Archive of Our Own

Anger was hot.

It was like a steady stream of lava moving down Jason's throat like molasses. It stuck to the inside of his chest like honey and burned in his stomach.

Anger was violent, messy, irrational, and all-consuming.

It was something Jason was desperately trying to keep under control as he swung at his older brother during training. With every missed hit, that anger grew. Like a dog ripping at meat on a bone, his rage shredded his throat with a scream.

Catching his fist with ease, his older brother stared down at him with cold green eyes. They didn't look like they were supposed to anymore. Jason glared at the taller man as his fist shook with strain against his hold.

He wasn't the only one who changed over the course of his two-year absence. The man before him was nothing like his brother. Just a cold, heartless robot that wore his face.

Just the sight of him tore another yell from the kid, his toxic green eyes taking on a faint glow.

"That's enough, Jason. Go cool off."

Always scolding, always acting like he was Jason's parent, not his brother. At least that part of Damian hadn't changed.

Wrenching his fist back, the kid snarled. "Fine."

Jason stalked out of the training room—out of the Batcave—and went to find somewhere to cool off. Anywhere was better than having to deal with Damian looking down on him all the time.

A sigh left the older bat's lungs. Even after all this time, he couldn't seem to understand what went through his younger brother's head. So often it felt like the kid hated him, and while he had every reason to, Damian couldn't figure out how to repair their relationship in a meaningful way.

Every step forward was followed by three steps back.

"He's doing better, if I'm honest. Before, he would have blown up at you for stopping the session early."

Damian turned toward the voice. The current Crime Boss of Crime Alley dropped from the rafters in the ceiling. Pushing his messy hair back, the man offered Damian a big smile.

It took all his energy not to roll his eyes at his overly bright younger brother.

Tim Drake–Wayne. Although the Wayne had been dropped some time ago, hadn't it? At least that's what the Crime Boss made it sound like, but Damian has yet to see any paperwork confirming this.

Leaning against the BatComputer with the aura that he didn't have a care in the world, the boss crossed his arms over his chest. He really was quite the performer, wasn't he? Always hiding behind a quip or a smile.

A complete one-eighty from what he was like only a little bit ago.

Sometimes, when the facade slips, Damian could still see the man who broke their number one rule behind the mask. The well of mixed emotions on the topic still plagued his chest and made it hard to do anything other than worry for the other's mental health.

Not that his brother would appreciate such sentiments, Damian was sure.

"He is certainly improving." He picked up a towel to wipe the sweat from his neck. "And at a rate much faster than I was originally anticipating."

Lighting up with an obnoxious smile, Tim placed a hand on his chest with mock surprise. "Do I hear a hint of pride in your voice, Dami?"

Pale eyes rolled behind the domino mask at the grunt that was supposed to be Damian's response. "You can admit to being proud of your little brother, you know that, right? Otherwise, he's going to keep thinking you're some kind of robot. We talked about mending bridges, right?"

Damian sighed. "Fine, I'll praise him after he's cooled off some. Now, what are you doing here? I thought you didn't enjoy visiting the Batcave."

All the boss felt like offering was a shrug. "I don't mind the cave; it's B I want to avoid. I came over cause I've got a case I'm working on and thought Jason could use a chance to blow off some steam. It's an easy one, promise."

"I don't know why you're asking for my permission. If anything, you should be asking for Father's permission." Another sigh fell from the older bat at Tim's unimpressed look. "But you won't. Of course, you won't. That would require the two of you to communicate, which will never happen."

After a moment of contemplation, Damian finally relented. "Fine, you can take Jason with you. Just be back before curfew, or I'm making you explain to Father why he missed school."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Argh, you're so frustrating sometimes." The boss ruffled his hair in agitation. He didn't even live here anymore. Why did he still have to follow Damian's rules? "I'll make sure the baby bat is back by curfew, okay?"

Damian nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good. Now, I'm sure you haven't eaten anything decent in the last few days, therefore you will join me for lunch with Pennyworth."

"Do I have a choice?" That bubbly persona was starting to sour under his older brother's mother henning. And to think he used to be an ex-assassin.

Damian smiled. "No, you do not."

Tim sighed in the most over-dramatic way possible. If he was being forced to do this, he would make it everyone else's problem, too.

"Lead the way then, oh powerful leader."

After the incredibly awkward lunch Tim was forced to endure, the boss found the little brother he was looking for sitting out on the back patio. Jason looked much calmer than earlier as he sat with the youngest bat in his lap.

Little Dick was reading a storybook to him while pointing out all the colorful animals that danced along the page.

Asking which one was his favorite made the little acrobat squeal with delight as he pointed to a giant elephant. The boss watched from his spot in the shadow of the Manor as the two laughed and talked about what kind of animals they wanted to see when B finally made good on his promise to take them to the zoo.

The scene almost had him turning around—not wanting to interrupt something so nice.

Dick deserved these moments of happiness after all.

The poor thing was so lost in the beginning. Hurt and anger over the loss of his parents filled the acrobat's small body when he first arrived at the Manor. It sharpened his blue eyes into ice and cut anyone who tried to comfort him with harsh words and tiny limbs that lashed out.

The only one who seemed to be able to connect with Dick was Jason.

While the two older bats weren't sure on how to help their new baby brother with his anguish, Jason knew all too well what it was like to harbor so much anger inside a body that couldn't fit it all. In a way, the two of them healed a piece of themselves through their new bond.

A piece that was sorely needed to flip Tim's view on Jason, which the boss is loath to admit.

After the boy got himself all the way from Nanda Parbat, it was so hard to look at him. The shock of his revival—the clear result of his League of Assassins' training—all of it was almost too much to comprehend. The bubbly, sweet, soft little brother Tim had lost and mourned was still nowhere to be found, even though the kid stood right in front of him.

All the boss could see was a boy who looked like Jason but was completely consumed by bloodlust, death, and anger.

Time and again, Tim told himself it was still the same kid. Yet time and again, he couldn't help but think, despite the miracle that brought Jason back to them, his little brother was still dead.

But all that changed when Dick entered the picture.

