The following morning, Barbara showed up.
Jason was in the midst of cleaning up the breakfast nook when she arrived. Tim hadn't stayed over at the Manor after patrol, no doubt due to his father taking umbrage with spending so much time with Bruce Wayne. Bruce himself had already left for work. It was just him, Damian, Cass, and Alfred. His two remaining siblings were working on one of the simple reading books Jason had gotten Cass, with Cass sounding out the words while Damian helped her while drawing on one of the sketch pads Jason had gotten him. Alfred, meanwhile, had taken to start his daily routine of cleaning the Manor.
The doorbell rang. Jason set down the last dish he cleaned into the sink and dried off his hands with a towel. There was a shout. Damian, most likely. He left the kitchen and made his way to the front door. The nook was located just outside the front foyer, making the trip an easy one.
He looked out the door to see who it was, and nearly froze.
(He had forgotten about the wheelchair.)
Plastering on a smile, Jason guided Damian away to his side. He knelt so he and the former Batgirl were eye-to-eye. She was looking at him like she couldn't believe he was real.
"Babs," he reached over to hug her, which she, after some hesitation, returned.
"Jay," she whispered, "When I heard the news from Dick, I couldn't believe it, but now…"
"I know. Trust me, I know."
Someone cleared their throat, causing them to release their embrace. Jason looked up to Commissioner James Gordon peering at him quizzically. Barbara hadn't come alone, it seemed.
"Commissioner Gordon," Jason stood up, holding out his hand.
He didn't know Jim as well as his father and older brother had. By the time Jason had become Batman, Jim had been close to retirement. They only spent a short time working together before Jim finally turned in his badge for good and Jason had to forge a new relationship with the man's replacement.
Of course, that was as Batman. As far as Jason Wayne went, they met frequently due to his close relationship with Barbara. They were well-acquainted, something of friends but not quite to the level of Jim's friendship with Bruce. Jason suspected that Jim knew of his previous vigilante identity, and that barrier had kept them from connecting, even after he had long since left his killing days behind. A sad, but understandable development.
But that was then and this was now. Things were different. Jason was different. And Jason wasn't Batman any longer.
"Jason Todd," Jim breathed, gingerly taking his hand to shake it, "Unbelievable."
Jason shrugged, "Well, believe it. I'm alive and well," His smile widened, "It's good to see you again, commissioner."
"You as well, lad. Tell me, how…?"
The time traveler waved him off, "It's a long story, involving amnesia and a misidentified body. You'll get all of it when I'm legally revived and Bruce makes the official announcement." He looked away. "I don't like to talk about it."
"Completely understandable," Jim nodded, before finally taking note of Damian. The boy had started puffing out his cheeks in rebellion for being ignored. "And this is…?"
"Damian Wayne, Bruce's biological son," Jason's smile turned disturbingly genial as he gestured Damian forward. "Damian, this is James Gordon, the current Commissioner of the GCPD, and his daughter Barbara Gordon. They're good friends of our family."
"Hello," The boy said politely. The Gordons stared at him.
"Jason?" Cass had arrived.
"And this is Cassandra. Bruce will be adopting her." The Gordons turned their stares to her, before Barbara let out a long-suffering sigh.
"All of this sounds like something out of a soap opera," Barbara deadpanned at him.
Or a sci-fi novel. Jason corrected her inside his head. Outside it, he chuckled.
"What can I say?" Jason grinned, "We're the rich and the famous."
Jim didn't stay for long. He had some work to do at the station, and agreed to pick up Barbara later. The four of them spent some time in the living room chatting, with Alfred bringing some tea and biscuits for them to dine on. Over the course of the conversation, Damian and Cass learned that their new guest used to be Batgirl before the injury that paralyzed her. Damian had been about to ask her about it until a look from Jason quieted him. This segued into some discussion of their hobbies, which led to another movie marathon in the theater.
By the time the last movie finished, Damian had tired himself out and had begun napping against his will. A knowing look at Jason had Cass taking him upstairs to his room to sleep off his exhaustion, leaving Jason and Barbara alone in the theater. The moment she was gone and her footsteps couldn't be heard, the tension in the room tripled.
