A/N: Sorry to leave you guys with that cliff hanger for a little while, but I'm here to follow through. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
"Next time you should really let me intervene," Jason said, his hands lightly grasping Tim's arm as he cleaned out the wound on his bicep. "I saw enough within the first few minutes."
"I knew I could hold my ground," Tim protested, wincing as the peroxide stung his skin. Jason knew the feeling all too well, and how the teenager directed his focus anywhere but the injury. His eyes were trained on the large computer monitor, which displayed the feed of a current news station, filling the room with background noise. He appeared intrigued, but it was more to try and suppress the pain from showing on his face. "I wanted you to see that I could handle it."
"Yeah, you did. But there was no reason for you to come out of that and be this scathed." When Jason had sent the teen into the fight, he had been ready to jump in himself at a moment's notice. In fact, he hadn't even intended to leave the entire battle in Tim's hands. He'd let him go for a few minutes, analyzing the teen's every move, watching as he put everything he had learned to good use. Tim ducked under punches, throwing his entire weight into each hit, holding back enough so that his blows wouldn't shatter bones but stun his opponents instead. He danced around the attempted punches and kicks by his enemies in his own style, but with a sleekness that he'd polished recently. His movements were sharper, more defined, and with less hesitance and thought behind each step.
The progress was clear in the eyes of his mentor. Tim hadn't shied away from incorporating Jason's teachings into all that he already knew, and the progress was near astounding. He wasn't just observant and intelligent, but able to apply the new skills and use them to their full capability. It only hardened Jason's theory that this wasn't the average sidekick. This was someone with every intention to improve, and with the skill set to be something incredible.
Of course, Tim had his experience, but still not enough to make such a large fight seem effortless. The men weren't as drunk as Jason had first suspected, and even still their advantages of aggression, height, and bulk all stacked against the young hero. The moment his opponents started to gain an edge, knocking Tim off his feet, Jason had reached for his guns, fingers hovering just above the trigger, the whisper of the handle against his palm. But Tim's head had snapped in his direction, and even with his eyes masked Jason could feel intense, nearly brutal warning behind them: No. Back off.
As much as Jason hadn't particularly liked the idea, he'd remained in his spot and let Tim handle the situation. In the end all the thugs had gone down, laying in an unconscious but alive heap, as was the teen's fashion of dealing with criminals. Tim came out of the fight victorious, but battered and bruised nonetheless. Much to Jason's surprise, it hadn't dimmed his mood to have taken such a beating. If anything, he seemed invigorated by it.
Tim shrugged with his good shoulder, otherwise staying still while Jason finished wrapping his wounds. None of them were life-threatening, but they were sure to cause discomfort for a while. "It's not like this job is exactly painless. I'm used to it."
"Taking it like a real soldier," Jason commented, only able to bite back half a grin. "I have to admit I'm impressed."
A flicker of light came to life in Tim's eyes, akin to childlike excitement, but he reeled it in before it could become too obvious. Jason still saw its effect, brightening the tiredness of his features, causing a slight upward tilt to his mouth like he was trying to suppress a smile. "I feel like it takes a lot to impress you."
"You're right," Jason replied, gathering up all the medical supplies he had laid out on the table. "Hard to be impressed when you've seen so much already. But, hey, looks like you managed to get my approval somehow."
Jason lifted his gaze to catch the brief look that flashed across Tim's face, and this time he was certain he knew what it was: pride. As much as the teen tried to keep his expression neutral, the good vibes he received from gaining Jason's good judgment radiated off him in waves. If Jason wasn't trying to keep his own demeanor reserved he would have laughed, not at the boy's reaction but because he found it flattering. Tim hadn't been kidding when he told Jason (more than once) that he had always looked up to the former Robin. Now Jason had enough proof to believe it.
How strange that someone actually looked up to him when everyone else only ever belittled him.
How odd that someone had wanted to be like him when there was nothing particularly good about Jason Todd.
"That's one for the record books," Tim said, carefully pulling his shirt over his head. Once he poked his face out from the shirt opening his expression returned to calm and collected, with only a small twinge of discomfort noticeable. He was good at hiding the pain, and had quite the poker face to match. Sometimes it took Jason a decent amount of time to just scratch the surface of what was going through Tim's head, something he never had to do before. Knowing Batman, knowing Bruce Wayne, was easy. But Tim? For all of the similarities he had with the Bat, he was an entirely different challenge.
