Chapter Text
Tim was confused, very very confused. When he had gone to bed, he was at his house, in his bedroom, dressed in Batman pajamas and listening to his parents drunkenly yell at each other about his shortcomings. But when he woke up, he was tucked into a medical bed in a cave, wearing a pair of oversized sweatpants and a too-big t-shirt. The long cut on his arm where Jack had slashed him with a broken beer bottle had been bandaged, too, which was new, and there was an ice-pack against his bruised ribs. He could hear voices that didn’t belong to his parents arguing from somewhere to his left and slowly sat up, rubbing his throbbing head, then clambered out of the bed and crept towards the voices, careful not to make a sound. One was clearly Bruce Wayne’s voice, allowing Tim to relax as he realized that he was in the Batcave and hadn’t, in fact, been kidnapped by some sort of villainous psychopath, but the other voice was unfamiliar, arguing, “He’s my fucking husband, you douche, I think I should be allowed to see him!”
Tim peeked around the corner at where Bruce was standing, arms crossed and glaring at a tall man in a leather jacket. Bruce’s face seemed older, more lined than Tim remembered, and he looked tired as he stated, “I understand that, Jason. But we don’t know how much he remembers or if he’ll recognize you. Zatanna has already checked him out and said that he’ll be okay, but you’re too worked up right now. We both know that he was skittish and nervous at this age and with- and with what we’ve seen tonight, it seems safe to assume that there’s more to that skittishness than either of us knew. He knows me already, but if he doesn’t recognize you, you may scare him. Take 30 minutes to go upstairs, have some tea with Alfred, and calm down, then come back down.”
The man, Jason, clenched his fists, then sighed, answering, “I want to see him, B. I just need to make sure he’s not injured, then I’ll go.”
Bruce looked hesitant, then his shoulders dropped and he sighed, “Fine. But then you need to go calm down.”
Jason turned towards where Tim was standing and Tim’s breath caught in his chest, his stomach dropping in fear even as his mind automatically connected the face of the Jason in front of him to another Jason he knew of, the boisterous second Robin who had once snuck him a cupcake at a gala after he saw Tim crying in the corner, the Jason who Tim was out photographing the night before. Jason’s eyes widened when he saw Tim standing there and he slowly lowered himself down onto one knee, greeting, “Hey there, Tim. Do you know who I am?”
Tim blinked, trying to process what he was seeing, and Jason’s face slowly grew more worried until Tim blurted, “You look like Jason Todd.”