Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason Todd groans and slaps himself in the face.

The little, tiny, baby stalker is back on the roofs in Crime Alley, as if he thinks his fancy little camera will keep people away. He doesn’t seem to understand that a lot of people in the Alley would slit his throat just for the camera.

“I told him to stop it,” Jason says, rolling his eyes.

He almost keeps walking, almost ignores the entire thing. It’s not his job to protect the little brat. But, despite himself, Jason can’t bear to leave such a little kid in trouble. The tiny, baby stalker doesn’t seem to realize that Batman and Robin might swing through the Bowery, but they don’t really patrol it. Not really.

Jason hears rumors of them being in all kinds of other places in Gotham every day. He almost never hears of them being in the Alley. And if they were, he would know; Jason is still small enough to fit in all the good eavesdropping spots. He uses them as often as he can, so he doesn’t miss any blackmail on any of the key players.

A street kid has to do what a street kid has to do to survive. Jason’s chosen form of survival is intel.

He rolls his eyes and climbs the rusty fire-escape ladder to the roof of the building. If the little stalker is holding his sleeve over his face again and whispering, “I am the night,” while standing next to a gargoyle, Jason’s going to lose his mind.

It’s warm out, warmer than usual for this time of year, but Jason has an old jacket tied around his waist just in case. Last week, the tiny stalker hadn’t paid any attention to the weather report and came out when it was due to rain. The kid had ended up huddled at Jason’s side beneath an overhang for almost two hours.

He’s already tired from a long day when he finally clambers onto the roof; it makes him snappish.

“I told you not to come back. It’s dangerous!”

Tiny stalker pouts, all chipmunk cheeks and fluffy black hair and big blue eyes. It’s like he thinks he’s immune to human-traffickers just because he can see Batman and Robin through his camera.

Jason doesn’t understand how rich people can be so dumb. And there’s no question that the kid is rich; Jason’s learned how to tell the cost of something at a glance. There’s no way the brat’s camera doesn’t cost at least a thousand dollars.

“But you keep me safe!”

True. It’s a hassle, but true. 

Jason knows street kids are supposed to be selfish if they want to survive. But, frankly, he just can’t stand seeing the little kids get hurt. And this brat is tiny, small-boned and little and fragile. It’s impossible to see him and not want to protect him. 

He closes the distance between them and pokes the baby stalker right in his fat baby cheek. “That’s no reason to—”

The kid stamps his foot and puffs out his fat chipmunk cheeks. “You caught me when I almost fell off the roof last week in the rain. And you fought off that drunk guy who was trying to mug me. And you—”

Every item that the kid lists just makes Jason more and more sick to his stomach. Doesn’t the kid realize what he’s saying? Doesn’t he understand that all means he’ll be safe if he stays at home in his rich people mansion?

“That doesn’t mean—”

Baby stalker stabs Jason right in the chest with a pudgy little finger and snaps, “You keep saving me. So I’m your responsibility now!”

How does that make any sense?

The baby stalker’s bright blue eyes tear up and his bottom lip wobbles. It’s blatant manipulation. But, hell, Jason falls for it anyway. Even though he knows they will be crocodile tears, he can’t stand to watch a kid cry.

“What?” Jason asks, stunned. 

The brat wrinkles his whole face and continues to pout. He folds his arms across his chest and tries to glare; honestly, he looks like an angry fluffy kitten whose ball of string was taken away. It’s not even the slightest bit intimidating. All it makes Jason want to do is pet his head until he stops looking like he’s going to hiss.

“Take responsibility for your actions!” the kid huffs, forehead all wrinkly.

Jason kind of hates that he’s resorted to arguing with a little kid over something this completely and utterly bizarre. Even for Gotham, this conversation makes less than no sense.

“You take responsibility for your actions!”

The tiny stalker glares and says, “I don’t have to! I’m not the oldest brother!”

“What?” 

Because … what?

Jason’s heart is in his throat. He doesn’t understand what he did to make this little kid trust him so much. But … Jason doesn’t ever want to lose that trust. 

“If you let me get hurt, I’m telling Batman on you!” the brat says, pointing right between Jason’s eyes.

Jason has to cross his eyes to see the pudgy finger; it makes everything go blurry. What … what is happening?! How is this his life?!

“You want me to be your brother?” Jason asks in a daze. 

Why? Why would anyone want him as a brother? Especially a rich, little kid who can probably have whatever he wants. Then again, the kid is out here overnight, constantly, without his parents seeming to care.

Maybe the brat just wants someone to love him?

Jason never even thought about being a brother before. There was no point in wishing for things that wouldn’t happen. Besides, he wouldn’t wish Willis Todd on anyone, especially not a sibling he’s meant to love and protect.

“You are my brother!” the kid yells with the fierceness of a lion cub.

Jason’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly, while those words brand themselves into his brain. He … he has a brother. He has a brother now! What’s he supposed to do with a brother? 

“Okay,” he says, mind still spinning. “Okay.”

