as answer enough — the memories speak as answer enough — because they both remember screaming matches followed by slamming doors and silent weeks. 

Jason would call the feeling of inadequacy a curse on the Robin's only he wouldn't want to tempt fate. Also, he remembers where the name came from; has a foggy snapshot in his now spotty memory of one quiet and happy weekend with Dick full of stories of Flying Graysons and a mother and her robin. 

Jason wants to hurt but he is not willing to do that to Dick and the memory of his dead mother by claiming the name a curse.

He knows too well the curse of a mother… the curse of having the wrong one. Dick had the right one who gave him all the right things. Jason will not ruin that for him any more than he already did by dying in those colors.

"Little wing… you never replaced me. It took me a long time to come to terms with that when we were younger because I had my own problems with Bruce. A lot of that had to do with how he handled me as Robin and how I felt as his ward and then you came along and…" The sigh Dick lets out is heavy, "and none of it was your fault, is what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry."

The apology and explanation is everything Jason had wanted to hear at thirteen, at fourteen, and even at fifteen years old with a brother who was trying.

At sixteen he didn't even care — he just wanted his big brother to come save him from the League and take him home. 

And now at however old he technically is with his dead months and all those months post-resurrection but pre-Pit; he finds he doesn't care. He wants an apology for a lot of things that he knows don't make sense logically except he's mad that it happened: letting him die, replacing him when they're allowed to move on, replacing a Robin when it wasn't even his legacy to pass on in the first place. 

But if he never gets an apology for those he thinks he can live with it all. 

Because he did all this — was going to do everything he had planned — because they made his death mean nothing.

This apology that should have gone to a fifteen year old that didn't die means nothing to a Jason that has bigger things to cry about. "That’s a bit too late. I'm not crying about family not liking me anymore. I've learned about family meaning jack shit the hard way."

Smoke burns in his lungs with the feeling of a crowbar shattering his leg. The shadow of Sheila smoking in a corner and the Joker's off-tune whistle as he beat Jason.

The green surges forward and makes everything a sharp emerald. His hand goes to rest on his gun and Dick ends up with his hands floating halfway down his face — caught in the act of wiping away whatever expression he felt at whatever Jason had said. He stays perfectly still as his eyes dart down to watch Jason's hand on the gun.

"Little Wi—"

Jason grips his helmet hard with one hand and slides the gun out, keeping it pointed at the ground. Dick goes quiet and Jason breathes nice and deep, counting in his head to keep them even. Eventually, the green fades enough for him to realize his breathing has matched up with Dick's, and his chest twinges. He holsters his gun again to grip his helmet and Dick takes an extra deep breath while bringing his hands down, their breathing going out of sync.

"Jay… Tim didn't replace you." He digs his fingers into his helmet hard enough for his fingers to twinge. "He didn't Jay, Bruce wasn't in a good place and I wasn't — couldn't bring myself to come back to Gotham to help him out. Tim already knew who we were."

Jason jerks his head up to stare at Dick at that, finally breaking his stare off with his helmet, "What?"

"Yeah, apparently he had known for years. When he saw how bad Bruce was getting he decided someone had to step in. He basically forced Bruce’s hand by going out every night. If Bruce didn't train him he would have died." Dick laughs a bit, sounding a bit self-deprecating, "I should really say I wish he didn't do that but I'm glad he did. Bruce was… Bruce was bad, Jason. He was scaring me."

'I forced my way in.'  

Ah. That's what the kid meant. 

"Got a taste of your own medicine then?" Dick looks confused so Jason smirks, something softer and closer to anything he had before he died, "I've heard of how you became Robin. Forcing Bruce’s hand into training you."

Dick stares at him for a while before groaning and collapsing in on himself, "Oh my god! You're right. You're — how did I not see this? Oh my god, I was such a menace."

Jason can't help it, he laughs. It's loud and straight from his stomach. He folds against his helmet that presses against his chest and his cheeks hurt from how long it's been since he's done this. He's more used to sneers and snarls now, smiles and laughs were something he left behind in his grave.

He can hear his voice ringing around the room from how loud he's being but he can't stop. By the time he manages to get it down to the stray giggle and look up Dick is staring at him. He can see the kid by the door who looks like he sprinted over with how hard he's breathing and they're both staring with open-mouthed wonder.

