"Deathstroke…" Jason murmured, slowly moving to the left. Not good. Not good at all.

There was no way he stood a chance against Deathstroke. Not in this body. And especially not without a suit or a weapon.

Shink!

More shuriken. Jason took a step back to the right, deftly dodging them and leaving them to be buried into the frame of his car. This was going to be a bitch to explain to the dealership. Thankfully, he was rich.

He was rich.

"Look," Jason started, causing Deathstroke to cease his advance, "I'm sure a guy look you has better things to do than waste a kid like me. So how much is your boss paying you? I'll double it!"

Deathstroke tilted his head, as if he was thinking over Jason's offer…and then laughed. Loudly, raucously, and for Jason, familiarly. Fuck, that was not a good laugh. It seems Slade wasn't up for the deal.

"Sorry, but I'm just the distraction," Deathstroke explained, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"Distraction…?" Jason asked before heard something else — the sound of a sword being drawn. He jumped away from the car, fast enough to dodge the silver blade that sliced into the metal in the place of his face.

"You're right, boy. I do have better things to do than slice up a punk like you," Slade shrugged lazily as Jason slowly backed away towards him, "But a former Robin is still a former Robin, so I figured you'd be a good test for her instead."

Jason said nothing to that in reply, too focused on his newest assailant.

Same armor. Same weapons. Same mask.

All on a decidedly younger and more importantly female body.

Rose. Shit.

"Meet Ravager, boy."

Ravager — Rose Wilson — grinned nastily as she jumped down from the roof of Jason's car, brandishing her sword, her intentions clear. Jason looked around, immediately spotting the nearest fire escape. He darted towards it, avoiding another downward strike of Ravager's sword, and started climbing, swinging his legs up to catch the bars to make the journey quicker.

It wasn't long until he made it to the rooftop, whereupon he made a beeline for the direction of the nearest abandoned warehouse. While he didn't know Bludhaven as nearly as well as Gotham, he had operated here often enough to orient himself in the city. In particular, he had studied the area around Dick's apartment just in case, and knew there was one such warehouse on the corner of Cain and Southwind, near an empty alley. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he took out his phone and dialed what he knew to be one of Oracle's emergency lines for their civilian identities.

The phone rang twice before she finally picked up. "Hello?"

"O? It's Jay. I'm being pursued in Bludhaven by Deathstroke and his daughter. Could you patch me into N's comm?"

There was a bit of static, and a moment later, "Jay?" Dick. Great.

"Hey N. Your old buddy Slade Wilson is in town and he's taken up a private contract."

"What? On who?"

"Me. And it's not really him who took up the contract so much as it was his daughter. But he's still here," Jason dared to look behind him right after he made his latest jump, "Yeah, he's following his daughter."

"Slade? Rose?—Forget it, where's your location?" There was a hard, protective edge to his older brother's voice.

"I'm trying to lead them to that warehouse on Cain and Southwind. I should be able to keep them occupied there until you arrive—" Oh look, more shuriken. Jason ducked. "Sorry N, gotta go."

Jason shoved his phone back into his pocket. Time to run.

CRACK!

Jason took out his leg and dove through the opening he made, rolling into the warehouse. Using his phone as a flashlight, he found the light switch and flipped it on, surprised when the place illuminated and revealed huge stacks of cardboard boxes and dirt. The building still had power. That was lucky.

There was another loud crack!. Jason saw another one of the covered up windows burst into a shower of broken glass and wood as Rose made her entrance. He slowly backed away, cursing when he realized that a huge wall of cardboard blocked his path. No choice but to fight. Or dodge. Dodging was better.

"So, Deathstroke's daughter, huh? That's a surprise!" He chuckled nervously. Keep her distracted until Dick gets here. Can't fight. Can't fight. Deathstroke wasn't the most social of mercenaries, and seeing as Dick's secret identity had yet to be sold on the black market, he was unlikely to talk too much. But better safe than sorry. The last thing he needed were rumors about the second Robin being alive, let alone too skilled.

Or maybe no one will care? It was a faint hope. One that Jason had no time to indulge in as he hopped to the side to avoid another swipe of Rose's sword. "I didn't know Deathstroke had another kid!" That was a lie too, but whatever.

