Archive of Our Own

Jason doesn't often visit the Monarch. He and Tim don't have that close of a relationship where Jason can pop over unannounced.

Instead, he's sneaking in.

Dick's scattered thoughts and paperwork linger on Jason's kitchen table from his visit yesterday. Records of Tim's success, of Gotham turning its spotlight toward Tim instead of shining on Bruce. Jason didn't have the heart to tell Dick that in some parts of the city, that transition is already complete.

According to Gotham Gazette polls, Red Robin is the most successful vigilante and the most desired to show up at a crime scene. In Crime Alley, what should be Red Hood territory, its Red Robin people talk about the most.

Jason can tell when he's two blocks from the Monarch. The city doesn't get cleaner, but there's more a few more streetlights, tinted red. There's no girls on the corners, or boys with bags on stoops. It's a safe space, with Leslie's clinic and the Monarch forming two corners of a multiblock square. Part neutral ground, part self policing.

Jason lingers in a shadow when the Monarch comes into view. This is Gotham City's ground zero. Most of the city's populace know it not as the only theater in the US to host Belgian opera singer Rita Héglon, but where Martha and Thomas Wayne lost their lives. It led to patrons, then businesses, fleeing Park Row and its transformation into Crime Alley. It led to Bruce Wayne becoming Batman, inspiring and training a whole colony of younger vigilantes, not that the public knows that part.

Jason does. And he, unlike Dick apparently, knows the Monarch's new myth.

He thought Dick had known, but it hadn't been part of his panicked show and tell, pointing out all the attention Tim's been getting too young and asking for help in diverting it for as long as possible. Dick hopes they can delay Gotham's attention turning fully to Tim until he is twenty-one, but Jason gives it a year.

Because the Monarch's new myth? What every Crime Alley rat knows?

It's Red Robin's base.

Tim's work crews hadn't been subtle, no construction company building three sub basements is, and the Monarch, even dilapidated, had been a landmark. More than one person grumbled about how many of the unique art deco elements had been removed, leaving only the old marquee to hint at what it was.

Better fornications, Jason knew.

As did the rest of Crime Alley.

Wayne Enterprise's largest shareholder and co-CEO footing the bill for a heavily modified building. Red Robin frequently spotted in the area.

People in this part of town are poor, not stupid.

Fear, respect, or something else keeps the Monarch and its surrounding area safe. Jason's not sure Tim has noticed. He doesn't have the street cred and connections Jason has, doesn't have the same bottom-up approach, doesn't have the reference. Jason's never asked either – it's possible Tim thinks the rumors about Crime Alley are exaggerated, or that he doesn't know how truly bad it can be behind brick walls. Tim may live in Crime Alley, but it's not his territory. It's Jason's. Tim just lives on the edge and patrols outside of it.

Jason shakes his head and continues walking. Dick's plan to keep Tim safe is to step up their game. Solve more crimes at night, sparkle brighter during the day. Gotham's paparazzi would love more images of the elusive Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, but he'll leave that part to Dick whom Gotham has always loved. Jason is going to steal Tim's cases from underneath him, not sabotaging, but reading his files and scrambling to connect dots and make arrests before Tim.

Hence, sneaking into the Monarch. Tim's got a night with Tam planned.

Jason walks the sidewalk Bruce did as a boy, going past the large doors that lead to a small room for package drop-offs. It's heated, and Tim doesn't complain too much if a person or two bunk inside.

Timothy Jackson Drake (sometimes) Wayne is, in the eyes of Crime Alley, very generous. He lets people shelter in spots around his home. He pops into Leslie's clinic regularly. He supports Red Robin.

Even if that part of the Monarch's myth hasn't reached Dick's ears, it must have reached Tim's. Like Bruce Wayne supports Batman, Tim Drake-Wayne supports Red Robin. Jason really, really hopes Dick doesn't pick up on that gossipy conspiracy theory any time soon. It's another way Tim is stealing Gotham's faith.

There's a different bent to Tim's story than Bruce's. Jason catches a glimpse of graffiti art in progress, of Red Robin perpendicular to his bo staff like a flag, feet connecting with a rogue only partially sketched. His logo, a profile of a beaked man, has been replaced with Tim's silhouette, bangs immediately obvious.

Jason remembers Dick repeating 'he's nineteen' over and over.

