The first thing Jason did after waking up was change into a pair of sweats and a tank top. Throwing on slippers for good measure, he ambled down the Manor's stairs with a yawn, heading for his home's breakfast nook.
It was relatively early in the morning. As a consequence of the vigilante lifestyle, the earliest anyone in the Manor got up in the morning was six am. That person was typically Alfred, who prepared his own breakfast first before starting on everyone else's. Right now it was 5:00 am; Alfred wouldn't be down for another hour, if that after the rollercoaster that was last night.
The Manor had three kitchens. A large industrial one located in the basement, typically used by caterers for large gatherings, such as galas and balls. A much smaller but still rather sizable one attached to the main dining room, which was used more often as the Manor's usual occupants/visitors grew over the years. And finally, a regular-sized kitchen in the breakfast nook. This was the only kitchen in constant use, and thus the best-stocked out of all of them. Whenever someone was hungry and aching for food, they always came here.
One of the first places Jason had taken Damian and Cass to during their tour of the Manor was the breakfast nook, and he made sure they knew how navigate there without any issues. Food, after all, was the fuel of life, and chances are that Jason was going to spend a lot of time there anyway. Until he was legally revived and they legally existed, they couldn't afford to go out too often. While he was sure that very few people would be able to recognize him, it was better safe than sorry.
Jason hummed as he stepped over the arch and surveyed the room. Like everything else in the house, it emanated a sense of nostalgia for him. While he had tried to maintain as much of the original interior of the Manor as possible, the passage of time was unavoidable. He had to replace faulty furniture, had to redo the walls after a particularly bad attack (freakin' Jokerz), and the kitchen appliances had to be replaced and updated periodically for both efficiency and safety concerns. While the breakfast nook had kept its place as the central hub of Wayne activity for the early day, it had not been smooth sailing.
Even so, it was relatively easy to fall back into routine with the old nook as he usually had with the new one. He instinctively knew where all the equipment was, how to operate the kitchen appliances, and before he knew it he had eggs sizzling on the skillet, pancakes on the pan and a pitcher of black coffee brewing in the background. He was in the midst of mixing the waffle batter and pouring it into the mold when his senses picked up the presence of a new arrival.
"Morning, Alfred."
The old man had seen better days. To someone who didn't know him very well, Alfred was the picture of impeccable composure that he always was. But to Jason, who had known the butler for years and had loved him like family, the frayed edges and the tiredness in his expression were blaring out for the world to see. Compared to the man he saw yesterday, Alfred looked as if he had aged three decades in one night.
"Master Jason," Alfred greeted back, though there was the slightest hitch to his voice. He blinked as he assessed his kitchen. "Master Jason—"
Jason cut him off before he could say another word. "I know I don't have to," Jason told him gently, "But I want to. You're welcome to help if you want. I don't mind."
Alfred hesitated a bit before moving forward. Whatever reservations he had failed in the face of his lifelong servitude and loyalty to the Wayne family, and he made to join the cooking. There was some hiccups at first, but soon they fell into a familiar rhythm, though with Jason taking the lead.
Over a lifetime ago, when Jason had first come to live at the Manor, he had insisted that Alfred teach him how to cook. It hadn't been because he was offended by the taste of the man's food; living on the streets, Alfred's already top-notch cooking tasted like heavenly mana. That same childhood, however, had instilled in him a desire to be self-sufficient, and cooking was a more than viable skill towards that.
He had picked up cooking quickly, and proved to have talent. Jason was perhaps the only person that Alfred allowed to use his sacred kitchens besides himself and professional caterers, and that hadn't changed up until the butler's death. It was because of this skill that Jason had been able to maintain being the Red Hood for so long on his own; a healthy diet seemed to help combat the self-destructive habits of drinking and smoking. Then, after he dropped both to become Batman and moved permanently back to the Manor, cooking had provided a sufficient stress-reliever to replace them. The recipes he had given to Carrie hadn't come from nowhere, after all.
