Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lian stirred in her sleep, one tiny fist clenching and unclenching. She refused to go to sleep for anyone but Jason, but hadn’t woken up when he handed her off to Roy a few minutes ago. Roy was determined to savor this. The soft weight of her on his chest, the hushed sound of her breaths. 

Fine black hair tickled the side of Roy’s neck, and her cheek was warm through his worn t-shirt. Lian was the softest, most precious thing he’d ever seen, and she was his. Not his to own, but his to love, to watch grow up. He’d fucked up a lot in his life, but he’d helped make this little girl, and she was everything. He wasn’t worthy of her. He wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to stay sober for her, no matter how much he loved her. But he had to try. 

Lian’s mouth moved, probably dreaming of snacks, and Roy closed his eyes, swallowing hard. How could any living being actually be this incredible? He would do literally anything for her. 

“She asleep?” Jason leaned against the doorframe. 

“Out like a light,” Roy whispered. He took in Jason’s dark gray cargo pants and long sleeve tee. “You going out tonight?”

Jason nodded, his eyes soft as he studied Lian’s round face. “If you’ve got her, I need to check in with Damian.”

“I’ve got her,” Roy said, and it almost sounded true. 

Jason pressed a hand to the side of the doorframe. “You unpacked most of her stuff, so you know where that is. Her formula’s in the cabinet next to the fridge. I won’t be gone long. I don’t plan on being seen around town yet, just heading to the Manor and back.” His voice caught, barely enough to notice. 

Roy carefully laid Lian on the bed, letting out a breath when she stayed asleep. He didn’t tell Jason to stay safe, or ask if he was okay going to the Manor. It didn’t seem like his place. Instead, he laid Lian’s little blanket over her and stepped back. “I’ll be up if you need anything.” 

Jason gave him a scout’s salute and slipped out of the apartment. 

Certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep until Jason was home safe and Lian had been dreaming for a while, Roy headed to the kitchen. He’d been working on a prototype for a new scouting bot. He didn’t plan on returning to the field anytime soon – he had too much civilian shit to sort out, and wasn’t sure yet how he felt about putting his life at risk when Lian depended on him – but the ideas didn’t go away just because he was sort of retired. 

Maybe Jason could get some use out of them. He wasn’t giving out many details; probably trying to give Roy some level of plausible deniability, given what little Jason had admitted. The younger man still seemed half-convinced that Batman and Nightwing would be waiting for an excuse to throw him in Arkham, or at least ban him from Gotham. Roy wasn’t entirely sure where the idea had come from. Personally, he was pretty certain that both men would be desperate to bring Jason home once they confirmed he was alive. Jason didn’t seem to have any concept of how his death had affected everyone, though. 

Roy threaded a wire into place, frowning down at the little metal arm. Trauma fucked people up in weird ways, and he had no idea what Jason had been through. Dick hadn’t been eager to share details of what happened in Ethiopia, if he ever knew them. None of them really had a clue what had happened after that. Jason dropped horrifying hints here and there, but nothing solid. Nothing detailed. 

With some guilt, Roy could admit to himself he might not want to know. Whatever had happened to turn that bright and earnest kid into a desperate and hope-starved man, it wasn’t going to be a pretty story. It implied things about Damian and Lian’s time with the League that Roy really, really wanted to not be true. 

And yet. Roy picked up his soldering iron, chewing on his lip as he worked. He wasn’t going anywhere. He hoped Jason wasn’t either. Neither of them were the kids they’d been before Robin died, but Roy was pretty sure he liked the man Jason had become, even if he hated what had happened to shape that man. Ultimately, Roy did want to know what had happened. He needed to know what Lian had been through and what Jason was carrying, if they were going to make this co-parenting thing work. 

Beyond that, he wanted to be a better friend. He was trying to clean up his act, right? Be a better, more reliable man. The kind of man Lian could trust and love. What would that man do? Roy sighed. If he knew all the answers to that, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now. He’d probably still be back in Star City or checking in with Titans Tower. Not another junkie with a surprise kid and a messy baby mama. Jade hadn’t called yet, and Roy couldn’t say he expected her to. 

He set down the soldering iron, pushing back his chair. Pushing his goggles up into his hair, he went to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. Lian stirred in her sleep, then relaxed with a little sigh. Roy’s chest ached, and he folded his arms tightly, like it would hold the pieces of him together. If he’d made all the right choices, Lian wouldn’t exist. 

Maybe it was okay if he couldn’t do everything right. As long as he didn’t fuck up the big stuff. He was here, and he was going to try his damndest, and he wasn’t doing this alone. None of them were doing this alone. He and Jason would keep each other in line. Dinah was a call away. He wasn’t sure about reaching out to Dick, but knew the man would set everything aside if Lian was in danger. 

Roy crossed the room to drop a kiss on Lian’s forehead. Her eyelids flickered with dreams, and one fist tightened before slowly relaxing open. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He’d make this work – whatever it took – because he couldn’t look at this girl and do anything else. 

~~~~~

It had only been a couple days since Roy dragged him home for dinner and turned everything upside-down. As Roy had said, there hadn’t been much in New York worth taking with him. Jason had wanted to get to Gotham as quickly as possible, and Roy was on board. 

Jason had used a little of what Talia had given him to rent a car, and they’d loaded up their stuff. Mostly Roy’s and Lian’s stuff; Jason was pretty much starting at zero. They found a run-down apartment in Crime Alley (as if there was any other kind there), not far off Bermejo. He knew the boltholes here. Had work to do here. It was a rotting, screaming place, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Despite everything, he was certain Lian was safer here than any other neighborhood he would be less familiar with.  

Gotham had welcomed him back with a shriek of sirens and the rumble of machinery. Dying and his dip in the Pit had stolen many memories, and Jason hadn’t realized until now that one of them must have been how it felt to be in Gotham. He had forgotten how alive the city was, the hum of life and grief beneath his boots. She was a stubborn, bloody bitch of a matriarch, and he would almost swear he heard her as they crossed the city limits. 

Welcome home, my little bird. You’ve been gone too long.

The old route was still clear, just as he’d hoped. The gap in the fence was a much tighter fit now, the brambles a little more wild along the treeline, but his feet fell on a familiar path. Cricket song rose up from the lawns. He remembered struggling to fall asleep those first few months. The usual background hum of engines and voices had been missing, replaced by deafening chirps and croaks and somehow the heaviest silence he’d ever heard. 

Jason leaned against an oak, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach. He used to climb up this one all the time, to read in the branches where no one could see him easily. He’d forgotten about it until he was trying to set up a meeting point with Damian. Now, standing under the heavy canopy, the memories wouldn’t leave him alone. 

Wayne Manor loomed huge against the sky. Martha and Alfred’s roses were thriving. That tower on the west side was still missing half a pinnacle where Bruce had broken it off as a kid. He could feel the cool of the paving stones– 

“Baba!” 

Damian’s call was hushed, but enough to snap Jason out of the haze of memories. He managed to keep his voice steady, managed not to puke as he scooped the kid into a hug. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” he whispered. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“Tt. It’s only been three days.” 

And they hadn’t been apart overnight for almost a year. Jason hugged his kid until he wriggled in protest, then set him back on the grass. He ran a quick injury check, as best he could in the dark. “You alright, habibi? They’re treating you right?” 

“They are…” Damian paused, and Jason tensed. The boy frowned, folding his arms. “They are not what I expected.” 

“They been talking down to you?” Jason demanded. 

“No, they are–” Damian huffed in frustration. “You and ummi each led me to expect certain things from them. Especially from Batman. None of which seem to be entirely accurate. The differences do not seem to be negative, but they are confusing .” He spat the last word like he was admitting some great fault. 

Jason crouched, putting himself closer to Damian’s eye level. “Different how, habibi?” If they were shaming his boy for what he’d been raised to do, if they were leaving him vulnerable to Ra’s, if–

“They treat me like I will break,” Damian muttered, “and they ask so many questions, but always about things that do not matter, or that I cannot tell them. Father is angry, but he keeps insisting he’s not angry at any of us. I thought he was supposed to be a great warrior, but he is more gentle and more sad than I expected, and I cannot figure out why he is angry. Grayson hardly leaves me alone, and they all ask me about you, even though I have said I will not talk about you!” 

Jason pulled the kid close again, leaning back against the oak with Damian curled in his lap. “Do you want to leave?” 

Damian kicked at the ground beside Jason’s hip. “No! I wish to know my blood father! I only want things to make sense, and they do not!” 

Jason took a deep breath, running a hand over the kid’s hair. “Alright, habibi. You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to. If they try to make you, you tell ‘em to go screw themselves.” 

“Tt.” Damian kicked the ground again. “How is Lian?” 

“She’s doing well. Doesn’t seem to care much if she’s eating mashed squash in New Zealand or Gotham or Timbuktu. She misses you, though. Asks for you more than she asks for her kitty. She and Roy came to Gotham with me, so we’re all close by. I’ll have to find a way for you to see each other soon.” 

Damian relaxed slightly. “I would like that. Is Harper worthy of her?” 

Jason hid a smile. “He’s alright. Doesn’t know much about kids, but he’s a fast learner. Reminds me of you. Once he’s decided he wants something, he won’t stop until he’s made it happen. Stubborn as a rock.” 

Damian scoffed, but he looked a little pleased. “Lian must have guardians who will do anything for her. If he is such a man, I suppose he may earn my approval.” 

“I’ll make sure he knows that.” 

Damian twisted his shoe into the soil again. “They are…strange,” he said after a while, “but not cruel. Father is very different from what Grandfather described, and even what you described. I do not understand the way he thinks, but I am trying. Penn– Alfred is kind, but not soft. Like you.” 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re probably the only person on earth who would call me kind.” 

“Tt. Do not kid yourself, Baba. You hide it less well than you think.” 

Jason snorted, ruffling his kid’s hair. Damian batted his hand away half-heartedly. “Look. If you want to stay there, I’ll be close by. But if you ever need a place to run, or if things go sour for some reason, you can call me. I don’t care if it’s something small, I don’t care if it’s 4 am, or if you’re responsible for whatever happened. You’ve got my address, you’ve got my number, you call me any time.” 

“Yes, Baba.” He hugged his knees, looking down at the forest floor. 

Jason waited a while. The kid clearly had something more to say, but it seemed to be taking him a while to find the words. They weren’t in a rush. If he pushed, Damian would just clam up and deny wanting anything. 

“They talk about you a lot,” he said finally. 

Jason’s throat closed. He looked into the trees, not wanting to see the silhouette of the Manor right now.

“I expected to be questioned, and it is a bit of that. More often they…tell stories. Especially Alfred and Richard.” 

He couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Couldn’t breathe. They hadn’t cared. Joker was still drawing breath. There was still another kid in a cape. How could Jason’s death have meant anything to them – how could he have meant anything to them – if they’d willingly let another kid go out in the mask and tights? 

“You been training?” he managed. 

Damian scowled. “I am barely allowed to maintain my current skill. Richard has refused to teach me anything but acrobatics.” 

“Good.” Jason pulled his boy tight against his chest, resting his cheek against rumpled black hair. “You stick with that.” 

“Ummi will not be pleased that you ordered Father to stand in the way of my training.” 

“Your mom can be as pissed as she wants with me. You’re more important than what she thinks.” Jason kissed the top of Damian’s head. “Lian needs her big brother. I need my son. You need to have a chance to be a kid, and to grow up someday. You remember what we talked about?” 

Damian sounded every bit of eleven. “That kids should not be soldiers.” 

“And just because it happened before doesn’t mean it’s right for it to happen again.” 

Damian fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, leaning into Jason’s side. “Sometimes you talk as though ummi is evil.” 

Jason stared up at the clouds. “Talia…your mother’s been through terrible things, habibi. She wants to give you the best life she can, but her ideas of what’s possible look a little different from mine, and a lot different from Bruce’s. Your mom’s trying to prepare you for the life she expects you to have. I want you to have better options than the ones she sees. I want you to be a kid first, because you deserve that chance. None of us – Bruce or Talia or I – really got that chance.” 

“So Drake is allowed to patrol because he has already been a child?” 

“Drake–” Jason steadied himself, lowering his voice. “Drake is still a kid, and I don’t want him in uniform either. He’s not my kid like you are, habibi. I didn’t get a say in things with him.” Was there a way to change that? The kid had tasted the magic of being Robin. There was probably no going back, not without breaking him. But Jason didn’t think he could stomach the idea of the Drake kid getting killed, and knowing he’d done nothing to even try to stop it happening. 

“Tt.” Damian sat up, straightening his pajama shirt. “I should return before anyone notices I am missing.” 

Jason’s throat tightened. “Yeah,” he managed. “It’s getting late, go get some sleep, habibi. I’ll come back as soon as I can, alright?” 

Damian stood, arms straight by his sides. He was quiet long enough that Jason started to think he wasn’t going to speak again. Finally, in a slightly raspy voice, he asked “Does Lian know I did not want to leave her?” 

Jason climbed to his feet, pulling Damian into a tight hug. “Yeah, sweetheart. She knows. I’m gonna make sure she knows.” 

Damian nodded once. “Good.” He pulled away, toward the Manor. “Goodnight, Baba.” 

“‘Night, habibi. I love you.” 

~~~~~

Roy was sprawled across the couch, scrolling on his phone. “How’s the kiddo?” 

Jason hung up his jacket before answering. “Settling in.” 

“Lian was calling for him earlier.” Roy’s voice wasn’t accusing, but he looked a little troubled, letting his phone drop to his chest. 

“Yeah.” He didn’t want her to miss Damian. He didn’t want her to stop. 

Roy ran a finger along the edge of his phone. “I know you don’t want her anywhere near the manor. Is there a reason Damian can’t visit her here?” 

“Batman and Nightwing don’t need to know where we live.” They’d find out at some point – there was only so much he could do to hide in this city now they knew he was alive and likely to be here – but he would put it off as long as possible. 

“Doesn’t have to be the apartment. Maybe a park.” 

Jason sat down, starting to unlace his boots. A park was impossible to secure. His kids were nervous and overwhelmed and missing each other. He grunted rather than giving an actual answer. “She still asleep?” 

“Still asleep.” Roy confirmed. “I can take the couch tonight. I’m already settled out here.” 

“Don’t be a dumbass. I’ll get a bed soon enough, and you two should have the time together. I’ll be starting to patrol soon. She needs to get used to me not always being here when she wakes up.” 

Roy tapped the corner of his phone against his thigh a couple times, but didn’t argue. “You’re picking up a mask again, then?” 

Jason toed off his boots and set them beside his rickety armchair. “Soon. I promised I’d make this city safe for them. Can’t do that sitting on my ass, and can’t bring it home. I’ll keep a couple safe houses, and change into civvies before I come back here.”

Roy nodded, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. “I’ve been thinking. I’m going to stay away from night work for a while. I’ll get a day job, maybe at one of the garages around here. Lian needs one of us with her at night, and my head’s not going to be in the game. I need to focus on her, and staying sober, and getting my priorities straight.” He glanced around the mostly-empty room. “And finding some furniture for this place.”  

Jason nodded, not seeming surprised. Roy hadn’t been out much these last few months as it was. 

“I’ve still got my costume. If something comes up, you call me. You need equipment, I’ll take any excuse to pull out my toys. But I won’t be patrolling.” 

“I won’t be patrolling for a bit yet. Need some armor and a decent mask first. But I’m planning to start going out this week, just to get the lay of the land. I need to see what’s changed. Figure out what needs cleaning up first.” He leaned back in the armchair. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan.” 

Roy’s smile was crooked but warm. They did, and it was a good feeling. It had been a long time since he’d had someone’s back and they’d had his. Dinah would always pick up his calls, but there was a difference between someone who worried about you and someone who stood at your side. “Sounds like it.” 

Chapter Text

“Jay? Lian?” Roy called as he shut the front door. Jason heard twin thuds as the redhead kicked off his shoes. He padded into the kitchen a minute later. “Holy sh…iitake, what is that? It smells incredible.” 

“Lasagna, it’ll be done in a few minutes.” 

Roy pressed his hands together as if in prayer, overgrown ginger hair falling in his eyes as he leaned forward. “Jason, I swear, the two of you are the best thing I’ve seen all month. The three of you, actually; I’m including the lasagna.” 

“Stop being dramatic and go wash your hands, you idiot.” Jason rolled his eyes, turning back to the dishes. He scrubbed harder than necessary at a saucepan, hoping Roy wouldn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been complimented or thanked recently. He’d raised Damian with better manners than that, and Jenny made a point of telling people she appreciated them. 

“Hang on, I gotta say hi to the baby first.” Roy came up behind Jason, laying a loud smacking kiss on Lian’s head. She bounced in the new wrap he’d bought that morning, babbling happily. “Hello, beautiful girl. I see you got an awesome new…sling? Backpack? What’s this thing called?” 

“It’s a meh dai. Her old one got a little bloodstained in Brazil, and she’ll disappear in two seconds if she’s free to roam.” 

Roy snickered. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You’ve got that look in your eyes, kid. You’re gonna be trouble, just like your old…well, all of us. Your mama ain’t exactly a saint.” He kissed her head again. “Alright, gotta go wash the city off my hands, squirt. Can’t let Jason’s lasagna get cold.” 

He left the kitchen, and Jason rinsed the pot, setting it carefully in the dish drainer. “You can get down and crawl around after dinner, dart.” 

“Dee,” she murmured, and Jason’s stomach sank. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I miss him too. We’ll see him soon.” 

“Dee!” She thumped a hand against his shoulder. 

Jason dried his hands and loosened the meh dai, scooping her out to cradle her against his chest. “I know, baby. I know. I wish he was here too. He misses you too.” He patted her back, and she settled against his shoulder with a whimper. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how he could have ever considered leaving both kids behind. It was killing him not to be with Damian, to know that the kid was up in that ancient house, in this city where the same man who killed Jason still lived in a cell that might as well be made of cardboard, and-

Breath. Swallow. Steady. This was no place for the Pit. The kids needed him as much as ever, and as long as his kids needed him, he couldn’t let the green take over. He was back in Gotham now, and he’d be able to watch over Damian, even if they weren’t living together. He’d been offered everything he could have dreamed of with Lian. He was lucky. 

He tried to ignore the little voice that said Jason Todd was never lucky, and hugged Lian closer. “Let’s get the table set, ay?” 

“I got it.” 

He wasn’t sure how long Roy had been standing in the kitchen doorway. He didn’t like that he hadn’t noticed. Not that he didn’t trust Roy – he’d agreed to live with the man and brought Lian to him – but he still didn’t like not noticing. 

Jason grabbed a ginger beer and a glass of water while Roy set out plates and forks. “Will you take her so I can get the meh dai off and get the lasagna out?” 

“My pleasure,” Roy sang, giving Lian a bright smile. She eyed him suspiciously, but settled against him without protest. “Honestly, she seems cuddlier than I would have expected.” 

“It’s been a rough few days for her; she’s clingier than usual. But she’s basically got two modes. She’s either latched on tight, or she’s zooming around like she’s got a booster engine in her diaper.” 

“I’ll enjoy the cuddles while they last, then,” Roy laughed. 

Jason draped the meh dai over the back of the couch and grabbed hot pads as he came back in the kitchen, pulling the lasagna out and kicking the oven door shut. Roy set the table one-handed, Jason grabbed drinks for them both, and they all sat down. 

Jason picked at his dinner, lost in thought. He kept getting distracted watching Roy feed Lian. They didn’t have a high chair for her yet, so she was perched on her dad’s lap. Every so often he caught Roy staring at him. He’d been doing that a lot over the last couple days. 

Jason set down his fork, staring right back. “I got tomato on my face or somethin’?” 

Roy shook his head. “No, just…still hits me that you’re back. Jason Todd is sitting in front of me, all grown up.” 

“I’m not.” Jason picked the fork back up, stabbing a bite of lasagna. “The same kid. It wasn’t some miraculous escape. I died, and I shouldn’t- I didn’t come back the same kid you knew.” 

“I didn’t think you had.” Roy fed Lian a small bite off his plate. “Hell, I’m not the same kid I was when you died. Partly because you died.” Jason faltered at that. Roy didn’t seem to notice, scraping drips of sauce off Lian’s chin. “I’m not saying it hit me like it did Bruce or Dick, or even Diana and Clark. But…” he took a sip of ginger beer. “I dunno, it was the first time I’d known a kid who died. I’d lost friends before, but they were all my age or older. You were Dick’s little brother. We were all supposed to look after you, you know?” 

Jason tossed his fork back on the table. “Don’t talk like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like they gave a shit about me.” Jason shoved his chair back, grabbing his water glass. “Not as long as the clown is still breathing.” 

He heard Roy’s chair creak as the guy sat back. “I don’t expect you to be the same kid as when you died. I’ve done a lot of fu– messed up stuff since then. I know you take good care of our kid, and you’ve got our backs, and that’s the important stuff. I don’t know the Bat that well; maybe he deserves every bit of shit you give him. But don’t talk about Dick like that.” 

Jason dropped the glass as he spun on his heel, but Roy didn’t flinch. Just held steady, staring him down again. 

“I’ll say what I fucking like about the guy who couldn’t be bothered to come to his own brother’s funeral! Who let a mass murderer walk free, after he killed the one kid I thought might be reason enough to break the Bat’s precious rule!” 

“He did.” Roy shifted Lian in his lap, rubbing her back. “Dick did kill the Joker.” 

It felt like the floor dropped out from under Jason’s feet. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Harper.” 

“He showed up at my place after. He probably figured it wasn’t as bad if I knew; better me than Wally or Donna. Dick knows my hands aren’t exactly clean. Sobbed and screamed for hours. Cussed out the Bat in every language he knew. Dick beat the Joker to death, Jay. The bastard was resuscitated, and barely made it.” 

Jason moved forward, and Roy stood abruptly, shifting Lian to his hip. “Glass, Jason. You’ll cut yourself.” 

He’d forgotten about the glass he dropped. He didn’t wear shoes in the apartment – he wasn’t an animal – and the floor was covered in damp shards. He stared at the floor, only vaguely noticing as Roy left the kitchen. A moment later he came back with shoes on his feet and another pair for Jason. Roy set them on the floor in front of him, stepping carefully between shards. 

“Put ‘em on and sit down. You can hold Lian while I clean up.” 

Jason tried to argue, but somehow the words didn’t make it out of his mouth. His head was too full, picturing Dick taking down the Joker. His brother? predecessor, making sure his killer died messy. If Roy was telling the truth…and what reason did he have to lie? He genuinely couldn’t think of a way Roy benefited from lying, except maybe to get Jason and Dick to be civil for movie nights in some hypothetical future, and that was…

That was too much to think about right now on about a dozen different levels. 

Lian snuggled into his side, looking up at him with worried green eyes, and he pressed a kiss to her head. 

Roy tossed the largest pieces directly into the trash and grabbed their new broom from the corner. “And he wasn’t here. Dick. He was off-planet when you died. I’m not sure you remember that, or if you knew in the first place. They didn’t tell him about you until he got back. He deserved to hear it in person, not in the middle of a mission. None of us wanted his head fucked up like that while he was leading a team. If he got himself hurt, we couldn’t have dealt with it. If he got someone else hurt, he’d never have been able to live with himself. It was Bruce’s call, but most of us backed him up on it. Dick was pissed at everyone. He punched Bruce, screamed at Clark, didn’t talk to anyone for I don’t know how long.” 

Glass chimed like bells as Roy emptied the dustpan into the trash. “I think we got a mop too, right? Gotta figure out where we put it.” 

“Bathroom closet.” Jason’s voice was strained, but Roy just nodded and headed to the bathroom. 

Roy returned a couple minutes later, and began mopping the worn linoleum, making sure there were no glass splinters left that could end up in Lian’s palms or knees. He kept his voice easy, conversational. “How much do you know about my life the last few years?” 

“Not much,” Jason muttered. Jade wasn’t exactly chatty. Most of what he’d found was fairly surface level, without access to LoA or Bat systems. Just enough to resign himself to leaving Lian with Roy. 

“I got hooked on heroin when I was seventeen.” Roy spoke plainly, not couching any of it in pretty words. Jason could appreciate that. “Managed to hide it for a while. I got pretty fucked up before anyone figured it out; I was losing weight like crazy. Ollie blew a gasket when he found out, kicked me to the curb. Dick tried, but had to kick me off the Titans. 

“I was furious with both of them for a while. I’m still pissed at Ollie, to be honest. I get now why Dick had to do it. I was going to get myself killed, and maybe the rest of the team with me. At the time, I was just angry with the whole world, and convinced they’d dropped me the second I wasn’t useful or easy to be around. 

“I’d already been drinking on and off. I tried to get clean from the heroin a few times, but I wasn’t ever dry. I actually came to Gotham after you died. I figured if I was going to die, I might as well take a few bastards down with me, so I tracked Waylon down in the sewers.” 

“Killer Croc Waylon?” 

“One and the same. He took one look at me and called me out on all the bullshit. The sumbitch all but bullied me into accepting him as a sponsor.” Roy carefully removed the mop pad, dropping it into the trash, and slipped on a new one to go over the floor one more time. “It hasn’t been all sunshine and daisies since. I’ve relapsed a few times, and still ended up in a lot of gutters, but it’s been better. I’ve been clean a lot more often than not. I can look Dinah in the eye most days, and I’ve managed a handful of team-ups. Dick and Kori and I get along alright again.” He ran the mop along the base of the cabinets. “And now I have something to actually try living for.” 

“My mom ODed.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Same junk. I found her. You ever put Lian through that, I’ll take you out myself.” 

“Good.” Roy dropped the second mop pad in the trash and turned, leaning against the counter. “I want to do right by her, Jason. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to manage that, but I’m going to try.” 

Lian wriggled in his lap, trying to reach Jason’s plate. He picked up a little bit of tomato for her, and she patted her hands happily against the table, sing-songing her approval. “We’ll both try.” 

“Yeah.” Roy propped the mop in the corner beside the broom and came back to the table. “Anyway, if you’re not ready to talk to Dick, I’m no snitch. But he isn’t whatever callous bastard you seem to think.” 

“Hn.” 

“Yeah.” Roy took a bite of the now-lukewarm lasagna. 

Jason fed Lian a few more small bites, and she bounced happily on his lap. He wasn’t committing to anything but the kids. Still, it was possible the headlines and security cams he’d dug up between training sessions and school runs weren’t telling the whole story. It’s not like Talia had told him much. Her focus had been all on his usefulness as a bodyguard; shipping him off to different teachers and getting the Pit whipped into shape so he could watch over Damian. 

Damian, who he’d allowed to come to Gotham with Batman. Had allowed to move into the Manor, knowing who he’d be there with. 

Jason offered Lian another mouthful of lasagna, but she’d decided she was done. She wriggled, trying to slide down to the floor, and he helped her down safely. She crawled at top speed under the table and pulled herself up on Roy’s pant leg. Jason watched his face light up, and realized it was the first time the baby had sought Roy out on her own. 

“Hey there, shiyazhi !” Roy lifted her into his lap. Lian huffed, reaching out to steal a tomato from his plate. Jason stayed quiet the rest of the night, holding the green at bay and watching Lian and Roy ease into each other’s company. 

~~~~~

Lian was crying again. 

Roy was pacing again. 

Jason stared at the living room ceiling, tracing the edges of a water stain. Trying to distract himself. This was only the fourth night. They’d get through this. Lian would settle in, get used to Roy. Jason would find a second bed for their apartment and learn to sleep without small bodies curled safely against his.  

“Jason?” 

He rolled upright, on his feet before Roy finished his name. 

Roy looked defeated. Lian was doing her best to shove herself out of his arms, wailing like the world was crumbling around her. “She wants you.” 

Jason relaxed slightly, and sat back on the couch. “Sit.” 

Roy sank onto the couch beside him, and Lian flung herself into Jason’s arms. 

“Baba!” she sobbed. 

“It’s alright, dart. Baba’s here.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close. “I’m here, squirt.” 

He avoided looking at Roy. Neither of them wanted Jason to see the naked jealousy on Roy’s face as Lian began to calm down. She switched from crying for Jason to asking for her stuffed kitty. Jason wondered if it was still sitting in an evidence room somewhere in New Zealand. 

“I know you said she should sleep in my room, get used to me. But this isn’t working, Jason. I don’t want her miserable just because I want her close.” 

“There’s no room for her on the couch, and I’m not kicking you out of your bed, Harper.” 

“Then we share the bed. None of us are getting any sleep now as it is. She needs you, Jay. I can’t be what she needs yet.” 

Jason rubbed slow circles on her back. “She’s not going to adjust faster if she feels forced to be with you,” he said finally. “So let’s sit here a while. Just let her be close to you, and when I hand her off, I’ll stay close.” 

“‘Kay.” Roy took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “Okay.” 

Lian settled, sinking into the crook of Jason’s neck, her breath warm against his collarbone. When she was almost asleep, he carefully handed her off to Roy. She stirred, her brow furrowing. “Baba?” 

“Right here, dart. Not going anywhere.” He rested a hand against her back, and she sighed, letting her head fall against Roy’s shoulder. 

“Dee.” 

“We’ll see Damian soon, dart. Promise.” 

Roy held her like the most precious thing in the world, watched her like she was the moon, and when she fell asleep Jason thought Roy might cry. 

“I feel lousy for not being able to soothe her,” Roy admitted. 

“She’s a pretty affectionate kid. She’ll latch on soon and never let go.” 

“Oh yeah?” Roy tipped his head, trying to see her face. “You a cuddler?”

“She’s even managing to turn Damian into one. He used to scoff and try to walk away, but he’s given up and started picking her up instead.” 

Roy grinned. “I’m doomed. She’s gonna have me wrapped around her little finger, isn’t she?” 

“You and everyone else,” he agreed.

Jason dozed off. He snapped awake with a flinch when his head bumped Roy’s. Roy didn’t seem to care, just nudged his side. “Come on, Jason. We’ll split the bed. Lian’ll stay asleep, and we’ll all get a decent night’s rest.” 

“Not tryin’-” 

“I know you’re not tryin’ anything, that’s the problem . I’m not propositioning you, you asshole.” Roy finally sounded exasperated, driving an elbow into Jason’s ribs. “You almost bled out four days ago, you were on the run for days before that, and you’ve been full-time caretaker for a cranky one year old since I’m still not sure when. You’re trying not to be a burden, and I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up dead on our living room floor. This is as much for us as it is for you; none of us are sleeping well with the two of you separated.” 

Jason followed him to bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. The nightmares stayed away for once. 

~~~~~

Jason woke to the sound of Roy yelping. He shot upright, throwing the covers off. Roy rolled off the bed and hit the floor, and Lian was giggling, sprawled in the middle of the bed. 

"What the-" 

"Your kid poked me in the eye to wake me up!" 

Jason relaxed, falling back against the flat pillow Roy had given him. "Oh. Yeah, she does that." He ruffled Lian's hair. "Wait, my kid?" 

Lian chortled as Roy climbed back into bed. "She's your kid when she's trying to gouge out my eyeballs," he grumbled. "I did not teach her that." 

Jason snorted. "Pretty sure eye gouging is a Jade thing." 

Roy raised his eyebrows. "You trying to tell me Jason Todd never went for the eyes in a street fight? I've seen you scrap, man. And Jade's more the poison manicure type than straight-up gouging." 

"Ya got me," Jason drawled. "I have in fact been training our kid daily in the subtle arts of Crime Alley nutcracking." 

"A confession!" Roy cackled, sweeping Lian up off the bed.

The toddler shrieked with glee, green eyes screwed up as her dad swung her through the air. Roy beamed up at her, stopping to drop a kiss on her head. “As punishment, I sentence you to eat your breakfast!” 

“The horror.” Jason rolled out of bed, deciding he wasn’t getting any more sleep today. “Guess I’m making pancakes.” 

“Ooh, if you’re offering…” 

“Shuttup and change her diaper, since she’s letting you hold her.” 

“Someone’s a Mr. Grumpy-pants in the mornings, huh?” 

Jason flipped him off without turning around, scratching his stomach as he headed to the kitchen. He pulled ingredients out of the cabinets, listening to Lian grunt in protest as she tried to escape her diaper change. 

He reached for an apple, then hesitated. Damian was the one who liked apple cinnamon pancakes. He went to the fridge and grabbed a pack of blueberries instead, trying to ignore the ache behind his ribs. Maybe he could leave a note for Alfred. Damian wouldn’t admit to liking anything for probably another six months. He shouldn’t have to wait that long for apple pancakes. 

Chapter Text

Roy paced, bouncing Lian in a futile attempt to calm her. She squirmed in his arms, chubby hands shoving at his chest as she tried to escape. Every so often she would turn her head, searching the room for Jason. “Baba!” she wailed. 

Roy hadn’t realized it was possible to feel lower. He rubbed slow circles on her back, trying to make the same soothing shushing noises Jason used. “He’ll be home in a bit, baby. Not long. He’s coming home soon.” 

Jason had helped lay her down for bed before leaving tonight, but she’d woken up about a half hour ago and hadn’t stopped crying since. How had he thought Roy could take care of her alone? Not just tonight, but if Jason had gone through with his plans to go to Gotham without her? Roy wasn’t equipped for this. Lian didn’t want him, he didn’t know what he was doing, and clearly he was doing a piss-poor job of figuring it out. 

He tried offering her pacifier again, still slowly pacing the living room, still gently bouncing her. She spat it out and kept crying, one small hand coming up to scrub her eyes. So tired, but she wouldn’t sleep for him. Didn’t trust him enough to sleep without Jason there. 

She dropped her head against his shoulder, wiping snot and tears onto his shirt. “Baba,” she called again, voice muffled by the soft jersey. 

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl.” Roy swallowed back tears of his own. Fuck, he wanted a drink. “I’m sorry I’m not him, but I promise you’re safe.” 

He’d heated up a bottle of formula for her earlier, and she’d refused it the first couple times, but he dared to try again. Lian glared at him, but then shifted to grab the bottle and started to suckle. 

“There we go, yazh.” Roy sank onto the couch, gingerly shifting her to a more comfortable position. “That’s a good girl.” He let his head fall back against the cushions, helping to support the bottle as she ate, still staring him down. 

He stared back, less belligerently. Nervous that she would start crying again, he traced small circles on her shoulder. Ever so slowly, reluctantly, she started to relax, little fingers fumbling with the bottle. 

“I know I’m not what you want, baby girl.” He kept his voice low, trying to imitate the soothing rumble of Jason’s. “I don’t suppose I’m what anyone really wants. But I’m gonna try for you. Didn’t know you existed until a week ago, but god, little girl, I’d try anything for you. I’m, uh…” he huffed a laugh, “I’m a lot of things. And one of ‘em’s a stubborn bastard. Not sure if you got that from me or your mom or Jason, but I bet we’re gonna butt heads plenty. I'm probably gonna drive you crazy sometimes. But I promise you right now, yazh,” he smoothed his thumb down the sleeve of her onesie, “I’m gonna be stubborn for you.” 

Lian’s eyes were drifting shut as she lost the fight against sleep. Her hands slipped off the bottle, tucking against Roy’s chest. Roy stood cautiously, and began to pace the room, swaying gently. He did his best to imitate the shushing noises Jason made when he was putting her to sleep. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathed. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

Lian rubbed her face against his shoulder. A whimper slipped out, but she didn’t start crying again. One small hand fisted in his shirt, as if she was trying to pull herself back from the edge of sleep. He kept pacing, kept swaying, until his mouth was dry and his arms felt like they were going to fall off. 

Slowly – ever so slowly – her eyes dropped shut. She stayed still, her face flushed and her breath soft. 

Holy shit, he’d done it. He’d finally put her to sleep on his own. Holy shit . 

It had been close to a week since they’d met, and sure she’d screamed for a half-hour first, but she was asleep. She’d finally trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, and he’d finally learned enough to help. Maybe it wouldn’t happen again for another week, but this was progress, right? 

