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Chapter Text

Jason Todd was a goddamn genius. Call him Einstein with the way he was redefining what it means to come back from the dead and take revenge on his family.

Coming back and hiding his identity was such a tried and tired way to do things. Sure, it had great shock factor but what about the long term affects? Jason just didn't want them being surprised, he wanted them to feel betrayed, violated, traumatised. Just like he did.

And he'd just some up with the greatest plan ever.

Before, he'd been.. conflicted. There was a part of him that just wanted to go home, to talk to his family. To sleep in his own room. To explain to them all the ways they'd hurt him, pre and post death.

Then there was the other part of him, the part that wanted blood. Jokers. Bruce's. The new Robin's. Dick's. A part of him that wanted to cut a bloody path through Gothams underworld that would insure that nobody ever suffered like he had.

He'd wasted so much time thinking, deliberating, deciding. Then, it hit him. Why choose, when you could just do both? Hit them in two places at the same time. Subtle emotional manipulation at home, down right abuse in the streets. It was nothing less then what they deserved.

Nothing less then what he had endured.

***

The first thing Jason did was secure a safe house. He'd bid Talia and Damian goodbye over a week ago by that point, and Talia had expressed pride in his plan. It was strange, the feeling that had invoked him. The safe house he'd chosen was nestled right in the heart of crime alley.

He didn't want to make too many waves, just yet, he didn't want Bruce suspicious of the timing when Jason returned. Still, he stocked up his own mini armoury and put some feelers out for mercenaries for when he made his grand entrance as Red Hood.

Then he went home.

It was hard to explain the feeling that sat in his chest when he saw Wayne manor again. A tornado of conflicting emotions whirled around inside of him. He couldn't deny the small pin prick of relief at the sight, those old feelings from before his death rearing their head.

Jason knocked on the door, heart in his throat.

He'd dressed himself in the most unassuming clothes he could. A blue, baggy hoodie, beat up sneakers, scuffed jeans. The kind of stuff he would have worn when he was alive, the kind of stuff that was clean enough not to make him look homeless, but dirty enough to show it wasn't new.

When Alfred answered the door, he dragged a sheepish grin on his face. Like he was an average teen out past his curfew. The old man inhaled sharply, placed a hand on his chest and stared at Jason, stared for so long Jason started to worry he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, Alfie," He said, voice soft. "Long time no see, huh?'

"Jason," Alfred whispered, "Jason. Is that-, no, no it can't be. Is that you, my boy?"

"It is," He made a show of fiddling with his sleeve and ducking his head, like he felt guilty. "I- I know I have a lot to explain. And I know it's been a while. But. I just, I wanted to-... can I come in? Can I," Jason swallowed, "Can I come home, now?"

Alfred all but dragged him in, placed his hands on Jason's shoulders to look him up and down. Studying him. Looking for anything that might reveal how this was possible, finding nothing, he placed his hand on Jason's cheek. "It is you,"

Jason dropped his head again, "It's okay, Alfie. I know you have to take your blood tests. You can take some now, if you want, get ahead of- of Bruce."

"Of course," Alfred whispered, stroking Jason's cheek, "I'll do that later, but first.. first, let's get you to Bruce."

Alfred led him through the hallways of what once was Jason's home. Past hallways adorned with pictures that hadn't been there before. Past ornaments that always had been. Right to Bruce's study.

Alfred didn't even knock, just pushed open the door and tugged Jason in, never speaking.

Bruce was sitting at his desk, facing the door, and he looked up when they entered. Then he just, froze. Dropped the pen in his hand and full on gaped. It was the most emotion Jason had ever seen from the man, it honestly made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Alfred," Said Bruce, voice tight, "Alfred, what- who, is this?"

"I haven't done a blood test yet," The old man confessed, "But I thought you should see him for yourself, first,"

Bruce looked on at Jason, wide eyed. "Who. Who are- you're not. You can't be him," He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "You can't be,"

Jason swallowed again, glancing at Alfred for reassurance before stepping forward. "Uh. I am, actually. I know you don't- I know it's hard to believe, but its true. And I can explain, not, everything. But most of it. And I have proof, I'll have even more when you take my blood. But, it is me, Bruce. I promise,"

"You can't be," He repeated. "You can't be. Who are you?"

"Jason. Jason Peter Todd. I can explain, Bruce." Like Jason was the one who owed him an explanation, and not the other way around. He had to stick to the plan.

"No. No, I carried you. I buried you. I checked, twice. You- you were dead,"

"I was," Jason agreed, "But," And he lifted his hoodie, showing the autopsy scar that stretched his entire torso. The large, deep Y shaped thing that meant Jason could never take his shirt off in public again. Just thinking about it made him angry. "I, uh. I came back. I'm not sure how, I just remember waking up, in a coffin. Six feet in the dirt."

Bruce gaped. Standing, he walked around his desk to talke a closer look at the scar, at Jason.

Jason tried to keep his face calm, blank. He was worried that the second he let a slip of emotion through Bruce would be able to tell just how angry he was. Just how vengeful. The man wasn't called the worlds greatest detective for nothing.

Alfred produced a needle from one of the dressers in the room, and Jason dutifully held his arm out for it, dropping his hoodie. He had nothing to hide. Well, nothing a DNA test would reveal.

Then, he looked back to Bruce. Back to his father.

He was staring.

Jason mustered up a grin, trying to make it look reassuring. Bruce brought his fingers to Jason's pulse point, brows furrowed. "How. How did this- how did you come back?"

"Do you want me to explain now?" Jason offered, "I don't remember a lot, but I'll tell you what I do. I was hoping you could clear some things up, actually."

Bruce jerked his head into a nod and offered Jason a seat at his desk before reclaiming his own. His expression was... twisted. Hard to read. There was a mixture of emotions there that Jason had never seen him wear before.

"So, the last thing I remember before dying was the warehouse," Began Jason, "I tried to offer my- Sheila, I tried to offer Sheila some help, told her I was Robin, but she sold me out. Told me that if I exposed Joker I would expose her, as well. She'd been dipping into the funds, too,"

Bruce nodded, proving that he already knew this, so Jason continued. "Joker- he, well, he beat me. Beat me half to death, actually. Kept asking me what hurt more, A or B. He used a crowbar to do it, it- the end of it, it dug into my skin everytime he swung. It, hurt so much." He made a show of taking in a shuddering breath, like he was reliving it, and watched Bruce's expression crumble.

"After he left, I managed to get up and free Sheila, but the door was locked. I don't think it would've mattered anyway, the blast would've gotten us, regardless. It didn't kill me, though, the blast," He added, "I survived it. No, the smoke got me. The internal bleeding wasn't far behind, but I asphyxiated to death. It, it fucking sucked, honestly,"

Where Bruce's expression had previously fallen, he built it back up into a blank wall, trying desperately not to show his feelings. Useless to Jason, every Robin knew Batmans feelings better the their own, but, it was the thought that counts, he guessed.

He continued, "The next thing I remember is waking up in my coffin. Mahogany, right? Satin lining? There was no oxygen down there, I started suffocating again." Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, "It was so hard to break. Then when I finally busted out, I had six feet of dirt collapsing on me. I almost died, again. If you dig it up and examine the box you can see where I clawed my way out, that counts as evidence, right?"

His adopted father took his sweet time before nodding, slowly. He was in emotional pain. Good.

Jason took a deep breath before continuing, "So. Because of the lack of oxygen I was completely out of it by the time I escaped. I'm not sure how long I wandered around as a mindless zombie, but it was long enough for Talia to find me,"

"Talia?' Bruce interrupted, "She found you?"

Jason nodded, fixing his expression into something baleful, but not too obvious. "Yeah. She did. Dunked me in the lazarus pit and... fixed me, I guess. Tried to keep me in the league and train me, but I escaped. Used one of the missions she sent me on as my way out. Then I came here," He looked up at Bruce, "I came home. I... I can stay, right? I can come and live here, just like before?"

Jason watched Bruce's throat work, watched the emotions dance in his eyes. "Of course," He said, voice hoarse, "Of course you can, chum. We just- we need to get the DNA results first, just to be sure, okay? If it comes back correct, then of course. I'd- I'd love to have you back. I've missed you so much,"

Jason widend his eyes, "You did? I thought..."

"What?"

"It's just, you got a new Robin, right?"

Bruce's face pinched, "Tim. Yes, he.. he volunteered. Said Batman needed a Robin, and he was right. I was, lost, after you. I needed help,"

Jason nodded, all thoughtful like, "Yeah. It's okay, I know why you replaced me. Robin's a job, right? It's not like you thought of me as your son, even if I saw you as my dad. I've always understood that,"

Bruce choked, "What? I- I always saw you as my son, Jason, how could you think that?"

Jason shrugged, "You never acted like it,"

Bruce's expression was one of pure devastation. He stared at Jason like- well, Jason didn't know it was like. He'd never seen anyone wear an expression like that before.

Alfred came back up from the cave, then. A slip of paper in his hand, and a expression of delighted disbelief. "It's him, master Bruce, it's really him. I ran it twice," He handed the paper to Bruce, and Jason watched him take it in. Alfred placed a hand back on Jason's shoulder and he smiled down at him, he looked so happy.

Jason swallowed down the guilt. He could do this. He had to.

"So," He said, "I can come home?"

***

Jason's room was exactly as he'd left it. Down to the smear on the window and the crumpled sheets. It was kind of eerie, actually. Alfred went in behind him, tidying up the place, for what looked like the first since Jason died.

"You didn't... change it?" He tried, "It's exactly the same,"

Alfreds expression was somber, "It took a while for us to be able to even enter the room, master Jason. Then your father went through a phase of being unable to leave. It didn't feel right, somehow, to change it. It felt like a dishonor to your memory,"

Jason ran his fingers over the book on his bedside table. The Velveteen Rabbit had a thin coat of dust around it, but none on it. So, cleaning his room too thoroughly was a dishonor to his memory, but completely replacing him wasn't it? How did that make sense?

It didn't. It was more likely they just shut the door and forgot all about him.

Still, he nodded. Smiled at Alfred all somber, like he believed him.

"I believe," Said Alfred after a moment, "That young master Tim will be home, momentarily. Would you like to meet him?"

Would he? Jason wasn't sure. He knew he wanted to, eventually. Couldn't exact revenge on the little fuck if he never met him. But did he want to do it today? He'd already made his grand come-back from the dead to Bruce and Alfred, did he want to deal with Tim as well?

Eventually, Jason agreed. Might as well get it over with.

It took his placeholder another twenty minutes to get back, and Jason was waiting in the kitchen when he did. He'd missed cooking with Alfred. It was one of the few things that hadn't been tainted by time.

He could hear Bruce and Tim talking in the parlour. Could hear the disbelief. Could hear the rustling of paper that held the DNA results. Alfred kept giving him reassuring looks, like Jason was nervous. Jason wasn't nervous. Really, he wasn't. More... worried.

This whole side of his revenge plan was banking on establishing a strong emotional bond. Bruce and Alfred were easy. Dick would be a struggle, but he could do it. Tim was the one he wasn't sure about.

He'd never met the kid before, he knew nothing about him. There was no past between them that Jason could manipulate to his advantage. If this went wrong then.. then Jason was screwed.

When the teen walked in, Jason took a moment to study him. He was shorter then Jason and narrower in the shoulders, with a nineties haircut and a nirvana t-shirt. He looked like the kind've kid in school that would pretend he was from the narrows and then get disgusted when somebody from a lower social class would talk to him.

Jason had known a lot of guys like that in Gotham academy. The shit hole.

Still, Jason gave him a grin when he saw him, "Hey," He greeted.

Tim's face was incrediculous. He was still holding the paper in his hands, "Jason," He said. He spoke with a Brighton accent, "It's actually you. What the hell?'

Jason furrowed his brows, "Have we.. met, before?" He looked kind of familiar now that Jason was seeing him in person.

"Uh. No? No, we haven't. You're alive. How?"

Great conversationalist, this guy. Jason shrugged, "No idea. Everything I know, I told Bruce. I'm guessing he told you?" Tim nodded, "Then you know as much as I do."

Tim looked at Bruce, who was looking at Jason. He looked like he still didn't belive he was actually there.

Jason cleared his throat, dragging Tim's attention back to him. He smiled, "Nice to meet you, though. I heard about you in... in the league," He made a vaguely upset face, before clearing it, "You've been doing a good job, right?"

Tim was wide eyed. "Uhm. I try to. I mean, you two were.. a lot to live up to. I'm trying my best to keep the legacy alive,"

Fuck the legacy. "You are. Genuinely. I didn't want to be the reason it died out, so I really appreciate you dragging Bruce into the land of common sense. And you're not trying to do a good job, you just are,"

"...Thanks?"

Alfred was giving him an approving look, and Bruce was looking all emotional again. It was Tim Jason focused on. The kid looked all confused, and a little touched. Good. That meant his plan was working.

"So," He spoke up, "Where's Dick?"

"Space," Tim offered, "Something to do with the Titans. He should be back... next month, right?"

Right. The titans. Jason forgot how much Dick loved them. He certainly cared about them a lot more then he ever cared about Jason. Didn't even come to his funeral, if Talia is to be believed. Too busy with his favourite family.

Something must have shown on his face, because Tim quickly added, "I'm sure he'd come back a lot quicker if he knew you were... here. Probaly come back right away,"

Jason shook his head. "No. It's okay. I know how important what he does is. No point dragging him back here just to see me when he's busy saving lives,"

Bruce made some kind of aborted motion, like he was gonna reach out to comfort him, but stopped.

Good. Jason wouldn't have let him, anyway.

Tim nodded absently, still studying Jason.

Whatever. Today was a success in Jason's book, regardless of what he thought. He'd successfully gained the trust of the family that had betrayed him, and was now one step closer to getting the revenge he deserved.

Finally, they'd know a hint of the pain and betrayal he'd felt two years ago.

***

After almost three straight days of constant surveillance at the Manor, Jason was finally able to sneak out. On one hand, it was a good thing they were already so attached to him that they didn't want to let him out of their sight. On the other, it was fucking annoying.

He snuck out to his safe house in crime alley, and donned his Red Hood gear for the first time since he was in the league and slaughtered his teachers. The good ol' days.

He patrolled the area, making sure to dodge the Bats usual patrol routes. With no Nightwing, and Barbara out of commission he had a lot more area to work with. He just wanted to get a lay of the land again, see what hadn't changed and what had.

Turns out, the answer was not a lot. It was almost exactly as he remembered. The same eerie feeling from seeing his bedroom for the first time returned, that uncanniness. The knowledge that he was the one who had changed so much, not the city, deeply unsettled him.

It also angered him.

Bruce's mission, the one he cared so damn much about, had always had the goal of changing the city for the better. And yet, here it was, exactly the same as it had always been. And there was Jason, a walking, talking corpse. He was the one that had changed.

He was the only result Bruce had to show from years of hard work, a dead fucking teenager.

He made his rounds, introduced himself to the working girls and the homeless. Told them he'd be around more. They were confused and distrustful, not that Jason blamed them. He'd just have to prove that he was telling the truth.

The second night out he started on his list of people he wanted dead, and hired his mercs. They didn't take him seriously, not really, but that was okay. He'd show them he was someone to fear.

Seven corpses and a stolen kryptonite shipment later, Jason feels as though he got the message across.

A week later, he knelt on the floor in his second, new warehouse, his new mercs all around him, watching. Jason carefully began the process of removing the scum corpses heads, slicing through the skin, muscle and bone with the flame blade Talia had gifted him. The cauterised wounds weren't enough to stop the blood from drenching his pants.

He'd already gained something of a reputation. The mercs never asked Jason questions, stopped doubting his plans when he successfully performed a heist against Black Mask with the crook none the wiser. They whispered about him, about where he came from. They thought Two Face or Bane or any other rogue must have trained him. It was the only explanation.

They figured it was the only way Jason knew how to doge the bat and trick the rogues. The only way they he could be so prepared.

They were half right.

Seven heads severed, Jason went about wiping as much blood as he could, off. Already thinking of places to put it. He eventually decided on the police station. It'd certainly make sure his message was received.

He looked up at the crowd around him, all watching him. The blood had stained his gloves, and dripped to the ground when he grabbed two heads by the hair and gestured to the closest goon to do the same.

The goons grimaced, but three dutifully came forward to grab some heads, a fourth opened the duffel bag wide so he could stuff them in.

"What do you wanna do with 'em?" One asked, quiet. Unsure.

"Central police station," The voice modulator made his voice come out disjointed, deep and crackling. "Don't hang around to see them take it, just place it on the steps and go,"

Someone offered him a tissue that Jason used to wipe his fingers, "Two of you go," He ordered, "One to drop the bag off and to stay in the car. Run the city until you start to get low on diesel, then get back here."

"Is that necessary?" One asked, "That much running around?"

Bruce had invited Barbara over and told her about him. The woman had full on cried at seeing him again, opening her arms. Honestly, Jason had teared up a little to at seeing her. They were both victims of the Joker. Both victims of Bruce's negligence.

Then she'd shown him her new job as Oracle. Her surveillance network was one of the best he'd ever seen. Blessedly, it was still in the early stages, so he had a small window.

He grunted in affirmation to the goon, who clearly didn't want to question the man covered in blood again. Two mercs peeled away, one hauling the duffle over their shoulder and left. Jason turned to the ones left, "You have your orders, and your posts. I want at least two people linked to our guy in Arkham at all times, do you understand me?"

Jason received several nods. Their guy in Arkham was one of the cooks, but he saw and heard everything that went on in there. Even made the Jokers meals. God, had Jason been tempted to poison the bastard. But that wasn't part of his plan. It'd served him too well already, he couldn't abandon it.

Again, his goons didn't question him. They were paid too well to risk his wrath, well, that and they'd just finished watching expertly decapitate seven men. That might've dissuaded them, too.

Jason left not much longer after they did, flanked by three mercs. It was past one am, so their night was winding down to a close. They had a shipment of guns to pick up before retiring for the night, so they headed to the docks for retrieval.

They were promptly ambushed by Batman and Robin.