It was the same now. The shadow of the previous night hung heavy over him, over the entire house to be honest, and he needed a distraction. He still remembered everyone's favorites, all their little quirks, and it was so easy just to let his hands follow memory and make them all. Alfred didn't have that foreknowledge for Damian and Cass (he would one day, Jason was certain), and so had to contend with taking orders instead.
He briefly took a break, at Jason's insistence, to have his own breakfast first. It was the first meal Jason made, a full fry-up complete with black pudding and buttered toast. Alfred seemed to stare at it for a moment, as if terrified to mess up such a beautiful plate, before digging in, though in a proper, British, and entirely Alfred-like manner. The plate was picked clean, much to Jason's satisfaction, and soon the table was cleared for the rest of the meal.
A cup of black coffee for Bruce, a similar decaffeinated blend for Tim (Jason was not going to be party to starting that particular addiction early), and orange juice for everyone else. Stacks of pancakes (plain, chocolate chip, and blueberry), another large plate of eggs, another stack, this time of waffles, some bacon (tofu, which Jason was surprised to find), and a stack of toast with a slew of spreads surrounding it. The table looked a bit full, to say the least, especially with the empty plates Jason had dotted around the edges, but it was worth it.
Alfred stayed in the kitchen to keep the coffee brewing and to start cleaning the pots and pans. Jason sat down, on the end opposite of where Bruce usually sat, and began plating his food, making sure to keep heavy on the protein. He was still building his body back up, and every little bit help.
By the time he started eating, the rest of the family started filing in. Dick, morning person that he was, predictably arrived first, though more subdued than his usual boisterous cheer. The moment of his appearance was punctuated by him stilling at the sight of his younger brother and staring at him. It was only after Jason started staring back, lifting his eyebrows in a pointed manner, that he got a hold of himself and sat himself down on the right of Bruce's seat, pointedly away from him.
Next was Bruce. Unlike Dick, Bruce caught one glimpse of Jason and diverted his gaze immediately. He took the morning paper from Alfred, and flipped it open the moment he sat down, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was trying to avoid his second eldest son. Jason felt faintly hurt at that, though he brushed it away soon enough. It wasn't an unexpected reaction, after all.
Cass's arrival, owing to the girl's nature, was upon them before anyone except Jason realized it. It seemed like moment she wasn't there, and the next she was sitting to Jason's right, shuffling some eggs and waffles unto her plate. Unlike everyone else, she seemed completely at ease, though the brief touch to Jason's arm made it clear she was aware, to some extent, of the tense atmosphere.
Tim shuffled in a few minutes later, skittish and more alert than Jason had ever seen him at this time in the morning, and sat down next to Cass, by Bruce's left. Then again, Jason primarily had to deal with workaholic, jaded Tim. This Tim, young and relatively idealistic, still had something of a normal life (and if Jason had it his way, it would stay that way). Unlike Bruce and Dick, Tim's problem was keeping away from looking at Jason for too long and accused of being rude.
Damian, predictably, was last. His relatively smaller and younger body took much longer to process through the sedative, and even now the child was noticeably drowsy, grumbling softly as he walked in with his adorable Batman pajamas (something that everyone took amusement in except for Bruce). He barely struggled when Jason stood up and lifted him overhead, gently plopping him onto the seat to this left. Jason then piled a couple of blueberry pancakes along with some tofu bacon onto his plate, and poured a glass of milk to compliment Damian's orange juice. His youngest brother didn't protest to the selection, and quietly began to dig in.
As breakfast slowly began to wind down, the hushed and strained ambiance was broken. Rather predictably, the culprit was Damian.
"Father, Jason has informed me of the possibility that you will enroll me into grade school once I am legally under your custody."
Bruce, who had given up on the paper and was now focusing entirely on his food to avoid seeing Jason, blinked. He landed a questioning look on his now youngest child.
"Well, yes. It's the law."
"I would like to petition to have home schooling instead," Damian announced. Now everyone was listening in. Dick was starting to look very amused.