Instead of Jason being the one to lash out, he tempered the acrobat's anger. Tiny fists that wanted to hit and scratch and hurt would collide with a kid far too used to pain and much too used to not reacting to it.

Kneeling down, Jason held Dick's wrists—light but firm—as they thrashed. Big fat tears poured down the baby bat's face as anger colored his expression. "Let go! Letgoletgoletgo!”

"We don't hit, Dick. You're mad, fine. You can be mad, but you cannot turn that anger on your brother. Use it against those who deserve it."

"Shut up! You do it all the time to Damian, so don't tell me I can't! Let go!" Dick screamed, his frustration shaking his body violently.

Instead of shouting back, as Tim expected Jason to do as he watched the events unfold helplessly, the kid wrapped his arms around the acrobat and hugged him fiercely. The anger that wound Dick up so tightly dissolved in the arms of his new brother as sobbing wracked his little form.

"I know I do, but I shouldn't. We should both be nicer to our family, don't you think? They're all we have left now." Jason's voice was calm as he rocked Dick back and forth.

He wasn't wrong. All four of them were all they had, along with B standing at the top of the family tree. What a horribly gut-wrenching realization that while Tim struggled to see Jason the way he used to be, the kid was trying to figure out how he fit back into the only family he had.

Selfishly, the boss had dropped to his knees that night and crushed them both into a desperate embrace.

"Ack! Tim! Let go! You're going to suffocate us!" Jason squirmed and made his protests quite loud, but never truly tried to get away from Tim, like the boss knew he was capable of doing.

Dick buried his face in Tim's shoulder, soaking up the hug like a sunflower needing water. Even with so much anger, the boy craved affection and assurance, and the boss was more than happy to give it to him.

But even though things were improving, the other shoe had to drop eventually.

The night that Dick and Jason disappeared felt like a recurring nightmare. It was too similar to the events that led to Jason's death. Empty bedrooms—a note on the windowsill and the boys nowhere in sight. It was as if it were a cruel joke when Damian called him while the boss was out on patrol, explaining what had happened.

It was like a god was laughing at him.

Once again, Tim wasn't there to keep his brother safe, and this time he could lose both of them.

Over and over, the memories would play in his head like a broken record. Even though the boss couldn't predict the future, the moment he got that phone call, he wished he hadn't broken their number one rule.

Tim didn't think he'd ever regret it, but there he was—standing on a roof in Crime Alley instead of being at the Manor because of the choices he made.

He should have been there.

He should have been a better older brother—a better protector.

Wasn't the entire reason he took up his position in Crime Alley to prevent something like this from happening to another kid, and yet he still couldn't do anything!

Arriving at the warehouse, Tim expected bombs—fire—tragedy. But instead, he found Damian standing in the mouth of the door, watching the scene before him with a horribly empathetic expression.

There in the center sat the bloody, unconscious body of the man who had been responsible for the death of Dick's parents. And beside him were the boss's two younger brothers, huddled together in a crushing hug. A crowbar sat at Jason's feet, covered in what must have been Zucco's blood.

Judging by how much blood soaked Jason, Tim concluded that the kid had taken it upon himself to handle the dirty work. Bludgeoning was much different from how the League trained him, but it did show how personal this was to the kid.

Dick shook in his arms as he sobbed into his chest. "Please, don't do it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I asked."

Damian finally entered the scene to kneel beside the man and take his pulse. It was faint, but it was still there. "He's still alive."

The white's of the oldest bat's domino mask met the toxic, glowing green of his little brother's eyes. The kid was shaking just as much as Dick as he clutched the boy like an anchor. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as he bottled his anger inside a pressurized slow cooker, all because his little brother had asked him to.

"It'll be alright."

Tim was confident that if Jason had let go of Dick, he would have killed the man without a second thought.

In spite of being hardwired to kill by the League, Jason was doing his best to abide by his brother's request. Tim, however, knew how easy it was to kill for the sake of revenge. He had felt the exact same thing when he saw Joker again after what he had done to Jason.

When Bruce had arrived at the scene, the boss didn't have to look up to see the horror on the man's face. He didn't have the heart to. He had broken their rule, and the evidence of that fact lay at his feet in a bullet–ridden, mangled heap.

Dead eyes stared up at him as the grinning man who stole his little brother all for a sick game sat in a pool of his own blood.

Tim didn't go back to the Manor that night. Or any of the nights that followed. He couldn't stand the disappointment that was bound to radiate off of Bruce. Instead, he decided to become the new Crime Boss of Crime Alley—Red Robin.

It wasn't too far from the kind of work Damian was doing in Blüdhaven before he decided to move back into the Manor.

Protect the innocent and make sure the scum of the earth knew what it meant to mess with anyone in his territory under his protection.

In the time Tim had built his little operation, he had sworn to himself he wouldn't kill anyone else after the Joker. Easier said than done, of course. All that the rule really accomplished was that he left his targets as vegetables rather than corpses. Alive, but was it really worth living?

That dark seed the loss of his brother had implanted in him consumed everything Tim did. It made it impossible to interact with Damian without it causing a fight. Talking with Bruce was completely out of the question.

The road the boss was heading down wasn't a good one, and there was no doubt in Tim's mind that he would have become a villain rather than a hero sooner or later if Dick and Jason hadn't shown up.

Some days, the boss could feel that darkness lurking just beneath the surface, but watching his two little brothers happily read together helped him manage it.

Tim finally left his spot in the shadows and walked over to the two kids. Dick stopped rambling about whales to look up in surprise when the sun was blocked. His big blue eyes lit up in excitement upon seeing one of his older brothers.

"Tim! You're back!" He squirmed out of Jason's lap to get up and hug the boss.

Remaining where he was on the patio, Jason regarded the man with an unnerving stare. Ever since returning to them, the kid has always been on the creepier side. Tim was starting to get used to it as a type of charm rather than something to be put off by.

"Why are you back? Thought you didn't like the Manor anymore. Or is it just me you can't stand?"

Tim swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat.

His inability to accept his brother as he was now was not well hidden. It left a similar rift between him and Jason that the kid had with Damian. Even after being home for long enough to become the next Robin, Jason still felt like an outsider in his own family, and that was their fault, not his.

