Chapter Text
Tim slammed the car door only moments after the wheels stopped turning. He didn’t look back, already unfastening his cape on the way to the showers. The meeting tomorrow was excuse enough to get off patrol for the rest of the night; not that there was much time left.
Robin would be coming in in the next hour, and even Dick and Bruce would return in time for sunrise. Just enough time to stick his head under the water and cool off. He washed up quickly, slipping into a pair of boxers and his sleep shirt before heading to the computer to write up his report.
When he saw the chair in front of the screens already occupied, he rubbed the towel over his hair once again, paying attention to what Jason was looking up. Bile rose in his throat.
He must have made a noise, as the kid jerked, turning to look at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “It’s not what you think,” Jason sputtered.
“And what exactly do I think this is?” Tim pulled at the ends of the towel around his shoulders. The kid was looking at him, staring and clawing at the arms of the chair, but Tim kept his eyes glued to the screens.
Red Hood. Of course, Jason would find out sooner or later. The computers were younger than him and Jason shouldn’t have known the passcodes, but the adult Jason had no problem hacking into a simple report. The adult Jason had skills this teenager could dip into because this was Jason how he wanted to be. Skilled, happy and loved.
“I thought it was you,” Jason breathed, unable to look him in the eye.
“The guns.” Tim bit his lip. He didn’t want the kid to explain, didn’t want him to know.
The Red Hood. Could he bear it? Could he bear the truth or would this hurt Jason? He was a child, really. Just fourteen years old, just one year before he had died.
Jason pulled his legs up on the chair, hugging them close. “Yes,” he admitted. “The guns. But they’re not yours. Those clothes… They’re too big for you. So I looked it up.”
“How?”
The kid glared at him from the corner of his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I was looking for someone you would hide guns for.”
“I didn’t exactly hide them.”
“You didn’t have to.” He sighed, unfolding and swivelling the chair around. “Were we close?”
Tim took a step when he heard the slight tremor in the kid’s voice. Another when Jason’s eyes found his, pleading with him to deny it all. To tell him this was just a stupid dream and the files on the screen didn’t already tell him everything.
“You have to stop me, Tim,” Jason breathed, not getting his voice to fully comply. “You can’t let me become this person.”
Tim jerked to live, pulling the kid off the chair and hugging him to his chest. Jason buried his face in his neck, tightly holding on. “You’re not him. You are not.”
Jason’s speech was muffled and warm against his shirt, coming out tiny and meek. “I’m afraid. The way he’s just… coming apart like that, I – I don’t know what to do, Bruce hates me, doesn’t he?”
Goddammit, where was that big oaf when his son needed him? Tim wanted to punch his partner. In the face. With a brick or two. He knew how much bricks hurt and this was definitely a two-brick situation.
Jason might be Robin now, but he also was still a kid. Heavily reliant on the two persons he had, Alfred and Bruce. And both of them needed to cope with Jason being back themselves - the Jason they had loved and who loved them in return. But they were too swamped with getting their heads around his sudden appearance, to actually take care of the kid. Other than clinging to him and wishing he would never leave.
Tim didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what was right, but he knew he had to act, if only because no one else would.
“We found the person who did this to you,” he explained, keeping his arms around the kid. “He told us what happened, why he did it. He also told us that you never asked for this, but that this is what you thought of as the happiest you could be.”
Jason snarled. “Do I look happy to you?”
“Right now? No.” Tim bit his lip, forcing himself to say the next words. “But this evening. And at the mall.” He felt Jason bury his face in his shoulder again, and struggled with himself. He didn’t want to lose that kid. He liked him.
“What did I do?” Jason asked. “Why did he do this to me?”
“Because you helped his friend. Because this is what you regret losing.”
“But I lost it.”
“You’ve read the file.”
Jason hummed. “Is this why the boss is always watching me?”
His grip was tight on Tim’s shirt, not letting him go. It wasn’t like he’d run away, but he had never wanted to talk to Jason about… this. Sighing, Tim closed his eyes for a moment to gather his wits. “What did you read in those files?”
Jason avoided his eyes, burying his face against Tim’s shoulder. “I get it somehow. I… I died. I am dying in a year, ain’t I?”
“No!” Tim pulled him even closer, feeling the kid’s breath being pushed out of him. Jason held onto Tim more tightly in return.
“No, Jay, no. You won’t. You’re alive now, aren’t you? You would have died then. You did. – We won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
Jason’s speech was warm against his shirt, coming out so unusually tiny and meek. “I’m afraid. The way I’m - He… I-I don’t know what to do.”
God, where was Bruce? Why wasn’t he here instead of Tim?
He glanced at the stairs that led up to the study. Up there in the manor, Alfred would be asleep, trying to squeeze in a few hours before he needed to tend to whatever the night left of them at dawn.
Neither Alfred nor Bruce was here now, but Tim was, and if there was one thing Tim had learned ever since he took on the mantle, it was how nice a little company could be.
“You don’t need to know what to do,” he finally said, pushing the kid away a little to look him in the eye. “You’ll know when you’re ready. How do you feel about the Star Wars Marathon in the meantime?”