Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another day, another would-be villain that should have resigned from her post-doctoral position before they ended up brandishing a ray gun and shouting grievances for everyone to hear. This time, a woman with some sort of energy weapon took over the stage at the side of a pizza restaurant's outdoor seating. The people at the tables are Gothamites to the core so they stay put with their pizza instead of running from the very upset woman with a probably ray gun.

Tim isn't sure what sets this woman apart from the many post-docs who don't snap and try out supervillainy. Most of her tirade is about spending her time on unrelated grant applications and an unsupportive advisor and inadequate time on the university's only supercomputer and how she could prove her theory given a chance. None of the complaints are outlandish or uncommon. Any of the issues she details at length make her eligible for a Wayne Foundation grant that would cover the costs of transferring to a different post-doctoral program. She could have left the entire public rant as a voice mail and ended up with a sympathetic call back instead of a police report.

The would-be villain is alone on the outdoor stage. The hired jazz band had fled with their instruments and gear in hand before Tim could make it across town. The restaurant's speakers project her demands clearly enough that he could hear her from the rooftop as he checks the scene to make sure that he can approach without creating a hostage situation.

Handling civilians is a lot easier in other cities. In Gotham, the remaining diners do not look ready to move. They're not sure if they feel threatened by a woman in off-the-shelf black coveralls wearing an large battery rig as a backpack whether or not she's carrying a ray gun held together with electrical tape and zip-ties. They'd drop their slice of pizza and run if it was the Joker or Two-Face. They'd saunter off still carrying their drinks for someone like the Riddler that didn't usually involve civilians. For a unknown woman who is yelling about wasting the best years of her life rather than threatening the next apocalypse or anyone eating pizza, he can understand why they'd want to keep their patio seat and stay with their meal. He'd be a lot happier to not have so many civilians within her line of sight.

She doesn't react when he slowly drops down from the rooftop with a grappling line. She goes right back to her rant when she realizes that he isn't planning to unplug the speakers or interfere with the microphone. That gives him time to start trying to persuade the civilians to get out. Most are more interested in trying to get a good close-up photo instead of getting to safety.

The woman hasn't spouted off a chosen pseudonym or introduced herself but her face is uncovered. Oracle takes less than two minutes to find the woman's doctoral thesis and postdoctoral work based on facial recognition. Getting in touch with the Flash takes even less time. Flash says that Dr. Parker Belemay is possibly serious when she says that she's invented a time travel device.

Tim listens to the chatter between Oracle and the Flash while he keeps encouraging people to put down their calzone and go home. His best guess is that she tried to create a closed time loop rather than one-way time travel. Oracle seems completely convinced and doesn't say much, maybe because it's the Flash explaining time travel and how Dr. Belemay's work is on the right track, maybe because Oracle is busy doing something else while she listens.

The sixth time Tim addresses the entire group of diners, they freeze. Seconds later, they clear out all at once, most of them leaving to-go cups behind and scrambling for the patio's gate. Tim wishes he was surprised when he hears a familiar distorted voice behind him.

“Red Robin. Heard you had a situation.”

Red Hood is a lot more intimidating than Red Robin. Even if Hood's been protecting people since his return to Gotham a few months back, there are a lot of stories about just what Red Hood had been up to a couple years ago. If he tells civilians to get out, they leave.

“Thanks, Hood,” Tim says quietly. He keeps his eyes on Belemay. The woman looks mildly annoyed with the loss of her audience but doesn't change her grip on the weapon or aim it at any of the rapidly-fleeing people. “Nobody was clearing out when it was just me.”

“You've got manners and they had pizza.” Red Hood's voice is muffled. He's not using the vocal masking, for once, maybe so that he can speak quietly enough for the woman to not overhear him. “I'll let you talk her down now that the civilians are out of here. I'll be on the rooftop.”

Hood leaves before Tim can think of anything to say to him. It's probably for the best.

It's easier to deal with Jason when they're both wearing masks. Jason is nothing like Tim's hazy memories surrounding the bad fight against Red Hood in Titans Tower. Jason is thoughtful and deliberate and hasn't said much to Tim since coming back to Gotham. Jason isn't killing anymore, they think, but if anyone's asked him no one has shared Jason's answer. Bruce hasn't said much but Tim thinks that his dad is still trying to figure out what to ask. Dick and Cass and Steph have nudged Tim a little about his feelings and he still isn't sure what to think. They all accept that Tim needs more time to figure out what to make of Jason. It's a little easier when he hardly ever sees Jason outside of the occasional teamup on patrol.

Red Hood is much easier to deal with when he offers help on a case. It doesn't happen often but Jason doesn't push and doesn't take over the shared case. Red Robin has no reason to have an especially close relationship with Red Hood, after all, and there's almost always an audience in Gotham. They finish the stakeout or the fight or the evidence drop and Tim leaves. It's less awkward that way. If Tim tries to talk to Jason, Jason usually makes an excuse before vanishing and Tim doesn't know if preemptively saying he isn't upset about Titans Tower would help. Maybe occasionally seeing each other on patrol is all Jason wants.

Tim approaches the dark-haired woman cautiously. She hasn't seemed interested in engaging with him but she's huddled in on herself with the roughly-made ray gun clutched to her chest. She looks a lot like someone who abruptly realized that she was publicly monologuing at length into a microphone after scaring off a jazz quartet.

“Dr. Belemay?”

She slowly looks up from the ray gun. “Red... Robin?” He can only describe the expression on her face as lost. She looks like she doesn't know how she got to the pizza place or to putting together an energy weapon. “I'm not from Gotham. I never thought I'd need to be able to tell you guys apart, but it is Red Robin, right?

“That's me.” Tim's voice is quiet. He doesn't need to be loud on the evacuated street. He just needs to try getting the ray gun away from her. “You're Dr. Parker Belemay. You haven't hurt anybody and the worst thing in the works is maybe an anger management course or two.”

Dr. Belemay's hands tighten on the ray gun. The strips of black tape dent beneath her grip. “That just means I go back to people saying I'm crazy.” She clutches the gun closer and her lips tighten. “I guess I'm making a stellar effort of proving that I'm sane.”

Tim shrugs. “You're talking to a guy in a cape.”

Dr. Belemay looks at his cape before looking back down at her ray gun. Her hand is already resting on one of the large switches. Tim wouldn't tackle her even if her hands were clear of the possible trigger. She's wound up tight and clinging to that plastic and tape construction like it's the only thing keeping her sane. She might be one of the people that faces down a breaking point and comes through stronger.

“I guess I am,” she says. “I don't pay too much attention. I... I just wanted to prove it, you know? I think I could, if they'd let me try.”

“If you want to talk about it...” Tim nods to one of the empty tables. “I'd actually love to hear about what you put together. If you want someone with more than a vague appreciation for time travel and how it works, I have a friend that would love to say more, but any of the speedsters would love to talk this through with you. I can get someone from the Justice League on speakerphone if you say the word.”

Dr. Belemay doesn't move closer to the table. She doesn't back away, either. “My advisor says that superspeed cannot possibly work as they describe it. He refused to send a message to the Justice League liaison and said he'd pull support for my grant if I went behind his back to ask. I just.... I just need to prove it works. I've wasted two years of my life if I'm wrong.”

“If you're wrong, you've still got some good ideas. The Flash already read a draft of your thesis and he would love the chance to talk through your thinking and give you some advice.”

Her mouth drops open. Unfortunately, her arms drop, too. The ray gun topples to the ground.

Tim's fast but he left several paces between them to make sure that she didn't feel threatened. He's never going to be faster than light. A blue-white beam of light shoots out of the gun as it bounces off the ground. The light hits him square in the chest.

Tim braces himself but nothing happens. He stays right where he is and the ray gun doesn't fire a second time. Whatever the Flash thought would happen... “Accidental weapon discharge. Repeat, accidental,” he says firmly, looking right at Dr. Belemay's distraught face. The sudden joy had vanished right into paralyzing anxiety and he wasn't going to let anyone think she'd done that on purpose. He should have asked her to set the weapon down before saying anything.

“Accidental weapon discharge confirmed,” Oracle says. “Given the nature of the weapon... Flash is on standby, B will deal.”

Tim taps his wrist in acknowledgment. He doesn't want to start a full conversation when the woman in front of him is still wide-eyed and nervous. “Dr. Belemay, if you could set the battery pack down, please?”

She swallows and straightens her shoulders. “I'm so sorry.” Her hands are steady as she unbuckles the strap holding the battery pack in place, eases it off her shoulders, and sets it on the ground. “I can turn it off, if that would help, not that it helps much. I'm sorry.”

“We can just leave it as it is,” Tim says. When he takes a step back, she moves away from the ray gun. “It was an accident. As soon as we're ready, the Flash is going to swing by to pick that up. Anyone that works out time travel technology gets on their radar sooner or later and he's excited to have a new theory to look over.”

“I... I'm ready.” Dr. Belemay tugs at the collar of her cover-alls. “This is not the way I wanted to meet anyone but waiting any longer will just make me more nervous.”

“We're ready for company,” Tim murmurs into his comm. Seconds later, Flash appears. Seconds after that, Tim is pretty sure that his presence isn't needed. Physics was never his favorite topic and it didn't take them long past hellos to get way past what he understands in mostly-theoretical physics. She's talking almost as quickly as Flash.

Tim waves. Dr. Belemay doesn't seem to notice. Flash turns long enough to wink and wave him off.

Tim heads over to an alley. “Can you let me know what happens with her, O?”

“Of course,” Oracle says. The comms sound a lot quieter without Flash. “If you try to patrol on your own, I'll ping everybody to come and tell you in detail why it's a terrible idea. You'd be right there in the line lecturing anybody else that tried to walk that off. She studies time travel.”

Tim looks up at the roof. He can't see anything but Jason has always kept his word to Tim. He has from the very first time Tim met him back at Titans Tower. That was years ago, though, and Jason hasn't tried to hurt him again.

