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Chapter Text

"The League of Assassins is your family. We found you. We nursed you back to health and we trained you. Your loyalty belongs only to us."

Daryan bowed his head. He wasn't a fan of all these speeches because they were worth nothing at the end of the day. Only too gladly would he have said to Ra's face, that he was just an old windbag, but Daryan had already learned from the last punishment that sometimes you had to keep your mouth shut. Ra's himself, unfortunately, had not yet internalized this.

"My father will send you on a mission."

Daryan had nodded and listened as Talia had warned him. It wasn't the first time she had tried to protect him from Ra's, and he wasn't foolish enough not to take her warnings seriously. Without Talia's support, he would have died long ago in this miserable place. Some days he didn't know if it wouldn't be better to just die rather than be trained here and yet never be able to live a real life, but Talia had assured him that he would be free soon enough. He would just have to do some missions for her father.

"I want you to take them seriously and fulfill them."

"Of course," Daryan had replied. He had already successfully completed several kill missions, and he would have preferred to ask how many more before he could leave, but Talia had never answered that question until now. Now, however, she seemed to see through his thoughts.

"It is your last mission, Daryan. If you complete it successfully, my father can no longer deny you your wish for freedom. Without you, this mission will not work."

Daryan nodded again, but he couldn't believe it. All the past months, all the missions, and now it was going to be over soon? He wanted nothing more than this, yet he still didn't know what he would do with his freedom. He only knew that anything was better than this place.

"The Bat of Gotham has been one of our enemies for some time, however, he enjoyed a similar training as you. To destroy him, we must strike from within."

"You want me to gain his trust?" inquired Daryan critically. Talia had very well told him about her beloved. A dangerous man who trusted nothing and no one. Ra's had chosen him as a worthy heir, but the Bat, Batman, had refused. A bad move, considering that the immortal demon had all the time in the world to make sure that one regretted the decision.

"Yes. That's right," the head of the Assassins replied, for once not angry that Daryan was speaking without permission.

"Why would he trust me, of all people?"

A more than valid question. Daryan knew he couldn't hide his suspicious posture; it was too much a part of him for that. He didn't know why that was the case, but he couldn't remember his own name either, so that was no wonder. So why would the most suspicious person in the world trust someone like him?

"Because he'll think you're his son."

Daryan looked up at Ras in surprise.

"What?"

"Certain similarities in appearance exist, considering he last saw his son as a child. Moreover, your pre-existing amnesia allows you to convey him believably. After all, there's a lot you don't know about yourself."

Daryan lowered his head again so he wouldn't be seen grinding his teeth. He didn't like that he couldn't remember anything before his time here with the League. Talia thought that he had lived a peaceful peasant life in Arabia before that. Daryan felt nothing at this notion and so, of course, Talia could be speaking the truth or simply lying. It was impossible to tell when there was no evidence.

"I will not disappoint you," Daryan spoke the words which were expected of him, "You will not have to wait long for success."

Daryan would do everything in his power to accomplish this mission as quickly as possible. Not only for his freedom but also because he wanted to play someone who loved a person for as short a time as possible, only to stab that person in the back. He had killed a few people before, but he had never been this cruel. Batman really should never have messed with Ra's al Ghul because his revenge plan was pure evil.

Tim had Alfred drive him to Robinson Park. Alfred had some shopping to do in town himself and would pick Tim up later.

Slightly nervous, he ran his hands over his pants to get rid of the sweat. Yet he had no reason to feel that way at all. It was a simple meeting with Barbara. They had already talked so many times as Robin and Oracle, it wouldn't make any difference that they were now meeting privately as Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon. The only problem was that Tim was afraid that Barbara would quickly realize that he wasn't interesting at all. What else would they have in common except for their vigilante lives? She was a few years older than him and hadn't grown up in high society as he had. Sure, she had been seen at some events as an appendage of her father, but Tim could bet he was the only one of them who had tried to be well remembered by later business partners.

He shook his head, preferring to make his way toward the center of the park, where Barbara was surely waiting for him. Although she was in a wheelchair, he didn't recognize her in the crowd because of that, but rather because of her red hair. It simply stood out. And what's more, she waved at him. Now a fat grin did flit onto his face when he saw her so happy. It would be fine.

"Tim! Glad you could make it."

"Yeah. Sure ... I mean, I wouldn't stand you up after all."

He smiled slightly sheepishly, and she gave a short laugh. It sounded sincere, and it probably was.

"I may have advised you to."

Silence fell briefly and Barbara adjusted her glasses while Tim glanced around the area for a moment. Sooner or later, though, he looked back at Barbara.

"Um ... what should we talk about?"

Again, she laughed briefly before putting her hands on the tires and rolling them slightly.

"Let's go for a walk. I'm sure you have some interesting projects you could tell me about."

Barbara was right. No sooner did he start talking about his latest ideas in weapons optimization than the conversation started. Barbara had a technical understanding the likes of which he would not find again in the family. If he mentioned the current problems, she could immediately suggest a more suitable material or snort air out of her nose in frustration herself. Still, he had to get a question off his chest.

"Why did you want to meet with me, anyway? Just to talk about something like that? We could have done that on a quiet evening."

Only vigilantes and police officers knew that this meant the nights when not so many crimes took place. Something less common in Gotham than in other cities.

"We would have, but I had the time and the inclination. I went to school with Dick, so it was no problem to meet outside of our work. I wanted to have that with you, too. Sometimes it's important to keep in mind that we're not just our masks."

She smiled softly and he could have left it at that, but his mouth was faster than his brain this time. "And with Jason?"

Her smile remained, but something sad mingled in her gaze. He'd pretty much ruined the mood, but he couldn't help thinking about Jason sometimes. He didn't bring it up in front of Bruce and Dick, but Alfred and Barbara were quite willing to share some stories about the deceased boy. Something he valued, even if it sometimes led to feelings of guilt because he saw exactly how deep the pain still ran.

"Jason never missed an opportunity to stop by the library. We didn't get to talk there, but at least I got to see him," her smile grew warmer, and her gaze wandered into the distance, "He was always so happy when he saw a book in front of his nos-"

Her brow furrowed as her gaze focused on something behind him.

"Babs?" asked Tim uncertainly, turning around only to freeze himself.

"How is that possible?" breathed Barbara beside him, "You see him too?"

Tim could only nod. Back there, a good fifteen meters away, a man came up to them quite relaxed and reading a book. Black hair, blue eyes, and if Tim hadn't spent his childhood running after Robin and Batman and snapping photos, he probably wouldn't have recognized the distinct similarities to Jason Todd. No more baby fat on his face, but the sharp edges still didn't make him unrecognizable. His hair curled slightly and that just couldn't be a coincidence. No one could look that much like a person.

"Did Jason have any relatives?", Tim now turned to Barbara and saw her swallow.

"None still living that I know of." Which suggested there weren't any because otherwise, Barbara would have known about them. Bruce himself would have read up on it extensively, and that would have included Oracle.

The man paid no further attention to them, but simply turned his page and walked past them. He was so close to Tim that the latter would only have to reach out his arm to touch him. Tim didn't, but Barbara did instead. She rolled past him and grabbed the man's drooping hand.

"What the heck?!" the latter exclaimed, startled, and immediately pulled it back. There was something rushed in his gaze as if he was just waiting for an attack and the resulting compulsion to defend himself.

"Jason?" asked Barbara, and the hope in her voice broke Tim's heart. Jason had died. That couldn't be. Had Bruce been lying? No, never. Not about something like this. Tim knew that firsthand. But then how could an older Jason be standing in front of them. But probably the most frightening thing was that his eyes showed nothing. He didn't seem to recognize Barbara and even took a step back. So, neither was a shapeshifter hoping to make money by playing the deceased son of a billionaire. Moreover, Tim didn't think a shapeshifter would gamble on an apparent chance encounter. He would rather try to reach his prey as quickly as possible.

"Jason? Is that you?"

Something mild mingled in the stranger's gaze and Tim frowned. Was it pity? Embarrassment? It was hard to gauge.

"I'm sorry, but who is Jason?"

Daryan was not proud of himself. Really not. Everything was going according to plan, but these two people were not just looking at him as if they had seen a ghost. There was so much more in their gazes and for a moment Daryan lost himself in them. In love, affection and hope. All emotions he wanted to see in his family. He didn't know if they existed and if they loved him too, but, if he was honest, he had dreamed of it sometimes. But those emotions were a hindrance to this mission. He wasn't Jason and he couldn't lose himself in that role. It would make everything so much harder otherwise.

"Just ... just one person you look a lot like," the redhead, Barbara, finally replied. He tried hard to smile but knew himself that it didn't reach his eyes and his feigned arrogance didn't hide his insecurity. Nor should it.

"Oh, there's someone else as good-looking as me?"

The two exchanged glances before the boy, Timothy, answered.

"No. Not anymore."

His smile froze immediately. That sadness. It seemed genuine. Was there anyone in the world who was also grieving for Daryan? He hoped so, and once he finished this mission, he could search for those people. He would finally be free.

"I'm ... sorry about that."

He frowned deliberately as if thinking about something. His amnesia. The fact that he didn't know anything about his past and it had somehow landed him in Gotham. The thing Jason would just be thinking about would be Daryan Jason.

"Were you close," he hesitated, for he was afraid to hear the answer, "Were you close?"

Barbara smiled slightly and so goddamn sadly. "Yes."

Daryan cursed Ra's. What exactly gave him the right to play with others' feelings like that? But Daryan didn't stand a chance, because he had accepted this mission and he didn't want to imagine what his punishment would be for his failure.

Briefly, another shrug, as if he wanted to ask more, then another frown, and then a hasty and embarrassed apology that he was in a hurry.

He left behind two of Gotham's brightest vigilantes and hoped that Oracle would soon begin her investigation.

Tim was the first to admit that he didn't particularly like staying behind in the Batcave to coordinate. Sure, he was helping Batman and Nightwing, but at the same time, he had no way to directly intervene in a fight or protect them from direct danger. He was miles away.

But this time it was his luck because he could talk to Barbara undisturbed without the others getting suspicious. Alfred might come within earshot, but since he was at the Manor at the moment, Tim wasn't too worried. He would notice if the butler joined him on the stairs or in the elevator. Better said: he was sure that Babara had hidden some sensors here, which would warn them.

"I need your rational opinion because I can't rely on my emotions right now. So, if any of my research seems crazy to you, I need you to say so."

"Of course," Tim replied immediately, "Thank you for including me. What did you find out?"

"He's a John Doe," she replied after a moment's hesitation, "Right now he works at a bookstore in the Diamond District. However, his employer didn't have many files saved on him, which is easily explained by the fact that he filed a doctor's report, which indicated amnesia as the diagnosis. Also, it’s Gotham. People don’t ask many questions."

Tim nodded and leaned back slightly as the little cogs in his head went into overdrive. They had met someone who looked like an older Jason Todd, shared his love of books, and appeared to be suffering from memory loss. Now he could understand the hope and excitement in Barbara's voice.

"After that, I did some research and came across a police report from a few years ago. The police found someone on the road, covered in dirt, and collapsed. Then at the hospital, they found many injuries, the worst of which was a head injury from blunt force trauma, while his fingers were bloody and scraped up. His fingernails were almost completely broken off. As I searched for the patient record of this John Doe, one particular remark jumped out at me. The patient uttered only one word. Bruce. But at some point, he disappeared without a trace."

Tim swallowed. Okay. That was ... interesting? Tim didn't know how better to describe it, because it was quite a lot at once.

"Tim. I think it's him. I don't know how, but he is it."

She was almost pleading, and how could Tim take away her hopes. She was right. All these things spoke for it and could almost no longer be a coincidence. But, if it was true, it was frightening that they were only realizing it now. And then there was the fact that, despite Barbara's research, several years were missing. Tim didn't know what to make of this, but he knew that caution was called for. However, he didn't have to share this with Barbara. It was enough if he kept it in mind himself.

"Yeah," he replied then, smiling, "How about I just stop by his bookstore tomorrow and see if I can get more out of him?"

Barbara was silent for a moment before she smiled as well. "Thank you, Tim. Thanks for not thinking I'm crazy. I think it's a good idea. After that, we can let the others in on it too."

Tim nodded enthusiastically but became painfully aware that he would probably have to go back to his lonely home soon. As soon as Bruce would have his dead son back, there would be no reason for Tim to be a part of this life anymore. A silly thought, after all, he really should be happy that Jason, his childhood hero, was still alive, but unfortunately, his feelings were not always as rational as he would like them to be.

Bruce had just gotten dressed and sipped his coffee when Tim informed him that he had some business in town. Dick had left for Central City yesterday at short notice to visit Wally, and Alfred had taken one look at his suits and decided it was time to have them professionally cleaned.

Bruce exhaled deeply before opening the paper. He was home alone, so he should even manage to read it without interruptions this time. What a rarity.

No sooner had he finished this thought than the phone on the wall rang with a shrill tone, which only happened when someone stood at the gate to the property and rang. A little annoyed, Bruce ran a hand over the bridge of his nose before answering.

"Yeah?"

Was someone's remote not working, or had he once again forgotten an appointment? Another possibility would be the police, of course, although he wasn't hoping for that.

"Um ... So, I know this might sound crazy. Okay. It definitely sounds crazy. I probably shouldn't have come here at all."

Bruce frowned, suddenly wide awake. Something about that voice stabbed him in the heart, and besides that fact, what was said reminded him strongly of Tim's first attempt to approach him.

"How can I help?" he brought himself to say through strong willpower.

"Yesterday I was in the park and ... Timothy approached me accompanied by someone. He didn't tell me who he was and I probably come across as a stalker for finding out, but the two of them said something to me that just won't let me go ... Could I maybe talk to Timothy? … Please."

Tim felt more than stupid as he read through the same book spine for what felt like the tenth time. He had already been in the store for an hour, and so far, he hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of Probably-Jason. Shortly he decided that it was time to ask, because as small as the store was, it was quite possible that Probably-Jason didn't have a shift today. However, Barbara could have checked this in advance. Perhaps, however, all this history made her simply forget such trifles.

"Excuse me." He approached the counter with a friendly smile, but the girl didn't look up from her cell phone but kept typing away on it.

"Are you going to buy something now, after all?" came a bit annoyed from her, and suddenly Tim could well imagine where all these friendly reviews about this store came from.

"Um ... Actually, I was more going to ask if there wasn't a man with black hair working here today."

"John? No, the bastard traded shifts with me at the last minute. Why? Do you have a crush?"

Now she did raise an eyebrow and squinted at him briefly. He didn't get more than that from her gaze, though.

"What, no! He ... He's a friend."

If Tim was smart about it, this trip wouldn't be a total bust and he could still get information. But alas, his interlocutor seemed to see it differently.

"Oh no. Of course." Almost belligerently, she put her phone aside and looked at him defiantly. "And that's why you only know him as a man with black hair. I call bullshit myself."

Tim noticed the blood rush to his cheeks slightly before he had to painfully change his tactics. "Okay. I'll admit it. He's piqued my interest and I was hoping to run into him again today. Is he at least working again tomorrow?"

She exhaled in annoyance and sat back.

"What do I know? The guy's completely new here. He may beg me again tomorrow out of the blue to take his shift. I don't know what makes him tick, but I wouldn't put it past him. I preferred Larry, but Larry had to disappear without a trace. Gotham, huh?"

Tim nodded slightly. "Yeah. Only in Gotham."

Daryan wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, but it was damn important that this mission succeeds, and after hearing nothing more from Oracle or any other vigilante last night, he had to help it along. Playing it safe was never wrong. All that mattered was that Batman didn't suspect anything, and by Barbara and Timothy making the first move yesterday, he should be relatively safe.

"He's gone for the moment, but you're welcome to wait inside."

Daryan didn't need to be told twice. As soon as the gates opened, he started the engine of his motorcycle and rode down the driveway. A rather long and large driveway. The property had already looked big on the maps, but seeing it like this made it even more gigantic. And he should pretend to be the son of such a rich man? Who wouldn't get suspicious?

He parked the motorcycle in front of the main staircase and ran a hand through his hair before heading for the door. Just don't make any mistakes. If only he had met Timothy, so much, would have been easier, but this way he would meet Batman right away without anyone to back him up.

Once again Daryan took a deep breath and already recognized a shadow through the glass panes of the door. Bruce Wayne was already menacing as Batman, but the way he now opened the door and stared at Daryan in horror, Daryan felt he was facing the real threat. The storm of emotion in the elder's eyes was not to be trifled with.

"Who are you?" growled Bruce Wayne, and Daryan automatically took a few steps back. This was not good.

Chapter Text

Tim stepped out of the bookstore and was more than surprised when his cell phone rang and it was Bruce of all people. Normally Bruce never called and especially in the morning, it was not unusual that Bruce was still asleep.

"Bruce?"

"Come home right now. We need to talk."

Tim swallowed. This was anything but good. "What's going on?"

"You have a visitor. A certain park acquaintance?"

Now Tim froze completely. This ... this was a disaster. Not only did Bruce know he'd been kept from something, no, but this Jason-alias-John guy was also making sure Tim's detective sense couldn’t rest.

"I'll be right there."

With that, he hung up and realized he was squeezing the phone way too hard. Why was this guy with Bruce? Had he sought him out deliberately? How had he managed to do that? Was Tim that easy to find? Somehow that was hard to believe. And then there was this bookstore thing. Maybe people disappeared in Gotham pretty often, but it was still perfect timing for Jason to start there.
But no matter what happened, Tim already knew he couldn't share those thoughts with anyone. Bruce was the most suspicious in their family. He was expected to behave this way, but Tim would never be forgiven for rejecting this Jason persona. No matter how suspicious and weird it all was.

By the time he arrived at Wayne Manor and stepped through the front door, he knew he was on his own. Bruce had a hopeful glimmer in his eye and Tim would be the last to destroy it. Still, he'd be damned if he was going to buy this stranger's story just like that.

Daryan had been led into the kitchen. The look on Bruce-alias-Batman's face had been so cold, and Daryan had felt as if he was just barely managing to keep himself from lashing out at Daryan.

"Excuse me for a minute. I'll call Tim to let him know you're waiting for him."

Daryan had only nodded and even managed a gentle smile. But he didn't feel as if anyone had bought this one. And now here he sat awkwardly on the kitchen stool, hoping that in a few minutes Batman wouldn't be standing there in full gear to unmask him and lock him up in Arkham or Blackgate. Because one thing was clear: if Batman ever got behind this fraud, Daryan would never be safe again. After all, this was about his deceased son.