Rose grit her teeth. Oh, that seemed to make her angry.

Right, young Rose still under the tutelage of her father meant being the ultimate daddy's girl. Jason forgot about that. At least she still has both her eyes. Or maybe not. Didn't Dick say Slade storing a piece of Kryptonite in her head is what caused her to finally cut ties with him?

Jason kept the running commentary in his head as he continued to dodge all of Rose's blows. Off to the side, he could see that Deathstroke had already arrived. He was playing the part of spectator, though he had his hand on the side of his calf, where his handgun was. No doubt he was anticipating the possibility of Nightwing's arrival and interference.

"Stop dodging and fight!" Rose finally growled out. "You're supposed to be a Robin, aren't you? Why are you acting so pussywhipped?"

Because I don't want to tangle with your daddy alone, and my brother's not here yet, Jason thought sardonically. He felt a beeping in his pocket. Ducking under another swing, he took out his phone and saw a text from an unknown number.

'Almost there.' Great. He looked behind him. There was no more room to back away. I'm out of warehouse.

Rose could see it too. There was a vicious smirk on her face as she darted forward. Jason briefly toyed with the idea of dragging the fight out but the sight of Deathstroke squashed it immediately. He couldn't afford to expend any more energy when Dick would undoubtedly need his help in the upcoming fight. This would have to be enough.

He twisted away from the stab, grabbed Rose's wrist and pulled her forward into his waiting knee. She let out a loud 'ooph' as she was forced to let go of her weapon. Jason didn't hesitate; he shoved her away, just far enough to hit her with three blows to the face in quick succession, followed by a hard right hook to her chin. She collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Jason took in a deep breath, then whirled around as the sound of clapping invaded his ears. Deathstroke was…applauding him?

"You know, my employer said this assignment would be difficult, but I thought he was pulling my leg," Slade said conversationally as his hand reached back for his sword, "It's why I gave this assignment to Rose. Now?" He shrugged.

"I figured you would be angry. I did just knock out your daughter."

"And normally I would be," Slade agreed. "But right now I'm too intrigued to care. I wonder," the sound of metal sliding against metal echoed throughout the warehouse as Slade slowly drew his blade, "How do you measure up against your big brother?"

Rather than answer, Jason bent down picked up Rose's sword. He swung it with several deft, expert movements, testing its weight. Once he was comfortable with it, he drew himself into a ready stance, sword level with his face.

"Very interesting," Deathstroke commented as he returned the favor, preparing himself for combat.

There was another moment of silence before they clashed.

For years, many people that Jason worked with would tell him he had a gift.

A gift that he deliberately neglected. And when asked why, he would give one answer: "I like guns."

While he did take up guns to piss off Bruce, the simple truth of the matter was that he liked firearms. There was more to a gun than simply point and shoot, despite what everyone else claimed. There was a certain majesty to it, all the shifting parts and how they all worked in tandem to launch bullets at such fast speeds. Not to mention, when you ran out of bullets they made great impromptu bludgeons.

After he became Batman, however, Jason had to give up guns. Batman did not use guns. It was a universal truth, and Jason had no desire to tarnish that legacy. Not to mention, Batman also worked with the police, and they would be much less inclined to help him out when he was packing something with such obvious lethal force. To say nothing of it being a possible Hail Mary identifying him as the Red Hood, who quite publicly died to allow Jason to transition to Batman fully. The Red Hood may have spent the last few years as a full-fledged superhero, but no one had forgotten what he originally started out as, nor his primary weapons of choice. Mostly because of how starkly out-of-character it was compared to the usual Bat.

As a result, Jason had no choice but nurture his gift. Truth be told, he already started that, first by mastering that blasted sword, then by asking his brothers to train with him and trade moves. However, he didn't fully cultivate it until he fell under the tutelage of a master, and dedicated himself entirely to training. By the time he was done, said master called him one of the greats, and in the years after, Jason would establish himself as the third best martial artist in the world, behind Connor Hawke, and, of course, Cass.

Of the three top martial artists in the world, each of them specialized in a certain aspect of combat. Cass' excelled at everything but specialized in hand-to-hand combat, Connor's was projectile weaponry, and Jason's? Jason's was melee weaponry. And blades certainly fell under that category.

