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Surprisingly, it's Dick that finds them first, with the kitchen window imploding and Nightwing diving through. There's an eerie calmness about him, one that has Jason’s skin prickling. He surveys the apartment quickly, and is across the room in three seconds flat, his arms against Jason’s throat.
“Where the fuck is Robin?” Dick hisses, and Jason knows he’s glaring despite the domino on his face. Jason tries to take a breath to calm himself, the Pit clawing madly at his brain. He doesn’t reach for his guns, doesn’t make any move at all.
“You’re standing right in front of me, aren’t you?” He grins sharply. Dick sucks in a breath and freezes for a moment, but doesn’t let up at all. Jason wonders how much Bruce has even told him about his identity. Or maybe Batman still thought he was a hallucination that was way too real.
Dick pushes harder, and Jason chokes. “Relax, dickwing. Babybird’s fine.”
“That wasn’t the question, Hood,” Dick snarls back.
As if on cue, there's a thump in the living room followed by a low groan. Dick practically vanishes as he flings himself towards the den, and Jason follows behind him with an amused snort.
Tim is crumpled on the floor right below the sofa, looking like he rolled off of it in his sleep. He looks up as the two enter, and his eyes go wide as he catches sight of Nightwing a few paces ahead of Jason.
“I knew sending you to the Tower was a stupid idea, but does Bruce ever listen to me?” The tail-end of the statement seemed to be more to himself than to Tim, but it didn’t matter as Dick pulled Tim into a hug. The kid makes a quiet “uhf” sound as he collides with Dick, who immediately panics. “Are you okay? No fatal wounds?”
“So… nice weather we’re having, huh?” Jason cuts in suddenly, and grins when Dick glares at him.
“Oh my god just tell him, you asshole,” Tim demands from behind Dick as the older man tries to block Jason’s view of him. Tim sidesteps him the moment Dick lets him go, and takes a few steps away from the other two. “I know you both don’t know how to do feelings— actually no, Jason’s the only one of you who doesn’t know how, I take that back, but this is painful even for me, and I was criminally neglected most of my life.”
“Jason?” Dick says, quietly. Tim throws up his hands in a sort of “finally” motion, then flops over onto the floor and pulls out his phone. He shifts uncomfortably for a minute, before pulling several of the throw pillows off the couch and laying across them. “Jason’s dead.”
Jason snorts, finally pulling off his own domino and flinging it at Tim, who squawks in protest. “Well, fuck you too. A casket? Holding the Jason Todd? Who do you think I am? My parents?” He hears Tim snort-laugh at the last words, which he takes as a win.
“Littlewing–” Dick starts, then he’s taking too long strides across the living room with his arms raised and tears in his eyes.
“Oh shit- NO! No hugs!” Jason dives, but of course Tim is a traitorous bastard and trips him. “I fucking hate this family.”
“Wait, hold on. Where’s Bruce?”
—
Bruce… still doesn’t think he’s real. Which is wild, because he has all the evidence he needs. His DNA, his mannerisms, his overall uncanny knowledge of Batman. Neither Dick or Tim tell him either.
Sometimes Jason takes off both his helmet and his mask when he sees Batman, and opts to just stand ominously on rooftops until Bruce notices him. It never takes long, and the moment he turns around or looks away, Jason leaves.
Is it mean? Yes. Is it cruel? …also yes. But is it funny? Most definitely, because whenever he ducks into whatever alley is close by, he can hear Tim’s separate comm line flicker to life as the kid tries not to make noise. He fails, but Bruceis usually too caught up in his own mind to notice Tim laughing for no apparent reason behind him.
Bruce hadn’t actually told Dick about any of his findings, which, kind of a dick move ( “How original.” “You know I’m funny, you just won’t admit it.” ), honestly. So when Nightwing was completely blindsided by the knowledge that his younger brother was still alive, he was… annoyed.
“B? You okay?” He hears Nightwing say as he switches his own channel over to the general Bat one. He really should thank Tim for that, but God knew that kid did not need praise for doing technically immoral things, like giving open access to a vigilante system to a notorious crime lord. He’s also pretty sure Babs knows at this point, and gave Tim permission, because Babs always knows. She’s like God.
Bruce is quiet for a moment, and Jason peeks over the edge of the rooftop to look at him. Bruce’s eyes meet his acidic ones. “...Jason?” The man calls, the word echoing through the night.
Nightwing’s voice goes disgustingly gentle and soothing, “Jason’s gone, B. He’s not coming back.”
Holy shit. Holy shit! Dick, you fucking psychological manipulator, Jesus Christ. They were absolutely going to turn Batman insane. Well. At least Joker would actually die, that way. ( “I mean, I can kill him if you want.” “Shut up, Timling, you are an infant with no rights—” “Literally what?” “—If anyone gets to kill the bastard it's going to be me.”)
“I saw him.” Bruce insists, still holding eye contact with Jason. “I’m looking at him.”
