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It's only the second time they've worn the new costumes...uniforms, Tim corrects him in his head. They're sparring, practicing some things Bruce taught them, and so far they've been about evenly matched: Jason has a longer reach, more strength, and plenty of street brawling experience, but Tim's had enough martial arts to hold his own, especially because Jason is a lot more careful about pulling his punches. And because Tim is sneaky as hell.
Like when he uses that damn cape to trip Jason up and take him to the mat, grinning at him - until Jason rolls them over and pins him and kisses him.
Tim wraps his arms around Jason and kisses back.
"What the hell?"
Tim freezes, then scrambles away from Jason and jumps to his feet, every inch of visible skin turning red. "N...Nightwing!" he chokes. "I. We."
Jason gets up at a more leisurely pace and looks at 'Dick' appraisingly. Tim was right about the costume; the blue, turquoise, and glaring yellow would look better on a stage in some of the seedier clubs in Las Vegas than the streets of Gotham. The guy's staring down at the two of them, frowning. "What. Are you doing here?" he asks coldly.
"Training," says Jason, his own voice flat.
Dick's eyebrows go up behind the mask, but he doesn't look any less angry. "Really."
"Yeah. I'm Bluejay," and for the first time he's glad of the codename. He doesn't want to give this asshole his real name and he doesn't hold out his hand.
Dick gives him a once-over, taking in Jason's black and blue costume -- uniform, then turns to Tim. "And who are you supposed to be?"
Tim hasn't taken his eyes off Nightwing once, hasn't fucking blinked since he showed up. "I'm...R-Robin," he says, and Jason wants to wince at the tremor in his voice, but he doesn't.
Nightwing sucks in a breath and goes pale. "I see. And where did Bruce find the two of you?"
"That's none of your fucking business," snarls Jason.
"Jason," Tim's voice is reproachful, but he doesn't even look away from Dick. "He caught us."
"Caught you? Doing what?"
Is Tim really going to just tell him? Tim, who barely says two words when they're hanging out with Manny or the others? Jason turns to look at him. The kid's jaw is tight, his whole body tense as a strung wire, and...yeah, he really is going to tell him.
"Stealing," says Tim, his voice hard.
Dick's hands close into fists and he turns away. "Excuse me," he says, and starts up the stairs.
Tim waits until the clock swings shut again to rush up and slip through the secret door after him, quick and silent. Jason follows more slowly, and by the time he reaches the top, Tim is already crouched by Bruce's study, ear pressed to the closed door. Jason joins him.
"--my mother's nickname for me, my parents colors...you can't just give them away to someone else, Bruce! They're not yours to give! You fired me, remember? You made it really damn clear that you didn't need or want Robin around anymore. And now you pick up a couple of little thugs, a couple of common *thieves* from the street to replace me?"
Tim's face...he looks like he wants to throw up. Jason reaches for his hand, but Tim shakes his head and stands up and pushes the door open and just...walks in, leaving Jason to follow. Bruce and Dick look up as they enter.
"I didn't... You didn't tell me you fired him," Tim says to Bruce. "Why would you fire him?"
And Bruce turns away to stare out the window. For a long moment the silence hangs in the room, and then he says, "It was the right thing to do...for the wrong reasons."
"What does *that* mean?" asks Dick, looking exasperated.
"You were growing up. You were the leader of your own team. It was time for you to stop being a sidekick." He looks down. "But that wasn't why I fired you. I fired you because I was selfish and...frightened. After the Joker shot you, I...I wanted to kill him. You...if something happened to you, Dick..."
"Bruce," says Dick quietly. "I...all right. We'll talk about that later. But that still doesn't explain why you took on a couple of new kids in my place. A couple of criminals."
Tim flinches and Jason opens his mouth to object, but Tim gets there first. "You don't. Understand."
"No? Why don't you explain it to me," says Dick coldly, and Jason wants to hit him.
"I couldn't. I just. I couldn't let Jason do that anymore," says Tim, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and Jason feels himself flush. He wants to say something, anything, to stop Tim, but the words stick in his throat as Tim goes on. "I...he was doing it for me, so we could eat, so we could survive, but he hated it so much, and I couldn't. I had to find another way. I had to."
Jason has to close his eyes for a minute. It's just...there are times, even now, when he feels like Tim still doesn't trust him completely, and they don't even know these guys, not really, and Tim's telling them everything, giving away the fucking store, fucking bending over for them--
Jason forces his eyes open.
