Ok guys, I'm really nervous about this, but I hope you love it anyhow. If the flow is off, I apologize. Normally I sit down and have a chapter written in one or two sessions, but with the move, my sessions are significantly shorter and more sporatic. So also forgive the typos. If any are super bad, please let me know. You'll notice I am getting a lot more specific with where and when things are taking place, this is because things are starting to happen faster and often times during the same day and I want you all to know exactly where we are since my skills at description are lacking.

Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments and reviews. You guys are awesome and have been so patient with me so please...stay patient! LOL.

Chapter 25

March 2nd

0800 hrs

GCPD – Gordon's Office

Fifteen dead. Fifteen fucking dead. He couldn't believe it and yet, he couldn't find it within himself to regret his actions thus far. In an odd way it made sense. Fifteen dead. One thug to represent each year Stephanie Brown had lived. When he thought of it like that, it made him angry that she hadn't lived long enough to make the kill count higher.

It felt at times as if Gotham was in her death throes. When masked men and women were the city's only hope, he sometimes wondered why he bothered going into work at all. His city was falling apart all around him and there were so many wounds, so many bullets he'd taken metaphorically as well as physically and he just didn't know if he had it in him to keep fighting.

"Bullock! My office, now!" Commissioner Gordon shouted as soon he'd sat down at his desk.

He wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he didn't. Instead he rolled his eyes and got back on his feet and headed into the office where an Internal Affairs officer, his Captain and of course the Commissioner were all seated. Were they about to fire him? No way they needed that much brass unless it was to do something drastic, but then if that was the case where was the union rep?

"What's the problem, Gordon?" he demanded as he took the only available seat.

"That stunt you pulled during your interview is what's up." The Captain growled angrily. He was an intimidating man with a height of well over six feet. The black man was in good shape and carried himself far better than any past Captain had. He ate healthy and often criticized Harvey for being such a slob all the time, but at least he'd been an honest cop. The last few Captains they had were all bought and paid for by some crime family or another.

"Stunt?" He feigned innocence, though not at all convincingly.

"Knock it off, Bullock, you know what he's talking about." Jim wasn't a bad guy either. They'd been through a lot together and he couldn't help but feel a little bad for making his life harder. Unless he was about to fire him. Then he could just deal with it.

"Detective Bullock," The Internal Affairs officer smiled condescendingly and woman or not, he wanted to knock her teeth out. She was older, hardened by the job with deep worry lines in her face and graying brown hair. She was dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt and wore no jewelry. Her shoes were black, leather and looked comfortable, but sturdy. He could tell right away that this was a woman who lived by the rules. No chance she was dirty. "it was quite obvious to your co-workers, your captain and even the commissioner that you were defending the vigilante known as The Red Hood."

"Is that so?" Harvey's eyes leveled a murderous glare on Commissioner Gordon. The man had the decency to maintain eye contact with him. "So you think my comments were made to protect that psychopath instead of condemning that coward Nigma for having a fifteen year old kid killed?"

"The shooter originally claimed that he thought it was The Hood coming to get him." The Captain responded. "That it turned out to be a hit was not at all implied and should not have been released to the public until it was confirmed."

"It was confirmed!" Harvey shouted, making the IA jump. Maybe she wasn't so tough after all? "The shooter's two accomplices rolled on him in my interrogation room and he admitted to it being a hit before Riddler and Cluemaster were found!"

"And you felt the need to announce that to a reporter?" The woman asked.

"I felt the need to set the record straight for once. Half the damned problem with this city is the fucking media getting it wrong and spreading lies unchecked. Well that shit ends with me!" What was he thinking? Did he want to be fired? Because if he kept on like that, they'd have no choice but to terminate him if they weren't going to already. "The Hood's a piece of shit, ain't nobody arguing that least of all me, but to say that kid was killed because they thought it was him was an insult to her and her memory. Her mother deserved to know the truth, not some media controlled lie being spread by this office to frighten off future vigilantes."

"How dare you!" The Captain shouted. "You really think we were responsible for the evening news' report?"

"You certainly didn't correct it!" He snapped back.

"We weren't aware of the story they were running, but at the time that is exactly what we knew and it is not within your scope of training to correct the media, Detective." The Captain lectured as his volume dropped considerably. "We have public relations officers who deal with the media, not you!"
"Well they ain't doing their job either!" Harvey argued.

"Detective, Captain; that's enough." Jim interrupted before the Captain could counter. "Your captain and Internal Affairs have requested that you be punished for your behavior and with you sitting here arguing without any remorse whatsoever you are effectively tying my hands on this one, Harvey."

"How long?" He demanded.

"Two weeks." The Captain answered.

"I want my union rep, here now." Harvey smirked as he crossed his arms. "Cause I'm pretty sure that I didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you seriously going to appeal this?" The woman gasped.

"You're damned straight, I am." He stood from his chair and looked at Gordon. "I'll see you when the rep arrives. I can't believe you even attempted this disciplinary meeting without my representative here."

"An oversight that won't be repeated again in the future, I assure you." Jim smirked and all at once Harvey understood. "Nor will the oversight of allowing you to be interviewed by any of the reporters for GCNN without public relations on site."

