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Tim is spinning around in the chair used for the Batcomputer when you come into the Cave, pulling your mask off and tossing it somewhere as Batman, himself, follows after you. He doesn't remove his cowl, content to fight with you while he keeps himself masked - hidden away. Tim can't find it in him to be surprised.
"You can't do that," you say to Batman, pointing a finger to his chest. "You can't just chase after me all night and step in to save me every time you think something might be going wrong." Tim stops spinning as he stares at the two of you, at Batman towering over you. You're good at pretending you're not afraid, he's realized. But no one's quite good enough when they're up against the Dark Knight.
"You don't tell me what I can and can't do," is Batman's only response.
"This is my life, Bruce. My job. Not yours. You don't get to take this from me," you push back. He crosses his arms over his chest and Tim shifts in his seat.
"I'm not taking anything from you," Batman responds, and his voice is enough that you shift your weight on your feet, like you're trying to stop yourself from taking a step back, away from him. "This is my city. You are my responsibility. If you go out there and act recklessly, you'll be taking this from yourself . Do you understand that?" There's a part of Tim that feels he should leave, Batman's raising voice thundering through the Cave. This isn't really a conversation he wants to witness - it isn't a struggle he feels he should be part of. But mostly, he thinks that moving will get him caught, and he can't help but feel a bit like a rabbit caught in a snare that wasn't meant for him. Tim pulls at the fabric of his pants, rubbing a hand over the Robin insignia on his chest, and feels sort of like he's someone he shouldn't be.
"I don't need a keeper," you bite back. "I need you to let me do my job - I need you to let me take care of myself."
"Then why are you here?" This time, you do take a step back, letting his words cut you. "Why are you part of this family, then?"
"Am I, Bruce? Am I really ?" This time, Tim does let himself slouch down in the chair a bit, your own yells bouncing around the Cave. "Is that what you call a family? A bunch of strays you pick up off the streets because it makes you feel like a hero?"
"You need to stop ," Batman presses, his voice loud enough to drown out yours, reaching forward to put his hands on your shoulders. "You need to let me -"
"I don't need to -"
"You need to let me take care of you, Jason -"
That, of course, is enough to make everyone freeze, your eyes wide as you and Tim both stare at Batman's heaving shoulders and the tight grip he has on you. You're sure his knuckles are turning white with the way he's holding onto your shoulders, but you make no move to stop him.
"I'm not… Jason, Bruce. He's… gone ," you say gently, and something about it rips Bruce out of whatever state he was in, his hands pulling away from you as he takes a lurching step back.
"Bruce -" you start, but he's already fleeing, his cape covering him as he turns and, before you or Tim can say anything, he's disappeared out of the Cave and back towards the streets of Gotham.
"I almost feel bad for the criminals he'll find tonight," Tim says - a desperate attempt to break the silence. You wince as you consider it, but shoot Tim a small smile, nonetheless, as you walk over to him. Sitting up on the desk next to the computer, you let your legs swing back and forth as you watch him, his hand absentmindedly rubbing over the Robin insignia painting his chest as he stares at where Bruce had just been.
"It's not your fault, Tim," you say quietly. He looks at you like you've just shot him.
"I didn't say it was," he splutters. You nod.
"I know. But… it's still nice to hear, sometimes, isn't it?" You ask. Tim pauses his hand's movement, bringing it away from his chest to grip onto the chair arm, instead.
"It's not… it's not your fault, either," he points out, and the chair arm creaks under the weight of his grip. "It's not your fault."
For his sake, you pretend to believe him. You hope you're a better liar than he is, just this once.
It's days before you see Batman again, the two of you flickering by each other like shadows, indistinguishable from the backgrounds of the dark corners you belong in. You're sure he's still around, sure he's still tracking you and making sure you stay in line. You're also sure you still don't like it.
You wonder if he's watching you the night you stumble into Red Hood, the cases you're working on tangling your paths together as you stare at him across the docks. His gun is in his hand, and you wonder, a bit abruptly, if he'll shoot you when you get in his way.