"You've been looking at me weirdly," Barbara commented, rolling her chair over. Jason didn't even blink before picking her up out of it and seating her down onto the leftover space of the couch.
"I have," he admitted, breathing in deeply. "It's just…it's hard seeing you like that. In your wheelchair, you know?"
"Jason…" The first Batgirl reached over to take his hand in comfort.
Another moment of truth.
"I haven't seen you in that chair in a long time."
And just like that, the string broke once more.
The eyes of his friend watered, and Barbara used her other hand to take off her glasses and wipe them away. Her grip on his hand tightened, and Jason gripped back, just as hard.
"You know," Babs whispered.
"I do."
"Of course you did, you were him."
"Nah, Barbie — I just know you."
Barbara used her arms to pull herself over so she could cuddle up to him. Jason wrapped his arms around her, lifting his chin quite a bit so he could rest it on top of her head. She was quite a tall woman, after all.
"When does it happen?"
"The technology will be created in a few years, actually. But you wanted to wait until it was commercially available. So — about ten years or so. Now that I'm here, maybe I can fast track it. I don't know the exact design, but I do know the theory."
Barbara smiled up at him. "You don't have to do that. Just knowing that it'll happen one day is enough."
"I know," Jason smiled back, "But I want to."
They continued talking. As it turned out, Barbara did overhear some things over the Cave's lines but had stopped partway through because she felt like she was intruding. Jason had to elaborate on some of the things that were discussed, including the manners of the others' deaths. Eventually, it became so depressing that she began to reach for a subject change.
"Are you going to be a vigilante again?"
Jason paused, then sighed. "I don't know. Probably, though not for the reasons you think."
Barbara rubbed one of her arms. "I mean, you could change so much—"
"And I already am, by giving you and Bruce and everyone else all that I know," Jason pointed out. "It's different for me than it is for you, Babs. Your career was cut short by circumstances outside of your control. But me? I chose to stop."
At her imploring look, he continued, speaking tiredly. "Babs, by the time I retired I had been a vigilante for over thirty-six years. Longer than you, Dick, Tim — basically everyone who lives in this house besides Bruce and Alfred — have been alive. Close to four decades, and all the accompanying fucked up shit with it. By the time the diagnosis came, I had been ready to stop for a while. I was only trying to hold out because I felt my successor was too young to take on the mantle yet," he snorted, "Fate decided otherwise."
"If that's the case, then why are you going back?" Barbara asked, once the shock wore off. "Nobody would blame you for hanging it up, Jason. You don't owe the world anything, not after everything that's happened."
"You're right," Jason admitted, "I don't. It would be a nice change of pace to live a normal life now, but I simply can't. Not with everything in my head. Not when my family is risking their lives out there every night, and I'm more than capable of helping them out. All those old dreams of going to college, getting a degree, a normal job — it all seems trivial in comparison to protecting my family from what's to come."
"Jason," Barbara said, voice brittle, "That's a little self-sacrificing, don't you think? Would it really be wrong to do something for yourself and be happy?"
Jason pulled her closer, "I am happy, Babs. Being with all of you, seeing all of us together, alive and well — that makes me happy. I won't deny that there's a lot I miss about the future, but I can't ever go back. I have to do with what I have now, and what I have now is a chance to make sure our family remains happy and whole. That's something I can't pass up, for anything."
Barbara continued looking at him sadly, even as he smiled reassuringly at her.
They didn't always have the best relationship. But there was a bond between them that was only strengthened thanks to the Joker. Barbara had always been a little more understanding of Jason's actions as the Red Hood, even if she disagreed with them as much as the rest of the family did. After Jason re-entered the light for good, the tension between them eased and they began working together a lot more.
It was her who crash-coursed him in advanced coding and hacking after Tim died and Jason needed to step up his training to live up to the mantle. Computers had always been his weakest area as a vigilante, but she had been patient with him. While he would never be as good as her or Tim, he could hang with the best of them, which was usually more than enough in their world.
Outside of it — Barbara was family. Another sister, one he loved almost as much as he did Cass. They joined each other for holidays every year, Jason was one of the groomsmen during her wedding to Luke, and he was present at the births of each of her children. She was always there by his side, through thick and thin.
He didn't like seeing her sad.
