Chapter Text
Jason watched over Damian as he slept in his crib. He looked so much like Talia with his dark skin, wavy hair, and green eyes. Jason only had the green eyes in common, though sometimes he could swear they seemed almost blue. Talia was his mother though she said she wasn’t his biological mom. After all he doesn’t remember his bio mom. Whenever he tried to conjure up any remnants of a memory, he can only think of fire surrounding him. If he had to guess he’d say it was just a dream that his brain couldn’t decipher between a memory and a nightmare. He doesn’t have many memories from before waking up in the league of assassins. He remembered a dark shadow and a manic laugh. Other than that, there was nothing. Talia said it would get better over time. He still doesn’t know if she meant his memories will come back or he’d just learn to live without them. Jason knew she knew things about him. Things he no longer remembered. He couldn’t bring himself to ask though. He’s pulled from his thoughts as Talia enters the nursery. She had dark brown hair that fell down her back in waves, curling a bit around the bottoms. Her eyes that were usually stern, were kind as they looked down at him.
"You should be training.” Her voice was soft. Jason learned quickly that her voice was only soft when she talked to him or Damian. Everyone else she guarded with indifference even her own father.
"I know.” He responded, voice hoarse with disuse. When he woke up after the pit, he had been unable to speak and now, even though he had been restraint, he still rather stays silent. Jason knew saying the wrong thing at the league could have a terrible outcome. He knew he should be training right now. He owed Talia his life and with that he must become an assassin, though she never told him that outright. She said he’s been making improvement in his training. It had been easier for him than the other to be assassins he’d trained with. It was almost muscle memory. Memories he no longer had but his body retained. She started to pet his hair, and he turned back to his sleeping brother. They stayed like that for several moments, before Talia spoke once more. He excepted her to tell him he had to train but that’s not what she did.
"What do you want to be?”
"What do you mean?” She made eye contact with him and he knew she was looking at him a way only a mother could. Looking past all his walls to his raw self that reminded underneath.
"What do you want to do with your life?” She clarified. Silence fell once more as he considered the question. Jason had no idea what he wanted to do. He didn’t know who he was and who he was supposed to be. He knew he should tell her that he wanted to be an assassin. It would make her happy, if it was true. But it would be a lie. One that should would see right through. So, he answered honestly.
"I don’t know.” He wishes he did.
"I want you to leave.” Jason felt his go pale and Talia reading his expression quickly went to explain.
"I want you to take Damian to Gotham. The league is no longer safe for you both.”
"W-what?” Jason sputtered.
"I have created you both civilian identities. I asked what you what you wanted to do with your life because you can do it. So, Jason, what is it you would like to do in Gotham?”
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It was the first day of his junior year of high school and Tim couldn’t be more pissed. There was no reason why he should have to go. It was all a simple waste of time, that he could be using to solve cases and stop crime. He tried to voice his distain to Bruce but all he got in return was, “It’ll be good for your civilian identity.”
So far, Tim has gone to his first 3 classes, pre-calculus, gym, and US history, and now he was on his way to his 4th period, English 11. From what he’s heard, the English 11 teacher was new and much younger than the other teachers who in Tim’s opinion were all old farts. So far, he was set to learn stuff that he either knew already or that wouldn’t matter in the slightest after school. He wished Bruce had just agreed to home school him.
He took a seat by the window of the English room, not really in the back of the room but back enough where the teacher wouldn’t focus too much on him. The teacher in question was standing in front of the room waiting for his class to file in. As previously said his teacher was young. If Tim had to guess he’d say 22 or 23 years old, which isn’t crazy for a teacher but young for a high school teacher. He was tall, about 6’3. His hair was black and curly, with a thick white streak in the front. His eyes were bright green, Tim could swear they were glowing. Like if he was in a pitch-black room his eyes would be like flashlight. He also had scars. Like a lot. They littered the visible parts of his arms that weren’t covered by his sleeves, and they were all over his face. There was a big one that went from his temple to the corner of his mouth.
"Hello class,” the teacher spoke, voice soft but loud enough to be heard, “I am Mr. Peter’s.” He wrote his name on the board behind him. "I am very excited to teach you all this year! I'm going to hand out a questionnaire. This is so I can gauge where you're at as a learner and so I can get to know you as a person not just a student." He handed out a thick packet.
"I do ask that you all remain quite while filling this out and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask."
A boy a few rows back from Tim raised his hand and Peters gestured at him to speak.
