A/N: It feels great to be updating this story, especially when things are starting to pick up. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

"So when does the Joker usually breakout of Arkham? He does always seem to get out sooner or later." Jason leaned back in his chair, glancing up from the newspaper in his hands.

"Typically only with outside help," Tim answered, lifting up his mug of steaming coffee. It appeared that the teen had either the highest pain tolerance known to man, or had burned out all the nerves in his tongue. He'd been sipping the coffee since it came straight out of the pot, with no hesitance to the heat. "He should be there for a while, hopefully for good this time."

Well, that never went as planned as far as Jason knew. Somehow the Joker always crawled out of that asylum, one way or another. He looked to Tim, deadpan. "So basically I should be preparing myself for his escape any moment now?"

Tim paused in bringing the mug to his mouth and shot him a slightly unbelievable look. "It's been a week, Jason."

The two of them sat at a cafe that afternoon on a rare day out. After spending so much time in the bunker eating cheap take-out and training, things had become a little too routine for the both of them. It was Tim who had suggested they try to act like normal citizens for once while keeping a low profile. Jason, wanting to get something to eat other than the boxes of Chinese and bags from burger joints that filled his garbage, agreed to it.

That was how they ended up in the back of the restaurant. They'd managed to get there after the rush, and so the atmosphere had calmed down, but remained busy enough that they were just another pair of customers to handle. No one paid much attention to them otherwise. Luckily, it didn't seem like they'd captured anyone on their trail.

"Exactly. It's not like he spends that long there anyway," Jason said, flipping the page of the newspaper. Bludhaven news typically was all the same: murder, robbery, vandalization of some sort. It usually involved cases that Jason already knew about, had dealt with personally, or gave him a lead to another bust of some sort. If anything, it was his own officially printed to-do list.

Tim shook his head, sipping his drink without another word. Jason got a lot of that lately; it seemed to be Tim's politer version of rolling his eyes. Their banter came naturally, and Jason could easily ignore whenever the teenager had any of his silent thoughts about something that he did or said. Mostly it just amused him to see how Tim reacted to some of his comments.

Jason's gaze flickered to the TV at the familiar voice of a reporter—not one on Bludhaven's local news channel. He looked up, and Tim caught his change in demeanor and turned towards the TV situated on the wall as well. It was a Gotham news channel, with images of bloodied and beaten criminals being carted away by both the cops and paramedics alike.

"Authorities believe this excessive force is being dealt out by Batman himself, though no evidence can confirm this to be true. This is clearly the act of a vigilante, but unlike any violence we've ever seen done except from the criminals themselves." The reporter frowned, looking into the camera. "The question remains: what is happening with Batman?"

Jason had to resist every temptation to show the surprise on his face. Batman going insane wasn't his intention, nor had he predicted that in the slightest. He turned away from the TV to see Tim frowning deeply, setting his mug down on the table. Darkness settled in his eyes, and Jason swore he saw guilt lingering on his face.

"This is why I became Robin," he said lowly, so that only Jason could hear, though it also reflected his tone of voice. "This is what happens when Batman doesn't have a Robin at his side."

"I didn't think he'd get out of control," Jason said, aware that he sounded as amazed as he felt.

Tim glanced down at his hands, brow furrowed. "It's guilt. I should have known that he'd go down this path again if I disappeared. He thinks he failed another partner. Otherwise he wouldn't act like this."

In the back of his mind, Jason remembered Tim telling him that this is what happened after his death. He knew that Tim had taken up the mantle because Bruce lost his mind the first time—because of him. But if he thought about that, if he considered that his death really had hurt the Bat, it would make him question too much. And so he pushed it aside and suggested to Tim, "You could go back. Call the manor, even. I'm not holding you here against your will."

To be honest, he wasn't sure how he felt about his master plan anymore. He was doing damage already by simply taking Tim away. He wasn't certain that he actually wanted to convert Tim to his side, to make him turn on Bruce. Here they were watching the Bat go down a destructive path, and Jason actually felt unsettled, if only slightly.