It continued to be quiet around him and he didn't dare look around too conspicuously. There were bound to be cameras here and he certainly didn't want to look like a spy. Instead, he kept his head down and concentrated on not making any wrong moves. His neck scratched a little, but he certainly wouldn't be so bold as to pour himself a drink. That would surely just be misinterpreted.

Why was this taking so long? A phone call happened quickly, didn't it? Did Bruce Wayne suspect something? Is that why he never came back? Or was Daryan mistaken and in truth only a few minutes had passed?

He just barely managed to keep his breathing under control. The League – Talia – had trained him better. This was all just a mission, his last, and so far, he had done nothing wrong. Everything was fine.

Bruce had been watching John (Jason) in the kitchen for a while, and the way the stranger sat there reminded him even more of Jason. In the beginning, the boy had always been so quiet, never touching anything. His gaze lowered as if his eyes could break something. The memories hurt.

"Is it really him?" asked Bruce straight-faced as soon as Tim had stepped through the door. Just saying the question sent a shiver down Bruce's spine. He knew that hope was dangerous and there were certainly many other possibilities for the stranger's appearance, but he still couldn't stop his feelings. The stranger, John he had called himself (Bruce had to remind himself of that), looked exactly like Jason should have looked if ... if he hadn't died. So, he couldn't be faulted for hoping, right? Still, he knew that some DNA testing would be forthcoming as soon as he could get into it with Tim's testimony.

"I'm not sure," Tim replied. But quickly followed up with, "But Barbara and I have found evidence that would support that theory."

Bruce didn't know what to say. That ... that was wonderful? That meant Jason was back. Even the "how" wasn’t important, because, for that moment, the world was whole again. Then his inner detective interfered.

"Tell me everything you've found so far."

And so Tim did. Every single word made Bruce's suspicions disappear. Amnesia, hospital, Bruce, bookstore. When Tim stopped talking, though, Bruce felt like he wasn't quite done. "Anything else?"

"No ... I just don't know why he's here."

"Apparently you and Barbara made a lasting impression. He wanted to talk to you."

Bruce would have liked to rush to the kitchen and do the talking, but he knew that might not have been the best idea. He didn't want to scare Jason, his returned son, away if he hadn't already with his suspicions.

"Oh ... do you want me to do that?"

Bruce only managed to nod. He knew that as a good father, he was supposed to make sure Tim wanted it too, but in this case, this was his only chance. If Tim didn't go along with this conversation, who knew if Jason wouldn't just disappear? … Again.

"Okay. You can check his DNA for that long."

Bruce had to smile involuntarily. Of course, he had, used the short walk to the kitchen to get a DNA sample. It would suffice for an initial test.

Barbara knew she should better get some sleep, but she also knew there were clues out there. She just had to find them. Not an easy task, because finding data that was so far in the past was a master discipline. A lot of surveillance footage was already out of storage, which is why you either had to get lucky or start stumbling upon private videos. Fortunately, Barbara was good at her job and even if it took a few hours, she had found private chat messages. A police officer had written to a friend about his encounter with an almost zombie-like figure. Three years ago. If she wasn't mistaken, and the hospital records suggested she was, it had been a little over three years since Jason had been seen alive. And they hadn't heard a thing about it. Until now.

This was the moment when she had to turn away from the screens for a moment to take a breath. There was a way to further confirm this thesis. The figure that had been found was covered in dirt and that spoke to the fact that ... that Jason had dug himself out of his grave. If Tim and she, told Bruce about their encounter, the next step would probably be to dig up the grave. A most unpleasant thought. Maybe ... Maybe it would help if she found out who was responsible for the cemetery back then. Someone had to have overheard something if it had happened as she suspected. It couldn't possibly be that Clayface or another shapeshifter had figured a few years ago that this was a good joke ... or worse, working so far into the future. Back then, hardly any villains had known about Oracle, and to expect Batman's detective skills to go that far would be scary. Something told her, however, that Bruce would certainly consider these possibilities.

Tim took another deep breath before stepping as quietly as he could through the dining room into the kitchen. If the stranger was trained to listen for soft noises, it didn't seem like he heard Tim. But everyone could pretend, of course. It wasn't until Tim raised his voice that the man turned to face him, and no matter how Tim liked to deny it, that face ... it briefly upset him.

"Hi. Y-you wanted to see me?"

Tim had purposely sent Bruce to the cave, to make sure he didn't have time to listen to this conversation from the doorway. That way, Tim could get as much information as he could, all in his own way.

"Um...yeah?"

Tim raised an eyebrow and set about slowly circling the kitchen table to take a seat on the opposite side. This gave him a perfect view of the other's face.

"I mean, yes, I was going to. I'm just not so sure it is a good idea anymore."

"Why? Because, weirdly, you got my address?"

Jason's face quirked, and his eyes looked at him almost apologetically.

"I work in a bookstore and then after we met, I just saw your face in a magazine. You're among the youngest and most successful businessmen Gotham has ever seen."

Tim did not relent and continued to look at the man icily. He wasn't allowed to show any emotion, and this story didn't exactly argue against an impostor theory. Of course, it was possible, Tim knew that after all, he knew about this magazine, but it was equally possible that someone saw his chance to get rich ... or worse: planned it on purpose from the beginning.

"That doesn't explain why you're here. You can buy autographs online, too."

"No ... That's not why I'm here either.

"There was silence and the man bit his lip. He looked generally intimidated and like he was uncomfortable with the situation.

"Can you tell me about Jason?"

This did put Tim a little out of sorts now. It's hard to be a cold detective and skeptic when someone with the face of a dead man wants to know something about this exact dead man. A John Doe ... It's possible that the man was completely innocent and since yesterday's meeting has hopes for memories of his old life. That would mean that the real Jason Todd, Robin, would be sitting in front of him. It was just impossible because Jason Todd hadn't disappeared years ago, he had died.

"I can't tell you much about him, because I never met him." Lie. Tim had met Robin-Jason. But this, he could not tell a stranger. "He was Bruce Wayne's son and died in a tragic accident." Accident. The word came bitterly to Tim's lips.

"I know that, but..." The man looked at Tim almost desperately and had lightly raised his hand. "What was he like?"

Tim was about to answer honestly. To say how he had felt about Jason and what Dick and Bruce had shared with him. The only problem was that this was all private. Nothing that he would tell anyone who might just be out to take advantage of a rich family.

"I don't know why I would tell you any of this. I don't even know your name."

"That's the problem! I don't know it either."

Tim gazed into Jason's blue eyes until the man looked to the side. It seemed they had now reached the amnesia part of the story. If Tim got it right, maybe he could catch the man in a lie.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't know who I am. I woke up in a hospital like John Doe and didn't know anything. Neither my DNA nor my fingerprints were in the system, so nobody else knew. I thought I had done well with that over the last few years, and then I ran into you and your companion yesterday. You guys said I looked like Jason and ... I don't know ... I just thought ... maybe ..."

Tim sighed. It seemed so hard to believe that this was all an act. Still, it was possible. Batman had trained him too well to trust people just on their word. Something Robin was aware of, but apparently hadn't quite gotten to Tim yet.

"You thought that maybe that was true. That it was somehow possible that you were Jason."

"No one ever recognized me ... you were the first," the man whispered.

For the moment Detective Tim gave up.

Bruce waited impatiently for the Batcomputer to announce a result. While others might have started tilting their chair, swinging their foot, or impatiently moving their fingers up and down during such an activity, Bruce just stared at the screen with a bitter look on his face. These emotions, which he didn't show often enough, were bubbling under his skin and he didn't know what to think at first. Of a way to expose a fraud without confessing to having a high-end lab in the manor? Of the possibilities of how Jason might have really made it back to the living?
“He wouldn’t be the first,” a voice in his head whispered.

Bruce was about to call Clark to ask if he could look into Jason's coffin with his x-ray vision, but by then the computer was beeping. For the millisecond it took him to look at and comprehend the result, he was afraid of it. After that, he was just relieved. A hit! The stranger had Jason's DNA. He was about to push upstairs to join Tim and him when the computer beeped again, only this time it was an incoming call. Oracle. And because it was Barbara, he took the call, too, because he did not doubt that otherwise, she would be next on his cell phone screen.

"You had Jason's DNA checked?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement.

"Yes. Ti and your acquaintance from yesterday showed up at our house. I jumped at the chance."

"So, it's him," she stated, and he saw exactly how pleased she was. How much he hated having to be realistic here.

"Probably. But until he does or says something to confirm or deny that assumption, it's going to be hard to determine if it's really him."

"He's probably lost his memories. It won't be easy for him to prove it in an interview," Barbara reminded him, and he nodded. With that, he indirectly confirmed that Tim had let him in on the research results.

"He doesn't have to. As long as he doesn't come out with demands, like a power of attorney for an account, or steal valuable items, I'm willing to give him a chance."

If this person was just an extremely good shapeshifter who wanted to get rich, then he wouldn't keep up this charade for long. But if it was Jason, his son, with no memories, then he wouldn't want to miss a single possible second with him.

"We still shouldn't neglect the research." He knew he sounded cold, but Batman, as well as Bruce Wayne, had many enemies. He couldn't let his guard down, no matter how much his heart screamed at him to run upstairs and hug Jason.

"I'm in. Should I let Dick in on this?"

Bruce thought about it for a moment. If she kept this a secret from Dick, he would be furious. But on the other hand, Bruce didn't know how wise it was to fill Dick in right away.

"I'll talk to Jason for a minute to get a feel for the situation. After that, I'll take further steps."

Barbara just sighed, but also seemed to realize that it might not have been the smartest thing to immediately bombard someone with amnesia with all the hopeful family members. Especially if it was Jason, she knew, as did Bruce from experience, that Jason would quickly feel boxed in or threatened. Consequently, testing the new waters was the most logical approach. Still, if Dick found out, that argument would only go halfway toward assuaging his anger. Hopefully, Dick would never find out on his own.

Daryan felt like he was going to throw up. It was all so wrong. His words and feelings were real, the only way to lie believably, but he was using them to support a false story and make Tim believe something. At that moment, he would prefer so much to be able to just kill the boy. Something that probably sounded cruel but would save him from a lot of agonies. He was a monster and that's why it was so bad when he saw in Tim's eyes that the boy wanted to believe him. Tim wanted to believe that he was Jason Todd, the second Robin, a good man, his quasi-brother.

"We can figure it out if you want."

"What?" Daryan inquired.

"Bruce never cleared out Jason's room. I'm sure fingerprints can still be found. Wayne Tech can then check it for a match. That way we know where we stand."

Daryan hesitated. Ra's had assured him that he would be able to trick the detective on this evidence. Something about an undetected virus in the system. He hadn't wanted to go into that much detail, of course.

But Daryan couldn't allow himself much longer than that brief doubt in Ra's abilities without it making Tim suspicious again.

"Let's do it," he declared, "I don't want to have all these assumptions in my head anymore. If there are answers, I'll take them."

Ha! He almost lied to himself. He could do without answers, even if he was now standing in front of his real, probable family. How long had he been with the League of Assassins? And how long had he never heard of a family? Why should he look for people who were obviously not looking for him? But that didn't fit in here now and was also in stark contrast to his desires out there to have a family. For the plan to work, they had to trust him and believe he was the real Jason. That was the only way he would find a way for the Assassins to get in here. Only then would Ra's be able to get Batman out of the way once and for all.

There was a brief knock at the door, then Bruce Wayne stepped into the kitchen. His eyes were no longer cold.

"Oh, Bruce. We just decided we're going to do a fingerprint match," Tim said, and Bruce nodded.

"That's a ... good idea."

If Daryan didn't know better, he now felt that Batman apparently didn't know what to say or do. He even seemed like he was ready to close any distance between Daryan and himself. But that couldn't be. Talia had never described her beloved that way.

"You can sleep in a guest room until we get a result," Bruce finally declared, taking another step into the room. Did Batman want to keep him there to rule out the possibility that it was just a temporal spell? Or to prevent an impostor from escaping? If so, then agreeing would probably be the smart thing to do ... Except that Daryan thought nothing of the idea.

"Why would I want to do that? I have a place."

Actually, he had no right to sound so indignant, but it had come out of him before he could think about it. The very idea that Bruce thought he could help him out with a room was repugnant to him.

"To see if you might remember something from this house," Tim explained, "I mean, if the result is positive, and it may well be, then you'll want to have some sense of where you used to live."

Daryan frowned briefly but let Tim finish. It was hard to tell if these were just pretexts. All Daryan knew was that he couldn't give in right now. That would be like admitting defeat in a fight.

"If the results are positive, I'd love to, but until then, I'll sleep in my apartment."

The two reluctantly agreed, took his fingerprints, and only let him go with heavy hearts. As Daryan drove through the gates, a black car approached him with an old man at the wheel. His heart stopped for a moment, but then he accelerated the motorcycle, leaving Wayne Manor behind. The results would be available to Batman within an hour, but since such things usually took longer and Batman was thorough, very thorough, Daryan would probably not hear from the family again until tomorrow. At least that's what he thought, but he had forgotten that the Wayne family was also the Batfamily.

Chapter Text

Tim stood next to Alfred and Bruce and waited impatiently for the result. At first glance it had looked like the fingerprints would match, but the computer would find even the smallest mistake. The only problem was that they only had fingerprints of a young Jason, so the new fingerprints were a lot bigger.

"Leslie doubted he could ever get that big, thanks to years of malnutrition."

Tim raised an eyebrow. It wasn't at all common for Bruce to just share his thoughts like that, and Tim didn't know what to make of the fact that they had been thinking along the same lines.

"If the boy managed to get back to the living, I doubt it was much of a problem," Alfred commented dryly. When Bruce had told him about John-Jason, the man had taken it in stride, but something told Tim he wasn't pleased he hadn't been called. Probably-Jason missing so close certainly wasn't a nice feeling.

"What are we going to do if everything points to it being him?" wanted Tim to know.

"Then I'll look for clues as to how that's possible."

"And what will Bruce Wayne do?" persisted Alfred.

"He'll invite his son home."

"And call Dick," interposed Barbara, who had no doubt heard every word.

"That too," Bruce agreed, and no matter how neutral he sounded, Tim just knew this whole situation was getting to him. How could it be any other way?

As soon as the computer made a noise and the screen turned green, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted from it and Tim caught himself smiling as well. They had found Jason, by some stupid coincidence, and he would be coming home again. The thing was, whenever he even began to calculate the odds of something like this happening, he became painfully aware that it was too good to be true.

Nightwing swung through Gotham's night and inhaled the air deeply. It was anything but beautiful and soaked with various exhalations that one would not even want to filter into individual scents. But it just belonged to Gotham and was, therefore, part of his home. Dick had wanted to stop by the Manor first, but since it was already so late, it was more likely that he would meet Robin and Batman outside. After that, there was still enough time to stop by Alfred's and, with puppy dog eyes, have a new com handed to him. Barbara hadn't been thrilled the last time after he'd had to tell her how he'd lost the communication device in the river. Then again, maybe he just shouldn't have suggested making them waterproof in the future.

A cry of pain reached his ear and immediately he sharpened his senses. It wasn't long before he was already swinging into the darkness of an alley. The streetlights in this area were often broken and even if they worked, their light wouldn't reach this far. But fortunately, Dick was not only trained by Batman but also wore a domino mask, which lenses could make out some outlines despite the sparse lighting conditions. One man lay at his feet, while he could see exactly how two others threw themselves at an unarmed man. A blade flashed as they did so. Nightwing reacted immediately and grabbed the wrist, while the victim surprisingly didn't remain defenseless, but kicked the other attackers. A nice change, Nightwing had to admit. So, it didn't take him long to cuff two unconscious men either.

"Him too," the assaulted man declared. Nightwing raised an eyebrow and handcuffed the man who had already been unconscious from the start.

"Seems like you didn't need my help at all."

"Didn't ask for it," the man grumbled, and Nightwing tilted his head. How nice. He wasn't alone in that realization. "Sorry. Long day. You just wanted to help."

That was probably the only apology Dick would hear. He was already about to say goodbye, swing away, and alert the police, but something about the man's barely visible features gave him pause.

"Have we met before?" inquired Nightwing, after all, it was quite possible.

"Guess not, unless you like to check out bookstores in your spare time."

Nightwing thought about how Jason could spend hours in the library and always strained to pick out just one book in bookstores, still believing he had to save money on such things. Nightwing wanted the conversation to be over.

"Maybe next time don't take a shortcut through Gotham's alleys. The main streets are safer."

"Thanks, but I live here. I can't afford safer."

With that, the man pointed to a door in the masonry wall before putting the key in the lock and turning it. Before the man could disappear into the apartment, Nightwing could make out his face through the lights of the hallway. He lunged forward, but the door was already closed. He couldn't find the strength to knock, only to realize he was wrong.

Tim had gone to downtown Gotham on the premise that he didn't want to skip patrol. Batman himself would not be seen tonight, as Alfred had insisted that Bruce's head was elsewhere at the moment, and this was not a suitable condition.

"You want to tail Jason's apartment, right?" asked Barbara, and he nodded before realizing she couldn't see that.

"Yes. Unless you tell me, you have enough surveillance cameras in the area."

"It's Crime Alley. The cameras I have left are so well hidden that they can't be found or destroyed, but unfortunately, they don't give a good picture either."

"Then I'll shadow Jason's apartment," he concluded, continuing to swing through the air. Oracle had found the address without much difficulty, and Bruce's breath had caught briefly when he'd seen that Jason lived in Crime Alley.

"Oh shit," Tim cursed.

"Language," Barbara admonished him.

"Code blue," Tim whispered back.

"Shit," Barbara now cursed too, but by then Dick had already seen him. Not hard, after all, he had just come from the very area Tim was targeting.

"Robin!" shouted Nightwing enthusiastically, and together they landed on the nearest roof. Three blocks away was Jason's apartment and the longer Tim didn't have it in his sights, the more likely he was to miss something.

"Nightwing," he greeted Dick anyway, after all, it was usually nice to see him. "Mind if we swing on for a bit? There's a tail scheduled today, and I'd hate to be late."

It wasn't a lie, but it was only half the truth. They could still talk about it in a few minutes ... Or Tim could just hope Nightwing wouldn't see Jason. Who was Tim kidding right now? If he couldn't catch a glimpse of Jason himself in this tailing, he might as well let it go.

Still, Nightwing agreed and it wasn't long before they landed on a rooftop that provided a good view of the apartment building in front of them.

