Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 (Sunday night, Monday morning)

It was a dark and stormy night. Tim laughed to himself as the traditional opening to most ghost stories about things that go bump in the night entered his thoughts. It certainly was dark and it was because of the storm threatening to break overhead.

But at the moment, he was the only thing going bump in the night.

And it would be quite the bump if he didn’t make some effort to stop the free fall he was currently in.

Well, not quite a free fall as he spread his arms and legs to open the wing suit he was wearing. This was a controlled dive after all. He had a reason to wear this suit rather than his normal one. He needed to land in a very specific place in the most inconspicuous way possible.

Hence the wing suit.

His target was coming up. Tim adjusted his angle and raised his knees, still keeping the wing suit wide open to slow down his descent as much as possible. It wasn’t easy, gliding onto the roof of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Gotham, but this was his task tonight.

He landed with a hard thud, his reinforced kneepads and gauntleted arms taking the brunt of the force, but Tim rolled with it, one, two, three, before finally coming to a full stop on the fourth. He huffed a quiet laugh into the night and grinned. What a rush!

Tim quickly stripped out of the suit, taking a moment to look for any tears in the flaps. He was going to need it again to get out of here. Everything looked good, so he stashed it up against the low wall he was going to make his exit from shortly.

If all goes to plan that is. Tim smirked as he made his way quietly to the rooftop access door. He inspected the keypad lock and pulled a slim USB cord from his gauntlet. His wrist computer made fast work of the lock and Tim slipped inside just before the sky let loose with the rain that had been looming all evening.

Perfect timing.

The tower was 78 stories high and Tim’s interest tonight lay on the 70th floor. He made his way down the staircase quickly, having already sent a worm into the security system to loop the cameras and knockout the motion sensors.

You’d think that one of the largest companies in the world would have better security. Tim slowly opened the door to the stairwell a crack and rolled one of his remote cameras out across the floor.

The coast was clear.

He opened the door just enough to squeeze out and shut it. The doorway was tucked into an alcove just beside the bank of elevators. This was the executive level so the opportunities for cover were slim. The remote camera was left were it was; any motion would send an alert to his computer.

Tim quickly made his way across the open foyer and down the hallway to the CEO’s office. He dropped another camera and took note of where it landed. As much as he’d like to leave a permanent bug on this floor, he knew it was swept regularly so his toys would be found.

And that just wouldn’t do.

The hallway opened up to a wide waiting room with two sets of doors against the far wall. The executive assistant’s desk was on the right and the secretary’s desk on the left. Both desks sported wide double monitors and as Tim walked abreast, he saw the blinking lights of the computer towers.

He ducked to the right and pulled out the USB cable again from his gauntlet. His screen lit up and Tim started searching files, eyes narrowing as he found what he was looking for.

Why bother with the CEO’s locked office and encrypted computer when all the information I'm looking for is on the EA’s more accessible tower?

Files downloaded, Tim made his way back down the hallway, picking up the first remote, then the second as he entered the stairwell again. He hesitated a moment, wondering yet again if it would be worth the effort to plug into the closed server network and be able to access it remotely. It would only be temporary as the servers were also routinely checked for bugs.

No. If I do, then the next time I really need to come here, it’ll be that much harder to get in.

Decision made, Tim ghosted back up the stairs.

At the top, he could hear the sound of the rain pounding outside. It hadn’t been more than 30 minutes tops from the time he landed until now, but the rain was still coming down just as hard as when it had first started, but the wind was still strong. This made his exit strategy a bit dicey as he needed to be able to use the wing suit and glide to one of the neighboring towers.

Tim sighed, then pushed open the door and closed it quickly. The rain pelted him with sharp little stings he barely felt through his suit. Going to the keypad, he turned the cameras and motion sensors back on in the stairwell.

Bracing himself for a frontal onslaught from the rain, Tim ran to the side of the building and climbed back into his wing suit. He looked out across the wide expanse to the tower across the street. It was only 51 stories compared to the tower he was currently on and wasn’t as new. There were plenty of places a well-aimed grapple hook could catch.

Here goes nothing. Tim took a few steps away from the edge, then made a running leap forward.

He dove for a moment, angling his body towards the next building. Opening his arms and legs, the wind caught him and pushed him further forward, building upon the momentum from his jump and propelling him further across the void.

Damn rain. Tim wasn’t going to reach the building with just the suit, the rain was coming down too hard, so he pulled out his grapple and let himself fall past the edge of the roof. Twisting so that he faced up, he shot out the line. It caught easily and the decel line took the brunt of the tension as it snapped taught.

Up we go! He hauled himself over the edge.

Turning around, he took a moment to look back at the building he’d just left, reeling in the decel line on his grapple gun with an efficiency from frequent use. The rain made it a bit hazy, but the company name was still brightly lit.

Wayne Enterprises.

Tim smirked and gave a jaunty salute to the tower.

Despite the rain, it had been a good night for Stray.

*****

From the roof of a neighboring skyscraper, a figure in a red helmet lowered a pair of binoculars.

“Very impressive, pussy cat,” he muttered. “You’re all grown up now. Time to see if you can play with the big kids.”

The Red Hood turned away and made his own exit from the rooftop.

Looks like I get to go to school in the morning.

*****

Tim Drake yawned widely as he made his way down the steps of the auditorium style lecture hall. Morning classes were always the worst. Thank god I’m the TA though. It’d be even worse if I had to sit through this and try to take notes.

At 22 years of age, Tim was a graduate student at Gotham University and already a year into his program, having graduated with his undergrad degree in computer sciences earlier than the rest of his class. His Master’s was going to be in cyber security.

Not that there was a lot the program could teach him that he didn’t already know.

Today’s lecture involved a powerpoint, so Tim pulled up the overhead and got the presentation up on the screen. He took a clicker from his bag and set it on the podium.

This was an introductory class and Tim hated it. He had to sit through this once as an undergrad and now he had to do so again as a grad student. The things I do to keep a cover. Tim’s nightlife as Stray needed to be kept separate from his day life as a working grad student struggling to make ends meet. He more than made enough as Stray to cover the full costs of his Master’s, but covers were there for a reason.

Bad enough he had degrees in computer science.

As the lecture started, Tim found himself thinking back to how it all started.

*****

Stray was the protégé of Catwoman who’d came into his own not as a jewel thief, but as an information dealer. Tim’s trade was secrets. He worked mainly in Gotham, but he had the pulse of a few other major cities around the world. Gotham was home. And more fun.

Because Gotham was home to Batman and Oracle. Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon.

It was during his first year of following Robin and Batman that Tim encountered Catwoman. He’d been hanging rather precariously off the side of a billboard trying to get the right angle. He got it, but in doing so, he slipped.

A strong hand grasped his wrist and pulled him up.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A little kitten chasing a bird and a bat?” purred a silky smooth voice.

Tim opened his eyes to see Catwoman blinking back at him, a small smile on her face. “Umm…it’s not what you think it is?”

“And what do I think it is, kitten?” she asked as she hauled him up and over the edge of the billboard, sitting him down and taking a seat next to him. Her purple bodysuit was almost black in the night. Tim could see her eyes gleaming at him.

He scrunched his young face in thought, then said brightly, “I’m just testing out the low light exposure on my camera.” He smiled.

Catwoman laughed. “Nice try, kitten. Good job with sticking to a partial truth, but you forgot situational awareness.” Her gazed turned hard. “And the fact you’re out here in the dead of night with a rather expensive camera when you can’t be more then 8.”

Tim quickly went on the defensive. “I’m 10! And I’ve been doing this for almost six months now.”

Catwoman looked impressed. “Six months and he hasn’t caught you yet?” No need to say who he was.

“Nope.” Tim looked down at his dangling feet. They were at least six stories up, perhaps seven when counting the height from the billboard. It didn’t faze him, not like it used to when he first started following Batman and Robin.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got some talent of your own.” Catwoman’s voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve been watching you almost all night. You’re quick, but you’re also very smart in choosing places where you can see without being seen.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t want to be caught.”

“Sometimes being caught is half the fun.”

Tim turned to glare at Catwoman. “I’ve seen you with…with Batman,” he whispered, almost as if by saying Batman’s name he’d instantly appear. “You let yourself get caught just to tease him.”

Catwoman’s eyes widened. “How long do you usually watch?”

Tim blushed. “I stop when you two start kissing. Adults are gross sometimes.”

She grinned. “You may not mind so much when you get older,” she purred.

Flustered, Tim looked at Catwoman directly. “Are you going to tell on me? To him?”

She was silent for a moment. “No, I’m not going to tell him. But, I’m also not going to let you run around by yourself anymore without some training. You’ve got the makings of something special and I’d hate to see that go splat on the pavement.”

“I don’t want to be a thief though,” said Tim in a small voice.

“Oh, kitten. I’m not going to teach you how to be a thief. I’m going to teach you how to be a cat that always lands on its feet.”

Tim smiled at the memory of his first meeting with Selina. She was right, she really did teach him how to land on his feet. He’d been right though too. She did teach him how to be a good thief. Picking locks, slight of hand, misdirection. It was when she started showing him how to break into security systems they discovered his particular talent for technology.

Stray (he hated being called kitten by anyone other than Selina) discovered he had a knack for computers. And, according to Selina at least, it went all downhill from there. Tim spent almost all of his free time learning different computer programs, coding, and even started writing his own programs. It was fascinating work, especially once he got the confidence to start hacking into other computers and networks.

What started as a hobby was quickly turning into something more.

Selina encouraged Tim’s new skillset, at first thinking he would use it to help make her night job easier. But Tim was adamant he would not use his computer skills for petty crimes. At his core, Tim still thought of himself as a good person who was going to use these skills for a noble cause.

Of course, Selina took it was a challenge to see what Tim considered worthy causes. He flat out refused to hack into bank accounts of known crime bosses to move funds around so that they ultimately landed in Selina’s offshore accounts, but he would break into said accounts and make large anonymous donations to various charities.

He’d help take down the security system at a museum where stolen art was being displayed. They’d enjoy the pieces for a few weeks, then send it back to the original owners.

It was during one of these heists Tim first met the second Robin, Jason Todd.

Catwoman and Stray were at the Gotham City Metropolitan Art Museum late one night close to the end of an art exhibit featuring a series of sketches from Michelangelo, Raphael, and other Renaissance artists. Tim had discovered that three of the sketches had been stolen back in World War II from a Jewish family interred at one of the concentration camps in Germany. He felt the descendants deserved their family’s art back.

Selina agreed after reading the information Tim unearthed.

This night, Stray perched on the roof of the museum, just inside the rooftop access door and connected into the museum’s security system through an alarm panel. Catwoman was two floors down, her job to collect the sketches and Stray’s to turn off the alarms on the cases, as well as keep an eye on the security feeds for any guards.

Or a Bat and a new bird.

Which made it all the more embarrassing when Stray heard from over his shoulder, “Whatcha doin’, pussy cat?”

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, whirling around to see Robin crouched a few feet away. He wore the same uniform as the first Robin, red tunic, scaly green shorts, a yellow cape and green boots. But even at 14, the new Robin wore it well, confidant and cocky, bright like Robin should always be.

Stray quickly recovered, a trait Catwoman worked hard to cultivate in the boy. He smiled widely. “Nothing much. Recovering some stolen property.”

“Really?” Robin said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe Stray at all. “There’s other ways to do that, ya know.”

“I know, but the proper authorities have had their heads up their butts for the last 60 years or so. Time to speed up the process.”

“60 years? You’re kiddin’”. You could take a kid off the street, but you can’t take the street out of the kid. Robin still sounded like the street rat he was born as, despite being Batman’s protégé for the last six months. Stray had followed the news avidly when Bruce Wayne adopted a new son, Jason Todd. He knew it was just a matter of time before a new Robin would appear.

“Nope,” replied Stray, making a point to pop the “p”.

Robin scooted a step closer, watching Stray closely. “You’re the kid that’s been hangin’ around Catwoman for the last year or so.”

Stray tilted his head to the side, playing coy. “What makes you think that?”

“The cat ears on your hood for starters. B has a file on you. He knows who Catwoman is, but can’t figure you out.” Robin grinned, showing a lot of teeth. “I think it’s time someone did.”

And with that, Robin lunged towards him. Stray quickly yanked his laptop from the USB connection, hitting the panic button to alert Catwoman as he did so. He tucked and rolled, narrowly avoiding Robin’s outstretched arms.

He gained his feet quickly, sliding his laptop into a specially designed pouch on his back. He started running across the rooftop, booking it for all he was worth. Robin was close behind him.

As Stray neared the edge of the building, he caught a glimpse of the narrow high wire he and Catwoman strung there earlier. He’d practiced this a million times now, but this was the first time he’d ever had to run across with someone hot on his heels.

No time like the present. Stray jumped up onto the ledge and ran out across the expanse. Behind him, he heard Robin shout “Holy shit, you’re fuckin’ insane!”

As he reached the other side, Stray turned and looked back at Robin. He was standing on the edge of the museum roof, hands clenched in frustration. Apparently he’d not quite gotten to this part of his training yet. Stray grinned cheekily and flipped Robin a jaunty salute before running off.

Later that night, he and Selina celebrated a successful heist with a tub of vanilla ice cream and admired the sketches she’d been able to recover before Batman had swooped in.

“You did good tonight, kitten. Way to keep your head in the game,” she’d praised Tim, cuddling with him on the sofa of her apartment. He loved cuddle-time. It was so rare he’d get any form of physical affection from his parents when they were home.

“Thanks, Selina.”

Stray and Robin met often after that night. Robin seemed to take it as a personal challenge to catch the younger boy who always managed to just elude his grasp. It quickly turned into a game, especially once Robin realized Stray often ran without Catwoman. They were friends of a sort and often found themselves helping each other get out of (and into) trouble.

One night, about a year and a half after they’d first met, Stray found Robin sitting alone on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge of the building. The older boy looked depressed about something.

Stray sat down next to him, just out of arms reach, like always. Though that had to be a bit further away now, as Robin recently hit a growth spurt. “What’s up?” he asked softly.

Robin didn’t say anything for a minute, then sighed. “B and I got into a fight. He benched me.”

“Garzonas?” Stray asked. He saw the news from the night before.

“Yeah. He doesn’t believe me. He-he really thinks I pushed that asshole off his balcony.” Robin shook, clenching his fists in his green gloves. “I wanted to. Christ, I wanted to after what he did. But he fell on his own when I jumped out at him.”

Stray waited a moment, then said quietly, “You didn’t try to save him.”

A long pause. “No.”

“I’ve always known that not everyone can be saved. Good people die just as often as bad people.” Stray thought for a moment about the Flying Graysons. The bright lights and pageantry of the circus, of that night, forever seared into his memory.

“I-I know,” choked Robin. “But he doesn’t see it that way! It’s all black or white for him. He doesn’t know what it’s really like, doing whatever you can just to survive.”

Robin had told Stray long ago about his life in Crime Alley, growing up with an often-absent father and a sick mom. Begging and stealing just to get by. He even confided that he’d started prostituting himself not long before Batman found him. Stray was shocked, that Robin, his hero, could have done that.

But Stray ran these streets too and knew the dark and grim reality that faced Gotham’s poorer residents. Gotham was not a nice city and he long ago recognized he was incredibly lucky to have a home to go to each night, even if it was devoid of warmth and love.

Stray let himself scoot closer, sitting close enough his hand settled on the ledge right next to Robin’s. The older boy hesitated a moment, then grabbed it, holding tightly. He laughed darkly. “You never let me catch you, pussy cat.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do tonight,” Stray said lightly, tightly holding Robin’s hand as well. He ignored the nickname. It always irked him, but Robin never called him anything else.

“I’m…I’m going to go away for a bit. I found a box with some of my mom’s things in it. It…it has my birth certificate. There’s another woman’s name on it.”

Stray gasped. “What? Who?”

“It’s a bit water-damaged. The only part of the name I could make out is “Sandra”. There’s an address book too. It belonged to my dad. I found three names in it that start with S.”

“You’re going to go looking for them.” It wasn’t a question.

Robin nodded.

“Do you want my help? I’m good with computers and hacking records.”

“I know, but…I want to do this on my own. I need to do this on my own.”

Stray nodded. “I get it. If you change your mind…” He started digging through his utility belt (a much slimmer design than those the Bats wore) and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote a phone number and a name and handed it to Robin.

He looked at it a moment, surprise showing on his face, then at Stray. “Tim?” he asked.

“If you call me Timmy, Jason, I swear I'll throw you off the roof."

The look of surprise on Robin’s face grew, turning into shock. “You know?”

Stray nodded. “I’ve known since I was 9 years old. I haven’t told anyone what I know, not even Selina. I’m never going to tell.”

Robin huffed a laugh. “That’s just fan-fucking-tastic. Stray knows who Batman and Robin are and we never had a clue.”

“You do now,” said Stray quietly.

Robin looked at the piece of paper, then at Stray. “Yeah, I do. Tim Drake.”

“Jason Todd.”

The moment passed as both boys started laughing.

A few days later, Jason left Gotham to search for his mother. He’d accepted Tim’s help in getting his airline tickets ready for him and booking a hotel in Israel.

A month after that, Jason was dead.

*****

Tim shook himself out of his memories just in time to catch the end of the lecture. He hated the morbid turn his thoughts turned to, but it was hard to not think about Robin, Jason, when remembering his early years as Stray. He idolized Robin for so long, dreaming he could be friends with the boy. First Dick, then Jason.

And thanks to a chance encounter with Catwoman, he’d gotten the opportunity.

He collected the homework from the students as they passed it along to the front rows and remembered to snag the clicker from the professor before she wandered off with it. He already had the grading key for the homework assignment, so, with an open morning ahead of him, Tim set out for a nice quiet spot just outside the library he liked to go to when he had a few hours between classes. His next one wasn’t until after lunch.

The oak tree was big and sprawling, with thick branches just perfect for sitting in. He liked to think this was his way of getting in tune with nature.

Wanting to get the tedium out of the way, he started grading.

An hour quickly passed. Tim was almost done when he came across a piece of paper that didn’t resemble the homework assignment. It was on a piece of printer paper and folded in half, like a lot of people did, so Tim didn’t think twice about opening it until he saw it was a note addressed to him.

Drake,

Word is you’re the fat cat on campus to go to when someone needs to learn something no one else is supposed to know. You help me, I’ll help you.

RH

Beneath the signature was a phone number.

Tim’s blood ran cold, his skin prickling as goose bumps rose across his arms. The note was ambiguous enough to the casual observer, but the fat cat reference made it pretty obvious who it was really for. Stray.

Someone knew he was Stray. Knew his real name. Knew where he went to college. Knew his schedule enough to slip a note directly to him without him even catching on.

Shit.

Tim shoved the papers, including the note, into his messenger bag and climbed out of the tree. As he started walking, he felt the tell tale prickle up the back of his neck he got when he was being watched. But when he paused to casually look around, there was no one there.

*****

He missed the figure standing in a fourth story window in the library. Jason Todd stood there a moment longer, watching Tim until he turned a corner.

“You won’t run very far, pussy cat.” He turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

-Chapter 2- (Monday afternoon and Monday night)

One of the early lessons Tim learned from Selina was the art of misdirection. She taught it as a lesson in pick pocketing, but Tim took it one step further. Misdirection was intended to draw the eye where he wanted others to look, all the while not seeing what he was really doing.

As Tim left campus, he looked like a typical collage student. Young, ear-buds in and looking at his phone as he walked, occasionally bumping into people as he maneuvered his way through the city. But as Tim walked, he changed.

Between one corner and the next, the flannel jacket he carried with his messenger bag got put on, cleverly concealing that he had a bag at all. A quick bump into someone before the next corner added a pair of gloves to the ensemble. By the next corner (and a quick turn to the right), Tim was sporting an eyebrow piercing, sunglasses, and his hair was wild and all over the place.

The closer he got to his destination, Tim looked much more like a punk than the computer nerd he portrayed himself as on campus. He even pocketed his phone and ditched the ear-buds (and added his ear piercings).

Feeling more comfortable the further away he got from campus, Tim took a moment to enter a Starbucks. He was hyped up enough as it was on adrenaline, so he settled for a chai latte. He really didn’t need to add his usual triple-shot espresso to the mix.

Waiting for his order, Tim looked around the shop. He liked people watching. It was calming and entertaining to try and guess what people were doing. Eyes dancing across the tables, he put labels to several people right away. Exhausted city worker. Working girl treating herself to something sugary and warm before hitting the streets. Schoolteacher. Handsome twenty-something in glasses with a white streak in his hair.

The handsome twenty-something was sitting in a corner up by the front reading a beaten-up paperback. Of everyone in the room, he was perhaps the most interesting. It was odd to see someone that age reading an actual book rather than an electronic version. He was very physically fit, with shoulders straining against the blue cotton of the worn out henley he was wearing.

For some reason, Tim’s eyes kept going back to the young man, even as new people entered the coffee shop. Something about him was tickling his brain, but damned if he knew what it was. It’s like my spidey-sense is going off.

“Order up for Shawn!” Tim heard from behind him. He turned to get his drink. Shawn was the name he always used around here. Always paid cash, always tipped a buck in the tip jar.

As he walked out, he found himself walking along the storefront and past the young man. He took one last look, making note of a strong jaw line. Tim turned the corner and took a sip of his latte. It’ll come to me eventually.

*****

Jason watched Tim leave the Starbucks. It had been close, getting here before Tim did. It helped he knew the neighborhood like the back of his hand. Tim Drake, for all of his different quirks, could be rather predictable once a person knew what to look for. And his caffeine habit was a major one.

Tim’s chameleon-like change as he walked the streets of Gotham had been a major surprise when he first started following the younger man a couple weeks before. Being unprepared for it, he’d manage to give him the slip a few times that first week.

But then Jason caught on and mentally applauded the college student. His transformation from Tim Drake to whoever this “Shawn” person was was just incredible. He’d quickly learned “Shawn” was an alias he only used in this part of town.

Jason grinned into his tea and turned back to his book, making sure to keep his phone on silent, but in his line of sight. He didn’t want to miss his phone call.

Curiosity killed the cat but if I know Stray, satisfaction certainly will bring him back.

*****

Tim Drake lived in a brownstone in the Upper East Side he’d inherited from his dad after he died when he was 17; his mom died when he was 13 in Haiti. Stray, however, lived in an apartment in Robbinsville, not too far from Sheldon Park. He was close enough to Crime Alley, the Bowery, and the East End that he could be anywhere within the boroughs in a matter of minutes.

He took his chai and his tablet to the park and sat down on a bench where he could clearly see the comings and goings of the people around him. It was a nice October day, the leaves just starting to change now that the nights were getting cold.

Pulling up a program on his tablet, Tim entered the phone number from the note. He knew it was a Gotham number based on the area code and was unsurprised when it came back as unlisted and unregistered. A burner phone then. Big surprise there.

The initials in the note meant nothing to him. RH. The only name that came to mind was the actor Richard Harris.

Tim pulled out his own phone and activated a tracking program he created. If the number he was calling was a cell, he’d be able to get a general location from the cell tower pings. Assuming the owner picked up the first time around. It also blocked his number and made his phone untraceable as well.

Turning on his voice scrambler app, he dialed the number.

After three rings, a male voice picked up. “Hello?”

“Hello. Am I speaking with RH?”

A deep throaty chuckle came across the line. “You are. I take it you got my note, pussy cat.”

The hair on the back of Tim’s neck rose. Only one person ever called him that. A person 10 years dead. In all the years since, he’d never allowed anyone to get away with it.

“You want my help, you’ll never call me that again.” It was a shame the voice scrambler took away the anger in Tim’s voice.

“Heh, I brush the kitty’s fur the wrong way?” The tone was cocky, which pissed Tim off.

“You could say that. Tell me how you found me and just maybe I’ll hear you out.”

“Awe, that’s not a very nice way to start a relationship here, Timmers.”

Tim ground his teeth. This man was pushing his buttons on purpose, he knew it. “What relationship? You know my name and are planning to blackmail me into helping you.”

He pulled up his tracking app on his tablet and opened a map of Gotham. Just another minute or so and he’d have him.

“Blackmail is such a dirty word. I have no intention of snitching.”

“That so? Then tell me who you are.”

Another deep chuckle met Tim’s ears. “I’m the Red Hood, pussy cat.”

For the second time that day, Tim’s blood ran cold.

The Red Hood. The newest masked criminal terrorizing Gotham, the Red Hood recently toppled Black Mask’s almost decade long stranglehold over Gotham’s illegal drug and gun trades. He killed anyone who stood in his way, yet had a peculiar soft spot for kids and prostitutes.

It had been a few weeks since Black Mask’s body had been found gift-wrapped (literally) on the footsteps of the GCPD’s central office down in Old Town, his throat slit from ear to ear. Witness reports stated they’d seen the Red Hood push the body out of a car that quickly sped away.

Both Batman and Oracle had no idea who the man was. According to Batman’s files, he was very well trained in a number of martial arts disciplines and an expert at making bombs. He was also an expert marksman and liked big guns, as evidenced by shooting an RPG into Black Mask’s office about a month before he killed him.

The man was always seen wearing a full-face red helmet, some sort of full body armor under a biker jacket of either black or brown, and heavy-duty combat boots. He was a walking arsenal, and used a utility belt similar to those the Bats wore.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Apparently Tim had been silent a little too long. “Just…surprised you would think I could be of help to you.” He looked at his tablet. Almost there.

“You’ll be of more help than you think you’re capable of. Meet me on the roof of the Gotham Met tonight. 2am.” The line disconnected abruptly.

“Shit,” Tim swore as the signal dropped. He almost had him. The app narrowed the pings down to a three-block radius not too far south of Sheldon Park, just inside the Bowery rather than Robbinsville.

A three-block radius Tim walked through not even an hour before.

For some reason, his mind flashed on the handsome book-reading man from the coffee shop.

Still…Tim hadn’t made it as the top information broker in Gotham by not trusting his instincts. There was something there, something about that man. He’d make a point to try and find him again.

After he finished freaking out over his upcoming meeting with the Red Hood.

*****

Tim thought up and discarded almost a dozen different plans for tonight. The one thing he did do when he arrived at his apartment was immediately hack into the video feeds of the Gotham Met. The place was robbed so often by Catwoman that Batman installed a number of cameras on the roofs of the surrounding buildings as well, making it almost impossible to sneak into the building through the roof access.

He was pretty certain Red Hood knew Stray knew this and would take care of said video feeds before either of them actually arrived. I’m being fucking played by a man whose only wardrobe is biker-chic.

Tim also thought briefly about calling Selina for backup, but then remembered she and Holly were doing another of their annual road trips where they’d steal cars and drive across the US. It was fun; Tim had done it with them the summer he turned 18.

It was almost as though the Red Hood timed this, just waiting until his only known associates were out of town. Because it stood to reason if he knew Tim’s identity, he knew those of the two women who acted as Catwoman.

The Red Hood. What the hell did I do to earn this man’s attention? When he first started making waves in Gotham’s underworld earlier this year, Stray looked into him, but didn’t discover much other than the man’s gear was top of the line, just as good as Batman’s. This meant he was well funded, but the man moved around so often Stray couldn’t track down his base of operations. Normally, he’d follow the money trail.

It quickly became apparent the Red Hood could make his own money, lifting a fee from all the gangs he took over from Black Mask. Protection money one person told Stray. Though who it was protection from, he wasn’t completely sure.

After the fiasco with the drug dealer beheadings, the whole of the Gotham underworld learned to walk carefully around Red Hood. The Penguin called the man bad news when he talked to Stray.

“Bad news and bad for business,” he said. “Batman needs to take care of this one fast.” It was one of the rare times Cobblepot ever spoke about the Bat in a hopeful tone.

But Batman couldn’t catch Red Hood either. The man went out of his way to avoid Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and all of the other masks in Gotham. The few times they did tangle, Red Hood fought hard, going for blows meant to incapacitate in the most painful way possible. There was a level of skill Batman’s notes made it sound like he almost admired.

It made Tim’s preparations for his night difficult. He was already running on little sleep from his run through of Wayne Enterprises the night before and now he had a 2am meeting. He glanced over at his clock. It was just after noon. Normally, he’d have another class in an hour and would be eating lunch or taking a nap in the library. Well, it was pretty clear he would not be heading back to GU this afternoon.

No wonder I’m hungry. Tim stopped staring blankly at his computer screen and got up to make a sandwich. When he was done eating, he picked up his tablet again and curled up on his sofa. Not even five minutes later, he was sound asleep.

*****

Stray crouched in the shadows on the roof of a building that almost directly overlooked the Gotham Metropolitan Art Museum. The view afforded him perfect sightlines for most of the roof. He wasn’t going anywhere near the Met roof until he saw Red Hood there first.

The Red Hood. Stray clenched his fists tightly in his black gloves. How does this maniac know who I am? The only people who knew were Selina and Holly. Even after all these years, he still managed to keep his identity a secret from Batman and Oracle. Batman he avoided altogether, as he knew when he was outclassed, at least physically.

Oracle, on the other hand, was someone he would work with on occasion. He’d proven a good source of information for her in the past and she would reciprocate, depending on what he was asking for at least. If anyone in that circle knew who he was, it would be Barbara Gordon.

But she would not sell me out to the Red Hood, never in a million years.

Stray pulled out his tablet from his specially designed travel case and pulled up the cameras for the blind spots. He was nervous. And curious. You know what they say about curiosity and cats.

He settled in and waited.

It was coming up on the appointed time when Stray heard the sound of a heavy boot on the roof behind him. He whirled around, tucking his tablet away. Not even 10 feet away stood the Red Hood.

“You move a lot quieter than I expected in those boots.” Stray stayed in his crouch, adjusting his feet so that he could spring up and back at the first sign of an attack.

A low chuckle came from behind the red helmet, slightly distorted from what Stray was certain were a myriad of filters across the mouth. “I’ve been enjoying the view.”

Stray let a flirty smile play on his lips. “Leather cat suits are made for showing off a person’s assets. But if you really want to enjoy an ass in spandex, go chase Nightwing.”

“He plays at being Batman more now than Nightwing. Shame really, that cape does nothing for him.” The Red Hood still didn’t move, just stood in the open watching him, arms hanging relaxed at his side.

That statement though rocked Stray to the core. He knew there were two Batmans, that Nightwing would often substitute in when the original was out of town or injured. Very few criminals ever realized this. Whoever he was, Red Hood was observant.

“I doubt you arranged this little meeting to discuss the finer points of the fashion disasters that are Gotham’s capes.”

Another low laugh and Red Hood took a cautious step forward. “I wouldn’t call that catsuit a disaster. You’ve certainly made the look your own. I like the cap and ears by the way. I’m betting you’ve got some pretty wicked tech built into those.”

Stray wanted to snarl and settled for baring his teeth. He’d spent days working on the sensor array in the hood’s “ears” so that the feeds would go wirelessly to his tablet or his goggles. His suit was a single piece of military grade liquid body armor that covered him from the top of his head to his toes. Only his face was in the open and his eyes, along with most of his nose, were covered by his custom-made goggles.

“You could say that. What do you want from me, Hood?”

Red Hood held his hands out in a placating gesture, looking like he wanted to take another step forward, but thinking twice about it. “Nothing much. I just need you to get me into Arkham. I’m going to kill the Joker.”

It was said in such an even tone that Stray blinked. Twice. “You’re kidding, right? I’m an information dealer, not a miracle worker. I could get you the names of some guys whose palms can be greased, but that’s about it. You’re better off waiting until the next time Joker decides Arkham bores him and take him out then. It’s been awhile, so he’s overdue.”

The Red Hood shook his head and made a tsking sound. “You don’t get it, pussy cat. If I wait until then, Batman is going to be all over him. I won’t get a good shot without taking Bats and his little birdies out of the picture too. Besides, it’s been almost three years since Joker last broke out. He's overdue."

Stray narrowed his eyes. “I told you not to call me that,” he hissed. “Also, since when has collateral damage been a concern? I seem to remember an RPG and an office building not all that long ago.”

“My fight has never been with Batman and his fucking Robins. I’m just gonna finish what he’s been too chickenshit to do.” The big man crossed his arms.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m going to kill the Joker. That piece of death-worshipping garbage is never going to hurt anyone again. And you, pussy cat, are going to get me into Arkham with those genius hacking skills of yours so I can do it.”

Stray felt his anger rising. How does he know I’m a hacker? Dammit! “I should ask how you know that, but I know you won’t tell me. You’re asking me to risk everything to get you in there. I have an uneasy truce with Batman at the best of times.”

“And at the worst of times?”

Something about the tone of voice, the way Red Hood asked, made it sound like he really wanted to know. That this, more than anything, was why he came to Stray. He decided to play along. “At the worst of times, I want to beat him senseless for not saving my best friend.”

Stray hung his head a moment, a wave of sadness washing through him as it always did when he thought of Robin. It wasn’t until after his friend died that he realized what the older boy was to him.

His best friend. Murdered by the Joker.

“Robin was your best friend?” The voice sounded a bit uncertain, but Stray's head jerked back up. He'd never said Robin was his best friend. Who was this guy?

“Yes. But I was too dumb to realize it until after he was dead.” There was a mystery here, a big one, and while Stray may be more cautious than Catwoman when it came to throwing himself in the fire, he was still a cat. Curiosity was a definite failing of theirs. He stood and sauntered a few steps out of the shadows he so carefully concealed himself in, placing his hands on his hips. “Okay. I will help you get into Arkham. And when you kill Joker, put an extra bullet in him for me. Tell him it’s for Robin.”

The Red Hood nodded. "Gladly."

Stray looked over his shoulder at the roof of the Met for a moment, then back at Red Hood. “How do you know who I am? Only three people in the world know and one of them has been dead for years.”

“I’ll tell you, but not until after Joker’s gone. Consider it…insurance.”

He quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, though he knew Hood couldn’t see it. “I thought you weren’t going to blackmail me.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not gonna tell you until our business is complete.”

Stray glared up at the taller man. I hate this. I hate not knowing who this asshole is and how he got such an important piece of information. Whoever he was, the Red Hood was smart. Just the thought of someone else knowing who he really is was enough to ensure his assistance.

“You realize when this,” Stray waved a hand between them, “is done, I’m going to come after you with everything I have, to find out just who you are.”

The Red Hood laughed, loud and bright and something tickled on the edge of Stray’s memory. Something was familiar here. Dammit, what the hell is it about this guy?

“Considering your payment for all this is a glimpse beneath the hood along with story time, you’re going to feel really fuckin’ stupid wasting your time, cat.”

Stray reared back in surprise. “Really? You’re just going to tell me who you are as payment?”

“Yep. It goes along great with the story. So…we have a deal?”

This sucks. But he’s going to get me something I’ve wanted for a long, long time. “We have a deal.” Stray held out his hand.

Hood took the last few steps to close the gap between them. He reached out and clasped Stray’s outstretched hand, shaking it firmly.

*****

An hour later, in a dingy apartment in the Bowery, Jason shed his Red Hood gear. He was still in a bit of a daze from his conversation with Stray, with Tim. It had been much more revealing than Stray realized, as well as mindboggling over how much the little kitten in his memory had grown up. The boy had grown into a strong and lean young man, with genius level intellect and a dry wit that was as sharp as his claws.

Should have bitten the bullet when I first arrived and asked him for help. Of all the people I used to know, my little pussy cat would have been the first to get in line.

Before coming back to Gotham, Jason didn’t think a lot about the time before Joker killed him. It was too painful, too full of memories both good and bad. The months since his return was wrenching him back and forth emotionally and in hindsight, it showed in his work.

Sloppy.

Since killing Black Mask, he’d gone completely to ground, showing neither hide nor hair of the Red Hood. He went out and about plenty though as himself, with just a pair of glasses or sunglasses to hide behind. If it works for Superman, it can work for me. Besides, who’s gonna expect a dead man walking? Black Mask’s death wasn’t his endgame like many suspected. He did it because he was pissed his initial plan failed. Black Mask only sent useless hired assassins after him instead of pulling out the big guns like trying to spring the original Red Hood from Arkham to give chase.

If there was anyone powerful enough in Gotham to have done that besides Batman, it would have been ol’ Blackie. Serious misjudgment of his capabilities on my part. Lazy bastard.

After taking a week to reassess, Jason realized what he needed to do, so he started following his cat. He knew reaching out to Stray for assistance was going to bring many of his old memories back to the surface, but there had been one real curve ball.

Best friend? He thought I was his best friend?

Friends, yes. Robin was friends with Stray. But best friends?

Yeah, I guess we were, huh?

The thought made Jason laugh as he flopped down on his worn out sofa to take off his heavy boots. I suppose that should make me feel bad for using him like this. But it sounds like he wants it almost as bad as I do.

He’d had a lot of practice reading cowled faces years ago and Stray’s was still an open book, at least to him. The cat had been genuinely sad when he talked about his best friend, about him. The fierce determination that quickly replaced it, along with the request for an extra bullet for the Joker, had warmed what Jason thought was a cold and withered heart.

Here was someone who actually missed him, someone who hadn’t replaced him. Someone willing to take the opportunity given to him and do what needs to be done.

What should have been done. I should have been the last.

Tim Drake. Stray. The boy he remembered really made a name for himself in Gotham’s underworld. When he first hit town, one of the first things he learned was that if you wanted to know something, go ask the cat. He knew just as much, if not more than the Penguin, and was easier to deal with.

If you could find him.

Jason wasn’t prepared to do that, not yet. He’d wanted to try his own plan first. And now it was time for Plan B. He chuckled to himself. Should fuckin’ call it Plan C.

He’d waited almost ten years for this. It took awhile, years in fact, but Talia eventually wore down Ra’s to the point where he’d let Jason take a dip in his Lazarus Pit. He’d been pretty much catatonic since Talia pulled him out of Gotham. Five long years that Jason had almost no memories of. He recalled flashes, little pieces here and there, but nothing solid until after the Pit.