Jason's been trying to reach out lately. Maybe Tim can try the same.

“Red Hood wanted a word. If he isn't staying in the area, I'll let you know.”

Red Hood is waiting on Tim's favorite rooftop and he isn't wearing his helmet or body armor. Jason has a red domino mask with no lenses and he's looking at a bulky watch on his wrist. For once, it's easy to tell that his shoulders are tense. His body armor and helmet are neatly stacked at the corner of the rooftop.

“I'm okay,” Tim says. He's touched that Jason cares enough to be nervous. Maybe Jason will stop avoiding the Manor when Tim's around if he can persuade his technically-brother that Tim doesn't mind sharing Bruce's attention. “Nothing happened.”

“Not yet.” Jason looks up from his watch. “One of her calculations was off so the effect isn't instant. The rest of her math checks out. Welcome to a time loop, population you in t-minus about three minutes.”

Maybe Tim should have tried harder to spend more time with Jason. He has no idea if Jason's being serious or if he's pulling Tim's leg. “A time loop?”

“You're making a trip back to Titans Tower right in the middle of that time I broke in to hurt you,” Jason says bluntly. “I'm sorry that past-me is an asshole. Was an asshole? Time travel is a nightmare for verb tenses. No pressure, Tim, but I remember this loop. If it goes the way it did for me, you kicked my ass and got my head on straight. You're the reason I ended up back in Gotham a few months ago ready to play along with the other Bats.”

Tim has been friends with a speedster for years. He knows the basics and knows to never offer to help with the math behind how time travel might work. “You remember this so it's possibly a closed loop.”

“Probably, yes. I'm pretty sure you switch places with your younger self, body and mind. From what I've been able to figure out, not that I could push too hard for the answer, past-you ended up here and thought that I was a dream or a hallucination. The version of you that traveled back in time said not to give you any more warning than this.”

Tim glances down at his own costume. He doesn't have time to cope with thinking about the haziest dream he's ever had was real. He'd thought that it was convenient for him to think the unrecognizable gold symbol in his dream was the same as Red Robin's. He'd thought that all of those vague ideas and promises to talk about his feelings for once had come from him, not from Jason, but he doesn't regret any of those suggestions.

Tim pulls a medical kit out of one of the bandolier pouches. It's a zipped black canvas compression cube that feels more solid in his memories the second that he holds it in his hands. “Here. I remember this, I think, and you're right. I thought I was dreaming.”

Jason's bare hands are steady when he takes the kit. “It's not unreasonable. You were in shock.” Jason pulls uncomfortably at the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. “I ditched my gear because I didn't want to scare your younger self.”

“I don't think you did.” Tim takes a deep breath. “Okay. What time was it when you checked your watch?”

Jason rolls his eyes. He's smiling, though, which takes out any of the sting. “Past you said this so many times – 9:54 PM on June 4^th, two years after Titans Tower. That's when I checked my watch and started telling you all this. Well. Past-you for me, future-you from your perspective.”

“9:54 PM, June 4^th in two years,” Tim repeats. He can do this. He can vanish into one of his own nightmares and ignore all his past failures at changing lucid dreams for the better.

When he thinks about dreams, though... Tim has the time. He has to have time if Jason needs to hear this. “For what it's worth... it was like the best dream I've ever had, and even when I couldn't remember the words, I knew you meant what you said. You convinced me that Bruce loved me and I didn't have to go live with my dad and that you and Damian would come around someday. No pressure.”

“No pressure, sure,” Jason agrees. “Flash and company did know about her research. They would have approached her, grumpy advisor or not, but I clued them in on the time loop so they kept their distance. They said interfering would have been more dangerous and agreed to not give anybody else warning. Including B, but I'll take the heat for that. Oracle's known for about ten minutes because I do not want to have her mad at me again. Good luck, Red.”

With anyone else, Tim would normally joke about breaking a leg, but Jason had nearly broken his arm a couple years ago. They haven't really talked to each other outside of patrol and Tim doesn't want to make things awkward right before going back in time. Next time, maybe the joke won't feel like a test for both of them.

“Same to you,” Tim says instead. He unclips his bo staff from his belt and braces himself. He hasn't time-traveled before. If this goes well, he isn't looking forward to all the questions about just how this feels and a detailed breakdown of how everything went. If it doesn't go well, at least Flash is already on the case.

There's no time for more questions. The world vanishes in a flash of white light that looks blue when he tries to blink away the sudden brilliance. He opens his eyes standing in Titans Tower, bo staff in his hand, and heavy footsteps slowly moving toward the dead end where he hadn't managed to make it through a fire door. His younger self hadn't known that it was locked shut with a code that he wouldn't be able to override.

Tim smiles. Younger Jason is about to have an unexpected rematch.

Chapter Text

Jason belatedly closes his eyes against the painfully bright flash of light. He knows from experience that he won't be able to see anything yet. He won't risk stepping forward too early and giving Tim the wrong idea. Last time, Jason had been around a corner and still had spent seconds blinking away the afterimage. The light was even more intense without a wall in the way but it's a relief that it's finally happening. He met his mark, Tim gave him all the help that he could, and when this is over Jason can finally stop imagining all the ways that he could mess this up. If he doesn't get this right, the loop will probably start all over again, but for all he knows it'll be his younger self's problem to fix.

If he didn't have a chance, the Flash and the rest of the speedsters probably would have taken over. Jason might be able to get this right. The Flash had looked over the readings and Jason's notebook and announced that he would be happier leaving both Impulse and Batman out of it.

Jason's battered notebook is in his pocket. It isn't the kind of thing that he'd want to leave anywhere. He kept all of the writing cagey enough that it wouldn't give much away, other than an overly vivid imagination, but keeping the notebook close is more than wanting to keep the limited foreknowledge to himself. The notebook is proof that he really did meet an older Tim and hear about a world where rage and fury don't overshadow every other emotion.

He spent days looking over the final touches on a new notebook without coffee stains and gunpowder residue. He hadn't needed to look at the old one to write out the messages that he'd send to his younger self.

Jason would probably know if it had happened more than once. If it kept happening, someone would break the loop, even if Jason was the only one stuck. Bruce wouldn't have let this happen for anyone, even the mess Jason had been a couple years ago, and the Justice League has tried and failed to keep secrets from Batman before. The truth will come out eventually.

Worse, if they end up in a time loop that makes the same two years happen over and over again, Tim might get stuck in it, too. Tim might have to deal with Jason and Damian and whatever was going on with Tim's biological father more than once. Understandably, nobody says much about Tim when they're talking to Jason, and that won't change until Jason explains why he keeps his distance. Oracle is the only Bat that knows, so far, and Jason had only told her to buy himself time alone on the roof with Tim. If the Flash hadn't backed him up, she probably wouldn't have gone for it, but she hadn't sounded angry when she asked him to give her a few minutes to verify. Oracle knows more than most Bats about just how Red Hood operates lately. Barbara sent him a false identity complete with a library card and a checking account after the first few times he dropped in to help Nightwing. When he helped on Red Robin's case, she offered to help him with research and any technology he was having trouble getting his hands on.

Finally, the effects of the light fade and he can set the past aside for now. Jason moves forward slowly. He's forgotten just how much Tim has grown in the last couple years. Tim is still a shrimp, especially standing next to Jason or Bruce, but two years ago he'd been even smaller.

Tim doesn't move but Jason's had a couple months to get to know him. Tim isn't unconscious. He's thinking. Those tiny twitches in his facial muscles are all the proof Jason needs that Tim is scanning the entire area and trying to reconcile the sensory evidence that he's in Gotham against the clear knowledge that he'd been trapped against a fire door.

Jason doesn't remember all the details about Titans Tower that night. He knows that the Tower usually smells a lot more like gym socks than anyone likes to admit no matter how many times they set firm rules about laundry and change out the air filters. Jason knows that it was dark and that most of the usual subroutines in the security systems were shut down. Several of the usual devices that left a quiet low hum in the background were shut off and a couple other systems Jason had changed resulted in a high-pitched whine just on the edge of his hearing. He hadn't paid much attention to physical sensation. He'd been furious and so convinced that winning the fight would prove something to himself and to Bruce and to the kid that took his place.

Now, though, he's in Gotham and he can understand why Tim likes this rooftop. The broad four-foot tall ridge around the edge of the roof is wide enough to sit on and it cuts down on the wind. The securely locked rooftop access door doesn't give much room for anyone to sneak through the doorway or the stairwell below it. Jason can only hope the security guards' longstanding protectiveness over Robin doesn't end with a bunch of upset visitors charging out the door in a way that would disrupt the time loop.

The sounds are just the same, the steady low rumble of traffic broken by the occasional distant sound of a slamming door or an emergency vehicle siren or a scream.

Gotham alleys smell awful. Most rooftops only lessen the alleys' stink of cigarettes and urine and the miasma of too many chemical attacks that never leaves the rusting dumpsters. This rooftop smells like pizza. The vents near one corner of the roof bring the smell of baking pizza all the way up from the first floor restaurant's pizza ovens.

Tim slowly pushes himself up with his good arm. He freezes when he notices Jason leaning against the door of the walled-in stairwell.

“Hey, Robin.” Jason keeps his voice quiet and gentle. It's easy with the helmet and its voice modifier bundled up with his jacket and out of sight behind the narrow walls around the access door. “Are you with me?”

Tim stares at him for several seconds. It's hard to tell with the white lenses in place but Tim seems to stare at Jason's hair before shifting to look at Jason's bare face and then the red bat on his body armor. “Um. I think so?”

Jason stands up straighter when his vision finally clears. He takes half a step forward before Tim's shoulders tense up completely and the already-pale kid goes even paler with pain. “Your shoulder's dislocated.” Jason unzips Red Robin's medical kit and looks through it. This must be why he hadn't told himself to put a sling in his pocket to deal with Tim's dislocated shoulder. The sling and the unactivated cool pack both are marked with Red Robin's symbol. Even better, the kit has blister packs of medicine labeled in Alfred's unmistakable handwriting.

