Chapter Text
Tim had an issue, like a big issue. He knew that Bruce, Alfred, and Dick had a big gift planned for him for Christmas. They’ve been halting conversion every time Tim walked into the room, they’ve been going on little outings without him, and most importantly they’ve been canceling pretty pivotal meetings for “family matters”. How on earth could Tim muster a gift for them all which would even slightly repay them for all of their kindness? He couldn’t, he’s been thinking about it for weeks, he just couldn’t. Bruce could buy anything he could ever want (and he had), Dick felt guilty about owning anything too expensive in Bludhaven, and they all knew Alfred was rich but led an extremely modest life. There was nothing he could go buy for them that they would actually find thoughtful. Besides last Christmas Tim already gave them the best present he could think of, his photo album of Bruce, Dick, and most importantly Jason.
That was a good gift. They spent hours looking at Jason in costume, their happy little boy. It was obvious then that Christmas hadn’t been the same since Jason’s death. Tim never spent a Christmas with them not overshadowed by Jason’s death, but seeing rare smiles as they looked through the photos proved that Christmases have been dulled… They never spoke about it but there was an obvious hole, most notably at dinner when they set a place at the table for Jason. He was gone but Bruce constantly thought about him, worrying that someday his guilt of not saving his son might overwhelm his remaining memories of Jason. Despite this he couldn’t bring himself to put those memories in writing, there was a much too significant finality to doing that. It was as if forgetting Jason bit by bit might keep him alive in a way. You never wrote about the daily routine of a living kid, only a dead one.
But as fate would have it, figuring out Red Hood's identity on December fifteen came at the perfect moment. Tim would have nine days to convince Jason Todd to come home for the holidays, all the while keeping the others unaware. Maybe he had eight days, he found out late at night, very possibly at the brink of December sixteenth.
Since fighting Red Hood a month ago Tim had a feeling he knew who was behind the mask. Red Hood called him replacement, that wasn’t much of a puzzle. But still Tim couldn’t act on that information alone. Tim wasn’t mad for long after the attack, only because he decided it was Jason early on. Tim couldn’t be mad at Jason. Ever. He knew what happened in Ethiopia, Jason was always his hero. His anger was dispelled entirely when he made the Lazarath connection, Jason didn’t hurt Tim the league did. Maybe that reasoning is flawed, maybe Jason really did want him dead. But he was willing to take that chance.
On December sixteenthish Tim collected more than enough evidence to suggest that it really was Jason. The audio recording from the attack proved Hood did say replacement (Tim didn’t just hear that wrong), his strongest stances during the fight were clearly Bat trained Tim learned the same exact sequence, and tens of videos showed Hood helping children (that was his Robin). These pieces of evidence wouldn’t move Bruce, he wouldn’t dare to make that leap if he even considered it might be Jason there would be a grave unburied. On top of all of that Tim had deduced the spot of Red Hood’s main safe house. Tim wanted to go immediately but decided showing up unannounced to a crime lord's secret home at o’dark a clock was just about the worst of ideas.
Surprisingly, Tim woke up to an alarm at his bedside at seven. He dressed in his least confrontational clothes, a sage green drawstring sweater and a pair of black dyed jeans. He packed a bag, only a few granola bars, some break homework for the bus drive, and an emergency button tucked away at the very bottom. He did not wear a tracker. Evading Oracle would be impossible, but she didn’t need to know it was Jason that he was visiting. Because the safe house was strongly protected there were no cameras, Oracle would have to rely on guesswork.
Tim grabbed a carry out cup of coffee and accepted a muffin from Alfred.
“Thank you Alfie!” he shouted over his shoulder fleeing to the door. He didn’t hear Alfred reinforce his curfew.
The bus ride was uneventful and he ended up being too nervous to finish any of his English work. He was scared, not of getting hurt again but scaring Red Hood away. The short walk was difficult, Tim tried his best to avoid the cameras in route while also avoiding getting mugged. Both at once was close to impossible. Somehow he managed and in no time at all he stood in front of Hood’s door. He raised his fist to knock but he heard five gentle clicks of the door disarming. The door was yanked all the way open, cold metal was on Tim’s temple immediately. Jason was dressed in normal clothing, a sweater and jeans, but a helmet glared down at him. The weapon dug into his skin as Tim raised both hands in surrender. Tim was not a threat physically, but the fact that he found the base of operations was a whole new level of threat. Jason largely cleared the green since the attack, but he had to keep up appearances. Despite not wanting to hurt Tim, he could not be in his house.
“Replacement,” Jason spat. “You cannot be here, you have seconds before I send you to the ground.”
Jason’s voice in the modulator was intimidating, Tim instinctively took a step back trying to bury the fear of the attack at the tower. Jason took a step forward in response and clicked the safety off.
“It’s surprising you're here too Jason.” It wasn’t his strongest response.
The shock immediately registered, Jason hastily reinstalled the safety and his gun drifted away from Tim’s skull. He was so surprised that Tim managed to slip past him into the apartment and throw himself onto the sofa.
“Tim, you have to leave.” Desperation trailed through his voice, the crime lord was pleading with Tim Drake.
“Jason we need to talk, please let me talk. You need your family back, your family needs you back.” Tim was looping strands of the threadbare sofa through his hands to calm his energy.
