Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cold. That was the first thing that registered as Jason stirred from a not so restful sleep. Not that the cold was unusual, he’d had trouble regulating his body temperature without being on a Pit high since he woke up from his grave three years ago. And based on the distinct lack of a faint green light in the otherwise dark room, he’d say he was not currently acting as a human glowstick. That and the fact he didn’t want to strangle something and claw it open with his bare hands right now. Yeah, that latter bit was probably more telling, now that he thought about it. But they were both annoying.

He sighed and reached for his blankets which had somehow slipped off during the night, but his hand hit something… Larger. It felt like a pile of blankets, sure, but first off, how did his blankets make it into such a wrapped up ball when he’d fallen asleep with them nicely on top of him? And second, he didn’t actually have enough blankets to make up a wad of fluff that big . Human size, to be exact… 

Well, small human, anyway.

Or several pillows. Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d dreamt about tying someone up or something and wrapped all his blankets around his pillows. Made perfect sense. 

He flopped back down on the pillow under his head and grabbed hold of a couple blankets to drape them back over himself, but after a quick tug, something caught. Something heavy. Like 130lbs kind of heavy. Human size…

The pile rolled over, hogging the blankets even tighter and more securely around the small heap, and Jason bolted out of bed with a start. 

He blinked, giving his head a moment to clear and fully adjust to the light before staring at the lump that used to be his blankets. It was breathing. Short and ragged, but deep enough to be asleep. There was a human in his bed. 

There was a human in his bed.

There was. A human. In his bed.

He stared in shock for several more moments before every part of his common sense and self preservation started mentally screaming at whoever this idiot was. His apartment was right off Crime Alley of all things, who in their right mind would ever enter a stranger’s apartment without the intent of robbing, raping, or murdering them? And who the hell would enter a stranger’s apartment and fall asleep in their bed?! 

They were drunk. Or high. They had to be. There was no other logical explanation, a native of the Alley would never have done this and a stranger would never have come near the Alley in the first place. 

But even that explanation didn’t make total sense as any self respecting Gothamite still has enough preservation instincts not to do something this insane even while under the influence.

The pile tensed and rolled over in their sleep with a muffled wince. Quiet enough the human was obviously used to silencing their pain so often they did so even in their sleep. If Jason wasn’t a trained vigilante and assassin, he never would have heard it. 

He took a step closer to the bed and the small face that had turned toward him when he caught it. Black mess of hair falling around a green domino mask. 

Robin.

The world started shifting colors, a familiar green illuminating the dark room as Jason stared into the sleeping face of the Replacement. His Replacement. 

His Replacement. Sleeping in his bed. ‘Cause apparently taking his dad and his brother and his Alfred and his home and his title wasn’t enough. No, now he was literally stealing Jason’s bed.  

How had he even found him?! Jason had only been in Gotham for two months, he’d barely made a name for himself and he was still at least a month away from the end game, he hadn’t even started dropping hints to the Big Bad Bat yet that he was his messed up dead little soldier boy. Bats had barely heard news of the duffle bag, he shouldn’t even be taking him seriously yet, so why was there a Robin in his bed?!

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe for whatever reason Robin didn’t know this was the Red Hood’s apartment. Maybe he’d stumbled in here by accident. Maybe the universe was finally showing Jason a little favor and decided to just hand him the bird to do with whatever he wanted. 

The green grew brighter around the room as Jason grinned, teeth bared and dangerous. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but he was flexible. He could make it work. He was ready to draw the Batman’s attention, even if he hadn’t planned on it. 

First thing’s first though, there were tracking chips that needed to be taken care of. 

Jason grabbed a domino mask and fitted it over his eyes before moving toward the lump on his bed and slowly extracting the tiny human from the blanket mass, careful not to wake him up yet. There were two chips, one in the bird’s glove and one under his belt, that one pressure sensitive in case anyone ever tried to strip the kid of his weapons without deactivating the emergency signal. But Jason was a former Robin. He had to take that suit off more times than he could dream of counting, removing the tracker without setting off the call for help was a piece of cake. 

Both chips in hand and the kid still sound asleep and tangled in as many blankets as Jason had from waist up, he knew exactly how to send the Bat on a wild goose chase. 

He stalked out of the apartment, silent as any good--or in his case bad--Robin was, took the stairs down to the parking garage and went straight for his neighbor’s work van. A delivery van, to be exact. All set for deliveries in a few hours. He broke into the vehicle with no problem and picked a package at random to carefully slit open. Turned out to be a purse, which was perfect. Jason slipped the chips into a small pocket on the inside before taping the whole parcel back up like it had never happened and heading back upstairs. 

The delivery van would take off in about an hour when Sam took off for work and it would make several stops, all potential places Robin could have been taken to and his chips left behind should Bruce check where the map history had been. And when the package was finally delivered, it would end up in someone’s house. In someone’s purse. And then out on the street somewhere. Batman would have far too many potential places for his precious little bird to have separated from his chips. And by the time Batman ever figured it out, he’d be too late. Again.

Jason grinned to himself as he made his way back up the stairs and through his apartment door. He could still hear the baby bird breathing. Perfect. He grabbed his gear from where he’d dropped it all in the living room and suited up before heading back to deal with the kid. What would it be, beat him black and blue or pin him to the wall like a moth under glass? Or maybe tie him up first to give him up of just getting untied only to slap him back down again. Or he could slowly cut that horrific suit he shouldn’t be wearing off the kid. And make sure every cut is deep enough to take more than the suit. 

Jason grinned to himself, standing over the sleeping form on his bed. There were so many options. He was going to enjoy this. 

“Thought you were safe, ey Replacement? ” His mechanical voice echoed between the thin walls, not caring who it disturbed. Not like any Gothamite of the Alley would report to the Bat anyway. 

But the brat didn’t wake up. Or stir. His breathing didn’t even hitch. He remained totally sound asleep, curled up in a tight little ball with Jason’s blankets. 

Jason pursed his lips in annoyance and hit the light switch, flooding the room with yellow flickering brightness. 