Roy realized he was grinning like a dumbass. Ever so carefully, he kissed her forehead, soft straight hair tickling his nose. Another step toward being better for her. 

~~~~~

“You there, Mr. Universe,” a throaty voice called.

Jason turned, raising one eyebrow. An older woman with perfectly coiffed gray hair leaned in the opposite doorway, a clove cigarette between her fingers and a smirk on her face. 

“You talking to me?” 

“I ain’t talking to the wall, honey. That your man and baby?”

According to their haphazard cover, and close enough for rock-and-roll. “Yep. Your new neighbors, I take it?” 

She switched her cigarette to the left hand and held out her right. “You can call me Miss Marsha. Nice catch with that one. I do love a redhead.” 

Jason smirked, shaking her hand. “Trouble is, he knows it. Jay Alcott. The redhead is Roy.” 

“You’re from here.” 

“Lived off Temple as a kid, then the streets.” He shrugged. “I left for a while, dragged Roy back with me.” 

“Mmm, Lady Gotham’s a jealous bitch, ain’t she? He’s an Outsider?”

“Yeah, but a tough sumbitch. He’s survived the city before, and I’ll keep him in line.” 

Miss Marsha laughed. “Well, I’ve always got young hands living with me, if you need help with that baby of yours. One of the kids has a girl of their own, so we’re used to a little one running around underfoot. You handy?” 

“Roy and I both. You got some work that needs doing?” 

“Got a sink could use a look.” 

“One of us’ll stop by tonight.”

“Alright then. You get on, honey. And take a coat. That Freeze fool has been running around again.” 

“Will do. Thanks, Miss Marsha.” 

She waved him away and shut her apartment door. 

Jason let himself into their own place, securing the door behind him. Roy was sprawled on the living room floor, letting Lian stack plastic cups on his stomach. They’d been in Gotham a few days, and it seemed she’d decided he was trustworthy enough to be a playmate. “Heard you talking. Who was out there?” 

“Neighbor across the hall needs a hand with her sink. Miss Marsha. Sounds like she’s got a few kids living with her, or she’s running a house. More likely the first, I’d say.” 

“Hmm. I’m decent with plumbing. I’ll pop over tonight, see what’s up.” 

Jason dropped the bag of takeout on the living room floor, shucking off his jacket. “You see anything, you talk to me first, Roy. People have to make a living here somehow.” 

“Don’t worry, Jaybird. I know I’m an Outlander or whatever, but I’m not an idiot or a snitch. Did you get the matar paneer?” 

Jason pointed to the bag, and Roy cheered, sitting up with a clatter of cups. Lian picked one up and started banging it on the floor while Roy cracked open the first takeout container. “Cheese on a cracker, that looks good.” 

“Best place in Gotham.” Or so Dick had told him years ago. He hadn’t found reason to disagree yet. Good food wasn’t to be avoided just because an asshole happened to introduce you to it. Jason opened a container of samosas and sat cross legged on the floor nearby. 

Roy claimed a couple more containers, fending off Lian’s curious hands as he began to eat. “I’d like to bring Lian to visit Dinah. She’s got a place in Old Gotham, and I want her and Lian to know each other.” 

Jason nodded, taking a bite of rogan josh. 

Roy ripped off a piece of naan for Lian, who began munching happily. He’d expected more pushback. Any kind of pushback. “Anything I should keep in mind?” 

“You can keep Lian safe. Dinah’s not coming here.” Jason shrugged. “I don’t want the Bats knowing where we live, at least until we get settled in more. If you think Dinah won’t snitch, you tell her what you want. She’s your family; you know her better than I do.” 

There was something about the way Jason trusted him that made Roy’s stomach drop out. The man was paranoid as hell 97% of the time. He was currently plotting a new future as some kind of antihero to make sure his kids would be safe. Wouldn’t use his real name on anything, had kept a cover locked down for months, had survived years with the League of Assassins, and Batman before that. Yet he acted like it was obvious that he would trust Roy with Lian. That he would trust him to make the right choices. 

“Alright,” he finally said, ruffling Lian’s hair. “I’ll give Dinah a call.” 

~~~~~

Roy shifted Lian on his hip, freeing one hand to knock on the apartment door. Lian chewed on her fingers, not quite leaning into his shoulder but not pulling away like she had the first couple days. They were getting more comfortable together, slowly but surely. While he got ready this morning, she’d chattered to him from her new playpen, probably telling him all about the woes of baby life. The diaper bag was a familiar weight across his shoulders, enough like a quiver he could almost forget it. 

Dinah’s footsteps echoed across floorboards, and she was smiling when she opened the door. “Come in! It’s good to see you, Roy.” 

She shut the front door behind them and gave Roy a tight hug. He hugged back with his free arm. Dinah wasn’t his mom, but she was probably the closest thing to family he had these days, besides Lian. Lian gave Dinah a suspicious look as they followed her to the living room and settled on the couch. She actually leaned closer to Roy. Apparently he was less strange and scary than the new person, even if he wasn’t much by himself. 

She and Dinah studied each other, both a little awkward. “Hello, Miss Lian. Don’t you have pretty green eyes?” 

Lian narrowed said eyes, and leaned into Roy’s shoulder. He rubbed small circles on her back like he’d seen Jason do. “Jay says she’s got some anxiety around strangers. The League wasn’t the safest place, and he kept their social circle pretty small in New Zealand. She’s not used to so many new people.” 

“Well, I’ve got some anxiety with babies, so I guess we’re starting on even ground,” Dinah laughed. “She seems to like you pretty well.” 

“It’s a work in progress.” Roy slung the diaper bag on the floor and leaned back against the arm of the couch. 

“You’re getting settled in alright?” 

“It’s Gotham, and Crime Alley at that, but Jason’s made it alright. We found a little place with good neighbors. One of them said she knows you. A Miss Marsha.” 

“Marsha from Verheiden Street? Oh, she’s a saint. Doesn’t look it, I know, but those kids of hers are all unofficial fosters.” 

“She’s on the up and up, then?” 

Dinah nodded, confident in her assessment. “She wouldn’t let anyone within ten feet of those kids if she didn’t like the look of them.”

“Well, she invited me in to fix her sink and gave me lemonade.” Roy wiped a smudge from Lian’s cheek.

“Good, you lend her a hand however she asks. I’ll come by once you give me the go-ahead.” Lian peeked up at her and Dinah smiled. “Hey, cutie pie. What’s she think of everything?”  

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and she knows it. She gets mad almost every time Jason leaves her alone with me.” 

Dinah raised her eyebrows. “She’s a year old. I doubt she’s judging your parenting techniques.” 

“You haven’t seen her judgement face yet.” Roy snorted. “She learned from the very best.” 

“Well, it seems to me like you’re doing pretty well. She’s looking pretty cozy there. It’s certainly been a massive change for all of you. How’s it looking from your end?” 

“I’m not sure I know yet,” he admitted. “She’s incredible, Dinah. She’s a freaking genius, eats like a black hole, and wails anytime she’s left alone with me. I’d do anything for her, and I’m scared out of my mind. I’m trying. I’m staying sober. I found a meeting down the street.” 

“Have you gone yet?” 

He made a wry face. “Not yet. I need to ask Jason if he can stay with Lian.” 

“You’re allowed to prioritize yourself, Roy. Especially on this.” 

“Yeah.” The word felt hollow. Theoretically, he knew it was true – necessary, even – but it still felt shitty to foist off the baby because he couldn’t keep his head in order without bad coffee and counting days. 

“I’m not the greatest with kids, but I will take her any time you need. You know that, right?” Dinah tucked her feet up on the couch, curling into her oversized sweater. “I know we don’t really have a word for what we are, but my door is always open for you.” 

“I know.” He managed a smile. “You’re the best of us, Dinah. I didn’t pick Gotham just for Jason’s sake. If there’s anyone I trust to have our backs, it’s you. I figure if there’s one place in this country where I can stay sober and be a decent man for her, it’s here.” 

Dinah laughed. “Rare words about Gotham.” 

“No kidding.” Roy grinned, Lian wriggling in his lap to reach up and tug at his hair. His voice grew soft as he spoke again. “Everything’s different now. I know I sound like every stereotype, but the second I laid eyes on her, everything changed. Everything has to change. I have to be what she needs, and I know I’m going to fuck up sometimes, but I still have to try.” 

“How are things with Jason? I never…” Dinah hesitated, “knew him that well.”  

“I don’t know how he’s handled it so well. The kids clearly adore him. I’ve barely seen Damian, but the way he moved around Jason up on the Watchtower…he’s clearly that kid’s safe place. Lian’s the same way. Jason and Damian are her people. She lights up the second he comes home. He’s built like a mountain now – nothing left of that little twig I remember – but he’s so gentle with her. 

“I don’t know what he was thinking, Dinah. I’m Lian’s dad by blood, and I’m not taking that lightly. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this serious about anything, let alone another person. From what little he’s told me, Jason could have left the League at any time. He could have booked it right back to Gotham, or dropped off the map entirely. He kept going back to make sure they were safe. First for Damian, then for Lian. The League would send him out to train, and he always came back for the kids.” He winced, loosening Lian’s grip on his shaggy hair. 

“And after all that, he brought them to the JL. Showed up covered in his own blood, the kids barely even bruised, talking like he’d be exiled and never allowed to speak to Lian again. I don’t know what was going through his head. I still don’t, really. All I know is my daughter’s mom hid her for years, then sent her halfway across the world with this man. That daughter has another dad besides me who wants to be part of her life. Who’s probably the only reason she’s still alive right now. Who is  – according to all evidence – ready and willing to co-parent in a way Jade never will.” 

Dinah’s face had gone solemn, her lips slightly parted as she listened. “He sounds like a good man.” 

Roy dragged his free hand through his hair. “Dinah, I think he might be the best man I’ve ever met,” he said. “And I don’t think he has a damn clue.” 

“Does he not think he’s done right by the kids?” 

“Not that; he seems to know he’s done alright with them, especially for being a teen dad in some kind of knockoff witsec. It’s the Bats that get him all grim and broody. I know Batman tends to do that to people, but Jason makes these comments about him…like he thinks Batman is just lying in wait to throw him in Arkham, or they’re all going to shun him for not running away from the League. Like they might not be thrilled he’s back.” 

“Have you talked to Dick?” 

Roy grimaced. “That’s part of it. Jason doesn’t want any contact with them. Reaching out to Dick is going to open up a lot of conversations I don’t think Jason wants to have yet. Dick’s my friend first, but,” he shrugged, “Jason’s my co-parent. I don’t know what all he’s been through, or what exactly went down between him and Dick and Bruce in the old days. He acts like Bruce threw him to the wolves, but he let Damian go to the Manor with hardly a word. I don’t know him well enough to push for more information yet. At the end of the day, they’re his family before they’re my friends, you know? I can wait a little longer to talk to Dick, if it helps Jason trust me.” 

Dinah’s gaze sharpened. “So who is your support system right now?” 

Lian wriggled, finally deciding she was safe enough to explore the living room, and Roy let her slide down to the floor. He shifted his weight, perching on the edge of the couch so he could chase her down if she got too close to anything breakable or electrified. “You. Jay. Guess I can’t count Dick yet. Um,” he rubbed his forehead, “Miss Marsha, I suppose?” 

“Who is Jason’s support system?” 

Roy gave her a look. “Me, far as I know.” 

Dinah just lifted an eyebrow, and Roy sighed, getting up to redirect Lian away from a vase on the coffee table. “Message received.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Dinah failed to hide a smirk, and Roy jabbed a finger at her. 

“I came over so you could see the baby, not for a sneak therapy session.” 

“Sure you did. And I’m not your therapist. Can’t be. Conflict of interest. I just give very good advice.” 

Roy grumbled, following the baby toward a bookshelf. “Sure, doc.” 

Dinah got up from the couch, going to the kitchen door. "Tell you what, Roy, I'll make us some coffee and we'll talk about your gadgets. No more serious talk, I promise." 

"Only if you tell me about the flower shop. I haven't gotten to see it yet." 

"Deal. I'll give you a tour later, if you've got time. Milk and a sinful amount of sugar?" 

"You know it." 

Chapter Text

That night, Roy woke to the sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door. His eyes snapped open, scanning the room. The door stayed shut. The only other person in the room was Lian, snoring softly beside him. 

The footsteps moved quickly away, toward the kitchen. Roy heard the fridge open and some of the tension eased from his body. Most intruders didn’t head straight for the fridge. Odds were, it was Jason getting up for a midnight snack. 

Seconds later, he heard gagging and the unmistakable splatter of vomit. Careful not to wake Lian, Roy slipped out of bed and padded out to the kitchen. Jason was huddled over the sink, clutching the scratched white plastic like a life preserver. His head snapped up as Roy came in. He scowled. 

“Sorry. I’ll clean it up.” 

“Dude, I’m not mad that you got sick. Just seeing if you need anything.” 

Jason looked at him like he was baffled Roy would ask. “Just a dream,” he muttered. He turned on the faucet. Roy pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge, handing it to him. Gotham tap water wasn’t an improvement over the taste of vomit, even if it was officially safe to shower in now.

Jason rinsed and spat, then stared out the window above the sink. After several seconds, he muttered something under his breath and strode off to Roy’s bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, attention locked on the bed and the little form bundled under the blanket. Roy waited until he came back to speak. 

“Does it help having her close?” 

Jason grunted, retrieving the water bottle from the counter. “Sure, but she can’t sleep on the couch with me, and you’re the one home with her in the evenings. We talked about this.” 

Jason headed back into the living room, sliding open one of the windows and climbing out onto the fire escape. He didn’t close the window behind him. Roy decided that was the closest he was going to get to a request for company. 

He followed Jason out onto the fire escape, sitting shoulder to shoulder with their backs against the dingy brick wall. Jason had pulled out a cigarette, twirling it unlit between his fingers. The water bottle sat open and half-empty on the grating beside him. 

It wasn’t all that late yet, and the summer heat hadn’t broken. If this was any other city, the bricks might have held some lingering warmth from the day. This being Gotham, they were cool and slightly damp. Like everything else. 

Roy studied his friend’s face. They hadn’t been strangers before Jason’s death. They’d fought alongside each other a few times, and run into each other at Titans Tower or the Manor occasionally. He’d considered them friends – he thought Jason had as well – but they’d been nowhere as close as either of them was with Dick. 

That had shifted the minute Jason showed up with Lian in his arms. As far as Roy was concerned, he owed Jason the world. He was fairly sure Jason would say the same of him, strange as it felt. However, it didn’t mean Roy was any more practiced in reading Jason’s expressions. For all he would trust this man to have his back in an apocalypse or a PTA showdown, he didn’t really know him yet. 

“You want to talk about it?” He finally asked. 

Jason scowled, and it seemed that was all Roy was going to get. They fell into a cautious silence, shoulders barely brushing. 

Finally, Roy cleared his throat. “You don’t…have to stay. I want you here. Lian wants you here. But you’re barely twenty, and you’ve been raising two kids on your own for I’m still not certain how long. I asked you to stay because I think it’s what we all want, but if you need to get out of Gotham, or I’m holding you back–” 

“Shut the hell up, Harper. What am I gonna do? Go spend my nights at the club? Run off to the mountains and be a hermit?” Roy shrugged, and Jason rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks. You gave me a gift, Harper. Not a shackle. If you’ll let me stay, I’m staying.” 

Roy felt his shoulders relax, a shade of tension slipping away that he hadn’t known he was carrying. “Good.” 

They fell back into silence. Jason continued to fidget with the cigarette, but never lit it. When he finally spoke, his voice was faintly raspy. 

“I had all these plans. For coming back. Was going to stay under the radar as long as possible, establish myself in Crime Alley and clean up the city, no holds barred. Do everything Batman can’t or won’t. Kill Joker if I didn’t wuss out. Keep an eye on Damian to make sure he didn’t end up in a mask. No civilian ID, no day life, just a to-do list of everything that needed fixing.” 

He cleared his throat, still not looking at Roy. “I’m not…I didn’t see any of this being an option, and it changes fucking everything. I’m not complaining. Getting to stay with Lian and having another adult to watch both our backs; it’s good. Guess I’ve just spent the last few years with a plan for everything. Keep the kids safe, get ‘em out of the League, keep our cover and be ready to run. Now all the plans I made for Gotham got scratched, and this is better but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” 

Jason let his head fall back against the bricks, finally turning to look at Roy. “It’s not like I can’t do any of those things. I still want to help the Alley somehow. I’ve still got to kill Joker and make sure it sticks this time. But I also have to make sure none of it comes back on her, which means changing everything. I can’t just limp to a safehouse every night and burn everything if someone manages to follow me there.” He scowled, lip twisting with disgust at himself. “I know I sound like an ungrateful bastard.” 

“Nah.” Roy rested his hands on his raised knees. “I know what you mean. Good change is still change.” 

“Something like that.” 

A sea breeze blew down the streets, cooling the sweat on Roy’s skin. “You still smoke?” 

Jason looked down, seeming surprised to see the cigarette in his hand. “No. Not since I died.” 

“Damn, the Pit does detox services too?” 

Jason snorted. “Nah. Too many memories with the smoke. Still get cravings, but can’t actually get through a drag without having a fucking meltdown.” 

“That’s a shit deal.” 

Jason’s shoulders shook, and it took Roy a moment to realize he was laughing. “Yeah,” he said. “Story of my life.” 

“You are preaching to the choir, Jaybird.” Roy drew his knees up closer to his chest. 

They fell into a more peaceful kind of silence. Roy was tired enough not to keep up his usual stream of patter, and Jason stared out at the city, the cigarette rolling smoothly between his fingers. 

“I woke up down there.” Jason’s voice was raspy, and so quiet Roy wasn’t sure at first if he was meant to hear it. It took a moment for the meaning to register. 

His stomach lurched. He didn’t speak. What was there to say to that? 

“Had to dig my way out. Sometimes…” he picked at the filter, not looking at Roy. “It helps to see them breathing.”

And he hadn’t wanted to wake Roy up, so he’d gone to the kitchen and thrown up instead of opening the bedroom door. Roy focused on his breathing – long, steady breaths until he didn’t feel like yelling – before he spoke. 

“The bed’s big enough for three, Jay. I sleep the same either way. You and Lian both sleep better when you’re close. I’d rather you just slept there full time than lurk outside the door or make both of you miserable trying to keep a boundary that I don’t actually care about. If you’re gonna stay on the couch or get another bed, you can always come in and check on her. Check on both of us if it helps.” It wouldn’t be the first time a friend had woken him up to check his pulse. “You do whatever works for you, man. Just stop worrying about what I’m going to think.” 

Jason didn’t reply, but when Roy finally hoisted himself up and climbed back through the window, Jason grabbed his blanket from the couch and followed Roy to the bedroom. They all slept better that night, Lian sprawled in her little nest between them. 

~~~~~

Dinah’s words in mind, Roy gathered his courage while they cleaned up dinner the next day. “There’s a meeting on Thursday nights just down the street. I was thinking if you’re alright staying with Lian, I might go.” 

“Of course.” There was no judgement in Jason’s tone, just easy agreement. “Whenever you need it.” 

Roy scrubbed at a spot of half-dried butternut squash soup on the countertop. Something twisted in his chest. Words spilled out before he knew what they were. “Why are you so chill about this?” 

Jason kept wiping down a plate. “About?” 

“Me being an addict,” he snapped. “I’ve been clean, sure, but I’m still an addict. Always will be. I’ve let a hell of a lot of people down, and you were just going to leave Lian with me? Because Cheshire figured I was safe enough?” 

Jason lowered the plate into the rinse basin and opened his mouth, but Roy plowed on before he could reply. 

“You told me what happened to your mom. I know that shit fucked you up, because there’s no way it doesn’t fuck a kid up to see that! I don’t know what the hell I’m doing as a dad, and my sponsor is Killer goddamn Croc! I know you’d put a bullet in the brain of anyone you thought was a threat to Lian or Damian, so why the everloving fuck are you so okay with all of this?” He flicked a hand, not entirely sure if he was indicating himself, the situation, or the entirety of their existence. 

Jason waited a beat, making sure he was done, then leaned against the counter, letting his wet fingertips drip into the dishwater. “You’re an addict, Roy. Not a bad person. You’re right. I saw my mom die from that shit, and you’re right; it fucked me up. There were times when I was–” he paused, “--I don’t have words for how angry I was. But Catherine was never evil. She never stopped loving me. She was sick. You’ve been sick. Do I wish she’d gotten clean? Of course. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want her around, or that I regret the time I got with her. 

“Now, I’m sure you’ve done some messed up shit to get high, or while you were high. If you put Lian through the kind of shit I went through? We’ll have an issue. But you’re trying, Roy. You’ve been trying since before you knew she existed. I trusted you with my back before, and as far as I can see, I’ve got no reason to stop now. Not while things keep on as they’re going.” 

Roy couldn’t look away from him, studying the planes of his scarred face. He couldn’t find any trace of a lie there. He really meant all that. Jason just…trusted him. Saw Roy trying and said it was enough to build on. 

Water trickled across his knuckles, and Roy realized he was squeezing the washrag tight enough to wring it out on the counter. He slapped it down, roughly wiping the water back up. “So that’s enough?” 

“I did a background check, if that helps.” Jason actually shrugged. “I couldn’t find everything with the resources I had, but it was enough to know you were regularly attending some kind of meetings, and trying to get back into hero work. Enough to be sure you could and would protect her. 

“Also, for all her issues, Jade really does love Lian. She looks at her the same way you and I do. She’s not a nurturer; never will be. She’d do anything and everything necessary to make sure her daughter grows up safe and happy, though. Even if that means sending her across the world and going no-contact for years while she acts as Talia’s right hand in a League coup. She wouldn’t have told me to bring Lian to you if she didn’t trust you right to the ground.” 

Roy looked down at the cloth in his hand. He didn’t find himself speechless very often. Tonight seemed to be one of those rare occasions. He managed a nod and handed the washcloth back to Jason, who dropped it into the soapy water. 

“Thanks,” he rasped. 

Jason shrugged again, growing awkward. “Whatever, man. Just keep it up. Maybe take the next few dirty diapers if it’ll make you feel better about your parenting.” 

Some of the tension in Roy’s chest cracked, and he snorted. “Sure, Jaybird. It’s real kind of you to offer me that opportunity.” 

Jason smirked. “Ain’t it, though?” 

~~~~~

“Baba?” 

“Hey, kiddo.” Jason caught Damian in a hug as the kid came running through the trees. “How’ve you been?” 

Damian wriggled back to the ground, leaves rustling as he landed. “I am well. Grayson brought me to an animal shelter yesterday, and I was allowed to go in the kitten room.” 

“That sounds incredible, habibi. You convinced them to let you get a pet yet?” 

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Not yet. I have convinced Grayson, and am putting together an informational packet for Alfred. I believe I am making progress.” 

Jason laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. “Yeah, I bet you are. What do you think of a field trip tonight?” 

Damian’s expression sharped with interest. “Into Gotham?” 

“Thought it’s time you and Lian got to see each other.” 

“I’m ready!” 

Damian followed him through the old gap in the fence, to where Jason had parked his motorcycle out of earshot of the manor. He didn’t even protest at having to put on a helmet. Warmth rose in Jason’s chest as his kid hopped onto the bike behind him, arms snug around his waist. 

“Will Harper be there?” 

“Yep, he’s at home with Lian right now. I told him I was bringing you over tonight.” 

“Good.” 

Jason was pretty sure that response had more to do with Damian’s intent to assess the man’s worthiness than any excitement to meet him. He grinned, since Damian couldn’t see it, and started the bike. “Hold on tight, habibi.” 

Even driving more carefully than usual, it didn’t take all that long to reach the apartment building on Verheiden. Damian ran up the stairs ahead of him, leading the way into the apartment. Jason wished he had his phone out as the kid spotted Lian. He would have loved photo evidence that the boy could look this soft. 

Lian shrieked, abandoning her stacking cups and Roy to crawl at high speed across the living room. “Dee!” 

Damian scooped her up, starting what he would probably describe as an injury check and Jason would call fussing over her. “I am pleased to see you have not forgotten me.” 

“Of course not. You’re one of her two favorite people.” Roy rolled to his feet. 

Damian tucked Lian protectively against his side, turning an assessing look on Roy. “What is her favorite drink?” 

“Kiwi juice.” Roy didn’t miss a beat. 

“Her favorite game?” 

“Chase.” 

“Her most hated activity?” 

“Diaper changes.” 

“Favorite word?” 

“Dee.” 

“Dee!” Lian echoed. 

Damian blinked, then pulled his sister a little closer. “Tt. If you are trying to win me with flattery, you will not succeed.” 

“I’m not going to give you a dishonest answer just because you might think it’s flattery.” 

Jason shrugged when Damian glanced at him. It was definitely one of Lian’s more common words, and she tended to latch onto Damian’s name once she started saying it. “Consequences of being a good brother, I guess.” 

Damian’s ears turned pink, and he scoffed, heading for the kitchen. “Come, Lian. I am certain Baba has provided a good home for you, but it will not hurt for me to assess the security.” 

Roy stepped closer to Jason as the kids left, lowering his voice. “Think I passed?” 

“With flying colors.” 

Chapter Text

"Whatcha got there?" Roy leaned over Jason's shoulder. Jason elbowed him and Roy skipped back, almost spilling his mug of coffee down Jason's back. 

"Nothing." 

"New costume?" Roy pulled out a chair and sat next to him like he'd been invited. 

Jason glared at him for a minute, but Roy had apparently built up some immunity to that glare from years with Dick. He almost managed not to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Deciding the ginger wasn't going anywhere, Jason grunted and shoved the pile of sketches at him. 

"Okay, okay,” Roy said consideringly. “The leather's hot. You got a name yet?" 

"Red Hood," he muttered. 

Roy tilted his head, looking through the sketches. "Not seeing any hoods." 

"Helmet's better protection." 

Roy flipped another page. His mouth twitched and he quickly raised his chipped mug. 

Jason scowled at him again. " What ?" 

"Nothing! Just--" a snicker escaped, echoing in the mug. He tapped a helmet sketch. "Why the hell's it got a mouth? You trying to hint at something, buddy? Getting a little lonely out there on patrol?" 

Jason made to snatch the papers away, but Roy was already on his feet, rounding the table to stay out of reach. He pulled out another sketch and doubled over laughing. Jason vaulted over the table, and they both slammed to the floor, Roy still cackling as the sketches were yanked from his hand. 

"It looks like a pill," he wheezed. "Why's the cape got a collar eight inches high?" 

"Fuck you, Speedy."  

"Fuckin....CyberDracula." 

Jason jabbed him in the gut and rolled to his feet. Lian began to cry in the next room, and Roy actually looked guilty. “I got her,” Jason grumbled. At least soothing the baby was one thing he could do well. 

Lian brightened when he walked in, and Jason scooped her up, letting her wipe her face on his shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart. You have a good nap before your dad woke you up with all his noise?” 

She snuggled into his shoulder, babbling half-coherently. 

“You want a snack?” 

“Mumum.” 

“Alright, we’ll get you some berries.” He patted her butt. “Diaper change first.” 

When he carried her out to the kitchen, Roy was sitting at the table, sketching on an empty page. Jason ignored him as he set Lian in her high chair and grabbed a pack of blueberries and some cucumbers from the fridge. As he brought the blueberries to Lian, Roy slid the sketch across the table. 

“The helmet is terrible, but you’ve got some good ideas there.” 

Jason glanced down at the page. Roy had taken a few elements from his designs. Pants from one, the sturdy boots that appeared consistently, and the reinforced undersuit. He’d borrowed the idea of a jacket, but added an actual hood and domino in place of the helmet. 

Jason swiped Roy’s coffee mug, still half-full and decently warm. “Why’s it got no sleeves?” 

“Who needs sleeves?” Roy scoffed. 

“It’s Gotham, not L.A. I need sleeves.” Jason took a sip of coffee and pulled the chair out with his foot, sitting down. Stealing the pencil back from Roy, he added a few details. A sturdy half-mask covering the lower half of his face. Full gloves instead of fingerless. The leather jacket he’d liked, layered with the hood. 

Roy nodded. “It’s a good design.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’ve got some parts, I can start putting together a prototype rebreather for that mask if you want.” 

Jason grunted, and got back up to slice the cucumber for Lian. “If you’ve got the parts.”

“You got funds for all this? Weapons don’t tend to come cheap, at least the first couple.” 

Jason smirked, dropping pieces of cucumber into a bowl. “I’ve been thinking Bruce owes some child support.” 

~~~~~

“Crazy fucker, whoever he is.” 

“Heard he told Black Mask and Batman to keep out of the Alley.” 

Bobby grumbled. “Last thing we need in this city’s another damn gang war.” 

“Does he count as a gang if it’s just him?” 

“It ain’t though. He’s got people working for him now.” 

“Can’t be many.” 

“Not many,” Anderson admitted. “But he ain’t alone. Don’t think he’ll stay a small operation for long, the way he’s moving.” 

“Posturing, you mean.” Bobby snorted. “Dumbass is either gonna make it big and we’ll all suffer, or he’ll get himself shot in a week and we’ll all forget he ever existed.” 

Roy slid out from under the Chevy he was working on. “You talking about that Hood guy?” 

The conversation stuttered as everyone exchanged glances, remembering the new guy. 

“Yeah,” Shashi admitted. “Crazy fucker, like I said.” 

Roy grinned. “No shit. I don’t know much, but what I’ve heard so far is something.” 

Shashi’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and Bobby rolled his eyes. “Only something if he can back it up.” 

“Sounds to me like he is,” Anderson protested. “The guy stood up to Mask and ain’t dead yet. He’s gotta have something going for him.” 

“Beginner’s luck, probably,” Bobby grumbled. 

“Well, from what I hear, he’s mostly going after traffickers,” Shashi said. “My cousin says Hood’s been talking some big game about not messing with kids. If he only lasts a week or two, at least he’s taking some shitheads down with him.” 

Roy nodded, picking up the wrench he’d slid out for. “I won’t argue with that.”

"Ain't like Batman does jack shit around here." 

"Fuck Batman," Anderson agreed.

"Fuck Batman," Roy echoed, sliding back under the car. "Self-righteous emo bastard." He let a smile spread across his face. 

Roy was in no shape mentally or physically to be out on Gotham’s rooftops, let alone trusted with someone’s back. For now, he’d get his fix making gadgets for Jason and checking in occasionally on comms. That was enough for now. He knew he’d end up back out there eventually, when things got bad enough or he got antsy enough. 

Even if this wasn’t directly his work, Roy felt a rush of satisfaction. It seemed like Jason was having an impact already. Maybe a small one so far, as far as the public was concerned, but they knew his name and they knew he was trying to help. This was a step in the direction they wanted. Building trust. Scraping out the rot to make room for new growth. For the same kind of new start Jason had already given Roy when he brought Lian home. 

Tomorrow would mark twenty-five weeks of sobriety. Lian had fallen asleep in his arms again last night. At least seventeen kids and twenty-eight adults were already safe because of the work Jason was doing and the tools Roy had built him. Roy had found a decent job, where he could get his hands dirty and keep his conscience clean. 

Progress felt really damn good. 

~~~~~

“Red Hood!” 

Fuck. Fuck, he wasn’t ready for this. Was fairly sure he wouldn’t ever be ready for this. He'd only been running the rooftops for a few nights. 

That black cloak swayed in the wind over Gotham’s rooftops, and a memory stirred of huddling under it on late patrols. Jason winced, but held his ground. “The hell do you want?” 

“To know who you are.” 

Jason scoffed, the sound coming through the vocorder as a growl. “Not the kid who died, that’s for damn sure.” 

“The boy says you are.” 

“The boy?” Jason took a step forward, leather and kevlar creaking as his fists clenched. “You mean your son? Your son who grew up dreaming of meeting you and desperate to prove himself?”

Batman’s own hands clenched and unclenched. “I had to be sure.” 

“Sure that he’s your kid? DNA test wasn’t enough? Because I know for a fucking fact you ran one the second he set foot in that house, if the scowl alone didn’t prove it.” 

“Had to be sure that you’re really here.” 

Jason’s laugh was ragged, tearing at his throat. “Oh, now you give a shit?” 

“Lad…” 

Jason’s gun was up before he could think, the edges of his vision tinting greener with every passing breath. “Don’t–” 

Batman froze. 

Jason eased his finger away from the trigger, but kept the gun up. “Don’t pretend like everything’s fine! Why is he still alive?!” Jason’s hands were steady. He’d been trained too well to let them shake now. “Do you even know how many people have died since me?” 

“Two hundred-seventy-eight.” Batman’s voice didn’t waver. 

Jason’s laugh was incredulous, and he tried to catch his breath. “You…you’re a real piece of work, you know?”

Batman was silent, waiting, watching him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” For some reason he kept thinking about that mural back in Rotoiti. The little “D.W.” painted in the bottom corner with meticulous care. Maggie knocking on the bathroom door. He had to lower the gun. The green was brighter than it’s been in a long time, and for the first time in a long time he didn’t trust his aim. 

It’s Bruce’s voice that says “You didn’t come home.” 

Jason finally flicked on the safety, and it was purely because he needed to do something and it couldn’t be pulling the trigger. Not yet. Not right now. Not with Damian living in the Manor. He used the moment of distraction to land a punch with his free hand instead, his knuckles slamming into the hard line of his dad’s Batman’s jaw. “It’s not fucking home! Not as long as he’s still waltzing out of Arkham every five seconds! Not until he’s six feet under! Not as long as you still expect your kids to smile and play happy families while that monster keeps killing people and you do nothing to stop it! Fuck, you lost another one after me, and her murderer’s still running around too! He used a goddamn power drill on her!” 

  Bruce Batman made no attempt to block or retaliate, even as Jason punched him again, fist aching. Jason’s lungs felt starved for air. Was his mask malfunctioning? He stepped back, chest heaving. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but the question spilled out anyway “Did N kill him?” 

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.  

Jason nodded a couple times, wondering if he was going to vomit or start shooting. “And you brought him back.” His voice was flat, and it wasn’t a question anymore. No one had said it outright, but there were only so many people who would be in a position to make that choice.

“Yes.” 

Hell, at least he didn’t try to apologize. 

Jason tried to breathe through the green. Tried to remember what Talia taught him. What the All-Caste taught him. He needed to play this right, had to stay in control so the consequences don’t come back on his kids. He couldn’t lose his shit, because Damian and Lian and Roy needed him to stay steady. 

Swallow. Breathe. Steady. 

“Jason–” 

“Get the fuck away from me before I shoot you.” 

There was a beat of silence, then the cape swayed and Batman was gone. 

Jason barely made it the half-block to his nearest safehouse before he crumbled. He felt as though he was being shredded from the inside out, choked sobs clawing their way up his throat. He yanked off the mask, slumping against a stained wall. 

He wanted to go home, and didn't want Roy or Lian to see him like this. He wanted to go home, but home wasn’t…nothing was quite home right now. The manor hadn’t been home in a long damn time, if it ever was. The apartment wasn’t quite home without Damian. The house on Gowanbridge Road was burned and half a world away. 

It was true. Bruce Batman really had revived the Joker. Part of him had been hoping he was wrong, begging for it to be a misunderstanding, but Batman hadn’t even tried to defend himself or explain. He knew how fucked up it was, and he’d done it anyway. If he’d ever actually cared about Jason, or even his replacement Robins, Bruce would have–

Jason buried his head in his knees, clamping a hand over his mouth as he tried to slow his breathing. Laughter echoed through his skull. Green rose like bile, and he couldn’t get enough air–

“Hood, you there?” Roy’s voice crackled over the comms. 

Jason closed his eyes and clenched his hands until they ached.

“Hood?” 

He couldn’t– 

“Jaybird, do you copy?”

“Copy,” he gasped. 

“Hey there, Jaybird. Good to hear your voice. Got a little worried when you weren’t answering the ping I sent.” 

He hadn’t even heard it. “Can’t–” another gasp swallowed the words. 

Roy’s voice sharpened. “Where are you?” 

Jason choked. He was getting dizzy, and he couldn’t tell if that was making the green worse or if it was the only thing keeping him from hulking out. “Hanover.” 

“Are you safe?” 

“Mm. Clear.” 

“I’m on my way, Jaybird.” 

Lian needed him; he couldn’t just leave her to come drag Jason’s stupid broken self home. 

“Lian’s safe. I’ll be there in eight.” 

Roy was there in seven, crouching on the dusty floor in a mix of civvies and costume, his domino slightly crooked. Jason tried to lift his head, to protest, but Roy just took his hand. He slipped off Jason’s glove, twined their fingers together, and began tapping his thumb against the back of Jason’s hand. The fabric of his glove was rough against Jason’s skin, and warmth radiated into his palm: suddenly the one part of him that felt real. 

“Breathe with me, Jaybird. Pick a number and follow the taps.” 

Jason counted to five, over and over, trying to match the steady rhythm against his skin. 

“Lian?” he managed eventually. 

“She’s alright. She’s with Miss Marsha.” 

Jason nodded. He wasn’t thrilled about leaving her alone with anyone in Gotham, but their neighbor was probably the best option. The woman was fearsome with a half-brick, especially if someone threatened her kids. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“No need to be. You want to tell me what happened?” 

Not even slightly, but Roy deserved something after racing out in the middle of the night to sit with him. He hadn’t even put on his costume since they came to Gotham. He must have pulled it out of storage just for this. Jason slumped against the wall, staring vacantly at the ceiling. “Batman’s an asshole.” 

“Sure, but that’s not news.” 

Jason snorted. “He demanded to know if it was me, because he doesn’t trust Damian’s word. Admitted he was the one who revived Joker. Could even recite the fucker’s official kill count since me. Didn’t have a word to say about the fourth Robin. And he still–” Jason’s breath snagged on a laugh, bitter and shaky as cheap coffee. “He still had the goddamn nerve to wonder why I hadn’t come home .” 

“Shit, that’ll do it,” Roy sighed, settling against the wall beside him. 

Jason scrubbed his free hand through his hair, dimly noticing that Roy still held the other. “Like it was ever home! Like he was surprised I didn’t just waltz right in and take a nap in my old room! Like he ever gave a damn if I was there, as long as I wasn’t off murdering people!” 

Roy just sat quiet, letting him talk. Jason’s chest felt shattered. Aching. 

“I still want to kill him sometimes,” Jason said finally. “Wanted to all the time, when I came out of the Pit. Talia, the All-Caste, and a hell of a lot of practice helped get my head in order. Got the anger to simmer down. That's part of why it took me so long to come back here. Talia wouldn’t let me go anywhere until I got myself straightened out. Not with the kids, anyway. I still…” He gripped his knee with his free hand. “I almost took the kids and ran, you know. Still wonder sometimes if I should have.” 

“Me too.” 

Silence blanketed the room, and Jason stared at the far wall for a long time before he spoke again. “You’re good with her.” 