His father, meanwhile, was perplexed. "Why?"
"Because this country's education system is inadequate and I refuse to have my mind be filled with their drivel," the seven year old stated seriously, "Any school system that can produce the likes of Drake is clearly not worthy of my attendance."
"Damian!" Jason called out sharply, before anyone else could react, "That was rude! Apologize to your brother," Tim started choking again; it seemed he still wasn't used to being considered a member of the family, "While your criticisms of the American school system are completely valid, Tim is perfectly capable and intelligent in spite of it, and should be acknowledged as such."
"And I will acknowledge it," Damian grit out, glowering at Jason, "When he proves your claims. Thus far all I can see is a blundering idiot who can barely string three words together."
"Damian."
The child continued his glaring contest with his older brother before looking away and huffing, conceding defeat. "Tt. Very well. I apologize, Drake. It is not your fault that you were indoctrinated by substandard institutions for most of your life."
Jason sighed. It seemed even he knew that was the best he was going to get.
Tim coughed. "Uh…apology accepted?" Something that sounded like what the fresh hell is this was muttered under his breath.
Dick couldn't take it anymore. He laughed. Loudly.
"Oh, Little D," he said, slinging an arm around Damian's small shoulders and ignoring the cry of indignation from the child over his new nickname, "Sure, the education won't be the best, but there's more to school than just that! You can play sports, join clubs, make friends!"
"Why would I want to make friends—"
"Damian, we talked about this—"
"Who wouldn't want to make friends—"
Cass giggled as her three brothers began to talk over each other. Tim was lapping his tongue in his coffee, a suspicious look on his face as he realized that it was not sufficiently caffeinated. Alfred, having regained his composure, simply lifted the empty plate of where the eggs were located from the table to be cleaned.
Bruce, despite the war in his heart, couldn't help but smile.
Once breakfast was over, the family separated. Bruce had work, Tim had to go back home to check in with his dad, and Dick had to make a quick trip to Bludhaven to return the car seat he borrowed. Alfred had a spare one in the attic, with plans to buy a new one today already set in stone.
While everyone else was gone, Jason had taken Damian and Cass aside to make a list of what they needed. More clothes, of course, were at the top of the list. Phones were also necessary; even if Cass couldn't use one properly yet, having one would make it easier to track her in cases of emergencies. The new car seat. More books (there were never enough books in the Manor, and not even the presence of two libraries was going to sway Jason's mind).
Art supplies for Damian, something the boy protested about liking until Jason held up a sketch Damian had made on a napkin while they were hanging out at the Kennedy Airport in New York. A laptop had also been considered, until Alfred informed Jason that Bruce would be providing him a state-of-the-art laptop from WayneTech, purposefully designed with him in mind. Went unspoken was the reason why.
Once Dick got back, they drove into town with the Mercedes-Benz. First was the car seat (they were vigilantes already; there was no desire to subvert the law more than necessary), then the phones, and the art supplies, and soon it's time for a late lunch. At Dick's insistence and Jason's general amusement, they end up going to Bat-Pizza. A hundred dollars were spent on tokens, another fifty on greasy pizza and fries, because they were billionaires and they could afford to waste that much money on something like this.
While waiting for the food, Jason took Cass and Damian to the DDR machine and patiently taught them how to use it. While the two became immersed in that, Dick, being the man-child that he was, had commandeered the air hockey table and was now crowing over a string of beaten challengers he was sending back to their mothers. Jason spotted him, and a wicked idea popped into his mind. He smirked.
"Hey, Dickie!" Dick blinked as Jason ambled over on the other side of the table, popping in two tokens and grabbing the striker from his brother's latest victim, "How about you pick on someone your own size?"
Before Dick could react to the taunt, Jason had already dropped the puck onto the tabletop. With one precise hit, it slid over the line at a breakneck pace, entering Dick's goal with an audible sound. Jason's smirk widened as Dick picked up the puck, mouth agape. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet Jason's eyes, and glared.