Fuck, okay. Jason had hoped to set up a little more before their first interaction, but he was adaptable. His mercs cocked their guns, and he raised up a hand to stop them. He didn't let his fear show, kept his back straight and his stance casual. The opposite to how he carried himself as Jason.

"Bats," He greeted.

Batman stared at him. Stared at their cargo. "Who are you?"

Shitty conversationalists, every one of them.

"Don't worry about it," Replied Jason, "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping a crime," Said Robin. He eyed them, meaningfully.

Jason looked around, "Crime? What crime? We're just out for a walk,"

"Armed," Batman noted, "Masked. And buying more weapons,"

"What weapons? Nothing illegal about wearing a mask, as you well know, and we all have gun licences here,"

"The guns in the crate next to you. We know you're here to buy them,"

"There are guns in this crate?"

Batman frowned, and Jason sighed. Okay, that was enough of this.

Jason pulled out a flash bang and detonated before he even threw the thing. Predictably, Batman kicked it out of the air, what he didn't kick was the second one he lobbed after the first had blinded him.

His mercs fell into the formation he taught them, spreading out behind him and taking cover. Jason whipped out his custom gun, and shot Batman right in the centre of his mask, where it was strongest. He didn't want Bruce dead, just out of commission.

Tim tried to strike him but Jason stopped that real quick. His guys were providing an excellent cover, their gunshots were loud enough to cover any noise he made and distracted the bats. He knocked Tim on his ass and blocked Bruce's oncoming hit.

They needed to hurry up.

Right on time, his reinforcements turned up, forcing the Bats into a retreat. About twenty guys circled them, armed and with the high ground. His mercs had hit their beacon, just as they'd been trained to.

The bats left. No point in sticking around for such a big fight for no reason. It didn't matter that they didn't stick around, all that mattered was that Jason was now on their map. By the same time tomorrow, they'd know Jason's call sign, his movements and a list of his crimes. They'd also have the duffle bag by then, too, but they wouldn't be able to pin it to him just yet.

***

Jason snuck back into the Manor, quickly stripping and turning on the shower. The blood had soaked through his pants and onto his skin, leaving him to scrub it off.

All things considered, his first encounter had been a success. He'd got out unscathed, his men had followed their orders perfectly and they'd even got the gun shipment. Granted, Robin had tagged it with a tracker but Jason had caught it well before they reached the warehouse. Right now his men were taking stock, making sure nothing was missing and covering up any tracks.

Arguably, Jason had won the fight, too.

He stepped out the shower, dressing and walking back into his room only to see Bruce, still half in the Batman suit, sitting on his bed.

He froze.

Fuck, did he know? How did he know?

"What're you doing, old man?" Jason asked, all casual like, "It's like... Two am?"

Bruce looked up, shoulders sagging when he saw him. Oh, it was one of these nights. In the week Jason had been back at the Manor, Bruce would occasionally sneak into his room and watch him sleep. Just to make sure he was real.

Jason had tried to tell him that it freaked him out, so that Bruce would stop and he could successfully sneak out, but it only seemed to work for half the nights.

"I know," Said Bruce, "I just..." He trailed off, staring at the mask in his hands.

Jason sat down beside him, "Just, what?"

Bruce said nothing for a long moment. Just sat next to him, listening to Jason breathe. "Why are you awake?" He asked instead.

Jason hesitated for a moment, "I guess... I'm still on my Robin sleep schedule. Can't sleep. Too used to showering at this time of.. night? Morning?" He shrugged.

His adopted father nodded, before returning to silence. Jason sighed, falling back onto the bed. He was fucking tired, he didn't have the energy to pretend to be the perfect once-dead son right now. Why couldn't Bruce wait until morning for this shit.

"You... you could become a vigilante again, if you wanted," His voice was quiet, reluctant. He didnt want to be saying what he was, "I couldn't stop you. And.. I'll help you with your costume, if you want."

"I don't want to be a vigilante," Jason said, immediately. He'd been waiting for this conversation. "I'm sorry, Bruce. But I never want to do that shit again. Dying... it hurt, so much. I can't go through that, again. Please, I know you want me to use the training you gave me, but-"

"No," Bruce interrupted, "I don't. I never really did. I'm... glad, you're hanging up the mask. I, I'm sorry about the reason, but I'm glad you're not going to putting yourself in danger, anymore."

Oh. Okay.

Jason gave him a grim kind of smile. "Okay. So... can I go to bed, now?"

Bruce leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Jason's hairline before leaving. Desperately, Jason tried to push the warmth in his chest away.

He had to stick to the plan.

These were the same people that had hurt and abandoned him when he needed them most. The same people who had never really welcomed him, the same people who had constantly compared him to Dick.

He made that plan for a reason. To protect himself. To protect others. He couldn't stray from it, he just couldn't. It would be letting down Talia, letting down every victim of the joker, letting down himself.

Just because they felt guilty now didn't change the way they had treated him in the past. He had to remember that.

He had to.

Chapter Text

Dick Grayson was on his way back to Gotham. On his way back to Wayne manor, to Jason.

Bruce hadn't actually told him why he needed to get back so urgently, just said that he needed to get back as soon as possible. So that was going to be a nice surprise for him.

In the month it had taken for his adopted brother to return, Jason had successfully cemented himself as a crime lord, making an enemy out of Black Mask and Batman. They'd had a couple, small scale altercations since the first, usually ending with Jason coming out with nothing but a few bruises.

Bruce had talked the case over with Jason, hilariously, telling him about Gothams new crime lord with nothing short of pure irritation. They'd connected him with the bag of severed heads, and tried to bring him in multiple times only to be tricked and swarmed.

It took everything in Jason not to laugh in his face when he told him about it.

While simultaneously establishing himself as Red Hood, Jason had been integrating himself back into the family. Knocking on Tim's door to play video games, talking about going to online school and colleges with Bruce, cooking with Alfred. All the little things he'd been unable to do since he died.

It only served to strengthen his resolve.

It was Bruce's fault he hadn't been able to do it the right way, his fault he couldn't go back to school, his fault Jason was so far behind. All Jason had wanted when he was younger was a proper education, a chance to prove he wasn't the scum everyone thought he was. Bruce had dangled the opportunity before Jason, only to lead him down the path of teen death.

Nobody could ever fault Jason's acting skills.

He and Tim sat in the garden, waiting for Dick's arrival. Alfred had tasked them with watering the plants, and Jason was oddly enjoying himself. He'd never paid much attention to the Manor grounds before, but he was now. It proved a pretty good workout, too.

Tim did not share that thought. He'd flopped his pale ass down after barely ten minuted in the sun, moaning about an early grave. Jason grinned down at him, garden hose in hand. "Been there," He quipped, "Done that,"

Tim squinted up at him beneath his palm, studying his expression for any hint of upset before huffing a laugh.

"It's fine," Jason assured him, keeping to the roll of the good brother, "I don't care if you laugh at the jokes, I wouldn't make them if I wasn't okay with it,"

Tim shrugged, "I wasn't gonna assume. Can... can I ask you about it?"

Jason considered for a moment, before shrugging. "Go ahead,"

"Did you see a light?"

"A light?"

Tim gestured with his hands, "People talk about a light they see, just before they die. Did you see one?'

"Does the explosion count?" Jason asked dryly, which earned another laugh. "I mean, no, not really. I don't actually remember anything tangible from dying, just the pain."

Tim's brow furrowed, "Just the pain? How bad did it hurt?'

Jason's grin was twisted, "It's the most pain I've ever experienced. And I've been through some shit. But that.. nothing tops it, nothing."

Tim nodded, expression thoughtful. Behind him, Alfred cleared his throat. Jason twisted off the hose before turning to give the man his full attention.

"Master Dick has arrived," He informed them. "Master Bruce has taken him down to the batcave to give him the news,"

The news. Meaning Jason's return to life. What joy. Tim gave him a reassuring look, "He'll be delighted. You know, when the shock wears off,"

"When the shock wears off," Jason agreed. He'd been confident, before. Confident that Dick would welcome him back out of guilt. Now, he wasn't so sure. They hadn't been close before Jason died, just a few team ups and arguments, and one trip to the titan's tower. That had been the full extent of their relationship.

What if he didn't welcome him back, as Alfred and Bruce had? What if he wanted Jason gone? Or somehow figured out he was Red Hood? He might not be as blinded by grief as Bruce was, he might be able to put the two sudden appearances together.

"Well," Tim said, stretching and standing, "Wanna go in? Those flowers will end up drowning if you water them any more. We can work on our Terraria world while we wait?"

Tim had taken to Jason's appearance a lot better then Jason thought he would. Honestly, he gave Jason the impression that he'd been lonely before he turned up, and he really seemed to enjoy having a brother.

It made Jason feel a little guilty. Tim hadn't done anything to him, not really. It was Bruce's responsibility to ensure what happend to Jason didn't happen again, and he'd failed. If it hadn't been Tim who'd taken his place, then it would've been some other kid.

Maybe he'd be wrong about Dick, too?

Jason agreed, winding the hose in and putting it away before joining Tim inside, heading for his room. They made it to the stairs when yelling from the study halted them. He and Tim glanced at each other. "When the shock wears off, huh?"

"Hasn't worn off yet," Tim replied. "..he'll be happy, when it does,"

"Sure. If it does,"

A loud slam! Came from down the hall and Jason winced a little. Okay, so he wasn't wrong. Always nice to be right, he supposed. Of course Dick wouldn't want him back, he'd hated Jason taking over his mantle, never thought he was good enough for it. Maybe if Jason assured him he didn't want the damn thing anymore, Dick would back off.

Doubtful.

Dick came stopping down the hall, complaining to Alfred as he went, "He's lost his fucking mind," He said, "He thinks Jason's back, again."

"Master Dick-"

"I'm calling Zatanna. Or Dinah. I haven't decided if he's insane or spelled or both. Either way, it's not my fucking problem any-"

He skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, and gaped. "Who the fuck-"

"Watch your fucking language," Jason said, trying for a joke. "There is a child present,"

Tim made a face, "Me? I'm like, two years younger then you,"

Jason nodded, "Practically an infant,"

Dick just kept staring. He looked back at Alfred, "That paper-"

"Was real, yes master Dick, it was."

Dick looked back to Jason. "You're... alive? How are you-"

"I thought Bruce was gonna explain," Jason muttered, "So I wouldn't have to go through it again,"

The vigilantes mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, before finally finding the words he was looking for, "I- yeah, he did, but- Jesus Christ, you're alive? You're actually alive!"

Dick stepped forward, sweeping Jason forward into a hug that was so unexpected, it was right up there with Dolly Parton revealing she had secretly been Batman the entire time. Jason stilled, looking around for help. Tim just shrugged. "He got over the shock?"

Awkwardly, Jason patted Dick's back. "So.. you're not mad?"

Dick stepped back, "What?"

"That I, you know, died and sullied the good Robin name?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What the fuck do you mean, what am I talking about? Are you deaf?"

He choked back a laugh, dragging Jason back into another awkward hug, "You're alive. You're fucking alive, Jason! There's nothing else I care about more then that, right now,"

...Huh?

"That's good?"

Tim, the fucking saint, came to his rescue with, "So. How was space?"

As Dick peeled away from Jason to address Tim, Jason started to wonder if he'd woken up in the same universe he fell asleep in last night.

Since when did Dick care about him?

***

Jason's operation as Red Hood was going swimmingly. Dick had returned two days ago now, and had spent every moment at the house with Jason and Tim. Which had momentarily hindered his operation, but he was able to escape, finally.

Using a gang battle against Black Mask as a guise for his real plan, Jason planned for a full frontal assault against one of his safehouses full off cargo. A win win for Jason if he pulled it off, he could piss off Sionis and get free shit for his trouble.

It was amidst this assault, Black Masks goons battling his own, clearly loosing, that Jason ran into Nightwing for the first time.

It did not go well.

For Jason, at least. Nightwing seemed to be having a blast.

The acrobat chased him around the block, hurling quip after quip. "So," He yelled once, "Why'd you choose to name yourself after a fake clown?"

"A fake what?" Jason asked, doubled over, gasping for breath. Dick bounced to a stop in front of him, grinning like they were playing a game.

"Jokers a fake clown. I wrote a letter to the Society of Clowns, they confirmed it. Why would you ever wanna name yourself after a phony?"

"...You know what? You're right, I'll just go and change my name now," Jason said, still heaving, "Any suggestions?"

"For murdering crime lords? Not many, to be honest. Not my area of expertise,"

"That's a little harsh. Does it really count as murder if the people I kill are murderers themselves?"

Nightwing gave him a look, "Just because someone's a criminal doesn't mean they're not human,"

"I know that! You don't see me killing shop lifters, do you?"

The vigilante shrugged, leaning casually against an air vent, the bastard, "See you? No. But we didn't see you behead seven people, either. Still did it, though, didn't you?"

Jason straightend up, rolling his neck. "Some people deserve to die. People who hurt kids, for example. Or do you think they should be left alone?"

"I don't think it's any one persons place to decide the fate of another," Said Nightwing, "The law exists for a reason, and people deserve to see their abuser come to justice,"

"Yeah, cause the justice system is so reliable," Replied Jason, entirely sarcastic.

It was Nightwings turn to shrug, "Not always. But, at least when they make a mistake it's reversible, their mistakes don't end with innocent corpses,"

"We could debate morals all night, but neither of us are gonna change our minds," Jason said. "So. Are we fighting? Or do you wanna chase me around the block, again?"

Nightwing bounced on the soles of his feet. "I could go for a 'couple rounds. I wanna see what it is about you that's got Batman in such a tizzy,"

They brawled, Jason starting on the offensive only to be knocked back into defensive real quick. The difference between Jason fighting Dick and Bruce, was that Jason knew how Bruce fought, he'd trained with the man all throughout his teen years, and then he'd been trained by the same people that trained him.

He was predictable, all the tricks that would've been new to Red Hood was old news to Jason. Dick, on the other hand, was someone Jason had only trained with once. For all of Jason's flexibility and acrobatics, it was nothing compared to Dick, The flying Grayson.

Dick got several good hits on him, while Jason only got a couple on him. Dick would have a shiner in the morning, and if it wasn't for his helm, Jason would have a few of his own.

But Jason was getting tired, Nightwing had interrupted him during an all out fight that was still on-going. Jason had to catch him off guard if he wanted to win.

He reached for the All Blades.

The All Blades were something he acquired during his training, he'd come across a cult of demon hunters who seemed to think Jason was some kind of chosen one with how good he was at killing. Technically, the swords only worked on demons and the undead. Also technically, Jason was undead, and seeing how the blades were binded to his very soul, they technically worked on anyone he wanted them to.

Including annoying, vigilante, elder brothers.

Two long, flaming blades appeared in his hands, and Dick full on back flipped to get away from them, "What the hell are those!"

"What, like you're the only person who can have light up sticks?"

Dick looked down at his escrimas, "There is a big fucking difference between magical flame swords and lightning sticks!"

"What makes you think they're magical?"

"They appeared out thin air!"

"So?"

He swung, catching Nightwing's forearm, making the man full on screech in pain. The vigilante backed up fully, taking stock of the situation. "Okay," He said, "Maybe we can resolve this peacefully?"

"You're the one who wanted to fight," Jason pointed out, "I was just minding my own business, doing your job for you and taking down criminals, and you came along and chased me!"

"You're a criminal! Okay," Dick held up a finger, "Let me think for a second. Jesus that hurt," He inspected his arm and torn suit, "Jesus. Shit, my brother had the right idea. Maybe I should retire,"

Brother? Dick thought of him as his brother? "When did Robin retire?" He asked, as casually as possible. "Wasn't he around here, yesterday? Could've sworn he was tailing me," That's a bold faced lie. Jason wasn't able to get out yesterday, but Tim had told him that he was looking for my information on Red Hood.

"Different one. How'd you know Robin was my brother?"

"You're all flippy," He shrugged. "And named after birds. Could've sworn I heard Batman talking to him about his homework once, too,"

"Okay, first of all," Nightwing stopped inspecting his arm, "Nightwing isn't a bird, it's from a Kryotonian legend. Second of all, you were doing some flips yourself,"

"Oh, so you're a fan boy, okay." Jason nodded, "That makes sense, you look like a fan boy,"

"The fuck does that mean?"

"What do you think it means? I didn't know vigilantes retired, I thought it was all 'do or die' with you guys,"

Nightwing frowned, "No. It's not."

He'd hit a nerve, weird. "Good for him," Jason said. He checked the time. "So, this was fun. But I gotta go, so..." He backed off to the edge of the roof, Nightwing watching him. He saluted the vigilante before jumping off.

***

The next afternoon, Jason was in the batcave, helping Tim out with a case. Bruce and Dick sparred behind them, while Alfred tidied. It was oddly domestic.

And then Dick opened his mouth.

"So, I think Red Hood might be a runaway protege of the Jokers," He said, like a mad man.

Jason choked, "What?"

Tim and Bruce looked at him, concerned expressions on their faces, while Dick shot him an apologetic look. It took Jason a moment to realise why. He sighed, "Sorry," He muttered. "What were you saying?"

Dick hesitated, "I can talk about it later, if-"

"I'm fine. Seriously," He added, "We live in Gotham, I can't dodge the name forever," Not that he needed to. Still, they didn't know that. "Go on,"

"Okay, yeah. It's the only reason I can think of that he'd use the name. He didn't have any particular reaction to me mentioning it, no anger, so I doubt its a revenge thing," Shows what he knows.

Bruce's brows furrowed in thought. "It's a possibility. He could also be using it to piggy back off Jokers reputation, give himself a headstart in the game,"

"Doubt it," Tim piped up, "Not a lot of people have ever even heard of Red Hood, less knew it was secretly Joker. I think Dick's idea is closer,"

"Two birds with one stone," Jason suggested.

Bruce hummed, resuming his sparring session with Dick, he said, "We know nothing for sure, and shouldn't assume. Did he say anything else of note?"

"You mean, besides the magical flame swords? Not much. He-" Dick grunted as he blocked a hit, "Congratulated Jason on his retirement,"

"Huh?" Tim span around in his chair, "How'd he know about that?"