That crazy idiot had given him a stay of execution! He'd purposefully allowed this meeting to go awry without a union representative so that he couldn't be suspended right away, if at all. Once the the man did arrive it was possible that they'd be so outraged by not being contacted that they could get the offense whittled down to a minor punishment; possibly nothing at all. Something Jim Gordon definitely knew. With a subtle nod to the commissioner he made a quick escape before either the Captain or IA could figure out what Gordon had done. Either way, he was happy because it meant the bastard had sided with him.

March 2nd

0953 hrs

Wayne Manor

It was nearly nine o' clock in the morning before Timothy Drake was finally released from the hospital. He'd checked and double checked the results on his phone and still hadn't been able to get anything different out of it. He'd wanted to tell Bruce about it, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew what he knew. He had his own investigation to conduct which would really be more of a review of the evidence they had on The Red Hood so far.

When and only when he was sure would he inform Dick and Bruce of his results. What if he was a clone? Lex Luthor had proven it more than possible given the right motivation. Could he be from an alternate universe? Would their DNA be different in a way he and his machines couldn't detect? He'd have to ask Barry Allen or Wally West about that since they had far more experience dealing with doppelgangers than the Bat clan. Either way, he had to be sure that Jason Todd was actually their Jason Todd in every sense of the word before he destroyed his brother and father's view of the fallen hero.

Honestly he hadn't wanted to believe it either. Jason Todd had been Robin when he was a child, the Robin he wanted so badly to become. He was tough, cool, and strong. The second Robin had been a force to be reckoned with and while he wasn't nearly as acrobatic as the first or funny, he'd been a roaring ball of passion.

How could he have become the monster they were hunting? How could he have become the very animal that had killed him? And yet he couldn't deny how much sense it made. Calling him replacement, refusing to make good on his threats to kill the Bat Clan should they interfere in his work. Hell, The Red Hood had rescued him not once, not twice, but three times now! Why? Why hadn't he hurt him the way he'd hurt Harper?

Actually, that was just as good a question as any; why had he hurt Harper? He tried to think back to what he knew of the Teen Titans. Roy, Dick and Wally had always been close. Closer than any other members of the Teen Titans as far as he knew. Jason Todd had briefly been a part of their team but it hadn't lasted long. Connor told him it was because no one trusted him.

Come to think of it, Jason's short stint with the Teen Titans hadn't produced very friendly reviews of him. Even Alfred and Bruce had been disappointed when none of the Titans appealed to Dick and Roy on his behalf. Connor didn't like him at all despite acknowledging that their temperament was very similar.

"Master Drake, are you alright?" Alfred asked as they pulled into the garage. "You seem rather, distracted this morning."

"I'm fine. There's just something I need to verify."

"It seems to me there's something you'd like to talk with someone about." Yes, but not Alfred. Tim sighed internally. Alfred loved Jason Todd, had the most positive things to say about him and he spent the most time with the second Robin once it became clear that public school wasn't an option for the unruly teenager. He couldn't tell the old man that one of the boys he'd raised had become a monster, and yet...

If anyone knew Jason Todd well enough to verify if it was a clone or a fake, wouldn't Alfred be the one? Clones didn't have old memories, clones couldn't fake a history and if he was an alternate universe version of himself or even Jason from another time line, Alfred would certainly know it. He'd know it better than anyone else.

"Master Drake?" Alfred tried again.

"I think The Red Hood is Jason Todd." He blurted.

"What on Earth has brought you to that conclusion?" Alfred frowned, but strangely, Tim noted that he didn't seem too surprised.

"I found a domino mask in Bruce's hand and it was Jason's."

"He might have brought it with him from the case." Alfred shrugged.

"No, it wasn't his broken mask and that's still in the case." Tim explained. "Also, when I was holding it in my hand I realized it was still tacky from spirit gum. There were several eyebrow hairs and even some skin stuck to the mask and I did a DNA test."

"Oh dear." Alfred frowned as he killed the engine to the car. "And the results are accurate, you're sure?"

"Positive. I mean, I'm about to check the equipment personally, but everything was running fine and if there had been more than one person's DNA on the mask you know it would come up as inconclusive. Honestly, this makes perfect sense, Alfred." Tim sighed as he got of out the car. "He moves like a Robin, he's trained like a Robin and he knows who everyone of us are. Roy, Barbara, you, me, Dick and Bruce! He knows all the crime bosses and the nut-jobs in our city and he knows the Burrows better than any of us do. His knowledge is too intimate for it to be anyone else."

As the two walked into the house and down to Tim's small lab, he was pleased to see that the older butler wasn't cracking under the strain of his accusation. It meant he either didn't believe it, or was processing it slowly. He could work with either.

"Master Drake, if you truly believe this, then why didn't you say anything to Master Bruce?" The man asked as Tim quickly set to looking over the equipment.

"Just in case, I guess." Tim sighed. "What if it's one of those alternate universe guys and he doesn't know the havoc he's wreaking? What if he doesn't know he's Jason Todd? What if The League brainwashed him and he doesn't recall his actual past with us? There's so many variables that until I even know for certain that he's truly our Jason Todd, I'd only be injuring Dick and Bruce.