Tim slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position with his good arm. “Am I dreaming?”

Jason shrugs. It's a reasonable question and the truth doesn't make any more sense. “There's not much I can say that will convince you one way or the other.”

Tim thinks that over for a few seconds. “I guess. It's a really weird dream, though.” As Jason hoped, even the chance that he's dreaming makes Tim relax.

Jason takes another few steps closer before Tim freezes again. “Here.” Jason bends slowly to put the medicine on the rooftop. He pushes it close enough that Tim should be able to reach without straining and then backs off, sling and cool pack still in his hands. “I'd like to help get that shoulder in place, if you'll let me, but it's your choice.”

Tim slowly picks up the medicine with his right hand and studies the handwritten labels carefully. He pushes two anti-inflammatory pills through the foil one-handed. Before Jason can fumble through the medical kit for the sealed bottle of water, Tim pops the pills into his mouth and swallows them dry.

“Tim!” Jason scolds. “Swallowing pills dry isn't good for you. I would have gotten you water in a minute.”

Tim looks up at him. It's hard to make out expressions with the mask in the way. If Jason was looking at Bruce or Dick, he'd be able to guess just what that tiny smile meant. “You sound like Agent A.”

Jason appreciates the caution with his grandfather's identity even in an assumed dream or hallucination. “Someone has to listen to him,” Jason grumbles. “B doesn't. Nightwing likes to do things his own way first.” Maybe Jason shouldn't complain when he'd run away from home rather than letting Alfred talk him into being sensible.

Tim's smile wavers. “Agent A misses you.”

Jason knows that, now, but he hadn't believed it back then. “Yeah, well, I wasn't in the mood to listen to sense when you met me. If it's any excuse, I wasn't dealing with the Lazarus Pit very well, let alone my own death or the way I thought Bruce didn't care.”

Tim's stubborn expression looks a lot like Dick and Jason's. No wonder some people still insist that there's only one Robin and Batman keeps de-aging him. “He does care.”

Jason smiles. “I'm working up to talking to B, promise.”

“This is a weird dream,” Tim gripes. He'd been ready for a fight, clearly, and doesn't know what to do when Jason doesn't want to argue. “I think I want a refund.”

“You could be having a more useful dream, sure,” Jason agrees. “One that convinced you that Bruce loves you as his son, maybe, because I think you aren't so sure about that.” Jason pushes harder when Tim gapes at him. “Your dad's starting to wake up from his coma and people are starting to wonder what happens next. Let him recover and focus on getting better while you stay with your dad.” Jason's only heard bits and pieces. The few things that he's heard prove that future-Tim is on the right track. “Bruce is your dad. Maybe Jack can get himself back in the running, if he wants, but trust me. Biological parents don't automatically get dibs just because they shared some chromosomes.”

Even in his own probable dream, Tim's face falls. “Your mother,” he agrees. “She lived long enough to talk to Bruce.”

Jason's face hardens. If he had been talking about any of his non-Bruce parents, he meant Catherine. “She still ended up with a grave next to mine.”

“You protected her, even after everything she did,” Tim replies gently. “You'd have to ask Alfred to be sure but I think they were uncomfortable exhuming your mom. Catherine, I mean.”

Jason rubs the heel of his hand into his forehead. He is supposed to be the comforting one, here, but he'd never even thought of that. He'd thought of it as one of many topics that he might eventually ask someone about. “Well, fine. As long as we're in therapy hour, your future baby brother has had an awful childhood. He'll come around eventually. It would help if I know how you got him on your side but I don't.”

“Should've known Bruce wouldn't stop adopting.” Tim shifts his weight and flinches. “Would you help with my shoulder now, please?”

“Sure.” Jason doesn't like hurting his little brother. He definitely doesn't like seeing the evidence of the ambush he'd set up years before. He's set shoulders in place before, though, so he goes straight to Bruce's lie and pulls the shoulder back into place on two instead of three.

Understandably, Tim flinches away. Jason focuses on the cool pack while Tim's deep breaths slowly even out. Jason snaps the cool pack with both hands and then grabs the sling with Red Robin's logo. Whether Tim remembers the symbol or not, Jason does, and he'll have to ask Dick what they thought of Tim showing up with a stranger's insignia on his sling.

Tim lets Jason help with the sling. Jason snaps the cool pack to activate it before handing it to Tim.

Tim presses the cool pack against his dislocated left shoulder. He pulls it away. He presses it against the shoulder again and frowns. “It feels cold but I've got to be dreaming,” he mutters. “This doesn't make sense.”

“Don't worry about it,” Jason says with a shrug. “We've all gone through some weird stuff. I'm sorry that I ended up as part on your list of things that would only happen to a Robin.”

Tim shakes his head when Jason would have moved back. “I'm okay. You...” Tim frowns and leans a little closer. “You look a lot different. It's good, though.”

“Thanks.” Jason shifts closer to Tim. He'd been worried but there won't be much damage. Jason doesn't like bunching himself in with the people that Robin usually fights but this is far from the worst night he would've had. It makes sense that he's starting to look tired with any adrenaline burned out.

Tim yawns. “S'weird. I don't usually feel tired in dreams but this...” Tim gestures at the guard tower and the empty shelf and the vent that makes the rooftop smell like pizza. “It's a good dream. I just feel tired.”

“It's been a pretty crazy night,” Jason says. “Just remember. Bruce loves you but he's not so great with emotions and gets himself twisted up like an overly emotional pretzel sometimes. Damian has not had time to figure out emotions yet but he'll get there. Jack probably needs to cope with the wheelchair for a while before he brings you home.”

“Wheelchair?” Tim asks sleepily.

If Jason wasn't supposed to say that, at least Tim still thinks he's going to sleep in a dream. “Wheelchair,” Jason confirms. “Have him talk to Barbara about adjusting. She'll probably agree that there is no way he should come home from the hospital and immediately try to be a dad.”

Tim scoots close enough to lean his good shoulder against Jason. “He mostly left that up to boarding schools once I outgrew having a nanny.”

Jason carefully wraps his arm around Tim's back, avoiding the previously-dislocated shoulder. “See? All the more reason to let him heal while you stay home and decide what works for both of you.”

“And a little brother,” Tim prompts.

“Exactly.” Jason doesn't have to feign approval. Maybe they can get this right the first time. He remembers exactly how well Tim did in the past.

Verb tenses are a nightmare. The current Tim is the one from the past and the present Tim is still wrapping things up with Jason's younger self.

“It's alright to fall asleep,” Jason promises quietly. He doesn't know why Tim feels so safe with him but he hopes they can keep this.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

For a few minutes, it's quiet on the rooftop. Tim yawns again and starts to slump. Jason sets the unzipped compression cube on the ground. Zipped up, it had kept everything compact, but it makes a decent pillow expanded all the way and then folded up. The odd pillow will be heading back in time to confuse his younger self until he reads through the notebook. Jason hadn't been able to figure out where Robin got the pillow or who would put zippers all over a pillow.

“Here,” Jason says. He isn't surprised when Tim curls up right on the concrete rooftop with the unusual pillow, injured shoulder up. He hasn't witnessed it himself, not yet, but he's heard a couple rumors about how Tim can sleep anywhere. He also saw this bit of evidence for himself two years ago.

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim mumbles.

“You're welcome, Tim.” Jason reaches out cautiously to brush Tim's hair back from his mask. Sometimes, the very edge of the mask has stray adhesive and getting hair stuck against it can be painful if it settles into place.

“Mask,” Tim grumbles.

“It's annoying to sleep in,” Jason agrees. “You'll be alright, though.” Tim had been wearing it, two years back, and he doesn't want to change anything. He also doesn't want Bruce and Alfred to panic over Tim's identity even if it's a moot point.

Even if he'd wanted to mess with the mask, it's too late. Tim's already asleep. He looks so young and just as small as Jason remembers. The tiny trace of a smile is familiar enough that Jason grabs for his messenger bag.

The newer copy of the notebook, a note on an eye-searingly pink sheet of paper, and something that will catch his younger self's attention far better than the vivid pink all fit together just like Jason remembered. He sets them carefully into the crook of Tim's arms and relaxes when Tim doesn't wake up.

“Good luck, younger me,” Jason murmurs. “I hope you and older-Tim kept up your end of this because I'd rather not have any of us get stuck in a loop.”

If they get this right, then they'll be part of a closed time loop and the Flash will be ecstatic and Bruce will have his hands full trying to convince Justice League members that this is a terrible concept for a failsafe device because it shouldn't be able to change anything.

Jason closes his eyes just before the light flashes and the younger Tim vanishes back in time.

Chapter Text

Jason doesn't need to hurry. His target isn't going anywhere. Titans Tower has some of the strictest security protocols in the world and Jason knows precisely how to lock the entire complex down. The fire door around the corner won't be opening any time soon. It's a mistake to let one person shut everything off, Jason thinks, with how often a Titan gets compromised. It works in his favor, though. Communications, doors, emergency beacons... the Tower turned into a dead zone after a string of codes assigned to a dead man. That kind of sloppy systems maintenance leads to very sad situations like Robin fleeing through a dark Tower, staggering on shaking legs and clutching his arm to his chest instead of trying for an impromptu weapon. Robin was careless enough to lose his bo staff earlier but Jason will take good care of it for him. He'll even show the kid just how it's meant to be used.

The fight will be over when Jason catches up. Maybe that's why he keeps his pace slow and lets the thump of his boots echo through the halls. When the fight's over, he's leaving, and then the only thing to do is see what kind of fallout the big bad Bat manages for an injured Robin.

He doesn't want the fight to end too soon. Everything in Gotham is for a bigger purpose but this is just for him. It's the most fun he's had since waking up in a Lazarus Pit.

Jason pauses before going around the corner. He can hear ragged breathing and the muffled sounds as Robin reaches yet another locked fire door.