Then he remembered. His search. His mother. The Joker. The beating. The bomb. The utter hopelessness and resignation of knowing Bruce wouldn’t make it in time to save him. He raged. His anger on top of the madness of the Pit almost consumed him. Ra’s kept him locked up until the worst was over. More than anything, Jason wanted to kill the Joker. Bruce failed him for the last time.

Ra’s helped him calm himself and learn how to channel his anger into more worthy pursuits. He was eventually given into Talia’s care, where he was then shipped all over the world to learn all the things Batman left out of his little Robin’s training.

Between teachers (death dealing fuckers all) that he had no issues with disposing of when he’d mastered their skills, Jason researched. He read everything he could get his hands on in regards to Gotham and laugh about Batman’s failures.

An article that caught his eye about Catwoman’s latest attributable exploits jogged a memory. A memory of a happier and simpler time. Where he had an actual friend.

Stray.

Jason chuckled darkly. At least this time, I’m not going to be alone.

Chapter Text

-Chapter 3- (Tuesday morning and afternoon)

The next morning found Tim blearily trying to stay awake for a class of his own. It was times like these he really questioned why he was working on a graduate degree when he could already get the pick of just about any programming job in Gotham, including those at Wayne Enterprises. Tim had a personal goal of getting a job there just to amuse himself at how easily he could then take over the entire IT department.

It was this goal that required the graduate degree. At least next year he could apply for the internship. He was pretty certain his name alone would get it for him; Bruce Wayne still felt horrible he didn’t save Tim’s mom in time, leaving Tim to grow up with an alcoholic father who, despite getting his act mostly together during No-Man’s Land, eventually drank himself to death when Tim was almost 17. He successfully petitioned the courts to become an emancipated minor. The fact he was already on track to graduate high school early and had a full ride scholarship to Gotham University waiting in the wings certainly helped.

Selina wanted to take him in, but they both knew it would be very hard to explain where “Aunt Selina” came from. And Tim knew Bruce would be watching him too. Hell, he’d even made his own petition to take him in, despite just gaining that spawn he called a son.

Stray hated the new Robin. He’d never been particularly friendly with the third Robin, Stephanie Brown, just on general principal, despite inadvertently getting her the job, but even he admitted she was a damn sight better than the hell spawn. Throws a mean right hook too.

When she became Batgirl, Stray let himself unwind around her. They weren’t friends, but they had a certain amount of healthy respect for each other. Healthy respect? I lost my spleen helping her…

The new Robin felt it was his personal goal to capture Stray; something about how one cat was enough of a distraction, there didn’t need to be two. Tim had a feeling the little bird had a bit of a crush and this was his way of pulling his proverbial pigtails. It was a bit better now the boy was further along in puberty. But he’s still so much fun to tease. It still irked him Damian was growing like a weed and was going to tower over him soon.

Rather like how Red Hood towered over him last night. Tim knew he wasn’t ever going to clear 5’9” unless he wore thick-soled boots, but the Hood stood almost a full head taller. Stray had a great view of his chin when they’d shaken hands. Between the dome of the helmet and the heavy boots Red Hood wore, Tim would put his height at about 6’2” perhaps 6’3”. Though he was likely a little bit shorter without the gear on.

And I need to get some fucking sleep. Admittedly, it was the idle thoughts from his nightlife that made this class bearable. Why the hell did he have two morning classes in a row? Three actually. Goddamn it, I got TA lecture tomorrow. At least it’s the last one before midterms, I get to sleep in next Monday!

The bell finally rang and Tim made his way upstairs to his professor’s office to drop off the papers from yesterday. He’d hurried to finish grading them in time.

And she’s not even here. Go figure. He pulled a binder clip from his bag and clipped them, along with the answer sheet, and dropped them in the old-fashioned mail slot in the door.

Yawning some more, Tim made his way out of the computer sciences building to the library. He had a two-hour gap between classes and intended to sleep it away. There was a little alcove up on the fourth floor back in the stacks hardly anyone ever used. Knowing it was even there would shout NERD to the world.

Tim was okay with this. He knew he was a nerd and wore it proudly. Like today with his “Am I missing an eyebrow?” t-shirt.

He told Red Hood last night it would take a couple days to put together a preliminary plan to break into Arkham. Day one involved sleeping as much as he could because Tim knew once he got started, he’d forget all about it.

It was a bit cold outside, so Tim was glad when he reached the relative warmth of the library. He walked up the stairs to the fourth floor (it was faster than the elevator) and meandered his way through the maze of bookshelves to his cherished alcove overlooking the big oak he liked to perch in.

Only to find someone sitting in one of the chairs, feet up on the table and engrossed in a paperback. Feeling mildly perturbed someone else was there first, Tim almost turned around to go to his second favorite spot up on the sixth floor. Fuck it, I’m tired.

The two chairs in the alcove both faced the window, so Tim didn’t get a good look at the other man until he dropped his bag and dug out his headphones. Holy shit. It was the same handsome twenty-something from the Starbucks yesterday.

Not wanting to stare, Tim snuck quick glances as he settled in. The man wore a pair of thick black-framed glasses, what looked like the same soft henley as yesterday, and a pair of ripped jeans. Worn looking cross-trainers were on the table, feet crossed at the ankles. A glimpse of the face revealed the same strong jaw line he’d seen yesterday, but this time covered in a dark five o’ clock shadow. Wavy black hair topped his head, looking like he’d run a brush through it, but that was it. Tim couldn’t see the white streak from his angle, having taken the seat to the man’s left.

Yum. Tim couldn’t help it. He had a type and this guy fit it almost to perfection. Yawning, he also realized something important too. Dammit, I saw him yesterday as Shawn. He almost messed up. Oh well, time for Tim to get some action in his bumbling and nerdy way.

It amused Tim sometimes how he often thought of himself as two different people. But Stray was Tim and Tim was Stray. He’d actually gone to a few psychologists growing up, thinking he might have multiple personality disorder. He didn’t, but one of the doctors said he compartmentalized very well, kind of like an actor shedding their skin to take on the personality and traits of the character they were playing.

As much as he wanted to say something right away, he knew it wouldn’t be the right time. He tended to portray himself here at school as quiet, a bit shy, but wow, when you got him talking about something he loved, you couldn’t shut him up. Tim settled in, put his ear buds on and pulled out his phone to open a playlist he liked to sleep to.

Not that he was actually going to listen to it with tall, dark, and sexy next to him, but it was part of the image. He could sleep at the drop of a dime when he wanted to, but right now, he just wanted to surreptitiously stare. Naptime be damned, I’m not going to get a golden opportunity like this again. There’s something about this man…Tim flashed back to yesterday afternoon after his phone call with the Red Hood, remembering the twist in his gut. Who is he?

The man made no move to get up as Tim stretched out to put his feet up on the table too. He crossed his hands across his belly and closed his eyes, tilting his head back so that it rested on the back of the small armchair.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes the barest of slits and let himself stare. He quickly became bored with the angle as all he saw was the man’s ear and black hair. He kept it clipped close in the back and sides but let it grow longer on top. It looked like a haircut a man could easily maintain with a good pair of clippers at home.

Perhaps I really should get some sleep. Deep breath in, hold for three counts, and out for two. Within a minute, Tim was asleep.

*****

Jason almost had a heart attack when he saw Tim Drake flop down in the chair next to him. He’d been coming to this spot for a couple weeks now, first to observe Tim outside in the tree without him being aware of it, but then he started coming on his own as this was a really great spot to read.

Tim made no move to say anything to him, though Jason felt the man’s eyes on him until his breathing evened out and he fell asleep. He waited until he was positive the younger man was out and shifted slightly to stare. His little disguise must be working.

Fucking glasses. Didn’t think they’d work that well, though who’d expect a dead man to be sitting and reading next to you?

As Robin, he’d never seen Stray’s face before. The little boy of his memories wore a black hoodie with cat ears sewn on the top and goggles to hide his eyes. The young man Jason met the night before certainly graduated into the full on catsuit. He’d stood on the roof staring for a good minute before he purposefully made a noise.

Stray was graceful, limber and lean. And that ass. The boy sure grew up pretty. Jason shook his head at the thought. Time for that later.

It didn’t help matters that as Tim Drake, the college student looked just as intriguing. Black hair in desperate need of a hair cut and blue eyes so bright they reminded him of the sky. High cheekbones, pale skin, and a straight jawline spoke of good genetics.

Tim made his mouth water. And unless I’ve made a massive mistake, I think I do it to him too. He’d watched “Shawn” stare at him yesterday. And felt Tim’s gaze on him earlier.

Nice to know he swings this way. Let’s see if I can get through this without him killing me first before I start thinking about peeling him out of that suit.

*****

Sometime later, Tim woke with a start as the man next to him stood to leave. He must have moved as the man looked down at him as Tim blinked himself awake, pulling out his ear buds.

“Sorry about that. Thought I was quiet enough,” a deep voice said in a low tone from above.

Tim made a breezy gesture with his hand. “I don't sleep that deeply here. Never know who’s around.”

The man chuckled. “You’re the first person I’ve ever seen in this spot. I’ve been coming here a few weeks now.”

Tim smiled up at the man, slightly peeved he couldn't get a good look at the man's eyes. He was standing at just the right spot so that the overhead lights reflected on his glasses, creating an effective shield. “It’s been a favorite of mine since I was a freshman. I very rarely find anyone here.” He watched the man rub a big hand across the back of his head in a nervous looking gesture.

“Well, for what it’s worth, this is a great spot. I like the view too.”

Which one? Tim looked past the man for a moment to the window and his tree. “Me too, though I do like being out in the tree better than being inside.”

Surprise flashed across the man’s face. “You’re the guy I see in the tree? Man, you’re like a monkey or something.”

Tim laughed, letting some embarrassment color his voice and tint his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess? I’ve been doing it since I was a kid and when I saw the tree here, I just couldn’t resist.”

The man laughed too, reaching down to grab a zippered gray hoody and start putting it on. Tim saw a flash of blue behind the glasses. “Small world. Well, nice to meet you finally, monkey-boy.”

“It’s Tim,” he blurted out.

The dark haired man grinned. “Pete. Look, I’d love to stay and talk, but I’ve gotta get to work.”

Tim glanced at the clock on his phone. “And I’ve got class in 15. See you around?”

“Sure thing.” Pete gave a slight wave, almost a salute and walked away. Tim twisted in his seat to watch the man go. Yeah, the back is just as good as the front. This is going to be fun trying to figure you out.

*****

Tim went back to his brownstone after his classes were over later that afternoon and flopped down on the sofa. It was time to get to work. Real work.

Over the years, Stray often wondered what it would take exactly to break into Arkham (or out of for that matter) and under what circumstances. Some basic plans were in place, but nothing too elaborate, especially since Oracle took a personal interest in making sure the Joker was contained at all times.

Tim sighed. This was going to ruin so many carefully laid plans as it would put him squarely in the sights of the Bats. There weren’t exactly a lot of people in Gotham who could do what he did, though he made a point to not advertise his computer skills. Perhaps it won’t be that bad. But still, best to plan for everything.

Stray would have to go to ground for a while. It was okay; it would give him more time to focus on school.

It’ll be worth it. Justice is finally coming, Jason.

It wasn’t until he heard about Jason’s death that Tim ever thought hard about vengeance and revenge. He wanted the Joker to pay for what he did to Jason, especially after he’d finally been able to crack the Batcave computer system and see the final moments of Jason’s life. Justice was not sitting in a cell in a mental institution, not when it came to the Joker. Tim firmly believed the man knew exactly what he was doing.

Criminally insane in the truest sense of the words. Too bad that last part keeps him off death row.

Tim decided it came down to taking responsibility for one’s actions. He helped Jason get the plane tickets to start his search in Israel, the ones that didn’t raise a flag on Batman’s radar until it was too late and Jason was already gone. He had a measure of responsibility for what happened to his friend, so he owed it to him to take his pound of flesh.

It sure sounded like the Red Hood had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Joker too. He probably lost someone close to the madman, just like Tim. I wonder if everything he did with Black Mask was just…practice?

Taking down the reigning underworld king of Gotham was no small feat. He’d been brutally efficient, very strategic, and yet…unpredictable. One night, a million dollar drug cache would go up in flames. The next night, the Hood would take over the drug running operations of a gang and have them kick up a percentage of their sales to him.

Not to mention setting off Amazo on Batman and Nightwing. That had been a spectacle Stray enjoyed capturing. He’d been glad he invested in some new visual recording equipment for his goggles and made the upgrades. What a fight and the chase afterwards was pretty incredible too.

Realization slowly dawned on Tim. The noise, the spectacle, even the name Red Hood. It all was designed to draw out the Joker. Everyone in Gotham still joked about the revolving door policy at Arkham, despite almost three years passing since the last breakout. That old door must have been what Hood was counting on.

But Joker never took the bait. Because he couldn’t.

Black Mask was killed three weeks ago. Apparently, it was time for plan B.

Tim growled as he crawled off the sofa and went to his office to get to work. He didn’t like being used, but he was no fool. Besides, he was only lying to himself if he said he didn't want this too.

*****

As Tim’s plan came together, he realized something very important. There was no way he could pull this off without Oracle’s help.

He tried thinking his way through other options but nothing proved even remotely viable. After the last big Arkham breakout, there were just too many changes made to the security system and protocols for him to get access immediately. He could, but it would take days just to get into the network. Time he didn’t have, not with midterms coming up.

There was a golden opportunity to get this done quickly six days from now. The next one wouldn’t be for weeks.

I don’t want this hanging over my head for weeks.

Deciding to bite the bullet, Tim ran some checks on his network, making sure firewalls were in place, plus all the extra little surprises for unwanted guests. He opened a secure message window.

PuddyTat: I need your help.

Tim waited. It was mid-afternoon, Barbara should be up and running by now.

It wasn’t long before he got a reply.

WiseOwl: That can mean any number of things.

PuddyTat: I’m in over my head.

WiseOwl: Must be bad, I’ve never heard you say that before.

Tim sighed. It was true; he’d never been involved in anything quite like this before.

PuddyTat: Never thought I would either.

PuddyTat: I need access to Arkham’s computer and security networks, plus the blueprints of the actual floor plan. Not the ones on file downtown, we both know those are just the abridged version.

There was a long pause on Oracle’s end. Tim knew he’d floored her.

WiseOwl: What the hell are you doing, Stray?

PuddyTat: I’m being blackmailed into helping Red Hood kill the Joker.

Telling Barbara this was a risk, but Tim knew in his gut he needed to be straight with the woman. She was the only one who could help him, plus she had good incentive for wanting the Joker dead after what he’d done to her all those years ago.

Tim missed the original Batgirl, but he thought Barbara was so much more awesome as Oracle.

WiseOwl: The Red Hood is finally back on the grid, huh? He’s been completely off the radar since dropping off Black Mask in front of Central last month. Just what does he have on you that would make you help him?

PuddyTat: My real name.

WiseOwl: Oh.

WiseOwl: Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.

PuddyTat: Neither was I. No idea how he knows either. But I’m supposed to find out once the Joker is dead.

WiseOwl: That ought to be good…I need to think about this before I do anything. I assume you have a plan already?

PuddyTat: I understand. Here’s what I have so far… Tim proceeded to lay out what he’d come up with so far.

WiseOwl: That’s a good plan. A really good one actually. I need to think.

PuddyTat: Thank you for even considering this. I know very well what I’m asking is a lot. Take your time, but please don’t take that long. I hate flying by the seat of my pants.

WiseOwl: I’ll let you know within 24 hours.

PuddyTat: Thank you.

Tim signed off. Barbara would open a new session with him when she made her decision. There was nothing more to do until then.

*****
Barbara Gordon stared at the screen in front of her.

He must be desperate.

She knew very well who Stray was, just as she was almost certain he knew she was Oracle. Tim Drake was smart and ambitious, a young man very capable of juggling his two lives. Stray may have started out as Catwoman’s partner, but he long since evolved into being his own person. When he passed along tips or information he thought she’d be interested in, he never once played her wrong.

He was even a team player, assisting her Birds of Prey with when something local came up and she needed an onsite computer expert. Dinah says he flirts outrageously and would drive Helena up the wall, but when it came time to be professional, he pulls a poker face Batman would be proud of.

Barbara respected him. And it was only because she respected him that she was even considering what he was asking for. Stray may have started off as a thief, but he’d evolved into someone so much more. More than anyone, he had his fingers on the pulse of Gotham and wasn’t afraid to send out warnings when something was looming on the horizon.

If it wasn’t for his occasional sticky fingers, I’d have offered him a permanent spot on the team.

She sighed, leaning back in her wheelchair and staring blankly at her monitor. A dead Joker. It’s something she’d dreamt about for years. If there was one criminal on the face of this earth who deserved death more, she couldn’t think of one.

If there’s anyone who could pull this off without alerting Bruce, it would be Red Hood and Stray. There’s a pair I never thought I’d see working together. It works though, Hood’s brawn matched with Stray’s brains. There’s a power team in the making.

The Red Hood confused Barbara. He came out of nowhere, made a bunch of noise, killed Black Mask, and then dropped off the face of the planet. For the last few weeks, she’d had no reports or sightings of him. Nor had Bruce. They both knew Hood would be back, but Barbara suspected he’d had some other goal in mind, something other than Black Mask

Now I know what it is.

Barbara suddenly thought of her father. Jim Gordon had just as much reason to want Joker dead as she did. But she remembered a story he’d told her one night. Where he made a choice to stop Batman from killing the Joker. If Batman pulled that trigger, then he’d have been no different from the Joker and Jim would have done everything in his power to capture Batman and bring him to justice.

How was this any different? She may not be the one pulling the trigger, but she would be helping the one that was. An accessory, just like Stray.

In her work with her Birds of Prey, Barbara often made the hard decisions her agents weren’t equipped to do before the mission even started. She never ordered her birds to do something she herself would not be willing to do. They all drew the line at killing. But even I’ve almost pulled that trigger, back in No-Man’s Land.

The plan Tim outlined was brilliant. He could manage it all on his own too; he just needed the key. Barbara was certain that with more time, Tim could get into Arkham’s network all on his own.

She couldn’t blame him for wanting to take the shortcut. It’d drive her nuts too knowing that someone knew who she was but not knowing how. So very few people knew Stray’s real name. A fact that still drives Bruce nuts when he lets himself think about it.

The demented clown still haunted Barbara’s dreams almost every night, even with all the years in between then and now. His maniacal laughter (HA HA HA HA HA HA) weaved in and out of her thoughts, the ashen skin, green hair…but it was his eyes that still sent shivers down her damaged spine. Wild with madness, yet still so calculating.

So calculating.

Barbara made her decision.

Chapter Text

-Chapter 4- (Wednesday night and Thursday day/afternoon)

The next night, Stray met Red Hood on the roof of a non-descript apartment building in a boring neighborhood in Coventry. He thought it rather appropriate as just across the Sprang River sat their goal.

Arkham Asylum.

“Nice view,” commented Red Hood, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared in the direction of Arkham. Neither man could see it from their current vantage point, but it still felt like it loomed over them both.

“I thought it fitting,” Stray replied as he pulled out his tablet and a laptop. He walked to the edge of the building and sat down with his back to the raised edge. It was just high enough only the tips of his cat ears could be seen. 

Hood looked down. “Getting comfy there, kitty?”

Stray let a very Selina-like smile cross his lips and stretched languidly, quite the feat considering he was sitting. “I can think of any number of more pleasant ways to get comfortable.”

The helmeted man chuckled. “I can too. You're a cat through and through, aren’t you?” he asked as he settled down next to Stray.

Interesting choice of words. He says that like he knows what I was like before Selina started training me. Stray let the smile dance across his lips a moment longer. “Yes. But this cat doesn’t like chasing bats.”

The Red Hood shrugged, then asked, “So, what have you got for me?”

Stray handed him the laptop and let him open it. “Don’t touch anything, I’ll drive from the tablet. Doubt your gloves would register the track-pad.”

“Whatever you say, pussy cat.”

The shorter man growled. That was getting old fast. “Here is the current floor plan of Arkham. Four floors above ground and six below. The Joker is currently held in sublevel 4 along with Harvey Dent and Victor Zsasz.”

“I see he’s in good company.”

“Yup. Each sublevel has a different elevator shaft between floors and in different locations. There’s no single shaft to rappel down and break in that way.”

“Why?”

“From what I gleaned, all inmates held on sublevel 2 and lower are only moved when they’re strapped in, drugged to the teeth, and blindfolded. The elevator doors are hidden, designed so that it’d be hard for an inmate held on one of these levels to even find it, let alone get up to the next level and locate the next one. Each elevator has a specific key and a code that has to be entered in order for the elevator to move.”

“Wow. Sounds a lot more state of the art than I remember.”

Stray filed that comment away to be analyzed at a later time. Sounds like he’s been to Arkham before. But when? “After the last massive breakout a few years ago, the city council finally implemented some of the design suggestions from leading experts…”

“Batman.”

“Exactly. They also got a huge capital donation from some of the bigwigs here in town. Wayne, Davenport, Kane, you name it. So Arkham got a redesign again. And the Joker hasn’t been seen on these streets since.”

“So I’ve heard. Okay, if it’s so hard just to get to the sublevels from the top down, what about going in from the bottom up?”

“And you’re getting to the crux of my plan. Arkham still has the water entrance where inmates are moved by boat. This entrance is not directly beneath the main building anymore, it’s about a half mile down on the south bank of where the Sprang River runs out of the Gotham River. It’s just as heavily guarded as the main entrance.”

“I assume there’s a tunnel involved here somewhere?” Red Hood interrupted.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” Stray tapped the screen to zoom in on both devices. “The tunnel is divided into grids. As you move into each grid, the security turns back on behind you and only gets turned off in front of you by the right access code.”

He paused, waiting. Hood didn’t disappoint. “I assume the codes change hourly or some shit like that?”

“Close. Random number generator on the locks. The code is generated at the time of access by a person up in the main building that’s connected wirelessly to the lead guard to provide it to them.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. So what you’re telling me is that we have to get you installed in the upper floors of Arkham just to access the lower levels for me to get in and out.”

“Yes, that would be the case normally. But I’ve got a better idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

The plan was daring. Insane even. But, as Stray had put it, “Why fight the system when we can let it work for us?”

There was a prisoner transport from Blackgate scheduled this coming Monday, five days from now. These were always arranged quickly and quietly to try and keep any word of the move hitting the streets. They also always came in through the water entrance.

“We can use the Blackgate transport to provide the distraction needed for you to get to the Joker. The Blackgate guards never make it past the midpoint of the tunnels, so further in, it’s all Arkham personnel. These guys are going to go up to Level 1 for processing, but they have to pass through all six of the lower levels to get there. Kind of messed up, but they don’t want any possible breakout through the upper levels where the press can get word of it. Since the new security protocols went into place, there’ve only been four escape attempts by the Joker. He obviously hasn’t gotten very far.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re going to be impersonating an Arkham guard, one assigned to the transport detail so that you can move through all the levels,” said Stray as he finished showing Hood the blueprints of Arkham’s lower levels. “Killer Croc is kept on level 5. A report from last month said he tried eating another guard again. Took eight men to subdue him; six ended up in the hospital with broken bones or other internal damage, so they’re also short staffed on the security side right now. Makes them have to trust in technology more.”

Hood nodded slowly, obviously thinking. “Croc would be a good distraction, that’s for certain. But what about something else? Those ducts, here, and here,” Hood pointed to pipes running parallel to each other on sublevel 4, “That looks like a sprinkler for a fire, but normally that’s just one pipe. That’s a dual system, so what’s in the other line? Gas?”

Stray smiled. He is smart. Going to have to be careful with this one. “Yes. It’s a gas line with a combination of tear gas and knockout gas.”

“There you go then. If you can trigger the system to go off before I get to Level 4 with the idiot brigade, then the guards and any staff there will be out for the count by the time I get there. I’ll only have to take out the ones with me. Easier in the elevator, I think.”

Stray nodded slowly, thinking it through. That would work beautifully actually. Would keep casualties down to a minimum too as per Barbara’s request when she got me into the network. “I like it. Keeps the body count down too.”

“I’m only there for one person and I’d like to keep it that way.” Hood shrugged. “For the guard, I’m a pretty fair hand with stage makeup and even prosthetics, but I’ve got to assume there’s going to be some of kind of fingerprint ID or retinal scan and I can’t fake that.”

Stray held up a finger. “Already on it. First, here’s a list of Arkham guards that are going to be part of this move; kind of ridiculous they have their assignments this far out, but whatever, resource planning at its best.”

He sent a list over to his laptop. “Take a look there and see if there’s anyone there you can replicate with your own makeup and gear. All I need is to know who you pick so that I can swipe their prints and scans from the mainframe. I can’t get you contacts that quickly with the retina imprint, but I can make sure they’re read instead of yours.”

“Leaving you with my retinal scan.”

“You’re going to be telling me who you are after this is done, so does it really matter? Besides, you know who I am already. I can think of plenty of people who’d pay for that information,” he finished sarcastically. And I have nightmares about what they’d do with it.

“Nah, we’re in this together, pussy cat.” Stray could hear the smirk in Hood’s voice as he grit his teeth in frustration at the use of his old nickname. “What about the prints?”

Asshole is doing it on purpose, I know it. “Those I can do in a few hours,” he replied confidently. “You pick someone?”

“Yeah.” He pointed to the screen, not touching it like Stray would have expected. He leaned over.

“Jaime Lopez. You speak Spanish?” Stray asked disbelievingly.

“Claro que si, gatito.”

That’s it. Stray shoved the big man, more pissed off than he's been in an age. “I swear to god, when this is over, I am going to rip your fucking tongue out of your mouth. Stop calling me that. Call me anything else but that.”

Hood set the laptop in his lap and held his hands up in a placating manner. “I’ll stop, promise. I didn’t think it’d get to you that bad.” He tilted his head a bit; Stray wanted to say inquisitively. “Is that what he used to call you?”

Stray was quiet a moment, then said tightly, “Yes. Now drop it.”

Hood chuckled a bit and shook his head. “All right. Now let’s walk through this from start to finish.”

It was hours before they were done.

*****

Jason stared blearily at his coffee mug, bracing himself before taking a gulp of the disgusting sludge. He grimaced at the taste, though the smell of French vanilla wafted somewhat appealingly in the air. I have never liked this shit. Smells fine, but tastes like crap.

Bracing himself again, he took another gulp of the hot drink.

He’d been up almost all night going over the plan Stray had outlined, getting only a few hours of sleep before forcing himself up to start doing his part of the preparations. My pussy cat is fucking brilliant. There is no way I could have done this on my own.

Frowning in confusion, Jason poked at the thought further, the caffeine jolt slowly waking him up. Where the hell is this my crap coming from? Yes, he was my friend. Yes, he grew up into a hot piece of ass. Yes, I wouldn’t mind tapping said ass, but that doesn’t make him my anything.

Jason was always very possessive of the few things he had. Growing up on Gotham’s streets, he learned quickly to keep what was important and let go what wasn’t. And I guess that means Stray became something important. Someone important. But if I’ve learned anything in this life and my last one, it’s always worse when the important people fuck you over.

But deep in his gut, Jason knew he was lying to himself.

Stray was important for a whole other reason and always had been. A reason he didn’t dare examine too closely. Not yet. If we make it past Monday, then…well, I guess we’ll see what happens.

*****

Tim stared blankly at the projector as his professor droned on about HTML coding. He’d been up all night, barely getting enough time to change at his brownstone (a rarity for Stray to do so) before running to campus.

He’d take a nap when class was done as he had a four-hour break between this class and his afternoon ones, which was good as he had handprints to make. He needed to race across town as all the supplies were at his apartment. Just need to get those started and I can pass out. Last night, Tim exaggerated slightly about how long they would take and now he needed to make good on his promise, especially as they had to test them to make sure they worked.

As far as plans went, it was hare-brained and risky. A lot was riding on Hood’s acting skills, but after showing off a rather wide array of accents and a surprising vocal range, he was convinced. They both laughed over his Batman impersonation.

It’s a fucking shame he’s dicking me over like this. If it weren’t for that, I think I’d like the guy.

Tim was almost convinced he was spot on with his assessment of Red Hood’s actions, even more so after spending hours with the guy last night. Stray asked him what he planned to do after this and the man had just shrugged.

In his line of work, he’d met a lot of people who had to kill, some for a living even. It didn’t bother him like it used to. Some of these people were pretty decent, just trying to make a living. Others were psychos and Stray worked fast to make sure they disappeared into the justice system. Oracle always appreciated those particular tips, along with the files he’d send on them.

Hood had a sense of finality about him, like he didn’t know what he’d do next if this failed. Or succeeded.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Tim spent the rest of his time thinking about how he’d get into the facility. He needed to be onsite as the asylum ran a completely closed network.

It was all WayneTech equipment though, so Batman had his foot in the door already, as did Oracle. Now Tim did too, thanks to the very limited assistance Oracle provided. But that was okay, he knew what he was asking of her went against just about every Bat-code there was. The few lines of code she provided put Tim across the threshold of the Arkham network, which was just enough for him to do the rest and really start fleshing out his assassination plan.

Because let’s call it what it is. Assassination. I am an active participant in the planning of a murder.

Tim shook his head wryly. Even if he and Hood were caught after the fact, the mayor would be more apt to give them the key to the fucking city than any real prison time.

Well, me at least. I’m not wanted for murder already.

The prison transport left Blackgate at 9am sharp Monday morning. If everything ran to plan, he’d have plenty of time to make his afternoon classes. Appearances were everything. And Tim Drake needed to be seen diligently attending class, especially after having skipped this last Monday.

Why no, Batman, I have no idea what you’re talking about. How could I have broken into Arkham with the Red Hood while I’m taking my midterms?

After class let out, Tim made it across town in what felt like record time. He quickly got into the Arkham system and downloaded Lopez’s handprints, retinal scan, and a voice recording. Hood had given him an email address before they separated earlier and Tim forwarded the audio file to the man. It wasn’t very long, but he needed the practice.

Hacking Lopez’s cell phone took a matter of minutes. Tim found the last week’s worth of text messages still on the phone, so he sent those to Hood as well. He also added a tap, as he wanted to try and get some more audio for the other man to practice with.

That done, he started the prints and then promptly passed out on his sofa for two hours.

Upon waking, Tim decided coffee and some fresh air would be good as he left to go back to GU. Since he was in Robbinsville, he put on all his piercings (only the ones in his ears were actually real), spiked up his hair, and put on his sunglasses.

It was nice outside, the early afternoon sun just starting to warm up the air under the trees as Tim walked down the tree-lined street. He really did like this neighborhood. The one the brownstone was in was nice too, but it lacked a personality. He walked a ways, looking at his phone and seeing he’d manage to catch a call from Lopez to someone. He forwarded it to Hood as he entered the Starbucks he’d gone to the other day.

There was a small line. Waiting, Tim looked around. And there was Pete, huddled in the same corner, this time with earbuds of his own in and staring intently at a tablet, making the occasional swipe with a finger. The man looked exhausted.

Tim casually turned himself back around in line, facing away from the man. He looked just different enough with his piercings and hair that he wasn’t too worried about being recognized, but best not to take the chance.

I wonder what he’s working on? Probably best to avoid this place until I figure Pete out as both Shawn and Tim. He obviously lives in the area.

Which was a bit odd as Tim had seen him reading casually in the library at the university, across town and on a different island altogether. But he did say he was on his way to work, so it was likely Pete worked somewhere near GU. Or even on campus.

I’d love to be his TA. “Why yes, professor, I’d be glad to stay late and help you plan the next lesson. Do I get to sit in your lap while you work me open with those big fingers of yours?”

Tim smirked at that. So much more fun than the ditz I’m assigned to.

As he gave his order to the barista (it was a triple shot kind of day), Tim decided to be impulsive. “That guy in the corner, what’s he drinking?” he asked, gesturing behind him.

The barista looked and grinned at Tim. “Earl Gray.”

Pete was a tea person. Good to know. “I’ll get two of those biscotti. When I’m gone, take one of them to him.” He grinned conspiratorially with the guy.

“You got it, Shawn.”

A few minutes later, he walked out with his coffee and a paper bag with a single biscotti in it. He saw the barista walking towards Pete with a plate. He grinned as he walked past the window.

Let’s see what other good deeds I can do today. Tim had a feeling he was going to need to fill up his good karma, just in case.

***** 

Jason startled when a plate was placed next his tea. He pulled out his earbuds. “I didn’t order this,” he said to the barista, who wore a small smile on his face.

“I know. Someone else did for you. He asked what you were drinking and told me to bring you this when he left.” The barista left with a wink.

Shaking his head, Jason grabbed the biscotti and dunked it in his tea. He’d seen Tim walk in a little bit ago, but didn’t think much of it as he was listening to the audio file the man had just sent him to practice his Lopez impression.

What is that cat playing at now? I’m going out on the limb here, but I think he really likes “Pete”. Nice to know, but I wonder what he’s gonna do when he sees me take off the helmet?

Finishing the treat, Jason went back to his files. Tim was in class for the rest of the afternoon and Lopez was supposed to be off shift at Arkham in a couple hours. He would spend his evening tailing the man, observing him and his movements.

“Observation is key, lad, to a good impersonation. It’s simple enough to look like a person through the clever use of makeup and vocalization, but, as they say, the devil is in the details.”

Jason smiled at the memory. Alfred memories were good memories. And often useful. Bruce discovered very early on Jason had a talent for mimicry, so he was foisted off onto Alfred yet again for training. The boy absorbed everything the aging butler taught him like a sponge.

Somehow I doubt Alfie would appreciate how I’m putting his training to use.

Shrugging, Jason went back to work, lips unconsciously quirking into small smiles each time he sipped his tea and saw the empty plate.

My cat. The thought no longer bothered him.

Chapter Text

-Chapter 5- (Thursday night)

Despite all the work he still had to do, Stray needed to make an appearance that night. With Selina and Holly out of town, someone had to keep up the cat burglar work and there was a gallery over in the Diamond District that needed a reminder about dealing in stolen artwork.

Getting in was easy. Stray quickly and deftly disabled the alarms and cameras. He also managed to cleanly break the frame the oil painting was in (he hated cutting paintings out of their frames) and was in the midst of rolling it up and placing it in the special case he brought when a noise caught his attention.

Was that a sniffle?

Stray continued with his work, making no move that he’d heard the sound. Once the case was in place securely across his back, he stood and turned in the direction he heard the sound. “If you have a cold, do you really think you should be trying to chase after me?” he asked dryly.

Batgirl melted out of the shadows, her long blonde hair managing to pick up the weak light and gleam softly. Stray would never admit out loud, but he loved Stephanie’s hair. It reminded him of Rapunzel, so long and golden.

She sniffled again. “I really wasn’t planning on it. O said you were here and was curious as to what you were “returning”.” She made air quotes on that last word. “We all know your tendencies with art.”

Stray chuckled. “Too true. This lovely piece was stolen from a private collection in Austria about 25 years ago. I’ll admire it for a few weeks and send it on its merry way.”

Batgirl sighed and leaned against the doorframe, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “Gimme a moment and I’ll make an attempt to capture you.”

“You look like you’re dead on your feet. Should you even be up?”

“Probably not, but when needs must…” she trailed off.

“You look like you need a shot of Nyquil and some soup,” Stray commented.

Batgirl coughed a few times, harsh wet coughs that made his chest ache in sympathy. “Not gonna argue with you there, catfriend.” She sighed. “Raincheck?”

“Sure. You can chase me around to your heart’s desire when you can actually breathe through your nose again.” Stray cocked his head to the side as a thought occurred to him. “If you’re this sick, what else did Oracle send you out here for?”

Batgirl’s red-rimmed blue eyes looked blearily at him. “Nothing that I’m aware of. To be honest, the coughing didn’t get this bad until I hit the roof here.”

“Hmm…” Stray believed her, but he never ignored his gut. “Fine. Let’s go then.” He gestured to the door leading out of storage room. “Ladies first.”

Batgirl flipped him off as she slowly turned and unblocked the doorway. Stray followed, laughing.

He ended up having to help her grapple back up to the roof, the cough keeping her from being able to make the normally easy shot. “How did you even get here?” he asked once she caught her breath again and slouched against an air conditioning unit. The night air was cool and slightly damp.

“I live just over the Finger near Robinson Park. It wasn’t that far."

Stray rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see it. “That’s still across the river.”

“I caught a bus.”

He laughed at that, the image of Batgirl swiping her bus pass coming to mind, though he knew she rode on top when in full gear.

“Well, I took the rooftop express here and you need a ride home. Give me your comm.” Stray held out his hand expectantly.

Batgirl looked at him flatly for a moment before she reached into her modified cowl and pulled a small device from her ear. It was a testament to her odd relationship with Stray that she didn’t question the request.

Stray looked at the earpiece for a moment, admiring the workmanship before he tapped it and held it to his ear.

“Hello, Stray,” said a mechanized voice.

“Hello, Oracle. You always send your agents out when they’re coughing up pieces of their lungs?” he asked lightly.

The comm buzzed a moment, then Stray heard a new voice, a very feminine tone. “To be fair, when I called her, she said she wasn’t feeling well but could still at least check on what you were up to. More stolen art, I assume?”

Stray reeled at the change in voice. For years, he only ever heard Oracle’s mechanized tone or chatted with her via a message board. This was her real voice. What is she playing at now?

“It makes me feel great that you feel comfortable enough to send a sick Bat out after me and know I won’t take gross advantage of them. What if I had my new…shadow… following me?” Stray let his voice harden.

“Your red-hooded shadow has never once engaged a Bat or a bird proactively before. Only reactively. Though I am curious to see what would happen if someone were to attack you. What would Hood do?” The tone was curious, but there was a hint of seriousness indicating it was something Oracle had considered.

It was a very good question and one Stray didn’t want to look at too closely right now. “Hopefully not pull a gun.” He saw Batgirl flinch. “And now we’re scaring your sick little Bat. You going to get someone here with bike or a car who can take her home?”