"Oh, it's on."
"Best five out of seven!"
"No."
"But—"
"No, Dick. You lost, fair and square."
"Fair and square my as—" Dick stumbled as he caught sight of Alfred's infamous look from the corner of his eye, "—ascot, yeah, ascot! You had Little D distract me!"
Damian glowered at him. He still wasn't happy about the nickname.
"Whatever Damian did, it was of his own volition. It's not my fault he likes me more, or that you have poor concentration."
"Why you little—" Before Jason could react, Dick had him in a headlock and was giving him a noogie. Jason laughed as he half-heartedly tried to fight his older brother off. On the other side of the table, Cass giggled (as was becoming customary for her whenever her family did something amusing) and Damian scoffed, though there was a slight hint of a smile on his face. Alfred simply gave a well-practiced sigh, and lifted his fork to take another bite of the pizza.
The atmosphere now much lighter, the rest of the afternoon was spent shopping for more clothes. Jason noticed Dick frowning over some of his choices; less t-shirts and jeans and more polos and slacks and sweaters. The kinds of things an adult would wear. Another reminder of the situation. Jason pitied him, but not enough to change himself on Dick's account.
Once Alfred deemed all their wardrobes sufficient for everyday wear (formal wear needed an entire day on its own), they returned to the Manor to store their purchases, starting with Damian's room and ending with Jason's. Alfred had departed for the dining kitchen relatively early in the endeavor to start on the evening meal, leaving them on their own. Around that time is when Tim got back from the visit to his father. His help sped things up, enough that they were done by the time Alfred rang the dinner bell.
Bruce had arrived in the interim as well, though he, owing to his nature, did not bother to tell anyone. He really was playing the avoidance angle to the hilt, but it's not like Jason was in any position to call him out on it. He hadn't bothered to bring up the subject either, after all.
After dinner, Jason dragged Cass and Damian down to the in-door theater for a movie night, grateful that the mini-fridge and popcorn maker was stocked. He had selected a number of children's movie classics for them to watch, figuring that they could save the more adult movies for when Cass's literacy was up to par. By the time they were done with the second movie, the two were sound asleep.
Dick had slipped in sometime during the second movie, and helped Jason carry the two up to their rooms. Once they were both settled in, the brothers exchanged a look, and Jason sighed. It was time to face the music.
The five of them gather in Bruce's study. Alfred has already prepared tea (intuitive as ever), and Jason immediately grabs a cup, trying to breathe in the scent. Everyone is silent.
Bruce still isn't looking at him as he breaks it. "Last night was…informative."
"Very," Tim concurred, voice deliberate.
"We learned a lot," Dick agreed.
"Really? Because I didn't learn anything."
The rest of the family turned to Jason, whose face was perfectly blank. After realizing they were taking his statement completely seriously, he groaned.
"That was a joke. Don't tell me none of you make jokes anymore. I was certain—"
"Jason," Bruce said tiredly, cutting him off. "Please."
Jason snapped his mouth shut. "Right, right," he sighed, "What do you want to know?"
The three exchanged looks. "Well," Dick began, "I guess we can start by asking what you plan to do now. Normal life or vigilante?"
"If you're wondering whether or not I'm going to share future intel with you, of course I am. I'm not like you Bruce — if the information will give us an advantage, I'll share it."
Bruce flinched at the admonishment. It seemed scoldings tended to be a lot more effective with him when they were coming from his time-traveling son who had been Batman like him. Dick and Tim didn't miss it and looked suitably surprised.
"As for everything else," Jason shrugged, looking a bit self-conscious, "I don't know. I want to say I'd like to live a normal life from now on, but I can't, not when I know all of you are going to keep putting your lives in danger. I'd rather you all live to see your own retirement like I did, as short as it was."
Now everyone was wincing. They didn't like that kind of reminder either.
"Anything else?"
"How did we die?"