Dick's looking from one of them to the other, first with confusion, then with dawning horror and pity in his eyes, and Jason hates that look even more than he'd hated the scowl. "It's none of their god-damned business, Tim!" he says, furious and low. "They can't judge us - they don't know what it's like--"
"You don't know what it was like, Jason!" Tim's voice is high with anguish. "Not knowing if you were going to get hurt or...or sick...and that if you did it would be my fault." He draws himself up, glaring at Dick. "We never stole from...from good people, only drug dealers and. And people like that," he finishes lamely.
His words hang in the air for a moment. Then, "Tim," says Dick quietly, and for the first time it's like he's really looking at them, really seeing them. "You're right. It's not my place to judge."
Tim's shoulders slump, and he looks down at the gauntlets covering his hands. "I didn't know that Robin was your mother's name for you. I didn't. I didn't know. I thought you gave it up to be Nightwing, that you chose to..." He strips off the gauntlets and throws them to the floor. "I never..." He yanks off the cape, letting the heavy material slide to the ground. "I never wanted to take anything away from you, Dick," he says and rips off the mask, not even bothering with the solvent, and takes a couple of small patches of skin with it, and now there's blood mixing with with the sudden, silent tears pouring down his face, and Jason has to grab him and hold him tightly and if either Bruce or Dick dare to say a word...
They don't, and for a minute there's only the sound of muffled, strangled sobs and a few patters of rain on the window. Jason feels like he's being ripped apart from the inside - Tim never cries, not even when he'd slipped in that alley and gotten cut up, not when he was sick or scared or anything. He'd been so happy when he put on the Robin costume...Jason had never been able to make him happy like that, like it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one, like it was everything he'd ever wanted, and now...
"You're an asshole," he says to Dick.
"J-Jason, no--"
"Shut up. I know you worship the ground he fucking walks on, but he can't treat you like this!" yells Jason. And Tim looks up at him, and there's a plea in that look, and Jason gets that the kid doesn't want him to tell them everything, even though he just spilled his guts to them about Jason...all right. He takes a breath and looks straight at Dick. "You don't even know him. And you just treated him like he's something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Fuck you," says Jason. "Let's get out of here, Tim. We were doing just fine on our own. You don't need them."
Dick's expression is just...stunned, and it makes Jason feel a little better. He wants to shout at him some more, because these guys aren't worthy of Tim, because they don't even know what they have...
But then Dick crosses the room and touches Tim on the shoulder, turning him to face him, and he tilts Tim's chin up and meets his eyes. "Tim," he says softly, and wipes a streak of blood off the kid's cheek. Tim's eyes go wide. "Jason is right. I didn't mean to be...cruel." Tim starts to shake his head, but Dick speaks again before he can say anything. "Robin was...very important to me. It was a way to honor my parents. I didn't think I'd ever stop being Robin."
"You...you should come back. Batman needs you. He. He misses you."
Dick shakes his head. "I miss him, too. But he was right. I'm not a sidekick anymore. I'm not." He stops and swallows. "I'm not Robin anymore. And maybe it's right for someone else to take up the role. Maybe that's another way for me to honor my parents'...legacy. By not letting Robin...go away." Tim's shaking his head again, but Dick puts a gauntleted fingertip on his lips. "But not just anyone can wear the cape, Tim. Not just anyone can be Robin." Dick picks up the cape from the floor and shakes it out, then drapes it around Tim's shoulders, gently fastening it around his throat. "And from everything you've said and done tonight, I think you'd be the perfect candidate for the job. If you still want it, I would be honored if you would be the new Robin."
Tim blinks and touches the edge of the cape. "You're just. You're just trying to make me feel better," he says.
Dick smiles at him, wide and genuine and bright, and suddenly Jason can kind of see what drew Tim to this guy in the first place. "Robin doesn't lie," he says, and taps Tim on the cheek. "Remember that." Then he pulls Tim into a hug, heedless of blood, snot, and tears. Tim gasps, but he's not crying anymore, and Dick just holds him tighter.
And smiles at Jason over Tim's head, his expression rueful and apologetic and hopeful. When Tim lets go Dick squeezes his shoulder, then holds out his hand to Jason. "Could we start over?" he says. "I'm Dick."
Jason takes a breath and lets it out, then reluctantly clasps the guy's hand. "I'm Jason."