“I was actually hoping you would. Anyone I call is going to ask Batgirl why she’s out and I’m pretty certain you have a very low profile you’re wanting to keep at the moment.”

Stray hissed. “You’re very manipulative, aren’t you?”

“We’ve worked together on and off for over five years now and you’re just now figuring this out? I thought you were more intelligent than this, Stray.” Oracle’s voice had taken on a teasing tone, yet Stray knew better. He was being tested.

Are you worthy of the information I gave you? What will you do with a sick Bat? Can I trust you?

He heard Batgirl cough again. “Oh I knew. I’m just not used to hearing your real voice doing it,” he said smoothly, letting a hint of a purr enter his voice. “Perhaps we should compare notes someday soon.” It was a risk saying this, but Stray was confidant Oracle knew what he was really asking.

Oracle laughed in a bright and rich tone. “I would like that. It’ll be fun to finally meet you face to face, Stray.”

Stray smiled. “I think we’re overdue. I’m busy next week, but perhaps the following week?”

“I’m sure you are. Good luck with your midterms.”

She knows. I knew it! “Thanks. Good luck with your speech next week.”

Barbara Gordon was a speaker at a women and technology conference being hosted by Wayne Enterprises. Tim Drake was planning to go and listen if he could get out of class on time.

A long pause followed his statement before a chuckle met his ear. “Thank you. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“You do that.” He turned off the comm and turned back to Batgirl.

Batgirl was looking up at him with a very confused expression on her face. It quickly became apparent she’d been able to hear most of the discussion. “You know who Oracle is. She knows who you are!! What the hell!?”

Stray shrugged. “None of your business. Let’s get you home.”

Batgirl grumbled as she slowly got up. “None of my business, my fine ass. I’m going to breathe germs all over you.”

No way can I afford to get sick right now.

Stray pulled a rebreather from his belt. “Cough away.”

***** 

Fifteen minutes later found Batgirl and Stray on the other side of the Finger River at a little Vietnamese restaurant. “I said you needed soup,” Stray commented as he watched Batgirl stare blearily at the bowl of hot pho in front of her.

“You did. And this smells awesome. I think. I’ve only got one nostril open right now.” She took a sip with the little white spoon. “Oh my god, this is amazing.” She took another slow sip.

“Add some of that chili oil over there, just a bit if you’re not into spicy foods. It’ll clear your head in no time.” Stray put a little in his bowl and stirred it around. He was a firm believer in spicy foods when fighting a head cold.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I live three blocks from here.” Batgirl spooned some of the chili oil into her bowl and stirred. “The lime juice any good?”

Stray nodded, snapping open his chopsticks to grab a piece of beef.

It was said a lot about the little shop that the owner didn’t even blink an eye at two costumed individuals coming in for soup at 1am. Stray was a regular here, as was Tim Drake. It was one of the few places he let himself be seen in both personas.

He slowly ate his pho, watching Batgirl practically inhale hers along with her water. She started sniffing again, as well as coughing, but this time it sounded much looser. “Able to breathe again?”

She nodded. “Yeah, wow. I never realized what a little spice kick could do to my sinuses.” She took several napkins and started blowing her nose.

“I’m still trying to eat here,” Stray said in a dry tone.

Batgirl waved her hand as if batting away the comment. “I’m relearning to breathe here.”

Chuckling, Stray went back to his soup.

Batgirl watched him for a few minutes as she continued to blow her nose. “This is weird. Even for me and I see all kinds of weird.”

“Must come with the territory,” Stray commented.

“Well, yeah, but it’s been awhile since you and I have seen each other is all. I thought after your help with finding Batman, I’d see more of you.”

There’s a really good reason why you didn’t. Help the Bats just once and see what happens? I lose an organ.

She sighed in frustration at the lack of a response from Stray, who just continued eating his soup. “You’re really fast, you know?” she said, abruptly changing the subject and leaning back in the booth, her blue-eyed gaze clearer than before.

He knew better than to comment about the first part of her rant, the memory of her in his arms flashing across his mind. “I’ve always been quick. Catwoman just tempered it.”

“No kidding.” She paused, looking like she wanted to say something but uncertain of how to go about it. Stray waited patiently as he sipped his pho. If there was one thing he knew for certain about Stephanie Brown, it was that she would get to the point pretty quickly. No beating around the bush for her.

“So…O said you have a red-hooded shadow.”

There it was. He was momentarily surprised she picked that as her opening salvo. He expected her to tear into how he figured out Oracle’s identity. “Temporary business partner,” he replied sourly.

“You don’t sound thrilled about it.” Batgirl crossed her arms across her ample chest.

Stray followed the movement, then looked back up at her face. God bless my goggles and beautiful busty blondes. If I wasn’t positive sleeping with Stephanie would be one of the biggest mistakes ever in keeping my identity a secret, I’d have done it years ago. She’s gorgeous.

“I’m being blackmailed into helping him. Nothing to be thrilled about.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Really? How on earth did that happen? I thought you were the one with all the good dirt on Gotham’s underworld.”

“I am. And I’ve no idea, which just pisses me off even more,” Stray said with a glare. He finished his soup.

“Wow. Just, wow. That has to be tearing you up, you looked like grumpy cat there for a second.”

Stray laughed. Batgirl always made him smile. “I’ll take your word for it. Ready to go?” He made to get up.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing all her napkins and tucking them into a pouch on her belt. “I’ve got to remember this place,” she said as they walked out.

Stray looked around. It was late with next to no traffic on the roads. “You said you live close by, you good to go on your own from here?”

Batgirl nodded. “Yeah. Just get me to the roof across the street there,” she pointed. “No chance for me to go splat.”

They crossed the street, Batgirl coughing a bit as they went. “It’s the night air, you know,” Stray said as he shot his grapple line up and secured it. He grasped Batgirl closely and up they went. She’s running a fever, I can feel it.

“I know,” she replied. “But when else do I get to look this fabulous and kick-ass?”

“You always look fabulous and kick-ass. Even during the day.” He unhooked the grapple and reeled in the line.

Batgirl looked surprised for a moment, then shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised you know who I am too. You know who Oracle is for god’s sake.”

Stray turned and smiled. “Stephanie Brown. Robin Number Three, Batgirl Number Three. Number One at kicking ass and taking names while rocking eggplant and trying to balance a graduate degree in social work at Gotham U.”

It was her turn to laugh bitterly. “At least I get to be number one at something.”

Feeling generous, Stray walked over and gave her a hug, momentarily losing himself in the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy, doing what you’ve managed to do over the years. I know I didn’t make it any easier on you either.”

Batgirl was almost the same height as him, so she just ducked her head a bit to rest it on his shoulder, hugging him back just as tightly. “No, you didn’t. I thought you hated me when I was Robin.”

He patted her hair lightly, tempted to run his fingers through it. “I did. You replaced my best friend. And then the demon spawn came along and I learned what hate really was.”

“I did warn you back then. He has a massive crush on you, you know.”

“I know. He’ll get over it eventually.”

They both chuckled at that and pulled apart.

“Thanks for the soup. And the hug. I needed that.” Batgirl took a few steps back, making ready to start her run to the next roof.

“You’re welcome. It was nice to just talk for once. Feel better.”

Batgirl gave him a brilliant smile and ran off into the night. Stray watched her make two successful jumps before he turned to make ready his own escape.

And almost ran squarely into the Red Hood’s broad chest.

Oh shit. How long has he been here?

“What the fuck?!” he shouted as he reared back quickly. “What are you doing here?”

The Red Hood stood like a silent statue for a moment, arms crossed over his chest. Stray didn’t see any weapons in his hands but that meant nothing. The man was a walking weapon. “Protecting my investment.”

Stray spluttered. “Your investment? You’ve been following me all night?”

“Yep. Almost came out when I saw Batgirl, but then I heard her cough. Figured if there was a beat down, you’d have her on her ass in no time.” He paused. “I didn’t expect you to take her to dinner. She’s the third Robin, the one who replaced your best friend.”

Stray was pissed and it showed as he waved his arms wildly. And that matters to you why? “What, jealous?"

The Red Hood was eerily still for a moment, then rushed forward, quickly crowding Stray back against the roof access door a few feet away and trapping him between two strong arms. “Perhaps I am,” he said in a dangerously even tone of voice. “I’ve been watching you for awhile, pussy cat. You never go near the caped crowd, then all of a sudden here’s BG and Oracle on the same night. Two very fine looking women in my book. Got to admit, your taste certainly runs to the strong type.”

Oh my god. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

Time seemed to stand still for Stray as a few things about Red Hood finally clicked. One, he not only knew Stray’s real identity as Tim, but he also knew those of Batgirl and Oracle. The latter floored him as knowing Oracle’s identity was just one step lower on the rung from knowing Batman’s.

Second, the Red Hood was following him without him even being aware of it. I knew he was good but I didn’t think he was that good. Stray had been evading bats and birds for years now, so for Red Hood to be able to track him so easily, well, that took some serious skill.

Thirdly, the man was right about Tim and Stray having a type. And the Red Hood certainly fit the bill.

When in doubt, there’s only one thing to ask. What would Selina do?

The red of Hood’s helmet gleamed duly in the ever-present reflective smoggy haze that was Gotham by night. He had Stray boxed in, head tilted down in such a way that if the helmet wasn’t in the way, the cat would be almost nose to nose with the bigger man. He let himself relax up against the door, shifting almost languidly as he let a playful smirk dance across his lips.

“I do have a type. Lucky for you, it runs to all genders,” Stray purred. He slowly lifted a hand and let it trace softly against the helmet where Hood’s cheek would be in a mock caress. Leaning closer, he let his lips brush gently against the slit for his mouth. Stray felt Hood stiffen around him, his breath becoming louder. “Unfortunately for you, you’re dicking me around in the worst possible way. So that means you just get to look and not touch.”

With that, Stray swiped his claws hard against Hood’s helmet and quickly ducked under the man’s arms. Batgirl had said he was fast. Now was the time to prove it.

Stray started running as fast as he could, ripping the oil painting case from his back to give one less thing for Hood to potentially catch him by. Perhaps I’ll be lucky and find it up here tomorrow.

It was times like these he wished he were on better terms with Gotham’s other capes. A chance encounter with one of them tonight would be a good way to get Red Hood off his tail. Stray strained his ears, trying to hear the heavy footsteps of a man running behind him. Nothing. But the big man could move as quietly as Batman when it suited him, so he kept running.

Plans flickered across his mind as he ran. I need a safehouse, one I haven’t been to for some time, one the Red Hood knows nothing about. Stray realized he’d veered off to the east at some point during his mad dash and was coming up on Robinson Park.

He didn’t need a safehouse, not yet. Stray was a cat after all. And cats liked trees. And Poison Ivy likes me.

Plan set, at least for the moment, Stray swung down a fire escape and made a run across the street to the fence surrounding the park, swiftly hauling himself up and over.

In moments, he lost himself in the thick foliage. Still not hearing any sounds of pursuit, he took a moment to catch his breath up in one of the branches of a large tree. Tapping his goggles, he switched over to night vision, hoping to catch a heat signature. Nothing. Not a damn thing.

He didn’t chase me? After a move like that, I was expecting a bullet in the back of my knee. Or two.

Breath caught, he cautiously made his way out further on the thick limb he was on, scanning the ground and the trees around him for any signs of human life. A gap in the foliage revealed the street, not too far from where Stray made his entrance to the park. He looked up along the roofline.

Nothing.

What the hell just happened?

The question plagued him all the way to his safehouse on the other side of the park and on into the night.

***** 

The Red Hood watched Stray scamper down out of the tree and book it deeper into the park. He knew better than to enter Robinson Park when Poison Ivy was on the loose. From what he heard, she lived here full time now, deep in the heart of the park. No one was able to uproot her, literally. She was more tree now than person.

What the fuck did I just do?

When he saw Batgirl earlier, he almost lost himself in his rage. My REPLACEMENT. It was only her pathetic cough that held him back. If and when he went after her, Jason wanted her fully functioning.

I still can’t believe Bruce replaced me with a goddamned girl. A girl with an admittedly awesome right hook.

He’d seen her take down men twice her size with that punch.

Seeing her and Stray together really knocked him for a loop. The casualness of their actions bespoke a level of comfort between the two of them. Dinner was bad enough, but the hug was what set him off.

Stray is my cat. He was my friend. MINE.

Stray said he was jealous and yes, Jason could admit to himself that he was. He ran a hand up the side of the hood and felt the gouges.

Looks like he graduated from the kitty claws too.

It was amazing to watch how Stray turned from a pissed off tomcat to the sly and seductive cat Jason was used to seeing from Catwoman. He taunted and teased just as well as his mentor.

And looks just as good doing it. Would he have kissed me if I hadn’t been wearing the helmet?

In that moment, he’d almost tossed everything to the wind, hood included, just to feel Stray’s lips on his own. To feel his body pressed against his because he wanted to, not just because he was teasing him.

Fuck. This was not supposed to happen. Not now. Just a few more days to get through and then we’re done. Joker’ll be dead and Tim and I can finally talk. Assuming he doesn’t try to gut me with those claws of his when I do.

Goddammit, it’d be so much easier to just skip town forever and set up shop somewhere else after Monday. I’ll tell him, let him vent, and then I’m gone. He’d never know where if I put a bit of effort into it.

Hood took a deep and steadying breath as he stared out over Robinson Park, clutching the case his cat had discarded in his flight.

Is that what I want though? Tim asked me that last night and I didn’t know what to tell him. It sucks, but other than killing Joker, I have absolutely zero plans for the rest of my life. The only thing I know for certain is I’m not going back to the League. I turned assassin for one person and one person only. Are there other scumbags out there that deserve death? Fuck yes.

But a murdering vigilante is hunted more than one who throws batarangs or shoots trick arrows.

And would Tim want to be with someone like that? I can see he’s a lot more jaded than he used to be, but these streets, this city, will do that to you. But he sees the world in gray unlike Bruce and Dickie who are so damned black and white.

Jason stood and stared at the park for a moment longer. What do I want? And do I want Tim to be a part of it?

***** 

Stephanie Brown stood in her shower, hot water steaming around her as she washed off the night air, as well as the Kevlar and leather scent of her Batgirl costume. Her nose was still running something fierce from the spicy soup Stray bought for her earlier.

At least I don’t feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest anymore.

Stray. Just who was he? His identity plagued Batman for years, especially after he and Selina got together for that short period of time just before Damian arrived. Right, just because you and Catwoman were rubbing naughty bits together doesn’t mean she was just going to spill the name of her protégé.

The younger cat confused Stephanie. On one hand, she very much understood why he didn’t like her back in the beginning when she first took on Robin’s mantle. “You’re his replacement. You’re not my friend.”

But he was the only one who helped her when Bruce “died”. Dick and Alfred didn’t believe her when she told them she thought Bruce was alive after seeing that painting in the Manor. Stray found her crying on the rooftops the night Dick told her he was giving Robin to Damian.

“He’s alive. I know it. I know it and no one believes me. I need proof. And now I can’t do shit about it since I’m not Robin anymore.”

The young man looked torn. It was hard to tell, but Steph was pretty certain he was around the same age as her. He’d started this path very young according to Bruce’s files. When Batman confronted Selina about it after his first few outings at her side, she’d just told him “I picked up a stray.”

Sitting next to her on the roof, Stray awkwardly patted her head, his claws catching in her messy hair. “Look, I know we don’t get along the best and I know that’s mostly on me. But…I think…if you’re no longer Robin, then I no longer have a reason to dislike you.”

Stephanie laughed. “You’ll have no problem transferring that dislike onto the new Robin, I guarantee it.”

“From what you’ve been telling me, I’m sure I won’t. As for Batman, tell me everything you can. Let me see what I can do.”

“You believe me?” she asked questioningly.

“No.” Stray shook his head and Stephanie felt her heart sink. “But it’s Batman. Nightwing is a lot of things, but Batman isn’t one of them. He’s too bright for the darkness. I’m willing to suspend disbelief as a token of goodwill to see if we can get the real bat back into his cowl.”

Stephanie hugged Stray fiercely in response, the cat stiffening in surprise, then relaxing into it. She told him everything she could without giving away names or identities.

And a few months later, Stray delivered. Dear god did he ever deliver. A flash drive full of information to support her case, as well as a warning about Ra’s al Ghul and his plan to take over Wayne Enterprises. By then, Stephanie was Batgirl on a trial basis and the information Stray had was enough for her to convince Dick and Babs she wasn’t going crazy. Well, crazi-er since we’re all a little nuts in doing what we do.

Stray never said exactly what he did to get the information she needed, even after she asked. “It’s better you don’t know,” he’d said, rubbing at his side. He was moving a bit stiffly.

She kissed him that night, up there on the roof. He responded, so warm and teasing with that tongue of his. Steph always hated the word swoon, but she would admit to feeling a bit lightheaded after a kiss like that. “You’re going to make some person very happy one day with a tongue like that,” she’d teased. “If you’re not doing it already.”

He laughed in response, holding her tight against his slim frame. “Thanks, but don’t sell yourself short. You’re pretty good at this too.”

Nothing ever came of it, not that she expected it to. Stray was Stray and Steph was now Batgirl. But it was comforting to know that he no longer hated her. I would have liked something to happen though. Still do sometimes whenever I see him and remember that kiss. If he kissed like that five years ago, I can only imagine what it’s like now!

Turning off the water, Stephanie stepped out of the shower and toweled off, putting on her bathrobe and wrapping her hair in the towel. Tonight confirmed something she long suspected, but never vocalized. He knows who we all are. Bruce, Dick, Damian, all of us. There’s no way he doesn't, not with knowing who I am and who Babs is.

She sat on her bed, looking blankly at her hair brush and the red glow of the numbers on her alarm clock as her thoughts raced. Babs obviously knows who he is and she seems okay with it. She’s a hard one to crack, but if anyone’s ID is more closely guarded than Bruce’s, then I’m a fool. Stray has to know.

And what does Red Hood have on him? Stray was seriously channeling grumpy cat tonight when I asked him about it, so he’s obviously not pleased by the prospect of working with the Hood. Is he in trouble? He didn’t seem like it, but both he and Babs alluded to the possibility that Hood was following him around.

She unwrapped her damp hair and picked up her brush. If that’s the case, then he needs help. It’s my turn to help him, dammit.

Turning, Steph grabbed her phone from the charger and pressed a speed dial. A few rings later, she heard a mumbled “Hello?” Apparently it was someone’s night off.

“Hey Dick. I didn’t think you’d be asleep, but I need your help with something.” She turned her head as sneeze escaped her.

“Bless you. I’m always here to help. What’s up?”

Chapter Text

-Chapter 6 - (Friday afternoon)

After his TA-led class Friday afternoon, Tim walked to the library. He was tired and still couldn’t get Red Hood’s actions from last night out of his head.

The man confused him. He knows I’m Stray. He knows Barbara is Oracle. He knows Steph is Batgirl…and a former Robin. How would he know that?

For the masked and villain community in Gotham, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the third Robin became Batgirl. But Red Hood started operating in town this last spring. Batgirl was well established in her role by then.

And I never sell information on the capes. Doesn’t mean he didn’t have it though. He knew their patrol routes, when they switched it up, who usually partnered with whom, and he always made a point of knowing when Bruce was out of town as dealing with Dick in the Batman suit was always easier than dealing with the big man himself.

Tim knew from his initial inquiries into Red Hood that the man was well funded. He apparently was also well informed. Who else knows the identities of the Batfamily?

His blood suddenly ran cold as realization washed over him. Tim hurried his steps and almost ran into the library.

The League of Assassins. Ra’s al Ghul.

That was it. It had to be. The Red Hood moved and acted like a well-trained assassin. He had to be League trained. But his vendetta against the Joker? That’s personal. I know it.

So what did the Joker do to piss off a highly trained member of the League of Assassins? For Ra’s to let one of his ninjas off their leash, it had to be pretty spectacular.

Stray had encountered Ra’s al Ghul a few times over the years. The most recent was about five years ago when he’d been in the Middle East for Stephanie, tracking down signs the Batman was still alive, just lost in time. And there’s a mindfuck if there ever was one. I wasn’t prepared to go up against the League of Assassins and lost my damn spleen for the trouble. God, if that girl ever found out just what happened, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.

It explained so much Tim thought as he weaved his way around the stacks. Red Hood wasn’t just a ninja though. He’d been trained in strategy and planning too. He planned the whole Black Mask debacle just to get Joker to escape. But he doesn’t know everything; he didn’t know the extent of the design changes to Arkham’s security protocols.

So former League perhaps? Tim didn’t know people could actually leave the League and not be hunted down. Ra’s still likes to send ninjas out to test me every now and again. They were here a couple months back. Why weren’t they hunting Hood down? I guess that means he’s here with the League’s blessing and boy is that a can of worms I don’t think I want to go pursuing any further if it is. I’ve already had my taste of what the League can do, I really don’t want another.

Thoughts chasing each other, Tim almost missed seeing Pete sitting in one of the chairs by the window. He startled as he went to sit down. God, he’s gorgeous. And he looks about as exhausted as me.

“Oh. Hey,” he said in greeting, going for causal, running a hand through his already rumpled hair.

Pete looked up at Tim, a look of surprise on his face. “Hello again. Tim, right?”

He remembers! Score one for me!

“Yeah. Pete?” He pulled off his messenger bag and hoodie as he sat down, still trying to stay casual.

“Yeah. So…still trying to pay off your sleep debt between classes?” Pete sounded a bit awkward, like he didn’t know exactly what to say.

You have no idea.

Tim chuckled. “Something like that. Got a lot on my mind right now.”

“Ah. Midterms?”

Another chuckle. “I wish. Those’ll be a cakewalk.”

Pete flashed a crooked smile. “Sounds like you’re pretty confident.”

I could teach these classes better than each and every professor on this campus.

“Yeah. I’ll be a mess come the end of the semester though. Always am.” Tim settled into his chair and put his feet up, taking his phone and earbuds out. Looking over at Pete, he saw he was reading a different paperback from the other day. “New book already?”

Pete looked down at his forgotten paperback. “More like an old favorite. I love the classics.”

Tim squinted to see the title. “Pride and Prejudice?” He asked incredulously. That was Jason’s favorite too. He used to go on and on after reading it the first time.

Pete rubbed the back of his head a bit nervously. Tim still couldn’t determine if the man’s hair was a very dark brown or black. “I know, I know. But it always helps me calm down, reading about other people and their relationship problems.”

Tim let the words settle in his brain a moment, the implication that Pete was in a relationship already souring his mouth. Go figure, all the good ones are taken. “You having relationship issues?”

“Heh, kind of. For one to have issues in a relationship, there has to be a relationship first.” Pete sounded sad.

“I see…” Tim paused, not sure if he wanted to pursue this line of conversation. Pete was certainly attractive, but if the Red Hood was watching him as closely as he implied last night, getting involved with another person right now was dangerous.

But I can still lay the groundwork for later. He just admitted to being single! Sort of.

“Want to talk about it? I know I’m a perfect stranger, but hey, different perspective, right?”

*****

Fucking seriously? I almost jump your ass less than 12 hours ago and here you are making eyes at me? Now I know you have no clue who I really am.

Jason shifted slightly to look directly at Tim, leveling an even gaze at him. It was risky, looking at him straight on like this, but he was confident that 10 years worth of growing up had changed him just enough. Not to mention the dorky glasses he sported when out in public. If it works for Superman…

Tim looked at him with an open expression on his face. He knew it was a carefully crafted façade as Tim was just too damn sneaky to be that ingenuous.

You want to play games, pussy cat? Fine, let’s play.

He ran a hand though his hair again. “I guess,” Jason said in an uncertain tone. “It’s kind of a weird story.” Understatement of the goddamned millennia.

A little smirk crossed Tim’s face, one he’d seen over and over again from Stray. His heart lurched a bit. “We live in Gotham, weird is kind of par for the course around here.”

“Ha! No kidding. But there’s the issue. I haven’t lived in Gotham for all that long. I grew up here but left after some…let’s just say some shit happened and I just recently came back to see if I could make a life for myself again.”

Some shit happened. Nice euphemism for getting the shit beat out of me with a crow bar and being blown up by a motherfucking clown.

Tim looked at him with a bit of confusion. “Why would you want to come back? Gotham is…unique. I mean, I guess I could have left anytime after my dad finally died. There’s nothing holding me here. I just don’t get why someone who actually left would want to come back.”

Personal motivation. Revenge. Doing what Bruce is too fucking scared to do. And now you. When did your dad die? And where’s your mom?

Jason shifted in his chair, glancing out the window at the bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. It was a perfect fall day. He never took days for granted anymore. He looked back at Tim. “This city…it lives in you, you know? I feel like I can never escape it. I’ve lived all over the world, seen all kinds of amazing things, and yet, it’s like there’s a tether on my heart that keeps jerking me back here.”

Learned all kinds of useful skills. Killed all my teachers for being scum bastards almost on par with Joker.

Tim laughed softly. “That was rather poetic.”

“I do read the classics and romantics for fun.”

“I kind of get it though. I had a chance to do a semester up in New York a few years back. By the end, I couldn’t wait to come home.”

“Spoken like a true Gothamite.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment. Tim asked, “So…was that all?”

Fucking cat and his damn curiosity.

“Yes. No. I dunno.” Jason stalled, not sure how far he wanted to take this conversation. Talking like this, even in such vague terms was making him feel strangely vulnerable. At the same time, he knew when he finally did tell Tim everything, he’d remember this conversation and wouldn’t blow up at him as badly. Hopefully. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve kept my distance from people I used to know. They had a…large impact on some of my life choices up to that point and I’m not sure if they’ll appreciate how I’ve changed."

Jesus fucking Christ, is that a diplomatic way of putting it.

Tim just nodded though, taking it the way Jason meant for him to take it. “Let me guess, you cleaned up your act?”

I’ve been traveling a nightmarish path with only one end goal in mind.

“You could say that. I like to think I’m a much more well rounded individual now. One fully capable of making his own decisions without needing someone make them for me.”

Tim nodded again. “So it’s your relationship with these people that’s troubling you?”

Jason shrugged. “Yes and no. I couldn’t care less about most of the people I knew back then, but there was a kid I used to hang with, a few years younger than me. We were pals, always getting in scrapes and pulling each other out of them. He’s the only regret I have about leaving.”

Should have taken you with me, Tim. I can’t help but think things would have turned out a whole lot differently if I’d had Stray at my back.

“Huh. So you’re trying to decide if you want to look this guy up and see if you can be friends again?”

Give the cat a prize.

Jason nodded slowly. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve checked up on him, he’s actually done pretty well for himself, I think. Still has his fingers in some questionable things, but hey, he’s almost as Gotham as I am. You can’t grow up on these streets and ever fully escape.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

A man with a garish clown face and a laugh that haunts almost every moment of my existence. The phantom pain of a crowbar beating into my ribs and breaking bones. A flash of heat and searing pain. Cold. Damp. Darkness. The feel of earth beneath my fingers as I clawed my way up. Green frothing water filling my lungs and burning my eyes.

“A lot of things. But mostly, I’m not certain he’ll accept me now."

Tim cocked his head to the side. “You make it sound like you’re actually a worse person now than you were before.”

I’m a fucking assassin, pussy cat. Groomed for one task and one task only.

“I don’t know what I am. And I guess until I figure that out, I’ll keep my distance.”

Sort of.

*****

Later in the afternoon, Tim walked into his apartment and ran a frustrated hand through his already messy hair. He knew he had work to do on getting Red Hood in and out of Arkham in one piece, but he just didn’t feel like it right now. He kept mulling over his conversation with Pete.

Wish I had a last name or a fingerprint or something. That guy has to have some priors, at least as a minor.

Something about the man and their discussion was resonating with Tim and he had no idea why. Pete intrigued Tim even more now. There’s something almost…familiar about him.

He shook his head. Got to get my head in the game. I can daydream about tall, dark, and bookwormy after this weekend is over.

Tim moped around for an hour, starting and stopping all manner of little projects before he gave up.

Fuck it.

He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial number 1. A few rings later, he heard a familiar voice purr, “Hello, kitten.”

Tim leaned back in his armchair and stretched. “Hey, Selina. You got a few minutes or is this a bad time?”

“I always have time for you, Tim. Right now, it’s just me, Holly, and the open road.”

He could hear the volume on the radio being turned down and Holly saying, “Hi Tim!”

“Tell Holly I said hi.”

“Of course. So what’s up?”

Tim sighed. “I’m on a sinking ship and can barely keep my head above water.”

“I hope you mean that figuratively and not literally, kitten.” Selina’s voice was light, but he heard the edge of concern laced through it.

Tim chuckled. “I doubt I’d sound so calm if I actually was. It’s been a really rough week and I just want to hear a familiar voice.”

“What’s going on?”

Tim told her everything, from Red Hood to Oracle, even Pete. Selina didn’t say anything and just listened.

“So you can see why I feel like I’m drowning,” Tim finished.

“No kidding. That’s a lot, kitten, it really is. Do you want us to come home? We can ditch the car and be back in Gotham by tomorrow morning.” Her tone was gentle and yet strong as steel at the same time. Tim always found that to be a neat trick.

“I…No, not yet at least. I want to try and talk to Red Hood tonight. There’s something about him that's just screaming at me and it's really starting to piss me off that I can’t figure out what it is.”

“I thought you said there was something about this Pete guy that was what? Resonating with you?”

It hit Tim like a bolt of lightning, freezing him in place as his mind suddenly started putting the pieces together.

The Red Hood. Pete. They were the same person.

Oh my god, what the fuck is he playing at? Is that why I keep seeing him everywhere I go now? Is this how he’s keeping tabs on me? What is his game?

Oh shit. He isn’t playing. I was the one who started talking to him as Pete. He looked nervous the other day because he thought I was on to him. And today…again he was nervous. Surprised even. He didn’t want to talk and I just up and asked the Red fucking Hood to spill his relationship woes to me after I up and ripped him a new one last night.

Was that real, what he said about the friend? If it is, I feel bad for whoever that friend is if he decides to say, “Hey remember me? We used to hang together, I’m the Red Hood now!”

Tim’s brain suddenly stalled. No. No, it can’t be. No, that’s impossible…But it’s the only explanation.

“Tim? Kitten, you there? Answer me, dammit!” He heard Selina’s voice but it was barely registering.

The friend. It was me.

“Selina, I gotta go. I just figured it out.”

“Kitten, don’t you dare do something stupid without me there to watch your back.” She sounded angry.

“I’m not. Promise. I just gotta go. See you when you decide to come back. Oh my god, I am such a moron…” Tim trailed off as he hung up his phone. He slammed his head into the back of the recliner a few times, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly falling into place to create a clearer picture.

Red Hood knew Stray because Red Hood and Stray used to be friends. Friends who knew each other’s real names. He only ever had one friend like that. A friend dead for ten years.

Or was he?

Jason PETER Todd. No wonder I started thinking he looked familiar. Take off those dorky glasses and shave that stubble off, and there you go. Goddamn, did he ever grow into that gangly body and big feet. But when? When did he have a chance to grow up?

League of Assassins. Ra’s al Ghul. Lazarus Pit.

It was the only explanation. Somehow, Ra’s al Ghul had gotten a hold of Robin’s body, of Jason’s body, and sent him for a swim in the Lazarus Pit. But why? The Red Hood was as far from Robin as he could possibly be. Tim didn’t know much about the Pit other than it could restore youth and drive a person mad at the same time. Could it raise the dead too?

But Jason. He’d been dead. What kind of side effects would that have had? Enough to make him what he is now? A masked criminal masquerading as a crime lord who has no trouble murdering those who get in his way? But then again, Hood’s only ever killed anyone who could be said to deserve it. For all his talk and bravado, he doesn’t kill randomly. He doesn’t kill the innocent.

Tim flashed back to all his conversations with the Red Hood. All the little hints and clues. The answer had been there right in front of him the whole time. And Pete! The glasses were the only thing he wore to hide himself from Tim. And why would he need more?

The dead don’t exactly come back to life everyday. And glasses apparently are enough for Superman, why not Jason?

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. No wonder I started liking the guy. Both of them. Whatever. It’s Jason.

Tim got up and started pacing around his living room. He had some serious thinking to do.

Chapter Text

-Chapter 7 – (Friday night)

Stray crouched in the shadows of one of the many water towers that dotted the rooftops in the East End, just adjacent to Crime Alley. This was solidly in “cat” territory, so he wasn’t concerned with any of Gotham’s capes running through on their patrols.

He was waiting for Red Hood.

Tim had spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth across his living room, analyzing every conversation, every interaction he’d had with Hood and Pete. He was furious Jason hadn’t come right out and told him he was alive, but he then realized he hadn’t told anyone he was back. Bruce was his adopted father and Tim remembered all too well the mess he’d been when he came back from Ethiopia with Jason’s body.

Jason may have been his best friend, but he had a family too. A family that missed him and loved him.

“Since I’ve been back, I’ve kept my distance from people I used to know…I’m not sure if they’ll appreciate how I’ve changed.” This has to be why he avoids Batman and the others. He knows they’ll interfere with his plans. Hell, he only came to me when his first plan failed.

That was the crux of the matter, Tim decided. Jason wants to kill the man who killed him. I…I can’t fault him for that.

Before he changed his mind, he sent a message to Red Hood to meet him on this roof.

Stray felt vaguely sick to his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous. A memory suddenly tickled in his mind, of two boys sitting on the edge of a roof sharing a secret.

Full circle.

He took a deep breath and stepped out from the shadows and strode confidently across the roof, nimbly pulling himself up on the ledge and taking a seat, letting his legs dangle over the open expanse below him. He looked out into the night, across the open rooftops. Idly, he mapped different escape plans, more out of habit than anything else.

It wasn’t long before Stray knew he wasn’t alone anymore. I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now, seeing me sitting here like this.

After a few minutes, he heard the telltale crunch of gravel under a heavy boot. By now, he knew it was Hood’s way of saying “I’m here”. He didn’t move, just continued staring out into the night.

The Red Hood slowly stopped behind him, then moved to Stray’s right. He set something down on the ledge. It was the oil painting case he’d dropped last night when he ran. Hood didn’t sit, but he was the same distance away he’d been as Robin that last night where Stray had let him catch him. Yet another sign that he was right.

“Before you say anything, cat, I got something I need to get off my chest,” Hood said in a serious tone.

I’m sure you do. Stray didn’t say anything, but waved his hand, gesturing him to go on.

“Last night…I’m still not entirely sure what the hell happened. All I know is Batgirl pissed me off and then seeing you with her made me see red. This isn’t an excuse, but I’ve got anger issues. Big ones. I know my triggers though and can usually avoid them. She was an…unexpected trigger.” He stopped, waiting to see how Stray would react.

An unexpected trigger. She replaced you as Robin and you know it.

Stray turned his head to look at the Red Hood. “Anger issues, huh? Tell me, was Batgirl the trigger because you were seeing me with your replacement or is this just you trying to deal with a severe case of post traumatic stress?”

The taller man stood frozen in what Stray hoped was shock.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” he continued. “I can honestly say it wasn’t any specific thing you did that made me figure it out. Just…too many little things. What I do want to know…” Stray turned and hopped off the ledge to stand toe to toe with Red Hood and pointed a sharply nailed finger in his face…“is WHY THE FUCKING HELL YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU WERE ALIVE WHEN YOU CAME TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!”

The Red Hood didn’t say anything. His stance shifted suddenly, as he uncrossed his arms and raised his hands to the back of his helmet. Stray heard a faint click and the once solid helmet split apart on some very cleverly hidden hinges.

In front of him stood the Red Hood without his helmet. He wore a domino that concealed his eyes, but standing straight on like this, Stray still felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He knew that domino, the shape of it, though the color was different now. Red where it used to be green.

Dark hair matted from the helmet, but still with those two curls across his forehead that always reminded Stray of horns, appropriate for the little devil Robin could sometimes be. How did I miss those before?

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Jason said in a quiet voice.

*****

Jesus fucking Christ. Thank god, he figured it out! The relief Jason felt was palpable, even euphoric.

When Jason got the message that Stray wanted to meet with him tonight, he knew he was in trouble. I’m supposed to be focusing on Tim’s plan and all I can goddamn think about is salvaging the one relationship that still means something.

Arriving on the rooftop to see Stray sitting so casually on the ledge, he felt apprehension seize his gut. Returning to Gotham had brought a plethora of memories he felt were best forgotten, but were impossible to forget.

Yes, revenge on the Joker was first and foremost in his mind, but hot on its heels and now fighting for first place was Stray. The last several days meeting with Stray and talking to Tim in the library had shown the boy he remembered was still in there, just more polished and grown up. Someone he very much wanted to know better.

Am I still in here somewhere? Is that what I want? To be me again?

This close, Jason could just make out Tim’s eyes through the thick goggles he wore. “I’m so fucking sorry, pussy cat.”

“You played me. Played me like a goddamn fiddle. Why did you do it? Rob…Jason…if you just told me, I still would have helped you.”

“I…I didn’t think you would. Everything I found out about you…about you now…I just didn’t know how dirty you were willing to get your hands and thought it would be better this way. Easier on you if you thought you were being forced into it.” I don’t want to drag you down to my level. My hands are stained with blood.

Tim growled and shoved at his chest, forcefully enough to make him step back or fall. The cat may be slender, but he was strong. “Goddammit, you have no fucking idea what I would have done for you. You were my best friend!” He ran a hand over his head like he was running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I started helping you because of that. You’d think that would have been a good time for show and tell.”

I had other things on my mind that night.

“I wanted to. That night at the Met, I wanted to. But it was the first time I’d seen you face to face in years. I’ve been so careful to avoid B and the others, I didn’t want to blow it just yet.”