“I’m trying. Doesn’t mean I’m there.” 

He let his gaze drift upward, following a crack in the old plaster. “I let him go there. I know exactly what that damn house does to a kid’s head, what Bruce does to a kid’s head, and I let Damian go there alone. Because he wanted to know his dad.” He tried to laugh, and it came out too rough. “What right do I have to tell him he can’t? I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if I even tried. I know how that story ends. At least this way I can still keep an eye on him. Long as I can keep myself in order.” 

“You will.” 

“Fuck off, you don’t know that.” 

“What happened tonight?” 

Jason turned his head, finally looking at Roy. “I almost shot him. Only held back so the kids wouldn’t have to deal with it.” 

Roy snorted. “What, you want an award?” 

“What?” 

“You think everyone makes choices for some pure moral reason? Honestly, ‘for your kids’ isn’t even a bad one, as those go. I’d do a lot worse for Lian than not shoot someone. You thought about shooting him. You didn’t. You’ve got a reason not to, and you’re gonna keep having that reason as long as your kids are around. You think I’m gonna think less of you for being pissed you got murdered? Fuck, Jay, you feel however you need to. Batman can deal with it.”

“I know I get to be pissed,” Jason snapped. “It’s…there’s all this rage, and I can’t ever let it slip because the kids shouldn’t have to deal with those consequences, but every time I see his fucking face I just–” he didn’t even know anymore if he meant Batman or the Joker. He looked back at the ceiling. “I can’t hurt Lian and Damian. I can’t trust myself not to, even if I'd never lay a hand on them.”

Roy wriggled, sitting up a little straighter. He was still holding Jason’s hand. “Alright, here’s the deal. You told me if I ever overdose – ever put Lian through that – you’d gut me. It’s not why I’m staying sober, but,” he waved his free hand, “I dunno, in some fucked up way, I guess it helps me keep my head. I guess it’s knowing that even when I don’t trust myself, I can trust that you’ll make sure she’s safe. It helps me sleep a little better, knowing you’ll put her safety over mine. 

“So I’m gonna make something clear. I want you in Lian’s life. She wants you in her life. But if I ever think Lian’s in danger because of you, or choices you’re making, I will take her and leave. Hell, I’ll take Damian with us. Maybe Dick and I can head out to Keystone, set up in the suburbs with Wally.” Roy tightened his hand around Jason’s. “I trust you, Jason. But when you can’t trust yourself, at least believe that I’ll always make sure the kids are safe.” 

Jason studied him in the dim glow of city lights through dusty windows. His freckles were almost invisible in this half-light, and his hair was dimmed to grayscale, but Jason could see the earnestness in the set of his jaw. In the steadiness of his gaze, and the sway of his thumb across the back of Jason’s hand. 

Fuck. He did believe him. For all Roy Harper could be an obnoxious asshole, and was barely going on six months sober, Jason trusted him on this. 

He let out a long breath, letting his head fall back against the wall. Roy’s fingers remained wrapped around his, and Jason closed his eyes. He focused on the rhythm of Roy’s pulse against his until they fell into step, and he couldn’t tell anymore where one began and the other ended.

Chapter Text

Forty-nine hours later, he slipped into the apartment, freshly showered and dressed in civvies. Roy was sitting in the barely-lit kitchen, arms folded on the table. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, apparently untouched. He looked up as Jason passed, and Jason had never seen that look on his face before. 

Jason slowed, coming to a stop in the kitchen doorway. “Is this an ambush?” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. 

“I don’t know.” Roy looked up, his hair rough like he’d been running his hands through it. “We need to talk, though.” 

“Is Lian okay?”

“Lian’s fine. She’s sleeping. It’s not about Damian, before you ask.” 

Jason set his gear bag on the table, pulling out the chair across from Roy. He folded his arms across his chest, mirroring Roy’s posture with a little more bravado than he really felt. Had Roy changed his mind? Was he about to lose them her? “Alright,” he said roughly. “Lay it on me.” 

“You’ve been taking over the drug trade. Weed, coke, heroin, I don’t know what else.” 

Ah. Jason took a deep breath. “Yes.” 

Roy’s expression twisted. “You- fuck , Jay, after everything we talked about-” 

“How much do you know? No point in me repeating info you already have.” 

Roy leaned back in his chair, visibly swallowing down his anger. “I know you’ve got people selling. That you’ve taken over most of the trade from Penguin, probably others. I’ve heard you don’t let anyone sell to kids, and that’s the only reason I’m sitting here talking to you right now instead of getting Lian the hell out of this city.” 

Jason waited a beat, then nodded. “That’s all true. Will you listen to my reasons?” 

Roy’s laugh was sharp and brittle as broken glass. “I’m all ears.” 

“My goal is harm reduction. A city this size will never be abstinent. Mask, the Maronis, they cut their product. Or the downline does. I keep it clean, I keep it away from the schools, I’m setting up needle exchanges. The last part is still getting off the ground, but our first one just opened up off Meriwether, and I want to get supervised consumption services set up in the future. I take my cut, same as the other heads, but it’s going back into the city, Roy. I can’t keep anyone from using, but I’m doing what I can to bring the mortality rates down. The Alley’s home. I know how fucking messy it is. There’s no way to make it better without getting my own hands dirty, but I’m trying to keep as many of my people alive as I can. You don’t have to like it, or-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Jason frowned. “About taking over the trade or my reasons?” 

“Both, man. Fuck.” 

Jason hesitated. “You didn’t want to be involved. I was trying to give you plausible deniability as much as possible.” 

“I said I was staying out of costume for a while, not to leave me out of the loop entirely. Not on something this big. I don’t give a damn about plausible deniability if I think Lian might be in danger. I know you said you won’t risk bringing business home, but this-” Roy pressed his forehead into his palms. “You need to tell me shit, Jason. Fucking talk to me!” 

Jason nodded. “Now?” 

Roy was silent for a long moment, before shoving his chair back from the table. “No. Hell, I need a night to calm down. I just spent the last six hours talking myself down from drop-kicking you through the window without a grapple. Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” 

Roy dumped the cold coffee in the sink. “You got any injuries?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Let me clarify. Anything bleeding or broken?”

“No.” 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Jay. Hopefully you’ll be less of a dumbass then.” 

“No promises.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He could hear the exhaustion in Roy’s voice as he headed for the bedroom. 

Jason slept on the couch, restless, and woke when he heard Roy and Lian come out to the kitchen. He waited several minutes before joining them. Roy was already cracking eggs into a bowl, Lian pushing a chair around the kitchen as he made scrambled eggs. Jason checked the pan as he went to fill the kettle, and mentally amended that statement. Roy had probably started out attempting an omelet, but had ended up with something more like scrambled eggs. Jason filled the kettle, but didn’t offer to help, unsure if it would be welcomed. 

Roy didn’t speak until he’d scraped the mess of eggs and mushrooms onto a plate and poured himself a cup of coffee. His voice was raspy, like he probably hadn’t slept much either. 

“Look, I want you here. Lian wants you here. That hasn’t changed. We just need to talk about how we’re going to make sure she stays safe. I’m not your dad, I’m not your husband, I’m not gonna try to tell you how to live your life. But I know Lian is your first priority, just like she is mine.” 

Roy sat at the table, dumping sugar into his coffee. The spoon chimed against the sides of the mug as he stirred. “If you get yourself killed out there, you leave these kids behind. Before you say it, I know it’s not much better to sit and do nothing, and let them grow up in a shithole of a city. So let’s make this work.” 

Jason waited, dropping a teabag into a mug.

Roy took a deep breath, shoving his overgrown hair out of his eyes. “You’ve been keeping things need-to-know. From now on, assume I need to know. I need to know at least the broad strokes of what you’re doing and why, or I don’t have a chance to keep Lian safe. I don’t know what to watch for. You can’t be everywhere, and we’re doing this together, right?” 

Jason nodded, leaning against the counter. Lian gripped his leg, hauling herself to her feet. “You’re staying, then?” he managed. 

Roy stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah, Jay. I’m staying. Lian’s staying.” 

Something collapsed in his chest, and Jason bent down, hiding his face as he scooped Lian into his arms. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “The Bats don’t protect the Alley.” He almost managed to keep his voice even. “I think he’s too scared and he’s too rich to do much of anything here. So no one protects the Alley. Except our own. Lian and Damian always come first. I’m never gonna do anything to risk them, Roy. I swear that on my mother’s grave; hell, on my own grave. Crime Alley comes second. I don’t know if I’m always gonna get things right, Roy, but I have to try. Because no one else is going to try.” 

“I know.” Roy’s hand curled around his coffee cup, but he didn’t look away. “I’m not asking you to stop, Jay. You scared the shit out of me, and I’m pissed that you weren’t talking to me about something this big, but I’m not mad that you’re trying. I’m just telling you to talk to me.” He stirred the cup again, though the sugar had to be long dissolved by now. Lian wriggled to watch, her attention caught by the clink of the spoon. “I know I said I’m not ready to put on a mask, but this–” he sat back in his chair, letting the spoon fall against the side of the cup. “Will you show me? Take me to one of the exchanges?” 

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

“Good. Maybe not today. But if you’re doing this kind of work, I want in, Jay. There’s things I can do without being on patrol, or even putting on a mask.” Roy raked his hair out of his face. “You said no one takes care of the Alley but its own, right? Well, I’m living here now. I doubt it counts me as one of its own yet, but I can do my part.” 

Lian wriggled in Jason’s arms, and he set her down. She crawled off to grab one of her toys from under the table. “Whenever you’re ready,” he repeated. 

The kettle began whistling, and he took the excuse to fall into the soothing familiarity of his morning routine. Roy dug into his failed omelet, and Jason thought the conversation was over until he was dropping his used teabag into the trash. 

“I mean it, you know?” 

He looked up, and Roy was watching him, brows drawn together, fork bouncing in his hand like he might start drumming on the plate. 

“You’re family, Jaybird. You’re Lian’s family, and that means you’re mine.” 

Jason didn’t – couldn’t – reply. Just kneed the cupboard door closed and nodded as he went back to frying his sausage links. It was enough. 

It was everything. 

They visited the needle exchange on Merriwether the next day, after Roy got home from the garage. Roy was uncharacteristically quiet as they toured the former insurance office. Needle exchange on the left, services referral to the right, and a couple offices in the back set aside for testing and counseling. All funded by Red Hood’s operations. Jason didn't push, just gave quick explanations in a low voice, checked in with the clinic staff to make sure they were set on supplies, and let Roy lead the way back onto the street. 

Roy didn't speak for a while, hands tucked in his jean pockets and face shadowed by his “Deer Camp 1993” ball cap. They were almost back to the apartment before he opened his mouth. "I want to help." 

Jason glanced over, but waited for him to continue. 

"Not there. I think that would be a bad idea for me." He still seemed to be looking beyond the clutter of the dingy street. Jason could practically see wheels spinning in his head. 

"Alright." 

Roy held open the building door for him. "It's good work, Jay. I wish you'd told me sooner." 

Jason schooled his expression, leading the way up the stairs. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re forgiven,” Roy said, like it was that easy. Jason looked over his shoulder, and Roy smiled up at him, some of the glint back in his eyes. “Long as you talk to me next time.” 

Jason nodded, unsure of his voice. 

~~~~~

“How’s the garage?” 

Roy sipped his water. “Not bad, not bad. Good, steady, nothing I can’t handle.” 

Jason raised one eyebrow, handing Lian her own small plate of noodles and chicken. “Boring as hell is what I’m hearing.” 

“Boring is good, right? Healthy.” Roy tried to keep his voice light. 

“Hn.”

Roy took the out. “How’s the anti-crime lord life panning out?” 

Jason rolled his eyes, setting a little spoon and fork on Lian’s tray. She didn’t use them much to actually eat yet, but she had fun stabbing her food and using them as drumsticks. “You make me sound like an edgy asshole.” 

Roy grinned. “If the combat boot fits…” 

“Shut up.” Jason finally sat down. He’d refused to let Roy help with dinner, just told him to park his ass at the table with Lian until it was done. Roy hadn’t exactly protested getting to hang out with her while Jason moved smoothly from stove to sink to fridge and back again. “I’m not doing much yet, just getting out there.” 

Roy picked up his own fork, digging into the plate of chicken parmesan that Jason had set in front of him. “We both know that’s a lie. People are talking. They notice what you’re trying to do.” 

Jason’s ears turned pink, though his expression didn’t change. “They deserve to have someone try.” 

Roy savored a bite of pasta, mulling over his next words. “I want to help.” Jason’s gaze flicked up, and Roy speared a piece of chicken. “Not on patrol and not in the needle exchange, I stand by my decisions there. But you’re right. This neighborhood deserves people who at least try to help, and I have skills that aren’t just cardio and shooting stuff.” And maybe Jason was right, he was a little bored with working on rusty Chevys. 

“Not even just making you grapples or masks or whatever. I’m still happy to lend a hand with those, but people need water. Garth would rant for weeks if he knew how bad it was here, between the water in the Bay and the number of water bottles people go through. Miss Marsha was telling me there was a big thing a while back where everyone was supposed to get water filters.” 

Jason’s eyebrows were furrowed, even as he snatched Lian’s fork out of midair and set the sauce-covered utensil back on her tray. She promptly threw it back to the floor. “Yeah, most of them didn’t fit.” 

“Right, and they’re designed for general use in the U.S., not Gotham-specific issues. So people are still watching water warnings and either trying to get bottled water and skipping showers or having to take their risks with whatever some Rogue decided to dump in the reservoir this month.” 

Roy filled his fork with pasta and wiped sauce off Lian’s eyelid. She smeared more on his forearm before he pulled away. “I was thinking I could start with new filters,” he continued. “Something more adjustable than what’s on the market, and with better filtering systems for stuff like fear toxin.” 

Jason had gone still, and Roy started to wonder if he’d crossed some line. Did this count as unacceptable trash talking of Gotham by an Outsider? Then he cleared his throat, picking up his half-empty water bottle and taking a sip. “You need funding?” 

Roy felt his mouth curve upward. “You got some for me?” 

Jason set the bottle down slowly, watching Lian shove a fistful of pasta in her mouth and drop half of it down her bib. “This business pays well nowadays. I’d like to keep putting that back into the Alley.” 

Roy’s half smile bloomed into a grin. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got a prototype.” 

Chapter Text

“Honey, I’m hooooome!” 

Jason rolled his eyes, and Lian perked up, crawling across the bed. Jason set down the towel he was folding, swept her up, and headed out to the kitchen. 

“Hello, beautiful.” Roy leaned down to kiss the top of Lian’s head. She grinned up at him, reaching out. “One sec, yazh. Let me clean up first. Got to get the shop gunk off me.” Roy headed to his bedroom and emerged again a couple minutes later, still pulling on a ratty t-shirt. “There we go! You actually look excited to see me.” 

Jason handed Lian to him. “She tried to crawl to the door to meet you.” 

Roy’s eyes went soft, and that smile was warm enough to melt the Fortress of Solitude. “Oh yeah? Guess we’re doing something right, huh?” 

Jason headed for the kitchen. “Pork chops, potatoes, and salad for dinner. Be ready in about fifteen minutes.” 

“Jaybird, you spoil us, cooking all the time like this. You have any idea what I’ve been eating for the last couple years?” 

“I try not to think about it.” He checked the potatoes and slid a pan onto the stove to start heating. “And Jaybird’s a stupid nickname.” 

“It’s an excellent nickname; you’re just a grumpy-pants. Lian agrees with me.” 

“Lian has never once called me Jaybird.” 

“But she smiles so big when I say it.” Jason glanced over his shoulder and saw Roy bouncing Lian on his hip, his hair falling in his eyes as he leaned down to look at her. “Isn’t that right, shiyazhi? You think Jaybird’s a great nickname, don’t you?”

Lian grinned up at him, and Roy turned triumphantly to Jason. “See? She approves.” 

“Stop using our kid to win arguments. You know perfectly well she didn’t approve anything.” 

“I-” Roy was cut off by a knock at the door. 

Jason set down the seasoning salt. “You invite anyone over?” 

Roy shook his head, easing toward the corner of the living room. Out of sightlines, but close to the fire escape if he and Lian needed to run. Jason pulled Marianne from his ankle holster and flicked off the safety as he went to the door. There was another knock, and he checked the peephole. 

God fucking dammit- 

He strode back to the living room doorway, glaring at Roy. “You want to tell me why Dick shitting Grayson is at our apartment door?” he hissed.

Roy groaned. “I didn’t tell him anything, Jay. It’s Gotham, he’s Dick, he figured it out. Go out the window if you want; I can hold him off.” 

Jason scowled, replacing the safety on his pistol. He didn’t holster it quite yet. “Dammit, Dickface!” He yanked open the front door. 

Dick froze, one hand still raised to knock again. “Jason. Oh my god. You’re really…” 

Jason leaned against the door. “You showed up at my apartment. It shouldn’t be this much of a surprise to see me.” 

Suddenly Dick was slamming into him, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. The noise that tore from his throat was– Jason had never heard him sound like that before. 

Jason stumbled back, cursing. “Still got a loaded weapon here, Dickface!” 

Dick didn’t loosen his grip. “Where the hell have you been, Little Wing?” 

“Practicing to kick your ass into next week if you don’t let me go!” 

Dick stepped back, but didn’t actually let go, just cupped Jason’s face in both hands. Jason realized with a start that he was taller than Dick now. Theoretically, he’d known that was likely, but it still felt…wrong. Two of his fingers pressed a little tighter to Jason’s neck, and he realized Dick was searching for his pulse. 

“I’m alive, Dickface.” Jason’s voice came out rougher than he wanted. “And kicking. Now gettoff before my pan overheats.” 

He ducked away and into the kitchen, holstering Marianne. He heard the scuff of feet on the linoleum, but didn’t turn around. He didn’t quite trust his expression right now. 

“Heya, Dick. Long time, no see.” 

“How– Is this Lian?” 

“Sure is. Say hi to Uncle Dick, shiyazhi.” 

“Oh my god .” Jason risked a glance and yeah, Dick was fully crying as Lian gave him an impressive side-eye. “How do you have a kid? What are you even doing in Gotham? Jason, how– I’m not complaining, but what the hell, you two?” 

Jason tried to ignore the jolt in his stomach. He’d figured Dick wouldn’t be pleased to see him, once he knew about the League training. It wasn’t like he’d been cut up about Jason leaving in the first place. Except, if what Roy had said before was true, maybe he had been? Jason dropped another porkchop in the frying pan, glaring at it. 

“Well, you see, when two daddies love each other very much…” 

Jason rolled his eyes as Dick made a strangled noise. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Dickface. She’s Roy and Cheshire’s by birth. I’ve been raising her, now Roy and I are raising her. This isn’t some fucked-up supernatural edition of Sixteen and Pregnant. Just your run-of-the-mill zombie foster parent.” 

Roy cackled, and there was a soft thud. “Hey, careful! Baby on board!” 

“How long have you been back?!” 

“In Gotham or from the grave?” 

“Both, you asshole!” 

Jason slammed down the lid on the potato pot, and spun to face Dick. “The hell are you even doing here, Dick?” 

His brother predecessor looked…small. Looked less sure of himself than Jason had ever seen. It was satisfying. It was wrong. Dick Grayson wasn’t supposed to look like this. “You’re my brother, Jason. I know I wasn’t always a good one, but…you died, Jay.” His voice grew thick, but his gaze held steady. “I wasn’t there for you, and I’m not going to let that happen again. Damian won’t tell us much, and Bruce knows even less, but I know however you came back wasn’t pretty, and we weren’t there for you then either. I failed you twice. I’m not willing to do it again. Whatever you – and Damian and Lian – need from me, you have it.” 

“Kill Joker.” 

Dick’s mouth twisted. “I tried. Didn’t stick. So did Bruce.” 

Jason had no words. He was vaguely aware of the potato pot rattling behind him, and the pork chops sizzling in their pan. 

Roy eased past him, turning off the pot and pulling out one of the chairs from the kitchen table. He gently pushed Jason to sit in it, and took the fork from his hand. “I’ve got dinner, Jaybird. You take Lian?” 

Jason took their daughter, and she nestled into his lap. She looked up at him, a little worried, and he blinked, smoothing back those dark locks. “How?” he croaked. 

“Bruce sent him down in a helicopter crash. He came back. I beat him to death. He came back.” Dick’s voice was thin. “I don’t think I can do it again.” 

That lined up with what Roy had said. What Batman confirmed. “How-” Jason swallowed. “How is Damian?” 

Dick slowly sat down across the table from him. “He misses you. He won’t tell us much – not even how long you were taking care of him – but he clearly misses you both. I found him sketching yesterday. He’s really good at it. I’m guessing you knew that already. He drew a dog herding sheep.” 

Jason kept his attention on Lian, who was starting to wiggle impatiently. He thought of blue-gray puppies (still in their crocodile stage) bred to bite and chide and protect. Soft as clouds. Small and quick and clever. He thought of carefully painted calligraphy, shining like sparklers. 

“He’s mine.” He stared down the older man. “Not biologically, but I’ve been looking after him since I came back. I brought him to Gotham because it’s the only place Ra’s can’t get to him, and because Damian wanted to meet his bio dad. He’s heard a lot of pretty stories about Batman, thanks to Talia. He deserves better than all of this. All of us. You or Bruce hurt him, and I will kill you.” 

Dick simply nodded. Lian wriggled again, more determined this time, and Jason let her slide to the floor. She crawled over to Roy, hauling herself up on his pant leg. 

“Will you come visit him?” 

“No, I can’t– I’m not setting foot in that place.” 

“I can bring him to visit you.” 

Jason swallowed. He hated the thought of being beholden to any of them for anything, but he also hadn’t been feeling right about Damian having to sneak around. Part of him rebelled at the very offer. The audacity; to offer visitation as if he and Damian couldn’t see each other any time they wanted. 

But the priority was Damian. What would make Damian happy? What would keep him safe? It wasn’t right to make him sneak around his other family, or lie to them, just so Jason could be comfortable. He shouldn’t be forced to choose. 

Jason pushed back his chair, nudging Roy with his hip. The redhead picked up Lian and stepped out of Jason’s way, leaning against the counter. Jason checked over the pork chops, silently approving them and dropping them on a plate. He started a second batch. “Dinner’s almost ready.” 

There was a pause. Jason pulled the potato pot off the stove, carrying it to the sink. “Well, Dickface? You gonna wash your hands or do I need to teach you manners along with Lian?” 

Dick’s chair scraped back as Jason drained the potatoes. He headed for the bathroom. Jason set the potato pot back on a cool burner and opened the fridge, grabbing milk, butter, and cream cheese. 

Roy didn’t say a word, but Jason glared at him anyway. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, Harper.” 

The ginger grinned. “If you’re reading my mind, it’s your own fault what you overhear.” 

Jason grunted, grabbing a potato masher and smashing the mess of ingredients together. “He’s gonna be like a goddamn stray. I feed him once, and I’m never getting rid of him, am I?” 

“Yeah, probably. But you know that and you’re feeding him anyway.” 

Jason stepped on his toes as he moved to check the pork chops. Roy’s smile didn’t even dim.

Dick helped set the table and sat across from Lian, Roy to his left and Jason to his right. He moved carefully, telegraphing each movement. Jason wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. It made him feel a little like a feral animal, everyone moving cautiously to keep from getting bitten. People moved like that around Ra’s. 

He shoved the salad bowl at Dick. “If you want to stick around, tell me why there’s another brat in red, green, and yellow.” 

“Tim.” 

“I don’t give a fuck what the replacement’s name is. Why’s he exist at all? I fucking died in those colors, Dickhead.” He fought to keep his voice level, not wanting to scare Lian. “Who the hell let another kid put them on? While Joker’s still drawing breath, no less?” 

“No one let him, exactly. Bruce…none of us handled things well when you-” 

“Died. You can say it, Dickie. I got beaten with a crowbar and blown up and I died. For a woman who never gave a shit about me.” 

“For-” Dick’s gaze flickered, and he paled before dragging himself back to the topic at hand. “None of us handled it well when you died,” he went on. “I blamed Bruce, blamed the Joker, blamed myself. I couldn’t decide if I should throw everything into being Nightwing or leave the vigilante stuff behind entirely. I couldn’t find much reason to keep living – let alone fighting – once I beat Joker down. I didn’t even know you were…dead, until weeks after. I’ll never forgive myself for not being here. Bruce threw himself entirely into Batman. He went off the rails, beating petty criminals within an inch of their lives. He was going to kill someone, and probably himself in the process. 

“Tim saw how bad things were getting. He’d been following us around for years, as it turned out. We never noticed, but Tim had been on the rooftops since he was nine, carrying around a camera and sending anonymous tips to Gordon when he could. He tried to get me to come back to Gotham, but I refused. I could barely look at Bruce, let alone work with him. Tim decided if no one else would step up, he’d handle it himself. Stole a suit, showed up just in time to save Nightwing and Batman’s butts after a run-in with Two-Face.” 

Dick laughed, and it was shaky, almost empty of humor. “I got a taste of my own medicine, I guess. There was this absolutely feral child, refusing to stay home, throwing himself into fights, and it came down to a choice of letting him and Bruce both die, or training him and giving him a chance of survival. Once we realized that…well, there wasn’t really a choice at all.” 

“Damian’s not putting on a mask.” Jason jabbed his fork at Dick for emphasis. “If he wants to know his dad, fine. If he wants to live at the manor, fine. I don’t have a right to stop him. But it’s my job to keep him safe, and he is not wearing a cape while he’s under eighteen. Not while I draw breath.” 

“Understood.” 

“He gives you shit, you send him to me. He’s been through too much already with the League. I don’t want any bullshit excuses about him being stubborn or skilled. He is, on both counts, but he’s a kid. There’s always a choice, and the only viable one is to do whatever I have to to keep him healthy.” Jason stabbed a tomato. “We were all kids.” 

Dick turned his fork slowly over in his hand. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We were.” 

Roy took a long sip of ginger beer. “It’s good to see you again, Dick,” he said eventually. 

Dick managed an actual smile. “You too, Roy. I wasn’t expecting you in Gotham, but I’m glad to see you and Lian doing so well.” 

“All thanks to Jay. I was staying sober, not much more than that.” 

Jason threw a piece of carrot at him. “Shut the fuck up, Harper. You were sober before I showed up, and I’m not making your choices for you.” 

“You gave me a damn good reason to keep making them.” 

Dick glanced from Jason to Roy and back again. “Wait, are you two actually…” 

Jason’s face flared hot, and he kicked Dick’s chair over backward. Being Dick, he leapt clear, rolling to his feet instead of slamming into the cabinets. “We’re coparenting, Dickhead. Lian’s a damn good reason.” 

“Right, what he said,” Roy chirped. 

Lian drummed both hands on the tray of her high chair, splattering mashed potatoes. Roy grinned, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. She smeared potato on his neck. “The best reason.” 

“Sit down and eat your pork chop, Dickface. We don’t waste food in my house.” 

Dick held up his hands in surrender and set his chair upright, returning to his meal. Jason saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and tried to ignore the warmth in his chest. The anger wasn’t gone, and he couldn’t pretend he fully trusted Dick. There was something good, though, in sharing a meal. Being able to tease each other again. Watching Dick and Roy bicker and jibe like the good days in Titan’s Tower. Feeling a little like he was home. 

It scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want to let it go. 

Chapter Text

There was a faint scrape from the living room. Roy set down his increasingly battered copy of No Bad Kids and reached for his knife before he had time to think. It could be Jason coming home, but Jason always changed elsewhere and came home in civilian dress. He always used the door. Roy doubted even Dick would be ballsy enough to sneak back in at this hour expecting a welcome. 

Sliding the knife from its sheath at his calf, Roy eased toward the bedroom door. Footsteps, light as feathers, crossed the carpet. He wouldn't have heard them if he wasn't already on guard. Lian still slept peacefully in the middle of the bed, hands curled in soft fists. 

"Baba?" 

Roy's whole body slumped in relief, and he swung open the bedroom door. 

"Geez, kiddo, use the front door next time so I don't shank you." 

Damian tsked. "You might try. It is good to be on your guard; there may still be people seeking to find Lian." He scanned the apartment. "Is Baba here?" 

"He's still out on patrol. Lian's asleep, but she usually wakes up when he gets back." Roy sheathed his knife. "You want something to drink? We got milk, water, ginger beer, and apple juice." 

"Juice, please." Damian flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, staring moodily up at the ceiling. 

Roy filled a glass and slid it to him, feeling like a bartender. "What's got you out on the town this late?" Jason would be pissed, but Roy wasn’t quite sure it was his place to lecture the kid. He would leave that to Jason and Bruce. 

Green eyes flicked to him, assessing, before the boy seemed to make a decision. "You have known my family for some time. Are they always this..." Damian made a face. 

He didn't have to finish the sentence. Roy laughed, grabbing a ginger beer for himself. "Yeah, afraid so." He cracked open the can and flipped a chair around, sitting on it backward so he could rest his forearms on the backrest. 

"Let me guess. Bruce is worrying about Jason, and trying to figure out how to make him come home, but won't actually talk to him about it, because he's got the communication skills of a cucumber. Jason's decided the best way to handle everything is avoiding it, so he's refusing to go anywhere near the manor, or talk to or about anyone except maybe Dick. Dick is trying to keep everyone happy and play mediator, but he also gets pissed at Bruce all the time because Dick is pretty much permanently full of rage and, once again, Bruce has the communication skills of a cucumber. 

“Alfred's trying to keep the peace, but he's also one man up against some of the most stubborn people on the planet. So everyone you care about seems to be constantly mad at each other, and you're pretty sure a lot of it could be fixed if certain people would say more than three words to each other. Am I close?" 

Damian had shifted forward in his chair, watching Roy closely. "You are more familiar with them than I realized." 

Roy sipped his ginger beer, appreciating the sharp, grounding burn. "I've known Dick since I was...I don't even know. Fourteen? I watched him and Bruce go through this years ago. Or, not exactly this," he admitted, "but I know enough about how they deal -- and don't deal -- with stuff." 

"Baba isn't like this with us." 

Roy ran a finger around the outside edge of the soda can, considering his words. "As far as I can tell, your Baba works really hard to be open and kind with you and Lian. Sometimes it's harder to do that with people we've known a long time; especially people we knew before we started changing our behavior. It's harder to break an old pattern than to form a new one." He thought of Ollie, and the patterns they'd both fallen into. "Especially when there's old hurts involved." 

"There are a lot of those, I think." 

"Yeah." Roy sighed. "On all sides." 

Damian scowled at his glass of juice. Condensation was already dripping down the sides to leave a ring on the table. "They're being stupid. Baba seems to think no one wants him home, and they all constantly ask me about him and how to bring him back. Father is...confusing, but I want to learn from him. I want to do well, and Baba could tell me how to do well, but he looks so angry whenever I talk about Father, or even the idea of training!" 

"I'm sorry, kid. That sounds like a rough position to be in." 

"Tt." Damian looked away. "I am not so weak as to be hurt. It's simply annoying. Mother calls every week now, but she can’t explain things that do not make sense to her either. They should all stop being stupid and blind and stubborn." 

Good luck with that, kiddo , Roy didn't say. He was glad Talia was keeping in touch with her son, though. He still hadn’t heard from Jade or gotten a way to contact her. He wasn’t pissed about that. Not at all. 

The apartment door opened, and Jason came in. He walked heavy and loose-limbed, wrung out from patrol. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Damian. 

“Who brought you here, habibi?” 

“Tt, I am capable of traveling a few miles by myself. I’m eleven, not five.” 

Jason propped his hands on his hips, looking to the floor as if for moral support. “We’ve talked about this, Damian,” he snapped. “I know you’ve got training, but Gotham is dangerous even for a trained adult, especially after dark. Either I come see you, or you need a chaperone to bring you here.” 

Damian’s face flushed deep red, and he pushed back his chair. “I’m clearly fine, Baba!” 

“But you won’t always be. Damian, it’s my job to keep you safe! I can’t do that if you won’t listen to me! Same rules as Rotoiti!” 

“You promised to explain your rules! Gotham was supposed to be safe! Your rules don’t make sense! Nothing here makes sense!” 

Lian began to cry in the next room. Damian’s mouth snapped shut, and he glared at the floor. 

“I’ll get her.” Roy pushed his chair back, passing Jason on his way to the bedroom. 

By the time he got her settled again, Damian and Jason’s voices had fallen to a soft murmur. Roy laid Lian back in bed and slipped back out to the kitchen. The bathroom door was closed, and Jason was alone in the kitchen. 

Jason sat slumped in a chair, letting his head rest on the table. “Any of that beef stew left?” 

“Sure, I’ll heat some up for you.” 

“I got it.” He started to heave himself up from the table. 

“Jason. You’re exhausted, man. I can microwave a bowl of stew.” 

Jason paused, then sank back down. “Lian alright?” 

“She’s fine.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” 

“No, but you’re worried about him, and he’s a stubborn kid. I’d say you’re both doing pretty well for all the baggage you’re hauling.” 

Jason didn’t reply. 

Roy scooped some of the stew into a chipped green bowl, and slid it into the microwave. He set the time and leaned back against the counter. Jason sprawled against the table, head pillowed on one arm, eyes half-shut. Long lashes swept his cheeks, and his shower-damp hair curled dark against the tabletop. He looked for a moment like the kid Roy had known years ago. Gangly and uncertain and trying so hard to do everything right. 

The microwave beeped, and Roy slid the bowl over to Jason, dropping a spoon in as he headed for the kitchen door. “Eat up and get to bed, Jaybird. I’ll take the couch. You and the kiddos get some sleep. It’s been a long night.” 

“Yeah.” Jason sat up, picking up the spoon. “Thanks, Roy.” 

“My pleasure, darlin’.” 

~~~~~

Dick came back a couple days later, bearing brownies. Not too sweet, with a touch of cinnamon. Even if Dick hadn’t been the one to bring them, Jason would have recognized Alfred’s work immediately. 

Jason and Lian were folding laundry in the living room (meaning he was folding laundry and she was climbing around the laundry basket, giggling hysterically as he flung towels over her head) when Dick arrived. He left the brownies on the kitchen table and joined them. 

“You are literally the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Dick said matter-of-factly, beaming down at Lian. She eyed him suspiciously, then flung a sock directly into his eye. Dick seemed delighted to be assaulted by the toddler. “Gonna have your dads’ aim, huh? Atta girl.” 

Jason shook his head, folding a pair of sweatpants. The Pit had messed with his memory for a while. It had gotten better over time, but he’d only recently started to remember this version of Dick. Relentlessly cheerful, unfazed to the point of obnoxious, determined to drag everyone into having a good time with him. It was annoying as hell. Except for the rare occasions where it was maybe not.

“Roy will be home soon. He comes home for dinner and bedtime before I head out on patrol.” He sorted through the laundry basket, tugging a washcloth out from under Lian’s diapered butt. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dick’s smile dim.

“It’s good to see him doing well,” Dick said slowly. “He’s been struggling for a while.” 

Lian stood, trying to climb out of the laundry basket. Dick caught her as the basket tipped, settling her in his lap. Jason pulled out another towel. 

“He’s good with her,” he said. 

“Never thought I’d see it from him, but I’m glad. For all of you.” 

Jason snapped another towel flat and matched corners. 

“Alfred wanted me to tell you that he still does Sunday brunch.” 

Jason’s jaw tightened. “That’s nice for you.” 

Dick visibly held back from rolling his eyes. “You’re invited. The three of you.” 

“I told you I’m not setting foot in that place.” 

Dick pulled a sock out of Lian’s mouth. “I know, but it’s Alfred asking.” He tossed the sock back in the basket. “It’s up to you, Jay. The invitation is there when you’re ready.” 

Jason let a dishrag fall back into the basket. Dick Grayson was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was rarely cruel. He saved that for special occasions. Apparently this was one of them. “Fuck you,” Jason spat. 

Dick’s chin snapped up, and he watched Jason carefully. “No one’s trying to push you, Jay—” 

“Stop trying to pretend like I’m family! Like any of you gave a shit about me!” Lian flinched, and Jason stepped back, hating himself for scaring her. He was trying to be better. The kids deserved better. He dragged his voice to a reasonable volume, fists tight. “You’re not stupid, Dick, and you’re not retired. You know what patrol is for me. You know where I’ve been for the last couple years. Stop pretending like I’m welcome at the Manor. Why are you even here?!” 

“You’re still my brother, Jason. You think you coming back isn’t a dream come true for all of us?”

“I’m not the kid who died, Dick!” 

“I’m not mad that you aren’t the kid you were at fifteen, Jason! Of course you’re not. That’s how growing up works! I’m upset because my little brother – by some cruel miracle – is alive but convinced we all hate him, and he won’t come home!” He glanced down at Lian, looking worriedly between them, and lowered his voice. “I know you’re not the same person, Jason. I don’t want you to be him, any more than I want me to be the kid I was at fifteen. I’m not asking you to turn back time. I’m asking for a chance to be part of your life now. To get to know who you are now. To be a better brother than I was then, because we’re both different people now. We’re all different people.” 

Jason folded his arms. “You mean Bruce.” 

“I mean all of us.” Dick’s voice was tired, but he stayed firm, facing Jason across the living room. “The way you talk sometimes, it’s like you’ve got this story built up in your head about everyone. About what we thought of you. Maybe some of it was true when you left. But we keep telling you, and I don’t think you’re hearing us; losing you broke Bruce. It changed all of us. Alfred, Tim, Barbara, all of us.” His blue eyes were shadowed. He didn’t look like he’d been sleeping. “I don’t just miss who you were, Jason. I miss you.” 

