A/N:

Ended up splitting the final chapter, so y'all get three chapters instead of two.

Same as with anything else I've written, I'm fudging a number of timelines here for my own agenda. Tim is fourteen, and Jason is physically eighteen. Enjoy.

Jason hadn't been back in Gotham for long, but he'd already grown disillusioned with the grimy streets and polluted skies he'd so dearly missed while trapped with the League. Worse, he'd had to face the music and accept that Talia hadn't been lying, and his two worst fears really had come true:

One, the clown was still breathing.

Two, Batman had a new Robin.

Said Robin was Timothy Jackson Drake. The records showed he lived next door, in an estate with a grandeur that almost matched Wayne Manor in austerity. And wasn't that a kicker? Bruce had chosen a rich kid to be the new Robin, had moved on from second-hand street trash the moment he could. The new bird was Bristol born-and-bred, and surely fit in better than Jason ever had; another blue-eyed, black-haired boy to fill out the roster when Jason had barely been dead six months.

Jason wanted to cut his replacement down immediately, but he'd held himself back until he was more settled. Now that he'd taken control of the drug trade in Crime Alley and instituted his own rules, it was time to check off the next box on his list. Jason still wanted to hunt down the Joker and make Bruce face his mistakes once and for all, but for now, clipping Robin's wings took priority.

Only problem was, the new Robin hadn't been home in a week.

Since encountering the Red Hood, Batman hadn't let him out on a solo patrol for a while, so Jason had intended to cut the Replacement down inside his own home, leaving him broken and bleeding out for his own father to find with a note only Bruce could decipher. He'd set up a camera to track the occupants of the house and catch Robin when he was alone, but he hadn't been around for days. He must've been showing up at the cave, since both Batman and Robin had been spotted out in Gotham, but the camera didn't catch sight of him once.

Jason shrugged it off; the pretender must have been staying at the Manor, and sneaking in there wasn't something Jason could handle just yet. He'd wait until the brat went home or to the Tower and take him down then, proving there'd be no more dead Robins to Batman once and for all.

Luckily for Jason, his chance came as he was taking out the trash in the Bowery. He was about to get the drop on some two-bit thugs and leave them bleeding out in an alley when a speck of colour in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He spun, and saw a distinctive red and green-coloured figure hopping buildings a few blocks down.

Robin. Jason's vision filled with green and he abandoned the thugs below, keeping to the shadows as he trailed the lone vigilante. If Jason was thinking clearly, he would have immediately picked up on the red flag; Robin never flew alone near this side of town if Batman could help it, but with Robin in sight the pit was overwhelming, the lurid green staining his entire field of vision and drowning any deeper thought beneath a sea of angry green.

Jason tracked the Replacement to a run-down set of apartments, not far from his own regular prowl in Crime Alley.

He thought he'd lost sight of Robin and cursed internally, but then he spotted an ink-black cape slip in through one of the apartment windows, and grinned. Jason had Robin all on his lonesome, and he'd even found an empty building where no one would think to look for their lost little birdie.

Jason slunk closer to the building and gently lowered himself onto a crumbling balcony the next building over, wondering how best to surprise the brat. Should he follow him in through a window, and wait until the boy caught a glimpse of his helmet in the corner of his eye? Or should he take him by surprise, knock him down and spear him to the floor like the Replacement was a captured butterfly and Jason was the lepidopterist watching him struggle?

He was still debating the best plan of action when the lights flickered on slowly.

Jason blinked, not sure what he was seeing.

His replacement had changed out of the Robin costume into casual attire, and was seated at a table, a bag leant up against the chair, pencil scribbling across a notebook. He occasionally frowned, squinting at the textbook before him.

Jason hadn't seen the new Robin up close until now, but the boy before him didn't look anything like what Talia had told him. He'd expected someone cocky, ready to laud his superiority over the failed Robin before him, but without the garish glow of the Robin suit he just looked like any other kid.

Jason watched the kid scratch at his notebook for a while longer before deciding to check out the rest of the apartment while the kid was distracted. The burning rage of the pit had dimmed somewhat with the removal of the costume, and he dismissed the thought of attacking the kid when he was defenceless. There was no fun in taking down Robin if he couldn't even fight back.

Jason hopped the balcony railing and jumped over to the rooftop bracketing the rear of the apartment, crossing the gravel-covered concrete until he could see directly into the rear window. The moonlight arched in, illuminating a sleeping bag laid atop a mattress and an open duffel bag at its end. The ever-present hum of anger at the back of Jason's mind stuttered at the painfully familiar sight.

Jason returned to the other window.

The boy hadn't moved, now grimacing at his work, but still Jason watched, transfixed. He still needed to finish his patrol for the night, keep the ball rolling on the plans that called him back to Gotham in the first place, but something kept him crouched on the balcony, watching a kid in an empty apartment who suddenly looked too small and timid to fill the Robin boots.