That, and he didn't really want to put Tim through pain for his own gain. It hadn't mattered in the beginning when they barely knew one another, and Jason let himself be caught up in the thrill of getting his revenge and the retribution he felt he deserved. But Tim wasn't a pawn to him anymore. Dare he call him a friend, he was at least a partner. So hadn't he won by getting Tim to think that way?

It wasn't what he'd set out to do, but now Jason wasn't sure he wanted to go through with the rest of it.

But Tim shook his head. "I can't. If I go back, I'll get questioned. And if I call I'll lead him straight to you. I don't want to make him aware when you're not ready."

That was more considerate than Jason had expected, and he respected Tim for that. He glanced down at the newspaper he laid out on the table, and as his eyes lingered on it they caught sight of something in the lower right-hand corner. There, blown up to an appropriate size, was a picture of him in his nightlife attire, standing amidst the remains of a drug bust. To his relief, Tim had escaped the view of the photographer. He didn't know when the picture was taken, but it had to be recent. The headline above the picture was hard to miss:

Red Hood runs the streets red with blood of drug dealers.

He frowned at the headline. Making a name for himself here wasn't something that he wanted. But now that it was out there, it was only a matter of time that he got on the radar of at least one vigilante—either Nightwing or Batman's for sure. It meant that staying in the shadows might no longer be an option.

"Maybe we should go back to Gotham," Jason decided, lifting his head. "We've been away long enough."

"Are you sure?" Tim raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you saying you want to talk to Bruce?"

"I'm saying that it's probably best to get you back to home base. Whether you want to show yourself or not is your choice, but we should at least have you in the vicinity." Jason folded up the newspaper, shoving it into the pocket of his jacket.

"That's fine with me," Tim said with a nod. "When are we leaving?"

"Now," Jason said, getting to his feet. "Get home and pack your bags. We'll be there by tonight."

Night was only hours away. Jason had that much time to pull himself together, merely hours before he entered Gotham for the second time since his resurrection.

He only had so much time left to decide if he wanted to go through with his plan, or let it die where it was.

"Father, I need to speak with you."

Dick held back the sigh that threatened to escape from his mouth. He'd been on damage control for a week trying to make sure that Batman didn't go too far out on the streets. It had taken all of his strength, willpower, and focus to keep an eye on Bruce and continue to look for Tim. Truthfully he was downright exhausted, but he didn't have the chance to stop and rest. Not to mention he'd been doing his best to try and give Damian attention and keep him out of Bruce's way so that the kid didn't have to endure Bruce when he wasn't in the right state of mind.

If Dick collapsed at any moment, he wouldn't be surprised.

So far he'd managed to successfully deter Damian from getting in the line of fire. Dick could handle Bruce like this, he could brush off the cold remarks because he knew that it wasn't his father talking. But Damian didn't know that, and Dick didn't want the boy's impression to be one soiled by Bruce in the depths of his inner demons. That didn't mean that Damian had made it easy, and based on the interruption Dick concluded that he'd grown tired of all the attempts to keep him away.

"Not now, Damian." Bruce sat in front of the computer, looking over footage from the night before in the places that he hadn't patrolled. Nightwing had been at Batman's side all throughout the patrol, watching him like a shadow, intervening when he needed it. He'd almost invoked Batman's wrath on him a few times, but ultimately he'd been able to avoid any major mishaps.

"It's important," Damian insisted, uncrossing his arms and standing there with his fists clenched. "You need to know what I have to say."

Dick turned towards him, his voice soft. "Damian, I'm sure that there is a lot you want to tell us. But once we have Tim back, everything will be a lot better for you and us. I know this isn't fair to you right now and that's why we're trying to work to get Tim back."

"Obviously, Grayson," Damian answered with a roll of his eyes. "That's why I'm trying to-"

"Dick is right," Bruce answered, not taking his eyes away from the screen. "We need to sort this out first."