“Do they…” Jason's voice hitched.
“No, no one knows, only me.”
“Fuck, Tim why the hell are you here.”
“I want you home for Christmas.”
Jason was shaking as he raised his hands to remove his helmet. Tim was shocked by the sheer number of scars raked across his face, there were long deep rivers of scar tissue on top of shallow but expansive discoloured skin. They all looked old, it was clear that there was no more healing to be done. His eyes were the second most striking feature, stormy green giving way to small rivers of his original water color blue. Jasson looked pained, he gently shook eyebrows pressed together, water building on his eyes. He looked like Tim hurt him, as if he didn’t just ask to have fun with family for the holidays. For the lack of a better metaphor, Jason looked like Tim had commanded him to death.
Tim panicked and back peddled a bit. “They don’t have to know your Hood, we don’t have to tell them.” The words sped out of him gripping onto Jason’s attentiveness before he tried to kick him out again.
Jason stormed out of the room, refusing to meet Tim’s eyes. The room was lit by a small lamp next to the sofa and the main window. In front of him was a book shelf with hundreds of tattered copies of classic novels. Some in English, but the rest in a world of different languages. The books largely looked second hand, all of them looked well loved. There were a few photos on Jason’s wall. Selfies of Jason and Dick in costume, and a few newspaper clippings featuring shots of Robin (Jason’s Robin) and Batman. There were no photos of any of the family out of uniform, it was wholly dissimilar to Jason’s room in the manor which was filled with pictures of his family in civilian attire. Even now Jason does what he can to protect the bats’ identities. Directly in front of Tim was a circular coffee table with rings of stains scattered across it. This was clearly Jason’s main house, it looked lived in.
Tim wasn’t left alone for long, Jason returned with two coffee mugs one was set in front of Tim. The tips of Jason’s hair were wet collecting water droplets. His eyes shimmered a radioactive green. The pit must have seeped in. Jason sat at an armchair as far away from Tim as he could and just stared.
“Jay-”
“Stop.” Tim shuffled further back into the cushions, reading endless titles as long as he didn’t need to look the once dead, now angry, boy in the eyes. The silence was suffocating, and while Tim was confident Jason wouldn’t attack him again, he wasn’t certain. Jason wouldn’t kill him… but Tim was slightly concerned about the stability of his face.
It was Jason to speak first, “I owe you an apology Repla- Tim, I think back to the tower and I feel sick. You didn’t deserve that treatment, and I do not deserve a second chance. It becomes more and more clear that I could’ve killed you that night, and I- I shit, I cannot sit with myself. I cannot stand here and continue my work knowing a third Robin was to die by my hands. I am just like him, I am no better than him. I- should be in Arkham for what I did.”
Full body shivers waved through Jason, his breathing erratic, pupils dilating. Panic settled in all of his features. He was tense, each muscle flexing, curled in on himself.
Tim scooted to the tip of the sofa. “Jason, I’m fine. I’m all healed.”
“No-nononono don’t get any closer, Tim you should be scared of me.” Jason jumped out of his chair only to clear more distance between them.
“It’s okay, I forgive you. You will never be the clown, that’s not you. I’m only scared of the league.” Tim took another tentative step towards Jason, and then another until eventually Jason had his back against a wall and Tim was only a few feet away.
Tim wrapped both of his arms around Jason who started crying on his shoulder. “I can’t come home, they will send me away, I couldn’t handle that Tim. Arkham would be kinder” Jason’s voice was muffled deep into Tim’s sweater.
“They would never send you away, it’s your home above everything.” Tim let his own slow tears fall, he nestled his own head into Jason’s shoulder. “Please, no more about Arkham. Forget about it. It hurts, it hurts that you can’t trust us.”
Jason tensed and threw Tim off of him. “TRUST?!” Jason took pained gasping breaths. “YOU COME ON BEHALF OF THEM AND SPEAK OF TRUST?”
Jason towered over Tim, seething eyes as bright as the sun. A dangerous green. “I miss them Tim, but in the end they let me die. THEY killed me…I have guilt for what I did to you, but there is nothing in me which can honestly say I trust them. The opportunity passed.” Jason’s posture fell as sadness won the battle against his anger.
Tim pushed his feet under him, sighed deeply, and stood in front of Jason. He gently combed through Jason’s hair a few times and walked over slowly to the table, as if to not scare a bunny, and downed the whole cup of coffee while Jason stared in disbelief. Tim then made his way calmly to the front door momentarily pausing to look back at Jason.
“Imma go I think, thank you Jason for the coffee. I’ll be back tomorrow okay?” Tim tried to hide the fear and sadness in his own voice before opening the door and shutting it behind him. The moment Tim was on the other side of the door Jason stumbled to the floor, a wave of nausea phased over him. The edges of his vision blurred, whether it was because of the tears or an oncoming migraine was yet to be known.
Tim slumped on the other side of the door, not ready to travel home. His hero was so broken, so very broken. There was little Tim could do but convince him to come home. Bruce would know what to do after that. Jason was still a destroyed fourteen year old, only now with the stresses of adulthood and the fear of dying again. No child should have that fate. Tim was selfishly happy he was brought back, even if it caused Jason immeasurable pain.