“Bruce—” Oh my god did Tim’s voice just crack? When were his brothers so good at this? “-I want him back too, okay? Everyday. But you seeing him doesn't make it real.” And Tim actually sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. Jason barely resists the urge to fly across the rooftop and snatch the kid.
But he doesn’t, and he ducks back below the edge of the rooftop, sliding his mask and helmet back on as Bruce starts talking again, “No, he’s right ther-”
Jason steps up, and levels a gun straight at Batman. Tim aptly freezes, and steps just a slight bit closer to Bruce. Has he taken acting classes? Huh. Tim would’ve loved theater. “Well, well, well. Thought I told you to keep your little Bats out of my territory? Me giving the little Robin back was just good will. It won’t happen again.”
Tim scowls at him from where he's standing just out of Bruce’s eyesight, and flips him off. A grin flickers on Jason’s face, and he’s thankful the helmet covered it.
The threat works, and Batman orders Robin to leave, before following right after, looking slightly shaken up.
—
Jason watches Tim fling himself off a roof, minor panic freezing his chest before he hears the sound of his grapple going off. Tim’s annoyingly loud giggles pierce through his helmet comms.
“You know the Bats aren’t allowed around here,” Jason huffs, eyes tracking as Tim parkours his way closer to the edge of Crime Alley. He does a dramatic back handspring that’s distinctly Dick Grayson, and Jason can see the smile split Tim’s face when he manages to do it without flopping.
“Mayhaps,” Tim snorts, voice echoing around in Jason’s brain. “But technically, I’m not in your territory.” The kid’s grin is all teeth, and Jason rolls his eyes.
“That building is inside the district, y’know.” Jason says exasperatedly. Tim takes a few steps backwards as Jason glares at him.
“No it isn’t.”
“Your foot is inside the line.”
“You made that up just now!” Tim scowls at him, standing perfectly still with his arms crossed. Jason copies the pose and stares back at him.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re not allowed here,” Jason shoots back with narrowed eyes. Tim stays silent for a minute as they stare each other down until Jason is forced to blink.
“I win!” Tim sings, voice high pitched and overly smug.
“Fuck off, we weren’t having a contest,” Jason says before sending off a quick text to Dick: babybird’s at my place. come get him before i throw him off a roof.
—
Jason’s phone dings at approximately 1:32 am. And his phone is always on do not disturb after eleven, which means that whoever was texting him made the conscious decision to press ‘deliver anyway’. He groaned as he rolled over to check.
Sadly Related
b and tim got in an argument and tim ran off
didnt take robin so lookout
And Jason’s awake practically immediately, springing forward to slip on his shoes. The Pit bubbles up, like it always does when someone threatens something that’s his. He doesn't bother putting the rest of his outfit on as he puts on the biker helmet and pulls on his jacket. He’s out the door shortly after that, switching over to the Bat line, secrecy be damned.
“Shut up, B.” He hears Dick mutter, and Bruce grumbles something incomprehensible in response.
“What’s happening?” Jason asks, madness in his voice. Bruce starts something along the lines of “Hood-” but Dick shuts him down quickly again. Surprisingly, Bruce actually listens.
“Left the Manor about five minutes before I texted you.”
And Babs is there suddenly, voice calm as it possibly could be. “Trackers are off, and I’m looking at all the cameras in the city, but I’m not getting anything. He’s not going to be found if he doesn’t want to.”
Jason reaches the edge of the Alley and looks out. Babs was right. Tim was smart, and he’d stalked all of them on patrol for years. They wouldn’t find him if he was trying to hide. “Got it. Hood, out.” Jason says, voice low and dangerous. Bruce better hope Jason doesn’t see him before they find Tim, because otherwise Jason was going to strangle him.
He knows Dick wouldn’t stay in the Cave, would already be prowling the streets of Gotham like the cryptid he is. God bless whatever criminal runs into any of them tonight, because they’ll be meeting him soon.
Time flies by and Jason doesn't notice. He checks in with Dick every few minutes, but it’s always the exact same “No, haven’t seen him.”
And then his phone pings in his back pocket at 4:13.
Literal Fetus
in ur apatmet rn
don tll them
And Jason’s already off the roof, and breaking several traffic laws as he speeds back. He reaches it in half the time it’d taken him to get to the district edge. His door is still unlocked when he gets there.
“Tim?” He calls into the darkness of his apartment. He switches on the light-switch and squints as his eyes adjust. And yeah, that is one hundred percent his baby brother curled up on the fluffy carpet he’d specifically bought because Tim preferred the ground for whatever reason, completely dead to the world. It’s enough to fight off the rage simmering below his skin, if only for a moment.
But there are bruises blooming on Tim’s face, ones that hadn’t been there when Jason had last seen him three and a half days ago. He can see dried blood coating the kid’s fingers and parts of his arms, and suddenly his previous mania was back, because who the fuck had hurt his brother?