It was only because of that he was able to keep up with Deathstroke right now. Years of experience, the natural aptitude he felt whenever a sword fell into his hands, memories of skills not quite practiced but still at his fingertips — all of them kept this man at bay. But only for so long, and only for so much.

Slade had an adult body, enhanced reflexes, and even more experience than Jason. If Jason were in his prime, in his original body, then yes, he would win this fight. Not without difficulty, but his victory would almost be assured. But as he was now? He was surprised he was able to put up a fight at all.

Even so, he was still slowly but surely being overwhelmed. Every blow Slade's blade struck against his own caused his arms to shake. His fingers were beginning to ache by his tightening grip as he desperately tried to keep hold of his weapon. This was a fight he could not win, and both of them knew it.

Nonetheless, Deathstroke seemed to be enjoying himself. He actually looked a bit impressed, which Jason knew — knew! — was going to backfire on him one day. Kids that Deathstroke liked often got subjected to his 'parenting', and everyone knew how that tended to end. Just look at poor Rose, still unconscious on the floor of the warehouse. Jason wondered how many drugs Deathstroke was pumping in her right now to keep her under his control.

Crash!

Dick, he thought. Thank God. He was in need of a break five minutes ago.

Deathstroke, thanks to his enhanced reflexes (and God did Jason hate mentioning those), was able to react quickly when an enraged Nightwing entered the fray. As was Jason, who backed away from him to allow his older brother take over the fight.

As Jason had his well-deserved breather, he observed the ongoing battle. Nightwing's anger was giving him the edge so far, but there were openings that Deathstroke had yet to take only because of his furious blows. Once that initial burst of energy wound down…

Jason might not have his old body. But he had over thirty years of experience as a vigilante. He had studied Dick's fighting style backwards and forwards, had incorporated elements of it into his own. Most of all, he had worked with Dick himself countless times, and while this Dick was younger, a little less experienced, a little less skilled…he was still Dick Grayson.

It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

The slightest falter, that single moment of hesitation, Slade saw it, but so did Jason. It was easy to block, easy to allow Dick to follow up, and easy to follow him. When Dick went high, Jason went low. When Jason went right, Dick went left. All of it felt familiar, felt right.

Too bad Slade didn't feel the same.

With the two brothers working in tandem, he didn't stand a chance. It wasn't long before they had him cornered, the tip of Jason's sword pointing at his neck and one of Dick's escrima sticks held somewhere…lower.

There was a beat as Slade looked at Dick to as if to say 'Really, kid?'

Dick responded by clicking a switch on the stick, causing a current of blue electricity to visibly run through it.

"Give?" Jason asked.

Slade sighed. "Give."

The brothers backed away, allowing Slade free passage to Rose. He picked her up like a sack of flour, and turned to leave, before suddenly remembering something. He turned to Jason expectantly.

Jason looked down at the sword and sighed, throwing it over in a practiced motion. Slade caught it with a nod and a smoke bomb, and thus the Wilsons were gone.

Dick and Jason stared at the spot where their adversaries once were for a long moment.

"…You're coming with me to Gotham, aren't you?"

"Let me call the station to schedule a sick day."

"B, is all this really necessary?" Jason asked as Alfred finished drawing blood, "I was attacked. Not held captive."

"No chances," Bruce growled out, "Deathstroke might've caught you with something. You know how he operates."

"Unfortunately," Jason rolled out in a suffering manner. He turned to Tim, who had been present in the Cave when he and Dick arrived, decked out in his Robin suit. "Any theories?"

"Well, since he attacked you as Jason Todd and not as…" Tim gestured to his suit, "I would normally assume it would be one of Bruce's business rivals. Your first death did a number on Wayne Enterprises' profit margins, since Bruce was…" He winced, "Not at his best at the time. WE has recovered since then, and with you back maybe they want recreate the phenomenon. Cause another slump."

"But you don't think that's it," Jason intuited, already seeing the signs on Tim's face.