"Who are you tailing?" inquired Nightwing and when Tim turned around, he saw exactly how Nightwing wasn't smiling this one time. His mouth was just a thin line and Tim saw exactly how tense Dick was.

"Jason Todd," Tim finally answered and began to describe the past events.

As soon as the door was closed, Daryan allowed himself to exhale at least briefly in relief. This would be impossible for Nightwing to hear.

Fucking Nightwing.

Daryan's hands balled into fists and his whole body tensed again.

Being mugged in Gotham was probably quite normal, but Daryan had fought back and could have easily defeated all three of them. But now Nightwing had seen him, and Daryan had no idea how much the vigilante knew about him at this time concerning Jason. He didn't even know if he should have behaved properly or been kinder after all. But the words had passed his lips almost of their own accord.

It had never been planned that Daryan would see any of the Batfamily in action. He was supposed to play Jason but playing Robin would be a whole different challenge again and not part of the plan.

He forced himself to breathe calmly and after several breathing exercises, he started to walk up the next four floors. There was no elevator here anyway, but the exercise would not harm him. On the contrary, he was so calm when he reached the top that he even got his key into the lock on the first try. His hands were no longer shaking with nervousness.

He would have loved to finally relax after this exhausting hour of lying, but he still had to set about doing a few tasks.

Sighing, he ran his hand over his face before he took off his shoes and strode into the kitchen. At least he would be able to brew some tea. How grateful he was that Jason hadn't favored disgusting energy drinks. With Talia's paranoia, Daryan would surely have had to drink those in his apartment.

His gaze roamed over the kitchen as he took a cup from the shelf and lingered on the refrigerator. There in the metal paneling reflected the neighbor's house, and on the roof was none other than Nightwing and Robin.

Fuck.

Talia was justifiably paranoid in this rare instance.

Dick didn't know what to say. It was all so much at once; after all, he had thought until an hour ago that his brother was six feet under.

"When would you have told me? I mean, us meeting here wasn't planned."

Tim sighed, and that was answer enough. Bruce hadn't told Dick about Jason's death and funeral, and Bruce hadn't wanted to tell Dick about Jason's resurrection.

"The test results came back positive just a few hours ago," he said.

"Yeah, but you still wouldn't have minded not letting me in on it even in a few days."

"You don't know that. I don't even know that. Maybe we would have told you in the morning, maybe not."

Tim didn't even look at Dick anymore but looked straight at the house. Lights had come on in the apartment, and although visibility wasn't optimal, Dick had a good enough view of Jason as he stepped into the kitchen. Black hair and a build he would probably have associated with Bruce rather than Jason. But this was his brother, as was Tim.

"Okay. It's fine," Dick conceded, then. He wasn't entirely satisfied, but he didn't want to dwell on those negative feelings now.

"How did he get back? What's our number one theory?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Tim replied, biting his lip. A sign that Tim probably assumed Dick was now disappointed in him.

"A miracle?" tried Dick, nudging him lightly with his elbow.

"Quite possibly. But if it is, the miracle happened a good three years ago, and he hasn't let the training wander at all since then if I've got this right."

Dick hadn't been paying attention at all, but of course, Tim was right. You could make out the muscles, even if Jason's T-shirt covered quite a bit.

With that, Oracle joined in, "I can't find any information on where he's been for the last few years, though. The lease has only been up for a good two weeks, and he got his job at the bookstore shortly after that. Everything before that is a mystery to me."

Tim nodded in agreement and Dick tilted his head.

"Maybe we should just ask him about it then," he suggested, and Tim looked at him a little aghast. As if to say that it was unlikely that an impostor would want to tell the truth. But then his facial expression changed, and he smiled.

"Sure," he replied, and if Dick hadn't seen his expression closely before that, he probably would have believed him. It seemed that Tim wasn't quite convinced of this miracle yet, but Dick was more than willing to believe it.

"Oracle? Jason flipped open his laptop. Can you find out what he's doing?"

"Hold on." Not three seconds later. "Am inside. Seems like he's catching up on what all the media has been bringing after Jason's death."

Something that could be for several reasons. Either an imposter wanted enough information to be able to lie believably (that thought kind of sounded like Bruce's voice in his head) or Jason wanted to know if this information would help him remember anything. If Dick didn't know anything about his life, then he would probably be looking for information too.

"Ah interesting," Oracle cut in again, "Now he's looking for past mistakes in death statements. The pages probably won't help him, but at least that puts us all on the same page that it shouldn't be possible for him to be back among the living."

"Maybe some magic brought him back?" posed Dick with a new conjecture.

"B has already contacted the Justice League Dark," Tim explained, and Dick nodded.

They sat in silence after that, and maybe it was creepy that they were watching Jason like this, but on Dick, it had a strangely calming effect.

"You want to be me?"

Daryan was drenched in sweat and looked wide-eyed at the foot of his bed. There, soaked in blood, stood Robin. Jason. His face was hidden behind a domino mask, as it had been in many of Talia's pictures.

"You're a murderer. I never was. You won't be able to keep up the charade much longer, and then you'll get what you deserve."

The boy had folded his arms and Daryan felt sick. He looked at his own hands, which did indeed appear blood red, but at the same time fake. The number of fingers wasn't quite right ... and he woke up with that realization.

In the League, he would have been punished for this weakness, but on this mission, it wouldn't hurt anyone for him to turn on his bedside lamp to calm down after a nightmare. It was still dark outside, but he could swear that even the vigilantes were asleep by now. And even if they weren't, what had happened to Jason would warrant a nightmare or two.

A glance at the clock confirmed that it was already four o'clock, and normally Gotham's guards weren't out on the streets this late - early?

Cameras were still possible, however, and so Daryan confined himself to simple workouts to calm down. Again and again, he thought of dream-Jason and shortly after forced himself to do his sit-ups a little faster or a few more push-ups. He couldn't recall the face, but he could recall the words. He should not think about that. About his conscience. In the end, it would cause him to make a big mistake, and that wasn’t allowed to happen.

He disappeared into the bathroom, turned on the shower to make it harder for possible bugs to work, and rummaged the cell phone out of the two towels. Not a very good hiding place, but this was the only room without a window, and he hadn't wanted to store it near water. Not to mention that people were more likely to steal the towels than this keypad cell phone.

Talia's contact was the only one that was stored and because Talia was Talia, it said Karen and not Talia.

It only took a few seconds for Talia to pick up the phone. You had to hand it to her, she never kept you waiting.

"Hello Karen," he greeted her, hoping his previous training wouldn't be overheard because Talia would put one and one together.

"John. How are you?" she asked about the status of the mission. Talia al Ghul gave a twitch about how Daryan was doing personally. At first, he might have told himself otherwise because it had been so easy to see a mother figure in her, but as time went on, that feeling faded.

"Everything's fine," he replied curtly. He could tell in code about his encounter with Nightwing, but nothing had happened per se, and he didn't want her to come up with a backup plan, because that plan certainly wouldn't involve his survival.

"What did you do today?"

"Met with a few people."

"A few?"

"Two."

"Very nice. Did I ever tell you about my meeting with Bryce and Alfredo?"

"You did about the one with Bryce, and you also mentioned a Tom once, but I don't remember the one with Alfredo."

"Never mind. We can discuss this on another phone call. Unfortunately, I have another call coming in right now. Always so busy."

With that, she hung up and he exhaled in relief. Another phone call and not a meeting for real. Then he must have done everything right so far. Lucky.

With that, he removed the sim card and broke it before hiding the phone again. He would throw it away, but the point behind hiding it was that no one would know he owned it. So, it would be contradictory if he could be seen disposing of it. Maybe later he would be able to dispose of it along with other waste.

The shower, which followed, did very well to relieve his tension. Although there was no connection for warm water, after he had lived the last years mainly in desert regions, he was glad if he could shower at all. Just getting the sweat off his body felt good and made his tension disappear for a short time. Then he closed his eyes, saw Jason as Robin, and had to brace himself against the wall.

"Fuck!" cursed Daryan, trying to compose himself. If this had happened in front of Batman, then he could have seen how he explained it. Oh, I feel bad about playing your dead son and that's why my mind reminds me. Yes. He was sure that statement would go over really well.

Freshly dressed and with a couple of fried eggs in his stomach, Daryan glanced at the cell phone he was using as John and whose number he had also written down for Bruce Wayne. A message from Mandy clarifying that he was to work at the bookstore today as agreed, and a reminder from his phone provider that they would not refund any charges should no phone calls be possible thanks to supervillain attacks. That was about it. No message from Bruce, Timothy, or anyone else.

His heartbeat sped up automatically, but he forced himself to see it rationally. It was only six o'clock. Maybe they wanted to give him more time, or maybe they needed more time to investigate. If they were on to him, someone would have come through his window long ago. According to this, there had to be another reason for the silence.

Half an hour later, he had almost arrived at the store. Shortly before eight, new deliveries would arrive and once they were put away, the bookstore would open for customers. It wasn't busy during the week, but it was an honest business, and Daryan had found that he loved to pick up a book and read it during the quiet periods. Talia had given him a fixed list of books to prefer, but as with drinks, Jason, fortunately, had taste.

Daryan froze when he saw Bruce standing in front of the store. The latter was just looking in the other direction but seemed to have been standing there for some time ... waiting ... for Jason.

"Mister Wayne?" he asked uncertainly, looking extra in his pocket for his keys to the store so he wouldn't have to look into those blue eyes.

"Please call me Bruce."

"Okay ... Bruce. Cheekily assume the results are in?"

Now Daryan did look up, not knowing what emotion to show, but that was okay because Bruce apparently didn't know either.

"Yes. I didn't want to discuss this over the phone. You're positive. You're Jason Todd."

Daryan bit his lower lip and nodded. What else was he going to do? Putting his fist in the air in relief felt wrong to him somehow.

"Ah. Okay ..."

"Okay?" chopped in Bruce.

"I ... I'm not sure right now whether to be happy or not. It's a bit much."

Bruce smiled, so that had to have been a correct answer. Knowing that Batman was standing in front of him right now but could be so human ... Daryan had never considered that. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly ease his conscience.

"I understand that, and I don't want to overwhelm you either ... I just thought that maybe we could spend time together. I can answer any questions you have ... and you could get to know the rest better."

Daryan inwardly counted to five. A suitable pause, he thought.

"I have a one-hour lunch break at 1:00. I’m often at the diner a block away. Guess company is okay."

It was a smart move, in any case. That way he didn't seem desperate, as money-seeking con artists probably would, and at the same time would only have to lie for an hour at a time first. After that, he would have another break. He probably wouldn't be able to make that work all the time, but maybe he wouldn't need it later. At the very least, he hoped he would soon be completely immersed in his role. Unfortunately, something, a boy in a costume, told him that he would not soon forget that he was not Jason Todd.

Chapter Text

Batman was never nervous. Something that his enemies, as well as allies, could confirm. Brucie Wayne was never nervous. Maybe embarrassed sometimes, which he was able to wash down with a loud laugh and one too many glasses of champagne. But Bruce Wayne? Father of several children? Bruce Wayne spent half his time being nervous. When Dick thought it was a good idea to hang himself from a chandelier again, even though some had already been destroyed by it (Bruce Wayne was more worried about his son's well-being, of course), when Tim headed for the coffee machine like a zombie in the middle of the night instead of going to bed, or when Barbara showed up late for a meeting. But this time Bruce Wayne was nervous because he was waiting for Jason. His dead son. It shouldn't be possible, but he had been given this opportunity.

Usually, he was teased about showing his human feelings - B, you're human, aren't you? - but this time both Dick and Barbara seemed to ignore it.

They sat together in a booth in the diner, Jason mentioned. Barbara with her wheelchair at the end of the table, while Dick had sat on Bruce's side so Jason could have the other side to himself. They didn't want to scare him away. That was Bruce's top priority. If one of Bruce’s mistakes made Jason never want to see them again, he would never forgive himself. Dick, Barbara, and even Alfred would never forgive him. So, this could not be allowed to happen.

When Jason entered the small restaurant, it was not easy for Bruce not to jump up immediately. He took a controlled breath before rising to some extent so that he could be seen behind Dick and waving his hand slightly to draw attention to himself. But Jason, to all appearances, had already seen them, which must have been Barbara's doing.

"Hi," Jason greeted them with his hands sunk into his leather jacket, but still standing.

"Have a seat, please," Bruce requested, fearing he was asking too much, but Jason shrugged and took a seat.

"Didn't know there were that many of us right away. Where did you leave the little guy?"

Bruce immediately realized that he hadn't told Jason that he wouldn't be coming alone. Dick and Barbara would never have allowed that, and they had every right to want to spend time with Jason, too.

"He has school," Barbara helpfully explained, while Bruce was still dealing with his guilt.

"Right. Stupid question," Jason realized before his gaze lingered on Dick. Dick just stared back, and Bruce could well understand that Dick needed his time. Seeing Jason all grown up was not easy to digest. While Nightwing had already seen him last night, seeing Jason now as Dick Grayson was different.

"I hope it's not creepy that I know who you are?" asked Jason with a raised eyebrow and Dick immediately smiled. "No, not at all. If you know Tim, then you know me, half of Gotham does ... and I know you, too, so that's okay ... wow, I still can't believe this is real."

Bruce saw exactly how Jason made himself a little smaller and knew that it must not be very pleasant for him to be stared at by three people. Before he could do anything about it, though, the waitress took over for him.

"John? The usual?"

"Yes, please Becky."

Becky's sign said Laurel, but Jason apparently ate here often enough to know that wasn't true.

"And for your guests?"

"Just the same as for me, unless they're allergic to something."

Bruce just shook his head, while Barbara thanked her and Dick smiled. As soon as Becky left, however, everyone looked back at Jason, as if he might have disappeared.

"I'm Barbara, by the way," Barbara introduced herself, "a family friend."

"Friend?" inquired Jason, and immediately Dick and Barbara looked at each other. The two had not been together for a long time but were still friends. However, Jason had known them as a couple a lifetime ago.

"Ah. Friend," Jason realized and nodded as if he understood everything. But since he probably didn't know anything about Nightwing and Batgirl, he didn't even know half of the story.

"We're not together anymore," Dick quickly explained, and Barbara supported the statement with a meaningful nod.

The food was brought to the table and Bruce had to smile when he saw the burger. Dick, on the other hand, glanced nervously around the diner.

"Everything good?" inquired Jason before he already took the first bite.

"Um ... I guess you've never seen Bruce eat a burger before."

Barbara now realized the problem as well and tried to hide her face better behind her hair. "This is so embarrassing."

"Alfred would say otherwise," Bruce objected, not letting his guard down as he picked up his knife and fork. Jason looked at him in disbelief. Bruce could see so much of the little boy in that expression.

"You're ... you're not serious, are you?" As if he didn't have to think about it, he shared Dick's horrified look and sank a little more into the booth. "Rich people and their customs, but that's just sick. Please tell me I've never acted like this."

Bruce froze slightly in his movements. Jason had thus addressed the elephant in the room. His former self.

"Jason," Bruce tried, but Jason seemed to notice his statement, too, and set the burger down on his plate with a groan, only to run his hand through his black curls moments later.

"Okay. Listen. This isn't all that easy for me, and I don't even want to know what it's like for you guys, but I'm trying to get comfortable with the idea that I'm your Jason."

"I ... I'm glad," Bruce said, smiling. If Jason gave it a chance, then all was right with the world.

"But I don't want to change my life overnight because of it. I love my job and I have my apartment. I know you guys probably want to see me as much as possible and probably wanted to check out if I remembered anything, but I just don't want it to be too much."

They nodded in understanding and Bruce set down his silverware to look at Jason. But the man looked at his food instead of into Bruce's eyes. As he had so many times before.

"Is this too much for you right now?" inquired Bruce, and Jason, very slowly, nodded.

"Just this morning you told me that the test results were positive and that the search for the real me was, in a way, over. I thought I could digest that well until now, but ... it just doesn't happen that fast. Hearing you call me Jason while I've been making friends with John for the past few years ... I'm just not sure I'm still who you want me to be."

"Of course, you are!" said Dick immediately, but Barbara put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. Bruce silently thanked her.

"Okay. I understand. You have your life and you don't know if you want to trade it for another, but I'm not asking you to. Of course, I want you to be with us, but only as long as you want to be."

Jason bit his lower lip before looking up. "I want to give it a chance."

"Okay. That's great," Bruce couldn't contain his enthusiasm, but at Jason's face, became more serious again, "If it gets to be too much for you though, just say so."

Jason nodded and then finished his burger. Silence spread before Dick cracked a smile. "I'm living in Blüdhaven right now but would stay here for the weekend. How would you feel about taking a room at the Manor for that time as well?"

Jason didn't flinch, which was at least a relief, but since his whole body tensed, Bruce just knew the question must have caught Jason off guard.

"Dick," Bruce was about to intervene, even though he wanted nothing more than that. All his sons under one roof.

"No, it's all good," Jason assuaged his fears, "Thanks for the offer, and as long as I can break it off at any time and go back to my place, I'm good."

Bruce could see clearly that it had cost the man some overcoming, but he was pleased, nonetheless. Dick looked triumphantly at him.

"Then maybe I can come to visit you, too?" asked Barbara kindly, and Jason shrugged his shoulders. "Don't think I can forbid you to do that. It's not my house."

This view of things was just so normal for Jason. Even though it was just a matter of him being comfortable, it probably would never feel natural for him to assume that he could determine such things as visitation rights. Even so, Bruce would always keep anyone in the world away from the Manor if it meant Jason stayed. Hopefully, he would soon be able to show Jason that he would do anything for his children. He would not fail again.

Tim hated that he had not been able to attend the meeting with Jason. He understood that school was important, and he understood that three people were more than enough, but he was the only one who wasn't biased. He had to protect this family from scammers and that just meant he couldn't trust Jason. Tim wanted to, he really wanted to, but until he was one hundred percent convinced, he just couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was the only one right now who could prevent his family from getting hurt. If it wasn't Jason ... Then Tim had to find out as soon as possible, because every second that Dick, Barbara, Bruce, and Alfred believed was a second filled with love. That love could not be allowed to turn into sadness and disappointment.

(And maybe Tim just wanted to spend time with Jason and not feel left out).

"How was the talk?" he asked casually as he stopped by Oracle's Clocktower in his Robin costume. Oracle turned to him with a smile. The screens behind her shrouded her in a special light he had learned to associate with her.

"Overwhelming ... and weird."

"Weird?", Tim immediately echoed, because if Barbara had had any doubts ...