A harsh laugh escaped Stray’s lips. “Oh yes, let’s move on to them. Jason, you have no idea, NO IDEA, how badly Bruce was hurt by your death. It nearly destroyed him. I at least had Selina to help me get through it, but Bruce? Ha! The one person who could have helped was off world at the time. Off world. As in on a different planet entirely. It was just him and Alfred and no offense to him, but we all know the whole stiff upper lip thing is what got this city Batman in the first place. When Dick came back, he’d been back a month before he found out. And it wasn’t even from Bruce.”

Okay, that’s news to me. “What? How did you even find this out?”

“Because I ran into Nightwing trying to get himself killed in a gang brawl. I dragged his sorry ass away and got the full sob story when I started patching him up. He at least remembered I was your friend.”

A totally fair hit. “Yeah, well Bruce seemed to get over it pretty fast as I see I was replaced not long after that.”

“It was a full year before Steph even hit the streets as Robin. Did you know she started out as a vigilante of her own making? She called herself Spoiler. She’s the daughter of Cluemaster. Batman was pissed she was around and I ended up telling him to do something about her or else she was going to end up at the bottom of the river. I had no idea he’d make her Robin. I honestly thought you would be the last.”

Jason saw red for a moment. “It was you?” he asked in a dangerous tone. “You were the reason he took her in?”

Tim had the grace to look shamefaced. “Yes. Completely unintentional on my part I might add. I never wanted him to replace you.”

I should have been the last.

“Heh. All I can say is it’s a good thing I was a walking zombie at the time. Otherwise, I can’t exactly say what I may have done to her.”

“Steph is a good person. I like her better now as Batgirl after the demon spawn replaced her as Robin.”

“Yes, I saw as much last night.” Jason flashed back briefly to the hug. My friend. My cat.

Tim took a slightly defensive tone. “It was just a hug. But that’s beside the point. We’re talking about how you fucking used me rather than put on your big boy pants and tell the damned truth.”

Jason growled. “If you were anyone other than who you are, I’d put a bullet between your eyes without a second thought.”

“Well it’s a good thing I am who I am then because I call bullshit.”

Goddammit, pussy cat. I could never get away with anything when you were around and it looks like that still hasn’t changed.

“You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through,” he replied grimly.

“Then tell me, Jason. I’m pretty certain a Lazarus Pit is involved. And we both know the crazy that comes from that.”

Jason barked a harsh laugh. “It is, but not the way you think. If you really want to hear the whole story, then come with me. I’m going to need some liquid courage.”

Tomorrow’s hangover will be worth it. I think.

*****

Tim stared at the shot of vodka in front of him. Jason already had tossed back three and was working on his fourth.

“Not gonna drink that, pussy cat? It’s the good stuff.”

He chuckled. “It looks like it. I can’t even read the bottle.”

Jason waved his hand expansively. “I did some work for the Russian mafia not too long ago. Instead of cash, I asked for a case of this.”

Tim shook his head in amusement.

He’d followed Jason back to his apartment in the Bowery. It was a tired and run down looking building, just one step up from being condemned. He was surprised to see how close they lived to each other.

Small wonder I kept running into him at that Starbucks.

Entering through the living room window, Jason immediately began shedding his Red Hood gear. “If I’m going to tell this story, I’m going to be comfortable doing it,” he said, putting everything away in short order. That surprised Tim, for some reason he’d always imagined Jason to be the messy type.

Then Tim saw the man’s bookshelves and he cringed. “How do you even find anything?” he asked in a wondering tone.

“Controlled chaos,” came the reply from the small kitchen where Jason was puttering around looking for shot glasses. He’d already placed a big bottle of vodka on the coffee table in front of a sorry excuse for a sofa.

Can’t argue with that.

Tim turned and closed the window behind him and pulled down the blinds. He pushed his goggles to rest on his forehead just in front of the ears on his semi-cowl. He felt a bit numb, like he was having an out of body experience.

I never thought I’d be sitting in the Red Hood’s living room having shots.

Behind him, he heard Jason come back into the living room. “Okay, cat, sit down and have at least one shot with me like a big boy. I don’t care what you drink after that.”

The only place to sit was on the sofa, so Tim gingerly sat down and tucked himself into a corner against an armrest so he could see Jason clearly.

He gingerly picked up the shot glass Jason filled to the brim. “I feel like I should be toasting you or something.”

Jason snorted. “Za tebya,” he said, raising his glass to salute Tim and knocked back the shot.

Tim raised an eyebrow and drank. The vodka burned going down, but it had a clean finish he wasn’t expecting. He looked at the glass in surprise. “That is good.”

“Plenty more where that came from.”

“Pass for now. So…since when do you speak Russian?”

Jason looked morosely at his glass for a moment, then poured another shot for himself. “Since I got to spend a lovely summer learning chemistry in St. Petersburg.”

Chemistry? For what? That can be any number of things.

Tim blinked. “Okay…I think I’m ready for the full story then.”

“No you aren’t. I’m the one telling it and I’m sure the fuck not.”

Rolling his eyes, Tim made to get up. “Still the drama queen I see. Well, when you’re ready, I’m sure you know where I live.”

Jason’s hand shot out faster than Tim expected and grabbed hold of an ankle. “Just fucking sit already. God, you’d think curiosity and being a cat would keep you cemented to that end of the sofa.”

You couldn’t pry me out of here with a crowbar. Crap, I’m glad I didn’t say that out loud.

“I’m the impatient sort. I just hide it really well,” Tim replied flippantly as he settled back on the sofa.

“No shit. Well, sit tight then. Here we go.” Jason poured one last shot and sipped it this time. “Contrary to what you may think, it wasn’t the Lazarus Pit that resurrected me…”

Tim sat enraptured as the tale unfolded. It boggled his mind that someone he knew could wake up in his own grave one day. He listened as Jason told him what he remembered and what Talia and Ra’s filled in for him after his swim in the Lazarus Pit. Five years of the almost mindless automaton who only knew how to fight. Waking up finally and realizing he wasn’t a boy anymore, but a fully grown man.

“Can you fucking believe it was Ra’s who taught me to shave?”

“At least you haven’t got the creepy goatee like he has.”

Jason talked about the rage he experienced upon finding out the Joker was still alive and how he’d been replaced as Robin. “I forgive Bruce for not saving me, but I should have been the last Robin, the last child to ever be put into that kind of danger, no matter what kind of training he thinks they need to keep them safe.”

He talked about his aborted attempt to blow up Batman and the Batmobile. “I almost did it, then I saw that little hell spawn he calls a son get in the car with him. The kid’s a shit at the best of times, but he hasn’t done anything to deserve to die.”

“Remind me to tell you about some of my experiences with the newest little bird.” Tim smirked at the prospect.

“Heh, I’ll try. Anyways…”

After this aborted attempt at revenge, Jason traveled the world learning all the things Batman never taught him. About how to be lethal in his fighting methods, how to create and mix poisons, shooting guns, making bombs, lessons in computer espionage. “Would you believe after all this shit, the last thing I asked Talia to arrange for me was a meditation retreat? Yeah, I know, but at that point, I felt like my rage was still out of control. I knew that if I wanted to take down Batman and kill the Joker, I would need my head on mostly straight. And don’t give me that look, Timmy, I’m getting to the next part.”

Tim had started glaring in disapproval when Jason spoke of killing Batman. “Fine.”

“It was in India that I finally realized what it was I really wanted. Bruce and his menagerie didn’t need to suffer at my hands. Only the Joker needs to die. His death will rock his world almost as much as my own death did. As much as I want to shove it in his face that I did it, that I’m alive, I have to admit, I love the plan you’ve come up with, pussy cat. Unless either of us squeals, he’s never going to find out just who did it. And that will drive him bat-fuck nuts.”

Finished, Jason reached over, poured another shot of vodka and tipped it back. He leaned back on his end of the sofa, looking utterly exhausted.

Tim sat in silence. Wow. I just…wow. He slowly unfolded himself and reached over to the almost empty bottle and poured himself another shot, drinking it quickly.

What can I say in response to a story like this? It’s like something out of a soap opera but with a very dark twist. Jason could have come back to Gotham anytime, but he chose to go down this path for the sole purpose of killing Joker. And I inadvertently gave him the best chance to mess with Batman’s head by figuring out a way to keep the operation so low key that he’ll never know who did it unless Oracle says something.

But is facing his family again the best thing for him? I’m not sure. Some people have it pretty together, I think. Barbara for certain. Stephanie would be great except that she’s the one who replaced him, so forget about that. Dick? Pennyworth? I doubt Damian has the emotional capacity or range to even want to help. And I’ve heard stories for years about Bruce having the emotional range of a stump.

Jason needs help and support, not just to kill the Joker, but to deal with the aftermath. What does he want to do afterwards? Does he have any idea? Something tells me he’s been so focused on the present he’s given no thought to the future.

And since all the viable candidates are almost all out, it looks like it’s going to be me. I…I’m okay with this. I am. I think.

After a long pause, Tim said, “That’s quite the story. I guessed at parts of it, once I figured out who you were. But why talk to me at school? That’s the part I really can’t figure out.”

Jason laughed, slouching back into his end of the sofa and putting an arm over his eyes. “I never planned on meeting you face to face outside of the rooftops. I meant what I said, that the library was a great place to read. It started out as a good spot to spy on you when you went tree climbing, then I just started coming back on my own. You surprised the shit out of me that first time. Thought you’d figured me out already and was just fucking with my head.”

“I bet,” Tim said dryly. “Pete? Seriously?”

“Whatever, it’s at least part of my name, Shawn.”

They both chuckled at that. Tim fiddled with his shot glass, turning it around and around in his hands.

If what Jason said earlier was true, that means out of everyone he used to know, he’s only willing to reach out to me. ME. It’s nice to know I meant and still mean that much to him. Comforting in a way. Can I be that bridge to get him back to where he belongs?

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About acceptance?”

Jason turned to look Tim squarely in the eyes. “Every word.”

So what does this mean for me? Man, the things I could do in this city with someone like the Red Hood at my side. No more having to send things to Oracle to filter to the Bats to take care of. We could take care of them ourselves. And the things I could do as myself with Jason outside of the masks…I don’t think I’ve ever felt this visceral a reaction to someone in my life. Yeah, Stephanie and I have great chemistry and I bet she’s fantastic in bed, but Jason?

I’ve had a crush on Robin since the moment I first saw Dick in that outfit and I know it carried over to Jason. He was MY Robin. My friend. And now I have him back. Bent and broken, but I can still see HIM at the core.

Curling back up in his corner of the sofa, Tim asked, “So what happens next? After Monday that is?”

Jason sighed. “I knew you were going to ask that. Always the damn planner.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It wasn’t until after we started talking that I even started giving any thought to it. I guess, deep down, I never believed I’d actually succeed, so it didn't matter.”

“And now?” Tim asked seriously.

In the same tone, Jason replied, “Now I’ve got a real shot at getting what I’ve wanted since I came out of the Pit. We’re going to do it, pussy cat. I know it. And what that leaves for me after? Well, the only thing I know for sure is I’m not going back to the League. Not a chance.”

Good.

“So staying an assassin and crime lord aren’t really things you want to do?” Tim cocked an eyebrow, watching Jason closely.

“No?” The question was obvious in Jason’s voice, as well as the uncertainty in his posture. “I can honestly say that killing people for a paycheck isn’t something I find appealing. If I’m going to kill someone, I want it on my own terms. Someone who’s more apt to slip through the cracks than someone a good case in court will put away for life.”

It’s a start.

Tim cracked a small smile. “I think, after Monday, you and I are going to have some very long talks about you and what you want. You’ve got a second chance at life, Jason. I’d hate to see you waste it.”

Jason chuckled. “Sounds like you have some ideas already.”

Shrugging, Tim stretched out on the sofa, boots just brushing Jason’s thigh. The bigger man grabbed hold of a boot and held on. “I might. But what I want the most is for you to figure it out for yourself. I can only make suggestions. And I won’t lie, I can see many benefits to a partnership between Red Hood and Stray, but I also see just as many, if not more, of a friendship between you and me. But if that’s not what you want, then I will not push my own agenda to make it happen.”

Jason hugged both of Tim’s feet tightly against his leg. “I like that idea. Both of them. And…I appreciate you wanting to even do this at all. I screwed you over, I know I did.” He sounded tired.

I will not push. He needs to make these decisions on his own, no matter what I want. I want him, I know that. I think…I’ve always wanted him, even before I really knew what that entailed.

Tim replied, “We both have a lot to think about, but there’s one thing I want you to know for certain. I will still help you kill the Joker. Because you’re right. He needs to be gone, wiped out from the face of the earth. And not knowing who killed him will seriously fuck with Batman’s head. But…we’re not the only ones who will know.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I told Selina. I was venting to her earlier, which was when I figured everything out. She only knows I’m working with Red Hood though, not that I figured out who you were. And…” Tim hesitated. He needs to know. “Oracle also knows. I could have gotten us into Arkham without her, but it would have taken weeks of work. You’d pissed me off by blackmailing me and I just wanted this over and done with.”

Jason was quiet for a moment. “I don’t care that Selina knows as long as she keeps her mouth shut. But Babs…wow. If there’s one person in this world who should want him dead almost as much as me, it would be her.”

Tim shrugged. “Apparently she does. I got the coding I needed from her to get my foot in the door of Arkham’s computer network. It wasn’t much, but I was able to take care of the rest myself.”

“I’ll need to send her a fruit basket next week.”

“Edible arrangements. She likes those.”

“And you would know this how?”

Tim smirked. “I’m Stray. I know everything.”

Chapter Text

-Chapter 8 – (Saturday Afternoon)

Tim returned to his apartment early Saturday morning and promptly crashed hard for the next eight hours. The sound of someone pounding on his front door woke him. He blearily looked at the time on his phone. Who the hell is waking me up at 11:47 on a Saturday morning?

He stumbled out of bed, pausing a moment to at least make sure he had his sleeping pants on, before walking through the living room. The pounding on his door stopped, then started again.

If it were Selina, she’d have come in through the window and crawled into bed to poke me awake.

Tim blearily peered through the peephole and furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the door.

Jason stood there in casual clothes and a leather jacket, juggling a grocery bag and two large paper cups of what Tim assumed was coffee. He held out one of the cups.

Tim took it and inhaled the wonderful scent. “You may live,” he intoned as he took a sip and stepped back from the door to let the larger man enter. Coffee buys him breathing room. What is he doing here?

“Thanks,” replied Jason dryly. “Figured if I was going to come over, I’d better have a peace offering.”

Taking another sip of his coffee, Tim padded over to his sofa and sat, stretching out lengthwise with his back against the cushioned arm. Jason just shook his head, closed the door and locked it, and took his grocery bag to the kitchen. Tim heard the fridge open, then close a few moments later.

Coming back into the living room, Jason sat in the armchair and made himself comfortable, sipping from what Tim now realized was tea.

“I never pegged you for such a big tea drinker.”

Jason shrugged. “Got a taste for it living in the Manor. Alfred loves tea, but Bruce likes his coffee blacker than sin. I like the different flavors.”

Tim sipped again. “What are you doing here?”

“Not a morning person I take it?”

“No. So?” he asked again flatly.

“I figured, now that the cat is out of the bag,” he smirked at his clever comment, “that it might be easier if we took this weekend to really hammer down our plans, run through the contingencies I’m sure you’ve already thought of, as well as whatever other random shit we think we need to cover.”

And just hang out like we used to. The thought crossed Tim’s still sleep fuzzy mind.

“Fine. What’s in the grocery bag?”

Jason smirked. “Well, I noticed you liked my vodka last night, so I thought we'd see how you do with my cooking.”

Tim cocked an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m being wined and dined. There going to be a trip to the bedroom here too?” Crap, did I just say that out loud? Shit…

To Tim’s surprise, Jason spluttered, choking a bit on the tea he’d been sipping from, his cocky demeanor falling away. “No…no. Well, not unless you really want to that is because I’m totally game. Fuck, I just…I’ve been feeling like a dick this whole time over how I approached you and…want to make it up to you somehow. You’re right, what you said last night. I should have told you straight up and not jerked you around like I did,” he finished quietly.

Tim heard him speaking but he was focused on something else. Not unless you really want to…oh my god, I wasn’t imagining things. And even with everything that’s happened, I still want to.

And since his brain to mouth filter didn’t work too well until at least two cups of coffee, he blurted out “I want to…Um, oh goddammit.” He could feel the heat rising on his neck as he buried his face in his available hand.

*****

Jason stared in shock at Tim, watching the blush rising from his neck and across what he could see of his face.

Jesus fuck, even with all the shit that happened last night, he’s still interested? What the hell did I do right?

“Uh, just to be clear, I didn’t come over here expecting anything. I meant what I said.”

Inexplicably, Tim started laughing.

“What the hell, pussy cat? I didn’t think I was that funny,” Jason asked in confusion.

“You…you’re not. It’s just…” Tim leaned over and set his coffee on the table, still laughing. “It’s just, ever since I first saw you in the coffee shop, you’ve been on my radar. And the times in the library? Well, let's just say that I wished I was the TA to your professor if you get my drift.”

The image of leaning Tim over a desk in a small and cluttered office filled Jason’s mind. Oh fuck. And he’s almost as flexible as Dickiebird…

“Heh, I think I broke your brain,” Tim commented with a smirk.

“Oh, you have no fucking idea what just got added to my spank bank. Thanks, cat,” Jason said with a cocky grin.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Tim said with a confident smile Jason had only seen on Stray.

Jason laughed and shook his head. “As much as I want to pursue this line of thought, and god, do I ever, I think it might be best if we wait. Until after Monday.” Because when I start fucking you, I’m not going to want to stop.

Tim grew serious as well. He nodded. “I don’t like it, but I get it. It’ll be a distraction we can’t afford right now. But after…?” he trailed off.

Jason gave a feral smile. “After, I’m gonna pound you into the mattress so hard you won’t be able to walk the next day.”

Tim’s Stray smile reappeared, this time with heat in his eyes that made Jason want to drop to his knees and beg. “And what if I want to do the same to you?”

Shit, he’s a switch. Yes! “Any day of the fucking week, pussy cat.”

*****

The rest of the day went something like this.

“Wow, you really can cook. Where’d you pick this up?”

“Life and Alfred. When I first got to the Manor, Bruce said I needed “structure and routine”. Alfie took that to mean I had to follow him everywhere when B wasn’t around. I think I surprised him the first time I made a pot of noodles on my own and didn’t make a mess of it.”

“I always got the impression he’s very…fussy I guess is the word I’m looking for.”

“Oh he is. But, if anything, there’s one hard and fast rule at Wayne Manor that even Bruce acknowledges.”

“And what’s that?”

“Alfred knows everything.”

*****

“What I don’t get is how you went from being a little sneak-thief to the big cat around town.”

“It was gradual. I didn’t even realize what was happening until one day I was talking with Penguin and suddenly had the epiphany that I knew more than him about what was going on in the city. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I liked it.”

“I always knew you were a power hungry nut.”

“Ha fucking ha. It was around that time my dad finally passed away. Drank too much; he never got over Mom’s death, though the last year and a half he did try to be a better parent and at least got a job at something he was good at. I lost myself in cyberspace for awhile and when Selina and Holly pulled me out, I had finally hacked the Batcave.”

“Wha…What? You’ve hacked the fucking Batcave? God, pussy cat, I knew you had balls of steel the first night I met you, but damn!”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment. It was hard and took months to do, but I do have a backdoor into the Batcomputer. Talk about the ultimate power trip.”

“So why did you have to go through Oracle then to get into Arkham? I remember you saying if you had the time, you could get in, but doesn’t the Cave have the same codes?”

“I’m pretty sure it does, but while I may be in the computer, I’m not in all the files. Batman has layers upon layers of encryption on that thing. Most of what I need are the nightly mission reports, just enough to keep tabs on what everyone’s doing.”

“So you just skim off the top then?”

“Yes. I’m certain that if I were to dig deeper, he’d find me. And unless I am way off my mark, he still doesn’t know who I am.”

“But Babs does.”

“Yeah, I just got confirmation of that the other night when I ran into Batgirl. I’ve always suspected, but never knew for sure. She’s a speaker at a women and technology conference next week at WE that I really want to try and get to if my midterms don’t take forever. Want to come?”

“I’m all for brainy babes. And as far as I’m concerned, she’s still the brainiest and hottest of them all.”

“Do I need to be jealous?”

“If you’re hiding a pair of tits under that catsuit of yours, then you can claim that title.”

***** 

“Oh my god, what the fuck?

“I know, right?”

“I just…I can’t believe that’s even a thing.”

“You obviously haven’t spent much time on the Internet since you’ve been back.”

“Uh, no. Spent all my time learning to blow shit up and shoot things.”

“So I’ve seen.”

“It’s just…Jesus Christ, people actually watch this shit?”

“Yup. If this blows your mind, remind to me to not show you Tumblr.”

“What’s that?”

“Fan-shipping. And memes. Lots of memes.”

“Huh?”

*****

“What’s that scar on your back? Looks like you got stabbed.”

“Hmm, you would know what a stab wound looks like, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, so spill. You’ve got practically no other marks on you from what I can see, so there’s a story there.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Does it look like I have anything better to do right now?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact it does. How’s your Lopez impersonation coming?”

“Work in progress. Quit stalling and talk. I told you mine, now let’s hear yours.”

“Well, it started when Batman died…”

A little while later… “So you don’t have a spleen anymore?”

“Nope.”

“And none of the bats know what you did for them?”

“Nope. Not unless Ra’s or Talia told Bruce. I get the impression they don’t talk much.”

“No kidding. Christ, Tim. You lost a fucking organ to help get Bruce back and none of them know.”

“Steph might. She saw I was injured when I gave her the information.”

“Injured and missing an organ are two different things. God, when you get sick, you must get it bad.”

“You have no idea.”

***** 

“So where’s your cat?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your cat. You’re Stray, so you have to have a cat around here somewhere. Or is it at the brownstone?”

“I don’t have a cat.”

“Seriously? The protégé of Catwoman doesn’t have a fucking cat?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“I’m…allergic.”

“Ha!!! You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Nope. I’m actually more of a dog person.”

“Christ, you’re not joking, are you? How the hell did you train with Selina for so long when you’re allergic to cats?”

“Lots and lots of antihistamines.”

***** 

“What’s one thing from before your death that you still like to do? Besides read classical literature?”

“Eat.”

“Eat? Care to elaborate?”

“I like food. I didn’t always have a lot to eat when I was a kid, so when B took me in and I was introduced to Alfred’s cooking, eating became a full on sensory experience. The taste, smell, textures, presentation…all of it.”

“So you’re a foodie?”

“No, and fuck you very much, I do get that reference. I get the same feeling eating a chili dog from a street vendor as I do being wined and dined in a five-star restaurant.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, pussy cat?”

“Me? Hmm…photography.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I actually did stop for awhile, after you died. You were my favorite subject and it just felt…wrong…taking pictures of anyone else.”

“So what made you start again?”

“You did actually. After Dad died, I was packing up a bunch of things and found my old pictures. There was an amazing one I’d taken of you a couple months before you died. You were up on a gargoyle doing that ridiculous Batman pose. But you were lighting a cigarette. The light and the shadow, the flicker of flame from your lighter…God, if it wasn’t such a goddamn giveaway I’d have framed it and hung it up on my wall.”

“Do you think…maybe I could see it sometime? Not now, but later?”

“Definitely.”

“So that made you get into photography again.”

“Yup. I’d forgotten just how much fun it is. And now, considering my role in the city’s underworld, just how much a picture really is worth a thousand words. Or thousands of dollars.”

“Blackmail material?”

“Makes up about two thirds of my current collection and keeps me near the top of the food chain in this city.”

“That’s my cat.”

*****

“So…I’m not entirely sure how to say this, but I kind of need to ask.”

“Spit it out, cat.”

“Okay…PTSD. You have it, you know.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know.”

“That retreat in India…did it help?”

“Kinda? It helped with my anger issues more than anything else. Helped me to recognize triggers and warning signs in myself that I’m about to lose my shit and to calm the fuck down.”

“Like you did so well with the other night.”

“Hey, I could have beaten BG to a pulp just because she was there. But I didn’t.”

“True. You tried taking it out on me instead”

“If I remember correctly, I’m the one who had to repair his costume that night…What are you doing?”

“Making a reminder to myself to look up more information on post traumatic stress and psychology in general. I don’t know much but I want to help. It’s not like you can go and see a real shrink for this. Can you imagine how that conversation would go?”

“Yeah…Hey, doc, so here’s the story…I was betrayed by my mom and beaten near to death by a clown with a crowbar, then blown up and somehow came back to life only to dig myself out of my own grave. Oh, and I used to be Robin, so I have Batman issues too.”

“No kidding. It’s a shame the JLA or whoever doesn’t have a psychiatrist on staff. With all the shit they go through, you think they’d need to talk to someone.”

“Maybe you should change majors. Tim Drake, PhD and head-doc to the Earth’s greatest heroes.”

“No thanks. I’m only interested in helping you.”

“I…thanks, Tim. Really.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do I get to call you Dr. Drake?”

“If it helps.”

“It will if you wear a lab coat and glasses.”

“This is supposed to help you work through your shit, not discover a new fetish.”

*****

“Wow, you really suck at this.”

“Give me a real gun and I will blow the fucking head off all of these zombies. This plastic thing is for shit.”

“You want a crash course on how to use it?”

“Uh…yeah.”

A few minutes later… “Ha!! Take that motherfucker!”

“What the hell? How are you beating my score already?”

“Flamethrower, pussy cat. Flamethrower.”

***** 

“So…Russian?”

“Yeah. Spent six months in Moscow learning poisons and chemistry from a former KGB/current Russian mafia hit man.”

“That sounds…disturbing.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. The asshole was slimier than a toad, but man, he was smart. He’s the one who taught me to drink and hold my liquor.”

“Huh. What other languages do you speak?”

“Fluent in Spanish, especially the street version here. My German is pretty good, as is my Arabic and Farsi for obvious reasons. Got enough Russian to get me by and picked up some Hindi too. I read French pretty well but suck at speaking it.”

“That’s impressive.”

“I’ve always liked languages. You could say I’m good with my tongue.”

“Promises, promises.”

“One I intend to deliver on, pussy cat. I’m going to make you scream.”

*****

“You know, we’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. Wanna go out tonight?” Jason asked, stretching as he moved Tim’s legs and stood up from the sofa. They’d been playing video games for the past hour.

“Hmmm…who as?” Tim replied, shamelessly stretching out over where Jason had just been sitting, still wearing just his pajama pants. Jason eyed the younger man, knowing he was putting on a show for him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“Good question. Other than the nights I met you, I haven’t had the hood on in weeks.”

“Really? That explains why none of the Bats have seen you. They’ve been practically pulling their hair out from what I’ve read in their reports.” A frown suddenly appeared on Tim’s face. “Damn, I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“Batgirl. Steph. Oracle made a comment about my “red-hooded shadow” and Batgirl started picking at it the other night. I told her I was being blackmailed into helping you.”

Jason frowned as well. “And?”

“And nothing,” Tim scowled. “She dropped it pretty quick after I let her know how displeased I was about the whole thing. But, unless she’s totally off her rocker, she’ll have told someone on the Bat-team.” He reached for his laptop.

“Looking at mission reports?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a bit distracted the last day or so. Let’s see if Batman’s found me and shut me out.” He started typing away. “It’ll be a few minutes.”

Jason shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. He’d brought a box of tea with him, so he started heating some water in the microwave. Gotta get this boy an electric kettle. Or a real kettle.

The thought warmed him. For the longest time, Jason hadn’t thought past his endgame. He’d never let himself, just like he never liked thinking about the past. If this afternoon had proven anything, it was that he had the chance for a really great future.

Is this what I want? A future with Tim? I can certainly think of worse things. Even after all the shit I put him through this last week, he still wants to help me. And fuck me. God, there’s something to look forward to Monday afternoon besides getting shitfaced. I can’t believe he wants me too.

And it’s not just my looks either, cuz let’s face it, I know I’m not bad looking at all and with a face like his, Timmy there can get just about anyone in his bed with the crook of a finger. What does he see that I don’t?

“Shit!” Jason heard Tim cry out from the living room. He ran back to see Tim looking pale as a ghost.

“What?”

“Batgirl told Nightwing about me working for you.”

“Oh that’s bad.”

“No shit.” Tim went from being pale to pissed in the blink of an eye. “Stray is now priority one for Batman. As is the Red Hood.”

Jason leaned over the back of the armchair and looked at Tim. “Well, that’s not anything new to me.”

“It is for me. Goddammit, I am so fucking pissed at Stephanie right now. Although, in all fairness, Nightwing’s report says she believes I’m being coerced into working with you against my will.”

“Hmm…and are you being coerced, pussy cat?” I can only promise you one thing, cat.

“The only coercion I see now is the promise of super hot sex when this is over. I’m jumping into this with my eyes wide open.”

“And I plan on delivering.” The only thing I can give you now is me. And all the baggage that comes with it.

Tim scowled at his computer screen. “Batman’s analysis of the situation is that I’m to be detained at all costs to see what I know about you. I don’t see anything though about me knowing who Barbara and Steph are. Looks like she either didn’t tell Dick or he chose not to tell Bruce. I wonder why…it’s not too far of a leap for me to know, he’s the one who told Selina after all.”

“Really? When did that happen?”

“About five years ago. Selina said the sex was amazing but he’s just too broody for her taste.”

“Ok, on one hand, that’s fucking hot, but I did not need to know that about my adopted dad and your kitty mama as that makes us almost brothers. Brain bleach please.”

“I’m the one who needed the brain bleach. I got the full play by play.” Tim typed a few things on his laptop, then folded it up. “Speaking of play, I know what we’re going to do tonight.” He had a sharp and vicious grin on his face as he turned to look at Jason.

He grinned back. This is gonna be good. “And what are we going to do tonight, Brain?”

“Fuck with some Bats. Here’s what I was thinking…”

As Tim detailed his plan, Jason felt his grin growing bigger. Oh yeah. This is gonna be fucking awesome.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine – (Saturday Night)

Stray ran across the rooftops of the East End. The night air was a bit chill, but he enjoyed it, knowing it was only going to get worse in the coming months. Winter is for hibernating. And keeping my homes as germ free as possible.

To the untrained eye, there was no rhyme or reason about Stray’s movements, but he was progressively working his way closer to the Bowery, the last known area the Red Hood had been sighted in. Between the two of them, Stray and Red Hood had over a dozen safehouses littered between the East End, the Bowery, and Crime Alley. And all I need is to be close to one of them when the Bats appear and we can set the stage.

Stray landed on one of his favorite rooftops on the edge of the Bowery. A water tower provided some great shadows for concealment and a large billboard blocked the view from neighboring rooftops. It was the same roof where he’d first met Catwoman all those years ago.

Strolling across the roof, Stray saw a shadow detach itself from the water tower and approach him. It was Nightwing. Nice to see I’m not the only one who thought this would be the right place for an ambush.

“Stray,” the older man said in an even tone.

“Nightwing,” replied Stray in the same tone of voice.

“Is there something going on you want to tell me about?” Nightwing stopped a few paces away when he held out a hand in warning.

“You know the rules, Nightwing. You get to look, but not touch,” Stray said with a predatory smile.

The vigilante made a frustrated sound. “You can stop with the games, Stray. We know the Red Hood has resurfaced and that he’s forcing you into working for him.”

“Is that so? And how do you know he isn’t a paying client? I have been known to work with people on your rogues list.” Never the Joker. Never.

“Yes, but you’re never a major player and you’ve never out and out harmed anyone, even when you sell information,” Nightwing said earnestly. “The Red Hood is dangerous. More dangerous than just about anyone we know right now. He’s unpredictable.”

Never a major player? Screw you. I could crack this city wide open with just a few well placed emails and packages to the press.

“Never a major player? I do believe you just insulted me, Nightwing. There are players and then there are players. Just because I haven’t taken a trip to Arkham or Blackgate doesn’t mean I’m not a force to be reckoned with. I can make your life miserable if I really wanted to.” He started in a light tone, but ended with a sharp edged purr Catwoman would be proud of.

From behind him, a new voice chimed in. “We know. And tonight, you’re going to tell us what the Red Hood is up to.” Stray turned his head a bit to glance over his shoulder to watch Robin jump down from the billboard and stride across the roof, keeping an eye on Nightwing the whole time as well.

“Awe, here’s my favorite little bird,” he purred. “And what makes you think I’m going to tell you anything tonight, little one?” Robin was a few inches taller than Stray, finally starting to grow into the height and shoulders of his father. He also hated being reminded that he was once much shorter.

Robin made to reply, but Nightwing cut him off. “Because if you don’t, we’re going to take you in, Stray. When the mask comes off, so too will the biggest secret of all.”

Stray laughed. “You think my identity is the biggest secret of them all? I think not. I have so much I could share, plenty of information, plenty of secret identities,” he chuckled grimly. 

The look of shock on Robin’s face was telling, but Stray couldn’t help but notice the lack of a reaction from Nightwing. Steph did tell him, but he didn’t tell Batman. Why? It created a wild card that he now needed to account for.

“What are you implying, you ridiculous feline? You know nothing of the sort.” Robin quickly recovered from his lapse, but Nightwing took another step closer. Stray very carefully did not move, though it went against every instinct he had. Do not show weakness.

“Do you know who’s under the Red Hood?” asked Nightwing quietly. His tone was soothing, as though he was trying to tame a wild creature in hopes to not scare it into running away.

I’m not running tonight. Not yet.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. You know the rules, Nightwing, Robin. You want information, you have to pay for it first.” The rule had been in place since Stray started operating again after the quake. He didn’t feel guilty milking the Bats for cash and, after finding a tracker in the first bundle they’d paid (and each one since), he would disable it, then turn it back on again at the headquarters of various charities across the city. It was a game. One that is going to end tonight, I think.

“Answer the question, Stray.” A third and final figure detached itself from the roof of the water tower and landed in front of Stray. Large and forbidding, enveloped in his black cape and cowl, Batman struck quite the imposing figure. It was rare Stray encountered Batman on his own. And Batman never played the game with him like Nightwing and Robin would.

Stray shifted slightly, keeping Nightwing on his left and Robin on his right to stare down Batman. I hope you’re close enough to see this, Hood. Your cue is coming up soon. He had no doubt of his own back-up.

“Which question?” he purred. “Do I know what the Red Hood is up to? Yes. Do I know who he is under the hood? Yes. I will admit, I was very surprised when I figured it out. But then again, he sought me out for a reason, so I guess a bit more exposure is what gave it away.”

Batman growled and took a step closer to Stray. This time, he did take a step back, but kept his head held high, making it apparent it was a conscious movement rather than backing away in fear. “Who is the Red Hood, Stray?”

“No, Batman. You are not going to intimidate me into telling you. In fact, considering just how important his name is, you have to earn it on your own. Figure it out yourself. I did, so I’m sure the World’s Greatest Detective can too.” Stray kept his voice firm, with no trace of his usual teasing act.

Silence. No one tells off the Batman and gets away with it. Not even his sons apparently.

“This isn’t a game, Stray. The Red Hood is a killer. What’s to say he won’t kill you when he’s done with you?”

I’m pretty certain the Red Hood will never be done with me. Not with the looks he’s been giving me all day, like I’m the best damn thing to ever happen to him and he has no idea why.

“He won’t kill me for the same reason I won’t turn his name over to you. He figured out who I am.” Okay, so that’s a lie since I did tell Jason first, but it’s not like any of them would know.

In the darkness, it was hard to tell if his words had any reaction on Batman at all. But it was easy enough to see on the other two. Nightwing wore an open look of shock on his face while Robin’s mouth had actually dropped wide open.

“You...He knows who you are?” said Robin, sounding amazed. “How? I’ve…We’ve been trying for years.” Nice save there, demon bat.

Stray shrugged casually. “Our names are our guarantee that we will not mutually destroy each other. God knows I wanted to when he first appeared and pulled this shit on me. I very much enjoyed my little revenge when I shoved it in his face.”

“Let us help you then,” Nightwing said pleadingly. “You’re a good person, Stray. I know it. Whatever the Red Hood is planning can’t be anything good.” God, you have no idea. But it’s so right at the same time.

“It’s something this city needs,” he responded. “Even if I wanted to, it’s too late now.” You Bats aren’t the only one who can lay on the melodrama when needed.

“It’s never too late!” Nightwing cried out. “What happened to your standards?”

“Ttt. His standards apparently disappeared when he got into bed with the Red Hood,” Robin all but snarled.

And there’s my opening. Way to come through demon brat. Time start acting like the cat I am.

“Do I detect a hint of jealously there, little bird? I believe I told you a couple years ago that you’re still way too young for my tastes. Age and experience count for something,” he replied, flashing a seductive smile at Nightwing, who simply frowned in response.

“I am not jealous, you ridiculous feline. Stop implying there’s something between us when there is not.” Robin’s hands clenched into fists.

“There’s not? Oh little bird, you’re breaking my heart. And here I thought you’ve been pining after me all these years while my mentor and your father have been…chasing…each other around Gotham.” Stray clenched a gloved hand over his heart.

There’s the signal…Any time now Hood.

“Why you…” Robin growled almost inarticulately as he started to charge Stray. He stopped when Batman held out an arm to block him.

“Knock it off, both of you. Robin, you know Stray pokes and prods at any perceived weakness. Keep a level head.”

Robin’s face contorted into rage at his father reprimanding him in the field. A small smile quirked at the corners of Stray’s lips. How that boy is going to be the next Batman is beyond me. I wonder if Bruce was that volatile with his emotions at that age or if it comes from Talia?

“Why don’t we get back to the topic at hand,” said Nightwing, raising his hands in a placating manner. “Stray, it’s never too late,” he repeated. “Let us help you. Whatever it is Red Hood is planning to do, let him sink with his own damn ship. You don’t need to go down with him.”

Why hasn’t he said anything about knowing Oracle’s and Batgirl’s identities? I know you know, Nightwing. So why doesn’t Batman?