"If that was the case then they would've gone after Dick," Tim nodded to their older brother, who was glowering at the image of Slade on the Bat-Computer's screen, "As a police officer, his death would've been much easier to cover-up and write off as an accident. Same effect, but none of the strings. Not to mention, they contracted Deathstroke carry out the hit."

Dick hissed. Tim wisely inched away from him.

"And why is using Deathstroke so important?" Jason questioned in such a way that made it clear he already knew the answer, "He's the best assassin in the world."

Tim narrowed at his eyes on him but nonetheless answered. "It's because he's the best assassin in the world. Deathstroke has been publicly known to be at the top of the most wanted list of every major law enforcement agency in the world — including the Justice League. Anyone who contracts him and is found out immediately earns League attention, which no smart businessman — or woman — would ever risk."

He was right. Contrary to popular belief, Deathstroke was much easier to hire than someone would assume with his status. Ever since Slade made his status public with his constant tangling with the Teen Titans, he had fallen into the pitfall of being a well-known supervillain. That severely limited his clientele, because few were willing to land on the radar of superheroes. This had caused him to lower his rates significantly. Now, nobody hired him unless they were confident they could avoid the potential scrutiny.

…or if they could afford it.

"Then there's comment he made during the confrontation. He said that his employer told him that you would be a more difficult target than initially assumed. Of course, it could be because whoever they were thought Slade didn't know you were a Robin, but…" Tim left the statement hanging, the implication obvious.

There was a chance, no matter how small, that the employer knew who Jason really was.

And if that was the case, the list shortened to one potential suspect.

Everyone shifted their attention to Bruce, who was rubbing his temples. "I've been monitoring the League more closely ever Jason brought Damian and Cass home. They've been quiet lately." He clicked his teeth. "Almost unnaturally so."

Dick clenched his fists. "We can't retaliate without proof or confirmation. Ra's will just claim we attacked without provocation, use that to break the truce, and go after Gotham directly."

Ah yes, the truce. The unofficial and unspoken agreement to keep out of Gotham in exchange for the various times Bruce helped the League of Assassins out with their civil war disputes. Mostly because said disputes had a tendency to spill over into Gotham. Jason forgot that existed, mostly because Ra's had a tendency to ignore it whenever it suited him despite his supposedly impeccable 'honor'.

Bruce sighed, before his expression firmed. "We'll keep a closer eye on them for now. In the meantime take a look into anyone on the Bruce Wayne side of things that would have reason to go after Jason. Better safe than sorry."

Better safe than sorry. The family motto.

"In the meantime, Jason, I think it's time you start thinking up a new vigilante identity."

Jason cast him an abrupt glare. "What?"

Bruce was unmoved. "I know you didn't want to get back into the game so soon, but at least you'll have a suit on hand to conceal your identity in case of any attacks. It's a miracle no one spotted Deathstroke and Ravager attacking you in public."

Shit. He had a point. "Fine," Jason bit out.

There was a reason why Jason was refraining from re-entering the vigilante game so soon, and it had everything to do with the time period. A lot had changed in Gotham in those thirty years, and while some things were familiar, a lot more was different. It wasn't just the sights — it was the culture, the laws, the community. The world was different from what it was in the future, and for Jason it became more obvious every time he took a step outside.

"You could be Red Robin," Tim offered. He might not have taken up the name yet, but it was still his to give, wasn't it?

Jason smiled at him, "Thanks Tim, but no."

"What about your other vigilante identity? Red Hood?" Dick innocently suggested.

The smile on his younger brother's immediately disappeared and was replaced by a vicious snarl as he rounded on his older brother. "Not only no, but hell no. That identity was born of spite and hatred and vengeance and pain. I'm not that person anymore, and I never will be again."

Everyone stared at him.

"Sorry," Dick apologized, voice weak.

Jason sighed. "It's okay, Dick, and I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's just…" He trailed off.

He couldn't say he hated everything about the Red Hood. That identity eventually ended up becoming a hero in the end. But it was still a manifestation of the first great tragedy of his life, of all the hurt he forced his family to endure in some mad quest for misplaced retribution. It was a reminder of all the mistakes he made with the people he loved most, and that is why he never intended to go back to that identity after he had given it up the first time to be Batman. It symbolized all the things Jason no longer wanted to be.