Dick didn't think he'd ever seen such a murderous expression on a child's face before. Damian stalked forwards and shoved past the chair in front of the computer, effectively pushing Bruce out of the way of the keyboard. He then started typing away, fingers flying across the keys. Dick opened his mouth to protest, Bruce starting to stand, when both of them froze. Images popped up onto the screen, as well as a few news articles that had been published. Just by the background of the photos, Dick knew he was looking at his own territory of Bludhaven.

"You were looking for information of a man in a red mask," Damian said, stepping back from the keyboard and to the side, turning to face them. "But he isn't in Gotham. He's been making rounds in Bludhaven instead."

Dick looked to him, half astonished. "Wait, you actually listened to me when I was talking to you?"

"Tt, don't feel flattered," Damian replied, eyes flickering to the side. "I needed that information to form an investigation."

"This is all recent," Bruce said, nearly jumping at the computer. With is cowl pushed back, Dick could see his eyes scanning every picture, and every word. He knew that Bruce would start diving into it any second, analyzing it for all that it was worth. His gaze trained on the man in the red helmet, as if ingraining the image of him into his mind so that he wouldn't forget. This was the person they'd been looking for, the one that they were sure had Tim. After all this time, they finally had some sort of face and a name.

"There could be more out there," Dick suggested. "He may be going underground now that he's been caught."

"Then we have to stop him in his tracks before he can disappear. I need more information." Bruce began typing on the keyboard, sucked into his own world, deep in his mind. There would be no making sense to him until he'd exhausted every last resource at his disposal. For now, he was occupied and had a thread of hope to hold onto.

Damian stood there with his arms crossed, watching his father. The outburst in him had to be building, and so Dick placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him away, whispering, "Your dad is going to look into this further. If we thought he wasn't responsive before, he's not going to hear either of us for a while."

"I can help," Damian protested. "I found that much information. Imagine what else I can find."

"I'm sure you can," Dick assured him with a nod. "But Bruce needs to do this for himself. He won't feel he's done anything unless he finds this guy on his own. Your dad needs that if he's going to be himself again."

The boy glanced over to where Bruce sat, already delving into research. His jaw clenched, very similar to Bruce's own frustrated tick, and Dick bit back a smile at it. He squeezed Damian's shoulder, causing the boy to look back to him. "You've given him a direction. Just listen to what he says for the time being, and when it's all over Bruce will be in a much clearer state of mind."

"Fine," Damian breathed out, nearly growling it. His unhappiness was justified, but Dick had to do his best to pacify him.

"Thank you," Dick said, giving him a smile. "This will lead to something good for everyone."

Damian shrugged off his hand, turning away from him. "You better be right, Grayson. I don't do the dirty work to get no results."

Dick looked back to the computer, deciding not to say anything to that. If only Damian knew that this was just the beginning. The real dirty work had yet to begin. That would come with the fight that was well on its way.

He'd forgotten just what his safehouse in Gotham looked like after being acquainted with his bunker in Bludhaven for so long. It wasn't nearly as nice; just a rundown apartment big enough to hold weapons and a place to sleep. Jason hadn't spent much time in the city to really settle in, but he'd made sure to be prepared for when he returned. Since that time had come, he applauded himself for thinking ahead of the game and getting all of this set up beforehand.

"Home sweet home," Jason said, dropping his bag onto the couch.

"I kind of miss the bunker," Tim surveyed, closing the door behind him as he entered.

"Can't always have nice things," Jason replied. "Besides, it's not that bad. Just not as big as the bunker."

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, "I wouldn't say that's the only difference."

"And to think I was going to let you have the bed," Jason said, walking to the closet. He unlocked the door and opened it, peering inside. All of his weapons were where he'd left them, prepared for a small scale war if that ever did occur. Considering what he'd decided on, it might actually be what went down in the streets in a few hours. The sun currently sat in the position of slowly dipping below the horizon. Soon, it would be night. That meant the Bat would come out to play.

And Jason was ready to play.

"I'm going out tonight," Jason announced, turning away from the closet. All he needed to do was change into his full attire and grab his weapons, and then he could be out the door. "I'm going on patrol."

