Chapter Text
Tim sits atop a gargoyle in Upper East Side and chews mechanically on a burger and fries. His mind churns as he stares out across the bridges at Devil’s Briar.
What had once been the festering heart of Gotham’s underbelly in Crime Alley and The Bowery is now a post-apocolyptic nightmare forest courtesy of Poison Ivy. She and a laundry list of villains had taken the whole island to themselves during the mass prison break at Arkham two years ago.
Nearly a hundred villains had poured into the streets of Gotham, and the entire city had been an all out war zone for months on end. A three way battle between The Joker, The Penguin, and Black Mask was nearly resolved just before The Riddler and Scarecrow had entered the mix at the behest of Two Face. Once that had been mostly thwarted both the Court of Owls and the League made a move and ended up fighting each other, the remnants of the other gangs, and the Bats all at once.
By the time anyone had the resources to do something about Ivy’s gardening project, she had already become deeply entrenched with a deadly alliance of other villains.
It doesn’t help that there are so many unknowns. Dozens of Arkham inmates, some rather powerful, are still unaccounted for. Deadshot, Manbat, Killer Croc, Zsasz, Bane. Any or all of them could be holed up in there with who knows who else. And because of Ivy’s powers, they ostensibly have all the food and water they could ever want. This is not a war that could be won by siege. Not that the city isn't trying anyways.
Red Robin is startled out of his thoughts by Oracle’s voice, “Double R, I’ve got some interesting news for you. The Red Hood just exited Devil’s Briar about five minutes ago and hailed me.”
“He’s still alive?”
“And part of Ivy’s little gang to boot! I don’t know how he’s managed not to shoot them all by now. Then again maybe that’s what this is about. He’s got a message for you, and only you. Damn near begged me not to tell any of the other Bats.”
“And you agreed to that?”
“More or less. Figured I’d send the message and let you decide. He’s nearly unarmed though, so there’s that.”
“Wonders never cease. Not that a brick wall like him is ever really unarmed. Let’s hear this message, then. I’ll probably regret it, but due diligence and all that.”
”Cynic.”
“Realist.”
She sighs, and then continues “He asked me to tell you to meet him on the roof of the Harrowood Apartment complex on 47th, and to explicitly tell you that you’re welcome to bring a friend as backup so long as they aren’t a Bat.”
Well now, that was certainly odd. Nearly unarmed, out of his territory, advanced warning, a meet location so close to Nightwing’s route that he could have backup within minutes, and an utterly unprecedented offer to bring in an outside ally. His paranoia urges him to read it as a trap, but something seems off.
Tim hums in thought and licks the last vestiges of mustard off of his gloves.
It’s just too much. Too many cards stacked in Tim’s favour. Too big a risk to take for Jason, whose paranoia sometimes outranks even Bruce’s. Either he has a serious ace up his sleeve with a serious time limit that necessitates a bait like this (highly unlikely), or…
“Oracle has there been any sign of our more, shall we say, subtle enemies involving themselves lately? Like the League or Court?”
“Nope. They’ve all got their fingers back in the usual pies, been pretty quite otherwise. Why, you have a hunch?”
“Not really, just running through possibilities.” He gets a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgment in response.
So, not them and it really can’t be the work of anyone else he’s aware of. Jason never has taken kindly to orders and it is very difficult to put a man as violent and unattached as him under duress. I mean what could they do, threaten to dull his favorite knife? Dunk his best pistol in mud?
Tim spares a small smile for that mental image and then frowns as he considers that whatever brought Jason out here of his own volition must be big. It usually took nothing short of an apocalypse to drag him into a possible team up, especially a self initiated one.
But then why just him?
Sensing that he isn’t going to get anywhere without additional information he taps his earpiece, “You still there O?”
“Sure am.”
“I’m going to make a few calls, see if one of the speedsters can come in for a minute. Don’t tell the other Bats unless things go south, and let Hood know that I’ll be there with a friend in thirty.”
“Good luck then. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Thanks. Red Robin out.”
Tim slips off of the gargoyle and down to the street bellow, dialing a number as he goes.
Halfway through the first ring a very high pitched voice answers, “Whoahihey,RedRobinohmanit’sbeenawhilesinceIheardfromyouwhat’sup?okaywaitslowingdown slowing down, and we have touch down ladies and gentlemen! Sorry, on the treadmill, you know how it is. So, what is up Small Rob?!”
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” He asks as he walks back into the burger shop and signals for two more burgers and thing of large fries.
“As soon as Rob stops being Rob!”
He laughs, “I want to argue that technically he's been Nightwing rather than Rob for years now but I guess I can live with that.”
“Good, cause you don’t have a choice! So, whats up? I kinda don’t feel like this is a spur of the moment movie night invite.”
“It’s not, I need a favor. Can you come to Gotham for a minute?” He looks around and gives a wave to the starstruck young man trying to be inconspicuous while filming him on his phone, “I’d prefer not to do this over the phone. Meet me by Third and Weston?”
“Oh. Won’t Batm- Ah you called me cause I’m fast enough not to be noticed, cool gottcha, be there in like five minutes!”
Every single day Tim thanked the universe for Wally West, one of the few people fast enough to keep up with his thought process.
He collects the food and wanders over to the meeting point just in time for a red and yellow blur to come to a screeching halt in front of him.
Tim holds out the bag to him, “Food?”
“Oh absolutely yes, you are the greatest!”
“Is food the reason I’m the greatest then?”
“Yup!” He responds through a mouthful of fries, “So, what’d’ya need?”
