This story is based off of YJ Headcanon 332: "It's hard to get anybody to talk about Jason. Tim has made a habit of talking to the second Robin's memorial whenever he felt alone or angry."

Once again, the characters are not mine. Neither is the headcanon, which can be found on YJ Headcanon's tumblr.

Enjoy!

It wasn't Tim's fault. Not really. But somehow he couldn't get the idea out of his mind that if he had been better, faster perhaps, that the mission would have been a success. Anyone could feel inferior when watching Nightwing spin across the sky. Tim had difficulty keeping his jaw shut when he back flipped off a wall to land a kick squarely on Riddler's jaw, knocking him out cold. Unfortunately, although they did capture the Riddler, his "hired help" escaped. Tim was standing right there, right next to the door, but he didn't see it coming. He looked away for a second, a second, to watch Dick and the rest of the team, then BANG 300 pounds of "help" crashed him into a table. Dick didn't say it was his fault. But of course Dick wouldn't say that. He smiled, and patted him on the back and said "Good Job!"

Tim looked up at the shinning image of his predecessor. The air was damp from the nearby pond, so the hologram glistened slightly. Jason looked so confident. All of them were. So sure in what they were doing. Even after he died, Jason stood there, proud as ever. Shoulder's thrown back, feet planted slightly apart, fists waiting at the ready by his sides. Tim felt his self-assurance falter even more at the defiance in his eyes. Jason had died a hero's death, knowing he was doing what was right. Why couldn't Tim be like that?

"Do you always talk to holograms?" Tim whirled around to see a figure leaning causally against the wall, arms folded over his chest. Had he been talking aloud, supposedly alone in the big cave? Tim opened his mouth to say…something, but the figure cut him off.

"Cause that's okay." The figure stood up from the pillar and walked into the light of the holographic Robin. "As long as they don't start talking back." He grinned, taking up a new position against the machine.

Tim stared at the man, his face only half lit by the yellow light. Broad brows, high cheek bones, tanned skin. A black domino mask was pressed flush across his eyes. He was well built, muscles standing out against his jacket. Despite this, he didn't seem menacing. From a quick glance, he wasn't even armed. Tim opened his mouth again to speak.

"What are you-How did you get in here?"

The man shrugged. "Maybe I hacked the motion sensors."

Tim raised an eyebrow. This man was being extremely disconcerting. Tim wasn't sure if he should attack. Perhaps he is a friend of the of the other members of the team. Would they be mad if he attacked him?

"Okay then rookie." The figure interrupted his thoughts with the drawling sound. Tim squinted at him. Something about this man was a little too friendly, just a little too familiar.

"Eh…" The man shrugged. "Get Dick to tell you the story sometime. He loves telling it." Tim froze. What had he said? Dick? Paranoia swept through him and metal clicked softly as he pulled his staff out of his belt.

"Well, that's impulsive. No wonder Riddler's goon got the jump on you. You should think things through more. It'll keep you out of trouble." Tim's eyes bugged out even further. Had this man has been following him since the fight?

"Of course, that's kind of ironic coming from me I suppose." The man rolled his eyes to the celling. "Or at least Bats might think so."

"Who are you?" Tim snarled, whipping his staff in front of him. "How do you know all this?" Keeping his face lifted to the celling, the man sighed.

"You're kinda slow aren't you?"

Tim snarled again, taking a step towards the man.

"Who. Are. You!"

But before his foot hit the floor, the man leaped forwards, surprising Tim so much he was easily able to pull the staff from his hands. He flipped over the smaller boy's head and was gone before Tim had a chance to turn around. Tim jumped back, landing in a crouch on the ground. A voice came echoing from somewhere in the cave.

"You are going to have to do better than that." Tim whirled around, searching for the origin of the noise. "Replacement." He started at the word. Insecurity flooded back in. Was that all he was? A replacement for someone better? He shook his head roughly.

Concentrate. He thought. Find him.

Tim took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The last "t" was still ringing slightly in his ears. Bouncing of every wall in the cave. Everywhere. All at once. Except…not. He slipped one hand into his belt. It came from… Tim whirled around, fist raised in a upper cut.

*SMACK*

"Nicely done." The deep voice chuckled. Tim glared, his punch blocked by the forearm of the older man. The man leaned in. "But you left yourself open." Tim shuddered as he felt cold metal brushing against his stomach. The two rested there for a second, close enough to feel each other's breath on their skin. The man was the first to pull back, leaving his gun trained on Tim. "You should check and make sure your enemy is unarmed before you pull a move like that." He paused suddenly, glancing at the weapon in his hand. "Hm. You thought of that. You managed to switch my safety on." He nodded. "And if I try to turn it back off…" The man pursed his lips as he prodded the putty covered switch with the tip of a gloved pinkie.

"Blasting gel." Tim finished for him, extending the hand with the detonator resting in his palm. "Who. Are You?"

Once again ignoring his question, the man grinned, and then dropped his gun on the floor. The clatter it made echoed off the damp walls. Completely abandoning his weapon, he paced around Tim, walking casually back to the hologram. Tim turned, carefully keeping his front to the other man. He, however, didn't share any such concern and gave Tim his back, looking up to the hologram of the fallen Robin.

Tim briefly entertained the idea of attacking him while his guard was down, but this man was obviously well trained and would probably be able to use his superior body weight to pin him. So Tim waited, analyzing every detail he could about the intruder, attempting to identify him. His build was powerful, but not grossly so. His feet rested shoulder width apart, fists loosely clenched…hanging at his side. Tim's eyes widened, brain putting the pieces together before he could catch up. He rapidly looked between the nearly see through image of the fallen hero, and the very real man standing in front of him.

"And in answer to your first question, 'Why can't you be like that?'. It's because you aren't me." Tim felt ice wash over his skin. "And don't you dare try to be me either." The man, the man that should be a ghost, turned around, the same defiance filling his eyes as the truly ghostly looking image behind him. The flesh and blood in front of him was real, the image just a shadow of the past.

The man rolled his shoulders back, breaking the tension. "Well…" He paused. "This has been fun, but…" He glanced back at his gun.

"Keep it." He half shrugged. "A…souvenir." The smirk spread across his face once more before he stepped back into the shadows. Tim stayed frozen in place as he vanished.

"Robin? Tim?" A voice called from behind him. Whirling around, Tim saw Dick standing on the top of the stairs. "What are you doing down here?" He asked, before noticing the gun laying on the ground.

"What the-?" Tim cut off his exclamation.

"Jason." The word fell out of his mouth like lead. Dick started visibly at the name. His eyes darted around the cave quickly.

"He's gone." Tim continued.

"How did he get in?" Dick snapped, starting to rush down the steps.

"He…" Tim paused. "He said he hacked the motion sensors."

Dick froze halfway down the stairs. Before he could help himself, he felt a smile slide across his face. He sighed and planted his feet together.

"Nicely done, Jaybird. Nicely done."

Yay, third story up! Thank you for your reviews.