Jason turned away. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“So tell me. Tell me who you are now. Tell me your side of the story.” 

“It’s not a story! It’s my life, Dick. It’s my death!” 

Dick winced. “Okay.” He set Lian gently back in the laundry basket. “You’re right, that was a poor choice of words. I just want to understand, Jason. It feels like I’m missing pieces, and I can’t tell how much of that is because I wasn’t here, or because I don’t know what happened with the League, or something else entirely.” 

Jason paced, rubbing the back of his neck. He thought, for whatever reason, of that Christmas at the Kent’s. Dick pelting Donna with snowballs. For all his Boy Wonder-ness, Dick wasn’t actually a mind reader. He had actually been gone for a lot of what happened. 

“Bruce thought I killed a man.” 

Jason continued to pace, needing to release some of the roaring energy in his body as he spoke. “He was a piece of shit who deserved to die, but I played by Batman’s Rule. Garzonas fell. Maybe I didn’t try too hard to catch him, but I didn’t push him, either. Bruce wouldn’t believe me. He benched me, took Robin away, couldn’t even look me in the eye.” 

Dick took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything. 

“I went back to my old place in Crime Alley, trying to get my head straight and figure out what to do. Turns out my old neighbor still had some of my mom and dad’s stuff set aside. Stuff she saved when we lost the apartment. Including my birth certificate, which did not have Catherine’s name on it.” 

Dick had to know at least some of this. He didn’t look surprised, just nodded for Jason to go on. Jason’s socked feet drew a silent line across the carpet. Back and forth. 

“I didn’t know what the hell Bruce was going to do. If he would turn me in for murder, or kick me back to the streets, or just keep trying to pretend like everything was fine and I was just a civilian now.” 

“Oh, Jay.” 

“He took Robin away, Dick. Sure, he’d adopted me, but I obviously wasn’t the son he wanted me to be. I saw what happened when you weren’t Robin anymore. And I had a bio mom out there somewhere. I narrowed it down to three women, and left before he could kick me out.” Jason made a sound that was too rough to be a laugh. “An Israeli operative, Lady fucking Shiva, and some doctor working in an Ethiopian famine camp. Who knew Willis Todd was so well connected?” 

“Bruce found you?” 

“Pure chance. We ran into each other in Lebanon. He was tracking the– the clown. Told me he’d help me find the women.” Jason cleared his throat. “He did. We ended up bouncing between our two cases for a couple days. His nuclear crisis and my hunt for my bio parent. He wasn’t–” Jason scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I was Robin again,” he whispered. “It might have been my last mission, but we had each others’ backs for a little while. He helped me find Sheila, and I was…I was so fucking excited, Dickie. Bruce seemed to care again, I had a mom who was doing something good with her life, and I was back in the cape.”

“Bruce left us alone.” Jason turned at the bathroom door. “I can’t even be mad at him for that, Dick. Maybe it was a shit decision, but it’s not like he’s got any experience with bad parents, you know? I think we both wanted so bad for her to be everything a parent should be, so we just acted like she would be. And she wasn’t.” His voice caught. “Sheila sold me, Dickie. The clown was blackmailing her, and she sold me to him for a pack of smokes and an alibi. He killed us both anyway. Beat me to a pulp while she watched, then locked us both in and blew the place sky high.” 

Tears streamed down Dick’s face, but he stayed silent. Watching, listening, waiting. Lian sat unusually still, watching them. 

“Bruce wasn’t there, because I told him to go. J– We thought Joker was somewhere else, with the stolen warhead Batman had been chasing. I’m not– I still thought he was coming, Dick. Right through the end. I still thought he cared enough to come back. Still thought he could save me.” They were both crying now, and Jason couldn’t stop moving. “Fuck, I don’t know if he did or not. I know I woke up at some point in my coffin, and had to dig myself out with nothing but my fingernails and a belt buckle, and no one was there.”

Lian began to whimper, and Jason halted. He scooped her up, hugging her close. She settled as he rubbed slow circles on her back. The motion managed to soothe him a little as well. 

“Talia tells me I wandered for months. I don’t know. I was…I wasn’t all there, Dick. I don’t know what the fuck happened. She found me eventually. Brought me home with her, did her best to help me heal. Ended up having to dip me in the Pit to get me fully conscious again. It worked, but I was also a fucking beast for a while. I was…I’m so fucking angry, Dick. It’s better now. I guess. I’m not sure if it’s actually better, or if I’ve just learned how to manage it, but it’s something. 

“I trained for a couple years, ‘til I got my head sorted out a little, and T brought me back to headquarters to be Damian’s bodyguard. She was already planning to overthrow Ra’s, I think. Knew she needed someone loyal who would make sure the kids got out safely.” 

“Talia knew where you were this whole time.” 

Jason jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t. Don’t make this a Talia bashing session. She’s the only one who noticed I was back. The only one who stuck by me when my brain was fucking oatmeal. What was she supposed to do, bring me here? Back where my murderer is still running around free, playing his fucked up games and racking up the death toll? Back to the so-called protector who claimed he cared, but let my killer live? Who put not one, not two, but three kids into a mask and let them throw themselves into warzones in the name of vengeance? I wasn’t even the last kid to die on his watch, and Robin III is right back in the suit! Black Mask is no Joker, but fuck, Dick, it’s like neither of us ever even lived or died. 

“Sure, Damian’s childhood was pretty messed up, but Talia tried. She got us out the second she could. Got us a safehouse where Damian and Lian could actually be kids like they deserve.” Jason finally stopped, facing Dick fully. “It’s not Bruce’s fault he didn’t get there in time, or that Gotham is corrupt as hell. It’s Batman’s fault either of us was ever in costume in the first place. It’s Batman’s choice Joker is still breaking out on a regular basis. You all act like the fact that Bruce cares should be enough, but it’s not, and I’m not even sure he ever did! 

“You say he grieved, but from where I’m standing, the man’s got a shiny new kid and he’s right back on his bullshit, spouting lectures about how killing rots the soul! Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed, Dick? Not Garzonas, but since him? Do you have any clue how many people I killed to protect Damian and Lian, or just to stay alive in the League? How many piece-of-shit pedophiles and traffickers I’ve taken out of this world, because no one else will get their hands dirty? Batman goes on and on about redemption, and second chances, but some people need killing! 

“Some people can’t be redeemed, Dick! They don’t want to be, and they’re just going to keep hurting people until someone stops them! If it’s got to be me, fine. I’ve been the sacrificial black sheep before. I can do it again. But don’t ask me why I’m angry. Don’t ask me to come home like everything’s fine and I should just know I’m loved.” 

Dick was still crying, but he had fallen silent again, letting Jason rant freely. 

Jason scrubbed his sleeve across his face, huffing in frustration. “I came back because I can’t deny Damian a chance to know his bio dad. Batman isn’t much of a parent, but Bruce…tried. Like Talia tries. Damian has to be able to make up his own mind about the man. I’m not thrilled about him being in Gotham, but he’s not unguarded. He’s not in a mask. That’s already…I gave you all that.” 

“I don’t care what you can give us, Jason,” Dick said softly. “I’m so glad to know Damian, but he’s not a replacement. No one can replace you.” 

Jason snorted. “Does the name Timothy ring a bell?” 

“Tim is his own person, not a replacement. He needed us, Jason, and we needed him. Not just as Robin, though that was the reason he came to us.” Dick drew in a long breath. “I’m sorry, Jason. I’m so, so sorry that I wasn’t here for you. I’m so sorry we haven’t been the family you needed. I’m sorry Bruce is an emotionally constipated mess who can’t ever say what he means. I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel like this is your burden to carry alone. I’m sorry.” 

Jason swayed, cradling Lian against his chest. “Sorry doesn’t turn back the clock, Dick.” 

“I know.” 

He studied the carpet. Lian wrapped a hand in his t-shirt. “I know I don’t have the full story,” Jason said slowly. And it was a story, despite his frustration earlier with Dick’s words. “Roy told me you killed the Joker. Talia didn’t tell me much, and news articles and police reports don’t cover everything.”

“Yes. I did.” 

Jason closed his eyes. Dick had said as much before, but part of him still couldn’t believe it. 

“He told me he killed Tim. I didn’t even wait to find out if it was true. We’d already lost you, and just the possibility of having let another Robin die…” Dick’s voice cracked. “They’re my colors, Jay. Before they were anyone’s – before kid heroes were even a thing – they were mine. I set the precedent. You keep talking about how it’s Bruce’s fault you were in a mask. I’m just as responsible.” 

“You never wanted me in that cape in the first place.” 

“It wasn’t about you.” Dick made a breathy sound that was almost a laugh. Too bitter to quite fit the word. “God help us, it wasn’t about keeping you safe, Jason. I wish it had been. If I’d been more mature or a better brother, it would have been. Robin was the last thing I had of my parents, and Bruce gave it to you without asking, and I was too busy being pissed at him for replacing me to even think about what it meant for you.” 

“I didn’t replace you, Dick. No one can live up to that.” 

Dick sat on the floor, legs crossed, staring at some distant point past the living room wall. “I keep watching kids die trying.” 

Jason stared at this man. His brother, by some definitions. Someone he’d spent years trying to keep up with, and berating himself for failing to become. A man who’d gone against all his principles and killed Joker for him. For Tim. “You were a kid, too.” 

Dick gave him a watery smile, gaze flickering back into focus. “So were you. You’re barely out of your teens, Little Wing.” 

Jason looked back at his hands. “Will you tell me? Your side of the story?” 

Dick sniffed, leaning his head back against the couch. “If you want to hear it.” 

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t, Dickhead.” 

Dick pulled his knees closer to his chest. They sat in silence for a few seconds before he found the words to begin, his voice low. “They didn’t tell me you were dead.” 

Chapter Text

Dick pulled his knees closer to his chest. They sat in silence for a few seconds before he found the words to begin, his voice low. “They didn’t tell me you were dead. I found out when I got back to Earth. The funeral had already happened, and I was furious with Bruce for not calling me home or waiting. I think I was just as angry at myself for not being here to protect you. I helped Bruce hunt down Joker. We thought – hoped, I guess – that he was dead by the end of that. Bruce crashed a helicopter with him in it. There was no body, though. 

“We didn’t talk for a long time. I couldn’t look at Bruce, and he was too buried in his grief to think about anyone else. It was a shit year. Some reasons you know, some you don’t need to. Joker showed back up, and it felt…so goddamn hopeless. Kori and I got engaged a couple times and broke it off. Probably for the best. I wasn’t in any kind of shape to be making decisions like that. Just grasping for something that made sense. 

“Haley’s almost went under, and I ended up buying them out. And while I was there,” Dick rubbed his forehead, “some skinny kid with a bowl cut comes up, telling me he knows I’m Nightwing. He knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, and he knows you’re dead, and Batman’s going on suicide missions every night.” 

“The fuck?” 

“He had all these photos. Petty criminals that Batman had sent to the ER. A couple had to be resuscitated or almost bled out. Bruce was throwing himself into Gotham, night after night, not holding back and with no backup to speak of. Alfred couldn’t get him to stop. I’m not sure Alfred was in any shape to try, even if Bruce was listening to anyone. Tim begged me to come back to Gotham and be Robin again. He said Batman needed a Robin. I told him I couldn’t do it. I’d changed too much, I was too angry with Bruce, and too angry with myself. I couldn’t be the light anymore.

“So,” Dick shrugged half-heartedly. “Next thing I know, Bruce and I are trapped in a basement, under two stories of rubble, thanks to Two Face. Along comes a Robin, slipping through the window to get us out.” He hugged his knees closer. “I thought it was you at first. So did Bruce. I could see the relief in him. He thought he was finally done. He thought he’d finally managed to join you.

“So, when it turned out to be Tim…” Dick’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I went along with it. Bruce was going to kill himself. Tim had been running around Gotham unsupervised at night taking photos of us since he was eight or nine. He plays it off, but he definitely came really close to dying a few times.”

Jason blinked, pieces clicking together. “The fucking camera kid?” 

“You met him?”

“Saved his ass once or twice. Told him to go the hell home.” 

“Timmy has many admirable qualities, but listening is not one of them. They were both going to end up six feet under, and pairing them up seemed to be the only way to get either of them to take their own safety seriously.” Dick’s mouth twisted. “I’m not proud of the choices I made. That any of us made. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“So Tim became Robin,” Jason fought to keep his voice level. 

“Tim became Robin. I trained him. Bruce trained him. Lady Shiva trained him, and Selina. We kept him away from the worst of the fights. We failed him anyway. I thought Joker had killed another Robin – another brother – and I just…lost it.” Dick stared through the wall. “I’ve only been that angry twice before in my life. I didn’t even care when Tim showed up. I’d gotten my hands on the bastard, and I wanted to tear him limb from limb. He kept talking about you.

“By the time Tim dragged me off and I really realized he was alive, Joker wasn’t breathing. For a few seconds, I was so relieved. He was finally gone. But you were still dead.” Dick blinked. “We thought you were, anyway. I guess I don’t know at that point. Batman came in, and I kept thinking about everything he told me the night we tracked Zucco down. Everything I’d spent over a decade believing in and fighting for. I couldn’t be sorry he was dead, but…it felt like he’d won, Jay. He broke me. I played by his rules, and forgot who I was, and you were still dead.

“Bruce resuscitated him, and I sat in the corner like a fucking coward.”

“You did what needed to be done,” Jason said. 

“I did what he wanted. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t deny the world is better off with some people dead. But it can’t be by my hand. If I throw aside my principles when I get angry enough, they’re meaningless. They’re not rules anymore, just pretty words.” 

“Even for me?” 

“Even for anyone,” Dick said softly. “I was trying to live for you, Jason. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d killed someone. Even him.” 

Jason’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to kill him. You’ve got your principles, Dickie, and I’ve got mine. I won’t let him live in the same world as my kids.” 

Dick shook his head. “You can’t tell me that, Jay.” 

Anger flared, and then Jason caught the phrasing. If Dick knew, he’d be obligated to try to stop him. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t be expected to do anything about. That was probably the best he could ask for from Nightwing. 

Lian tucked her face into the side of his neck. Jason cleared his throat. “She needs a nap.” 

Dick stood, scooping up a couple of stray towels and throwing them into the basket. “I’ll get out of your way. Tell Roy I’ll catch him another day.” 

Dick let himself out, and Jason walked the floors with Lian, rubbing slow circles on her back long after she’d fallen asleep. 

~~~~~

:05 

Blood smeared across concrete, and the door was miles away. 

:04

His vision was blurred in one eye, gone in the other, legs screaming. The door was so far and they needed him– 

:03

Lian sat beside Damian, playing with his sleeve. Damian was tied, and Jason hadn’t done enough, because he couldn’t get free, only Jason could get them free. 

:02

Lian babbled like this was all a game. Damian knew; he knew what was coming. Old enough to know what those numbers meant, but he was still so little. 

:01

His hand, bloody and crooked, closed on Damian’s ankle. He hauled himself forward one last time, ribs creaking. They were so small under him, but he knew he wouldn’t be enough– 

:00

Jason came awake with a gasp and a flinch. He turned his head, reaching for Lian. The soft glow of the nightlight by the door lit her face blue. Blue. Not the sharp orange of flames. Not the green-yellow of the pit. Soft, gentle blue. 

She was still asleep, one hand curled in Roy’s t-shirt. Jason held his breath, holding perfectly still to be sure that the movement of her chest was entirely her own. Jason brushed his fingers over Lian’s hair. He tried to resume breathing at something like a normal pace. He kept seeing Damian. Small and brave and bracing himself–

“Jay?” 

He swallowed. Tried to breathe. His chest ached, and maybe his ribs weren’t okay. Maybe things weren’t okay. Even with the blue light and Lian beside him. 

“Jay, can you tell me what would help?” 

“Damian,” he gasped. 

Light flared from the other side of the bed, and he winced, but it was blue-white. A phone. After a couple seconds, he heard a faint ring. 

“Roy? Everything okay?” The voice on the other end was blurry with sleep and cheap speakers, but still familiar. 

“Everything’s alright, Dick. You’re at the Manor tonight, right? Do me a favor and go do a visual check on Damian?” 

“‘Course.” 

Jason stared at the ceiling, torn between shame and a desperate need for certainty. A few seconds later, Dick’s voice returned. “He’s safe. Fast asleep. Breathing fine. No sign of a break-in.” 

“Thanks, Dick. Appreciate it.” 

“Any time.” 

Jason rubbed his hands slowly over his face, the image of wide green eyes and thick red blood finally dissipating. “He’s okay,” he whispered. 

“He’s okay,” Roy echoed. Lian stirred but didn’t wake, shoving a foot against Jason’s hipbone. 

“All clear?” Dick asked softly. 

Jason jerked his chin up and down. 

“All clear,” Roy confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee.” 

“Good night.” Dick hung up, and Roy set his phone back on the bedside table. 

“Better?” he whispered. 

“Thanks.” 

“No trouble.” Roy settled back into the pillows, curling protectively around Lian. Jason shifted, echoing the position and closing the parentheses. He traced the round lines of their daughter’s face, the flutter of her lashes. His kids were safe. The room was blue. Ethiopia was half a world away, and the man who killed him was still in Arkham for tonight. Roy would keep watch with him. 

He could breathe. 

~~~~~

“I heard you stopped by and talked to Jason yesterday.” 

Dick leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know that anyone’s mind was changed, but we each got a chance to tell our side of things. I think it cleared the air a little.” 

Roy nodded. “He still looks up to you, you know.” 

Dick’s face twisted with some complicated expression that Roy couldn’t quite parse. Doubt, maybe guilt, maybe joy. “Maybe he did. I think I put an end to that.” 

Roy shifted Lian in his lap. She was getting tired of the coffee shop. He’d have to move soon before she got bored enough to fight her way loose. “I think you might be surprised.” 

Dick glanced up. “He looks up to you, too.” 

Roy blinked. Something strange panged through him. “There’s a difference between tolerating and liking and looking up to someone.” He tried to keep his voice light. 

“You see exactly how much he values Lian. You think he’d have been willing to leave her with you if he didn’t?” 

Lian looked up at the sound of her name. “Mma?” 

“Hey, baby.” Roy kissed the top of her head. “Trusts me still isn’t the same. Though it’s a hell of a lot more than I would have expected.” 

Dick’s mouth quirked up, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Sure. But this is a multiple choice question, not true or false. He’s always looked up to you, Roy, and the way he seems to see it, you didn’t betray him like the rest of us did. You’ve been staying clean. Putting your all into being what Lian needs. We see the work you’re putting in, Roy. Jason’s not blind, and he’s been watching for it from the start.” 

Roy’s face was warm, and he stood, hefting Lian up onto his hip. “She’s getting squirrely. We should walk for a bit. There was a park a couple blocks from here, right?” 

Dick’s eyes crinkled in a way that was worryingly familiar, but his smile was blandly cheerful. “Sure. Hardly even any vandalism beyond spray paint, and some of that’s pretty good art.” 

Dick grabbed their paper coffee cups and they headed down the street. Roy hoisted Lian up on his shoulders. She bounced a few times before settling down to shout happily about the things she saw on their walk. 

“So…just to check. Because I know Jason won’t give me any kind of answer, if only to piss me off. There’s really nothing going on between you?” 

Roy rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. "I am capable of keeping it in my pants for five minutes, Dick." Lian flailed one chubby arm at a dog across the street, knocking his pink and blue ball cap askew. 

"I didn't mean it like that." Dick looked genuinely concerned that he might have offended Roy. That was...odd, still. Not from Dick particularly, just from anyone. "He's– he’s my brother, Roy. Whether he remembers or not. I just..."

Roy adjusted his grip on Lian’s legs. "No, Dick, we're not dating. Not--" he barely stopped himself from saying 'sleeping together.' It felt too close to a lie, even if he meant it as a euphemism. They'd been consistently sharing a bed for the sake of everyone's rest. Lian was sleeping through the night, and Jason was having fewer nightmares. Even Roy found himself sleeping more soundly, maybe because of the first two reasons, maybe also because it was comforting to know everyone was secure in one room. If anyone entered the apartment, he was confident that either he or Jason would wake, and have immediate backup.

"I'm not doing anything with anyone these days," he said instead. "It’s part of the deal. Everyone says you shouldn’t start a new relationship for at least a year after you get clean. Keeps the bad influences and broken hearts out of the equation. That’s the idea, anyway.” He shrugged, and Lian giggled as the motion made her bounce. “I figure even if it wasn’t part of staying clean, it’s probably a good idea while Lian and I get settled anyway. She deserves my undivided attention right now, and I’m not risking her for the sake of getting my rocks off.” 

Dick swirled his cup, studying Roy’s face. “I meant what I said earlier,” he finally said. “I’m proud of you. You’re putting in the work, and I know this can’t have been easy.” 

“Wasn’t much of anywhere to go but up.” 

“But you’re sticking with it. Six months today; that’s something to celebrate.” 

“Yeah, well,” Roy leaned forward a few inches, rebalancing Lian as she tried to grab the little hoop earring out of Dick’s ear. “She deserves better than some screwup dying in a gutter. I was already out of excuses. If I let this slip through my fingers….” He turned into the entrance of the park. “I used to have the excuse that if Ollie had been a better parent – if I’d had better support systems that weren’t other overwhelmed kids – everything would have been different. I told myself it was all his fault, and I was the victim.

“Now, I’ve got everything, Dick. And you know, I still think all the time this is so good, but it could be even better with a hit . But there’s no excuses left. Not ones I can believe.” He lifted Lian off his shoulders, setting her in a baby swing. She kicked her legs, screeching in excitement. Roy stepped behind her and started gently pushing the swing. “You’re right. About Jason. He still looks at me like I’m worth something. I don’t know why, but,” he took a deep breath, “I don’t want to let them down.” 

Dick offered him his coffee, and leaned against one of the posts of the swingset, cradling his own cup in both hands. “You sound different this time.” 

Roy pushed Lian again, the black plastic swing warm under his right hand. “Maybe. I sure as shit hope so. I’m never not going to be an addict, Dick, but I have to believe I’ll keep making the right choices.” He cracked a smile. “You wouldn’t think it, but being back in Gotham is actually good for my sobriety.” 

“That’s got to be a rare statement.” Dick grinned, raising his cup to take a sip. 

“It’s where I got sober before. Did I ever tell you that story? How Waylon found me in the sewers and bullied me into getting clean?” 

Dick spat out a mouthful of coffee. 

Roy snickered. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

Dick jabbed a finger in his direction. “You are going to tell me that story sometime when there’s no risk of eavesdroppers. I want the full and unedited version.” 

“Yes, sir.” Ray gave him a sloppy salute and pushed Lian again. “Seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time in Gotham yourself lately.” 

“Yeah, well.” Dick eyed the top of his coffee cup, now speckled with a fine spray of mocha. “Asserting my independence is a little less of a priority these days, when the alternative is being here when my siblings need me. I lost or wasted too much time with Jason already. Bruce needs someone to yell at him when he’s being stupid. Tim just needs…someone. I want to be around for you and Lian and Damian.” He shrugged, his smile still thin but more genuine than Roy had seen in a while. “I’ve got a lot of damn good reasons.” 

Lian kicked her legs, squealing happily as she swung toward Dick. He leaned forward, poking her lightly in the belly on her next swing forward. She chortled, slumping forward in the swing. 

“Amen to that,” Roy said softly.

Chapter Text

Red Hood came in through the kitchen door, dodging a bleach-blonde with a tray of fruit. “Evenin’, chef! What’s the word?” 

“Too many mouths, not enough hands!” 

“I got you. Two more?” 

“Three!” 

He waved an acknowledgement and pushed through the doors into the main floor of the old factory. 

One of his lieutenants met him halfway across the main floor, burly figure falling into step alongside him. “Evening, boss.” 

“Evenin’, Cam. What’s on the to-do list tonight?” 

Cam kept their voice low and quick. “We got a tip on a shipment tonight. Guns for Mask. Nightwing’s been making some noise around the edges of the Alley, but Bats is keeping his distance. I passed around the update; our hands will hold fire unless you say otherwise. Some whispers about a ring down on Southburn. Little outside our streets, but word is they’re dealing in kids. Might be connected to the sons-a-bitches you took out on Market a few weeks ago.” 

“Timing on tonight?” 

“Not before 1 am.” 

“Alright, I want details on both upstairs. Rosalita!” 

“Evenin’, boss.” A young woman with short black curls met them at the base of the stairs, carrying a sheaf of papers. Cam dropped behind, following them up to the catwalk. “Slow day so far, but the night is young. The shelter on Camden is ready to go. Toni says to start sending people there. Hall Street ran out of Narcan. I’m sending over a couple boxes now.” 

“That puts us down to how many?” 

“A dozen.” 

“Hm. Shiro needs four more hands in the kitchens. Probably two on morning, two on evening.” 

“I’ve got the hands, I’ll send ‘em over tomorrow. They can start training on breakfast.” 

“How’s the lockdown drill coming?” 

“Smooth as butter, boss. Silky found us another site for a lockdown center on Souter. We’ll keep spreading word.” She opened the door of his office on the upper level, stepping aside as he and Cam went to their seats. 

“Oh, and boss?” Rosalita’s eyes gleamed as she pulled a colorful paper out of the stack in her hands. “One of the rugrats wanted me to give this to you. As a thank-you for the breakfast program.” 

Red Hood stared down at the crayon drawing. It showed a kid with a purple dress and wild brown curls, devouring pancakes while a scribbly red and black figure waved cheerfully from the background. His lieutenants stayed very deliberately silent. 

“I’m a crime lord. She knows that, right?” 

“She’s five, boss. And I don’t think she cares. She just sees what you’re doing for her neighborhood. Boss.” 

They all pretended that the silence didn’t drag on for much longer than it naturally should. 

“Right,” he finally said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than it felt. “Glad the meal programs are having an impact. Cam! Details on the shipments!”

~~~~~

The Replacement was standing outside their apartment door. Jason allowed himself a moment, resting his head against the door before opening it. “Can I get a moment’s peace?” he muttered. 

The kid jumped as Jason opened the door, like he hadn’t expected his knock to be answered. His eyes widened, and Jason felt a headache coming on. Photos really hadn’t done justice to how much this new Robin looked like him or Dick. And Bruce was still trying to pretend he didn’t just snatch up a lookalike every time he lost a kid. 

“Whaddya want?” 

The kid clenched his hands, staring up at Jason. “I’m Tim. We need to talk.” 

Jason raised one unimpressed eyebrow. “Do we?” he asked flatly. 

The new Robin squared his shoulders. “We do,” he said, his voice firmer this time. Jason could still see a flicker of nerves in the kid’s posture, but he was putting on a decent brave face. That’s what Robin did. Show no fear. Get the job done. 

Jason fought down a wave of nausea, breathing through the trace of green that tinted the edges of his vision. “Tell Bruce I’m not talking to his errand boy either. The Alley’s off-limits. Go home, kid. Your real home, not that mausoleum.” 

The kid had the audacity to duck under Jason’s arm, darting down the hallway into the living room before Jason could collar him. With a groan that came from his very marrow, Jason shoved the door closed and stalked after him. “You trying to get yourself killed? I’m getting deja vu here.” 

Tim ignored this. “I’m here to ask you to come home.” 

The green flared like a power surge, and Jason clenched his fists, leaning against the wall as he focused. Breath. Swallow. Steady. “If you mean the Manor, that hasn’t been home for a long time, Robin .” 

That finally made the kid flinch. “I get the idea you think you’re not welcome, and that’s not–” 

Jason started laughing. It was that or punch something until his knuckles bled. “Only Batman would have the audacity to send the latest Replacement to convince me to show up and sit pretty through Sunday brunch.” 

“He didn’t send me.” 

Jason turned on his heel, stalking toward the kitchen. He couldn’t yell; Lian was napping in his bedroom. He opened a cabinet and began yanking out ingredients, needing something to occupy his hands. “So you just decided to fix his mess all on your own?”

“I’m not–” 

Jason managed not to slam the mixing bowl onto the counter. He ran a little water into a bowl, testing the temperature against his wrist, same as Lian’s bottles. “You’ll never fix his mess, because he’ll never stop making one, kid. You’ll never fix him, because he doesn’t want to be fixed. The only thing that matters to Batman is his precious Mission. His precious Rule. The hell with anyone or anything else.” Flour drifted into the air as he dumped cupfuls into the bowl. 

“That’s not true,” Tim retorted. 

Jason spun to face him, and his eyes had to be glowing by now, the way the kid’s jaw flexed when he got a good look at Jason’s face. “Maybe it’s a lesson you haven’t learned yet, Replacement. Doesn’t make it not true. I died bloody and screaming and it still wasn’t enough to knock sense into the old bastard. He went right out and found a shiny new model, and kept on chugging like consequences don’t exist.” He turned back to the bowl, dumping sugar into the mix. “He replaced Dick. He replaced me. And Joker’s still out on the streets like clockwork, with the bullseye on your back this time.” 

Blessed silence reigned for a few breaths. Jason added salt and dumped the barely bubbling bowl of yeast and water into the mix. 

“I forced him to take me as Robin.” 

The bowl smacked back to the counter, almost tipping. “No one forces Batman into anything, least of all–” 

The kid didn’t pull back this time, talking right over him in a rush like a waterfall. “I stole the suit. You said he acts like there’s no consequences, but he was broken after you died, Jason. He was beating two-bit muggers to a pulp, and getting careless with his grapple. He was going to get himself killed. Dick wouldn’t come home, and we thought you were dead, so I stole the suit and forced him to accept me as Robin. I’ll…If you’re coming home, I’ll give it back now – I was only ever a band-aid – but don’t ever think he didn’t care about you!” 

Jason stared him down, jaw aching with tension. “He is the adult. You are a child . He’s the goddamn Batman . You didn’t force him into anything.” 

Tim frowned. “I did, though. I blackmailed him. It was for his own good, but I still-” 

“You what?” 

“I already knew your identities. I had since Dick was Robin. I might have implied that I’d tell everyone who Batman was if he didn’t let me be Robin.” 

Jason clamped both hands on the counter, bracketing his hips. The cheap pressed wood creaked under the pressure. Tim continued, like he thought Jason just needed to understand the details. Like that would make everything fine. “But you’re back now! He doesn’t need me anymore; I did my job! You and Dick are in Gotham, and Damian’s here now, so I– I’m really, really sorry if you thought anyone was trying to replace you. I just wanted to help.” 

The kid held out a plain black backpack, and Jason had the sudden sick certainty that the Robin uniform was stuffed inside. Red kevlar and green boots that turned black with bloodstains and– 

Jason snatched the backpack, swung open the door of what was meant to be his bedroom, and flung the backpack onto the floor by the computer chair. Roy could deal with that later. Dispose of it somewhere, or whatever he wanted. Jason couldn’t bring himself to open the bag, let alone do anything with the contents. 

When he returned to the kitchen, the kid looked…fuck, he looked broken. Robin tended to do that to a kid. He stood by the kitchen table, shaking like he’d just run a marathon, hands fisted at his sides. 

“No one could replace you, Jason.” The kid just kept talking. “You’ve still got a bedroom at the Manor, and Bruce–” 

“Kid,” Jason snapped. “Timothy. Stop talking.” 

Tim’s mouth snapped shut. 

“Long as Joker is still breathing, a bedroom doesn’t mean anything.” It felt like a lie in his mouth, and Jason did his best to ignore that. A tension headache was forming behind his eyes, and he rubbed his forehead. He leaned back against the counter. “Look, I was never…I’m not mad at you, kid. Be pretty hypocritical if I was.” 

“Oh.” 

“Far as I can tell, you’ve done a great job as Robin. You seem like a good kid, and as far as I can tell you’ve been good to Damian. My issue was never with you specifically being Robin.” 

“Oh.” Tim’s face was Robin red now. 

“My issue is with Batman. Robin should never have existed in the first place. Child heroes should never have been a thing. I didn’t belong in that cape and mask any more than you do, because no kid does. Batman was as wrong to put us in the line of fire as Talia was to raise Damian the way she did. The only reason Damian is at the Manor right now is because he wants to get to know Bruce for himself. I will drag him out of there in a heartbeat if Batman lets him on the streets. Custody and genetics be damned.” 

Tim’s flush hadn’t faded much, but he frowned. “You don’t understand. Batman needs Robin. He went crazy without you. He loses himself in the shadows. He needs that balance. He gets the consequences, Jason, but he needs–” 

“Timothy–” 

“My name is Tim,” the kid snapped. 

“Tim. I’ll say again: he is the adult. You are the child. You should never have been responsible for keeping him stable. Neither should I, and neither should Dick. If Batman cared about the consequences, none of us would have ever worn a mask.” 

“He needs us,” Tim insisted, and Jason wasn’t sure if the kid was going to cry or kick him in the balls.

Jason took a deep breath. He needed to do this right, but he didn’t know the kid; he didn’t know what the right thing was. He could so easily mess this up, and he really really couldn’t afford to mess it up. He thought back to that scared and scrappy kid who’d stolen a set of tires. Thought of Damian, desperate to continue his training in the house on Gowanbridge. Of the scrawny kid with the oversized camera who’d apparently had a death wish since he was eight. “You are needed, and wanted, Tim. I’m not denying that. I’m trying to say it’s not fair for an adult to make you feel needed in that way.”

Tim scoffed. “Life isn’t fair.” 

“Yeah,” Jason drawled. “I kinda figured that one out.” 

That made Tim pause, but he still had that stubborn look on his face. “Even if I’m wrong, and Batman doesn’t need Robin – even if he never needed me – that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you. Not as Robin,” he hurried to add. “As his son. He loves you, Jason. It broke him when you died – it really did – and Bruce and Alfred and Dick just want you to come home. Robin or not. Damian wants you to come home.” 

“Stop! Just shut up about Bruce!” 

Tim flinched, and Jason felt the cheap countertop start to give under his fingers. Slowly, he made himself loosen his grip, trying to breathe through the green. A moment later, Lian began to wail in the bedroom, slicing through the haze. 

Jason took one more deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I’m gonna go get her. Wait here.” 

Lian was sitting up in her playpen, and scowled when he came in. “Baba!” 

“I know, I woke you up. I’m sorry, Dart.” He scooped her up, rubbing circles on her back. “I’m sorry, baby girl; I lost my temper and I know that was scary.” 

She sniffled, dragging a chubby fist across her face. Jason rested his cheek against her head, letting the warmth and softness steady him a little more as he soothed her. Fuck, he’d messed up. “Got someone for you to meet, if he hasn’t run off.” 

She nuzzled into his shoulder, and he took that as agreement, carrying her out to the kitchen. He’d half-expected Tim to run while his back was turned, but the boy still stood beside the table, staring  into the distance. God, the kid was skinny, even with the muscle he must have packed on while training. 

“What was the last thing you ate?” 

“Uh, waffles.” Tim continued staring past the walls. 

“Hn. You eat dairy?” 

“Yes.” 

 “Here.” Handing Lian to Tim, he headed back to the bowl of half-made bread dough. “If she wants down, you can set her down. She just tends to be cuddly after a nap.” 

“Ok?” 

Jason glanced over his shoulder and smirked. Tim was holding Lian like a sack of flour, looking more than slightly panicked. Lian was giving him a doubtful side-eye. “All that Bat training didn’t include how to hold a baby?” 

“Newborns, yes. Not bigger ones.” 

“Just let her sit on your hip and keep one hand under her for support.” He waited, his smirk widening as Tim struggled. “Pop your hip more. Come on, Timmy, put some flair in it. Like this, like you’re posing on the runway. There ya go, kid.” 

Tim and Lian directed matching scowls at him. “You’re an asshole,” Tim declared, as if this was a revelation. 

“Oh, was that not mentioned during storytime at the Manor? Always have been, kid.” He washed his hands and dumped the dough out onto the counter. “Pretty sure I always will be, so you better get used to it.” 

“Guess Damian takes after you more than I thought,” Tim muttered. 

Jason snorted. “Yeah, he’s a good kid, but that’s fair. He giving you trouble?” Tim was silent, and when Jason looked up, the boy had an odd expression on his face. Jason raised one eyebrow, but continued kneading the bread dough. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

“He’s fine,” Tim said finally. “He’s had a hard life, you know?” 

Jason stopped kneading. “Okay, that sounds like he’s being a little turd.” 

Tim shifted his grip on Lian. “It’s not like he’s trying to kill me or anything. He’s just blunt. I’m not a baby, it’s fine.” 

“Hn.” Jason made a mental note to have a refresher with Damian on manners. He didn’t get the impression that Tim stood up for himself very often. And yes, Damian was blunt, but he could also be cruel when he was upset. It would be surprising if he wasn’t frustrated these days, with the amount of change he was processing. 

Deciding she was bored, Lian tried to fling herself to the floor. Jason lifted her down, setting her by the table. He handed her a clean wooden spoon, and she began drumming on the floor. Tim stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, watching Jason knead bread. The more they talked, the more Jason felt he’d fucked up right from the start of this conversation. 

“Wash your hands and come here.” He kept kneading until Tim was standing beside him, then slid to the left, making space. “Fold it in half towards you, then use the heels of your hands to push it against the counter. Put your weight into it. Right, like that.” Tim turned and folded the dough again without instruction, following the pattern he’d watched Jason cycle through. “Just like that.” 

He washed his hands and opened the fridge, pulling out more ingredients. He took a second to send a couple texts, then set to work. “I’m sorry. Again,” he said after a while. “My issues are with Bruce. Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

Tim shrugged. “I’m not a little kid,” he repeated. “And you kind of have the world’s best reason to hate me.” 

Jason closed his eyes, feeling that tension headache kick up a notch. He was working on being better. “I don’t hate you.” 

Tim’s silence spoke volumes. 

Jason sliced another avocado in half and began scooping it into a bowl. “Alright, let me rephrase. Why do you think I hate you?” He was pretty certain he knew the answer, but Tim might believe his own words better than Jason’s. 

He heard the rhythm of kneading stutter, then resume. “Isn’t it kind of self-sabotaging to list off all the reasons you should hate me?” 

“Maybe. But you’re convinced I already do.” He started mashing the avocado. 

Lian banged on the table leg, making happy noises. 

“I took over Robin.” 

“Hm.” Jason kept his tone neutral. 

There was a pause before Tim spoke again. “I wasn’t very good at it, either. I’m intelligent enough, but I don’t have the same kind of muscle, or the…” he waved his floury hands in the air, “the charm you and Dick have.” 

Jason snorted. He couldn’t help it – it had been a long damned time since he’d been called charming. Actually, he was fairly sure he’d never been called charming unless it was in a sarcastic tone. Tim froze, and Jason flicked a hand at him. “Ignore me. Keep going.” 

“You think I took your place at the Manor. With Bruce and everyone else.” 

Jason stirred in some pico de gallo and moved on to slicing up a tomato. He waited for Tim to continue, but an uncomfortable silence fell. Jason finally looked up, raising one eyebrow. “That it?” 

Tim hesitated. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” 

Jason lit the stove and began buttering slices of wheat bread. “No wrong answers.” 

“I guess that’s everything.” 

Jason nodded, assembling the first sandwich. “Alright. Let me know when you’re ready for a response.” 

The dough thumped softly, rhythmically against the counter. “Now is fine,” Tim mumbled. 

“Dick’s the only one who hasn’t stolen Robin, and that’s because he created Robin. Bruce gave it to me without Dick’s permission, which is a lot worse than taking it without Bruce’s permission. Did you get Dick’s blessing?” 

“Yes. And Alfred’s.” 

He’d take that up with them later. He still needed to figure out what to think about Dick’s claims regarding Bruce’s state of mind that night. Right now he was focusing on Tim. “I already told you I think you made a damn good Robin. I was a shrimp too, and so was Dick. Also, I am many things, but charming ain’t one of them.

“You tracked me down. Figured out Batman’s identity. Clearly know something about the Lazarus Pit. I’ve heard rumors about your training montage with Lady Shiva her damn self. So if you think I’m mad because you weren’t good enough to be Robin, that’s some bullshit.” Jason finished assembling the second sandwich and placed them both carefully in the pan. Butter sizzled and popped against cast iron. “As for replacing me as Bruce’s kid…” he stared down at the pan, “Not sure you can replace a kid he didn’t give a damn about in the first place.” 

There was a thump of dough against the counter, and suddenly Tim was standing at Jason’s elbow, glaring up at him. “That’s not true!” 

Drawing himself to his full 6 feet and one inch, Jason gave the kid a Look. “He picked the Joker over the safety of every one of us, Timmy. That’s my whole point here.” 

“He’s not– Bruce loves you! Losing you broke him!” 

“You keep saying that, but I’m not seeing the evidence, kiddo.” 

Tim let out a wordless grunt of frustration, and stormed out of the kitchen. Jason wasted a second trying to decide whether to follow him. That second avocado melt wasn’t going to eat itself. Tim was back in a second, though, digging his phone out of his pocket and pacing back and forth as his fingers flew across the screen. “I’m sending you the statistics.” 

Jason’s phone pinged a second later, and he narrowed his eyes. “How do you have my number?” 

“I’m Rob–” Tim broke off, glancing toward the closed office door. “I’m good with computers. Anyway, these are the same numbers I showed Bruce when I, er, volunteered. You want evidence, start there.” 

Jason decided to look at that later, when he wasn’t three steps from a Pit episode. He flipped the sandwiches and scooped Lian up, plopping her in her high chair. “How’s that dough looking?” 

Tim sighed. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.” 

Jason reached over and poked the ball of dough. “Yeah, that’s good.” 

Tim flung up his hands. “What was that? What does that tell you?” 

Jason shrugged. “It’s good.” 

Tim scowled, and Jason felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Maybe the kid did stand up for himself. Just needed to get him grumpy enough. “That’s a nothing answer.” 

Jason waved him over. “Look, you’re watching for how the dough springs back. Press your fingertip in, and see if the dough springs back or stays squished down. If it springs back like this, the gluten’s developed enough and it’s ready.” 

Tim pressed a fingertip against the dough. “Huh.” 

“Go ahead and drop that back in the mixing bowl so it can rise. Then grab a dish towel from that drawer there, get it damp, and spread it overtop so it doesn’t dry out.” 

Tim obeyed as Jason slid the avocado melts onto plates and set a small bowl of avocado slices in front of Lian. She pounded the high chair tray in approval before grabbing a fistful of avocado to shove in her mouth. 

“Wash up and eat, Timbo. Food’s gonna get cold.” 

Tim gave Jason a strange look as he sat across from him. Jason raised one eyebrow, and Tim looked down at the food, a faint flush coming to his cheeks. 

“I got something on my face already?” 

“No. You’re just…everyone keeps talking about how much you’ve changed, including you. I don’t think I agree.” 

Jason’s gut twisted, and he focused on Lian for a few seconds. She was cheerfully smearing green all over her tray, and there were already traces in her eyebrows. “How’s that?” he found himself asking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

“I mean, of course you’re gonna be sad and angry. I think anyone would be.” Tim picked up the sandwich, studying the layers of green, red, golden brown and white. He was quiet for a moment. “I used to watch you, when you were Robin. Not like a stalker!” he rushed to add. “I just like photography, and um, you were my Robin, you know?” 

Jason caught Lian’s hand as she tried to shove her bowl to the floor. He knew. He remembered Dick’s days in the suit.

“You were always looking out for the street kids and the corner girls. You were angry then, too, even if you didn’t show it as much. Same with Dick. I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone as angry as Dick under all those smiles. So,” Tim shrugged, “you’ve got a new costume and new weapons, and some cool new moves, and a lot of awful new memories, but I think they’re wrong. I think you’re wrong. You’re still Jason.”

There were a thousand things Jason wanted to say to that. 

You’re wrong. I’m too broken to be him anymore. 

Jason was never angry for himself. 

You’re clinging to false hope, kid. 

B and Dickie really brainwashed you good, huh? 

You must not know what I’ve been up to.

He didn’t say any of them. Just tipped his head toward Tim’s sandwich. “Eat, kid. We better get you home before someone comes to track you down.” 

Chapter Text

Roy had waited a few days before talking to Jason about Damian. He’d hoped Dick’s second visit would help things, but as far as he could tell Jason was no more willing to exchange two words with Bruce than he had been before. Tim’s visit had sent Jason into a Bat-grade sulk, but produced no other visible results so far. Damian still wasn’t exactly free to visit, since Dick was the only officially permitted chaperone and lived in Bludhaven most of the time. Roy wasn’t entirely sure if he himself was welcome on the Manor grounds these days, at least by Damian’s other dad. 

Finally, Thursday night, Roy got Lian settled in her playpen and joined Jason back in the kitchen.

"Hey, you got a moment?" 

Jason grunted assent as he finished disassembling his Glock, laying the last pieces neatly on the table.

Roy sat across from him, arms folded and resting on the scarred wood surface. "Damian said some things when he was over last week that I think you should know about." 

Jason set down his cleaning rag and focused on Roy. 

"He's safe," Roy clarified. "He was talking about the family, and some of his frustrations.” 

Jason’s expression darkened. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought him here.” He shoved his chair back, pacing between the fridge and sink. “What did Bruce say to him?” 

Roy braced himself. “That’s just it, Jason. At least as far as Damian is concerned, they’ve been good to him. He likes it there, and he likes the rest of the family, even if they confuse or annoy him sometimes. It sounds like Dick’s helping him settle in. He and Tim have reached an awkward neighborliness of some kind. Bruce is thrilled to get to know him. The frustration is that when Damian does have questions or insecurities, he doesn’t feel like he can come to you. When they ask about you, he feels like he’s betraying you by telling them anything.” 

Jason stopped, staring Roy down. “Why wouldn’t he be able to come to me?” 

“He knows you don’t like to talk about them. That you don’t want them knowing anything about you. I’ve noticed you try to avoid badmouthing them openly in front of him, but the kid’s not stupid, Jay. He’s a good kid, nervous about making a good impression with this bio dad he’s held up in his mind as some kind of god. He’s scared of not being good enough. He wants to be able to ask you for help, but he doesn’t know if you’ll give it, at least the way he needs. He wants to talk to them about you and Lian – because as far as I can tell you’re more important to him than anyone in the world – but he thinks he’s betraying your trust if he does.” 

Jason turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “And you’re the parenting expert now?” He snapped, starting to pace again. “Family therapist on call? You don’t know how that household works, Roy–”

“That’s not fair, Jay.” Roy folded his arms, as if that could muffle the pang of guilt and hurt that Jason’s words caused. “I’m not an expert, and I haven’t lived at the Manor, but I heard plenty from Dick back when he and Bruce were fighting daily. I’ve been through my own shit with Ollie. I’m not Damian’s parent, but he’s Lian’s brother and your son, so let’s not pretend I don’t give a shit about whether he’s okay. The way you parent is my business, regardless of which kid we’re talking about. Dick would be Lian’s uncle whether or not you ever came into our lives. I can’t pretend I don’t know or care about him and everyone else in this family.” 

Roy forced his hands back to the table, opening up his body language. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Jason. He’s your kid. Bruce is your…whatever he is. But I figure you can’t make good choices if you don’t have good intel, so I wanted you to know what Damian told me.” 

Jason brooded silently out the window above the sink. Roy waited a while, then sighed, pushing his chair back. “Okay. Good talk. I’ve got to get ready for work.” 