“ Replacement ,” he growled again, this time darker. More menacing. Slightly louder. 

And still nothing. 

What, was he going to have to start the torture just to get this kid to stir?

Fine. Let it never be said Jason wasn’t a patient man. 

He reached down and ripped the first blanket off the kid, effectively rolling him over on the bed in the process. This time, at least, the kid stirred a bit. Only a bit though. And it was more of a moaning gasp than stirring, but at least it was a reaction. 

Jason took the second blanket and pulled that too, followed by the third, but he stopped when he saw the sheet wrapped around the kid’s much too tiny--without the blanket fluff--body. 

The sheet, Jason’s sheet, Jason’s white , clean sheet, was bloodstained.  

Oh no. 

Did that mean…

Jason nearly paled at the thought and held up the last blanket he’d pulled off the kid. Sure enough, there were several red blotches all over the blue and white quilt. 

Seriously, who bleeds on a quilt?! Those things are expensive and take so much time and love to make, who would bleed on one?! 

Robin, apparently. That’s who. 

Jason paused as he realized that also meant the Replacement was bleeding . And didn’t have a healing factor. Which might be part of the reason he wasn’t waking up and was definitely going to be a problem if Jason wanted to choose how the kid died. And bleeding out wasn’t nearly dramatic enough so Jason was going to have to patch the kid up. 

Great. Absolutely great. 

He groaned and grabbed the medical kit from a drawer in his bedside table before pulling the sheet off the kid and stripping him of the hideous costume Bruce called a uniform. And then he stood back in shock. 

This was… Worse than he thought. Nearly every inch of the kid’s skin was littered with different sizes of black and blue circles and there was a gash above his eye Jason somehow hadn’t seen before. Besides that, there was a trickle of blood seeping from a gash in his left bicep and another on his left thigh, just below his boxers. All three wounds looked like he had attempted to stop the bleeding but hadn’t cleaned them out or stitched them up yet. Great. 

Where was Batman in all this, anyway? 

Never mind, it didn’t matter. Jason had work to do. 

He sighed and pulled out the disinfectant. This, at least, would be fun. Just because he had to patch the kid up didn’t mean he couldn’t start the torture in the process. 

His lips quirked up to a grin as he poured a generous amount of the burning liquid onto the kid’s leg, grinning wider as he finally got a reaction. 

Robin cried out in pain and shot upright, swatting at the hands holding his leg still, but Jason didn’t budge. 

“Well look who’s awake.” Jason’s mechanized voice echoed through the helmet as he finished cleaning out the wound and started stitching it up. “Ready for a bit of fun, baby bird?”

Robin blinked when he saw who was patching him up, for a moment staring into the whites of Jason’s helmet before yawning and flopping back down on his pillow. “Wha’ver you say…” he barely managed to slur out before his eyes closed again, to Jason’s utter horror. He was the Red Hood , crime lord, assassin, terror of the Alley and Gotham’s underworld and this child was just… Falling asleep. As if he was nothing.

“ Robin, ” he growled as the addressed peeked a single masked eye open. “Do you have any idea who I am?” ‘Cause he couldn’t, right? There was no way the kid understood half of who Jason was. That was also why he showed up here in the first place, right? There was no other explanation. 

“Mhm…” the bird mumbled, sinking back into the now bloodstained pillow. “Red Hood. Protector of Crime Alley. Crime lord. Protector of the innocent. Murderer of drug dealers.” 

Jason froze and stared. What. How. Why. 

The kid said it himself. Jason was a murderer. And a crime lord. Someone Batman should be hunting. Someone Bat definitely would be hunting as soon as Batman could find any trace of him. So what the hell was Batman’s sidekick doing in his bed?!

“Enemy of Batman,” he finally found the words to growl out. “ And Robin. ”

The kid didn’t react to that, just rolled over and started groping around for a blanket. There was no way he understood what was really at stake here. He was a worse Robin than Jason had ever dreamed. Did he really have to spell it out for him? 

“I could kill you.”

Robin groaned at that, rolling over and finally waking up enough to properly look Jason in his masked eyes and speak clearly. 

“Then do it.”

What.

Jason froze for the--he didn’t even know how many times this was tonight. Way too many. He wanted to tell himself Robin was just asleep and not thinking straight, but for the first time since he’d shown up, Robin was finally not asleep. He was staring straight at him, dead serious. And there was something terrifyingly resigned in his expression. 

Robin rolled his eyes at the Red Hood’s shocked silence and pushed himself up into a sitting position to better give him the most deadpanned, unamused Batman glare Jason had ever seen on anyone other than Bruce. 

“Look, Hood. I’m tired. One way or another, I’m going to sleep. Now make up your mind which way that’s gonna be and leave me alone .”

With that, the kid grabbed the pillow he’d abandoned, hugged it close to his chest and flopped face first onto the bed, asleep again within seconds, leaving Jason to stare after him. 

He had no words. 

Nothing. 

His mouth hung open under his helmet and Robin was none the wiser. 

The kid had a death wish. 

He literally, truly, had a death wish . That’s why he’d come to the Red Hood’s apartment. He was hoping Jason would kill him.

Where was Bruce? Why didn’t Bruce know or care that his son, his Robin , wanted to die? Where was he that the kid could just waltz up to a crime lord and practically ask him to pull the trigger without Batman having a clue? And didn’t this Robin have his own father still alive? Where was that guy? Did no one care about this child? 

Jason’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as his eyes traveled over the kid’s back. Some of those wounds looked suspiciously like…

Oh. 

Oh.

The kid was being abused . He was being abused enough he thought the den of the Red Hood felt safer than his own home. 

Oh hell no.

Someone was going to die. The kid might be a pain in the butt and a replacement but he was Jason’s pain in the butt and replacement and no one else was gonna touch the kid except Jason. He died when and how Jason said he could. And anyone who got a notion to argue that would have a nice introduction to Jason’s guns. Or fists, depending on his mood. 

But right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the kid cleaned up. He wasn’t gonna be “resting” from bloodloss. Sleep, death, or torture at Jason’s hands, but not bloodloss from injuries delivered by a family member. 