"What?" He’s starting to feel self-conscious with all the silent staring and he's maybe possibly feeling a wiggle of guilt at the sight of the kid.

"Just… I missed your laugh, Jay." Dick sounds on the verge of tears and is leaning forward like he's gonna go for a hug so Jason stands up. Dick startles and stands up too and Jason takes a couple of steps back.

"It's just a fucking laugh Dickwing, does nobody laugh anymore? Jesus." Then before anybody can stop him Jason slams the helmet back on his head.

"No!"

"Jason! Stop!"

Tim runs back into the room straight to him screaming and Dick dashes forward too late to reach for the helmet but stops short when it fits around his head; afraid of setting off the bomb.

"Jason! Take that off! Get it off!"

"Jay, please, get it off!"

He fights off all their hands that land on his jacket and arms, trying to pull him closer. Hands that stay far away from his helmet. "No! I like my helmet the way it is and I like it on my head! I took it off and you know I'm not Clayface. Leave me be!"

"Little Wing, plea—"

"I'll give you back Robin! Please, take that off!"

The room goes quiet. Dick and Jason turn almost robotically to Tim who is standing there gripping Jason's leather jacket in both hands while looking at the ground. 

"What the fuck did you just say?" The Pit is snarling and snapping and the green is sharp at the edges of his vision but not touching the world.

The kid looks straight up into the helmet's eyesight, doing his best to make eye contact, "Take it off, don't ever put a bomb on yourself again, and I'll give you Robin back."

"Tim, th—"

Jason doesn't bother letting Dick talk. He throws Dick off and shoves him hard enough to send him flying. He reaches out to a shocked and scared looking Tim to drag him up by the collar to his eyesight. 

"Jason!" Dick is coming to his feet but Jason whips out a gun to point at Nightwing without even looking away from the kid. He doesn't have to look away to make the fucking shot. They all know it.

Everyone holds their breath.

The Pit is singing and purring and the world is a wash of jade but Jason has never felt this particular shade of anger before. He doesn't want blood, he doesn't want a head in a bag, he doesn't want… he doesn't want —

"You're fucking Robin. That means something. You don't fucking give that up for anything you little shit." Jason is blinking too fast and breathing too hard and his gun is wavering and fuck.

"I'm not. I'm not giving it up for just anything. I'm giving it up for Robin." Tim doesn't even seem scared. Doesn't even seem sad. Doesn't even seem like this is something that's killing him. Like Robin isn't something that should only be ripped away from you forcefully and never willingly.

"I'm not Robin. Robin died." Jason drops the kid and watches him crumble as he fails to catch himself. "You're Robin." Jason doesn't choke on those words.

Jason doesn't choke on them and his chest has a hole in it but he's already missing so much of himself he thinks he can learn to live with this too.

"You're Robin." The kid looks up and looks like he saw the sun — as if Jason wasn't the one to come in here and knock his fucking friends out and hurt his feelings in the first place. 

'You're his hero, you know.'

"No kid, I died. You're Robin now, and you don't give that up for anything. Least of all me." Jason's gun comes down and Dick rushes forward to help Tim up, eyeing Jason the entire time as he holsters his gun. Dick is patting down the kid to check and make sure he’s okay. The kid is still watching Jason like he hung the fucking stars and it’s making his skin crawl so Jason spins around to head to the zetas.

“No wait! Jason!” He speeds up and manages to get inside and start punching in the code when all of a sudden he hears a shrill and panicked, “Robin! Help!”

And he’s not Robin anymore, he’s not. Robin died. He buried that kid the same day he climbed out of the Pit and thought he was replaced and he just put him to rest today. But this is a child’s voice asking for help and that’s not something he’s ever been able to ignore. 

Jason stops punching in his code, grabs his guns, and snaps them up to point one right at the area of the kid and one at the doorway of the room. He manages to see that no one is in the door and that Tim is alone before Nightwing is suddenly creeping in from the side and jerking him out of the zeta tube for the second time that day. He grunts as he tucks and rolls away from Dick and gets on his feet in time to see Tim get held back. 

“See! He’s okay! He’s Jason, he was gonna help!” This fucking hero worship is gonna get the brat killed. But he just played Jason like a goddamn fiddle and Jason is weirdly impressed by that.

Irritated but impressed.