Jason held back a twitch as a memory came to him unbidden, of being a younger, much more hopeful boy, who laid awake in bed late at night after patrol, worrying if he would ever be able to live up to Dick's legacy.

The green swelled at the memory, and Jason tried to banish the thought, but it hovered doggedly in the back of his mind. Did this new Robin wonder if he'd be able to live up to Jason?

Jason gritted his teeth, and stared harder through the glass panes of the window.

Eventually, the kid finished whatever he was working on and zipped up his pencil case, putting his notebook away in the backpack leant precariously against the leg of his chair. He stared with unfocused eyes at the empty tabletop for a moment before his face crumpled, eyes gleaming with the tell-tale sign of tears. He curled over the table, burying his face in his crossed arms, and began to shake.

Jason's heart twinged without his permission as he watched the kid cry to himself, and felt the pit fade away entirely for the first time in months.

Ah, shit.

There was no reason Jason should help, he had no obligation to even contemplate it, but—

Talia had led him to believe the worst, that the new Robin had been given the position out of malice. But if Batman had chosen him, why was this kid alone in an apartment on the edge of Crime Alley? Why wasn't he at his own mansion, or staying at the Manor, for that matter? Jason grimaced beneath his helmet, unease pooling where the pit had once been.

All the evidence before him was leading Jason to one conclusion, and it wasn't one he'd prepared to consider.

Someone had failed another Robin.

Anger once again burned within him, but it was no longer green licking at the corners of his vision; it was a rightful fury, one he hadn't felt since he was last in the Robin suit himself, now directed at whichever adult was responsible for his replacement's predicament.

Jason sighed, the mechanised voice of the helmet's modulator whirring into the still night. It was too soon to act on his latest discovery despite his new-found anger, with work still to be done to get the Alley in order. Jason had lingered too long by the window, anyway; he'd better leave before the kid looked up and caught a glimpse of the Red Hood watching him in the creepiest way possible.

Jason sunk back into the shadows, and try as he might to focus on anything else, the sight of Tim Drake crying to himself in an empty apartment lingered on the inside of his eyelids.

Come Saturday, Jason had made a decision.

Around the time when a typical weekend patrol would end, he broke into the kid's current abode, through security that was so abysmal it was almost non-existent, and found a convenient patch of shadows to settle in to as he waited for the kid to arrive.

Within half an hour, there was a flutter of movement by one of the windows, and Robin quietly undid the latch before sliding in and dropping below the pane, sliding the window back down as carefully as he'd opened it. He'd waited until the moon was hidden by a thicker cloud of Gotham's perpetual smog, and had Jason not been trained by Batman, he very well could have missed it.

Robin moved further into the room, stretching his shoulders and rolling his neck as he let out a lengthy sigh. He came within barely six feet of Jason, still lounging in his shadow.

Jason waited until the kid was directly across from him before he spoke.

"You're good, I'll give you that, but your situational awareness leaves a lot to be desired."

Robin spun to attention, his weariness sliding off him in an instant as he snapped his bo staff to its full length and dropped into a fighting position. When he laid eyes on Jason he froze, whiteout lenses widening in his domino as he took in the sight before him.

Jason knew he made a threatening figure. He was six three, give or take, and his dive in the pit meant he'd easily regained the weight and bulk childhood malnutrition took from him. The impersonal gleaming red helmet was the cherry on top, and if Jason remembered anything from his own stint as Robin, the fact he'd previously managed to get the jump on both Nightwing and Batman meant the kid would be worrying about his own chances.

Robin skipped back a step or two, and Jason could see his hands shaking in the moonlit room. Had Jason been looking to hurt, that second of hesitation would have been Robin's downfall, the shaking hands enough to put him down for good. Luckily for his replacement, Jason'd had a change of heart.

Didn't mean he couldn't have fun, though.

Jason stepped forward, not bothering to dodge as Robin struck out with his bo, the hit connecting hard with his chest plate. He deflected the blows that followed, watching Robin become more desperate with each strike. It was clear Robin had good training, but he was tired from patrol and about half Jason's size. It wasn't a fair match.

Eventually the boy stumbled, and Jason easily knocked the staff clean out of his hands.

Robin tried to back away, but he had nowhere to go. He grimaced and levelled a glare at Jason.

"Who are you," he snapped, but the attempt at intimidation had no effect considering the kid was five foot flat and looked about as threatening as a shivering chihuahua.

Jason stalked forwards, backing his replacement into the wall, and caught his wrist when he tried to run. The kid thrashed in his grip, twisting to no avail, his breaths coming faster with each second trapped within Jason's grasp. He had Robin cornered.