"Maybe you could design your suit instead and think up an alias later?"

"Yes," Jason pointed at Tim, "Let's do that. I'll rope Damian into it. He's the artist of the family. You can help me with the weapons design."

"And me?" Dick asked eagerly, melancholy now gone.

Jason glared at him. "Nothing. Your fashion sense is terrible."

Dick let out a gasp of horror. "Little wing!" He cried out, heartbroken, "How could you say such a thing!"

"Discowing, Dickiebird! Discowing! And the mullet, don't forget the mullet!"

"At least let me name you then!"

"That's an even worse idea! You're the reason everything in this cave is named Bat-something!"

"But Jay…!"

Tim started muttering himself as he began brainstorming designs.

Bruce simply sighed.

After the Deathstroke incident, the weeks began to pass by again. All of Bruce Wayne's potential rivals checked out and there was no activity from the League, which was worrying in itself. Whenever the League was quiet, that usually meant they were ramping up for something big. Considering they were the primary suspects for his recent assassination attempt, Jason had a feeling he would be in the thick of it with them before long, something he did not like the idea of at all.

Tim and Damian continued attending Gotham Academy, often arriving together with Bruce, who had made it part of his daily routine to escort them there every morning. He similarly spent time with Cass as well, taking an hour to read to her every night before patrol. This pleased Jason greatly, and he and Alfred showed their appreciation by making his favorite dessert for dinner when he got home.

Cass started speech therapy. Jason attended the first few sessions with her, using the agreed upon cover story to explain her situation to her chosen therapist. He was then asked to explain how much he had taught her on his own, including the methods he used. After that, Cass started undergoing the sessions by herself, with Jason reading in the waiting room. Even better, they were able to schedule the appointments close to the end of the school day; as soon as Cass was finished, Jason would take her to pick up Tim and Damian, they would spend the afternoon together doing some activity together somewhere out in the city. It gave Tim some much needed relaxation time while allowing Cass and Damian to familiarize themselves with the city.

Dick still visited, though not as often as before. Due to taking so many days off in such close proximity, he had to work overtime at the station. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be overwhelming him; it seemed he had taken Jason's words to heart and had been asking for more help from the family's various allies. The Birds of Prey team were those most often seen in Bludhaven, though far from the only ones, and not all of them lacked powers. The sudden uptick in superhero appearances in Bludhaven had caused crime rates to go down, and Blockbuster to go underground, no doubt worried that he'd catch the attention of a hero much higher on the power ladder than Nightwing.

As far as romances went, he and Babs had not gotten together yet. Jason supposed that was his fault; not long after Deathstroke, Babs had cornered him and had asked for a similar talk. Upon further prompting, she admitted that Dick had met up with her to talk about their relationship and had suggested she talk to Jason about her romantic future first before making any decisions. Jason had agreed, going in-depth about her relationship with Dick and how it ended, then explaining her relationship with Luke, the man she eventually married. He also revealed that Luke was currently attending MIT and would be returning soon, in case Barbara wanted to meet him.

This left both of the potential lovers thinking, and they agreed it was best to put a hold on a relationship for now. There was just too much information and too many feelings to sift through for them to make a committed effort to dating one another and see if they could make it work this time around. Better to wait until they were both in a better place to make a stab at a romance, lest they risk their friendship like they had in Jason's timeline.

Jason was glad about the maturity both of them showed. He honestly did hope it would work out for them; but if they decided they would be better off as friends, then he wouldn't begrudge them that either. It was out of his hands either way.

Things remained smooth sailing until one day, Tim asked for a weekend off from training and patrol. Jason had agreed, and a look at Bruce had him agreeing as well. Trusting Tim, he hadn't thought to ask about it. Perhaps his brother was taking the training to heart and taking a break from the vigilante life for a little while.

That belief held until Bruce mentioned something about Robin being seen riding a tricked out motorbike the following day. Jason paused, thought it over, and then abruptly went to the Bat-Computer. Using his access code, he pulled up the latest budget reports from Wayne Enterprises — the real ones. Locating one specifically, his eyes trailed down the list of expenses until he noticed a particularly large one.

Jason shook his head, "I can't believe he thought about this before Dick and I did."