Tim blurted out the question without thinking, his curiosity burning. Immediately everyone except Jason shot him a glare for asking so…morbid. And insensitive. Tim himself seemed to realize his folly, judging by the apologetic look on his face.
Jason clammed up a bit at the question, looking away for a brief moment. He seemed to have come to a decision, however, and he turned back with a sorrowed expression.
"Bruce was killed by the Joker," Jason said blankly, and the already grim atmosphere turned grimmer. The Joker, after all, was a responsible for a lot more than just Bruce's death. "Don't ask for the details. Please. I'll tell you eventually, it's just…" he exhaled, "It's just hard, okay?"
"That's fine, Jason," Dick answered softly for everyone.
"Alright," Jason took in another deep breath, "Dick, you died during a battle against Brainiac. I wasn't there, too busy defending Gotham from those fucking robots of his, but apparently you drove the Watchtower into his mothership. You didn't completely get rid of him — he's like a cockroach, seriously — but you certainly set him back by at least a couple of centuries. The JLA never had to deal with him again during my tenure as Batman."
"Huh," Dick had a thoughtful look on his face. Jason could tell what he was thinking — as far as deaths go in their world, that wasn't so bad.
"And me?" Tim asked, just a little anxiously.
"Lex Luthor," Jason stated bluntly, startling everyone. That was not a name anyone expected to hear. "He captured a friend of yours and you had to play Luthor's game to get him back. You won, but both you and Luthor died in the process." He internally flinched when he thought of the friend in question. That was still something hard to think about.
I can't even say his name out loud — I'm screwed when Tim starts bringing him around. His eyes shifted to Dick. Though not as badly as I will be when Dick reintroduces me to her.
"…Oh," Tim obviously didn't know what to think about his death.
Jason cleared his throat awkwardly.
"What of Master Damian? Or myself?" Alfred piped in.
Jason smiled sadly for a moment. "You, Alfred, simply died of old age. It was…sad, but not unexpected. Like my death, we knew it was coming for quite some time. And as for Damian…" His face fell.
"The League of Assassins are what did him in. More specifically, it was his cousin Mara, the daughter of Dusan al Ghul."
"Ra's' crippled son?" Bruce asked, mind already making connections.
"Yes. As you can probably figure out, though she was an al Ghul, Mara faced tremendous prejudice for being the daughter of a disgraced line. She resented Damian for this, and challenged him constantly, culminating in him giving her a scar to always remind her of his superiority."
"Of course, then Damian met you and joined the family, and then disowned his mother and grandfather entirely in favor of being with us, as a hero. So, when Ra's' body finally gave out, he had no issues using Damian's as a replacement, even going as far as to hold Dick hostage to force him into compliance. Bruce was off-world at the time, so Tim and I led the rest of the family with the rescue effort—"
"—'rest of the family'?" Bruce interjected, eyebrow raised, "I doubt you and Tim could just storm the place with Cassandra and Alfred for backup, Jason."
"I'm not just talking about Cass, Bruce," Jason smirked, "I'm talking about the rest of our vigilante family."
"What do you me—"
"Bruce. Did you honestly think that Babs would be the only person outside of this family to take up the Mission?"
Everyone blinked as realization dawned on their faces. "How many?" Dick asked, probably more excited than he should be.
"A lot, though besides Babs, there are around five more that will make up the core. I'll tell you all about them later, and maybe we can arrange things so we can meet them earlier. You'll like them. They're good people. They were there for me when…" Jason trailed off, then shrugged. It was obvious what he was about to say.
"We're getting off topic," Bruce stated, tabling further discussion, "Back to Ra's, Jason."
"Right," Jason coughed, "Well, Tim and I led the family to rescue Damian and Dick. We succeeded, but Ra's…he died permanently during the escape. After that, the League descended into in-fighting for the next eight years, between Ra's' two remaining heirs: Nyssa Raatko — who you're going to hear a lot about soon, Bruce — and Talia al Ghul. Halfway into the civil war, however, Nyssa was assassinated by Mara, her second-in-command, who continued the war in her place."