The thought of their old mentor brought a question that Jason had been mulling over for a while make itself apparent in his mind yet again. He kept his voice and posture casual, but the question he had was more serious than he let on. "So when are you going to tell Bruce that I'm alive?"
Tim only thought on it for a moment, looking to Jason and blinking with an innocence that the young man hadn't expected. He thought he would catch a spark of a devious nature, maybe catching the teen off guard. But everything about Tim read as open and honest. When Jason tried to evaluate his reaction, when he tried to gauge how much of an act Tim was putting on, he found nothing at all.
"I wasn't planning on it," Tim answered, his light blue gaze only solidifying his truthful response. He wasn't hiding behind a wall, he wasn't playing any game. "You didn't go straight to him for a reason, so it's your choice to tell him yourself, whenever you decide."
It was such an unexpected response that Jason didn't know how to take it. He shut the lid on the box of medical supplies, pushing it off to the side, finding himself looking anywhere but at Tim. "Well, that's oddly considerate of you. Thought you'd run off to the big man sooner or later."
"I don't tattle, Jason," Tim replied. "You'll tell him when you're ready. Or whenever you want. It's not my right to get in between your business with Bruce."
"Fair enough," Jason said, leaning back against the table. While Tim was right that him coming back to life was between Bruce and himself, and technically the woman who had given him second life, the teen was just as integral to the situation. He had a foot in the door, a piece in the puzzle that without him wouldn't be completely accurate. Just because Jason's resentment towards Tim had lessened didn't mean he was fully exempt from what happened. He still played a part in all the madness, in all the pain that Jason had endured when coming back to life.
Tim tipped his head slightly, "Why didn't you just tell me who you were when we first met? Why drag me along, make me figure it out on my own?"
"What, we're playing twenty questions again?" Jason couldn't help but let the snark filter into his voice. Besides, it bought him time to decide whether he would tell the truth or only half of it. Tim didn't really need to know yet that Jason had planned to use him to get his vengeance, and if Jason could help it the teen would never have to know.
Half a smirk crept onto Tim's face, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Humor me."
Jason shifted, bracing his palms against the table for something to ground him. He opted for a half truth, figuring it wouldn't hurt too much in the long run. It wasn't a total lie, either, he was just leaving out the other part of the story. "I wondered at first if you'd recognize me. I knew you were smart, so I guess I was just testing the waters."
Then he shrugged, "But I didn't really expect you to know. No one would have guessed it to be true."
"Bruce doesn't really keep pictures around," Tim admitted, looking a bit guilty at the admission. "And in any of them you're in uniform, so it's not easy to see your face. And you've aged since then."
But Jason barely heard the rest of the teen's explanation, his eyes going downcast to the floor as his eyes narrowed. "No pictures, huh? I guess it makes everything a lot easier to forget."
Tim was silent for so long that Jason thought the teen finally was in agreement with him. The young man lifted his head and found instead that Tim's expression was one of sadness, with a hint of pity. He even dared to look a bit frustrated, right around the crinkles of his eyes. "You really don't understand, do you?"
"Apparently not, if you're giving me that look. Which is not appreciated, by the way."
Tim didn't relent, keeping the same expression locked on Jason's face. "The lack of pictures, the memorial of your uniform in the cave, how determined he was to not have a Robin until he had no choice. Everything he did was never meant to help him forget. It was to remind him of the pain every single day."
His gaze narrowed in a lecturing way, but for the first time Jason caught a flash in Tim's gaze that displayed nothing but seriousness; so hard it was nearly cold, so unquestionable that he didn't dare to interject. Tim's words fell upon him like heavy stones dragging him down into the sea, "Don't think I never caught him in the moment either. Every time I put on that uniform, it's not me he sees, Jason. It's you."
It had been quite a while since Jason had been at a loss for words. His voice had all but disappeared, and his thoughts were only fragments that didn't form completely coherent strings that could be spoken. All he could do was lower his gaze to the floor once more, his lips pressed into a tight line, hands gripping the edge of the table so tight it amazed him that his knuckles didn't pop through his skin. Tim was so insistent that Bruce cared, that he still cared, and some part of Jason screamed for him to believe it. The way the teen explained how Bruce felt made it so easy to understand the words he was saying.
So why did it still make him want to tear the world apart?
Tim let out a sigh, so soft that Jason barely heard it over the roar of his own thoughts. "I'll tell you something that everyone close to Bruce knows. The easiest way to break him is by saying your name."