Tim is nineteen, and he's won the heart of most of the city. Tim is nineteen, and rogues are more worried about him showing up than Batman. Tim is nineteen, and he's captured the attention of big-time villains that have nothing to do with his connection to Batman. Tim is nineteen, and he's already been the target of a worldwide assassin competition.

Jason remembers the gift Dick described Ra's sent Tim. Personalized, with sweets common at Nepali weddings.

Tim is nineteen.

Jason forces himself to calm down. He takes a big breath and lets it out slowly. He'll sneak into Tim's Nest, read a couple of case files, and hit the pavement as Hood.

He continues down the block, turning the corner and turning again quickly to access the alley.

At least there's no conspiracy about Tim and Red Robin being the same person. Not everyone believes Red Robin and Robin III are the same, either.

It's an unexpected benefit of Tim's debut as a solo hero occurring abroad; rich as he is, no one believes that a sixteen-year-old would have the unfettered ability to go galivanting across the globe, to embed himself with the League of Assassins and become a red shadow so quickly. Especially not Tim Drake, with how doting Brucie Wayne is and photos of his 'grand tour' filling his socials. Red Robin takes missions in Russia, Tim Drake Wayne sits at a WE desk.

Tim is nineteen, and Jason doesn't have the heart to tell Dick they should have stepped up sooner for so many things.

Of all the vigilantes operating in Gotham, Red Robin is the only adult who doesn't have a Bat on his costume. Not that Jason wears his every night, but it's another thing that signals Red Robin as an independent agent. It makes him stand out. Makes him noticeable. Makes Tim Drake Wayne look like a rich boy flipping his adopted dad the bird, sponsoring his own vigilante.

There are rumors about Tim's emancipation that circle Crime Alley too. How a difference of opinion between him and the Wayne head led Tim to get down off his high horse and live among the people of Gotham. It was connected to a hostile takeover of Wayne Enterprise, landing all of Bruce's shares into Tim's lap.

Tim Drake might have been born surrounded by silver spoons, but he reached for steel like the rest of them. And for all that Bruce Wayne throws money at charities, Tim is fucking leading one that has had a real impact in reducing gang activity in the city.

Jason snorts to himself. Of course, Tim is Gotham's new darling. It was bound to happen.

 It's still too soon. His little brother doesn't need the attention.

For all of Tim's fortifications to the Monarch, there are obvious paths on the walls if you know how to look. Small footholds and handholds to reach a window, mostly designed for use from the air, but one from the ground. Jason pulls a dirty machine rag from his pocket and grimes his skin to not be so noticeable, then starts climbing.

Second-story window should do.

Disarming the alarm is trickier; Tim's never built weakness in his security system for daily convenience, and Jason has to both use a convenient pigeon and blow lots of hot air to trick the motion and temperature settings before scrambling inside.

Tim might have removed the seats and stage, but he kept the high ceilings and private boxes that extended toward what used to be the stage. Jason imagines it's a bitch to heat, but it also adds a bit of an echo. The upper stories only extend half the width of the first floor, the old box balconies still rimmed in gilded modeling but filled with more modern furniture give the idea of separate, if open, alcoves.

Jason hears chatter, which is unexpected. While Tim and Tam have convinced Gotham's paparazzi they're not engaged, not every journalist believes them when they say they're each single. Jason doesn't believe they're single, but also believes that they are still circling the idea of dating. There's a bond there built by trauma, and if Dick's right, Tam is also involved in the nightlife by helping Tim with his tech. They'll figure out they're partners in every sense eventually. Sometimes, those lines blur, and you cannot tell when you've crossed one.

Apparently, part of that means Tim planning to hang with Tam is a comfortable night in. Not dating, Jason's ass.

"How did you like my gift?"

The voice is smooth and accented. Familiar, but not Tim or Tam's. Jason frowns and creeps to the edge of a balcony to look down. On the couch are Tim and Tam, coffee table full of snacks and a single bottle of wine. There's also a dark green sweet box Jason recognizes from Dick's photo. Before them is a TV displaying the face of Ra's al Ghul.

"Dick got into it," Tam says with a pinched voice.

"I imagine he's fine? I've heard no news."

"He did find the poisoned treat," Tim says, "so that was alarming."

"Ah, but our Chemist had the antidote."

Tam snorts. "I don't know if I want to scold you for using something so basic or thank you."

