Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is it really worth giving up a second chance at taking control of your life? This convoluted revenge scheme of yours?” Talia raises a singular eyebrow, unimpressed. Jason throws himself onto the bed in his room at Nanda Parbat, hoping she will get the hint to leave him alone.

Okay, to be fair, Talia is definitely only saying that to try and get Jason off Bruce’s back. Kind of hard having an emergency safe place for your kid when his dad may end up dead. As much as he hates to admit it though her words ring true. Jason’s finally getting the second chance at life he thought he was getting when he met Bruce. Is he really going to let Bruce ruin it for him again?

“What are you getting at Tals? You couldn’t have brought these objections up anytime in the past three years?” Jason’s crime alley accent still shines through, despite being away from Gotham so long. He raises his head from its place planted in his pillows, shooting her an irritated look.

“Contrary to what you may think child, I have brought it up. You were so out of your mind after the pit, I’m not surprised you don’t remember it. I am simply asking you to reevaluate what this is all for. You claim you want revenge and to ensure Park Row is safe. Getting rid of Bruce or his new bird doesn’t seem like it would help you achieve either of those things, when your problem is with the clown.” Realizing she isn’t going to let this go, he gets up so Talia can't loom over him anymore. It’s only somewhat effective, she just has that kind of presence.

“Bruce betrayed me. He buried me and picked a new kid before I was cold in the ground. Him and this new rich kid aren’t going to keep Crime Alley safe when they don’t even understand the root of its problems, Talia. If I kill them it won’t make much of a difference there.”

"If you see the problems, why not fix them yourself? Let that be your revenge- doing his work better than he ever could. If you truly understand more than your father, what’s stopping you? Kill the clown if you must, but let that be the end of it. Do not be defined by events long past." She stiffly lays a hand on his shoulder, a rare display of affection from the demon’s daughter. Jason visibly deflates, the fight leaving him as he mulls over her idea.

For so long his life has been defined by his shitty parental figures or lack thereof. He technically is an adult, having quietly celebrated his 18th birthday over a year ago. Why shouldn’t he focus on what he wants to be instead of always worrying about people he hasn’t seen in years? Having lived in poverty and then on the street for the first 12 years of his life, maybe he can do more than contribute to the endless circle of violence that exists in Gotham.

The moment of softness between the unofficial mother and son duo breaks when a young child enters the room rather abruptly.

“Mother, I believe you may have been correct in your suspicions of disloyalty among the League.”

Chapter Text

“Kid, if your mom told you about it, it was more than a passing suspicion. Try not to worry your little paranoid bat brain about it too much.” Jason turns to address him and ruffles Damian's hair affectionately, knowing how much he hates being treated like the kid he is. The action draws an affronted noise from the young assassin.

“Todd, the only reason you are still in possession of your hands is that Mother has formed an emotional attachment to you. It would be unwise to cut down an ally while Grandfather is ill.” Damian side eyes Jason warily, resting a hand on his waist, where Jason knows a dagger is surely sheathed. Jason scoffs and throws Talia a grin.

“I don’t think your mom even knows the meaning of the word emotional you brat.” He is rewarded with a swat to the back of his head and an affectionate quirk of her lip, knowing full well he could’ve dodged the swipe. It almost hurts, this easy familiarity they’ve developed, knowing it won’t last. They both remind him so much of Bruce, from the tilt of Damian’s nose to the ever stoic expression he tries to keep on his face. Even Talia’s easy grace and judgmental eyebrow raises bring back nights in the kitchen with Alfred. Jason’s throat tightens at the thought, knowing he won’t be seeing either of them for some time.

“What did you observe, young prince, that made you so certain of disloyalty?” Turning to address her blood son with as much care as she feels was dignified, Talia searches his expression for any hint of distress or injury. Finding none she settles her gaze on his eyes.

“The guards are acting strangely. Many whisper in my presence of Grandfather's plans, as if a guard of their status would be privy to such things.” Damian rolls his eyes, trying to replicate his elder brother's unbothered attitude, but it's clear he’s unsettled by the current atmosphere in the compound.

“Disloyal members of the League tend to sprout like weeds the moment Ra’s falls ill. He has utilized the Lazarus waters twice since you were dipped, Jason. The more instability surrounds his leadership, the more desperate he grows to regain control. I worry we are running out of time.” Talia looks to Jason, and an understanding passes between the two. A quick nod is exchanged then he’s grabbing Damian and making off towards their private exit. The younger quickly attempts to free his hand but doesn’t stop walking, turning to throw a look of uncertainty back at his mother.

“Where are we going?” Jason leans to pick him up, and starts to pick up speed as they get further down the torch lit tunnel. Sighing he hugs Damian closer, knowing he’ll start fighting when he realizes Talia won’t be joining them.

“To Gotham, kid.” Damian’s breath catches, knowing what that means. The League is no longer safe for them. He looks at Jason, suddenly aware how serious things have become.

“To see Father?” Jason sighs.

“Yeah kid, to see our stupid dad.”

Chapter Text

After 30 hours of plane hopping through different countries across three continents, they finally manage some semblance of peace after touching down in Gotham. That may be a slight exaggeration. Between watching both their backs the whole trip and now being in the city he both loves and hates with all his heart, Jason is wound up pretty tight. Damian is understably wary after having to uproot his life and leave his mother behind.

“Are we going to the manor now? How many strays and illegitimate heirs did you say Father has surrounded himself with since you left?” Deboarding the plane, they start following Talia’s texted directions to a shadowy part of the parking deck that's probably used for drug deals more often than actual parking. Spotting the unassuming green Kia Soul, Jason finds the keys in the tire well and nods his head towards the back seat. Damian stubbornly refuses to take any spot other than the passenger seat.

“Okay I know you’re just asking so you can strategize for a fight that isn’t even gonna happen, but there’s like what, eight of us now? I haven’t seen any of them in like five years though, that’s just what your mom has been able to gather from scouts.”

“You didn’t give an answer to my other question, Todd.” Jason tightens his grip on the wheel as they pull out of the parking deck, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“I didn’t really think it deserved one. No, we aren’t going there tonight we’re gonna sleep in the safehouse your mom got set up for us. You are gonna go to the manor tomorrow.”

"You're not joining me with Father? I know you are not his blood son, but you certainly deserve the title more than the other frauds he keeps in his company." Jason’s heart clenches in his chest. That was about as close to giving a compliment as the kid could get. Jason knows he’s scared to be left alone in an unfamiliar place, even if he has been begging to meet Bruce since he learned of him.

“Thanks kid, that’s real sweet of you to say, but I have what you could call a complicated relationship with dear old dad. I might eventually let him know I’m back, but I need to figure a few things out first. Don’t worry because when he inevitably offers you Robin and lets you loose in the city, you’ll know right where to find me.”

Damian inspects his tense posture as they continue driving through the city, and eventually comes to some conclusion before turning towards the window to survey the city. He seems dissatisfied with what he sees.

“This is truly where Father’s lineage has spent its lifetimes? One would think with all that time and effort it would be in better condition. Though I suppose with rationing their meager funds to maintain their lifestyle it must’ve been difficult to invest in the city much at all.”

Jason lets out a disbelieving snort, realizing Damian would think of Bruce as poor compared to his background as League royalty. He does not envy his asshole of a (former) father. The adjustment period will likely not be pleasant for any parties involved.

“They’ve done their best. The Wayne's have never really understood Gotham for as long as they’ve been here- For the love of god put the sword away you’re gonna get us pulled over. Don't bring that outside the cave, they won't like that shit.”

Chapter Text

“You’re an asshole, Todd.” Damian grits out with more ire than usual. He’s been glaring at him and picking the collar of his Green Arrow™ t-shirt for the past twenty minutes, and Jason can’t find it in himself to feel anything but gleeful. Leave it to him to make finding a long lost son something that can piss off Bruce.

After settling Damian into the new penthouse apartment and installing additional security measures on top of Talia’s existing ones, he left to grab ingredients for dinner and something for them both to wear the following morning. Now he’s reaping the rewards of the decision to leave Damian behind.

“Trust me kid, he’ll love it. Did you know he and Ollie went to school together? The best of friends I tell you.” He tries to maintain a straight face but keels over laughing at how similar Damian’s ‘unamused face paired with a disappointed sigh’ is to Bruce’s. Sobering up, he grabs the keys to the Kia he will certainly be ditching after dropping off Damian. Nothing against the Kia but Barbie will definitely use it to track him, or the League, after she finds out about Damian. Damn, he doesn’t wanna have to burn this safe house, Talia pulled out all the stops with this one. “Let’s get this show on the road little prince, I got shit to do.” He finishes the statement by pulling the door open with a mocking bow, a League gesture often used towards the heir with sincerity.

“I am going to enjoy it when your tacky revenge plans fall apart.” Stomping out of the apartment with an even more disgruntled expression, he makes sure to slam his heel onto Jason's boot during his exit. Recovering quickly, he follows to the elevator and finds Damian inside repeatedly hitting the ‘close door’ button with vigor.

“Steel toed boots, gotta love ‘em! Haven’t ya heard? That revenge thing is old news. Your dad is still a shit bag with an oversimplified world view, but not my circus, not my monkeys and all that. God please never tell Dick I said that.” If the smirk on his face is anything to go by, Damian will be telling Dick as soon as he knows Jason is alive, if not sooner. “Why do I put up with you again?”

“Because you are desperate for a maternal figure in your life and Mother fills that role provided you remain useful to her.” Damian’s smirk grows wider and god he was gonna kill this little shit. He may actually have a point there honestly, Jason will have to reflect on that during his introspection later.

The walk to the car and ride to Bristol are quiet. Driving while running through the best way to get in and out of Wayne Manor as quickly and discreetly as possible, Jason is a mess of nerves. Damian, while trying to maintain an air of neutrality, is clearly also in a tizzy. While the elder is sure it’s eagerness to meet the rest of the family, the younger is secretly worried about leaving Jason alone in the city his murderer resides in.

The man he’s reluctantly accepted as family is prone to strong emotions that make him occasionally vulnerable to attacks, especially if they remind him of his death, not that he’d ever admit it. The possibility of leaving him undefended in the face of one of those attacks again is horrifying to say the least. Luckily he isn’t held by that train of thought for long, as his unwilling driver turns on the radio. A loud rap song blares through the crappy speakers of the beat up hatchback.