"It's so easy to see the boy from back then in him. You didn't know him, and frankly neither did Dick, but I, and probably Bruce, notice these little things. It was sometimes like back then in our conversations and then ... then things were brought up that reminded me that Jason is more like Dick and doesn't understand at all what it means to us to have him back."

Tim looked at her and swallowed. Oracle was a good judge of character and her experience sounded like it was Jason. Somehow that made Tim feel bad right away, that once again he was just thinking about exposing a possible imposter instead of rejoicing like the others. Why was he being so selfish? He wasn't biased? He could keep telling himself that. But in truth, it wasn't true. He knew that inner voice inside him that reminded him that he would soon be back living in his lonely house, should Jason really come home, and Tim be able to confirm his identity for himself. After that, no one would need him. Wasn't it normal that he was looking even harder for evidence of a possible fraud than was actually appropriate?

"I just wish he would remember and hope that this coming weekend will help with that. Otherwise, Bruce will probably ask John or one of the mages if they can help."

Tim raised an eyebrow. He had heard about the coming weekend, but nothing about these plans yet. This was rather sudden, and honestly, he didn't know if it was a great idea to introduce Jason to strangers looking into his head.

"Don't worry. Bruce hasn't suggested anything along those lines. I could just imagine it with him. Right now, it's bearable for him just to know that Jason has found his way to us, but as time goes on, he'll realize that without memories, it's going to be hard to make new memories. Bruce likes to fix things that can be fixed. Fixing Jason's memory ... it wouldn't be a thought that wouldn't occur to him."

Tim nodded, because the way he assessed Batman, Oracle was right. However, he also realized that Barbara had revealed some of her own thinking there.

Of course, they were all right to think that way, and Jason would certainly prefer not to have any memory lapses ... but Tim didn't wish anyone the memories of their death.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there. I know you would have liked to meet him again."

"That's all right. I'll meet him this weekend, after all."

Dick swung through the air with Tim and had only managed to keep his grin off his face briefly for that sentence. Jason would be coming home for the weekend and maybe ... maybe staying. Dick very much hoped so and even more looked forward to the Jason-sized hole in their hearts finally being filled. That was the logical thing to do when someone came back from the dead, right? At least with Donna's return, almost nothing had changed in their interactions with each other. But, even if it wasn't like it used to be, then that wasn't a bad thing, at least now Dick would finally make an effort to spend time with his little brother. Back then, he had been so angry with Bruce that he had hardly spent any time in Gotham. The biggest mistake of his life. He had thought he had gotten a second chance with Tim, but now Jason was back and if that didn't scream second chance too, he didn't know it himself.

It wasn't until he saw Tim land on the roof in front of them and stand there quietly that he realized he had drifted so far in his thoughts that he had forgotten about Tim. There was nothing to read from Tim's facial expressions, but by now Dick knew that usually meant Tim was hiding his true feelings ... and usually not the good ones.

"Of course, you'll be there this weekend. You know Alfred always has a room ready for you," Dick quickly placated, and Tim looked at him uncertainly.

"It's okay if you want to keep it in the family. I'm sure Jason would like to hear some old stories and I can't offer him any of those."

Dick's heart stopped for a moment as he heard how much pain Tim was trying to keep out of his voice. Without further hesitation, he pulled Tim into a hug, even as he immediately tensed.

"You're just as much a part of the family as any of us, Robin. Jason already knows you, and I'm sure it's good for him to have someone to talk to who didn't know him before." Dick hesitated for a moment as he thought back to the conversation. "He told us that it's not easy for him to see himself as Jason. Therefore, I think you're someone he needs. Someone who doesn't have expectations."

"You have expectations of him?" asked Tim quietly, and Dick loosened the hug, having noticed early on that Tim wasn't looking for as much contact as Dick was.

"I shouldn't, but I certainly hope that he remembers something this weekend. That something will cause his memories to come back. I try hard to keep those thoughts and feelings to myself because I'd never pressure him, but they're there anyway."

"Oracle mentioned something like that, too."

Dick smiled. It was good to know he wasn't alone in his thoughts, even if it didn't make the situation any easier.

"Whoever gets to the Batmobile first!" shouted Dick, before throwing himself off the roof as well. Knowing that Tim would follow him without hesitation.

Becky had had a long day when she stepped out of the diner. Her hair smelled like frying grease and her everyday clothes were crumpled in the locker as usual. All in all, she was beat and wasn't thrilled that her bus was canceled so she had to walk home. Gotham was a dirty city. She now understood well how the only way to save it was to destroy it first.

"Report?" a voice next to her demanded, and Becky just kept walking as if nothing had happened. As if it was normal for Lady Talia to talk to her. Yet this was a great honor and to live up to it, Becky stayed true to her role.

"He had a visitor at noon today. Dined with Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Barbara Gordon," Becky reported as quietly as she could without whispering. "It seemed to go well, and I could hear he was going to sleep at the Manor over the weekend."

"Good, then this mission should be over soon."

Becky couldn't help but smile. Once this mission was over, she could finally move on to better work. Two weeks in this American restaurant was more than enough. She was looking forward to leaving this town.

Chapter Text

Daryan had already packed his bag on Thursday and had just grabbed it after work. Bruce had thought it would be good for Jason to set up as early as Friday night. That way it wouldn't be quite as stressful, to begin with, and he could quickly pull the plug if he realized everything was moving too fast for him and would prefer to sleep in his apartment after all.

Of course, Daryan didn't mind, and he wouldn't cut the weekend short early either. It was surprising how quickly he had managed to get into the inner circles of the Batfamily, but, thinking of his final goal, he could be glad of it. He just wanted to finally be free and the shorter this mission took, the better it was. So far, they all seemed to trust him and according to Ra’s, the butler wouldn't pose any major problems.

Daryan took a deep breath. The first, real conversation at the diner had gone well, and if he continued to voice parts of his true feelings, it would probably continue. Fortunately, his nightmares had been somewhat contained, but he didn't know if an overnight stay at the Manor wouldn't ensure that Jason paid him another visit. He hoped not.

"Is this room to your satisfaction, Master ... John?"

Daryan turned his head to Alfred, who was standing upright in the frame of the room's door. Then he looked back into the room, which was larger than his current bedroom in his apartment and much larger than his chamber at the League. The bed was freshly made, and the last rays of the sun were shining through the windows. However, the curtains looked as if they could stop any light from outside if only, they were drawn.

"Yes. Thank you very much," he answered a bit stiffly and dropped his duffle bag next to the bed. Alfred was the only one he hadn't spoken to yet, but apparently, the man had been made privy to his emotional state and seemed considerate.

Daryan forced a smile on his lips and turned to Alfred.

"Your old room is also still intact, but I thought it more appropriate to put you up here. This is still the family wing, so if you need anything, you can knock on the doors without any trouble. Across from you is Master Tim's room."

Alfred was as professional as most servants at the League were, and yet Talia had warned him that Alfred might be someone who knew Jason best. Just as Daryan was about to doubt her judgment, the butler's features softened a bit, and he raised his arms slightly.

"I hope I'm not taking too many liberties when I ask for a hug."

Daryan hesitated briefly before nodding and taking a few steps toward Alfred to allow the hug and likewise wrapping his arms, around the butler. Strangely, it was not uncomfortable but provided a sense of security. Daryan had learned over the last few years that touch could be used to manipulate and if he had intended to draw Alfred to his side with this hug, he just risked Alfred doing the same to him. He pulled back and fortunately Alfred allowed it. Daryan was not allowed to give in to this feeling of security. It could only mean death.

"You can unpack for now. Afte, I'm sure the young master’s will be happy to show you around the premises. Dinner is at eight o'clock sharp."

"What are we having?"

"Buffalo chicken wings with baked potatoes, and for dessert, Neapolitan ice cream."

Daryan smiled but didn't ask if Jason favored any of it. Somehow it didn't feel right. He'd probably still make sure to mention that he liked it when he ate. Just to be on the safe side.

Tim had already had to live with Dick's nervousness all day, minus school hours. Dick was sorry about that too, but he just couldn't bring himself to calm down. Nevertheless, it also had something good, after all, he had already sparred with Tim and had generally spent his free time with Tim as well. Dick couldn't take a vacation so often and so he had to use the time he had. It was only special again because he planned to also spend it with Jason.

"Lucky me," Jason joked as he strode down the stairs into the foyer, "I found my way back to the entrance. How big is all of this?"

"Eight hundred acres, if you count the garden as well," Tim answered immediately, and Dick looked at him with wide eyes.

"Really?"

"More or less," Tim replied, and Dick gulped. Over time, he had forgotten how scary that size could look.

"Don't worry, Jas-John. We'll show you around and even if you get lost, Alfred will find you."

Dick well remembered how Alfred had always come up behind him, without Dick knowing how the butler always knew where he was. Over time he had suspected it must simply be Batman's paranoia and motion detectors, but some little voice inside him told him that Alfred just had a feeling for this house.

Jason didn't seem to pay any attention to his little slip-up, but simply nodded and hid his hands in his leather jacket.

"I guess we should get started then if we want to be through by dinner."

"Let's start with the biggest room," Dick said delightedly, smiling as he led the way. Tim walked a little behind Jason and seemed to have no problem letting Dick take the lead. "This is the ballroom and as the name implies here takes often dancing but even more often boring conversations place. Bruce tries to invite important people every other month for charity events, but since he just has a lot on his plate, it tends to happen every four to six months."

"It's pretty empty," Jason commented, and Dick nodded. It wasn't spectacular so completely devoid of guests. The chandelier sparkled nicely, but he didn't know why Jason would spend his time here.

"Then we'll move on to a more important place."

Dick grinned up to his ears as he led them through the corridors of the Manor, and in time he could see exactly how Tim recognized where he was leading them. Jason glanced here and there at the old paintings, but kept his hands in his pocket, as if afraid he might touch something valuable. Now that Dick thought about it ... The few times he had encountered Jason at the Manor, the boy had at most held books or some food in his hands.

"May I introduce you to the library?" asked Dick, swinging open the two doors. Almost immediately, Jason's neutral gaze turned to admiration, and Dick could see exactly how a sparkle awoke.

"Wow. That ... that's thousands of books."

"Yep, and I don't think I've read a single one of them."

Jason looked at him in disbelief before moving a little deeper into the room and reading a few of the titles off the spines.

"There are a few books still in your room. No one has dared to put them away," Dick said casually. Neither Alfred nor Bruce had changed anything in the room and Dick had never brought himself to even open the door. Jason had never invited him to join him when he was alive and so it would have been just wrong to change that with death.

"Oh, and what books would those be?"

"Pride and Prejudice. Emma. Um ... And others?", Dick thought he remembered.

Jason shrugged, "I guess I have them twice now, then."

Dick smiled, glad that Jason had taken this topic so well. It could have gone wrong very quickly.

However, when Dick turned to Tim, he noticed that the boy had been quiet all along. Tim eyed Jason but seemed to turn his head away whenever Jason looked in his direction.

"Um ... how well do you two know each other?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, I know him as well as I know you. Couldn't say I know much about you guys."

"Then let's change that over the weekend!"

With that, they left the room and entered Bruce's office through an intermediate door. The latter was sitting at his desk, looking at them apologetically. The phone was pressed to his ear.

"I understand," he said, but was silent again a moment later, and Dick could only assume it was because the person on the line kept talking as if Bruce hadn't said anything.

Jason and Tim entered behind him and while Tim was already aiming for the other door to leave the room, Jason's gaze briefly brushed the old grandfather clock. Dick didn't know if he was imagining it, but something seemed to freeze in Jason's mind. Just a brief moment and then it was over, and they were back in the hallway.

Daryan was quite pleased when they reached the living room and Dick pulled out three controllers. It would be a while before dinner, especially since Bruce was still in a negotiation.

"Do you want to team up with me?" asked Tim and Jason raised an eyebrow. But after a few seconds, he nodded. He had no idea how to play video games, but it would have been weird to refuse this offer. At Dick's slightly disappointed expression, Daryan wondered if he should have insisted on playing on Dick's team. But the latter seemed to regain his composure quickly.

"But then I want a strong computer by my side," he said.

"You'll get a medium-strong one," Tim declared without hesitation.

"Fine by me," Dick grumbled and started the game.

Daryan almost couldn't handle the buttons at all and saw clearly that he had only one life left. Tim and Dick, however, seemed to have fun and called out something now and then. Tim was especially happy when he finally drilled a katana through Dick's teammate's chest. Daryan couldn't see any blood, and along with the frantic fighting movements of the characters, the game wasn't exactly close to reality. But something told Daryan that he had better keep those thoughts to himself.

A few minutes later, Dick had managed to take out both Tim and Daryan.

"There you go! What hurts more, Tim?"

Daryan didn't know why, but everything inside him froze. His muscles tensed as if he was in danger.

"A or B? Forehand? Or backhand?"

Daryan shook his head and tried to fix Dick with his eyes.

"What did you just say?" he asked in a raspy voice, and suddenly two worried faces looked at him.

"I meant, what hurts more? Losing or knowing you lost to a medium-strong computer." After a moment, Dick added, "Why? Jason, what's wrong?"

Daryan swallowed but didn't even notice as he stood up.

"Everything's okay. I ... I have to go somewhere for a minute."

Was that his voice? It sounded like his voice. But something was wrong. He just had to get out of here. There were too many people here watching him. He was breathing too frantically and if he kept it up, the fighting would start soon. There was no room for weakness in the league, and therefore no room for panic attacks. Those who showed weakness had to expect to prove their strength in a fight. But Daryan didn't know what he was doing or where he was running right now. Never would he be able to prove himself in a fight.

Daryan thought he felt a blow and more than winced. His back slammed into something and only when he hit the ground, did he become aware of the books around him. He was in a library. Surrounded by bookshelves. No one would attack him here. Only a few were allowed into Ra's personal library. Nothing was allowed to be destroyed here. He was supposed to be safe here. So why did it feel like he was still in danger?

"Jason? Oh my ... What happened?"

Daryan just shook his head and hugged his legs as he pressed against the shelf a little more. He wanted to tell the man that everything was fine. That this was just some kind of training. That he wasn't weak. But he couldn't get any air and without air, he couldn't speak.

"It's all good. Do you hear? You are fine. I want you to breathe with me."

The voice made no sense. Daryan wanted to breathe, but it was so hard. And now he wasn't following the instruction and would soon suffer the consequences.

"Listen to me. Breathe in through your nose and count to four. Hold your breath and count to seven. Exhale deeply and count to eight."

Too many numbers, too many instructions. A hand reached for his and Daryan didn't dare pull it away. His hand was placed on a chest and a steady heartbeat throbbed beneath it.

"Breath."

Daryan did.

"One. Two."

Daryan exhaled.

"That's very good. You’re doing good. Let's try it again. In for four."

Daryan breathed in and managed to hold it for two seconds before exhaling again. It took many tries before he picked up the rhythm from the man, but when he did, he could make out the outline of Bruce, and everything tensed inside him again.

He just had a panic attack in front of Batman. Batman, who had been trained by Ra's. Daryan could not and would not even imagine his punishment. The last time Ra's had judged him for his weakness, he had ... he had... Daryan felt sick.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Hey, shhh. It's all good, Jason. You don't have to apologize."

"I ... I lost control. That ... that shouldn't have happened."

"It's all good. You're safe. You want to tell me what happened?"

So that Bruce could use it against him in the future? A list of Daryan's weaknesses. That could be held against him to train him away?

Daryan shook his head.

"Okay. That's fine. I'm just glad you're okay."

Bruce squeezed his shoulder with his hand and stood up. He held out his hand and Daryan didn't take it but stood up on his own. He couldn't afford to show any more weakness.

The dinner was weird. Jason had sat down at the table with Bruce and hadn't looked at Dick or him once since. Tim didn't know what had happened, but Jason seemed to be in his own world at the moment. His gaze was fixed on the plate in front of him. Dick sat across from Jason, while Bruce sat next to the two of them at the end of the table and Tim made himself comfortable next to Dick.

"Is everything all right?", Dick dared to ask the question that Tim had wanted to ask all along.

"Everything's fine," Jason mumbled, continuing to eat without looking up.

"You sure? If you're not okay, that's okay too. Feel free to say tha-"

"Everything's fine," Jason all but hissed, and Dick closed his mouth shut immediately, while Tim's eyes widened.

They'd never told Tim much about Jason, and when they had, it was usually only the positive. The things Tim had concluded from his experiences with Jason anyway. Still, Tim had two ears and he knew very well that Jason had been known at school for his violent streak. While it had been most appropriate if you asked Tim, that still didn't change the fact that Jason had been an emotional boy. He had never been as openly cheerful as Dick or as calculatingly calm as Bruce. You could read his emotions and they had never been acted out. That's why Tim loved the photos of Jason's Robin. When Robin had laughed, it had been genuine and so much rarer than Dick's Robin.

"Sorry," Jason muttered almost ashamed, noticing the shocked looks around him. "I should have ... said that differently."

"That's okay. I guess I should have just let it go," Dick tried to reassure him. And that was the thing about Dick: he smiled, and his words were always so insightful, but Tim still sometimes felt that it hid some of Dick's true feelings as well. If Tim wasn't mistaken, Dick was currently desperate to do nothing wrong and was afraid that he had just managed to do so.

"Um ... I don't know if this is appropriate right now, but ...," Tim glanced around briefly and after Jason shrugged, he continued, "Barbara would visit us tomorrow at noon if that's okay with you."

Jason glanced at his plate and Bruce tried to smile encouragingly. In time, you recognized that form of a smile, but to the inexperienced, it probably looked awkward.

“We would understand if you prefer to go back to your apartment."

"No!" Jason almost shouted, and Tim frowned. Why was it suddenly so important to Jason to be here? Hadn't he expressed concern? Or had Barbara taken that the wrong way? Since it was Barbara, probably not. "I mean, I'd like to go through at least one night. If it looks different tomorrow, I'll let you know."

"Okay," Bruce replied, "I'm glad to hear that. You're welcome here anytime."

As if on cue, Alfred appeared in the room with a couple of ice cream sundaes in hand. They ate it rather silently, but Jason at least seemed to enjoy it. Still, the familiar taste didn't seem to trigger any memories for him. It had been worth a try, at least.

When the meal was over, Jason quickly retreated to his room while Tim disappeared into the kitchen to help Alfred wash the dishes. Bruce didn't have to stop Dick from leaving the room because Dick looked directly at him. He was waiting for an explanation.

Bruce sighed. "I found Jason in the library. He had a panic attack."

Immediately, Dick's eyes widened. "What, why?"

"That's what I was going to ask you? He was with you and Tim, wasn't he? What did you guys talk about?"