Ra's smiles. "It could be both. He didn't eat too many of the sweets, I hope? They were for the two of you."

"Nah," Tim says, leaning forward to pick up his glass of wine. He holds it like he's at a gala, fingers supporting both the stem and the glass. "You weren't subtle with your choices, you know."

"I doubt anyone but you in your family would have recognized those sweets, Detective."

The angle's wrong for Jason to see, but based on the silence and stare down, he guesses Tim and Tam are giving Ra's a look.

If Jason were down there, he'd be giving Ra's the middle finger. Dick had recognized those sweets as common wedding treats.

The conversation moves on, Ra's being surprisingly open about where he is and small details about this day.

Jason has no idea what's going on. Ra's is bad news, but Tim's just chatting to him. Tam's just chatting to him. They're all relaxed, like this is normal.

The conversation shifts to what sounds like medical studies. Tam and Ra's are the most engaged, while Tim shares comments between placing cheese cubes delicately in his mouth like he's at a fundraiser. It takes Jason a minute to figure out what they're talking about - French studies about Kinvy, the anti-aging drug that the Escabedo Cartel is trying to push into Gotham. Ichor, as it's called on the streets.

Tim, and Tam, are catching up and talking cases with Ra's while enjoying a dinner composed of a fancy charcuterie board, wine, and Nepali sweets.

Jason lowers himself to the floor, sits against the balcony wall, and listens without having to worry about his head sticking out. Dick had been concerned the personal attention Ra's is giving Tim would result in traps and manipulation, like how Batman and Joker used to circle each other. Or how Ra's had used Talia to get into Bruce's pants, or warp Jason's mind before setting him loose in Gotham. Ra's goal of wiping the world clean to take it over always led to the destruction of powerful figures, the building of a bloodline.

But this?

Jason doesn't know if this is better.

"I'm impressed, Detective. You're already thinking of the fallout of your bust."

"Of course I am," Tim snorts. "This is a drug that was designed for a rare illness meant to be taken over the course of their life. There are consequences of stopping, like we just talked about. Those who actually need it see their aging accelerate if they miss too many dosages. We're still investigating the mix the Escabedo Cartel is pushing into Gotham, but if it's at least 50% Kinvy, I expect Bristolites will see the same effect and then panic-"

"Prescription retinol will skyrocket," Tam murmurs.

Tim continues without acknowledging Tam's low comments. "Which means there'll be more people who will try to fill that gap once we take them down with their own Ichor blend-"

"Or scammy wellness influencers," Tam adds. Jason can barely hear her voice, but she's got the same tone as Tim when he's hyper-focused on code. She's cooking something in her brain.

It strikes him then that Jason doesn't know much about Lucius's daughter other than being smart, working with Tim, and is his maybe girlfriend. Tamara Fox is someone Dick hypothesized is Tim's right-hand – medic and gadget supplier. Ra's has given her a title, Chemist. She and Tim are trauma-bonded because while Tim was a reluctant member of the League of Assassins, Tam was right there with him. Tam survived the League and Ra's, and instead of fleeing as soon as she could, she doubled down by announcing a fake engagement to Tim in a misguided attempt to protect his civilian cover.

Jason bites on his knuckle to keep from groaning.

They're too late. Dick put together all the little clues too late. Jason failed to see anything beyond Crime Alley.

Tim has a network, allies with reputations of their own, not-quite-villains-anymore-rogues, art and murals and Gotham's attention. The world's attention, Jason knows, isn't that far off. Red Robin takes on too many missions abroad. Tim is expanding Neon Knights and W.E. quickly.

Black Mask is focused on Red Hood right now, but with Red Robin on the lips of every Crime Alley rat, Jason will have to work to keep Sionis's attention. Dent's too. Batman has to still earn Cobblepot's ire, be the one who guides Harley to straighter paths. Tim could handle all that attention from Gotham's crime elements, but he shouldn't.

Especially when, to those outside of Gotham, to those like the Escabedo Cartel looking to gain a foothold, it's not Batman who's the threat. It's Red Robin.

Jason tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, tracing the gold-painted crown molding in the seam where wall meets ceiling. He swallows, brotherly concern making his mouth dry.

It's not about keeping Tim half-lit but visible, discouraging spotlights from focusing on him for as long as possible. It's about proving to the city that the rest of the family, the rest of the Bats, deserve attention too. It's about hiding the fact, for as long as possible, that Gotham is no longer Bruce's.