The Pit wants to blame Bruce, hissing in the back of his mind that it was the Man Who Left Us. But Jason knows Bruce wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t lay a hand on one of his kids. The Pit doesn’t agree, and it sounds like thousands of tiny voices constantly crawling over each other for attention.
“Jas’n?” Tim mumbles, and his thoughts immediately go silent. Tim blinks awake and stares up at the ceiling as he seems to adjust to reality again. He sits up slowly, swallowing a yawn. Jason resists the urge to tell him to go back to sleep because he knows Tim hasn’t slept in at least 38 hours since the last time Dick reported the kid taking a nap, but if Tim sleeps now, Jason won’t get the answers the Pit needs.
“I didn’t want to be Robin, y’know.”
And that… isn’t helpful. It doesn’t explain enough, and Jason can already feel the Pit begging him to interrogate Tim. Which also isn’t helpful, because Tim would shut down if he believed that Jason thought he was weak or undeserving. Tim is fragile , like that (Only metaphorically of course. His baby bird was perfectly capable of keeping himself alive, if he wanted to).
“You don’t hate me for taking your place, right? Replacing you?”
His tone is detached, like he’s already preparing for the worst answer. The one that Jason could never truthfully give. But Jason doesn’t say anything, because he has no idea what’ll come out of his mouth. The Pit is just like that sometimes. Its first target had been Tim, after all.
“I don’t hate you, babybird.” He settles on after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Tim hasn’t made so much as a noise since he stopped talking, hasn’t even moved. He’s just… sitting there, staring at the wall. So Jason pulls him into a hug, and simply holds him because he knows Tim prefers when he can hear Jason’s heartbeat.
It takes a while for Tim to relax, and then he just sinks into Jason’s hold. It’s just the two of them, in this fancy apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, despite the fact that the both of them are technically millionaires. And it works. It’s okay. They’ll be okay.
He reaches for his phone and opens up Dick’s contact, because he knows the man is probably two seconds away from breaking somebody's legs.
tims with me, asked me not to tell. hes got new bruises.
he just fell asleep though, so thats good. i think we should set up an emergency meeting with his therapist for later today.
—
“Jason.” Tim says, throwing open his apartment door much louder than needed. He stomps inside, looking thoroughly soaked through from the rain outside. He walked here during a thunderstorm, because of course he did.
“...Yeah?” Jason acknowledges from the kitchen as Tim walks in.
“Did you call the cops on Bruce?”
“...No?”
“Then why did multiple officers just show up to the Manor and ask to see me? They asked if I was being abused. I’m not even his kid!” Tim scowls, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. Jason should see if the animal shelter would take him.
“Because it was either that or kill him, Tim-Tac, and I figured you’d appreciate him being alive.” Jason shrugs, turning back around to continue stirring the pot on the stove.
“I hope your vagina falls off,” Tim huffs as if that’s not one of the most unhinged things he’s ever said.
“Fucking what?” Jason retorts incredulously. “Is that sexist? That feels sexist.”
—
Jason knows he should leave it alone, unless Tim decides to tell him. The bruises on his face were yellowing, slowly. They’d be gone in a few days. But the Pit hated them, hated the injuries that were so apparent on his little brother.
“Nothing happened, I’m fine.” Tim insists, even though he grunts when Jason hugs him too fast or too aggressively. And visibly, that’s true. But it’s hard to tell with Tim, who hates getting checked because he thinks they’ll be disappointed in him.
Jason puts his hands on Tims shoulders, holding him there while he does a quick once over of the kid. “Don’t bullshit me,” Jason says, finally letting go of Tim when he can’t see anything besides the bruises and small cuts.
Tim is silent, glancing between the wall and the ceiling and not making eye contact with Jason. “Okay so maybe I got grazed,” He says suddenly, fingers fisting the cuffs of his hoodie.
“By what?” Jason asks, even though he already knows exactly what Tim meant because this is Gotham, and of course Tim would get caught like that while in civvies.
“A bullet,” Tim deadpans, finally staring at him with a slightly disappointed look in his eyes, “Dumbass.”
Jason closes his eyes and groans, looking up at the ceiling. “God, I’m becoming Bruce,” he muttered to himself, then looked back down at Tim. “You got shot while out as normal Tim Drake. That is highly concerning!”
“No, I got shot at. And I was standing still. Two guys that can't hit a non-moving target are not as worrying as you think.”
“You’re the reason my hair is turning white,” Jason accuses, barely resisting the urge to throw a lamp at the kid sprawled out on his floor. Bruce gets to pick out two completely (ab)normal orphans, but the one Jason picks just has to be an insane little shit.
“I’m pretty sure that’s because you died and Satan didn’t want you.” Tim says. He’s scrolling through his phone nonchalantly, tapping twice every once in a while.
“You’re assuming I went to hell? Low blow, Tim, low blow.”
“‘Bout as low as you were in the ground.”
Jason may or may not be down a lamp. It was totally worth it.