Chapter Text
Bruce had really thought he could protect Robin by sending him to Titans Tower. As if the Red Hood was limited to Gotham? As if distance was enough to stop a determined villain? Distance hadn’t stopped the Joker—and it wouldn’t stop Jason. Really, if anything, this worked in his favor, because it meant that by the time anyone noticed anything was off and reinforcements were called, Jason would already be done and gone, leaving Robin behind broken and bleeding.
Jason made sure all the Titans were out of town or out of commission before approaching Robin, stalking silently through the halls before taking one, deliberately echoing step. Robin whirled around to face him.
“Hey, Tim.” The helmet distorted his voice into a deep mechanical growl. “I was here first.”
Jason smirked at the sight of Robin’s dropped jaw. It seemed he had thought he was safe; silly bird should have known better than to let his guard down. The shock didn’t last long though. Robin was quick to compose himself, glaring at Jason with recognition.
“You’re the Red Hood.”
Jason was almost flattered he knew who he was, although he would’ve been disappointed if he didn’t. The duffel bag full of heads had plastered his name across the headlines, but even then, he’d been causing a big enough stir in Crime Alley to establish his rank in the hierarchy and ensure the Bats knew his name.
“You’ve been cleaning up Gotham the easy way.”
Easy? Easy? Did he not know who he was talking to? Nothing about Jason’s life had ever been easy, especially not compared to the spoiled little rich brat that had replaced him.
“What do you know about easy? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive until Bruce took me in.”
It had only ever been a matter of time until Batman figured out his identity. Jason had left plenty of hints for them, so if Robin was as smart as he claimed to be, he should have at least had some suspicions. But even if he didn’t, by the end of tonight, he was never going to forget who Jason was. His helmet detached with a click, but of course, he still had a domino mask underneath. It was an essential part of the uniform. His uniform. He tossed his leather jacket and gloves aside, shredding his shirt and tearing his pants away to reveal Robin red and green. The same suit he had died in, sized up with some added tights because why the fuck had Bruce ever let a child run around with that much unprotected skin exposed? It wasn’t even a modesty thing; he just wanted some more comfort and protection. Not that the tights would have saved him when he was a kid.
Nothing could have saved him. No, that was a lie. Jason could have been saved. He should have been saved. But he hadn’t because Batman wasn’t infallible, and Jason had fucked up, just like everyone had always said he would.
“I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked, at least at first. But it didn’t matter. Everyone still said I wasn’t tough enough to be Robin.”
So what if they were right in the end? It wasn’t his fault Dick had set the standard so high. He had so many more years of training than Jason. If he had been given more time, he was sure he could have gotten better. But most people didn’t even give him a chance. They only ever saw him as a disappointing downgrade and then when he died, a pathetic failure. They said he was weak, but he was just a child. The average adult wouldn’t have been tough enough to survive the things Joker had put him through.
And yet, supposedly, Tim was different. Tim was better. Jason couldn’t believe it.
“But today, they say you’re the perfect Robin. So, show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn’t.”
He charged at Tim, putting his full force behind a punch to his midsection. Tim tried to dodge but there wasn’t much room to maneuver on the balcony. Jason managed to clip him in the side as he sent them crashing through the railing, feeling a pang in his own abdomen as he did. Rubble probably. He ignored it, more focused on continuing his rant. After all, Robin wasn’t the only one who had done his research. Jason knew Tim’s whole life story. He had made sure of it, desperate to learn just who Bruce had thought would be an adequate replacement, and honestly, he wasn’t impressed.
“You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight and solving a mystery no one else could.”
Smoke bombs hissed as Tim threw them, a useless diversion. Jason blocked his attacks easily; Tim’s bo staff thudding almost uselessly against his wrist braces. Tim’s brow furrowed, mouth parting like he wanted to say something, but Jason didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“You discovered who he was behind that mask: billionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I’m sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with.”
Robin flipped away, because of course, even when he was strategically retreating, he just had to be a show off. Well, two could play that game. Jason copied his fancy moves with ease, forcing Tim to scramble out of the way before he landed on him.
“I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim, if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He’d know about it. You can’t be that good.” He sneered, aiming a punch directly at Tim’s head. The brat ducked, and maybe Jason had let himself get caught up in his emotions too much, because he wasn’t prepared for him to follow it up with a punch of his own.