"If he's not ours and they try to treat him like he is, it could get someone killed. Worse...God, Alfred. If it is our Jason Todd, what does that mean? What's he become? Why has he become it and how do we deal with him?"

The old man's eyes appeared wet as he nodded. "Let's take a look at your evidence, then. You and I will get to the bottom of this."

"Thanks, Alfred." Tim smiled.

March 2nd

0930 hrs

The Hospital

"Hey, Big Guy." Dick smiled as he walked into his hospital room. He'd been waiting for the arrival of his oldest ward but he hadn't been looking forward to it. There was a lot to discuss and he had to tread carefully. "You aren't looking so hot, should I call the nurse?"

"No, no. I'm just worried is all."

"Worried? About what? Timothy? After that attack, Black Mask won't try anything like that again. He took quite a hit last night. Thirteen of his men are dead."

"Yes, I saw that, but the number appears to have gone up over the night." Bruce frowned as he looked up at his muted television. There was panic all around the newsrooms as they continued to report on the fifteen men who'd died all at the hands of The Red Hood. Late, late into the night the killings apparently continued and the count had officially ended at twenty one.

"I looked everywhere, B. I couldn't find him, I couldn't keep up with him." Dick's shoulders fell as did the soft smile on his face. He looked pained and Bruce hadn't intended that. "I'm sorry."

"This isn't about blame, Dick. You did what you could." He needed to get to the real point, the real reason he'd called his son to him. "Have you spoken to JT, Dick?"

"Umm, no actually and I'm kind of worried. Since he left the hospital yesterday I haven't been able to reach him by phone or text and then when The Hood went on the war path I couldn't stop by and actually check on him."

"Does he do that often?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Well, no. I mean, maybe once or twice, but he's pretty busy." Dick shrugged. "I'm sure he's fine, Bruce."

"I called you here to talk to you about that. I want you to be a lot more...alert when you are around him." Bruce finally stated.

"What? Why?"

"Yesterday I warned him that he was the next likely target of Black Mask and he laughed it off. I had to twist his arm to get him to agree to looking into security and even then I know he lied to get me off his back."

Dick's brow knitted in confusion. "Why wouldn't he want the security? He knows how dangerous the man is! He nearly killed him."

"That's what has me so concerned. He didn't even flinch at the name. He didn't pale, he didn't shiver, he didn't even react. It was as if he had no fear of the man."

He could tell right away that Dick wasn't going to make the connection. The officer shrugged and laughed. It was typical behavior of JT Bennet and wasn't at all that odd according to him. Dick had definitely been in the superhero business to long. He didn't remember what it was like for normal people to encounter traumatic events. Everyday citizens, like JT Bennet claimed to be, didn't ignore very real threats to their lives. They reacted, they felt fear and they did anything they could do avoid being placed in another life and death situation.

"You don't find it odd that he shows absolutely no fear? It's not as if he were trained to endure trauma or deal with men like Black Mask on a regular basis."

"But that's just it, Bruce. He's never shown fear. He fights with Black Mask's guys when they bother his workers, he didn't even panic when he realized that Bullock's partner was a mole for..." There was the moment. Dick's black brows furrowed as his blue eyes widened. Finally, he understood that his boyfriend's behavior wasn't at all normal.

Bruce took a breath. "I don't know what that means, but it has me concerned, Dick." He admitted. "He could suffer Oppositional Defiance Disorder, a mental illness that often involves a lack of normal fears, he could have been traumatized as a child and simply processes things differently, but whatever the case may be, his life is in danger."

"God, maybe I should stop by his place while I'm patrolling, make sure that he's okay." Dick frowned as he looked toward the door, his body language tense and yet jittery. His first Robin always needed to move in some form or another. He was just too hyper to control the energy that coursed through him. "What if, what if Black Mask got him...

"I doubt that's the case. Perhaps you should stop by his office. He might be at work." Bruce suggested, but there was more to it than he wanted to explain to Dick. Fact of the matter was, JT was hiding something, something that he was pretty sure he'd discovered during his visit yesterday. "Just keep in contact, Dick. I don't want any of you taking risks. The Red Hood has upped his game and he's very dangerous as it is, but after that girl's death..."

"I understand." Dick nodded. "So basically, I need to be watching out for Black Mask and The Red Hood. Two murderers who don't like me or Tim."

"When you go on your patrols tonight I'll be with you on comms. I want you to have an extra set of eyes out there. Barbara will be available, as will Alfred, but you two have to be very careful. The Red Hood has this entire city's criminals on edge and probably more than a little trigger happy." Bruce warned as his eyes flicked toward the TV. A bulletin was running across the screen.

He turned the TV up with his bed remote and Dick turned to face the screen as well. "Thanks Donald," Sandy Bowers was standing at another crime-scene, this time live. The wind was blowing gently at her light brown hair. "I'm standing in the middle of yet another crime scene where a ruthless gang of young men known as the Gotham City Killerz found themselves the victims of The Red Hood..."

0945 hrs

Crime Alley

Jason stumbled into the small hideout in a dilapidated building. His face was completely exposed which prevented him from returning to the luxurious penthouse he was supposed to be staying in. The helmet he'd lost when he had to self destruct it while fighting seven men and the female detective he'd killed the night before. His domino had lasted for most of the night but ultimately he'd had to pocket it when blood kept dripping over the lenses, making it difficult to see. He was completely drenched in sweat and blood and wasn't sure just how much of either body fluid was his own.