It was something that needed to change.

And that started with this mission. The hope was that it would give the two of them a chance to bond and perhaps clear the air. Jason deserved to know he had brothers who loved and cared about the current him, not just the memory of who he used to be.

Lifting Dick into his arms, he squeezed the boy to relieve some of his nerves. Like hugging a stuffed animal in the case of nightmares, the little acrobat's giggles gave the boss the courage to reach out to his brother.

"I came to ask if you wanted to help me with a case. There is a gun trafficking deal going down at the docks tonight, and I could use the backup. I even promised Damian to have you back by curfew."

His heart thumped in his chest as Jason tilted his head in consideration. He squeezed Dick a little more in anticipation. The baby bat's round face puffed out in a slight frown at how subdued his older brother was being. He was used to much more theatrics, and this quiet apprehension was new to him.

Dick just wished he knew what was bothering Tim so he could help.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jason nodded. "Alright, I'll help you. But in return, I want a new knife. One of my knives is getting dull and becoming useless."

Tim beamed, and in turn, made Dick happy. Whatever was bothering his older brother seemed to disappear, so it must not have been very important.

"Yeah, I can get you a new knife. I have more than I know what to do with." While Jason was gone, blades became Tim's specialty. But with his new, lighter persona, they seemed too brutal in his hands, so he made the switch back to his bo staff.

As a result, it seemed Gotham's new Robin's choice of weapon were knives.

Thankfully, under Bruce's supervision, they weren't lethal, so Tim didn't mind supplying the kid with new ones when the old ones started to wear down.

Putting Dick down, the boss straightened, hands on his hips, with a much more optimistic outlook on their mission.

"I'll pick you up later tonight, then. Does that sound good, little wing?"

"Ugh, enough with that nickname already. I'm not a kid anymore. Yeah, yeah. I'll see you tonight. Don't be late, though, or else I'm going to bed."

It was official. Tim was going to bond with his brother tonight, no matter what.

Tim watched the men pace back and forth in front of the shipping crate.

It was just as his intel told him. The container was filled with firearms—and who knew what else—and all of it was supposed to go to Black Mask.

Tim glared at the men down below. He had been trying to take down Black Mask for months, and if they managed to ruin a supply run of this size, then it would force the creep to come out of the shadows. The boss couldn't wait to see his face when he finally took him down.

It was going to be snapshot worthy, he could just feel it.

Glancing over at Jason revealed the boy perched beside him, keeping as still as a statue. It was so much different from the kid's fidgeting and boundless energy from before his death. Tim hated to think about what kind of training the League put him through to remove such a core part of Jason's personality.

Turning his attention away from thoughts of blowing up the League bases for what they did to his brother, Tim caught movement.

Finally.

The changing of the guard.

Signaling Jason to go around, the boss dropped down to the ground with barely a sound. Using the shadows to his advantage allowed Tim to slink up to the crate without being noticed. Part one was completed, but he still needed to get rid of the guards. Saddling up behind an unaware goon, the boss tapped the man on the shoulder.

A big smile was the last thing the goon saw before Tim cracked him across the face. Unfortunately, he did get a shot off as his body hit the ground, alerting the rest of the goons posted around the dock.

"Oops."

Shrugging lightly, Tim clicked open his staff just as another goon came charging at him. Cracking it over the man's head, the man crumpled.

"Four! Or would it be a homerun? I was never good with sports terms. Mind helping me out?" Not bothering to hide his presence anymore, now that his cover was blown, Tim decided to use it to his advantage.

He worked best as a distraction anyway.

Dodging gunfire from the world's worst shooters, it didn't take long for Tim to disarm the men who had decided to surround him. One by one, they fell just like they always did because why would goons ever learn from their mistakes? Eh, worked out for him, didn't it?

"You've got to do better than that if you want to take little ole' me down. I'm just one guy, and you're like 20 men strong. Surely you have the advantage."

They never did.

By the time Tim had knocked out everyone who had come running to take him down, Jason had finished picking the lock on the crate. Shoving the large doors open, the Robin glared over his shoulder.

"Are you done goofing off, or are you still peacocking for an unconscious crowd?"

"Ow, little wing. Have you been picking up insults from Damian lately? That one stung." Walking over to the crate, the boss let out a low whistle. "Now that's a lot of guns. Black Mask won't be happy when he discovers his shipment got raided. I'd hate to be the guy who has to tell him what happened.

A laugh was almost immediately cut off when the boss noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He must not have hit one of the goons hard enough because now one was pointing a gun straight at Jason's back.

"Robin! Get down!"

Diving for the boy just as the shot was fired, Tim ensured the bullet hit him instead of his little brother. Tumbling to the ground, pain exploded across the back of his shoulder. Fuck, that hurt! Choosing mobility over protection meant Tim didn't get the luxury of heavy-duty Kevlar as Bruce did.

A bullet at close range was definitely strong enough to pierce through his jacket and suit like shredding paper.

"Red!" Jason's voice sounded shocked and strained.

Was the kid hurt? Did he not stop the bullet in time?

Thoughts started to blur together, and Tim had a horrible feeling the bullet might have nicked something important. Bleeding out hadn't been in his plans for the night, but that was the life of a vigilante, right? Always exciting.

"Red, say something!" The kid's voice was quickly spiraling into panic as blood rushed in Tim's ears and black spots overtook his vision.

Shit! That wasn't good. He was too heavy for Jason to carry on his own, and the goon hadn't been dealt with yet.

Staying awake started to sound more and more impossible, so the best the boss could manage was tightening his grip on Jason. The least he could be if these were his final moments was a meat shield to protect his little brother.

The last thing he heard before the world faded out was a guttural scream.

And then everything went black.

Jason was bored.

They had watched these men circle the stupid shipping crate for nearly an hour, and Tim kept waiting. They could easily take them all on; he didn't understand why he had to sit there and do nothing.

Jason desperately wanted to move.

Every muscle in his body screamed to fidget—to tap his fingers, or sway back and forth—but he didn't. Movement without permission meant punishment, and punishment meant pain. Jason was sick of pain.