“I am.” The cocky bastard said, cracking him across the jaw. The metallic tang of blood was a familiar friend as his lip split against his teeth. It was honestly a pretty good punch, which only made Jason’s blood burn hotter, rage fueling him to get immediate revenge. One strong kick sent Tim flying across the room and crashing into a potted plant.
Pain exploded across his body. It was like he had been hit by a truck, the worst of it concentrated in his chest right where he had kicked Tim. Jason faltered. No, it couldn’t be. There had to be another explanation for it. But Tim’s attacks hadn’t been in the right spots or strong enough to cause this much pain— to cause this bone deep agony to flare across his soul.
Like everything in Jason’s life, this was his own fault. To hurt your soulmate was to hurt yourself—any pain dealt to them would be doubled and afflicted back upon you. It was a basic truth of the world but one that Jason had never experienced before now because of course, he would only find his soulmate by beating the shit out of them. But did this change anything?
“He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn’t he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime—” He threw a batarang just for Tim to knock it aside. “—That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.”
No, Jason decided that if anything, this made things worse. Jason had believed in Bruce. He had made him feel special. He had made him feel loved. Just for him to turn around and replace him before his body was even cold in the ground. But of course, he couldn’t choose just any kid to be Robin. No, he just had to find the one person that was meant to love Jason unequivocally and poison him against him. Tim had gotten a couple of hits in. He had to know they were soulmates by now, yet he definitely wasn’t pulling his punches.
Well, Jason wouldn’t either. He could take a lot of pain, more than Tim could he was willing to bet. He yanked Tim’s staff from his hands, hands blazing as he broke a finger or two, and used it to crack Tim across the face. Revenge for earlier even if it made his head throb. Jason blinked back black spots to stare at Robin on the ground. Had he looked this pathetic?
He raised the staff above his head.
“Now let me show you what the Joker did to me. And we’ll find out how tough you really are.”
Jason swung down. Once, twice, three times. Robin’s bones crunched. Jason’s vision whited out. He froze. For a moment, it was like he was back in that warehouse, teetering on the brink of death. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let this stop him. He had to prove to Tim that he wasn’t better than Jason. He was just as fallible as he had been, and he needed to know that being Robin wasn’t worth the suffering. That he wasn’t strong enough for this job. He hauled Tim up off the ground to throw him through a door, a booming impact that shook his skeleton. Tim groaned, and tried to crawl away. Jason stumbled after him.
They were in a memorial room. Jason hadn’t known that Titans Tower had one of those, but of course, they did. They had to with how many heroes and sidekicks died in the line of duty. The walls were lined with statues of fallen titans, all of them tragically young. Jason recognized many of them by name, and a part of him grieved for people he hadn't even realized were dead, but most of him seethed because there was one very notable very important person missing.
“Where’s my statue? I was a Titan too!” It felt good to wreck one of them. Even if they probably didn’t deserve it, Jason was angry. He had thought these people were his friends, but of course not. When everyone else got remembered and mourned, he was forgotten and hated. Nothing more than a cautionary tale and a bad memory to compare the current Robin too.
“What do you want?” Tim had gotten back to his feet, spitting out a glob of bloody saliva. Jason’s mouth stung in sympathy. “Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You want to take it away from me?” He tilted his head up, glaring at him through a cracked lens.
Jason scoffed. He thought Tim was supposed to be smart.
“Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don’t you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me.” Robin was supposed to give his life meaning. To elevate him from a worthless street rat to someone people cared about and admired. Jason should have known that could never happen.
Tim coughed in either surprise or pain. Or both.
“Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I’ve spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he’ll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you.”
It seemed Tim had gotten one last burst of energy. He used the pedestal of one of the statues as a spring board, launching himself into a back flip. Jason raised the staff to protect himself, but Tim must have expected it. He landed feet first on the bo, wrenching it from his grasp as Jason was forced to let it go or risk breaking his wrists. Then, before Tim could hit the ground, he brought his knee up beneath his chin. Jason’s teeth clacked together loudly, and he was damn lucky he didn’t bite through his tongue.
“You ask me, that’s the only reason he hasn’t taken you down. He’s holding back. But me?” Tim didn’t waver, bending his wrist back with one hand far enough that Jason heard something pop. “No fucking way!” He slammed his staff into his face.
