Chapter Text
In a way, he guesses, Tim has always been destined to be a Bat. Maybe destined is the wrong word. Maybe determined. He was predestined to be a Bat, but he was the one doing the destining.
He’s not like the Robins that came before him—nothing horrible shoved him out of his normal life and into a strange new one. He had always been hurtling towards this world, scratching and clawing to get in before it finally happened.
Maybe, more accurately, something horrible DID happen to place Tim here. His hero died.
But nothing happened to Tim, not for a long while, and he’s always been aware of that. Dick had to lose everything. Jason didn’t have anything. But Tim? Tim had everything, and he kept everything, and he still became Robin.
For years and years, the only thing Tim ever lost was Jason.
xxx
Once Bruce comes back and Jason re-emerges from his safe house, they all reach some sort of tentative peace.
Bruce is upset, obviously, and Bruce being upset always just reads as Bruce being pissed. Tim can’t help but remember how ruthless he’d been right when he lost Jason, how angry, how borderline feral. He’s ruthless now, too, but it doesn’t touch on what they all know it could be, and mostly they all try to stay out of the way while he works it out of his system.
Behind closed doors, they all try to guess what happened, why Bruce is so angry and Jason is suddenly so quiet. Tim knows, is the thing. Tim knows, and he feels like he’s not supposed to, like Jason had made a mistake, like maybe Jason had never meant to tell him.
He can’t get it out of his head, is the thing. It keeps rattling around in there like some awful song, or like the way his parents insults or Bruce’s critiques used to get lodged in his head and fixed there until he found something to knock the words out.
“I was a child prostitute,” Jason had said so flatly, as if this wasn’t the worst thing Tim’s ever heard, as if this didn’t force Tim to look at the person he used to worship and imagine him in indescribable pain.
Tim hadn’t known how to respond, not at first, because he’d been trying to shut his brain down, just for once, trying to keep his analytical brain from assessing all the things that could have happened to Jason. He’d landed on the thing he knew mattered most: Dick.
“I won’t tell Dick,” he’d promised, and he meant it, and he could see in Jason’s eyes that this mattered.
In the aftermath, though, watching Dick mope around and nearly fall to pieces trying to understand what he was missing, Tim selfishly wished he’d never made the promise. He wished he could tell Dick everything, because he wished that Dick could hug him tightly and tell him it was okay, that Jason was okay, that they weren’t going to let any bad things happen again. Dick was always good at shit like that, and Tim…
He made a promise, though. And he’s…he’s tired of being at war with Jason. Just once, he wants to get this right.
xxx
He saw Jason once, at a gala. Just once, but it was enough. Normally kids weren’t at these things, but this was a fundraiser for children, and so Jason and Dick were both there and Tim’s parents had dragged him along, too. He felt like an accessory—proof, maybe, that his parents cared about children, that they were aware children existed, that they had something humanizing about them. Ten minutes in, though, they seemed to forget he was there—or maybe they thought they’d checked him in at the coat room—and he was free to wander, slipping between the adults and trying to catch sight of Bruce Wayne, Batman.
He saw them there: Dick and Jason, tucked against a pillar, whispering furiously about something that kept making Dick break out in a grin. It seemed so obvious that Tim felt like the whole room must see it, must be able to tell that they were in the presence of Nightwing and Robin. Jason barely looked older than Tim, Tim was sure of it. This was the kid that could bring grown men down, and Tim still felt like a nuisance at a gala.
Tim desperately wanted to run up and say something—I know, maybe, I know who you are—but it sounded like a threat, even to his ears, and he wandered what Batman did to people who threatened his identity at parties.
He didn’t actually want to say “I know,” though. It felt hollow. Maybe, actually, what he wanted to say was something more like “let me in.” He couldn’t articulate it, though, and he felt a little breathless being able to see them like this, so human, with no need to be hidden.