Tim, who had been gazing around the room, looked to him as if he'd just started speaking Latin. "Patrol? In Gotham?"

"Is there a problem?"

"You know that Batman will be out," Tim said, and it wasn't a question. "He's probably going to catch you on his turf."

"I hope he does, because that's the point." Jason opened the bag he tossed onto the couch and started pulling out the pieces of his uniform. "I want to get a personal take on him. You've talked him up enough that I should at least give him a chance to show me what he's got."

"And then what?" Tim raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly confused.

"That'll depend on what I think of him," Jason answered. Truthfully, he didn't know what the next step would be. He didn't even know what he was going to do when he came face to face with Bruce. He hadn't done it before, he'd never encountered him since his resurrection. And considering how rampant Batman appeared on the news, it didn't bode well.

But he couldn't avoid it forever. Especially since this was going to help him decide whether or not he let go of his revenge plot, or let it continue on. If he had to be honest, Jason was leaning towards dropping the whole thing. But he wouldn't, not until he saw Bruce personally. He rummaged through his items and then looked to Tim. "I want you to stay behind. Hang out here, watch some TV or something."

"Sounds uneventful," Tim replied, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want back up?"

That was not the term that he'd expected to hear, and from the look on Tim's face he was surprised it had come out of his mouth as well. The teen blinked, and then said, "Well, you know what I mean."

"Uh huh," Jason answered, and then stood with his belongings in hand. "If you want to show yourself to Batman, that's your call. I'm not going to sit here and hold you against your will. It was always your choice whether you stayed or not."

And really, it was. He never held a gun to Tim's head and ordered him to follow. No, Tim had always been free to leave. What had made his plan work in the first place was manipulating Tim's curiosity, and getting him to follow. Now, it was Tim deciding whether or not he stayed.

The teen nodded, and paused for a minute. Then he dropped his bag to the floor and took a seat on the couch. "Hope cable has something good on."

"Keep an eye on the news," Jason suggested. "You might see something good."

"Yeah, you setting Gotham up in flames," Tim said, shaking his head.

"You might be right," Jason answered. It wasn't a promise, and it wasn't a threat. But Jason knew that whatever went down between him and Bruce, it wouldn't be pretty.

And somehow, that was what he'd been waiting for.

It had been forty-five minutes since Jason had left. Tim had done his best to try and take his mind off of it, but with no luck. He'd clicked through all the available channels at least three times, growing more restless by the minute. Not only was he used to being out on the streets, but he knew what Jason was getting himself into, and it wasn't good. Tim was well aware that Bruce wasn't in his right mind, even though he hadn't seen the Bat personally. He didn't need to. Tim hadn't let himself forget about the news report, nor had he forgiven himself for driving Bruce to this point.

He'd really thought that Bruce would find him before this could happen. He thought he'd end up unintentionally leading Batman to Jason, and then everything would either go up in flames or get resolved in that moment. He hadn't expected it to be such a struggle to find him. Then again, he'd been so caught up in training with Jason that he hadn't exactly tried to set out many clues for Bruce to find. And since he hadn't left a trail, it was no wonder Bruce struggled to find his whereabouts.

This madness wasn't what Tim had wanted. He dreaded what was about to go down out there, but he didn't want to stop it. Right now, he didn't want to intervene. It would be better if Jason and Bruce handled this themselves-even though there was no guarantee that Jason would actually tell Bruce it was him. The Red Hood was unpredictable in that way.

But Tim had to let someone know he was alive and okay. If he couldn't tell Bruce, and now was not the time to interrupt whatever was happening out there, he had to tell someone else. Tim looked to the phone that Jason had left on the coffee table, and after a moment he picked it up. He kept the number in his head memorized for emergencies, and Tim felt that this was an emergency. Before he could stop himself, he dialed the number and pressed the phone to his ear.

The call rang on and on until Tim wondered if it was going to get ignored. And then it cut off mid ring, and a familiar voice that he hadn't heard in what felt like ages came through. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dick," Tim said, relieved. "How have you been?"