Jason closes his eyes in a brief moment of grief, and then sets out to do what he came here for: get Tim's notes on the Kinvy trade and the Escabedo Cartel to take down the Mexican group first.

He keeps an ear on the conversation below, it's moved into updates as if they're just friends catching up, while digging through the files in this balcony-workspace. The small table next to a set of armchairs is covered in WE paperwork, which isn't helpful.

Jason sticks his head up to look at the other balconies. The one all the way at the end to the right has a desk with three monitors on it. In each of the others, Jason sees several low bookshelves that look full of academic journals. Jason is going to scream if Tim set up each of these around a different subject. Tim is very organized, but such physical barriers seem crazy.

Then again, his security system is a perfect example of Tim subjecting himself to minor physical discomfort regularly instead of building a convenient, less safe option that could be exploited. If Jason weren't so focused on remaining undetected, he would pop up and glare at the fish tank that held the level that revealed the entrance to the Nest.

The files Jason needs are most likely in the Nest too, which means Jason will have to come back later because there's no way he's getting to that fish tank tonight. It's too open and too close to the couch. Fuck.

It strikes Jason then that the theater is very quiet.

"Jason Peter Todd-Wayne!"

Tam's scolding tone makes him curl, very similar to how he would when caught with his hand in a cookie jar an hour before dinner by Alfred. Jeez, Dick was right. Tam is Tim's Alfred.

"I know you're up there!"

Slowly, embarrassed at his reaction to being caught and eager to prove he's not, Jason stands. He's wearing 80% of his Red Hood costume. He's a big bad crime boss. The owner of Crime Alley.

Jason peers over the balcony wall. The TV used for the video conference is off – Ra's is gone. Tam's in a purple suit, hands on her hips, as she stands staring at him. Tim is still sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

"What are you doing here?"

"Spider says he's been looking through paperwork." Tim tilts his back to look at Jason upside down. "Are you trying to steal a case from me?"

Jason crosses his arms. He wants to ask who Spider is, but something in his gut tells him Spider is Tim's personal Oracle.

He hadn't realized Tim had his own tech support. Tim's pretty handy with code himself, Jason thought all his coding was his, all his breakthroughs his mind or his algorithms finding clues. But if Tim has his own weapon designer, a medic, and tech support…

Jason has his independence, but not like this.

"What are you doing talking to Ra's? He's dangerous."

Tim scoffs, going back to his phone. "Bruce used to have chats with the Joker all the time. How is this any different?"

Jason can think of a million things, but the truth of the matter is Bruce does talk to his rogues. He visits them in jail. He shows them compassion. Dates some of them, and didn't Tim have something with a low-level rogue once? Lynx? Jason should be happy Tim's not flying out to Turkey, or Nepal, or Uzbekistan, or wherever Ra's is.

He's not happy that Ra's is sending Tim gift boxes like they're friends, not enemies. That he praises his baby brother, has a whole conversation without making a single threat.

How long can Tim hold Ra's attention before it sours? Jason doesn't want to know.

Tim pushes himself off the couch, standing next to Tam. As a unit, they stare up at Jason. Tim's eyes narrow, Tam's brow furrows. Jason feels like he's thirteen, staring down a Bruce who knows he hasn't completed his homework and is waiting for Jason to admit it. Only, Tim's the younger one here.

Tim's the younger, with that hard-boiled detective star. And Tam's Jason's peer, a chemist whose flat eyes make Jason itch like he's rolled in poison ivy.

Jason never truly vibed with Bruce's version of Gotham. A world full of second, third, fourth chances, improved by money. He's not sure what Tim's version of the city is; he's not even sure Tim has noticed the shifts in the streets. Gotham is stretched before him and his team, ready for Tim's guidance, and the teen has no idea.

Dick's voice runs through his head again: He's only nineteen.

He's scared for his little brother, but also proud. And a little disappointed in himself. Jason's goal had been Crime Alley, and he had that. And here Tim was, with Gotham on the edges of his fingertips. Not that Tim's noticed yet, too focused on individual cases.

"Why are you here, Jason?" Tim asks again. "What case are you interested in? You could just ask, you know. No need to break in."

"Wanted to test your security. It sucks."