Dick thought for a moment before sitting down and beginning to describe the events. "We were playing a video game together. He and Tim were on the same team, and I was on the other. Surprisingly, I won, and I won even though I usually never stand a chance against Tim. So, I rubbed my victory in their faces and that's when Jason went all pale. Did I do something wrong?"

Bruce now sat down as well, trying to be on the same level with Dick to not intimidate him. He wasn’t angry, just concerned.

"No, at least not on purpose. I think something must have triggered him. We just met him recently, so it's impossible to tell what he's been through or what might be triggering him. I used to know ... but a lot has happened since then."

Dick lowered his gaze and nodded. Of course, Dick knew Jason's problems. One of them had always been that Jason would bunker food in his room and other places, fearing that someone would cut off his access to it. But this had nothing to do with the present situation, and fortunately, Jason also seemed to have had plenty to eat over the years.

"Can you remember what you said before he went to the library? Maybe that will give us a clue about what to avoid in the future."

"Yeah, sure. I said, which hurts more, Tim? Losing or knowing you lost to a medium-strong computer."

Bruce felt sick, but he tried not to let it show. Still, Dick noticed.

"What's the matter? Do you know what the problem was?"

Bruce didn't want to say it. He had never shown anyone Jason's mask footage of his death. The camera hadn't picked up much either, except a lot of red, green, and white, but the sound had been intact. Neither Alfred nor Dick nor Barbara had ever asked him about it. Bruce had listened to it only once, and after that, his head had repeated it often enough for him.

"Yes. It was a statement from the Joker ... from that day," Bruce began, seeing exactly how pale Dick was becoming, "Which hurt more? A or B? Forehand? Or backhand?"

Saying those words wasn't easy, but Dick had to understand. Had to understand the horror Jason had been through and what words to stop using.

"Does that mean," Dick asked carefully, "That Jason remembers?"

"I guess more subconsciously so far. I'll continue to monitor that. Please don't worry about that for now."

"Okay," Dick replied, and Bruce knew Dick would still worry. After all, he had managed to get Jason reminded of his death with just a few words.

Daryan had been in the Manor for over six hours and hadn't accomplished anything. Of course, Talia had said that he shouldn't act too hastily, but Daryan wanted to get out of here. This environment just made him sick. This mission made him sick.

This ... This loving interaction, he wasn't used to. Daryan wasn't used to people looking at him as if he was something precious, and he certainly wasn't used to people asking about his well-being.

But all those feelings weren't about Daryan. They were about Jason. Jason, who had died and was still loved by so many. Daryan had no right to sneak into that life and grab those feelings for himself. But he couldn't abort the mission either. Therefore, there was only one option: he had to finish it.

It was already late at night and if Daryan wasn't mistaken, everyone was asleep and hadn't slipped into their costumes. He hadn't closed a single eye but instead had paced the room until he finally dared to open the door and step out into the hallway.

The windows all seemed to be equipped with motion detectors, but he could disable them from the inside to create an entrance. It just had to be timed with an attack by the League, otherwise, Daryan would run the risk of Batman or one of his offspring noticing.

His footsteps were light and barely audible through the carpet. Still, he feared that Batman's ears were good enough that he could pick up even the faintest sounds outside his room. A silly thought, after all, Batman was not Superman.

His way led him downstairs and although it was already dark outside, thanks to Talia's training he could see enough that he didn't bump into an expensive vase or two.

"You know you could use a cell phone flashlight or the light switch, right?" a voice asked out of the darkness and Daryan winced. He hadn't heard Tim at all.

"I didn't mean to wake anyone," he whispered, turning to Tim, who was standing in the doorway. "Why are you still awake?"

"Why are you sneaking around here?"

"I wanted to get something to drink," Daryan said, and after noticing that he could have been drinking water from his personal bathroom, he added, "A hot chocolate. Do you want one?"

If Tim was suspicious, he didn't address it. Instead, he turned on his cell phone flashlight and led the way. Daryan followed him, now careful to let his footsteps come up a little louder than usual.

"Now you want to tell me why you're up so late?" echoed Daryan; after all, John-Jason knew nothing of the Wayne family's nighttime activities, and four in the morning was not a normal time to be awake.

"I'm still working on ... a school project right now."

"This late? Did you miss a deadline or why can't it wait until tomorrow?"

Daryan quickly found the cups, cocoa, milk, and pots. He turned on the stovetop and didn't even think about how well the kitchen was sorted if he could find the tools so quickly.

"I'd like to finish it," Tim declared, and Daryan couldn't help but sigh loudly and turn to him.

"Do it tomorrow. If you don't go to bed soon, you'll be tired tomorrow and it's not worth it. I can also try to help you if you want. It might be more fun then, too."

Tim looked at him as if he were a puzzle he couldn't solve. Daryan just looked at him as if he was a little done with the world. Which he was. After all, he hadn't exactly accomplished much with his night trip.

The milk came to a boil and Daryan added the cocoa while taking the pot off the stove and turning it off. After that, it was not difficult to divide the liquids into two cups.

Tim hadn't quite processed the conversation yet and didn't blink until the hot cup touched his fingertips.

"Thank you," he said perplexed, and Daryan actually had to smile.

"Now off to bed."

Chapter Text

In the morning Daryan had bumped into the kitchen and had been handed a plate of scrambled eggs directly. Afterward, Alfred had advised him to relax a bit and get used to the surroundings before Barbara would join them around noon. Daryan had not protested and had retreated to the library. He didn't want to lurk too much, but apparently, it was accepted that Jason spent his time here so he could take his time scanning this room for possible weak spots. A glance out the window at least told him of the presence of cameras. While there were probably many more than those that could be seen, it was a start.

Barbara was more than impatient to finally see Jason again. She strained not to let it show, but something told her that Alfred still noticed about the ride. She understood Jason's feelings and knew she should be glad she was allowed to join at all, but still she was a little jealous that she hadn't been able to be present yesterday as well.

"How is he?" she finally dared to ask.

It was a question that only Alfred could answer anyway because he was the one most likely to be trusted in that regard. Bruce was probably still busy being careful and just watching his steps closely, and Dick was generally thinking only of his guilt. They probably both wouldn't notice if Jason was doing badly. As for Tim, well, he was a smart kid, but he had also lived alone for a very long time. That took a certain toll. It wasn't that Tim couldn't read emotions, but Barbara would argue that he was as good at hiding his feelings as he was at overinterpreting or misinterpreting certain expressions.

"Better than I thought, and worse than I thought at the same time."

Barbara raised an eyebrow, something Alfred could see through the rearview mirror.

"Master Jason had a panic attack yesterday."

"Shit!" Barbara cursed before she could stop it, but in this one rare instance, she wasn't reprimanded for it. Maybe because they weren't at the Manor yet, or maybe because her reaction was appropriate.

"Apparently it was triggered by something that reminded him of his death."

Barbara blanched. Her reaction had been more than appropriate.

"Is ... is he aware?"

"We don't think so. But Master Bruce shared with me that Master Jason had apologized for his ... condition. Several times."

The pure concern could be heard in Alfred's voice and Barbara tried to remain calm. She had her own experiences with panic attacks, yet she had never had the urge to apologize for them. Sometimes she had felt bad or embarrassed, but she had always known that she couldn't control it and that an apology wasn't necessary. Jason on the other hand ... He had always been quick to apologize for anything outside the suit. As soon as he had even begun to feel that he had done something wrong, he had repented. Barbara had always suspected that Willis had beaten this behavior into him. She only hoped that his current reaction was an aftershock from back then and not something he had recently been taught.

"Barbara!", Dick greeted her immediately as Alfred parked the car and set up the wheelchair. It didn't take Barbara long to swing over and allow a hug from Dick.

"Jason is currently in the living room with Bruce and Tim," he explained before the three of them headed off to join the group.

Sure enough, Jason was sitting relaxed on the sofa, flipping through a book, while Tim was next to him typing on his laptop (probably homework, rather than case files) and Bruce was going over some papers in an armchair.

Jason looked up immediately when Dick opened the door and hold it open for Barbara.

"Hi," he greeted her, and she immediately smiled.

"Hi, John."

If Jason was pleased that she was considerate of his feelings, he didn't show it. But instead, he put his book away and made a hand gesture so that she could come closer. So, she scooted as far as she could without any trouble and stood with her wheelchair in front of the table and across from Jason.

"How was the ride?"

"Pleasant. I'm glad Alfred picked me up."

Dick slightly quirked his lips at the comment, but it was more than fair. While Alfred always seemed to find a parking spot, Dick often managed to be over ten minutes late because he wasn't that lucky.

Jason looked back and forth between the two of them briefly but said nothing in response. Instead, he looked back at the table where his book lay. Good, that was fair. She probably wouldn't know what to talk about if she were him either.

"I work as a librarian, even back then. You used to read for hours, and sometimes I'd lock the library extra late, so you'd have more time to read."

Jason's mouth quirked a little, but he went into it. "That was nice of you ... I just don't remember it, unfortunately."

"That's okay," she immediately placated him. Of course, Barbara would have liked it if he had remembered something, or at least felt that her statement was correct, but one just couldn't hope for miracles.

"Maybe you'd like to tell us something about your last years. Where you've been and what you've been up to?" offered Dick, who had sat down next to Tim on the back of the sofa and was leaning tensely half over Tim to Jason.

"Are you going to do this now?" asked Jason with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean?", Tim wanted to know, flipping his laptop shut, while Bruce now also handed his papers to Alfred, who put them in a folder.

"I mean, if we're talking about where I was, we're also talking about why I'm not dead, right? That's what it boils down to."

A hush fell over the room and Barbara didn't know what to say. Somewhat seeking help, she looked to Bruce, who was also momentarily frozen in place.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spoil the mood. For the last few years, I've been here and there. Haven't stayed anywhere long. Since there was no missing person report and I wasn't in the system, I couldn’t figure out where I came from, and somehow nothing ever felt right."

"How did you get to Gotham?" Tim asked, while Barbara was right on that it was more of a vague answer. It didn't seem like good memories then.

"Coincidence, I guess. I was just passing through, but something ... felt familiar. So, I stayed."

"You grew up in Gotham," Bruce explained, and Jason nodded in understanding.

"Were you looking for us?" asked Dick now, and Jason glanced to the side, only to both shake his head and nod.

"No ... yes. I don't. I didn't start an active search, simply because no one was looking for me. So, I thought that, at best, there was no one there to look for me, or at worst, no one was missing me. But I think my travels do a good job of showing that I hadn't put it behind me, even if I told myself I had."

"You ...," Barbara swallowed, "you thought that there was no one in the world who ..."

"Who loves me," Jason finished the sentence for her and sighed, "But that's not the case, is it? You just thought I was dead. And here we are on the subject: why am I not? Was there a mix-up? What happened? From what I read, I died in a bad car accident."

"That's right," Bruce began slowly, though nothing could be further from the truth. Jason's death had most definitely not been an accident. "Your body was very disfigured, but a mix-up still would have been impossible. I ... I could have the grave dug up. We can check to see if we buried someone else."

Barbara felt sick, and she saw exactly how Tim and Dick were turning pale, too. That Bruce would even suggest that, even though they all knew that Bruce, the best detective in the world, didn't make mistakes. In general, Barbara didn't know what to make of it. Feeding Jason lies now, just to protect their secret identities ... They certainly wouldn't help his memories that way.

"Yeah, sure," was all Jason said, but Barbara could see exactly how uncomfortable he was. After all, this was his grave they were talking about.

"It's also possible, though, that it was like Superman?" suggested Dick, explaining, "He came back from the dead, too."

There were a few more facts about this, but none of them could be said without revealing that they knew Superman personally. Jason didn't inquire further, instead his cell phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. His brow furrowed briefly before he looked apologetically around.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry. Mandy just texted me. A shelf got knocked over and she needs help tidying it up. She's not happy with me as it is. I ... shouldn't ignore that."

"Of course," Bruce said immediately, "Your job is important to you. We respect that."

"Do you want me to drive you, Master Jason?" Alfred asked immediately, but Jason shook his head.

"It's all good. I can handle it on my own. I'll see that I'm back here for dinner, though."

With that, he gave a quick wave around the room before he was out the door.

Barbara watched him go longer before regaining her composure and looking to Bruce.

"You want to have his grave dug up? Is that necessary?"

"Superman is on an important mission right now, which is why he can't use his x-ray vision for me. If we want even a rudimentary explanation for his resurrection, we have to start with his grave."

"This...," Dick began, but then shook his head and turned away, "I just don't believe it. We just got him back and already we're scaring him away by even talking about it."

Bruce swallowed but didn't lower his gaze. "I don't want to drive him away from here either, Dick. But we need to know what happened. Otherwise, I don't know how to help him."

"Not like this," was all Dick said before he, too, left the room.

Daryan was not at all enthusiastic and had to make an effort to concentrate on the road. His thoughts were solely on the message. He hadn't lied, and if Tim had been looking over his shoulder, he knew it. The thing was, Jason hadn't written much with Mandy so far, but she certainly wouldn't be writing to him for something like this. He was on shift on Monday. She was just going to drop everything and surprise him with it on Monday.

As he opened the store door with his key and let it fall back into the lock, he knew his gut hadn't fooled him. The store was in chaos and many books were strewn across the floor, but these were battle scars mixed with an overturned shelf that had probably been placed that way on purpose by Talia. Talia herself stood in the middle of the room, looking at him unimpressed.

"Did anyone follow you?"

"Of course not. They trust me," he replied immediately but could see no reaction on her face. She could be pleased or angry. He wouldn't see the difference.

"Where's Mandy?" he asked to fill the silence.

"You don't have to worry about that."

He clenched his jaw and didn't answer. He hoped Mandy was still alive, that she was okay. But since he'd gotten the message from her cell phone, he suspected Talia had already taken care of the body. That wasn't good. If she killed someone so close to John, she assumed the mission would be over so quickly that Batman wouldn't know about it. When exactly had she moved up the schedule? And why exactly was she suddenly so impatient?

"Let's get to the point," Talia said in an icy tone, "You say they trust you; I say I know Batman better."

Daryan looked at her before lowering his head. Ra's would have already given him a few whips for the lack of disrespect. One for every second there had been eye contact.

"He told me a little over an hour ago that he wanted to dig Jason's grave," he shared, feeling just as queasy as when he'd heard it. If they discovered Jason's body, he was screwed, and the mission would fail.

"That was to be expected," Talia merely commented on the whole thing, and Daryan didn't dare look up, no matter how surprised he was. Had Batman already initiated something? Had a conversation with the cemetery? Had Talia found out about it and that's why she acted so quickly? He could only make assumptions because to ask would mean he didn't trust her judgment.

Again, there was silence between them and with that silence, a thought came up again in him that he had always tried to ignore. When he had found Alfred's closeness pleasant. When he had found reading in the library relaxing. When he had been able to laugh at Dick's jokes as if they had known each other forever.

"Talia, you taught me that Batman was the world's greatest detective. I remember you saying to me that it's almost impossible to fool him. I ... I just want to make sure ..."

"That you're not really Jason?" Talia gave a short laugh, and he did look back at her now. She shook her head, but the laughter didn't reach her eyes. "A ridiculous thought, Daryan. Batman is not easily fooled, but my father is quite capable of it, for he leaves nothing to chance. Do you think he would have sent you on this mission if you hadn't had a natural fondness for books? And why do you have that? Is there maybe a reason why you got the rare opportunity to use the library in the League?"

Daryan felt sick as he listened to Talia's spiteful voice. The way she said it ... it almost sounded like he had been groomed from the start to accept Jason's preferences.

"Normal assassins drink whatever water they're given, but you and I have had tea together often enough. An honor? Or a necessity?"

"This mission was planned a long time ago, wasn't it? Ever since you took me in, I was destined to take this role." His voice was clear, while he would have preferred to scream inside. He was nothing more than a puppet. He had always known that, but until today he had suppressed it.

"We've had other subjects with memory loss join us ... They just didn't quite have the appearance we would have liked. My father leaves nothing to chance, Daryan. You know that. If he had even suspected that you would fail, he wouldn't have sent you on that mission. It just worked out a little too perfectly, it seems, because you started believing that lie yourself."

Daryan swallowed and lowered his head again. Her tone had become more and more dangerous toward the end. He had infuriated her with his question. Most people didn't survive making Talia angry.

"Please forgive me," he spoke, hoping it would be enough.

"Don't worry. I can't afford to hurt you. It would only jeopardize the mission."

Daryan nodded but kept his head down. She might still break some of his bones. After all, he was here to put a shelf back up. Accidents could easily happen in the process.

"My father's assassins are standing by and have all arrived in Gotham. Since they seem to trust you so much, I want you to shut down the security system and send us a message. As soon as possible."

Daryan didn't argue, even though he would have liked to. As quickly as possible. He didn't know how to do that without compromising his cover. If he ran out of time, then he would have to drop his caution, and he had been told often enough that this could be fatal on a mission. Daryan just didn't have a choice.

Tim was honestly glad that Jason had left the room. Although this had happened somewhat suddenly, he was able to go through some cases undisturbed after Tim fall asleep yesterday. The warm chocolate had done wonders.

Unfortunately, however, Jason's nightly excursion had proven that Tim had better be careful and that his suspicion was perhaps appropriate.

His fingers stopped over the keyboard as he looked at the image in front of him. Was this ... an assassin? The footage wasn't exactly good, but Tim knew what League assassins looked like and he could make out the outline. The photo had been taken near the harbor and had looked so nondescript. But it was of great significance. What exactly was the League of Assassins doing here in Gotham? And why did it coincide with Jason's appearance here, of all places? Of course, they hadn't shown up completely at the same time, but it was still suspicious.

Or maybe Tim was just trying to see things again that just weren't there. After all, his time at Wayne Manor was slowly running out and that could make one desperate.

"Hey," Jason greeted him and Tim looked up in surprise. He hadn't even realized that the latter had returned home. "Do you still need help with your homework?"

Tim hesitated for a moment before closing his laptop and looking Jason straight in the eye.

"Do you want me to be completely honest with you? I don't know if I can trust you. Are you really Jason or is this all just a game to you?"

Jason took a step back in shock as if he'd been burned.

"Tim ... I ... I don't know," he finally replied, "But I'm not trying to fool anyone on purpose, I can promise you that much."

Tim didn't believe him.

His family did.