“Maybe I was just gonna take the opportunity to shoot you.” The modulator in his helmet turns his voice flat and threatening, he knows this, but the brat just smiles up at him with his too pale skin.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re Robin and you’re Hood. Hood doesn’t hurt kids. You kept asking if I ate enough and tried to catch me when I fell. You wouldn’t shoot me.” This hero worship was making Jason’s skin crawl because the kid was so fucking wrong. There was an entire floor of kids knocked out because of him and he was here to beat Tim up. Hood doesn’t hurt kids, but he was about to and if Nightwing wasn’t here he just might have.

“I knocked out your friends and I came here tonight to beat the fuck out of you to teach Bruce a lesson on getting more Robins who don’t know what they’re doing.” Jason steps forward to loom over the kid while holstering his guns and swallows bile. Thankful the helmet hides his expression.

Tim doesn’t so much as twitch, “Are my teammates going to wake up fine?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s fine I suppose, perils of the job and the dangers of not checking up on security. You showed us the flaws in it. You also didn’t actually hurt me — at all — so I don’t care.” There’s something wrong with that. Jason didn’t actually hurt the kid so he doesn’t care? That doesn’t seem right. Jason had planned to, he had planned to hurt him a lot, and he came very close to doing it too. The kid should be caring about this a lot! Where were his self-preservation instincts?

Jason turns his head to stare at Dick and gestures at the entirety of the kid, “Is he serious right now?” 

There’s a giant sigh before Dick nods.

Jason turns back to Tim and gestures at the entirety of him again, “Are you serious right now?”

There’s some very intense eye contact before a single nod. Jason collapses to the ground in a sudden squat, ignoring the surprised shout from Dick and small hands trying to catch him, puts his helmet in his hands and groans. He makes sure to groan extra loudly so that the modulator catches it to let the world know how he feels properly.

“Little Wing?”

“Shut the fuck up. Just — I can’t believe you’ve been letting the kid go around like this?” He shakes his head into his hands. The guns are digging into his hips uncomfortably but he doesn’t want to stand and look at any of them right now. “How are any of you letting him out like this? He’s just passing out like some fair fucking maiden and thinking it’s fine when a crime lord comes to beat him up as long as they don't go through with it?” 

Nightwing’s feet come into view between his fingers and he directs his glare toward those blue and black feet.

“Well, we can’t really stop him… like I sa—” 

Jason stands up throwing his hands up into the air and surprising the two heroes enough that they twitch for their weapons. “Then teach him how to take care of himself! Teach him it’s not okay to just call a crime lord that came to beat him up back to him by asking for help! What the fuck?!” 

Dick and Tim share a look and suddenly Dick is fighting a smile, “Well, Little Wing, you always did say you wanted a younger sibling.” 

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs and stares blankly at Dick. 

“No. Fuck off. He’s not adopted. I’m not adopted. I died, the adoption is void. I’m not part of that family anymore. I don’t want to be part of that family anymore. Leave me alone.” He spins back around to try the zetas again only to have Nightwing step in front of him so he spins again to head for the doors and go the long way down to the basement to steal a bike. Tim steps in front of him and Jason just looks at him. 

He reaches out and puts a hand on Tim's shoulder. Tim smiles up at him like Jason offered him the world only to have that entire expression collapse into defeat when Jason lightly pushes him onto his ass. 

Jason goes to step around him when Tim wraps himself around his leg like some demented koala. 

“No, I’m not letting you go, Jason! You have to come back! We can talk about the killing thing!” Hero worship really was some heavy rose-colored glasses. 

“No, we really can’t kid. Bruce isn’t going to let that go and I’m not planning on stopping. Let me the fuck go.” The green was seeping back into his vision and despite what he had initially planned, he didn’t really want to hurt the kid now. “I mean it, kid. Let me go.” 

Tim just clung tighter.

“Dick, you better come collect your fucking kid before I punt him into the sun and he doesn’t have to worry about that Vitamin D deficiency anymore.” Dick watches him carefully as he reaches down to pitifully attempt to pry the kid's fingers off.

“Don’t call him my kid that makes it sound like I’m his father and I’m not that old okay?” There was a pout on his face as he weakly tugged on a protesting Tim’s fingers.