Damian quickly powers off the radio and yanks off the knob needed to turn it back on. “If you were not driving right now I would hurt you in such a way that you would qualify for ADA benefits.”

Jason just laughs. Glowering and crossing his arms, the young prince turns to face the window.

“Ooo, someone's been doing their civics homework! I don’t think you get that shit if you're legally dead though, kid.” Ruffling his little brother's hair and smiling, Jason thinks he might actually miss him.

“I would be willing to make you literally dead too if that would help your case.” Never mind. He will not be missed in the slightest. (Lie)

“You know, I’m not sure the sequel would be as fun as the original but thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

Damian is not nervous. He isn’t. These people are below him and he doesn’t need to impress anyone but Father. Jason will be fine on his own and his father will not treat Damian as poorly as he treated Jason. His older brother and mother wouldn’t send him to a place unsafe for him. He could defend himself and Jason would be just down the road. Only five miles closer to the asylum than to him. 

After getting as close to the manor as Jason dared, they had gotten out of the car near (admittedly still pretty far from) the cave entrance. Damian now has Jason’s entry code written on his palm, assuming it still works.

“Damian? Are you still with me, bud?” Damian focuses back in to see Jason kneeling in front of him concernedly.  He quickly shoves his hand off his shoulder and adjusts his posture. Show no weakness and what not. “I know Talia wants you here but just say the word and we’ll go back to our apartment okay? You can also text with that burner I gave you if you’re nervous to call, given you can figure out how to type with the numbers.” 

“Todd there is no need to treat me as invalid, I am a perfectly capable and accomplished warrior. Potentially more so than you.” Jason snorts. Rude. Damian takes a moment to pull himself together, having a more difficult time doing so than usual. Jason seemingly interprets his extended silence as nervousness, which he’s not.

“Keep dreaming little prince. I just don’t wanna leave you somewhere I can’t follow. I love you if that’s been unclear thus far, and I want you to feel like you have a choice in all this.” With his words, Todd’s annoying habit of ruffling his hair makes a reappearance. The heir throws a scowl back at the older man. 

“I appreciate what you are attempting to do here Todd, but it is entirely unnecessary and vaguely condescending. Not to mention the fallacy in your logic. You certainly could follow.” 

“Only vaguely condescending? Damn, I was going for entirely on both counts. I really can’t follow though, not yet at least. You don’t have all the context but this is something I gotta do on my own.” Jason has the decency to look abashed by his obvious hypocrisy.

“I have enough context to know you are afraid Father will no longer love you when he finds out you have taken life from another. I also know you insist he will still love me even though I have taken more than you.” The little bat shoves an angry finger into Jason’s chest, emphasizing his frustration at the clear lack of logic in his counter argument.

“That’s a totally different set of circumstances Damian,  you’re a kid. I made those decisions more aware of my options than you. Okay, how do I translate this into bruce-ism so your bat brain will comprehend? I am emotionally compromised when it comes to the family. I finally have the chance to make my own choices and figure out what I want and I need to do that before involving myself with those who may impact my decision making process. Does that about cover it?”

Damian weighs his words and nods affirmatively. His older brother deserves a chance to make his own choices, even if they may be detrimental to his well being. He knows his address and is confident he could get there in under 10 minutes if necessary. Jason searches him for any sign of tension or distress, much like Mother does, and seems reassured by his findings. 

“Okay kid, remember my directions? There’s a big waterfall but there is a way to get in without the water getting all over you, you just have to be slick about it.” Walking around the cave weighed down by a heavy cape was enough incentive to find a new method of entry years ago with the help of one Dick Grayson. Jason leans in and yanks Damian for a hug, but lets the young assassin shake him off with little resistance when he sees his ears turning pink. 

“I have entertained your dramatics long enough. I am leaving now Todd, before you embarrass yourself any further.” Pulling his bag further onto his shoulder, Damian turns to leave.

“If you think I’m dramatic you better prepare yourself for the acrobat.” Jason pats his back and stands, hoping to ditch the Kia sooner than later. He found out that morning he already had a new motorcycle waiting in the garage of the apartment complex thanks to Talia. 

Getting in the car, Jason waits until Damian vanishes down the road to drive away.

Chapter Text

Reevaluate his goals? He could do that. Scrap the plans he’s spent the last four years training for? Find a whole new purpose now that he’s drifting meaninglessly? He could totally do that. It won’t be miserable at all. 

The entire game of ditching the car and avoiding cameras back to the Diamond District Jason pretty much thought different word combinations of those same sentiments. Now that he’s back in the safety of the apartment, he doesn’t even know where to start. 

Staring at the empty wall in the living room with a bunch of string and thumb tacks on the ground, he begins to miss the black and white way of thinking from the Lazarus rage that made everything easier to process. Bruce and the pit have that in common at least, nothing has nuance when you’re that quirked up on your own superiority complex. 

Jason is knocked out of his mental wandering by a buzz from the phone in his pocket. Right, Damian has one too now.

Bat Brat: Father is shorter than you.

Jason shakes his head and laughs, before realizing there is another text from an unknown number. “What the hell?”

Unknown: Make your choice. Whatever you decide, I will ensure you have the financial means and connections necessary to achieve your goals. 

Talia then. Her support eases his uncertainty for a moment, before he curses Damian. 

“Man, maybe I do have mommy issues.” Throwing himself onto the ridiculously expensive L shaped couch, Jason begins to feel lonely. The couch is easily made for at least eight people to watch on the excessively large 85 inch flat screen, but it’s just him in the 4 bedroom apartment. “Okay I’m talking to myself and it’s getting pathetic, I gotta lock in here.”

Jason turns his head to stare out at the Diamond District through the impractical floor to ceiling windows and it hits him. What did Bruce always say during his Robin days? To find the culprit, follow the money! Everything in this godforsaken city is tied to the raging wealth disparities and corruption that have defined it for centuries. The fuckers on top laugh it up at their galas in Bristol while the rest of them rot in the violence and squalor that is Gotham’s inner city. 

He has to level the playing field as much as possible, he can’t just take money and redistribute it, there’s more to it than that. Everything those rich dicks have done over the past 200 years has built a system that doesn’t just actively benefit those on top, but works to keep those on the bottom disenfranchised. Jason knows it's unrealistic to think he can attack every part of a broken system at once, but maybe if he can trace every offense back to their sources he can figure out the main contributors and address those first.

Standing up with a newly formed resolve,  he makes his way back to the wall to resume his murder planning board. After an hour or two he ends up with this:

He certainly isn’t done but it’s a start. Public transportation will make it easier for residents to get jobs, groceries, and doctors appointments in other parts of the city which will hopefully have a ripple effect on unemployment, health outcomes, poverty and by extension crime rates. Night school with reduced or free tuition at GU or trade school could also help get the Alley’s residents more qualified for jobs that aren’t as goons for Black Mask. 

Maybe a ‘Career Center’ too, one that could help find jobs for adult residents to apply to, help guide their degree progress, and give practice interviews. Potentially with staff to help catch kids up on schooling they’ve missed. Hopefully these changes will help keep new kids off the streets, but kids who are already there will also need orphanages and foster homes they feel safe at. That’s more Bruce’s department than his though, all things considered. 

Maybe the way to ‘solve crime,’ as Bruce would say, is actually just challenging the free market capitalist system that perpetuates it. Jason knows if he keeps going down this path he’ll have to show his face eventually. The city won’t start running the buses in Crime Alley again after over 60 years of not without a fight, a fight in which he couldn’t use violence or money to end. He’s gonna need Bruce’s influence.

He takes a picture and shoots it to Talia, hoping she still has the burner she used to message him with before. He sends it to Damian too for good measure, the kid is probably worried about him.

Bat Brat: I do not care.

T Dog: That looks lovely, much more beneficial for Crime Alley than the first murder board. I will send routing information for a bank account to you shortly. 

Chapter Text

Damian isn’t sure how he feels about his new ‘family.’ He’s only been at the manor for a single afternoon, and he’s already been bombarded by too many overly enthused people. 

Father isn’t that bad, but Damian can already see the validity of Todd’s statements on his emotional ineptitude. Drake clearly takes after Batman in that regard, his eye bags are the same shade of deep purple as Father’s and he has that same vaguely manic paranoid gaze. Maybe that is why Todd calls him a paranoid bat so often. 

Grayson was only able to stop by for a few hours earlier, and he was certainly the most overwhelming of the lot. He hadn’t even been put off by the 12 year old’s glowering. The assassin had to stiffly endure a long hug, grinding his teeth hard enough to break them before Grayson would leave. 

Now, Damian is resting in his newly acquired bedroom. At first he was displeased with it (it’s half the size of his quarters at Nanda Parbat) but he’s now decided to think of it as quaint. Father said he could paint it however he wanted, and that they’d go out for paint and furniture this weekend, but he doesn’t really see a point in changing the room. In the League, functionality was always favored over comfort or vanity. His room was more extravagant than most in the compound but everything in it had a specific use, most commonly as a weapon. 

 A quiet buzz vibrates his pocket from his brother’s phone, pulling him from his thoughts. He yanks it out, sees Jason isn’t dying, and sends back a quick message. 

Damian: I do not care.

“What is that?” 

Slamming the phone down on the bedside table, the little warrior throws a shuriken which firmly settles into the door frame next to one Timothy Drake. The replacement lets out a quiet yelp but seems otherwise unaffected. “I thought Bruce told you to leave your weapons in the Cave, what the hell dude? You need to work on your aim too, I’m not gonna be the one to explain to Alfred you splintered the door frame.”

“I assure you my aim is immaculate and if you do not knock next time I will aim for your head. Now get out.” Damian pulls another shuriken from a spot hidden from Tim’s vantage point, smoothly rolling it between his fingers in a threatening manner. 

The replacement leans half  his body outside the door frame, as if it would protect him from the younger’s wrath. “Who were you texting on the phone before I came in? Talia?” 

“It is none of your business replacement, now leave. I know where you sleep and will use that information however I desire.” Shoving the phone in his pocket once more, Damian throws the shuriken and starts to make his way towards Drake.