Wow, Jason was such a hypocrite. 

He sighed before pulling out a roll of bandages and getting to work on the kids wounds. 

Chapter Text

Jason sat on a chair by the door sporting the latest in full body armor, leather jacket, and red helmet. Afternoon light streamed in from the window, reflecting off his guns as he cleaned them. The kid was still in his bed, still asleep, having barely stirred since he’d woken up to practically beg Jason to kill him. Jason had finished dressing his wounds hours ago, then cleaned the apartment when he was done and stress cooked a bucket load of breakfast foods for when the brat woke up. Which he still hadn’t. And it was now well into the afternoon. 

Jason had no idea if the kid knew who he was or not--who he really was, not just as the Red Hood. He also had no idea if Bruce knew or how much Bruce knew. After all, it wasn’t like the kid had stumbled across Jason’s apartment by accident, he had intentionally sought out the Red Hood, which meant he knew where Hood lived. And whether or not the Bat knew was yet to be seen. And if the Bat did know, did he know this was where Robin had gone? Did he care? 

Whatever the case, Jason had questions. 

He narrowed his eyes at a noise coming from the general direction of the bed as the kid rolled over and rubbed at his eyes. He yawned, staring up at the ceiling and clearly trying to place where he’d fallen asleep at before Jason graciously interrupted his thoughts. 

“Morning, sleepy head.”

Robin bolted out of bed and into a fighting stance at the mechanized voice, only then realizing he was wearing nothing but boxers, bandages, and a domino mask. Absolutely zero weapons on his person or within reach, and he was squaring off against a fully geared and armed crime lord. And ex-Robin but if the kid didn’t already know that, he didn’t need to. 

Hood snorted and turned his attention to the gleaming, freshly oiled barrel of his gun. 

“Clothes on the end of the bed, and don’t give me that look, you came here.”

Jason could see the kid hesitate for several seconds as he looked between the indicated articles of clothing folded on the end of the bed and the unknown rogue sitting by the wall. He blinked several times, clearly not fully awake yet, before he eventually relaxed, shrugged, and reached for the clothes, pulling on a pair of grey sweat pants and a plain red t-shirt, both several sizes too big for him. Jason didn’t care, he’d manage. 

“So.” Jason looked up again when he was finished and holstered his pistol. “How much do you remember about last night?”

He watched the kid’s eyes dart around the room for several more seconds before he said anything. When he finally did, it was resigned and tired despite having slept for nearly twelve hours.

“You chose natural sleep.”

Yes. Natural sleep. As opposed to death. Because Robin had given Hood a choice between sleep or death as his form of rest and Jason chose to let him sleep. The kid did remember. He remembered what he had said. It hadn’t only been something he said ‘cause he was tired. He knew exactly what the words meant. And for him to be so resigned about it even now? That meant that this was the norm. 

And the truth of those words hit Jason like a crowbar. 

The kid was actively suicidal and no one in his life seemed to care. Bruce hadn’t noticed his latest traffic light had gone missing, or if he had he sure hadn’t cared to come looking for the kid, Dick was similarly nowhere to be found, and the brat’s biological father? Jack Drake hadn’t noticed or didn’t care if the lack of a police report on a missing teenager meant anything. 

The kid had no one looking out for him. 

And he wanted to die. 

And somehow, Jason couldn’t convince himself those two things weren’t related. 

He stared at the kid for what was probably an uncomfortably long time, looking the kid up and down, judging his past, present, and most likely future, but the younger didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, just stood there and yawned, looking way too small in Jason’s oversized clothes. He eventually sighed and pushed himself up from the chair to move toward the kitchen. 

“There’s food,” he called back to the bedroom as he pulled out a plate of eggs, hash browns, pancakes, sausage, and homemade muffins from the warming setting in the oven, along with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge. “You’re eating and then you’re answering questions.”

He was a little worried the kid would go for the windows and just disappear, but if his homelife sucked badly enough for him to come to Jason in the first place, the chances of him sticking around for breakfast were pretty high. Even if it did come at the price of answering a few questions. Like why the hell he came to Jason . 

Sure enough, the kid was only a few seconds behind Jason, immediately making himself at home and searching every cabinet for… something.

Jason watched him rummage through half the kitchen, his deadpan growing with every space violated. 

“Robin.”

The kid didn’t stop or acknowledge him, but he did answer Jason’s question before Jason had a chance to ask it.

“You got any coffee?”

Coffee. Because of course the baby bird wanted coffee, that explained so much about his size. 

“No. I have tea.”

The brat paused to turn to Jason and give him the most disgusted look Jason had ever imagined he’d see on the “well behaved” heir to the Drake estate. Utter disbelief and horror. Which would have been decently comical if it weren’t for how sad it was.

Jason sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just sit down and eat your breakfast, kid.”

Robin grunted something along the lines of a threat but moved to obey as he pulled up a stool and Jason set the food in front of him. He stood back and watched for a couple minutes as the kid dug in, acting as if Alfred never fed him. He hit the eggs first, before systematically moving to every portion of breakfast and munching on one of the muffins last. And despite everything, the kid still looked half asleep, like he wanted to go back to bed now that he’d eaten properly. Seriously, did no one look after this kid?

Jason sighed and pulled up a stool across from the brat. 

“Alright, spill. How’d you find me, why’d you find me, and who else knows?”

Robin blinked at him from over the top of his muffin, the white slits of his domino mask momentarily going paper thin before opening back up to what somehow managed to look like tired eyes. Why did that even make sense? 

Jason tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waited, but it was still several minutes before Robin moved his mouth for anything besides small bites of lemon blueberry muffin. When he did speak, it wasn’t worth the wait.

“Got any coffee?”

Hood nearly spluttered. He’d already answered that question and the kid very clearly did not need coffee, he needed proper sleep and food, not socially acceptable liquid bean drugs. 

“...no. I have tea.”

Robin pursed his lips and glared at Jason, his black hair falling into his face like a cascade of fury and darkness. 

“Fine,” he finally muttered. “Give me your strongest.”