He was sick of being beaten and stabbed.

He was sick of being starved and burned.

He was sick of it all, so he kept still. He kept still, even if that in itself hurt him as well. At least it was a pain he could control.

Finally—finally, Tim gave him the signal to move in. Jason was up on his feet in record time and made his way down to the ground, silently hopping from one crate to the next. He landed in the shadow of the crate they were after and pressed his back against it as he moved toward the doors. He watched as a man was thrown past him and rolled his eyes.

Tim, the ever-dramatic one.

Couldn't just silently take out the guards. No, he had to make a show of it. Well, he supposed it had a purpose. With the goons distracted, he could make his way over to the padlock and pick it open with one of his knives.

He had just finished getting the crate open when he heard Tim whistle and make a joke at Black Mask's expense. Jason wasn't exactly sure what kind of beef the boss had with the guy, but he knew his brother was losing sleep over taking down Black Mask's drug-and-gun cartel.

Well, more sleep than he usually lost.

He was glad this would significantly dent Black Mask's operation. Maybe that would mean Tim would have more time to spend with him and Dick.

Contrary to what his brother might think, Jason didn't hate the guy. It just felt awkward now. It always felt awkward.

He felt too big for his room—Damian never acted or responded the way he was expecting—and he could see how Tim looked at him when he first returned home.

Like Jason was an imposter.

And the sad truth was, he'd be right.

Jason wasn't the kid they lost anymore. He was just some messed-up mockery of that kid. Tim had every right to hate him for ruining the previous Jason's memory. But that didn't mean he wanted his older brother to hate him.

So yeah, awkward.

Jason's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a hard shove from the older bat. Getting the air knocked out of him as he hit the ground, the Robin barely had time to react before his brother crushed him with his weight.

What the hell was Tim's problem!? Why the hell did he do that?!

Jason's outrage got caught in his throat as the sound of a gunshot rang in his ear, and his brother suddenly went limp against him.

"Red!?" Clutching at the older bat, the kid felt warm blood even through his gloves.

No, no. NO!

"Red! Say something!"

Frantically, Jason wiggled out of his brother's grasp and tore at his cape to staunch the blood as best he could. Yanking the makeshift tourniquet around Tim's arm tugged a groan from his brother, but the man didn't show any signs of waking up.

Panic buzzed through the Robin, clogging his throat and blurring his vision.

"Come on, come on. Don't die on me, idiot. I'll never forgive you if you leave me, understand!? So, wake up already!"

The sound of a gun reloading caught Jason's attention, and the kid whipped around to the man who had shot his older brother. In all this time, the fumbling idiot just managed to load a new clip into his Glock.

"Shit, I missed. At least I took out the bigger threat."

Bigger threat?

He thought Tim was the bigger threat?

Rage exploded inside Jason's body as he scrambled to his feet and charged the man with a guttural scream.

"I'LL KILL YOU!!"

The goon shot frantically, but his aim was off, and Jason dodged it with little issue. Ripping the Glock from the man's hand before he could shoot again, the Robin cracked it across the idiot's face. Blood spluttered from his mouth along with a tooth.

"You fucking brat! How dare you—"

Jason didn't give him time to finish as he struck him again in the head with the butt of the gun. Stumbling away from another swing, the man pulled a knife from his belt.

"You're just a fucking kid! What can you do against a full-grown adult, huh!? Just lie down and die like you're bitch of a partner." With a war cry, the man swung at Jason wildly, leaving himself wide open.

With two savage blows, the Robin shattered both the goon's wrist and elbow. The man dropped the knife with a horrible yowl before Jason dropped to the ground to sweep the moron's legs out from under him.

Like cosmic justice, the man collapsed onto his broken arm.

Body practically vibrated with rage, Jason stared down at the man, who was whimpering like a pathetic dog and trying to crawl away. If he were following Batman's rules, the Robin would have left it there—would have left the man to be found by a dock worker in the morning, or if he was feeling particularly helpful, he'd call an ambulance for the guy himself.

But Jason didn't give a damn about B's rules right now.

This man hasn't suffered nearly enough for what he did.

Not nearly enough.

Tightening his grip on the gun still in his hand, the Robin raised it to pump a bullet into both legs, just barely missing any major arteries. The man's screams echoed throughout the dock and could no doubt be heard across the Gotham Bay.

Not enough.

Not enough.

Stalking over to the pathetic excuse for a human still trying to crawl away, Jason kicked the man onto his back. Wildly terrified eyes stared up at the kid who got to decide whether this man was going to live or die tonight.

The decision was already made for Jason as he straddled the man.

"You shot my brother." Raising the gun over his head, the Robin's eyes glowed behind the mask as the rage the pit gave him took over everything. "For that, I'll send you straight to hell, you worthless motherfucker!"

Bringing the butt of the gun down onto the man's face with a scream, Jason felt the man's nose cave in under the weight of the blow. Once wasn't enough. Again and again, the gun smashed the man's face in as desperate hands tried to push the kid off.

Over and over, Jason didn't stop, even when the arms went limp.

He didn't stop as he felt blood splash onto his face—no doubt staining the white shock in his hair red.

He didn't stop when the gun became too slippery to get a good grip anymore because it wasn't enough.

Not enough

Not enough

NOT ENOUGH

Abandoning the gun, the Robin took a knife from his leg holster instead. It wouldn't be enough until this man was dead.

Just as Jason was about to drive the blade into the man's skull, his arm was caught. Immediately, the kid struggled against the hold. No one was going to stop him from killing his man as he deserved. The struggle only got worse when he was yanked off the man and into someone's arms.

He thrashed and kicked wildly as he was restrained, losing his knife somewhere in the process. Everything was green and hot—his vision blurred into mosaic shapes that gave everything an afterimage every time Jason moved.

The person tightened their hold on him, making it even more impossible to move. Vibrations against the kid's back told Jason they were talking, but no words made it through the thick fog clouding his mind.

Let him go! It wouldn't be enough until this man was dead; he should be dead! Jason screamed in frustration, trying to break the iron hold the person had on him. His gloves made clawing at their arms useless, so instead he sank his teeth into the offender's arm.