The kid lights up like he’s a spotlight, his smile wide and eyes sparkling with happiness as he throws himself at Jason. Jason catches him and tries not to cry as his baby brother hugs him more tightly than Jason has ever been hugged before.

“I’m Tim!”

Tim. His brother’s name is Tim.

“Jason,” he answers.

Tim laughs, as if Jason’s said something particularly amusing, and says, “I know.”

Jason’s not touching that with a ten-foot pole. He’s too tired to pick at a statement like that. He never planned for Tim, and now Jason doesn’t want to imagine life without him. No matter what, Jason’s going to keep Tim safe. 

He’s going to be the best big brother ever. 

Chapter Text

Jason stares at the folder in Talia al Ghul’s hand warily. He’s not an idiot; he realizes she’s trying to play him. He’s not going to fall for whatever her agenda is, though. As soon as he can control the last vestiges of the Pit Madness, he’s gone.

“What’s that?” he asks, because he just wants to get whatever this is over and done with.

A smirk curls her lips for just an instant, before a pitying look replaces it. She sets the folder down on the table in front of him and says, “It looks like Bruce has replaced you.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Jason flicks open the folder and freezes. No. No. No!

Talia keeps talking, a dark twist to her tone, but Jason doesn’t process a single word she says. Because that’s Tim. That’s Tim, his baby brother, as Robin. That’s Tim wearing an identical replica of the suit Jason was murdered in.

Jason’s breathing speeds up and he jumps to his feet; his chair slams into the ground behind him. 

“Shall I help you plan his demise?”

That Jason hears. He hears it all too clear.

The Pit Madness surges and he embraces it fully, instead of shunting it aside, as he’s taught himself to do. Talia doesn’t flinch away from him, but she does go statue-still.

“If you ever, in any way harm him, you’re going to wish you left me catatonic, Talia. Because I will burn your world to the ground and spit on the ashes,” Jason says.

He’s serious, too. The League might not think he’s much of a threat, seeing as he’s entirely refused to kill during his time here, but he will absolutely break that rule if any of the Shadows lay a hand on Tim. Sometimes, rules are made to be broken.

He doesn’t care how horrified and upset Bruce would be. Jason will kill to keep his baby brother safe. And he’ll sleep peacefully after.

“Isn’t that a little dramatic, Jason?” Talia asks, raising a mocking eyebrow. “He’s just a replacement Robin.”

“I couldn’t care less about Robin, Talia,” Jason says as he snatches up his weapons and puts them on. 

He has to get home now. Right. Now. There’s no telling what’s already happened. He was only staying to try and control the Pit Madness better before going home. But this? Tim wearing Robin’s colors after Jason was murdered in them?

Nothing can keep him with the League now that he knows. 

It’s kind of ironic that in trying to incite him, surely part of her plan to get him to stop being “a slave to Batman’s moral ideals” and finally kill someone, she’s cost the League his presence entirely.

“Oh?” Talia says, a mocking taunt. “Then why the rush?”

Jason’s not an idiot. He knows that Tim had to have gone to Bruce, probably a misguided attempt to carry on Jason’s legacy as Robin. But Bruce should have said no. After what happened to Jason, Bruce never should have let another kid into the Robin suit. 

“Because I need to punch B in the face.”

Jason storms into Gotham like a bat into hell.

He rides his motorcycle right to the edge of the Wayne Estate, scales the fence, and then picks the lock to the front door. Jason never once used the key Bruce gave him; it was more fun and more important to keep his skills sharp. 

Jason throws the door open.

He marches right past Alfred Pennyworth as he gasps “Master Jason?” and to the foot of the staircase, where Bruce is blinking repeatedly and swaying, pale.

“Jaylad?”

He may have, in response to the aching hope in Bruce’s voice, pulled his punch a little bit. But only a little. Smashing his fist into the bastard’s face feels amazing. It rocks Bruce, but doesn’t put him on the floor. Something Jason is certainly capable of.

Bruce rubs his jaw and breathes, “You’re real.”

The sound of running feet from the direction of the secret entrance to the Cave has Jason spinning, his heart in his throat. Sure enough, Tim sprints into view. Oh, thank all the deities he does and doesn’t believe in. His brother is still alive.

“Jason!” Tim says, a big smile on his face, a hint of tears in his eyes.

Jason grabs Tim and hugs him tightly, shoving away the last remnants of the Pit Madness from the emotional roller-coaster he’s just been on. He’ll never be responsible for hurting his little brother.

“Hey, Timbit.”

He tucks Tim under his arm. His baby brother is a baby bird now, apparently. And he’s still way too tiny. It doesn’t seem like he’s grown at all since the last time Jason saw him. 

(Jason hadn’t meant to be gone so long. Hadn’t meant to die. He was going to come right back to Gotham as soon as he found his mom. He just wanted to know where he had come from. That’s it. He never should have gone looking; he should have been content with what he had.)

“Jaylad, I—”

He stabs Bruce in the chest with one pointed finger and snaps, “This isn’t how you parent, B! After what happened to me, how dare you take another kid out as Robin? How dare you let my baby brother put himself in danger!”