"Eventually, the two sides entered a stalemate. Talia seemed content to leave it at that and made overtures for peace, but Mara wasn't satisfied. She wanted the entire League under her command. So, she had the bright idea to use Damian to do that. She hatched a plan to hold him hostage to force Talia to surrender her half of the League to Mara."
"By that point, Damian had long since graduated from Robin and was now Nightwing, the current protector of Bludhaven. I had been Batman for two years at the time. Mara decided that in order to force Damian into compliance, she would hold Bludhaven hostage via a biological weapon. Damian, of course, had no choice but to concede, though he left clues for Cass and myself to rescue him."
"Things went sideways. Mara never intended to spare Bludhaven; she never got over her grudge against Damian, and saw destroying the city he wanted to be the hero of as the perfect revenge. So she activated the weapon. And Damian…Damian sacrificed himself to stop it."
Jason could remember the scene vividly; it replayed itself in his mind for months. He hadn't been there in-person for Bruce's death, just the aftermath, and wasn't there for Dick's or Tim's, even though he had been in charge of arranging their funerals as the new head of the family. But Damian…Damian had died right in front of him and Cass, in Jason's arms. He had died crying, sputtering blood, asking them both if they thought if Tim and Dick and Bruce would've been proud of him, if they were proud of him, and of course they both were. And then he had grabbed Jason's suit and had begged, pleaded for him not to place Damian in the Pit, that he couldn't live with having the voices in his heads, with the calls for blood. And Jason…Jason had to agree, because how could he deny his youngest brother, his last brother, this final wish? The brother who had been meant to take this burden away from him, the only brother of his who had ever actually wanted to be Batman, to be like their father, the man he admired above all others?
Tim might have been Jason's favorite brother, but it was always Damian's death Jason had regretted the most. Because Damian still had so much to live for and had it taken away for the follies of a youth that he didn't have any real control over. Even after he was long dead, Ra's still hung over his family like a guillotine about to fall, and in the end, only Talia had ever been able to escape it long enough to for it to matter.
"Talia found out, of course, and she killed Mara personally in retaliation, while we were in the midst of mourning her son and preparing him for burial. And after him — it was just me and Cass left. It was a hard year all around." It was a hard life all around. It got easier, even happy, but it was still hard.
"Oh, Jason," And now Dick was hugging him, and Jason reveled in the embrace. He would probably be reveling in all the affection from now on.
"Well then, we'll have to make contingencies. For all of them, plus everything else you know. I've already got a laptop for you Jason, it'll have a direct line to the Bat-Computer so you can send files when you're finished. I'm just having an expert make sure it's secure."
"Babs," Jason guessed instantly, causing Bruce to sigh.
"I'm going to have to get used to that, won't I?"
"Yup," Jason stated bluntly with no remorse. "Let me guess, she listened in through the Bat-Computer after guessing what was going on from Dick's frantic calls to her back in Bludhaven. And now she wants access to the files so she can help, and you know better than to deny her."
"You really were Batman," Tim said in wonder while Bruce pinched his nose in exasperation.
"Yeah, but that's not how I figured it out. I just know Babs really well. And I know Bats — you lot would've done the same thing in her position. Hell, I would've done same thing in her position."
No protests were made at that declaration.
"Well, I guess you all want to have private talks with me now, right?"
Everyone stared at him.
"I'll take that as a yes," Jason clapped his hands and smiled disingenuously, "Who wants to go first?"
"Great. I was hoping it would be you."
Tim raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm the easiest?"
"Yes." Jason said bluntly, seeing no point in denying it. "For all of your idealism, Tim, you're the most logical and reasonable person in this house. Well, besides Alfred, obviously."
"Right," Tim awkwardly cleared his throat. "…my dad is going to die, isn't he?"
Jason internally groaned. Of course he would figure that out. And of course that would be the first thing he would ask.