Jason fell back with a groan.
“That’s the Robin I wanted to see.” He scooped up a handful of statue dust and flung it at Tim. He gave in to the reflex to shield his eyes, and Jason took advantage of his distraction to flip him over his shoulder into yet another wall. Lightning struck his spine. Fuck, it felt like his every nerve was on fire, but Jason wasn’t done yet. “Still, you do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he’ll never eradicate is a mistake, right?”
Tim had said Bruce was going easy on him, and that was probably true. Jason was confident in his skills, but he wasn’t Batman. If Bruce really wanted to, he could track him down and beat him back into his grave. Jason didn’t doubt that, but he knew Bruce wouldn’t. Not necessarily out of sentiment, although the part of his heart that he tried to ignore hoped that was a factor and his dad still loved him (if he had ever loved him). No, he wouldn’t do it because he was a coward. Bruce didn’t have the guts to permanently solve a problem by killing the person causing it. If he couldn’t kill Joker, the man who had literally killed his own son and God knows how many others, he wouldn’t kill Jason, someone who only murdered criminals that deserved it.
He kicked Tim while he was down, and it was like stepping on a dozen nails.
“It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. Well, I may have failed but I’m still beating you.” Jason was losing steam, but it was fine. Tim wasn’t even fighting back anymore, just letting Jason push and yank and punch him around like a rag doll. At this point, he was probably hurting himself more than he was hurting Tim. Every part of him ached and burned and stung. Jason couldn’t even see out of the corner of his eyes anymore, darkness waiting for his adrenaline and rage to fade so it could take over. But he didn’t stop. He deserved this pain. If he hadn’t been such a failure to begin with, neither of them would be in this position, and he wouldn’t be going against his childhood wishes by brutalizing his soulmate.
He punched Tim across his face, blood splattering against his knuckles. Warm iron dripped from his nose, spilling across his tongue as he spoke. “Do you think you’re that good now?! Do you really, Tim?”
Tim stared up at him from the ground. He took a deep shuddering breath, the sound wet from a broken rib or two.
“Yes.”
Jason frowned. He knew Robins were known to be stubborn, but this was downright suicidal. He hated it, and yet, he admired it. Perhaps Tim did have what it took to be a hero.
But not Robin.
He tried to bend down, nearly fell over, and collapsed to his knees instead, gravel digging into his shins as he leaned over Tim. For a moment, they were face to face. Tim blinked, his one visible eye wet with unshed tears. Jason fisted his shirt, and one strong yank, tore the Robin symbol from his chest, red thread trailing from it in streams like blood. Tim gasped and lurched, but it was more of a spasm than a struggle. Jason felt something in his chest constrict like a vice around his heart. He wheezed, drew back his fist, and with one last solid punch, knocked Tim out cold.
In theory, it was a good final hurrah, but in actuality, it was a terrible unnecessary mistake. If he had just waited another minute, Tim probably would’ve passed out from his injuries. All punching him really did was trigger the worst pain of the night. It was like someone had stabbed an ice pick through his eye, or perhaps bashed his skull in with a crowbar. Jason wavered over Tim’s still body. Fuck, he had to get out of here. The fight had dragged on longer than he intended, and it was only a matter of time before reinforcements arrived and he had a snowball's chance in hell at winning a second fight tonight.
Jason struggled to breath. It was fine. He was fine. Tim’s staff was lying nearby. He used it for support as he hauled himself to his feet, smearing blood down the shaft. There was one more thing he wanted to do. He limped over to the nearest wall and began to write, letters shaky but legible. “Jason Todd was here.” Good luck forgetting him now. He meant to end it with just the words but a spike of pain sent him stumbling forward bracing one hand against the wall as he moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck, maybe he had overdone it against Tim if the universe was punishing him for it this harshly. Whatever. He had always had a flair for the dramatic and the bloody hand print looked menacing enough, even if it was probably more of his blood than Tim’s.
It took Jason an embarrassingly long time to get his body back under control and force himself to start moving again. The original plan had been to fly back to Gotham immediately, but he had a safe house nearby just in case. If he could get there, he could patch himself up and it would all be fine.
Jason wobbled over to the elevator and smashed the button for the first floor. As the doors slid shut, he rested his head against the blessedly cool metal. It was a long ride to the bottom, surely he could rest his eyes for a minute.