"How'd you get all those scars?"
A few giggles came from around the room and Tim couldn't help but feel bad for his teacher. It was fine to be curious, Tim was as well, but the way the boy asked you can tell he was doing it just to be an ass. Peters didn't look put out by the question; on the contrary he smiled.
"Well, Mr.?"
"Bobby Grey."
"Well, Mr. Grey, I couldn't tell you how I got these scars because I don't know. I was in an accident a couple years back which caused me to lose my memory."
The class went silent at the teacher's words and Bobby turned red from embarrassment. It was clear that he had been trying to get a ride out of Peters and he had been unsuccessful.
"If that is all the questions, please return to your questionnaire." Peters sat at his desk, pulling out a battered copy of The Great Gatsby. with one last glance, Tim returned to his paper. the questions of the first portion were about their lives, normal ones you'd expect.
How old are you? What's your favorite color? Do you have any pets?
Tim was speeding through it until he got to the question, how many siblings do you have?
Tim froze. How many siblings did he have? He had Dick of course but what about Jason? He had died before Tim met him but by law, they were brothers. But Tim doesn't really know anything about the guy other than that he was Robin and the obvious, that he died. Any attempt to know more has been a waste of time. Dick always got sad and quiet when Jason was brought up and Tim was frankly scared to ask Bruce after seeing what he was like after Jason's death. In the end he wrote 1.5 siblings.
The other two portions of the test were vocabulary and reading comprehension. Tim thought he did alright. He’s always had some trouble with English. He was sure he’d pass the class though, with just a little effort. After the class finished, Mr. Peters collected the papers and a girl on the opposite side of the room from Tim raised her hand. She had long braids and bright eyes.
"Yes, Ms.?”
"Nyla James, sir. Since you’re learning so much about us, can we learn about you?” Peters raised an eyebrow and considered her question.
"Why not?” He said with a shrug,” we’ve got some time till class ends, ask me anything. Just say your name and questions.”
A girl in the front, with short blond hair, raised her hand and peters gestured toward her.
"Suzan O’Brian, what’s your first name?”
"Todd.” Todd Peters, something about that name sounded familiar to Tim. Where had he heard it?
"Liam Chen, what’s your favorite color?”
by the time 4th period came to an end Tim learned the following about his English teacher: his favorite color was red, he was around 25 years old (an estimate because he had no idea what his real birthday was), he didn’t have any kids but he took care of his brother who was 1, said brothers name was Damian, he got his degree out of country in Afghanistan where he lived ever since his accident, the accident in question was an explosion, and he had no idea why he had a white streak in his hair.
"I am not part skunk, Mr. Grey.”
overall, it was a more enjoyable class and Tim thought that even though it was a waste of time, at least he could have some fun.
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Tim wasn’t dumb. He knew he wasn’t. He prided himself on being smarter than most people he knew. And yet English was kicking his ass. He was barely passing and it wasn’t helping that he was running on a couple hours of sleep due to him patrolling most of the night. Currently, they were reading Macbeth and Tim doesn’t think he hates anything more than he hates old English. He had taken to hiding his poor grades out of fear that if Bruce found out he wouldn’t take robin away and Tim could not let that happen. He started off as Robin to save Gotham from the monster that was Batman without his Robin. But now, Robin wasn’t just a title. It was a part of him. Being Robin made him whole. It was his purpose and he could not do without it. That is why he was ready to take drastic measures.
"You want me to tutor you?” Mr. Peters asked with a raised brow. The class was empty, all other students being at lunch. Tim was grateful for the privacy. He was embarrassed enough with just having to ask his teacher.
"I have been struggling a lot with your class, and I was hoping that you could help me. Not only that but I have to take the SAT and my English portion is really bringing me down. I care a lot about my grades and I need help." Mr. Peters was silent for a moment as he considered.
"Well, I don't see why not. I can tutor you during lunch and on weekends if need be."
"That's perfect, sir." Peters gave Tim a warm smile.
"We can review classwork during the week, say Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Saturdays could be saved for SAT prep."
"That's amazing. But not that it matters much, how much would the tutoring cost?" His teacher looked confused for a moment like the thought of getting paid for the extra work that comes with tutoring hadn't even crossed his mind.
"Well, umm, maybe $20 for Saturday sessions? Nothing for lunch sessions, I'm on the clock so I get paid anyways."
"Sir, are you sure? That's like insanely cheap?"