Bruce, who had been using the aforementioned computer until Jason cut in, looked at him quizzically. "Thought of what?"

"You'll see next week," Jason waved him off. "When you do though, don't be too hard on him. He might be Robin, but he's still just a kid."

"Jason," Bruce asked, looking increasingly alarmed, "What did Tim do?"

The former Batman smirked. "He made friends," he said cryptically.

A week later, the Bat-Cave gets an alert. One of the Batmobiles has just been wrecked.

The thing is, it's a Batmobile that Bruce had no idea existed.

"You knew about this," Bruce growled out to Jason that night as he finished suiting up and waiting for the JLA to teleport him to Happy Harbor.

Jason, who had just finished an intense workout and was now wiping off the sweat, gave him an unimpressed look. "Believe it or not, the first time around was worse — an exploding building and a budding serial killer were involved." Jason smirked a little when he saw Bruce blanch.

"Compared to that, this is nothing. Had anyone actually been at risk of getting hurt, I would've intervened. But no one was in this case, so I let it go. I'm his brother, Bruce. I'm here to protect him, teach him — not to hold his hand."

"Even so, why did you let this happen?"

"To have him learn that his actions have consequences," Jason replied easily, "Like I said, Bruce. He might be Robin, but he's still a child. He knows how dangerous this job can be, but he has no idea how dangerous he can be. At least not when he's around his friends. This was to teach him that while he can his fun, he and everyone associated with him and that choice is going to have live with the aftermath. In this case, a ton of property damage, plus your disappointment and punishment."

Bruce frowned. "At least tell me how he managed to hide this from me."

"Easy. He hid the expense for it in the Batarang budget."

The current Batman paused. "That's brilliant," he finally said.

"I know, right?" A loud beeping was heard. "Ah, that must be the League. That's my cue to call Dick."

"For what?"

"To ask him to bring me to the parent-teacher conference. I got some things to tell Red Tornado."

When Bruce returned home and called Dick about the conference, Jason received an interesting series of texts that had his older brother complaining about how mean he was and asking if Jason could go alone in his place. Jason was tempted, but ultimately declined, pointing out that the other guardians would never take his opinions seriously since he was a minor himself. Dick was unhappy but complied, grateful that his one day off fell upon the weekend where the conference was to happen.

As his suit was still in production, Jason elected to just wear a dark pair of shades over two domino masks, and a black hoodie and jeans. Packing a small bag of spare clothes and the manifest he made for Red Tornado, he and Dick departed from Gotham in the Bat-Plane that night. The trip was short — about an hour at most, and they made it just in time to catch a glimpse of the ensuing cat fight between Helena Sandsmark and Bonnie Jones.

He leaned against the caves of the wall as he watched the bickering start, with the various parents trying to explain themselves to a thoroughly unamused Nightwing. Once there was a lull in the conversation, he cleared his throat.

"So, while you lot are talking, I'm going to watch the kids. Keep an eye on them and all."

"And you are…?" Max Mercury asked, eyes narrowed.

"Robin's older brother," Jason responded casually, absentmindedly adjusting his gloves.

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that statement.

"…Robin has an older brother?" Bonnie asked for the uninformed aka everyone except Nightwing, who groaned and began rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Yes. And if anyone needs me, I'll be with the kids at their camp out. Getting to know my brother's friends and all." He held up a hand in farewell. "Ta!"

With that, he fled. As he ran down the tunnels of Mount Justice, he could help but chuckle when he heard the questions thrown in his older brother's direction.

"Boo."

"AHHHH!"

Mmm, let's see here. Besides Tim, there's Bart Allen, Cassie Sandsmark, Cissie King-Jones — haven't seen her in a while — Greta Hayes as a ghost, and… Jason struggled to keep his face neutral as his eyes fell upon the last of the child heroes, Kon.

Speaking of Young Justice, five of the newly-formed team were already breaking out of shock and preparing themselves for battle. The only exception was Robin, who was inaudibly groaning visibly in a manner that reminded him of Nightwing from only minutes before. He had recognized Jason immediately.

"Yo!" Jason greeted them, "I'm Robin's older brother!"