"Thought the Bowery was your corner, Hood," you say cautiously, eyeing him under your mask. The moonlight above you ripples down between the clouds, casting shards of light onto your hidden faces. "You're a long way from home."
"Could say the same about you," he spits, his hand tightening on his gun. You shift your weight, bracing yourself for whatever fight this might turn into. "You're a bird flying too far from the nest."
"It's not my nest," you say back too quickly, and you wince internally at how directly his snub hurt you. "I'm not a Robin - as you can see through that helmet, I hope . These docks have known me longer than Batman has."
"Yea, but he owns you now, doesn't he?" Red Hood drawls, trying to push you - trying to bait you. You grit your teeth together.
"And he doesn't own you?" You quip back. "You really think you're free of him?" He huffs at that, spinning his gun in his hand as he leans back on his heels.
"Yea, go on," he snaps. "Keep talking. See where that smart mouth gets you around here."
"Are you threatening me?" You push. He slides his gun into his holster.
"I don't think I need to," he shrugs. "It'll catch up to you without my help." You sigh, ever so slightly, letting yourself relax a bit, letting the possibility of a fight cool from your mind. Red Hood pauses, the white eyes of his helmet staring through you. There's a drop to his shoulders, a heaviness to him that makes you wish you could see his face. You wonder if he would ever really shoot you - and then you feel a bit nauseous for ever thinking he would.
"I'm just saying," you push on, suddenly wishing you knew how to make peace - wishing your hands knew how to extend an olive branch. "The past doesn't die just because you bury it, Hood. Either dig it up, yourself, or it'll climb out of that grave on its own."
"Excuse me?" He bites back. You hold your hands up in surrender, already stepping back as you begin to let yourself disappear into the shadows behind you.
"Hey, it's up to you," you say. "But… you know. Start running now, you'll never stop, right?"
Red Hood stands on that dock for longer than he cares to, after that - after you leave , disappearing in a way that feels an awful lot like running away. His ears ring as your words play over in his head, as he thinks of the boy who died and the thing that came back in his place. He wonders if you take your own advice, ever , then scoffs, kicking at a rock as he turns to leave.
It's not running away , he tells himself. The boy I was is dead and the thing I am now might as well be .
You do go home that night - eventually, creeping back into the Cave. You're not sure if you expected Bruce to be sitting there, cowl resting by the desk as he stares at the Batcomputer. You're not sure if you're really surprised that he's tracking you up on the screen, having been following your movements all night.
"You need to loosen your grip, Bruce," you say firmly standing behind him. He doesn't turn in his chair to face you.
"I won't have another one of you die because of me. I won't fail you like that." His words make you sigh as you reach a hand up to rub the back of your neck.
"You won't have the chance to fail us if you keep pushing us away," you point out. This time, Bruce does turn in the chair, looking up at you where you're now standing in front of him.
"I met Jason tonight," you say honestly, your eyes searching him for any kind of reaction.
"I know," is Bruce's response, though. You roll your eyes.
"Does anything happen in this city without you knowing?"
"No, that's the point," he says. It's as close as he gets to joking and you recognize it for what it is and what it isn't. An outstretched hand, but not an apology. A plead for peace, but nothing more.
"If you want to talk about failing your Robins, maybe pay some attention to Tim," you point out. He stiffens.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying," you rock back on your heels, glancing over at where Jason's Robin uniform is encased in glass, a constant memory of the one Batman couldn't save. "You wouldn't want him to, ah, fall through the crack, so to speak. Slip through your fingers - you know what I mean."
Bruce stares at you hard after that, his arms crossed. You hold your hands up in surrender and wonder if he knows how much of himself is in Jason's demeanour, in his life , still.
"I'm not going back out there tonight, so," you gesture to the Batcomputer as you walk away, "you know." He doesn't respond and you don't wait for him to, slipping away from him and up towards the Manor. As you glance back on your way out, though, you can't help but notice him still staring intently at the screens, his profile on Red Hood up while he tracks the vigilante across the city. You wonder if Jason knows how much Bruce loves and misses him - and then you wonder if Bruce, himself, has realized it at all.