"It's alright, Babs. I lived my life and I was happy with it. I'm okay with doing just this for now."
Barbara hesitated, but nodded slowly. She was willing to accept that answer for now.
They moved on to other things. Jason mentioned training Tim and perhaps mentoring Cass as well, though that would be much later down the line if he could help it. Some things about Damian, including how exactly he ended up in Jason's care. Gotham, and how much it would change in the future. Bruce. Dick.
By the time Jim had arrived to pick Barbara up, it seemed like they had spoken about everything there was to speak about. Except for why she was here in the first place.
"Here you go," Barbara passed the laptop into his hands, letting him feel the weight of it. "State-of-the-art WayneTech, personally firewalled by moi. Have fun with the reports."
Jason stared at the device accusingly, before turning his gaze back towards her. "How many backdoors have you coded into this?"
His sister in all but blood and name smiled cheekily up at him. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"
Jason sighed and wheeled her out of the theater. Jim met them at the front foyer and after a quick goodbye, the Gordons left for home. Jason watched them go with a small smile on his face, before taking the computer with him upstairs to his room.
Face turning serious, he ran a quick diagnostic on everything. He trusted Babs, but it helped to be cautious. Once he was satisfied, he opened up a new document in the installed word processor. Before he continued, he looked around, making sure that there was no one nearby. It was foolish, he was in his room for Pete's sake, but old habits died hard. When he was able to ascertain his solitude, he began to type. First, the title.
T…H…E…J…
"This is not how I expected my training to begin."
"Funnily enough, that is not the first time I've heard that."
It was the day after Barbara had gotten Jason his laptop. Tim's father was once again immersing himself in physical therapy (Jason jadedly 'wondered' if this had to do with his therapist, the future Dana Winters-Drake), allowing Tim to finally start his training. Jason already had a vague outline of a schedule planned out for when the school year began, but he figured that it was better to start early, and Tim agreed. With that settled, they had agreed to meet right before lunch. Tim assumed that was because Jason planned to feed him some of his cooking.
He was wrong.
"Look, I'm not doubting your training methods or anything, but how does cooking help me become a better crime-fighter?" Tim lifted an empty pot for emphasis.
Jason raised an eyebrow, but rather than answer he instead calmly took the pot from Tim's hands and went to the sink to wash it. "Do you know how to cook anything at all?" He asked casually.
Behind him, he could hear Tim fidget. "Just the basics," the boy admitted, "Enough to get by. My parents' housekeeper showed me some things."
"So you'd survive living at home all by yourself, right?"
"…Yeah," Tim let out reluctantly. He didn't seemed surprised that Jason knew about the neglect he had suffered prior to becoming Bruce's sidekick.
Jason sighed, "Then there's your reason why. Survival."
Tim blinked.
"Tim, I'm going to be honest with you — with the exception of myself, literally no one in this family is able to function without Alfred. Not Damian, not Cass — though with those two it's understandable — not you, not Dick, and especially not Bruce," the former Batman shook his head, "It's sad, but it's true. So, you can imagine what will happen when something puts Alfred temporarily out of commission."
"Productivity will go down?"
"Among other things, yes. Productivity will go down. In fact it will go so down that Gotham will be left by itself for a week after Bruce and everyone else worked themselves to the bone for 'justice' and found out their bodies can't handle the strain of doing that for more than three days. Then the crooks will get cocky and every supervillain in the city that has some plot in the works will align their schedules so they all happen on the same night," Jason finished with great severity, putting the pot back on the counter and picking up a saucepan. "You can imagine how…unideal that will be."
The third Robin winced, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "Yes," he replied carefully, obviously realizing this was a touch subject with his predecessor, "I can. I take it that has happened before." In your future, went unsaid.
"When I was still running around as the Red Hood," Jason confirmed, now washing the saucepan, "Alfred is not getting any younger. He needs to take more breaks, but he won't because he recognizes how helpless everyone in this family is without him. Bruce may be smart enough to rule the world if he ever so desired, but when it comes to things like cooking and chores he's the kind of hopelessness you think would only exist in fiction. Dick knows how to take care of himself, but he's so intent on keeping his independence and proving Nightwing as an equal to Batman that he's let crime-fighting dominate every aspect of his life, barely leaving enough time for sufficient self-care. And then there's you."