“I don’t fucking care, get the kid off before I cut him off!” There was a growl in his voice that the distorter just made worse and made Dick twitch. Tim didn’t even bother being scared by the threat or the voice. Apparently, he had decided Jason wasn’t a threat anymore. Fucking brat. 

Dick started working a bit harder to get Tim off but he was sticking like super glue, “No! No, if I let go you’re going to let him go because you’re afraid of what Bruce thinks too! I don’t care! I’m not letting him go!” 

“Tim, I’m not going to let him go. I lost him once, I’m not letting him go if I don't know where he's going. Don’t worry. Now come on.” Those words shouldn’t burn but they did help smoke away the Pit. 

“Fuck this.” Jason starts walking and dragging the kid across the room towards the elevators, Dick following frantically.

“Jason, wait! Hold on! Please! At least let me come with you I won—” He’s offering to leave Bludhaven, possibly leave the manor, to just follow Jason to wherever he’s planning to run off to for what? Just to keep an eye on him? To make sure he’s still alive?

“Shut up.” 

“Please, I won’t even argue with you about the killing for… well not for forever but for a while at least.” He wants to laugh because even that’s a huge concession considering the idea of following him around implies Dick will have to watch Jason kill people. Jason walk-drags himself and the kid into the elevator and Dick rushes in before Jason can shut the door in his face. “Please Jason, I — we can talk about it all and I won’t tell Bruce and just… please.”

He’s never heard Dick beg before. There was one time, he can barely remember now, when Batman and Robin had to go save Nightwing who was captured. Nightwing was getting beat on and by the time Robin managed to sneak his way into the room and Batman baited all the goons to a different area, Nightwing was more black and red than black and blue. Jason hadn’t heard a single ‘please’ come out of Dick back then. 

He doesn’t know how many times he’s heard it already tonight. 

“Shut up, Dickface.” He can’t stand it. Dick isn’t supposed to beg. He isn’t supposed to be hunched over looking like he’s one second away from getting on his knees to grovel. He’s supposed to be larger than life. Dick is supposed to be bright, loud, and always sure of himself and everyone around him. 

This display is making his breath catch in his chest and he would ask what made his brother like this except he knows exactly what it was: Jason died. Jason died and he came back to life and dared to show his face. 

Death affects more than the person who dies. Coming back to life changes more than the person who came back to life, but only as long as they find out and Dick has found out. 

Jason step-drags himself out of the elevator and Dick hesitates for a split second when he realizes they aren’t at the basement but at the resident's floor. The kid goes quiet and tightens his grip.

“Jason?” Dick reaches out for his arm and Jason puts on as much speed as possible with a human being attached to his leg. “Little Wing?” Dick’s footsteps follow close behind.

“Jason? What are we doing here?” Tim finally sounds worried as he looks at the rooms of his friends, clenching and unclenching with each one that they pass. Jason ignores both of them until he’s standing outside the kid’s door and opening it. “Jason? What are we doing at my room?” 

The room is a fucking warzone and he doesn’t know how anything could get done in here but he makes his way inside regardless because the bed does look clean. Miracle of miracles. When he’s standing by the bed he reaches down and forcefully yanks the kid up and nearly topples over when Tim lets go easily to just latch onto his arm. 

“Fucking hell kid!” He braces and gets himself standing steady on his own two feet before jerking himself free from Dick’s steadying hand again, “Don’t fucking do that shit unless you want to be flattened!” 

“What are we doing in my room?” Tim ignores him as he latches on like a barnacle. Dick is smothering a smile in his palm and Jason resists the childish urge to turn his back to him.

“You’re dead on your feet brat,” Jason struggles for a few seconds before jerking Tim off with a bit of force, “go the fuck to sleep.” He throws the kid onto the bed and watches with satisfaction as he bounces once, twice, and then holds him down as he tries to get back up.

“No, I’m fine! You can’t leave!” Now that the kid is horizontal Jason can tell his strength is leaving him as his body’s needs catch up to him, “I want to — I need to keep you —” 

“Go the fuck to sleep, Timbit,” The kid freezes and Jason has to fight not to do the same at the very casual way that just came out of his mouth, “You’re not doing shit in that condition. You fainted and then fell flat on your face.”