"I... might've mentioned it, not anything incriminating, just said I knew a guy who'd retired from the vigilante-ing game,"

So that was a bold faced lie. He'd also confirmed that Batman was their father and Robin was his brother. Makes sense why he wouldn't want to tell them that, though.

"The flame blades, did he do anything to summon them?"

"Not that I saw, he just seemed to will them into existence."

Yeah, cause they were bound to his fucking soul. Jesus, this was irritating. Jason had never known how annoying these thinking sessions could be when you already knew the answer to every question.

"I'll email Zatanna. In the mean time, don't get too close. He didn't pull the blades until Dick cornered him, and they sliced right through his armour," Bruce shot Tim a meaningful glance, and the kid replied with a thumbs up.

"Loud and clear," He promised.

"Yeah, don't want a repeat of last time,"

They looked around him, again. Jason gave a big grin  back, "What? It's funny,"

"It's really not," Dick said.

"Well. The dead kid says it is, so," He shrugged, looked to Tim for support, who gave a weak smile. "Kind've funny, I guess,"

Jason beamed at him, "See?" He said to the other half of his family, "Its funny,"

"You have such a messed up sense of humour," Said Dick.

"Gee, I wonder why,"

***

The next time Red Hood and Nightwing met, Jason was in the middle of a stake out. Perched on the ledge of a roof top, peering down at the docks below.

Black Mask had a shipment coming in, and Jason planned on being the one to receive it. He had it on good intel that the cargo wasn't weapons, but people. Human trafficking. Sionis was really branching out, in all the worst ways.

A light footfall sounded behind him, joined by another, lighter one.

Nightwing and Robin.

Jason sighed, long and drawn out. "Well, what do you two want, now? Gonna arrest a guy for chilling out?"

"You know you've got like, several arrest warrants, right?"

That perked Jason up, "Really?"

"Don't look so happy," Nightwing groaned, "That's not a normal thing to be happy about,"

"Oh, because you're the reigning authority on being normal," Jason stood, turning to face the pair with the port behind him, "An idiot in spandex,"

"Hey! I don't insult you for no reason," Nightwing crossed his arms, a fake pout on his face.

"You call me a criminal!"

"You are one!" That was Robin, two steps behind his predecessor, once removed.

Jason gestured to Robin in an I-told-you-so gesture. "See what I deal with?"

"Fair," Nightwing shrugged. "So, what are you up to, 'Hood? Sight seeing?"

"Just taking in the view. It's a beautiful night," The sky was grey and cloudy, like always, and the water had a dirty green tint.

"Absolutely stunning," Robin agreed, entirely deadpan.

"Uh huh. So, nothing to do with Roman Sionis?"

"Who's that? Sounds Irish."

The look he received was wholly unimpressed. What'd they think he was gonna do, give them a straight answer? Idiots.

"'Hood. Come on, we're closer then that, tell the truth,"

Jason made a noise of disagreement. "We've spoken twice, boy blunder, I'm closer to the cockroach in my apartment."

"Well, I'm sure you two will be very happy together. Just as I'm sure Roman Sionis will be happy with his shipment coming in tonight, know anything about it?"

Oh, Jason knew a lot of things. Like how Bruce had ordered Dick and Tim to back off from him, unless strictly necessary. He wanted to see how Red Hood and Black Masks little gang war ended without any interference. So all Dick was doing right now was recon,  and nothing that would actually endanger his operation.

"I don't even celebrate St Patrick's day," Jason said.

"Roman isn't even an Irish name," Robin pointed out, "It's South African,"

"What? No, it's Roman. Like, the place."

"There's a south African version,"

"Still sounds Irish," Jason interjected.

Robin just sighed.

Nightwing turned back to Jason, "So," He said, "Got any plans for tonight? A hot date, maybe?"

"Yeah, with your brother," Snarked Jason. "Just ask what you wanna ask, Spandex. I'm getting bored,"

"Don't joke about that," Nightwing grimaced, "He has much higher standards then you."

Jason was a little offended, "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"He could do better. A lot better."

"I'm not that bad," That was a little harsh. Jason would totally date himself, if he had the time.

"I mean..."

"Okay," He was getting pissed off now, "Fuck you too, asshole. Are you just here to insult me?"

"We're also here to talk about Roman," Robin added, "Not just to insult you,"

Nightwing snickered while Jason rolled his eyes. Great, just great. Is this what he had come back from the dead for? Petty insults? All that league training, for this. Talia would be so proud.

"Look," Said Nightwing, "Just tell us what we want to know, and we'll leave you be,"

Jason snorted. "Funny. Is that supposed to be intimidating?"

Nightwing shrugged, "Only if it has to be."

"You'll leave eventually, anyway. You'll get bored,"

"I don't know, I've been known to be pretty patient when I have to be," Which was a bold faced lie, Dick had never sat still a single moment in his entire life.

"Sure, you could stay here all night, but then you'll have to be the one to explain to your brother why his date didn't turn up,"

Nightwing's frown was immediate, "I told you not to joke about that,"

"Who said I was joking?"

"'Hood,"

Jason sighed, and settled back down on his ledge. "I'm not tell you shit, Big boy blue. Give up now, and I won't regale you with all the things I'd do to your brother,"

Nightwing seethed behind him silently, only once breaking it to say, "He's a-" Before being cut off by Robin. No doubt he was going to inform Red Hood of Jason's status as a minor before being stopped.

How Dick had survived this long with his identity intact was a mystery.

"You're an asshole," Nightwing settled on.

"Yep," Jason nodded, "That's practically a compliment, from you,"

He heard them mutter to each other behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, they left, even bid him goodbye as they went.

Jason settled back into his stake out, and prepared for a long night.

***

The next morning was Sunday, which was Jason's day. He and Alfred had come to the agreement that on Sunday, Jason was allowed to cook whichever meal he chose.

Today, he'd chosen breakfast.

Jason dished out the full English breakfast as Dick and Tim made their way down the stairs, with Bruce already at the table. He grinned at them, the good-brother mode dialed to a hundred, "Mornin', how was patrol?"

Tim groaned, palmed his eyes and slammed his face on the dining table. Dick slumped beside him.

"...That good, huh?" Jason's night had been pretty great after they'd left. He'd successfully freed the human trafficking victims and slaughtered half of Black Masks men, then liberated all of their weapons to sell.

"It sucked ass," Tim moaned, "We got stuck in a fucking well. A well. Why the hell does Gotham have wells? Then, after we got out, Barbara told us that Red Hood had a full on battle by the docks. By the time we got there, the GCPD had taken care of everything,"

"Language," Alfred reprimanded.

So, they didn't know about the human trafficking, yet. Judging by the look on Bruce's face, he did. "A well? How'd you find that?"

Tim threw his hands up, "I honestly have no idea."

"We kind've just tripped in," Dick made a falling motion with his hands. "Hurt my ass,"

"Poor baby," Jason handed them their plates, and Dick made heart eyes at the dish.

Then he looked up at Jason, suddenly very serious. "Jason. I need you to promise me something,"

"Uh, sure? If it's not to die again, I make no promises,"

Bruce grimaced, "Jason," He warned.

Jason ignored him.

"Promise me," Dick said around a mouthful of food, Tim gagged, "That you will never, ever, and I really mean never, date Red Hood,"

"...What?"

Was Jason's alter ego really that bad? It's not like he was hurting innocent people, like thieves and sex workers, just the rapist and murderers. The people that deserved it. Jason wasn't sure he warranted this kind of warning.

"Don't. Date. Him.'

"Didn't intend to?"

Dick nodded, satisfied, and returned to his meal.

He looked to Tim for some kind of explanation, but the teen just shrugged. Okay. Weird.

"What would you do if I did?' Jason asked, just out of curiosity.

"Don't,"

"Okay, but what if I did?"

"Just don't!"

"Well, now I have to,"

"I didn't even know you liked men," Tim muttered.

Jason shrugged, and tried to ignore Bruce's gaze. "I don't know if I do, actually. Kind've skipped the whole finding out phase of my life,"

"Ugh," Groaned Tim, "This again,"

"Sorry, is the fact that I died boring to you, Tim Tam?"

"Kind've," Dick slapped Tim on the back, making him choke whilst Bruce gave him a look. Jason, on the other hand, peeled into a fit of giggles.

Oh, sometimes these guys weren't so bad. Only sometimes, though.

It didn't change anything.

Chapter Text

Maybe Jason wasn't as smart as he thought he was. Actually, maybe Jason was a full on moron.

In his defence, it was a lot funnier in his head.

Going to the library to hang out with Barbara and coming back to tell Dick and Tim that, hey, a cute guy had flirted with him, and seeing the look on their faces had been downright hilarious at the time.

It'd been even funnier to see Barbara deny them access to the cams to protect his privacy. Because she was in on it. Not the fact that he was Red Hood, of course, but the prank he was pulling. She'd been happy to help, actually, she told him he was glad he was doing normal teenager things.

Like, right now, Jason had just finished dismembering one of Jokers old thugs - Ralph, his name was - hand, like a normal teenager.

Ah, the many joys of youth.

Jason's casual teenager activity was then, of course, ruined by a vigilante. Nightwing, again.

The man marched up to him, pinned him to the wall with his forearm, and hissed, "It better not have been you, 'Hood. Because you don't know the half of the shit you're gonna be in if it was,"

Jason was still holding one of the assholes fingers, blood steadily dripping down his leg. His mercs were all looking at Nightwing like he'd lost his fucking mind. Walking in a room full of enemies and past a current torture victim, tended to evoke that kind of thought.

"I've done a lot of things," Jason said slowly, scrounging his mind, "You're gonna have to be more specific,"

Nightwing pressed down harder, "The jokes weren't funny, and the real thing is a lot less,"

What the fuck? What jokes? Jason tried to think back to their conversation a little over a week ago, which was the last time they'd spoken. His jokes about dating himself? Surely not?

Then he remembered his little prank.

"You've lost it," Jason told him, "Or I have, because I've got no idea what you're talking about. So, if you'll excuse me-"

"Were you in Gotham library yesterday?"

"...Yes?"

Nightwing made an angry noise in his throat, "So it was you! You actually asked my little brother out, you fucking-"

Dick was such an idiot, case in point, "That was your brother?"

Nightwing fell silent. His mercs, previously muttering amongst themselves, fell silent. The guy he was dismembering shut up to look at them. Jason watched the slow horror or realisation cross Dicks face beneath his domino.

"...You didn't know?"

"Why would I have known?" Jason asked slowly, "How would I have figured out a thing that nobody else has in decades? That's how long the Bat's been around, right?"

The vigilantes head fell forward with a groan, "You didn't know? You actually didn't- how the fuck, it was just a coincidence?"

"How did you know it was me in the library?" Actually, how? Nobody had been in the library, so unless Barbara had decided to mess with Dick so more on her own, he had no reason to think it was Red Hood.

"I assumed," Nightwing had the decency to look a little sheepish as he stepped back, removing his forearm.

"...And now I know," Jason sucked in some air through his teeth, "Not your smartest move, Wonder boy,"

His brother regarded him for a moment, studying Jason and his gear, studying the severed finger and the blood. Then he rolled his shoulders, "You won't tell," He decided.

Beneath his helm, Jason raised an eyebrow, "No?"

"Nah. You've got some kind of grand plan going on here, revealing Batman's identity isn't part of it,"

Behind the vigilante, a merc hissed to another, "Wait, he actually knows-?"

"Do you know how much that information would sell for-?"

Jason silenced them with a look, then regarded Nightwing again. He shrugged, "Good point. I don't actually care who you are, so long as you leave me alone. Hey, what do you think ol' Bat's is gonna say when he finds out you just threw two decades of secrecy out the window?"

Nightwing shifted. Guilty. Before shaking his head, "Oh, I'm not worried, not as much as you should be,"

"Oh?"

"Call off your date, 'Hood, and I won't kick your ass back to hell,"

Ouch, harsh. "Now, why would I do that?" Come to think of it, Jason hadn't told Dick that he'd been asked out, just hit on. Jesus, over protective, much?

Trying to make up for his actions before Jason's death, he supposed. Little too late for it. It was the thought that counts, though, right?

"I'll kill you, Hood',"

Jason snorted, "Not your style, Goldie,"

"Wanna bet?"

Actually, Jason wasn't sure he did. Dick was wearing a very manic expression right now, and he knew from experience that Dick could kick his ass on a good day. Mercs or not. Jason immediately thought of his All Blades before calming down. No, there didn't have to be a fight here.

Jason made a show of sighing beneath his helmet, "And what would you like me to say when I blow your little brother off? Sorry, I'm Red Hood and your brother is a controlling asshole who doesn't want you to be happy?"

Nightwing scowled, "He wouldn't be happy with you, I'm doing him a favour. Murderous crime lords don't make good romantic partners,"

"Murderous?" Jason gestured with the severed finger, "I'm not murderous! And how would you know, date many criminals?"

"More then you'd think, actually. That's how I know. I don't care what you tell him, just cancel,"

"See? Controlling," Jason looked to his victim, "Isn't he controlling? You know, you're gonna end up pushing him away if you keep this attitude up,"

Ralph made some whimpers of agreement.

He received an incrediculous look from Nightwing, "What, you think I should just let him go out with psychopaths unknowingly? You think that's what a good brother does?"

"Well," Jason drawled, "I know that a bad brother controls his younger and then fucking abandons him when he needs him most. Is that what you're doing, Dickwing?"

Nightwing looked at him for a moment, quiet. Considering. "Something you need to get off your chest, Red Hood? Something to share with the class?"

Shit. "No," He grumbled, "Look. Just fuck off, Nightwing. I'll blow off your brother and you'll leave me alone, alright?" It came out a little sulky, but Jason couldn't help it. He'd been having such a good night before Dick had turned up.

Now, he'd been insulted and argued with and accused of utter bullshit. Then he'd slipped up with the whole brother discussion.

Nightwing sighed. He looked up at the ceiling for a long, drawn moment before sighing once more. "You're right," He said, "Technically, I can't stop you. And seeing how you've graciously agreed not to spill any of our identities... I guess I'll give you a chance to prove you're not like your mentor. But I swear to god, 'Hood, if you-"

Jason held up his hands. "Wait, hold up. You're... letting me? Actually? What mentor?" Please don't tell him they were actually sticking with their original theory.

The vigilante gave him a look, "Joker. It's obvious. You're not as unpredictable, nor do you seem to have a vendetta against Batman like he does, but you're similar in a lot of your ways."

Jason had never been so fucking offended in his life. "What the fuck?"

"You're not as subtle as you think," Nightwing replied, all smug like.

"I," He seethed, "Am nothing like him. I'm nothing like any of them," How dare he. How fucking dare he. Joker didn't train him, Joker broke him. Tortured him. Destroyed him. Batman was the one who trained him, for all the good that did.

"So it is a revenge quest," Nightwing said, "Against your mentor. Interesting," This fucking asshole. This stupid, inconsiderate, twerp.

All Dick was doing was pissing him off now. "Leave," He hissed.

Nightwing rolled his shoulders, saluted him and then vaulted from the warehouse.

***

Jason and Tim were chilling in the theatre room, Buzzfeed unsolved was playing. Jason wasn't really sure what it was, just that they'd made a video about his death.

Apparently Bruce hadn't done a very good job at explaining it to the press.

The whole situation from the night before kept playing on his mind. Dick's over protectiveness was the only plus side he'd found, it meant his plan to gain the trust of his family to ultimately betray them was going a lot better then he thought it was.

The downsides were that Dick was now under the impression that Jason was preparing for a date with himself, and that they'd latched onto the idea that he was Jokers protege. In rather more neutral news, Dick, and therefore Bruce and Tim, now knew he knew who they were.

There had been a whole meeting about it in the Batcave, although Dick had failed to mention just how he'd accidentally revealed such information.

Bruce was furious, naturally. He'd ordered a complete password overhaul, more training and a lock down on civilian events for the foreseeable future. Then Dick had cornered Jason coming out of the cave, telling him he knew about his date.

He could see the gears turning in Dick's head as he resisted telling Jason that the guy he was going out with was Red Hood. Instead, he told him to message him when he arrived, when his date arrived, what he ate and when he was getting ready to leave. He did not seem to appreciate Jason pointing out how overkill that was.

Somehow, Jason managed to convince Dick to keep the 'date' a secret, saying he didn't want to worry Bruce. He framed the whole thing as some brotherly bonding experience.

Like a dumbass, Dick agreed.

Jason's entire plan for tonight consisted of sneaking out and laying low, somewhere his brother couldn't follow. He knew Dick, he knew he'd want to tail them. It was exactly what Jason would do, if the roles were reversed and Tim was in his place.

That night, after the buzzfeed marathon, Jason pretended to get ready. He dressed himself in nothing fancy, just a dark pair of jeans and a white long sleeve. Effort, but not too much as to stand out. Or look stupid.

How did he get into this situation, again?

Dick, with the utmost sulliness, helped him pick the clothes. Jason wasn't sure why the man was doing this to himself, only that it was highly amusing.

"So," He asked, a grin clear in his voice, "How do I look?"

With a frown, Dick examined him. "You look great, little wing. I wouldn't worry about how you look too much, though. First dates are... are always casual,"

Jason bit back a laugh. "Don't sound too excited for me,"

"Huh? Oh, no, I am! I'm glad you're able to do normal teen things, it's just... you know, stranger danger and all that," Dick plastered a fake grin on his face.

"Babs checked him out, remember?"

Dick squinted, dropping the fake smile, "Maybe Babs isn't as good at her job as she used to be,"

"What? Don't be stupid," Jason said, doing his fucking best to hide the glee in his voice, "There's nothing Barbara can't find. Besides, what about him could possibly be so bad? I met him in a library,"

Dick let out the most put upon sigh Jason had ever heard. "I guess, yeah. But if he shows even the slightest hint of-"

"-Danger I should call you and get to a predetermined check point as fast as possible. Because I suddenly have forgotten every piece of League and Robin training I received,"

Another sigh. "I know, I'm sorry. I can't help it, I worry. Just.. stay safe, and have a good night, yeah?"

Jason grinned at him, "I intend to."

"Ugh," Dick grimaced, "Oh, ugh. Don't tell me that. You're seventeen!"