Dick nudged Jason in the shoulder, and suddenly they were both looking at Tim, Dick’s mouth still parted in a laugh that Tim couldn’t hear. Jason’s face twisted irritably, and he rolled his eyes.
Tim flinched back, and suddenly he was running into Bruce Wayne, bigger than life and with a martini in hand. Bruce chuckled, his laugh parodying Dick’s, and he put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Watch out, kiddo,” he said lightly, voice completely devoid of any growl, and Tim nodded mutely as Bruce brushed past.
When he turned, Jason and Dick were gone. Tim wouldn’t talk to Bruce again for over a year.
xxx
Tim gets the concept, of course, that maybe Jason doesn’t like being surveilled. And he gets… look, for awhile, it was a safety issue, wasn’t it? A murderous crime lord with a deep anger towards and personal vendetta against the Bat family was running around Gotham.
If TIM could know where Red Hood was, he could breathe easier, knowing no one was going to accidentally run into a feral Jason, a Jason that Tim still had scars from. But then, as Jason slowly reintegrated into their lives and no one was afraid to be alone in a room with him anymore, it morphed into something else.
At first, it was curiosity. Where did Jason go? But as Tim started to learn where Red Hood was spending his time, the need to track Jason was tinged with something else, with a little bit of anxiety. (Maybe a little bit of concern, who could tell anymore.)
Because Jason…Jason isn’t like the rest of them. Jason is going home to empty safe houses and canned foods. Jason is leaving the Cave to go have a turf war. Jason is facing Black Mask without them, all the time. So, yeah. Tim keeps an eye on him.
It takes him days to forget the focus that was on Jason’s face as he contorted his body to give himself stitches, never even thinking to call one of them. Tim doesn’t like Jason, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t want that.
And, yeah. Maybe Tim watched him too closely. There’s one week of terror in which everyone—Dick, Bruce, fucking Stephanie—lectured Tim, but, to be honest, none of it really landed until Tim and Jason sat in Jason’s safe house together and Jason finally confessed where Bruce was.
It hits Tim in waves, in the weeks after. Jason needs people to listen to what he tells them to do, of course he does. When Jason says stop, he needs them to stop. When Jason tries to leave a room, he need to be allowed to leave. Jason isn’t Tim. Tim isn’t an idiot, he’s always known this. But it means something different, now, and Tim knows he’s fucked up.
And it’s all…it’s all so tentative, isn’t it? And fragile? And Damian thinks they’re fucked, and Tim can’t fucking stand it, this idea that every family he’s apart of has to eventually rip itself to pieces, so… he’s trying.
He’s trying. And that means that he stays out of it when Dick nearly has a meltdown about Jason, and he stays out of it when Dick and Jason spend a few minutes alone on a rooftop and then Dick seems calmer again. And he’s trying, so that means that when Jason stops talking to them for a week, as he often does, Tim resists the urge to sneak into his safe house. And Tim is TRYING, and so that means he doesn’t track Jason every day, he just does it once every eight days, like Tim does with all of their nearby allies.
And on the eighth day, Tim calls Stephanie, and he tries to stay calm.
“I was SLEEPING. WHAT do you WANT?” Her voice is still fuzzy with sleep, and he takes a breath to steady himself.
“Hey, Steph. When was the last time you talked to Jason?”
xxx
Tim is thirteen years old, and Robin is gone.
Robin has been gone before, of course. Dick Grayson moved out and there was a quiet space, with no Robin, until a new Robin showed up, vibrant and alive.
Now, though, there’s no Robin, and something is bad.
And Tim feels like…well, he feels like he’s lost something important. Because he’s been watching this Robin—it’s Jason, he knows it’s Jason, but he always thinks of him as Robin—since the day he showed up.
He was a different Robin than Dick, but Tim loved him all the same, and he used to look back over the pictures he’d taken every morning, trying to memorize the way this Robin moved.