“I can… I can check on my friends and I can keep an eye on you to make sure you stay and I can talk to Bruce and I can check on the security systems again because you showed us that they can be better and then —” 

“And none of that. You need sleep. Leave all of that to Nightwing, Robin. Sleep.” And because apparently, all his plans are already in ruins and Jason is a weak weak person and the kid really is just a kid, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Dick’s smile vanishes as he watches from the side and the kid grasps desperately for Jason’s hand before changing course to his jacket sleeve and latching on.

“Do you promise? Jason? Do you promise?” 

“Yeah kid, I promise.” 

Timbit stares at him, reaches up to rip his mask off, heedless of the irritated red marks around his eyes now, and stares some more at Jason’s blank helmet. 

Then holds up a pinky finger. 

Jason stares blankly. 

“What?” 

“I want a pinky promise. A Robin Pinky Promise.” 

Jason’s hand spasms against Tim's chest because he had forgotten about that and his head feels like it just got cracked open again. Dick looks confused by them, lips quirked between a frown and a smile, but he’s not saying anything. A Robin Pinky Promise. Shit.

“No.”

“Then I don’t believe you. Let me up.” The kid starts struggling again and Jason is only managing to keep him down with years of training in pinning people because his head is repeating 'Robin Pinky Promise' and 'you can’t break it, it’s full of magic'. His head feels like it wants to crack open from this sudden memory of him making dozens of promises to dozens of scared children he’s saved as Robin.

“How the fuck do you know about the Robin Pinky Promise?” He can’t help the growl that edges into his voice. Those promises were important to those kids, they were meant to make them feel better and he didn’t do them with just anybody — that would take the magic away. And he knows he never made any promise with some kid from Bristol; they were all kids he saw during patrol he thought could use a promise someone wouldn’t break, no matter how small.

“You made me one once, a couple of years ago.” 

“I never made a promise to any kid from Bristol. I never patrolled Bristol.”

“What is this pinky promise?”

Tim and Jason both ignore Dick.

“We weren’t in Bristol. I was out taking pictures of Batman and Robin and I got stuck on some emergency stairs that broke. I was hanging off of it when you caught me and saved me.” He doesn’t remember this, but then again Jason has saved a lot of idiots from emergency stairs. 

“And this somehow led to me giving you a promise?”

“Well… my camera got smashed and I was kind of upset about it. You asked if my parents were going to be angry with me.” A scoff, “I said my parents weren’t around much… you asked what kinds of pictures I took and when I told you you asked to see some.” 

“So I gave you the promise to see your pictures?” He thinks he has a fuzzy memory of a promise with a snot faced kid on top of a roof. Of taking him down to try and look for something, an SD card maybe, among a wrecked pile of junk. 

“Yeah…”

“Okay. Well I’m not giving you a promise right now. So just go to sleep.”

“Then I want to switch my promise! I want to switch it to make you promise to stay!” The kid struggles to get his arm out and up to stick his pinky out again.

Dick isn’t even bothering to hide his smile anymore and Jason almost wishes his helmet was off so that the kid could see the face he was sending him.

“You can’t change your promise! It was a done deal! I gave you a promise and it was done! You can’t finesse a second one like that just because you met me a second time!” Jason tries to pin that arm back down and wrap it inside a blanket and make the kid into a burrito so tight he can’t escape.

“You never came to see my pictures at all though… you never came to finish the promise.” And Jason freezes at that letting the kid jerk his arm free of the half finished blanket burrito. That’s not right, he always followed through. The point of the promises were that he followed through no matter how small and he never promised anything so big that he couldn’t. 

That was the magic of it. He was making promises to kids who couldn’t expect anything of the world and showing them they could trust at least one person out there. He always followed through.

“You’re lying. I always did my promises, they were my Robin promises. I always did my Robin promises, no matter what.” The green is coming back because how dare this kid try to lie to Jason and try to pull this shit and —

“You died.” Dick snaps his head to Tim and straight back to Jason, wiped of all emotion. Jason himself doesn’t know what to feel but the Pit got swept away real quick. “I went back for a few nights after our promised date and figured something must have come up because even Batman wasn’t around. That’s okay. Things happen. Then Bruce Wayne comes back and Jason Todd has a funeral and… well.”

And so he never got his promise. Jason broke his promise because he went looking for a mother who sold him out to the Joker.

“Fuck.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fucking fine.” 