Stray caught a movement on the backside of the billboard. Jason was in place.

Finally.

“What can I say? I’m a cat with nine lives. I’ll take my chances.”

“More like eight. If I remember correctly, you did almost die when you went up against the League. Bleeding out, losing a spleen? Ring a bell there, pussy cat?” a new, slightly mechanized voice chimed in from above.

*****

Batman, Nightwing, and Robin all whirled around to look up at the billboard. Up in the steel moorings at the back of the board lounged the Red Hood. Jason leaned over, arms folded across a bar running horizontally and standing on another.

“Red Hood,” growled Batman. Nightwing and Robin moved to flank Batman, putting all three vigilantes between him and Tim. Interesting to see they don’t consider him a threat. Stray took a few steps back. He was going to need space to move quickly soon.

“Wow, now that’s precision in motion. Do you practice that? You have to, theatricality is part of the shtick after all.”

Take control of the conversation. Keep your opponent off balance. Time to take these old interrogation lessons and turn them around on you.

When Tim first told Jason his plan to get the Bats all riled up, he’d been all for it. But it was his suggestion to start dropping hints that the two of them knew who the Bats really were, with Jason using things only he would know. Tim hadn’t been sold on that part until Jason pointed out that the purpose of tonight’s little exchange was to turn the focus back on Red Hood, a persona he created to garner attention in the first place.

And, though he was loath to admit it to Tim, eventually he wanted to see his family again. He’d made it this far with Tim and, with time and effort, thought perhaps he’d be in the right headspace to take the next big step. Tim gave Jason a big hug when he said that and agreed to work it in if the opportunity presented itself.

But the more Jason thought about it, the more he prepared, he knew it would be difficult for him. He’d avoided Batman, Nightwing, and Robin for a reason when he first returned to Gotham and that reason still hadn’t changed.

I should have been the last one. You REPLACED me.

Batman didn’t say anything, just glared inscrutably at him. Nightwing finally said, “Long time, no see, Hood. We were starting to think you’d left Gotham completely.”

Under the hood, Jason smirked. “I’m like a bad penny. I always show up.”

“What do you mean by eight lives?”

“Oh, you didn’t know he took on the League of Assassins while searching for proof that Batman was lost in time? You thought that was all Batgirl? Blondie’s a lot of things, but master detective ain’t one of them.” Jason wondered if Dick would pick up the implication there. Finding Batman was impossible unless you knew he was Bruce Wayne.

Nightwing’s mouth fell open as he turned to Batman in shock. He figured it out. He’s been Bruce’s protégé the longest, so those detective skills were bound to rub off. He looked over his shoulder at Stray, who’d wisely taken a few steps forward again to look like he hadn’t moved at all. “Stray, what did you do?”

Tim grimaced, the look on his face clearly indicating he was glaring at Jason. “What you should have done in the first place.”

Nightwing turned fully to face Stray. “I’ve already apologized a million times to Batgirl about not believing her. When she gave me the information, she only said you had gotten it for her. Not what you had gone through to get it.” He was almost shouting.

“Batgirl didn’t say anything because I didn’t tell her. It wasn’t any of her business.”

“None of her business? Then why on earth did you do it in the first place?”

“To make amends for being such a little shit to her for most of her vigilante career. Although to be fair, I didn’t go into the search thinking I’d almost die.”

Nightwing looked about ready to tear his hair out over the flat way Tim was telling him about his experience. “The only way you could have found Batman was if you knew who he is.”

“Of course I know who Batman is. I know who all of you are. I’ve known for over a decade.”

At that statement from Tim, Batman finally turned a bit to focus part of his attention back on Stray. Smart not to fully take your eyes of me. Come on, Tim. Just a little bit more to get them hooked.

“That’s impossible,” Robin said disbelievingly.

Tim shrugged. “For you, yes. You’ve only been around for five years. It was hard to miss a new Robin making an appearance around the same time as a new Batman. I like to think I did everyone a favor by finding Bruce so that Dick could put his Nightwing costume back on. I will admit to liking Stephanie a lot more now as Batgirl than as Robin. There should never have been a third Robin after Jason died. What will you grow up to be, Damian?”

The name dropping did the trick. Nightwing and Robin’s attention were fully on Stray. Batman looked torn between wanting to do so as well. “How?” he growled.

Tim smirked. It was one of those Stray smirks that made Jason want to fall to his knees and beg for what the cat dished out. Man, if he pulls that out of his bag of tricks in bed, I think I would honestly do whatever he asked.

“Dick has a rather unique way of moving. Very people in the world can do a quadruple somersault like he can. He learned it from his parents.”

Jason couldn’t tell from his angle, but Nightwing’s body language told him he was surprised. “What? How would you know that?”

“Because I saw you perform once when I was very young. You even took a picture with me. It was the most amazing night of my life until the wires snapped and your parents fell. Several years later, I saw a clip of Robin doing a somersault I knew only one person left alive could do. It clicked.”

And there’s the bombshell we wanted. I think that’s about enough of that. Time to turn it back on me before Tim finds a way to shoot lasers from his eyes and kill me again.

“The pussy cat figured out the identity of Batman and Robin at the tender age of nine. He’s been ferreting out other secrets and solving mysteries ever since. From what I understand, he made quite the impression on Ra’s al Ghul. Nothing like being a personal project of the Demon’s Head to create a bond between two people.” Jason gestured between himself and Tim for emphasis, enjoying the way Batman turned back to face the Red Hood.

It was gratifying to see the surprised looks on Robin’s and Nightwing’s faces as they turned back to Jason as well. Stray took that moment to duck back a few steps closer to the edge of the roof again.

“I knew you were too well trained. What does Ra’s want with Gotham this time?” said Batman.

Not a goddamned thing, you egotistical motherfucker.

“That’s quite the ego you have there, B. Not everything that creepy old fuck does revolves around you and the hell spawn. I’m here on my own business. And when that business is done, perhaps I’ll stay. Perhaps I won’t. Haven’t decided yet.”

“What do you need Stray for? What are you planning?” asked Nightwing.

Jason leered, letting it seep into his voice, filtered as it was. “I can think of a lot of things I need Stray for. Did you know he’s almost as flexible as you, Wingster?”

All three men made fists. “If you’ve so much as touched him, Hood, I’m going to beat the shit out of you,” growled Nightwing.

Interesting reaction. He’s mine, motherfucker. Time to start pulling out the big guns. He watched Stray slowly take a few more steps away.

Jason laughed. “Touched him? Oh, Big Bird, the things we’re planning when our business is done will make you blush. Or maybe not, you did date Starfire there for awhile. She’s always struck me as being a bit kinky. Must be her clothing.”

Let’s see if you caught that, Dickiebird.

It quickly became apparent that Dick did as Nightwing stilled, almost like a statue. Batman did too, though it was harder to tell as the man had an excellent poker face. Calling Tim by his old nickname earlier could be forgiven the first time, but not in conjunction with Big Bird. It was a nickname Jason onlybever called Dick.

Robin though, reacted much like Tim predicted earlier.

“You have too many pet names for everyone, Hood. Stop acting so familiar with your betters. Now tell me, how did you figure out Stray’s identity? The cat may be morally ambiguous sometimes, but he’s never sided with someone as deplorable as you. Did Gran…Ra’s inform you? Are you trying to prove something to the League?”

“You don’t listen too well, do you, kid? I already said I’m here on my own business and I don’t need to prove shit to the League or have Ra’s or Talia telling me what to do. Though the fact that I’m even here at all, well, I suppose I’ll have to thank them for that later.”

Though it will be a cold day in hell before I ever thank them for a dip in the Lazarus Pit.

Stray was almost to the ledge of the building. All he needed to do was ready his grapple (odd to see a cat without a whip) and throw those flash-bangs and smoke pellets Jason provided earlier. Almost time.

“Do not speak their names so casually, you miscreant!”

“Miscreant? Who taught you English, seriously? A Jane Austen novel? An English butler?”

If possible, Nightwing and Batman grew even more still, Robin spluttering even louder. As well they should, all the hints I’m dropping.

“Hood,” said Batman gravely as he took a step in Jason’s direction. “Who are you?”

Under his helmet, Jason grinned savagely. Your worst fucking nightmare. “That’s for you to figure out, B. The little kitty did. Are you saying the pussy cat is a better detective than you are? He must be, he did find you,” he taunted, enjoying the way Batman’s face actually twitched at his old nickname for Stray and for him. He’d better know them. That’s all I ever called either of them back in the day.

“All right, kids, it’s been fun, but Stray has some work to do for me tonight and I can’t have you getting in his way. You can arrange a play date later next week.” With that, Hood started quickly climbing up the metal framework of the billboard to make his escape.

Across the rooftop, he could see Stray tossing the flash-bangs and smoke pellets at his former family as they all made their move after him. They had forgotten Stray, so focused were they on Red Hood. Who is obviously the more dangerous of the two of us. Really, Bruce? Running after the gun-toting maniac instead of the one who knows who you are under the cowl and the identities of each member of your so-called partners. Nice to see your priorities towards your family are still as fucked up as usual.

The bright light and the bangs echoed in Jason’s ears as he reached the top of the rigging and ran around to the front of the billboard, readying himself to make the leap to the next rooftop. He knew it was only a matter of moments before Batman would join him, the other two most likely going after Tim. He wasn’t worried, Stray had his escape route already planned and was poised to disappear completely before the others navigated their way through the smoke.

Hood, on the other hand, still had a part to play. A part he insisted on when he and Tim planned this earlier. A part he knew would keep Batman so preoccupied that he wouldn’t even be looking at Arkham come Monday.

Batman arrived right on time, true to form as Jason tucked and rolled from his jump. He could feel the man behind him, ducked what he knew was a long arm reaching out to grab his shoulder. Pivoting, he ducked in and landed two hard punches to Bruce’s well protected abdomen. Judging from the grunt the man let out, he felt them.

Batman sprang back a couple steps, just out of Jason’s reach. The younger man pulled a knife, not the kris he received from Ra’s, but one he wouldn’t mind losing to Bruce. At the sight of the knife, Batman rushed forward, trying to knock the knife from Jason’s hand with a well-placed sweep of his gauntlet.

Nice try, old man. But I’m not trying to kill you.

Jason followed the motion of the sweep, letting it carry him wide of Batman. He saw his opening and lunged. The dagger plunged into the rooftop, catching Batman’s reinforced cape and trapping the man in place.

Springing up, he flipped off Batman and ran.

The chase was on. It would only be a matter of moments before Bruce was free to pursue.

He had a very specific destination in mind. Luckily, it wasn’t very far. Upon his return to Gotham, he’d made a special point of refamiliarizing himself with this part of town. As a boy, he knew these streets and alleys almost intimately and he’d learned the roofs as Robin just as well.

Dropping down from a roof, he leap frogged down a fire escape into the dark alley below, disappearing into the darkness. Behind him, he just made out the soft whoosh of Batman’s large cape as he followed.

Hood came to an abrupt stop and turned to face his former mentor.

Batman came to a stop several paces away, but close enough he could quickly engage in a physical manner if needed. “Who are you?” he growled again.

Jason smirked. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it? But which set of memories are you thinking of right now? Your parents? Or a tire stealing street rat?”

The stillness emanated from the older man. Another hit.

They were standing in Crime Alley. The same alley where so many years ago, the Batmobile was parked and an intrepid young street urchin lifted the tires from the famed car, catching the eye of Gotham’s Dark Knight and starting him down a path of pain and misery.

Misery. Ha! I know killing the Joker won’t change the past, but it will make the darkness I deal with easier to bear.

“Enough of your games, Hood. WHO ARE YOU?” Bruce roared.

“Who am I?” Jason repeated fiercely. “I’m your biggest fucking mistake come back to haunt you.”

With that, he clicked on the detonator in his pocket, the ground erupting between him and Batman.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 – (Sunday)

Tim woke up Sunday morning to the sound of his computer chiming insistently at him. The hell? He moaned and burrowed further into the mattress. He was warm and comfortable and didn't want to get up. 

Next to him, a sleepy voice mumbled, “Are you going to get that?”

Tim jerked awake more fully, raising himself up on his arms and looking to his right. Huh? Oh. Jason.

The two men had come back to Tim’s apartment after their adventure last night, both high on adrenaline and the rush of taking on the Bats, especially Jason after the stunt he pulled in Crime Alley. Tim smiled, looking down at Jason. He looks so much younger when he’s relaxed.

“Well? Or is that some kind of alarm?” he mumbled again, opening his eyes a bit to look sleepily at Tim.

“It’s my IM,” Tim replied, yawning. “But I didn’t leave it open last night…” he trailed off as he abruptly realized who it probably was. “Shit, I bet it’s Oracle.” He pulled himself out of bed and crossed the room to his desk and the large computer. Sitting in his comfortable desk chair, he made sure the tape was still across the front of his Web cam and opened the chat.

WiseOwl: What the hell was that last night?

WiseOwl: Do you have any idea the anthill you and Hood just stirred up?

WiseOwl: Answer me, dammit. I know you’re there.

It went on in similar vein for awhile, the time stamps showing she’d been at this for about 15 minutes already. Tim sighed and started typing.

PuddyTat: Morning to you too. I wouldn’t have had to do anything last night if BG kept her big mouth shut.

WiseOwl: Don’t blame her for doing her job. Besides, she’s worried about you.

PuddyTat: I can and I will since you were the one who planted the bug in her ear about it. You had to talk about my shadow. Not my fault she heard you.

WiseOwl: Speaking of your shadow…who is Red Hood? According to Nightwing, he was spouting off things last night that no one outside of the group would know, not even you.

Tim twisted around a bit to look at his bed. Jason was sitting up, arms draped across his raised knees looking for all the world like a rumpled underwear model in his t-shirt and boxer briefs. “She wants to know who you are.”

Jason yawned. “Not surprised. Babs has never liked surprises and this is a big one.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s your call.”

“Thanks.” He looked thoughtful a moment, then replied, “Not yet. Not until we’re done. Honestly, if there’s anyone in my damn family I want to tell sooner than later, it would be her. For now, tell her I’ll be coming with for that conference this week. That should satisfy her.” He smirked, eyes flashing in amusement.

Chuckling, Tim turned back to his computer.

PuddyTat: You’ll see for yourself very soon. He’ll be coming with me to the conference. Says he likes hot, brainy chicks.

WiseOwl: Fine. Be that way. Just answer me one thing, seriously.

PuddyTat: Depends on what you’re asking.

WiseOwl: It always does. Is Red Hood a threat to Batman and the rest of us?

Tim blinked in surprise. Now there was a loaded question if there ever was one.

PuddyTat: Yes, but not in the way you’re all afraid of. Physically, he won’t hurt anyone unless they start it. Emotionally, he has the capacity to tear you all apart.

WiseOwl: God, what kind of answer is that?

PuddyTat: <shrug> An honest one. He’s already sent me head over heels. I’m still reeling from it. And when you know who he is, he’s going to do the same to you.

WiseOwl: I have my suspicions already. And if I’m right, then your actions, as well as his, make even more sense.

WiseOwl: I hope you know that after Batman is done ferreting out Hood, he’s going to focus on you too. Robin already is, but he’s missing a rather important link to the past that B and N will eventually remember.

PuddyTat: I know. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. And, if everything doesn’t go to hell in a hand-basket here soon, figuring out Hood’s identity will eventually lead to mine anyway.

WiseOwl: And you’re okay with this?

PuddyTat: I wasn’t sure at first, but I am now.

PuddyTat: Question for you…did BG tell Nightwing I knew who the two of you were? Before last night that is. He didn’t react the way I was expecting.

WiseOwl: She told him, but he chose not to tell Batman. I think he wants to talk to me about it first, but hasn’t had time yet to do so.

PuddyTat: Thanks. That’s been driving me nuts.

WiseOwl: I bet.

PuddyTat: All righty then, I’m up and got final touches to work on for tomorrow, so I’ll catch ya on the flip side.

WiseOwl: Good luck.

Oracle signed off and Tim let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Man, I can’t wait to finally meet her."

From just over his shoulder, Jason replied, “She’s amazing. I always thought she was way too good for Dickiebird. I’m glad they’re together and all, but he always finds a way to piss her off.”

Tim startled, not expecting Jason to move so quietly and mentally kicking himself because he does this all the time. He leaned his head back and glared at the taller man leaning on his chair. “Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves.”

“Pot meet kettle. You were talking about me to one of the most important people in my old life. I like what you said.” Jason paused uncertainly. “You’re giving up something you’ve held onto for years…for me. I don’t know if I can ever repay that.”

You’re alive. You’re here.

“You don’t have to. It’s time I grew up about it anyways. Besides,” Tim smiled lazily, staring up at Jason’s rich blue eyes, “Can you imagine the look on Damian’s face when he finds out the object of his longtime affection is taken?” There’s a ring of bright green around the iris. I wonder if that was always there or if it’s from the Pit?

“I’m more interested in Batgirl’s reaction,” Jason whispered, leaning over, lips barely touching the tip of Tim’s nose in a light kiss. Tim moaned softly. “She likes you, pussy cat. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Tim shifted, angling his head a bit and…there. Perfect. Jason’s lips brushed his, feather light, a slight graze that set his nerves on fire. He pushed up ever so slightly, increasing the pressure incrementally.

This time, Jason moaned softly into the kiss.

They were walking a fine line; it would be so easy to give in, to open his mouth and let Jason in. To pull the larger man down or to get up and drag him over to the bed and let actions speak louder than words just how much he wanted him.

I want him so much. I never thought I’d ever want someone so much. Even with all our issues, I think we can make this work. Make this something.

“Well, well. I certainly wasn’t expecting this when I decided to rush home,” an unexpected voice interrupted from the bedroom door.

Tim and Jason jerked away from each other quickly, Jason dropping into a defensive stance while Tim just rolled his eyes and glared. “Ever hear of knocking, Selina?” he asked crossly.

“I have, but it’s so much more fun to just walk in and announce one’s self at what looked like just the right moment,” Selina said with a large smile, leaning casually in the open doorway, arms crossed against her ample chest.. “Do continue, boys. I love me some hot guy on guy action and it looks like you two were just getting to the good part.”

Jason started laughing, falling out of his stance and standing upright as Tim just groaned. He ran a hand through his hair with a cocky grin on his face, flexing just enough to show off his very impressive arms and shoulders. “I dunno, I’m not really into performing in front of an audience. Especially when I know you’re practically this one’s mama.”

Selina laughed, rich and warm like velvet, very much her Catwoman laugh. Tim loved her laugh, her smoky voice straight out of 1940s Hollywood. “I like this one, Tim. He’s sassy. And very easy on the eyes.”

Standing up, Tim crossed the room and gave Selina a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, squeezing hard. “I was worried,” she whispered.

“I know,” Tim replied softly into her stylishly cut short black hair. “I’m okay though. Better than okay, actually.”

“So I see,” she said pulling back and wrapping an arm possessively around Tim’s waist as he moved to stand beside her. “Does this handsome young man have a name or do I just get to call him Mr. Beefcake? Seriously, those are quite possibly the most amazing thighs and shoulders I have seen in my life. Very nicely done, Tim.”

Jason laughed again. “That’s huge praise coming from you, mama cat.”

She stilled, staring at Jason in amazement. The nickname he used was the one he called her back when he was still Robin. Tim gave a questioning look and Jason nodded.

“Selina, this is Jason Todd. You used to know him as Robin. He’s now the Red Hood.”

Selina blinked. Twice. Three times. Then, turning to Tim, she said “I really hope you know what you’re doing, kitten.”

He squeezed her slim waist tightly in reassurance. “Me too.”

***** 

Jason stood at the stove, making a late breakfast for the three of them while Tim and Selina talked quietly in the living room, cuddled together on the sofa.

It was a trip, seeing Selina again. He’d only seen her a handful of times outside of her old Catwoman costume, all at some high society gala where she robbed Gotham’s upper crust with a smile and a good dash of cleavage.

Hot mama still, even after ten years. Short hair looks amazing on her too.

He was only slightly miffed about her interruption earlier too. God, I shouldn’t have kissed him. Not yet. He looked so fucking perfect though. If Selina hadn’t come in when she did, I’d have blown him right there in that chair.

Cracking some eggs into a bowl, he mixed those with some seasonings and poured them over the skillet where he’d sautéed the rest of the vegetables he brought over yesterday. He was glad he trusted his instincts about Tim’s lack of cooking skills. Or rather, a general lack of interest in cooking at all.

He spooned the scramble into a large bowl, then grabbed three coffee mugs (cat’s got more mugs than plates) and set the small table. Why do I hope this meets Selina’s standards?

It hit him suddenly. Shit, she really is like Tim’s second mom. I’m having a meet the parents moment. Jesus Christ.

Shaking his head, he checked the coffeepot to make sure it was full and took his mug to start heating hot water. He was stalling and he knew it.

Stop being a fucking pansy. At least I don’t have to tell my story all over again. Yet. Today. Probably later this week when I see Babs again. Fuck…

The microwave chiming shook Jason from his thoughts. It also seemed to be the signal Tim was waiting for as he and Selina came and sat at the table, looking expectantly at Jason as he fiddled around with his tea.

Selina’s violet eyes watched him closely, a serious look on her face. He grabbed his mug and the coffeepot. Sitting down, Jason found himself under the scrutiny of two cats. He set the coffee down by Tim. Time to face the music.

They ate in silence. Tim looked comfortable, which helped Jason’s slowly fraying nerves settle somewhat. I hate being tested, judged. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. Is the big bad Red Hood good enough for her little kitten? Nope, not by a long shot. And what about Jason Todd? Yeah, what about him? Just who is he anymore?

Jason sighed quietly as he sipped his tea.

“You’re awfully quiet compared to how I remember you.” Selina finally broke the silence.

Jason leaned back in the small chair, barely big enough for him to sit comfortably in. “I can still be mouthy and chatty when the occasion calls for it.”

“Hmm…”

Tim sat quietly, drinking his coffee with that slightly blissed out look on his face he always wore when the initial caffeine rush hit his system.

“To be fair, Jason, I’m not certain what to think. That was quite the story Tim told me.”

“Don’t I know it? I find it hard to believe and I lived through it.”

“I just…I’m glad you’re alive, little robin. I really am as I can see just how much happier Tim is for it.” Selina fiddled with her mug, turning it around and around as she looked at it.

Little robin. Haven’t heard that for a long time. It was Selina’s pet name for him.

“I hear a “but” coming,” Jason said dryly.

Violet eyes flashed as Selina directed her gaze at him once more. “Not quite a “but”. More like a warning. I swore long ago I wouldn’t interfere in Tim’s personal life, especially considering the mess I’ve made of my own, but I do want to say this. If you hurt him, I will hunt you down and make your life absolutely miserable.”

A laugh erupted from Jason, surprising both Tim and Selina. “Selina, I know you mean well, but you have no idea just how empty of a threat that is to me. Misery and I are old friends. I will promise you this though. I will never intentionally hurt Tim. Never him. Not when he’s already given me so much hope for a life I never thought I’d ever get to have again.”

Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Tim’s eyes were bright and glassy as he looked over at Jason, blinking quickly. “Jason…” he whispered almost brokenly.

“Don’t even think about it, pussy cat. Just don’t. But I do mean it,” Jason said thickly, emotions running high as well as he looked at his cat.

Mine.

“And I think this is my cue to leave,” Selina said, standing up from the table. “Jason, thanks for breakfast. I look forward to getting to know you again. Tim, make sure you keep him in line, this one’s going to cause you more trouble now than he did before.”

Tim got up and gave her a hug. Jason stood as well and was surprised when she came around the table to give him a big hug too. “Good luck to you both tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”

With that, she turned, grabbed her coat and purse from the counter, and left.

Both men breathed deeply and let it out slowly, chuckling when they noticed the other was doing the same.

“Hurricane Selina has left the building,” Tim said wryly.

“God, I feel like I’ve been run through the fucking wringer,” Jason replied, letting out a deep breath and running a hand through his messy hair. He grabbed the back of the chair and leaned over, bracing himself as he shut his eyes and took another deep breath.

Tim chuckled as he stepped over and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist, leaning in and hugging him from behind. He’d never put a shirt on, so Jason could feel every inch of the shorter man through his thin t-shirt. “Me too. I got the grilling of a lifetime about some of my recent choices. She was very concerned about the fact that I’m essentially in bed with the Red Hood.”

“No, you were in bed with me all wrapped up in a blanket burrito while I froze. The only time Red Hood and Stray are going to be in bed together is on a rooftop somewhere with your catsuit wide open and me balls deep in that sweet ass.” The thought made his heart beat faster, heat running through his veins.

“Aw, not a fan of costumes in the bedroom then? Such a shame, I have some nice ones too.” Jason could feel Tim grinning into his back. He gasped as he felt Tim rock his hips against his ass, the subtle thrust promising so much more.

Oh god, please don’t stop. Never stop.

“Never said that,” he gasped as Tim did it again. He could feel himself growing hard. “Those are our working clothes.”

“Ah, such a fine distinction. Well, I guess I’ll let it pass this time.” Tim moved his hips one more time against Jason and stepped back, letting go of him in the process.

Jason groaned softly at the loss of Tim’s warmth. He turned and glared at the shorter man, not missing the slight tent of his own in the loose sleeping pants. “You know, we really need to stop teasing each other like this. I want you. I want you so badly I can fucking taste it. And I know once I do, I’m not gonna want to stop.”

I think I want you for the rest of my life. Oh shit…

“Likewise,” Tim said with a smile that promised so much as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I will say in my defense that you started it earlier. But enough’s enough. We have work to do. Phase One starts tonight and you need to be ready.”

Jason nodded, firmly pushing all thoughts of Tim and sexual gratification from his mind. I’ll rub one out in the shower later.

Phase One was about to begin in a few short hours. Phase One of the brilliant plan his Stray had come up with to permanently rid his life of the stain and the shadow that was the Joker.

The rest of the day was a blur to Jason. He and Tim went over the plan multiple times, as well as the contingencies to various situations they both thought could realistically happen. As well as a few non-realistic ones, because this was Gotham and Gotham was a bitch.

So many variables. So many things that could go wrong. So many things that could go right.

Jason was confident they could pull it off. He had to be. This moment was what he prepared and trained for since he could form a coherent thought after rising from the Lazarus Pit. Failure was not an option.

We’re the Red Hood and Stray. Together, we can do anything. Watch out Gotham. You’ve no idea what’s coming.

*****

Barbara sat on her sofa, laptop resting on her thighs, staring at the IM conversation she just finished with Tim. A niggling feeling was eating at her.

She’d fudged the truth a bit when she was chatting with Tim. The conversation she said she had with Nightwing never happened. No, Oracle was an unseen and unknown party at last night’s little mixer. She heard everything.

Including what the Red Hood said to Bruce in Crime Alley.

Jason. The name flitted across her mind. The only common denominator is Jason. But he’s dead…isn’t he?

For a short period of time before Barbara stepped down as Batgirl, Jason was her Robin. The cheeky little shit would tease and flirt with her all night long, completely disregarding the fact she was almost seven years older than him. But they’d talk too. Jason loved to read and she’d spent hours at the library compiling list after list of books she thought he’d like. They’d talk about them too, with Jason offering some very unique and interesting insights to many of the stories she enjoyed.

My little devil bird.

Barbara was also his math tutor, the only person who could get him to sit down and look at the numbers in front of him. I often thought he spent more time staring at my breasts than the math book though.

Was the Red Hood really Jason Todd? Did Ra’s al Ghul resurrect the dead Robin? If so, then how long has it been since it was done? And why now, after all this time, has the missing bird finally come home to roost?

What happened to him? Did the Pit drive him mad? He was never a killer before, I don’t care what Bruce thought he did to Garzonas.

If I’m right, I understand why he wants to kill the Joker. What he did to me was atrocious, but I survived. Barely. But Jason…I understand, Jason. I get it. Last night shifted Bruce’s attention away from Stray and back on the Red Hood. And tomorrow, neither you nor Tim will be Red Hood or Stray when you kill the Joker. He’ll never know who did it unless either of you, or I, tell him.

Barbara closed her laptop and set it on the sofa beside her. She reached for her wheelchair and maneuvered her way to the well worn seat.

Tim trusts you. He’s still going forward with this plan even though you no longer have the leverage on him to force his actions. He’s doing this now because he wants to, because this is what he feels has to be done.

He wouldn’t be so vested in this plan’s success if he didn’t. Knowing who you are changes everything and nothing...

I trust Tim so I won’t stand in your way tomorrow.

Perhaps I’ll even help.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 – (Late Sunday night/Early Monday morning)

Jason and Tim walked down a nondescript street in Burnley, both carrying backpacks, and looking like college students who were about to pull an all-nighter cramming for their midterms the following day.

“Must be nice to live so close to work,” Jason muttered. “Just a quick hop over the river and there you go.”

“Not so nice actually,” Tim replied, just as quietly. “The only bus that runs anywhere near Arkham still requires a half mile walk just to get to the front gates. At least it runs hourly, otherwise we’d be having an issue tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Nope. Never needed one.”

“Motorcycle?”

A negative headshake.

“Oh come on, at least tell me you’ve ridden on a motorcycle before?”

Tim laughed quietly. “A couple times. Nightwing is a crazy driver though, so the experience left much to be desired.”

“Uh-huh. Like I believe that. Even I liked riding behind the Wingster and that was when he was still sporting disco.”

“Okay, fine,” Tim said quickly. “I still get off on those memories. Both times were with the newer suit too. The one with the fingerstripes.”

“Yeah, gotta admit, that is definitely one of his better designs.” Jason shook his head. “You’ll need to come riding with me then when this is over. Give you some new memories.”

Tim brushed his arm against Jason, leaning into him a bit as they walked. “Only if you teach me how to ride.”

Jason laughed. “And what kind of riding are you thinking about, pussy cat?”

Tim grinned up at him brightly. “The fun kind.”

“We need a fucking list.”

“I’ll start it then. I’m good at lists.”

“No shit. We almost there yet?”

“Just about. Nervous?”

“A little? I just don’t want to screw up. When I first came to you for help, I admit I didn’t care what happened to me afterwards, just as along as that asshole was dead. But now…” Jason trailed off.

“Now you have something to go back to,” Tim finished for him.

Jason shook his head. “Don’t call yourself a thing, Tim. You’re someone. Not quite sure exactly what we’re going to be, but…I want to find out. And that feeling is…new.”

Tim brushed up against Jason’s arm again. “We’ll figure it out.” He stopped suddenly. “We’re here.”

Jason looked up at a boring looking apartment building. “Nice place,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen where you live, I don’t want to hear it. Welcome to our home away from home for the next 12 hours.”

“You sure you remembered everything?”

“Yes, Jason. I made a list.”

*****

Later that night, Jason and Tim broke into Jaime Lopez’s apartment. He lived in Burnley, just a few blocks over from the safehouse the two men were using as their temporary base of operations. They weren’t wearing their normal gear, though they did take the precaution to put on ski masks and gloves.

For the last few days, Jason had followed the man just about everywhere he could when he was not working. He learned the man’s gait, the roll of his shoulders, the way he smiled, and shook a person’s hand when seeing someone he knew. Little things, little quirks that would make or break an impersonation, just like Alfred taught him.

Tim managed to get him video feeds of Lopez doing his rounds at Arkham as well. The man didn’t act too differently, though he did smile a lot less. Not like there’s a lot to smile about, working at Arkham.

Arkham guards on the sublevels wore riot gear almost all the time, so Jason would have most of his face covered by the visored helmet Lopez wore. The only time the shield went up and the gloves came off were for retinal and handprint scans. The prints Tim made worked well, at least according to the tests they ran using Tim’s equipment. And if they don’t hold up, then Tim will be there for the override.

As they crept softly across the man’s living room, they kept their ears peeled for any sounds from the large guard. All the guards on Tim’s list were big men, but Jason selected Lopez for a few reasons. One, he was single and lived alone. Two, the man was born and raised in Gotham, growing up in a mostly Hispanic neighborhood. Jason knew Gotham street Spanish as well as he knew English, so the accent and the language would be easy. Three, the man was a former Army sniper and was one of the few guards at Arkham who could access their assault rifle caches on each floor.

On the flip side, the man was a former Army sniper, which meant he would likely be a light sleeper. Jason and Tim both had syringes full of a powerful sedative that would keep an elephant asleep for the better part of a day. He’ll sleep like a baby all day long and miss all the fun, never knowing someone took over for him until he realizes he missed a full day somewhere.

The apartment was small and neat, unsurprising coming from a former Army man. 15 year veteran, habits run deep. Jason glanced over the back of the sofa and held an arm out to grab Tim. Lopez was asleep on the sofa, on his back and an arm up over his head. Tim shot Jason a questioning look, then followed his gaze downward. He nodded, then walked quietly around the sofa.

Jason moved around to the arm of the sofa, ready to grab Lopez and hold him down if he moved. The sedative worked like an EpiPen, which meant the injection site needed to be in the man’s thigh. Lucky for them, the man slept in his boxers.

Tim uncapped his syringe and plunged it into the man’s meaty thigh. Lopez jerked awake, but Jason grabbed him by the upraised arm and leaned over, pinning him with his weight as he held his other arm firmly across the man’s larynx. The man gasped, gave a wheeze, and passed right out.

“Good lord, that’s fast,” Tim muttered, pulling out the syringe.

“Yeah, it is. The Russians cooked that one up special. Works like a charm and great for hauling someone long distances without them waking up in between.”

“And you just happened to have some on hand.” It wasn’t a question.

“Made it myself a couple months back. Was gonna use it on Joker if he ever came out to play. It’s been sitting on my shelf since.”

“I forgot you learned chemistry while you were gone.”

“No you didn’t, you just didn’t think sedatives were included in my skillset, just poisons.”

“True. We need to have a conversation about that later. How long will this last?” Tim asked, looking down at the unconscious man.

“About 12 hours. I’ll dose him again in the morning before I go to work.” Jason stared at the man he’d been studying so closely the last few days. It was almost time. God, we’re so close I can almost taste it. Joker…Your time is up.

“You have everything you need? Makeup, prosthetics, prints?” Tim sounded nervous.

“Yes, pussy cat. I’ve got everything. What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll oversleep?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m just…it’s just now dawning on me that we’re really doing this.” Tim pulled his ski mask off, revealing the domino mask Jason insisted he wear beneath it, just in case.

Jason did the same and stepped around to the front of the sofa to wrap Tim in a tight hug. “We’re doing this. We’re doing it together. I can’t do it without you, pussy cat. Keep it together.” He breathed in the scent of Tim’s soft hair, the fresh scent of his shampoo and something uniquely his own calming Jason in a way he didn’t expect.

Don’t lose it on me, pussy cat. I can’t do this without you.

Tim clutched at Jason just as tightly, almost desperately, trembling slightly. “I am,” he said into Jason’s shoulder. He turned his head slightly, resting his head there. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, a lot of questionable things, things I never thought I’d ever do, but I’ve never outright been party to someone’s murder. But…but it’s the Joker. No one deserves this more. I am not changing my mind on this. We’re doing it,” he finished firmly.

Jason took a deep breath and let it out. There’s my cat. “I know you can. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I forced your hand.”

“Don’t be,” said Tim fiercely, tilting his head back to look at Jason directly and reaching a hand up to grasp the back of Jason’s head firmly, fingers digging into his scalp. He could feel Tim’s breath on his face, they were so close. “I could have backed out anytime after I discovered your secret. And you would have let me. We’re in this together.”

Together. With Stray at my side, we can take on the world if we wanted to. And if we can do that, then Arkham’s a cakewalk.

Jason nodded. “I’m going to kiss you now, so you’d better move if you don’t want it.”

Tim smirked. “Not if I do it first.” He slammed his lips against Jason’s in a bruising kiss, both men moaning softly at the contact. Jason responded just as fiercely, nipping at Tim’s lower lip and causing the shorter man to gasp, giving him entry into Tim’s mouth where a new battle started, tongues chasing each other back and forth, trying to dominate the other.

I think I could die a happy man this time. Tim…

Tim drew back with a groan. “Okay, if we keep this up, we’re going to have sex right here.”

“And that’s a bad thing again why?” Jason murmured into Tim’s ear, licking the outer edge and feeling the younger man shudder against him.

“Ah!” he gasped, the sound going straight to Jason’s groin. “For one…the sofa is already taken.”

Lopez. Dammit. Come on, Jason. Think with your head, not your cock. He pulled back from Tim, still holding him, but giving them both some breathing room. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Tim gave him a crooked smile. “I know. But the last thing we need to do is leave any possible fluid samples here. We both know this place is going to be searched. Bad enough we took our masks off.”

“And part of my job is cleaning up before I leave in the morning. Stop worrying, pussy cat.” Jason tried to sound reassuring, but it was hard. Man, we should have fucked before this. We’re on edge, a little mutual jerking off would fix things. Maybe. Or not. Fuck!

Tim laughed softly, like he could read Jason’s mind. “Right. Like you’re going to have time to shampoo the sofa if I bend you over the back of it. No time for that now, we’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow night.”

By this time tomorrow, the Joker will be dead. Jason leaned in to give Tim one last scorching kiss. He drew away, but rested his forehead against Tim’s, listening to the sound of his breath. “Until tomorrow night then. Or maybe afternoon, depending on when you’re done with your test.”

Tim reached up to kiss him one last time as well, this one a slow and sensual dance that lit every nerve in Jason’s body on fire. He groaned as Tim pulled away. “Fuck, pussy cat, what are you trying to do? I’ve already died once.”

The smile that danced across Tim’s lips matched the kiss he just gave Jason. “Insurance policy.”

“Huh?” I’ll be the first to admit I’m not firing on all cylinders right now. Where the fuck did he learn to kiss like that? Selina? Okay, that’s hot and creepy at the same time.

“It’s my promise of what you’ll miss if you don’t come back tomorrow,” Tim said seriously.

“Pussy cat, not even Batman can keep me away from you. You’re mine now.”