"I didn't mean that! And I'll be eighteen next month," Jason groaned. It was gonna be three whole years since he died. And it was gonna be his best birthday yet.

Bruce wouldn't be able to say the same.

Dick helped him open his window to sneak out, giving him tips all the while, like Jason didn't do this shit on a nightly basis. Still, he smiled and listened and pretended like he didn't already know it all. Like the good brother he was pretending to be.

He slipped out of the Manor, headed to Dick's car that he'd conviently left in the drive way for Jason's discretion and peeled off the grounds.

So, what do now?

Usually, Jason would take an opportunity like this to do some work as Red Hood, but seeing how he was supposed to be on a date right now, with himself, that wasn't an option.

Instead, Jason drove to the safehouse he had set up when he first arrived and changed his clothes into a uniform he'd stolen a while ago. Arkham uniforms were surprisingly easy to come by.

He switched Dick's car for a custom bike, just incase Dick was tracking it, and headed for the Asylum.

It was about time he paid Joker a visit.

***

It was a nurses uniform that he'd stolen, so he was given free range. The more Jason walked through the asylum, the more he started to think that the reason the place had such a low rehabilitation rate was because the place was just that depressing to live in.

The walls were once cream, or white, but it'd been so long since they were painted and properly cleaned they now had a yellow hue.

The floors were tiled, and cracked after years of constant fights and breakouts. The rooms with carpet were stained so badly, Jason really wasn't sure what colour they were originally.

Years of cut funding and bad press had lead to such a poorly cared for building, it was no wonder people kept busting out.

The only time Jason was stopped was when he reached the maximum security ward the held the Joker, so he was forced knock out the guard and hide him in a janitors closet. It was worryingly easy. Again, no wonder there was so many breakouts.

Using the key card to get into the ward, Jason was greeted by a long hallway with only four doors on either  side. The hallways was long enough for far more, but Jason happened to know each wall was three feet thick where it connected to the next.

The doors were solid metal, except for a small slot that could be slid open to see inside. Plaques on the doors revealed the names of the occupants inside. Joker's door was at the very end of the hallway, directly opposite the entrance.

Jason's heart thumped so loudly in his chest it threatened to burst his ear drums. Jesus, why did he feel so afraid right now? It'd been years, and Jason was so much stronger and more trained since last they met. Joker couldn't so much as touch him in here.

...It didn't stop his palms from sweating, or his fingers from trembling as he reached to open the slot. He thought he got rid of this fear. Thought that all his planning and fantasies for revenge had prepared him for this. Prepared him to see the face of his killer for the first time since his death.

His whole plan depended on Jason being able to face this guy, to face him and Bruce at the same time. His killer and his betrayer. His whole plan banked on him being able to look them in the eye, as he blew Jokers brains out. Or, in the very unlikely scenario Bruce actually chose him and killed Joker himself.

Jason wasn't holding his hopes up for that. The only thing he could ever rely on Bruce to do, was let him down.

The only thing both his father's had in common.

He slid the slot open with trembling hands and peered inside, looked at the figure sitting in the centre of the padded room. Jason didn't think they used straight jackets anymore, but Joker looked strange without one. His killers hair was a darker green then he remembered, grown out and straggly, brushing his chin in length.

Dark brown roots and closed eyes, no makeup but plenty of stained to skin to make up for it. Older then Jason remembered. .. Just as terrifying.

Christ, Jason thought he was over this. He thought that when he walked down that hall, he would have to dissuade himself from shooting him where he sat.

Jason felt like he was the one who'd been shot.

Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe he shouldn't do it. His plan was falling apart at the very sight of him.

The Joker opened his eyes.

His gaze pierced Jason's skin and struck every nerve on its way in. "Well," His fucking voice was exactly the same, "It's been a while since old Joker here has had a visitor. Who are you? Another fan?"

"No," Jason didn't recognise the tone he was using. "No, I'm not,"

"Ah, another would be killer then, yes? Another one here to, how you say, do the world a favour. Kill the madman. You gonna do it from out there, or are you gonna come inside?" Joker descended into laughter by the end of his sentence. He'd said nothing funny. He never did.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Jason shook his head. "I'm not here to kill you, Joker. Not today. I just want to make sure you're where your supposed to be, for when I do,"

"Sure, sure. That's what they all say. You men are all the same, you know, all bark and no bite." His grin turned sharp, "Why don't you just kill me now, like a real man?"

Tempting. Really tempting. Jason steeled his nerves, dredged up every negative memory he'd clung to all these years. All the talking had done was reaffirm Jason's anger. It lay beneath his fear, festering and growing with every word. Reminding him of why he came back in the first place. To ensure nobody else would end up like him. Just another one of Jokers victims.

"Let me be clear," Jason leaned forward, made sure his eyes were visible to the man in the cell, "I'm not threatening you. I'm promising you, my face will be the last thing you ever see, just like yours was mine."

Joker frowned, rocking forward and craning his neck forward. "What'd you say your name was?"

Jason stepped back from door, chest heaving. He didn't bother shutting the slot, just turned and started walking away. "What's your name, kid? Tell me your name!"

When the door to the ward slammed shut, Jason slumped against the wall, bracing himself with his knees. That shouldn't have affected him so much. It shouldn't have. He was different now, better. He thought he was- better. He should be better by now.

He tore away from the asylum, back to his apartment where he ripped the nurses clothes from his body and threw them to the side. Then Jason just, stood there. Staring at himself.

Stared at the Y scar that stole his confidence, stared at the white streak that whirled from the centre of his scalp, stared at the all caste tattoos on his back, stared at the scars from his time in the league, the scars from his time as Robin.

He didn't recognise himself. Sometimes, he didn't even feel like he was alive. He certainly didn't look like it.

So much had changed so fast, too fast. Jason wasn't able to keep up.

It was his body, his. But it didn't feel like it. It hadn't in a long time.

Joker had taken that from him.

He had to be punished. They all did. Jason was overdue some justice.

***

Crawling back through his bedroom window, Jason landed with a thump! On his carpeted floor, somehow managing to twist his ankle as he did so and landing flat on his ass. He accepted his fate.

Somebody laughed at him. Two somebody's.

With a groan, Jason managed to pry his eyes open to look at his bed. Four legs dangled. "Dick, why do you have an extra set of legs?"

"Tim's here,"

"...Hi Tim,"

Jason propped himself up, turning to face his brothers, he said, "So. What happend to this being our secret?"

Dick sighed, all guilty like, "He, uh, caught me sneaking out,"

"Why were you sneaking out?"

"...To follow you,"

"Dick!"

Jason accepted Tim's hand up, pulling him off the floor to sit on the bed with them. Tim's hair was all mussed from sleep, his eyes half closed, whilst Dick sat in the same outfit Jason had left him. "Didn't you patrol?"

"Nah, night off." Tim shrugged. "So, how was your date with... the guy?"

Subtle. Also, Jason never had any nights off when he was Robin. Fucking favouritism. "Great. Did your tracker tell you all about it?"

Dick grimaced, "Figured that out, did you? Sorry, it wasn't intentional,"

Liar. "Sure. The date was good, we just hung out at his apartment, which I'm sure you knew. Watched some movies,"

Tim frowned, "His apartment? How old is this guy, exactly?"

Dicks expression shifted slightly. Fuck. Okay, Red Hood's age. Old enough to own an apartment, young enough to not be a creep for going out with Jason. Red Hood may be a murderer, but he was no pedophile. "Nineteen," There. That was good, right?

His brothers faces twisted immediately. Dick choked in something akin to shock, and Tim's went something thoughtful, and a little confused.

"...You sure?"

"Yeah? Barbara checked him out, remember?"

Dick stared wide eyed at his feet. "So he's a teenager. Like you. And Tim. He's only like, two years older then you. That's so. Interesting."

"It's a good thing, right?" Jason asked, "You're not gonna go all big brother mode now, right?"

"Uh,"

Tim snickered. "I mean, not in the way you think,"

Huh. "Huh?"

Dick sucked in some air through his teeth, slapped the bed and stood. "Welp. Glad you had a good night, Jason. I should get some shut eye. Night!" Then he darted from the room as fast as he could without running.

Jason and Tim looked at each other. "What was that about?"

"Its hard to explain," His little brother said.

He took a moment to think while Tim dislocated his jaw to yawn. So, Dick had a very weird reaction to Jason saying Red Hood was nineteen. But why? Did he think he was too young? No, he couldn't. Dick was nine when he became Robin, he wasn't even in the fucking double digits when he became a vigilante. No way would he think nineteen was too young.

So what?

Had he somehow given away his identity with a false age? Impossible. Jason continued to rack his mind for what could've upset Dick, but kept coming up blank.

Tim's head dropping to his shoulder, stopping Jason's train of thought. He looked down at him, "Sleepy?"

The fifteen year old nodded minutely. Lolling his head onto Jason's chest.

...It was moments like these that Jason questioned his plan, but his visit to Arkham earlier had cemented the need for it, in his mind.

Jason petted his hair for lack of anything better to do. "Poor baby. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Great idea," He mumbled, falling backwards onto Jason's bed and curling up.

"...I didn't mean here," But it was half hearted at best. The kid was all curled up in his sheets. It was hard to think about, sometimes. Tim being the same age he was when died. He was so fucking small.

Is that what Jason looked like?

Jason sighed, long and drawn out. It'd been a long few days, full of so much bullshit. Courtesy of his own stupidity, naturally. He flopped down beside Tim, tugging the quilt out from under him and kicking his shoes off before laying down.

If he wanted his plan to go off on his birthday like he wanted, he needed to hurry some things up. Shift his time table. It was a little under a month away, and there was a lot to get done in such little time.

Starting with the bomb in the batmobile.

Chapter Text

The Manor was on lockdown, unsurprising really. Bombs being found in secret bases without anyone realising would do that.

It took two days for the device to be found, tucked into the engine of the batmobile. The only reason it had been found was because a storm had swept through Gotham, and the car needed to be cleaned after a run in with Poison Ivy. Alfred had been the one to find it.

Bruce sat in a chair before the batcomputer, hands clasped and a deep frown on his face. Dick and Tim milled around him, equally as concerned expressions on their faces, whilst Jason leaned against the desk beside his father.

"So," Dick spoke with a tired sigh, "Let's go over this again. Cams went down without anyone noticing, bomb was planted but never detonated despite ample opportunity, and we have no leads. Anything to add?"

Bruce's frown deepend, and Tim sighed. "That we're loosing our touch?" Jason offered.

Dick gave him a look and he shrugged.

"This.. is a problem," Bruce said, the understatement of the century. "Despite being on lockdown, an unknown intruder was able to break into the cave and override all of our security protocols and plant an explosive. This suggests an intimate knowledge of the cave."

"Barbara's already going through all her systems, but I doubt that they got in through her," Tim informed them. Bruce made some noise of agreement.

The bomb had done an excellent job of seeding distrust and worry. Just like Jason wanted. "...What about the league?" He suggested, all wary like. "They might be after me, since I ran,"

Dick looked to the floor, "We've been keeping an eye on them. They must know you came straight back here, because they haven't tried to enter." Looking back up, he gave Jason some kind of reassuring look.

"What about Red Hood? We still don't know his plan, and he's clearly very skilled, and now he knows our identities... it's a possibility,' Tim shoots Dick an apologetic glance.

Bruce looks to his eldest child. He shakes his head, "Yeah. Uh, about that. I have some information on him, if you're ready to change the subject?"

"Go ahead, Dick,"

"His age, don't ask me how I know this, just.. know that I'm very certain of it, okay? He's nineteen,"

Tim shot a look at Jason before quickly turning away. Dammit, Dick. You were making feigning innocence increasingly difficult. "Nineteen?" Asked their father, "Are you completely sure?"

Dick nodded. "Definitely, I have it on good authority. The notorious Red Hood is a goddamn teenager, barely out of high-school."

Oh, so Dick did think he was too young, then. Weird.

"Keep tabs on him," Bruce ordered, "We can't rule him out as a suspect, regardless of age. See if you can find out anything more about his plan, but do not engage. Don't give him a reason to draw those blades, Zatanna hasn't gotten back to me yet,"

"Are we still sure about the Joker thing?" Tim asked, and Dick nodded.

"His behaviour when I mentioned it just confirms it, he didn't even try to deny it. He's got some revenge plot against his old mentor, though,"

Not far off, Dickie. Just have the wrong guy. The right one was sitting two feet to his left.

Bruce turned his back to them, a silent dismissal. "That just makes him more dangerous. At that age, he'll be erratic. A revenge plot so young when trained by Joker of all people will include plenty of casualties. I'll drop by the asylum when I can, make sure he's where he's supposed to be,"

...Shit. Jason forgot how alike they were. He'd have to move Joker, or shut him up, or cause one hell of a distraction. He couldn't let them talk.

"I don't know," Tim mused, "He's very... controlled. Focused. Everything he's done so far and been planned, even Black Mask, who has years of experience on him, can't outsmart him,"

"Makes you wonder what parts of Jokers training actually rubbed off on him," Dick added, "I saw him dismember a guy once, but it wasn't malicious. He got no pleasure from it, he did it like he was doing a chore."

Jason made a show of pulling a face, "Please tell me you stopped him,"

Dick froze. "Uh."

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, "Dick?"

"It was Ralph,"

Tim and Jason shared confused looks. Tim didn't know who Ralph was, and Jason had no idea how Dick knew who Ralph was.

"Dick," Bruce said. "You can't-"

"He wasn't killing him! And he was surrounded by mercs."

Tim raised a hand, "Who's Ralph?"

Nobody answered him for a while. Glances were shared, and the moment dragged on long enough that Jason purposely twisted his features into deep thought. "Ralph," He said, nice and slow. "I feel like... I've heard that name before,"

"He was Joker's right hand man," Bruce said finally. "During Ethiopia. We thought he died when.. but we were wrong. He returned back to Gotham not long after Joker himself,"

"Oh," Said Tim, all quiet. "Oh."

"He's the one that tied me up," Jason said, like the realisation had only just dawned on him.

Bruce made a noise in the back of his throat, that might've been a cough if not for the way he closed his eyes.

"But why would Red Hood torture him? Is it just because he used to work for Joker?.. or is it something to do with Jason?"

"Why would Red Hood care about me?"

Dick stilled. Something dawning on his face. Don't say it Dick, Jason thought desperately. Don't do it.

Dick glanced at Jason, glanced at his feet and then back at his brother. "You know what?" He said, walking away abruptly. "I think I'm gonna head out early, get some eye's on 'Hood. All this standing around is making me itch,"

Shit. "I'm gonna head up, then. I've got a course for my online classes to finish," He shot Tim and Bruce a grin, "Good luck tonight. Don't die,"

His father gave him a look. Well, if he wanted Jason to not make jokes about being dead, he shouldn't have left him to die.

***

Jason was surrounded by some of his mercs by the time Nightwing finally caught up with him. He shoved the bundle of clothes in his hands to the closest one, "Remember your task, don't disappoint me."

They were outside, by the south docks. Five of his goons peeled off with the clothes holder, the rest went about their tasks, loading loot, when they noticed the vigilante heading for them. By now, they knew not to get involved in Red Hoods discussions with the masked community.

Jason himself, propped up on a crate and inspected one of the new guns he'd just finished liberating. Custom, little to no recoil and packed a heavy punch. The grip wasn't what he preferred, and the gold plating was a little much for his taste. Still, it was a nice handgun. He aimed it at Nightwing as he flipped before him.

"You'd miss," The man said.

"Try me,"

They engaged in a short lived stare off, before Jason un-cocked his gun with a sigh, "Fine. What do you want, Dickwing? Here to revoke your blessing?"

"Don't tempt me, asshole." He sighed, "No. I need some information, actually."

"And you came to me? How desperate are you, that I was your first thought?" Jason laughed. "Did someone die?"

Nightwing looked towards the heavens, like he was praying for patience. "Someone," He gritted, "Broke into our base and planted a bomb, know anything about it?"

What should Jason say here? Denial? Ignorance? Point a finger in someone else's direction? There was a look on Dicks face, like he was studying him.

"...Did anyone get hurt?"

Nightwing scoffed. "You care?"

Shrugging, Jason said, "Well. About one of you, maybe."

"Oh yeah, Jason. Your boyfriend," With no shortage of derivation, Nightwing continued, "I'd hoped that was just a terrible nightmare,"

Jason marched forward, "Don't just say his name like that," He hissed, "I'm not the only person at this dock,"

"You don't trust your own henchmen, 'Hood?"

"I'm realistic. Something you wouldn't know anything about. You already gave away your identity to me, you really wanna give it away to everyone else, too?"

Whatever Nightwing was going to say in response was promptly cut off by the arrival of none other then Batman himself, swooping down and landing behind his son with a flourish of his wing shaped cape.

Jason took a step back, hand flitting to the guns strapped to his thighs. The big man himself looked down at him, a frown twisting beneath the god forsaken cowl.

"'Hood." He grunted.

...Was that a greeting?

"Batman," He returned, just as wary.

"Christ," Nightwing groaned. "Now there's two of you, great. Can we get back to what you know?"

Jason bristled a little. Two of them? He was nothing like Bruce. "Christ isn't here, dumbass."

"The information, 'Hood. Do you have any, or not?"

He sighed, heaving his chest and moving his hand from his holsters, as a show of faith. "Right, a bomb in your super secret base. Was it detonated?"

"No," That was Batman. He offered no further information.

"...Okay. So they just wanted to intimidate you then, prove that they could kill you, even if they didn't. In it for the long haul, I'd wager. Make any new enemies lately?"

Nightwing offered him a grin, "Just you,"

Jason snorted, "I don't have enemies, goldie. I kill the people that piss me off. You're just... annoying,"

"Red Hood," The Batman voice was in full affect, and Jason had to fight back a shiver. "I will take you in right now,"

He spread his arms, "Go ahead. I'll be out in the hour, old man."

Batman just glowered at him.

Jason dropped his arms. "Right, thought so. Are you sure your guy busted into your base to plant the bomb?"

"What do you mean?"

"The cams went down," Batman cut in.