~~~~~

His feet seemed to be bolted to the pavement. The revolving door spun again, the steel frame releasing a cluster of people in neat suits, chatting as they headed to some lunch meeting or negotiation or whatever the hell suits did at 1:43 pm. Jason’s pulse echoed in his ears. He silently cussed himself out for being a wimp. It’s not like Bruce was going to physically gut him. Metaphorically, maybe. He could handle that. He was a grown-ass crime lord.

Lian kicked his hip. Jason swallowed, forcing himself through the revolving door and into the echoing lobby of Wayne Enterprises. 

Stepping out into the C-suite corridor was like entering a reality slightly to the left. He hadn’t come here often, but enough to notice the shifts in furniture, and to feel uneasy at the change in perspective that came with his growth spurt. He reached a hand behind him, patting Lian’s diapered butt to reassure himself she was still there. She wriggled, craning her head to inspect the new environment. 

A secretary looked up as he approached the CEO’s office. “I’m here to see Bruce.” 

“Do you have an appointment, Mr….” 

Jason blinked. Fuck, had he really been so out of it he’d forgotten about a cover story? “Peter Harper,” he muttered. “No appointment, but he’ll see me.” 

“If you’ll just wait here a moment, Mr. Harper, I’ll see if Mr. Wayne is available.” The secretary picked up her phone and punched in an extension. Her ballerina-pink nails clicked against the plastic. Jason swayed out of habit, keeping Lian calm as he waited. He didn’t recognize this secretary. She must be new. New enough that she wasn’t likely to recognize him, anyway. 

Would Bruce even let him through the door? Jason could pretty easily force his way in, even with Lian on his back, but that wouldn’t exactly help the current issue with Damian. He could be pretty confident Bruce wouldn’t call the cops. Maybe Superman. After the reunion on the Watchtower, Jason was reasonably sure Uncle Clark wouldn’t help arrest him. Aunt Diana would probably kick his ass if he did, at least. Calling Superman to WE in the daylight was too risky anyway. That was half the reason he’d chosen this time and place. That, and he couldn’t give himself any more time to think about it or he'd lose his nerve. And Damian wasn’t here to hear whatever happened.  

“Please go right in, Mr. Harper. Mr. Wayne is expecting you.” 

Fuck. Shit. Okay. 

Jason squared his shoulders, gave her a nod of thanks, and let himself into the office. 

Bruce pushed his chair back as Jason and Lian came in, hands open at his sides. He stared at them like he wasn’t certain he wasn’t hallucinating. His suit was navy blue. It made him look more like Dick, despite the new gray at his temples. 

The door clicked shut behind them, a soundproof barrier, and Bruce released a short, sharp breath. “Jason.” 

“We need to talk about Damian.” 

Bruce went still. Jason could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “We do. This is Lian, right?” 

Jason had been about to launch into the speech he’d recited five dozen times, but this threw him off. “Yeah,” he managed. “This is Lian. Roy’s working, and I didn’t want to put this off until he got home.” 

“I’m honored to meet you, Lian.”

Jason stared at his – him. Bruce seemed entirely serious, though his fingertips were white where they rested on the desk, as if that point of contact was all that kept him from bursting into movement. 

“I almost took the kids and ran. Screw you, screw Talia, screw Jade, and the whole mess. Probably would have, if I thought I could keep them safe from Ra’s by myself. If Talia and Jade tried a little less. If Damian hadn’t wanted to know his dad. I–” Jason’s laugh was ragged, humorless. “I’d have to be the world’s biggest fucking hypocrite to deny him that chance. Wasn’t going to leave him on his own, but I couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him no. Figured as fucked up as you are, you probably wouldn’t sell him to the Joker for a pack of smokes and a cover story.” 

Bruce paled, but the words were finally flowing, even if they weren’t anything like his rehearsed speech, and Jason didn’t pause. “I brought him here, but he’s still my son, Bruce. I don’t give a damn what a DNA test says. Which I guess -- fucked as it is -- means we’re coparenting. So regardless of my thoughts on you and your goddamn Mission, regardless of your thoughts on your goddamn self-righteous Rule, we’re gonna talk this through. You don’t send me to Blackgate, I don’t shoot you in the head, Damian gets a shred of a normal childhood. And Talia gets control of the League or whatever.”

“Why would I send you to Blackgate?” 

Jason barked a laugh, starting to pace. He needed to move, or he was going to punch something. Probably Bruce’s face. “Don’t play cute with me. You stopped trusting me the second you thought I killed Garzonas, and I’ve killed a lot of people that weren’t him since then. I fully plan to again, because some bastards need killing, and I know you have to know that. There’s no way you don’t have 700 pages on me in the Batcomputer.” 

“Why didn’t you come home?” Bruce’s voice was low, raspy. 

Jason scoffed. “We talked about this. For all your pretty words, you clearly never gave two shits about me! You have any idea what I would do for these kids? You know what I would do to someone who laid a hand on them? Let alone beat them bloody with a crowbar and left them to die in a cloud of smoke? 

“You fucking brought him back, Bruce! Look me in the eyes and ask why I didn’t come back! Why the hell would I come back to the man who called himself my dad, but chose the Joker over me? Over two hundred seventy-nine people, by your own count?”  Jason flung out his hands. “Some people choose Jesus over their own kids. You chose the fucking Joker over me. Over this Tim kid. Over every person that’s died since the first day you could have put him down like the dog he is! What home , Bruce?” 

Bruce stood as still as a statue. Watching. Silent. Lian began to whimper, and Jason closed his eyes, pressing his hands to his face. His eyes must be blazing green by now, and he could feel the rush of too much oxygen in his blood, his breath too fast. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to scare you, baby girl. I’m sorry.” He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He didn’t want to do that ever. He loosened the ties of the carrier, shifting Lian to his hip so she could see his face. She clung to his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He rubbed slow circles on her back, pacing his own breaths to the pattern. He had to do better for her.  

Bruce sank into a chair beside his desk, studying his folded hands. “You said we need to talk about Damian.” 

“Yeah.” Swallow. Breathe. Steady. “I fucked up. Got too wrapped up in my own daddy issues or whatever, and Roy had to beat some sense into my head. I want Damian to have a chance to know you. Not Batman; Bruce. His dad. Whatever issues Batman or Bruce has with me, and whatever issues I’ve got with you, those are between us. Not his fault the closest either of us got to therapy was a jaunt in the Himalayas and tea parties with Harley Quinn.” 

“I’ve been going to sessions for two years.” Bruce’s voice was barely audible. 

“Oh.” 

“Not the point, I realize. You’re right, of course.” 

Jason recalibrated. Lian began to gnaw on his sleeve. “Roy said he thinks Damian is feeling like he’s forced to choose sides. Damian knows we don’t trust each other, and don’t approve of how the other operates, and he’s caught in the middle.” 

Bruce sat back in his chair, studying Jason’s face. “You’re here to negotiate a truce.” 

“Something like that.” 

“Your terms?” 

“Stop interrogating the kid about me. He doesn’t put on a costume until he’s eighteen, at least. I keep my mouth shut about my opinions on your Rule, and keep lethal force to a strict minimum.” 

“Minimum?” 

“You’ve been ignoring the Alley. Someone’s gotta take care of it. No one else has the guts to do it right.” 

“Right being might.” 

“Right being actual community resources and giving the mobs a reason to stay out. You’ve never known how to help Park Row, Bruce. You’ve never been in the guts of it. It’s mine; I’ll take care of it, and I’ve got to do it in the only way that works.” 

Bruce stood, going to a bar cart near the window. He picked up the water jug of all things, pouring two full glasses. “Do you know why I resuscitated the Joker?” 

Swallow. Breathe. Steady. 

“Can’t say I’ve wanted to spend a lot of time thinking about it.” He spoke through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t kill because I’ve come to realize that I can’t be Batman if I do. To take another life, even one, is the greatest burden and the greatest sin I can conceive of. It erases the possibility that the victim might become anything better than what they are in that moment. It would eat at my soul, and I would begin to believe I have the right to play God. If Batman killed, Gordon would have to cease all contact and cooperation with him. If Batman killed, he would no longer be the symbol that he is. If Batman killed, I could no longer live with myself.” 

“You self-right–” 

“Dick is more like me than either of us would like,” Bruce continued, as if Jason hadn’t spoken. “And so much better than I am, or ever will be. He cannot kill, because it would break him. He wouldn’t be Dick anymore. I didn’t bring Joker back because he deserved to be alive. I brought him back because it was the only way to keep Dick alive.” 

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to scoff, but it came out strangled, almost a sob. “Some bullshit–” he muttered, unable to look at Bruce. 

“Diana kills.” 

Some distant part of Jason wondered if it was possible for his blood to have actually turned to lead. 

“Not often. Not easily, or gladly. But she has never held to the same rules I have.” Bruce returned to his chair, cradling his glass of water. He set the other on his desk, just beyond his own reach. “Diana is not my child. I do not hold myself responsible for her care in the same way as my sons.” He looked up, and Jason still couldn’t look at him directly. 

“I’m not your kid, old man,” he muttered. “Haven’t been since Garzonas, at least.” 

“The Garzonas case was a tragedy, on so many levels.” Bruce swirled the water in his glass, finally falling silent for the span of a few heartbeats. When he spoke again, his tone was clear and decisive. “I accept your terms, with a couple of my own. We don’t interrogate Damian about you, and he doesn’t wear a costume until he’s at least eighteen. You keep lethal force to a strict minimum, subject to a shared definition and never when operating with the Bats. And you, Roy, and Lian come to brunch this Sunday.” 

Jason stared at him, boots rooted as solidly as they had been in those moments before entering the Tower. “What?” 

Bruce remained steady. “You have been missed.” 

Jason waited, but apparently that was all he got. “No shared definition. You forfeited the right to claim Crime Alley when you avoided patrolling it for decades. No lethal force on joint operations.” There wouldn’t be any – they didn’t trust each other enough for that, and he didn’t want them anywhere near the Alley – so it was a harmless enough capitulation. Brunch would be…a lot, but it was a small enough price to pay for keeping Damian off Gotham’s rooftops.

Bruce stood, offering his hand. “Deal.” 

It took too long for Jason to clasp the hand, his scars and callouses echoing Bruce’s own. They shook. 

“Sunday noon?” 

“As always.” 

Jason nodded. “Fine.” 

He got Lian settled back in the meh dai and headed for the office door. He needed to go home and cry for an hour, maybe hit a punching bag about this. Bruce’s voice stopped him as he was leaving.

“Jason.” 

Jason didn’t turn around, but he stopped, one hand on the door. 

“I’m glad you came today.” 

Jason had no idea how to answer that, so he didn’t. Just let himself out, closing the office door behind him.

~~~~~

“I’m going to the Manor on Sunday.” 

Roy set another bowl in the dish drainer. “What time?” 

“Alfred serves brunch at noon.” 

“It’s been a while since I saw Alfred. I wonder if he’ll make us that trifle he used to send with Dick to the Tower. If not, maybe I can ask him for the recipe and you can make us one.” He glanced over his shoulder, waggling his eyebrows hopefully. 

Jason’s shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. He hadn’t been sure if Roy would be willing to go, but the other man seemed to take it as a given. “The truth comes out. You only moved in to get fresh access to Alfred’s recipes.” 

“You caught me,” Roy sang. “Baby snuggles and Alfred-trained cookery. The only things worth moving to Gotham for. Well,” he paused, “that, and getting to see your sweet ass every morning.” 

Jason rolled his eyes, placing the last tupperware in the fridge. “Shut the hell up, Harper.”  

“By the way, I finally sorted out the Joker venom layer on those filters. Figured out something viable for mass production. I’ve got a working prototype whenever you’re ready.” 

“What do you need from me?” 

Roy fit a glass into the side of the drainer. “We need funds and a production site. Now, there’s a place here in Gotham that’s got everything needed to produce them, but they’re uh…” 

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason asked flatly. 

“Shocking, I know.” 

Jason wetted a cloth to clean squash off Lian’s face and hands. “Alternatives?” 

“There’s a couple, but they’re either at least a couple states away or not accepting orders this small. Unless you’re looking to open a national-scale water filter business, they’re not great options.” 

Lian shrieked, twisting around as he gently wiped her face. “Give me your numbers. I’ll handle it.” 

Roy saluted. He pulled the drain plug from the sink, rinsing suds off his hands. 

“And Roy?”

The redhead looked up. 

“Thanks,” Jason said. “For caring about this cesspit.” 

Roy gave him one of those crooked smiles; the ones he saved for when he was utterly at ease. “Always, Jaybird. Someone’s got to.”

Chapter Text

Jason stood completely still, staring at the front door. Aged oak, carved and polished by generations of hands. This was a mistake. Even with Roy watching his back, and Dick’s promise that everyone would be on their best behavior, he wasn’t ready for this. 

Roy clapped him on the shoulder. “C’mon Jaybird. You got this. If all else fails, I’ll draw fire while you and the kids get out.”

Damian was in there. 

Jason knocked. 

The door opened seconds later, and it took him a brief moment to drop his eyeline to the little figure on the other side. Damian launched himself at Jason, and something inside him cracked. Something inside him settled. 

“Hey, squirt,” he breathed. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Damian huffed, crushing his waist. “And I’m not a squirt.” 

“Sure you’re not.” Jason hesitated a moment too long before stepping across the threshold. Roy followed him in, closing the door behind them. Jason remembered reading once about a tradition that bodies were always carried across the threshold feet first, so they wouldn’t look back as they left. That all windows should be sealed, and the door locked up, so the dead couldn’t retrace their steps and return. 

He hadn’t left through this door, that last time. 

“Who’s here?” he asked, pulling Damian back against his side. 

“Everyone, now,” Damian said easily. “Father and Richard are in the garden, but they will be in shortly.” 

“Right.” He ruffled Damian’s hair, giving him another tight squeeze. He wanted to hold his breath so he couldn’t smell the familiar scent of floor polish and old wood. It smelled like home. His brain knew better than that, but somehow his body didn’t agree. Apparently his nose and lungs didn’t know that Batman had chosen the Mission over all his promises of family. 

“Master Jason.” Alfred’s soothing voice still echoed in the vast entry hall. “It is very good to see you, dear boy.” 

Jason’s throat closed, and he managed a jerky nod. “Hey, Alfred,” he rasped. 

“Master Harper, it is a pleasure to see you here again. And this must be Miss Lian.” 

“The one and only,” Roy said, holding her up to see more clearly. She tried to launch herself out of his arms, aiming for Damian. 

Her brother sniffed, claiming her from Roy. “My sister has excellent taste, clearly.” 

“Can’t imagine where she gets it from,” Roy agreed cheerfully. 

“Perhaps I can make you all a cup of tea?” Alfred asked. “Brunch will be ready in about ten minutes.” 

Jason hesitated. He was on the verge of a meltdown just standing in the entry hall. He wasn’t sure he was ready to sit in the kitchen yet. He wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse if everything was exactly the same as the last morning he’d spent here. 

“I’d love some coffee, Alfred. Damian, maybe you could show Jason your room like you planned? Sounds like we got some time to spend before we eat.” 

Roy Harper was a gift to the world. “That sounds good to me. Lead the way, habibi.” He avoided meeting Alfred’s eyes. 

Damian reluctantly handed Lian back to Roy and scampered up the stairs. He was wearing cargo shorts and a cherry-red t-shirt, looking as casual and excited as he ever did in Rotoiti. “I am sure you have been concerned about the security of my space. Father and Richard informed me of most of their safety measures when I moved in, and I think you will find them adequate.” 

Jason gripped the banister. “If there’s one thing Bruce is good at, it’s security.” It hadn’t been enough to keep him safe, but even Jason could acknowledge that that wasn't for lack of protection at the Manor itself. They reached the top of the stairs, and Jason kept his gaze fixed on the plush red runner. He didn’t think he could keep a straight face if the new kid had a nameplate on Jason’s old door. Didn’t want to see if Bruce’s door was still perpetually cracked open. He’d forgotten about that until now. 

Damian stopped just past Jason’s room. They’d put him right next door. He didn’t pause, turning the knob and stepping aside to let Jason in. 

The south-facing windows kept it comfortably warm, like Jason’s always had been. The bed was comically large, like every bed in this building, soft with deep green bedding. The room was impeccably clean – Damian had probably been cleaning right until the moment they’d arrived – but the closet door stood ajar, giving Jason a glimpse of bright, comfortable clothes. A few workbooks were stacked neatly on the desk and a stuffed wolf sat tucked between the pillows on the bed. 

Damian made a circuit of the room, pointing out the highlights. The workbooks were because he, Alfred, and Bruce had decided he should homeschool again for a while, until Talia’s coup was complete. (Based on Talia’s most recent calls to Damian and vague messages to Jason, that would probably be a while yet). The wolf was a gift from Dick on his second night at the Manor, and was named Gawain. The windows were fitted with at least three layers of security, in addition to the systems in place around the Manor’s grounds in general. There was a nightlight in the bathroom, which Damian explained as a further security measure, allowing him to see potential intruders at night. 

Jason followed Damian, nodding and commenting and trying to reassure himself. This was good. This was everything he’d hoped for his kid. Everything he’d known Bruce and Alfred could provide that Jason couldn’t right now. Damian was safe, warm, getting an education and a chance to be a child.  

Jason wanted to scream. 

“Father and Alfred have promised that if I perform all my chores as assigned for another month, I will be allowed to acquire a dog!” 

“That’s awesome! You got a type in mind?” 

Damian’s eyes gleamed. “I have been studying different breeds, to decide which is the best fit for our household. I considered a Blue Heeler, like the ones we saw at the sheepdog trials. They are incredibly intelligent, and can be very fierce. However, we have no livestock for them to herd–” there was an unspoken yet in that sentence “--and they are very high energy, which may not be the best choice with an infant around. I am now thinking of some kind of Mastiff or a Pit Bull.” 

“Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into it.” Jason put on his best smile. “Whatever dog you get is going to be so lucky to get you as an owner, you know that?” 

Damian preened, folding his arms in an attempt to look unaffected. “Tt, of course they will. We should join the others now; the meal will be ready.” 

“Can’t keep Alfred waiting,” Jason agreed. He followed Damian toward the door, but stopped in his tracks as something caught his eye. A photo, framed and placed neatly on the bedside table. It was turned toward the pillows, and he hadn’t seen it clearly until now. 

Damian followed his gaze to the picture. “Richard gave that to me,” he explained. “He said Father keeps most pictures of you in albums so they will not fade, but that he has a picture of his parents, and I should have one of you.” 

Jason sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Damian onto his lap. He pulled his son close, resting his chin on the boy’s head as he tried to remember how to breathe. Damian curled into him, wrapping his fingers in Jason’s sweatshirt. 

“You know I love you, right?” Jason whispered. “I don’t think I say it often enough, but I love you so much.” 

“I know, Baba.” Damian fussed with the hem of the sweatshirt. “I miss you. I’m glad I’m here, but…I miss you and Lian, like I miss Ummi.” 

Jason rubbed a hand up and down his son’s arm. “I haven’t been fair to you, habibi. I’m sorry I made it seem like you had to choose between Bruce and me. I’ve got…my own relationship and my own feelings about Bruce, but those aren’t yours to carry. It’s my job to get my shit in order, alright? You need me, I’ll come here any time. You need to get away, you can come to me. Not by yourself in the middle of the night. You ask a grownup from either house to bring you. Bruce and I are the grown-ups here, so if we’ve got problems with each other, it’s our responsibility to talk through those and make sure you’re not getting hurt. You shouldn’t need to miss me and Lian when we’re right in the same city, and I’m sorry – so sorry – that you have.” 

“I’m not a baby,” Damian protested half-heartedly. 

“I know. I’ll say the same thing when you’re fifteen or thirty. You’re still my kid. You’re still Bruce’s kid. I’m glad you told me, habibi. I promise I’m going to do better.” He smoothed Damian’s hair back from his face. “What do you say we go have some brunch? Lian’s probably getting wiggly by now, and Alfred won’t be happy if the food gets cold.” 

Damian nodded, hopping off Jason’s lap and leading the way. Jason moved more slowly, taking a last look at the photo on the nightstand. He’d almost forgotten that day. He hadn’t been much older than Damian was now, only a couple months into living at the Manor. He’d brought home his first A from school, and Alfred had made a cake to celebrate. German chocolate. 

The boy in the photo beamed, curls messy and sweater askew, fork stuck into a slice of cake. So damn proud of himself. He’d been so nervous about school, worried that after years as a drop-out he wouldn’t be able to keep up in public school, let alone a fancy private one. When he brought that test home, Bruce had just given him one of those soft not-quite-smiles and said he’d known Jason would do well. Jason had been so proud – so pleased – that Bruce had so much faith in him. 

Too bad that hadn’t–

Jason took a deep breath, following Damian downstairs. He’d made a promise. They’d been invited here. Dick and Alfred had promised to keep Bruce from doing anything too monumentally shitty. He could marinate in grief and anger later. 

Lian crawled across the kitchen to meet them, latching onto Damian’s shorts and pulling herself to her feet. Roy was sitting in the breakfast nook with a mug of coffee, watching Alfred carry dishes to the table. “I offered to help,” he defended himself. 

“Yeah, that won’t fly with Alfred. No chores for guests.” 

Dick came through from the dining room, casual in a way that felt a little too practiced. “Jason, what do you want to drink?” 

“Water’s fine.” 

“You got it. Roy?” 

“I’m good with the coffee, thanks.” 

“Jason.” 

Jason froze, his attention snapping to the broad figure in the dining room doorway. 

Swallow. Breathe. Steady. 

He’d come here willingly, at Bruce’s own request, and he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t be the one to start a shouting match in front of the kids. He wasn’t going to be that man. 

“It’s…good to see you,” Bruce’s rumble carried easily across the kitchen. 

“Sure.” Jason forced the words out. “Promised I’d be here, and I can’t miss Alfred’s crepes or a chance to see Damian’s room, can I?” 

Dick’s gaze flicked from one to the other, his fingers a little too tight around the glasses he held. 

“I’m sure I’m flattered,” Alfred said smoothly, nudging Bruce out of his way as he carried a plate of scones to the table. “Mister Harper, there is a high chair in the corner here for Miss Lian.” 

“Great!” Roy hopped up from the breakfast nook, taking himself and his coffee to the dining room. “Damian, want to bring her in here? You can help me get her settled.” 

Damian went, and Jason turned away, going to where Dick still hovered by the fridge. “I’ll help you carry,” he muttered. “These are for me and you?” 

“You and Bruce. I’m having juice.” 

Jason nodded and headed for the dining room. Bruce had stepped fully out of the doorway, but even a space of a couple feet felt too close as Jason passed him. He couldn’t have said what he was dreading. That Bruce would knock him down and arrest him on the spot? Try to hug him like nothing had happened? Tell him he was being dramatic? Hell if Jason knew, but he didn’t really want to find out. 

Jason set down one glass for Bruce, and hesitated. Dick was sliding into his long-held spot to Bruce’s right. Roy was setting up Lian’s high chair on the left side of the table. Like he expected himself and Jason to sit there. Like Jason would reclaim his old chair to Bruce’s left. 

Trying to be subtle about it, Jason set down his water glass one space further down and nudged Roy’s mug up the table, sandwiching himself between Roy and Lian. Dick noticed, but didn’t say anything, turning to make some teasing comment to Damian about growth spurts and appetites. Roy just took the newly assigned seat, calling out thanks to Alfred for the massive spread of food. The butler really had pulled out all the stops. 

“Thank you, Mister Harper. It is always nice for one’s work to be appreciated, but it was truly a pleasure.” Alfred pulled out a chair below Dick and Damian and sat down. Jason blinked. Alfred almost never ate with the family. Only on birthdays and certain holidays, from what he remembered. It was a whole thing; British stiff upper lip and proper roles and whatever else. Alfred caught his eye and smiled, though it was a little watery. 

Jason cleared his throat, double checking Lian’s lap belt even though he was certain Roy had done a perfectly fine job strapping her in. “No Timmy?” 

“Tim is at Titans Tower this weekend,” Dick said. “One of his friends is going through a rough time. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon; he’s…a big fan.” Dick trailed off, and Jason raised an eyebrow. 

“A fan of what?” 

“Of you.” 

Jason snorted, dishing out some fruit for Lian. “Already met him. Not sure that held up.” 

“Tt.” Damian’s tsk snapped Jason’s attention back to him. “Drake has many faults, but he is not unintelligent.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together.

“Pass me the Nutella, Jay?” Roy asked, before Bruce could say something stupid. 

Jason took the opening, passing the Nutella and commenting on the blackberry jam Alfred had gotten at a farmers’ market. The conversation fell into an awkward but not unpleasant flow. Bruce mostly stayed silent. Dick cooed over Lian. Jason asked Damian about his lessons. Alfred described his latest experiments in sourdough, and Roy answered questions about his job at the garage. 

It wasn’t easy or comfortable, but it was…nice. Nicer than Jason had dared to expect, or even hope for. Part of him silently railed against the pretense that everything was okay, but no one was actually acting like nothing had happened. Dick was careful not to mention anything about masked work. Bruce acted like he was sitting on a chair full of tacks. Alfred had joined them at the table. The only “remember when”s were between Dick and Roy, about trouble they got into as kids. 

Dick topped up Damian’s cranberry juice. “Have you been tinkering with anything interesting lately, Roy?” 

Roy’s attention flickered to Jason, who kept his expression carefully neutral. Roy was a grown man, and the project was more his than Jason’s, even if it was intended for Park Row. “Uh, water filters, actually.” 

“Can always use more of those in Gotham,” Dick said. 

“That’s the thing.” Roy took a sip of water. “The filters that got distributed a while back don’t fit all faucets, especially really old styles, like a lot of places in Crime Alley have.” 

Bruce’s brow furrowed, and Roy continued. “They’re generic, too. Meant for U.S. distribution, not just Gotham. So they do fine with lead and chlorine and whatever, but not so much with Rogue specials. I’ve been putting together a design for something more adjustable and more effective.” 

“That seems a very worthy use of your skills, Master Harper.” 

“Do you have a working prototype?” Bruce asked. 

“As of last week.” 

“Send–” there was the faintest sound of impact under the table. Dick’s smile never wavered. Bruce course-corrected. “If you are in search of a partner, I would be happy to offer Wayne Enterprises’ resources, and cover production costs.” 

“I’ve got production costs covered,” Jason’s tone was firm but polite. He pushed the platter of eggs benedict a little closer to Damian. Hanging out with Dick, the kid needed extra protein. 

Bruce looked like he’d swallowed a pile of eggshells. “Excellent. My offer stands, in whatever form you need.” 

They all pretended not to notice Dick pat Bruce’s shoulder in silent approval. 

Roy cleared his throat. “We could use a facility for production, though. I was looking into some place in Ohio, but if we could produce it in Gotham, that would be great.” 

“Of course. Will you send me numbers?” 

Roy nodded, and Jason took a slow sip of water. This was Roy’s project, and he was right. It would be good to produce the filters here in Gotham. This was a parley. He wasn’t going to make things harder on everything, including his people in Crime Alley, just to avoid giving Bruce any opening. He’d already come to brunch. That was a bigger deal than the water filters, and Roy was being smart. 

“Dami and I have been practicing acrobatics,” Dick offered. “Maybe we could head to the upstairs gym after we eat, and show you what he’s been learning?” 

Brunch wasn’t even finished and Jason had just about reached his limit for the day, but Damian was barely reining in his excitement. Roy’s foot slid to rest alongside his, and Jason took a deep breath. He needed to go home and burrow under the blankets and not look at anyone but Lian for the rest of the day. Maybe Roy, if he brought tea. But…nothing had actually gone wrong. 

“Tell you what, habibi. Acrobatics right after brunch sounds like a recipe for puke, but how about I come by early next time and you show me what you’ve got.” 

He didn’t dare to look at Bruce, but Dick’s smile practically outshone the chandelier. “Maybe you can join me on the trapeze. Show the kids how it’s done, Little WIng.” 

Jason moved his foot a little closer to Roy’s, letting the steady warmth and pressure ground him. “I haven’t been on a trapeze in years, Dick. You should probably lower your expectations there. Bet I can kick your ass on the sparring mats, though.” 

“Language, Master Jason,” Alfred’s voice was disapproving, but layered with fondness. 

Damian looked very pleased with this arrangement. “That would be acceptable. Richard, I hope your ego can stand a little bruising in the ring.” 

Dick sputtered in indignation, and really Jason knew the older man could probably still outmatch him for skill any day of the week. Still, he’d picked up a lot in the last couple years. Maybe he could actually give Grayson a run for his money now. Maybe they could train together once in a while. Regardless, it was flattering to hear Damian’s confidence in his abilities. 

“Tell the Replacement to join us if he can,” he interrupted Dick’s argument with Damian. “I’d like to see what Shiva taught him.”

Dick’s smile returned. “I’ll do that,” he agreed.  

Damian sniffed, and Jason raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m getting the impression you’re not Timmy’s biggest fan, kiddo.” 

He didn’t miss the quick glance at Dick, as Damian tried to figure out what he could say without getting scolded. “Tt. Drake is not a threat. Merely a pain. He insists on trying to convince me that cats are superior to dogs.” 

Dick’s mouth twitched. 

“Cats are pretty cool.” Roy’s tone was just a hair too casual. 

Damian glared at him. “ Obviously . The point is that you cannot compare different animals as though they were different brands of yogurt. A cat is a cat and a dog is a dog, and they are each superior to humans in their own ways. Yet Drake insists on insulting dogs in his campaign for a cat! He doesn’t even live here! He’s not allergic! My choice of pet is entirely irrelevant to him! He has no reason to have an opinion on this except to annoy me!” 

“Inside voices, Master Damian.” 

Damian slouched in his chair, but muttered an apology. 

Dick reached over and patted his shoulder. “That’s what brothers are for, Dami.” 

Damian turned the glare on him. “Drake is not my brother.” 

“Sure. He just teases you and takes you to the art museum and lets you get away with stealing his sesame candies. Are you trying to tell me you’ve never annoyed Tim or Lian just for the fun of it?” 

“If he does, he’s a liar,” Jason drawled. 

Damian’s expression was one of deepest betrayal. “Baba, you are meant to be on my side!” 

“Yogurt duel,” Jason said, and reveled for a moment in Damian’s scowl. Then the kid whipped around to face Dick and Bruce. 

“How careless of me. You wished to hear stories of my time with Baba, yes? Have I not told you of the time Baba dressed up in an Easter bunny costume?”

Shit. Jason had miscalculated. 

Dick lit up like the damn Rockefeller Christmas tree. “You have not.” 

Roy was already snickering, and Jason had miscalculated badly, thinking Damian was more embarrassed about that story than him. Apparently that was true only when the audience was his own peers. The kid launched into the story, and even Bruce’s mouth was doing that thing that was the equivalent of a full belly laugh from most people. 

“Please tell me there’s photos,” Dick begged. 

“I shall give names to Gordon, so she–” 

“Nope, no photos–” 

“If nothing is accessible to her, I can sketch you–” 

“Damian, I swear–” 

“Damian, I will commission an oil painting from you.” 

Jason jabbed his fork in his son’s direction. “You will get no baked goods for three months.” 

Damian didn’t even hesitate. “Alfred will still make me cookies. I shall survive. A commission, you say?” 

Jason’s head thumped against the table, and Roy patted him on the back. Any comfort in the gesture was rather ruined by the fact the redhead was laughing louder than anyone else. Still, as the group continued to tease and Dick stole a strawberry from Bruce’s plate, something eased in Jason’s chest. He was still tired. He would still go home and take out the remaining tension on a punching bag before sleeping for a whole eight hours. 

But today had gone better than he’d dared hope. It was probably temporary. An attempt at peace that would break down the second he and Bruce finally talked about any of the hundred topics they were avoiding. Still. Better than he’d hoped for. Damian was smiling. 

He sat up, leaning back in his chair and running a hand down Lian’s back. She kicked her feet, tossing a blueberry onto his plate. The conversation skewed to Roy and Damian teasing Dick, who wailed and draped himself over Bruce’s arm. Bruce’s mouth curled into that shape again, and his eyes caught Jason’s for a moment. 

The faint smile and the crinkle of his eyes didn’t fade. He didn’t look away. 

Lian tugged at Jason’s sleeve, and he took the excuse to break eye contact, turning to tear up some more crepe for her. Yeah. He could come back next week. Just to see Damian’s training, and get more of Alfred’s cooking. 

Chapter Text

Jason stared down at the little green icon. He’d avoided looking at the stats Tim had insisted on sending him, unsure of how it would effect him. Part of him didn’t want to stop being angry. Part of him was scared it would break him entirely, and erase any hope of truce even for Damian’s sake. Hell, maybe Tim was blowing everything out of proportion, and the stats wouldn’t mean anything to him at all in the grand scheme of Gotham. But…after the way brunch went, he thought maybe he needed to know. One way or the other. 

Roy and Lian were playing in the living room. The redhead had found her a baby drum set at a secondhand store. Last time Jason checked on them, their daughter had been doing her level best to punch a hole through the tom toms with a turquoise plastic drumstick. 

He tapped the screen, and the screen filled with text. Dates, injuries, casualty rates, fatalities , all immaculately catalogued. A few lines were highlighted. He didn’t need notes to understand most of them. One month after Jason’s death. His adoption date. His birthday. 

On each, and the days leading up to them, the numbers skewed dramatically upward. Batman’s injuries racked up. Hospitalizations increased. On August 17, two fatalities. Not directly at Batman’s hands, but…Tim’s notes described how Batman had pushed harder than he should have during a car chase. There had been no predicting the fugitives’ tire blowing out. It was also clearly part of a pattern. 

Days later, another highlighted entry marked Tim’s debut as Robin. 

The numbers dropped. 

Jason’s phone tumbled to the floor as he raced for the bathroom. He barely made it to the sink, let alone the toilet, before bile forced its way up his throat. He vomited twice, gripping the edges of the sink. 

Bruce had…Bruce hadn’t killed the Joker. That hadn’t changed. That was the core of everything, and that hadn’t changed. Batman hadn’t cared enough for losing Jason to make anything change. 

Except. 

Batman had been responsible for the deaths of two random henchmen on an August night. He’d coded twice in four months. Three of the highlighted dates marked times that Diana and Clark had stepped in. Gordon had almost stopped working with the Bat. 

That didn’t sound like a man who didn’t care. 

Joker was still alive. 

He didn’t know if this was a relief or if it hurt worse than before. 

“Jaybird?” 

Jason didn’t look up, but he fumbled for the faucet, slapping on the cold water. Roy waited, swaying in the doorway with Lian. 

He needed air. Needed to get to the rooftops or that one safehouse with the good punching bag, and just move . But Lian– Lian had Roy. Lian would be fine for a couple hours. They weren’t on the run anymore, and she and Roy were doing fine together. Jason was allowed to take a break. He wasn’t doing any of this alone anymore. 

“I need to take a walk,” he said aloud.

Roy nodded. “Alright. If you’re not coming home tonight, let me know.” 

Jason swallowed. “I’ll be home.”