After finishing his new plans for Crime Alley, Jason decides making a good dinner is in order. Luckily he bought enough for a few days in his initial grocery run without Damian, but he’ll certainly need to venture out into the land of the living again soon. 

Walking over to the obscenely large kitchen, he starts pulling out ingredients and putting them on the island, silently freaking out that he finally has a kitchen with an island again. After leaving the manor all those years ago he never thought he’d see a nice kitchen again, much less own one. Once Jason has everything out for dinner he gets to cutting up herbs for homemade pesto pasta. 

Bzzz… Bzzz… Bzzz

Jason startles, his grip tightening on the knife in his hand, before realizing he left his phone in the other room. Wiping off his hands on the hanging rag by the sink, he makes the trek from the kitchen to the living room and is thrown off by what he finds.

Unknown: Whoever you are, you need to leave Damian alone. 

Unknown: Who is this actually? I’m curious.

Unknown: My money personally is on Talia, but Ra’s maybe? Does Ra’s Al Ghul even know what a phone is?

Cursing every deity he can think of, Jason does some quick thinking. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. One job kid, hide the damn phone.” He supposes it must be one of the Waynes, and while he does need to reintroduce himself he’d rather that moment not be right now.

Jason: I’m Damian’s brother. Who is this? 

Unknown: Ditto. Do you share a father too or just a mom? 

That is the question, isn’t it? Maybe saying both would actually help him in this case. Nobody would know to associate dead Robin II, Jason Todd, with Talia Al Ghul of all people. Saying he’s Bruce’s too isn’t a lie, and that’d buy him so good will if he’s believed.

Jason: Both. Who is this?

Unknown: It’s Tim Drake. Why didn’t you come to Gotham with Damian if you’re Bruce’s kid too?

Of course it would be the replacement that found Damian’s burner. Probably snooped through his room, the little stalker. He switches chats to bitch Damian out about leaving his phone unattended.

Jason: Did you know Tim swiped your phone for my number?

Bat Brat: Am I still not allowed to physically harm him?

Jason: It’s your call, kid.

He snickers outloud, knowing Damian would certainly take that for permission. Switching back to his chat with the other rich kid, he ponders a good answer to Timbo’s question that won’t give him away.

Jason: I did follow him to Gotham, but I’m a lot older than Damian, and I’m not interested in meeting Bruce right now. 

Stalker Kid: Oh! How old are you? I’m 17. I gotta update the sibling age chart.

Stalker Kid: Why don’t you want to see Bruce? He and all of us would love to meet you!

Jason: I’m 19, almost 20. Looks like you’re moving your name down the chart (LOSER)!!!

Jason: Doesn’t old Brucie have a no killing thing? I was raised in a literal cult with ‘assassins’ in the name. Surely the world's greatest detectives can figure that one out. 

Stalker Kid is typing…

Stalker Kid: Did you sic Damian on me? 

Stalker Kid: You fucking BASTA

Thank you Damian, he owes that kid a new knife or something. Actually he got his phone snatched and got Jason’s celebratory dinner interrupted. He guesses they're even. 

Chapter Text

Jason is surprised at how easy it is to hack the Bat’s servers. It helps that he had access at one point, most of his backdoors are still in place. He’ll have to tell Tim to patch them at some point. Bruce should’ve done it by now and Jason can’t fathom why they’d leave such a large gap in security from his shitty junior level hacking skills. 

The past two weeks he’s been establishing a base in Crime Alley out of a crummy apartment he’s definitely paying too much rent for, and slowly moving all his weapons to establish a patrol route away from the few cameras in the area. Swinging from roof tops in Gotham is a feeling unlike any other he hasn’t realized until now how much he’s missed it. Jason didn’t think vigilante life was in the cards for him anymore, but after witnessing a mugging on his initial scope out of the Alley he decided some light patrolling wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

Jason sits on the edge of a rooftop at around midnight and pulls out his phone. This patrol has been pretty slow and it seems he’s not the only one who thinks so. 

Stalker Kid: How’s your patrol going? Ours is pretty slow tonight.

Jason: Isn’t texting a rando about your secret identity a no-no? 

Jason: And how’d you know I’ve been patrolling?

Stalker Kid: You’re not a rando you’re family!!! And don’t be mad but I totally went through the airport security tapes and scanned for Damian with facial recognition. 

Stalker Kid: Not hard to assume you’re the big ass dude next to him with the same build as the new vigilante. Can I tell Bruce about you? Or at least Dick? (That’s our oldest brother!)

Geez, maybe he hasn’t been as slick as he thought. He didn’t even consider the cameras when they first got to Gotham, world greatest detectives indeed. 

Jason: If you tell Bruce you will never hear from me again. I don’t want to text about this while I’m patrolling, come to the Alley. 

This kid is really something. Does he really want to see Tim in person? Absolutely not, but it’s a calculated risk that could satiate his curiosity and buy Jason a little time before he has to talk to Dick, or god forbid Bruce. Thankfully, airport security feeds are reasonably blurry and his current helmet set up he’s wearing tonight covers his face entirely. It’s not like Timbo knows anything about Robin II anyways, right? 

“Hey, It’s good to finally meet you in person! God you are somehow even larger than you look on camera.” Tim stood very awkwardly on the other side on the rooftop, fidgeting with his hands after giving Jason an energetic wave.

Jason assesses him, and in a perfect impression of Alfred, raises an eyebrow at the odd introduction before realizing the kid can’t see his face. “Do you tell people how ‘large’ they are in all your introductions, kid?”

“Sorry I just don’t want to scare you away, and seriously dude you’re bigger than Bruce for sure.” The younger hero gives a wild hand gesture conveying the apology and his alarm at the idea of Jason leaving.  

“Just a tip, kid. Comparing me to the man I said I don’t like is not a good way to keep me around.” His predecessor waves off the apology, reluctantly endeared by the ungraceful actions paired with Tim’s over enthusiastic attitude. 

The current Robin begins pacing the length of the rooftop and blabbering nonsensically. “Sorry! Sorry, I just mean you’re not exactly subtle. You’ve done a good job staying away from the cameras so far but if you want to operate here long term Batman’s gonna notice. I can keep him off your trail for a bit but not forever.” Jason just shrugs and sighs. 

“I’m gonna meet him eventually, I know. Just buy me some time, I’ll make it worth yours I promise.” 

“As long as we can hang out that’s enough for me! Seriously, don't worry about it. Dick will be so excited to meet you too, you’re the same age as our brother Jason.” 

The older brother blue screens at hearing his own name from this kid he’s never met. Really? This kid is laying it on thick with the emotional manipulation, there’s no way he’s gonna cover Jason’s ass without anything in return. The bullshit about ‘hanging out’ being payment doesn’t count. He hesitantly responds, “Jason? My mom mentioned the failed Robin, I thought he wasn’t around anymore. Damian mentioned Dick is a bit of a hugger, I don’t know if I am ready for all that right now.”

Tim’s face hardens. “He may not be but that doesn’t make him any less a part of this family.” Oh shit, Jason starts to stand and subtly moves his hand to the knife holster at his waist, thinking he might have miscalculated here.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t realize that was a sore spot for you.” Shrugging it off quickly, Tim is already smiling again in his direction. 

“It’s fine. Dick wouldn’t react well if you talk about him like that, don’t bring Jason up around him if you can help it. Do you mind if I at least give him your number if you’re not okay with an in person meeting yet?” 

Jason really does mind, he does not want to interact with Dick in the slightest. Besides Bruce and Alfred, the flying Grayson is the only one in the, now very sizable, family who knew Jason before he died. Dick didn’t go to his funeral for christ sake, and while he doesn’t hate the guy Jason really doesn’t want the reminder of how bad of a son he is compared to The Dick Grayson. He supposes it’s a minor concession though for staying under the big bad Bat’s radar.

“Whatever kid, not like I could really stop you.” 

“It’s your choice really! I mean as long as you aren’t killing anyone in Gotham or anything. Do you wanna get lunch sometime soon? There’s this nice coffee shop in New Town that I've been meaning to try.” Jason startles, realizing he’s already getting roped back into hanging out with his weird dysfunctional family again. 

“No, we hang out on patrol, in a safe house, or not at all. I don’t need you Bats anymore in my business than you already are. Same goes for Dick, tell him to mind his own damn business for once.” Tim pulls a face at that. Whatever, it’s not Jason’s problem. Maybe this kid can get practice respecting boundaries for once, lord know Batman doesn’t have a lesson for that.

“For once? I assume Damian has been giving you play by plays of their ‘bonding’ then. Minding his business isn’t Dick’s strong suit but I’ll definitely do my best to get the message across for you.” 

“Thanks for that. Oh and about Damian, he's a good kid. I know he’s a little rough around the edges but he just feels threatened by you. He gets less murdery the more you get to know him, I promise. Okay well it’s been nice but I’m gonna get back to it, Robin III.” 

“Damian feels threatened by me?” The older brother walks back to the edge of the rooftop, feeling like an exposed nerve after all this family talk. “Wait, before you go! What’s your name- or I guess your code name? Sorry Bats aren’t the best at boundaries. I guess it’s not just Dick.” Doesn’t Jason know it. 

“Red Hood, if that’s not obvious by the fucking red hood.” Jason gestures to his helmet and Tim scrunches his nose in recognition. 

“You’re not even in a hood! Why not Red Helmet or something?” Tim throws both his arms up to gesture to the helmet, put off by the mention of the Joker’s old alias so soon after discussing Jason’s premature death. Hood just sends him a shit eating grin, not that Tim could see it.

“Cause that sounds stupid as shit.” Jason glides off the edge of the rooftop, grappling into the darkness of Gotham’s streets below. “Bye now birdy!”

Chapter Text

Tim knows this is a delicate situation and he needs to tread carefully. He knows having a league asset in Gotham (besides Damian) is a security risk, and that he needs to eventually tell Bruce, but if he can manipulate the situation slowly maybe this new guy will come to Bruce on his own. New kid is a bit of a wild card though. Why Red Hood of all names? Tim promised to buy this guy time, but he isn’t sure how long he can keep his word when the new kid is running around with Joker’s old moniker. Which is why his first step on his ‘16 Step Plan to Integrate Red Hood into the Bat Family’ is to introduce him to Dick Grayson. Nightwing is referred to as the golden child for good reason, he can get anyone to like him, Talia Al Ghul notwithstanding. 

