A/N: Happy to finally get another chapter up for you guys. Fingers crossed that I can get another up soon. For now, enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

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Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

The nostalgia Jason felt at standing on the rooftops of Gotham brought him the greatest sense of comfort, yet also the greatest sense of betrayal. This was where he'd traversed with Batman, taking on the night, fighting crime and giving his all. The rooftops were filled with good memories-memories of laughter and foolish villains, of gargoyles who listened to his woes, of the thrill of the chase.

It truly was a shame that it all had to be tainted by the pit in his stomach whenever he thought of Batman.

He breathed in the cold Gotham air, surveying the city from behind his helmet. Now that he was out in the open, it was only a matter of time before the Bat caught up to him. The only question was how to get Batman aware that he'd arrived. He could start a fight and that would get the vigilante's attention instantly. Or he could wander instead of stirring up trouble, and wait to be found. Either way, he had a feeling that the Bat would find him.

Jason opted for the stroll down memory lane. Thanks to Tim, he knew where the majority of the feeds were located, and he made a point to walk through those areas and get his image on camera. He doubted that Bruce was still in the cave at this hour, especially with his current behavior, but if he was, it would help to draw him out. As he moved through the city he watched the streets of Gotham, the city he knew best, and let himself reminisce.

As he came upon an alleyway he heard a terrified cry, and Jason spun around and moved towards the other end of the roof. Looking over the edge he saw two women holding onto each other as a group of thugs approached them, their eyes raking over the women hungrily. Jason's stomach twisted, sick at the sight. He hadn't wanted to have to cause a scene, but he wasn't about to let this one go. Reaching for his belt, he closed his hands around his guns and went to draw them out, prepared to leap into the alleyway.

A shadow appeared in the sky, wings outstretched in a jagged pattern; descending upon the thugs. It was only when it touched down and drew itself to its full height that Jason realized just what was happening. He'd recognize the cowl and grim expression anywhere, as would he know the heavy gaze and threatening posture. It became seared into his mind the day he'd looked up from stealing tires and seen the figure looming over him.

Batman had arrived.

Jason let go of his weapons, his hands slowly drifting back to his sides. Seeing Batman come out of the night like a hunter after his prey wasn't a sight that a person got used to experiencing. How many times he'd witnessed the Bat emerge from the shadows or appear soundlessly, and still Jason found himself with that same chill down his spine. But even with that chill, it never diminished his will to fight. Not back then, and certainly not now.

The thugs turned towards Batman, some backing up, some glaring. They all paused, and the women tore out of the alleyway as fast as they could. It was only after they'd run off that one of the thugs decided to throw themselves the Bat's way with a cry. Foolish, Jason knew, to think that they of all people could take him. Batman dodged the punch easy, and once he moved it was as though he couldn't stop. Jason watched, his eyebrows raising behind the helmet in surprise at the force Batman used against each thug.

Every punch, every kick, didn't seem to be holding back against these lowlife crooks. It was different from what Jason knew: he'd always been taught restraint, to not cross lines when he was under the Bat's tutelage. Right now, that didn't seem to matter. Jason heard the crack of bone, a sound so distinct that he expected the scream that accompanied it. The thugs hit the ground one by one, cradling wrists, holding onto their broken bones or laying passed out on the asphalt.

When they were all down for the count, Batman stood among the carnage, silent. Jason watched, his eyes narrowed. Was this what Tim had meant? Was this how Bruce had become after his death? It didn't seem real, or believable. Bruce had moved on, Jason knew he had. Or maybe he had taken his death a lot worse than he ever imagined.

Sirens in the distance caused Jason to turn away, catching the red and blue lights of the GCPD as they approached. He looked back to the alley, and had to look twice. Batman no longer stood in the middle of the alley, as if he'd never been there at all. He always had a knack for disappearing as silently as he came, and at least that hadn't changed.

Jason straightened up, heading across the rooftop. As he did he felt a chill crawling up his spine, a sixth sense whispering to him. It caused him to pause, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. There was nothing there, but Jason wasn't fooled. He knew the trick like the back of his hand. This feeling, this instinct, never lied to him.

He didn't move, but spoke allowed, "You know, for the World's Greatest Detective, it sure took you a long time to catch on."

He waited, patiently. Then from behind the water tower situated on the roof, Batman moved from the shadows. They seemed to stick to him, become a part of him. Bruce had always been tall, but dressed in the suit he looked taller, and much more intimidating. Even though Jason now stood taller than him, the heavy glare that came from Batman almost made him feel as if he were a kid again. The feeling of the vigilante standing in front of him, seeming cloaked in the darkness of Gotham, still made his heart pound-still shot up that single spark of fear.