"Oh, I don't care about the money, Mr. Drake. I just want to help my students as much as I could. Just make sure your guardian is aware and Ill reach out to you about the location for the Saturday sessions. It will most likely be at my apartment because Afterall a good babysitter is hard to come by and I've got a baby to take care of."
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"Tutoring?" Bruce asked at the dinner table that afternoon. Tim looked up at the case file he was studying. It was about break-ins in the Narrows. He thought it might have been the same guy seeing how all the bullets found were form the same model of gun and they were all broken into similar ways.
"Oh, ummm yea. I wanted to get help with SAT prep and my English teacher said he'd tutor me."
"At his apartment?" Bruce asked, suspicious.
"Well, yea, he takes care of his little brother, who's like one, so we have to do it there so he can watch him." Bruce considered for a moment, obviously bothered at the thought of Tim going to some random guy's apartment. But in Tims defense it wasn't a random guy, it was his teacher.
"Alfred will drive you back and forth. You will be home before dark." He said finally and Tim breathed a sigh of relief.
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That Saturday, Tim stood outside the door to his teachers' apartment. The number on the door read 302. Tim knocked and a moment later Peters opened the door. Unlike his usual teaching outfit that consisted of a button up shirt and slacks, he was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a lose fitting Nightwing shirt. Tim thought about telling Dick that his teacher was a Nightwing fan, but Dicks ego was big enough already.
His teacher gave him a warm smile. "Mr. Drake! Come in, come in, we have lots to get to!" He ushered Tim in and Tim looked around.
There weren't any walls separating the kitchen from the living room, where Tim could see toys and stuffed animals scattered about. There was a giant bookshelf that took up majority of the living room wall. On the floor in front of the couch, sat a chubby cheeked toddler. Tim had excepted Damian to look like Peters, seeing how they were siblings, but all they had in common was the bright green eyes. Damain had dark skin with wavy dark brown hair that was pushed back from his face. He was playing with those big sized Lego blocks. There were a bunch of framed photos lining the wall behind the couch, most of Damian. There were a couple of both Peters and his brother but one caught Tims eye. It was of Peters, Damian, and a woman who Tim thought he recognized. He assumed her to be Peters mom. Like her sons she had bright green eyes and hair similar to Damains, that fell down to her waist. In the photo she held Damian with one arm and had the other on Peters shoulder. They were both smiling at the camera with Damian asleep. She looked familiar and Tim tried to place where he had seen her, but nothing came up.
They sat at the table that was covered in papers. Upon looking at them more closely Tim found them to be SAT questions and tips.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
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The couple months that Tim had spent getting tutored by his teacher, his English grade had improved substantially. They had stopped their sessions during school but continued the Saturday SAT prep. After he took the test, the sessions would stop altogether, and Tim thought he was almost miss it. He had gotten to know his teacher much better and Damian was just the cutest.
He was at his teacher's apartment when he found something odd. Peters had gone to put Damian down for a nap, leaving Tim as the table alone when he saw it. A letter. It would have been normal in itself but the name on the return address read Talia al Ghul. At that moment it seemed to click in Tims mind. The women in the photo on the wall was Talia! Now that posed the question, why was his English teacher getting a letter from Talia al Ghul? Tim hesitated for a moment before grabbing the letter and stuffing it into his bag. He felt guilty but the detective in him needed to know what it said.
Now he sat on his bed in the manor, opening the envelope and unfolding the letter.
My son,
I hope you are well. My father was unhappy with your sudden departure, even more so with Damians. Yet he still does not know where you are, and I plan on keeping it that way. I have been able to convince him that I had nothing to do with it, that you had simply taken Damian and ran away. It is still unsafe for your return, and I assume it will stay that was until I find a way to kill my father. I hope you can write to me soon. I am eagerly awaiting any news about Damain and your wellbeing. I am sure you are enjoying teaching and being back in Gotham though you do not remember your past life there. I am holding out hope that being in the familiar environment will help with some of your memories returning.
With love, Talia al Ghul.
Tim gaped at the letter. His English teacher was mom was Talia al Ghul? Something stuck out to Tim though, "being back in Gotham". Peters had told his class that he was originally from Gotham but had gone to school in Afghanistan which is the same place the league of assassins was located. Tim doubted Peters was Talias biological child, judging based off his past in Gotham and the lack of similarities in their appearances. If he had to guess he would say Talia took Peters in after he lost his memory. But why?