He didn’t need that. He really didn’t need that. The kid was clearly addicted to caffeine and didn’t need more of it, but it was growing increasingly more obvious that Jason wasn’t going to get any answers until the kid got his daily dose. 

He sighed and pushed up from the counter to make the kid a strong cup of black tea, which he set in front of the zombie as soon as he finished. It still took the kid several moments to register that the foreign smell that wasn’t coffee did in fact contain caffeine, but once he made the connection he downed the entire thing without touching any cream or sugar and the drink was gone within about two seconds. He hadn’t even waited for it to cool. 

Jason sighed and sat back down at his stool, giving the kid a minute for the caffeine to take effect and waiting for his eyes to look a little more like they were actually seeing the world around him before Jason dared to venture another question. Once the kid stopped worshiping his muffin and started glancing around the apartment, Jason figured that was good enough.

“Who else knows where I live?”

“Hm?” Robin looked up at him, tapping his fingers on the table as he processed the question before shrugging. “No one.”

Hood snorted. No one, sure. Because Robin, with all the training every kid in that position was forced to take, just waltzed right into a crime lord’s home without leaving any clue as to where he went. 

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

The kid shrugged again as he peered into his empty mug, absently smacking his lips as if they were dry. They weren’t. Jason had just fed him. 

He sighed though and took the mug, setting a new tea bag inside and refilling it with hot water. 

“You don’t have to believe me, I guess,” the kid stated as if Jason’s life and sanity didn’t depend on Bruce not finding him. “I didn’t tell anyone. I tracked where you lived weeks ago, figured I’d tell Batman when he asked for my help.”

What.

“But he hasn’t yet so he doesn’t know.”

No, wait, slow down. The kid tracked Hood weeks ago?! First, how, second, how hadn’t he noticed, third--

“Wait, what do you mean Batman hasn’t asked?” Jason set the mug down in front of the kid, waiting as he inhaled that one as well before answering. It took him slightly longer this time, a few seconds at least, before he set the mug down empty and blinked up at Jason like Jason was totally ignorant on the things of Robin. And Batman. 

To be fair, the kid probably thought he was. 

“He didn’t want me involved in the case. I pinged you as a threat before he did and already had information on you before he told me to stay away. Didn’t want to tell him I was already involved without him and it isn’t like he thought I could help anyway, so he can figure it out on his own till he asks what I know.”

Right. So Bruce didn’t value the kid. And was paranoid of him getting hurt. He blamed himself for Jason’s death. That made sense. Stupid, idiotic, just like Bruce, but it made sense. The overdramatic prick would internalize and beat himself up for what happened to Jason instead of blaming the one person who should have taken the heat. The one person worthy of Bruce’s anger. The one person that needed to pay. 

And he was going to pay. 

Bruce would make him pay. 

He had to. 

This plan couldn’t fail. 

“--ood? Earth to Hood?”

Jason snapped back to the moment, wondering how the kid could tell so quickly he’d been lost in through despite the helmet. 

“You good there, Hood?”

Right. He’d been in the middle of interrogating a teenager. Though the kid had answered all the important questions. He’d found Hood because he was a more competent vigilante than Batman, though Jason still wasn’t totally sure how the kid had found him, he probably tailed him or set cameras nearby or something, Jason would have to look out for those, but at least he knew why the kid found him. And no one else knew where he was. Which was both relieving and hugely concerning. 

If no one else knew where the kid was, did that mean he didn’t trust anyone ? Did that mean in his escape to get away from the life he was running from there was no one he could turn to? Jack Drake was probably abusing the kid if the belt shaped welts on his back and thighs was anything to go by. And Bruce was...well… Bruce. Brooding and out of touch with anything related to emotions. 

But what about Dick? Sure he hadn’t been around when Jason lived there, but if the news reports about the frequent team ups between Bludhaven’s show off and Gotham’s masked freak club were any indication, that had changed after Jason died. Surely the kid could at least turn to Dick, right?

Right?

Maybe not if they weren’t close. Dick had always meant well, but he didn’t always know how to deal with deep topics. And there was no telling how often the two talked outside the masks anyway. Maybe Dick was on thin ice with Batman and didn’t want to push his luck with the sidekick. 

The Replacement was staring at him when he looked up. Apparently he was tired of being ignored, just peering into the whites of Jason’s helmet like he could see into his soul. 

Who knows, maybe the baby creep could…

“Why come to me?” Hood finally asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. 

Robin just shrugged like it was nothing to be concerned about. Like having no one to turn to and seeking out a trigger happy crime lord were totally normal things any kid goes through. “I’m benched. Not supposed to be out and I got hurt. Batman would kill me if he found out.”

Metaphorically kill him, right? At this point, who knew.

“And what about your family? Why couldn’t you go home?”

Jason felt something clench in his gut as he formed the question. He really didn’t want to know the answer to this one. But he had to hear it from the kid’s own mouth. 

Once again, he just shrugged. “Didn’t want to.”

Didn’t want to. Because a kid not wanting to go home was normal. A kid being scared of their dad--because that’s what the Replacement, that’s what Tim, was--was totally normal. And nothing to be concerned about. 

As far as Jason was concerned, that was damning evidence for Jack Drake.

He sighed and went to his weapons case to grab a few more rounds of ammo. Not that Jack Drake would be hard to deal with, but he might have security and one never knows. Besides, the more “warning shots” narrowly missed essential parts of the man’s body the better. After tonight, he would never dare to lay a hand on his kid again. Or if he dared, he’d never have another chance.

Robin was frowning at Hood’s back though, Jason could just feel the Pretender’s eyes on him.

“Ummm… Hood?”

Jason didn’t stop working, just grunted to acknowledge he was listening.

“What are you doing?”

What, like it wasn’t obvious?

He turned around, facing the kid, determination and rage lining every muscle. He was a little surprised--and slightly impressed if he was being totally honest with himself--that the Replacement didn’t flinch. He could apparently tell the green lining Jason’s vision wasn’t aimed at him.

“You’ve been watching me for weeks,” Hood practically growled. “You should know what happens when someone takes to abusing a kid.”