Feeling the person flinch, Jason thought he finally found a way to get free. But he didn't. He was still stuck—unable to move as he exhausted himself when he felt fingers threading through his hair.

They weren't trying to tear him away from the arm—instead, they were slow and gentle—something rhythmic that cut through the green and the heat.

The more Jason focused on the fingers, the more he began to hear a voice filtering through the rushing blood in his ears.

"...ason? Lit…ing. Can….hear me?" The person's voice sounded soft and soothing, but there was a clear strain in it as if it was masking a lot of pain.

Was it because Jason had bitten them?

Suddenly realizing he didn't want someone's arm in his mouth anymore, the Robin pulled his teeth out of the flesh. The taste the bite left behind was sharp and metallic—it stung his nose and coated his taste buds.

"Jaybird? Let me know if you can hear me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" The person's voice still sounded strained.

Why?

Jason had let go, hadn't he? And it wasn't like he had the energy to struggle anymore.

Was the person hurt somewhere else?

Leaning back to get a look at whoever was restraining him, he was met with pale blue eyes, the color of cornflowers. They reminded him a lot of Tim's eyes.

Tim!

All of a sudden, everything came rushing into focus.

"Red? Red! Oh my god!" Squirming in his brother's hold, Jason managed to turn around in his arms to face him. Frantically, he checked the man over as the memory of how this all started resurfaced.

"Jesus Christ! Are you okay? You were shot, and then you weren't waking up! I thought you were going to die." Checking over the wound revealed the tourneet had worked at stopping the blood, but it still needed immediate medical attention.

"You idiot! Why would you scare me like that? Don't ever do that again. I hate you! I hate you so fucking much right now!"

"Okay, I guess I deserve that." The boss resumed threading his fingers through Jason's hair, soothing some of the Robin's frustrations. "I'm fine, thanks to your quick thinking, but right now I'm more worried about you."

Jason blinked in confusion behind his mask. "Why are you worried about me? You're the one who got shot. I only…" His words trailed off as his eyes caught on the surprisingly deep bite mark on Tim's arm.

It went through the suit and everything.

"Shit! Did I do that? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I—" Scrambling away from his brother as his heart leapt into his throat, the Robin bumped into the man who remained unconscious.

Whipping around with a sharp breath, Jason took in the sight of how mangled he looked. Oh god! He was unrecognizable. No way he was still alive after that. He couldn't be.

Suddenly, it was as if the Robin couldn't breathe.

Had he just killed a man just as he was starting to get the hang of this whole fighting for justice thing? What happens when B finds out? Bile stung the back of his throat as he nearly vomited at the thought of Batman discovering what he'd done.

Bruce would kick him out just like he did to Tim.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Jason couldn't hold back a sob. He'd be back on the street. Back to surviving off scraps and food he found in the dumpster. He didn't want to go back. Trying to get by after his mom died was hard enough, but getting himself from Nanda Parbat all the way to Gotham was so much worse.

Jason just wanted to prove he was still worthy. Still worthy of love, still worthy of comfort. Still worthy of being Bruce's son.

But he had thrown it all away in a matter of minutes.

A hand on his shoulder startled the Robin badly enough to have the kid flinching away with a sharp gasp. Looking up at Tim, Jason felt like such a little kid. He wanted this to be all a bad dream. Why couldn't it just be a bad dream?

"Hey, hey, Little Wing, it's okay. Breathe. Can you do that for me? Can you breathe with me? In and out, just follow me." Tim took one of Jason's hands gently and placed it on his chest.

With slow, exaggerated breaths, the boss guided his little brother through calming down. Jason did his best to match the older bat's breathing—tried to focus on his voice rather than the corpse next to him.

"Is he—? I mean, did I—?" Jason could barely get the words out, but his brother seemed to catch on to what he meant to say.

"No, he's still breathing. Probably won't ever walk again and will definitely need reconstructive surgery, but he'll live. I already called an ambulance for him. It's alright."

The sob that wracked Jason's body shook his small form as relief flooded over him. "Thank god. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I was just so angry, and everything was so much, and god, I really tried to kill him. I'm sorry.

Tim gathered his little brother up in his arms as the kid cried. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to. It's okay." Rocking Jason back and forth, Tim continued to soothe the Robin's anguish until Jason tired himself out.

"Let's go home, okay? I think we're done for the night." Jason could only nod as he untangled himself from his brother to stand up on wobbly legs.

Without the ability to call the Batmobile like Batman and Damian had, the trek back to the Manor was too much for Jason to handle. So, with that in mind, Tim decided crashing at his apartment was the best option.

Well, it was more of a safe house than an apartment, but at least this one was a bit decorated.

Stumbling in, Jason's knees gave out as soon as he was in front of the couch. As he collapsed onto the dusty leather couch, he watched Tim flit around the safehouse like a hummingbird. Even after being injured, the man never stopped. It was as if he was still for more than a few minutes, he might combust.

It had Jason feeling like a useless sack of shit in comparison.

After retrieving the first-aid kit from the bathroom, the boss placed the box on the coffee table. It was filled with everything Jason could think of to treat wounds. There even looked to be a kryptonite needle inside—no doubt for when Tim's boyfriend got too in over his head.

Which happened a lot.

The man winced as he removed the tourniquet, and Jason realized his brother fully intended to stitch the wound up himself. The wound that was on his back.

The idiot.

"Stop. I'll do it. Sit down." Sliding off the couch onto the floor, Jason gathered up everything he'd need to treat Tim's wound.

He had to keep moving and not stop to think, or he would lose his momentum and become useless again. The boss managed to tug his jacket off with a hiss before sitting down with the Robin.

"Are you sure? I can do it in the mirror if you need more time."

Anger flashed through Jason's veins. "Yes! I'm the reason you got hurt. I'm the reason you probably still have a bullet lodged in your shoulder. I'm the reason everything went to shit, so shut up and let me do this, alright!?"