~~~~~

He did, hours later. Jason’s knuckles were split and his muscles aching, but he could breathe again. He hadn’t let himself go on the streets. It felt…too close to the things he’d read. 

Lian was sleeping when he got back. Roy sat hunched over the coffee table, tinkering with a mass of wires and rings that Jason couldn’t begin to guess at the purpose of. He scanned Jason as he came in, doing a quick injury check, then went back to his project. “Want to talk about it?” 

Jason grunted, sinking onto the couch beside him. 

Roy raised one eyebrow, a flicker of humor crossing his face. “Right.” 

Jason let his head fall back against the couch cushions, and stared at the cracked ceiling. “Batman’s a son of a bitch.” 

“No argument here.” 

Jason scrubbed a hand through his hair, and finally let out a long breath. “I read some records Tim sent me. Doesn’t change anything. Joker still has to die, and I’ve still got work to do.” 

Roy set down his mess of wires. “You don’t have to do it all today. You want a cup of tea?” 

Jason made a face. “Not yours.” 

Roy rolled his eyes. “Picky, picky.” 

The redhead led the way to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. This was apparently all he was allowed to do, as Jason began pulling tins and mugs out of the cabinets. 

“You want any?” 

“If you’re making and offering.” Roy popped open the battered cookie jar, probably made in 1978 going by the avocado green plastic. Ugly as sin, but it did its job well. He pulled out a piece of lemon shortbread and hopped up to sit on the counter. 

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Jason’s movements were muted with exhaustion, but he didn’t spill a single leaf as he measured out tea into an infuser and arranged the pot and mugs to be ready. That done, he leaned back against the counter, his hip brushing Roy’s knee. 

Roy resisted the urge to drape himself around the younger man’s shoulders, or run a hand through his hair. Jason wasn’t cuddly with anyone but Lian and Damian. Even this little bit of touch was unusual. Whatever he’d read had hit him like an entire spaceship. “I’ve got a question,” he said slowly. “Tell me to fuck off if you need to, but I think it’s time I asked. Does it have to be you – or one of the Bats – who kills Joker?”

Jason flinched, but didn’t pull away or punch him. “Nobody else is gonna do it,” he mumbled. 

Roy slouched forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “I would. I will, if you let me.” 

Jason’s head snapped to the right, and he stared into Roy’s eyes. Roy didn’t blink. 

“Y– They wouldn’t– You can’t.” 

“Because I’m not able or because I’m not allowed? I need to know the difference, Jay. Because he’s gotten enough years of your life, and I don’t like that bastard drawing breath in the same city as you and the kids a day longer than he has to.” 

“He’s…” Jason ran a hand down his face, catching his breath. “Bruce wouldn’t do it for me. I’ve got to handle it for the kids.” 

“I care about them, too, Jay.” And you , went unspoken. 

Jason folded his arms tight across his chest. “You can’t, Roy. If he decides you’re a killer, he’ll run you out of Gotham.” 

“But not you.” It wasn’t a disagreement. More a clarification. 

Jason snorted, clearly trying to sound less shaken than he was. “As Batman seems to see it, I’m his responsibility. His mistake. He knows enough about the shit I’ve done – am doing. I’ve got my own claim to Gotham that he can’t deny. He might…Joker isn’t your responsibility. You’re not Batman’s responsibility.” 

The logic was shakier than a bridge made of toothpicks, but Roy didn’t fight him on it. He’d gotten his answer. Jason wanted either the Bats to kill Joker, or to do it himself. Joker was still in a cell for now. Next time he got out, Roy would let Jason have his chance. Jason deserved to have the chance to take the clown out himself. But Roy would be ready to step in and handle shit. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch while his daughter’s dad – one of his few friends – was cut down again. 

He already had a plan 90% put together. If Dick wanted to fight him on this, Roy was happy to fight. He’d woken with Jason from too many nightmares, seen too many people’s grief at the mention of the clown, and spent too many hours considering what he would do if the bastard got out. Dick could hate him if he needed to. As long Roy’s people were alive; Dick included. 

They drank their tea, and talked about inventions and the latest updates to the clinics, and eventually crawled into bed. Lian huffed, curling into Jason’s chest. He laid an arm across the pillows, sheltering her between them. Roy pillowed his head on one of his own arms, already half-asleep. 

“Thanks.” 

He almost didn’t catch the word, but when he opened his eyes Jason was looking at him over Lian’s downy head. “Hm?” 

“For offering. No one else has.” 

Roy huffed softly. “‘Course, Jaybird. Just say the word. You take care of your people. Least we can do is be willing to take care of you.” 

~~~~~

Hood slammed into the alley wall with a grunt, retaliating with a kick to the goon’s chest that sent him flying into a coworker. His ribs ached, and he was very glad right now for the protection of the gear Roy helped him design. 

“Evening, Hood! Looks like you could use a hand!” 

Jason gritted his teeth, pistol whipping another goon with his empty gun. “‘M fine!” 

“Fun fact: I don’t believe you.” Nightwing flipped and swung his way down from the rooftops, landing feet-first on the face of one of the mob enforcers. 

He fell into step alongside Hood, and suddenly it was like they’d never been apart. Even after years of outside training, it seemed there was enough of the Robin style in Red Hood’s movements that they still fit together. Or maybe of the Bat, as he played the tank to Nightwing’s smooth, flitting movements. 

The last enforcer hit the ground, and Hood turned on Nightwing. “The hell are you doing in Crime Alley? I told you all to keep out.” 

“Ah, well, I figured that was before brunch, and things might be different now. Also, you let me stay for dinner that one time. Is patrol really that different?” 

“Yes,” Hood snapped, frisking one of the fallen goons. 

“Well, I’m here now, and it’s a really slow night everywhere else, so I’m bored and you’re stuck with me. What are we up to tonight?” 

“Your mom.” 

“Ah, good one.” 

Red Hood dragged the unconscious man’s hand up so he could unlock said man’s phone with his thumb. “Attaboy, Ted. What have we got here?” 

Nightwing leaned over to admire the cyberwave wallpaper as Hood navigated through the phone. “Oooh, Ted’s got decent taste. Very cool. Very Gotham. Very nouveau-hench.” 

Hood found the info he was looking for. A sale at an empty hotel near the end of Wilson Street. It also looked bigger than he’d anticipated. He could probably manage it by himself, but Roy would yell at him while patching him up after. He’d be right to. 

He looked up, scanning Nightwing’s posture. The other man stood at ease, just a trace of tension in his posture like he expected Jason to punch him and grapple away. Batman had insisted on non-lethal shots on joint operations. Jason had agreed to that. Tonight’s targets weren’t trafficking people or anything particularly high-tech. Hood’s own people were occupied with Black Mask’s people making nuisances of themselves. 

Hood stood up, pulling out his grappling hook. “Fine. You want in, get moving.” 

Nightwing whooped and followed him to the rooftops. Hood led the way, resisting the urge to do a couple flips of his own on the way. If he started showing off, it was a contest he couldn’t possibly win, and he wasn’t going to willingly embarrass himself. 

They paused half a block from the hotel, Nightwing rocking on the balls of his feet as he stopped to check in. “What’s the move?” There was a more serious note in his voice. 

Hood ran a thermal scan, checking positions. “They’re on the third floor. I go in first. They won’t be expecting you, so we’ll have a moment after you come in. They won’t know if you’re there for them or me. I’ll go in through the fourth floor, you take the window.” 

Nightwing nodded, then dug something out of one of the little pockets hidden throughout his suit. He dropped it into Red Hood’s palm. “Already tuned to our channel.” 

An earpiece. Hood blinked at it, then gave himself a moment to pull his expression together before fitting it place opposite his Roy-built comm. There was a moment of silence, then a familiar female voice in his ear. 

“Red Hood, do you copy?” 

“This is Hood, I copy.” 

The voice softened. “Good to hear your voice, Hood. Been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and call me.” 

He swallowed. “We got a drug bust going down, anything we should know?” 

There was a brief pause, a few muted keystrokes. “Booby traps in the stairwell. Disarm manually before moving in.” 

“Got it. Thanks…” 

“Oracle.” 

“Oracle,” he echoed. “Good name.” 

“Wish I could say the same, kiddo.” There was a teasing note in her voice, layered with the awkwardness. 

“It’s reclaiming and shit.” 

“Ah yes, you put the killing thing in your mouth but don’t give it the power to do its killing, right?” 

He grinned, a lump forming in his throat as he recognized a quote he’d ranted to her about years ago. “You know me, Oracle. Always a sucker for a metaphor.” 

“Do I ever,” she laughed. “Alright, Nightwing, Red Hood. Traps along the north wall in the stairwell. Guards at all entrances, mostly firearms. You are a go for entry.”

“Copy that.” He locked eyes with Nightwing, who snapped off a salute, and Red Hood moved in. 

The booby traps were simple enough to disarm; a pretty dirt-tier effort to take out any Bats coming in from the rooftops. Red Hood was slamming through the stairwell door within a minute. Five guards along the corridor. Three suites in use as storage and meeting space. 

He took out the guards with leg and hand shots. Nothing lethal – Barbie would have 911 here before anyone bled out – but enough to take them out of the equation moving forward. A suite door swung open. He kneecapped the first guy, kicking him back through the door into his coworkers. These guys had more warning than those in the hallway. Guns were already coming up. 

The window shattered. A blue and black blur swept into the room, taking down two of the guys before they could flinch. The confusion bought them a second. It was enough for Hood to move in low and fast, clearing one– two more. Nightwing pinned another, zip-tying him. 

A scuffle sounded in the hall. Nightwing rose up and shot through the door in one smooth  motion. Hood was right on his heels. They moved through the next rooms like a machine. Part of Jason had to admit that he had missed this. Running the rooftops, Nightwing moving smooth as oil at his side, the dance of fighting alongside someone who knew exactly how you fought, and how to guard your weak points. He wasn’t Robin anymore – couldn’t pull off all the flippy shit that he used to and Nightwing still did – but they still knew each other. Oracle’s voice occasionally came through, with an ETA or warning. It was new and achingly familiar all at once. 

The last body dropped, and Nightwing cinched zipties in place before turning to Hood. 

“All clear?” 

“All clear,” Oracle and Hood both confirmed. 

A sunshine and daisies smile blossomed across his face, and he shook dark waves of hair out of his lenses. “Good work, everyone.” He flowed to his feet, offering Red Hood his hand. After the briefest hesitation, Hood shook it. 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Thanks for the assist, Oracle.” 

“Always happy to partner up, Hood.” He heard the silent caveat that this counted as the kind of partnership he’d have to stay non-lethal for. 

Fine. Nothing came without strings. He didn’t need her. 

Nightwing turned his attention to the stacks along the walls. “The product’s cut, right? It can’t–” 

Jason saw a flicker in the hall and was in motion before he could think, slamming Nightwing to the ground mid-sentence. The gunshot echoed around the room, and his own pistol was up and firing before Nightwing could recover. The shooter in the hallway went down, and Hood followed through, springing back to his feet and through the doorway. The shooter moaned, huddled over his shattered knee, and Hood took a moment to disarm him and knock him unconscious. He double checked the hall and surrounding rooms before coming back to Nightwing. 

The older man was sitting in a puddle of red. Fuck . He tried to give Hood a thumbs up and a reassuring smile, but Jason wasn’t having it. He shoved his gun back in the holster and glared down at Dick. A pressure bandage had already been fixed around his torso, but there was way too much blood on the floor for Jason to feel at ease. 

“He hit you.” 

“Grazed.” Nightwing flapped a hand, lurching to his feet. “As I was saying, the shipment’s cut, so we can’t let it get back on the streets–” 

“Oracle?” 

“I’ll handle it,” she assured. 

Hood snaked an arm around Nightwing’s waist and hauled him over his shoulder. “Come on, dumbass.” 

Nightwing wriggled, trying to slide free. “I’m fine. I can get to the Cave.” 

“Like hell you are.” He headed out the same window Nightwing had smashed earlier. 

Nightwing grumbled. “There’s no reason to drag me to Leslie’s. She doesn’t need to get woken up for this.” 

“Not going to Leslie. She’s on the other side of the Alley, and she deserves her sleep. Just not letting you go all the way back to the Cave or Bludhaven without getting that looked at. With my luck you’d bleed out halfway, and Batman would decide I murdered you.”

Nightwing made a noise, but it sounded more thoughtful than annoyed now. He let Hood carry him the few blocks to his and Roy’s apartment. 

Chapter Text

Jason had pinged Roy on the way over. He was already waiting in the living room, med kit open and eyebrow raised, when Hood dragged Nightwing through the door. 

“Heard you got got.” 

“Pssh, just a scratch.” 

“Scratches don’t bleed like that, Dickhead. Sit your ass down.” 

“You heard the man.” Roy waved him onto the couch and perched himself on the coffee table. “Jay, want to grab me a clean cloth and some water while I help Dick get the suit off?” 

Jason strode off to the bathroom, and Roy raised his eyebrows at Dick. 

“It’s a graze,” Dick muttered. 

“Pretty deep one, but yep.” 

Dick turned toward the bathroom door, letting Roy help him ease out of the top half of his suit. “Huh.” 

“If you’re surprised, you shouldn’t be. This has been coming since he let you stay for pork chops.” 

“You think?” Dick didn’t meet his gaze. 

“Let him fuss. It’ll be good for both of you.” Roy set the top aside as Jason came back in with a wet cloth. 

“Arm up, Dickface. Dumb as shit, getting hit like that. You told me you got that hallway cleared.” 

“Thought I had, Jay.” Dick flinched as Jason started cleaning the wound. “Couldn’t spare any warm water for that?” 

Jason snorted. “Like you deserve warm water after a stupid fucking move like that–” 

“You got me down, Little Wing. It’s a graze, that’s all.” 

Jason flicked his ear, and Dick yelped. Roy hid a grin as he ripped open a suture packet. 

“Talking like I ain’t got better shit to do than save your ass. Like you can just run around trusting Red goddamn Hood to just magically shield you from every stray fucking bullet! Magic swords don’t do shit against some goon with a Glock!” He glowered at his brother while Roy began to stitch up the wound. 

“Magic swords?” 

“We’re talking about bullets right now.” 

“Sounds like there’s something to talk about with the magic swords.” 

“I’d like to know about the magic swords,” Roy agreed. “I kinda thought you were joking before.” 

“Idiots who get themselves shot in a sloppy raid don’t get to hear about the magic swords.” 

“ I didn’t get shot. Can I hear about the magic swords later?” 

Jason turned the death stare on Roy, who grinned unrepentantly up at him. “Shoulda left you both in a gutter,” he muttered. 

“But ya didn’t,” Roy sang, knowing that was as good as a promise. He fastened off the last stitch, practiced hands making quick work of the task, and began bandaging Dick’s side. 

Dick reached for the top half of his costume, and Jason smacked his hand away. “You’re here now. You’re not going back on the rooftops and ripping out all Roy’s work. Babs would have my guts for garters if I let you waltz off after you got shot on my watch.” 

Roy winked at Dick, who eased back against the couch cushions. “You’re letting me stay the night?” 

“Don’t make a habit of it.” Jason headed for the bedroom, still muttering under his breath. 

Roy picked up the suture supplies, shrugging. “No argument from me. He’d probably throw a book at my head. I’ll grab you some blankets.” He followed Jason, and came back out a minute later with a couple of lightweight blankets and a well-worn sweatshirt. 

Dick took them carefully, fidgeting with the faded hem of the quilt on top. 

Roy sat on the coffee table again, studying his face. “You good, man? Any other injuries I should know about?” 

“Nope. Just…” Dick lowered his voice, “appreciating this.” 

Roy kicked him lightly in the shin. “Far as I’m concerned, if it gets you to stop being a massive hypocrite and actually rest after an injury, Jay can be as much of a grumpy mother hen as he likes.”

Dick lifted his chin. “He’s actually coming home, isn’t he, Roy?” he whispered. 

Roy’s face softened. “You gotta give him time, Rob. But yeah. He’s coming home.” 

Dick didn’t cry, but his eyes were unfocused, and he nodded slowly. Roy thought back to the days after Jason’s death. The brothers hadn’t known each other long enough to get especially close. Not when Dick was still avoiding the Manor for most of the time Jason lived there. But Dick had been wrecked in the months after he got the news. Roy could remember all too vividly the way Dick had sobbed on his couch after killing the Joker; whispering about how his little brother was still gone. 

Dick had been giving hope to everyone else since he was a sassy scrap of a kid. He would hold onto it with teeth and claws. But once he gave it up, he didn’t reclaim it easy. For all Dick’s joy at seeing Jason breathing and yelling and running again, it seemed he hadn’t quite let himself hope that his brother was really back. That there was any hope for a future with Jason in his life. 

Something had clicked tonight, and Roy was glad to see it. The Bats never did anything nice and easy, but they might be through the worst of this. His friends had been through too much shit over the years. They deserved something better, and maybe they were finally getting it. 

He clapped Dick on the knee and left him to his thoughts, heading back to bed. He’d offer it up and take the couch himself, but Lian still slept in there, and her sleeping positions weren’t exactly considerate of bullet wounds. They’d never gotten around to getting that second bed. Jason still lay awake, watching the slow rise and fall of Lian’s chest. 

“I got Dick tucked in,” Roy said softly. “We’ll feed him some red meat and spinach in the morning, and he’ll be alright.” 

Jason didn’t reply, but he didn’t turn away. Just ran his hand over Lian’s head. Roy pulled off his shirt and burrowed under the blankets on Lian’s other side, letting a yawn break through. He took a moment to ground himself in the steady sound of Jason and Lian’s breathing, and the light rustle of the linens. He’d almost drifted off when a sudden realization made his eyes pop open. He stared up at the blue-tinted ceiling in horror. Dick had just watched him follow Jason into the bedroom. Dick was not an idiot. Dick did not know about Lian’s sleep issues. Dick was already deep in protective older brother mode. 

Roy was dead meat. 

~~~~~

“Hi!” 

He’d set Lian down for all of five seconds to pull on a clean shirt and jeans. Roy ran out of the bedroom to find his toddler standing beside the couch, mouth positioned approximately .02 inches from Dick’s left ear. 

“Hi! Hi!” she shrieked again, clutching the cushions to steady herself. 

Dick blinked blearily at her, before relaxing back into the couch. “Hi,” he croaked. 

Lian bounced on her heels in a little dance, clearly pleased to be acknowledged. “Hi!” 

“Sorry. I swear she’s secretly a speedster.” 

Dick waved a hand. “You think I’m mad my niece was so excited to see me that she escaped to tell me good morning? Hey, Little Bit.” He reached up, ruffling Lian’s hair. 

She blew a raspberry in his face and swayed her hips. 

Dick grinned. “Oh, absolutely, Miss Lian. Couldn’t agree more.” 

Roy propped his hands on his hips, trying not to look too nervous. “There’s, uh– Jason’s making breakfast. I’m about to put some coffee on.” 

“I’ll never say no to coffee.” Dick was still smiling, but it was just a touch too sharp. Fuck. Fuck . 

“Great!” Roy winced and scooped Lian up, making his escape to the kitchen. He tried to flash Jason a silent SOS, but the dear dumbass was entirely focused on chopping mushrooms. Awesome. Great. 

“Sleep alright, Little Wing?” 

“Fine. Roy, grab me the eggs?” Roy set Lian on the floor and opened the fridge, passing Jason the egg carton. Jason flipped it open and started cracking eggs into a bowl. “Just store-bought. No fancy farm-fresh eggs like Alfie’s. So don’t get too excited, Dickface.” 

“I’m sure anything you make will be delicious, Little Wing,” Dick chirped. 

Jason gave him a suspicious look, but seemed to decide Dick was being weird because of the whole coming back from the dead and saving Dick’s life thing. “You bet your ass.” 

Roy filled the coffee maker, feeling Dick’s gaze burning holes in his back. 

Here’s the thing. Dick wasn’t…okay, he could be an asshole, and overprotective, and kind of a control freak, and he had a temper. But he wasn’t one to tell people what to do with their bodies. He wasn’t likely to be mad that Jason was sleeping with someone. He definitely wouldn’t be mad that Roy was sleeping with someone. Worried, maybe, given that they’d discussed his goal of waiting until he’d been sober a year to date anyone. And just, like, Roy’s dating history in general. Roy couldn’t even fault him for that one. 

But right now, Dick definitely thought Roy and Jason had lied about being together. Pretty brazenly. While Roy was only a few months clean and Jason was setting himself up as a drug lord. And with Lian in the middle of everything. 

Yeah, Dick was pissed . Mostly at Roy. Maybe at both of them. 

He was going to have to talk Dick down, but he wasn’t sure how yet. This wasn’t made easier by the fact that Jason was…

Roy risked a sideways look at Jason, sliding the coffee pot into place. The younger man was moving with his usual easy grace. Flipping and slicing and stirring with calm efficiency. His hair was still rumpled from sleep, that white forelock curling crookedly over his eyes. His baggy t-shirt was skewed toward one shoulder, giving a glimpse of scarred and tanned skin down his neck and collarbone. A pile of fruit sat to one side, neatly cut and ready for their daughter. 

Here’s the thing. They weren’t together. It would be a really bad idea for them to be together. 

But Dick Grayson was a human lie detector, and Jason Todd was objectively really goddamn hot. If Dick asked him anything beyond “are you dating,” Roy was fucking dead. 

If Jason was present to witness that conversation, Roy was fucking doomed. 

“I slept fine, too. Comfy couch you’ve got there. Guess it’d have to be, if you’ve been sleeping on it for months.” 

Awareness finally sparked on Jason’s face, and his eyes narrowed. He started to turn, and Roy braced himself. 

“Dada.” One of the kitchen chairs thumped as it caught on a crack in the linoleum. Lian, who had been using it as a walker, scowled. Her expression mirrored Jason’s in miniature.

Roy cleared his throat. “Maybe we can have this conversation after breakfast?” he tried. At least then he’d have a little more time to think about his response. (He’d been stressing all night, and hadn’t come up with one yet). 

“No, if you’ve got–” Jason broke off, his gaze snapping downward. Lian toddled across the space between the table and counter, latching onto Roy’s pant leg. “Holy shit.” 

Roy stared down at their daughter. 

She tugged on his jeans, stretching one arm upward. “Dada.” 

“Holy– oh my god!” 

“Holy shit!” Jason dropped his spatula as Roy scooped Lian into his arms. “She just walked!” 

“Like three whole steps!” 

“Holy shit!” Jason was practically glowing, all his anger forgotten. He reached out to cradle Lian’s face in his hands, planting a smacking kiss on her forehead. “You did it, dart! Look at you go!” 

“You’re gonna take over the world, baby girl! You did such a good job!” 

“Were those her first steps?” Dick asked, his voice strained but no longer cutting. 

“They sure were! Are you proud of yourself, yazh? Yeah, you should be!” 

Lian looked slightly confused, but pleased with the sudden burst of attention. She accepted a bit more praise, then wriggled, peeking over Roy’s shoulder. “Mumumah!” 

Roy laughed, rebalancing her. “Oh, you want food? Is that what was so important?” 

“Da!” 

“Alright.” he shuffled her to his hip. “Alright, let’s get you in your chair and you can have some fruit.” 

“You got her?” 

“I got her. You finish up what you’re doing, Jaybird.” 

Jason ruffled her hair, gave her another kiss, and reluctantly went back to the omelet he’d been making. “Damian’s gonna be mad he missed it.” 

“We’ll have him over for a sleepover to help make up for it. Let him spoil her all he likes.” 

“Yeah. I think he’d like that.” 

“He’d probably love it,” Dick agreed. Roy checked on him, his stomach swooping as he remembered the burgeoning fight that Lian had interrupted. Dick wasn’t glaring at anyone, though, or braced to yell. His attention flicked between them before he held Roy’s gaze. He gave Roy a hesitant smile. 

Roy felt his shoulders relax. They’d still have to talk this out, but Dick was going to wait and give him that chance. He’d decided to step back and trust them. To trust Roy. Roy had worked hard to win that trust back; was still working on it. He wasn’t going to let Dick – or any of them – down. 

~~~~~

“Jay!” The front door closed too hard. Jason dropped the board book he’d been reading to Lian. Roy had left less than two hours before. There was no reason for him to be back this early. He was barely off the couch, Lian in his arms, when Roy reached them. 

“What the hell, Roy?” 

“You haven’t-” Roy’s gaze flickered, and he held up his hands. They were still stained with grease from the shop, and he was breathing a little too hard. He must have sprinted home. “Jay, I need you to sit down for me. There’s some news, and I need you to sit.” 

Jason felt his stomach fall. He didn’t sit, but he set Lian down, suddenly stone-tense. She scowled, grabbing the book and reopening it. “Roy.” 

“The Joker’s dead, Jay.” 

Roy kept talking, but Jason barely heard him. Joker was dead. All the plans he’d made, all the careful calculations, all the gathering of his courage…it was over. The clown was dead. Dead. 

“Who?” His mouth felt numb. Everything felt numb. 

“A civilian. No one’s giving anything up, but from what I can tell, just some bystander who’d had enough. Can you breathe for me, Jaybird?” 

The whole world was green. Jason closed his eyes, and tried to recall any of the breathing patterns he’d learned. The Joker was dead. Put down like the rabid animal he was. He thought he might laugh, but that didn’t feel right, and he swallowed it down. Took another deep breath. Lian was tugging at his pant leg. 

“Roy, look after her. The streets are going to be a mess.” 

“Jason, what-” Roy followed him to the bedroom-turned-office. “Jay, Where are you going? You shouldn’t be out there right now-”

Jason yanked open his closet door, dragging his gear out of its hidden compartment. “There’s going to be a power vacuum, Roy. A bloody one. I had plans – was going to step in – but not all of that’s in place yet, so now it’s going to be a fucking mess. I’ve got work to do.” 

“You need to get your head on straight. Give yourself a minute, Jay, for chrissake.” 

Jason kicked off his pants, dragging on the undersuit. “Roy, I’d love nothing more than to curl in a ball and sob for a few days. Maybe drink a liquor store. Maybe set off some fireworks.” His voice was eerily calm. “But people are going to die if I don’t get out there, and that’ll be on me, because I can do something to stop it. Thank you for giving me the news. I’ll be home in a few days when I know I won’t be tracked here. Now get the hell out of my way.” He began strapping on his holsters. 

“Dammit, Jay, you need backup! Joker wasn’t the only one who broke out–” 

“Can’t. Not on this one. Batman’s got his rules, and now’s not the time for self-righteousness.” Jason grabbed his domino and half-mask, double checked his ammunition, pulled up his hood, and mentally ran through his safehouses. “There’s meals stocked in the freezer. Don’t leave the apartment if you can help it. You’ve got comms if you need anything. I love you, Lian! I’ll be home soon! Be good for your dad!” 

“Jason Todd, don’t fucking walk away from me!” 

Jason was already sliding out the living room window, grappling to the next roof. A few seconds later, he heard Roy cussing over their comms. He lowered the volume to something not deafening, but didn’t mute that channel with the rest. He needed to focus, but he also needed to know if something happened at home. He was pretty sure Roy wouldn’t follow him. He’d keep Lian safe. 

Chapter Text

“Fuck!” Roy spun away from the window, snatching Lian up from the couch before she could tip onto the floor. “I’m sorry, yazh, I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re okay. You’re alright. Your baba’s just being…he’s having a rough day right now.” He bounced her on his hip, pacing the apartment. He had a costume for emergencies, but he couldn’t leave Lian. Jason needed backup, but he couldn’t leave Lian. Jason was running on Pit fumes and panic, and he was going to get himself fucking killed out there, and Roy couldn’t leave Lian. 

Someone banged on the door, and Roy sprinted across the apartment, barely taking time to check the peephole before he yanked the door open. Dick shoved past him as soon as he registered it was Roy. 

“Jason?” 

“He’s out,” Roy snapped. “I told him, and he was out the window five seconds later.” 

“Shit!” Dick raked his hands through his hair. “Do you know where he went?” 

“I have a decent guess. He’s not going to listen to you, though. Not yet. Not today.” 

Dick didn’t argue, but he looked ready to punch a hole in the wall. Roy made a split-second decision, and shoved Lian at him. “I’ll go after him, but you need to take Lian to the Cave for me. She’ll be alright with Damian, and she’s safer there than anywhere. I’ll track Jason down.” 

“He’s my brother-” 

“And my daughter’s dad. I need you to trust me, Dick.”

"I'm not letting him go alone!" 

"He's not going to be alone this time, Dick!" 

They both froze, and Lian whimpered, looking up to Roy for comfort. He smoothed a hand down her back and met Dick’s gaze. "I'll bring him home. But we need you to get Lian to safety before the whole city's on fire. Please." 

Dick nodded, and Roy burst back into motion. He ran to suit up while Dick got Lian snuggled into her coat and carrier. Arsenal swung out the window as Dick closed the apartment door. Jason already had a good five minutes on him. Too long. Way, way too long. But he'd gotten hints of what Hood was planning – plausible deniability be damned – and if he was lucky, Hood would be delayed or have to detour for supplies. 

Roy was rarely lucky. 

~~~~~

People sobbed on apartment balconies. Held up their beers in toast as Hood swung past. Blasted party music as impromptu street parties formed. Despite everything else, Jason felt a surge of pride in his city. A bunch of cockroaches, this lot, and fucking nothing could stop them. Some random civilian shot an international terrorist, and the rest broke out a case of Stratton’s and turned up the bass. Not a person in this city had gone untouched by Joker’s violence. Who gave a shit if Scarecrow or Killer Croc was still on the loose? The clown was dead. 