Tim chuckled. “I think you have that wrong. People don’t own cats. Cats own people.”

***** 

Leaving Jason at Lopez’s apartment was difficult, but Tim had his own preparations to make for the morning, not to mention trying to get at least a few hours of sleep before the big moment arrived. Arriving back at his safehouse, Tim immediately took a shower to get all the gel out of his hair and removed every single one of his piercings.

There was a strict dress code at Arkham. No one was allowed to wear jewelry, visible or otherwise, even wedding bands. All technology was to be left in the staff locker rooms on the main level.

For the last few days, besides familiarizing himself with Arkham’s systems and protocols, he had also built an alias of his into the employee directory. Caroline Hill was a former nursing student at Gotham University. She’d done a number of clinicals at Arkham during her time as a student and was hired on as an upper level nurse upon gradation. Her first morning shift started promptly at 7:30 am. So it’s perfectly acceptable if she arrives a little bit early.

Caroline fit the bill perfectly for Tim’s way in and out of Arkham. The fact he had to dress up as a woman didn’t bother him. It was a costume, a means to an end, and yet another personality locked up in the compartments that made up Tim’s personality. Besides, Caroline’s rather boring. A mousey woman with big breasts and a good bedside manner. Hmm…I wonder what Jason thinks of cross-dressing. I’ll have to ask him later.

He puttered around the bedroom, laying out all the pieces for his Caroline disguise. Body suit, the good falsies, sensible (and wireless) bra, a wig, scrubs, boring white sneakers. Tim debated a moment about wearing a gaff or if regular panties would suffice. Might as well. I brought the good one with and it doesn’t pinch.

Costume laid out, Tim plugged in his tablet and the cell phone he got for Caroline. His tablet was the most important part of the equipment he was getting ready.

I sure hope the case I made for it works. If I don’t have that, we’re screwed.

The case was specially designed to hide within the body suit he’d be wearing as Caroline to give him a fuller figure. Caroline wasn’t fat, but she was pleasantly plump, giving him some space to hide his tablet across his abdomen beneath the suit and the scrubs. All the tests he’d run over the last few days said the special case worked when the tablet was powered off.

It still made him nervous.

Tim took one last look at the equipment and his disguise, nodding absently as he mentally ticked each item off his list. Okay. I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

A soft ping came from his tablet. He looked over at it in surprise, pulling it off his nightstand and sitting on the bed.

It was Barbara.

WiseOwl: You still up?

PuddyTat: Yeah. Almost done with my prep so I was going to try and get a few hours of sleep.

WiseOwl: Good idea. I have a question for you before you crash.

PuddyTat: Go ahead. I’ll answer if I can.

WiseOwl: I know it’s last minute, but what can I do to help tomorrow?

Tim’s jaw dropped open. Did he just read that right? Barbara Gordon, ORACLE, wanted to help them?

PuddyTat: I can think of a lot of ways, but…why? You said before you’d help me get my foot in the door, but the rest was on me.

WiseOwl: Let’s just say that while I don’t believe in revenge killings, I do believe in justice. And in my eyes, wanting justice for your own murder is not an opportunity many people get.

For the second time, Tim’s jaw dropped. She knows. Damn, Jason said she was smart, but…wow.

PuddyTat: I wish he was here for me to show him this. But I think it’ll still mean a lot when I show him tomorrow.

WiseOwl: Just make sure he comes to the conference. I miss my little devil bird.

PuddyTat: I will, even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming.

WiseOwl: Good. So, how can I help?

Tim and Barbara chatted for a good hour, going back and forth over the plan. With her assistance and built-in access to Arkham, Tim felt much more secure with some of the choices he’d made.

He also talked about his concerns about Jason’s PTSD and triggers.

Because let’s face it, if Batgirl made him mad, the Joker can make him lose control. Worse comes to worse, she can get me to Level 4 if Jason loses it so I can get him out of there.

WiseOwl: When this is done, I really want to talk to him. I think I may be able to help.

PuddyTat: I have a feeling you’ve done a lot of research into this. If you have any materials to recommend looking over, I’d appreciate it.

WiseOwl: No kidding. I’ll send you some files that should help you get started. I’m glad you’re interested in helping him. He’s going to need all the support he can get.

PuddyTat: Thanks, but he needs more than just you and me. I believe his family are a bunch of emotionally stunted douchebags at the best of times, but I still think he needs to stop playing games and just tell them outright he’s alive.

WiseOwl: I fully agree. But it has to be on his terms. His games have certainly gotten the ball rolling though. B dug up his grave earlier today and found an empty coffin. He’s analyzing it now, looking for signs of forced entry.

PuddyTat: Pfft. More like signs of a forced exit. He dug his way out.

WiseOwl: …

WiseOwl: What?!

PuddyTat: It’s his story and I know he wants to tell it to you.

WiseOwl: Oh my god. Screw the conference, you’re both coming over on Tuesday after your morning class is over.

PuddyTat: Does everyone know my class schedule?

*****

Bruce Wayne examined the coffin in front of him closely, the overhead lights shining down on once lustrous wood. No expense had been spared when he’d ordered the coffin, wanting only the best for his lost son.

What he saw troubled him greatly, though he didn’t show it. But to those who knew him well, he might as well have been broadcasting it.

“Please tell me those marks on the inside aren’t what I think they are,” said Dick, standing across from Bruce on the other side of the examination table. Under the harsh lights, he looked pale.

“They’re claw marks,” commented Damian, sounding almost in awe from his position next to Dick.

Next to Bruce, Alfred looked ashen. “He was dead, Master Dick. Dead. I prepared him myself after we received his body back from the autopsy.” He held a hand to his chest, the simple motion revealing to Bruce just how overwrought his oldest friend was.

“He was dead. There was no mistake.” Bruce laid a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, noticing yet again just how much frailer the man was getting as the months and years passed.

“Then how do you explain this?” asked Dick, shrill in the quiet of the cave. “A Lazarus Pit can only do so much. What would be the point to take Jason’s body, dump it in the Pit, only to bury him again and see if he’d claw his way out? Ra’s is a lot of things, but that’s just sick.”

Damian cocked his head to the side, as though a thought just occurred to him. “I…I think I may know something.”

“What?” asked all three of the men around him. “Explain now, Damian,” said Bruce sharply.

The young man looked across the remains of the coffin at his father. “I was very young at the time, perhaps no older than seven. I remember Mother taking me to watch a sparring match. Someone new had come to the compound and she wanted me to observe. In the arena, a young man was fighting off ninja of varying degrees of skill, easily overcoming even some of the most skilled. But when the match was over, he just stood there, staring blankly at the ground. Mother said he was brain-damaged, that he was fighting on just muscle memory.”

Damian paused, casting his gaze on Dick, then on Alfred, and back to Bruce. “The point of the lesson was that my movements in battle should be instinctual, with little to no conscious thought as to what my next action should be. Whoever this young man was, he’d been a skilled fighter before whatever it was happened to him. But…I remember a large scar on his chest. It looked like the letter Y.”

Dick choked, holding a hand up across the front of his mouth as he shut his eyes tightly. Next to him, Alfred let out a small gasp. Bruce kept his hand on Alfred’s shoulder, lending him his unspoken support, feeling his own chest tighten in pain.

“Thank you, Damian,” he said. Bruce looked at the coffin one last time and gave Alfred’s shoulder a light squeeze before letting go. He walked away, down a flight of stairs and across a platform to his massive computer.

“Bruce!” shouted Dick as he came up from behind him. “What are we going to do? If Jason’s alive, then we have to find him. We have to bring him home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Alfred and Damian walking towards them too. “What we need is more information. All we have is a torn up coffin, a childhood memory, and Red Hood saying things no one other than us should know.”

“You’re going to see Grandfather, aren’t you, Father?” asked Damian solemnly.

“Yes. Or your mother.” Bruce tapped a few keys on the computer, bringing up a map of Gotham and zooming in on a particular area. “While I’m gone, I want the two of you scouring the East End, Crime Alley, and the Bowery for the Red Hood or Stray. Dick, call Barbara and tell her we’ll need her eyes and ears peeled on the rest of the city. Stephanie is to suit up as soon as possible; I know she’s still sick, but her and Stray get along well. Nothing short of an Arkham breakout is to distract you from your search.”

Dick and Damian nodded, both staring intently at the map.

Bruce moved to another monitor and started writing up a report, needing to get his thoughts down where he could see and analyze them later. Dick walked over, standing shoulder to shoulder with his mentor. “If we do find them, either of them, where should we put them? We’ve got holding cells here. Stray already knows who we are and if the Red Hood is Jason…” he trailed off.

“That’s fine,” Bruce said in a firm tone. “It may be easier to apprehend one instead of both. The other is sure to follow. Last night showed they’re working together more closely than Batgirl led you to believe. Something has changed since she last saw Stray, likely him figuring out Hood’s identity. And if that is Jason…”

“Then Stray and Jason are working together on whatever it is Jason has planned,” Dick finished. “They were good friends when they were kids, that has to be why Stray is going along with it now. You’re right, Stray had to have figured out his identity since he saw Batgirl.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, adding a few more comments to his report. “The big question is what are they working on? With Black Mask dead, there’s a huge power vacuum in Gotham that Red Hood should have taken advantage of. He’s proven he’s more than capable of doing so, but has chosen not to take action. Why? Stray’s primary forte is information. What does he have that Red Hood wants?”

Dick followed along, nodding in agreement. “I bet it started as just information with Hood taking advantage of knowing Stray’s identity and using it as leverage. But Stray turned the tables on him. But how would Hood, Jason, know Stray’s real name? Did he ever give any indication he knew before he…” Dick trailed off, unwilling to continue the rest of his sentence.

Before he died…

“It’s possible,” Bruce replied. “When I finally caught up to him in Ethiopia, I asked how he’d managed to get so far without being discovered. He never said, but I always suspected it was Stray. That damn cat was the last person to see Jason before he left Gotham.” Anger laced his voiced. Calm. Breathe. Stay calm.

“Bruce,” Dick said gently. “Jason’s death was hard on all of us, but I know it shook Stray too. Those two were almost inseparable. If I were to venture a guess, I’m tempted to say he’s helping Jason now out of a sense of atonement.”

Atonement. Jason was my soldier. My son. Stray may have started him on his path, but I was there at the end. I failed him.

“Do you know where Ra’s al Ghul is right now, Master Bruce?” asked Alfred, a hand on the back of Bruce’s big computer chair.

“No, but I have a few ideas.”

Damian turned his attention from the large monitor. “If it helps, I know where Mother is, Father.”

Bruce looked at his son. It always amazed him just how much the boy looked like a perfect blend of him and Talia. Damian had his hair and eyes, as well as his nose, but his coloring revealed his Middle Eastern heritage. “It does. Where is she?”

“Marrakesh.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 – (Monday morning)

Makeup? Check.

Prosthetic nose and chin properly in place? Check.

Brown contacts? Check.

Toner to turn my white ass into something a bit darker? Check. Gotta remember to not wash my hands today…ew. Fucking shame the more permanent stuff leaves my skin orange.

Jason stood in the bathroom looking into a surprisingly big mirror, putting on his disguise and mentally running through his checklist. The night had been uneventful, Lopez sleeping peacefully while Jason dozed for a few hours in the man’s armchair before getting up an hour ago to start his preparations.

I can’t believe it’s finally here. Today’s the day I’m putting one right between the Joker’s eyes. He ain’t coming back from somethin’ like this. And knowing Babs, she’ll make sure the fucker’s cremated to make doubly certain.

A decade later, Joker continued to haunt Jason. And he still would, all the way to the end of this second life he was granted. But I’ll be damned if he’ll have the chance to cause anymore hurt and pain to anyone else. To viciously murder anyone else. I should have been the last…

The last. It was the one thought keeping Jason on edge about not taking his vendetta to Bruce as well. He may have forgiven Bruce for not saving him, but he should have been the last person Joker killed. I would have gone to the ends of the earth and beyond if Joker had taken you away from me. To find him and kill him. I would have avenged you.

It’s always been more than being replaced. If I really gave a fuck about being replaced as Robin, they’d be gone already. Him. It’s always been about HIM.

God damn you Bruce for making me have to avenge myself. I hope, I PRAY, you never figure out who kills this sack of garbage. That is the best revenge on you I could ever get.

In the back of his mind, a niggling thought about the other night crept in. He and Tim all but gave the Bats the key to figuring out both of their identities. In the light of day, it seemed like a good idea. That at some point, Jason did want to see his family again outside of the tights and masks. He wanted to see them, not Nightwing, or Robin, or even Batgirl. Just them. He wanted to see Alfred and sit and have tea with him in the afternoon or go to the library with Babs and tear apart the latest so-called modern classic on the bestseller list.

He wanted to see Bruce.

The thoughts conflicted with his actions. Tim had carefully, delicately, pointed that out. My pussy cat’s willing to give up his most precious secret to the Bats for me. I know he thinks seeing them again will be good for me. Fuckin’ hard, but good for me in the long run. And here we are planning the murder of the century right under their noses.

They’ll never know…Red Hood is bold and brash and cocky as hell. Just like I was as Robin. I’m not Red Hood today. I am ME. A finely honed weapon finally having the chance against the sole reason for being created in the first place. I am in the hands of a master strategist Batman doesn’t even suspect of existing in the first place. Stray’s an annoyance, someone who exists on the edge of right and wrong and tap dances that fine line.

Okay, it’s more like strutting down that fine line. Jason shook his head ruefully as he puts in his brown contact lenses, blinking rapidly to settle them into place. Tim doesn’t tap dance. He struts. He glides. He saunters.

He’s a genius who could do anything he wants. He could rule this city under a sharp tipped thumb, but he chooses to help. If the stories Tim told me about working with Babs are any indication, then she knows more about the real Stray than Batman does. Batman underestimates him. Oracle doesn’t.

And that’s why we’ll succeed. Batman doesn’t think Stray capable of doing something like this. Of this level of planning. He doesn’t think Stray has the necessary skills to even break the box that is the new Arkham.

Today, we’re not Red Hood and Stray. We’re the ultimate versions of ourselves.

Staring into the mirror as he carefully dyed the white lock of hair, Jason felt proud. So fucking close.

Finished, he got dressed and took a look at himself in the mirror.

Damn, but there’s a good job.

Jaime Lopez stared back at Jason, lips quirked in Jason’s signature cocky smirk.

He started cleaning up the bathroom, putting everything back in the backpack he’d brought in with him earlier. The bag would be left at a drop zone where he’d retrieve it later.

Going back out to the living room, Jason grabbed Lopez’s vacuum and started cleaning the floor, making sure to take particular care for the areas he’d spent time in, including the bathroom. He emptied the vacuum canister into a trash bag and put the machine away. Grabbing a cleaning rag he found beneath the kitchen sink, he started wiping down every possible surface he could have touched to remove his fingerprints. He’d been good about leaving his gloves on the whole time, but he needed to take them off when putting on his makeup and prosthetics, not to mention his contacts. Lucky for him, Lopez had a similar haircut.

This place is going to be cleaner after I leave than it was when I came in. See, I’m not such a bad houseguest after all.

Jason took a look around and nodded, satisfied with his work. Disposing of the rag in his trash bag, he gathered all of his things and walked over to Lopez. Crouching down next to the big man, Jason grabbed his wrist to take his pulse. He needed to dose the man again, but not at the full amount Tim gave him earlier. Just enough to keep him out until this evening.

Uncapping his syringe, he injected a third of the sedative into the man’s thigh. That should do it. How does that line go? “I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But, in the meantime, rest well, and dream of large women.” And if your porn is anything to go by, it certainly is!

Putting the capped syringe back in his backpack, Jason straightened his jacket and looked at Lopez’s phone. It read 06:47. His shift started at 7:30.

Time to kill the Joker.

***** 

Caroline Hill walked in the employee entrance of Arkham Asylum. She smiled politely at the guard as he checked her ID against the information in the system, chatting a bit when he asked if she was new.

“First day,” she replied. “I have to admit, I’m a bit nervous. It’s Arkham, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” the security guard replied. “But it’s not anywhere near as bad as it used to be.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The guard gave her instructions to the nursing staff room, along with a big smile, which she returned. Well that was easier than I thought it would be. Good thing too, considering how long I spent making sure it would.

As Caroline walked down the hallway, she chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw the guard was checking in another employee.

Coast is clear. She walked past the staff room, ducking into a room two doors down and on the left. A simple hall closet to the casual eye, but Caroline took a few steps to the back of the room and moved a bottle of cleaning solution on the shelf there. She raised her hand and laid the palm flat against the wall. A panel to her left opened. Moving the bottle back to its place, she quickly stepped in.

“Good morning, Stray,” a mechanized voice said as a small computer room lit up. “Smooth sailing so far.”

“Good to hear,” Tim replied, looking around at the space and admiring the equipment. “Nice tech.”

“Thank you. Hood will be clocking in any moment now. I’ll get him checked in while you set up.”

“Thanks. Much appreciated.”

Tim pulled his tablet and a USB cord out of his tummy pouch. I have got to come up with a better name for this thing. It’s certainly handy. He hooked his tablet up to the computer in front of him.

I can’t believe the computer in here. I want one. Perhaps it’s time to convert the basement of the brownstone into something more useful.

Tim sat down in front of the terminal and connected to the network. He started pulling up security feeds, old and current ones of the Joker, as well as the areas Jason would be in as Lopez until the transport arrived.

“Hood’s cover has held so far. He’s doing a really good job actually.” If Oracle’s voice wasn’t mechanized, Tim would have said she sounded surprised.

“He better be,” said Tim. “We’re doing this for him, but he’s got to pull his own weight too. Do you mind keeping an eye on things while I get my video footage pulled and spliced?”

“You got it.”

An hour passed in relative quiet, Tim and Barbara chatting occasionally about trivial things.

“You do know Robin has almost as big a crush on Batgirl as he does on you, right?”

Tim laughed. “I suspected as much, but I rarely ever see the two of them together. Aren’t Robins supposed to have a crush on their Batgirls?”

“I know mine did. So what’s up with you and Stephanie? Seriously, when that girl called me the other night, she was practically gushing between blowing her nose over how sweet you were to her.”

Shrugging, Tim continued to work on his splicing. “A whole lot of nothing. She’s awesome and all, but if I let her in too close, then there goes my secret.”

“You do realize that your secret is already in jeopardy?”

Tim glared at his tablet, then back up at the monitor. “I know,” he said almost petulantly. “I’ve just managed to keep it for so long, you know? Who else has kept the Bat in the dark like this before? I guess it’s a matter of pride.”

I’ll finally be able to operate the way I really want to though. No more shadowy missions for Barbara when they happen to coincide when Batman’s away and Catwoman doesn’t feel like making nice with the Birds. I can make a difference and I’ll have someone at my back who is almost as intimidating as Batman. Hell, when I’m out in the open, I could have ALL of them backing me up if I needed it.

So many possibilities.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re giving it up for a worthy cause.”

“Thanks.”

“So does that mean I get to give Stephanie dating advice soon?” Tim laughed at how Oracle managed to make her mechanized voice sound hopeful.

“No, I’m afraid this cat is already taken.” Especially after my exam this afternoon. Do I let Jason go first or should I? Decisions, decisions…

“Do tell. From what I know of you, you’re very much the one-night stand type of guy.”

Chuckling, Tim replied. “Not by choice. It’s just easier that way with everything I have to hide. Less chance for someone to see or hear something they shouldn’t.”

“I understand. And nice try at evading the question. Who caught the cat?”

Tim smirked. “More like the cat finally caught his bird.” Let’s face it, I highly doubt there was ever a chance for anyone else. Perhaps Stephanie if I let her get close, but I kept her at a distance for a reason.

This time, the amazement did filter through. “I am so happy to hear that. Seriously, you have no idea. I think it’ll be good for both of you.”

“I hope so. It’s not going to be easy, but I know the good relationships never are.” Not many relationships out there with the minefield I have to traverse. Good thing I’m quick on my feet.

“Then you’re already way ahead of the rest of the crowd.” Oracle paused, then continued. “The Blackgate transport is almost here. Hood's down in the tunnel by the water entrance.”

“Almost time then,” Tim replied. A few taps on his tablet and some codes later, a grainy picture appeared on the screen in front of him. “He must have his visor up, I can make out the faces of the guards he’s with.”

“I’m surprised the resolution is that good considering how far he is from here,” commented Oracle. He nodded in agreement.

“It’ll get better as he gets closer.” Tim tapped a few more things into his tablet. “I’m glad he told me he had contacts with this kind of tech. Not sure how I feel about it being League gear, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

There’s something else to think about later. The League…will they really let go of such a valuable asset, one they spent so much time and money on creating?

“Agreed.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting. It would be a good 30 minutes still before Tim would need to do anything. Man, I can’t believe this little room was already here. I would never have known about it without Oracle. So much better than hiding in blind spots in the library. “Oracle, thank you. I know I said it a million times earlier, but seriously. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Stray.” Oracle paused, then continued. “I’ve been doing some thinking and I have something I want to talk to you about tomorrow. A proposal, so to speak.”

“Oh? Business or pleasure?” he purred.

“You don’t have to play your games with me, silly kitty. Business.”

“I always play my games, it’s half the fun. Besides, you walked right into that one.”

A tinny laugh came over the speakers. “True enough! Just keep an open mind tomorrow. I think it’ll be something both of you will like.”

“I’m always open minded,” Tim replied blithely. “It’s why I’m so well adjusted compared to the rest of the people you work with on a regular basis.”

“The sad thing is, you’re 100% correct on that,” said Oracle. “Just make sure you convince our missing bird to come. No offense, but I want to see him more.”

Tim laughed. “None taken. I’ve had him to myself almost all weekend, I’m grown up enough to share.”

They lapsed into another comfortable silence, waiting. Tim kept himself occupied by checking security feeds on the lower levels and making sure he had full control of the security protocols on all the sublevels. No mistakes. Not now. We’re almost there…

The feed from Jason’s lenses changed suddenly as he moved, stepping outside onto the small wharf. The boat from Blackgate was pulling up.

Tim took a deep breath. “It’s time.”

*****

Dick swung back and forth on the trapeze down in the Cave, going through a routine he could do in his sleep. The action was calming, swinging high above the mats and the safety net Bruce insisted on when no one was around. He needed the calming effect as his mind was anything but.

Bruce had left for Morocco a few hours ago in search of Talia. Alfred had dropped Damian off at school and was running some errands. The young man argued vehemently against going today, but Bruce put his foot down and insisted he go as there wasn’t much either he or Dick could do until nightfall.

And Babs said she was busy this morning with a project but would be able to help in the search this afternoon.

Babs…Why didn’t she tell me she knows who Stray is? According to Steph, Stray and Babs know who each other are. How? Oracle is one of the most closely guarded secrets on the planet.

Dick sighed as he swung his legs up into the ropes and swung upside down. His hair fell in his eyes, but it didn’t bother him, closed as they were. He focused on the motion, back and forth, back and forth, the air rushing around him.

I’m glad I didn’t tell Bruce that part. He’d rip into her so fast that she’d refuse to help just to spite him. Rightfully so, but now’s not the time for them to be fighting. Everyone needs to work together to bring in Stray and Red Hood…God, is it really Jason?

He rubbed his hands against his face, against his sore and bloodshot eyes. Dick had been staring at the monitors intently since Bruce announced he was leaving in search of Talia and Ra’s, trying to find some clue or angle they’d missed before.

In the beginning, Hood’s actions made no sense whatsoever, but after awhile, Batman had discovered a kind of pattern. If being disruptive to the status quo for the sake of being disruptive is a pattern. But those kinds of actions spoke of planning, of knowing the pulse of Gotham and where to be and who to piss off.

And wow, he can fight. He was good before, but now? It’s like going up against a younger Bruce. He’s built like a damn tank and almost as fast as me. If anything of Jason remains from who he was before, then he’s certainly not stupid either. Jason was smart. Impulsive and eager to prove himself, yes, but stupid? Never.

What is Jason’s end goal? He has to have one. Because becoming Gotham’s newest crime lord certainly doesn’t appear to be it like we originally thought. Although it would really upset Bruce if that were the case. Who better to take on the Batman than one of his own?

The momentum from his original swings were slowing down, so Dick flipped over and started pumping his legs back and forth to build it back up again. He lost himself in the rhythm and the motion for awhile before flipping upside down again to just swing.

Who is Stray? What is his relationship with Jason now? They were practically joined at the hip growing up, so it makes sense that Jason’s talked him into whatever it is he’s planning. And what was with the innuendos? I’m not sure if those were tossed out to rile up Damian more or to throw us off.

Dick sighed again as his thoughts returned to Stray. He said he was there that night when my parents died. He had to have been really young. A memory of that night flashed before his eyes of a young boy with black hair and bright blue eyes posing with him for a picture. The expression on the boy’s face of absolute awe…

It hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Holy shit. Stray is that boy, he has to be. God, what was his name? He’s someone local, someone who moves in Gotham’s upper circles because I remember meeting him at some social events way back when. Didn’t his mom die or something awhile back too?

Dick opened his eyes and let himself drop gracefully into the net below. He rolled off and ran over to the computer and started bringing up files, quickly finding who he was looking for.

Timothy Jackson Drake. Age 22 and a grad student at GU studying cyber security…Oh fuck.

He continued reading. Tim’s mom died when he was 13 and his dad when he was almost 17. He was a legally emancipated minor who graduated high school a year early and started at Gotham University with a full ride scholarship from the Wayne Foundation for a degree in computer science. But what really shocked Dick were Bruce’s notes about wanting to foster the boy.

“I was unable to save his mother Janet when his parents were kidnapped in Haiti so I feel some measure of responsibility to ensure Timothy grows up into the kind of young man his parents could be proud of.”

Tim inherited what was left of his parent’s fortune, a nice brownstone in the Upper East Side, along with a hefty trust fund that hadn’t been taken by the bankruptcy Jack Drake had filed not long after he woke from his coma and his company went under. There were no notes about where Tim had been this whole time. The file was sparse here and in looking at the dates, Dick saw why. Bruce was recovering from Bane and a broken back. Where was Tim during this year? Selina…if he is Stray, then he would have been with Selina.

The Drakes left Gotham after the quake, but came back when No-Man’s Land was lifted. Jack apparently got his act together during that year as he started working as an assistant curator at the Gotham Museum of Natural History upon their return. But the years of hard drinking had taken their toll and he died of liver failure barely a year later.

Copies of Tim’s medical records were there too. He was pretty healthy, nothing major until about four years ago when he was hospitalized during the winter with a severe case of pneumonia. It was revealed Tim didn’t have a spleen. He said he’d lost it in an accident while living in Keystone during No-Man’s Land, but Dick knew better. Four years…the timing is about right. That must have been the first time the repercussions of his fight with the League came back to haunt him. Why didn’t he say anything?

The records also included a year-by-year record of Tim’s grades and academic achievements; there were even some track and field awards in running. What didn’t surprise Dick was to see some awards for photography. Bruce had carefully scanned copies of Tim’s award winning pictures into the file.

Good lord, what on earth was Bruce thinking? These are some gorgeous pictures of the Gotham skyline, but think about where Tim would have had to be to take the shots! If that picture isn’t from the top of the water tower by the Davenport Building in the Financial District, then I’m hanging up my striped gloves.

The most recent update to the file was from last year when Tim graduated with his BS in Computer Science. Bruce’s note said he was staying in Gotham for his graduate program and that he planned to send feelers out through the Wayne Foundation in a couple years to see if he qualified for their internship program at Wayne Enterprises.

Dick blinked, then started laughing. Oh my god, if Tim is who I think he is, he’ll be running the place inside a year.

He shut down the file and cleared his tracks, not wanting Damian or Alfred to see what he’d been looking at just yet. If anything, it would make Damian jealous to know that he almost had another brother. Though it would be entertaining as hell to see him moon over Tim’s pictures. He memorized Stray’s file years ago and meticulously updates it when he can. Tim was a cute kid and now he’s handsome in that almost delicate, androgynous kind of way. No wonder we couldn’t even figure out his gender when he first started until Jason told us he was a boy.

Dick walked away from the computer and towards the showers to rinse off from his earlier workout.

I need to talk to Babs before I go anywhere with this. If she knows who he is and hasn’t said a word, then she trusts him. And that kind of trust doesn’t come easily from her.

Tim’s kept our secret for this long, he deserves my trust too.

After taking a quick shower, Dick toweled off and slipped on a pair of sweat pants and an old t-shirt before heading upstairs into the Manor to his room. He took a look at the clock on Bruce’s desk as he passed through the study. It was just after 10am.

I wonder if I can convince Babs into taking a break and going for an early lunch with me?

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 – (Monday)

Jason gritted his teeth, struggling to keep hold of his temper and stay in character. The helmet and visor he wore helped maintain appearances, but all he wanted to do was hit something. Or someone.

Thank Christ I only have to stand here and look pretty because if I had to actually open my mouth, I swear I could not be held responsible for what would come out.

He had a low tolerance for idiots and stupidity at the best of times but today the imbecile in front of him was just asking for it.

“I don’t understand, everything was in order when we left Blackgate. Five inmates, so where did we count wrong and get six?” The head guard from Blackgate, Mason, asked in a confused tone, looking back at the three other guards accompanying him and the six inmates.

His name’s fucking sewn on the front of his shirt. They sure hire the smart ones there, don’t they?

The head of Arkham security, Bridges, apparently agreed with Jason’s silent assessment as he ripped into the Blackgate crew. “We have paperwork for five, we’re taking five. Since your guys can’t count for shit, you get to figure out what to do with number six.”

“B-but…” Mason stuttered and Jason tuned him out, looking over the motley crew he was supposed to be escorting. Four were obviously strung out on whatever they’d been given to calm them down at Blackgate, but two were much more aware. And only one of these two were supposed to be here.

I wonder which one of you is a plant? You’re aiming to get in here for someone and break them out, so who?

The list of potential suspects was long, but Jason hadn’t survived this long a second time and not learn to trust his gut. Nice try motherfuckers, but you picked the wrong day to pull this shit. I got here first.

He kept an eye on the inmates, as well as the Blackgate security detail, while the heads argued things out. That guy is either a fucking moron or he’s the one who helped the newest addition slip in.

Bridges seemed to be on the same wavelength yet again as Jason. The man was a former Marine captain, big, black, and smart. “You’re either the stupidest motherfucker I’ve ever met or you’re trying to pull one over on us. Boys, let’s get our five and send the rest packing. And don’t think for a second I’m not reporting this incident, I’m gonna have your asses for this.”

At that, two of the other Blackgate guards and the sixth inmate drew guns and started waiving them wildly, shouting all the while.

Fucking moron it is. Thank god for idiots. Jason quickly pulled his gun and started shooting, aiming to disable as per the Arkham security manual he’d spent the better part of three days reading and memorizing. Quickly, all three were on the ground, groaning and clutching at their hands and wrists where Jason and his boss had shot them. The lead Blackgate guard looked back and forth in shock.

The two other Arkham guards quickly came around Jason and Bridges to pick up the fallen weapons and started searching the downed men for additional gear. Jason stood over them, gun still out and keeping watch for anyone else with twitchy fingers.

“Siendo su problema, jefe?” Jason asked quietly. This little shootout just fucked things all to hell. Have to admit, this would have been a great distraction if it had happened further up the tunnel. Not a chance number 6 could have kept that gun concealed for long though.

“Very much their problem.” The man scowled, looking at the men on the ground dispassionately. After an incident like this, there was a very good possibility Jason and Tim’s timeline would be completely messed up. Per procedure, Bridges was required to stay with the escort at all times.

Jesus fucking Christ, if those assholes blow my chance, I’m hunting down each and every one and putting a bullet in their heads. I don’t fucking care if Mason is innocent, he needs to be out of the goddamned gene pool. I’d be doing the world a favor.

The two remaining Blackgate guards shouted back and forth, each blaming the other for not noticing what had happened on the way over. Jason watched Bridges reach under his visor and rub tiredly at his eyes. The big man looked at the Blackgate guards, the five legitimate inmates, then down at the ground at the three men still whining and moaning about being shot.

“Lopez, Miller, Kennedy, I’m going to stay out here with these fuckheads and straighten things out. You get our newbies inside and processed, you hear?”

Variations of “Yes, boss,” chimed out. Inside, Jason crowed. Halle-fucking-lujah, he’s breaking procedure! He’s going to be out here dealing with this for a while.

The Arkham guards each took two patients, Jason making a point to take the last one while Bridges starts chewing out the remaining guards. Grabbing his cuffed and drooling idiot by the upper arm, Jason followed Miller and Kennedy into the tunnel. He heard the door shut behind him and the magnetic locks engage.

Hope you’re watching, pussy cat. We’re heading up.

Jason wanted to grin, but only let a brief smirk cross his lips, knowing cameras were on them all. It was almost time. Soon, the Joker would be dead and he'd have his revenge.

*****

Tim held his breath as Jason and Bridges, the head of security, shot at the Blackgate guards and what appeared to be a fake inmate if he was reading their lips correctly. God, just what we don’t need today. Who the hell are these guys?

He let it out slowly as things settled back down. “I wonder how often things like that actually happen around here?”

“More often than you’d think. We’ve worked hard to make sure Arkham is well funded and can afford good staff and security. Blackgate is still a work in progress.”

“Why am I not surprised? Do you need my help with finding out who those punks are?”

“Nah, I’m already started. You’ve got enough on your plate today. And I’m sure you’ll be busy tonight.” Tim could just make out the emphasis on busy.

“I sure hope I am.”

Oracle chuckled, a very strange sound in her mechanized voice. “You ready to rock and roll? I’m going to cut to emergency audio only, give myself some plausible deniability in all this.”

Tim nodded. “I’m good. If things get out of control, I’ll call. Be seeing you around this time tomorrow.”

“Good luck,” Oracle replied, then the screen went dark. Tim knew she’d be back in the system soon enough, clearing out whatever tracks Tim may have left behind. Not many, if at all. Just access to this room.

Tim watched the progress of the guards going down the tunnel. Jason had wisely chosen the rear, leaving the first guard to do all the security checkpoints. It made it easier on Tim, though he did have Lopez’s retina and audio files ready to go at a moment’s notice.

I was not expecting Bridges to stay behind. That’ll make things easier on Jason, but I’ve got to keep an eye on him. I’m not taking out the systems on sublevels 5 and 6.

He pulled up a security feed of the wharf onto the big monitor in the small room to keep an eye on things. 

Bridges  shouldn’t be a problem, not until I set the alarms.

After discussing things with Oracle, Tim decided it would be best to set off all the alarms on Levels 1-3, making it look like some kind of widespread alarm failure. He’d keep all the applicable locks engaged, but it would send security swarming, especially since all the elevators on the affected levels went into lockdown whenever an alarm went off. For Level 4, the ultimate goal was to make it look like the gas system went off accidently, causing everyone on the floor to pass out.

Each floor had a central guard station with a minimum of two guards on at a time. Thanks to Killer Croc, Arkham was down six guards, so Levels 1-3 only had one guard each during the day. Because Gotham’s criminals are all geniuses and think that night is the best time for a breakout. As such, doubling up only happened at night on these floors until the guards either recovered or replacements were vetted and hired. Levels 4-5 had double guards at all times. Level 6 was more storage and extra holding cells than anything else right now. It only had cameras.

Leaving Jason with two to four guards to deal with, depending on how fast I can get the Level 4 guards to pass out.

The guards reached the end of the tunnel and entered Level 6. Each man pulled a blindfold and covered the eyes of their inmates. No one other than the guards know where the elevators are…

Tim waited and watched.

Level 6 clear. On to Level 5.

Glancing at the wharf camera, he saw Bridges still yelling.

On the other screen, Jason and the others were walking through Level 5, the first guard yet again doing all the retinal, audio, and print scans as they passed through security. Three cheers for passivity, despite a shooting occurring on your doorstep not even 20 minutes ago and the head of security missing from the transport detail. Must feel great to feel that secure in your tech and procedures.

Passing the security station on Level 5, the elevator to Level 4 opened. Eight people entered.

Only one is coming out. It’s time.

Tim tapped a few commands on his tablet. Alarms started blaring as Arkham erupted in sudden chaos.

***** 

As soon as Jason entered the elevator going up to Level 4, he attacked. Miller and Kennedy never knew what hit them, Jason’s blows coming hard and fast. And with five extra bodies in the elevator, there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver.

Turning to the five inmates, four were still zoned out and drooling while the fifth was trying to uncuff themselves by wrenching their arms up and over their head. “Pendejo, you’re gonna hurt yourself doin’ that.”

Jason clocked the idiot on the back of the head, watching dispassionately as he fell to the floor, as well as the four others. He could feel it starting, adrenaline surging through his veins, the clarity he always felt at the start of a mission. It had been mild this morning, the thrill of entering Arkham in a disguise successfully. But now, he felt the full force of the rush and welcomed it.

And here’s my make it or break it moment. Did my pussy cat come through? The elevator doors opened, the faint sound of an alarm echoing from somewhere above. Jason’s eyes stung a little as he entered a room that had just been cleared of gas.

There’s my cat. Way to go, Tim.

Jason walked to the guard station and peeked in to see two men slumped over and unconscious. From the looks of it, they’d taken off their helmets and had been clawing at their eyes. Yeah, I’d have removed my helmet too if I wanted to rub more tear gas into my eyes. Dumbasses.

The coast was clear. Jason looked around and saw the weapons locker in the security room. Retinal and handprint scans were needed to get in and access the assault rifles kept on this floor.

Flipping up his visor and taking off his right glove, Jason approached the scanners and opened his eyes wide and held up his hand to the pad on the wall. A flash of light later and the locker slid open.

I think I love you, pussy cat. Or at least those amazing computer skills of yours.

Jason pulled out a rifle and grabbed a case of cartridges. He only needed one, but he had a feeling once he started, the Joker wouldn’t have a head anymore it would be so full of lead. 

And that’s fine with me.