And now this Robin is gone, and in some awful, perverse way, Tim needs to know what happened. Did he die alone? Was he scared? Was someone there to tell him it was okay?
Tim has gotten to see every part of Jason’s journey, except for this, and he feels like…he feels like he’s lost a friend. The world feels lonelier than it used to.
xxx
“When’s the last time you saw Jason?” He asks, trying to remain calm. Stephanie is Jason’s favorite, everyone knows that. If Jason is annoyed with them and just going dark, their best bet will be that he’s talked to her.
There’s a pause on the other end—he thinks he hears her sit up. When she speaks, it’s sharply, like she’s answering an order. “Last Thursday. 5:30 am. He was headed back to his to sleep.”
Tim nods. Six days ago. “Okay,” he says, still calm. He feels his heart skip a little, eyes fixed in the screen in front of him. “Okay. Okay okay okay.”
“…Tim?” Stephanie asks, worry already evident.
“Steph,” he whispers. “I can’t find him.”
“What do you mean?” She snaps immediately, and he can hear her moving, getting out of bed and getting dressed.
“He’s not on any surveillance footage, not for days.” He inhales again. “I can’t find him.”
“Call Barbara. Right now. I’ll call Dick.” There’s a pause. “Have you told B?”
“Not yet,” he says, because he had been hoping someone would tell him he was overreacting.
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll meet you at the Manor. I…if Barbara…”
“If she can’t find him,” he says, voice tight, “I’ll send out the alert.”
“I’m on my way,” she says, and then the phone line clicks off.
A five minute call with Barbara confirms what he already knows: they can’t find him. No one can.
xxx
The ghost of Jason presides over the Cave as surely as if he was actually there, watching with that irritated look on his face while Tim tries to take up his old name.
The first time Tim saw the memorial, he had felt compelled to stare, to get as close as he could without touching the glass, his breath caught in his throat.
“A good soldier,” he whispered, and somewhere behind him, Dick huffed.
“Except he wasn’t that good of a soldier, was he? Because he was a fifteen year old boy, not some fucking Marine.” This was directed at Bruce, who stoutly ignored him. Dick gave Tim a look that Tim found indecipherable, something thoughtful and sorry and strange. He placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Jason was my brother,” he said lowly, and Tim nodded. Tim knew that, could remember so clearly the way they’d looked standing next to each other at the gala. “He was…he was the best. But I’m…I’m gonna help train you.”
Tim wouldn’t be Dick’s brother; he knew that. Because Tim HAD parents, and Tim HAD a home, and…he thinks about the emptiness of his house, thinks about the way Dick had laughed at a joke Jason said. That wasn’t for Tim, he told himself. All Tim could be was Robin.
xxx
Bruce hears the words “Jason’s missing” and immediately leaves in the Batmobile, a gruff “comms are on. Tell me what you see” before he speeds out.
It’s pretty clear that most of them are ready to follow, but Tim’s still scanning all cameras, anywhere, for any sign, the facial recognition software spreading throughout the country. Dick isn’t here yet, but he’s rushing from Bludhaven, and Tim wants him to be here so badly.
Barbara lays a hand on his shoulder, very gently. Her voice is tense. “Let me man surveillance,” she says. “That’s my job. You? Tell us what to do.”
He swallows, nodding. “Okay,” he whispers. He wished Bruce hadn’t left. “Batman is gonna do whatever it is that he’s doing, so we work without him. Keep him informed at every possible second, but we…we strike alone. I—I’ll stay here be coordinate until Nightwing is here. Oracle, I want you scanning for Red Hood but also Black Mask, Riddler, and Joker. Spoiler and Black Bat, I want you at all known locations. Safe houses, centers, all of them. Look for anything. Signal, Robin, I want you on the streets. Signal, you start in the Narrows. Talk to everyone—talk to the kids. They always know—Hood takes care of the kids. They might know something. Robin, I want you in the Arkham District. Work towards Signal. Surveillance only; don’t engage without backup. When Nightwing gets here, we’ll…when Nightwing gets here, we should have already located him. But if not, we’ll join Signal in the Narrows.”