Tim heaved out a sigh before relenting to his little brother's request and turning around to give the kid access to his shoulder. "None of tonight was your fault, Jason. I was the one who got too caught up in the theatrics and didn't do my job properly. If I'd been more cautious, things wouldn't have turned out this way."

Jason removed his gloves to pick up the forceps. Dosing them in disinfectant, he took a deep breath before inching closer to his brother to start the not-fun process of removing the bullet.

"Save your stupid martyrdom for someone who cares to listen. Every single one of your injuries tonight was because of me. Not only did I get you shot, but I also bit you like a rabid animal. I should have been better than that—I'm supposed to be better than that by now. It's like I'm fucking cursed or something."

Digging the forceps into the bullet hole, Jason tried his best to be gentle, but it quickly became a lost cause. Tim grunted, the muscles in his back tensing up visibly even through his suit.

"And then to top it all off, I tried to kill someone. I almost succeeded, too. What is Bruce going to think once he finds out about this, huh? That I'm a ticking time bomb waiting to go off? Any sane person would. Anyone smart would throw me in Arkham right next to every other fucking murderer in this city!" Jason growled in frustration as he finally got a hold of the bullet and pulled it from Tim's shoulder.

Staring at the bloody bullet between the metal tongs, Jason's vision began to blur with unshed tears. "If he were smart, he'd throw me away like he should've the moment I came back. I'm not cut out for this fighter-for-justice stuff; I never was. I was too soft back then, and I'm a fucked up wreck now."

He should just hand the Robin mantle over to someone who actually deserves to carry it.

"You don't actually believe that, do you, Jaybird?"

Giving his attention back to his brother, Jason found he was now staring at the man's face. With his mask removed, his pale blue eyes looked just so incredibly sad.

The Robin scoffed. "Doesn't matter what I believe. The evidence speaks for itself. He'll figure it out eventually when I finally do snap. It's just a matter of when." Jason dropped the bullet into a metal dish on the table before setting to work on threading the needle.

"Jason, little wing. Come here for a second."

Jason eyed his older brother cautiously before crawling into his lap. Big, strong arms wrapped around him, securing him in a hold that the kid found himself melting into. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked it when his older brothers handled him like he was ten instead of fourteen sometimes.

It made it feel like he could just pretend everything that happened was a nightmare rather than reality.

"No one is sending you to Arkham, Jason, and no one is looking at you like you're a bomb waiting to go off. You're a kid stacked with more trauma than most adults have in their entire lives, and you're handling it the best you can." Tim's voice sounded rough and incredibly tired, yet so soft.

It sounded so genuine—so unlike the mask he hid behind on a daily basis.

"Mistakes are bound to happen, but that's all they are. Mistakes. Nothing that can't be fixed. That's what family is for. We're here to help you through it all. No one is an island. Everyone needs someone to lean on and help hold up."

Balling himself up, Jason pressed his ear against Tim's chest to hear his steady heartbeat. "Then how come you're never home. If family is so important, why don't you rely on yours?"

A weighted sigh resounded through the boss's lungs. "That's complicated. If it's worth anything, I've visited more than I ever have in the past two years."

The Robin only hummed in response. It wasn't worth much of anything in Jason's opinion because it wasn't the same as before. Things change over time; that much is true about anything, but the kid really wanted things to stay the same for longer. Or at least experience the slow shift of the status quo.

Being thrown into something entirely new was so jarring that it scared Jason. Would things ever feel right again, or was he doomed to live in this alternate reality where everyone and everything were just former shadows of their previous selves?

Himself included.

As the ticking of the clock above Tim's doorway marched on, Jason finally pulled himself together. The silence was becoming unbearable, and he still had a job to complete.

Removing himself from the safety of his brother's embrace, the Robin went back to threading the needle. "Turn back around. I'll get this done quickly."

The silence continued to drag on as Jason got to work stitching up Tim's wound. It was only broken by the occasional hiss or grunt from the man. After a few minutes had passed, the kid finally knotted off the threat and snapped it free.

Securing gauze over fresh stitches, Jason finally deemed that particular injury taken care of.

"Give me your arm. Human bites are more likely to get infected than animal bites, so they need to be treated."

Obediently, the boss turned around to give his little brother his arm. Tearing off the fabric from the suit, Jason disinfected and wrapped the bite mark much quicker than the bullet hole. At least this injury didn't need stitches.

"Alright, all done." Thumbing over the white gauze, guilt began to burn at the back of the kid's throat. "I'm sorry, by the way. For biting you. And everything else. I just—" Jason wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. Nothing sounded good enough.

Gloved fingers ruffled his hair. "Again, Jaybird. Not your fault. But enough about that. It's been a long night, and I bet you're hungry. Up for a shower and some food?"

Staring at his brother for a moment, the kid finally huffed. "You're telling me this place has running water? I don't believe you."

A bark of laughter had the mood lightening. "See for yourself. It's nice and hot, and the pressure is amazing. I really lucked out with this place."

Standing up while Jason cleaned up the coffee table, the boss resisted the urge to roll his shoulder. "There should be some clothes for you in my room. Pick whatever you like, I don't mind. Food will be ready by the time you get out."

With another ruffle of Jason's hair that earned the older bat a squawk, Tim headed into the kitchen.

Everything in the boss's dresser was far too big for someone as small as Jason. Rummaging through clothes that looked more like they belonged to Tim's boyfriend than the older bat, the Robin pulled out a white t–shirt and some sweatpants. They would have to do.

Starting up the shower, Jason let the water run as he removed his cape. The fabric fluttered to the floor. Next came his belt, and finally his suit. He left the mask for last. He wanted the mirror to fog up before taking it off. After coming back, the kid couldn't stand his reflection anymore.

Not to mention it would hide all the blood that was still on him.

The water was hot, at least Tim wasn't lying about that. It scalded Jason's skin as he scrubbed the dirt, blood, and grime from it. Clear water turned red as it circled the drain, taking with it all the sins committed tonight.

Jason always used bathing as a way to reset—a way to clear his head and focus on the future rather than get stuck in the past.

It didn't always work. Sometimes the past was too sticky—too stubborn to let go. But it was the thought that counted, right?

