It starts when you hear about Replacement being replaced in turn, and you give a short bark of a laugh at the news. It's surprising, in a way, because after the first numbness of the shock from Bruce's death fades out you feel… You don't really feel much. You realize you don't really care, and it's both a relief and another way you're messed up. Still, the appearance of Red Robin makes you laugh, even if it's only partially mocking.
You don't think much of it all.
Your grumble of "I'm too tired for this shit" rings loudly in the emptiness of your safehouse.
You keep not thinking about any of it until a couple of weeks later when you see all three – Dickface in a batsuit, Demon Brat in reds, greens and yellows, and Replacement in his new Red Robin guise – by chance and the world takes a green tint because honestly, what the hell? The Brat should be broken out of the League's ways by now, not turning them on his damn allies!
If anyone asked why are you so pissed off about that, you'd tell them it was because if they're gonna preach their rules they should follow them. Depending on how close the green is to the surface at the moment, you might tell them that the only one who gets to kill Replacement is you. Both of those are true.
At that point you still don't realize it's not exactly the whole truth – not anymore.
It takes a week after that for you to notice that Red Robin hasn't been seen in Gotham ever since.
You goad Goldie about that the next time you see him and get ramblings of "he didn't take it well" and "keep an eye out for him" in return.
Demon Brat just scoffs.
You answer with "hell no, why would I?" and leave, but something still bugs you so you put out a couple of feelers.
You find it at least somewhat justified when you hear that Red Two isn't just out of Gotham but out of States entirely.
Whatever he's following, it's worth watching out for in case it goes to hell.
One month after and you don't allow yourself to contemplate why you're trying to half blackmail half guilt trip Talia of all people to be a contingency plan for Drake as he gets involved with the League of Shadows.
You'll never admit that you freaked out when you heard about it.
Seriously, Replacement, what the fuck?
It's been two months since then.
Batman is back to prowling around Gotham.
You deliberately ignore that something settles inside you.
You don't know how to feel that it's not because of Bruce.
When you get to the base of the gang of rapists you've been investigating Red Robin is already there and in the midst of a fight. You grumble about prey-stealing replacements, shoot a thug lining a shot at the caped back from a dark corner in the groin and are gone by the time the fight's over.
The next time you go against a whole gang of scumbags you hear a noise behind you and whirl around only to see a guy pinned to a wall by a batarang through his jacket and increasingly familiar silhouette on the nearby roof. You get a nod before the grapple gun is fired and you get your head back into the fight.
A couple of weeks go by before you find out that Replacement's got self preservation of a lemming.
You're not surprised to see someone from the Bat Clan is already there when you go to stake out the bunch of idiots that decided to start their drug-selling career in Gotham. You're actually – stupidly – relieved that it's Timmers. That is, until you come closer and realize he's fast asleep. He doesn't even twitch when you go ahead and poke his cheek.
"What the fuck?" is becoming a bit of recurring question.
You didn't get any new intel that night, but that's only part of the reason why you stayed longer than planned.
You slip into the pre-dawn shadows before he starts stirring.
It's only after you make sure Replacement noticed the camera you set up on the roof railing that you leave.
You don't question it when the police chatter indicates Batman and Robin to be on the other side of the city next night – Red Robin often takes his own cases.
You don't grab a coffee on your way because you don't care about Replacement and not because the damn kid needs to sleep.
Red Robin tracks you down because he has a lead and it's in your territory. You follow in the shadows – just to make sure he doesn't stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Three weeks later, and it's you breaking into his apartment because you can't trace that new weapons dealing group's money trail.
It's all very professional up until both Ivy and Scarecrow break out of Arkham again and you come back to your safehouse of the week with the first light of the dawn to find your traps disarmed.
You're tired to the bone and just want to sleep, so for a moment you contemplate just turning around and going to another safehouse. Unfortunately, this one is a bit more remote, so that would take hours. In the end you keep your guard up and stalk inside.
Whatever you expected to find wasn't Replacement showing obvious signs of the fear toxin and hiding under your bed of all things.
Hiding under your anything, period.
Forget recurring question, it's a goddamn theme.
You're not in the mood to deal with the Bat Clan, your resources aren't vast enough to have an antidote, and you're honestly too tired to care, so you just rearm your traps, put your guns and helmet on the closest table and fall onto the bed. If any midget vigilantes get squished it's their own damn fault.
You think you feel a lanky body curling at your side moments before sleep takes you, but the safehouse is empty when you wake up.
You don't check the security tapes.
Next night you leave a cup of coffee on his patrol route.
It's not the last time you do.
One night you're a step away from a Starbucks when you spot him on a roof. As your eyes meet he sheepishly lifts up a paper bag reminiscent of the ones that carried your lunch when you were still Bruce's ward.
You get two cups.
Alfred's cookies still taste the same.
You're just starting your own patrol when you spot Replacement stumbling a landing. When you catch up to him a curse slips under your breath. Red Moron is falling asleep on his feet – literally.
Definitely a theme.
You slip behind him, striking swiftly, and whistle a cheery tune as you heave his body over your shoulder.
One unconscious vigilante thrown on your couch later you start your patrol anew.
When you get back there's food waiting for you.
You don't even bother feeling annoyed when he arms each and every one of your traps on his way out.
It goes on like that for months when the crime world finds someone not half bad to take you out. That wouldn't be a problem normally, but you were caught at a bad time, which is why you're slumped in a tiny dirty alley, bruised and bleeding, hand pressing on the ragged wound in your side and vision swimming due to concussion.
You're weighing pros and cons of ditching your helmet - you might need the protection because the closest safehouse is still a ways to go, but the Bats apparently heard about the hit and hacked your com, so now your ears are full of Bruce's stiff growling and Goldie's outright pleading.
Despite that and the ringing in your head you still hear the quiet thump of someone landing and lift your head to see a familiar cowl.
Batman goes silent – probably trying to track you through com – while Nightwing keeps blabbering that "you're family" and "let us help".
Replacement throws your arm over his shoulders, murmuring that he has a safehouse of his own nearby.
You bark a laugh, cut Nightwing off – "I don't need your help, I don't need you" – and finally take off your helmet before throwing it away and then blowing it up for good measure as Tim aims his grappling gun.
A few days later you feel much better. Red Two on the other hand starts reminding you of a raccoon.
The Bats keep badgering him about you, but you've yet to have any uninvited guests.
Eventually Replacement stops leaving the safehouse for anything except patrol.
The kid is in a desperate need of a vacation.
So you say to hell with it and kidnap him to Kori's island.
You never really stop calling him Replacement.
He usually gives as good as he gets.
Alfred gives you a disapproving glance.
Batman goes stiff and blank.
Nightwing turns into a sad puppy.
Robin doesn't care.
They – except for Robin and Timbo – still ask why you call him that, sometimes, but the answer is still the same.
Because that's what he is – a replacement.
They never ask replacement of what.