Shrugging, Jason said, "And? Doesn't mean shit. If they planted the explosive on your armour or your stupid ass car, or some other bullshit you use outside of your base, they could've planted it while you were out and switched off your cams to mess with you. Make you worry about a non-problem so you won't worry about the real one,"

"It a plan you've used before?" Nightwing asked.

"You could say that."

"How do we know you weren't the one who planted it?"

Jason looked at Nightwing, hoping through pure body language alone he could communicate just how stupid he thought they were being. His brother sighed. "It's not him, B. Trust me on that,"

"Why?"

Yeah, Dick, why?

"Just trust me, yeah?"

Coward.

Batman pressed his lips together, displeased. He obviously did not like the fact that Dick knew something about Red Hood he wasn't willing to share. That they had some kind of friendly relationship his son didn't want him to inspect.

Always so nosy, Bruce. Never understood the concept of privacy.

Of course, this was a murderous crime lord they were talking about, so maybe he was justified in this one. Just a little.

"I can handle this," Dick said to their father, "And I know you've got other things to do tonight, so just let me do my job, yeah?" Joker, they were talking about visiting Jason's killer.

Jason's fingers twitched to his comm, and pretending to tap his thigh all impatient like, he sent a quick message.

His guys better not get caught.

With a huff, Batman took off with a grapple to the closest building, launching himself over it to the next. Jason watched him go with a bite of envy. He'd missed grappling like that, but if he used that particular skill where his family could see, they'd be one step closer to figuring out his identity.

Still.

He turned back to Nightwing, who was already looking at him. Brows raised beneath his domino expectantly. "What else do you want, boy blunder?"

"You said you met Jason in a library,"

"No, you said I met Jason in a library, I said that I had been at the library," He knew where this was heading, their conversation in the cave had created an unexpected link between his two identities via Ralph, Jokers old henchman.

Dick frowned, "So you knew him before?"

"...Of him, yeah. I'd never met him before, in person."

"You were looking for him?"

Jason shrugged, "Not really. I knew Joker had killed a birdy, but I didn't exactly make a connection between him and your aforementioned, retired brother until I met him in person. The date was... an unexpected consequence," That was believable, right?

If his identity was blown just because he'd wanted to annoy Dick, Talia would kill him. Damian would kill him.

Shaking his head, Nightwing spoke. "God help me, I actually believe you. Especially after what Jason told me,"

What? "What're you talking about?"

Nightwing stepped forward, right into his personal space and lowered his voice so no one could over hear. "That you're nineteen." He gave him a gleeful smile. "Gothams latest crime lord is fresh from the prom,"

God, was that really such a big deal to these guys?

"Two steps back, Spandex," He growled.

Holding up his hands, the vigilante obeyed. Skipping back several more then Jason had asked for, even.

"I think its kind've cute, actually. Torturing the guy who hurt your little boyfriend. Ah, young love,"

Fucking, cute? He thought Red Hood was cute? Jesus Christ, Talia was gonna laugh herself into an early grave if she ever heard. Sure, never mind the fact that he'd slaughtered plenty, dismembered more, or even the fact that he had magical flame swords. The mighty Red Hood was cute, now. Fucking hell.

"Well," He drawled, seething silently. "Someone had to get him some justice,"

Nightwing huffed, "Shows what you know, Jason would never want other people hurt on his behalf. You've got a lot to learn if you want this relationship to work out, you know."

Did Dick ever got tired of being so goddamn wrong all the time? Or was he immune to it by now?

"There a point to this discussion, Nightwing? Or, are you just here to piss me off?"

With a wistful sigh, Nightwing looked around. "Oh, you've got a point. Guess I've learned all I can from you. I'll be off now 'Hood," Finally.

He turned to walk off, but stopped suddenly. "Wait, there is one thing,"

Oh god. "What?"

"Jason's birthday is next month, just thought you should know!" Then he grappled away, stupid grin sitting proudly on his face.

Jesus, he was annoying.

***

The afternoon after, Tim, Jason and Dick were all sitting in the latter's room, surrounding a TV split into three different screens as they played Terraria.

Alfred had brought up a platter of snacks and drinks, which Jason picked at as they prepared to fight Cthulu, the floating eye, mini boss. They'd had to restart their world when Dick asked to join, seeing as the man had never played the game before.

A knock sounded from the bedroom door, and Bruce walked on with a grim expression on his face. Beside Jason, his brothers tensed.

"Whats up, B?" Asked Dick, "I haven't seen you since last night,"

"It's Joker."

Immediately, every set of eyes in the room went to Jason, so he dropped his face into frown. "Did he... did he escape-?"

Bruce shook his head, seeming apologetic. Jason crumpled with feigned relief.

"So, what happend?" Tim asked.

Their father hesitated, watching Jason for any sign of discomfort before continuing. "He's had his tongue cut out."

Dick choked, "What?!"

"On the orders of Red Hood, I assume. I saw some mercenaries fleeing the premises, but they were disguised in nurse uniforms. When I got inside, Joker was still locked in his cell, and his tongue was sitting outside the door,"

Ah, so they'd pulled it off then. Jason should give them a raise.

"What'd Joker say?" Dick stood up, "Or, write, rather."

"Nothing. Just keeps laughing. However, when I spoke to the other staff members, they say that Joker kept asking about a visitor he had had."

"What visitor?" With Tim standing up as well, Jason felt a little left out on the floor. Why did they all care about Joker so much, anyway. The guy was an unfunny asshole on a good day and a murderous psychopath on a bad one.

Bruce frowned, "Nobody visited him, according to the logs, but he insisted they had. A young man, who'd said something that frightened him."

Scoffing, Jason said, "Frightened? Joker doesn't get scared," He just laughs. Laughs and laughs.

"The nurses disagree, he at least seemed unnerved. Every drop of evidence points to it being Red Hood,"

"Wait," Said Dick, holding up a hand. "What did the visitor say, exactly?"

Bruce shrugged, "I don't know. On the security feed, you can see someone visiting him, again, in a nurses uniform, about three days ago in the evening. He spoke too quietly for the speakers to pick up on, and Joker never told the nurses what was said, exactly. Just that it was a threat,"

"Three days ago? In the evening?" Dick's face twisted in thought. "...That couldn't have been 'Hood, he was somewhere else,"

What? Oh shit, the date. Well, this was either going to be a help or a hindrance.

"Where?" Demanded Bruce.

Again, Dick hesitated. "Not there. I have it on good authority-"

"Who's?"

"-someone I trust, Bruce. Believe me on this,"

Bruce's frown deepend. "What's going on here, Dick? What do you know about Red Hood, that I can't know?"

"Trust me," Dick insisted, "I can't tell you how I know, I just know,"

"Dick," Bruce stared at him, like he was looking directly at his soul.

Dick didn't falter, just clenched his jaw and met Bruce's gaze head on. His loyalty was admirable, but entirely confusing. Why the fuck did he care about Red Hood? Or was it Jason and his feelings he was trying to protect? Maybe it was another age thing.

God, why was everyone in his family so fucking confusing?

( Jason very pointedly ignored the fact that he was by far the most confusing person in his family, what with his double life and all. )

Jason stood beside Tim, and shared a look with the younger. Tim wore an equally as confused expression, but offered none of the information he had to Bruce. Silently taking Dick's side in this matter.

Again, weird.

Dick sighed, "He's a kid, Bruce."

"You were younger,"

"I know that, but it doesn't change how young nineteen is. Consider all the training he'd have to have, the experience to do what he does. Consider the Joker, responsible for a kid, probaly picked him up around the same time you did Jason. I know he wasn't there that night, Bruce. And I need you to trust me on this,"

Well now Jason just felt guilty. Fuck Dick and his complete faith in him. Fuck him and his protectiveness. Why couldn't he have been like this before?

Jason shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, so, if it wasn't Red Hood, who was it?"

"It's not like Joker has a shortage of enemies, or victims," Tim pointed out. "Could be anyone."

Finally, Bruce broke his stare off with Dick. "You're right," He admitted, tone reluctant. "But that just places us back at square one,"

"We need to take a step back from the situation, see the big picture," Dick suggested, "Maybe get some fresh eye's on things. Where's Kate these days?"

"Maybe." Said Bruce, which meant no. Stubborn bastard.

Oh well, it would end up being his downfall, in the end.

***

Later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jason found himself on the roof of Wayne manor. Phone in his hand and the camera on, the entire screen was taken up by an angry ten year old.

"I said I'm sorry, Damian. What more do you want from me?"

The kid scrunched his face, messy dark hair falling forward as he did so. "But I told you-"

"I was on a time frame!"

"-That I wanted to be there when you dismembered him! You promised!"

"I said, if I was able to get to you, without compromising my mission, I would. And I couldn't. I'm not apologising again," Jason sighed.

Behind Damian, with only her hair visible, Talia laughed. "Quiet, little one. This is a moment of victory for your brother, do no taint it with jealousy,"

The ten year old grumbled, but ultimately listened to his mother. Smart kid, Jason had seen her decapitate men for a lot less.

"So, anything interesting happen your end?"

"Well, we've received several threatening messages from your paternal side of the family. I've had to talk my father out of dueling yours more then once. Besides that, it's been rather quiet without you," She admitted.

"Aw, you missin' me?"

"Damian certainly is, aren't you, habibi?"

The scowling child nodded rather reluctantly. "Nobody plays with me, anymore," He told Jason. "When will you return, so we can play again, akhi?"

Jason hesitated. "It might not be for a while, kid. I'm still in the set up stage of my mission. I've got another month, at least, and that's optimistically. Any number of things could go wrong in the mean time."

Damian full on pouted, an actual, pout. Evil child.

Jason loved him so much.

"...And I may want to stick around, after," He might as well rip the band aid off now.

Predictably, Damians expression turned to one of upset at top speed. "What? No, you said you would return, akhi, you promised!"

"Stop lying about me promising things, you're making me sound bad. I said that I would see you again, not where."

He could see the kid gear up for an argument, and was beginning to resign himself to it, when a clambering of footsteps had him hurrying to hang up. There'd be hell to pay, later, but he couldn't risk being caught talking to a league member like that.

Peering down, Jason saw Tim settling himself at the edge of the roof, whereas Jason was sitting at the peak. He too, had a phone in his hand. He was tapping it on his knee in a deliberating gesture.

Jason snuck down the roof as quietly as possible, careful not to alert Tim of his presence. When he was in reaching distance, he darted forward and grabbed his brothers shoulder. Tim shrieked at the top of his lungs, and reached back to flip him forward. Off the roof. To his second death.

Thankfully, Jason had predicted the move and counteracted it, quickly. He couldn't stop his snickering when the teen finally realised who it was behind him.

"You asshole," Tim rasped, chest heaving. "You absolute fuckhead, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Jason shrugged, still giggling. "I- I saw an opportunity, and I took it."

Tim shook his head, shifting to a safer spot on the tiles, still by the edge. "Jesus Christ, Jason. You could've killed me!"

"Aw, come on, dying isn't so bad. We could make a club!"

His brother groaned, flopping on his back to really convey how annoyed he was.

"So," Jason said, "Who're you having a sneaky phone call with?"

"...What makes you think it's sneaky?"

"Dude, you're on the roof."

"You're up here, too!"

Jason lay down beside him, further from the edge. "Yeah, and I'm having a sneaky phone call, too. Boyfriend, remember?" Man, that was a really convient catch all, "What's your excuse?"

Tim hesitated, head turned to the side, watching the sunset. Jason couldn't see it from this angle, only his brother.

"I'm... also having a phone call with a secret boyfriend," Tim revealed.

Jason was so surprised, he sat up to see Tim's face. "You what? Since when?"

"Well, he's not really my... it's complicated?"

"Tell me," Jason nudged his shoulder, "Come on! You know about mine, probaly more then I do. What's your guys name? Does Dick know?"

"I'll tell you my guys name, if you tell me yours," Tim offered.

Huh. Red Hoods real name. This really should've come up before now, shouldn't it? Still, Jason agreed with a nod of his head.

Tim took a deep breath. "Okay, so, you remember me telling you about my team? Young Justice?" Again, he nodded. "Remember Superboy? Well, his real names Kon El, or, Connor. Depending on the identity."

"Shit, fucking, Superboy? Superboy, Tim?"

His brother covered his face with his hands, "I know, okay, I do. It's a really shitty idea, but... oh, I don't fucking know. He's really charismatic!"

Jason just laughed again, until Tim nudged him with an expectant look. Right, the deal.

"...His name's.. Ron," Jason was so fucking stupid. So, God damned dumb, christ. Combining the name of his first crush with Ronald fucking Mcdonald, the clown. Jason was going to kill himself.

Blessedly, Tim seemed to take the reddening of his face as a blush instead of mortification. "You disgust me," He said with a grin.

"Says the walking, talking, cliche. Superboy, Tim, really?"

"Stop saying his name! He might think we're people who need saving,"

"I mean, if you'd succeeded in flipping me over your shoulder, we would've."

Tim snorted. "Yeah, okay. Good thing I didn't, huh?"

"Yeah," Jason grinned, "I don't know if I could come back twice."

The sun set fully behind them, plunging them into night. They sat out until Tim had Robin duty, and still Jason stayed. Watched the polluted night sky get blanketed in grey clouds, listened to the wildlife move below him. Even saw a bat fly by. When morning came, Jason watched the sun rise in blushing hues. He let it rise fully, reluctantly to leave. It was always were Jason felt the most peaceful, hovering on the edge of death.

Chapter Text

The endgame was rapidly approaching, Jason's birthday was only one day away, and he had a lot to do.

Step one: run away.

It wasn't as counterproductive as it sounds, he promises. But, the entire point of reintegrating himself back into his families lives was to cause maximum emotional distress, to then bash them in the head with physical distress.

The first time he ran away, nearly three years ago now, he'd left a post it note on the batcave monitor, that Alfred had later found. So, that's what he did this time. A small, yellow piece of paper that said simply, 'I'm sorry, he's coming. I can't let it happen again - Jason'

He left just after everyone else, Tim to school, Bruce to W.E, Alfred grocery shopping and Dick to visit Barbara. He did this to give himself the maximum amount of time possible, so he could sprig Joker from Arkham without anyone none the wiser.

Jason's guy on the inside, the cook who'd been working there for over eleven years, dosed Jokers breakfast with sedatives ( in return, Jason paid off every drop of medical debt his son had ), all of the nurses were pending investigation, thanks to his and his mens stunts in their uniform, so they weren't around to notice the clowns sudden change in demeanour. Jason had tripled the recommended dose to get around the built up immunity Joker had given himself.

Their guy in the kitchens helped hide him amongst the food waste, and the van they used to cart him away was decorated, in big, bright lettering, RON'S FOOD WASTE DISPOSAL, with a knock off, Ronald McDonald mascot.

You know what they say, make the most of a bad situation. And accidentally telling your brother that your fake boyfriends name was the same as a clown, certainly counted as a bad situation.

Then there was Red Hood.

Jason had carefully scouted the assassins Talia had loaned him for the one's closest to him in height, which was then adjusted with custom boots to be more exact, and then taught them his mannerisms, the was he cocked his head when he was about to laugh, the way he twitched his hand when he was annoyed. The voice modulator covered up in discrepancies in tones of voice.

One of the new Red Hoods was a six feet tall trans woman, another was an entirely different race. All four of them were older then Jason was by at least a decade. That was what the helmet was for.

Anyone could be Red Hood, if they were angry enough.

They stashed Joker in the old theatre that Jason loved, dressed him a special suit that they then stringed him up in, like he was nothing but a puppet.

Then, they set the trap.

Batman was a detective, no matter what. If there was a puzzle, a quiz, a riddle or a mystery, he had to solve it. He was practically compulsive about it, he hated not knowing things. That's why the Riddler always got ahead of Batman, he was smart enough to actually present a challenge the vigilante couldn't resist.

Jason took a page out of his book when he set his trap. A scavenger hunt, of sorts, going around the entirety of Gotham. The graveyard Jason had dug himself out of, the alleyway where they met ( complete with a bloody tire iron on the ground ), the abandoned building Jason had been living in, the shut down boarding school he'd went to. He even built a replica warehouse of the one he had died in, hidden inside one of Gothams movie studios.

At every location, was a tape. At the graveyard, there was a tape of Jason being buried alive for the first time since he crawled from his grave. Ra's voice could be heard amongst the sounds of Jason's panicked breaths and sobs. Telling him he was going to die down there, if he didn't pick the fifteen locks he'd spread around the pitch black coffin. All a part of his training.

The alleyways tape sat next to the bloody tire iron, on it was the first visual tape. Twelve league assassins, all armed, fighting a fresh from the pit Jason. He wasn't ashamed to say that he'd lost, rather spectacularly. He'd been beaten so badly, that Talia had dunked him in the pit again. The last thing you saw on the tape was Jason's mangled body, curled up on the dirty floor.

On the third tape, tucked away in the abandoned building, was the only tape that hadn't been recorded in the league. It was a tape he'd received from Mrs Walker, his old neighbour, it was amongst the things she'd saved from his apartment, along with his birth certificate that had revealed Catherine wasn't his mother. The tape was an old one from his childhood, him, sitting on the floor of their apartment. Three presents before him, none wrapped. The date showed it was taken at Christmas time, and the video was so incredibly lonely to watch.

His father, Willis, had been back in prison. His mother, the one who had raised him, was too sick to get up from bed. Too sick to go out and get him presents. Instead, she'd scrounged together five dollars and sent him to the store to get some for himself. Jason had been delighted, because he didn't think he'd be getting any at all.

You could tell, too, in the video, just how happy he was with his bar of chocolate, magazine and a broken snow globe the store owner had given him for free, out of pity. It made Jason sick with longing to watch. As terrible of a time as it was, he missed it dearly.

He knew what the world was, then. He knew his place in it was at his mother's side, looking after her. He had no such certainty now.

The boarding schools tape was perhaps the worst. The headmistress at that school had been abusive. And, in an effort to rid Jason of any past traumas that could be exploited, the league had recreated the situation. Except, the things that had scared a twelve year old didn't scare a trained teenager, so they upped the scale.

