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Gotham was still shrouded in darkness, even as far above the clouds as Jason was. The sun would be rising soon, and he should have gone back to his apartment by now, but after a night of endless fighting and one thing after the other, he couldn’t convince himself to move. Instead, he sat on the ledge of one of the tallest buildings in the city, waiting for the sun to blind him, so deep in his own mind he could only hear the demons that haunted him.
He didn’t flinch when Tim swooped in and settled beside him on the ledge. His helmet was sitting on his other side, and if Tim noticed the tear tracks running down his face, he thankfully didn’t mention them.
It wasn’t the first time they’d found themself in this position.
“I think there’s something ironic about dying like this instead of in the field,” Tim mumbled, voice too light for his words. Jason couldn’t stop the weak laugh that bubbled up in him.
“I’m not gonna jump.” He promised quietly. There was no point; there were fail-safes in his suit that not even he knew about. The moment he threw himself off, Batman would appear, or maybe Nightwing.
“I wouldn’t judge you for thinking about it. I’ve been there… Been further.”
This time, he glanced at Tim, but the younger man was looking at the horizon, as if already seeing the sun.
“I like it up here too. It makes me forget all the shit down there, if only for a bit.”
Jason nodded slowly, then looked back at where the sky’s colour was starting to shift from dark blue to a watery grey.
“I’m just tired.” He admitted.
His patrol had gone to shit several times over; from a mother shot in a mugging, to a twelve-year-old kid high on heroin and unable to differentiate good touches from bad. No matter how often he saw the piss and shit of Gotham, he never fully hardened to it. Gaunt, vulnerable faces haunted him.
“I get it… Have you been taking your meds?”
Jason scoffed. “Nah, shit messes with my head.”
Tim considered his words for a moment before he replied. “That’s kind of the point.”
“You know what I mean.”
Ah.
Catherine.
Even though the antidepressants Jason had been prescribed months ago were safe - they had no additive qualities, and were carefully measured to best suit him - he still held the pills in his shaking hand every day before dropping them back in their bottle and cursing at the emptiness of his apartment. How could he overcome the fear of addiction that followed him well into adulthood, just because someone promised the medication was safe?
His mother had promised him the things she took were safe, and he’d believed her, because he’d been too young and didn’t know any better. Then he’d watched her waste away, shaking and vomiting if she went too long without a fix. ‘Safe’ had led her to being dead on the bathroom floor.
“You know, things that affected her… Won’t affect you.” Tim held in a grimace as another tear slipped down Jason’s cheek.
“Is it crazy that I wish they did? At least then, I'd have something left of her.” Jason sniffled before continuing, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. “I’d die the same way she did, if it brought us closer.” He had nothing to remember; no photos, no clothes, nothing to hold and think of her. When he was Robin, he’d thought at least he was her son, at least she was a part of him, but he’d even been wrong about that
“She’d hate to hear you say that.”
Jason hiccupped around a crackled laugh. “I know. Fucked up, right?”
Tim shrugged.
“Nah,” The sky had turned a light grey now, and the horizon was illuminated by a blanket of deep orange. “When I was little, people said I had my mum’s looks… When she died, I’d put on her make-up and clothes, just to see her again.” She’d had a dress in the same shade of orange in front of them, gifted to her by one of Jack’s business partners. Tim had thought it was beautiful, but Janet had quickly trained that poor taste out of him before she died. “I’d never see her, though, too much Jack Drake in my eyes.” Tim smiled sadly.
“All I see is you.” It was a nice sentiment, but Jason never met the Drakes, so Tim just blinked away his own tears.
“When you died… I saw Bruce do way worse shit out of grief."
Jason had heard the stories: muggers that were punished with broken bones and robberies that ended with the thieves on life support.
“I wish I’d just stayed dead.” He said darkly. He didn’t mean it as much as he had when he’d first emerged from the Lazarus Pit, but the feeling still lingered.
“I don’t.”
“Could have saved yourself a beating or two.” Jason tried to laugh it off, but Tim’s gaze only hardened as he spoke.
“I would have killed myself for them to have you back.” This time, when he looked at Tim, the other was already looking back at him, his expression already softer than it had been a second ago.
“Are you trying to out ‘fucked-up’ me?” He asked accusingly.
“Of course not, because I’d win.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Tim raised an eyebrow as a half-mad grin split across his face. “I slept with Ra’s.” He admitted easily, as if they were discussing the weather.
“What?!” He sputtered as Tim let out a mirthless laugh.
“Just once.” For the first time all morning, Jason forgot about the sorrow he’d been drowning in. The faraway look in Tim's eyes reminded him that Tim had his own demons, some more physical than others.
“Does B know?”
Tim shook his head.
“It doesn’t seem like an important detail, y’know?” He shrugged. “Does help ‘the mission’.” There was a bitterness in his voice. In a way, Jason thought they all resented Bruce for bringing them into his life, even if they didn’t admit it out loud. Tim always said he brought himself into the fold, but no adult should have let small, pre-pubescent Tim throw himself into danger to save Batman and Nightwing. If anything, he should resent Alfred.
Jason shook his head quickly, unable to delve deeper into that rabbit hole. Instead, he refocused on Tim’s admission.