“I’m hoping you can do some scouting and then act as backup for me. I’ve got a meeting in twenty-five minutes and I need to know if there’s anything happening within the surrounding buildings in ten.” It really wasn’t that far away, Tim could easily make it there in fifteen minutes, even without his bike, “Center point is the roof of Harrowood Apartments- don’t engage with anyone, I just need to know who’s there and what kind of situation I’m going into.”
“Yeah no problem dude, but like I gotta ask, who’s this meeting with? I mean most people don’t warrant the whole ‘bring in friends for a last minute super recon’ thing.”
“It’s the Red Hood.”
He tilts his head in thought for half a second, “Oh! You mean that nutz-o with the duffle bag full of heads who tried to kill you and shot a rocket launcher at a building in the middle of downtown?!”
“Yup. That’s the one. He’s set up every detail of this meeting to make me feel safe, and that’s a just a horrible sign!”
“Okay like you’re not wrong here but also I feel like it’s kinda a bad thing that your gut reaction to reassurance is suspicion.”
“It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you!”
Wally rolls his eyes, “Okay you want the whole block or just like the immediate buildings around it?”
“How long will the whole block take?”
“Oh like two minutes.”
“Whole block then.”
The blur whips away from him and Tim takes those minutes to get a little closer to the meeting point. Then the blur is back and saying, “Okay there’s nothing over there but that one guy on the roof, and he doesn’t even have any guns except the muscle kinda guns because hot damn is he JACKED like seriously what the shit?! Is he roided out on venom or something because he’s seriously looking like Bane’s emo sad boy cousin.”
He wheezes, “Bane’s emo sad boy cousin!?”
“Yeah man he’s got the whole half his head shaved, other half long with the silly white streak, moping over there with his big knives. I mean just break out the eyeliner and I think MCR will start spontaneously playing in the background.”
Tim choked on his own laughter, “Oh man you are so right! He probably sings Heathens to himself in the mirror while writing ‘I H8 Batman’ on his arm in sharpie.”
“I double dog dare you to tell him that to his face.”
“Fuck no! I don’t wanna get stabbed today, thanks!”
“Like you haven’t fought bigger guys than him,” Wally just laughs at the withering glare Tim points at him and moves on, “So, how do you wanna do this? Good cop bad cop? Stand behind ya making funny faces? Spin my arm real fast to make your cape billow all dramatically?”
“Actually I’d like you to stick to the building behind me. Boring, I know, but something tells me this is meant to be at least a sort of private conversation.”
“Gottcha! Race you there?”
Tim gives him a good natured middle finger, and starts swinging to the meeting point. As he goes he begins calculating the best angle for a dramatic entrance, something to show that he wasn’t easy pickings, or maybe something stealthy, to keep vulnerabilities to a minimum. But when he finally catches sight of his destination he hesitates.
Jason looks… Miserable. Like a half drowned cat, waiting for their owner to come back and finish the job. Or a lab rat in the middle of a psychological experiment on learned helplessness. Tim watches a man twice his size with a rap sheet longer than his arm fold in on himself like a small and fragile child. It rattles him more than he’d like to admit.
He changes his trajectory to land obvious and nonthreatening on the opposite corner of the roof. He sees Jason jerk up and start scanning the roofs around him. Deciding to have mercy, Tim says, “Speedster, in the building behind me.”
He gives a terse nod and a silent moment stretches between them. Just when Tim is about to ask what this is all about, something seems to shift and Jason nearly shouts,
“¡Lo siento! Lo siento mucho. I fucked up, I know. You were innocent, and I never should have brought you into it, but instead I took all the most vile fucked up shit that ever happened to me and tried to inflict it on you, and I can’t ever do anything to make that okay! Sé no merezco su perdón, pero quiero intentar hacer esto mejor. I don’t- I don’t know that I can possibly make it up to you, but I have to try at least. And if all I can do for you at this point is fuck off and never talk to you again, ¡lo haré! I’m not saying- I’m not trying to make you forgive me, I just, I dunno...”
Jason sort of trails off, ending with a nearly whispered, “Lo siento.”
The weight of the moment crashes down over Tim like a tidal wave, leaving everything to hang muted in false stillness for a moment.
Ever since he was ten, he’d dreamed of getting to meet Jason, dreamed of getting to speak to Robin. That dream died when Tim almost did. For a while afterwards he’d dreamed of an apology like this, dreamed the dream of Jason returning to the fold along with Bruce and Dick, but that faded far quicker for him than it did for them. He left all hope of something like this happening in the ashes of a photo album years ago. To have it now is a wound torn open and a glimmer of light in darkness.
Was this even something he wanted anymore? He didn’t have the wide eyed naivete he used to. He can see all too clearly now what kind of a burning wreck Jason is. This wouldn’t be some simple happy ending, and all told it might become nothing more than another knife twisting in his gut.
Tim swallows hard and wills his voice to stay steady, “You seem sincere. I don’t know what I want from you. And I don’t know that I’m willing to give you a second chance. But I do want to consider it. I want time to consider it. How can I contact you?”
“Claro, of course, just,” pulls out a piece of paper and scribbles something on it, then extents his left hand out as far as he can reach to give it to Tim, “Give this to anyone at the Briar’s entrance closest to what used to be Robinsville and they’ll come get me, or just carry along a message.”
Tim takes a few steps forwards and takes it with his own left hand.
Then Jason says, “I’m going to, uh, go now.” And bolts off in the direction of the Briar, leaping off the side of the building and grappling away with a frantic lack of hesitation.
A moment later Tim is joined on the roof by Wally, “Sooo, what the fuck was that?! Good? Bad? Should I be worried?”
“Honestly? I have no fucking clue.”