Jason had been beaten with a ruler up the side of his back, so they whipped him there. Jason had been accused of stealing food and told to spit it out, so they force fed Jason until he threw up. The tape went on like this, choppy editing showed the report cards listing the punishment, and the leagues take on it. It was straight up torture, but Jason had endured it all. He'd had no choice, Ra's had been one vindictive bastard to him.

At the replica warehouse, was another audio tape. It was Talia's voice, talking to him after he'd come out if the pit for the first time. Listing his injuries, reminding him of what had happend. You could hear Jason begin to dry heave as he remembered, you could hear him beg her to stop. But she kept talking, telling him what had happened.

She'd listed the injuries on his body, she'd told him what had happened after. Joker, killing at the UN meeting. Tim, replacing him. Dick not even being at his funeral. Bruce's statements to the press, full of lies.

Jason listened to the tape again when he placed it, and let the rage flow through him.

At the end of every tape, was the location of the next. The end of the last tape, was a doctored version of Jokers voice, cackling for a good five minutes, before saying, 'Don't you miss the old days, Batsy? When what was dead, stayed dead.' More laughing, then, 'What says you and I go see a show, eh? It's been a while since we could spend some alone time together,' And then it cut.

Bruce would figure out he meant the abandoned theatre easily. Worlds greatest detective and all.

The five Red Hoods served as a distraction for when Nightwing and Robin took to the streets. With Bruce distracted by the scavenger hunt, someone had to keep them busy until he got to where he needed to go.

An average goon couldn't take them on, so that's why Jason had needed Talia's assassins. Again, she'd expressed pride in his plan, and again, Jason bit back the sickly feeling it had evoked.

He had to do this.

Jason himself sat in the theatre, high up where the lights and the cords that held Joker met, feet dangling. His Red Hood helmet was on, though he'd altered so a crack went down in the same place Jason's scar sat.

In his hand was a the controller to the sound system he'd had installed, speakers in every corner of the building, high and low. In Jason's other hand was a different controller, the one that controlled the cords that held Joker, and he fiddled with it while he waited. Moving his his killers limbs like he was nothing but a ventriloquist doll, like he was nothing but an object.

With his tongue cut out, all Joker could do was stare and wheeze an occasional laugh. He kept looking at Jason, no doubt trying to figure out who he was, and what'd he done to him. All in due time.

Batman was due to turn up any minute, and he was starting to get nervous. He kept checking in with his men, on his decoys. All going to plan, they said. Nightwing was slowly beating the impostors, just like Jason though he would. He'd learned his lesson about trying to remove the helm after the first one, when it had blown the assassins head off right in his hands.

Jason didn't feel too bad about it.

Right now, the fiend of Bludhaven was running around covered in blood and viscera, feeling all kinds of guilt and worry. Guilt for letting Red Hood near his baby brother, worry for what had happend to him.

Jason tried not to think about what Tim was feeling.

Damn it, Jason didn't think he'd get so attached, especially not to the one who'd swooped in and replaced him when Jason wasn't even cold in the ground. He'd felt so much rage about him before, but now he just felt... empty. Cold.

This didn't feel like his impending victory, this felt like death all over again.

Jason just hoped that... that he wouldn't be the reason Tim ended up like, well, him.

A cackle and crrk! Came from his walkie talkie, his men on the other end warned him that Batman was heading for his location at top speed, and he was pissed.

Show time.

***

The doors to the theatre slammed open, bouncing off the brick walls through sheer force. The dark Knight walked in, cape billowing. There was blood on his gloves, and a smear on his chin.

He stopped when he saw Jason's display.

He'd manoeuvred Joker into a T pose, and the clown had hung his own head, sedative keeping him woozy. Batman studied the scene, no doubt reconsidering what he thought he knew.

Then, "Show yourself, Red Hood."

Jason's heart rate shot up, fear and excitement and most of all, anticipation. He brought the speaker to his mouth, and listened to his voice come from every nook and cranny in the room. "Welcome to the show, Batman. Surprised you made it,"

The Bat's head turned in every direction, trying to spot him. The way he held himself, stiff, tense, just made Jason angrier. Was he worried, the old bastard? About Jason? Oh well, live and learn, right? He wasn't worried enough about Jason the first time, now that he was this time, maybe he could save him.

Too late.

"What have you done?" His father demanded. "What's your plan, 'Hood? Why the hostage?"

Hostage, not son. He was trying to remove himself from the situation, and failing spectacularly.

"You haven't figured it out?" Jason asked, swinging his legs. "All those brain storming sessions not lead you where you wanna be?"

Batman was silent, thinking. "What are you talking about? I'm not here to-"

Jason cut him off, using the controller to play the audio he'd collected over a month ago. "Its the only reason I can think of that he'd use the name." Said Dick's voice, echoing throughout the room. "He didn't have any particular reaction to me mentioning it, no anger, so I doubt its a revenge thing,"

It was followed by Bruce's, "It's a possibility. He could also be using it to piggy back off Jokers reputation, give himself a headstart in the game,"

Batman was still, eye's locked on Joker for lack of a better place. "You were there." He realised, "And you bugged the cave,"

"Bugged it? Why would I? You did that part for me. So paranoid, Batman, you checked every part of that cave, except your own cams. You never saw my leeches,"

God, the expression on Bruce's face was delicious. The despair, the anger, just the everything. He tried to hide it, of course, but a Robin could always read him like a book. Bruce was worried out of his mind, and not even Batman could hide it.

"Where's you hostage, Red Hood?"

Jason flicked on the spotlights, watched them fall on Joker. "You're looking at him,"

"I'm not here for games. Where's your other hostage?"

From his perch, Jason could see the agitation set in. "Who?" He demanded, "Who are you talking about, Bruce? Who're you looking for?"

Somehow, for some reason, the cowl looked up. Right at where Jason was. He couldn't see him, not really. But he'd figured out where he was, and that was dangerous enough. "The person you centred this entire thing around. Jason."

His name, in Batman's mouth. When he'd first met him, Batman using his name had scared him shitless. When he became Robin, Batman using his real name meant something was wrong. Now.. now it just made him sad.

That had been his father, once.

Jason leaned back, "Now you say it. He's here, don't worry. We just have some things to address if you want to see him,"

"How did you get those tapes?" Batman asked, growling, moving forward. "Why does he matter so much to you?"

He means everything to him. Jason was the only person who'd never let him down. "Because he matters to you," He lied, "Because he's the only one who understands,"

Predictably, Batman jumped to the hint like a dog to a bone. "The only one who understands what it means to be Jokers victim, and live to tell the tale? Or the only who knows what it means to come back from the dead?"

With the controller, Jason played another audio. This one was one Bruce had heard before. It was recorded by his Robin suit, just before his death. Most of it had been fried, but the piece that had been salvaged was more then enough.

"Bruce!" Cried a damaged recording of a fifteen year old boy, "Bruce, please!"

That was when Sheila had realised the door was locked, when Jason realised the only person who could - who would - save them, was Bruce. And he. Wasn't. There. But that wasn't the worst part. Jason understood why, he understood long before he put that suit on that a hero saves as many as people as they could, even if it means losing the one person they cared about.

That wasn't why Jason was doing this.

Batman braced himself on one of the folded seats, still standing in the centre aisle. "What is this, 'Hood? Revenge? Punishment?"

"Justice," Jason said. Using the cord around the clowns neck, he made Joker look up. He watched the man pry his own eyes open, barely fighting the sedative. Watched him notice Batman and wheeze a laugh. It was the only sound he could make now, thanks to Jason. "Say hello to your judge, Joker."

Another wheeze. Batman kept looking up at him, up at the rafters where Jason was hidden. "You want me to sentence him? What punishment could possibly fit the crime?"

"Death."

He grimaced beneath the cowl, "No."

No. So simple, so expected, so painful. Jason swallowed roughly. He knew it was coming.

"I figured that much." He said honestly, "But every moment he's alive, is a moment you never get to see Jason,"

"Why me, 'Hood?" Batman took a step forward, keeping his gaze heavenward, "Why do you want me to do it? Why not kill Joker yourself?"

"Because," Jason hissed, "This is your fault. He, is your responsibility. You're the one who takes him back to Arkham, time after time. He's killed hundreds, and still. He lives. No justice. I thought that was your whole thing, justice and revenge? Why does he get the pass?"

"I am not judge, jury and executioner. No one man is, no one man has the right to take life from another,"

"Except him?"

"No."

Jason laughed, the noise coming out deep and distorted through the mask. "No? Make up your mind, Bruce. Does he deserve to live or not?"

He growled, "I'm not playing these games, 'Hood."

"But you've played them so beautifully before, why stop now? You even came to me for advice about the bomb, had me explain my own plan to you,"

He watched his fathers face twist, "Oh," Jason said, "Don't be too mad at Dick, he really did think he had a reliable source of evidence. He wasn't even the way I found out your identifies, I just made him think he was. Seed of distrust, you know? Speaking of," He pulled put his walkie, "Do you read me?"

"I read you," Replied a goon.

"Set off the bomb,"

"Understood, boss."

Batman jerked, and Jason flicked the spotlight from Joker to him, "Relax," He drawled, "I just wanted to make sure we weren't interrupted,"

"So you endanger innocent lives?"

"Did you ever meet Willis, Bruce?" He asked. He watched him pause. "Jason's father? Did you know he died in Blackgate? For all that man's flaws, he was willing to do anything to make sure Jason didn't end up like him," Even if it meant making Jason hate him. Not a good man, but he tried to be a good father. He tried.

"If you wanna talk about endangering innocent lives, let's talk about him. Let's talk about Joker too, while we're at it. Throwing petty theives in hospitals with more broken bones then you give Joker, just because you were grieving. I read all about it. People stealing from grocery stores because they couldn't afford to eat, were treated the same as you treat murderers and rapists,"

"You're in a position of power, Bruce," Jason continued, "You were born there. You put yourself in another one the day you put that mask on. Above the law, you have half the government and police force in your debt. All the vigilantes and hero's who could stop you, won't, because you're their friend. And most of the time, you do the impossible. You become someone in a position of power who doesn't abuse it, and then there are the times that you do. No consequences. Is that fair, Bruce? Is that just? That everyone turned the other way when you put muggers in comas just because you were grieving?"

Silent. His father was silent. Just, looked on. "I don't claim to be," He said finally, "I know I'm not. I know I shouldn't have been out on the streets, then. I know I shouldn't have treated everyone like they were the Joker,"

"You knowing you were in the wrong, changes nothing. You stopped standing for justice and started standing for punishment, then." Jason replied.

Bruce looked around again, then. "Where is he, Red Hood? Where is my son?" When Jason didn't reply, couldn't, really. He asked a different question, "How did you get the tapes from the league?"

"How do you think?" Jason asked, genuinely curious. "Think about it, Bruce. Think about when I arrived. Think about how I fight, how I operate. Think about what your son told you. Think about how no other members of the league have tried to enter Gotham. Why do you think I'm here?"

"You're here for Jason. But, are you here to take him back? Or take justice for him? Did you know him, in the league?"

Jason sighed, letting the sound ring out through the speakers. "You still haven't figured it out, have you?"

He dropped, unlatching the wire around his hips when his boots hit the stage floor. He switched the lights back over to them, let them fall over him. Jason let his father take in the tear in his mask, right where his scar was. He walked in front of Joker, glancing up to see he was already being watched.

He spread his arms, "Getting any closer to the truth?"

Batman's hands hovered over his batarangs, but he was hesitating. He was tangled in the thrill of the mystery again. "Did Ra's train you?" He asked, "Did Joker?"

Jason looked back up at his killer, "No. But he taught me a very valuable lesson, didn't you, Jack? It's one I'll never forget."

Approaching warily, Batman asked, "What's that?"

"That you can never rely on anybody but yourself," Jason watched him come forward until he was all but three feet from the stage. "Well, Bruce?"

"..I just want my son,"

Jason grit his teeth. Oh, if that was all, then. He was missing the point on purpose, too afraid to see the truth. Jason reached up for his helm, unlatching the sides until it clicked off, and then tossed it to his fathers feet.

Bruce flinched.

Jason's curls were matted to his skull, the lighting lit his scar in a truly garish way, and he grinned, resting his hand on his gun. No telling how Bruce would react. "Well, dad, aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?"

Bruce's throat worked, his mouth opened, presumably to speak, but said nothing. He shook his head, took a step back. "No," He said, voice hoarse. "Jason- no."

"Denial helps no one." His son replied. He looked up at Joker, to see the man grinning. Grinning and wheezing his silent laughter. It made Jason feel sick. "I'm going give you your choice again," He said, looking back at his father. "Me, or him."

"Jason. Don't do this, don't- you-" Bruce grimaced, trying desperately to get his composure back. Uselessly. "Please."

"I begged too," He told him. "Begged and begged for you to come. Begged for you to save me. In the league, in the warehouse. Doesn't matter, you never came."

"I'm here now, Jason. Listen to me-"

"Do you want to know why I came back, Bruce? To give you one last chance, not to fail me. Just, kill Joker. That's it, that's all I want. I just want to be able to sleep at night, unafraid. I want to be able to sleep without thinking every bump in the night is him coming back to finish the job. That's not too much to ask, right?"

"Jason." His father said. "Stop this. Please. Come down, come home-" He was devastated, Jason could tell. Utterly devastated. Not even trying to hide it, anymore.

"You made me a new home," Jason spat, "Amongst the dirt and bones. It was cold down there, Bruce. I suffocated all over again. How could you? How could you let me die, and let him live?"

"Jason," He repeated. "Jason, come down. Stop- stop all of this."

"It's justice, Bruce. The closest I'll ever get. Don't you understand? You caught your parents killer, Dick caught his. But my parents weren't murdered, Bruce. I was. And this man-" He pointed to Joker, "He's my killer. And I- I can't have justice. For as long as he's alive, I'll suffer. Is that what you want? Is that your choice?"

His father whispered, "Please," He started to approach the stage again, hands on the lip. "Get down. Please  listen to me, it's not too late to stop this. I'll help you. Whatever you need, just not- not this. Jason, please."

"Is that all you can say? Is that it? This is your only choice, Bruce. Me or him. Why are you hesitating? Am I not- Am I not your son?"

"Don't do this to me. Don't do this, please," Batman begged, actually begged. "Don't make me bring you in,"

Jason laughed, "What makes you think you could? Don't you get it? I did something nobody else has. You can't compare me to Dick or Tim now, because they haven't done this. Just me. I know you, Bruce. I know how you think, how you work, how you fight. You can't beat me,"

Bruce was quiet, so quiet. "I don't want to fight you, Jason," He said eventually, "But if I have to, I will."

Now, there's a surprise. What a shock, Bruce Wayne choses the easy way out. Violence is the easiest route a man like him could choose.

Jason suspected it would go like this. Didn't make it hurt less.

Jason cocked his gun. Aimed it high, "Well, that was the lesson you taught me, wasn't it, Joker? Rely on nobody but yourself. That's the bad news. The good news? I don't fucking miss,"

"Neither do I,"

Jason didn't get a chance to pull the trigger when a batarang came hurtling towards his neck. He deflected at the last minute, the blade embedding itself in his wrist instead.

Shit. That was gonna bleed out.

Above him, Joker let out a loud, guttural sound. Both Jason and his father looked up. There was a bullet hole in his head.

Jason's gun had never fired.

Chapter Text

The blood dripped down Jokers forehead, down his nose and off his chin. The blood splattered on Jason's cheek. He couldn't stop staring.

He looked down at Batman. "Who. Who just-"

Batman's jaw clenched, he spinned on his heel to study the walls. Looking for their unknow sniper. On the balcony to their left, was two figures. A taller and a slighter, the slighter had the gun.

Tim had the gun.

Still aimed, arm shaking. How long had they been there? How much had they seen? How much had they heard?

"Tim," Jason heard himself saying, there was a tone of horror. "Tim, what did you do? Tim?"

"I-" His voice, his fucking voice. It was shaking and tumbling. "I don't- I don't want Jason to- to leave."

Fuck. Fuck it all. "Tim, Tim put the gun down, okay? Put it down," Jason advised. He didn't care about the corpse hanging above him, or the batarang in his arm, he only cared about his little brother, still holding the gun.

Tim dropped the gun. Nightwing grabbed it before it could hit the ground. Jason recognised the gun, with it's flashy gold panel, it was the gun from Black Masks shipment. Jason had given it to one of the false Red Hoods. The one who's head had exploded, probaly.

Tim had gotten the gun from his corpse. Why?

"Robin," That was Batman, "What did-. Robin, report."

"I couldn't. I couldn't let him leave, again. I had to, Bruce, why didn't you do it? Someone had to- I don't care. I want Jason to stay, so I- I had to."

Jason tore his eyes from Tim to Dick, domino now off. There was a look of devastation his face. He looked from Tim to Jason at the same time, and he just stared. Devastation twisted to betrayal. "Jason. What have you done?"

That wasn't fair. "This wasn't supposed to happend," He said. "This wasn't- he wasn't supposed to do that. I expected Bruce to fail, I didn't think- Tim wasn't supposed to be here! What about the bomb?" Jason looked back to Bruce. "They were supposed to be distracted. What happend?"

"Superboy," Tim said, "I called- I called him. I was too worried. About Jason. We couldn't concentrate. I wanted to get here, I was scared,"

He called his boyfriend. Shit. That's not- this isn't what was supposed to happen. "You shouldn't have done that, Tim, that wasn't your job. You weren't-"

"I don't want you to leave, Jason," Tim confessed. "Please don't- you can stay. He can stay, can't he?"

Jason had never been more confused in his life. He was still looking at Bruce, and Bruce was still looking at him. "This wasn't part of the plan," He repeated uselessly, "I didn't think this part through. What- what happens now?"

Batmans mouth opened and shut. "I'm. I'm going to call the GCPD. All of you- get back to the cave, okay? I'll. We'll deal with it later, alright? Just get back to the cave." He was lost, Jason could tell. He had no idea what to do next.

Neither did Jason.

He just. He couldn't go back to the cave right now. He had to get out of here. Clear his head. Figure out his next course of action.

All his planning, his thinking, his training. Down the drain. He'd planned for Bruce to not love him enough. He hadn't planned for Tim to.