It was V-J Day in Gotham, and the city was screaming with relief. 

It wouldn’t last long. Blood was already running in the lower city. Anyone with an ounce of ambition was reaching now. The Bats would handle most. Ivy, Penguin, Riddler, they’d mostly be celebrating the end of an old rival. If they got up to anything tonight, it would be spur of the moment and largely malice-free. Others would have more specific plans, or see what looked like an opportunity to claim the throne. 

The others were the ones Hood needed to deal with. He had the equipment, had the contingencies, but he needed to move before anyone had time to rally. There would be time to cry, or punch a wall, or whatever the hell else later. 

He opened his main comms channel. “Cam, check in,” he snapped. 

His comms hissed for a second, then stabilized. “All good here, boss man. The folks are heading to stations, civilians are bunkering down. Schools all let out, so the kids are coming home already. Rosalita’s running headcounts.” 

“Patrols in place around the borders?” 

“Just headed out. You good, boss?” 

“Peachy. Eyes on Mask?” 

“Reported in his office five minutes ago.” 

“Good. Got a job to do, then I’ll be coming back to headquarters. You know what to do until then.” 

“Yes, boss. You stay safe out there, got it?” 

“I’ll be fine, Cam. Focus on your own work.” 

He made a detour at a safehouse near the Fashion District, then grappled to a rooftop not far from Sionis’s headquarters. He knew his target, knew his plan and a half dozen contingencies inside and out. Jason wasn't wasting time or breath on taunts or warnings. He wasn’t here to goad anyone. Black Mask had murdered a Robin. Sionis would take Joker’s spot in the food chain if he had any opening to do so. He needed to be put down, and now. 

Someone landed on his left, and Hood spun. 

Arsenal raised his hands, looking warily at the rocket launcher cradled on Jason’s shoulder. “Whoa, boy.” 

“Where’s L-” Hood cut himself off, trying not to scream in frustration. “Where is she?” 

“Nightwing’s taking her to the Cave. She’s safer there than anywhere else. He stopped by about five seconds after you left, scared as hell. Managed to convince him to take her so I could follow you.” Arsenal folded his arms. “You don’t leave like that. You don’t fucking disappear into a city-wide meltdown with no known backup and no one knowing where you’re headed. You don’t leave me and L with no idea when you’re coming home, or if you’re likely to come back at all!”

“You shouldn’t be involved in this,” Hood snapped. 

“News flash, Hood, I’m involved! I’ve been involved since you showed up with my kid in your arms and short a quart of blood on her account! Stop trying to protect me, and let me make my own damn choices!” 

“If you’re associated with me – with this – they’ll try to run you out of Gotham!” 

“They want nothing more than for you to come home! I’m living with you, Hood, Christ! Our kid will never get over it if you don’t come home to her! Let me have your goddamn back!” 

“She needs at least one of us! If I don’t come home, I need to know you’ll still be there!” 

Arsenal punched him. Hood rocked back, but kept his feet. 

“She needs us both, shit-for-brains! If I’m not expendable, you sure as hell aren’t!” 

Jason swayed, and they stared each other down for a long few breaths. He finally glanced down at the office a couple stories below. “It’s not a suicide mission. Mask killed the fourth Robin. Tortured her to death last year. If anyone’s going to step into Joker’s spot, it’s him. He’s organizing now. I won’t let him finish.” 

Arsenal nodded, a quick sharp movement. “I’m not here to be your conscience, Hood. I’m here as your daughter’s other parent. I’m here as your friend. You know this city and what it needs. But we need you, too.” 

Something twisted in his gut, desperate and bitter and he didn’t even know what else. “You got a grapple?” 

“Grapple arrows.” 

“Those are shit.” Hood pulled out his spare and tossed it to Arsenal. “Same principle, better design.” 

He turned back to the office building, shouldering the rocket launcher. There, a dark silhouette at the desk. He checked the scope, made a few mental notes, then fired. 

The windows shattered, flame belching out around twisted frames. Hood fired his grapple, waited a moment to make sure Arsenal’s was secure, then leapt off the rooftop, swinging down through the shredded wall. His boots crunched on glass and splintered wood, smeared with blood and soot. Arsenal landed behind him a breath later. 

Sionis was still alive, gasping on the floor beside what used to be his desk. Reaching deep within, Jason summoned the All-Blades. It had been a while since he had occasion to use them, but the copper swords manifested as bright and sleek as ever, flames lighting the wrecked office. “Robin IV sends her regards, Mask.” 

He struck three times, precise and quick. One for each dead Robin, and one for luck. He left the others untouched. The explosion had done plenty of damage, and he wasn’t certain the All-Blades would work on them. He’d made his point clear enough. 

If any witnesses lived, they could spread word that Red Hood wasn’t to be fucked with. Crime Alley wasn’t to be fucked with. Robin wasn’t to be touched. Gotham was turning upside-down, and Red Hood was going to make damn sure his people came out on top. 

He let the All-Blades disappear, taking a moment to steady himself before reaching for his grapple. Arsenal fired off a couple arrows, preventing anyone from trying to gun them down as they left. Hood led the way back out the window, retrieving his rocket launcher before heading north. Arsenal was quick to adjust to the new grapple, keeping up pace for pace. 

They were almost back to Hood’s territory when a small figure swung in front of them. He tucked and rolled in a blur of color, coming to his feet near the edge of the roof. Hood slid to a stop, forcing himself to take steadying breaths. 

Robin raised his hands, leaving his collapsed staff tucked in his belt. “I’m not here to fight.” 

Hood scanned the rooftops for Batman. He really couldn’t handle this right now. 

“I’m just here to say thank you.” 

Hood froze. 

“I don’t know if you did it for Steph, and don’t do it again, but…thank you.” 

Arsenal leaned past Red Hood. “Does Bats know you’re out here?” 

Robin shook his head. “Slipped away while he was focused on Scarecrow.” Robin looked from one to the other, and took the smallest step back. “I’m just here to say thank you, and let you know the baby’s safe at the Cave.” 

Arsenal looked up at Hood. “Yeah, I agree.” 

Hood nodded, and stepped forward, offering his hand. “Good to see you again, kid.” 

Robin’s mask lenses widened slightly. He reached out to shake Hood’s hand, glove to glove. 

In five seconds flat, he was hogtied and flung over Hood’s shoulder. 

“Let me go, you elephant!” 

“It’s a big day, and the Alley is dangerous for little birds out alone.” 

His comms buzzed, and a tense voice cut through the background chatter of his own people. “Red Hood, is Robin with you?” 

He knew that voice. He grinned, though there was no humor in it. “Heya, O. Don’t worry about the little bird. I’m just teaching him and Batman a little lesson about child safety.” 

“You just killed a rival crime lord, and Robin disappeared during a fight with Scarecrow. Forgive me for being a little on edge.” 

Hood fired his grapple, heading into Crime Alley. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, O. Joker’s dead, Black Mask is dead, my kids are safe. I’m gonna get Robin off the streets and check on my neighbors. You still like those blue sour candies?” 

A beat of silence. “I do.” 

“I’ll swing by once things settle down, drop off a bag and check in about the kids. Arsenal, say hi to Oracle!” 

“Hi to Oracle!” Arsenal sang over comms, sprinting along the rooftop beside him. 

He heard the faint drum of fingertips on a desk. “Robin is safe?” 

“Safe as he can be anywhere in these fancy duds. Tell Batman to focus on work tonight. His kid will be fine as long as mine are.” 

“The kid will be fine, Oracle.” Arsenal called. “We’re just gonna hang out with Hood’s people until the city calms down a little.” 

“That could be days!” Robin protested. 

“Roger that,” Oracle sighed. “But we are talking about this later.” 

“Never expected otherwise,” Hood drawled. 

~~~~~

A couple of his people scrambled to open the doors. Hood strode through, Robin still spitting curses from his shoulder. “Tsk-tsk, what would your mama say if she heard you talking like that?” 

“My mom’s dead, asshole!” 

“So’s mine; you’re not special.” 

“Mine too!” Arsenal tapped Robin on the nose. Robin snapped his teeth at him. 

Hood waved to Rosalita, who set down her box of bandages and hurried to meet them. “Update?” 

“Patrols are reporting in on schedule, some skirmishes but no major attacks yet. Mostly people being stupid. All kids on the check-in list are accounted for except Missie Jenks. She was planning to go home with a friend after school today. Might be there, but we can’t get ahold of them to check. Age 10, friend lives at Gaiman and Pool. Garcia’s on it, he’ll report in as soon as he learns anything. Got in touch with Thompkins; the clinic’s on standby and we’ve got the fleet gassed up.” 

“Good work. Tell someone to get this kid a set of clothes from the closet.” 

Rosalita eyed Robin with some consternation. “Do I need to tell the folks to brace for Batman in the pickup line?” 

“The Bat’s got bigger things to worry about today.” 

“Robin’s just here on a little exchange program,” Arsenal assured her. “He’ll be going home soon.” 

Robin grumbled, making another attempt at escape. This one was pretty half-hearted. He was in Red Hood’s headquarters now, and probably thinking of all the interesting intel he was suddenly able to access if he stuck around. 

They climbed up to Hood’s office, checking in with a couple more people on the way. Hood dumped Robin into his desk chair, and the kid came up swinging. Maybe not so resigned after all. Hood kicked him back, sending the chair sliding into the wall. “Calm down, kid. You’re just staying a night or two.” 

“You’re an asshole!” 

“What gave it away?” 

“So is this a hostage exchange now? You keep me until you get Lian back?” 

Jason sighed, taking off his half-mask. “Not a hostage. Lian’s coming home one way or another. She’s safer with Alfred and Damian than anywhere else right now. I didn’t sign off on Roy sending her there, but I’m not mad about it.” 

Robin frowned. “So why kidnap me?” 

“You’re a kid.” Roy hopped up on the desk, swinging his legs. “No kid should be on the streets right now.” 

“I’m sixteen! And it’s an emergency, if you hadn’t noticed!” 

“You told me you were done with Robin!” Jason threw the half-mask onto the desk. It toppled, and almost fell to the floor before Roy caught it. 

“Because I thought you were home!” Tim’s expression, even beneath the domino, was a tangled mess. “Batman needs a Robin!” 

“And where is he when you need him?! Shit, kid, you could have died a half dozen times by now, and the Bat wouldn’t even know where you were!” 

“Oracle would-” 

“Oracle can’t always be there! Batman can’t always be there! Nightwing can’t always be there! How many times in the last few years have you ended up on your own? How many Robins have to die before the Bat gets it through his head that there’s no excuse for child soldiers?!” He stopped, chest heaving. The kid huddled in his chair, staring up at him. “Fuck. If Wing still calls me his brother, you’re…I’m not letting any kid die on my watch.” 

Jason took a step back, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes must be bright green right now, probably shining through the domino. “No more dead Robins,” he rasped. 

There was a beat of silence, then Tim launched himself from the chair, flinging his arms around Jason’s waist. Jason swayed back, awkwardly patting the kid’s shoulder. 

“You’re still an asshole,” the kid mumbled into his jacket. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna change.” Jason looked over the kid’s head and saw Roy waggling his eyebrows and grinning. He glared back, mouthing a threat. Roy just grinned wider. 

There was a tap on the door, and Tim ducked away, his face red. Jason sighed. “Come in.” 

A kid with frizzy curls and wide eyes popped his head around the door, holding up a bundle of clothes. “Um, Miss Rosie told me to bring these up for Robin?” 

“Yeah, you can give ‘em to him. Thanks, Javi.” 

Javi handed the clothes to Robin like they were made of gold, staring up at him. Jason fought to keep a straight face. “What, is Robin cooler than me?” 

“Um.” Javi glanced from Hood to Robin and back again. 

Tim snickered. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Hood.” 

“Fuck off, shrimp,” he said easily. “Javi, you can tell Mr. Grady and Mx. Cam to come up. Mr. Shiro got something hot going?” 

“He’s making soup. You want some?”

“Bring up a bowl for Robin and one for Mr. Grady. He never eats enough.” 

“Yes, boss!” 

“I don’t need clothes.” 

“You’re gonna be here a while, and I know kevlar isn’t comfy to lounge around in,” Roy argued. “Wear the sweatpants, kid.” 

Jason pointed to a door with his pen, attention half on the notes that had been left on his desk. “You can change in the closet there.” 

The teen glared at him, then stalked over to the closet. “I can’t believe you’re literally making me go into a closet. This is biphobia.” 

Jason snorted. “Kid, I’m bi, and I’m not in the mood to argue. Put on the sweatpants.” 

Tim hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slammed the closet door behind him. Roy leaned toward Jason, peeking out from under the brim of his camo and orange trucker cap. “Did I know you’re bi?” 

“Prolly not. What it’s to ya?” 

“Nothing. Nothing.” Roy sat back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m bi.” 

Jason didn’t allow his expression to change. “Congrats. So’s half the Justice League. You’re not special.” 

Roy cackled. “When all your beefcake coworkers wear hot shorts or tights, it’s pretty hard not to come to some kind of awakening at an early stage.” 

Jason wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting. Don’t put those images in my brain.” 

“Oh, you don’t even know half of what the Titans-” 

“And I don’t want to, asshole. Shut your mouth before I staple it closed.” He would never admit it, but the banter did help a little. His brain felt slightly less like it was being shocked by a car battery. He could almost breathe, as long as he didn’t think too much. 

Tim came out (lol) in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans. Jason was pretty sure the kid was still wearing part of his suit underneath, but that was fine. He was mostly concerned with making the kid a less visible target, and trying to keep his own temper. It wasn't the kid's fault Jason heard laughter every time he saw those colors. Even if the kid had picked the worst possible day to swing by for a visit. 

Tim sat cross-legged on a chair near the end of Hood's desk, studying the older vigilantes. Hood shoved one of the bowls of stew at him. "Eat. You're too skinny." 

"Are you a crime lord or a grandma?" 

Roy flopped into another free chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. "I ask him this every day." 

"Get your nasty boots off my desk, you animal." He threw a pen at Roy, who caught it and started twirling it between his fingers. 

Tim poked at a chunk of potato with his spoon. He still wore the domino and kept his chin down, but Jason could feel him staring. "So. You're bi?" 

Jason raised his eyebrows, slumping against the desk. "That's your question? Not when you get to go home? Whether I’m going to take the Robin suit again? Why I kill people?" 

Tim shrugged, swallowing a sip of broth. “When things settle down here or when B panics and comes to pick me up. You can try to take the suit; I’m not giving it up again, I don’t care how pissed you are. I assume you kill because you believe Batman doesn't go far enough to protect people from repeat offenders or systemic injustice. I won't pretend I always agree with your methods, but-" he shrugged. "They're effective. I get it. Desperate measures." 

Roy swung his feet to the floor and leaned forward against the desk instead, propping his chin in his hands. "I like this one, Jaybird. I think we should keep him." 

Jason buried his face in his hands. “Kid…I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it until it gets through your head. Robin should have never been created. I think even the prototype would agree with me on that.” 

Tim fidgeted with the hem of his borrowed jeans. “I’m not giving it up.” 

Jason kept his voice as level as he could. “That,” he managed, “is a conversation for another day. One where the entire city isn’t on the edge of a meltdown. Speaking of…Grady! Cam! Stop eavesdropping and get in here!” 

The office door slammed open, and two of his lieutenants stumbled in, trying to look casual. “Hey, boss. Just got here, what’s the news?” 

“You’re both terrible liars is the news.” Jason jabbed a finger at the second bowl of stew. “Grady, that’s for you. Get some food in your stomach before you pass out. You’re no good to me unconscious.” 

Work helped. Having a problem to focus on, and no time to get lost in his own head. He went through the latest updates with Grady and Cam. Joker had been shot in the face by some little old lady. No one was officially IDing her, and no one would give the cops an ounce of info, but Grady was confident it was genuine and unplanned. 

Crime Alley was on lockdown, though not all the lockdown centers had been completed. Those that existed were uncomfortably crowded and short on supplies. They’d need to risk water deliveries, if nothing else. Blankets and rebreathers too, if possible. Not all of the centers were heated, either, and the weather was turning colder by the day. They hadn’t gotten a full list of the escapees yet, so there was a chance Freeze was out. Roy’s water filters were installed at the sites, but at least one water main had already been busted in Somerset. They couldn’t trust the water lines here would keep running for however long this lockdown lasted. 

Scarecrow had gone to ground, and Harley and Ivy were raising hell up in the Diamond District. This might be their best opportunity for a supply run. Hood sent Grady downstairs to check the trucks and vans that made up their fleet, while Cam picked teams. Jason dug into his supply closet, adding a few more pieces of equipment. 

Roy reached past him, snagging a pair of sunglasses from an upper shelf. He tossed them to Tim. "That mask is going to get uncomfortable before we’re done here. We both know your identity. Give yourself a break, kid." 

"I'm fine," Tim muttered, but he took the glasses. 

Jason threw a bottle of solvent at him and went back to adjusting his holsters. "You can clean up and switch 'em out in here or the bathroom. No windows.” 

Tim reluctantly started taking the mask off. He knew as well as they did that it made him a target. He might not be willing to avoid fights entirely, but he was smart enough not to admit it. 

“Roy." Jason pulled him aside, lowering his voice. "You're right. Lian needs both of us to come home. They need me on this run, but I’m asking you to stay here. It's a major target. You're good in a crisis and you've got the firepower to hold out if something happens. The kids know to trust you, and no one else stands a chance of keeping Robin here. I won't be gone long. Just to run supplies and check in with my people. Mark our borders.” 

Roy folded his arms. "Can I trust that you're coming home?" 

"I'm coming home." Jason held his gaze.

“Then I’ll see you soon.” He squeezed Jason’s shoulder and turned to Tim. “Looks like it’s you and me on support today. You want to give Canary a call, check in before we get to work here?” 

Jason left them to it, jogging downstairs. “Rosalita, any word from the corner girls?" 

"Cherry checked in with the patrols. They're hunkering down in groups." 

"Good. I'll send someone to check on them again around midnight. Cam, everyone about ready?" 

"Ready, boss." 

“Alright, then.” He headed for his bike, adjusting the wrist straps of his gloves. “Move out!” 

Chapter Text

“Sooo.” Tim peeked over the top of Hood’s laptop screen. It had been over an hour since the fleet left, and besides helping Oracle sift through emergency calls, there wasn’t much to do at the moment besides wait for greater disaster. Or reprieve, but this was Gotham, so… “You and Hood?” 

Roy gave him a noogie. The kid almost slipped away, but Roy had wrestled Robins for enough years to keep up. “We’re coparenting, you little brat.” 

“And you’re hella gay for each other.” 

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” 

“I just call it like I see it.” 

Roy rolled his eyes. “What happened to you being in awe and grateful?” 

“You kidnapped me and you’re dorky dads. The shine wore off pretty fast.” 

Roy clutched at his chest. “ Wow . I’ve sustained a lot of wounds in my years. I may not survive this one.” 

“Anyway, you guys are disgusting and you should do something about it.” 

“Sure, kid. I’ll get right on that,” he lied. 

A commotion rose below them, and Roy was down the stairs a moment later, striding across the ground floor. Tim was right on his heels, sliding down the railing and pulling his staff from somewhere in the baggy borrowed clothes. Cam caught sight of Roy. Their craggy face was tight with worry.  “Need you,” they gasped. “Fear gas. Need to- he won’t let us give him the antidote.” 

“Fuck!” Roy broke into a run, the gathering crowd parting to let him through.

“Got him in the van, got him back here. He said something about Batman?” 

Red Hood was huddled in the back of a utility van, shaking. The half-mask had been discarded, who knew where, and the lenses of his domino were glowing faintly green. He flinched away when Arsenal stepped up to the doors. “Please. Please. Please.” 

“Cam, Max, keep the folks back. I’ve got it from here.” Roy dropped his voice, holding up his hands. “Hey there, Jaybird. Heard you had a rough run. Can I sit with you?” 

Jason shivered, and his voice cracked when he tried to speak, the words lost in a gasp. Someone – probably Max – had at least managed to get his guns off him. That didn’t mean he was unarmed, but at least it was a few less weapons involved. 

Telegraphing each movement, Roy slipped off his bow and quiver, setting them carefully on the pavement. “I’m going to come sit next to you. I won’t touch you until you’re ready, alright?” 

“Lian?” Jason’s face crumpled, and he curled into his knees, sobbing. “Damian! Please!” 

Fuck, he might throw up. He couldn’t even be sure how much Jason was actually hearing of what he said. Roy climbed into the back of the van, inching closer, careful not to corner him. “Jason, I’m here. Lian is safe. Damian is safe. They’re alive. They’re okay. Everyone’s okay. Whatever you’re seeing right now, it’s the fear toxin talking. The kids are safe at home together.” 

“Roy?” 

“Yeah, Jaybird. It’s me. It’s Roy. I’m here, Jaybird.” 

Jason clutched at his arm. “Don’t let them…he’s got needles…” 

Roy slid closer, pulling Jason against his chest. “Shhh, no one’s gonna hurt you, Jay. I won’t let them. We’re a team, remember? Ain’t nobody touching you without going through me, and I’m gonna make sure you come home. Lian’s waiting for you. Damian’s waiting for you. They’re safe, and they’re home, and we’re going to go see them soon, alright?” 

Hating himself a little, he slipped the antidote from his utility belt. Jason had made sure he was stocked before they even got to Gotham. “I’ve got you, Jaybird. It’s gonna be alright.” He stabbed the epi-pen style needle into the side of Jason’s neck, pressing hard. Jason thrashed, and Roy flung the spent vial to the floor, pinning Jason against him. “You’re alright, Jay! It’s the antidote! Come on back, baby, come on. You gotta come back to me, Jaybird.” 

Jason broke, sobbing as he slumped back to the van floor. Roy rocked side to side, Jason in his arms, until he spoke again, voice cracking. “Roy?” 

Roy was about ready to cry along with him. “Yeah, Jay. It’s Roy. You back with me?” 

“Fuck!” Jason raised both hands to cover his face. “Fuck! Damian? Lian?” 

“They’re safe, Jay. They’re safe at home. I’m safe with you. Tim’s safe inside. Everyone’s okay. Everyone’s alive.” 

“Joker?” 

“No, okay, Joker’s dead. Black Mask and Joker are dead. You’re safe. The kids are safe.” 

Jason struggled upright, his muscles still trembling. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck,” Roy agreed, slouching back against the van wall. “When you can stand, we’ll go inside. You can rest in your office.” 

Jason rested his head on his knees. “She was right there,” he muttered. “Just like Stephanie Brown. And Damian kept…kept trying to be Robin. Kept trying to save her. Over and-” He leaned over and puked. 

Roy rubbed a hand along Jason’s back, hoping the touch would help ground them both. “It wasn’t real, Jay. They’re safe.” 

“Where’s the kid?” 

“Tim’s inside. He’s fine. A little spooked, probably, after he saw me book it out here. But he’s alright.” 

“Gonna run off.” 

“Not until he knows you’re safe. Kid’s got a bad case of hero worship, no matter how many jokes he makes about you being a dad or an asshole.” 

“Ngh.” Jason wiped his mouth on his cuff. He was silent for a while, and the trembling began to subside. “Did I hurt anyone?” He finally asked. 

“Not that I know of. I’ll check with Cam to be sure. No one needed medical attention when you got here, and you didn’t attack me until I gave you the antidote. They got your guns away from you, which probably means you were lucid enough to let them.” 

Jason nodded. “Okay.” He sounded so young for a moment. Not even young in the way he was, but like the kid Roy had met years ago. “Okay. We better get inside before they send a search party or the little bird decides to make a run for it.” 

“When you’re ready.” 

Jason clenched his fists. “Fuck, I hate needles. And puking. And fear toxin. Fear toxin can suck my ass.” 

“Yep.” 

“Alright. Let’s move. Can’t have anyone thinking I’ve gone soft.” 

Roy kept his opinions on that to himself and climbed out of the van, scooping up his gear. Hood’s people had mostly moved away from the van, giving them at least some semblance of privacy. Cam had stayed as a guard, and fell into step a little behind Roy. Grady seemed to be getting the rest of the runners and bruisers organized. Roy caught a glimpse of Robin in the medbay near the back of the building, hanging an IV bag. Red Hood headed for the stairs, ignoring that area entirely. 

“You should get checked out, Hood.” Roy knew it wouldn’t be effective, but made the attempt anyway.

“You should listen to him, boss.” 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, stomping up the grated metal steps. “I’ll sit when I’m in my office. Cam, report.” 

“Five casualties, one fatality. Most of our people got their rebreathers on. Porkchop’s fine as far as toxin but got his arm broke. Bianchi’s rebreather got smashed up.” 

Red Hood stopped with his hand on the office door. “Who was the one?” 

Cam’s voice dropped. “Ricci. Stabbed herself in the stomach. Hit an artery. Two-bit thinks she was trying to get something out of her guts.” 

“Shit.” Hood opened the office door after a moment, his walk briefly unsteady. “What happened to my guns?” 

“Got ‘em in the front of the van. Safe. I’d appreciate if you sat now, boss.” 

“I’d appreciate if you fucked off.” 

“Hood.” Roy kept his voice level. Jason had been puking not two minutes ago. As much as his partner was trying to hide it, he was still shaking. “Sit your ass down. We need to regroup.” 

Hood gave him a dirty look that was clear even through the domino, but sat. “Lockdown centers still need their supplies.” 

“I know. We’ll get them there. Cam, how far did you get?” 

“Got through about two thirds of them, while we were finishing up at Lily Lane. Still need to get to Souter, De Lisle, McInerny, and Klapper.” 

Roy knew those sites. He’d dropped off some emergency lamps he’d improved, and Jay’s favorite spice shop was down Souter way. Roy studied Jason again, who was still short on breath and weaponry. “Will the team follow me?” 

Jason’s chin snapped up, but Cam nodded slightly. “Boss left you in charge. Everyone knows you’re…” they glanced at Red Hood, apparently faltering for a descriptor of their relationship that wouldn’t get him punched. “They’ll listen.” 

“I’m fine, Arse. I’m not getting taken down by a shot of fucking fear toxin.” 

“No, but you lost someone already. You’re not about to collapse, but your hands aren’t steady. Cam, I want us to split into two teams. Cuts our numbers, but we’ll be able to move faster and get back sooner. If something happens, the team that gets hit will have backup to pull them out. I’m thinking you and Grady run one team, Max and I the other. Thoughts?” 

“Works for me. You should bring Silky, too. I’ll take McInerny and Klapper.” 

“Hang on–” 

“Not taking votes, Hood. Your people need you here.” 

“Cam, out!”

Cam ducked out of the office, and Jason stood, glaring at Roy. 

“Crime Alley is my responsibility. You’re right that we already lost people today – Ricci isn’t the only one – and I’m not sending you right back out without me.”

“Hood.” Roy reached out, taking his gloved hand. Steadying it. “I followed you here, but this is mine and Lian’s home now, too. I know I took some time off, but I can handle more than water filters and smoke bombs. Let me handle this, so you can take care of your casualties and catch your breath.” He could see Jason starting to cave. He let his voice soften. “You’re not doing this alone, Jaybird, and I’m coming home.” 

Those broad shoulders finally eased under the leather jacket. “You fuckin’ better,” he muttered. 

~~~~~

They made the drop-off at DeLisle without major incident. There were a few looters, and a couple civilians who needed fear toxin antidotes, but nothing that they couldn’t handle quickly and move on from. Arsenal didn’t dare hope this meant they’d get home without anything newsworthy. Black Canary had checked in a while ago, letting him know she and a couple friends had gotten through a skirmish with some of Black Masks’s remaining lieutenants. Harley and Ivy were throwing a damn barbecue in the botanical gardens, and there were at least three other major Rogues still unaccounted for. Not to mention the opportunists crawling out of the woodwork. 

Brake lights stuttered ahead. Arsenal accelerated, catching up with the head of the convoy. He heard shouts, and mentally checked his arrow count. Souter Street was near the edge of Red Hood’s current territory, and it wasn’t unlikely someone would be challenging that boundary right about now. 

He skidded to a halt, grabbing for his bow. “Shit!” He nocked an arrow but didn’t draw. His boots scraped against the gritty pavement as he jumped off his bike. “Hey! Big guy! Stand down! All of you, stand down!” 

“Arsenal. Figured you wouldn’t stay away from a shitstorm like this.” 

Arsenal kept his posture loose. “Good to see you too, Croc. What brings you to the Alley today?” 

Waylon shrugged, massive muscles rippling beneath scaled skin. One of Hood’s people took a step back. “Figured I’d check in. See that little girl of yours is safe.” 

Roy felt a smile break through. “Yeah. She’s safe. Tightest security you can get. Thanks, man.” 

Grady looked from vigilante to villain and back again. “You’re, what, drinking buddies with Killer Croc?” 

Roy snorted. “Other way around. This big lug helped me get sober.” He jerked a thumb toward the little convoy. “We’re running water, blankets, and rebreathers to lockdown sites.” 

Waylon grunted. “Heard you got hit earlier.” 

“Wasn’t pretty. I know you’ve got no particular love for the Alley, but there’s a lot of kids holed up at those sites. I’d guess a lot of folks would think twice about targeting the run if you wanted to ride along. Or, if they don’t, I can offer you a good fight.” 

Waylon and the convoy guards eyed each other warily. Croc’s sigh came from his very marrow. “Whole city’s stupid on adrenaline. Not gonna leave some kid to go thirsty because some shit-for-brains wanted to play at being a big man.” He jabbed a sausage-sized finger at Arsenal. “Temporary truce.” 

Roy kept a straight face, shifting his grip on his bow to shake Waylon’s hand. “Understood.” 

Grady kept his mouth shut. Arsenal gave him a small salute, and waited to make sure no one did anything dumb as Waylon took a running leap onto the top of the box truck that led the convoy. No guns were fired, though a couple curses were heard, and Roy waved everyone back to their guard stations. 

“Skoden,” he called. “Still work to do.” 

They made it halfway to Souter Street before Arsenal spotted what he’d been waiting for. He bit back a curse, waving the fleet ahead as he dropped back. Waylon scowled, but stayed with the vans. Arsenal turned down an alley, parking the bike. Tipping his cap brim back, he turned his face to the sky. 

“Alright. Let’s have it.” 

Batman dropped from the roof, cape billowing to soften the landing. He stayed several yards away, tucked in the ever-present shadows. “Hood.” 

“What about him?” 

“We have intel that he was injured. You’re riding his bike.” 

Arsenal propped his hands on his hips. “And?” 

Batman took a moment to answer, and his voice was tight. “Is he…safe? Him and Robin?” 

Roy sighed, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, Bats. He’s safe. They’re holed up at HQ. I’m just covering the rest of the supply run.” 

He would never say that Batman relaxed, because he was pretty sure the man came out of the womb scowling and paranoid. Still, the tension in the air eased. Batman cleared his throat. “The baby, too. She’s with Agent A and her brother. You can tell Hood they were making honey milk when I last checked in.” 

Roy felt his own shoulders relax a fraction. He’d known Lian got to the Cave, but it was good to hear that the kids were doing something other than sitting around stressing. “Good. Thank you.” 

Batman nodded. “Supply run?” 

“Fresh water and some other necessities for Hood’s lockdown shelters. Didn’t have time to finish setting them up before everything happened.” 

“Black Mask is dead.” 

There it was. Arsenal’s shoulders tensed right back up. “Yep.” 

They stared each other down for a long moment. 

“You trust Killer Croc with your back?” 

“I trust him with my daughter.” 

He waited while Batman processed that. The older man finally grunted. “Oracle will keep you and Hood both patched into comms moving forward.” 

Arsenal knew this wouldn’t be the end of this fight, but the truce would hold, at least until the city was stabilized. It seemed triage didn’t involve enforcing a no-killing rule on Red Hood and Arsenal. Or arresting Killer Croc just yet. “Roger that. If that’s all, I’ve got work to do.” 

Batman melted into the alley shadows without bothering to say goodbye. Roy rolled his eyes and climbed back on his bike to rejoin the supply run. 

The little convoy was already pulling up to the Souter Street lockdown center when he caught up with them. Grady gave him a wary look, shifting the toothpick in his mouth. “Clear?” 

“Clear. Bat business, nothing to do with us.” 

Grady nodded acknowledgement, turning his attention to the shelter. The people in the shelter had to open the door to allow supplies in, leaving them vulnerable. They were a lot more hesitant than the folks at DeLisle. Might have something to do with the notorious man-eating Rogue tagging along. Arsenal clapped his sponsor on the shoulder, making sure those around them could hear as he spoke to Waylon. “Croc, I want you watching the south approach.” If Black Mask’s ex-goons decided to approach, they’d most likely be coming from the Madison or Rucka Bridges, both to the south. “Max, you and Shuffles take the north.” 

He and Grady approached the door, hands up. Arsenal leaned in toward the little camera beside the door. 

“Hi there, folks. We’ve got water, blankets, and rebreathers from Petey. Someone from HQ should’ve given a heads up we were coming.” 

There was a long pause despite the codename he’d used. Then the door clanked open, and a couple guys peered out. “Damn, that’s some shit you only see in the Alley. Killer Croc riding shotgun on a water delivery.” 

Arsenal grinned. “Yeah, we go way back. I broke into his house, he got attached, we get sushi every couple months.”

“You’re a damn liar, Arsenal!” 

Roy didn’t bother defending his half-truths. “You alright letting us bring stuff in, or should we just bring it to the door?” 

“Bring it in,” an older woman spoke up from behind them. “Hood approved you. Get your fat ass outta the way, Garcia.” 

Arsenal snapped off a two-finger salute and started helping unload the box truck. He was amused to notice a couple foot-shaped dents in the roof where Waylon had landed earlier. A few people gave his costume suspicious looks, but most of them seemed to accept that Red Hood’s approval was hard-won and to be respected. He brought in a few loads, then picked out a couple of older women near the front of the room and headed over. 

“Looks like you’re keeping things well in hand here.” He kept his voice low. “Is there anything else you need for the next day or two? Diapers, first aid, that sort of thing?” 

The taller of the two women shook her head, scanning him up and down. “Just the water and blankets. Diapers got dropped off last week, and most folks brought their own rebreathers.” She glanced over her shoulder at a cluster of people near the east wall. A couple of them glared back, drawing closer to the old woman who sat in the middle. The old woman herself, tattooed face framed by a scarlet hijab, appeared grim but unworried. 

The other self-appointed leader cleared her throat. “You, uh, might tell your man we got a VIP here. We’ll make sure she’s alright. You let him know to keep an eye on her once the lockdown lifts, yeah?” 

Arsenal’s pulse skipped. “I’ll let him know,” he promised. 

Grady came up alongside him, toothpick bouncing between his teeth.  “Finished here. Anything else?” 

“All set.” Arsenal met the old woman’s gaze again. “Tell her thanks for me, will you? Anything she needs, she can let me know.” 

The taller woman folded her arms. “I think you might actually mean that, Flotus.” 

“Don’t we all?” Arsenal snapped off a salute and followed Grady out of the lockdown center. He watched closely to be sure everything was resecured before giving the convoy the signal to leave. He did mean it. They should give the old woman a key to the damn city. Hood might be pissed that he hadn’t been the one to put a bullet through Joker’s brain, but Roy couldn’t be anything but thankful. Not that he’d ever been about to let Jason go face-to-face with the clown again, but this saved Roy a hell of a lot of yelling after handling it himself. 

Waylon peeled off a couple blocks before they reached HQ, heading back to whatever he’d been doing before. Roy just hoped he wouldn’t have to get too heavily on the guy’s case later. Long as he left innocent civilians alone, they were fine, really. Roy wouldn’t shed many tears for the bastards currently treating this city like a more symbolic sort of all-you-can-eat buffet. 

Hood met them at the garage doors, doing a very bad job of not looking antsy. Arsenal pulled the bike back into its spot and hopped off, waving cheerfully. “Honey, I’m home!” 

“Report.” 

“Couple antidotes handed out to civilians, a few looters handled, Croc joined us for the run to Souter Street and back, and the old Bat’s decided to mind his manners today.” 

Jason scowled, the edges of his domino crinkling. “You ran into Batman?” 

“Hmm. I’ll update you upstairs. He didn’t cause any trouble. The baby’s alright.”

“Grady?” 

“That’s about it, boss. Both sites are stuffed as my granny’s couch, but holding out alright now they got water.” 

“Good. Get parked and take a rest. You’ve all earned it. Bianchi’s doing alright. Shiro’s got a pot of chili going for anyone who wants some. Arsenal, with me.” 

Roy followed him up the stairs, adjusting his “Deer Camp 1999” cap. With some relief, he noted that Hood’s movements were considerably steadier than they had been when they’d left. He was still moving a little slow, but the antidote had been doing its work. “Where’s Robin?” 

“On his fourth cup of coffee and breaking into my files.” 

“Only way to keep him from running back out into the fray, huh?” 

“This is Layer 4 of bargaining.” 

“Alas, a Robin gets a taste of his own medicine.” 

“Shut up. Croc?” 

“Swung by to check on our girl.” 

“Hm.” Hood let them both into his office. 

Tim sat hunched in Hood’s desk chair, glued to the laptop screen. He flicked a hand in greeting. 

“So, you ran into Batman.” 