Chapter Text

Even though Dick didn't like it, he had gone out on patrol with Batman. Jason had retreated to his room after dinner and Tim was currently working on some case. Dick could have stayed at the Manor and helped Alfred with the laundry, but since Batman had been sighted rather infrequently in Gotham, it certainly wasn't a bad idea to cover a larger area. Dick was glad they didn't take the same route, because at the moment he was not well disposed toward Bruce. Sure, they were all detectives, some more and some less, but Bruce sometimes took his curiosity too far.

"Nightwing?"

"Mhm," Dick only replied, because he certainly didn't want to have a long conversation about the comms right now.

"I'm sorry I upset you."

Dick almost missed the roof. Bruce ... had actually apologized. That was hard to believe. Now, of course, Dick could continue to be offended, but he thought back to how he had argued with Bruce so much that he hadn't even noticed Jason. He was going to do better this time.

"Already forgotten."

Daryan had been waiting impatiently in his room for a message. Talia wanted to see results and that meant he had no time to lose. Alfred would not be a problem. The butler would do chores or sleep a few hours to be as fit as possible should he have to take care of injuries at the end of the night. Barbara, meanwhile, had gone home.

"Hey, John. Thanks again for your help."

Daryan sent a thumbs-up back to Mandy. Talia had just informed him with that choice of words that the Bats were indeed active in Gotham tonight. Therefore, he had the Batcave to himself ... He just had to find it. Talia's information had been a bit vague on that. A place that was easily accessible for her lover. Something symbolic, probably. But as big as the house was, this didn't help. However, he would probably just start with Bruce's study.

No sooner had Daryan stepped out of his room, than he noticed the next problem. He saw how the light was on in Tim's room. Seemed like only Nightwing and Batman were in Gotham. Jason sighed before entering the kitchen first.

A good ten minutes later, he knocked on Tim's door.

"Come in."

If Daryan hadn't been trained by the League of Assassins, he probably wouldn't have heard the response.

He entered and just barely saw Tim clumsily slip a note under his pillow. Then he looked up at Daryan with a raised eyebrow.

"I made something to drink," Daryan explained, pushing the cup into Tim's hand.

"Figured it would save us the late-night tour this time."

Tim sipped it first, presumably to test the heat, but then took a larger sip.

"Thanks...that's nice of you."

Daryan just smiled and drank his drink until Tim's eyelids grew heavier and the boy looked at him in confusion.

"What...?"

Before the cup could slip from his hand, Daryan caught it. Tim himself landed unconscious on his mattress. Sighing, Daryan put the cups on the nightstand and was already about to leave the door when he remembered the note. Information was information and accordingly never bad.

He had to push Tim slightly to the side to get to it, but with it, he could also read the handwritten note, which was definitely not meant for Daryan's eyes.

Hi guys,

I am very happy that Jason is back now. I know, with this, my presence is no longer necessary. Probably it hasn't been for a long time. It's better for all of us if I don't take any further advantage of your hospitality and go home.

I put Robin's uniform back in Jason's locker, even though it probably won't fit him. The cape can still be used, though.

Maybe we'll see each other again sometime.

With best regards

Tim Drake

Daryan had to swallow. That ... That sounded wrong somehow. Of course, Talia had told him that Tim wasn't officially family, but the boy had spent every minute here that Daryan had simply forgotten. What was wrong with Tim's parents that they didn't notice?

Daryan looked guiltily at the note, which he had just crumpled up. Oh great. Here and now was no time to get angry and certainly no time to feel sorry for his opponents.

Nevertheless, he looked again at Tim, who seemed so defenseless and small. Daryan could slit his throat now and the boy could do nothing about it. But that was not what the League wanted. Ra's had told him to gain Batman's trust and betray him. True, another part of the assignment was to clear Assassin's path to the Manor, but Daryan knew Ra's well enough to know that the primary goal was to harm Batman psychologically. To break him. No matter if the Assassin finally succeeded in hurting someone, Ra's would still have won.

The study was neat, but no matter how much Daryan searched the desk, he found no secret switch. Something sentimental. It could be anything. A book in the library - there were hundreds, he would never get through - to a very special tune to play in the music room. But at the same time with a well-placed hiding place, it just had to be quickly accessible. So, this room was a good fit, because after all, Bruce Wayne spent a considerable amount of time here. Daryan didn't even know if Bruce hadn't made a quick trip to the Batcave at some point, should the entrance be here.

Frustrated, Daryan turned in circles, ignoring the large window. He certainly wouldn't find anything there. The desk had already been examined and the chairs on one side didn't look promising either. Bruce Wayne was sure to receive guests who knew nothing about Batman, and if they sat down there, then nothing could happen. That left almost only one possibility. Daryan glanced at the grandfather clock and almost immediately felt a slight chill.

"This feels wrong," he muttered but allowed himself to be guided anyway, adjusting the hands of the clock until a click sounded and the clock opened outward.

He did not bother with it any longer, down the stairs into the darkness. Tim would be asleep for a good hour yet if he had calculated the Batfamily's tolerance correctly. At that time, he urgently needed to get something done, after which he would look to either play the born innocent or go the distance. He preferred the latter if time permitted. But if he only had ten minutes left to escape from Batman, then he didn't even need to try.

The cave was impressive. Almost immediately, the giant dinosaur and Penny stood out. But Daryan also had a look at a couple of the currently unused bikes. He wouldn't exactly say that the Batcave was particularly cozy, but there was everything here that the heart needed from a training level to medical care. Daryan had spent so much time with the League that he could tell by now that such an environment felt like home.

He ignored the thought and aimed at the computer with its numerous - fourteen - screens. How to keep track here was a mystery to him, but probably not important. He simply pressed Enter on the keyboard. Immediately, the largest screen popped up.

"Identify yourself," it said in all caps.

"Jason Todd," Daryan replied, hoping he wouldn't need a password.

The screen didn't respond, and Daryan looked around a little before spotting a small black piece. Something that had a cutout for a finger. Well, hopefully, Ra's had worked true wonders. Daryan placed his index finger on it and shortly after the screen glowed green. That had been easy.

Fortunately for him, the system was straightforward and neatly arranged. He found the security settings very easily and could now edit them to his liking. Daryan decided to set the timer so that it would disable all cameras and alarms in twenty hours. If Tim suspected that Daryan had done something wrong, he would not find any immediate changes. Besides, in twenty hours everyone would be sitting down to dinner, which would rule out armory nearby. If Daryan got it right, he could even forgo dinner and take his leave. After all, he was known to have to work on Monday.

"Twenty hours," he simply texted Mandy, deleting the message shortly after. Oracle probably wouldn't be fooled, but he would already make sure she never got her hands on his phone. So far, he had only stunned Tim and this he could also simply blame on the boy's tiredness. When things got tough, he acted just as if he had wanted to steal something. No one had to suspect that he was a bigger enemy.

Daryan logged back out of the system and looked around the cave again. His goosebumps were back and his ears were ringing when his eyes fell on a glass case. He couldn't make it out that clearly, but it was definitely a Robin uniform. Simultaneously attracted and repelled, Daryan strode up to it and now saw details like bloodstains and torn fabric.

"Ha Ha Ha."

Why was Batman keeping this? Couldn't he afford new costumes? Let alone the fact that Robin was wearing longer pants by now and no one needed this costume anymore.

"HA HA HA!"

Daryan didn't know why his heartbeat suddenly quickened, but it did. His hand reached out and his gaze fell on the metal badge. A good soldier.

"HA! HA! HA!"

His whole world filled with laughter.

Bruce was glad Dick had forgiven him so easily. He knew that once again he had brought up a subject completely wrong. His children had been disturbed by it. That was unforgivable and he would have understood if Dick had continued to hold it against him. Unfortunately, it was also just that he didn't know what was going on in Jason's head. It had taken months before Jason had opened up all those years ago, and this time it might take even longer if it ever did. Bruce just wanted to help, but trust couldn't be forced, and so he had assumed that solving the mystery of Jason's resurrection might help. Stupid, as he now realized.

"I'll be back in Blüdhaven starting Monday," Dick said as they swung through the air. Bruce knew Dick had a job and could no longer stay here in Gotham. Still, he realized what that meant. He would just have to see with Barbara and Alfred that they kept in touch with Jason. "Will see about getting back to Gotham this weekend, though."

"You're always welcome here," Bruce said, not saying what he wanted to say. Dick seemed to find it so easy to communicate with Jason. If he was here, then less could go wrong.

"Thanks. I think for tomorrow it should be our task to make sure Jay knows, too."

Bruce nodded. He hadn't thought of that, but it was an important point. Jason would probably be working on Monday, too, and by then he needed to know that they liked having him around. That the Manor could be a home for him.

"I just don't want to force him to do anything," Bruce said. If Jason didn't want to stay with them, there was nothing he could do about it. That was the sad truth. Maybe that was why he had been hoping for a miracle until now. That he had hoped for Jason to get his memories back. But one should probably not ask fate for too much. It was already a miracle that Jason was alive again.

Daryan did not know how he had gotten here. Nor did he know where the shovel in his hand came from. He only heard the laughter and no matter how much he dug, it only got louder. It felt like the rain was soaking his clothes, but it was just the cold wind. Still, everything smelled of fresh rain and the brown of the earth seemed darker as if it were wet. Daryan was just imagining it, the laughter, the rain. It wasn’t real.

Here lies Jason Todd

That was the promise carved on the gravestone. And yet Daryan kept digging with a hunch that no one lay here.

"So, let's try and clear this up, okay, pumpkin?"

Daryan's breath caught as soon as the shovel hit something hard and broke into two, moments later. Without hesitation, he threw it away and started digging with his hands. Desperately searching for ... Daryan didn't know. He just had that feeling that everything would stop being so loud when he reached the coffin.

"A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory."

The dirt dug under his fingernails and he felt like he was going to be sick as he gasped for air that didn't seem to exist. Dirt shot into his eyes. No Air. Rain that made the earth so much heavier. Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.

The brown of the coffin stood out and Daryan tore open the lid.

The coffin was empty.

Somehow that made everything so much worse.

Tears streamed down his face and this time the laughter was real. Only it was a broken one.

Tim slowly opened his eyes and had to blink several times before he perceived something, and the dizziness subsided. What ... what had happened?

His eyes fell on two cups and all color drained from his face as he scanned himself for injuries. But except for the fact that he had probably been drugged, he seemed fine.

Tim cursed as he sat up with a jerk. He had just started making preparations in case he was wrong about Jason. A precaution, after all, he'd rather get out of here faster in case Jason came back instead of having to say goodbye to everyone. He wasn't going to be able to do that.

But now he had the problem. Through his preparations he had briefly let his guard down and that had Jason ... No, that just couldn't be Jason ... That had John, or whatever his real name was, just took advantage of that.

Tim wanted to rush out and see why John had knocked him out, but he needed a plan. To approach such a situation unprepared could mean death. That had been drilled into him in his training.

So, he first opened his laptop and sent a distress signal to Oracle, who would surely pass it on to Nightwing and Batman as soon as possible.

He was about to close his laptop when his eyes fell on another piece of news. This ... was not good. John hadn't done anything to him, but he was more than just dangerous. Tim was glad that he had proof now because he would need it for Bruce.

He grabbed a bo staff from his drawer without hesitating, which he had never been forced to use before. And just because John was a danger, he kept it folded. It was better if he could surprise his opponent with a weapon. It was always better when people underestimated you than when they prepared just right.

His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as he glanced briefly at John's room and then stormed down the stairs into the foyer. To his surprise, at that exact moment, the door was opened, and John entered. Tim froze in his movements. John gazed into the void. His hands and pants were covered with dirt. Tim could do nothing with this image.

"We need to talk," Tim said, not knowing why his voice sounded so calm. He wasn't calm. His nerves were stretched to breaking point and he would have loved to scream as his worst fears had come true. His family had hoped and loved and soon he would break their hearts.

John just shrugged his shoulders and Tim pointed to a wall. For safety's sake, he made sure to keep a certain distance from John, who, with his shoulders slumped, didn't look like he was about to attack anyone. Dried tears were visible on his cheeks while his face was so blank.

Tim opened the hidden elevator and led John in with one hand on his back. The man didn't even flinch as they rode into the secret basement. It scared Tim.

Tim swallowed and tried to remember what he knew and who this man was. He had drugged him. Tim couldn't trust him.

John didn't respond to the Batcave either but continued to let Tim lead him. Until Tim locked him in one of the cells. That was the moment when John looked at him in shock and seemed to understand what was going on. But that was also the moment Tim knocked him out and just barely caught him before John's skull could hit the floor. Tim still didn't bother to put him on the bed.

Nightwing's heart slipped when he heard Barbara's voice.

"Distress signal from Robin. Triggered by his laptop."

Bruce didn't even look in Nightwing's direction before he was already swinging toward the Batmobile. A clear sign that he was worried. Dick could read that by now.

"Report," Batman demanded, as Nightwing swiftly followed him. They were ten minutes from the Manor, at least if Batman disregarded all traffic rules. It was about Robin. He would disobey all traffic rules.

"I tried to call him. No response. I tried calling Jason. No response. Right now, I'm calling Alfre- Alfred! Thank goodness. Hold on, I'll put you through."

"What happened?" Alfred asked anxiously, and Dick barely made it into the Batmobile, when it was already moving off. Bruce didn't waste a second. If they didn't make it in time, it wasn't because they hadn't tried everything. Dick wasn't allowed to think that way, though! It was all just a mistake. His brothers were fine.

"Robin sent us a distress signal. He should still be at the Manor," Oracle quickly explained.

"We're on our way," Batman growled, and Alfred could be heard striding quickly through the halls of the house.

"The front door is open," he commented after a short while, and apparently this was a signal for Batman to step on the gas even further. Dick was just glad that there was hardly anyone out on the streets at this hour. Especially not on the roads leading to Wayne Manor. It would probably be an impossibility to hit the brakes in time.

"Master Tim!" they now heard Alfred say, before he spoke more clearly into his phone, "Master Tim is fine. He is in the Batcave."

"Two minutes," Dick stated.

"One minute," Bruce determined.

He was right, although it took an emergency stop to bring them to a halt in time. Dick, however, jumped out of the car while the brakes were still on and wrapped Tim in his arms.

"You're all right! What happened?"

Tim didn't look him in the eye and Dick's panic rose. What had happened?

"Where's Jason?" Bruce asked behind him, and all color drained from Dick's face. The front door was open. Had he made a run for it?

"In one of the cells," Tim spoke clearly, and yet it sounded to Dick as if Tim had been speaking to him underwater. Everything was so echoed. Dick had understood him anyway.

"What, why?"

"I locked him up."

Dick looked helpfully at Alfred, who said nothing, and then at Bruce, who had suddenly put on his Batman face. He looked so serious.

Without hesitation, he strode to the cells and Dick followed him.

"You can't let him out!" said Tim firmly, trying to keep up with them. "That's not Jason. Whoever he is, he's not Jason."

That made Bruce stop, but they had already spotted the right cell. Jason was lying on the floor, very slowly opening his eyes. But as soon as he saw them through the glass, they grew large.

"What the hell?" he asked, but his voice was weak as if he had screamed before.

"Of course, that's Jason," Dick said firmly, pointing at the man, "Just look at him. We've run tests, Tim. It's Jason."

Tim shook his head and bit his lip. This time, though, he didn't avoid their gazes.

"I know that's what you wish for, Dick. I know you all wish it. But he works for the League of Assassins."

"That ... that's ridiculous. What does the League have to do with this? Please, Jason. Tell him you don't know what he's talking about."

Dick just had to hear it from Jason's mouth. Had to hear how he was confused by it all and how he didn't know what was going on. Instead, he got to hear the truth.

"You guys were my mission."

Chapter Text

Tim had worked with Batman long enough to be able to read him. He had attended many movie nights with Dick to know that when he stopped laughing, it was serious. John probably didn't realize it, but they were both feeling a lot of pain right now. Tim recognized it and it hurt him. Briefly, Tim still looked around but saw no sign of Alfred. Seemed like he didn't want to be part of this conversation.

Bruce took a deep breath, and the corners of his mouth remained a single, thin line. Tim had seen this expression on Batman's face before, during interrogations.

Neither he nor Dick still wore their masks. They had taken them off automatically when they reached the Batcave. Since John probably knew their true identities, it didn't matter.

"We were your mission? What do you mean 'were'?" Bruce’s voice was even. Tim heard the hope from it, nonetheless. Bruce was hoping for an explanation that was better than how it seemed to be at the moment.

"What do you think I mean by that, old man? I mean that my mission has obviously failed. The end. Finito. No second chances."

Dick backed away slightly, while Bruce didn't let on. John sounded biting, and if there had ever been friendliness in his voice, it was gone now.

"This is ridiculous!" asserted Dick, shaking his head vigorously, "We compared your DNA and your fingerprints. There can't be any mistake."

There was something evil about the grin John gave them. "Ra's al Ghul has ways and means to fool your technology. You'd better not underestimate him."

"We don't," Tim explained, "After all, he had three people we know of murdered in the last two weeks."

"What?" asked Dick in shock, now turning to the side to look at Tim.

Tim swallowed. "I got a police report earlier. They found three bodies in a shipping container an hour ago."

Bruce now looked to him as well and motioned for him to continue. "Larry Woods, Laurel Eckstein, and Mandy Lock."

Tim saw Dick turn pale and was sorry he had to burden his brother with this information. They had to understand, though, even if probably only two of the three names meant anything to them. But Mandy had still told Tim personally about Larry's sudden disappearance at the time.

Tim turned to John.

"The League made sure you got a suitable job at the appropriate time, and that you had a contact person in case of emergency."

John frowned and for a moment his mean grin faded. "That ... I didn't know about Laurel," he breathed. It was hard to believe.

"Maybe you know how long Ra's had been planning this. Did he fake some extra clues for this moment a few years ago?" now Bruce took over the questions again.

John shrugged his shoulders. "Quite possibly. I wouldn't put it past him. Or you found clues and were so biased that you completely misinterpreted them. What was it? A fake medical record? I mean, if my DNA doesn't present any problems, faking something like that is a no-brainer."

"You're showing a lot of cooperation," Bruce noted, "Normally Ra's assassins don't talk much."

"But they don't usually pretend to be dead people either."

Dick's hands balled into fists. But otherwise, he remained silent.

"Your clothes are dirty. Where were you?" Tim asked now. He had been thinking about it for some time but had not come to a satisfactory answer.

"At the cemetery," came an emotionless reply, "destroying evidence."

And that was the moment when Dick wordlessly turned around, put on his mask, and swung himself onto a bike, only to leave the cave.

Tim watched closely as Bruce did likewise but forced himself to remain professional.