Tim knows himself. Planning is his strong suit, even if it makes people think he’s controlling or paranoid. It’s one of the things he’s good at. Getting people to like him has never been one of those things, but that's what family is for. They are there to compensate for your personal failings. 

Now that Robin has permission to bring Wing in on the situation, he needs to frame the situation perfectly to Dick so this doesn’t blow up in his face. Dick hates the league, even more so now that he’s seen how it impacted Damian to be raised there, so he has to lead with the ‘potential new family member’ angle rather than the ‘full grown league agent in Gotham with Joker’s name’ one. 

Entering the cafe in New Town, he spots Dick at the back corner booth away from the windows. Probably for the best. Paparazzi in Gotham can be a nightmare, especially for the Wayne kids. He heads to the barista to delay the inevitable. “Hey Tim! Don’t worry, I already ordered your usual for you!” Curse Dick Grayson and his cheerful generosity. Tim reluctantly meets him at the corner booth and takes a long sip of the black coffee, pleased to find the brew is up to his strict standards. At least something today will be pleasant.

“Hey Dick, thanks. How’s your day going?”

“Hey Tim, isn’t that an interesting question! Well you asked me to meet today, and when I said no, you used an AI voice generator to call me out of work. So, I assume you’re stalling right now, because you don’t want to talk about whatever happened that’s so important you couldn’t wait three days to tell me.” Never let it be said Dick Grayson is not perceptive, but damn if it isn’t inconvenient for Tim right now. He’s fucking this whole thing up by being too anxious to talk about it, and Dick already thinks something is wrong. 

“Okay. It’s not my fault you do so many interviews that your voice is readily available for AI-ing. Okay. Okay, how do I start here? So you know how Damian came here from the League?” Tim swept the place for bugs before they opened this morning during patrol, but he can’t help but be paranoid of someone listening in. “Well, if we had… another brother who also came to Gotham from the League what would be your reaction? A brother Jason’s age who may be more hesitant to reach out to Bruce than Damian was.” Mentioning Jason is a risk that could backfire astronomically, but Tim thinks it's a calculated one. Thinking of Jason always makes Dick fond and tetchy in equal measure. 

Upon hearing Tim’s word vomit, Dick’s eyebrows climb his forehead rapidly. “Oh? Is this a highly specific theoretical or are you actually serious right now? That would definitely change my answer. I don’t know what all Bruce told you of the situation with Damian but he came here out of necessity, Talia called Bruce the night Damian showed up and told him so. The League is deeply unstable and Talia thinks the pits are finally rejecting Ra’s for good. Damian needs protection that only Gotham and we can provide in case they come for him. If we do have another brother from the League and he’s here in Gotham, he’s probably banking on that protection too, but feels better able to defend himself because he’s older. That said, he would be infinitely safer at the Manor than on his own in the city.” Risk and reward truly is the name of the game. Tim is pretty sure Dick is gonna be down to help him with this without getting B or Alfred involved. 

“It’s not a theoretical brother and I’m working on getting him to come to the manor of his own volition.” Dick for a moment looks ready to interrupt. “Okay before you get mad, I haven’t told Bruce for a reason. This guy is prickly like Damian, but he could certainly disappear from even O if he wanted to. I am telling you this because I need your help. The situation is very fragile and I don’t want to be the reason this guy runs back to the League.” Dick looks a little put out by that, the protective older brother instincts appearing to come to the surface for a kid he doesn’t even know yet. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here now. What do you need me to do?” Tim spends the next forty five minutes explaining everything from finding the mystery man’s number in Damian’s phone to meeting him on the rooftop last night. After texting Dick the phone number and giving him a hug goodbye, Tim makes his way out of the shop feeling a little optimistic for once.

Chapter Text

Jason bought a warehouse with his new civilian identity through T’s company. This new career center is going to ruffle a lot of rich Gothamite feathers, so he can’t give them anything suspicious they could use to shut it down. He’s just hoping the bats don’t pay enough attention to the Alley to notice a sizable investment from Head Industries. The thing about Crime Alley is there’s no nice real estate. Anything you’re gonna find you’ll have to renovate to fit your needs, and Jason decides to use that knowledge to justify the purchase to Talia. Walking around the drafty building reminds Jason too much of another warehouse to stay very long, but he snaps a few pictures to send to T before heading out.

T dog: Can any of that structure be salvaged or is Head Industries paying for a demolition as well? 

Jason: I don’t think it’s structurally sound and it would probably be better with a second floor anyways. I’m gonna get some furniture from a few thrift stores around town, supporting local business and all.

T dog: As long as you can imagine it, it can be done. I am curious about your vision, would you be able to make your way to Bludhaven for lunch over the weekend perhaps? 

Jason: I think I can make that happen, T. Just give me a time. I’m already getting harassed by the Bats, maybe I can con Tim into letting me bring Damian too. 

T dog: Excellent. 

Jason can imagine it. Some mismatched couches in the career center meeting room for community info sessions, offices along the back wall for one on one career and degree advising, and maybe even a few classrooms for GED prep work. The renovations will take time though, so he needs to schedule the demo work ASAP. 

The fallen Robin can feel the sureness in his bones for the first time since he wore the traffic light colors. This is what he’s meant to do. Help his people and his city. 

That’s one thing Bruce, Tim, and even Dick would never understand. The people of Gotham don’t enjoy being thugs and crooks. Sometimes people just do what they need to to put food on the table, and Batman will never know what that feels like. Which is why it's so easy for him to dehumanize them on the streets. To be fair, neither will Talia, but at least she’s willing to listen and help, even if it’s for her own purposes. She wants Gotham to be safer for Damian, which will happen with lower crime rates and less poverty. 

T dog: Also, make sure you have an alibi for this evening. I am sending a few shadows to do some work in Gotham that isn’t worthy of your time.

Okay…? Whatever. Not his problem. He texts Tim to see if he wants to patrol together tonight and sends Talia the address and the date he needs the renovation done by. She lets him know it will be done and she will give him the number of the construction company HI has a long standing relationship with. Jason is pretty sure that’s code for ‘if you ask them to put a weird armory in your office behind the bookshelf they’ll leave it off the city record blueprints’. 

Stalker Kid: Patrol tonight sounds awesome! B is out of town for the next week anyways, so don’t worry about that.

Jason: Wasn’t particularly worried either way. Meet me on the same rooftop as last time at midnight.

Now that that’s settled he goes about the rest of his day making dinner and throwing on a movie (Legally Blonde) before he gets another text. God he fucking hates texting, especially with this shitty track phone.

Unknown: Hello!!!! This is Dick Grayson! Is this one of my younger brothers from the League? Great to meet you!!!

Dick lasted two days before texting, which is more than Jason expected. Shows a lot of self restraint from the circus boy. God, what kind of overly excited bullshit is this? How does he fucking respond to that? Did he really think this would be received well by a guy supposedly raised by assassins his whole life? Dick Grayson is truly a different breed.

Jason: Hi. This is him. What do you want?

Dickhead: I just wanna get to know you! How do you like Gotham, is it your first time? 

Dickhead: What is your name if you don’t mind me asking for your contact in my phone? 

Dick is just as slimy as ever then. ‘Get to know you’ his ass, Dick immediately sussing out for information he can use against him under the guise of friendliness is very in character he supposes. Jason wonders what he did to deserve this before realizing he should probably respond without giving away too much, but also trying to keep to lies he could maintain long term. 

Jason: I’ve been to Gotham before. It’s just as ass as I remember. 

Jason: My name is go fuck yourself. My friends call me GFY.

Jason couldn’t resist being an ass a little, alright? Especially when Dick is trying so hard to maintain this weird companionable demeanor. 

Dickhead: Tim was right then, you are just as prickly as Damian. Don’t worry, he likes me now!!! Hopefully you will too eventually. 

Dickhead: What’s your favorite ice cream? Maybe Tim can bring some next time you guys hang out without me. I’m jealous he’s gotten to meet you and I haven’t! 

Jason: Neapolitan. Blame Damian for not getting invited to the slumber party, he said you’re a hugger. 

Damian did complain about the hugging a lot. That’s not why he doesn’t want to see Dick obviously, but it gives him a plausible excuse and will direct Dick’s bitching at Damian which Jason bets will be hilarious. He’ll have to ask Tim.

Jason then decides to ignore Dick in favor of finishing his dinner and suiting up for patrol a bit early. He makes sure to pack nonlethal weaponry and ensures he is still able to summon the all blades. Reports of strange and unnatural light shows in Crime Alley have been coming in from the working girls recently and it could just be fireworks, but those are also illegal in the state of New Jersey so he should probably check either way. Jason didn’t particularly want to show off the blades this soon, but having back up for a rogue magic element probably wouldn’t hurt, and Bruce is out of town.

When the clock strikes twelve he makes his way over to see Tim on their rooftop.

Chapter Text

“Hey Hood, thanks for reaching out about patrol! BG might be around tonight too so don’t be spooked if you see another mask out swinging. She's a friendly.” Tim quickly gestures back towards Robinson Park, then more deliberately telegraphs his gestures while reaching into his utility belt. Producing a shiny new ear piece, he reaches out to Jason with it. “And do you mind popping this in so we can keep in touch?” 

“BG? I thought she was O now? There’s too many of you fuckers to keep count, and I only reached out because I need a favor. Turn around.” Robin averts his gaze long enough for Hood to lift his helmet to shove the com in and transfer his voice modulation. He’d rather not have Tim hear his clear Gotham accent right now. The two brothers share a nod and both shoot off towards the next roof. 

Jason feels distinctly off balance swinging with another vigilante dressed as Robin and being the bigger of the two. After coming out of the Lazarus waters over a foot taller it was hard to reconcile his new body with his old training. When he was Robin he was small and scrappy, and he certainly fought like it. Then suddenly he was comfortably over six feet tall and had to relearn his hand eye coordination and a whole new fighting style to fit his new body type. Alfred used to tell him he’d get as big as Bruce eventually, but Jason knew the malnutrition of his youth had taken its course. Now he’s spent over four years training and still finds himself ducking not quite low enough to account for his height, and punching a little harder than strictly necessary. 