Break him, huh? That was what Jason had set out to do in the first place. It had been the whole reason for coaxing Tim onto his side. The plan hadn't changed, he was still following the steps that he had put in order in his mind; get Tim, train Tim, get him to believe all that Jason said, steal the new Robin away from his mentor. But he had to wonder, now that most of it was said and done, now that he really knew Tim, if his heart was even in it anymore. Did he really want to tear the Dark Knight down? Was that really going to make him feel any better?
Or was it just going to make him regret not making Talia end him as soon as he'd taken his first reborn breath?
The familiar voice of a woman reporter tore Jason from his mind and brought his attention to the news feed, Tim turning his head as well. It was not of Bludhaven, but the setting of Gotham City on screen, police surrounding the docks where Jason had first encountered Tim. Thugs were being handcuffed and hauled away to transportation vehicles, the reporter just managing to stand on the outside of the crime scene without being pushed aside.
"Thanks to the efforts of Batman, the Joker has been captured and arrested once again, and is now in transit to Arkham Asylum. Security personnel say that they are taking extra precautions and making the proper arrangements for Joker's return..."
Of course, his return to Arkham. What else did Jason expect, really? He waited for a response from Tim, a comment about the situation. He waited and waited, and finally realized that nothing needed to be said. They understood without having to say a word that this was the way it went, and that the moral code would always prevail when it came to Batman. No matter how much it hurt Jason, the Joker would return to Arkham. Chaos would resume its normal cycle, and there was nothing the two of them could do to change it. There would be no way to make a drastic difference as long as Batman remained Gotham's protector. It would have to take death to stop the Bat, and even then the legacy would live on, somehow, someway.
There was nothing left to say with all of that truth hanging between them, unsaid but understood. They sat together in mutual silence, watching the cycle start over once more.
"You've got to be kidding me." Nightwing stood tall and firm, his arms crossed over his chest, masked eyes narrowed in thought. The Batcave's shadows only emphasized the ones that hovered over his features, which were also marked with confusion and a hint of doubt. "Talia decides to drop her kid off now? What's with the timing?"
"Don't you listen?" The young boy, Damian, stood almost toe to toe with the young adult, his chin raised just enough to be able to look Dick in the eye with a glare harsh enough to shatter glass. The defiance in his posture screamed that he would not be looked down upon, and that he wasn't just some kid that Talia had abandoned at Bruce's doorstep. No, this was the unmistakable pride of a boy who knew the two family names from which he descended. Everything in the boy read that he was ready for a fight, whether it would be to defend himself or his family honor. "My mother brought me here because my father needs me."
"Needs you for his sake or her own plans?" Nightwing said, raising an eyebrow.
"She said she owes him," Damian answered, the glare receding a little as he explained once again. "With me in Gotham, she has repaid her debts fully. Whatever history is between them, this was her last act of penance."
"But what else has she done?" Nightwing insisted. "As far as we've experienced, Talia doesn't just do the right thing because she wants to. She definitely hasn't made it obvious what other 'penance' she's done, either."
"If I knew that I would have told you by now, Grayson," Damian replied sharply, saying the name with a sneer. "I don't meddle in my mother's affairs that don't involve me."
Both boys turned their heads to Batman, who remained stoically staring at them, almost through them. As soon as the fight ended he'd gathered enough of his senses and made arrangements for the Joker to be returned to Arkham. Even if he couldn't give any more considerably worthwhile information, he did need to get the lunatic off the streets and somewhere contained. Once that was covered he'd whisked his young son out of the public eye before anyone could find him.
The shock had yet to wear off, no matter how many times Damian spoke the words. Bruce had a son, a son of blood, and he hadn't known for ten years. All that time, every first step and the milestones missed, and Talia had never once considered sharing the secret, until now. Dick was right about that unusual point; the timing of it all. Everything was too convenient, too articulated. While Bruce highly doubted that Talia was behind Tim's disappearance, since she lacked a motive, sending Damian to him had a purpose. What else could she have done that she considered payment for her crimes against him? If returning him the son he was unaware he had was only half the bargain, then where did the other piece fall into place?