“Jason,” Tim huffs, “I can take care of—”

“No, you can’t! You literally made me the boss of you, Tim! You’re not going out as Robin again. No more capes and no more patrols!” Jason states.

His heart can’t take it. He can’t stand the fear of wondering if Tim will come home from patrol. Even if Jason is out with him, who’s to say they won’t be overpowered or dosed with something or kidnapped and tortured and killed?

Screw that. Screw all of it.

Tim is going to school and then home. So is Jason. 

If Bruce and Dick Grayson want to prance around as vigilantes and have short life expectancies, that’s on them. Jason’s not going to let Tim suffer like that. If he really wants to help, he can coordinate things from the Cave until he’s an adult.

Even then, Jason will do everything he can to change Tim’s mind about hitting the streets when he turns eighteen.

“But Dick taught me—”

“Dick isn’t your brother!” Jason says, terrified for a moment that Talia was right about the word replacement, but in a much more beloved role. “I’m your brother, Timbit, and I’m the one responsible for your safety. I’m saying no. You can’t dress up as a hero and punch people.”

“But—”

“No!”

A pleased little smile curls Tim’s lips, the stubbornness vanishing as he leans his forehead against Jason’s chest. “Okay.”

That one word does nothing to soothe Jason’s fears, because Tim is a lying liar who lies. He’ll pretend to agree with you to your face and then goes and does whatever the hell he thinks is best. But, maybe once Jason knows for sure why Tim became Robin, he’ll find a way to get Tim to change his mind.

Regardless, Dick hasn’t managed to usurp Jason’s place in his brother’s heart while he was dead. He has to let that be enough for now.

“Thank you,” he breathes against Tim’s hair.

Jason picks up Tim with one arm. He hates how light and tiny Tim still is. Shouldn’t he be bigger by now? Is he sick? Has he been sick? Jason doesn’t know and he hates that he wasn’t around to care for his baby brother.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jason says. 

He needs to hear about everything that happened while he was gone. Everything. It’s killing him that there’s almost an entire year he’s missed of Tim’s life. He wishes he was here for the whole thing, because then Tim never would’ve put on that cursed suit.

How many times has Tim been hurt while he was gone? Five? Fifty? A hundred?

Does … does Tim have knife and bullet scars now?

“Where are you going?” Bruce inquires, voice a mix between a demand and frantic worry.

Jason heads for the open front door, glaring over his shoulder at Bruce as he calls, “I’m keeping Tim safe until you realize kids belong at home, not on rooftops in the dark with human monsters. And we’re not stepping foot in the Manor again until you promise me no more Robins.”

“But Jason—”

“But nothing, Baby Bird.”

Tim huffs a laugh and pokes him in the cheek, like Jason used to do to him when they were little kids. “I live here.”

“Yeah, no,” Jason says. Because he’s not okay with that. Not until Bruce makes that promise and Jason actually believes him. “You live with me now.”

“And where do you live?” Tim counters in that sassy little voice he uses when he’s questioning Jason’s intelligence.

Which, to be fair, Tim has a point. It’s not like Jason actually has a place in Gotham anymore. Even his boltholes have probably been taken over by enterprising street kids.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, ignoring the heat he can feel in his cheeks.

So what if he didn’t have a plan for this? He will figure it out. Anywhere is better than here.

“Ah, Master Jason, would you like to stay for lunch before leaving? Master Timothy has yet to eat today,” Alfred asks, a gentle smile on his face.

“Seriously, Tim? I die and you forget how to feed yourself? This is why you need a keeper! I’m going to cook for you and you’re going to like it!” Jason snaps, frustrated. “Alfred, I’m using the kitchen.”

“Of course, Master Jason. You know you’re always welcome in my kitchen.”

Tim really is too light. Jason really hopes his death didn’t destroy Tim’s appetite with grief. He should have been here to take care of his baby brother. He never should have left. Never should have died. 

Jason turns toward the kitchen, determined to make a lunch that Tim won’t be able to resist, but pauses when a large hand lands on his shoulder.

“Jaylad, stay here. Please stay here.”

Bruce’s tone hits Jason like a punch to the gut. It’s all love and wonder and desperation. He wants to stay. He does. 

But—

He looks down at Tim in his arms and knows he has to stand his ground.

“I told you—”

“I promise, Jaylad,” Bruce says, walking around Jason so that he can look in his eyes. “I promise on my parents’ grave that I won’t ever take kid vigilantes on patrol with me ever again.”

Jason shudders and tears his gaze away from Bruce’s. Tim is looking up at him with his blue eyes full of hope, the manipulative little brat. It’s — it’s not fair that both his dad and his brother are looking at him like that at the same time. How’s he supposed to resist?

“Fine,” Jason concedes, drawing the word out as if it has several syllables instead of just one.

Bruce wraps his arms around Jason and Tim and whispers, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, feeling choked up as Bruce and Tim hug him tightly, “me too.”