“O is still… O. Batgirl became a mantle much like Robin actually, currently a girl my age who I work with sometimes.” Tim fidgets with his grapple as they run across the next rooftop in a way Jason knows Batman would be displeased with. “Enough about that, what’s the favor you need done?” A deflection, Hood’s older brother instincts sing with his understanding of Robin’s obvious flusteredness about the girl. 

“I’m not sure if it is enough about the girl actually. Are you two an item then?” Jason sees the younger’s eye mesh narrow on his mask, clearly uncomfortable with the personal question. 

He nearly fumbles his grappling hook and trips over gravel on the next rooftop as they land from a poorly timed jump. “NO! No. Why would you even say that?” 

“Hmm… The lady doth protest too much, me thinks.” A sincere laugh bubbles out of Hood. Quoting classic literature at the kid he wanted to kill a few years ago is truly an interesting turn of events. 

Robin III turns from embarrassed to confused, raising an eyebrow Jason’s way in a near perfect imitation of Alfred. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s Hamlet, you heathen. Get cultured.” 

“Anyways… What did you need help with?” Jason has mercy on the kid and lets him finally change the subject after they get to a low rooftop edge of a residential building near the warehouse district. He really hopes this thing doesn’t blow up his new warehouse.

Jason has a weird feeling tonight, the air feels almost charged with energy. He can taste magic in the air, which in itself is unusual for Gotham, but this magic tastes blasphemous and wildly untamed. Gesturing a ‘go left’ and ‘get down’ to Tim with Bat hand signals gets him an alarmed response as the Robin moves to duck left. “I’ve been hearing reports of strange colored lights around the Alley. It’s probably some shithead with illegal fireworks but it’s got the working girls all in a tizzy, so I promised Cocoa I’d check it out. Wanna play backup?” 

“Hell yeah!” Jason shushes him, and peers over the roof’s edge to visually sweep on the area. “Wait, why am I backup? A punk kid would probably listen to Robin more than you, name recognition and all.” Jason bristles at that and swings his head back to his shithead little brother. 

“First, I’m older. Second, we’re on my turf. Third, you’re Robin, he's literally a sidekick. Fourth, you have a prissy Bristol accent, and I can smell the money bags on you from here. Lastly,  I have a feeling I’m uniquely well suited to fight this thing if it’s not fireworks.” A flicker of light sparks from the alleyway between them and the next building. “Stay here and wait for my signal.”

“What signal?” Tim watches as Jason slowly stands and steps off the building, being absorbed by the shadows below. 

“You’ll know the one.” Robin hears in his ear piece even as Hood drifts out of his sight.

Jason lands on the ground with his legs braced for the impact. It leaves a slight tinge in his knee, but his quickened healing factor from the pit makes it a nonissue within a few seconds. Hood attempts to focus in on the trail of magic he feels in the air, but knows he’d have to close his eyes to fully hone in on it which would leave him vulnerable for obvious reason. Waiting for the next flare of wild magic isn’t his first choice, but the man tucks himself into the shadows of the alley way and waits. 

After two or three minutes Jason sees a bright spark of blue shoot up about twenty feet further into the alley way. Now that he’s close enough to the source he recognizes it, a nastily corroded demonic entity. Hopefully it's just the one and not an infestation, he really doesn’t want to draw more attention to himself. Hell, after this Tim might go rat him out to the big Bat. 

Red Hood starts to creep down the alleyway before the dark creature could get too far. Once he’s about five feet away he reaches for the all blades as daggers, and the blurry dark mass lurches in his direction revealing two beady red eyes. Jason curses audibly. Stupid, he should’ve known the thing would feel the magic of the blades summoning. It doesn’t seem to be an entirely mindless creature, but it's certainly not strategic in its advances. Hood lets out a few whistles into the coms, an old pattern from his Robin days meaning safe on the approach. 

The demon swings out some vile looking claws, swiping Jason deeply on his right arm as Robin drops down next to him. “Motherfucker!” Wanting to make sure that wasn’t a venomous cut, Jason releases his blade from his left hand and lengthens the one in his right into a full sword. One clean swipe later and the shadowy mass disintegrates leaving only a few bloody claws behind. 

Jason releases his other blade with a sense of urgency, already feeling pinching in his chest, and turns to face a baffled Robin. “What the hell was that and where’d you get the magic glow sticks?” Tim’s attention is then fully captured by the remnants of the shadow demon as he reaches to pick up a claw.

The older bats his hand away before he makes contact with the bloody things. “Don’t touch those! When demons leave gifts behind, the first rule is do not touch them before they’re cleansed. Do you want to get possessed or something?” Hood pulls a small purple bead out of his utility belt and throws it to the ground. The bean bursts in a puff of colorful smoke and sparks, and when it clears the claws are gone. “And now I owe Constantine $20 for a new cleanser. Perfect.”

Tim does a double take at hearing the JLD wayward member’s name. “You know Constantine, like John Constantine? How?” 

Jason gives him an eyeroll and answers with a judgmental tone, not that it comes through with his voice modulation and helmet covering his face. “I trained for four years around the world, with a ninja death cult and a magic ninja cult. I know a few magic users.” Ignoring the newest Robin for a moment to examine his wound, he doesn’t fully register his slip up. Definitely needs to get some antibiotics when he’s back at his safe house just in case.

Tim’s little detective brain prompts him to examine the mystery man inquisitively, suddenly remembering he doesn’t actually know him that well. “You haven’t trained since birth like Damian, weren’t you born in the league? Is the magic cult where you got the glow sticks?” Oops. Jason has never been good at improv and finds himself not wanting to lie to the kid, so he lies by omission and hopes Tim won’t look into it any further. Fat chance.

“I started formal training at around twelve, before that I was learning on the job you could say. Yeah, I got the glow sticks from the magic cult, not that it’s around anymore. They’re called the all blades and I can’t use them all that often without killing myself.”

 He figures the kid won’t be able to resist investigating the All Caste, which Jason knows will be a dead end considering they’re all dead besides him. Maybe it’ll keep the bat off his ass a little longer. Peaking back at the cuts that have started oozing black sludge he makes a split second decision to call John tonight, specifically because he needs a new cleanser anyways if demons are floating around Gotham. “I’m gonna go get this looked at, mind if we raincheck on the rest of patrol? We can meet at my new safehouse tomorrow, I’ll text you the add.” Hood peaks back at Tim to see the third Robin’s face buried in his phone and pale as a ghost. “What’s going on kid?”

“The Joker is dead.”

Chapter Text

“Come again?” 

Jason isn’t entirely sure the little bird hears him, he’s just staring at his phone screen slack-jawed. He lifts his right arm with the intention of grabbing the kid’s shoulder to shake him out of shock, but winces remembering the open and bubbling slash on his upper bicep. The odd sounding noise coming through his vocal filter seems to pull Tim back to the present. “Oh my god are you okay? Do you have a safehouse we could walk to, I need to make a call and I’m sure you need help cleaning that out.” Red Hood just nods his head back towards the entrance of the alleyway and starts walking. 

The two make their way out of the warehouse district and back to a dilapidated apartment complex on the outskirts of the Bowery. Tim vaguely notes the Red Hood having safe houses outside the Alley, but is too caught up in his thoughts to fully examine the notion. Jason on the other hand is rightfully pissed. His mind flashes back to Talia’s text demanding he find an alibi this evening and knows it can’t be a coincidence. Jason certainly isn’t angry the Joker is dead, and not even mad it wasn’t by his own hand. He is, however, outraged Talia didn’t even let him know. She spent years trying to get him off his warpath of revenge and plan to kill the Joker, so to go behind his back like this? Unjustifiable. 

After stomping up five floors of stairs and lock picking the door open (he usually enters through the window, sue him), he lets Tim enter first. Tim drags himself in and plants himself on the ratty couch mechanically. “What’s up with you kid? The Joker is a bad guy, maybe the worst, why are you so appalled that someone would want him dead?”

“I’m not in the slightest. Hell, I wanted him dead after he killed Jason. Not enough to kill him myself though. Not like Dick. Oh god, Dick . How is he reacting to this?” 

For the second time that night Jason found himself asking, “Come again? Why would Nightwing want to kill him? Didn’t you join the family after the other Robin died?” This conversation was leading him to become increasingly hysterical and lightheaded. The conversation or the blood loss actually, he wasn’t sure which to blame. 

“Did anyone tell you how I joined the family? Jason might not have known me but I certainly knew him. I found out everyone’s identities from the first Robin when I was eight, but Jason was the one I followed around Gotham every night with my camera. I was devastated when he died. Dick was too, hence him killing the Joker a few years ago. Joker got resuscitated but don’t bring that stuff up to Nightwing, he doesn’t like talking about it.” 

That was… a lot to process. Jason wasn’t really sure where to start. Stalker kid wasn’t just a funny contact name anymore, this kid was the real deal. Dick had killed the Joker, for him apparently. He’d have to come back to that one. Too much to unpack right now. Jason reels back, dumbfounded before realizing what else Tim said. “Wait! If you loved Jason so much, why'd you steal his suit right after he’d died?” That may have not been the best thing to ask, considering he’s not supposed to be emotionally invested in any of this.

“Bruce. Batman. He was… not well after Robin was… forcefully retired. Batman wasn’t following his own rules and it was putting him in danger. He needed a Robin, and I wanted to honor Jason. I wasn’t trying to steal anything from him. I could never replace him.” Tim looks downright distraught at the accusation, and it almost makes Jason feel guilty for insinuating anything. 

“Hey kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Jason staggers a few steps towards the couch before collapsing next to Tim, finally succumbing to the blood loss and emotional turmoil of the evening. “Any chance you have Constantine's number on there?” He manages to nod his head towards the phone still buzzing in Tim’s hand before going limp.

“Oh fuck.” Tim shakily unlocks his phone and finds John’s phone number, silently praying he answers. He does not want to be the cause of the next Wayne family death.

“You bats always call at the worst times, I swear. What do you want?” A dry British accent draws on the other end of the line. Ahh John, Tim fucking hates dealing with John. 

How does he even explain this? The magician is probably too drunk to understand him regardless of what he says.  “Any chance you can come to Gotham? Like right this second? I have your friend Red Hood bleeding out black goo here.” Glancing over at the limp body next to him, Tim reaches for the man’s wrist in search of a pulse and finds one way too sluggish for his liking.

