Chapter Text
The last thing Jason expected was for someone to start knocking on his doorstep at the crack of dawn.
Not many people would dare bother the guy in charge of running Crime Alley. Not that Jason would ever consider himself some type of crime lord to begin with—lest the old man would be breathing down his neck again, ugh.
Still, the unwanted visitor waiting on his doorstep made Jason groan out loud and silently wish he’d gone to bed with his rubber bullet pistols in hand.
Despite the scathing glare Jason sent his poor second-hand clock, the numbers told him exactly what he’d been fearing: Four A.M. Yeah, you heard that right: two hours since Jason finished patrol and dragged his tired ass home.
Great.
For a split second, Jason considered ignoring it and going back to sleep– Sleep deprivation was no joke, even for a senior vigilante like him. After three nights doing double shifts to prevent a local gang from sinking their filthy claws into his turf, Jason was in desperate need of sleep.
The grating sound arising from his front steps made him swiftly realize ignoring it wouldn’t be an option. It persisted, eroding at his patience until it finally provoked Jason to throw the covers away.
Seriously, who the hell knocks so loudly at this hour?
It was clearly not a tenant of this building, it surely wasn’t Roy, and, as he knew, his best friend was still off-world on a mission with Kori. An enemy, while another option, was highly unlikely–Villains don’t exactly knock on someone else’s doorsteps! This left him with few options. More like one, if he was honest: one that started with ‘B’ and ended with “pain in the ass.”
Yep.
Good ol’ Daddy Bats.
Now if it was the old man, Jason knew ignoring him wasn’t an option. Unless he wanted it to backfire on him later. While he'd gotten on “amicable terms” with Bruce and the others some time ago, things certainly weren’t sunshine and rainbows.
There was a thin veil of peace between them which could easily be broken if Bruce decided Jason was too “high risk” again even with the whole Pit Madness business under control.
“Great,” he murmured and rolled his eyes. As if stitching and disinfecting his wounds wasn’t enough, he now had to deal with whatever the old man wanted from him.
With another sigh, Jason stumbled out of his bedroom. He wasn’t above stomping across the floor to make his indignation known. Sadly, unlike Bruce, Jason had neighbors, and he knew those grannies living below him would hold a grudge forever.
God dammit.
“This better be good or else…” Jason grumbled under his breath as he trudged down the hallway, careful to not pull off his stitches. At this point, his only consolation was that whatever they wanted him for must be important.
It must be, if they went through all this trouble to bother him.
Jason opened the door prepared to give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind, but the words swiftly died on his tongue when he realized who it was.
Never in a million years would Jason have thought it would be his Replacement standing on his doorstep.
Nevertheless, it caught him off guard and Jason blinked. Then, he blinked again. The third time he blinked was only to make sure this wasn’t a product of his sleep-deprived brain. Alas, it was not. A very real Drake stood awkwardly, wearing a very sheepish (and very stupid, may he add) smile on his face.
Whatever surprise left quickly morphed into confusion because Jason had no idea why Drake was here in the first place–and especially without Daddy Bats. It wasn’t much of a secret how overprotective the old man was concerning his minions. Not that Jason cared—pfff! He had zero interest in what Bruce and the others did in their spare time. They could all go clown hunting and scuba diving, for all he cared.
“What the hell are you doing here,” he spat.
He anticipated the awkward silence that settled between them.
Still, Jason arched a brow and crossed his arms expectantly. When he realized Drake wasn’t going to speak, an impatient sigh quickly followed. Jason had waaay better things to do than entertain one of Bruce’s strayed wards, like go back to sleep for example and—
Wait.
Wait a minute.
The kid's eyes were red-rimmed.
Automatically—and before Jason could get a hold of himself—he opened the door wider to get a closer look. Instinctively, Drake took a step back, but it didn’t deter Jason in the slightest.
It was then that Jason realized two things: One, Replacement’s eyes were red rimmed. Two, he was soaked from head to toe. On top of that, the kid was shivering.