Jason ran, slamming down on both the audio, lights and cord controllers. The next audio cued was the sounds of Jason's screams from when Joker had tortured him, they masked the sound of his footsteps. All the lights went off as the cords released the Jokers corpse.

Jason escaped to the sound of it hitting the stage floor.

***

He left Gotham. He wasn't going to tell anyone, but Barbara had sent him a message asking what happend, and he responded that he just 'needed a minute' before throwing the phone out the moving car. Something he should've done before he left city limits.

Jason made it to the closest safe house of Talia's that he could remember, somewhere in Delaware, before tracking down a phone to call the woman.

Then he confessed everything.

She listened, quiet and judgemental, never once interrupting. When he'd finished, she said, "Do you need extraction?"

Jason looked around the dingy safe house, that hadn't been used in years. He thought about the look of betrayal on Dicks face, the shaking of Tim's hand, the lostness of Bruce's voice.

He thought about the Joker, dead. At Tim's hand. His brother's hand, on Jason's behalf. He'd killed the Joker for him. The Joker was dead.

Jason couldn't believe it.

He sent messages to his men, telling them to check the morgue, make sure he was really dead. The messages he received were filled with disbelief. They thought he did it, and he didn't correct them. They weren't far off. He told them he was going to lay low for a while, let the heat die off.

Then he just... sat there.

Catherine had left him some land in Virginia, courtesy of her parents. He'd found out when he received the box of stuff from Mrs Walker. He could go there, get away from everything. He didn't have to be there, anymore. He had nothing left to prove. It was all... done.

Tim had shot the Joker. Dick had defended a crime lord because he thought Jason liked him. Bruce hadn't arrested him, in fact, he'd begged him to stop so they wouldn't fight.

He'd betrayed them. And yet... despite their hurt, and their mistrust, they'd wanted him to stay. To go back to the cave. Bruce had said he'd help him, if he just got off the stage.

Why? Since when? When had they changed? When had he? It'd all been so simple, before. Then it complicated, so so fast. Jason hadn't even processed the fact that he was no longer seventeen.

One hell of a birthday he'd just had.

Rubbing his tired face, Jason laid back on the old bed. The safe house was more of a shit house. Still, he'd slept worse.

Talia's advice after he'd denied extraction was to lay low, think his next step through. 'Dont go off all gun ho', she'd told him. He could hear Damian in the background of the call, demanding to know what happend.

Jason hadn't know what to say to the ten year old. How do you explain? He'd wanted Bruce to kill the Joker, to prove that he loved him. But he'd never actually expected him to do it. He'd expected to pull that trigger himself. Instead, Tim had done it. His little brother. When had he started thinking of him as such?

He just needed a path forward, something new to focus on. He did a little research on the land in Virginia, but his heart wasn't in it. He didn't give a fuck about Virginia, Gotham was his home.

Fuck. Fuck it all, he had to go back. Jason had to go back home. Worse, he wanted to. He wanted to see his brothers, he wanted them to forgive him. God help him, he wanted to be a family again.

He sat up from the bed, inspected the arm he'd barely manged to stitch up by himself, and tried to scrounge together a plan. There was a bloody batarang on the dresser and ruined armour on the floor. Currently, that was all he had. He could get more easily, he could ask Talia to set up a cache for him so he could arrive back in Gotham in luxury

That sickly feeling returned.

Everytime he thought about Talia that feeling hit him in the gut. When Jason had first awoken from the pit, Ra's had ordered his daughter to get Jason on their side, no matter what. While eventually she had settled on the maternal route, one of her first attempts had been seduction. It's not surprising, Ra's would've trained her to be as useful as possible to his cause, and yet.

Everytime he thought about her, he was reminded that if Ra's ordered her to kill him tomorrow, she'd do it im a heart beat. Those were her fathers orders. Her father, who'd tortured Jason in every way a nine hundred year old man knew.

He didn't want to go to Talia for help. He wanted to figure this part out on his own.

Jason palmed the batarang in his hand, looking and the side still coated in blood, now dry and peeling. That had almost been his neck that that had landed in. His neck. It should change things for him, but it didn't. Dick had been so covered in blood at the theatre, Jason couldn't even see the blue of his suit. Bruce had been shaken, actually shaken, so much, that the blade in his hands had been his only attempt at stopping Jason. An actual crime lord, murderer and betrayer.

In a weird, twisted, not at all correct way, he felt like they were even.

Finally, Jason made a plan.

***

Delawares biggest park had been about an hours drive from his safe house, and the car Jason had stolen had ran out of gas a mile from it.

He wasn't sure if his plan would actually work, but it was better then sitting around and feeling sorry for himself. It'd been about three days since his birthday, in that time Talia had recalled her assassins, Barbara and Tim had both tried to hack into the leagues network and the GCPD had officially announced that the Joker was dead by Red Hood's hand.

The reaction on the internet had been largely joyful, with memes, videos and tweets all celebrating his death, in and out of Gotham. Jason's alter ego now had dozens of fan accounts, ridiculously. He didn't mind getting the blame for his death, it was better then Tim being known for it.

The people who weren't celebrating his death were the people afraid, afraid that Jason was just a newer, more dangerous version of the man he'd killed. Jason wasn't sure he could prove them wrong.

So, he started yelling at the sky. Varying between Superboy, Kon El, and Connor. It was a good thing he'd done this so late, otherwise people might think he was crazy.

After five minutes and his voice going hoarse, a very disgruntled teenager finally appeared, hovering before Jason in Britney Spears pajamas. "What," He grumbled, "Do you want, you complete asshole. Do you know what time it is?"

"Technically it's morning," Jason informed him. He was wearing the red domino he usually kept beneath his helm, and the scrubbed body armour. There were still little flecks of blood, but Jason hadn't had time to be more thorough.

"Technically, you can go fuck yourself. Who the hell are you?" Superboy lowered a little, taking in Jason's appearance. "Some kind of... villian? In Delaware? Man, I don't have time for this. Can we like, reschedule, or something?"

Wow, he really did not give a fuck that Jason knew his civilian name, did he? "I need you to grab Robin for me," He said. Superboy's eyebrows jumped.

"You're the laziest villian I've ever met. No, go kidnap your own hero. That one's mine,"

Jason groaned, "I don't want you to kidnap him, Connor, I want you to bring him here. Tell him his brother wants him, and give him this," He held out the bloody batarang.

Superboy stared at him, then at the batarang, then at him. "Robin... has a brother?"

"He has two, actually." Well, if Tim still wanted him to be, that is. "Who'd you think Nightwing was?"

"I don't know, his mom? Look, dude, I'm kind've new at this whole existing thing, okay?" Superboy huffed, feet finally landing on solid ground. "Didn't he tell you about it?"

"Oh he told me a lot about you. So, if you don't want a peice of kryptonite rammed down your throat in the form of the most aggressive shovel talk you've ever seen, you'll do this favour for me, yeah?"

Superboy blinked at him. "Shovel talk?" He scrutinised Jason again, "You don't have kryptonite on you, I can tell."

Jesus christ, what did Tim see in this guy, again? "What," He scoffed, "Like a lead lined pouch is so hard to make?"

"...Yes? I feel like that's a very difficult thing to make?"

Jason shoved the batarang into the hero's hand, "Just- just give him my message, okay? Fucking hell, man."

With a frown, Superboy grabbed the blade and took off into the heavens once more, waving Jason goodbye before flying away.

Okay. This- this would work, right? This would totally work. It was the only way he could think of to have a private conversation with Tim without any interruptions. He just needed to know how angry they were before he stepped back in Gotham. He needed to know if his bedroom was gonna be what was waiting for him, or a prison cell.

Superboy blew back in with the wind, arriving much faster then Jason thought he would, Robin dangling from his arms.

Tim dropped to the ground with a roll, landing before Jason in his under-clothes from his Robin suit. Then, he grabbed Jason so hard around the wrist, he wasn't sure if it was a punishment for leaving, or joy that he'd come back.

"You're okay," His little brother said, relief evident in his voice. "I thought- with your wrist, I saw it get sliced, so I-... You're okay?"

Jason tensed the hand in question, "Uh, yeah, I stitched it. But, if you keep squeezing it like that, it'll bust back open, again,"

Releasing his grip on Jason's hand minutely, Tim took to studying him. Looking Jason up and down like he didn't know what to make of him. "So... you're Red Hood?"

Superboy raised his hand behind Tim, "Excuse me? Your brother is the villian you made me help fight? What? The fuck?"

Jason ignored him, "...Yeah. For about as long as I've been sane, I've been Red Hood. Kind've the whole reason they brought me back. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? Are you? We must've watched those tapes a thousand time since you left, Jason, they tortured you! They made you live through all of your worst experiences in some mockery of training!"

"Don't worry about me. I'm here, aren't I? I've been worried about you, mainly. You killed someone, Tim. You took a human life. I know what that does to someone, the first time, and I know how B is."

"Joker doesn't count as human," Tim said dismissively.

Behind him, Superboy yelped, "You killed someone?! Your name is Tim? Have you two forgotten I'm here?"

Ignoring him again, Jason replied, "Look, I'm not exactly gonna disagree with you there. But, B? Has he been giving you a hard time?"

"Himself, mainly," Said Tim, also ignoring Superboy, "He's upset he didn't put together who you were, upset that he didn't find you when you were in the league, upset that he didn't stop me from killing Joker. He just keeps watching those tapes, over and over again. Doesn't help that Alfred is giving him the silent treatment for yelling at me,"

Oh fuck, Alfie. Jason had forgotten about him in the mess of everything. "He yelled at you?"

Tim shrugged, "Just once. Like I said, he's been mainly blaming himself. Dick, on the other hand.."

Here we go, thought Jason. Dick is the one who'll be mad. Furious, even. "Dick?" He prompted, already dreading what he'll say.

"He's pissed," Tim said, confirming his fears.

"Well, I guess he has a small amount or right to be. I did, uh, lie to his face multiple times and make him think he compromised all of your identities."

"What? Oh no, Jason, he isn't mad at you, he's mad at Bruce. At Bruce, Talia, Ra's, himself. Anyone he lays eyes on, he's pissed at. He's upset about what they did to you at the league, he's upset we didn't pay closer attention to you, he's upset that Bruce threw that batarang at your neck. He's certainly angry about you, yes, but not at you," He explained.

Jason's entire world view shattered. "Wait," He said, "Hold on, so, who is mad at me?"

"No one,"

"No one? Tim, come on. I was a crime lord, I killed people, tortured people. I lied and manipulated all of you for revenge. Someone has to be mad at me."

Tim gave him a bewildered look. "Jason," He said, like Jason was the one acting crazy. "They tortured you for months. Put you through all of your worst fears, they manipulated and lied and beat you. No wonder you did the same. Everyone is worried, not mad. Obviously you want revenge, obviously you want justice. Obviously you want an outlet for your rage,"

What the fuck was happening right now? "What are you trying to say? That they want me to come home?"

"Obviously!"

Jason shared a confused look with Superboy, who looked more dumbfounded then confused, admittedly.

"No," He shook his head, "No, this is- this is a trick, isn't it? A taste of my own medicine? Just tell me the truth, Tim, please. I can't-"

"That is the truth! Jason, it is! I wouldn't lie to you! I killed the Joker so you would stay, why would I lie?"

Jason wasn't sure, he didn't know. All he knew what that that couldn't be the truth, it just couldn't. It was too easy. Too nice. Too simple. Too... forgiving. It sounded too much like love to be real. They wouldn't bend their morals for him, there was probaly a cell in Arkham asylum with his name on it, that they were just waiting to shove him in to.

Probaly Jokers old cell.

He couldn't be there, he just couldn't. He was already half mad now, being shoved into Arkham with the criminally insane would be the final nail in the coffin. Jason was still shaking his head, why was he shaking his head?

"Tim, Tim I can't go to Arkham. I can't be in that place,"

"You're not going to Arkham!" Tim swore, looking around at Superboy for support. "Nobody said anything about Arkham, I promise. I- We want you to come home, Jason. Not Arkham. Nobody is angry at you,"

Lies. They had to be. Jason never got what he wanted. This had to be some trick, or delusion. Jason used to get those during training at the league.

"Tim," He begged, "Just tell me the truth, okay? Because I know you're lying to me, I know you are. It's okay, just tell the truth. Because- well, because you're a shitty liar. I know you're lying, I know you are,"

"Jason," Tim said, squeezing his wrist. "Listen to me, I'm not. I'm telling you the truth. You're my brother, and I want you to come home. We all do,"

"You might, but they don't." He tried to fight his arm free from his brother grip, "Let me go, I shouldn't have done this. I should've just let Talia take me back."

"What? No! Jason, Jason don't go back to the league. Please, just believe me. We want you to come back. You're our family, and we love you. Just come back with me and you'll see that,"

Still trying to tug his arm loose, Jason shook his head rapidly. Love? They didn't love him, they couldn't have. Not after everything he did. Not after everything they did. Too much bad blood. He'll just go to Virginia now, look he should've done in the first place. Maybe he'll be a farmer. Were there farmers in Virginia? He felt like there were farmers in Virginia.

"Tim. It's fine, it's good, I understand. Look, I won't go back to the league, I'll go somewhere else. Somewhere I won't cause anyone any trouble. Okay? That's good, right? They won't hunt me down?"

"Nobodies hunting you, Jason!" Tim said, a distressed look on his face. "Nobody is mad at you! Please, please just listen to me. It's okay, you're- you're forgiven! We get it, we understand. We know why you did what you did and we forgive you for it!"

Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Nothing was okay. Jason felt like he was going to be sick. Why couldn't Tim just let him leave?

Tim finally let go of his grip, and Jason pulled his arm to his chest, inspecting the poor stitching job he'd done. They were hanging on by a thread, literally. He looked up, ready to say goodbye, when Tim charged straight into his chest.

Jason didn't have time to defend himself, but, it turns out he didn't have to. Tim was hugging him. Hugging, him. Jason blue screened. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hug. When had it been? He searched his memory. Definitely not in the league, Dick had kind've hugged him at the Manor, though it'd been more of a quick squeeze.

No, his last proper hug had been... Sheila. He'd hugged her when they first met. He'd been so happy to meet his mother, he couldn't help himself.

Jason didn't know where to put his arms.

He looked up to Superboy for some help, only to see him giving Tim a bizarre look. Right, he probaly didn't know what a hug was, either. Tim should hug him next.

"Tim?' He asked tentatively, "What's- are you okay? What are you... doing?"

"Hugging you," Came his muffled voice.

"...Right. Of course. Why?"

"Because you're my brother, and I don't want you to go. Please stay, please. I promise it'll all be okay,"

Jason hesitated. Shit. What was he supposed to say here? How was he supposed to explain that just because Tim wanted him around, didn't mean anyone else would.

"It's not that simple. I'm not a good person," He tried to explain, "I can't be, around them. I'm- I'm sorry, I really am, but I have to-"

"We'll get you a therapist. Or a psychiatrist, or a punching bag, or whatever else you need. Please, Jason. Please."

Fuck his life. "Tim," he stressed, "Tim, I can't have a therapist. Secret identities, remember? And they won't want me there, they'll want me in Arkham. Come on, Tim, you know this. I know you do,"

"We'll get you a fucking therapist," Tim raised his head, hair scruffed and eyes shining with unshed fears. "And anything else you want, so long as you come back with me. Please, Jason, I'm begging you,"

Fuck. Fuck it all. Jason dropped his head back, groaning. He didn't want to, and he'd regret it immensely. Immediately. They would tie him up and toss him into Arkham, or Blackgate. They must hate him for everything he's done, no matter what Tim thinks.

He shouldn't be considering this. He should run now, get Talia on the phone for pickup to the nearest safehouse to Virginia. He shouldn't let Tim's puppy dog eyes persuade him. He shouldn't.

They were.

Could he bust out of Arkham? Of Blackgate? His men would try, Jason was fairly confident of that. The league would have a much easier time of it, but Jason wasn't sure they'd bother. He wouldn't know until he got wherever they were sending him.

Fuck it.

"Fine, fucking fine. I'll come with you, I'll go back to Gotham. Not with Superboy, though. We'll take a plane, or something."

Tim squeezed him, burying his face in Jason's jacket in silent thanks. Ugh. Fuck him, honestly. Being a big brother sucked, Jason wanted a refund.

"...Is anyone going to explain any of that?" Superboy asked uselessly. "No? Okay. Well, this was fun. And confusing. And concerning, actually. Am I still needed, or..?"

"Goodnight, Kon," Tim said, turning his head, "I'll see you at the tower in a few days,"

"Yeah, okay, sure. Whatever you say, Tim. Rao, that's weird. Bye," Superboy took off once more, saluting them as he went.

Right. Now to get back to Gotham. A queasy feeling rose in Jason's stomach, a feeling of pure dread. Anxiety was never something Jason had suffered from before, but God had apparently decided today was the day. He just hoped he could keep himself together long enough to make it back to Gotham. Though, by the grip Tim had on him, he didn't have much of a choice.

Chapter Text

Gotham Manor was as daunting as ever. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago Jason turned up on those steps, ready to manipulate his family for vengeance. He'd been scared, then. He was scared now.

So fucking scared.

Tim stood beside him, fresh off the flight from Delaware as well. He looked determined, determined to prove Jason wrong about their family, perhaps. Jason heavily doubted he was, but he was open to surprises. So long as explosives weren't involved, that is.

He swiped his sweaty palms against his jeans, and took a deep breath.

No going back now.

Just like before, Jason rapped his knuckles against the big, oak door. Just like before, Alfred answered. If it were possible for the old man to have aged half a decade in the four days since Jason had seen him, he'd have done it. Deep, purple smudges rested under his eyes and his suit was rumpled, as though it'd been slept in. Or he hadn't slept at all.

When Alfred saw them, standing in front of him with suitably sheepish expressions, he visibly slumped in relief. Relief? He was relieved to see Jason? No, probaly just Tim. He did disappear in the middle of the night with no phone or note.