Tim grins, all Red Robin taking down a mugger. "Spider?"

The only hint Jason has of what's coming is Tam's glance behind him. It's not enough; the bola wraps around Jason's legs and sends him to his knees. He can't see Tim and Tam anymore, but hears Tim snort while Tam tries to hold back a giggle.

"My security is good. I just happen to like you."

By the time Jason frees himself, Tim's on the balcony.

"Come on, what could you not bring yourself to ask for?"

Jason can't do it. Can't ask for a case, can't put the idea in Tim's head that he and Dick are trying to step into the spotlight.

"It's not like that. Dick was worried about the poison, and he's still on crutches, you know? So I said I'd check on you, thinking you'd be on date night with Tam-"

"We're not dating."

"Stop lying. Thinking the Nest would be empty, so I could tell Dick I checked in, but you were out and thus good. You didn't have to see me, I didn't have to see you, done. Didn't expect to see al Ugly on your screen." Jason points a finger over his shoulder. "I know Bruce talks to his villains, but Ra's isn't some crazed person missing a screw. He knows exactly what he's doing. He could teach a masterclass in manipulation. I don't want you getting hurt, Tim."

With a sigh, Tim joins Jason on the floor. Jason hands over the bola, now in two pieces.

"I know Ra's is good at that," Tim says. "I was caught up in it. Before. While I was…"

Hunting for Bruce, Jason fills in. He's never asked what happened. No one has. Tim left huffy and grieving, prickly with teenage independence. No one had gone after him, not one but Tam, and he'd come back just as independent but with experience, confidence, and a reputation. He wasn't Robin, jumping when Batman asked for a report. And he wasn't a kid either, not with dark eyes that spoke of nightmares and anxious sleep.

"I won't fall for it again, I know better now."

Things are better now between them, too. Jason could ask, could press, but there are more important things than knowing Tim's history.

"You let me know the moment Ra's says something weird. When he threatens you, or makes you wonder something, or –"

"You sound like Tam."

"She can tell me too. He's fixated on both of you."

Oh. They'll have to tell Lucius, won't they?

Tim huffs, stirring his bangs. "Jason-"

"I want you to stay safe. And I want you to know I'm in your corner. Dickie too."

"Even though you broke in when you thought I wasn't here to avoid actually checking up on me?"

Jason reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tim squawks.  Red Robin, co-CEO of WE, Gotham's favorite hero, survivor of so many things, and Tim is young enough his voice hasn't settled yet. Jason palms Tim's skull, shaking it, and Tim's hands try frantically to pull Jason's off.

"Jason!"

This is the kid people are painting murals of. Who gossip rags pit against his adopted father. Who journalists sometimes forget is still legally a Wayne, even if it's just via a name change.

This is Jason's kid brother.

The best of them all.

Laughing, Jason releases Tim's skull. "Okay, baby bird. You're fine, I'll tell Dick to stop worrying. Continue having your wine and cheese with Tam."

He flutters his eyes. Tim smacks him, but blushes.

Jason pushes himself to his feet and helps Tim to his.

"Please, feel free to use the front door to leave," Tim says as they descend to the first floor.

"Nah."

This is the home of Tim Drake Wayne, Red Robin's base. Even dressed as Jason, not Hood, he doesn't want to be seen walking out of the Monarch.

"I will use the back door, though."

"Whatever, just leave."

On the couch, Tam looks up and waves. "Say hi to Addie for me."

Jason forces himself not to freeze. Addie is his secret weapon, the woman who manages schedules and communications and hears all the whispers. He's not sure who reached out to whom, but it shouldn't be a surprise that they know each other.

"Will do."

With a final wave, Jason slips out the back door to a soundtrack of Tim and Tam picking a movie to watch.

Jason slinks back the way he came, pausing at the mural of Red Robin. It's still unfinished; no street artist has pulled out a can of paint in the past thirty minutes, but he's never seen a full mural dedicated to any of them solo before. Do people paint their symbols? All the time. Something that takes up the majority of the side of the building?

It's one thing to have little hope in Dick's plan, it's another to know it's already too late.

Jason rings his older brother, staring at Tim's profile on brick.

Dick answers with a bright "To what do I owe this pleasure, Little Wing?"

"Tim's place is a bust."

"I thought it was date night-"

"Tim was enjoying wine and cheese with Tam and Ra's. I'm not sure if Ra's crashed, or they expected him, but Ra's is into both of them in a way that's weird."