Like any person with common sense, multiple questions surged through his head. Where did Drake go to end up like this? More importantly, why was he here? Jason doubted this was a simple visit; he knew Drake wanted something from him. But what? What could he possibly want?
The more questions he had, the more perplexed Jason felt. If Bruce didn’t know of this visit, this could mean trouble for Replacement and more for him?
Feeling conflicted, Jason opened his mouth to speak, but Tim beat him to the punch.
“Sorry, is this a bad time?" Tim asked, finally meeting him in the eyes. What a dumb question, Jason thought to himself and mentally rolled his eyes.
“What do you think? Do you know what time it is?”
The timid grin didn't quite placate the annoyance simmering below the surface. Don’t strangle Bruce’s ward, Jason repeated inside his head. And then, for good measure, he added; don’t strangle Bruce’s ward with your bare hands.
He had a feeling that the old man wouldn’t take hurting one of his Robins well. He took a deep breath and used every inch of his self-control to sound casual.
“Look kid, as much as I appreciate you coming to visit me,” which was a big fat Oscar worthy lie, since Jason didn’t care about anyone, especially if it happened to be a Bat, “I’d rather go back to bed—”
He didn’t manage to finish the rest of the sentence when a hand went to grasp the door, preventing him from slamming it in Drake’s face.
“Wait!”
Why me, Jason bemoaned.
Seriously, why was this his life?
“Just tell me why you're here,” Jason said, tone flat. It was always better to be honest when it came to the Bats, unless he wanted to give them stupid ideas, like Jason belonging to Bruce’s family and blah, blah, blah.
Please, as if Jason could ever go back to believing those stupid lies again.
(He did believe those ideas once. Back when Jason was just some dumb naive kid who thought he still had a chance. Back when he believed he belonged with them. He did not, because if he did, that clown wouldn’t still be alive.
If he did, Bruce wouldn’t have replaced him so quickly in the first place )
“Why are you here," Jason said through gritted teeth. “Replacement.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
Next thing Tim knew, he was inches from Jason's confused face. The hell was that supposed to mean?
As far as he knew, Drake had a perfect life. A stable job, living in some rich ass penthouse, friends, and most importantly: a family. So what insignificant thing prompted this outing? Did he get yelled at by his boss? Did he get into a fight with Bruce? Poor little thing. Jason bet this kid couldn’t take a scolding without bursting into tears, so how he’d made it this far as Robin was beyond him? If Drake had come here to have some sort of pity party, then he should've gone to Goldie for his free therapy session.
“I didn’t—”
“No, I heard that part fine,” Jason interrupted him, undeterred. “What I meant was. Why here?”
Underneath his tone the message was clear: Why did Replacement come here, to him, specifically? They weren’t even close!
“Why not B’ or Dick?”
The immense flinch didn’t go unnoticed. So, the bats were a sore spot, who would have known. Maybe the kid did get into a fight with the old man after all, not that Jason cared. Serves him right for replacing the Robin mantle with so many damn kids.
Regardless, one thing was for sure: Jason wanted the kid out of his sight. Gone. Out. He wasn't equipped to play therapist and deal with any of this emotional bullshit.
“It was the only place I could think of.”
He lifted a brow. “Don’t you have parents waiting for you?”
The other didn’t waste a beat in telling him, “My mother’s dead.”
Jesus, Jason thought exasperatedly. And to think Dick had the balls to tell him he was the morbid one, telling jokes about his dead mother.
“Your dad then,” Jason said. He was pretty sure Drake's father was in Gotham, if his memory served him right. Not that he kept tabs on anyone’s life, even less on Replacement. “Isn’t he alive?”
“No. It’s just….”
“Just, what?”
The lone sob and teary eyes he got in response made Jason know he’d somehow messed things up. He was about to ask him what the hell was going on, when suddenly he saw it. Giant purplish bruises covering Replacement's neck and peeking out from under his collar.
Jason decided that, for whatever reason, he couldn’t let this kid go home.
Well, fuck.