Tim pointed at himself as Jason jabbed the saucepan towards him.
"Yes, you. You were worse than both of them combined. You ran off ungodly mixtures of coffee and energy drinks and abominations to cuisine everywhere, you would go days without sleep, and then you'd collapse when it all caught up to you. Do you know how terrifying that is?" Jason demanded roughly. It was clear he had been meaning to say this for a while.
"…Very?" Tim squeaked.
His older brother stared at him hard for a long moment, then sighed. "Yes. Very. As for me, the only reason I'm any self-sufficient at all is because of a combination of my childhood forcing that mindset on me and causing me to ask Alfred to teach my how to cook and my estrangement with Bruce and the rest of the family making it a necessity after I was zombified. And guess what? It worked."
Tim winced even harder. Jason ignored him and continued on.
"I budgeted my time, made an effort to actually to take care of myself, delegated what work I couldn't accomplish on my own to others, and what finally took me out wasn't some schmuck in a colorful suit who finally got lucky but my own body giving out due to poor life-choices I made as a kid. In the process I successfully managed to juggle being one of the greatest superheroes in the world, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and a father with minimal strain. I brought Gotham's crime rates to a new low, to the point that I almost retired the Batman suit. I ultimately didn't but that's another matter entirely."
He fixed his eyes on his younger brother once more. "So. Tell me Tim. Will learning how to cook make you a better crime-fighter?" Jason all but growled out.
Tim nodded vigorously, grabbing a wooden cooking spoon and holding it up for good measure.
Suddenly, Jason's expression morphed into something that almost seemed angelic. He clapped his hands together, pleased. "Good. Now, what do you want to eat? I've picked out three recipes that are both nutritious to eat and simple enough for you to cook on your own with minimal interference on my part. Don't worry about getting it perfect the first time, we'll work on it everyday if you want until you get it right."
Tim gulped. I think I've made a terrible mistake.
"The sauce was a little too thick for my tastes and could've used a bit more salt, but other than that this wasn't bad for a first attempt," Jason smiled and clapped a congratulatory hand on Tim's shoulder, "Good job, Timbo."
Tim laughed awkwardly, "Thanks," he replied, a little nervously.
They took their dishes to the sink to wash them clean. As Tim helped put everything into the dishwasher rack to dry, his naturally curious demeanor won out his self-preservation, and before he knew it he was asking Jason a question, "So why aren't you forcing any of the others to learn how to cook? I'm hardly the only person in the house that needs lessons."
A pause. "Damian is too young," Jason finally said, wiping off the last plate and handing it off, "And Cass will learn, but only after she starts speech therapy, and only when her therapist recommends it. It's a safety hazard otherwise."
"And Dick and Bruce?"
"Oh, Dick knows how to cook," Jason corrected him, "Alfred wouldn't let him go running around Bludhaven otherwise. His problem is actually remembering to cook. I've already intervened on that front. And as for Bruce, well, I asked that question myself when Alfred was teaching me."
Tim looked at him pointedly, shutting the dishwasher closed, "And?"
"You see how this kitchen's walls have yellow wallpaper?"
"Yeah?" It wasn't a disgusting bright yellow either, but a more subdued shade that made it resemble gold. It really stood out during particularly sunny mornings.
"The walls of this kitchen were originally painted blue," Jason revealed.
"…how badly were the walls burned?"
"Tim, this was the first kitchen in the house that had its appliances upgraded. How badly do you think?"
Tim grimaced.
"Like I said — the kind of hopelessness you only think is possible in fiction. If there's anything I've learned over the years, there are certain kinds of battles you just can't win, and this is one of them," Jason shrugged helplessly, "It is what it is. That's why I'm just telling him to spend more time with his kids instead. He'll fail at that too, but at least there he'll actually be able to learn from it to the point that he'll stop failing at it."
Tim coughed, trying to hide a snort at that statement.
Jason patted him on the back affectionately. "I know I was a little harsh earlier, and I'm sorry for that," he apologized, "But I just wanted to emphasize how important every aspect of this training regimen will be. I…I just want you to be at your best, Tim, and to me, being your best means being able to take care of yourself. Because if you can't take care of yourself, how can you expect to take care of anyone else?"