Tim glanced up at that, and Roy nodded, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “He said the kids are making honey milk with Alfred. Oracle’s gonna keep us tuned in to the Bats’ comms for the foreseeable future. He knows about Black Mask and Waylon. Made sure I know he knows, but otherwise didn’t say shit about it.” 

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” 

“He’s trying.” Jason glared at Tim, who shrugged. “Especially since brunch. B just about had a panic attack before you came over, and I think he cried for like three hours after you left.” 

“And then I shot Mask in the head.” 

Tim shrugged again. “And Dick beat Joker to death. Talia’s…Talia. Alfred was in M16. You’re not special.” 

Jason stared at him for a long few seconds, then turned back to Roy. “Thanks, for…handling that. Any trouble with orders?” 

“Nah, I think I proved myself or something with the whole ‘buddies with Croc’ thing. We should have him over for dinner, by the way. Can’t imagine he gets anything like your cooking in Arkham or his hideouts.” 

“Hm.” 

“And uh…” Roy eyed Tim, considering what the kid had just said about the Batclan. How he’d thanked Jason this afternoon. “We might have an ID on the shooter.” 

Tim and Jason both sat up straighter. 

“Someone asked us to make sure she’s safe once the lockdown lifts.” 

Jason scoffed. “She can have a whole damn imperial guard if she wants.” 

“That’s pretty much what I said. I’m 95% sure the rumors are right, though. She’s a civilian. Just in the right place, at the right time, with no patience left.” 

“Huh.” 

“Good.” Tim’s expression remained steady as they both looked over at him. “I’m glad he didn’t get a blaze of glory. No grandstanding. No great scheme. Just shot like a dog in the street. It’s everything he would have hated.” 

Jason gave the kid an assessing look, but kept his thoughts to himself. 

~~~~~

Batman was getting his ass beat. He’d ended up cornered by what looked to be a dozen enforcers from some gang or other, and it had been a long couple days. Red Hood doubted his former mentor had gotten more than five minutes of sleep in that time. It was starting to show. Batman hadn’t bothered with a distress signal, probably well-aware that all his known allies were on the other side of the city. 

On the one hand, Batman definitely deserved to get his ass beat now and then. On the other, the scene looked uncomfortably like a few of the scenarios described in Tim’s damn stats report. One way or another, Joker was dead now. Lian and Damian had been safe at the manor for the last 45 hours. 

“Fuck me,” Hood muttered, before flipping off the roof. He landed feet-first to the chest of one of the enforcers. Like his run with Nightwing, the motions came with an eerie familiarity, like an echo. Flip, kick, elbow, punch, turn – Batman was crouching – launch off Batman’s shoulders into another kick, snagging another man by the neck as this one went down. 

Batman took down the last standing goon. Hood kicked a gun out of someone’s hand. 

“Uh-uh, it’s naptime for good little boys.” He kicked the asshole in the head and dusted off his hands. He double-checked the scattered bodies. He didn’t want a repeat of the sloppiness with Nightwing. There was a lingering beat of satisfaction at a job efficiently done. Then awkwardness settled back across the alley, and he silently cursed. 

“Thank you.” 

He eyed Batman suspiciously. “Sure. Send out a damn distress signal next time. O is not – despite all evidence – a mind reader. I got better shit to do than save your ass from dumb fucks like these.” 

“I’m certain you do.” 

Hood bristled. “You think I don’t?” 

“No, I– I know you do. Park Row has been the safest neighborhood in Gotham these last couple days. And Robin. Thank you.” 

He squinted at that impassive cowled face, looking for the backhand in that compliment. “Sure,” he finally muttered. “Someone’s gotta keep the Replacement from following in my footsteps.” 

“ Batman, is everything alright over there? ” Oracle’s voice came through both comms. “ Sounded like a scuffle. ” 

“Had to swoop in and save the old man’s turkey bacon. Clear now, O. Just a long couple days and a lot of goons.” 

Batman’s head tipped ever so slightly. An engine roared a little way down the street, and Hood’s shoulders tensed. “O–” 

“Hood!” 

A wall slammed into him, or maybe the sky, because suddenly he was on the ground and pressed into the pavement by a massive weight. Dark all around him. Dirt in his mouth. His fingers shredded– gunshots tires squealing lights – 

“Hood!” 

He fought for breath, clawing his way upright as the weight eased. His chest ached, bone-deep, and he couldn’t breathe . Couldn’t get out couldn’t breathe too heavy–

“Hood. Jaylad, please look at me.” Sturdy gloves cradled his head, trying and failing to check for injuries through both their gear, and finally finally his lungs unstuck from themselves, the rush of cold air snapping some connection back into place in his head. 

“Shit!” he gasped. 

“Hood.” Was he imagining the shake in Batman’s voice? “Hood, were you hit?” 

“You–” He sucked in another breath. “Drive-by. Shit. I’m not hit. Just…wind knocked out of me.” The Batsuit plus 250 pounds of Bruce Wayne would do that. He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. “I’m not hit, except by you,” he wheezed. “Jesus, B, forget bullets. You hit like a goddamn Mack truck.” 

“You’re safe.” Bruce’s hands slid down around him, crushing Jason back to the black armor. “I thought– you’re safe. Thank God.” 

It took a moment for him to remember to push away. “Yeah. I’m fine. Fine.” He was suddenly glad his masks covered so much of his face. “You’re being worse than N.” 

Batman climbed to his feet, offering a hand. “Oracle, I need you to–” 

“ Got it, Batman. Tan four-door heading north on Woodward. I’ll have more details in a minute. ” 

“Copy.” He paused, looking at Hood as if for an answer. “Would–” 

“ Arsenal to Red Hood. We got trouble on the west side. Cam’s calling us both in. ” 

He waved Batman off in the direction Oracle had indicated. “Go take care of it. There’s trouble in the Alley.”

There was the briefest hesitation. Then the cape swung, a grapple clicked, and Batman was gone. 

Chapter Text

It had been nearly three days since Joker died, and the city was slowly settling from a scream to a dull roar. It wouldn’t be back to normal for a while, but it was stabilizing; the way you might describe a patient coming out of the OR. 

Red Hood was on hour six of continuous patrol, but had been constantly on the move for nineteen. He stumbled as he landed on the roof of a crumbling brownstone, and paused to catch his beath. It was probably about time he swung by HQ for a bite and a power nap. While he could keep going, Roy would definitely yell at him. So would Rosalita. And Shiro. At least he could count on Tim not to complain about workaholic tendencies. The kid was not accepting his time-out gracefully. They’d caught him trying to sneak out six times today already. Roy was now glued to the kid’s side, feeding him a constant stream of tasks. 

“Hey, Hood.” 

A lithe dark figure landed beside him, clearly as bone-weary as he was. Hood didn’t have the energy or the inclination for a fight, and just tipped his head in greeting. 

Nightwing flopped down on the edge of the roof, letting his legs swing over the edge. He tossed a small packet to Hood. An energy bar. 

Jason removed his half-mask, sinking down beside his…his sort-of brother. He might as well stop playing at denial. They’d all saved each others’ asses in the last 48 hours, and he’d promised he’d play nice. It was proving harder than he’d thought to do that and remind himself of all his reasons to be angry at the same time. “Thanks.” He pulled open the packet and took a bite. “Shit, I almost forgot how good these are.” 

“Only the best from Agent A.” 

“Mm.” 

Dick pulled out a bar of his own, apparently content to share a few minutes before they crashed properly. “The kids miss you.” 

“I talked to A a little bit ago. Arsenal’s going to drop off Robin and pick up both the rugrats tonight while I wrap things up at HQ. I expect we’ll all crash into bed and not come out for 24 hours.” 

“Good. We’ve all earned it.” 

Jason tapped one steel-toe against the wall. “You haven’t said anything about Black Mask.” 

“Do I need to?” 

Jason looked over and Dick shrugged. 

“You know I don’t approve of killing. There’s not much I can say you haven’t heard before, and it doesn’t change anything that’s happened.” 

“You going to arrest me?” 

Dick’s gaze turned from the sky to Jason, studying him like a crime scene photo. “You think I could?” 

“You could try,” he scoffed, trying to keep the bravado in his tone. 

“I could kick your butt any day of the week, Little Wing. I didn’t mean whether I could take you in a fight.” 

Jason rolled his shoulders, crumpling the empty packet in his hand. His throat was too tight to manage another snappy response. 

Dick leaned back on his hands, returning his attention to the clouds above. “You’ve held to the agreement you and B made. No lethal force on joint operations. Even kept to it during that drive-by incident.” He swung his feet. “I’m not naive enough to think the world’s black and white, Little Wing. It’s a start. We can figure it out from here.”

Jason shoved the wrapper in his pocket to throw away later – he was a murderer but not a litterer thank you – and pushed himself to his feet. “Go get some sleep, Dickhead.” 

His brother grinned. “Yeah, yeah, you too, buttface.” 

~~~~~

“Baba!” 

Jason rocked back on his heels as a small body slammed into him. He swung Damian up into a hug, burying his face in his son’s shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. Hey. You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” Damian’s voice was small, and Jason squeezed him tighter. He stayed for a few seconds before pulling away with a scoff. “Alfred would not allow me to patrol, even though it was clearly an emergency.” 

“There’s always an emergency, habibi. I’m glad you stayed with Lian. That’s exactly where I needed you.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, leading them both to the living room. He could hear Lian babbling up a storm. 

She was climbing across Roy’s lap, trying to reach his phone. At the sound of footsteps, her attention snapped toward them. She screeched, launching herself out of Roy’s lap and crawling at high speed across the carpet. 

Jason scooped her up, savoring the soft warm weight of her in his arms. He tugged Damian back against his side. “Hey there, sweet girl. Did you have a good time with your akhi ?” 

“Of course she did. She didn’t know what was happening, and I was there.” 

Jason knew his smile was soft as butter, and didn’t give a fig who saw it. “I never doubted it, habibi.” He turned to Roy, who was looking just as soft. They were all drained. The archer sat with his back against the bottom of the couch, hands slack in his lap, his smile tired. A couple bandages were visible, peeking out from his stretched-out orange t-shirt. 

“Bed?” Roy offered. 

“Bed,” Jason firmly agreed. Despite Lian’s excitement, he knew neither of the kids would have slept well in the absence of all routines and most friendly faces. He led the way to the bedroom, glad for a decent-sized bed and Roy’s cheerful willingness to cuddle. 

The kids and Roy fell asleep quickly, lined up beneath the worn comforter. Damian’s cheek rested against Jason’s chest, where he could feel the kid’s steady breath and his son could hear his heartbeat. Lian clung to her brother’s pajama shirt. Roy’s arm stretched above both kids like a wall of protection, his hair fanned across the pillow. 

It took Jason longer than he’d expected to fall asleep. He lay awake for a long while, the last adrenaline fading from his veins. He watched Damian’s eyelids flicker as he began to dream. Studied the curve of Lian’s cheek as she tilted her head toward Roy. They were safe. Truly safe, or as close as he could ever hope for. Joker was dead. The city was settling, with the borders of Crime Alley holding steady. Black Mask was dead. Joker was dead. He and Roy had survived and come home to them. Joker was dead . 

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a hand brush his head. He looked up, stomach twisting as he saw Roy looking back at him. Green eyes held, and Roy’s calloused fingers began to move gently through his loose curls. 

“He’s gone.” 

“Yeah. And you’re still here, Jaybird. We’re still here.” 

Jason closed his eyes, too tired to even feel any kind of emotion about Roy seeing him fall apart like this. Roy didn’t say another word. Jason fell asleep to the slow slide of fingers through his hair. 

~~~~~

It had been a week now since Joker’s death, and patrols were finally falling back into something like routine. Red Hood was patrolling near the west border, half-focused on scraps of an idea for approaching Ivy in a few days. A silhouette popped up on a rooftop across Bermejo Avenue, waving a Batburger bag like a white flag. 

Jason rolled his eyes, raising his voice. “Just get over here already, before the fries get cold!” 

Nightwing swung across the street, plopping down cross-legged on the hotel roof. He began pulling items out of the bag, handing off a burger as Red Hood flung himself down beside him. “I got your favorite.” 

“How do you know it’s still my favorite? Maybe I hate pickles now.” 

Nightwing cocked his head as Jason ate about a quarter of the burger in one bite. “I’m not worried.” He popped a fry in his mouth and tipped his head the other way, cracking his neck. 

They sank into a comfortable silence, watching the lights of the traffic below. Oracle’s voice was a faint murmur in Nightwing’s comms. Hood had dropped out of the channel as soon as he got the kids home. He wasn’t certain anymore if she would have booted him, but he couldn’t bear waiting to find out. 

He dug a couple fries out of the bag. “Why did you go back?” he asked, his voice low enough he wasn’t sure Dick even heard him. “After you and Bruce split?” 

Nightwing took a sip of his soda. He took his time replying. “You probably don’t remember,” he eventually said. “There was this one day I stopped by and you got on my case, trying to convince me that B loved me. That I just wasn’t seeing it because he’s an awkward dumbass who doesn’t know how to use his words. 

“I have zero doubt now that you and A were nagging him, too. At the time, I just got pissed at you for waltzing in and getting adopted and suddenly thinking you knew everything. I was excited to have a little brother, sure, but that didn’t mean B gave a shit about me now that I was eighteen and out of the house. I said something about how long it had been since he’d even tried to call me.”

Jason did remember that day. The older boy snuck in when Bruce was away, to look something up on the Batcomputer. Jason had found Dick in the Cave and pushed him to stay for dinner. 

“It’s different for me and Bruce.” Dick’s voice was tight. “I was never adopted. I’m not his son like you are.” 

Jason screwed up his face. “Bullshit,” he snapped. 

Dick’s jaw clenched, but Jason plowed on. 

“He took you in, right? Never touched you wrong? I know he went to all your geeky school stuff, because I’m always hearing about how amazing Dickie was at math and how Dick kicked ass in literally every sport known to God. You still have a designated pillow in his room for when you get nightmares, even if you haven’t gone in there in forever. Someone calling themselves your dad doesn’t make them one, but you’re his kid. Even if he doesn’t say it.” 

Dick looked as though Jason had slapped him across the face. His mouth twisted, and Jason thought he might start yelling. Might even punch him. Instead, Dick turned away, heading toward the Batcomputer. 

Jason scuffed a foot against the Cave floor and slouched off toward the stairs. Clearly Dick and Bruce were both too far up their own asses to admit they were being stupid. He paused at the foot of the stairs. The older boy was staring at the screens, too stiff to actually be focused on what he was reading. 

“You said you can’t remember the last time he called. When was the last time you picked up?” 

Dick ignored him, and Jason headed up to the study. 

Dick shrugged, tapping his heels lightly against the side of the grimy brick building. “You had a point. Actions speak louder than words. B was trying. It just didn’t look the way I wanted it to, or the way I thought it would. He never called himself my dad, but I’d never asked if I could call him that. B…when he was training you, I’m sure he gave you that whole speech about not getting too attached to any one theory, right? That you have to be willing to keep adjusting or discarding ideas about a case, because if you get too attached to one theory, you’ll start picking evidence to support it, even if it’s not accurate.” 

“Only about a dozen times,” Jason grumbled. He didn’t like the direction this was going.

“We’re all really good at remembering that when it comes to cases. Not so much with personal issues. It wasn’t even that I’d been stewing on everything that was wrong and ignoring the good stuff. More like I’d gone in with a theory – that B didn’t really see me as his son – and interpreted every piece of evidence through that lens. 

“My parents were…” Dick took a long breath “...wonderful. I never had a single doubt that they loved me, or loved each other. They taught me how to show it the same way they did. Hugs and words and good food and time together, you know? And B is–” he huffed a laugh, “not great with three of those things.” 

Jason snorted. 

“But if I tried interpreting the evidence through your theory, stuff shifted. A lot. Suddenly, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was that we’d been speaking different languages, and getting frustrated when we didn’t understand each other or something didn’t translate smoothly.” Dick leaned forward, folding his hands between his knees. Gotham Public Library’s domed roof glowed in the distance, softly lit even at night. “I was going to talk to him when I got back.” 

Jason’s fingers went still, a fry still held loosely between them. 

“That…didn’t happen. I got pissed at him again for not telling me immediately what had happened to you. Took a while before either of us could be civil. But then Tim showed up, and fuck, I was so scared, and I didn’t want to lose either of them. B and I got in a screaming match or five, but I finally told him I got it. I knew he cared, I knew he was trying, but what he was offering wasn’t always what I needed, or what Tim needed.” 

“And he just magically got better and everything’s peachy?” Jason tried to keep his voice easy, cocky. He didn’t particularly succeed. 

“Not even close.” Dick laughed. “He still fucks up a lot. But he’s getting better. I can see him changing, and trying. I’m trying, too. It’s made a difference.” 

Jason hunched his shoulders. “You didn’t die.” 

“No,” Dick admitted. “But you’re asking him to love you the way you love your kids. He’s not you. He’s never going to be, any more than he’ll be John and Mary Grayson. I can’t tell you if that’s enough, or if it’s okay. He’s just… He’s calling. You have to decide if you’ll pick up the phone.” 

Jason swallowed a mouthful of potato and salt. He stood, crumpling the burger wrapper. “Thanks for the food,” he muttered. 

“Any time, Little Wing.” Dick saluted him with the remaining half of his own burger as Jason grappled away. 

Chapter Text

“You alright there, Jaybird?” 

Jason’s gaze refocused, landing on Roy standing a few feet from the couch. “Hm. Fine.” 

“Looking a little pensive today. Like someone slammed you upside the head with a frying pan.” 

“Hm.” 

Roy raised his eyebrows. “No crowbar joke? Alright, I’m staging an intervention. What’s up?” He flopped down on the couch to Jason’s left. 

Jason glared at him, but it was half-hearted. It had been a solid eighteen hours since he talked to Dick, and his brain was still too full. “I need to talk to Bruce.” 

Roy’s eyebrows slid even higher. “Alright. At dawn?” 

“Tonight. Something Dick said.” He picked at a loose thread on his sweatpants. “And Damian. You’ll stay with Lian?” 

“Of course. Do we need go bags?” 

“No.” Jason’s mouth twitched. “Probably not.” He stood, his muscles a little stiff from how long he’d sat staring into space. “I should be back tonight. I’ll let you know if I won’t be.” 

He made it to the Manor shortly before sunset. The temptation was strong to drive around for a while, scripting out what he needed to say. Stalling wouldn’t really change anything at this point, though. He wanted to catch Bruce before the man started his evening routine. He couldn’t have this conversation with Batman. Having it with Bruce would be hard enough. 

Jason parked his bike by the front steps and faltered as he walked up the ramp to the door. Muscle memory told him to go straight in. The part of him that wasn’t sure how tonight would go made him stop, tapping the knocker three times. 

Alfred answered, stepping aside to let him right in. “Master Jason, what a pleasure.” 

“Hey, Alfie.” Jason waffled for a moment, then reached out, pulling the old man into a hug. Alfred was thinner than he remembered, but his arms held Jason tightly as he hugged him back. “Sorry we didn’t get more of a chance to talk at brunch the other day.” 

“Nonsense, dear boy.” Alfred patted his shoulder. “We will have other mornings together.” 

They would, and wasn’t that a thought? Jason cleared his throat, stepping back. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you and Damian could come over for tea sometime? I’ve still got your recipe for a Victoria sandwich.” 

Alfred’s smile was nothing like Dick’s. Dick’s smile was bright as summer sun, eyes crinkled half-shut, his joy spilling over on everyone who witnessed it. Alfred’s was slight, well-mannered, warm and accepting as his kitchen on Christmas morning. “I would like that very much, Master Jason.” 

“Right. Good.” Jason glanced at the stairs. “Is Bruce around?” 

“In his study, I believe.” 

Jason nodded, maybe a few too many times. “Right. Thanks.” 

Alfred brushed a hand against his arm. “Perhaps you will join me for a cup of tea before you leave? Master Bruce may own the Manor, but he does not rule the kitchen.” 

Jason scrounged up a smile. “I’ll try, Alfie.” At least if Bruce decided to be a self-righteous asshole, he knew he was still welcome in Alfred’s domain. That was enough for him to square his shoulders and take a few steps toward the study. 

Jason’s chest felt tight. Part of him wanted to go check on Damian. Just to see the kid safe and busy with his sketches. However, he also didn’t want Damian to witness this if it went badly, and the kid would insist on coming down the moment he knew Jason was here. He knew Alfred wouldn’t tell the boy Jason was here until he was sure it wasn’t going to end in a screaming match or outright punches.

The study door was open. He didn’t bother to knock; Bruce was already looking up expectantly. He’d probably been sitting here staring at the doorway since the perimeter alarms went off. 

“Jason.” Bruce spoke slowly, as if picking his words with the care he used in dismantling a bomb. “What brings you here?” 

Jason took a few quick steps into the room, closing the door. Hands closing into fists, he stopped abruptly in front of Bruce’s desk, rocking on his heels. “You were a good dad.” The words burst out, louder than he’d meant them to be. 

Bruce flinched. 

“You fucked up sometimes. You’re a stubborn asshole. You need a metric fuckton of therapy – we probably all do – and I’m not sure I’ll ever stop being furious that you let another kid put on those colors after me, let alone that another kid died in them. But you were also a good dad. I wouldn’t have let Damian come here if you weren’t. 

“Dick said he didn’t know if you loved him, because you didn’t know how to show it to each other. I didn’t…” he cleared his throat, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall a few feet above Bruce’s left shoulder. “I never doubted that you loved me, Bruce. Not while I was alive. I knew you’d come, even if you were too late. I didn’t need you to say it. I figured it was enough that you showed it.” 

His throat ached, chest tight. “But he took me away from you, B. And I thought…There’s nothing right about a kid dying, but I thought at least something good would come out of it. Because there was no way you’d let him live after he killed me. If he killed you, I would have torn the world apart to find him. I would have ripped him to shreds – slowly – and it wouldn’t have brought you back, but at least he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. At least no one else would have to hurt like that.” 

He swallowed hard, still unable to look at Bruce directly. “I thought at least if I died, I took him down with me. But I came back, and he was still alive, and people just kept dying . I realized that however much I meant to you, your principles mattered more. Your precious rule meant more than any of those hundreds of lives, even your own son.” 

Jason’s voice cracked, and he raked a hand through his hair, other hand tight on his hip. He fought to keep steady enough to finish speaking. 

“You said you weren’t going anywhere! You made me think you cared, and that I was worth something! Worth taking care of! And then I came back and you weren’t fucking there , Bruce! Everything just kept going, like I’d never been there, and nothing even changed! You just slapped a mask on the next kid like you didn’t learn a goddamn thing! Like we’re fucking disposable! Fuck you! How fucking dare you?!”

His hands had dropped back to his sides, and he finally looked at Bruce. His vision was blurred, but he was fairly sure Bruce was crying too. 

“Jaylad. I’m so sorry.” 

Jason felt his breath pick up, a little too frantic. “I always knew I wasn’t enough. Maybe forgot it for a minute there, but I guess that’s my bad–” 

“No!” The desk chair rattled as Bruce shoved it back, finally rounding the desk. “Jay. Jaylad. You were– you are everything. I know…I’m not…good with words. I know I don’t say everything I should. I’m so sorry. You and your siblings are everything. If you don’t know that, that is entirely my fault.” 

Jason braced himself, Bruce only a foot or so away now. “Why?” He repeated. 

Bruce looked older than Jason had ever seen him. There was gray in his hair now. Jason had missed that, somehow. He looked tired, eyes red as much from exhaustion as tears. When he spoke, his voice was low and thin. “You were gone, Jay. I failed you, and you died, and all the light went with you. I failed to kill him. Tried, and failed.”

Jason studied Bruce’s face. Bruce was a trained liar, but Jason was trained to spot those lies. He wasn’t seeing them now. Just shame and weariness and a spark of something that he didn’t want to call hope. “The helicopter. Dick mentioned something.” 

Bruce nodded. “Dick and Alfred and Clark wouldn’t let me die. Gotham still needed Batman. I had to find a way to keep going.” His mouth turned wry. “I am not…good with grief.” 

Jason couldn’t stop a snort. "You've lived your whole life for the dead, B. Why not for me?" Jason's stomach turned as the words slipped out, and he hated the expression they put on Bruce's face. There was no satisfaction in it for either of them. He had to ask anyway.

Bruce's voice was low, almost a whisper. "Because I had to live. I wanted...I would have followed you, Jay. Your brothers, Alfred, Clark and Diana, they wouldn't let me. Dick and Tim deserved better. From me. I couldn't go back and change myself in time to save you. I couldn't bring you back by killing him. I couldn't keep living if I killed him. I had to do better. I am so sorry, Jay. I can't...I know it changes nothing. It fixes nothing. I am trying to be better. For Dick, for Tim, for Cass, for Damian, and for you.

“I–” Bruce’s voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “I will not deny I handled the grief of your death poorly. I am still handling it poorly. You have every right to be furious with me. Every right to hate me. I cannot imagine what it was like to come back, let alone come back to all of this. But you always come first, Jaylad. You and your siblings always come first.” 

Something cracked in Jason’s chest. He folded his arms, trying to hold himself together. What would he have done, if Bruce had chosen differently? What would Bruce have done? Dick? The idea of coming back to find Bruce dead… 

There was a time the Pit would have gloried in the thought of Batman and Robin crumpled and bloody. A lot had happened since then. He thought of Damian, dreaming for so long of meeting his father. If it really had been a choice of killing Joker or living to meet Damian, then this wasn’t just about Jason or Bruce. It was about all of them. It was about his own son, too.

What Bruce said, about being unable to live for himself, but needing to keep living for others? That echoed through so much of Jason’s own life. It echoed every time he’d returned to Nanda Parbat and the kids. The way he’d changed all his plans for a return to Gotham when he realized Lian would be with him. 

Jason’s voice was thick. “I’ve broken your rules. I don’t regret it. I’ll kill again if I need to.” 

Bruce leaned back against the desk, choosing his words carefully. “I cannot pretend I approve. I will not stand by if you continue to kill.” 

“You swore to protect people. Sometimes protecting them means ending the bastard who keeps breaking out to massacre children. Not–” Jason choked on the words “not bringing him back after he finally got a fraction of what was coming to him.” 

Bruce paced toward the window, overlooking the faded rose garden. “My hands are not clean, Jason. I know that.”

“You said it yourself; Diana kills sometimes. Not often, sure. But you still fight alongside her. You still– well, you don’t call her your best friend, because you’re an emotionally constipated dumbass, but she is.” 

“Diana is not my child.”

Jason’s stomach twisted. “So only your Robins have to meet the perfect standard. Got it.”

“It’s not that I can’t imagine killing someone,” Bruce said slowly. “It’s all too easy to imagine. All too tempting sometimes. If I let myself cross that line, it would jeopardize everything we’ve ever fought for. I couldn’t be Batman anymore. I’m not sure I could be Bruce. I couldn’t be the father or son or friend I want to be. To have another’s blood on one’s hands is the greatest burden I can conceive of. I never want any of my children to carry that burden. I’m supposed to protect you, and I know I’ve already failed. I have to keep trying. If it is within my power to prevent you or your brothers from carrying that burden, I will. Every time.” 

“You don’t get to make that decision for me! I’m a grown man, not the kid in the scaly shorts anymore. I’ve been raising your kid. Keeping him alive and safe. I’m not you , Bruce. I don’t like killing, but some monsters need to die.” 

“I can’t make your decisions, but it is my responsibility and my privilege to take care of you. All of you, and Gotham–” 

“You think you’ve got a monopoly on this fucking city? On the whole fucking family? You’re not the only one who gives a damn, B!” Jason barked a laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “They’re not just your responsibility. I’ve spent as many nights on those streets as you have. I died in the colors, protecting a woman who didn’t give a shit about me. I rotted in Gotham’s dirt, and clawed my way back to her rooftops, and I take care of my own, Bruce! Those kids are my own! Crime Alley is my own! Fucking Gotham is my own! Hell, Dickie and my goddamn Replacement, if they’ll have me! Maybe I’m a selfish, bloody-minded bastard, but you will have to bury me again before I stop protecting them all the best way I know how!” 

Jason didn’t realize he was shouting until silence sifted back into the room, broken only by his own ragged breath. Bruce held his gaze, studying Jason’s face as if the perfect answer was hidden there, if only he could translate it. It was several seconds before he spoke. 

“You’re right.” 

It took Jason a moment to process the words. He wasn’t actually sure he’d ever heard Bruce say them before. The older man turned back toward the window, shoulders just barely hunched. 

“You will always be my son, Jason. Nothing you can do will change that. It will always be my job to protect you the best I can, just as it’s become yours to love and protect Damian and Lian. I can’t bring myself to approve of the way you’re doing it, or stand idly by. But you’re right. You grew up. I’ve never been good at letting you boys do that.”

Jason shifted, suddenly awkward. This conversation was shaping up to be the most words he’d ever heard out of Bruce that weren’t about a case. “No shit,” he muttered. 

“Hn.” 

Jason refolded his arms. Rocked on the balls of his feet. His brain was a jumble of words and memories and adrenaline, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to say until the words were spilling out. “I thought you didn’t give a shit. You didn’t make to the warehouse in time, whatever. I made my choices, I knew it’s dangerous work, I’m pissed that you ever let Robin exist, but I could have come home. But then Talia said I’d been wandering around Gotham for months, probably. I kept finding these news articles or bits of intel saying that it was just Alfred and the Gordons at the funeral. Joker was still running around, death toll higher every time I checked. There was already another Robin, and half of Gotham didn’t even notice a difference. Like I was disposable.” 

“Jay…” Bruce’s voice was horrifying. Jason couldn’t look at him. 

“You asked why I didn’t come home, B. You assumed I still thought I had one to come back to. That all of this–” he waved vaguely at the Manor, at Bruce “--was anything but a pretty vacation from reality.” 

“You have always been wanted. This will always be your home,” Bruce seemed to be trying to make his voice firm. It shook a little too much, but Jason found he didn’t doubt the words like he might have a few months ago. 

He scuffed a foot against the Persian rug. “Look, I don’t know if I can forgive you. Not sure I want to. But I think…it would be good for Damian if we could keep some kind of truce. Like we talked about at WE. Rules for shared cases, boundaries for visits, whatever. I don’t want to make him choose between us. And…” he hesitated. “I’m a selfish bastard,” he repeated. “I’ve got a couple brothers and a grandpa I’m not giving up without a fight. I missed Alfie’s cooking.” 

Bruce’s eyes were doing that thing where he was smiling without moving his mouth. The smile he could hide in the cowl, but any half-decent Robin knew how to spot. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly glad for the training that kept them steady. 

“Would a library sweeten the deal?” 

Jason shrugged, rocking back on his heels. He tried to keep his tone light. “You can’t bribe me, but I will be claiming it.” 

Bruce still looked tired, and Jason’s muscles ached like he’d just finished a night of patrol, but he could feel the shift in the room. Like the clean, cool air after a summer storm. 

“Please do.” 

“I need you to show it, Bruce.” 

“I will try.”

Jason nodded. If Bruce could try for a fresh start after everything they’d done, so could he. For Damian. Maybe for himself, too.

“Shall we and our eavesdroppers see if Alfred has anything hot for us to drink before patrol?” 

Jason snorted. “Sure. He mentioned something about a cup of tea.” 

He swung open the office door, raising an eyebrow at the two boys. Shameless as a pair of Roman alley cats, the pair of them. Damian gave him a sharp nod of approval. 

“Tt. It’s about time, Baba. I suppose I can hold onto my blackmail until the next crisis, then.” 

Jason scrubbed a hand through his son’s hair, then punched Tim lightly on the shoulder. “Brats. Get moving before I decide to teach you a lesson about what happens to little pitchers with big ears.” 

The boys scampered ahead toward the kitchen, and Bruce brought up the rear. 

“Jason,” he said as they turned down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Thank you.” 

“Shut up. It’s tea time. You ruin tea time with your doom and gloom, and I’ll have to kick your ass. It’s just disrespectful.” 

Bruce’s eyes crinkled again, and Jason shoved through the kitchen door, looking anywhere else but at his dad. “Alfie! You still get that black current tea from the shop on Souter Street?” 

Chapter Text

Here’s the thing. Roy and Dick were talking, but they hadn’t really talked . After the whole debacle with Dick finding out that Roy and his little brother had been literally sleeping together for months, they’d had to jump almost immediately into handling the city-wide meltdown which followed Joker and Black Mask’s deaths. Then everyone had been focused on making sure nothing jeopardized Bruce and Jason’s uneasy peace, and checking that the kids were okay, and Bludhaven had its own messes crop up, and…

Long story short, it had been weeks and Dick wasn’t exactly ignoring him, but things still didn’t feel quite right . Roy didn’t think Dick was angry anymore. He had witnessed a truly angry Dick Grayson before, and it wasn’t exactly a quiet or patient experience. Even if he was furious, and just biding his time, Roy had to make the first move. They’d all had a chance to catch their breath. Frankly, Roy missed his friend. He had to fix this. 

So the archer found himself in Bludhaven on a Thursday afternoon, a briefcase in his hand, watching Dick Grayson’s intercom button like it might be coated in flesh-eating bacteria. Sack up, Harper. You’re out of excuses.

He jabbed the button. Waited. 

“Yep?” 

“It’s Roy. Can I come up? Brought you something.” 

The door buzzed, and Roy let out a long breath as he let himself in. The elevator was broken, because Dick lived in a shithole, so Roy climbed the eight stories to Dick’s apartment. He’d been working to get back in shape since Gotham went nuclear, but he still felt the burn in his calves by the time he rapped on the cheap plywood door. 

Dick opened it almost immediately, stepping aside to let him in. Alright. That was good. 

Roy held up the briefcase, trying not to angle it like a shield. “I’ve been tinkering with some new pieces; converting some of my arrow designs to a different format. Brought a test set for you to try out.” He slid the case onto the wobbly kitchen table and unlatched it, moving aside to give Dick a clear view of the contents. A gesture of trust. Like Dick Grayson would have any difficulty skinning him alive even if Roy didn’t offer up a box of blades. “I figured you can give ‘em a try, and I’ll work up a few sets of whichever ones you like.” 

Dick looked down at the assortment of customized wingdings, then up at Roy. He didn’t move to pick any of them up. “Is this a peace offering?” 

Roy pulled one of the wingdings out of the felt lining, turning it over in his hands. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while. As a thank you for everything. Took me a while to finish, with the whole–” he gestured vaguely toward Gotham. 

Dick waited, arms folded tight across his chest. 

“I didn’t lie to you, Dick. Neither of us did. Jason and I aren’t…” he squared his shoulders. “We’re not fucking. We’re not dating. We didn’t lie to you.” 

“Go on.” 

“We’ve been sharing a bed most of this time. Nothing’s happened.” He tried to think how to word this without betraying Jason’s trust. “Lian was having trouble sleeping without Jason there, and he sleeps better with her there, but he’s usually on patrol half the night. This ended up being the best arrangement for everyone’s sake.” 

“And you’re in love with him.” 

Roy rocked back on his heels. “Hang on, that’s not–” 

Dick sighed, shifting his weight. “Roy, I’ve known you for years. Whatever else has happened, you’re one of my best friends. I know what it looks like when you’re gone on someone. No lying, right?”

Roy shoved the wingding back into the case before he cut himself clutching it too tightly. “I– Look, I didn’t lie. I’m not lying now. Yeah, I’m fucking gone on him. I haven’t acted on it, and I’m not going to. I’m not going to put that shit on him. We all know he deserves better than that. He’s got enough of his own shit to deal with, without me trying to make something happen between us.” 

Dick studied his face for several long seconds before turning to examine the wingdings. He slipped one from the felt, flipping it in his hand as if to check the balance. Roy waited, spine stiff. 

With a clack, Dick shut the case and threw the wingding at a dart board on the far wall. It sparked as it hit the bullseye. Dick’s hands came to rest on his hips, and he took a deep breath. 

“Look, you’re both adults. I didn’t appreciate thinking you’d lied to me, but I can’t tell you what to do with your own bodies. I just worry, Roy. For both of you. I know Jason’s not a kid anymore, but he’s still my baby brother. Like you said, he’s still going through a lot. So are you. And if he thinks you’d take Lian away if he didn’t say yes–” 

“Christ, Dick, I thought you knew I wouldn’t–” 

“ I know. Does Jason?” 

“Yeah.” Roy raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he knows. We’ve talked about it probably a dozen times.” 

Dick frowned. “So you’ve told him how you feel already.” 

“No. I’m not putting that on him. The custody thing; we’ve talked about that a lot. We’ve both agreed over and over again that Lian’s not a toy, and we’re not taking her away from the other for anything less than outright endangering her. I kinda blew up at him for letting me near her in the first place, and again when I found out about the drug trade. We talked it out. If I fuck up and hurt her, I’m out and she stays in Gotham with him and Damian. If he fucks up, I’m leaving and taking her with me. Anything less, we work out, because that’s what’s best for Lian.” 

Roy leaned back against the table, then thought better of it and stood upright as the table creaked loudly. “Lian’s had enough to deal with, without me fucking everything up by thinking with my prick. They’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Maybe ever. I’m not messing this up, Rob.” 

Dick took a long breath, and let it out slowly. He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. “I think…I’m really glad you found each other.” 

Roy swallowed, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.” 

Dick swayed to the side, the smile easing into something more like Robin. “Want to take these to an abandoned building and test them all with me?” 

Roy laughed, his shoulders easing. “You really need to ask, man?”