He stalked out of the security booth, knowing time was of the essence, as Bridges would come running as soon as he heard the sirens go off. Not that Tim will let him get far, but still.

Turning a quick right, he followed a hallway around behind the booth and came up on a large metal door. Another set of scans and the door opened, revealing another hallway with another large metal door several yards down. There were three such doors in Jason’s way and each one opened and closed behind him, drawing him in further and closer to his goal.

Jason paused and took a deep breath before the final door. This is it. I’m here. Everything that I’ve done since I left the Pit has been for this moment.

Look what you made me become, you mother fucking piece of shit.

He approached the final set of scanners. The door opened.

And there was the Joker, laying on a thin metal cot bolted to the wall. All that stood between him and Jason was a wall of bulletproof plexiglass, several inches thick with small round air holes cut evenly to allow air to flow into the room.

Jason saw red, his entire world narrowing down to a single focal point. In the back of his mind, a small voice (sounding suspiciously like Tim) repeated Snap out of it. Don’t lose it now. Snap out of it. Don’t lose it now… 

He ignored it, focusing instead on the green haired man in front of him and the overwhelming hate he felt for this one person.

I should have been the last.

The Joker slowly rolled off the cot when he saw Jason enter the room and came to stand in front of the clear wall, a straightjacket hanging loosely on his tall, thin frame. “Well, well, well, what have we here? A visitor? Oh, I know! Some plucky lad or lass wants to try and psychoanalyze me again. You’d think they’d learn after the last time. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!”

The whole time Joker was speaking, Jason stared, feeling the phantom pain of a crowbar striking him again and again and again, along with the sensation of burning heat blistering his skin. He seethed with rage at this man for still being alive. The laugh broke him out of his red fog; letting him see the bigger picture clearly rather than through the tunnel vision his anger and rage drove him to. He blinked in surprise and shuddered slightly.

What the hell? Fuck, I don’t know how that happened, but thank god.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Joker, but it’s just me. You, me, and an AK-47. I’d like it a lot better if it were a crowbar, but I’m on a schedule here, so assault rifle it is,” Jason said in a cocky tone.

“This is even better than playing with the kiddies! I like crowbars, so much more fun than a baseball bat for snapping someone’s ribs.”

I know you do. You broke most of mine…

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. If I could have arranged for it, I’d have been glad to snap some of your ribs with one.” Now that’s therapy.

“Oh, that’s not very nice, no cake for you.” The Joker pouted. “But I see someone has finally gotten past the big bad Bat to make an attempt on lil’ ol’ me. About time, I’m going insane in here.” He grinned widely, tossing his head back and making a broad gesture with an arm as he let out another bonechilling laugh.

The Joker’s words struck Jason like a blow to his gut. Insane in here? Goddammit, he wants to die. He wants to escape the boredom and tedium of what his life has become. There’s no excitement, no one to play jokes on, no one to torture. This…this is his hell.

Shit. What do I do?

“Well? Are you going to get on with it? Here, I’ll stand right here, nice and close.” The Joker took the final step forward to place his body right up against the clear wall and raised his arms. “See, there’s even holes here for you to shoot through. You can’t miss!”

The analytical side of Jason’s brain kicked in all of a sudden, noticing the placement of Joker’s body against the air holes. Those are non-lethal areas. Yeah, it’ll hurt like a bitch getting shot there, but he’ll survive. And when he’s rushed off to surgery to be saved, he’ll make his move to escape. You sneaky shit. I am not going to let that happen.

“Nice try, Joker, but move a bit to the left. I need to hit that piehole you call a mouth.” Jason raised his rifle.

The Joker sneered at him, the jovial façade falling away, but he didn’t move, eyes intent on Jason, big and bloodshot. “A smart one, I see. Those are a rarity.”

You have no idea.

“It took a lot of planning to get here. Now move.”

“Nope!” If anything, the Joker hugged the wall even more as he cackled wildly.

And Jason suddenly saw his shot. It wasn’t what he originally wanted, but it would hurt. And when the Joker fell, he’d have an open shot for his head. Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m running out of time.

“Fine. Any last words?” He raised the assault rifle and took aim.

“Just a question. Who are you? Or who hired you? I’d like to know who’s putting me out of my misery. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” His voice reminded Jason of roller coaster for some reason. High in some places and dangerously low in others.

Why not? Let’s piss him off.

Jason put on his biggest shit-eating grin, the one that use to make Babs want to smack him each and every time she saw it, Bruce shake his head in exhaustion, and his pussy cat know they were getting into something they were definitely going to get in trouble for if they were caught. “Me? I’m the Red Hood. And I have just one more thing to say to you before I pull this trigger.”

“You’re the Red Hood!” The Joker screeched loudly and jumped away from the wall, waving his arms wildly at Jason. “That’s my name, you motorcycle freak! I made that name what it is. How dare you tarnish what’s mine!”

And there’s the shot I really wanted. Jason smirked. “I make the hood look good. Now, shut up and die.” He pulled the trigger.

Once. Twice. A pause. Three. Four.

Mouth, nose, and eyes all became bloody holes going through the Joker’s head.

The Joker fell to the ground in a boneless heap, brain matter scattered across the walls and floor, blood splatter everywhere and seeping across the sterile white floors of the cell from the wounds as his heart tried in vain to pump one…last…time.

Jason waited, not blinking, staring at the body lying on the floor in front of him. The room had built in bioscanners to take constant readings of the piece of garbage laying in front of him. Just give the signal, pussy cat and I’m gone.

The lights flickered off and on once. Then twice.

Jason sighed, a deep breath escaping him that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He sucked in another breath of air and let it out slowly. A huge weight lifted from his shoulders.

The Joker was dead.

He’s dead. The Joker is dead. I did it. Fuck you Bruce for making me have to do it in the first place.

As he turned away, Jason took one last look over his shoulder and smirked. “Tweet, tweet, motherfucker.”

*****

Wow. Oh my god, wow.

Tim heard and watched everything. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone killed in front of him, but it was the first time he’d been so emotionally involved with someone who was doing the killing.

As Joker fell to the ground, Tim started taking readings from the scanners in his cell. He waited as the respirations went to zero, the heart beat to a standstill. But what interested him the most were the brainwaves on the monitor. The Joker had a microchip embedded in his skull sending constant feedback to the security system.

Even if Joker did escape, he wouldn’t get far. It also functioned as a tracking device.

I have a feeling that if I were to ever get my hands on it, there’d be a bat symbol on it somewhere. Good lord, Batman. You sure went all out this time, didn’t you? I wonder if Joker even knew it was there?

The brainwaves flat-lined.

Tim flickered the lights on and off twice, leaning back in his chair as he did so, feeling exhausted, and laughing at Jason’s parting shot.

I can’t imagine what Jason feels right now. He did it. He fucking did it.

Tim wished he could say their exit strategy was clean, but the unexpected shootings at the wharf coupled with the alarm malfunction on Levels 1-3 and the gas system going off on Level 4 put everyone into a frenzy.

Jason handled it well, putting the rifle away like they’d planned, and dragging everyone from the elevator on Level 4, laying them all out like they’d been moving from one elevator to the next before the gas system went off and knocked them all out, himself included. It was convincing, especially when Bridges and the guards from Level 5 came roaring up after Jason gave the signal that he was ready.

Despite the guards and inmates lying on the floor, the first thing Bridges did was run to the guard station to check on the three prisoners being held on this level. Tim made sure the head of security saw what he wanted to see, all three safe and sound behind their locked doors. It could not be said the man didn’t take his job seriously.

It wouldn’t be until later, much later, that the truth would come out.

The footage of Jason taking out the guards in the elevator, as well as everything from Level 4 starting just before Tim released the gas was wiped completely. Oracle had given Tim full control of the Arkham system, which let him also control what feeds were sent to the Batcave and her own systems.

“I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to hear it. All I need to know is that he’s gone. I don’t need a recording of it for posterity and neither does Batman if he knows what’s good for him.”

As for the Joker himself, Tim knew from past recordings that he often slept his days away, spending most his time up and pacing at night. Recordings of the Joker sleeping would replace his being killed. Images of empty hallways replaced Jason’s trip to the Joker’s cell and back.

All in all, a very seamless job if I do say so myself. Though I really could have done without watching Jason blow the Joker’s brains out. There’s a sight I’ll never forget.

Along with the look of utter relief on Jason’s face.

The alarm malfunction caused Arkham to go into a full security lockdown while Bridges and his crew combed each level of the facility, floor by floor, checking for anything out of the ordinary. During all this, Jason and the other guards were examined in Arkham’s onsite medical facility, each one being sent home due to the knockout gas exposure after the lockdown was lifted. Additionally, all non-essential personnel were being told to leave as well. That included a new nurse by the name of Caroline Hill.

Tim took a cloth and started wiping down any surface he may have touched in the small room. He wasn’t worried about hair samples as he was wearing a wig, his own hair carefully tucked away under a cap. The water bottle he’d been drinking from would be disposed in the regular trash on his way to Caroline’s soon to be abandoned apartment.

He ran a critical eye over everything, trying to think of anything he may have missed. Oracle had said she’d take care of scrubbing the footage from this room after he left. He believed her, but it was still a risk, not being able to do it himself.

A test of trust then.

Before leaving the room, he engaged the hallway cameras outside the storeroom door. There weren’t many people around, but he still needed to be cautious. Jason may have the easy out, but it was just as important that he leave without undue scrutiny as well.

He waited and watched, finally catching a chance after about five agonizing minutes. About time, I’ve got a midterm in an hour and a half!

Caroline exited the hall closet and walked calmly past the nurse’s locker room, looking for all the world like she belonged there. The guard at the door was the same one from this morning.

“I hope this didn’t scare you off! It’s the first time something like this has happened since the new system went online.”

She shook her head. “No, but it was scary when all the doors and windows started locking on their own! One of the guards said it was some kind of computer malfunction, but still!”

“We’ll get it figured out.” The guard patted Caroline on the shoulder. “You just get on home and enjoy the afternoon off.”

“I will, thanks! See you tomorrow,” she replied with a bright smile.

Like bloody hell I’m going anywhere near this place ever again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 – (Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning)

Dick knocked on the door to Barbara’s apartment just after 11am. He had a key, but he liked to give her fair warning when he came over unannounced. They were in an on-again phase in their relationship and he'd like to keep it that way.

He waited, knowing it sometimes took her awhile to get to the door, especially if she was up in her computer room. But if she was, then he should have gotten a text by now telling him to come in. She must be really involved with something. Kind of early for night-work…Wonder if it’s for the conference this week?

Dick knocked again and the door opened almost immediately.

Barbara looked at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I told you I was busy this morning.”

The first Robin grinned ruefully and rubbed a hand against the back of his head. “I know and I’m sorry, but I had a huge breakthrough in our case and I wanted to talk to you about it before I took it to Bruce.”

Her bright blue eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Okay.” She wheeled herself out of the doorway, giving him space to enter. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Barbara asked as she went to the kitchen. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“That’s fine, thanks.” Dick followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him as he watched her. Please don’t be mad at me for what I’m about to ask.

She wheeled herself over to the table and handed Dick a cup from the tray in her lap. “Living room,” was all she said as she went back out to the larger room.

She knows. She has to.

Maneuvering herself onto the sofa, Barbara set her coffee mug on a coaster on the stylish side table to her left. Dick took off his shoes and folded himself onto the other end of the sofa, taking a sip from his coffee before setting it down on the matching side table behind him. Barbara quirked a brow, but didn’t say anything, waiting him out.

She knows me too well, dang it.

He took a deep breath and dived right in. “So I think I figured out who Stray is a little bit ago.”

“Oh?” Barbara asked in a noncommittal tone.

“And I know you know who he is too, Babs. Stephanie said as much the other night, but I didn’t say anything to Bruce because… well, he’s Bruce and we both know what he’d do if he thought for a second someone figured out his identity because of one of us.”

Doom and gloom and disappointed sighs. The cold shoulder. Just like high school all over again, but with bats!

“Dick, we can go in circles all day long, but until you give me a name, I’m not going to confirm or deny anything.” Barbara shook her head at him gently, her bright red hair up in a messy bun she usually only wore when working.

“I know. I’m just working my way up to it, because when it hit me, I was really surprised to see the rather extensive file Bruce already has on the guy.”

The former Batgirl didn’t say anything and just sat there, waiting Dick out. This woman really does have the patience of a saint, what with all the crap she has to deal with from all of us.

“So…the name Timothy Drake mean anything to you?”

Barbara grinned and nodded. “There, was that really that hard to spit out?”

“Yes! Now tell me everything!” 

Dick shifted on the sofa until his head was lying in Barbara’s lap, doing a full one eighty in nothing flat. Barbara started running her fingers through his hair as she laughed softly. Best feeling in the world.

“Tim is a pretty amazing young man. I’ve worked with him here and there for the last several years. He’s the one who passes on those tips I give you guys about up and comers to keep an eye on. I know Bruce likes to think he’s got the best understanding of Gotham and how she works, but Tim could show him up in a heartbeat. The information he has access to, the sheer amount of knowledge he has on the Gotham underworld is just incredible.”

Dick opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them as he lay there. “You sound impressed and I know very well how hard that is to do.” I’ve been trying almost all my life.

“I am. While I could never get Catwoman to work with my Birds, Stray does on occasion. He never likes to travel far from Gotham though, so it’s rare I find a case close by that Batman isn’t already involved in that I would need his assistance with.”

“Bet he’s great for B&E.”

“Second only to Catwoman, but even that’s getting better each time I see him.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s impressive. I thought he was more like Penguin, just thinner and less interested in profit.” He went from a thief to a power broker. No wonder he called me out on underestimating him.

“I will so be telling him you said that,” Barbara said with a smirk.

“He knows our identities. All of ours. And you’re okay with that?” Dick tilted his head back to angle a questioning look in Barbara’s direction. It sounds like you’ve known for a while.

She nodded firmly. “Tim’s known for a very long time.” Shifting slightly to reach for her coffee, the master hacker continued. “Dick, you have to understand he figured out your identity and Bruce’s because he was a fan of Batman and Robin, as well as Dick Grayson. He believes in the work we do to protect Gotham and he contributes in his own way. He’s never once worked at odds with us before.”

Until now. Just what exactly are Jason and Tim up to?

“Do you have any idea what he and Red Hood are up to?” Dick watched Barbara closely.

“No,” she replied, running a hand through his hair again and shaking her head slightly. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, but the only thing I can come up with is something to do with the power vacuum that Black Mask’s death caused. Finding things out is Stray’s specialty, so I’m guessing it has something to do with the fallout and how the different gangs are going to start acting here soon.”

Not even a twitch. If Babs does know, then she just lied to me and I can’t even tell. If she’s telling the truth, then I’m an ass for not believing her. Where did I learn paranoia from again? Oh yeah…

Dick nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I came over here believing you trust him and wanting to trust him based on that. You haven’t given me any reason not to change my mind.”

Oh crap, I just remembered…Does Babs know Jason’s Red Hood? “Um, I just realized something else really important…you were listening on the comms the other night, right? When we confronted Stray and Hood?”

Barbara chuckled, a smirk appearing on her face. “Are you asking if I’ve made the connection between Red Hood and Jason? Yes, yes I have. I’ve also talked to Stray about it too.”

“And you didn’t call me why?” Dick exclaimed, sitting up right in surprise and almost knocking Barbara’s coffee from her hands.

She set it down on the table while smacking Dick lightly a top his head. “You didn’t call me either when you dug up Jason’s coffin yesterday. I heard about that from Alfred,” she said accusingly.

I deserved that.

“Sorry, just…so much going on all at once. It’s not everyday you find out your little brother may be still alive.” A shamefaced look crossed his face. “So…what did Tim say?”

“According to him, it is Jason. That was the only thing he confirmed for me. As a reward, I ripped him a new one for keeping a secret like this from me.”

Jason! Oh my god, it’s really you. What happened to you, Little Wing?

Dick wanted to laugh at the fierce look on Barbara’s face and cry about Jason being the Red Hood. He settled for a mash up of the two, a gasping sob and laugh. “Babs, you’re amazing. Only you would tear apart a source like Tim for telling you something we all really want to know. Did he say when he figured it out? Or anything about what happened to him?”

Nodding, Barbara continued. “He did. Said he figured it out the day after he ran into Stephanie. Not a lot of details about the how Jason’s back, but he did warn me that he’s not the same little devil bird we used to know. That he’s been through some very severe trauma and needs help.”

“We talking therapy kind of help? Because the only people I can think of who’d be even remotely qualified to help would be Diana or J’onn.”

Barbara nodded again. “Not sure how Tim would feel about having two Justice League members on his doorstep, but he’s expressed an interest in helping Jason himself. I sent him some information to get him started. I would not be surprised if we see a second bachelor’s degree from him at some point in the future.”

If anyone knows more about dealing with post-traumatic stress, it’s Babs. She’s so much more emotionally balanced than any of us. God, Jason. What happened and where have you been the last ten years? What are you up to?

As Dick pondered Jason’s plans, Barbara grinned brightly, her blue eyes lighting up. “So how do we tell Bruce that the boy he wanted to take in and make his ward is really Stray, the cat claw in his side for the last decade?”

Laughing, Dick sat up smoothly and shifted so that he could wrap the love of his life in a big hug. I’ll worry about Jason’s plans later. “I don’t know, but can you imagine the look on Damian’s face when he learns Stray was almost his brother? He’s going to freak out!”

Barbara laughed as she pulled out of Dick’s embrace, looking at him directly. “I can’t imagine it’ll be any different from the look on your face when I tell you that Tim and Jason are sleeping together.”

“What!?” Dick fell off the sofa in shock.

*****

Jason paced back and forth in the living room of Tim’s apartment. He’d long since shed all remnants of his disguise, though he was having some trouble getting the dye out of his hair, even after washing it three times. It looked more like a shock of gray than white.

We did it. We fucking did it. Oh my god, it’s finally over.

Earlier in the afternoon, he’d let himself have a breakdown in his apartment. It felt so damn good to let it all out. He’s gone… It was therapeutic, or so said the yogis at the temple in India where he’d learned to control his anger.

“In order to gain control of yourself, you first learn to let go.” Easier said than done.

I can finally move forward with my life. It’s just, what do I want to do with it now? I’ve been focused on one goal for so long, I never let myself think of what would happen next.

The thought had been plaguing Jason all afternoon. After getting cleaned up, he went to the store to purchase ingredients for dinner, as well as a few extra things in case the night went as he hoped it would.

As in I hope to have Tim’s legs wrapped around my waist when I pin him against the wall and finally fuck that amazing ass of his.

Letting himself into the apartment with the key and code Tim gave him, Jason put everything away and tried relaxing on the sofa. Only to find himself up and pacing within a matter of minutes.

I’m nervous. I can’t fucking believe it. I’m more nervous about finally having sex with Tim than I was about breaking into goddamned Arkham Asylum and killing the Joker. At least we had a plan there. A good one. All I have here is a cat’s promise.

Damn, but it’s a good promise. He flashed back to the kiss Tim gave him at Lopez’s apartment late last night. It had been the best kiss of his life. Both of them.

So why the hell am I so nervous? I know he made it out of Arkham alright, he texted me earlier before he went into his test. Told me to come here rather than his brownstone.

Jason paced, running a hand absently through his hair as his brows furrowed in frustration, his dark blue eyes snapping. He finally stopped, throwing himself onto the sofa and groaning into a cushion.

It’s the uncertainty. It has to be. I’ve been so focused and certain about my path for so long. Now that it’s ended, I’m at a crossroads I never thought I’d ever see. What’s to my left? My right? Straight ahead? Fuck, the only thing I am certain about is that I’m not going BACK.

I guess it boils down to whether Tim wants to be with me as I figure out what I want to do. He’s so certain of himself, so confident. It’s not just the façade he wears as Stray, it’s all him. Nerdy brainiac with every game system known to man on one hand and confident cat who can take on Gotham on the other. It’s an attractive package and for some damned reason only he knows, he wants me.

Me. The warning lesson to all the Robins who’ve come after me. The Robin who died.

He rolled over, staring blankly at the ceiling for awhile. Eventually, he glanced over at the digital clock on the shelves Tim stored all his game systems on. He got up and walked into the kitchen.

If I’m fucking starving, I can only imagine how he’s feeling.

Cooking helped calm Jason down, giving him something else to focus on. Earlier, he’d decided carbs and protein to be the way to go, so he cooked up some chicken and made a simple capone sauce with some diced bell peppers for color.

Sauce complete, Jason reached under the counter for the big pot he’d spotted the other day to cook his noodles in. He heard the front door open and close, the lock clicking into place. Standing up, he turned to see Tim staring at him with those bright blue eyes of his, piercings up and down his ears and hair so disheveled looking it looked like he’d fought a windstorm on his way across town.

He looks perfect.

Not breaking eye contact, Tim took his jacket off and dropped his messenger bag to the floor with a thunk. He stood there a moment in his nerdy t-shirt with some robot on it and ripped jeans before smiling a smile that had Jason going weak in the knees.

Christ, so that’s what that smile looks like when he’s not dressed as Stray. His eyes…

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Tim was suddenly right there, holding up a finger against Jason’s mouth.

“I want to go first,” he said, rubbing his finger softly against Jason’s lips. “While you have had all afternoon to get things out of your system, I had to sit through the world’s most boring exam, an exam I barely studied for. All I could think about was what was waiting for me when I got home.”

Jason smirked, opening his mouth slightly to suck at Tim’s finger, enjoying the flush of color appearing on Tim’s cheeks. If this is how you want to play it, pussy cat, fine by me.

“And here I find that reality is even better than I imagined.” Tim withdrew his finger and reached up to draw Jason down into a kiss.

Agreed. Reality is pretty fucking awesome right now. Jason let himself go, all the tension, confusion, and uncertainty disappearing as he focused solely on Tim, lips firmly brushing against his as he placed a large hand on Tim’s cheek, cradling his head in his palm, feeling the brush of his different piercings with a finger that trailed up along his ear and into his hair. His other hand held Tim at the hip.

Tim wrapped an arm around Jason’s waist, pulling him flush against him and wrapping the other up in Jason’s hair, tugging on it slightly. Jason let out a soft moan, opening up for Tim who took immediate advantage to start teasing him with his tongue.

Jason let himself just feel Tim. They weren’t rushed, they were simply holding on and expressing themselves in a way they were finally able to. No more taunting, no more promises of things to come.

We’re here. The future is now.

Tim pulled back slightly from Jason, breaking the kiss, but not the hold they had on each other. Jason found he’d moved his hand up into Tim’s crazy hair. The shorter man smiled. “I’m starving, but there’s one thing I want to do first.”

Jason returned it with a lazy smile of his own. “And what’s that?”

Tim’s smile morphed into a seductive smirk. “I want to blow you. Right here. Right now. So if something on the stove is going to burn, you have five seconds to move it.”

Fuck! Yes, Christ Jesus, please!

Jason scrambled for the stove, turning off the heat and moving his sauce to a backburner that had never been turned on. He finished just in time for Tim to draw him away from the stove and shove him against the opposite counter.

That seductive smirk was still dancing across Tim’s lips as he gracefully fell to his knees and unbuttoned Jason’s jeans.

*****

Later that night, much later, Tim quietly rolled out of bed, snagging his boxers from where they’d been discard on the floor. He looked at Jason, facing away from Tim and laying on his side, clutching one of the pillows tightly. In the faint light, he could see the broad expanse of Jason’s back all the way down to where the sheet just brushed at his ass.

Tim smirked. What an ass. I know he has a fetish about mine, but his is seriously second only to Nightwing’s. The memory of sliding in and out of Jason, slowly teasing him as the larger man lay sprawled beneath him before slamming into him so hard he saw stars crossed Tim’s mind. And his mouth…dear god, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life as I did with his mouth wrapped around me. He wasn’t joking about having a talented tongue.

Slipping on his boxers, Tim then carefully tugged the sheet all the way up to cover Jason. He stepped out into the living room and picked up his messenger bag to remove his tablet and charger. He plugged it into the surge protector by his armchair and curled into it, dragging down an afghan draped over the back of it to wrap around himself. He’d gotten it from Holly when she’d been going through a knitting phase.

He pulled up the local news first and smiled at the headline.

JOKER FOUND DEAD IN ARKHAM

It’s not like this kind of news could be kept quiet for long.

Tim flipped through the different headlines, seeing variations of the same story. The GCPD officially had no comment on Joker’s death, stating only that the investigation was ongoing and that a review of Arkham’s security protocols and tapes were being reviewed.

In the meantime, impromptu parties had broken out in various parts of the city, with people celebrating the death of the Clown Prince of Crime. Tim frowned at that. Death isn’t something that should be celebrated like this. What we did today was wrong in so many ways. I know that and I know Jason knows that. But at the same time, I helped right a grave injustice today. And I can’t feel sorry about that.

Closing his Web browser, Tim pulled up his email.

And immediately paled when he read the encrypted message Barbara sent him several hours ago.

Tim-

Dick figured out your identity earlier today just before you and Jason finished working. He’s agreed to not say anything to Bruce yet, saying he trusts my judgment in this matter, especially considering you’ve known who he is for so long. All appearances to the contrary, Dick is excellent at keeping secrets, especially so when he’s pulling one over on Bruce. He hasn’t figured out the endgame yet. I thought I rather successfully distracted him this morning from the topic.

Joker was found dead around 3pm. I haven’t heard from Dick or any of the others about it aside from receiving a request to go through Arkham’s systems with a fine-toothed comb to find out what happened.

Bruce will have undoubtedly learned about this as well and will soon be back in the US to lead the investigation.

I doubt I will have any breathing room for the next couple days, so as much as I want to see Jason, I am going to have to wait to have you both over. If you don’t hear from me before the conference on Thursday, I’ll see you both then. We still have business to discuss. Bring a camera.

-Babs

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting Dickiebird to figure out your identity. That’s a shocker.”

Tim practically jumped out of his chair in surprise. “Dammit, Jason! Make some noise or something!” he shouted at the taller man who was leaning over the back of the chair and reading over Tim’s shoulder.

Should put a bell on him.

“Sorry, pussy cat,” Jason said, not really sounding sorry at all, which just made Tim glare harder.

“Didn’t we have a similar discussion a couple days ago?”

“Yup. And it ended with us being interrupted by your kitty mama. Should we try a second time?” Jason asked brightly.

“As much as I could use the distraction, I’m a little busy freaking out over the fact that Dick Grayson now knows I’m Stray.”

“Stop right there. Big deal. He knows you’re Stray, you know he’s Nightwing. If he ever tried to haul you in for anything, you could hand him his ass on a silver platter to be locked up with you.” Jason folded his arms across the plush back of Tim’s chair and looked down at him. “Not to mention if he so much as tried, I’ll have him hogtied and dropped in the river in no time flat.”

Tim laughed at the image of Red Hood dropping Nightwing off the Kane Bridge. “Thanks, but you and I both know he’ll have managed to mostly untie himself before he even hits the water.”

“True enough, but it’s the thought that counts, right? If anything, it’ll teach him to think twice before messing with you.” He smirked.

“We’ll save it for Plan B then.”

Nightwing knows who I am. Oh my god, DICK GRAYSON knows who I am. Tim’s inner fanboy squealed in delight at the thought that he’d soon get a chance to really sit and talk with his childhood hero. The one who started it all.

That leaves the rest of the Bats. Stephanie, Bruce, Damian…I guess Pennyworth counts as a Bat too, especially the way Jason talks about him. I know I’m okay with them knowing the real me now, but it’s still a rush thinking I’ll be able to work with them openly in the future. All because of Jason…He thinks I’ve changed his life for the better, but he’s changed mine just as much. Will he want to work with me? Will he want to stay with me?

I want him to stay. Not just for how much more Stray can do with Red Hood at his side, but I want HIM to stay with ME. It’s been just me for so long, I don’t want to be alone anymore.

Tim frowned as a new thought occurred to him. “What do you want to do?” he asked quietly, looking up at Jason with a thoughtful expression.

“About Dickiebird? Not a whole lot we can do there. Babs’ll keep a leash on him.”

“I meant about…this. Us.” He waved a hand up at Jason, who caught and held it, weaving his fingers between Tim’s. His hand is so warm. If he stays, I wonder if I can use him as a space-heater this winter?

Jason looked solemn as he replied. “I had a lot of time to think this afternoon. I have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life now that Joker’s dead. The only thing I do know is that I want you and I want you in my life, wherever it takes me.” Jason squeezed Tim’s fingers lightly.

You’re never getting rid of me.

Tim squeezed back. “I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together,” Jason echoed as he leaned over to capture Tim’s lips in a warm kiss.

*****

Batman stood in front of the cell that used to house the Joker. His body was long gone, but the pool of blood and brain matter was still there. The medical examiner had used a bright tape to outline where the body had lain, chalk being impossible to view against the white floor.

Next to him, Jim Gordon stood looking into the cell silently as well. The scent of tobacco wafted off him and his camel-colored trench coat. There was a strict no smoking policy in Arkham, even for the police commissioner, so Batman knew he’d have to have finished a pipe recently before joining him for the scent to be this strong.

“Hard to believe he’s gone,” Jim commented quietly.

Batman didn’t say anything, but gave a stiff nod. The Joker has been a dagger in our sides for almost two decades. He’s taken away so much from us. Sarah, Jason…We almost lost Barbara. And that’s just the two of us. He’s been the source of pain and suffering for thousands of people.

He felt oddly bereft. A part of Batman’s identity was now missing, the only remaining pieces scattered on the floor in front of him. After a quick autopsy being done at Arkham by Gotham’s head medical examiner, the Joker was scheduled for cremation in a few hours.

Nightwing may joke about Batman’s lack of emotional intelligence, but even he knew what he was feeling about Joker’s death was wrong. He’s dead. This is just another case.

“What happened? I heard about the alarm malfunction earlier this morning, but you said the body wasn’t discovered until a few hours ago?”

I should have been here. I could have done something as soon as the system started having issues. Where was Barbara? She watches this place as much as I do.

“That’s right. There was a widespread glitch of some kind in the security system that caused every alarm on sublevels 1-3 to go off and the gas system here on 4 to go off as well. There was a prisoner transport from Blackgate this morning too; they were all passing through Level 4 as the gas went off. When security found them, five guards and five new inmates were all passed out. Nothing happened on levels 5 and 6.”

“And everyone was accounted and vouched for?”

“Right. The head of security was down at the wharf. Apparently Blackgate had a leak and someone tried to break in this morning too. Had two Blackgate guards covering him too. There was a bit of a shootout with the three perps on the losing side of things. Bridges stayed there to settle things and sent his other three guards up ahead with the actual inmates.”

“He was supposed to have stayed with them the entire time. Protocol indicates the head of security to be present for each and every prisoner transfer,” Batman growled.

“Yep. And he knows he’s in trouble for it too. But when the alarms started going off, he ran inside and did his job. He’s the one who found everyone gassed here on 4.” Jim’s hand twitched, an abortive reach into his coat pocket for his pipe.

“And what does the security footage show?”

“Patches. All the cameras on Levels 1-4 have missing seconds, even whole minutes. Elevators too. It was first thought to be part of the system issues, but then Joker was found dead just after 3pm. Apparently, there was a very good recording of Joker sleeping the day away like he normally does playing in the system. It finally ended and the feed went live again.”

“I’ll take a look at the footage myself to see what I can find.”

“Thought you might. I’m convinced now that the glitches weren’t glitches after all. Whoever did this had someone covering their tracks as they made their way downstairs. I can’t see one person doing this alone, so there must have been someone else with them.” As the commissioner of the GCPD, Jim didn’t see much fieldwork these days, but his instincts were still as sharp as ever. Batman learned very quickly in his early days to trust those instincts while his still developed.

“Arkham is supposed to be a closed network and a cellular dead zone. Whoever did this had to be onsite in order to pull it off.”

Jim nodded in agreement. “We’re going through visitor and personnel logs right now.”

From behind the two men, a voice interrupted. “Hey Commish, Bats, I got something here I think you two are gonna want to hear.” Detective Harvey Bullock stepped through the open security door, as unkempt as ever in his rumpled shirt and tie. His own camel trench coat strained at the seams against his girth.

All appearances to the contrary, he’s still the best detective in the MCU.

Jim turned, but Batman continued studying the Joker’s cell. “What is it?” the older man asked.

Bullock ran a hand through his greasy hair. The man always looked in need of a shower and a shave. “We got an interesting story coming down from upstairs. One of the Arkham security guards just arrived. Says he slept the day away and just woke up, feeling like death warmed over. Saw the news when he turned on the TV and rushed here.”

“Is there a point to this?” Batman asked.

“Yeah Bats, there is. According to Arkham’s records, this man was here today. He was one of the guards gassed on Level 4, part of the security detail for the inmate transfer.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed in confusion, picking up on what Bullock was implying. “If he’d been asleep all day, then how could he have been here?”

They didn’t come from the top down. They came from the bottom up.

Batman turned to face Bullock. “Get him down here. Now.”

*****

A couple hours later, Bruce sat in his chair in front of the main monitor in the Batcave. On the screen was an image of the Joker, laying in a pool of congealed blood. Most of the back of his head had been blown clean away.

Initial reports indicated there were four bullet wounds, all from a high powered rifle. One through each of his eyes, another through his nose, and the last in his mouth.

It took a very good marksman to group shots like that on a person, especially as they were falling to the ground when the first shot undoubtedly killed him instantly.

Someone impersonated Jaime Lopez from the start of his shift all the way through the inmate transfer while another unknown person started causing problems on the upper levels to cover what was going on down below. This person had to be onsite somewhere and hooked into Arkham’s network. But how? And who? Whoever this person is, they’re very good. VERY good. I can’t find a trace of the missing footage on Joker’s level anywhere.

Lopez is also on a couple hours worth of recordings before the transport reached level 4. Jim and I showed the footage to Bridges. The man said he never had a clue it was someone else. I’ll need to go over those recordings closely, see if I can spot anything that gives a clue to the real perp.

Alfred came up behind Bruce to set a tray with coffee and a sandwich on the narrow counter in front of the keyboard. “To be perfectly frank, Master Bruce, I say good riddance. That monster masquerading as a man has caused you and this family nothing but pain and suffering. Don’t let his death continue the trend.”

“I know, Alfred. It’s just…I need to know who did this. If nothing else, it’ll help improve the security system at Arkham. Someone managed to impersonate an Arkham security guard for almost five hours. A well known and well liked guard at that. Something like that can’t be done on the fly. This was well planned and well executed.” Bruce reached for the coffee, taking a sip of the hot and bitter brew.

“At least two persons if I recall your conversation with Commissioner Gordon correctly. An unknown hacker was it?”

“Yes. This was a professional job. Whoever did this, they were no amateurs…to a point.”

“Oh?” inquired Alfred, hands folded behind his back as he looked at the man he served so faithfully for decades.

“The gunshot wounds. Joker was dead with the first shot. The other three were done to prove a point. Especially his mouth.”

“Symbolic, I suppose. Shooting out the mouth of one whose very voice could cause people to flee in fear.”

Bruce nodded. “Those extra shots were personal.”

“It is not difficult to believe that, Master Bruce. The Joker has had such a negative impact on people all over the world. I’m sure it was not difficult to find someone with a personal connection who would want to pull the trigger.”

Bruce stilled, holding his coffee mug just under his lips from the sip he’d been about to take. A personal connection…Jason. The Joker killed him. Talia said he came out of the Pit full of rage and that it got even worse when he was told the Joker was still alive. Of all the people who would want Joker dead, he has the skills to do it. But he was never that good with computers and security systems, even though he learned them as Robin. Did Stray find him someone who was? I had Selina test the new Arkham system and even she couldn’t get very far. There is no one better at breaking and entering than her.

“Master Bruce?”

“I just thought of Jason. He is the Red Hood.” Behind him, Alfred gasped. “It was quite the story I got from Talia earlier today. I can’t think of anyone with more motivation to kill the Joker than him. But he doesn’t have the needed skills to pull off something like this. Yes, he’s a master marksman now, but this level of planning was never his strong suit and Red Hood’s proven himself to be quite volatile.”

“Master Bruce…,” the pain in Alfred’s voice caused the younger man to turn and look at the old butler. Alfred’s head hung low, arms hanging limply at his side. Oh no. I should have told him sooner.

Bruce stood up, setting his coffee mug down as he did. He was horrible at physical affection, but he’d spent enough time around Dick to know what to do here. He put an arm across Alfred’s shoulders and gave him an awkward hug.

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I was so focused on Arkham and the Joker…”

“And now he’s dead, Master Bruce.” Alfred raised his head, eyes glassy with tears that remained unshed. “You can turn that focus elsewhere. On your family. Bring Jason home where he belongs.”

“I will. But first, I need to find who…”

“Bruce.” It was rare for Alfred to only use his first name. Whenever he did, whatever he said next would be something of utmost importance that Bruce had better pay attention to. “You need to do nothing. Let it go, at least for now. Jason is your priority. Your son is alive and in pain. For once in your life, focus on the living, not the dead.”

The living…A family I love but ignore most of the time. Who love me despite it all. Two sons…no, THREE sons, and two daughters. Babs may as well be my third. My parents would have loved them all…But would I even have these kids if they were alive?

Bruce looked up at the monitor, staring at the ruined face of his nemesis. Two red holes were all that remained of the man’s eyes, his nose in ruins. It was hard to see from this angle, but Joker’s mouth was a gaping chasm. The blood-chilling laugh that haunted his dreams would never be heard again.

Focus on the living… My son is alive. The Joker is dead. My son… He nodded and reached over to tap a few buttons. A new image came up. One of a young black-haired boy dressed as Robin in his bright yellow cape, red tunic, and those ridiculous green shorts and shoes, posing before the Batmobile on his first night of patrol with his mentor.

“This is the best day of my life,” echoed in Bruce’s ears.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 – (Thursday late morning)

“Come on, we’re going to be late!”