The current Robin hesitated, then sighed. "You can't."
"Yeah," Jason agreed, resignation in his voice, "You can't."
"Has Bruce started you on any weapons training—"
Tim opened his mouth to answer…
"—With anything that isn't prefixed with the word 'Bat'?"
…and promptly closed it.
"Only basics?" Jason surmised easily.
Tim nodded sheepishly.
"Figures. Dick did tell me he discovered escrima during one of his jaunts away from Bruce, and God knows how limited my training was in that regard," Jason muttered something indescribable under his breath, "Okay then, we'll be working on that and hand-to-hand. Luckily, I came prepared." He gestured to a table.
Tim gulped when he saw how many weapons that were on that table. Many of which did not look non-lethal.
"Uh…"
"Tim, all weapons are lethal. Some are just easier to kill with than others."
Why do I even bother?
"Your Robins have already asked these questions, haven't they?" Tim stated more than asked.
"Not just my Robins," Jason amended for him, "All my students — or at least my personal ones."
Of course he trained others besides his Robins. Tim thought tiredly. "Alright then. How are we going to do this?"
Jason smirked. "Pick up a weapon from the table and try to attack me with it," he ordered, spreading his arms wide open.
Tim stared at him. At Jason's expectant look, he nervously looked at the table, before spotting a pair of nunchucks. As he told Jason, Bruce had covered the basics with most weapons, and this was one of them. Giving them an experimental twirl, he twisted on his heel and charged, leading with a high kick.
Jason caught the kick, holding up his younger brother by his ankle. He slammed each of his feet onto their respective, dangling metal bars, forcing Tim to let the weapon go.
"Not these," Jason stated bluntly.
"But you said—"
"You're automatic reaction was to attack me with a kick first, not with the weapon. You are not comfortable with this weapon. You don't like this weapon. So. Not. These."
Tim groaned.
And so it went. Tim would pick up a weapon, attack, and Jason would disarm him. How long the attack lasted was entirely dependent on his opponent: sometimes Jason would allow a cursory attack before disarming him immediately, sometimes Tim would be allowed to press on before Jason ended it. Occasionally Jason would give a reason why the weapon wasn't right for Tim, but not always.
As the number of weapons increased, the third Robin started getting more and more frustrated. Nothing seemed to satisfy Jason. Tim had initially assumed that he would have to land a hit with a weapon, but Jason wasn't keeping to one skill level, so he hadn't managed with any of them, no matter how comfortable or skilled he was with them. The pattern seemed invariable and random to Tim's eyes, and to his logic-based mind that was unacceptable.
Finally, that frustration reached a boiling point. Jason had just disarmed him once more, but this time Tim didn't bother to hesitate. He jumped back to the table, grabbed the first weapon his hand could clasp (a bo-staff, he absently noted), and charged. He swung the staff with an underarm spin, striking upwards and aiming for Jason's chin. Jason dodged, obviously, but Tim was undeterred, following through with the strike and swinging the other end of the staff, aiming for his opponent's side. Dodged again.
It continued. Tim would spin and strike and Jason would dodge and occasionally parry. Eventually, however, he struck gold. After another dodged blow, Tim immediately dropped down and did a sweep with the staff, aiming for where Jason was to land. The move connected; Jason fell back…and used his hands to catch himself, propelling his legs into a drop kick that sent Tim tumbling onto the mat, ass over teakettle, causing him to let go of the staff along the way.
Tim let out another groan, though this one was entirely dependent on the physical pain he was in. He hoped that wouldn't leave a bruise.
A hand was held out to him. He took it without thinking, letting Jason pull him up to his feet. Rubbing his chest, Tim looked up at his older brother, blinking at the smirk on his face.
Jason placed a foot on the staff, kipping it up to one of his hands and handing it to Tim. Tim took it slowly, realization dawning on his face.
"This is it, isn't it?" Tim asked knowingly.
Jason nodded. "This was your primary weapon in my future. I was waiting for you to pick it up and see how good you were with it."
"So why did you have me try all of these?" Tim gestured to the large pile of discarded weapons.
"The main reason was to see if you were better suited to another weapon," Jason replied, "Just because this was your main weapon in that future does not mean you wouldn't have more aptitude with another weapon. I needed to determine that for your training."