He listens as ragged breathing slowly gains a steady tempo. He hadn't expected the Replacement could take a hit so well. Maybe time with Batman had toughened up the little trust-fund brat.

Jason waits. He hears the click of the fire door's latch. All the doors are locked and Jason hasn't forgotten the basement access point. Clever of Robin to think he could drag himself into one of the Titans' cars and hope that a sturdy door will protect him while autopilot gets him to safety. Pity that Jason's smarter.

The keypad beeps several times but the only override code that will work is the one Jason programmed in half an hour ago. Robin tries again but he's not going anywhere.

Finally, there's a tiny little sound. The cocky brat has been almost silent after his panicked entreaties and bargaining failed. Jason was expecting screams or begging but maybe the Robin costume itself gives a little insulation no matter who wears it. The small sound of panic might be the best that Jason is going to get. Time to end it, then, because he's here to prove that the latest Robin never should have pulled on the cape. He'll let the security system come back online in another half an hour or so. Batman can swoop in as the clueless hero that again couldn't protect his sidekick. Maybe this Robin will go home before someone with even worse motives than Jason finishes him off.

Jason steps past the corner. Robin is huddled in the corner, dislocated arm clutched to his chest. The dim emergency lighting makes it hard to make out the expression on Robin's face.

Jason can't tell if he's about to surrender or fight. The world goes white before Jason can decide which he'd like better. When he blinks his eyes against the painful flare of light, he can only see dark afterimages of the flash of light.

When his vision clears, there is a black-haired man standing in the same corner. He's almost a full head taller than Robin and wearing a red-and-black outfit with a yellow-gold emblem on the chest, one a lot more abstract than an R. He has a bo staff in his hand and a tiny smile on his lips.

“Hey, Jason. Why don't you pick on someone your own age?” the man asks.

Jason's hand curls into a fist at his side. Whatever is going on here, nothing and no one should have been able to get through the Titans Tower blockade. No one should have known to swoop in and save Robin from a fight he was about to lose.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jason asks when the man doesn't say anything else.

“Red Robin, now.” The man tugs at one of the bandoliers crossing his armored costume with the hand not holding a fully-extended bo staff. “Two years ago, though...” His smile sharpens into something dangerous. “I was standing right here having a bad time. If you want a fight, here I am.”

Jason's eyes narrow. “Time travel.”

Red Robin shrugs. “If it's any consolation, I only found out a few minutes ago. It was 9:54 PM on June 4^th two years from now when you looked at your watch and told me about the time I swapped places with my younger self and we moved this fight into round two. So... what do you think? Still interested in a fight? I mean, we could talk it out, but I feel like you're in the mood to fight.”

Red Robin reaches for the keypad at his side. He enters a long code without looking away from Jason. The LED lights at the edges of the control panel continue to blink red but the overhead lights come on.

“I'll keep the communication blockade for now, if only because explaining where Robin is would interfere with a probably closed time loop, but the mood lighting is a bit much.”

For all that Jason was carrying the threats and the conversation just minutes ago, he doesn't know what to do with this bizarrely confident and older version of Robin that has changed to a new costume and new identity. “I guess we can fight. Since you're offering.”

All of the hallways look different with the overhead lights up. The occasional smears of blood look vividly red. In the dark, everything had looked like a trick of the occasional floodlights. The common room is the same mix of ugly furniture that manages to look homey instead of like a thrift store showroom. It's not at all the place he would have chosen for a fight. Jason had thought about the roof, at first, but it's harder to block communications with open sky above them. He'd also entertained several macabre ideas about just how to end the fight that were nothing like sparring in the brightly-lit common room.

Jason has a staff and no reason to bother getting fancy. Robin lost this fight, last time, and it shouldn't matter that Red Robin has a staff ready and a couple more years of training. Jason's a lot faster than someone his size should be. He's got a reach advantage, he's heavier, and he's a lot stronger than his opponent. He has trained with the League of Assassins and Batman before that. Jason's no slouch with a quarterstaff and he's ready for a brawl that can work some of the jagged edges away from his ever-present anger.

The fight should be a cakewalk. Maybe Robin spent a lot of time training in the last couple years or maybe Jason timed his ambush well. Red Robin is clearly at ease and doesn't seem to notice or care that Jason is bigger and stronger. Both of those normally help in a staff fight. This time, though, Jason is not winning.

Jason would be a lot less frustrated if he could land more than a glancing blow on his opponent. Red Robin keeps skating away from him and there are threads of training in his style that Jason can't track. It isn't just Bruce and Dick and one unknown influence, not anymore.

Red Robin lands solid hits on Jason's body armor and avoids anything that will leave more than a bruise. Red Robin smacks against the sides of Jason's ribs and nothing cracks. He hits at the sides of Jason's knees to prove that he could have incapacitated him but Jason probably won't have a bruise to show for the repeated blows.

Jason gives up the second time that Red Robin pulls a blow so confidently that the end of his bo staff taps against Jason's helmet without causing any damage.

“Fine,” Jason growls after landing a couple hits of his own. Red Robin never slowed down, not at the hard hit to the side of his abdomen or the hard blow to the hip. “Fight's over unless we're going for something more serious than a sparring match. Happy?” Jason isn't. He still could just shoot his opponent but that would be a tacit admission that he wouldn't get anywhere with the staff. It would feel like losing all over again.

Red Robin twirls his staff back to a resting grip and flips the lenses of his mask to clear. His eyes are blue, like Jason's used to be, and he doesn't look surprised or afraid. He doesn't look like he's comparing Jason to the boy that died. If anything...

“Pretty happy, yeah.” Red Robin grins at him. “Future-you might want a rematch sometime. We've patrolled together a few times but I think he was waiting on anything past that to not mess up the time loop.”

Jason's gaze flicks to Red Robin's uninjured left arm. “You're him, though. Why would you want to patrol with me?”

Red Robin drops the smile. He looks a lot more serious but there is no trace of fear on his face. “I am. Tim Drake, third Robin. B's on his fifth Robin right now and you're going to like him. You like the fourth, too, but I don't want to give everything away. I don't want to set any fail conditions into this. I'm the one that traveled back in time but you could be the one stuck living in a time loop.”

Jason pictures getting through two years and then rocketing right back here to do it again. It had been fun, earlier, but he hadn't thought about hunting Robin down more than once. He had put all his plans together with the idea of everything being over. “Why would you trust me with any of this? I could go and mess it all up.”

“If we do this right, it only goes for one cycle. I don't think that you want to get trapped. Even if you intentionally work against the timeline in a couple years, you'd probably end up back here or needing the Flash to bail you out.”

Red Robin is polite enough to not mention that Batman would never be kept out of the loop by the time the mission was that risky.

Jason sighs. “How exactly do you think this is going to work? It's not like I've given one shred of evidence I want to cooperate with anybody.”

Tim shrugs. “You're the one that went and talked to Flash about this at some point. I only found out a few minutes before I showed up here. I asked you to–will ask? Future-you is right, verb tenses are a nightmare. Anyway. I only had a few minutes' notice and I think that's for the best. I don't know anything about the loop and won't remember that my younger self's on a Gotham rooftop right now. You're looking after him. I thought it was the best dream I'd ever had.”

Fighting Robin-the-younger hadn't taken the edge off his anger the way he'd expected. Puzzling through time travel is a better distraction. If he manages to get a time loop right the first time, if he can set goals that are more than the next bit of violence to bleed out the barely-controlled rage... “At the end of this loop. I'm in a good spot?”

“You get the Pit Rage under control, Jason. You're going to be okay. Just remember: 9:54 PM on June 4^th in two years. You came back to Gotham a few months before that.” Tim's voice is light but his tone is sure. He's standing in Titans Tower the night Jason attacked him and acts like he doesn't need anything from Jason.

Maybe that's why Jason can pry the words loose. “I'm sorry. For earlier tonight. I guess it's been a lot longer for you.”

“Thanks,” Tim says. “I. Um. Wasn't sure how much we'd be able to talk, actually. I've read up on the Lazarus Pit and I can't even imagine, Jason. I don't know how it feels. I promise that Dick and Alfred would leave Bruce out of it if you need more time before you can talk to him.”

“Alfred's still alright?”

“Alfred's doing well. You talk to him pretty often, lately, and he might have been one of the first people you called when you ended up back in Gotham. He's always happier after you call or after he visits you. Alfred didn't admit he was visiting you until you told someone else. If you come back to the Manor, I don't know about it.”

“You and I don't talk much, I guess.”

“You're the only one that knows that we're in a time loop. A couple years from now, I tried to talk down a researcher with a time travel device and think that nothing happened. Oracle wanted you to keep an eye on me while we checked that nothing was wrong.” Tim shrugs. “At 9:54, you looked at your watch and we had a couple minutes to plan. We haven't talked much, maybe, but I trust you. We patrolled together a couple times before and I finally understand why you didn't want to say too much. We have the chance to get this right the first time through.”

“So I don't tell you anything about time travel.”

“Nope,” Tim agrees. “Not until—”

“9:54 PM on June 4^th two years from now,” Jason interrupts.

“Exactly. It's a time loop so I can't even say which one of us is to blame for only getting a few minutes' notice that I was heading back here again.”

Jason thinks it over. Time loop or not, they both could decide to do something else and then see what happens next. “You could've told me something else.”

“I want you to come home, Jason. To Gotham if not to the Manor. My younger self will come around pretty quickly once you vanish off the map for a bit. I still don't know what you were doing but I hope you have a good couple years.”

“I guess you'll see me again in a minute,” Jason says. He's not sure what else they can say to each other and he's uncomfortable to realize just how much rage he'd felt against a particular kid he hadn't met. It makes him wonder just which other obsessions might not last when he sees them in a different light. Spending time so far off the map that even Bruce can't track him sounds like enough distraction for a week or two. Jason might need some time to decide what he does want out of the next couple years if he's tempted with the thought of Alfred's approval and his old family wanting him around.