Dick chokes.

Was that a three-way date? Jason's not sure. He doesn't want to think about it.

"That aside, you called Tam his support. You missed one, someone called Spider that's Tim's eyes and ears. Even if Tim hadn't been home, I would have been taught and trapped. We can't cheat our way to solved cases, Dickie. We're just gonna have to put in more hours than Tim."

Dick's quiet on the line.

He's rarely quiet – part social persona, part social weirdo – but Dick is also smart and doesn't bother hiding it from family. He's thinking. Probably the same thing Jason is.

Tim is smart, scary smart, and already runs on fumes a few times a month. Putting in more hours than him would require sacrifices. Jason would have to give more work to Addie, rough up fewer pimps. Dick would have to be in Gotham more, leaving Bludhaven to her own devices.

Worse, Jason's not sure it'll be enough. Not with Tim having a full, if small, team.  Not with Tim brainstorming with Ra's al Ghul and Tam thinking up schemes to step into the drug trade with her own product and Spider, whoever they are, having Red Robin's back.

It's all further evidence of how Tim's built skills and a life and a reputation without them, forced by both his parents and unstable Wayne dynamics to be independent. Jason should be glad that Tim reached out to anyone for help, knowing they didn't have the relationship they do now when Tim needed it.

Still, it nags at him like burrs in his socks, that Tim didn't rely on his brothers like Jason wishes three years, five years late. He can't go back and fix his relationship with Tim in the past. He can't see a path forward where he can be a big brother, either, not the kind that protects and gives advice. Those moments gone, slipped between his fingers. Dick's too.

Tim is Gotham's future, looming like a tidal wave. The realization will flood the city soon, and there's nothing Dick or Jason can do to hold it off.

Red Robin will stop the Escabedo Cartel from gaining a foothold. The other gangsters in the city will notice, not just Red Robin's work but also the cartel's dismissal of Batman.

Hero. CEO. Philanthropist. Socialite. Every single one of those spotlights is on Tim, and they're about to get brighter as Bruce's burnout.

"Think Bruce knows?" Dick asks.

"No." He's too focused on the case under his nose, on Batman Incorporated, on League missions. He merely scans the gossip rags to make sure he's mentioned in the right light.

Jason sighs. "Best we can do is take attention off Tim."

"Matching PJ shoot it is."

Jason grimaces, but yeah, it's their best bet. Flood the media with images and stories about the family, not just Tim, to give the baby bird time to settle into his roles one by one.

He roves his eyes over the mural, again noticing the lack of bat on Red Robin's costume. Maybe it's fitting that Batman will fade to the shadows and Robin, a Robin anyway, steps out. Robin has always been for the people of Gotham, especially the way Tim took on the role. He hadn't cared for revenge, like Dick. Or an approved fighting outlet, which had originally gotten Jason into the tights. No, Tim had thrown the cape around his shoulders not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to. Because Gotham needed someone to step up.

And step up he did. At twelve, at fourteen, at sixteen. Tim's taken Robin beyond Batman, beyond Gotham, but by keeping 'Robin' in his name, by setting up shop at the edge of Crime Alley, it's obvious where Red Robin's focus is.

And the city, the world, is waking up to that.

"As long as it's not onesies," Jason grumbles into the phone, cutting off Dick's rambling about possible themes and settings.

"But onesies are warm!"

"They're silly," Jason snaps. "That may work for you and Bruce, but I'm not a silly guy."

"Which is why seeing you in one will create a longer-lasting impression."

Jason grimaces, but doesn't refute it. If Dick really thinks it will take attention off of Tim, for even a day longer, Jason's willing to do it. He's surprised to realize that. He and Tim aren't close. They rarely interact during daylight hours, and it's stiffly cordial some days. Jason is not a good big brother; he hasn't had much experience and has avoided getting that experience.

But it doesn't change the fact that Jason is Tim's big brother and spent too long ignoring that role.

"Fine," he says into the phone. "But not those like, weird animal ones."

"Done," Dick says.          

Jason sweeps his eyes over the mural one last time, then turns to walk home. "This better work, Dickhead."

"It will."

Jason hears the same doubt in Dick's voice that thumps through Jason's heart. It might not, or might not for long enough.

But they'll still try.

It's what brothers do.