“Was… Was it consensual?” With any of their rogues, it was a guess which lines they were willing to cross. The older al Ghuls were not a good example of morally upright people.
“Was it with Talia?”
Jason almost flinched. Of course, Tim knew. Jason never told any of them, and Talia, despite her ways, wouldn’t admit such a betrayal to Bruce, her beloved. But he wasn’t surprised Tim somehow knew.
“Sort of.” He finally mumbled.
“Sort of.” Tim echoed, as his own way of answering.
“Fucked up.”
“Yep, but we’re all fucked up together, in surprisingly similar ways.”
Jason nodded slowly. They all had at least one ‘sort of’ experience that hung in their skeleton-filled closets; some of them didn’t even get the say ‘sort of’. Beyond that, trauma seemed like an inevitable part of trying to be a hero. When he’d been a part of Teen Titans, he remembered watching that hopeful light fade from new vigilantes’ eyes, replaced by the constant wonder of whether it was all worth it.
“Yeah, I guess we have the camaraderie of shared trauma.”
“That’s why B secretly likes going to JL meetings.”
“I fucking knew it, he always energises to them so early.”
“Was that a Star Trek reference?”
“... Yes.”
“You’re my favourite.”
Jason laughed. Roy had made him watch several episodes during their ‘hey, man, life sucks, let’s get drunk’ night. Knowing Tim also liked the franchise, Jason had given in quickly. He liked knowing things about Tim.
“Any other secrets you need to get off your chest?”
Tim considered for a long beat before he answered.
“Ra’s has my spleen.” Tim was pretty sure it wasn’t much of a secret anymore; Bruce, Alfred and Barbara knew. He’d had to admit to losing his spleen when he spent a month struggling with a common cold because of his weakened immune system. After many appointments with Leslie and yet another prescription to fill every month, Bruce finally stopped shadowing him during his patrols.
“You never fail to surprise me, Babybird.”
Tim smiled. “At least I think he still has it. I doubt he wouldn’t keep it. He’s still kind of obsessed with me.”
“It’s all that boyish charm.”
“I know, I’m irresistible.” He pretended to flip his hair, despite the product keeping it carefully in place. “What about you? Secrets?”
“I never graduated,” Jason admitted, like it was a great shame he carried with him, despite everything else. Tim knew, though, he knew everything. He’d read Jason’s file the moment he had access to it. Of course, Jason hadn’t graduated; he’d died before he was even a senior, and when he came back, his priorities were trying to kill Tim and destroy Batman. When your mind is being overpowered by the side effects of the Lazarus Pit, you don’t think about whether you wanted to graduate or not.
Tim wanted to say graduating didn’t matter; he hadn’t graduated, and he was the acting CEO of one of the biggest corporations in America. But he doubted his nepotism would be a comforting point of reference for Jason.
“Neither did I,” He said instead, letting it sit between them.
Jason let out an indifferent grunt. “That’s different. You didn’t care about school.”
That was true; Tim was too smart to find school interesting, and he understood the value of money enough to know that not having a High School Diploma wouldn’t change the course of his life by any significance. He had his inherited Drake fortune, along with being a Wayne heir, to carry him easily through the rest of his life without working, if he wanted.
Maybe a small part of him wished he had finished high school - just to be able to say he had - but graduating had felt so pointless compared to being Red Robin. At the time, he’d lost so many people that every second spent in a classroom felt like years of wasted time.
“I wanted to go to college,” Jason continued quietly, “as a kid, I never thought I had a chance, but when… When B took me in, I thought I had a chance. I thought I could go to college and be Robin.” He said the name like it burned him; Tim supposed it did. “I wanted to study literature, and something that would let me help the kids who were growing up like I did.”
Tim could picture it. Jason would have made a good social worker; even now, he knew how to spot the kids who needed extra help from Red Hood than they let on.
“You do help those kids, though. I’ve seen you spend hours of your nights just walking the street, helping everyone you can. You make a difference, Jay.” Tim insisted, earning a glance from Jason. He was surprised to hear his own name when Tim always enforced the ‘no names’ rule.
“No one can hear us up here.” Except for Oracle - Bab’s was always listening. “And if it really bothers you, why not get your GED?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Because I’m legally dead.”
“Please, being dead never stopped you.”
Finally, Jason cracked a slight smile, barely noticeable at the corners of his lips.
“I can make dupes of all your records; we’d only need to change a few things. How do you feel about being Jason Todd from New York? The certificate can still be from Gotham.”
Jason huffed out an amused breath. “Sounds kinda nice.”
“There we go!” Tim swung his shoulder into Jason’s in a playful nudge. Jason swayed with the contact, smiling softly.
“Thank you, Tim.”
“I’m always here for you, Jason.”
They let a new, lighter silence wash over them. They watched as the sun finally broke over the horizon and bathed them in a warm, yellow glow. Jason hung an arm around Tim’s shoulders, leaning into him as he felt the exhaustion of emotion weighing his eyes down.
“Here comes the sun.” He mumbled.
“Do-do do-do.” Tim sang half-heartedly, laughing when Jason knocked him in the arm. He wrapped his arm around Jason’s waist and enjoyed the sunrise.