“That's what I'm hoping. Good luck, Jason.”

Before Jason can think of what to say in reply, a burst of light flares and he knows that older-Tim is gone. The blue-tinged light is even worse without a wall blocking part of the flash.

He can hear the rougher breathing before he opens his eyes. When he does...

Older-Tim hadn't been kidding about picking on someone his own age. Tim isn't close to Jason's size even with two more years to grow. This Tim looks even smaller curled up on the floor with one of his arms in a sling.

Jason's the one that hurt him. He needs to make sure the kid gets some help. When he moves closer, rubbing his eyes when the bright flash of light returns with every blink, he stops.

Someone had already helped. If Tim is right... Jason's older self was there. Tim's arm is fixed in a sling printed with Red Robin's logo. Tim doesn't look afraid. He looks like he's caught up in the best dream possible. Jason wants to bundle him onto a couch and cover him in blankets.

Jason looks past the kid to realize that the sling and bizarre zipper-pillow aren't the only things that came from the future. There is a framed photograph propped up against Tim's arms. Catherine Todd's picture smiles up at him.

It was easy to forget how his mom's eyes had lit up with warmth and the way that her smile transformed her whole face.

His hands are steady when he picks up the glossy photograph in the silver frame. This wasn't an impulsive decision on his older self's part. He'd taken the time to find a nice frame and get the photo printed on glossy paper. The note written in his own handwriting on annoyingly bright pink paper proves it just as much as the photograph. A spiral-bound notebook is the last item in the stack.

He reads the note first. Whatever else changes, his handwriting stays the same.

9:54 PM, June 4^th, two years from now, just like he told you. He wasn't kidding. Not about any of it. Take your time, little-me, because it's worth it and you'll know the right time to go home. Call Flash sometime, he's cool and didn't say a word to Bruce. Everyone in Gotham is okay with letting you and Bruce figure things out on your schedule.

If you wait until you'll never feel frustrated with B again, you'll never go home, because he still drives everybody crazy at least once a week. Pit Rage makes everything a lot harder but it is not just you. Wait until you want to hug him more often than you want to punch him in the face. It's okay that it takes a while. He is really aggravating when you work up the nerve to call him (he's emotional and sappy and it's impossible to talk about anything important for the first few calls, I doubt you can change that even with foreknowledge) but it's still worth it to call him. He's helped out on a couple cases and I don't think anyone but Oracle knows. O won't tell.

Time loops are crazy but I think you've (we've?) got this. Good luck and no pressure.

Jason looks between his mother's smile and the note scrawled in his own handwriting. He keeps looking between them until he hears a faint noise.

Tim shifts again. “J'son?”

His words are slurred from exhaustion or pain or both. Jason doesn't know him well enough to guess which is a bigger cause. “Hey, Tim,” he says. He slowly lowers himself to one knee so he isn't towering over the kid. “I'll get the block on communications fixed up in just a minute, okay? Then you can call B.”

Tim's eyes drift shut. “You should call him,” he mutters, curling more on his side.

Jason is not going to call him. Jason is going to leave. He is not going to be here to explain this to Batman or Nightwing or anybody. He knows what they'll see and needs time to convince himself that a change of priorities can last.

Maybe he can get Tim to a better place, though. The zipper-pillow and tile floor can't be comfortable.

Jason holds his breath. He doesn't need to. When he reaches out to pull Tim up off the floor, Tim sleepily curls against his chest like he feels safe.

Tim looks so young. He's the same age Jason was when he died. Tim won't, though. His older self had taken care of the kid and the time loop was going to work out. Nothing else would get to Tim in the next two years, either, as long as Jason didn't do anything to mess up the loop. Even though that means getting Flash's attention as soon as possible and probably getting dragged into eating dinner with people that knew his face a few times. They'll keep a secret from Bruce as long as there was an expiration date. Jason knows that. If talking to Bruce is working... all that means is Jason has about two years to decide.

The medical cots aren't as cozy as the couch but they're better than most hospital beds. Tim grumbles when Jason sets him down but subsides when Jason drapes him in the Robin blanket from the bottom of the linen closet.

Jason sets the incoming communication blockade to end in five minutes. Outgoing signals will work but they won't be able to call the Tower and find any trace of him yet. He needs enough time to get out. He wouldn't be ready to face Bruce even if he wasn't trying to deal with time travel and his mom's picture. He'd forgotten the way she lit up when she smiled and he's starting to wonder why it's hard to picture Bruce smiling like that, too. He needs time and apparently he has a couple years.

Jason presses down on the emergency beacon in Robin's suit until he feels the subtle click that means the distress signal has been acknowledged. It's a double-click. Tim had tried to ask for help, earlier, and Jason hopes that they know that. Someone needs to tell Tim they would have come if someone hadn't known how to lock down the Tower so tightly no signals could come out.

Jason keeps his security access for a few more minutes. He only watches two cameras. Tim is sleeping peacefully in the infirmary, color already better and a peaceful look on his young face. Jason keeps an eye on him until the zeta tubes activate and Nightwing and Batman race out.

Jason heads out, fast, through the access tunnels with a manual release at the end that can't be locked from the Tower. Even if Dick knows it's him... only a speedster could catch Jason now, probably, and he has reasons to think the speedsters will help him out as long as he can convince them that he wants to take time. He wants a world where he can go home without feeling like he's ripping his heart out of his chest and offering people a free shot at it. He finally feels like he doesn't have to rush.

He checks the display on the stolen phone one more time. Tim's still sleepy but there's an unguarded smile on his face when Bruce cups his cheek and Dick clings to his hand. They're going to be okay and Jason is going to see them all again someday.

He drops his previous notebook of plans to take over Crime Alley in the bay after reading the first two pages of his new notebook. The short-term shock-and-awe strategy won't work longterm, his older self is emphatic about that, and Jason likes the ideas about how to start planning now to get Crime Alley back to Park Row with a little vigilantism and a lot of charity work. The Wayne Foundation would love to see the entire neighborhood as a safe place again even if Jason couldn't just ask Bruce to point some resources his way.

Time to get started. First step, heading toward Flash's town, and as odd as it is for someone looking for a speedster, Jason will take the slow way there. He's never made a cross-country trip before and he's always liked motorcycles. It's time to see parts of the world that aren't ruled by Bats or assassins. Jason has time to figure out who he is so that by the time he's the one taking care of Tim two years later, he'll be sure that it will all work out.

Chapter Text

Tim isn't on his favorite rooftop anymore. Being in the Batcave makes a little more sense, probably, but most places he could imagine would be better than the eerie silence in Titans Tower broken only by Jason's slow approach and sharp beeps as the system denied every single emergency code that Tim could remember.

The Batcave feels just as real as the rooftop. Tim can feel the familiar faint currents of air and hear the distant sound of bats. He also can feel a large hand closed gently around his. If he's dreaming that he is safe in the Batcave with Bruce keeping watch and hardly anything hurting, then he's not going to try to change a thing.

“Tim?”

Tim frowns. If it was his dream, Bruce would probably call him Robin, even though someone stripped off most of the uniform and left him in the undersuit. Even in a dream, that might make him think he'd be cold, but he can feel a heavy stack of blankets covering everything but his hand and face.

“Tim, you're safe,” Bruce says. “You can open your eyes.”

Tim braces himself but the dream doesn't end when he obeys. Bruce is mostly dressed for patrol but the cowl is gone and his hair is a mess. He looks tired and worried and not at all angry. The Cave looks normal without any distortions he'd expect from a dream.

“We're home,” Bruce says, voice quiet in the huge space of the Cave. “I brought you through the zeta tube about half an hour ago. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. A little sore. I don't want to be alone,” Tim says experimentally. He's tired and injured and feels unsettled. The Tower was supposed to be safe, Jason Todd apparently hates him, he had a crazy dream about a Jason that doesn't hate him, and Tim knows that he won't be able to stop overthinking everything if he's alone. Even if Bruce thinks it's ridiculous and too much to ask, he'll probably be kind about it. Tim can compromise and maybe have someone stay for a few hours. If his dream was right, though, instead of looking disappointed or agreeing to keep Tim company for an hour or two, Bruce will say—

“Of course,” Bruce agrees immediately, voice just as soft as before. “I'll stay with you. Dick will be back soon. He's making sure that the other Titans are okay and looking for any signs about what happened. Barbara had the Clock Tower on lockdown but she'll send Stephanie and Cassandra over soon. Any of us will be happy to stay with you.”

Tim swallows, hard, because he never thought it could be this easy. He has never been brave enough to ask Bruce to stay. Everyone seems to think Tim is more comfortable on his own. It's true, sometimes, but Tim is too used to assuming that he shouldn't ask for more. His parents left him behind so many times and never had five extra minutes to spare if they decided it was time to leave. He forgets his new family is more generous with their time.

“I don't always like being alone but it's hard to ask.” Tim is tired and still half-convinced he's dreaming. Bruce is still looking at him like it doesn't matter that Tim embarrassed himself badly in a fight. It makes it easier to say the words before bravery fails him. “My parents...”

Bruce squeezes his hand.

Tim takes the time to find the words. The anxiety that usually burns under his ribs when he tries to talk about his parents with Bruce isn't there. If it was, maybe he could have pushed through it. “They went on trips out of the country a lot and sometimes they didn't come home much during my breaks from boarding school. They didn't like it if I asked them to stay longer.”

Bruce's face twists. For a second, Tim thinks he said too much, but the disappointed expression smooths into certainty. “Any of us would be happy to stay with you. Almost any time you ask.”

Tim swallows, hard, and nods. He isn't sure that he could form words until that sinks in. Bruce makes it sound so easy and right now it's easy to believe him. Of everything Batman could be doing, he's holding Tim's hand.

“Cave for now?” Tim asks through a yawn.

“Cave for now,” Bruce confirms. “I think you'll fall asleep again soon and I don't think any of the imaging will wake you up. You're going to be okay.”