“Red? Why the hell’s he with you? Said he didn’t wanna get mixed up with you lot again.” What’s that supposed to mean? He must be talking about Damian, but last Tim knew they were on good terms.

“Again? Okay, can you come now or not? If you can't, I need to go call Zatanna or study the Occult before he dies on this couch. His pulse is already slower than I’m comfortable with.” Tim leaves his hand on Hood’s wrist and observes his now festering wound. He really hopes this guy has a good stain remover for that black slimy shit leaking all over the couch.

“Don’t worry too much, that kind of thing doesn’t stick with him and his resting vitals have been slow ever since. Yeah I’ll be there in a mo.” As soon Constantine hangs up the apartment is filled with a purple light so bright Tim has to squint to maintain visual. “Oh shit. Since when are there Demons in Gotham?” 

“I don’t know. Can you fix it or do I have to tell Batman he’s lost another son?” John makes quick work of inspecting the slash wound and the black lines crawling up his arm away from the deep gash. The magician gives the current Robin a confused searching glance.

“Hardly another. More of the same really.” Tim isn’t even sure what to say to that. How could someone be so blasé about someone’s kid dying, even if they’ve lost one before? Before he gets the chance to respond Constantine pulls out another strange bead, cracks it, and starts mumbling under his breath. After a few moments the black lines that had worked their way worryingly close to Jason’s heart finally start receding. “Okay that cleans out the demonic infection but doesn’t heal the wound. The Lazarus influence should keep up with the healing pretty quickly otherwise. Kid is bloody lucky he has that and the blades, otherwise he’d have died in under two minutes.”

Tim short circuits after that, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The what influence?” 

“Did he not tell you how he came back? The Lazarus waters? They leave a rather lasting effect after use. It’s also why his pulse is slower. Look, are we done here? Believe it or not, I have shit to do.” Okay. That’s totally fine. His new brother was hurt badly enough to need Ra’s evil kool aid tub before they even met. Oh my god, Bruce is gonna kill me for keeping this from him.

 Jason lets out a weak groan, distorted by his helmet, and shuffles on the couch before resettling. Tim almost thinks he’s fallen asleep before he lets out a dismissal for their mutual annoyance. 

“Get the fuck outta here C, I don’t got any liquor.”

Chapter Text

Jason wakes up decidedly irritable. The crick in his neck, from sleeping on his old ratty couch in the Red Hood helmet, makes itself known as soon as he sits up. Scanning the living room and only seeing the tiny box TV and wobbly coffee table, he decides nothing disastrous happened while he was out. Red Hood becomes Jason Head (né Todd) in one swift motion as he removes his helmet and tosses it to the coffee table, only gazing down to see Tim’s wide eyed expression from his place on the floor, after the fact.

The two brothers share a moment of paralyzed shock before jumping apart, Jason over the back of the couch and Tim shooting up from his former sleeping spot on the floor. Red Robin reacts outwardly first by face palming and then begins pacing. “What the hell? Jason Wayne? I’m such an idiot, oh my god.”

Tim thinks back to the night before, shit hit the fan entirely when they ran into that demon and then Barbara had let him know the Joker was murdered. Constantine’s weird rambling he’d initially dismissed as drunken nonsense began to make more sense suddenly. When even Jason himself had said things that hadn’t lined up, he should’ve investigated but he left it alone in hopes of gaining his trust. 

“It’s Head.” Jason schools his expression from horrified to determined. His upper lip curls as he glares with all the intimidation of a Gotham vigilante sans mask. 

The younger halts in his pacing and jerkily pivots to make eye contact, not expecting to be met with such outright hostility. “What’s head?” Jason levels him with a withering look. 

“It’s Jason Todd- Head. Do not associate me with Bruce Wayne, or any other Wayne for that matter. They’re all elitist pricks masquerading as humanitarians and I’d rather go back to the grave than get another ill informed lecture from him about the wonders of charity.” Tim shakes his head, his jaw falling slack. None of this made any sense.

“But- but you’re Jason Todd. His son. His Robin . How could you say stuff like that? You know first hand all the good he does for the city.” God, if this kid keeps calling him Robin he’s gonna lose his shit.

 Jason knows his four years of constant attempts to control the Lazarus induced rage will be for nothing if he fights this well meaning kid, but goddamn. How could anyone think Batman has genuinely been good for the city? Even Bruce’s attempts at philanthropy have been so ill informed and poorly executed. He doesn’t understand the motivations of working class people because so many of their struggles are worlds away from him. Bruce is so detached from the working class population’s reality he probably couldn’t tell you how much a hand of bananas costs. Jason takes a deep breath and recenters before responding.

“That’s exactly why I need to say it. I know more about his thought process and worldview than most. I can see his stupid privileged outlook reflected in every decision he makes and I’m not risking my plans getting interfered with because the high and mighty Bruce Wayne doesn’t approve.” 

Tim’s expression shutters and his gaze falls to the floor. He shakes his head, trying to think of an explanation for the out of character actions of his old idol. “Constantine said you went into the Lazarus pit. The League probably messed you up pretty bad, is that where you’ve been all this time? Wait, what plan? Did you have something to do with the Joker’s death?” 

Jason can’t help but feel like the Wayne family fuck up once again for disappointing his new brother in their first real conversation. Since when did he even care what this rich brat thought of him? He’s getting too involved, this is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid.

“No kid, I didn’t know anything about that. I’m gonna bitch T out about it I assure you. If you want to question me about shit like that, we’re done here. Tell B or Dick about me and you’re dead.” The older dawns his helmet to become Red Hood and makes for the window, daylight streaming in as he draws back the curtains. Tim realizes a second too soon what is happening and moves to follow. “Wait- Jason no!”

He turns back only for a moment, facial expression and voice hidden by the helmet, though Tim knows Jason’s emotions are running as high as his. “It’s Red Hood, kid. Also, I’m taking Damian for the afternoon this weekend. You’re gonna cover for us or I’ll skin you like a cat, understood? Now lose my number.”

Chapter Text

Jason is mildly panicking and rapidly tearing apart one of his worst safe houses for the third day in a row. He totally blew up on Tim and probably sounded like rogue monologuing, and was going to have Batman up his ass now. The rage hasn’t taken his self control for this long in years, and he’s glad Robin hadn’t tried to follow him.

The frustrating part is he knows he’s right about this too. Jason had lived it. Gotham’s economy (and America as a whole, if we’re being honest) is a broken system and the playing field needs to be leveled if they want crime to see a sustained decrease. Gotham is a city with multiple billionaires and the highest crime rate in the country. There's certainly a correlation there, he just needs to convince Tim of that. He also knows how to start fixing it, he just needs to get Tim to hear him out before he runs to Dick and Bruce.

 Getting a 1%er brat to listen to him preach about economic justice? Yeah right, he’s fucked. 

Letting out a large sigh and taking in the damage around him, he decides to start cleaning up before trying to reach out to Tim again. His murder board would probably be the best way to sell the idea with a specific brand of patented Bat dramatics, but that would require compromising his main base and he doesn’t trust Tim yet. He belatedly texts Cocoa and lets her know the light situation has been dealt with, apologizing for not swinging by the night previous, then reaches out to Constantine to ask for a new cleanser. Lastly, he calls the construction crew to check the progress on the demo and schedule a consultation for the rebuild. He makes sure to plan it for the start of the new week to get Talia’s input beforehand. 

Jason hesitates when the call ends, looking over his contacts before pressing Stalker Kid. He types and retypes for ten whole minutes, contemplating what to say to Tim, before settling.

Jason: We need to talk. When are you free? 

Sitting in his room updating Jason’s file, Tim is terrified. He brought Dick into the situation with their brother- Jason for this exact reason. He sucks at people skills and is notorious for biting off more than he can chew, but Dick was supposed to make sure this didn’t happen. Dick was supposed to be the one to get the new guy to open up, not Tim. But the new guy couldn’t stand Dick for reasons Tim couldn’t understand. 

But Jason isn’t a new guy. Not really. Even his deep jersey accent sounded exactly how Tim remembered all those years ago when he saw Robin II comfort a fear gas victim. Tim recalls their interactions in a new light with this additional understanding. He had seemed overly familiar with Bat protocol that even Damian hadn’t been taught yet to tell him. Jason also made jokes about Dick as if he’d already met him, which Tim now knows he has. The part he couldn’t understand fully was Jason’s hatred of him and Bruce. B didn’t arrive in time to save him from the Joker, sure, but he’d tried. He’d mourned. Jason had to know that. 

Come to think of it, he’d been very emotional when he accused Tim of stealing the Robin suit. That’s probably why Damian disliked him from the start and called him replacement and pretender every chance he got. What was it Jason had said? ‘Four years with a ninja death cult’? That would mean he was resurrected almost immediately after death. Tim’s heart breaks a little at the thought of his personal hero hating him for so many years, but his resolve hardens even more to get to the bottom of that mystery. The League had to have done something to him, and there was one person in his vicinity who may hold those answers. 

Tim slides out of bed and closes his laptop, before making his way to Damian’s door and knocking. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Tim, can I come in? I need to talk to you about something important.” 

“If you must, replacement.” Tim winces and enters the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Replacement, is that what Jason thought of him now? His little brother lays across the bed, not deigning to look up as the older enters. “What do you want, Drake?”

“Did you know that Red Hood is Jason Todd?” Damian’s head shoots up as he sends Tim a glare so scathing he feels the need to hold up his hands in surrender afterwards. 

“Who told you that? You must be an imbecile if you truly believe a story so outlandish. What is it Father always says? ‘A good detective always checks his sources’?”  For all his sneering and taunting, Tim thinks it’s kinda sweet the kid is so determined to protect his brother.

“Yes he does, which is why I am voluntarily talking with you right now. He showed me his face himself. I want to know if he really is who he says he is and why he doesn’t want to come home. He started talking about it but seemed so uncomfortable I thought it’d be easier to just ask you since you were with him so long.” Tim really hopes Jason hasn’t texted Damian in the past three days. Phrasing it that way makes the identity slip seem voluntary and will hopefully make Damian think he can share what he knows without betraying Jason’s trust. While it’s not a full lie, he still feels a little guilty tricking their youngest brother this way. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that. 