"And the other reason?"
"This," the second Robin pointed to the staff, "is not the only weapon I will be training you in. I'd like you to familiarize yourself with two more. You don't have to master them, but you will need to reach a high level of proficiency with them. All of that, plus mastering the bo-staff, will be done within a year of today."
Tim stared at him. "You're a slave driver," he said accusingly.
Jason crossed his arms. "Yes, I am," he stated bluntly, "and if you were my Robin, you wouldn't have been let out on the streets until you had finished this training. But you're not, so here we are."
His successor looked at him disbelievingly, only for his shoulders to sag when he realized his new mentor was completely serious. "Anything else you find me deficient in?" He asked sarcastically.
"One area," Jason replied, startling Tim, "Languages. How many languages do you know?"
Tim winced, "Middle school Spanish…?"
"So none," Jason deduced, causing Tim's wince to deepen. "Unsurprising, really, considering your background. We'll build off the Spanish, of course, and Italian isn't too different from that, being a romance language and all. As for the third…Cantonese? Maybe. Something eastern, certainly, to balance things out."
Tim, for all his brilliance, had always been the weakest in languages when it came to Bruce's children (not counting Cass, obviously). It was through no fault of his own; Dick was fluent in Romani already when he got to Bruce. Jason was in the same boat, having conversational skills in Spanish, Italian, and Russian down by the time he was jacking those tires. A byproduct of living in a crime-infested place like Park Row, where gangsters of every nationality made their home. Damian went unsaid.
In short, each of them already had a background in learning new languages, ones that made it easier to pick up others. Tim, meanwhile, grew up with rich, absent parents in a predominantly white neighborhood, educated by, as Damian put it, "substandard institutions". Stalking Batman and Robin might have allowed him to learn Gotham, but it did not allow him to learn new linguistic skills. To his credit, Tim worked to remedy that, but even so, he remained the Robin that knew the least amount of foreign languages at five before he died. Which admittedly was still better than most of the general population, but measured up poorly in their family, which thrived on hyper-competency.
"You're planning to have me learn three new languages at the same time in a year," Tim said, reacting with horror.
Jason shrugged, "You just need to know enough to conduct a coherent and fluid conversation with a native speaker in each one for at least ten minutes. No big."
"How am I supposed to sleep? I have a life outside of all this, you know!"
"Simple," Jason tapped his chest, "Manage. Your. Time. Wisely. My kids had twice the workload you did and they managed to finish it all within a year while maintaining something of a healthy social life and keeping up with their school work on a B average. You can do it too as long as you don't overload yourself with case work."
"But Bruce—!"
"Bruce can manage well enough on his own, especially now that I'm here. He knows how important this training is to your continued survival, so he's not going to demand too much of you in the following months anyway."
Tim still didn't look convinced.
"Tim," Jason said, this time a little softer, "You can do this. The problem isn't finding time, it's making time, and you'll find that you have far more time than you think. Not to mention resources. Just ask and you'll have whatever help you'll need."
Tim sighed, "I hate you." There was no heat to it.
Jason smiled. "I know. All of my students do."
"How did you determine when your Robins would be let out on the field? Did you just tell them they were ready like Bruce does?"
They had finished up training for the day. Tim had already selected his third language, Arabic. Jason took one look at him and smirked, agreeing with the choice. Helpful when dealing with the League, and already came with a fluent, native speaker to tutor him. Of course, that was if Tim managed to convince Damian to help.
(Oh, but he'd manage. Much like all Robins, Tim got what he wanted when he was determined enough.)
Jason wiped some sweat off his brow with a clean towel, "Cass and I devised a series of tests, all based on the necessary skills of a Robin I would be comfortable with having on the field. They didn't have to complete all the tests all at once, but rather they'd take a test when they felt they were ready at their own pace. When they passed all of them, I let them out on the field."
"And all of them completed every test within a year?" Tim asked skeptically.
"Yup. Which is why I'm not worried about you. You've already got more training and experience than they did in regards to combat, so you'll find that easier to finish than you think, as long as you work hard on it. The cooking aspect doesn't have a test, it's just something I require all my students to do as long as they're under my tutelage," Jason rubbed his chin, "Languages will give you trouble, but you'll manage."