Tim feels warm. Every part of him is warm and it isn't just from the blankets. “Can you start when someone else is here? Please? It was...”

Tim frowns at the jarring memories. Red Hood and then the furious face beneath the helmet. Jason Todd, no helmet in sight, looking calm and steady. Losing the fight. Waking up afraid but safe with Jason and gentle reassurance. Falling asleep and waking up with Bruce. All the memories blend together and he's too tired to separate what really happened from the reassuring daydream.

“I can wait,” Bruce promises. “Alfred will be back downstairs soon. If he hasn't already done it, we'll bring in a futon or a chair into your room so that someone can stay until you kick us out.”

Red Hood had been viciously sure that Tim didn't deserve to be part of Jason's family. Dream-Jason had been sure that Tim was a part of the family and that Red Hood would come around eventually. The half-dream feels a lot less real than the rage and the pain beneath Red Hood's helmet but the kinder version of Jason had been right.

“Bruce?”

“Yes?”

“Red Hood is Jason.” Tim smiles sleepily when Bruce's polite but puzzled expression freezes. “He's really angry, though, and he was in a Lazarus Pit. I think he'll get better eventually. He said that you love me.” That had been dream-Jason, really, but it is too much of a relief that someone else said it and Tim doesn't have to be the only one that thinks it could be true.

“I do,” Bruce says. The words sound a little muffled but it's okay. Tim was convinced even before Bruce said it.

The dream keeps being right and it's the best dream he's ever had. Bruce loves him. His family will stay with him if he just asks. Someday, he'll have another brother with a rough introduction, but it'll be okay. He can believe that much of the dream. Maybe he can believe that his dad will wake up again, someday, but Tim still won't have to leave Bruce and home for his dad's house.

Someday, Jason will come home. He'd been angry enough to threaten and hurt Tim but he'd left the Tower before anyone made him. Tim woke up with Bruce watching over him and he doesn't have any other injuries. If Jason really wanted Tim out of the way, Tim never would have woken up from the other dream.

Tim lets his eyes slip closed. Bruce loves him. He'll say it again, later, and so will Tim. Dream-Jason was right about so many things and maybe someday real-Jason will be like him.

Tim wakes up the next morning with hazy memories about a kind Jason gently urging him to tell Bruce and semi-lucid memories about talking with Bruce in the Cave about everything that both of them have been politely ignoring for years.

Cass, curled up with a book in an armchair next to his bed, reaches for the ribbon she likes to use as a bookmark.

Tim sits up slowly and reaches for the thermos of cold water on the nightstand. It takes several long sips before he feels ready to talk.

Cass sets her book aside and looks at him.

Tim swallows. It still hurts even after the water. “Please tell me I was dreaming, down in the Cave. I half-remember a really weird conversation with Bruce.”

Cass raises a brow and waits.

Tim slumps. “I know. I shouldn't... I just...” He looks down at his arm. The decorated sling he half-remembers is gone in favor of a plain black sling over a bright red cast. “I embarrassed myself enough as it is. I don't need special attention after losing a fight.”

Cass holds up her index finger. She presses the finger against his lips pointedly before leaning back and very deliberately forming the Bat hand-sign for Good Robin.

Bruce calls it 'alteration to the plan confirmed.' Everyone else calls it Good Robin.

Tim looks away. “I...”

Cass presses her finger against his lips, again, and he looks back at her. He knows she has bad days with words, sometimes, and he hadn't meant to ignore her.

Cass taps his hands and waits.

Tim has a hard enough time putting his feelings into words. Putting them into sign language is much harder. He's been trying to work on ASL but it's one of way too many things that he should be better at already. His left hand is half caught in a sling and he doesn't know how to compensate for that with an already limited vocabulary of signs. He falls back to Bat hand-signals, instead, using only his right hand.

'Should-be-quiet.' 'Reckless Robin.' 'Go-home-now.' 'Trouble.'

Tim drops his hand flat when he's done. He doesn't know how else to say it but he just wants to pretend this didn't happen for a little longer. He'd rather daydream about his strange hallucination of a gentler Jason than picture that look on Bruce's face. Tim and Bruce were always partners, first, and it probably isn't a good thing to be downgraded to a little kid. Bruce agreed that Tim could be Robin. Tim has never dared to ask for more than that. Before his parents were attacked, Tim patrolled as Robin and then went right back to an empty house. Having a place here should be enough.

“Harder to say in signs.” Cass's voice is gentle. “Harder to lie and say what you think others want to hear. For me, trouble in learning a new skill is bad. I know, here, that it is okay.” She taps her temple. “But sometimes I do not believe it. The body remembers. For you... asking for company was bad?”

Tim doesn't know if his parents can compare to David Cain.

Cass flicks him on the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!”

“Already hurt, but that still hurts.” Cass taps his shoulder gently. “You asked for help with the emotional hurts, too. Good Robin.”

Tim looks down at her hands. “Bruce isn't upset? I need to know if it was okay. It's okay, if it isn't, because I don't ever want to try to take something that isn't mine. He never said that he loves me before. I just...” He drags his eyes up so Cass can see his face. “I just said that he loved me and he agreed. Is it okay?”

“Good Robin,” Cass repeats firmly. She reaches out to squeeze his good hand. “He's happy. We're happy. Both of you have a hard time with new big emotions. We can all wonder if you only said it because you had pain medication and exhaustion and pain but still agree it was a good thing that should have been said. He would not have wanted to say anything that would make you feel pushed into a relationship that you may not have wanted. Good Robin. It will be easier, next time.”

Tim is not at all sure that there is going to be a next time. Maybe in another few months. He and Bruce usually try to avoid emotions until they don't have any other options.

“Ssh,” Cass says. She probably knows exactly what he was thinking but she isn't one to repeat a lecture. “Breakfast?”

Tim grimaces and shakes his head. He's still feeling a little sick to his stomach. When he tries to reach for his water, she switches to holding his hand around the sling. She doesn't reach for her book or show any sign of moving. “You're staying?”

“I'm staying. We can make a sign before lunch. A new hand-sign to ask for a hug because signing is easier sometimes when the same sign means different things. The same sign means different things, like the same sign for 'I want a hug' and 'do you want me to hug you.' It can be both asking and offering.”

“A 'please hug me' sign?” Tim smiles when she nods. “If Dick and Steph aren't all over it by the end of lunch, they don't get to name it.”

“Agreed.” Cass doesn't let go of his hand. It's okay, though, because Bat-signs are always designed for one hand.

Tim hasn't gotten anything done on his most recent report and he at least could help Stephanie with the inventory for the medical bay. After the fourth time Tim tells himself that he'll get up in just five more minutes, it doesn't matter that he can't bring himself to cross the Cave.

“Out with it,” Stephanie calls. “Better yet, come over here and then out with it.”

Tim all but drags his feet as he walks to the Cave's medical bay. Steph is the only person around and it's probably best that way. She probably knows what he's trying to deal with better than he does but sometimes he doesn't want to say the words out loud.

Steph doesn't put down her clipboard when he makes it over. She hands him a bin while she clenches a pen in her teeth. “I need a count and an expiration date check on all of these vials,” she says after grabbing her pen. “Anything with a date in the next six months goes in the usual spot.”

The clear liquid inside the bottles shines in the Cave's lighting and they clink together when he sorts through them. Nothing is expired, not when Alfred makes his own regular checks, but he does find a couple bottles that expire in five months. They never seem to go that long before they break out the lidocaine.

“Nineteen. Two expiring soon,” he says.

Steph doesn't look up from the inventory list as she writes in the numbers. “Ready to talk about it or are we going to keep doing this? I'm checking the antibiotics next so we could have at least ten minutes of counting before I nudge you again.”

Tim sighs. “I like never talking about parents.”

Steph sets the clipboard aside and hops onto one of the beds. He sits on the next one over.

“You need to talk about what happens next.” Steph reaches out with one leg and pokes his knee with her slippered toes. She found fuzzy Batman slippers at the thrift store and she's worn them in the cave for weeks. “You know you need to talk about it. If you want to go back, then that's fine, but I don't think that you do. None of us have talked about it but you haven't, either.”

Tim shrugs. “He's my dad. I have to go back.”

“Bzzzt. Wrong.” Stephanie pokes him the shoulder with the top of her pen. “He is your biological father, sure, but that doesn't mean much around here. If nothing else, it's okay to wait. He was in a coma for ages and he needs so many kinds of therapy. Not just family therapy, either. He's got physical therapy and occupational therapy and learning how to use a wheelchair and dealing with the part where he's been in a coma for ages and your mom died two years ago.”

Tim looks up. For now, Steph is waiting patiently. “Bruce is my dad,” he admits. “Jack Drake is some guy that I used to disappoint constantly when I saw him a couple times a year. Barbara was talking to me a little bit about learning to use a wheelchair and how it can be really hard to cope with the transition. He had a pretty bad temper even without that much stress.”

“Even if you do go back eventually, both of you need time to figure out how to deal with this,” Steph says. “If he wants to fight for custody, though? Tim, you know you don't have to go back. Bruce can prove neglect. If Jack is smart, he'll agree to having that out privately and not making this messy.”

“I don't...” Tim doesn't know what he wants or doesn't want. He doesn't want his dad to be dead. He didn't want him to be in a coma forever but he knows that weekly visits to someone in a coma are nothing like living with his father. He hasn't been in the house with his dad for more than a couple weeks since before he started boarding school.

“I want to stay here but it's hard to turn away when Jack expects me to be there.” Tim thinks back to their last few conversations. They'd touched more when Jack was still in a coma. All the nurses said that contact helped and Tim had dutifully held his dad's hand at every visit. Since Jack woke up, Tim has only tried once. Jack had pulled away. “I don't know if he wants me there, though, or if he just thinks that he has to take care of me.”

“Tim. You get to pick.” Steph's voice has hardened to the confident register that usually comes with Spoiler. “He lost that right when he left you alone for so long.”