“He is an Al Ghul in all but blood. You dare question his honor and the truth of his words? If Father were not here I would slay you where you stand for such disrespect. He doesn’t wish to return to the manor because it’s not his home anymore, obviously.” 

Geez, for all this nonsense Damian usually spews about being the ‘blood son’ and the ‘true Wayne heir’ he really does love Jason like family. So this is the real Jason, at least as far as Damian knows. If he’s been in the pit and with the League for four years, he’s probably legit. The only other conclusive tests would be DNA, mind scans, and checking his grave, and those last two involve letting other supers in on the secret. Tim doesn’t suspect Jason would submit DNA for testing anytime soon either, if his file’s claims of his fear of needles is to be believed. 

Tim nods in understanding, and attempts to pacify the young Al Ghul-Wayne. “Bruce isn’t even here, but I believe you. Jason was just very distressed when he told me so I didn’t want to push on the circumstances of his return or why he felt the need to find a new home. Maybe you could shed some light on the situation?” Damian’s eyes narrow and Tim hears warning bells in his head. Abort mission! Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. 

“Sometimes I think you enjoy correcting others so much you don’t care to ponder if their misunderstandings are to your advantage.” The younger boy shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval. “My mother certainly did not resurrect or brainwash him if that is what you are implying, Drake. She knew that you would not trust her. Jason was resurrected before she got to him, though she doesn’t know how or why. His mind was not returned to him the same as his body. The damage he sustained from the Joker’s torture and oxygen deprivation following his resurrection were too much, that is the only reason she threw him in the Lazarus waters. He wouldn’t have survived with the League otherwise.” 

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. Resurrected before the pits? Oxygen deprivation? Tim didn’t want to consider the timeline of events that had taken place after Jason was buried that would’ve resulted in resurrection and then oxygen deprivation. It didn’t paint a very pretty picture in his mind. 

“I get that, but one thing isn’t aligning in all of this. Why does he hate Bruce if not because he didn’t save him?” Tim sighs in frustration and runs a rough hand through his hair, what is he missing here? The venomous way Jason spoke about his dad deeply unsettled Tim. What was it he’d said, Something about privileged outlooks and elitist pricks? Bruce may be headstrong, but he cares so much about Gotham and his children. Jason must know that, right?

“I believe that is a question best answered by Todd. I do not have the same life experiences as him so I don't understand much on the matter. Now leave, I am tired of looking at you.” A surprisingly mature answer from the little demon spawn, Tim thinks.

“By the way, you’re spending an afternoon with Jason this weekend. Don’t worry about B,  I’m covering for you guys.” Tim makes it into the hallway before feeling his phone go off. Fumbling to get it out of his pocket as quickly as possible, he finds a single notification. 

THE JASON TODD: We need to talk. When are you free?

Tim: When and where do you want to meet? I’ll be there.

Chapter Text

Jason decides to put off speaking with Tim as long as he can, which in actuality isn’t very long. With his Damian ‘custody Saturday’ rapidly approaching, he lets Tim know to come back to Crime Alley Friday evening (early morning Saturday if we’re getting into specifics). That’s how he finds himself sitting on a familiar rooftop, his legs hanging off the edge as he waits. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” Is all he hears before a figure crouches next to him, soon sitting in a similar position to his own.

Jason responds without much thought, not looking up to face Tim. Not like it would matter, both wearing masks and all. 

“Like what, me very hesitant and you weirdly overeager? You’re sitting awfully close to someone who threatened your life not even a week ago.” It’s true, they’re shoulder to shoulder. Almost like real brothers. 

“Accurate observation but not what I meant, and be real you weren’t gonna kill me. Besides Damian I’m the most tolerable Wayne to you, and even though your taste may be questionable, I take pride in that.” 

He scoffs audibly. Red Hood only wore his domino this evening, figuring there was a nonzero chance the rest of the family knew his identity by now. The older man could feel the younger’s gaze on him, probably taking in his appearance as best he could in the street light, and elbows him playfully but not without force.

“You shouldn’t be so sure. How much do you know about Lazarus Pit after effects? There’s not a great survival rate for anyone around the inflicted individual. I’ve been trying and mostly succeeding in keeping it in check, figures it’d all go to shit the second one of you found me out.” Jason stares mournfully at his hands, clenching them in and out of fists. Trust him to be the family fuck up even in rebirth. 

“Hey man, have a little faith in yourself. You didn’t lay a hand on me. I know we should probably talk about everything that happened while you were gone, but I wanted to let you know I offered Damian Robin today. His first patrol should be next weekend after B is back.” 

Jason scrunches his eyebrows and feels the mask adhesive tugging at his skin. There shouldn’t have been another Robin after him, but he’s realized that’s a losing battle. Bruce will only be convinced Gotham doesn’t need Robin when he thinks it no longer needs Batman. Hopefully that day is sooner than they think. 

“Wait, if he’s robin then who will-” He cuts himself off when he turns and catches a glimpse of Tim’s current get up, tilting his head in curiosity. 

“I’m Red Robin! I finished the suit yesterday so I figured tonight was the perfect time to christen it. It’ll give Damian time to look over the old Robin looks and pick what he likes with Alfred.” Tim smiles proudly, practically preening under the admiring gaze of his predecessor. 

Jason takes a few moments to sort through this new information, after which Red Robin sees his lip twitch upward. “And what does Bruce have to say about getting a new Robin so soon?”

“I like to think he’d say ‘it’s none of my business, I don’t own Robin’ but that’s probably less than accurate.” Tim responds in a near perfect imitation of Batman’s rough growling tone.“It’s about time the title was passed between two consenting parties amicably.” he tacks on as an afterthought. 

Red Hood nods in understanding, acting a little more solemn than the situation really calls for. “Less than accurate indeed, and amicably between you and Damian? Are we talking about the same toddler assassin here?”

Robin III snickers aloud. He really hopes Jason likes him, because he really likes Jason already. “I think he’d resent being called a toddler.”

“I know, which is exactly why I said it. Look, do you wanna finish this talk in my safe house on 2nd and 5th? I feel like you’re just waiting to bring up a family reunion again.” The last flicker of a smile on Jason’s face fades away as he stands and offers Tim a hand up. Once they’re both standing they glimpse out at the cityscape one more time before racing towards Jason’s safe house. 

After landing on a rusty fire escape a few stories too high for comfort, Red Hood begins fiddling with a lock that looks almost like a bomb to Tim’s trained eye. “There’s no way you have your window lock souped-up with an incendiary. Seriously Hood? In a residential complex? Next you’re gonna tell me there’s C4 in the helmet.” Tim huffed out a laugh, not expecting an answer to the affirmative. 

Jason let out an easy shrug, not moving his eyes from the mass of wires surrounding the window frame. “You can never be too careful! Don’t diss the security measures, they come in handy.” He quickly shoves the wire cutters into his brother’s hands and reaches into his jacket pocket for another tool. 

Tim stands, shell shocked, and lets the cutters slip out of his grip and fall multiple stories to the ground. “Oh my god, Jason. No. Are you suicidal or something?” 

Red hood lets out a full belly laugh, his shoulders clearly rising and falling underneath his body armour and jacket. “Oh my god, Jason. Yes. No I’m not suicidal, it’s just nobody expects a man to carry a bomb on his head. Easy diversion in any situation.”

“Can’t you vomit on command as a distraction? That’s what Dick used to tell me. You take the helmet off before you detonate it, right? You’re giving me so many questions and no answers. I want to trust you but you’re not inspiring a lot of confidence in your decision making abilities right now, man.” Jason must’ve finished unlocking his death mechanism, because it releases a tiny beep followed by a click. Sliding the window open, the older man beckons the younger to go ahead of him with a flourishing bow similar to one he often gives Damian. 

The two crouch through the window and into the surprisingly nice apartment. Not Bristol nice, obviously, but more than the usual Crime Alley safe house the Robin had come to expect from Hood. “I can puke on command, that is true, it got us out of a lot of galas back in the day. I find with hardened criminals it lacks the same ‘clutch your pearls’ effect unfortunately, and it’s hard to puke with a helmet on. Sit down Timberly, if I’m answering questions all night we might as well get comfortable.” Jay takes a seat on the chair closest to an old bookshelf and gestures for Tim to take the couch across the room. Tim fake gags in his direction at the stupid nickname, but takes a seat anyways.

“There’s a few things I want to talk about but I don’t know what you want to start with, so I’ll say general topics and you can pick one. Your beef with Bruce, your beef with Dick, your beef with me, your ‘plan’ you mentioned last time we talked, the Lazarus-slash-League stuff, or the Joker’s death. Your choice.” The newly minted Red Robin lists out topics of conversations, counting off on his hand as he does. 

Tim really hopes he’s not being too direct but it’s this or he investigates behind Jason’s back, and he figures he owes the old Robin the respect of being straight forward. Who knows? Maybe after they clear the air they can be friends. Or brothers. Tim really wants to be Jason’s brother if he’s honest, but he does what he does best, which is compartmentalize. Plenty of time to get to know his hero after he ensures he’s not an evil League psyop.

“Damn kid, you really don’t pull your punches do ya? How about you go easy on me and start with my plan before I get pissed off talking about Bruce and lose all sense of coherent thought? And for the record—we don’t have any real beef. It’s just the principle of the matter honestly.” Jason feels himself sweating through his mask with nerves, in a way that only usually happens during a high risk operation. He watches the kid tilt his head in what seems like awe and confusion.

“You’ll tell me about your plans for Crime Alley? Just like that?” Red Hood finds himself tilting his head right back. This kid must not realize he holds all the cards right now, and Jason finds himself telling Tim so against his better judgement. 

“Well, I either tell you, or I flee Gotham like a bat outta hell with Bruce hot on my tail after you rat me out to him. This is probably the easier choice of the two, don’t you think?” The ex-Robin makes a weighing motion with his arms like a scale until he sees Tim nod in understanding.

“Hey, I’m sorry, you know how Bruce is. You investigate before things become a problem or you try to fix them after the fact with casualties. I promise I trust you, I just have to do my due diligence, especially if I’m keeping all this from the rest of our family.” The kid looks apologetic, but the outlaw waves it off once more. He really does understand, and it makes him respect the younger vigilante a little more for trying to protect his family.

