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A little known fact about the FBI’s very own Neal Caffrey was that, at one point, he had grown up in the city of Gotham.
Given he had left years ago, and the person he would’ve called a friend from there was not only taken away from him by being adopted out of the world they’d lived in but fully into death, he hadn’t had much reason to return there for a long time.
Let alone be able to with his radius.
He had no regrets over leaving Gotham behind, and having no clue what went on in that likely cursed city, until one day, when they had very little to do at work, Jones decided he might as well watch the news out loud.
“As long as you turn it off if any actual work comes in,” Peter let him.
“I’d do that even without you telling me to.” Jones agreed.
The background noise of the update of Superman apparently having saved the Canadian Prime Minister’s cat from a tree was decent background noise while filling out forgotten paperwork, Neal had to admit, but then, it switched to a press conference from one Bruce Wayne.
Neal couldn’t help but scowl.
Peter shot a look over at Neal, and he gave the most innocent look he could.
Sure, he had stolen from the Wayne’s before, allegedly, but nothing Peter could prove, and besides- after Jason, Bruce deserved it. He hadn’t even invited Jason’s friends from the alley to his funeral, so he felt perfectly justified in taking a few pens, and perhaps some more things he wouldn’t admit to even in his thoughts.
“…. and so-“ Bruce’s tinny voice came out of FBI-purchased cheap speakers, “I am delighted to announce that, five years ago the family was reunited with someone we thought we’d lost, and finally, it has been deemed safe that we can publicly share this news.”
He looked closely at the screen, wondering what the hell the man was going on about.
The rest of the room looked over in curiosity too, paperwork they were doing mostly to fill the time entirely forgotten.
“I would love to reintroduce my son to the world, who we thought we’d lost, Jason Todd-Wayne.”
A man stepped forward, taller and broader than Neal remembered, his eyes green instead of the blue Neal had seen so often as a kid, and a thin scar stretching up the side of his face towards a flash of white in his hair.
But. It was Jason.
What. The. Hell.
“Hello.” And the Jason on the screen waved.
“Wow.” Diana said. “I can’t believe Dick’s said nothing about this for five years.”
“You know a Wayne?” Jones hissed over to Diana, scandalised that he hadn’t been privy to this before now.
“Neal?” Peter asked him, some concern in his voice, half standing over him.
He hadn’t noticed Peter approach.
“Peter.” Neal responded.
“Are you okay?” Peter sounded concerned.
“I’m fine?” Neal responded.
“It’s just- well-“ Peter gestured down to Neal’s hand, where he had been holding a pen.
Had being the operative word there. He’d apparently gripped it hard enough it was in a few pieces now, and the ink over his hand.
He hadn’t noticed that happening.
“Ah. Well, the pens are cheap here, can barely withstand anything!” He joked, trying to shake off his shock as Jason Todd being alive.
“Neal…”
“I’ll go wash this off, before the ink sets too bad.” He stood up, taking the opportunity to escape.
---
Neal tried his best to ignore his questions over whatever the hell had happened with Jason Todd.
He managed a week, although, he would like credit that he would have managed longer if they weren’t literally heading to Wayne Industries New York offices after an incredibly expensive painting had been stolen off the CEO’s mostly unused office walls, and had remained unnoted as missing until he actually came to visit.
It wasn’t his fault!
It also wasn’t his fault for the missing painting, but he wasn’t sorry about that one.
“Anyone remember who the CEO actually is right now?” Jones asked in the elevator on the way up.
They all looked over at his strangely.
“It keeps changing hands, and then there was that co-CEO period, and they all have the same surname. They just said CEO on the report too!”
“It’s Bruce Wayne, currently,” Neal said in the most neutral voice he could manage.
He apparently failed, given that the looks were now directed in his direction rather than Jones’.
“Neal, is there anything you want to admit to that might make meeting Bruce Wayne awkward? Hypothetically, of course.”
“Hmmmm…. Hypothetically- of course not, any problems we have are purely on his side.”
Diana opened her mouth to ask a question, right as the elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open.
---
Neal had only spoken with Bruce twice in person before, and neither was for a long time.
However, he had heard a lot more than that about the man from Jason.
“When did you last come into your office?” Peter asked.
“Why, this morning!” Bruce answered, brightly, and as if absolutely no brain cells existed within his head.
He could practically feel Peter supressing a sigh. They’d been going for barely five minutes and everyone wanted to leave.
“When did you last come into your office before today?” Peter clarified.
“You know, I think last week.”
“Last week?”
“No, actually, that was when I was in Gotham, with Jason. Have I told you about my son yet?”
“Maybe later, Mr Wayne. Now, when was the last time, before today, you were in this office.”
“Last month? No, that was when I visited the Tokyo office… hmm…. Perhaps I should ask my secretary? I’m sure she would know.”