Jason reached out with his other hand, and Robin flinched, but rather than grab the shivering boy before him Jason unlatched his helmet and tossed it to the side. The kid went still, eyes cataloguing Jason's features from behind his whiteout lenses, brows pinched in confusion. When Jason peeled off the domino he wore beneath the helmet, Robin's face went slack, a tiny gasp of air the only indication he still had air in his lungs.

"Jason?" the Replacement whispered. "You died."

"Clearly it didn't stick."

Any fear the kid had displayed disappeared in an instant, an awed curiosity taking its place. "Wait— but— you're alive, but you— you definitely died, and— there was an autopsy, Bruce obviously wasn't faking, then—"

The kid's rambling came to an abrupt stop, and he levelled Jason with a shrewd look. "But how did you come back?"

Jason huffed. "Your guess is as good as mine. They didn't tell me how they found me, only that they did."

"They? Then—" The kid stared into Jason's eyes, no longer a bright blue, but a pure green that almost glowed. "The League. Lazarus," Robin whispered under his breath.

"Great," said Jason shortly. "Now that we've come to that grand conclusion, maybe we can move on to discussing the real reason I'm here."

Before Jason could continue, the kid let out a tiny gasp, his wrist twitching in Jason's grip. "Is— is this about Robin? Are you," he swallowed, "here to hurt me because I took Robin? I— you, you can have it back."

"You make a lot of assumptions, Replacement," said Jason. "And I don't want Robin. I'm here because you're a long way from home, Timothy Jackson Drake."

A flash of fear passed over the kid—Tim's—face and he broke eye contact with Jason for the first time since he'd revealed his identity. "I don't know what you mean," he mumbled.

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, right. You're just sneaking into an abandoned building on the other side of town from your perfectly nice house for no reason? Like I believe that."

The kid muttered something under his breath and shuffled awkwardly on his feet. He clearly didn't want to talk about whatever his issue was, and interrogating the kid as Robin would get him nowhere. Jason sighed, finally letting go of the kid's wrist.

"Go change into something that's less of an eyesore," he said. "We gotta lot to talk about."

Tim rubbed at his wrist for a moment, glancing between the apartment window and the guns strapped to Jason's thighs, clearly debating if he could still make a break for it. Eventually his shoulders dropped, and he gave one final glance to Jason before ducking into the bedroom.

Jason let out another sigh, and flopped back onto the shitty sofa. He had to punch a particularly painful lump into submission before he could get comfortable.

Tim came out a short while later sans domino, dressed in some worn sweatpants and a tee-shirt, but lingered by the bedroom door. Jason patted the seat next to him, and Tim edged over like he was a skittish animal. He perched on the seat furthest from Jason, expression wary.

"So, Tim," drawled Jason. "Any reason you're living in some shitty apartment and not the Manor? What, Bruce exhaust his thirty spare rooms already?"

Tim shrunk in on himself, the oversized clothes making him look even smaller. "I don't live at the Manor. I live with my dad. And he's away."

Jason had camera footage proving that wasn't true, but the denial meant the kid was definitely hiding something he didn't want Jason to know. Something he was hiding from Bruce as well.

Jason stretched, ignoring Tim's flinch at the movement but tucking away the reaction for later. "Still, you're what, twelve? Shouldn't you have someone looking after you? Like a nanny or something."

Tim bristled. "I'm not a baby," he snapped, "I'm fourteen. I can look after myself."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Doesn't explain why y'aren't still up in Bristol, though. How can I be sure you aren't planning something, anyhow? Got plans to take on the big bad Hood in his own territory, getting me to let my guard down so the Bat can swoop in and drop me off at the Arkham gates?" he said with a dark grin.

Tim blanched, prior annoyance forgotten. "I— no, Jason, God no, if Bruce knew who you were he would never. I wouldn't let him, and neither would Dick. And Bruce doesn't even know I'm here anyway, it's not like—" he cut himself off abruptly, his indignation over Jason fizzling out to leave the kid looking as sad and small as ever. "It's not like it matters," he muttered.

"Yeah, right," said Jason with a roll of his eyes. "As if Batman would ever think his Robin living in some hovel wouldn't matter. As if Bruce wouldn't think a kid living by himself in a dangerous situation wouldn't matter. Now tell me, kid, what's really going on?" asked Jason, leaning forward as he tried to catch Tim's eye.

Tim avoided Jason's gaze, keeping his own pinned to the ratty sofa armrest as he picked at a scab on his wrist. "Told you, doesn't matter. S'not your problem."

"A kid alone in my territory is my problem," growled Jason. "Do you think I'm going to accept whatever bullshit justification you have for living in a condemned building by yourself? Think I'm just going to forget you're shacking up here and move on?" he asked, letting out a sardonic laugh. "The longer you stay here, the more you're at risk. Someone else will notice, and you won't be as lucky. Any run of the mill shitbag could follow you up here and take whatever they want, training be damned."