Jason has one shot to explain this without making the kid run right to Bruce and ruin everything he’s worked on. He tenses a little more with the realization, but forces himself to relax. He’s planned for this, he can do this. Letting out a sigh he starts talking with feigned ease.

“I get it, kid, no sweat. You’re a good Robin, maybe the best of us. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, how to explain the plan without visuals?” 

Chapter Text

“I gotta be honest, I planned this in my head but I’m blanking completely so I’m gonna improvise. Feel free to interrupt if I start rambling.” Jason word vomits to fill the silence until he can get over his nerves. How the fuck does he even start? 

“Jason, you’re rambling,” Tim gives him a condescending smile and two big thumbs up from the couch. 

“Don’t get smart with me, brat, I’m clinically insane and not morally opposed to fratricide. Anyways, I’m planning something to help with the rampant economic disparities in Gotham. How familiar are you with economic theory, Mr. Drake?” Tim suddenly flashes back to his school days (he should still be in school, let's be real) and his shoulders unconsciously climb a little higher. Why does he feel like he’s about to get an economics lecture from Red Hood of all people?

“I help Bruce run a multi-billion dollar mega conglomerate. I’m pretty familiar.” Jason levels him with a flat look, akin to a teacher he had in highschool who insisted he ‘wasn’t applying himself’. Tim steadily avoids making eye contact as the silence drags. 

“Economics is not the same thing as business. Business classes teach you how to abuse a broken system to get money, economics classes teach you the pros and cons of different economic systems and how to interpret the mechanisms within them. Sociology also helps, it’s called socioeconomic status for a reason. It’s all totally different. Business is for chumps.” Jason stiffly laughs, attempting to seem nonchalant, but Red Robin sees his nostrils flare as if he’s holding back anger.

“I thought you were more of a classic lit guy, and you said I could interrupt if I wanted.” The younger brother says, aiming to lighten the mood. The bet pays off as the joke draws a more relaxed laugh from Jason, the bigger man’s shoulders finally untensing.

He responds quickly, happy the atmosphere feels a little less interrogation-like than before.“I can like both, you dick, and yes, interruptions with the express purpose of keeping me on topic only.”

Tim’s eyes flashed with mischief as a sly smile slid onto his face. “I’m not Dick. Dick is Dick. Now talk about economics or something, we’re burning moonlight.” He impatiently gestures for Jason to get on with it, earning a sharp glare in response.

“You know the term socioeconomic status? It’s a fancy way of saying what opportunities you get—what kind of access you get to things like healthcare, education, or jobs. People act like it’s all about personal choices, like if you’re struggling, it’s your own fault. That’s complete bullshit. The system’s rigged to keep certain people down, and the rich ones in charge want everyone to believe otherwise because they benefit from it. It’s easier to call folks failures, say they’re a drain on society, than admit the whole game was fixed against them from day one. I really should have taken a photo of the murder board, damnit.”

Jason feels himself start breathing a little faster. He’s explaining as well as he can but he isn’t sure the kid is picking up what he’s putting down. Speaking in abstracts is usually the kid’s forte, or so Jason’s heard, but talking about poor people might be too far out of the 3rd Robin’s depth. 

Meanwhile, Tim is startled at the mention of Jason’s so-called murder board. Sure he’s made murder boards himself, but a League member with a potentially nonzero body count makes the term more concerning.

“ Murder board ? Are you sure you had nothing to do with the Joker's death? Also, I get what you mean about people having less opportunities to succeed but that's not an excuse to break the law via joining gangs and doing drugs.”

Red Hood throws his hand up in a huff of annoyance at the younger's clear sign of unease. He knew Tim would get hung up on that part. It’s not even a real murder board this time. Zero homicide involved!

“I didn’t kill the clown, Timmy, calm down. Your privilege is showing too, Mr. Money Bags. Do you honestly think people want to be criminals? They need to eat and they do what they have to in order to survive. Why the fuck would they respect the law when it works to keep them oppressed?” Jason rolls his eyes and sighs yet again, this kid will never get it.

“Okay yeah, that’s totally fair actually.” Tim nods thoughtfully, his palm holding up his chin and his elbow resting on the couch arm. Geez, color Jason surprised.

Maybe the best way to explain this to the kid is in terms his little vigilante brain will comprehend. He’ll have to start from the beginning then.

Jason breaks eye contact with the newer hero and starts rubbing his upper arm, the most timid Red Robin has seen him act since their days at Gotham Academy. (So what if Tim skipped a few grades to stalk the second Robin at school? It’s not that weird.) 

“I used to think killing people like the Joker was the only way to save this city. I thought that was getting rid of the problem at its source. Talia helped me see that killing mentally ill and poor people wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. They’re symptoms of a bigger problem. Kill the current rogues and new ones will fill the vacuum, because the rogues aren’t the source of the problem.” Jason says it with a sense of urgency, as if it would help Tim understand the gravity of his words.

“If we’re focusing on the wrong issue what should we focus on? Bruce already invests in charity through WE and tries to clean up corruption as Batman.” Tim is willing to admit he’s a little lost. Yeah Gotham has deep systematic problems, but Bruce always told him the system isn’t the problem, the corruption is. 

“The source of the problem is economic and civil inequality, and the fact Bruce has tried to fix the situation by throwing money at it isn’t surprising in the slightest. Corruption isn’t the issue on a micro person-to-person scale. It’s at an institutional level, kid. The rules and wording of laws have always been for the benefit of certain groups. Taking on centuries old institutions may be difficult, but we can start smaller. We have to level the playing field first.”

“I’m assuming you have a plan on how we should do that? If the murder board comment is anything to go by.” Jason’s eyes lit up, filled with liveliness in a way Tim hasn’t seen in almost five years. One he missed despite it never being directed his way. His hero starts nodding vigorously and word vomiting more economics lore.

"Economic divergence is what the concept is called, and there are proven ways to fix it. It’s when two region’s economies grow at different speeds—one grows, and the other eats shit and dies. Look at the U.S. for example, the coastal regions got exponentially more wealthy when we went all in on importing and exporting, but the center region of the country? They got left behind. We killed their manufacturing economies, towns dried up as those people lost their jobs, and while all those coastal cities got richer, the Rust Belt crumbled from the loss. The gap got bigger, and the people stuck on the losing side got tossed aside like they didn’t matter."

“What exactly does that have to do with Gotham though?” Tim cocked his head genuinely curious where Jason was going with this and a little frustrated he hadn’t put the pieces together himself yet. 

Jason slaps his hand on the arm of his chair, leaning towards his brother. “That’s happening in Gotham too, just on a smaller scale. We have the elite in Bristol and downtown getting richer, while having homelessness, unemployment, and premature deaths in Crime Alley and the Narrows at unprecedented rates.” He follows his explanation with rapid and enthusiastic hand gestures. It pulls a laugh from Tim, who’s used to the stoic expressions of Batman and false lightheartedness of Nightwing. 

“Nice vocabulary word, I bet you’re great at scrabble. So how do you plan to fix Gotham without directly fighting crime and corruption?” Red Robin replies, Hood’s passion sparking excitement of his own. Tim finds he wants nothing more than to work side by side with his hero to make their city a better place for everyone.

The older hero gets up, only to plant himself on the couch next to Tim and ruffles his hair. “I’ll kick your ass at scrabble any day Tim-buck-two. People obviously want to succeed and be self-reliant. Nobody wants to feel like a burden. If we give people opportunities they are being denied, they’ll take them and be better for it. So that’s exactly what we’re gonna do. We can’t give up on the good people, if we do then what is this all for? They may not fit your definition of innocent but you can’t ignore the context in which they became criminals.” The older man scowls as if expecting resistance from the wealthy teen.

He’s staying as vague as possible because he’s heard from Damian that Tim likes to insert himself. While Jason can’t assess the truth of that statement, he decides to stay cautious. The trick with bats is info dumping enough to satisfy their curiosity without giving away too much.

“Where did you learn all this? Not that Dick and Bruce don’t speak highly of you, but they didn’t say anything about economic development skills in your file.” The corners of Tim’s mouth turned up and his eyes shined with mirth. 

“I spent four years on a world tour learning everything I could, did you really think a few fast tracked college degrees weren’t a part of that? Talia was very thorough with my training.” Jason scoffs, what’s Bruce been telling the new recruits about him? He’s very strategic, not hot headed at all. Not since it cost him his family.

Tim nods thoughtfully and takes a moment to reply, seeming to think his next words through carefully. “Yeah that tracks, I’d honestly expect nothing less by the way Damian acts. He is excited for today by the way, for your lunch. Dick also misses you, dead you and returned you I mean. Bruce would be ecstatic to see you and hear what you’re trying to do for Gotham.” 

From the way Jason winces at the mention of their adoptive father, Tim can tell he wasn’t careful enough. What was their beef? He doesn’t have enough time to ask with the sun already peaking through the window.

“I’ll try to be nicer to Dick, but I’d prefer to keep my identity under wraps as much as possible. Bruce has a tendency to destroy everything I care about, whether he means to or not. That guy is so out of touch it isn’t even funny.” Sadness clouds Jay’s features and it almost makes Red Robin regret bringing it up, so he tries for damage control.

“I understand, I’ll watch your back as much as possible as long as you promise to tell them eventually. I’m gonna head out cause it’s already getting early, but I’ll see you at 11?” Tim reaches over to hug Jason before second guessing himself and patting his shoulder instead.  

“Sounds good Timmy, try not to set off the bomb on your way out.” The two brothers stand up, feeling relieved this conversation didn’t end in a fist fight. Hood grabs Robin on his way out and hugs him tightly, already having formed an attachment to the younger kid. It’s a fairly awkward few seconds that mean the world to Tim. 

“No promises.” Sending Jason a two finger salute he reaches the window frame. 

“Hey! Not everyone’s got a trust fund to pay for home repairs you brat!” Jason takes the time to flip him off, even after he’s already three rooftops over. Geez, he needs sleep before he has to deal with more rich people (the Al Ghuls). 

Chapter Text

Hey guys!
I have been getting my ass kicked by school recently. I love writing this and have the entire plot planned out, so I wanted to update to let everyone know it’s NOT abandoned!!!

I can’t give an exact date, but I’m hoping by mid May I’ll have something!