“Little Wing?” Dick sounds confused because he didn’t know about these promises which makes sense because Jason hadn’t even told Bruce about these promises, and Jason suddenly feels so weak he thinks he’s going to collapse.

“It’s not fucking fine. You had a promise and I broke it because I was being stupid. Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Tim does his best approximation of a shrug while he’s pinned and halfway wrapped, “But can I change my promise?”

Jason hesitates. People aren’t allowed to change their promises. Usually because if he’s just about to finish it and people decide they want to change them it just creates a world of problems. 

Of course, he’s also never broken a promise before. 

“You still got those pictures?”

Tim eyes him around irritated skin and those blue eyes threaten to flay him alive, “Yeah?”

“Well, I guess I still have a chance to see those then.” He holds out a hand with his pinky out, “And you get my very last Robin Pinky Promise… I’ll stay until you wake up, so go to sleep.” 

Dick shoves his face into his hands and Jason is not sure if he’s laughing at Jason for the pinky promise or crying but he’s just going to ignore him. The kid looks at Jason’s pinky and then up at Jason, struggling to make eye contact through the helmet, and smiles so bright it brings back a spotty memory of a kid with a face full of tears breathing —

“Robin.” Robin… just like that. Like Jason offered him the universe instead of a simple pinky promise. Tim jerks forward to latch his finger around Jason’s and shakes them up and down like a handshake. He remembers teasing a kid about shaking on it like real business-like adults and a flaming red face that blushed all the way from the neck to the eyes. 

This kid with his camera on the roof of a Crime Alley building.

“Go to sleep kid. I’ll be here.” 

Tim doesn’t fight him anymore and only sits up long enough to chuck his boots, gloves, and cape before snuggling down under his blanket. Jason doesn’t bother to hold him down or hover; he made a Robin promise, the kid is gonna sleep. Dick takes off his mask and glances between the two with confusion.

“Is someone going to explain this to me?”

“Explain what? The kids going to sleep, I’m staying until the kid wakes up, and then sometime in the future I’m gonna pop by and look at some pictures. End of story.” 

“Just like that? You’re getting Tim to sleep, and he's getting you to stay and visit, just like that? With a pinky promise? And what is this pinky promise anyway?”

“You’ve never done a pinky promise before Dickwing? Wow. Shocking.” Jason moves around the room turning off lamps and heads to the door, Dick trailing after him.

“This isn’t — you guys said Robin pinky promise but there’s no such thing!”

“Yes, there is.” Tim echoes along with Jason and Dick whips his head back and forth.

“Come on, let the kid sleep.” Jason moves to leave but Dick stays planted in the room.

“What the fuck is going on?” This is apparently his breaking point. Red Hood breaking into the Tower, dead brother being alive again, dead brother being Red Hood, the dead brother having apparently tried to attack the new Robin in a fit of Lazarus fueled rage. This is what pushes him over the edge: the Robin Pinky Promise. 

“It’s just something Robin used to do with kids sometimes. A promise filled with magic that he can’t break.” Tim the betrayer. Dick looks straight at Jason, unnervingly straight into his eyes, and Jason blushes right up to his roots. 

“A Robin promise filled with magic he can’t break, huh?” There’s a smile growing on Dick’s face and Jason finds himself fidgeting with his knife sheathes. No one flinches or anything. Goddamnit. 

“I was a kid.” 

“You’re still a kid, technically.” Dick looks sad for a split second before smiling wide again, “That’s so cute though! I love it! Why did you never tell anyone?”

“That’s not the point of the fucking promises asshole. They’re for the kids, not for you to make fun of.” Jason finds himself clutching at the handles of his knives and has to breathe through the instinct of drawing them. “They’re for the kids and if you even try to say something about it I’ll carve your tongue out myself.” 

Tim is behind Dick looking an inch from sleep but staring at Jason with all that hero worship again despite the bloody threat towards Dick just now.

"Robin… I'm so glad you're back."

"I'm not Robin anymore, kid. Go to sleep."

"Maybe… but you're my Robin." And with that the kid closes his eyes and relaxes, leaving Jason standing there with a mantra of 'I'm so glad you're back… you're my Robin.'

"Ah… I see." Dick's voice snaps him out of his spiral and Jason looks over to see Dick fiddling with his mask between his fingers and softly smiling between the two of them. "I won't say anything about it. I'm not about to make fun of this."