Jason leaned in closer, forcing Tim to look him in the eyes. "They could sneak in to rob you while you're out getting something to eat, find the Robin suit in the closet, and what then? Wouldn't be too hard to put a name to the face; your schoolbooks are right there. The cons find out Tim Drake is Robin, and everyone else you know is put at risk. Your dad, your stepmom, your friends at school, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick… you're willing to risk all that, just because you're not willing to tell me why you're here?"

Tim was stricken, all the blood drained from his face. His lower lip trembled, and he looked away to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes.

It took a while for Tim to compose himself, but eventually he turned back to face Jason.

"I— my dad, he—" he said, voice wavering, "he kicked me out."

Jason blinked, rage swelling beneath an expression he fought to keep neutral. "Your dad kicked you out," he said blankly.

Tim sniffed, and looked away. "Yeah," he said.

Fuck.

The last of the anger Jason still harboured towards Tim fell away, now solely directed towards his bastard father. Jason could have sighed at his predictability; he was always a sucker for a kid with a sob story, and the pit may have sucked away everything about him that was good, but looking out for a struggling child was still second nature to him.

"Tim," said Jason, losing the tension in his shoulders and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, "Kid. Can you tell me why?"

Tim shook his head. "It wasn't—he just gets angry sometimes, but he's been recovering from his injuries and it's been hard for him since my mom died. It's normal," he said, defensive.

"Hey, I believe you," said Jason placatingly. "Angry like how?"

Tim hunched back into the sofa and starting picking at the pilling on the knees of his sweatpants. "Dunno, usually Dad just yells a lot, like when I don't listen to him or I haven't done my homework," he mumbled. "Sometimes he takes my phone or TV away so I can study, but this time, he—" Tim cut himself off, fists trembling.

"He kicked you out," Jason finished softly.

Tim nodded. He let out another sniff, rubbing at the few tears beading up in his eyes as he pulled his knees into his chest and clutched at the material of his sweatpants. The action made the kid look much younger than his fourteen years; he could almost pass for a cub scout with his small size and the baby fat that still clung to his cheeks.

It made Jason's anger towards Jack Drake rage. How could he potter around his mansion without a care in the world as his only son bared his heart to a goddamn villain? Jason had his suspicions as to what made the man send a child onto the streets, and none of them were good; the only thing preventing Jason from seeking Drake out was his reluctance to make another Robin into an orphan, and the fact said Robin was still trying to hold back his tears.

Jason cleared his throat, swallowing back his anger. "Is there any reason you didn't go to Bruce? He chose you as Robin. He'd give you a place to stay," Jason said, even though admitting that felt like toppling the final bricks from the tower he'd built of Bruce's continued transgressions.

Tim let out a tiny scoff, and scrubbed at his cheeks. "He's still messed up over you. He's doing better, but he doesn't— he doesn't need to worry about me. He's got his own issues, and he's already putting so much effort into training me as Robin, I shouldn't distract him. And he didn't— he didn't choose me. I made him make me Robin," he said, turning to look up at Jason with doleful eyes.

"Okay," said Jason slowly, rapidly reframing all his previous assumptions, "What about Alfred? Or Barbie? Your stepmom, or even Dickface? Surely any of them would be happy to help you."

Tim shrugged listlessly. "They're all busy, they don't need me bothering them or making them worry. And Dana—" Tim looked away, and wiped at his eyes. "If I told her, she'd feel like she had to leave my dad. And she loves him. It wouldn't be fair."

Jason felt his heart constricting further with each word the kid said. "But what about what's fair to you?" he asked softly.

Tim's lip wobbled, and he buried his face in his knees.

Jason watched the kid tremble for a long moment before he made a very hasty decision.

"Alright," he said, and rose to his feet. "You're coming with me, kid. Get your things, and put on some shoes and a jacket."

Tim stared at Jason blankly. "What?"

"'S too dangerous for you to stay here alone, especially as Robin. Someone could find out your identity. Now hurry it up, or I'll leave you here." Tim still didn't budge. "Unless you don't want to come, in which case I'll call Bruce and he can come pick you up instead."

"I— no, I'll come, don't go, let me grab my stuff," said Tim, and stumbled off the sofa in his haste to get to the bedroom.

Once Tim disappeared behind the door, Jason gave himself a moment to lament how badly his plan had backfired. He'd come to Gotham intending on killing the new Robin to teach Batman a lesson, but instead he'd somehow ended up offering him a place to stay; so much for his reputation as the East End's newest and toughest crime lord.

His thoughts were interrupted by Tim rushing back into the room with his bags, hopping as he shoved his feet into his sneakers. "I'm ready," said Tim, breathless, "Where are we going?"

Jason rolled his eyes and stood, slinging Tim's duffle over his shoulder. "My safehouse. Let's go."