"We'll talk more later," he said, before adjusting the walls of the cell so that they changed from transparent to opaque. Nothing could be seen of John now, but there were plenty of cameras to access.

Tim followed Bruce to the Batcomputer, even though he wasn't sure he should stay.

"I want all the evidence you have. Every detail," Bruce explained, opening a new case file for John Doe.

Jason didn't know if he should be relieved when they finally left him alone.

He had their feelings and thoughts right in front of him. They thought he was a monster. They hated him. They certainly didn't want someone like him in their family.

Jason tried to convince himself that his flashbacks meant nothing. Maybe the al Guhls had simply implanted thoughts in his brain. There had been crazier things.

But the truth was that it was more likely that Talia and Ra's had lied to him. They had known from the beginning that he was Jason, and they had twisted his entire being so that they could use him as a weapon. They had no scruples.

Well, he was a weapon and he had met his opponents. But that didn't mean they had to hurt anymore. If they knew what he remembered - Clowns! Blood! Dirt! Pain! - it would only be worse for all of them. Knowing that someone was so bad that they were willing to pretend to be a dead son was one thing, but knowing that this monster was the dead son ... That would destroy them all.
Jason wouldn’t do that to them. They deserved better. Tim seemed to be better

Jason forced himself to remain calm. But his body did not respond to him. Instead of sitting down, he paced from one end of the room to the next. Only, unfortunately, that made it obvious how small this room was after all. Slightly larger than his room at the League, it was true, but at the League, he had only slept and then left the room as quickly as possible. He hadn't been locked in. At least not there. He had been locked up somewhere else.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Jason pressed his hands over his ears. He had to pull himself together. A panic attack would get him nowhere. He couldn't let himself remember it now. Not of the Joker, not of the League.

"HA! HA! HA!"

"Calm down," he spoke to himself, but his voice was so quiet compared to the laughter. Green hair. Green water. So much green. It seemed to swallow him whole.

Bruce knew he was doing what he always did. As soon as his emotions threatened to bury him under, he threw himself into work and buried them instead.

Tim's narratives were detailed and sounded logical. The image of an assassin alone was not worrisome. However, the figure had been spotted near the harbor and that was where the bodies had been found. Bodies which were related to Jason - John, he had to get used to it, because otherwise, he would only sully Jason's memory. Two booksellers from the same store and a waitress from his favorite diner. Batman didn't believe in coincidences, not when they occurred on such a scale and an accomplice had already confirmed the story.

"Damn it!" Without warning, Bruce cursed, banging on the desk, "How did I miss this? How could I have been so blind?"

"Master Bruce, I think I speak for everyone involved when I say that your hopes for a miracle were justified. No one here holds that against you."

"I do," Bruce said wearily, sitting down exhausted. "I'm sorry, Tim. I didn't mean to scare you."

The boy had winced and Bruce couldn't blame him. Bruce was supposed to be strong and couldn't lose his nerve. Tim and Dick needed their father. It didn't help anyone if he let his anger - disappointment - run wild.

"It's all right. I'm sorry, too."

That did cause Bruce to turn to Tim.

"Tim, you did everything right. I know it wasn't easy for you to investigate John’s story while we all believed him, but I'm glad you did. You probably saved us all."

"I don't know if he would have harmed us. Maybe Ra's just wanted information. At least he had plenty of chances to hurt me and never took them."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. That sounded worrisome. Almost immediately, Tim blushed.

"I let my guard down. That's why he was able to anesthetize me."

Almost immediately, Bruce looked at Alfred. "Alfred, can you please draw some blood from Tim? I want to make sure there was nothing harmful for the duration."

The butler nodded, but before the two could disappear into the med-bay, Bruce put his hand on Tim's shoulder.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. If John had tried to drug me, he would have succeeded. I know it sounds weird coming from me, but faith is not a weakness. Superman has proven it over and over again."

Barbara was sitting like on hot coals. Alfred had confirmed that Tim was doing well, but otherwise, she had not heard from him. Earlier, when she was still inexperienced in her new function as Oracle, she would certainly have asked several times through the comms, but now, she knew better. Silence meant either that everything was really good or that nothing was good. But then it wouldn't help anyone if she broke concentration. She could only wait and make sure Batman and Nightwing's transmitted vital signs were in the green.

"Nightwing to Oracle," Dick's voice rang out, and Barbara gulped. Sometimes she forgot how well she knew Dick. In this case, she knew his vocal inflections well enough to know that he had been this angry and hurt the last time Joker had gotten his hands on Tim.

"Finally! What happened?" she inquired. She wanted to reassure him, but first, she needed to know what was going on. Something told her it wasn't something she could help with greatly.

"Check everything you found on John."

John? Barbara said nothing to that, but she didn't like the direction of the conversation.

"Tim has him locked up, and John has confirmed that he was sent by the League of Assassins to take us out."

Barbara's fingers froze over the keyboard and for the first time, she didn't know what to do. Normally she could talk, listen and do research at the same time. Right now, she could only listen.

"The League played with our emotions. Gave us hope. When I find them, I'll make sure no one ever dares to do it again."

"N," Barbara began but was immediately interrupted.

"No. Don't tell me to calm down. I know I'm not thinking rationally right now, but I'm not on my way to Ra's if that's what you're worried about."

Barbara nodded, even if he couldn't see it. It just ensured that she could break free of her rigidity.

"Where are you headed?" she asked, but the slight rustle of wind transmitted over the wire ended. Dick had either reached his destination or was taking a break. Given the situation, the former was more likely, though she hoped for the latter.

"Fuck! I'm gonna kill them," Dick growled, but Barbara could hear much pain coming out.

"Dick ... talk to me. What's going on? Where are you?"

"At the cemetery ... they ... they have ... Barbara, Jason's grave is empty."

No sooner had Alfred taken his blood and started the Analyze process than the two of them set off upstairs. Daryan's room looked for the most part as if he had never moved in, but his bag was in a corner and perhaps they would find more clues.

Tim didn't even try to be gentle, but simply dumped the contents out onto the floor. Lots of clothes and a few books fell out. Nothing suspicious, all for a perfect lie. Tim didn't even notice his hands clenching into fists as he rummaged through the crowd anyway.

"Master Tim, are you all right?"

"How can you stay so calm, Alfred? He lied and hurt all of you. What kind of person does that?"

Alfred took a gentle breath before sitting down on the bed, and after a moment's thought, Tim followed him. He didn't want to sit, but being taller than Alfred seemed wrong.

"Sometimes, Master Tim, there are more victims than you first think of."

"I don't want to hear any excuses for him!" escaped Tim indignantly. How could Alfred even think along those lines? He had known Jason and watched him grow up. How could he be okay with something like that?

"I'm aware of that, but I think people in this house sometimes forget the paths Master Bruce took before he first put on his costume."

Tim swallowed but said nothing. He had only learned from Dick that the League of Assassins and Bruce had a history together.

"He was full of rage and grief when I found him at the League. They were supposed to help him with his training, with his personal mission, but he would have needed healing. Many of the wounds I found on his body he never explained, but I know about training and no matter what he went through, it was more torture than training."

"John is not Bruce," Tim stated because Bruce would never have gone on such a mission.

"He's not?" was all Alfred replied.

Bruce had put it off long enough, but now he called Barbara.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she said immediately, "I'm already going over everything I found."

Dick had probably already filled her in. On the one hand, he was glad for it, but on the other, he blamed himself for not checking in with Barbara sooner.

"It's all right, Barbara. I think it would be best if you came here first. In the interrogation, John suggested that the Batcomputer had been compromised. Maybe you can find a virus or something, which I missed. Otherwise, I'll take it apart piece by piece."

"Of course. I'll be on my way ... but ..."

"Yes?"

"Have you figured out a motive yet? If Ra's really had access to the Batcomputer, he wasn't after information."

Bruce frowned. Barbara was right, but Tim on the other hand had claimed that John hadn't done him much harm either. So why all this? What did Ra's hope to gain from this mission?

The engine of a bike howled as Dick rode back into the cave, and Bruce unceremoniously ended the conversation when he was the look on his son's face. He had rarely seen so much anger on Dick's face.

Only his reflexes ensured Bruce caught the phone before it hit him in the face.

"Found it by the cemetery. The League has Jason's body."

That short sentence caused Bruce to freeze in his movement. Something Dick took advantage of to storm past him to the cells.

Bruce was angry too, shocked, but he couldn't let Dick give in to his anger. Otherwise, he would later regret it.

As quickly as he could, he stormed to the cells as well. The windows were still opaque, but Bruce could see Dick standing frozen in the doorway.

Concerned, Bruce disabled the window view, but instead of freezing at the sight, he strode past Dick to John.

The latter was breathing heavily and had sat down in the corner, where he was now rocking back and forth. He seemed oblivious to their presence, for his face continued to be pressed between his hands. Still, Bruce could see the bright green eyes.

"Please ... please," John begged, but it was doubtful if it was addressed to them.

"Take it easy," Bruce said, kneeling next to John. He just couldn't help himself. Even if this man wasn't Jason, he was still young, wore his face, and needed help.

"Remember the breathing exercise? Breathe in."

John didn't inhale.

"Please, you have to breathe in."

Gasps were taken. It was better than nothing.

"Very good. Do you think you can do that for four seconds?"

When John took a longer breath, it was the first sign he could hear Bruce's voice. Bruce was glad because it made it much easier to help him gain control of his breathing. Only too gladly, Bruce would have still stroked him reassuringly on the back, but he knew he would never have done that with a stranger and it was dangerous to indulge in those feelings now.

"Please, I don't want to go back there," John pleaded, his voice sounding more than just brittle.

"Where? To the League?" asked Tim, and when had Tim joined them?

"It's all green. It's calling to me and it's poisoning me. I can't. Not again."

Tears stood in his eyes and Bruce swallowed.

"Please. I'll be good. No more talking back. I promise."

Chapter Text

"Can we be sure he's not trying to manipulate us?" asked Dick, upset, but knowing they hadn’t just witnessed a show. The panic and fear had been real.

That's why they had left the cell after John had calmed down to some extent. This time leaving the glass windows transparent and with a message to Oracle to keep an eye on the situation. Questioning John in this condition would have accomplished nothing ... and would have been unacceptable. They probably would have only succeeded in sending him into the next panic attack. Especially since he had mistaken them for people from the League.

"Dick, I know you're upset, but that was real," Bruce said, and Dick didn't disagree further.

At the moment they were standing in front of the Batcomputer and should not be visible from the cells. Tim kept a little apart while Dick had his arms folded and Bruce had dropped into the chair, exhausted. Dick noticed himself getting tired now that his anger had fizzled out. He was still mad at the League, and he found it hard not to hate John, too, but the blind anger was gone. He wasn't going to get him anywhere anyway.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked the group.

"We wait until he's a little better and then question him. It's best if I do it alone, maybe he'll be more open."

Again, Dick didn't disagree. Earlier he hadn't wanted to ask John about Jason, but beat it out of him. It was probably better not to leave Dick alone with John, who was doing a good job of straining his nerves.

At the same time, he was reluctant to impose the task of questioning on Tim. He simply had to trust Bruce to be critical of every word that came out of John's mouth.

"Master Bruce?"

"What is it, Alfred?"

The butler looked openly around the room before nodding slightly to Tim.

"Master Tim's blood results came back. Only a small amount of the substance could be made out, so it is safe to assume that it will soon be out of circulation."

Bruce smiled, while Dick looked anxiously at Tim. Why had Tim's blood been drawn in the first place?

"That's good news," Bruce replied.

"Um...," Dick commented, glad when they finally explained it to him.

Jason had laid down on the cot by now but wasn't trying to sleep at all. For the moment, he simply gazed against the glass walls and reminded himself that he was not in the league. Glass walls. He could see into the distance. That wasn't the League's way. Everything was fine.

Sooner rather than later, Bruce reappeared in his field of vision, but stayed outside the cell and sat there to Jason's surprise. Jason didn't comment on it or move.

"What's your name?"

Now he did raise an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to answer that with 'Jason Todd'?"

If Bruce felt provoked by this, he didn't show it. Instead, he looked at him silently, patiently waiting.

"Daryan," Jason finally replied. After all, that was the name Talia had given him.

Bruce nodded. "The name comes from Persian. It means 'possessor of good.'"

Jason snorted out loud. Well, that didn't suit him at all, but it suited Talia perfectly. Funnily enough, Jason was the only one who gave a reaction to this irony. Something that he didn’t like at all. Bruce seemed to catch and analyze his reactions carefully. As if Jason's posture and facial expressions betrayed something Jason wouldn't say out loud.

"What now? Are we going to talk about names and their meanings all day? I'm sorry, but you can tell I have better things to do." Jason briefly referred to the cell, which offered no employment opportunities whatsoever.

"Alfred will bring you some fresh clothes and some books later."

"Who says I like to read?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly.

"Okay, okay," Jason quickly conceded, because something about that look did something to him, "I'll take the books."

Still, an uneasiness spread through him. If Bruce was willing to give him all these things, then Jason would be stuck here even longer.

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

"We're not letting you go."

"I get it. That wasn't my question either. When am I going to one of those maximum security prisons? You can't very well lock me up after Blackgate with what I know."

"We'll decide that once we have all the answers."

Jason let out a loud sigh and sat up after all. A moment later, he braced his hands on his knees. By having Bruce on the floor and him on the bed, he could look down on him. Still, it didn't feel like he had the upper hand.

"Well, ask away. I don't want to rot here forever."

The sooner it was over, the better. Once Jason could walk away from the Manor and sit in another cell, he wouldn't have to feel like he could say or do the wrong thing at any time. Then he wouldn't have to look at the faces of the people he had hurt.

"Where's Jason?" asked Bruce seriously, completely throwing Jason for a loop.

"What do you mean?"

"Where did the League take his body?"

Oh, that was right. They had no reason to believe Jason was alive, but they knew what Jason had told them. He had told them about his trip to the cemetery. Had lied to them. Now he guessed he had to keep lying.

"I don't know."

Maybe it wasn't even a lie. How sure could Jason be that he knew who he was now? That knowledge had changed so many times in the last few days that it wouldn't be a surprise if it happened again, either.

"Maybe you don't realize you know something. Tell me what happened. Anything could be an important clue."

"What if I don't want to? What if I'd rather watch you despair over your cluelessness?"

Mean words to cover his insecurities. Whether it worked? Hard to say. Batman wasn't exactly easy to read. It was nearly impossible to tell what Bruce was thinking.

"What do you want for your information?"

Jason frowned. He hadn't expected that. That question ... sounded wrong. It was already wrong that they would provide him with comfort items like fresh clothes and books. But, that they were also willing to trade with him ... he had never learned such interrogation methods in the League.

"What I want, you can't give me."

"Let's try."

Jason looked to the floor before uttering what had started the whole mission rolling in the first place, "I want freedom."

Bruce managed to surprise him again, "If I can find Jason with your help, then I'm willing to release you."

"How can you say that? After all, I've done, you expect me to believe you'd be willing to let me go unpunished?"

Jason had by now completely forgotten that all the bargaining wouldn't do any good. After all, he couldn't lead Batman to a dead body.

"For my son? Yes."

Jason exhaled in frustration, "You don't get it, do you? I've failed. Ra's going to kill me for that alone. But if I betray him too, freedom is of no use to me because I won't have it for long."

He saw exactly how this answer hit Bruce. It wasn't much, but he looked a few years older as if Jason had just robbed him of life force.

"He's my son. He doesn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire, again."

And Jason couldn't help himself. He wanted Bruce to get better. He didn't want to be the reason he got worse.

"I really don't know anything, I'm sorry. I was just told that if you found Jason in his grave, it would be a problem. But I don't know what happened to the body. No hidden clues. That's the truth."

Bruce looked at him longer before asking, "It is, isn't it?"

Jason simply nodded. That was all he could bring himself to say. Because even if he decided to tell Bruce about his flashbacks ... Why would he believe Jason's tales?

"You meant you wanted freedom. Even from the League?"

Jason didn't answer but seemed to say enough with that.

"They would have released you from all duties for the success of this mission ... That's not usually something normal assassins strive for."

"Normal assassins?"

"Assassins who train in the League from a young age. People who train and fill orders under someone else's will for so long that they forget what free will is. That raises the question of how long you've been in the League."

"Why does that matter?"

Jason had enough of the interrogation and showed it by simply turning around.

"I'm just trying to understand you better, Daryan."

"Why?" asked Jason, but didn't know if Bruce could still hear this or if Bruce hadn't gotten up and left by now.

"You don't seem like a bad person, you're just a little off track-"

Jason turned around faster than he could think about it. "How are you going to judge? From the few hours, I was with you? I lied as soon as I opened my mouth! You know nothing about me! Nothing!"

If Bruce was shocked by his outburst, he didn't show it. For some reason, this only made Jason angrier.

"You act like you want to understand me, but you just want more information. You're hoping I'll tell you something that will help you. But that's not going to happen. If you're not going to torture me, then get out! This interrogation is over!"

Bruce nodded and finally got up from the floor.

"I understand that you are upset and of course, I hope for information. But I also know the League and I know what they are capable of. Therefore, I want to help you too. Let me know if you do want to keep talking."

Jason just glared at him, then jumped in shock when he saw Bruce about to put his hand on the panel. Last time, the panels changed their transparency. Was he going to do that again?

"Don't!" Jason almost shouted and Bruce paused.

"I was going to dim the lights. So, you could sleep better."

"The windows stay transparent?"

"The windows stay transparent."

Jason took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. It was all good. He was surrounded by glass, and he was out of the league. He was fine.

Barbara usually preferred to be picked up by Alfred or someone else in the family when she went to the Manor. That was because there weren't many cab companies that would take her on that ride. Barbara understood. People who ordered a cab instead of a limousine to go to such an estate were either joking or, like Barbara, didn't want to attract attention. It was probably important to note that there weren't many people like Barbara.

Nevertheless, the cab picked her up without much difficulty and had and even took care of stowing the wheelchair.

By the time they dropped her off at the Manor, and she tipped extra heavily so she wouldn't have to wait for the refund, it was already noon. Fortunately for her, Gotham's network was so good that she had been able to both keep an eye on John and review the evidence during the trip.

Bruce was currently under interrogation when she reached the Batcave by elevator.

"Hi, Babs," Dick greeted her and she tried a smile but knew it wasn't convincing. How could it? There was no happy occasion for this meeting.

"Have you been able to find anything yet?" was the first thing Bruce asked as he joined them. His face revealed little to them.

"You first," was all she said, and he sighed.