Jason swallowed, letting Tim walk forward first, "Alfred," He said, tone apologetic, "Sorry I... that we, you know, disappeared for a few days. But, you know, we're back now. And uh, we need to talk to Bruce, like, right now,"

Jesus Christ, right in the deep end, huh, Tim? Maybe it wasn't too late to run. Alfred breathed in deeply, briefly closing his eyes. "Of course, master Timothy. Master Jason, I- I... am so glad that you have decided to return. Truly,"

Jason didn't know where to look, didn't know how to look, at the man he'd come to see as his grandfather. He didn't believe him, he wanted to, but didn't.

He stepped to the side to let them in, holding open the door. Jason couldn't meet his eyes. They walked inside, and followed him down the same hallway he'd walked months ago, afraid for all the same reasons. He shouldn't have returned. Shouldn't have been swayed by Tim's misplaced conviction.

He was scared. And he hated it.

The study door was just as ominous as the last time he stood outside it, about to reveal himself to Bruce. He snagged Tim by the elbow, shaking his head before the teenager even turned around.

"I can't do this," He says, softly, honestly, heart bleeding out in the palm of his hand, staining the carpet red.

"Jason. They're not gonna hurt you, they love you, they want you to stay," Tim assured him, face open. "Trust me, okay? Please, Jason. Trust me,"

Alfred made some kind of noise behind Tim, but Jason couldn't bring himself to look. He kept eye contact with his little brother for as long as he could bare. "Fine," He relented, "Fine. Okay, let's just get this over with."

His little brother smiled at him, trying to look reassuring. He didn't have the face for it.

***

Dick's eyes were flickering, to the left. Hallucinations, again. He'd started hallucinating not long after his parents had died, and again after Jason had died. His younger brothers disappearance must have triggered it,.

Bruce clenched the pen in his hand a little tighter.

Jason. His son. Dead, then not. Good, then not. He went from someone who needed to be protected to someone people had to be protected from in a matter seconds, right before Bruce's eyes.

Those tapes, those godforsaken tapes that Bruce must've watched a thousand times since Jason had run away, four days ago now, they told the how, the why and the where. How? He'd been tortured so horrifically it's a miracle he was still coherent. Why? Because he was Bruce's son, and that was the only crime Ra's needed to persecute him. Where? The league, with Talia. An accomplice in her fathers crimes, despite her claims of loving him. Nobody who loved him would ever lay a hand on one of his children.

It was a miracle that Jason had come back to life at all, a miracle that he'd come back to Bruce. He should've expected the- plot twist? Betrayal? Shock? He should've known he could never be so lucky. He'd let his guard down after the first month and the countless DNA and cognitive tests, all proving it was Jason. He should've looked closer at his personality, at his visible reaction to the mere mention of the league.

Bruce had told himself that he wouldn't do anything until Jason was ready to talk. What a fool he was. What a goddamn fool to ever think he could keep his family safe, for once.

He should have known, should have remembered just who he was. The kind of person that didn't get to be happy.

They'd been in the cave for the last ninety six hours, He, Dick and Tim. Well, Tim had left sometime yesterday. They'd been briefly panicked until Bruce checked the garden security feed and saw a Superboy shaped shadow going across the lawn. One phone call to a certain Daily Planet reporter confirmed his suspicions.

There'd be an argument when he got back, most likely, but Bruce was just glad to know where he was. If he'd disappeared, too, so soon after Jason...

The worst part was, Bruce didn't have a clue where his second son was. Not even a hint.

They'd inspected the dead, false, Red Hoods corpse, or what was left of him. His build, the callouses on his hand, the way he'd fought, proved that he was from the league of assassins, just like Jason. Talia and her father had shut down all communications and ordered their assassins back into hiding, so Bruce couldn't question them.

Jason was most likely in a safe house of some sort. He'd said in the theatre that he hadn't meant for everything to go the way it had, that's why he'd run. So, it was unlikely he'd set up one for himself out of Gotham. One of Talia's, then. Ra's definitely wouldn't supply him with one. Issue was, Talia was Ra's student long before Bruce ever was, meaning she probaly had a hideout in every city in the world.

Which pushed them back to square one.

Bruce knew Jason, he knew his son had been desperate for a mother figure since Catherine had died. So desperate, he'd been briefly considering accepting Lady Shiva as one, so desperate he'd tried to save Sheila even after she'd turned on him. Making him a prime target for Talia's manipulation, providing her favoured attempt of seduction had failed. (Bruce really hoped it had failed.) So it wasn't a question of whether or not Jason would go to her, even after all she'd done.

That was always Jason's biggest flaw, he cared too much.

(Bruce's son, who's heart was too big for his own good, had been tortured and tormented into a murderer.)

(How could Bruce had failed him so horribly?)

(It was all his fault.)

Eventually, Alfred had ushered them upstairs. A break, he'd said. Get some sunlight, you'll be no good to anybody in that state, he'd said.

(Bruce was no good to anyone in any state.)

So, now Bruce and Dick sat across from each other, with Dick's eye flickering and and his head in his hands, while Bruce leaned back in his chair, staring into space.

And then Alfred opened the door.

Beside him, stood Tim. Different, slightly too big clothes on, different to the ones he'd left in. Must be Kon's. His arm was half lifted behind the door, and he was glancing at wherever it was.

"Master Bruce," Said Alfred, voice choked. Dick looked up immediately, turning to face his grandfather. An understandable reaction, Alfred never sounded choked. Not since...

"What is it, Alfred?" He asked, taking a much more scrutinising look over his son, then the man who'd raised him. No injuries, but they both looked... concerned. Worried. Why?

Alfred glanced to the side, where Tim's arm was. "We.. master Tim has something to show you,"

Brows furrowed, Bruce shared a look with his eldest son, "Tim?" Dick asked, "Something wrong?"

"No? Uh, I'd say it's good, actually. And so will you! Right?"

Tim was staring them down, like he was daring them to disagree. Dick continued to look confused, "Sure? Tim, what's going on?"

Tim attempted to pull his half lifted arm into view, but was met with resistance. He tugged harder, and Jason stumbled in.

Jason stumbled in.

Jason was here.

Jason was-

Bruce stood so quickly he felt blood rush to his skull, making him dizzy. His son- his son, standing five feet in front of him, alive and okay -flinched. Jason flinched. He flinched? Why would his son flinch because of Bruce? Why would-

There was a poorly done stitch in his right arm, ugly and risen. Bloody at the edges. Immediately recognisable as a batarang scar. Bruce's batarang had done that. Bruce had done that.

Bruce had hurt his son and now he was flinching.

Dick stood up as well, gasping his brothers name. "Jason! Jason, you're- you're here! You didn't- we were looking for you, we thought you'd gone back to- but you're here! And you're- you're okay?"

Jason was currently attempting to hide all six and a half feet of himself behind Tim's lithe frame, and failing miserably. He was trembling.

His son was afraid of them. His family. What- when, had that happened? He hadn't been afraid before, had he?

How had Bruce failed him so horrifically?

"Jason?" Dick prompted, dropping his hand from where it had reached for him. "Jason, what's wrong?"

His son shook his head, greasy curls bouncing. His eyes were on the floor, and he was having trouble regulating his breathing. Not a panic attack, not yet, but working his way up to one. Like a terrified child. He'd never been like this when he was young. He blanketed fear with anger, and lashed out at whoever was closest.

This was not the same boy.

This was still his son.

Trauma did that to a person. Carved your soul from your bones and diced it down to something more easy to cope with. Just a few days ago, Jason had seemed to be coping with the pain as he always had, angry and vengeful. But now... he just seemed hollowed of everything but fear.

That wasn't fair.

Tim nudged his brother, "Jason, I told you, it's fine. They want you here, and they're not taking you to Arkham, okay?"

Dick choked. He threw Bruce an alarmed and half accusing glare, like it was his fault. Maybe it was. It probaly was. Who else's could it be?

"Over my dead body are you going to Arkham! You're staying here, at home. We're all going to be here, yeah? We'll get through-," Dick made a frustrated gesture with his hands, "All of this, whatever this is, together."

He tried to approach Jason again, who'd stuck his chin out, a lot like he used to as a child. Trying to seem bigger and braver then he felt. It made Bruce's heart ache. Jason let Dick rest a hand on his shoulder, before flicking his eyes over to Bruce.

Bruce didn't know what to do with his too big body to seem smaller, less threatening. It was like he'd forgotten all those years of training and cultivating his civilian alter ego.

He cleared his throat, as quietly as possible, "Jason," He said, voice scarcely above a whisper. "You're home?" Bruce hadn't meant for it to be a question, but it was. It absolutely was.

Jason said nothing.

Tim squeezed his non injured arm in a gesture of reassurance. "It's okay, see? They want you here, they want you. Nobody's sending you away,"

The ache in Bruce's heart sliced it's way through, cleaving the organ in two.

Jason made some choked noise in the back of his throat, which might have been some hum of agreement. Dick made an aborted move to hug him, but thought better of it.

Bruce stepped forward, around his desk. His son stiffened, but said nothing. Made no move to stop him. So Bruce kept walking towards him, slowly, telegraphing every move before he made it. Carefully, softly, mindful of the two broken hearts between them, he embraced his son.

Jason took in a deep, shuddering, breath. Held it like he could stop himself from feeling. Before completely breaking down, gripping the front of Bruce's shirt as he all but collapsed in his arms. Sobbing and heaving, he said, "I hate you, I hate you so much, Bruce. How could you? I hate you!"

Bruce held him up, stroked his curls, "I know," He whispered into the hair, "I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's okay, it's okay; it's all going to be okay,"

Jason kept heaving and shaking, kept gripping onto Bruce's shirt like he thought he might be dragged away at any given moment.

His other two sons took a step back, to where, Bruce wasn't sure. He couldn't- couldn't think over the guilt he was drowning in. The concern.

He just held onto his son a little tighter, and hoped that this time, that would be enough.

***

Jason slept in Tim's room, that night. He didn't want to go back to his old one, that belonged to some other boy. In the morning, he didn't go down to breakfast, just stayed hidden under his brothers duvet.

Tim brought a plate up to him, tried to coax him out from beneath the sheets, but Jason didn't budge.

He just wanted to wallow for a while, that's all.

Maybe, just maybe, if he stayed under there long enough, the world would make sense again.

Eventually, Alfred came and convinced him to change his clothes from the ones flecked in Jokers and his own blood, into to some pajamas. He'd set up the spare room next to Tim's and right across from his old one, with snacks piled on the bedside.

He drew him a bath and set a bottle on conditioner on the counter, quiet all the while. Jason was glad for it, he felt like he might combust like a prince Ruperts drop if someone tried to speak to him.

The bath was nice and hot, soothing to his aching bones, and lukewarm by the time he got out. Alfred sat quietly on his bed, medkit in hand, and stitched up his wrist in silence.

When he was done, he kissed the scar like he was trying to make it all better.

That action alone was enough to make Jason's eyes well up with tears, so he sent him out, and curled back up under the duvet.

When had he gotten so weak? He hated it, he hated it so much. Where was all the strength and conviction he'd had not two days ago? What about the confidence from a week ago?

He was just so... tired.

It was over, now. He had no more plans. No more games or goals. It was just, over. He hadn't had a plan for afterwards.

He kept waiting for them to ship him away, kept waiting for commissioner Gordon to show up and send him to Arkham, he still couldn't understand why they hadn't.

He didn't think he ever would.

Maybe it was because they thought Arkham wouldn't hold him? But that didn't seem right. It'd held Joker, even if it was just for short intervals. Bruce didn't think he was more important then him, his father had made that quite clear.

A knock, quiet against the oak, came from his door. Tim, he thought idly. Had to be. Nobody else had tried to speak to him. Probaly trying to give him space.

He didn't answer.

Presumably-Tim knocked again, three short raps. Jason turned his face closer to the mattress.

The door opened.

It was Dick.

He stood in the doorway, hesitating, hand on the door knob. Jason stilled beneath the sheets, before curling up a little closer. He could still hear Dick's voice from the theatre, the shocked and horrified, 'What have you done,' after Tim had pulled the trigger.

But he hadn't been talking to Tim, he'd been talking to Jason.

Jason didn't wanna hear him say that, again. He couldn't.

"Hey... Jason," His brother said, voice soft, and closed the door behind him. "Are you feeling any better?"

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm fine."

Dick sat on the edge of the bed, at the furthest point from Jason. "Yeah? You sure? You haven't left the bed since you got back,"

"I had a bath,"

"Well, that's good. Hygienes important. So is exercise, and talking to people. Done any of that lately?"

Jason rolled his eyes, "What am I doing right now?"

Dick's smile was placating and pained. "Right," He said, voice soft. "That's fair. What about excersise?"

He said nothing.

"Let's just stick to talking for now then, huh? What do you want to talk about? We could talk about... Terraria? Tim and I haven't played since you've been gone, now that you're back, we could play on our world again? Kill the Wall?"

Again, Jason was silent.

"What about... those fire swords you have, for some reason. They're pretty cool. Do you... Jason, please, work with me here. We're worried."

Worried. What a word. "I don't know what you want me to say," Mumbled Jason, "You want a fucking explanation? An apology? You want me to magically fix myself?"

"I want to help. I want you to tell me what I can do to help you."

"Invent a fucking time machine," Jason said, voice heavy as he squeezed his eyes shut. "No other way to fix it."

"I don't want to fix you, Jason," And there were Dick's hands, a gentle weight Jason's shoulder through the duvet, "I want to make you feel safe, you know?"

"I've never felt safe,"

Dick made a noise, then, like some kind of injured puppy. "Of course you haven't," His brother must've listed forward, because the next sound Jason heard was the sigh his brother made when his forehead met Jason's back.

He was- he was laying on top of Jason. Half on top of him, anyway. Like some kind of shitty weighted blanket. "The fuck are you doing?" He grumbled, bunkering down deeper into the mattress, but prying one eye open to glare at the lock of hair now in his face. Dicks hair.

"Comforting you," Came a muffled reply.

"No you're not. Fuck off, you're squishing me,"

"Too big to squish,"

"Squashing, then."

"Too small to squash,"

Jason groaned, twisting in an attempt to knock Dick off. He stopped short, hissing through his teeth as he landed on his bad forearm. Scrambling up into a sitting position, he pulled his arm into view to check the stitching Alfred had done. It was fine.

Dick blinked up at him. Stupid blue eyes sparkling. "You good?"

Jason snarled without any real heat, "Go away, dickface."

He received a pout.

"What happend to the distance we just had?"

"Closed it,"

"Oh real fucking funny," Jason flopped back on the bed, "Fucking Joker over here,"

There was a moment, where Dick didn't seem to sure whether or not he should laugh. He settled on a huff. "Speaking of real funny jokes," He began, far too conversational for Jason's liking. "It was real comedy gold when you pretended to be your own boyfriend,"

Jason tried to decide if he should be embarrassed. "Worked, didn't it?"

"Did it, though?"

"You fucking fell for it,"

Dick looked up, chin digging into Jason's side. "Was that your plan, then? For me?"

Jason didn't wanna talk about this. Jason did not want to open this bag of worms right now. "No. I expected you to storm off when you realised I was back. I had no plan for you," Except, of course, the plan where he dressed up as Nightwing and started killing people. Though, that was less of a plan and more of an... aspirational day dream.

Dicks eyebrows raised, "Why would I storm off?"

"S'What you did the first time you found me at Wayne manor, isn't it?"

Dick dropped his head back down, saying something muffled into Jason's shirt. "That... was different. There some kid running around in my old clothes, I felt betrayed. I was never angry at you, Jason. Just... about you."

Right. Cause that was so much better. "I know the feeling," He said instead. No point making this conversation any worse then it already was.

"Yeah, I guess you do."

There was a moment were neither of them spoke, just watched each other. The silence didn't seem awkward to Jason, though he was internally running through everything he could say to get Dick to leave him alone. He watched his brothers eyes soften the longer he looked at him.

"What?"

"Just... glad you're back, that's all."

"Been back a while now, Dickie."

A contemplative hum came from the man, "Not really, though. That was fake, overly well adjusted Jason. You're the real Jason."

Jason looked away, "The fake Jason was better."

"Nah, the originals are always better. Take it from the original Robin,"

Again, Jason didn't know whether to be insulted or not. "Right," He said instead. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"And that I love you," He said, sitting up next to him, said so easily like it wasn't an arrow to Jason's heart. "And that finding out you were alive was easily the happiest day of my life,"

Jason couldn't handle this. He looked around desperately, cataloguing every escape route. What the fuck. The window was the easiest, he could jump and shatter the glass with momentum, he'd just have to be careful of the stitches in his arm. "And what was the worst," He asked, "Seeing me in the theatre?" Because Jason's never met a situation he couldn't make worse.

Dick just blinked at him. "No. Seeing your grave and realising I'd lost you, without ever really knowing you, and that I'd never get to say goodbye."

"Fuck off." Jason snarled.

Dick was unwavering. In fact, he leaned closer, carefully cradling Jason's jaw as he blinked back instinctive tears. Skin on skin. Nobody touched Jason like that without hurting him. Even Tim, digging his fingers into Jason's wound to stop him from running. Dick wasn't hurting him. Why wasn't he hurting him?

His brother pressed their foreheads together, the movement so oddly intimate and unfamiliar that Jason held his breath.

"You're my brother, Jason. There's nothing you could do to make me hate you. I'll always love you, I'll always be happy you're back, even if I don't look it. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," He didn't stutter, or pause. Didn't so much as blink as he shattered Jason's worldview.

Jason swallowed, and tried to dredge any of his ill meaning words to drag that wedge between them back up. But his bag of tricks were empty, and he slumped forward, letting Dick cradle his head into his neck, cradling Jason like he was something precious.

"I'm... so happy you're here, Jason. Nothing else matters, okay?"

Jason's bottom lip was wobbling dangerously, and he so desperately wanted to push Dick away and tell him to go fuck himself, yet instead, he returned Dick's hug, wrapping his arms around him.

"Okay," He whispered, letting himself be tugged closer, burying his nose in his brother neck and wetting Dicks skin with his tears.

Dicks fingers were carding his way through Jason's curls when he finally fell asleep, halfway to believing that Dick was telling the truth about loving him, and that everything was going to be okay.