Tim doesn't want to go back just because it's what people expect. He thought about this, once. He's sure that someone talked about this but he can't quite remember who expected his dad to come out of the coma so much that they talked about what happened next.

“I want to stay here,” Tim says experimentally. It doesn't sound selfish when he doesn't want anything he doesn't already have. Bruce has made it clear that he thinks of Tim as a son. Dick calls him a brother. Cass is very pointed about calling Tim her little brother. Steph and her mom are doing better lately and she might never agree to Bruce adopting her but Steph still has her own bedroom and no sense that she's visiting whenever she feels like staying over.

Tim slides off the bed. “I want to stay here. Are you coming along to make sure I talk to Bruce?”

Stephanie picks up her clipboard. “I'm going to finish inventory. If you haven't talked to him by dinnertime, I will know, and then you can have this talk with Cass or Dick instead of me.”

Tim rolls his eyes even as he makes the hand-sign he and Cass had worked out a few months ago. Dick and Stephanie promptly named it 'Hug Robin' and refuse to call it anything else.

Stephanie drops the clipboard and hugs him.

“Thanks,” he says.

Stephanie smiles into his shoulder. “Anytime.”

Tim visits his father, sometimes, but he always comes home to his dad.

Jack hates Tim's civilian motorcycle and probably isn't a big fan of the one Robin uses, either, but Tim and Jack do not talk about Robin. They also do not talk about the time Jack belatedly realized that Tim is the current Robin and tried to threaten Bruce.

Jack doesn't like that Tim is Robin but Tim will not talk about it with him. They talk about other things, instead, like Jack's new therapists' ideas for modifying archaeology dig site infrastructure for wheelchair accessibility or Jack's efforts to get Drake Industries' market share back. Dinners are awkward but not awful as long as they only happen once every couple weeks when they suit Jack's schedule. Tim can't imagine how much he'd dislike living away from his family but he and Jack are making slow progress toward feeling like a very small family.

His new little brother is trying Tim's patience. So far, Tim's patience is winning, but Damian figured out Tim's weak points quickly.

Damian seems to think that Tim should go home. He doesn't mean Wayne Manor. Tim bites his tongue, because Damian was raised by assassins and needs time to learn that implying Tim isn't Bruce's son won't earn him any points here, and both physical attacks were stopped very quickly. Tim doesn't know what Bruce and Dick said to Damian after the second ambush but he's pretty sure that Cass was just getting to the Cave while Alfred brought Tim upstairs. Between Bruce and Dick and his overprotective big sister, Damian has kept his dislike to insults since then.

If Tim wasn't absolutely sure that Bruce sees him as his son, Tim probably would have lost his temper several times over. Since Tim is already sure he has the one thing Damian seems to want, it makes it a little easier to wait him out. Damian thinks it's a competition. The rest of them have been teasing Bruce that he's late in adopting the next kid.

Despite Damian's complete lack of interest in anything but Tim's Robin suit, Tim is sure that Damian will come around eventually.

Maybe part of Tim's strange calm is that the Red Hood is back in town and shooting rubber bullets. Jason shot several rubber bullets at Batman when Bruce tried to get close. All hit on the most reinforced parts of Batman's armor. Nightwing had a few bullets ricochet against the rooftop he was standing on but none hit him. Spoiler keeps her distance and Red Hood doesn't seem interested in her. Batgirl says that he called her a fucking wraith and asked where she came from when she let herself into his safehouse while he was washing dishes. Batgirl also says that he has no intention of going after Robin or any of the other Bats and wants his space and to wash dishes in peace.

Even if Jason doesn't talk to anyone else, he's alive and back in Gotham and they keep finding rubber bullets. Tim even finds a few rubber bullets on the ground after a nasty fight near the Bowery. Tim had been struggling against four opponents when two suddenly clutched at a knee and fell over, leaving them far easier to incapacitate. The rubber bullets matched the ones that Bruce and Dick had brought back to the Cave.

Jason won't come home but he at least wants them to be safe.

If Jason can go from attacking him to protecting him, Tim can figure out a way to make Damian do the same when they're living in the same house.

Tim comes back from the next awkward dinner with his father with a plan. He checks in with Alfred, promises Bruce that dinner was awkward but fine, and heads right down to the Cave while ignoring his very tiny shadow.

Tim had worn workout clothes to dinner on purpose. Jack hadn't been happy but he hadn't said a word about it. Maybe, next time, Tim will explain just why he didn't want to waste a moment after dinner changing. Maybe his dad would listen to one of Tim's stories. If the plan works, it might be one worth telling.

Damian always finds him to land a few verbal hits after Tim spends any time at his father's house. This time, Tim has a bo staff in his hands and he's doing a quarter-speed pattern dance that works very well as a warmup exercise. For once, Damian doesn't lead with an edged weapon or a knife or words. Tim has his favorite bo staff in his hands and he could do a lot of damage to Damian's treasured katana. If Damian comes after him with his sword, Tim won't even have to feel bad for defending himself and doing a lot of damage to the sword's edge in the process.

Damian chooses another bo staff when he attacks.

Tim cheerfully wins the impromptu sparring match. By the way he glares afterward, Damian probably knows that Tim pulled all of his strikes.

“I'll teach you, if you want,” Tim offers. “The bo staff and tips about how I got Bruce to let me be Robin.”

Damian tries to hide it but the flare of emotion is impossible to conceal. Tim sees the moment of naked hope and that's enough to forgive weeks of insults and even the minor stab wound.

Tim was never going to be Robin forever. If giving up Robin someday is all it takes to get a little brother instead of a suspicious tiny assassin that thinks he has to fight his way into a place that he doesn't belong...

“Learning from Dick is a great start. He's really good at explaining all the unspoken rules that most people don't recognize.” Sometimes because boarding schools and gala manners are not a great substitute for life, sometimes because Cass missed nearly all of what childhood should be, sometimes because Steph wants a little reassurance about showing up to formal parties as a friend of the Wayne family. “He was also the first Robin and known worldwide as a great fighter.”

“This seems to give you no benefit.” Damian's voice is cool but he looks much less hostile than usual.

“Sure it does,” Tim says. “Bruce will be really happy if we start getting along. Everyone will, really, but I think you care about his opinion the most. I'll be happy if you stop attacking me and insulting me for having a dad that lives next door. No one else specializes in bo staff and it would be nice to have someone else to spar with.”

Damian sniffs. “The others could have defeated you. I am less familiar with the weapon.”

“They can beat me sometimes, sure, but it's not their favorite weapon.” Tim keeps his voice casual. “It's been mine since I trained with Lady Shiva.” If that doesn't get Damian's interest, he'll use his backup plan and offer to help Damian's campaign to get a dog.

Damian shifts his grip on the bo staff back to a ready position. “Accepted,” he agrees.

By the time Tim can't think of what else he can teach Damian about staff-fighting, Tim thinks that they're brothers. He's pretty sure that they're going to be okay when Damian offers a few lessons in how to fight with a katana and tentatively asks if Tim likes dogs. By the time that Titus is settled into the Manor and Tim changes his callsign to Red Robin, Tim knows that he and his little brother are going to be okay. 

Tim settles in on his favorite rooftop to wait for his big brother. He's right in the middle of town, the pizza place on the first floor has a couple vents that bring the smell of baking pizza all the way up to the roof, and on calm nights he can listen in on a band down on the pizza restaurant's stage.

The building underneath him is an office complex, not a residential place, so hardly anyone comes up to spend time on the plain concrete roof. The office building's security staff have known that he likes their roof for years. They put a trash can next to the locked rooftop access door and empty it regularly. It's nice to grapple up to a roof with a couple boxes of pizza and not have to deal with that much cardboard afterward. A few months after someone put the trash can there, someone installed a shelf. Once in a while, someone leaves a plastic bin on the shelf with a birthday card a few sticky notes about who will get the card. Tim has no idea if the little kids getting the cards believe someone actually got Robin to sign them but he's flattered that the cards still show up once in a while even when he's patrolling as Red Robin.

This time, the plastic bin strapped down to the shelf outside the door has a birthday card and two brand-new action figures, one already out of the packaging.

“They must've been on the waitlist,” Dick says from behind him.

Tim doesn't jump and doesn't drop the box. Between Dick, Cass, and the Teen Titans, he's used to unexpected friendly company. Tim holds up the little Red Robin action figure. The manufacturer had done a good job of getting the overall look of the costume right without putting in too many details about how to break the suit apart. “This one's for me. The boxed one is for a charity auction.”

“Who gets the card this time?” Dick asks.

Tim hands over the card and a pen. The security team leaves notes if the recipient only wants one autograph. They're used to getting the occasional bonus Batgirl or Spoiler or Nightwing. Tim hasn't managed to persuade Damian or Bruce to sign a card yet but he won't give up.

“Happy seventh birthday to Sophie,” Tim replies. He autographs the back of the Red Robin box and tucks the loose action figure into one of the pockets on his belt. Bruce gave up on keeping action figures out of the Cave after Stephanie kept sneaking them in. Once, she managed to get a Batman figure positioned right in front of the camera Bruce uses for video calls. He didn't notice until Clark sent a private message asking if they should reschedule the meeting for a time when Bruce was ready to be on camera. Bruce moved the action figure while he was presenting video footage and made a deal. They get one display case to show off merchandise and argue over who has the best action figure and who deserves to complain to the design team.

Tim looks up from the birthday card and sees someone on the rooftop next door.

Tim hasn't seen Red Hood in more than a passing glimpse for almost two years. Red Hood looks a lot different with the signature helmet off. The red domino mask is a lot less intimidating than the blank façade. Red Hood probably could have snuck up behind them, if he wanted, but he's waiting in full view and he isn't reaching for a firearm.

“Hey, Hood!” Dick calls. “Want some pizza?”

Red Hood leaps over the alley and lands quietly. Everyone that Bruce trains learns how to land with hardly a sound. Red Hood is no exception even after putting on a lot more muscle than he ever has as Robin.