There was a beat for silence. Then…

"YOU HAVE AN OLDER BROTHER!" The teenagers whirled around to confront the (current) Boy Wonder.

Robin rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Kinda? It's complicated."

"And he doesn't have just one older brother," Jason corrected, "He has two. There's still Nightwing, after all."

Wonder Girl blinked, and drew an amused look at her friend, "We've learned more about you in the last two minutes than we have in the past couple of weeks. Two brothers, huh?"

"Actually three brothers. We have a younger brother — oh, and a sister! She's older than him but younger than me."

That was the deal breaker. Robin leveled a glare at his older brother, gritting his teeth. "Shut. Up."

"Ah, c'mon Robin," Jason slid over next him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. The other five minors blinked, having not realized he moved. "Don't you think your friends should know at least that much about you?"

"No."

"Why not? They're your teammates. You'll be entrusting your life to them from now on, and vice versa."

"Trust does not mean they need to know every aspect of my life, contrary to popular belief."

Jason shrugged. "Perhaps not. But who knows? Maybe one day it won't just be you that you need them to protect."

Robin opened his mouth to protest, only to stop when he saw the look on his brother's face. A softness to his smile that struck something in him. He turned away to look at his friends, who had been watching them curiously. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat.

"Guys, this is my older brother—"

"Knight, for now. K for short."

"—Knight. Knight, these are my friends: Bart Allen, aka Impulse. Cassie Sandsmark, aka Wonder Girl. Cissie King-Jones, aka Arrowette. Kon-El, aka Superboy," he gestured awkwardly, "and Secret."

Jason raised an eyebrow, but said anything about the lack of alternate ID. "Nice to meet all of you. I hope you've been getting along well."

The teenagers all nodded together, some quicker than others.

"Why are you here, K?" Robin cut in, frowning. Was there some issues with the conference?

"I just wanted to see my little brother and meet his friends," Jason explained innocently. "Is that wrong?"

"No, but…" Robin struggled to say something that wouldn't offend.

"Oh, I see," and now Jason sounded heartbroken, even though he really didn't look all that sad, "Big bro is putting a crimp on your fun. I'll just go then."

"No!" Cissie cut in. Everyone, even Jason, looked at her in surprise. "I mean — our parents will have no reason to complain if we've got a chaperone, right? He's older us and seems more responsible, but not too old, you know?"

Oh, Cissie, if you only knew…

Kon hummed. "She's got a point," He admitted.

"Idon'tmind."

"Neither do I."

"I'm okay with it."

There was only one holdout left.

Everyone looked at Robin. Jason adopted his most pathetic, puppy-dog look, learned from the master himself: Dick Grayson. Tim stood no chance.

"Fine."

The rest of the camp out went on smoothly. Contrary to what Robin thought, Jason remained completely cordial throughout, answering and participating but to never the point of annoyance. It was almost like having another friend. Eventually, however, the kids talked themselves out, and one by one they filed into their respective tents to sleep.

All except Superboy.

Ever since the discussion about growing up, which inevitably brought up his inability to age, the young hero had been in a funk. He hadn't made it too obvious while his friends were awake, but none of them were fooled. As the night wore on and they gradually tired, his sorrow became more evident. By the time it was just him, the boy was slumped over, staring up at the starry sky with sad eyes.

"No growing up, huh?" Jason settled down next to him, "That sucks."

Kon-El was momentarily surprised, before returning to his slump. "It's fine. Like I said, no wrinkles or arthritis or any of that other stuff. The best kind of life."

"Except your friends will grow old themselves and eventually move on with their lives, while you stay the same and get left behind," Jason bluntly stated. Kon gaped at him.

"You don't pull any punches, do you?" The clone responded after the shock wore off.

"No. Us Bats — well, we lie if we have to. I've never been quite proud of that, so when I can tell the truth, I try not to sugarcoat it," He shrugged, "Some might call it cruel, but I consider it kind. Better they know the whole truth right out the gate so they won't be blindsided by it later on."

Kon-El blinked. He had nothing to say to that, so he returned to staring up at the sky, deep in thought.

"I just don't want to be alone, you know? Like you said, they're all eventually going to move on and live their lives while I stay like this, with the same shtick and everything. I can't help but wonder how long it will take for them to get tired of it."