They all follow orders quickly and easily, and in seconds, the Cave is quiet again, and even the comms are silent, no chatter or jokes to fill in the gaps.
Tim can’t help it—he glances back to where the memorial used to be. Barbara shakes her head. “This isn’t that, Red. He…Hood leaves sometimes. You know that. He could easily be okay.”
Tim shakes his head. “He would’ve told Bruce,” he whispers. “After…after what went down last month. He wouldn’t have gone dark. Not like this.”
“Okay,” she says, clearly unsure but deeply serious. “But this isn’t that, Red. He isn’t…”
He knows what she wants to say, and he’s glad she doesn’t. Any hope rings false when it comes to Jason. They’ve already lost him once; it no longer feels impossible. Not when it’s Jason.
xxx
At some point, Jason stops being a ghost and becomes an actual terror, haunting them and hunting them down.
Tim’s first real interaction with the boy he once wanted to be is the unique experience of being beaten half to death by him, of being punched by a man wearing the uniform of Tim’s idol. Tim gets his hits in, sure. And it…the hits are real. Because it all seems so impossible, that the ghost is back and real and he HATES Tim, even though all Tim ever did was try to BE him, and he’s all Tim ever wanted to be.
That’s, of course, the problem.
You can try to be a dead boy and never be sure if you’ve made it. But when the dead man is back and trying to cave your face in, you find out pretty quickly how well you measure up.
Jason fights with a ruthlessness and an anger usually reserved for Batman.
That’s one of Tim’s first thoughts, when he wakes up and see the blood on the wall: so this is what it looks like when Bruce pours his soul into something.
JASON TODD WAS HERE.
Jason Todd has always been here, of course, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough for him. It wasn’t good enough for Tim to not measure up to a ghost; now, Tim has to worry that his inadequacies are going to curb stomp him on the street one day.
Tim’s going to be better. He has to be.
xxx
There’s no signs of struggle at any of Hood’s usual haunts. Nothing that indicated anyone other than Hood has been there at all.
Black Bat and Spoiler head towards the Narrows, too, and Signal says he saw a glimpse of Batman at one point. The streets are quiet, though.
Dick finally appears an hour after the search has started, face tight and focused. That’s the thing about Dick: if you mention you think that Jason maybe skipped breakfast, he’s emotional and fraught and worried. In a crisis, though, he’s a rock.
“There’s no word anywhere,” Tim says, “and Oracle can’t find shit. No signs of struggle. I…it’s been five days, Dick.”
Dick nods, already headed to Barbara. “Tell me what we’re seeing.”
“On Friday at 11:00pm Red Hood was seen at the docks. He talks to his men—all appears friendly, but the helmet’s on so hard to tell what’s said—and then leaves on the bike. He can be seen heading East. And then, here” she points to a small, grainy image of Jason headed towards Crime Alley- “that’s the last we see.” She pauses. “For five days.”
Dick nods. “And you’ve got-“
“We sent Robin and Black Bat to the last known location as soon as we identified it.” Tim pauses. “Nothing there.”
“So we’ve got NOTHING?” Dick snaps, rage clear.
Barbara shakes her head. “We’ve got one thing,” she says, “but I only just…Black Mask hasn’t been seen in three days.” She looks at Tim. “Those facial scans just finished. He was last seen near the docks. Since then? Absolutely nothing.”
Tim’s already headed to a bike, Dick close behind. “That’s where we’ll go, then. Oracle, you take control of the orders.”
“Already on it,” she says, and immediately launches into command. “Nightwing and Red Robin are en route to the docks, last known location of Black Mask,” she says, voice cool and confident. “Spoiler and Robin, be in position for possible backup.”
Batman’s voice responds in an affirmative.