All he knew for certain was that it was freezing and he'd been damned sloppy the night before as well as this morning. The killing spree he'd gone on in the name of every innocent teenager of Gotham City had resulted in twenty-nine casualties. Twenty-nine. No wonder he was so fucking tired. He just needed to rest, needed to find out what was hurt and get himself cleaned up. Then he could sleep.

He walked through the tidy though run down apartment and turned on the small radio with his left hand. He was still hanging onto something in his right but he didn't care enough to look or take notice. The local news was playing which meant Sandy Bower's snobby voice was echoing through the room as she spun the tragic tale of the Gotham City Killerz. Fucking punks. They hadn't known who he was, couldn't have possibly known. Sure he was wearing the same jacket and tactical pants, but he'd ditched the knees pads and the guns in a different hide out on his way toward home. He couldn't really run around in broad daylight dressed as his alter ego.

The Gotham City Killerz had always been on his short list, but he'd never found the time to locate them. So as he had walked down the streets toward this hideout, blood dripping down his face and hands, the eight young killers made the mistake of believing him an easy target. They assumed he'd been beaten bloody by someone else.

So they did what they did best. They approached their intended target to mug and kill them. That was how they operated the vicious little fucks. They never let their victims live. Didn't matter how old or young, how weak or feeble. They didn't do it kindly either. The Killerz beat their victims to death with bats, pipes, crow bars...And that had really been what snapped him back to reality.

The one with the bat had caught him off guard, got a good hit on him and made him more than a little dizzy. He might not have been able to call on his reserves to fight them off, but when he heard that hooked metal bar smack the open palm and insane laughter ring through his ears, his blood boiled with renewed energy. He'd lunged and taken hold of the crow bar and bashed the kid's head wide open. With a ferocity he never thought he'd be able to feel after such a long day and night he took all eight young adults out of the gene pool and left them a bloody fucking mess. They were all killers, everyone of them. He felt no remorse. Not for those little bastards who would have turned him into human pulp just for the fun of it.

He shivered as he looked down and saw the crow bar still in his right hand. He dropped it with a gasp and stepped backward. The clanging sound the object made when it hit the floor nearly threw him back into the horrific memories of the day he died. The Joker had tossed it to the side carelessly, as if it hadn't just broken the body of a fifteen year old boy.

"NO!" He raged as he kicked the bar. He would not do this to himself. He would not remember. He wouldn't. He would not relive that night ever again! Not if he had a choice and he wasn't asleep so it was his choice.

After several deep breaths he started stripping out of his clothing. He was covered in bruises, that much he could feel. There were a few shallow scrapes and one or two gashes here and there but nothing to be concerned over. Another deep breath and he brought his ungloved hands to his head and gently felt for cuts. There was a long one, at least three inches long, that had been the one that kept bleeding into his mask. He would have to rinse off and superglue it closed.

His muscles screamed their exhaustion as he forced himself to stretch while he pulled off the last of his clothing. He grabbed a black towel from the cupboard in the bathroom and started the shower. It would take at least five minutes to heat up in this shit-hole, so he took out the first aid kit and started to clean up the wounds he could see.

Despite the fighting, there were no bruises on his face, at least nothing that Dick would notice. Hell, except for the cut in his hair, he'd done a much better job protecting his core and his head. All the cuts and gashes were primarily on his arms and legs. Once he glued the cut in his head shut he let it sit a few second and then jumped into the piss warm shower.

It took nearly thirty minutes for him to feel clean and even then he remained under the water an additional fifteen minutes. After the shower he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from a banged up dresser in the bedroom. He needed to get to work as soon as possible or someone would notice that JT Bennet went missing at the same time The Red Hood came out to play. It was already a risk and once again he found himself contemplating Alfred's question.

Did he want to be caught?

"God yes." He whispered to himself. "I'm so tired."

No! None of that shit. You made promises, asshole. You have to clean up these streets, you have to find Killer Croc, you have to take down Black Mask once and for all and when that's all said and done, you have to get the Clown, hopefully while he's still in Arkham. So none of this 'I'm so tired' bullshit. You can sleep when you're dead.

After the pep talk which had to prove he'd lost his mind, Jason tossed his clothes in the washer and hid the crowbar under his mattress. It wasn't like anyone would go up to the apartment, especially since no one lived in it, but he couldn't risk it just lying on the floor. Besides, it was an inanimate object, it couldn't hurt him without someone else's hand wielding it. Better to keep it close than let someone find it as the sole murder weapon against the Killerz.

1215 hrs

Bennet Construction Job Site

When Dick approached the secretary she blushed when she looked up at him. "Mr. Grayson, I mean Officer Grayson, how are you?" He smiled politely which seemed to fluster the young lady even more. "M-Mr. Bennet's just inside his office. You're welcome to go in."