Silence reigned for several seconds as the kid blinked up at Jason, brows knit together in confusion. He had been watching the Red Hood for weeks now, this really shouldn’t have been confusing. 

“Well yeah…” he started, not even trying to deny what was happening at home. Good, at least he wasn’t being gaslit. He knew he didn’t deserve what was being done to him. “But… What? You’re just gonna go after Batman? Point blank? Thought you were smarter than that…”

What? Why would Hood be going after Batman…? 

Oh. The kid didn’t know Jason knew who he was. He assumed Hood thought he was Batman’s kid. And that Jason would assume Batman was the one abusing him.

“I am smarter than that, Pretender. I’m going after Jack Drake.”

And that… That shut the kid up. Jason could have dropped a pea and listened to it splat on the tile floor. A pea, mind you, because pins aren’t very quiet. And there wasn’t a single sound in the safehouse except the blood draining from the Pretender’s face. Hood couldn’t even hear him breathing. He probably wasn’t.

They stared at each other for several more seconds before Jason turned around and went back to gathering his gear, preparing for the hunt. Another four seconds and wood screeched against tile as the kid shoved his stool back from the counter and padded after Jason in his bare feet. Because the kid was gonna try to stop him. Apparently. 

Maybe Jason had been wrong about him not being gaslit…

“Hood, stop!” he reached up and grabbed Jason’s arm as he loaded a fourth gun. “You can’t kill him!”

Jason just snorted and shrugged the kid off. “I’m not gonna kill him.”

He wasn’t. He didn’t kill abusers except in extreme cases. Killing abusers when those they abused still loved them didn’t help. And going around murdering kids’ parents was a great way to accidentally create the next Batman and Jason really didn’t want to deal with that. He wasn’t going to kill Jack Drake, he was just going to make sure he never laid a hand on his kid ever again.

“Hood! Stop!” Robin threw himself between Jason and his weapons case. “I don’t want you to hurt him either, please! He’s not perfect, but he’s better than he was!”

Jason froze, staring at the kid. The kid who was being abused on a regular basis so much he wanted to die but didn’t want Jason to hurt the man because he was “better than he was”. 

Because apparently abusing someone till they want to die is “better than he was”. 

Exactly how bad did he used to be?! 

“I know he’s not great, but he’s all I got!” 

Annnnndddd now the kid was tearing up, his eyes practically glowing an iridescent blue. When had he even taken off the domino?! Great. Just great. So much for torutre, Jason was gonna have to comfort the over emotional baby Replacement.

“I just… He actually cares about me and he doesn’t mean it, he has medical issues and he loses control sometimes, ok?” 

Well so did Jason, but he didn’t go around beating up his own kids because of it. Or other people’s kids since he didn’t have any of his own. But wow, could those puppy eyes get any more convincing? 

“Please, Hood… Please don’t hurt him…”

Jason sighed, long and hard and dramatic as he pulled off his weapons--all of them, all the guns and knives and anything else unfit to be in the reach of a suicidal puppy-eyed teen--stashed them in his weapons case and locked it, hoping both the key and fingerprint scanner would be enough to at least slow down the bat trained vigilante baby bird. 

Robin watched him stash everything sharp and dangerous, his eyes growing wide for a minute before he offered half a relieved smile--and wasn’t that just heartbreaking, why was the kid so good at stirring up emotional reactions?--and sniffed, rubbing at his nose. 

“Thanks, Hood…” he half whispered into the floor, trying to stop the tears from falling. Like it wasn’t already too late.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Hood practically growled as he shrugged off his jacket and the kid looked up in confusion. He was just in time to see Jason snag a blanket from the couch and wrap it around the kid like a fish caught in a net. Of which the Pretender played the part beautifully, squirming as he did while Jason scooped him up from the floor and squished him against his chest.

“It isn’t too late to torture you yet, Replacement.” Jason chuckled to himself as the kid in his arms froze and he flopped onto the couch. Prime spot for torturing the kid with cuddles. Like any good Robin, he’d hate being caged. And being caged in someone’s arms always counts so therefore it’s torture. It was his own fault, he played dirty and looked innocent. Now he was gonna get what was coming to him. 

Jason settled in, holding the burrito bird close against his chest as he ran his fingers through the kid’s hair and wiped the tears out of his eyes. The eyes that were staring at him like they could see into his soul… Again… And wow, it was so much worse when those bright blue innocent eyes weren’t covered by a domino mask. Jason was a fool to think he ever could have tortured this kid, his acting was infuriatingly good.

“What?” he finally broke and asked the kid. Who continued staring at him, wheels clearly turning inside his head. 

“You… Called me Replacement…”

Jason blinked down at the kid, not that he could see it behind the helmet. So what if he called him Replacement, that could mean anything. 

“And you called me Pretender before…” The kid frowned, shifting his eyes down to Jason’s chest instead of his helmet, brows furrowed in confusion. Wow, Jason did not like where that look was going.

“And…?” he prompted, very scared of the answer.

“And…” the kid lowed his voice to something barely above a whisper as he looked back up into the white of Hood’s mask, blue eyes wide. “And that’s what Hush called me…”

Oh. 

Oh no.

The kid had been there that night. He’d seen Jason resurrected. Sure, he couldn’t see Jason’s face right now, but the kid knew how to look at someone’s body type or pick out the way they moved, like all good bats could. The kid had seen Jason fight that night, and he’d been watching Hood for weeks. He’d seen Hood fight too. And the names Jason had used for the kid… He could almost see the pieces clicking into place behind those eyes.

“Jas--?”

Hood slapped his hand over the kid’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear it. He had plans. No baby bird was gonna ruin those plans for him. 

“Hush, kid. You’re not being paid to think.”

The kid rolled his eyes, his unspoken message painfully clear. 