“What's the box?” Red Hood asks.

“It's from the building's security guards,” Tim replies. Red Hood is looking right at him, not at Dick. “They know I like this rooftop. Sometimes they ask me to sign birthday cards out for kids.”

“What do you think, Hood?” Dick asks. “You've been semi-publicly on the Bats' side lately. If it won't mess up what you're working on...” He reaches out for the birthday card and steps closer to Red Hood.

Red Hood looks at the signatures before shaking his head. “Maybe in a few months. I have a few things to finish up before I want to publicly claim much more than not-enemies.”

Tim tries to not read too much into it when Hood hands the card back to him. Hood could have avoided them, if he wanted, but maybe he wanted to prove he could be in arm's reach of Tim without anything bad happening. It makes sense to get close while Dick is there. Jason doesn't know Tim well at all. Tim only knows Jason from stories and a long-ago fight. Somehow, though, it doesn't seem so strange to see Jason on his favorite rooftop. Maybe it's not weird that Jason saw Tim sign something as Robin and doesn't look angry.

“We'll see you around, then?” Tim asks.

Maybe Tim isn't afraid because he can see Jason's face. Maybe it's because every single detail in Jason's body language is different. Maybe it's because Jason looks so surprised when Tim asks.

Jason nods. “Sure. I'll – um. Oracle convinced me to link into comms, just in case. Call me if you need help.”

Jason leaves quickly after that. It's just as well, probably, because Dick visibly wanted to hug his long-lost little brother and Jason clearly was not comfortable offering so much as a handshake.

Dick hugs Tim instead. Maybe Jason will be comfortable getting closer to Dick next time.

Two months later, Tim knows that Oracle saved the footage. One of her digital picture frames in the Clock Tower is dedicated to Jason, now, and rotates through surveillance snapshots of him working on his own or with some of the other Bats. Tim hasn't noticed any pictures with Jason and Bruce together but everyone else has photos. Barbara even has a selfie with her arm around Jason's shoulders. Tim has a couple pictures there, too, but all of them are from the one time Tim has seen Jason in Gotham.

Tim doesn't think that Red Hood hates him anymore. Jason seems happy to patrol with almost everyone else, though, so being ignored doesn't feel great. He'd understand if Jason wanted to spend time with Dick and Barbara again. It feels a little personal when there are so many pictures of Jason with Cass and Steph and Damian.

The comms are quiet when Tim heads for his favorite rooftop to drink some water and eat an energy bar. Eating pizza alone gets old fast. There aren't any cards in the bin and no reason to linger but it's nice to take a minute in the quiet. Oracle would tell him if something needed his attention and so far he's a few minutes ahead of his goals for the night.

“Red Robin, do you have a minute?” Oracle asks.

“I've got several, O. What do you need?”

“We've got a situation in the Bowery. A few more are on the way but you're closest. If you're comfortable working with Red Hood, he could use your help stopping a hostage situation before it starts?”

“I'm okay with that, sure,” Tim says. He would agree even if he was afraid of Jason, probably, but he isn't. His memories aren't reliable enough to know what happened in Titans Tower. He remembers the fight but not how it ended. He's certain that Jason could have done more damage, though, and instead he'd walked away and vanished for a long time before showing up in Gotham looking a lot more centered.

“He'll meet you at your location in a minute,” Oracle replies. “The subtle approach is best and you haven't worked together before. Take a couple minutes to talk strategy. I think your window is twenty minutes and it won't take more than a few to get to your next location.”

Tim doesn't know what Oracle would have done if he'd said no. He's sure that she would have had a plan, though, and it doesn't matter anymore. Jason isn't being subtle about his approach for now. Red Hood's usual brash approach draws attention even before he'd added a vivid red bat to his armor.

Something about the red bat looks familiar, as impossible as it is, because Jason hasn't had that in any of Oracle's pictures.

Jason lands on the rooftop again. “You don't need to be okay with this.”

Tim looks up from the red bat. “I am, though. I hear we're going for sneaky?”

Barbara makes a quiet click on the comm, right in Tim's ear. It's an extra reassurance that he doesn't need. He's pretty sure that he and Jason would be alright even without Barbara's electronic eyes following them.

It's easy to work with Jason. They can't talk much, not when they're working hard to be stealthy, but that cuts out any chance of small talk or banter.

By the time the cavalry gets there, all of the civilians are safe and they both get to join the short-lived brawl against the group of men that had been trying to take over an abandoned warehouse for Two-Face's use. Jason vanishes before anyone can say thank you but Tim is pretty sure that he'll see him around again.

He's right.

Two years after he dismissed the setting as a dream, Tim stands on a familiar rooftop and stares at his big brother. After a time loop and the conversation Tim barely remembers, Tim thinks he can claim Jason as his brother.

“How did I do?” Tim asks. “Everything seems stable to me.”

“Nothing seems different.” Jason looks smaller without all of his layers of gear. He's still built like a tank but his Red Hood look was designed to be intimidating. “We're probably fine. Team Flash was pretty sure we were dealing with a stable time loop and that I'd only live through it once. If it wasn't a stable loop, one or both of us would probably have been stuck living through it over and over until we got it right, but I think we're set.”

“I think we did it.” Tim stares, trying to remember everything he'd dismissed as a dream. It's just as hazy as before but now he knows that it worked out. “Thanks, by the way. The pep talk worked.”

“Mutual,” Jason replies. “I took a few days to get my head on straight but I called the Justice League's time travel crisis line. They probably would have helped me out even without time travel possibly proving I was going to get better. I still owe you one.”

Tim shakes his head. “You already did me a favor, Jason. Three favors. You got me to call Bruce dad to the point where I stayed with him. My bio dad... it would've been awful. We do a lot better with visiting once or twice a month. You got me to give Damian a chance. We're already square.”

Jason straightens from grabbing a bundle of his gear from behind the enclosed stairwell. “It'll be nice to stop feeling like I'm going to say the wrong thing around you.” Jason shrugs his armored vest back on before grabbing his coat and replacing his guns in their holsters. “I was pretty paranoid I was going to say the wrong thing and mess up the loop.”

“Is this why you wouldn't come home?”

“Part of it.” Jason looks up, gesturing to the guns. “Bruce and I are still working things out.”

Tim waits while Jason finishes checking over his armor. “If he says anything too awkward, please give him a chance. If he's rude, he'll have to deal with Alfred and Dick before the rest of us get our chances.”

“I think we've got it sorted out,” Jason allows. “Let's check in with the Flash, first. I want to be sure this is over.”

Tim taps his comm. He should have done that right away, maybe, but both of them had needed a moment. “Hey, Oracle. Red Robin here. I think we're stable.”

“Nice to hear your voice,” Barbara says. “The short version: Flash agrees. The long version is going to take a while even for speedsters, they're all very excited about a closed time loop. They'll call you later. The Batmobile is already waiting in the alley. Batman himself is giving you some space, you are both welcome for not having a public reunion with a worried Batman. The car is yours to get home safely.”

Jason looks over the edge of the building. “Does that mean I get to drive?”

Tim stares down at the small crowd mostly ignoring the Batmobile. The Batmobile is old news. Flash talking excitedly with a near-supervillain is a much rarer sight. “Only if we're going home.”

“Deal,” Jason grumbles, but he's smiling when he puts his helmet on.

The two of them swing down together. The small crowd of people looks a lot less nervous about Red Hood when they can see him approach with Red Robin. Dr. Belemay apologizes several more times before Tim manages to convince her that he's probably better off after his little experiment with time travel. She's even happier when he promises he'll tell the Flash the highlights so he can reconstruct how the loop might have progressed.

Tim and Jason leave while the Flash and the scientist are moving toward a Justice League shuttle that someone sent for her. Transport-via-speedster is a little unsettling and not something they want to try with a newbie scientist that might decide to work for the League full-time. Traveling in a shuttle to a zeta tube location is much easier to tolerate and still pretty cool.

Jason drives them home. When they get back to the Cave, Bruce doesn't pick which of them to hug first. He holds onto both of them and doesn't let go for a long time.

Tim gives up after the first few seconds. Bruce has clearly settled in for a hug and Jason isn't protesting. Tim is a little squished but he isn't uncomfortable. It's also not bad to be caught up with both of them curling an arm around him.

After about half a minute, Dick clears his throat.

Bruce doesn't let go.

Tim leans back enough to see his big brother looking over the group fondly. Cass and Steph look like any lectures about Tim getting hit with a ray gun are going to wait. Damian is trying to seem politely disinterested but Stephanie has made him unexpectedly fond of group hugs.

“Hey, Jason,” Tim says.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay with group hugs and an unreasonable amount of crowding and elbows?”

Jason shrugs. “With warning, sure. I can handle some elbows.”

Tim pulls one arm loose and holds up the sign for 'hug Robin.' Less than ten seconds later, Damian has elbowed him three times and Tim can't be sure how many times his little brother landed hits against anyone else. If Damian wanted to hurt people, he'd leave more than traces of bruises behind, and competing with Stephanie in some bizarre game involving jabbing people with elbows makes him happier about hugs. Tim doesn't get it but the occasional jab from an elbow isn't bad. Steph elbows Tim once, sharply, and he's pretty sure that's for getting stuck in a time loop and making her worry.

Cass doesn't throw any elbows. She curls in between Tim and Jason and doesn't mind when Dick mostly squashes her against them.

Barbara herself is already in the kitchen when they finally shed most pieces of their patrol uniforms and make it upstairs. She distracts Bruce with scheduling a conference call with the speedsters and Dr. Belemay long enough for everybody else to pretend that no one notices that Jason and Alfred take several minutes to grab the delicious results of Alfred's stress-baking after hearing from Barbara that two of his boys were involved in a time loop that would probably work out well.

Tim sets a few cookies aside for Jack. The rest of his family is already gathered around the cookies and brownies and sometimes it's more fun to explain time travel to someone that doesn't see it often enough to have protocols and default plans.