He nodded gratefully and headed in, happy to get away from the practically drooling secretary. What he saw upon entering JT's office threw him for a loop. JT was dead to the world, snoring with his arms crossed over his stomach, his head tilted all the way back as he slept, his mouth hanging open. Dick wanted to laugh, especially since he'd never seen JT look so out of his element. Surely, he'd be embarrassed to know someone, anyone had seen him like that.

Taking advantage of his sleep, Dick inspected him closely, giving himself a moment to really think about who and what this man was. What kind of baggage came with being legally dead by the hands of your own father? Was that why JT didn't fear Black Mask? Bruce insisted he hadn't been traumatized enough to shrug off such encounters without something being wrong with him, but wasn't that enough? Then again, Bruce probably didn't know that about JT. He doubted the young CEO brought it up to just anyone.

Today, JT wore a pair of dark wash jeans, a white thermal long sleeved shirt and a Megadeth T-shirt over it. His work boots were freshly caked with mud, which meant he'd been out on the site. He had a small cut on his hand, but it was easily dismissed as a work injury. He had a black hoodie, the same one the young mad had worn when they first met, hanging off the back of his chair. His hair was unkempt and getting a little long, the white streak contrasting sharply with the rest of his black tresses.

"JT?" He called softly. "JT?"

He woke with a start, getting to his feet with wild teal eyes widened in fear, the chair rolling back into the wall loudly. His fists were clenched and he was in a stance a little too reminiscent of a fighting stance. He blinked once, twice, and then shook his head. "Dick?"
"Are you alright, JT?" It was an odd reaction, one that should have disturbed Dick, but once again, all he could think of was the young man's past. The one he'd told him in confidence. Bruce was wrong. JT was afraid, he just hid it better than most.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. What are you doing here?" He grumbled sleepily.

"Checking on you. I haven't heard from you since you left the hospital last night and after everything that happened with Tim, I was afraid Black Mask had you again." He admitted

"Oh, umm." JT frowned and blinked before giving his head another shake. "Shit. You wanna get some food. I'm fucking starved."

Dick chuckled and nodded. "You look exhausted, something happen last night?"

"I pulled an all-nighter. Couldn't sleep. Just kept working." He shrugged. "Don't have a lot of guys right now so I thought I'd make up for it."

"That's incredibly stupid and dangerous," Dick frowned. "you could have gotten yourself killed and no one would have known until they showed up for work the next day."

"What's it matter when they show up if I killed myself? Dead is dead. Showing up within minutes versus hours doesn't change a fucking thing." he replied irritably as he pulled the hoodie on and then hissed in pain.

When JT's head popped through he caught sight of blood dripping down his head at the top of his hair line. "Did something fall on you last night?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "Fell hard and busted my head open. I glued it though."

With an exasperated sigh Dick moved over to him and gently took his face into his hands. JT grumbled but tilted his head down so that Dick could take a look. The cut was open near one end and looked red and angry as it started to bleed. The rest of the cut was held firmly together by the superglue. He knew the glue should have held which meant it was sloppily applied and JT had probably missed the last half inch of the cut.

"You missed a spot." Dick rolled his eyes. "Got any more?"

Without responding, JT walked back to the other side of his desk and fished around one of the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He sat on the front of his desk, settled between the furniture and Dick and dropped his head as he handed over the glue. Dick couldn't help the smile that formed on his face as he opened the glue and applied it properly to the wound.

"You are impossible, JT."

"Whatever." He yawned.

"Should you even be working? Why don't I take you back to the penthouse and you get some real sleep in a real bed." He suggested as he took the man's hand, tossing the glue on top of the desk.

"You gonna sleep with me?" He grinned.

"No. I just came to get some lunch with you, but I think it's more important that you get your ass in bed." Dick laughed. "You're gonna get yourself killed running on empty like this."

"You wanna get some dinner tonight?" JT asked. "Or I could cook for you."

"Only if you go home and sleep until I come by."

"Fine but on the way over I want something to eat. Gonna throw up if I don't eat something." JT agreed.

1830 hrs

Wayne Manor

There was nothing more he could do. Tim had spoken with Barry Allen over the phone for nearly two hours confirming that the DNA test would be altered enough that it would not have given him a match had it been a Jason Todd from another timeline or alternate universe. Though Tim had used the name John Doe so as not to alert the Justice League before Bruce could be told. None the less, it was settled. Timothy Drake knew that The Red Hood was in fact Jason Peter Todd. Only one question remained for the young man and he insisted that would be harder to prove.

"It has to be a clone, Alfred." Tim sighed from the desk in his lab. "I mean, Jason would never do anything like this, would he?"

"Master Drake, if it was a clone, he could not have possibly retained memories he did not have. His training, his knowledge of everyone's true identities, as well as his comfort with Gotham City and it's streets? There's no way for him to have it."

"Lex Luthor is a cunning man. Isn't it at all possible he figured out a way to keep memories?" Tim countered.

"Possible, but unlikely." Alfred shook his head. He may have promised to help keep Jason's secrets, but he wasn't going to purposely steer his family down the wrong path, especially if it was a path that could cause them to confront a man as dangerous, untrustworthy, and sleazy as Lex Luthor. "I know that you don't want it to be him anymore than I do, Master Drake, but I think we both know the truth."