Yeah yeah, he wasn’t being paid at all, that wasn’t the point. Couldn’t the brat just take the cuddles and not poke his nose into Hood’s business? Of course he couldn’t, all bats were nosy to a fault. Really, it was Hood’s own fault for not kicking the kid out the second he found him asleep in his bed. It had only been, what? An hour of him being awake? Or less? And he’d already figured it out. Hood was going to have to be more careful about his identity. For now though, they could just sit there. Maybe turn on a movie. Finish torturing a caged baby bird.

Chapter Text

Four days. That’s all it had been. 

Four. Days. 

The bastard couldn’t keep his hands off the kid for four. Days.

And that probably wasn’t even accurate, Jason had just gotten worried after four days of absolutely no contact from the kid and decided to check on him. There was no telling how many times he’d been beaten since he left Hood’s apartment. 

Well it didn’t matter. Jason didn’t care how intensely the Replacement gave him puppy eyes, this wasn’t going to continue. 

He brought his rifle higher and peered down the scope into the Drake’s kitchen. The kid wasn’t even fighting it. He was just standing there. Taking every hit, lips pursed, eyes gone empty. And wow, that hurt. The kid’s eyes were a vibrant blue and so full of life he could peer into your soul, but now? They were grey. There was no spark, no life, just a dull grey. And if that didn’t fuel Hood with enough green to pull the trigger, nothing would.

Chapter Text

Jason grumbled as he fiddled with his keys, trying to make the one in the lock turn. He could have sworn it was the fourth key from the left of the keychain, why wasn’t this one--oh he counted wrong, he was holding the fifth key from the left. 

He let out a long sigh and grabbed the correct key, watching as the door swung open easily. Some days, he swore picking the lock was easier. Or just using the window, but the stupid Replacement had him paranoid. If a kid could find his place so easily, what was stopping Batman once he started looking? Which had forced Jason to start changing elsewhere and walking home with his gear in a duffle bag. 

He threw said duffle bag on the couch and wandered to the kitchen. Leftovers would have to do tonight, he was too tired for anything else. Not that that made any sense, you’d think six months of sleep would do wonders for a person’s consciousness, but apparently it “doesn’t count”. Whatever, he was just going to grab some food, take a quick shower, and crash. 

Only took him a few minutes to accomplish steps one and two, though showering after a full night of patrol and plan execution with a recently full stomach proved harder than anticipated, but that didn’t matter. All he had to do was make it to his room and crawl under the blankets. Wasn’t that hard, just one foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the--

He froze in the doorway to his bedroom. 

He swore he had made his bed that morning, but no, every blanket was wrapped up in a single ball in the middle of the bed so the only thing spread across the entire mattress was the bottom sheet. Not even the top sheet, ‘cause apparently that had been stolen into the blanket pile as well. And the blanket pile that was breathing. 

Come on , Replacement! Did it have to be tonight?!

Jason had been expecting a visit from the kid for three days now. He’d been expecting to see a bird come crashing through his window with a “Jason!! You shot my father!!” and look at Jason like he expected the crime lord, murderer, terror of the alley, anti-hero vigilante to deny it. Which of course, Jason wouldn’t, it wasn’t even like he’d killed the guy, he just shot him in the hand and forced him to drop his weapon, but--

Wait, where was he going with this?

Oh right. 

He shook his head to clear it of what hadn’t happened and brought his attention back to the matter at hand. His bed had been commandeered by a baby bird. Again. 

He sighed as he ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t kick the kid out, that required waking him up first and experience screamed that wasn’t happening. He couldn’t just shove the kid to “his side” of the bed because experience also told him the kid was entirely capable of and willing to steal blankets during the night. Kicking him to the couch would likely have a similar result and there was no way Jason was taking the couch tonight, this was his apartment.  

He sighed again. There was only one option: restrain the kid.

Not with ropes or chains though, he was a bat, that wouldn’t work. No, the only option was a bat’s one weakness: restrain the kid with limbs .

Ug, Dick would be so proud. 

That didn’t matter right now though, what mattered was sleep and Jason was going to get it even if it did mean following in Dickhead’s footsteps. 

He groaned and flopped across the bed next to the pile before starting to unravel the kid from all of his blankets. It took a couple minutes and it didn't help that the kid had a death grip, but he eventually managed to get the kid free, layer the blankets on top of both of them, and pull the kid into his chest. 

Finally , he could--

“Jason…?”

Of course. Of course the kid wakes up now when Jason doesn't want him to wake up.  

He groaned and pulled the kid tighter, squishing his tiny back between Jason’s shoulders as he nuzzled his own face into the kid’s hair. It was a very clear gesture of “Go to sleep already, I’m tired.” But of course, ignoring clear gestures was the kid’s specialty. 

“Been waiting for you to get home…”

That’s nice, go to sleep.

There was silence for a few seconds as the kid waited for Jason to respond. Which he didn’t. And wasn’t going to.

“Jason…?” Replacement whispered, twisting as much as he could in Jason’s hold to look up into his face. “I just… Thank you.”

Jason froze, peeking an eye open and pulling away just enough to look down at the kid’s wide, sincere blue eyes. He’d been expecting anger, rage, shattered glass as the kid barreled through his window, he hadn’t been expecting… This. Quiet sincerity. Gratitude. Like the kid was… Happy. Like the kid was peaceful.

Not that he had been trying to anger him, but the kid loved his dad, however that was possible. Jason hadn’t expected peace to be the thing he saw behind those...iridescent blue eyes. 

He smiled a little and buried his face back in the kid’s hair. Baby Bird finally took the hint and snuggled back down as well, relaxing in Jason’s hold. 

“He blamed Bruce…” Replacement-- Tim whispered, only half awake. “Bruce figured it out. Figured out why he got shot. Threatened to get the proof and take custody if he ever tried anything again.”

Jason smiled more and shifted his position to card a hand through the kid’s hair. Jason might hate Bruce’s guts, but the man could throw his weight around when he needed to. And if anything could get a filthy billionaire to quit abusing his kid, it was another billionaire with more money than him.

“And Bruce…” Tim whispered even quieter. “Bruce realized how much he doesn’t know about me… Promised me he’d do better.” 