Tim considered telling Bruce. He knew he should but he didn't want to. Peters was such a good teacher and he didn't want to lose him. The letter had also made it sound like the only reason Peters was in Gotham in the first place was for his and Damain's safety so if there was no alternative motive then there was really no reason Bruce had to know.
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Parent teacher conferences were today. Tims parents had never bothered to show up to any of his before, but Bruce made it clear that he would be going to all of them. Tim wasn't worried. After all his grades were amazing. Thanks to Mr. Peters help English was now one of his best subjects. It was nice to hear all of his teachers talk to Bruce about how they were so proud of him and it made Tim swell up with pride in seeing Bruce's grin. He was most excited for him to meet Peters, though. He was sure his teacher had a lot to say about Tims improvement in his class.
He and Bruce stood outside of the English classroom, waiting for the current student and parents to finish their conference with Peters. Thankfully they did not have to wait long, as Bobby Grey and his parents soon left with sour looks on their faces. He and Bruce entered the room closing the door behind them.
"Mr. Drake, Mr. Wayne, how are you? Come have a seat we have a lot to discuss!" Tim walked over to the chairs pulled up in front of Peters desk, where his teacher was standing but Bruce stayed frozen by the door, eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost. "Jason?" Tim looked between his father and teacher, confused.
"Ex-excuse me?" Peyters asked.
"Jason." Bruce only repeated.
"How did you-?" Peters took a cautious step back.
"Jason, how are you alive?" Bruce choked out, voice shaking," You died?"
Now Tim was really confused. Why was Bruce calling his teacher Jason? And now saying that he had died? Peters face also mirrored Tims expression on confusion but also had shock added onto of it. Bruce on the other hand looked like he was two seconds away from fainting.
"How did you know I-? Who even are you?!"
"Jason, I'm your dad. I watched you die" Tims jaw dropped. Bruce was calling his teacher Jason, as in Jason Todd!
"Talia," Peters(?) voice cut off, "Talia didn't tell me- that you- you,"
"Talia? What did Talia do?"
"She found me," Jason's voice was quiet, "wandering through the streets of Gotham, covered in dirt, still wearing the suit I was buried in. She took me home, to the league. She put me in the Lazurus pit. It healed my body and some of my mind, but my memories were gone. I began training to be an assassin, but she sent me back here with Damain." Silence fell as Bruce and Tim took in what Jason had said. Jason had crawled out of his grave and Talia had dumped him into the Lazarus pit. That explained the glowing eyes at least.
"I-I don't know who you are." Jason choked out, tears beginning to spill from his eyes. "Talia- she- I never asked about my past life. She would have told me but I-I didn't ask. I didn't want to know." His voice trailed off as he stared wide eyed at Bruce, but Brice only stared back, shell shocked. A minute passed. Then two. Finally, Jason clapped his hands together.
"Well, umm we have to talk about Ti- Mr. Drake. Please have a seat." Jason sat down at his desk and started shuffling through papers. Neither Tim nor Bruce moved. "Mr. Drake has done very well in his class so far. He struggled a bit in the beginning-"
"Jason," Bruce cut in but Jason didn't stop.
"But he came to me for help which many students don't so you should be proud of your- your son."
"Jason,"
"His SAT prep has been going well and I-"
"Jason!" Bruce yelled, taking a couple steps forward making Jason freeze and stop his rambling. Tim noticed idly that Jasons hands were shaking as he held his papers. "Jason," Bruce repeated, softer this time, "do you remember anything? Anything at all?"
Jason didn't respond right away. Instead pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes. "I remember... feeling hot. Really hot." His eyes remained covered as he spoke like he was trying to picture exactly what he remembered. "It was loud and everything was bright and it hurt and I was burning." His voice had begun to get frantic. "And he wouldn't stop and I could feel my body breaking, bones shattering, and she was just standing there watching, smoking, and he was laughing so loudly and I-" His voice broke off suddenly.
"I remember a car, black, expensive. I stole the tires off of it." He looked up then; brow furrowed with concentration as if whatever memory he was trying to grasp onto kept slipping form his fingers. "Your car. It was your car. I threw my tire jack at you and called you a boob." Jason let out a wet laugh at the memory. Bruce moved towards Jason in a hurry and wrapped his arms around him like he may disappear. Jason went limp in Bruces hold, head burying into his shoulder. Tim could hear a muffled "Dad." come from Jason and he saw the tears fall from his father's eyes as he held the son he had lost and found once more.