"So then what happened to him?" Tim frowned, his blue eyes falling to the floor. "Why is he this monster? Have you heard the news? Over the past twenty-four hours he killed twenty-nine people. He murdered twenty-nine men and women."

"I imagine the answers are no easier than the questions themselves." Alfred frowned.

"We have to tell Dick and Bruce, but I don't know how. How do we walk up to them and tell them that the kid they knew and loved has turned into a psychopath?" Tim looked miserable as he plopped down into his chair. "Bruce needs to heal and rest, but if he knows that The Red Hood is Jason Todd, he'll hurt himself and Dick? Dick will collapse in on himself. He'll be just as bad as Bruce and he'll get killed out there."

Alfred wanted to argue with the young man, but he was right. If Bruce knew, he wouldn't stay in the hospital, let alone his bed. Dick would go out of his mind searching everywhere for Jason and while that might not end in the way Tim imagined, it would end just as terribly once he realized that the man he'd fallen in love with was not only a serial killer, but his own adopted brother. Neither man would react well.

"We can't tell them yet, Alfred. We just can't. Not until Bruce is better, not until they can help each other get through the pain." Tim frowned and shivered a little. "This is going to be a big secret, but it has to be done. Please, Alfred? Please help me keep this from them, just until Bruce is back in action?"

With a heavy sigh, Alfred nodded. "Under one condition, Master Drake."

"What's that?"

"You must swear to me that you won't go looking for him or trying to find him. Clearly he's unstable and we don't know what he may do if he realizes his cover has been blown."

19:05 hrs

Bruce's Hospital Room

Bruce frowned as he looked at the pictures and the images that Barbara had brought to him. He set them down and then watched the video feeds on the tablet she'd handed him. The top of the screen was The Red Hood walking toward Ryan Murphy and on the bottom screen of the tablet was JT Bennet walking into the conference room where he and Lucious were waiting.

"It's identical." He frowned.

"After you told me to look everything over again while taking in to account the methods of the League of Assassin's, everything fits together. The family history is bogus, the company's past is fantasy because Bennet Construction itself is brand new and all the referrals and references belong to an older company that they absorbed last year, a company owned and operated by suspected members of the same League." Barbara explained. "Other than a birth certificate and social security number, there is no real history of JT Bennet. I can't find any schools, jobs or colleges."

"Some members of the League are raised within the confines of their stronghold." Bruce sighed. "Whoever he really is, JT was most likely born and raised with the League."

He could see the fear and concern in her eyes before she even asked. "What about Dick? Is he in danger?"

"While this JT character is most likely playing Dick, no. He has shown time and time again that he only kills dangerous criminals. Even after watching all the reports I can say that every man and woman that fell to him had all killed or raped in their past without need."

"Without need?"

"For instance, there have still been muggings, thefts, vandalism, and other crimes take place in the city. Crimes in the same vicinity that he's been sited in and yet he does nothing to these criminals. It's because they don't meet his list of requirements which so far includes murder and sexual assault."

Once again Barbara fell silent and Bruce watched her sort it all out in her head. "It would explain how he knew about you, your injury and all of our identities. The League has always known." She bit at her bottom lip and sighed. "When are we going to tell the others?"

"Tomorrow when Dick, Tim and Alfred come to see me. I don't believe he's a threat to them unless they spook him. I discussed some of my concerns with Dick earlier before anything was confirmed. Maybe he'll come to the conclusion on his own. He's certainly smart enough to figure it out."

"That's true, but he also tends to be naive, especially when he's already biased." Barbara frowned.

"For now, the best bet is to act as if nothing has changed. If we confront him and he has any kind of hint that we're after him, it's going to be impossible to take him down. He'll disappear like he's been trained to do or worse, he'll be replaced with some other plant and then we'll have to start from scratch." Bruce sighed.

"OK, but what if Dick does figure it out like you said? If we don't want anyone moving in on Bennet just yet than what do we do if..."

"Calm down, Barbara. I trust Dick. Whether he figures it out or not, I have no doubt that he'll be able to handle himself. The only thing we risk is The Red Hood running. JT might be a killer, but I don't doubt for one moment that he cares about Dick."

"That's not exactly comforting, Bruce." She huffed as she crossed her arms.

"I know, Barbara, I know, but while I'm stuck in this bed there isn't much more we can do without endangering more lives except to trust that Dick and JT will be able to get through one more night in ignorance." He shrugged.

1900 hrs

JT's Penthouse.

The steady stream of water fell over Dicks' naked chest, his back was pressed against the shower tiles while both of his hands were steadying themselves on his lover. Dick's right hand was gently rubbing the back of JT's head, his fingers knotting and twirling through his thick black hair. His left hand held on firmly to his right shoulder as he moaned salaciously.

Dick bit at his bottom lip while he felt JT's hand gently stroking his length as he licked and teased his weeping tip. His free hand massaged his inner thighs occasionally teasing and pressing at his hole.

"Mmm, JT..." He whimpered when his younger lover moved his mouth over him, sucking his entire length. Dick let go of his shoulder and grasped at the wall, resting more of his weight into the tiled wall at his back. "Oh, God..."