“You’re the one who took so long with his exams, don’t blame me.”

“Oh, so you’re not the one who’s spent the last 15 minutes fiddling with his hair even though it's about to get all matted by a helmet? I think I may need to be jealous after all.”

Jason grabbed Tim in a headlock as he dragged him out of the brownstone. “Nothin’ to be jealous about, pussy cat. Now get on the damn bike and shut up.”

He settled himself on the seat, feeling Tim slide on behind him and reach around to hold tight around his torso. “No funny business, you hear?” he said as he handed Tim a helmet.

“You’re no fun,” Tim pouted as he put it on. “I believe I was promised a ride on a motorcycle.”

“What do you think this is?” Jason retorted as he put his own black helmet on.

“Not quite the ride I was thinking of.”

“Later, pussy cat. Hold on.” With that, Jason popped the clutch and opened the throttle. They sped off down the street, heading south towards Old Gotham.

It was the day of the conference and Jason was nervous as hell. I can’t believe I’m going to see Babs today. Christ, if someone told me a week ago I’d be going to a tech conference at Wayne fucking Enterprises to see Babs with Tim, I’d have clocked them one.

Weaving in and out of traffic, Jason tried to focus on the road but it was hard with Tim so close behind him, though he was behaving himself and keeping his hands where he was suppose to. These last few days have been amazing. And not because of the sex, though that’s been awesome too, but just being with Tim…

When they weren’t fooling around, Jason and Tim spent their time being themselves. Jason quickly learned Tim was a huge nerd who would wax poetic on Star Trek one moment, then totally spaz out when Jason admitted he hadn’t even heard there was a reboot of the movie series, let alone the new Star Wars. That prompted a movie marathon that lasted hours.

Tim would go to class and Jason would go out and buy groceries and cook. Neither went out as Stray or Red Hood, though Stray did do some work via his vast intelligence network. It was incredible to see him at work. Jason was convinced he really did know almost everything going on in this town. Tim also kept an eye on the Batcomputer as well, following along with the nightly mission reports about the repeated failures to find any sign of Red Hood or Stray. According to her report, Batgirl even went to talk to Selina, but received an enigmatic smile for her efforts and was informed that asking her was cheating.

Jason asked Tim to keep a close eye on the Joker investigation too. On the surface, the GCPD was plodding along diligently with it, but Batman had hardly done a thing. Instead, his focus was on finding Red Hood. The man’s notes were fascinating, especially the version of the story he heard from Talia.

That bitch really played him like a fiddle, but it’s totally working in our favor. He thinks I’m a raving madman who needs to be brought home and kept on a leash. That I’m reactionary and not capable of the level of forethought and planning to execute something like Joker’s murder. You’ve underestimated both of us. And because of that, you’re never going to figure it out.

In a weird way, I almost want you to so that I can rub your face in it. To say, “Fuck you, Bruce. Look what we did, right under your goddamned nose.” No wonder this town is full of criminal loonies, no one knows how to keep their fucking mouths shut or they have to sign their crime with some schtick to get the attention of the Bat.

At least if I feel the urge to talk about it, I can talk to Tim. Or Babs. Maybe.

And so went Tuesday and Wednesday and now here they were on their way to WE. Fuck me, what the hell am I doing?

They’d talked about this moment a lot, knowing it would be a good step in the direction Jason needed to take in order to better heal from his experiences. And I agree 100% that seeing Babs will help. She was broken almost as badly as I was. Here I am, alive and walking, while she’s still stuck in that damn chair. But she’s overcome so much and has done such incredible things…

Jason purposefully drove past the tower, knowing parking was going to be a bitch anywhere close to it. Not to mention all the cameras. You watching today, Bruce? The thought made him shudder, prompting Tim to tighten his arms around Jason reassuringly. It’s like he could read his mind sometimes.

Going down a block, Jason pulled into a parking garage and drove up to the level just below the roof. He parked the bike and looked blankly out across the open expanse in front of him. Behind him, Tim let go and removed his helmet.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Jason took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He took off his helmet and did it again. Tim leaned into him, a solid and warm presence against his back. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tim chuckled and brushed his lips against the back of Jason’s neck. “I’m here. Whatever else happens today, I’m here.”

“Thanks, pussy cat.”

I’m not alone. Not anymore.

***** 

Tim and Jason sat in the back of the large conference room, applauding politely as Barbara finished her speech. She’s a great public speaker. Must come from bossing around the world’s greatest superheroes on a nightly basis.

Leaning back in his chair, Tim kept a close eye on Jason. The larger man had been nervous all morning, almost to the point Tim thought he was going to make himself sick. For all I know, he did while I was gone. He felt guilty going to class this morning, but he knew he had to keep up appearances. At least he didn’t have anymore classes this week.

But Jason pulled through and got them in one piece to WE just in time to make it in the conference room before they closed the doors. Barbara had been on stage already, looking stylish and professional in a pants suit. There was no way she missed seeing them come in.

I just hope the rest of his family isn’t here. He’s freaking out enough about seeing Barbara, I can’t imagine what seeing the rest of them will do to him. The demon brat will probably be safe, actually. And I think after Jason and Steph go a few rounds, they’ll be okay too. He’s got such mixed emotions about Alfred, I’m not sure where that one’s going to go. Dick too for that matter. But Bruce? Yeah, that’s going to be a fireworks show if he lets go enough to let it happen.

As the room began to empty, Tim looked over at Jason. He was still focused on the front of the room where Barbara was trying to make her way off stage, but was continuously stopped by people wanting to ask her questions. “She’s popular. It may be awhile,” Tim said quietly.

“Yeah. She knows we’re here though. Unless we make a run for it, she’ll find us.”

Tim snorted. “Not like we’d get very far.”

“Nope.”

Tim waited a moment, then asked, “Do you want to wait in here or out in the hallway? I saw a refreshment table being set up when we came in. Perhaps they have coffee.”

Jason shook his head in amusement, looking at Tim finally. “You’re sticking with water, caffeine boy. I’ve seen how much coffee and Red Bull you’ve been chugging the last few days. You’re done with your exams, go to sleep tonight for a change.”

Tim laughed as he stood up. “You’re the reason I’m not sleeping at night. You keep hogging all my blankets.”

Mock outrage appeared on Jason’s face as he stood up as well. “Seriously? Did you just say that, Mr. I Wrap the Blankets Around Me so Tightly I Leave None for Poor Cold Jason? The only one I can find is that one on the sofa and even then you somehow mange to steal it and add it to your little blanket burrito.”

Smiling, Tim led the way out of the room. “Try wearing pajamas, they might help.”

“Oh, do not even go there,” Jason retorted. “Just turn up the damn heat. Or, better yet, get an electric blanket.”

“Those are fire hazards,” Tim replied blandly, spying the refreshment table he saw earlier and heading towards it.

“Fine, then get some more thermals, I don’t care. And don’t you dare go towards the coffee. Water or juice for you and that’s it.”

Tim pulled a face as he snagged a water bottle. He knew it was good for him, but water is just so boring. “Yes, Mom,” he sighed as he uncapped it and took a drink.

“Someone has to nag your scrawny ass, I’ve seen the state of your kitchens.”

“You volunteering then?” Tim purred as he walked down the large open hallway and towards an available set of chairs facing the floor to ceiling windows. “I haven’t had a personal chef since I was a boy.”

“I forget sometimes that you started life as a spoiled rich boy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“You’re hilarious. Fine, I’ll pay you and you get to pick all the food.”

“I do that already,” Jason smirked.

They sat down and looked out over Gotham. After a few minutes, Tim commented, “This view is boring.”

“I agree. The view from the roof is so much better,” a familiar feminine tone said from behind them.

Tim smiled as he turned around, noticing that Jason wasn’t doing the same, but he let it slide for the moment, coming face to face with Barbara Gordon. “Hello, Barbara,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Hello, Tim, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she replied, shaking his hand in a firm and very callused grip. She glanced at Jason, who was still sitting stiffly.

“Likewise. I think we’ve been long overdue.” Tim looked at Jason, seeing just how tightly his hands clenched the armrests of the chair. Damn, he looks like he’s about to break the chair. Slowly, he reached over and placed a hand on top of Jason’s, making sure to broadcast the movement so as to not startle him. He shuddered under the touch.

Tim didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to as Jason took a few slow and deep breaths, visibly gaining control over himself with each breath he took. I know it’s not anger he’s fighting. It’s something else. Nerves I hope…

Barbara didn’t say anything and just waited patiently. She very obviously knew what Jason was doing.

After a few more moments, Jason took one last deep breath and turned to face Barbara. Tim let go of his hand as he moved.

The man looked exhausted already, but his lips quirked in a crooked smile. “Hey, Babs. Long time, no see.”

*****

Barbara felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest when she saw two young men walk into the conference room right before her speech was to start. She’d seen enough pictures of Tim recently to recognize him on sight, even with that crazy hair of his, but Jason floored her. He’s so tall. When did my devil bird grow up?

Making it through her presentation, she got frustrated by the wall of people who blocked the ramp up to the stage. She had no time for them today and just wanted them all to get out of her way. As she spared a few words to these people in hopes of getting them to move, she saw Jason and Tim leave the room. They wouldn't go far. 

The real trick was keeping Bruce and Dick contained. They were both here and from the looks on their faces, they'd spotted Jason as well.

She snagged Bruce's wrist, holding it firmly. “I’ve worked very hard the last couple of days to get this meeting to happen and you are not going to mess it up. He’s extremely skittish and the slightest trigger could make him bolt at anytime. He's here to talk to me. Be patient and he’ll eventually come to you.”

“How did you set this up?” Bruce asked. His haunted eyes were locked on the far door. 

It was a look Barbara was all too familiar with. “With Stray. This is what he’s been working with Jason on. Or rather, what he convinced Jason would be a better course of action.”

Bruce did not look entirely convinced, but he didn't say a word. She and Dick shared a concerned glance. Bruce was walking a fine line right now, one where reason and logic didn't hold as much sway over him as they usually did. He was fighting his heart and the raw urgency to chase after his son to make sure he was okay.

"Come on, Bruce," Dick said quietly. "This is what Jason wants right now. You can give him that much."

Their mentor nodded stiffly and gave way, letting Dick lead him from the room via another route.

Making her own escape, Barbara spotted the two men down the hall a ways, sitting in some chairs looking out the window at the lackluster view. She wheeled her way over and heard Tim’s comment about it. While she and Tim exchanged greetings and pleasantries, she watched Jason closely. I knew this was going to be stressful, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.

Barbara was about to say something quiet to Tim about meeting up later when he slowly reached over and took Jason’s hand. He shuddered and started taking some deep and slow breaths. She recognized the breathing pattern for what it was, a calming technique she knew he hadn’t learned from Bruce.

Finally, Jason turned and looked at her. “Hey, Babs. Long time, no see,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Too long,” she replied. “Now come here and give me a hug, boy wonder.” Her voice choked up and tears started stinging in her eyes. Jason…you’re alive!

He got up and knelt next to her chair, a slim racing model she liked to use when out in public as it was easier to maneuver. Barbara drew Jason into a tight hug, marveling at the solid mass of muscle under her hands. He buried his face in her shoulder, shaking suddenly with what appeared to be quiet sobs.

She ran her fingers through his thick hair, trying to calm him. “It’s okay, Jason. I’m here. And so is Tim. We’re both here for you.”

Tim got up and went to stand behind Barbara, pointedly blocking the view from behind of Jason’s face to anyone who may walk by.

He’s got such a great partner.

Barbara smiled gratefully up at Tim, who smiled and nodded in return. “I’ve missed you so much, Jason. We all have.” Oh crap, I shouldn’t have said that.

Jason quaked in her arms and sucked in a gasping breath before pulling away. His face was a mess, dark blue eyes bloodshot from crying. He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face with and blew his nose.

“I’m surprised to see you carrying one of those,” Barbara said in a light tone, trying to lighten the mood.

“Had a feeling I’d need one today,” a rough and surprisingly deep voice replied.

“I brought two,” she replied with a chuckle.

“Well, aren’t you just the girl scout?” he replied with a smirk.

“Wrong set of tights,” Barbara smirked back.

They laughed, with Tim chuckling from above them. “Now that the ice is broken,” he said, “why don’t we get something to eat? I’m starving. Taking midterms requires a lot of brain power.”

Barbara smiled brightly. “So does giving a speech. Let’s go. I’ve got some business I want to talk to you about. My treat.”

Jason stood up and grinned, the same cocky grin he used to wear as Robin. “I never say no to a beautiful woman paying my way. Lead the way, Barbie doll.”

She let him get away with the nickname. Just this once. After all, it was a special occasion.

***** 

Standing in the doorway of an empty conference room, peeking out from the barely opened door, Bruce let out the breath he’d been holding. Behind him, Dick did the same. That grin…it really is him.

“Holy crap, it really is him.” Dick echoed Bruce’s thoughts.

As host of the conference, Bruce was present at WE for most of the morning, a rarity to be sure, but with Barbara as a speaker, he thought the effort would be worth it. He and Dick were sitting in the wings just off stage when he’d spotted Jason taking a seat at the back of the room with another familiar looking young man. Dick had seen Jason sitting down too and kept a firm grip on Bruce’s arm to keep him from barreling out on stage and across the room to his missing son.

He let himself be persuaded by Barbara afterwards to wait, to let her talk to Jason and feel him out. She said it was a better course of action and deep down, Bruce knew she was right. It still hurt though, knowing his son didn't want to speak with him, let alone see him. But he was here and it was a start. 

It was all because of Stray.

Stray had convinced Jason to come home instead of going through with his original plans. Selina's protégé was helping Jason, was somehow getting through to him where Talia hadn't. Or hadn't tried that hard, really. She created the ticking time bomb that was the Red Hood, but Stray defused it. How? Why? What happened? So many questions and the answers were within his grasp.

If he were allowed to go to his son that is. Dick dragged him through a back corridor to another empty conference room so they could surreptitiously observe Jason’s meeting with Barbara. Bruce wasn’t prepared for the young man’s breakdown. His heart raced and he fought down the desire to race out into the hall and comfort his son in whatever way he could.

“I’m glad you didn’t go rushing out there. I know you wanted to. Hell, I did too.”

“Barbara said it would be best to wait. To let him come to us on his own terms,” he replied slowly. Jason…

“Well, if that greeting was anything to go by, it’s going to be tough. And that was with him wanting to see Babs.” Dick stepped up next to Bruce to peer out into the now empty hallway. “God, can you get over the size of him? He’s huge. He really did grow into those big feet of his.”

“You knew he was big, you’ve fought him enough times.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew he was my Little Wing. It is so not fair that both of my little brothers are taller than me. Or will be taller than me in Damian’s case.” Dick pulled a pout in what Bruce recognized as an attempt to make him smile.

He gave in and cracked a small smile, before frowning again as he finally recognized the young man with Jason. “What I want to know is how Jason knows Timothy Drake. You remember him, chum?”

Timothy Drake, another young man he'd failed. 

Dick started laughing. Laughing loud and long enough to make Bruce turn away from the door and look at him in disbelief. “Bruce, have I got a story for you…”

He let Dick pull him away from the doorway and back into the room. His oldest son slung an arm over his shoulder as he started speaking.

“There once was a little boy named Stray who became best friends with a Robin…”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Several months later…

Stray surveyed the computer setup in front of him. It wasn’t the most elaborate he’d ever seen, but it was sophisticated enough that he had to be onsite for this operation in order to get the information they needed before it went poof.

Piece of cake.

He pulled a USB cord from his gauntlet and got to work. Behind him, he could just make out the sounds of Red Hood whaling on the assholes who thought it would be a good idea to kidnap children off the streets and sell them to overseas buyers as sex slaves.

Coming from said streets himself, Jay doesn’t take too kindly to creeps like this. Now let’s take a look at that buyer’s list now, hmmm?

“How’re we doing?” a voice said in Stray’s ear.

“We’re good, Oracle. I got here in time to keep the self-destruct from going off. Downloading everything now.”

“Good. Whoever is behind this particular ring is smart to install that little feature. I’m still mad we didn’t catch it the first time.”

“Me too. And now, we’ve got what we need to go after them full force. I know Hood’s very eager to put one in their lap.”

Oracle laughed, a strange tinny sound through the voice modulator she used. “I just bet he is.”

A gunshot rang out from behind Stray. He turned and looked at the locked door, listening intently. Knowing Oracle heard it too, he tapped over to the other channel. “Hood? Everything okay?”

“Just peachy, pussy cat.” Jason’s voice sounded strained.

“Was that you?”

“Yup.”

“I’m done here, do I need to come out there?” Stray asked carefully. That is not a good tone. Something’s about to set him off. Or did already.

“Whatever’s clever. It’s all clear.” The line went dead.

Switching back over to the other line, he said “That was Hood. I need to go and see who he shot."

“I thought he didn’t bring his guns with tonight?” she said dryly.

“He’s always carrying at least one. I’ve got everything we need. I’ll send it to you shortly.”

“Sounds good. Police are on their way. ETA is seven minutes.”

“Thanks.” Signing off, Stray pulled the USB from the computer and cautiously opened the door. The hallway was clear. He ghosted his way down the corridor and out to the open platform above the warehouse floor. Looking down, he could see the red gleam of Hood’s helmet over towards another room.

The room where the kids were being kept. Oh shit.

Making his way downstairs and across the wide open floor, Stray saw a number of men in various uncomfortable looking positions, several bleeding from the knife wounds they’d sustained while fighting Jason. As he approached the larger man, he saw Jason was leaning up against the wall, arms crossed in a defensive looking position across his chest.

He’s waiting to be yelled at. The only time he does this is when he’s killed someone.

“What happened?” Stray asked quietly.

Hood raised his head and looked at him directly. “Caught a fucker testing the merchandise.”

Stray went cold, his blood freezing in his veins. “Is the kid going to be alright?”

“Hope so. He was pretty out of it already from the sedatives they’ve been feeding them. But he knew what was happening. I could see it in his face.”

“Then you did the right thing. The world has enough pedophiles in it, no one’s going to miss this one.” It was rare for Red Hood to kill anyone these days, but certain things would make him see red, as he put it. Clowns. Batman. Lime slurpees (“It’s the same goddamn color as the Pit, there’s no way I’m drinking that shit.”). Pedophiles and rapists.

Hood relaxed a bit from his defensive position.

“I’ve got everything we need. Oracle said the police are on their way and can take care of the kids. Ready to go?” Stray asked.

Nodding, Hood reached out and grabbed Stray, pulling him into a brief, yet tight, hug. “Thanks,” he whispered, sounding a bit broken.

Stray squeezed him back. “Always. Now let’s go.”

***** 

From the safe distance of another rooftop down the street, Jason and Tim watched the police carefully carry out the young victims and drag out their abductors. Jason focused on one young boy in particular. Christ, I hope he’s going to be okay.

Seeing that asshole touching the boy, Jason had no qualms whatsoever about putting a bullet right between the man’s eyes. The look on the kid’s face as he saw his attacker fall was a mix of fear and gratitude. Drugged or not, he was aware enough to know what was about to happen. God, I wonder if it’d happened before? Shaking his head, Jason quickly derailed that line of thought, knowing if he didn’t, then he’d more than likely be making a trip down to Central later tonight and gunning down each and every man being pulled out of that warehouse.

Blackgate will be hell for them. If there’s one thing the prisoners and guards can agree on, it’s that pedophiles deserve every fucking thing they get.

Next to him, Stray sighed and shook his head. “What?” Jason asked.

“This is the tip of the iceberg. From what I saw, there’re at least three other cities on the East Coast being used to filter kids to overseas buyers. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Beneath the hood, Jason grinned. “What are you complaining about? O’s going to do all the work figuring things out and when she says “go”, we go. If the list is as long as you say it is, we’ll likely have back-up. Gotta admit, I do like the thought of working with Black Canary. She’s fucking hot.”

“And almost old enough to be your mom.” Jason could just imagine Tim raising an eyebrow at him from the look on his face. For someone who’s only known Alfred for a few months, he sure can channel him to perfection.

“So? I think your kitty mama’s hot too.”

“And you tease me about my taste in women.”

“What can I say? Knowing they can beat the shit out of me turns me on.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you come back from sparring with Steph.” A sly smile danced across Tim’s lips.

Jason laughed. “Like you don’t already know. I seem to recall a certain someone prepped and ready to go last time.”

Stray scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And I really don’t need to be hearing about your sex lives,” a new voice chimed in from behind. Jason turned to see Nightwing standing there, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face.

Stray’s sly smile morphed into a seductive smirk as he strutted over and started tracing the blue stripe on the older man’s chest with a clawed finger. “You sure, Nightwing? I’d love to find something I can use to tempt you into joining us,” he purred in a teasing voice.

Jason choked back a laugh. Fuck, the look on his face is priceless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dickie look that uncomfortable.

“Hood, think you can rein in your cat here?” Nightwing said, sounding a bit strangled.

“Why should I? He’s a cat, not like they can be trained to come when called.”

Stray grinned, looking back at Jason. “Under the right circumstances I can.” They laughed.

Nightwing choked. “Okay, okay, I give up,” he said raising his hands.

Patting Nightwing’s cheek and chuckling, Stray turned and walked back to Jason, standing next to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Whenever you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.”

Shaking his head, Nightwing walked the few steps to close the gap between them, looking over the edge of the building and over at the warehouse where flashing lights still danced across the exterior of the building. “Heard what went down over the scanner and thought I’d come take a look.”

“Surprised the big bad Bat didn’t follow you.” Jason didn’t quite scowl, but it was close.

“He’s got a broken wrist so Alfie's threatened burnt food for a week if he doesn't stay in. Been dogging my comm all night too, so I’m sure he just loved the last few minutes.” Dick grinned.

“He needs to get laid more often, it’ll help him take that big stick outta his ass.” Next to him, Tim laughed.

Looking over at Nightwing, at Dick, Jason still felt a sense of wonder that here he was having an easy conversation with his older brother. It had taken a lot of hard work with Tim and Babs to get him to the point where he could even be in the same room as the man. And Babs? I’m one of her goddamned Birds of Prey. Seriously, best job offer ever.

Jason believed the next person he’d see after his first meeting with Babs would be Alfred, but surprisingly, it was Dick.

Dick who hadn’t been there at all when he’d died and still somehow placed blame on himself for what happened. The man outright bawled when he met with Jason at Tim’s brownstone, clinging to him like a limpet on the sofa as they sat and talked. Tim and Babs were in the kitchen, close enough to come running if Jason gave the signal.

He never had to.

At first, he just sat there rigidly while the man clung, but he eventually relaxed into his brother’s arms. They talked for a good hour, clearing the air. Dick didn’t like the path Jason had taken, but understood the circumstances that led him to it.

“You’re my Little Wing. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

Alfred was next. Jason felt like he’d been through the wringer after Dick, but that was nothing to how he felt after seeing the old man. Alfred looked the same and yet so much older at the same time, the stress of the last decade clearly taking its toll. Jason had been the one to break down first, curling up next to the older man on the same sofa.

“You’re alive, lad. What you make of your second chance is up to you.”

Damian was easy. Their shared history with the League gave them something to talk and vent about. The kid didn’t appear happy Jason was Tim’s boyfriend, but he knew better than to tease him too much about it. The brownstone living room quickly became a war zone when they decided to spar. Tim wasn’t pleased about that when he came running downstairs to see Jason and Damian had managed to break his sofa and destroy the coffee table.

The cat ripped them both new ones, Damian torn between looking contrite and wanting to fall to his knees and beg at being on the receiving end of Tim’s tongue-lashing. Jason couldn’t blame him, he thought it was hot too.

“Ttt. I suppose you are tolerable, Todd.”

Stephanie was also easier than he expected. When she arrived at the brownstone, she took one look at Jason, then walked over to Tim and bitch-slapped him across the face. “You lost your spleen helping me prove Bruce was alive and you didn’t tell me?! You asshole!” She raged at Tim for a little while longer, who stood there and took it, then turned and flopped on the sofa next to Jason, still glaring at Tim.

It quickly became apparent Stephanie realized what she’d just done when she suddenly jumped back up. “Um, sorry?” she said in an uncertain tone, watching Jason carefully.

Jason looked over at Tim, who was surreptitiously rubbing his face from where Stephanie hit him. “You should have punched him,” he said with a grin. “He’s a shit like that and usually deserves it.”

Stephanie looked surprised for a moment, then grinned right back, a bright mega-watt smile he’d seen in a picture of her as Robin. The thought didn’t burn like it used to.

“We need to hang out sometime and swap stories. I’ve got some great ones about Stray and the demon bird.”

Bruce…Bruce just about destroyed Jason, the nerves were so bad. The man insisted Jason and Tim come to the Manor for the first meeting, despite Alfred, Barbara, and Tim telling him it was a bad idea. Stray even made a rare appearance on the Gotham streets one cold night in early December to tear into Batman about it. Tim never went out in the winter as Stray unless he absolutely had to. Jason had been livid when he came back to their now shared apartment to find Tim taking off his black hood.

The fight was epic. As was the make-up sex.

Stray’s efforts on Batman worked though, so a week later, Bruce and Alfred came to Tim’s brownstone. Tim and Alfred were both there to keep an eye on things, knowing either one could blow at the wrong moment with a single misspoken word.

The silence at the beginning was awkward, Bruce so obviously wanting to reach out and do something but not knowing how. Jason was stunned at seeing Bruce out of the cowl for the first time since his return. He looked so much older than he remembered. Alfred had aged, yes, but Bruce? It wasn’t so much that his face was more lined and careworn, with gray peppering the black hair at his temples. Rather, it was the sense of exhaustion the man carried about him. The feeling of loss after loss compounded on top of each other, culminating into the man in front of him.

When Jason broke himself out of the initial daze, he finally noticed Bruce’s hesitation. Shaking his head, he said, “God you suck at this,” as he got up from the new sofa and embraced the older man.

Bruce nodded as he held Jason tightly. “So I’ve been told over and over again.”

Jason haltingly told him about waking up in a coffin and digging himself out. He hated making himself vulnerable like this, opening himself up for others to see. To judge. More than anyone, Jason knew Bruce was judging him, even if he didn’t realize it. The man was too analytical to do otherwise.

He told Bruce about the Pit. The rage and the madness. The overwhelming sense of having been abandoned by his father. Tears were running down Jason’s face and when he finally looked up at Bruce, he could see the man’s eyes glistening as well, the only sign of emotion on an otherwise stoic face.

“I didn’t abandon you, Jay. If I had only known, even suspected, you were alive, I’d have torn apart the entire world to find you.”

Neither man brought up the Joker.

They did end up blowing up at each other when Bruce started picking at Jason’s work as the Red Hood. It was expected though and Jason quickly calmed down about it after Alfred and Bruce left. As Tim pointed out, the first visit was the worst as it was the most emotionally charged.

Shaking his head at the memories, Jason focused back on what Stray was saying to Nightwing.

“…there’s pickups occurring in New York, DC, and Miami from what I saw, all funneling into Europe and then to various other ports around the world. This is big, much bigger than we initially thought and well organized. O’s probably going to call an all hands on deck for a coordinated take down.”

Nightwing nodded, deep in thought. “I’ll let her know I’m at her disposal. If she needs extra hands, I can make a few calls too.”

“Thanks, Nightwing.”

“Of course, little kitty. You’re practically family now. That’s what we do.”

Jason shook his head at the cheesiness of it. That’s Dickiebird for you though. Always seeing the best in people and keeping things positive. If it wasn’t for him, I doubt Tim and I would have survived Christmas as the Manor.

“You have to come up with a better nickname, Nightwing,” Stray practically growled at Dick, poking him hard in the side with a claw.

“Hey, creative genius can’t be rushed. It’ll come to me eventually.” He grinned, looking over at Jason. “Took me forever to come up with Jay’s nickname.”

“Yeah and look how fast you came up with Damian’s,” Jason retorted. “Not a lot of thought going on there. Lil’ D, really?”

“I have a theme,” Dick replied sagely. “All right, I’m gonna go, I left Robin with BG and if I don’t supervise, fists are going to fly.”

“You sure the brat has a crush on the cat here? Cuz from what I’ve seen, it’s totally on Batgirl.”

Nightwing flashed a smirk at Jason. “All Robins have crushes on their Batgirls. Comes with the job.” With that, he gave a jaunty salute and ran off into the night.

Shaking his head, Jason muttered, “Fucker always has to have the last word.”

“He has to against someone and it’s certainly not with the other company he keeps,” Tim replied. “Come on, let’s go home. It’s cold up here and the police have everyone in hand.”

“Do I get to warm you up?”

“Only if you promise to do a thorough job of it.”

***** 

Several hours later, Tim extricated himself from his nest of blankets and Jason. He quietly pulled on his flannel pajama pants and one of Jason’s henley’s. Stepping into his slippers, he padded his way across the apartment to the kitchen. After months of effort, Jason finally got him to drink herbal teas with lemon and honey at night as Tim often complained of sore throats in the winter.

Tea ready, Tim curled up in his arm chair, wincing slightly at the pull of muscles in his back. Jason had been in a bit of a head space earlier and Tim's ass was feeling it. But he knew he’d enjoy the feel of the bruises later during class when he’d shift and remember how he got them. The sex tomorrow when Jason sees them will more than make up for it.

Chuckling softly, he pulled out his tablet and started going through his files. It was getting close to the time when Stray would emerge from his winter hibernation and wreck havoc on Gotham’s underworld once again. Time to remind Penguin who’s really in charge.

And this year, Stray has a partner. Someone who’s going to make people piss themselves in fear when they see us together. The Red Hood.

Over the winter, Jason established himself as more of an anti-hero than a villain. He had no interest in Black Mask’s empire, but the vacuum the former crime lord left caused all kinds of new and old players to come crawling out of the woodwork that he took perverse pleasure in taking down, making sure there was no one person or group in control of the drug trade in Gotham.

Jason also made significant progress in working through his myriad of issues. Not to say they still didn’t come across a pitfall here and there, but it had been a good month since the last time he exploded and ran off, only to come back a couple days later calmer and contrite.

The first time it happened, Tim thought he would lose it, that Jason was gone and never coming back.

But Jason quickly showed when he ran off, he did it to blow off steam. He never hid or went completely off the grid like they both knew he could. Jason simply went back to his crappy Bowery apartment and knocked heads as the Red Hood until he calmed down. A surprising companion for this was Damian. The Red Hood and Robin worked well together, though the clean up was often messy as both of them liked to fight with knives and other sharp instruments.

They have a surprising amount in common, though I should have expected it. I did not see them becoming as close as they are. Protecting Robin in the field means he has to focus on something other than himself. It’s good to see he’s trying to fit into the big brother role in some capacity.

And then there was Batman. One night a few weeks after Joker’s death, Batman confronted Stray on an empty rooftop about his own identity.

The Dark Knight didn’t say anything, just gazed intently at Stray. Beneath his goggles, Tim quirked an eyebrow in what he now knew from Jason was almost the same way Alfred did it. He’d had a feeling Bruce would be showing up sooner or later.

“Batman,” Stray purred.

“Stray,” he replied. “Or should I say Timothy Drake?”

Stray smirked. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Batman didn’t say anything and loomed over the younger man.

“The looming and the glaring really doesn’t work on me, you know,” Stray said lightly. “Kind of hard to be intimidated when I’ve heard stories about how you’ve tripped on your own cape or fallen off the side of a building.”

He saw the minutest flicker of movement across Batman’s face and knew he'd scored a hit.

“You’ve heard those stories from Jason.” It wasn’t a question and Stray knew it.

“Of course,” he replied. “Unlike what some people believe, talking is therapeutic. And he’s got a lot of shit to work through.” The dig was intentional, he’d heard a lot from Babs and Jason about Bruce’s emotional skills. The epitome of repressed.

“Then he should be seeing a professional, not a man who dresses up like a cat and steals things.”

Stray bristled. “Right, like that would go over well. Find me a professional who’s qualified enough to help him with the kinds of issues he has and can keep secret the identities of some of the greatest heroes in the world. Because he can’t work through his issues without dropping names. It’s impossible.”

Unless a person was watching for it, they’d have missed the flash of emotion crossing Batman’s face. At Stray’s words, he stood down, though the man never moved an inch. How he stops looming without even moving is impressive.

“You’re trying to help him?”

“Yes. Getting a whole new education in the process too. Oracle’s sent over a lot of reading material and case studies for me to review.” Materials that Jason was reading right along with him. The case studies fascinated him. Tim as well, to the point he was actually considering adding a second bachelor’s degree to his repertoire. 

“W-When do you think I can see him?” The tremble in Batman’s voice was barely there; again, easy enough to miss if one wasn’t paying attention. It spoke volumes to Tim though. This was a man who wanted to see his son but was giving him the space he needed, though it tore him to pieces to do so.

“I don’t know, Bruce,” Tim replied seriously, pulling up his goggles as he did so to look at Batman for the first time in years without a lens over his eyes. “He had a really rough time of it with Barbara. They’re talking, but it’s slow going. It often is in the beginning. But he is talking, which is a good sign. He wants to be better, or at least discover what his new normal is going to be. The Pit messed him up bad.”

More than just the Pit, but I’m not bringing that up unless you do, big guy. Jason’s stories about his death at the hands of the Joker were bringing back nightmares Tim hadn’t had in years.

Batman nodded. “Anything you need, Tim. Or anything you think Jason needs. Just ask and it’s yours."

Now there’s a tempting offer. Does that include refurbishing my brownstone basement? I want some of your cool toys.

Tim nodded. “Thank you.” He pulled his goggles back down over his eyes.

“One more thing.”

“Oh?” Stray asked archly.

“Arkham. The Joker. Your computer skills are much greater than I initially believed. Did you have anything to do with Joker’s death? Did Jason?”

Stray very carefully put an affronted look on his face. I knew he was going to ask this. He’s Batman, of course he’d start putting the pieces together. “We didn’t. I’m not sure what Jason was doing that morning, but I had midterms.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.

Batman watched Stray closely for a moment, then nodded. He turned and disappeared into the night.

He never brought up the topic again.

Tim suddenly jerked out of his thoughts as a voice said from above him, “What is it with you and not being able to sleep all the way through the night, huh? I swear it’s like every third night you actually do.” Jason came around to flop onto the sofa next to the armchair.

“Just thinking,” he replied.

Yawning, Jason stretched out, a line of skin appearing at his waist as his shirt rode up. “About what?” Tim eyed the man’s abs. They’d been together for almost five months and he still wasn’t tired of staring at his boyfriend’s amazing body.

It’s all mine.

“Bruce, actually.”

Jason opened his eyes. “Do I need to be concerned about something?”

Laughing, Tim finished his tea and went to the sofa to climb on top of Jason, straddling him at the waist. Jason’s hands automatically went to Tim’s hips, holding him loosely, and unknowingly brushing the bruises from earlier. “If you’re concerned that I’ve suddenly developed a taste for much older men, then you’re sorely mistaken.” He leaned over to give Jason a feather soft kiss, then pushed back up.

“Okay, then why else are you thinking about Bruce at ass o’clock in the morning when you should be in bed? You’ve got class in a few hours.”

Tim smiled. “Just remembering some things.”

“Seems to be the night for it,” Jason replied with a yawn.

“Remember Christmas?” Grinning now, Tim shifted back slightly to brush his bottom over Jason’s groin, feeling his cock shift slightly in interest.

“How could I forget? You sure had some fun under the mistletoe that night.”

Tim pouted. “You started it.”

Smirking, Jason replied, “I know, but you and Steph finished it. The way she marched right up and said “My turn” before going right at it. Talk about a new favorite memory to bring out on cold and lonely nights. And Damian sure got an education on proper technique.” He raised his hips ever so slightly and lowered them back down.

“Perhaps he’ll put it to good use one day.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Tim settled down against Jason’s cock, slowly rocking back and forth and enjoying the feel of the soft fabric shifting between them. “Since when do I leave you alone at nights?” he asked.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him and bucked up lightly again. “Not often. But I’m thinkin' you will be soon now that it’s warming up again.”

“I highly doubt there’s going to be many nights where either of us are running by ourselves, let alone coming home to an empty apartment.”

You have your whole family to go home to, if you’d only let them in more.

“You’re that sure, pussy cat? Care to make a wager?” Jason leered as he ground a bit harder against Tim, who followed him down and continued his movements, shifting a bit more firmly against Jason’s growing erection.

“Oh, Jason,” Tim purred. “You don’t want to make a wager with me. I always win.”

“Considering what I was going to bet, that may not be a bad thing for either of us. For now though, you goin’ to take those pants off?”

Grinning, Tim leaned over again and caught Jason’s lips in a deep and teasing kiss. Jason needed to be in charge before, but it was his turn now. Drawing back, he gracefully got up and slid his pajama pants off, leaving his shirt to flirt around his hips, hiding absolutely nothing.

Jason stared, entranced as he always was when Tim took charge. A very Stray-like smile danced across Tim’s lips. “Off,” he ordered, and didn’t move to climb back on until the man shoved his pants most of the way down his thighs.

Reaching under a sofa cushion, Tim pulled out a condom and some lube. They had them scattered everywhere around the apartment. Settling onto Jason’s muscled thighs, he ripped it open and deftly rolled it onto the bigger man, giving him a few firm strokes with the lube in the process. Jason moaned at the sensation. “Tim.”

Tim shifted, gliding up Jason’s body until he felt the smooth slide and the slight burn of Jason’s cock against his still stretched and lubed entrance. He slowly rocked back and forth, sheathing him firmly within his body with each painfully slow movement. “I always get what I want,” he whispered, gazing at Jason’s blissed out of face. “You’re mine.”

Below him, Jason gasped, catching hold of Tim’s hands and letting him set the pace as he rode Jason's rigid length. “Mine,” he echoed. “My pussy cat.”

A tender and loving look flashed across Tim’s face, before being replaced with Stray’s signature smirk, the one Jason loved so much. “Always.”

My Robin, my Hood. My Jason.

-The End-