"Well, Father?" Damian's intense gaze bordered on a scowl, and its familiarity snapped Bruce out of his daze. This was his son, and he wanted to get to know him, wanted to learn his personality and what he'd had to endure in his father's absence. A life with the League of Assassins didn't bode well, and to think that Talia had aimed to turn a child of his lineage into a killer was unacceptable. He wanted to ask him so many questions, to figure out why Talia had kept him hidden all those years, maybe even find the woman herself and demand the answers from her. But this son was here and safe, here in his home where he belonged. Bruce couldn't focus on that when his other child was still nowhere to be found.
It wasn't fair, really. How could he lose one of his children only to gain another? If the universe thought they could just replace his missing son and it would deter him, it was a cruel joke to play. Bruce looked at his son for one moment, then two, and then spoke, trying to pull the right words out of his fast flowing thoughts. "There is a lot that we have to talk about. But I have something else to take care of first."
Damian's expression flickered with anger and disappointment, his eyes narrowing at his father. Clearly the answer was not what he had expected to hear, and Bruce couldn't blame him for that. "Haven't I waited long enough to talk to you? Was ten years too soon?"
"No," Bruce replied, his voice stern. Ten years was far too long for him to go without knowing of his son's existence, and he didn't want Damian thinking that he didn't care. As much as he did care, he had more than one son to look after, especially right now. "That's something that Talia and I will have to discuss. What I do know is that you're safe and my partner isn't. I have to find him before I invest all my time into something else."
"Bruce, let me go and search for Tim," Dick suggested, motioning to the boy. "I think it would be best if you two talked. He has the right to get to know you."
"Not while Tim is out there," Bruce barked, patience nearly snapping. He found himself struggling to hold it together and not rush out of the cave without another word. "We won't address another problem right now. Nothing else gets done until we bring him home."
He didn't want to think of Damian as a problem or an obstacle. No, that wasn't fair to the boy who just wanted to meet his father. Bruce knew that he would prefer the same rather than addressing the boy later. In the back of his mind he was certain that Damian needed him and his guidance, he needed to teach his son outside of the influence of his mother. But he couldn't help but see this as another distraction to his real mission, another twist in the road meant to throw him off the path. At this point, he couldn't afford to have his attention pulled in another direction.
"Maybe Damian could-"
"Damian is staying here," Bruce brushed past his eldest son, unable to stay idle any longer. Every moment was another moment lost for Tim. Every hour was another that Tim held out hope that Bruce would come for him. And every hour that passed meant that Tim lost that bit of hope, every minute a small part of his partner lost faith that Batman was really going to save him.
That had happened to a Robin once. It was not going to happen again.
If Nightwing protested further, it fell upon deaf ears. Batman strode to the Batmobile and threw himself into the seat. The roar of the engine as he sped out of the cave wasn't loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
Nightwing ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him involuntarily as he watched the Batmobile peel out of the cave. As much as he wanted to go after Bruce, he knew that it wouldn't accomplish anything. When the Bat got into one of his obsessive moods, he'd only see Nightwing as an obstacle in his path. If he wanted to help, he'd have to wait to be asked for assistance, and in the meantime do his own investigating. His head already hurt from the stress that came with even the thought of arguing with Bruce. It was in his own best interests to let it go for now and see what he could do by himself.
He glanced down to his side, where Damian stood with his hands clenched into fists. The anger had receded for the most part, and he now seemed more disappointed and offended. Dick could relate; Bruce had gone off in his moods plenty of times before, and Dick had endured them every time. But he supposed it was different coming from the boy that until a couple hours ago hadn't even known his father personally. Dick knew how to brush the arguments off, at least after a decent cool down period. Damian had no idea just how far Bruce could delve into a mission.
"He isn't concerned at all, is he?" Damian didn't take his eyes off of where the Batmobile had resided moments ago, as if he could will the vehicle back to the cave. It almost surprised Dick that the boy hadn't found a way to take off after the Bat.
"He's dealing with a lot right now," Nightwing answered, following the boy's gaze. "Once we have Tim back, he'll be at ease."
"This partner of his is nothing but a distraction," Damian said with a roll of his eyes. He turned his gaze to Dick, arms crossing over his chest. For the first time since they'd met, the boy's glare wasn't directed his way. "If that's the only way to get my father to listen, how do we find him, this Tim Drake?"
"When I figure that out, I'll let you know," Nightwing answered, looking back to Damian. While he really wanted to do his own research into Tim's whereabouts, he couldn't ignore their new guest. There was no guarantee as to when Bruce would be back, and he didn't want to be the third person to abandon the kid that night. He raised an eyebrow, looking the boy up and down. "Until then, how good are you with that sword?"