Jason blinked back the green, jealousy threatening his thoughts as the kid sniffed. The Replacement was trying to hide it as he curled tighter though, just a tiny ball in Jason’s arms. If Jason hadn’t been paying attention, and if he hadn’t felt the wet drops falling on his arm, he might not have noticed the kid was crying. 

“‘S ok…” Jason mumbled into the kid’s ear as he pulled him even tighter, blinking back his own tears. This wasn’t the time to be jealous. He’d have his moment with Bruce soon. Right now, there was a child crying in his arms.

The kid half laughed and twisted, positioning his head directly on Jason’s arm and using his now wet bicep as a pillow. It was the first time Jason had ever heard him laugh. Even spying on him during patrol. The sound was foreign, but light. And Jason couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thanks, Jay…”

Thanks. As if that even started to cover the words the sleep deprived teen meant. Thanks for taking care of him? Thanks for shooting his dad and starting a chain reaction to get all the adults in his life to treat him better? Thanks for sharing his bed, not kicking him to the curb like he should have? 

All of the above, he didn’t have to say it, Jason knew. 

“Goodnight, Baby Bird…”

The kid’s breathing evened out as Jason relaxed into his pillow, eyes too heavy to open even if he tried. 

Plans could come later. Right now he could sleep.

Chapter Text

“I’m not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow, or Dent. I’m talking about him. ” Jason stared down at the filth laying at his feet, red twisted up into a sickening grin. The same grin that had haunted him for years, still laying there, blood still pulsing through his veins. He lowered his voice to something just above a whisper, fighting the tears that threatened to leak out under his domino. “ Just him. And doing it because…” He paused, looking up at the man he once called his father, the green in his vision twisting everything around him to that same sickly color. 

The same color as the hair he’d cut from the psychopath at his feet. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep living while that monster drew breath. One way or another, this ended tonight. One or both of them wasn’t walking out of here. 

Some part of him, some part that knew it was useless, begged Bruce to do it. Pleaded with him, just this once, just this once , break the rules. Pull the trigger. 

He met Bruce’s eyes, willing everything he had in him that the man would understand. That Batman could see the pain above the facts. That Bruce could push Batman down and let himself feel. Just this once. 

“Because he took me away from you.”

He swallowed, staring Batman straight in the whites of his cowl. The man didn’t speak. Even as the moments stretched into eternity, no one said a word. Jason wasn’t sure he could form words even if he wanted to and Bruce… He didn’t know. He had no idea what was going through Bruce’s head. What he would decide. Who would die at his hands tonight. 

The Bat opened his mouth to speak and Jason held his breath. But before Bruce had a chance to say anything, something whizzed through the open window, sending both vigilantes ducking for cover as two more bullets followed. 

A sniper. A good one if neither of them had seen the shooter coming, but why? Jason looked down at himself, he couldn’t feel any bullets and he couldn’t see any blood in case adrenaline was playing tricks on him. 

He twisted from where he’d dove behind the fireplace and looked up at the shadow taking cover in the corner of the room. Batman looked as confused and unhurt as Jason did. 

But iron was filling his nostrils. The distinct scent of blood. 

Someone had been hit. 

Jason turned abruptly as he remembered the third person in the room. No, not a person. Just a soulless shell. One that could be leaking blood. 

He nearly gagged at the sight. 

His murderer’s lifeless body lay on the floor, blood streaming from a hole between his eyes with two more bullets through the corners of his mouth, making sure he would never smile again. He would never again traumatize anyone with that putrid grin. He could never hurt anyone again. All the graveyards he filled, he’d be the last body in them. And no one would ever, ever have to hear that manic laughter again. 

But Bruce hadn’t done it. 

He never pulled that trigger. 

He never ended him. 

And he never had to choose. 

Joker was gone, and Jason was still here. Bruce didn’t have to choose between them and Jason would never know what the outcome would have been. Right now, he wasn’t sure if that mattered. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Joker was dead. 

No, Joker was murdered.

He scrambled for his helmet--a spare one that hadn’t been detonated--and hurried it over his head before poking out just far enough to see out the window to the roof beyond. 

There. A blur of black and orange fleeing across the rooftops. 

But that meant… 

“Jason.”

He froze, abandoning his train of thought as he looked up at the shadow in the corner of the room. The man stood, whether ignoring the potential danger across the rooftops or choosing not to care about it, Hood couldn’t tell. For several seconds, neither of them spoke, then Batman started to cross the room and before Jason could process, Bruce was kneeling right in front of him. 

He was so close, Jason could stab him before he saw it coming. He could put a bullet in the man’s gut before he had time to look down at Jason’s holsters. He could--

Batman reached up--his cowl hanging off his shoulders though Jason couldn’t remember when he’d taken it off--and unclasped Jason’s helmet to stare into his face. 

“Jaylad…” Bruce whispered, every ounce of the Batman grovel lost somewhere in a sea of salt. “I’m so sorry…”

No. Jason wasn’t buying it. Bruce would never put his family above a case and a man had just been murdered right in front of them, there was a trick, this had to be a trick. Batman blamed him, that had to be it. He was ignoring the sniper because he assumed Hood had hired the gunman and he was trying to get past Hood’s defenses, compromise him emotionally and then take him to Arkham and interrogate him there. 

The pit flared higher at the thought, washing Bruce’s face in a sickly green. “Aren’t you forgetting something old man?” He spit the words, literally, bits of saliva flew from his mouth and landed on the older man’s cheek. But Bruce didn’t even flinch. Tear tracks making it impossible to tell where the spit had landed. 

“You’re alive… Jaylad you’re alive…” He reached a hand up to cup Jason’s cheek, his eyes running over every inch of the boy’s face, cataloguing every change, taking in the man his son had become. And somehow, Jason couldn’t make himself believe it was in disgust. All he could see behind the Dark Knight’s eyes was love and pain. Pain at what had happened, not at Jason for what he had become. 

Bruce lowered his voice to something darker than Jason had ever heard before, whispering the rest of his mind, a breathtaking finality to his tone. 

“The Joker can rot in hell.”

Jason froze, staring up into his dad’s eyes, fighting the tears threatening his own. 