It didn't matter how much older and experienced Jason was. Tim would always be the smartest member of the family.
Always.
"He did die in the previous timeline," he confirmed, sighing, "And it wasn't because of some villain's revenge plot or anything like that. It was because…well, you know Jean Loring? Ray Palmer's ex-wife?"
Tim nodded slowly, not sure about where this was going.
"She had a psychotic break, wanted Ray to love her again, and made this stupid and insane plan of staging attacks on the loved ones of superheroes so he would be convinced to go back to her. It went off the rails and saw the deaths of not just your dad, but also Sue Dibny, and several others caught in the escalation of superhero-villain violence while people were investigating the murders."
His younger brother gaped at him, clearly not expecting that explanation. Soon enough, however, his eyes began to water, and Jason was by his side at an instant. He pulled Tim into his arms, trying to soothe him.
"I'm sorry," Jason said softly, "I know that's not what you wanted to hear."
"I-I'm going to lose my dad for a s-stupid reason like that?" Tim got out, angry and hot with bitter tears, "Because that stupid woman wanted her ex-husband back but wanted him to crawl back to her?"
"You won't," Jason said firmly. "It's going to be one of the first files I send Bruce. I'll mark it as top priority, and he'll take care of it. I promise you."
"And what about after?" Tim asked suddenly, eyes alert. "My dad—he's always going to be in danger because of me. Because I'm Robin. Will he be safe?"
Jason hesitated before answering that question. "We'll try our hardest, Tim," he said finally, "but this is Gotham. I can't guarantee anyone's safety. Especially ours, and that of everyone associated with us."
Tim stared up at him, but not with malice. It seemed he understood, something that Jason was grateful for.
"If my dad doesn't die," Tim said suddenly, something that happened every time he had an epiphany, "We won't be brothers."
Jason clicked his teeth and shook his head. "Don't be an idiot Tim. We already are brothers. You're Robin now, have been for months, and that makes you a member of this family. Just because we don't have a piece of paper to prove it doesn't make it any less true."
That resonated with Tim, and for the first time since they'd met, he smiled up at Jason, genuine and almost blinding. Jason smiled back, and pulled his brother in closer. They basked in a comfortable silence for a bit.
"You have something to ask me too, don't you?" Tim noted when Jason started to fidget.
"I do. I want to train you."
Tim blinked, pushing Jason away to stare at him again. "Why?"
"Tim, you and I both know that part of why I died was because I wasn't thoroughly trained enough," Jason stated frankly, holding up a hand to forestall any interruptions, "It's alright. I've made my peace with that decades ago, and I've long since remedied the issue as far as myself goes. And Bruce certainly seemed to fix some of the problem when he trained you. However, more training couldn't hurt, especially with how wild things are going to get the next couple of years. Even with all the reports I have to write up, and taking care of Cass and Damian, I have plenty enough free time, and I can't think of a better way to spend it than making sure my little brother has more ways to not die."
"…In that other timeline, I got training from someone you don't want near the family, didn't I?"
"Lady Shiva."
The hacker blanched. "Yeah, okay, that's a terrible idea, so I accept your offer."
"Great!" And Jason looked cheery again, something that Tim was increasingly starting to associate with trouble, "First things first: fixing your diet!"
Wait, what?
"I'll type up a plan as soon as I get my laptop and a printer. Be prepared to hate me like all my Robins did!"
And I'm already starting to regret this.
"I'm still telling Alfred about your cereal cupboards and takeout fridge."
"Oh, come on Jay!"
"It's for your own good, Dickie," Jason said seriously.
Dick pouted.
What a child, Jason thought fondly. "In all seriousness though Dick," he said out loud, "You need to take better care of yourself. Honestly, I'd rather have you back with the rest of the family in Gotham, but I know you value your independence. I also agree that Bludhaven needs a protector. But you can't protect Bludhaven by overworking yourself and never bothering to ask for help," and at that, Jason poked the his older brother's shoulder, "So. Ask for help. Just make a call and I'll come running first thing."