The younger man's answer went unheard as he worshiped Dick's body with his warm, eager tongue. As he grabbed the backs of his strong thighs he built up a rhythm, pistoning him in and out of his mouth. Dick closed his eyes tightly, his teeth gritted as he tried to control himself but he knew it was coming hard and fast and just as he was about to blow...

JT pulled off him and at the same time grabbed him firmly around the base of his cock. Dick cried out in frustrated pain as his boyfriend stood up and grinned, the water now spraying his neck and face. He kissed him hungrily as his free hand moved down over his buttocks and started to test his hole once more. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

"A guy can dream." Dick said between kisses.

"Mmm, I want to see if I can get you off the way I did the first time we were together." JT explained as he grabbed the lube from right next to the shampoo. He let go of Dick long enough to adjust the shower head so that it was shooting straight down.

"That's not..." Dick shivered and blushed at the same time. "That's not normal for me, as a matter of fact that's the one and only time that's ever happened to me before."

"I figured." JT grinned, his teal eyes flashing. "I need to stroke my ego a bit, Dick. I need to know if I can do it again."

Dick groaned and laughed at the same time as he leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. "What if you can't? I need to cum, JT." He whined.

"Oh, Baby? You really think I wouldn't take care of you?" JT grabbed his face and made him look in the eyes as he wagged his eyebrows. "It's not fun for me if I can't get you off."

Before Dick could respond, JT's lips crashed into his own. He could feel JT's hand move back behind him where his other hand was. While they kissed, JT squirted out the lube into his hands and immediately began to massage his entrance. Dick whimpered again as he felt one of JT's finger's pressing into him.

"Bite me, scratch me, do what every you need to do, Dick, but don't you dare touch yourself." He growled before sinking his teeth into the cop's neck.

Dick's vision blurred as he felt the painful intrusion of a second and impatient finger enter him at the same time his lover's teeth gripped him. He did as instructed and returned the taller man's bite but on his shoulder, his own back arching uncomfortably. "Relax for me, Dick, just relax." He clung to JT's brawny frame, his eyes settling on an odd wound that was beginning to scar just near his shoulder.

Just as he was starting to focus in on it, JT's fingers brushed that sensitive bundle of nerves and he lost all sense as he cried out. He gritted his teeth as his lover pressed into that same spot again and again, his hole stretching as a third finger pressed inside of him.

Keening and clinging to JT, Dick all but jumped into his arms, his legs wrapping tightly around the other man's waist. If he wasn't so over stimulated and crying out in ecstasy he would have been impressed by how quickly JT adjusted to his weight, holding him in the air for several moments before back him up against the wall so that half the weight was carried by the large walk in shower.

His fingers pulled out and Dick felt empty, so empty that he nearly cried actual tears from the increased frustration. He didn't wait long however, before something much larger and warmer started to make it's way into his properly stretched and lubed hole.

"Fucking..." The younger grumbled. "So fucking...Tight." He moaned and Dick could help the spasm of his own muscles that tightened about the large cock inside him. "Oh yeah, Dickie...Oh fuck..."

JT kissed him again as he started to thrust, slowly at first and then with increased speed. Dick nuzzled into his neck and shoulder, his legs remaining wrapped about his lover. He reached up and grabbed hold of that mostly black hair and started tugging at it, recalling how much JT insisted he liked it rough.

"Yes." His lover answered him. "Bite me, pull my hair, I don't care... just don't stop, Dick." His voice rumbled as he really started to move, pressing Dick harder into the wall as he used it to build up his speed.

Dick yanked JT's hair with one hand as his opposite scratched at his back, all while he bit and kissed at the laborer's jaw, neck and lips. He let out vulgar, wanton sounds every time JT struck his prostate, his body shivering and tightening around the pulsing cock within. He was so close, so very close but he needed to be touched! He needed something, anything to wrap around his own head.

"JT, please, please, you have to touch me, you have to. It hurts...it hurts so good, but it hurts!" Dick begged.

"Damn, Grayson, you sound so pretty when you beg." JT snarled in his ear before he bit at it viciously. "Keep going, tell me what you want."

He yelped at the bite but didn't let go or push away. "Please, just fucking touch me, JT. You're killing me here. I need to cum, I need to cum so bad. Please let me cum, JT, please."

In answer to his pleas, slipped a hand between them, and this time Dick was fully aware and impressed by the younger man's strength as he continued to hold him in place. Just as he was about to compliment said strength, he felt his calloused hand wrap around his shaft and his thumb sweep over the top of his slit. He arched his back in response, this time in pleasure.

"Yes, yes yes, yes." He kept pulling JT's hair, scratching at his back and biting at him wherever he could between breaths. So long as he kept hitting that spot while stroking him, he wouldn't last long. Couldn't last long. "I'm gonna...

"Fuck yes. Cum for me, Dick." JT ordered, once again his lips pressed into his ear and with an undignified howl, streams of semen splashed against their stomachs.

As Dick was trying to come down he felt JT pulled out and help him stand before he was whipped about and bent over. The young slipped back inside of him, his strong hands running down his back until the settled at his hips and held him tightly. He rode the waves of his own climax as JT slammed in and out of him aggressively, his fingers holding him in a bruising grip until he finally cried out his own release.

"Oh my God, JT." Dick moaned as he felt the mans warmth within him. "Oh my God."