"I haven't gotten any information on Jason's body, but I can't tell if he's withholding important information or holding back unflattering details. It could be both."

"Motive?" wanted Tim to know.

"Freedom. He could have left the League without consequence if he had completed the mission."

Dick's eyebrows drew together. "And Ra's would have allowed that?"

"Ra's usually sticks to his agreements."

Barbara nodded. They had many enemies, and you couldn't trust most of them. However, Ra's had always been as cruel as he was fair. He was also devious as hell, but a single assassin meant little to him, and if this one had a track record as great as succeeding against Batman, Barbara could imagine him going along with that deal.

"Anything else important?" inquired Barbara further. She had already been able to see a few aspects through the cameras, but Bruce had been there and could read people well.

"I think he thinks of himself as a bad person, even for what he did to us. It's rare, but I can see the remorse in his look."

"Good," was all Dick said, "He should feel bad about that."

Barbara said nothing to that but just reached for Dick's arm. His statements had lost their bite and it was little comfort to know that John was sorry. The damage was already done and they still didn't know what the League had done to Jason's bones.

"So, what did you find out, Babs?" asked Tim politely, and Barbara immediately pulled out her tablet.

"I reviewed the video footage from the cemetery. You know, the one that shows Jason covered in dirt just before a police car finds him. None of that data was faked."

"Was it staged by Ra's? So, he could use it against us after three years?" Bruce didn't sound convinced, and Barbara couldn't blame him.

"If John doesn't know anything about this, and my analysis doesn't give anything, we'll have to find new evidence," she said, then looked to Dick, "I know it's only noon, but maybe you could still visit someone as Nightwing? I'd take a look at the Batcomputer with Bruce for a while."

"Sure. Who?"

"Tom Carrol. He was in charge of the graveyard back then. Maybe he picked up on something."

"I can go with you," Tim said immediately, but Barbara shook her head. "Dick said he found John's cell phone. Could you do me a favor and look at it? That would be a big help to me."

Tim had a knack for technology and with the work on the Batcomputer, Barbara needed all the help she could get. Besides, she didn't want to send Tim out on the town right now. She still didn't know if Ra's didn't have something big planned. Dick could handle a couple of assassins, but she would rather have Tim around.

The water sparkled. The green lured.

Daryan knew at every second that the water was poisonous, and he might as well run into a burning house. Still, his gaze did not break away. Still, his hands clung desperately to the grate, trying to move it. If only he could get near the water, all would be well.

In retrospect, he could never tell why he was fixated only on the Lazarus Pit. How it was possible to think of nothing else than the healing water.

But while he was locked in that confined space ... there was nothing more deserving of his attention.

Ra's loved his games and this one he especially loved. Daryan had gone against a cause and now he had to suffer the consequences.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he heard the door open and not close again.

An eternity ago, at least that's how it had felt, the door had already opened once. Daryan guessed that he had been brought something to eat. Not that he could confirm his guess. Because if he even thought about turning his head, he felt sick. He felt sick because he couldn't turn his head.

Come to me, Daryan. We should be together.

Jason snapped his eyes open and almost immediately put his hand on the glass. Glass. Not a grid. Not rock. He was in the Batcave, not at the Lazarus Pit. There were thousands of miles between them. It could not reach him here.

Still, he shivered just thinking back on it. The feeling of not being able to think of anything, of being filled with only one thought ... He couldn't describe it, but it scared him.

To be able to see the place of his desire through bars, but yet not be able to reach it ... Drove one crazy.

Only when Ra's had seen enough of his tears and despair had he been dragged from the room. He had resisted each time, though at the same time he had been so grateful.

Four times.

Four times Ra's had chosen that punishment and Jason knew it had broken him more than the lashes ever could.

It was a kind of torture that played mostly with the head and only incidentally with the body.

The worst thing was probably that nobody else had been subjected to this punishment. It had been invented only for him.

Batman used the darkness to appear more threatening.

Nightwing had never made a point of whether people were afraid of him or not. Nevertheless, he admitted that in some situations the night could be helpful. Indeed, it seemed almost ridiculous when he innocently pressed the doorbell and waited for the door to be opened. He couldn't blame Tom for preferring to call the police rather than open the door to someone in a Nightwing costume. To his surprise, however, Tom Carrol didn't seem to mind.

"If this is a joke, then ..."

"It's not," Nightwing immediately declared, showing off his hands, "I just want to talk."

"Fine by me," the man grumbled, motioning him to enter.

"You vigilantes have helped Gotham before. It's not exactly my responsibility to pay you back, but if no one else will ..."

Nightwing just smiled but remained standing as Tom settled down on the couch.

"What's this abou’?"

"About something that happened a few years ago. At the cemetery."

The man's expression darkened abruptly. "With the Waynes' grave."

Dick raised an eyebrow in surprise. Tom had to be talking about Jason's grave; after all, it was the only one paid for by the Wayne family, and all the others had been buried on the Manor grounds.

"What happened?" Nightwing inquired, keeping his question as vague as possible. Maybe he would learn more if Tom told more because he wasn't sure how best to answer the question himself.

"Disturbing shit. Was supposed to keep an eye on the compound at the time. Not much usually happened. Maybe some graffiti on a few of the more unpopular digs, but other than that, nothing special. But what was goin’ on there ... Was always afraid it would catch up with me."

"Why? What happened to Jason Todd's headstone?"

"To his headstone? Nothing! To his grave? Everything."

"I don't understand," Dick admitted, and Tom sighed.

"It had rained during the night, and I didn't expect any problems. Usually, when it rains, nothing never happens. But when I got to his grave, the first thing I saw was a hole. Already flooded with mud, but recognizable. Bruce Wayne paid for the grave, so naturally, I panicked that something had happened that coulda been traced back to me."

"You dug the grave?" inquired Dick, who was beginning to get a feel for where this was going.

"Yes. But I had thought I was doing a lot of work for nothing. Wrong thinking! The coffin had a hole in it, too. No body, but a lot of mud. Didn't look pretty and wasn't easy to find a new coffin. But still better than getting in trouble for losing a body. Like I said, disturbing shit! You found the body or why is it coming back up?"

Dick just swallowed and paced lightly to the door. Tom acted as if someone on the outside had stolen the body, but from the way he described the find, and from the looks of the video footage Barbara had found, it sounded more like someone had dug their way out from the inside.

"Thank you for being so honest. No one's going to bother you about it anymore."

Bruce would probably be only too happy to sound off on the man for his cover-up, but it didn't matter now. It wouldn't change anything. They had missed something years ago and now they had to live with the consequences.

"I can't find a virus," Barbara said after less than half an hour. Since then, Tim had already checked all the phone numbers he had found on the cell phone. There hadn't been many, but he had done his job thoroughly.

"Didn't expect that, either. I can't imagine how Ra's would have tampered with the Batcomputer. If it had been my security protocols, he might have done it, but you wrote on it, too."

Barbara nodded while Bruce looked at the computer like a mystery.

Tim cleared his throat briefly, "I didn't find any suspicious messages. John last wrote to Mandy, but at a time when she was already dead."

"So, he was communicating with someone who had her cell phone," Barbara summed up.

"The League," Bruce realized with a scowl, while Tim passed the cell phone to Barbara. Maybe she'd find something he'd missed on the quick. Without a Batcomputer, he'd had a hard time doing more detailed checks. But Barbara could probably do that with her laptop.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Alfred said dryly, before striding up the stairs to the Manor. Tim wasn't hungry but followed Barbara and Bruce to the elevator. With Bruce following them rather remotely, completely lost in thought.

"Barbara? Can you send a message to Mandy's number?"

Tim knew Barbara was as perplexed as he was, but Bruce rarely explained his sudden thought processes.

"Sure. What do you want me to write?"

"Why?"

Barbara just shrugged but complied with the request.

They reached the dining room together and a little later Dick, still in his Nightwing costume, joined them.

"Jason has definitely dug himself out of his grave," he gasped, and Barbara drew a startled breath. "Tom Carrol confirmed it."

"That ... that doesn't make sense," Tim could only reply. If Jason was still alive, why hadn't he come home? And why was it only coming up now, after all these years?

"He was afraid of consequences and covered it all up, but the coffin had a hole in it, as did the earth above it. No one who steals a body would open the coffin like that. It's way too inconvenient."

"The story is true," Barbara summarized, "And our found data is correct. The Batcomputer doesn't seem to have been affected either. That can only mean one thing, right?"

Tim nodded, even though he didn't know how to feel about that truth, "The League found and trained Jason after his hospital stay. It sent him on this mission because it knew all the evidence would support his story. John is Jason but probably doesn’t remember."

"It doesn't have to be," Bruce agreed, "It's one possibility. Another is that Ra's continues to play his games with us."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" said Barbara, her voice brittle.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

"So what? We just ignore what Tom told me?" inquired Dick, and Bruce shook his head.

"No, we don't. I'm going to call J'onn after dinner. Have him search John's memories for the truth."

Tim couldn't object; after all, he had been the one who had doubted everything for so long before this. He understood Bruce. He just didn't know if it was the right way to go.

"I'll bring John his dinner," Tim said as Alfred carried the first plates into the room.

Before anyone could object, he had already grabbed one of the plates and disappeared from the room again.

Maybe Bruce was willing to wait a few hours for the truth. Tim wasn't.

Chapter Text

Tim was undecided. On the one hand, everything in him was crying out to ask his questions and thus find out the truth, but on the other hand, he knew it was wiser to be more patient and not start immediately with the most important questions.

This led him to stand silently in front of the windows for two minutes before Jason-John-whoever had enough started with his questions himself.

"I read your letter. Why make room for me when you've been distrusting me all along?"

Because even without Jason's appearance, Tim had long since done his job and no longer had any right to claim Robin's title. Batman no longer needed Robin. Tim no longer had a reason to drag out his stay in this family.

Without Jason's appearance, however, he would have continued to convince himself that this family needed him.

"Because I couldn't trust my own feelings and I like to be prepared for all possibilities."

The man only raised an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders in boredom.

"If you want my opinion on that, t-"

"I don't."

"-he letter is complete bullshit anyway. I haven't been here long, but as far as I've analyzed the situation, you're part of this family and no one would ever send you away."

Tim swallowed. No matter how much he wished this was true, he couldn't hope for it. He had snuck into this family, although he still had parents of his own and should be grateful for them.

"You're trying to manipulate me," Tim said dryly, even though he wasn't sure if John hadn't even been telling the truth this time. At least Tim's distrust this time was forced and not genuine.

"If that makes you sleep better, then sure. I'm trying to manipulate you by telling you that everyone in this family loves you."

Tim suddenly knew now why Bruce had gotten quite a little information out of the conversations. That sarcasm seemed genuine and seemed to fit John so well, while at the same time it was something that Bruce and Dick had associated with Jason. Was he still playing a role? Or was Dick's theory the right one?

"Why did you bury Jason next to Sheila Haywood?"

Tim frowned at this question. It had come so suddenly and out of context. But he could read nothing from John's posture. The man didn't even look at him but looked to the side as if he wasn't interested in the answer, even though his voice had said something completely different.

"I ... don't understand the question."

"Doesn't matter."

Tim was about to follow up anyway, although it was anything but important at the moment, by then John was already pointing to the tin in his hand. The food Tim had already forgotten about.

"What time is it?" asked John, wide-eyed, as if Tim had beaten him.

"Time for dinner ... Why?"

"Did you reset my settings?"

"What settings?"

As a Robin, you automatically developed a sense of when something was going wrong, and for Tim, all alarm bells were currently ringing. John had tensed up in no time as if preparing for a fight.

"What did you do?" asked Tim in shock, realizing that they still didn't know what Ra's had hoped to gain from this mission.

"I disabled the security systems ... Tim! You've got to let me out of here. If they're here, you're going to need all the help you can get."

John, meanwhile, was standing right in front of the glass door and had even put a hand on it, while Tim was still standing there with the tin in his hand, cursing himself for not doing anything about this situation.

"Who's coming?"

"Ra's best assassins. Tim! Let me out of here! The others are pretty much defenseless. We can't waste time."

Tim looked at John transfixed, not knowing what to believe. This could all be a tactic, a lie. But if it was true, he didn't have time to first make sure there really were intruders.

Tim could either trust John-Jason and hope he wouldn't regret it, or he could distrust him and regret it in the worst case.

Strangely enough, the decision was not a difficult one.

Bruce was not hungry and yet he had not put off eating. Alfred had always chided him in the past for not eating enough, and over time he had come to understand that as a father he had a responsibility to set a good example. Dick was scowling at him, but he was eating something.

Of course, they needed to get to the truth, but they'd already had a few hours of sleeping draft and if Bruce was completely honest with himself, he was procrastinating his call.

Once J'onn showed up here, there would be no turning back. Then they would know once and for all what was true and what was false.

Bruce didn't know which he preferred.

If Daryan was simply a fraud, then Ra's had gone to a lot of trouble and that spoke to an endgame that Bruce was not prepared for. If he wasn't prepared, the people he loved died.

If Daryan was in fact Jason, then Bruce had not only overlooked the fact that he was still alive but had also allowed the League of Assassins to torment him with their methods. Bruce would have failed, and he didn't know if Jason could ever forgive him for it.

"This is ridiculous!" Dick exclaimed, moving his chair back to stand up. "If you want to eat, fine, but I'm contacting J'onn now."

"Wait!" ordered Bruce, as everything inside him tensed. Something was not right.

"I've waited long enough!"

Bruce's body reacted faster than his head. The knife that had been in his hand moments before flew through the air and hit a shadow directly in the hand. A sword thudded out on the carpet as more shadows pushed through the doors and windows.

How had Bruce not noticed the assassins earlier?

Fortunately for him, Dick had his escrima sticks handy, by still being in his Nightwing costume, and Barbara was deft enough to swing out of her wheelchair and thus dodge a few blows.

Bruce didn't know how the Assassins had overcome his security protocols, but that wasn't important now. This time it was a matter of striking first and asking questions later. Especially since Barbara was defenseless and Tim wasn't going to start this fight in a Robin suit. He had to do what was necessary to protect his family.

He broke one of the attackers’ noses while sinking his knee into the pit of someone else's stomach. In the next moment, he saw more the blood sliding from a cut on his arm than he felt it. He ignored it and instead dodged another swing from the katana, knocking an assassin aside before it could reach Barbara.

Then what he had been dreading happened, the oak door flew open, and Tim tumbled into the room. Except he was wielding a bo staff and he wasn't alone. Daryan was close behind him and didn't hesitate long to jump into the fray as well. Ignoring Tim and focusing on the assassins instead.

Bruce could only watch the two from the corner of his eye as he kicked one of the attackers back to the ground before he could even get up. Still, he couldn't ignore how familiar Daryan's fighting style seemed to him. Brutal, without mercy, and yet with the elegance that every Robin was taught. The speed, on the other hand, was very similar to that of the Assassins.

A few blows later Bruce heard the familiar sound of the shotgun, but fortunately for Alfred, there was no longer a target. Nevertheless, Alfred had stood protectively next to Barbara.

Bruce was sure that under different circumstances Dick would have been at Barbara's side long ago to help her up, but instead, his gaze lingered on Daryan, and Bruce’ did too.

Jason had to swallow when he noticed the stares of the whole family. They were all staring at him, but he couldn't tell if they just couldn't believe that he had helped them or if they were angry that he had almost been the reason that one of them could have died.

"You can lock me back up now," he said.

"Can someone maybe explain to me first what just happened?" asked Dick, as if it didn't matter at that Jason must be sent back behind windows.

"I disabled the security systems," Jason admitted, "I was supposed to do that for Ra's. I just thought you guys would have noticed."

"I guess we missed it," Bruce agreed, but his expression was again such that Jason couldn't read anything from it. He would most likely guess that Bruce was thinking, but he could also just be suppressing his anger.

Barbara cleared her throat slightly before even smiling, "Thanks for your help."

Jason shook his head. This wasn't right. "Don't ... don't thank me for that. I'm the reason they all came in here."

"Still, you helped," Tim said, already starting to tie up some of the unconscious Assassins, "You couldn't have said anything, and maybe the Assassins could have even freed you."

"Don't. You're just trying to focus on the good I did, but that doesn't change anything."

Jason looked to the ground because he couldn't stand the stares. They had that hope in their eyes again and he didn't want it directed at him. He had seen how much pain he had caused them, and he didn't understand how they could forget that so easily. If someone had been hurt ... maybe, they would have finally realized it was best to lock him up far away.

"Daryan? We would like to check your DNA again in an independent laboratory. In addition, I would ask a colleague of mine to look at your memories."

Jason frowned and took a few steps back. "What good is that going to do? You guys know everything now. I just manipulated the security settings. No more secrets."

Dick shook his head in disbelief. "We believe the League not only manipulated you but lied to you. Jason dug himself out of his own grave years ago and was taken to the hospital by a police patrol, and no trace can be found after that. Something that makes sense if the League took him in."

Jason swallowed. He had vivid memories of the grave thing, but he couldn't remember a hospital or police officers. It was so strange to hear something that you probably should know but just wasn't accessible to you.

"Oh," it escaped Tim, "you already knew that. After all, you didn't make a body disappear, but rather looked to see if there was even one that could be made to disappear."

Jason knew Tim was just spouting a theory. He had no evidence to support it. Still, Jason couldn't bring himself to deny it.

"Do you remember anything?" asked Barbara gently, and Jason now looked directly at Bruce. He would have preferred to look away, make himself small, and crawl away. But Bruce had to know that what he was about to say was true.

"I don't remember anything nice ... And I don't remember much. Those memories didn't start until I got to Gotham. Laughter. So loud and so disturbing. And it just won't stop."

"Master Jason," Alfred breathed, and before Jason could say anything more, Dick was already wrapping him in a hug. It took a while, but Tim and Barbara joined them as well, even if Tim kept a bit of a distance and Barbara also hugged him as best, she could.

"You're not alone now. We can help you," she whispered, and Jason wanted to break away, to disappear. He didn't deserve this. After all, he had done ... he shouldn't get this comfort.

"You can call J'onn," Jason finally gave his permission. The name had just slipped out without him having to think. But when he thought about what this J'onn looked like, he couldn't recall an image.

"There's time," was all Bruce said, putting his hand on Jason's shoulder. However, at that exact moment, the notification tone, his notification tone, of a text message sounded, and the doorbell ringed.

Barbara frowned at the door and pulled out his cell phone.

"Bruce, you have a message."

All eyes turned to her, and no one moved toward the front door. She turned the cell phone.

"Ding dong."