They get there as quickly as they can, racing through Gotham at breakneck speed, but Batman beats them to the docks. When they find him, he has one of Mask’s men strung upside down, bleeding and screaming.
“Where is he?” Bruce asks with a shove to the body. “WHERE IS HE?”
The man screams a little more, mouth full of blood. Nightwing grunts and cuts the man down with a batarang, kneeling over his prone body and grabbing him by the jaw. Tim recognizes this man—a Black Mask lieutenant.
“If you don’t tell us where he is,” Nightwing says, all terrifyingly cool and calm in the wake of his father’s rage, “Red Robin and I are going to look for him. And while we do, we’re leaving you with Batman. And, yeah, Batman doesn’t kill. But in the end, you’re gonna wish he did.”
The man garbles something out, and Nightwing glares. “Again.”
The man spits out some blood, and then mumbles: “I don’t know…I don’t know where Hood is. But Mask…Mask has him.”
God fucking dammit.
Something comes through the comms. It’s Signal.
“I’ve got a kid here, guys, he’s saying that some men set up camp in that abandoned slaughterhouse off the edge of the Narrows. He’s saying…he’s saying men have been coming and going all week.”
“It’s Black Mask,” Tim spits out. “He’s got Hood.”
“The car is faster,” Batman says, already moving. “Red, you come with me. Nightwing—“
But Dick is already gone.
xxx
Red Hood is everything the Bats don’t stand for. He kills; he’s vindictive; he moves money around. He’s also…well, he’s also brilliant. And he’s Jason. And Tim isn’t to dumb to see that the Red Hood is definitely something Bruce could have invented, if only a few things had happened differently in his teen years.
It’s not surprise that when Jason starts reintegrating into their lives, he and Steph get along. They’ve got the shared experiences, the streets backgrounds, the same distinction of being someone who was forced to leave the Robin name behind through acts of incredible violence.
More than that, though, they’ve got the same humor. They’ve got the same distaste for whenever someone seems a little TOO comfortable being rich. They’ve got the same ability to balance their violent upbringings with quick, easy jokes at Tim’s expense.
In a way, Tim is happy for Stephanie. In another, much larger way, though, he wishes it had been anyone other than Hood.
Because only one person in the Wayne family hates him, and Stephanie…she was one of his oldest friends. He’d rather not lose her.
And it occurs to him that maybe one way to not lose Stephanie is to try to cure Jason, at least a little. Because at first, he’s like the lone wolf that circles their pack. And it’s putting Stephanie in a weird position and it’s making Bruce tense and it’s making Dick sad and Tim…
Tim’s family didn’t fall apart. He used to think it did, but now he knows better. He had been born into a family that didn’t need him, and everything he did cracked the foundations a little more.
He’s not going to let it happen again. He’s going to make this work. He’s going to make all of it work.
xxx
They all descend on the slaughterhouse at once, the whole place crawling with Black Mask’s men.
The entry points are easy to overtake, and they begin their search, moving in silence before Spoiler says breathlessly over the comms: “ah shit. There’s a fridge.”
The fridge shouldn’t be up and running, but it is, which means that there have been signs that something was going down here, which means that Tim should have seen it coming.
They neutralize the outer area, leaving men tied or unconscious or both behind them, before they find themselves at the fridge. Tim has to pick the lock, only because he has to convince Dick that industrial fridge doors are harder to kick down, and when they open the door…well.
Jason’s laughing, which is never a good sign. The helmet has been ripped off and lays caved in on the floor. Jason is only partially clothed, covered with dried blood and bruises and chained to a chair. His lips are a little blue, and his hair hangs forward. There’s fresh blood on his teeth, but there’s also a dead body a few feet away with a hole in its neck, and Tim thinks ‘good for him’ so vehemently that he’s a little shocked.
For a second, they all freeze. But Jason just laughs, eyes fixated on Tim. “You little stalker,” he wheezes. “I knew you’d get here eventually.”