"I know," JT panted as he spasmed inside of him. "Just...Just hold on a minute. We'll get cleaned up and then I'll cook you dinner."

When Dick got dressed he walked out into the kitchen area of the penthouse where JT was wearing only a pair of black sweats. His incredible body was on display and he was once again shocked at the amount of scars he had littered over his finely chiseled torso. He caught himself staring at an injury that looked to be at least a couple of weeks old but he shook it off and looked to his pretty teal eyes instead.

"So what are you cooking me?" Dick asked as he approached the bar style counter.

"Chili dogs." JT grinned.

"Seriously?" Dick frowned as he sat at one of the stools so that he could watch the man cook.

"No." His boyfriend laughed. "I'm just fucking with ya. I'm gonna make you some chicken Cacciatore. It's one of the few things I can cook that doesn't come in a can. Sort of"

"Sounds good, do you want any help?" He asked.

"Nope." Again JT smiled, seeming much more energetic after sleeping that afternoon and most of the evening away. He was whistling a familiar tune as he pulled out a knife and twirled it before setting it beside a cutting board. He had several cans of opened tomato sauce, paste and diced tomatoes that looked ready to be dropped into a cooking pan. On the flat stove top was a frying pan with chicken breast cooking.

"Hey, um," Dick frowned as his eyes once again focused on the shoulder wound, why was that bothering him so much? It had distracted him during sex, too. "Have you looked into a security detail?"

"Yep." JT nodded and pulled out two carrots and two ribs of celery. He laid them out on the cutting board and then dumped all the cans of varying tomatoes into a large saute pan that was beside the frying pan. He mumbled some lyrics or other, though Dick couldn't hear them clearly as he had his back to him.

"And?" He frowned, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer.

"Too expensive. I'll be fine." He shrugged. "Shit..." JT cursed as he started going through all the cupboards in the small kitchen. "There'd better be a fucking rice cooker in here or we're screwed. Cause really? I suck at boiling rice. It should be easy, but I fuck it up every time."

"If we'd done this at my place you'd have all the appliances you need." Dick smirked. "Including a rice cooker."

JT laughed as he ended his search and started pulling out a sauce pan and filling it with water. "This'll work just as well, Dick." He rolled his eyes as he turned on a third burner and then picked up the knife, twirling it once more before he started chopping the carrots. "Besides, your place is a fucking sty."

"What makes you think my place is a mess?" Dick frowned because he'd never once invited JT back to his place. He'd been embarrassed at the thought of it after seeing how much of neat freak the smoking construction worker was.

He felt his heart race as JT's smile dropped. He looked worried, panicked even. Why? Why was everything suddenly getting hot? Dick rubbed at the back of his neck as he watched JT nervously twirl that damned knife and oh God, he didn't want to go down this road. It wasn't what he thought it was, he was just imagining things.

"I uh, just assumed from a lot of Alfred's comments, Dick." He finally answered as he set the knife back down next to the carrots. "You're looking a little pale; do you need some water?"

Dick stepped down from the bar stool and ran his hands through his thick black hair. "That song, that song you've been singing to yourself; it's Megadeth, isn't it?"

"Seriously, Grayson, what's your fucking problem?" JT frowned, his voice dropping dangerously as his eyes focused intently on him and every move he made. "Is it a crime to like one of the most popular metal bands of the 80's and 90's?"

"You're telling me you can't afford security but you can afford this place?" Dick's voice stammered as he stared at the wound again. A wound that was most likely caused by an arrow days before Valentine's Day. "Come on, JT, tell me the truth, please?"

JT's eyes widened momentarily before they settled and he took a deep breath. "No. I can afford all the security I want." He admitted. "I just don't want or need it."

"Why?" Dick demanded, his heart pumping and his hands shaking. "Why not, JT?"

"Because it'd be a waste." He sighed and shook his head. "That asshole doesn't scare me Dick."

"Why not, JT?" Dick glared.

"You know why!."

"I want to hear you say it!" Because he did. He needed to or even after Bruce's warning that afternoon he wouldn't let himself believe it. He couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to think he'd fallen for a man that could... He had to hear it from his own lips.

"Don't do this, okay?" JT sighed and leaned against the counter as he dropped his head to stare at the floor.

"Damn it, JT, you are him aren't you?" Dick felt tears burning his eyes as his heart continued to hammer against his chest. "The damned song, knowing what my place is like, having that wound, that fucking wound...That's why you stayed dressed on Valentine's Day, isn't it? It's why I couldn't get a hold of you all night last night and it's why...It's why you won't hire anyone..." He wanted to scream at him as the younger refused to look at him so he did. "SAY IT, JT!"

Startled by the enraged shout, JT looked up at him and for a moment, Dick was sure he saw tears gathered in his eyes. His expression however morphed into something angry and cruel. "Fine, Dick. Fine." He snarled as his lip curled hatefully. "I am The Red Hood."

Do NOT panic! There will be more the this fight and argument. It will pick up where it left off. I would never take their fight away from you guys after so many of you have waited for this exact moment ;). Seriously, I hope you all enjoyed this. There is so much more that's coming and the angst is officially going to kick off starting in Chapter 27.