“Mr Wayne, please-“
“Please stop acting dumb, Mr Wayne,” Neal interrupted, letting a slight amount of Gotham accent slip into his speech for that alone, before returning to the more neutral speech patterns he’d learned, “I can tell it’s on purpose.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly at Neal, as if trying to place him.
Unfortunately for Bruce, Neal was still annoyed at him.
“Have we met before, Mr….? I don’t know what you mean. ” Bruce questioned, fishing for a name.
“Perhaps. But, even if I hadn’t I would know better than to expect someone who passed two years of medical school to act like this.”
Now that was some information that although technically public knowledge, wasn’t widely known enough to even feature on his Wikipedia page.
“Perhaps I bribed my way through,” Bruce suggested.
“Careful, now, that would be a crime. Now, I believe you were being asked something by my colleague here?”
Peter was definitely going to talk to him about this later on, but, as Bruce slightly uncomfortably began to actually cooperate, he still felt like he won.
---
Surprisingly, as they went to look around, ‘splitting up and looking for clues’, as Diana whose son Theo had recently discovered the joys of Scooby Doo put it, he was pulled aside not by Peter, but by Bruce.
“You really must tell me where we’ve met before.”
“Oh, in Gotham, I assume. That must be where you meet most people.”
“Have I met you at a gala before? With how you dress, that’s the most likely.”
“I’ve never been to a gala before in my life, Mr Wayne.”
“Can you at least give me a clue?”
“I would have to like you a lot more than I do for that.”
He was so glad Peter was out of earshot for that.
A laugh startled him.
Not everyone was out of hearing range then.
Then he recognised the laugh.
It was Jason.
Jason was there.
“He’s got you there, old man.” A familiar voice- that sounded older than last time he’d heard it, and wasn’t that a wonderful thing, rang through from beyond Bruce.
He couldn’t see Jason.
Completely ignoring whatever it was Bruce was starting to say, he darted around the man. Jason’s face changed to one of surprise as they made eye contact and he marched over.
“You idiot.” Neal told him. “I thought you were dead. For years.”
“Danny?” Jason replied, off guard.
“It’s Neal, now,” He quickly corrected, and for the second time that day, the Gotham accent began to show through. “But- what the fuck, Jason. Everyone missed you. Where have you been?”
“Aww, you missed me?”
“Shut up. That is not what you should be taking from that.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“There’s a missing painting. I’m here with the FBI.”
“Ah. The painting.” Jason painted his face with the image of innocence, and Neal had a distinct idea of who might have taken it.
Neal nodded.
“The FBI though? I see you’ve gone down the straight and narrow path then, disappointing. First my brother becomes a cop, then you?”
Neal sighed, and then hiked up his trouser leg, “Ankle monitor. See. I’m a Criminal Informant. I ain’t a fed.”
Jason gave a short laugh. “Only you, Da- Neal.”
“So, what happened, Jay?”
“That’s a secret. What happened for you to end up here?”
“I’m not saying that where the FBI can hear.”
“So, wanna swap stories and catch up later. There’s some things I’ve been told are classified and can’t, but ya know.“
“Huh?”
“Oh, maybe over coffee, or dinner, or something, Your choice, I’ll pay.”
“Jason Peter Todd, are you suggesting a date?” Neal asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
Neal spluttered for a few seconds, and Jason smirked at him with the same mischief he had when he was a kid who’d just managed to get his hands on a bag of lollipops. “Jason, you can’t just come back from the dead and ask me out on a date.”
“Yes, I can.” Jason looked behind Neal, and remembered that Bruce Wayne was there. “Anyway, I gotta go, for now. Call me later.”
“What? How?”
Jason waved Neal’s phone in his hand, and tossed it back to him, screen open on a new contact. Neal hadn’t even noticed Jason filching it from him, let alone managing to unlock it and add his number.
He was losing his touch, dammit.
That, or Jason had learned some very interesting skills in his years legally dead.
“Jason, who was that?” He heard Bruce Wayne say, as Jason led him away.
---
Unfortunately, he did have to work, meaning he couldn’t stare at the contact in his phone until they were on the way back to the office.
Even more unfortunately, being squished between Diana and Jones in the backseat of Peter’s car, the evidence getting the shotgun seat, meant they could both look over his shoulder to see what he was doing.
“Is that Jason Todd’s phone number?” Diana asked.
“For the case?” Jones asked.
“No!” He amended his statement as Diana levelled a stare at him, “Yes.”
“So…?”
“It’s not for the case. It’s for … personal reasons.”
“Wait- you got a Wayne’s number for personal reasons?” Jones asked.
Diana nodded in approval. “Damn, that’s an achievement.“
“It’s just a number!”
Peter sighed from the front seat. “Diana, Jones, please don’t encourage him. Neal, remember to be safe please.”
“I will, Peter.”
“So- are you going to send him a message?” Jones asked. “Need any help?”
“I can send a text perfectly well on my own!... but yes.”