Jason stood under the water until it grew cold. He couldn't hide in here forever; Tim would come looking for him if he took too long. Shutting off the water, the Robin stepped out of the tub and dressed himself.

With the cooler water, the fog had faded, giving Jason a chance to catch himself in the mirror. He looked awful. His eyes were the wrong color—his face was set in a permanent scowl—his hair was black now, the only defining trait being the shock of white in his bangs.

God, he even looked stupid as he was swamped in oversized clothing.

He wasn't ten anymore.

A thought that would always haunt him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, the smell of food caught the kid's attention. His stomach growled, reminding Jason he hadn't eaten since lunch, and that felt like a full decade ago. Shuffling toward the kitchen so he didn't trip on the long pant legs that were trying to kill him, the Robin paused just outside the doorway.

Tim was bustling around with light steps but obvious fatigue. He favored his uninjured arm as he cooked, and each time Jason caught a glimpse of his face, the boss looked more like the walking dead than the kid.

He needed rest, but instead, he was cooking dinner for his stupid little brother. Why did he care so much? It didn't make sense.

Why go through all the trouble of taking care of someone you thought was an imposter?

Maybe Jason should leave? He felt steadier on his feet now; it shouldn't take him too long to get back to the Manor if he was smart about it. Then Tim could focus on his own problems rather than having to clean up Jason's.

"Little wing? You okay?"

Tim's voice startled the Robin out of his head. He hadn't realized his brother had noticed him. Well, there was no running away now; the boss would just chase him, which would make everything worse.

Stepping into the kitchen, Jason clutched at his arms. He kept his head low, not feeling brave enough to actually look at his brother. "Hey, Tim. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." The smile on his face was audible in his voice, and it had the kid sighing. Ever the performer. Maybe he should have been in the circus instead of Dick.

Swallowing around a thick lump that was starting to form in his throat, Jason tightened his grip on himself. "Do you hate me?"

The silence was excruciating. As the seconds ticked on, Jason felt the weight of his question get heavier and heavier until it was too much to bear. "Nevermind. Forget I said anything. I just—no, just forget it."

The stove clicked off, and the sound of boots approaching had the Robin bracing for something bad. A smack, a shout, something that would no doubt be painful, he was sure. His brother knelt down in front of him, and after a moment of nothing, Jason finally lifted his head to see the man's face.

It looked heartbroken.

"Jason. Do you really think I hate you?"

The Robin couldn't keep a bitter laugh to himself. "Is that a real question? Of course I do. I wouldn't have asked otherwise. I wouldn't blame you if you did. I'm not your little brother anymore, I'm just what's left of him. I'd hate me too."

This was so stupid. Why was he setting himself up to get hurt like this? He knew the answer to the question, and he still asked anyway. It was like he was a sucker for punishment or something. How fucked up was that?

For the third time that night, Tim pulled Jason into an embrace, and for the third time that night, the Robin was helpless against it. Burying his face into his brother's good shoulder, the kid could smell gunpowder and blood on him, but there was also the unmistakable smell of the man's cologne. He still used the same one even after all this time.

"I admit I'm not a very good brother, Jaybird. When you came back, it was so hard to see past the differences. You were taller—older. Your eyes were a different color, and you held so much anger. You weren't that ten-year-old kid anymore that bounced around in excitement or begged and begged Bruce for a dog even though you were allergic."

Having removed his gloves to cook, Tim's nails scratched against the base of Jason's skull. It was similar to how the man used to soothe him after a particularly bad nightmare about his mom. The familiarity felt nice.

"But the more I watched you interact with Dick once the little hurricane joined the family, the more I realized the differences weren't what was important. It was what made you still the same kid as before. You are my little brother, Jason, no matter how much time passes or how you might change as you grow. I love you all the same."

Letting go of himself, Jason hugged his brother back. "You're such a sap." His voice was quiet and rough, threatening to break if he pushed it too hard. "And for the record. I think you're a great brother. You shouldn't sell yourself so short."

A wet laugh shook the boss's frame. "I wouldn't go that far. I still have a lot more growing to do when it comes to being someone who can hold a candle to Damian."

Green eyes rolled, though they were more fond than irritated. "Now, you're fishing for compliments. Fine." Pulling back to look at his brother properly, the Robin fixed him with a serious look.

"You are good, Tim. You learned Romani so Dick would have someone to listen to when he was too upset or frustrated to remember English. You let me eat as much sugar as I want behind Damian's back, even though it gets you in trouble. You even show up to a house you want nothing to do with anymore when Damian won't come out of his room, just to sit there with him."

This time, Jason was the one to ruffle Tim's hair as the older bat listened with wide eyes. "You're good, Tim. Don't ever think you're not."

Pale eyes watered with unshed tears at the sincerity and unwaveringness of Jason's words. "Shit, you're going to make an old man cry with all that. And you call me the sap." Tim scrubbed at the tears to keep them from falling.

"Always with the drama. It's like you ain't never heard words like that before or somethin'. People need to start bein' nicer to you, 'else you're gonna sob at every little piece of praise you get." The Robin huffed, then realized his slip-up and flushed bright red.

Tim's grin was the only warning the kid got before he was lifted in a crushing hug. "There's that accent I've been missing! I knew you still had it in you!"

Swinging the Robin around in excitement, the boss only released the boy after his protests turned violent. Holding Jason out like a puppy, Tim beamed at the kid's grumpy face. "Don't be shy about it, it's a good accent on you. Trust me."

"No, it ain't! I mean—no, it isn't! It makes people think I'm stupid. Get that dumb grin off your face before I punch it off!" The Robin kicked and thrashed but made no real attempt to get away from the man's overaffection.

"No one thinks you're stupid, Jason. I promise." Setting the kid down, the boss couldn't hide his chuckle at the Robin's pout. It was completely undermined by the loud growl that came from his stomach. "Sounds like someone really is hungry. Let's eat. I'm also starving."

Jason grumbled out another 'shut up' before climbing into one of the kitchen chairs. The table was small and felt more like an afterthought rather than a fit for the rest of the kitchen's aesthetic. A bowl of soup was placed in front of him, along with a plate of little cucumber sandwiches.