"And that's it?"
"Oh no," Jason shook his head, laughing, "There are eight tests. Those are just the three you wouldn't pass under my standards. The other five you've got down pat."
Tim's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."
"Nope," Jason held out his hands and started counting on his fingers, "Let's see…Acrobatics, Computer Competency, Bomb Defusal, Criminology, and Teamwork. Those are the five you would pass. The three you'd fail are Languages, Weapons, and Hand-to-Hand Combat. Though that last one you're close to passing already, you just need polish. The other two…" Jason shrugged, "That's what I'm here for."
"You have ridiculously high standards," Tim told him bluntly.
"Are you kidding me? That's nothing! You should see the tests to become a solo crime-fighter like Nightwing," Jason chuckled, "I purposefully devised those tests so none of them would be able to pass before they turned eighteen. Of course, that didn't stop my successor, who somehow managed it anyway through nothing but pure single-minded grit." Terry, after all, had inherited his determination in addition to Bruce's. He wouldn't settle for anything less than throwing himself 200% into everything he did.
Tim shook his head. Unbelievable.
"They'd hate me for it at first but they'd thank me later," Jason added, a little wistful, "That's the thing about me Tim. I won't accept my students being anything less than the best. Because if I do, well…they're already dead."
Tim looked at him with wide eyes, then looked away when Jason settled his gaze on him. There was nothing he could say to that, after all.
And so we get a look at Babs and the beginning of Tim's training. For the record, Babs never went back to active crime-fighting even after she regained use of her legs. She stayed in her role as Oracle, though she did go out in the field when it was deemed necessary.
Yes, Jason is a slave driver, and for more reasons than one. As he told Bruce the previous chapter, he didn't want another Robin after Damian. So, he figured if he'd make his training hard enough, his kids would quit and stay out of the vigilante life. And if that failed, then they would have more than enough skills to survive out there and make meaningful contributions. As he said, he needs his students to be the best, because anything less than that and he might as well just kill them himself.
We also get a better look at what's required of a Bat vigilante, and specifically of a Robin, at least in Jason's eyes. As you can tell, it's much higher than standard. Neither Dick nor Jason would've been able to pass most of the tests that Jason listed during their early years as Robin. Tim has most of them down but the ones he'd fail, he'd fail badly. Only canon Damian would've been able to pass all of them on his first or second try, except for the last one (Teamwork). So yeah, Jason basically used a LoA-trained-since-birth-Damian as his baseline for his Robins. Considering even Damian died during his tenure as Robin (he came back, but still), you can see why Jason was still reluctant to let them out on the streets anyway.
There's a reason for that, which will be explained later on in-story. I'll explain it here though; when Jason made the arrangement with Damian to be Batman until the latter was ready, there was a question of how to determine that. Eventually, it was proposed that the rest of family devise a list of skills that they think Batman should have — skills that Jason already had that made him a better choice than Damian and even Tim and Cass — and create tests for Damian to pass in order to prove that he had acquired these skills.
That series of tests was used as the basis for the exams Jason administered to his Robins. The first exam (called 'Trainee Graduation Exam') was for becoming Robin, and the second exam (called 'Robin Graduation Exam') was for leaving the Robin identity behind to become a solo crime-fighter like Nightwing. There's a third exam (called 'Batman Succession Exam') that's administered to the current Batman's chosen successor when the former is about to retire. It's the same series of tests Damian took, just modified to fit with the current technological and theoretical standards of the time. Terry took this exam (unknowingly) and passed, which is when Jason offered Batman to him. Make no mistake, if Terry hadn't passed it then Cass would've become Batman until he was able to. Jason wouldn't have let him anywhere near the suit otherwise.
As for how Damian did on those tests, he passed all of them except the last one ('defeat Batman in your current vigilante identity in a hard light reconstruction of Gotham'). That one, however, is because he never got the chance to take it. He was going to challenge Jason the week of Mara's attack, where he died. That's one of the reasons Jason believes that Batman didn't belong to him — because Damian was supposed to finally claim it until fate decided otherwise.
That's enough for now. Next chapter we're going around a bit, and there's going to be a little more exposition, this time involving Dick.