He couldn’t fight it any longer. Bruce never had to choose between them while they were alive, but he was choosing Jason now. Faced between the last case he’d ever have with the Joker and his son, Bruce was choosing his son. He was choosing Jason. 

Jason broke as Bruce pulled him into his arms.

Chapter Text

Jason pulled off his helmet, the echoes of his motorcycle engine dying off through the slick walls of the cave. He paused for a moment as he took it all in. Damp rock and lemon cleaner overwhelmed his senses. It was all exactly how he remembered it. The med bay was off to the right, trophies to the left, and right in the middle, the huge, multiple screen setup that was the batcomputer. 

Now that had actually changed. Added a few screens. Jason still wasn’t sure what for, after all, how many screens can you look at at once? 

It was probably just for dramatic effect. Everything with Bruce was. 

...not that Jason could judge, though.

He kicked down his bike’s kickstand and set the helmet on the handlebars, grabbing his duffle bag and heading up the steps to the main platform. Several of the screens in front of him displayed random facts and video clips about some case, armed robbery downtown or something, but there was no sound and no movement. Bruce must have just left the evidence up from before the night had really taken off, but that didn’t quite add up. If this was a leftover case from the beginning of the night, the screensavers would have kicked in and turned off the computer hours ago. And Bruce had said he was going back to the manor to make sure Jason’s room was ready for him, he wouldn’t have stopped to work on a case instead, would he? Maybe this had all just been a trick, he didn’t really mean anything he said about Jason being welcome back home, he was right back at his work like nothing ever happened. 

Why was Jason even trying? 

He wouldn’t. He’d just go back to his apartment, maybe move out of Gotham. He was free, after all, Joker was dead, he could do anything he wanted with his life. 

He started to turn around when there was a grunt from the chair in front of him. And then a hand reached out to grab a steaming mug that sat next to the keyboard. And now that he looked for it, he could definitely pick up the distinct smell of coffee amongst the other smells of the cave.

But that meant… 

Seriously?! It was nearly 5:00 in the morning, what was the kid doing consuming caffeine right now?! No less being up at all…

Jason let out an exaggerated sigh, making no effort to hide the noise. 

“Really, Replacement?”

For several seconds, there was no response. Then the chair slowly started to turn, revealing the idiot in question, his legs tucked up under himself and head still too short to be seen over the back of the chair. He cradled his mug close as if the liquid it held could actually provide him with life and cure the darkest bags Jason had ever seen. 

The kid blinked several times before finally regaining the ability to speak. “Jason…? What are you…? Oooooh, was that today?” 

He slurred his words as he blinked up at Jason, the elder just staring in shock. 

Was what…? Wait, the kid knew this was happening? He knew what Jason’s plans had been? 

First, wow, the kid really was smarter than Bruce. But second, if he knew what Jason had been planning, that meant he could…

Jason stared down into the kid’s sleep deprived eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He wasn’t sure he could form the question he needed to ask. At least not above a whisper. 

“...you hired Deathstroke.” 

He could have sworn he meant to phrase that as a question, but it all made too much sense. The kid knew what was happening. He had access to billions of dollars between his dad and Bruce. He was smart enough to hide the transaction, and he was the only person on the planet who could possibly want to kill Joker for Jason’s sake. Except maybe Talia but even she didn’t know enough of Jason’s plan to relay it to the mercenary. It all made way too much sense. 

The kid just shrugged, not denying anything. “Returned the favor, Predecessor.”

Jason just stared. He had no words. The kid was so chill about it, like he hadn’t just hired a literal assassin to take out one of Gotham’s rogues. Like he hadn’t potentially saved Jason’s life. And reunited him with the family he never thought he’d see again. 

Jason half laughed, at himself or the kid or the whole situation, he couldn’t tell. It was all too much. 

“Thank you.” As if that even began to cover what Jason was feeling. But it didn’t have to. Tim could tell. Tim already knew what it was like.

The kid smiled at him before taking a final swig of his coffee and drawing Jason back to the moment. 

He was sleep deprived. Very very sleep deprived. From the color under his eyes he probably hadn’t slept in three days. Give or take. Preferably take but realistically give…

Come to think of it, his sleep deprivation was probably why he so freely confessed to murder. Which meant it was imperative to get him to bed now before he had a chance to interact with Bruce. 

Jason sighed and shook his head at his baby brother. 

“How did you ever survive without me, Replacement?”

The kid barely had a chance to look confused before Jason grabbed him by the sticks he called arms and hoisted him over his shoulder. He was already to the foot of the stairs with his sack of potatoes before the kid’s coffee soaked brain caught up to him and he started protesting. Something about some robberies and a case and “important Jason, put me down!” 

Yeah, pretty sure their definitions of “important” were different. Bruce could handle a robbery case. But the kid needed sleep. 

Jason ignored his protests and carted him up to his old bedroom before pushing the door open with his foot, pausing only a moment to take in the new surroundings. His bookshelf was right where he left it, bed and desk in the same place, but it had been cleaned off of all the garbage he’d left in his haste three years ago, all the homework and posters the fifteen year old put up were gone, and the bed was draped with a new red and black comforter. They hadn’t had time to repaint yet, but it would come. Bruce’s message was still clear: the boy was gone, and Jason was welcomed home as he was. 

He grinned and pulled back the blankets before he practically tossed his complaining cargo onto the bed. The kid immediately tried to squirm off but Jason just laughed and flopped down beside him, pulling him securely into his chest and covering them both with the blankets. 

“Keep trying, Replacement. You unmade my bed, now you can sleep in it.”

Tim froze for several seconds as his mind struggled to catch up to whether or not that was actually how that saying went, which gave Jason just the few seconds he needed to get comfortable and make sure the kid wasn’t going anywhere. By the time he started struggling again, it was far too late. 

Jason just smiled as the kid groaned. 

“I hate you, Predecessor . ”

Right. Of course. That’s why the kid paid a million dollars to avenge him and stop him from nearly killing himself. Jason was a fool to ever think otherwise. 

“Anything you say, Replacement.”