"Some bad shit is going to happen to me in the future that could've been avoided if I just swallowed my pride and asked someone for help," Dick immediately surmised.
Of course he figured that out too. Nobody ever said Dick was slow on the uptake, after all.
"Yes," Jason confirmed, no change in his expression. "You're the most well-connected hero in this family. Use that. I'll have files written up about what happened and sent to Bruce and to you as soon as possible, but this still stands. I will not let you go through that again Dick. What happened ultimately wasn't your fault, but it doesn't change the fact that it could've been avoided if you had just asked someone for help."
Dick observed him for a long moment. "You really were him, weren't you?"
Jason said nothing, just flickered his eyes away.
"I didn't name Tim my successor. I named you, didn't I?"
The younger of the two brothers let his shoulders sag, and sighed. "You did."
"Do you hate me for that?" Dick asked, a little worriedly.
"No. God, no," Jason shook his head, "Perish that thought from your mind right now. If anything, I would be more ashamed of you if you hadn't named me your successor." When Dick didn't reply to that, Jason continued.
"Dick, when you're Batman, Gotham must always come first. Always. And if there's anything I hated about being Batman, it was that I always had to put my family's happiness second to the city. I know you hated it too, even if you ended up abiding by it like I did."
"So, when you wrote up your will, logic dictated that you should've chosen Tim as your successor. He was older and more experienced than Damian, and smarter than me. On paper, he would've been the best Batman out of all three of us," Jason rubbed his hands, "But you didn't. You chose me. Because, while I wasn't as smart as Tim, I was still smart enough to be Batman, and I was a better fighter than him, the best of us after Cass, now that you were gone."
"But most of all it was because I was the oldest, the new head of the family. It was my duty to protect them now and take care of them, and that included the legacy we had to bear as Bruce's children," Jason smiled sadly, "I was touched you trusted me so much. I just wished your faith in me had been warranted."
"Oh, little wing," and there was the hug, something Jason didn't even try to avoid, "I know you did the best you could — the best anyone could have done. So no more self-flagellation, alright?"
Jason snorted. "Dick, our family practically runs on self-flagellation."
"Stop it anyway. I won't have it."
"Whatever you want, Dickie," Jason rolled his eyes half-heartedly, "Whatever you want."
There will be more heart-to-heart discussions next chapter. It's getting long, and the talk with Bruce is no doubt going to be the longest, so I thought I'd save it for next chapter.
So yay, training time for Tim! Tim is going to hate Jason, I'm not going to lie. There's going to be more elaboration on Jason's Robins and how he trained them in the following chapters, including their training and some of the changes to protocol Jason made during his time as Batman. I'm not kidding when I said I got a bit obsessive about the worldbuilding.
And as for the talk with Dick — yeah, that crap with Tarantula and Blockbuster is not going to happen. Not if Jason is going to have a say in it. This will eventually segue into Jason's eventual vigilante identity, because let's face it — a time traveling Batman, no matter what he looks like currently, won't be able to stay quiet for long. More people are going to find out, and it's going to cause ripples.
The reason Jason respects Dick so much for naming him as his successor to spare their younger siblings the fate of being Batman is because Jason ultimately couldn't do the same with his own successor. He chose Terry, his youngest Robin, to bear the cowl instead of Carrie, his oldest and one who was already running around as Batwoman. Terry was the best candidate (and it will be explained later why), but he was still so young, and if Jason had chosen family, he would have had Carrie or Helena succeed him instead. But instead, he chose Gotham, and thus chose Terry. It's another thing he hates himself for, but has grimly come to accept.
We'll explore more about Dick's tenure as Batman later on. It's by far the shortest of the four first Batmen, and there's a reason for that. It will eventually lead into a discussion over whether or not Dick should be Batman in this timeline, no matter how good he was at it the first time around. Ditto for Tim. I've deliberately kept vague on why Tim rejected the mantle, but let's just say there's some debate over whether it was the right choice.