The grip on Jason's knives eases and he continues his trek out the door, turning the light off whether Dick is fully out of the room or not. The hurried footsteps and muttered curses makes Jason smirk and close the door in Dick's face before pushing his weight onto it.

"Jason!" Dick's whispered yell brings a chuckle out of him and he steps away, causing Dick to stagger out. Slapping him with one hand and closing the door shut with the other Dick pouts at him and Jason just bites back more laughter.

Dick opens his mouth to say something when all of a sudden the alarms are blaring — apparently the system finally worked its way through Jason's bug. Goddamnit. The Titans should be asleep for a while longer but this means the League members will be notified which means Batman.

Jason and Dick eye each other and Jason takes a step towards the zetas before freezing. He just made a promise, a Robin Pinky Promise, to stay until the kid woke up. He already broke one to Timbit he doesn't want to break another… but if he stays too long he's risking getting arrested by the League.

Fuck.

The alarms are blaring around them and Dick is looking indecisive, already pushing his mask back onto his face.

"Jason. You need to go. I'll talk to Bruce but you need to go, if the other League members come there's no telling what will happen." This… Dick is letting him go. This was not in his plans at all. He never once imagined this. Getting caught and being let go. But it doesn't matter.

"I can't."

"Jason, you need to go!" Dick tries to push him away but he plants his feet.

"I can't! I made a promise to the kid I would be here when he woke up! I made a Robin promise and I already broke one to him once, I'm not doing it again!" Dick looks confused and angry and Jason doesn't care to explain the small details of the magic of keeping a promise to children who never had enough. Never enough shelter, food, mercy… never enough love. Tim is a child who never had enough love who needs the magic of a promise.

"Jason! I'll explain it to him! He's probably awake anyway from this racket! Go! You're wasting time and you're going to see him again anyway!"

"I'm not going until I see him awake!" Jason pushes past Dick, who screams in frustration, to reach for the door that swings open by itself before Jason can touch it. Tim stands on the other side fully outfitted again with a mask hastily slapped on 

"Jason? What are you still doing here? Go!" Tim pushes at Jason and Jason lets himself get pushed away now that he’s seen the kid up on his feet. He swipes a hand out and through Tim’s hair, feeling him freeze from the affection, and smiles down at the kid behind the helmet.

"I promised I would stay until you woke up Timbo, wanted to make sure you were. Gotta run now. See you around for those pictures, Robin." Just before Jason turns to sprint for the zetas he sees Tim smile the widest smile he's seen since he started talking to the kid. Catches a glimpse of him bringing a hand up to his hair to grip his head.

He turns to Dick, "See ya 'round, Big Wing." And sprints off. 

No one follows him or tries to stop him except to shout, "I'm holding you to that, Jay!" At his back.

He slides into a zeta tube and just manages to type in his code and feels the hair raising tingling sensation that lets him know the zeta is about to beam him, when he hears multiple people beaming into the tubes close by. Right when he starts to phase out he sees the Trinity and, of all people, Hal Jordan walk by him and freeze before whipping around all at once to stare at him. 

He's raising a hand to jauntily wave at them and just finally phasing all the way through when Batman reaches for his batarangs, Jordan sends out a hand construct to grab him, and good old Wonder Woman and Superman dart off to check the perimeters.

He phases back in a telephone booth in a back alley in the Business District back home in Gotham. Going to a motorcycle he has stashed nearby Jason hightails it out of there. He has to go to grounds and stay out of sight for a while. 

He has pictures to see that he's a couple years late for already. He's not about to see them in a League prison cell or, even worse, Arkham.

He thinks of 'I forced my way in,' 'you're his hero,' and 'I'm glad you're alive… you're my Robin' and thinks of heros and curses.

Maybe there is something about Robin's. Something cursed about those colors and that name that Jason will never say out loud and will carve anyone up who says so. But there's something to say for Robin's and heros, he thinks. 

Dick was his Robin, his hero. Apparently he was a decent enough Robin to be Tim’s. Good enough for Red Hood to not dampen that at all, at least. Good enough for a Robin promise to work even after he's died. 

Heros and inadequacies. Maybe they go hand in hand. Maybe he just has to try harder to keep the kid alive. 

He revs his motorcycle and takes a sharp turn, lets the wind take his laughter. 

He's got a lot of work ahead of him.