They looked like Alfred's.

Digging into his food before waiting for Tim, green eyes watched the boss sit down across the table with his own food. The portions didn't seem big enough for a man of his size, but what did Jason know? He was still a scrawny little kid while his older brothers were jacked as shit. Petty jealousy rolled around in his stomach.

It wasn't fair. When was he going to hit a growth spurt? Was he doomed to always be the runt of the pack? What if Dick got bigger than him one day? A shiver ran up his spine. That thought was horrible. Jason did not want to end up the smallest one in the family. He'd never live it down.

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden. Something on your mind?"

Green eyes narrowed as teeth sank into cream cheese and cucumber. "I'm cursing whatever cosmic force gave you and Damian the body of a Greek god. Maybe if I curse hard enough, you'll be struck with some shrinking ray or something."

Tim spluttered as he choked on his soup. Jason always had a knack for blurting out the most outlandish things that kept catching the boss off guard. "A shrinking ray? That's not fair. I work hard to maintain this."

"I know. It's so annoying." Finishing his sandwiches, the Robin moved on to the soup. "It just feels like no matter what I do, I'll be stuck at this size forever. Sure, being small has its advantages, but I'll constantly be living in Batman's shadow at this rate."

The boss felt a soft smile tug at his lips. "Jason, you're fourteen. It's normal to still be small. I didn't hit my growth spurt until I was sixteen. I probably looked like a newborn fawn as I ran into every doorframe we have for weeks, as I got used to how long my limbs were. I still remember all the bruises."

"Yeah, right. You're like a fucking dancer or something. No way you were that uncoordinated with all your Robin training."

Leaning back in his chair, the boss puffed out his chest a little bit. "Nope. Turns out Robin training means nothing in the face of puberty. Even being a vigilante couldn't save me from that awkward phase every guy goes through. Ugh, the acne was awful, and my voice kept cracking. I had to stop talking while out on patrol, otherwise goons would make fun of me."

Pausing in his eating, green eyes blinked with sudden curiosity. "Wait, if everyone goes through an awkward phase, does that mean Damian had one too?"

"Oh my god, did he!" Sitting forward with his elbows on the table, Tim dropped his voice. "But you have to promise not to tell him I told you because I might actually end up dead."

Well, Jason wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. Nodding his head vigorously, the boy promised to keep his mouth shut so he could hear all the embarrassing stories Tim had about his oldest brother's teenage years.

A big yawn snuck up on Jason as the soup and sandwiches sat warm and comforting in his stomach. Resting his chin on his hand, the Robin struggled to fight off sleep and keep his eyes open as he listened to his brother talk.

If he were being honest with himself, just within the safety of his own head, he didn't want this to end.

Just chatting about nothing important and hearing funny stories—it gave Jason this incredible sense of security. He still wasn't used to falling asleep without being hypervigilant about his surroundings, but somehow a few knots loosened inside him as his brother's voice lulled him.

It was similar to how Damian used to help him sleep by humming lullabies.

His sleepy brain started to wonder if he could ask the older bat for that again. Just once in a while, when sleep really eluded him.

Nearly being pulled under by the call of rest, Jason was jolted awake when he was suddenly picked up. For a moment, he was frantic as he took in his surroundings before remembering where he was.

"Shh, it's okay, little wing. No one is going to get you here. How about we get you to bed, huh?"

Tim's voice rumbled in his chest against Jason's ear as the kid relaxed against him. "What about curfew?" The kid stifled another yawn. "M’gonna miss school if I sleep here."

"I called Damian while you were in the shower and explained the situation. He said if there were ever an exception to the rule, it'd be this." The boss paused as he left the kitchen. "Do you want to go home? I can get Damian to come pick you up."

"S'too much work. And if I can get outta school, s'even better. I've got a test I don't wanna take." Closing his eyes, Jason sighed. "S'math. M'bad at math."

"Yet, you calculate trajectories on the fly with your grappling hook. Isn't your school supposed to be the best of the best? I bet they still teach kids the same way they did a hundred years ago, without bothering to change with the times. The American School System. Failing one kid after another." As Tim complained, he brought Jason to his room and set him down on his bed.

Jason mumbled. "M'just bad at it on paper. I like English and history, though. Those are fun."

"No kidding. I can't believe the Jane Austin superfan would enjoy English and history. The shock of the century." The man avoided a lackluster swat as he bundled his little brother up in a burrito of blankets. "Sleep well, Jaybird."

A soft whine came from the blanket cocoon when Tim's arm was caught by a small hand. "Where are you going?"

"To go change and then crash on the couch. My bed is not big enough for the two of us. I'll end up crushing you."

The hand tugged on Tim's arm incessantly. "I don't care. M'not sleeping all by myself in a place I've never been to before. You're staying, no arguments."

The kid really knew how to back the boss into a corner, didn't he? "Alright, I won't leave. Can I at least change, though? Sleeping with my belt on is not comfortable."

After a moment of hesitation, Jason let go of his brother's arm. "Fine, but if you take too long, then I'll punch you for real."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby bird."

Tim did try his best to change as quickly as he could to avoid a very angry fist, which would no doubt cause some serious damage. But by the time he got back to the room, Jason was already asleep. The kid must have been absolutely exhausted.

Sitting on the bed, the boss brushed the white bangs out of Jason's face. The skin was littered with scars, the most prominent one running down the Robin's left eye. Thankfully, whatever injury he sustained to gain that scar wasn't deep enough to damage his eyesight.

Still, it was too much damage for a kid of Jason's age to have already.

Slotting himself beside his little brother, Tim tucked the boy’s head under his chin. What an eventful night. It did not go the way he wanted, but, strangely enough, it did have the desired effect. He felt like the bond between him and Jason was slowly repairing itself, and that was all he could ask for.

Maybe one day it'll be like it used to be.

Where Jason no longer felt like an outsider within his own family.

It would take time, but Tim was certain it could be done. This time he'd be there for his brothers—to protect them, to take care of them, to make sure another tragedy didn't tear this family apart.

That was his promise, his oath he swore to take to his grave.