Jason hummed. "I can understand that. But I think you should have more faith in them. They're your friends, Kon-El. And if your friendship is real, they'll always have a place for you in their lives, no matter what happens."

Kon-El paused as he thought that over, then turned to smile at him. "You think so?"

Jason couldn't help but smile back. "I know so. And who knows? Maybe someday they'll figure out a way to turn back on your biological clock," His voice softened, "But even if they don't…it doesn't mean you won't grow up, Kon. There's a lot more to growing up than growing old."

Before Kon-El could answer, they were quickly interrupted by a pair of interfering mothers. Directing them to the girls' tent, they watched in bemusement as the women let out sighs of relief before departing like a couple of chattering birds. They gradually faded away from sight, their voices becoming more distant.

"Hey, K?" Kon-El said once they were completely gone, "Thanks."

"Anytime. Do me a favor, though? Keep an eye out for my brother."

Kon-El actually laughed at that. "Why? He's the most capable out of all of us. It'll probably end up being the other way around."

Jason smirked. "Maybe so," he conceded, "But he's still my little brother. And no matter how good he is, he always ends up taking more on his shoulders than he should — just like our father. I can't help but worry for him."

"Well don't," Kon-El cracked a grin and jabbed a thumb at his chin, "As long as I've got his back, he'll be right as rain."

"I'll hold you to that." Jason clapped on his shoulder. "C'mon. I think it's time you got some sleep."

The following day, as Young Justice filed into their mountain fortress, Robin was handed a tablet by Red Tornado along with an envelope. Sneaking away to a remote corner while the others were busy, he ripped the envelope open. Inside it was a short note, scrawled on with some vaguely familiar writing.

'Use it as you see fit. Don't be afraid to tell them some of the truth. I trust you.' Robin frowned, before crunching up the note in a ball, making a mental reminder to burn it later. He turned on the tablet, watching it boot up. There weren't any apps on it except a file reader and an accompanying folder, titled with the initials 'Y.J.' A sinking suspicion in his gut, he clicked on it — and froze.

Young Justice

Members

Sequence of Events

Major Incidents

He quickly closed the file and turned off the tablet before he could read anymore. He'd think about this later, when he was alone and not surrounded by potential security risks. While he trusted his friends, he wasn't quite ready to take the plunge Jason suggested yet.

Robin walked back into the fray, noticing how everyone was beginning to congregate around Red Tornado for some reason. Frowning, he moved forward so he was close to the center of the group.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Everyone turned to look at him, looking vaguely confused and slightly irate.

"Ah, Robin. Glad of you to join us," Red Tornado intoned, "I was just about to announce the diet and training plans your brother formulated for the team. He also liked me to inform you that you are required to cook at least one meal for you and your friends every weekend as part of your training, and that I am to inform him if you slack off on that duty. If so, he also informed me that he, not Batman or Nightwing, will be handing out the appropriate punishment."

Robin gaped up at him.

"Also, he said you're not allowed to have any coffee while you're here."

That was it. The rest of Young Justice burst into laughter.

Robin snapped his mouth closed and groaned.

"I hate everything."

Young Justice is here! I decided to use the Batmobile incident here instead of Teen Titans, since none of them are going to be part of the Titans for a while. We'll be visiting these kids again later in the story, and let's just say they're going to be pretty important later on. You'll see.

Now, I know many of you expected Jason to kick Slade's ass. Logically, however, that's impossible. One, Jason is trying to avoid attention, so kicking the ass of Slade outright would have the complete opposite effect, especially if he does it in public. Two, he's simply not as strong as he used to be. If he were an adult again, yeah, he'd beat Slade. But as he is now? He needed Dick's help. No shame in that.

That's also why he drew out the fight with Rose. Jason could've ended that fight whenever he wanted. He was stalling for Dick, however, who was scrambling to change into one of his suits so he wouldn't be publicly recognized either. This is because Jason knew the moment he beat Rose he would have to deal with Slade, and he didn't know how long he would've been able to hold him off as he currently was.

This fight will be revisited later, there's more to it than was explained in this chapter. However, it won't be for a while.

Next chapter: A visit to the Kent farm!