Jason could feel a strange set of nerves rising in him, like the beginnings of an adrenaline rush. This was the first time that he'd stood in front of Batman since his death. The first time that he'd come face to face with Bruce. He didn't know what he expected, but he'd always imagined it would be over some sort of conflict. And here they were, with Jason holding all the cards, just like he wanted.

Batman fixed his glare on him, jaw clenched. "Where is Robin?"

In his head, Jason laughed bitterly. If only you knew, he thought. If only you knew he was standing right in front of you.

But then he had to remember that he wasn't Robin anymore. He hadn't been Robin for a long time now. He pushed the thoughts away, keeping his attention on the Bat and spoke, voice gruff. "Unharmed, if that's what you're worried about. As for those thugs, I'd have to say otherwise. You're a lot more brutal than you used to be."

He could practically see the Bat's eyes narrow behind the cowl at his words. "Didn't know you've been around long enough to see a difference."

"Well, I've got some blanks to fill," Jason answered, tiptoeing around the whole truth. While part of him wanted to rip off his helmet and show himself just to see Bruce's reaction, it was a small part of him that he could ignore. Honestly, the mystery game brought him more satisfaction. Because Bruce would never imagine that this was what he'd become. The shock and potential horror was worth the wait to see.

It was funny, really, how standing in front of Batman actually made him angrier than he had been lately. Standing there, looking at the Dark Knight, brought everything to the surface. All of the pain he tried to step on. All the anger and the frustration, the disbelief that Bruce ever could have taken another Robin and let the Joker go. But that was what had happened. And as much as he'd started to feel lenient towards Bruce over the last few weeks, tried to lessen the anger, he couldn't accept that right now.

Batman regarded him silently, the way he stared down criminals in order to intimidate them into changing their minds before they fired that gun, or took off running. "We've met?"

"We're old friends," Jason answered, though by the tone of his voice it suggested the term bitterly. "But you're not very good at keeping in touch."

This was starting to get to a point that Jason didn't want to reach. He'd thought maybe he wanted to tell Bruce in this moment who he was, but now the idea made him want to recoil. No, secrecy was what he wanted. To keep pulling the wool over Batman's eyes, that was what he needed to do. So gestured to the Bat, "If I'd known just how much Robin disappearing would affect you, I might have taken it up a notch. Never thought I'd see the Batman at such a loss."

"Whatever problem you have with me, leave him out of it." Batman did not plead, and he wasn't pleading now. If anything, it sounded like an order.

"You think I'm holding him hostage," Jason said, amused. He gave a short laugh, looking at the Batman and smirking under the hood, even though his old mentor couldn't tell. "That couldn't be farther from the truth. You see, Tim has chosen to stay by my side. I've done nothing but accomplish everything you've failed to do for your partners."

Behind them, the sound of the GCPD sirens grew louder, until Jason could see the lights reflecting against the building. He kept his gaze locked on Batman, even though he appeared impassive. Jason knew better. If he was going to lose his mind over thinking he'd lost Tim, he couldn't be taking the news that Tim had voluntarily stayed too lightly. And Jason wanted nothing more than for the words to sting.

"Face it, Batman," he said, gaze steady on the man, voice cold. "Maybe he's not your Robin anymore."

For a long moment, Batman didn't say a word. He didn't move an inch, standing still as a statue. The only movement came from a gust of wind that fluttered his cape. Jason expected at least a small rise out of him, but Batman granted him nothing but silence. Then, the Bat took a single step forwards, truly not making any difference in the distance between them, but enough movement to break them from their staring contest.

"This isn't about Robin," Batman said, sounding sure of himself. And he was right-it was no longer about breaking the both of them. "Whatever this is, you're just using him to get to me. So what do you want? What did I do to you that caused you to orchestrate this?"

Jason had to give him credit. The Bat hadn't lost his detective skills since his absence. But that didn't mean that he could pry the answers out so easily. His demeanor had changed slightly since they'd begun talking. He wasn't just a hulking shadow ready to tear the information out of Jason in order to get Tim back. This was the Batman that talked people out of jumping off ledges. This was the Batman that calmed children down after saving them from fires or kidnappers. This was Bruce Wayne talking now, not the Dark Knight.

"It's not just what you did," Jason said, his hands curling into tight fists. He'd been aching to scream at Bruce for so long, and he knew that if he didn't keep himself in line it would all come pouring out. "It's what you continue to do. How you let villains go, how you let them continue to murder and traumatize innocent people instead of stopping them in their tracks. You should have put an end to them. And then none of this would have had to happen."

Maybe I wouldn't be this way. Maybe I could have gotten over the mantle being passed onto someone else. Mayne I could actually believe Tim that my death actually meant something to you.

Bruce took another few steps forwards, extending his hand both literally and metaphorically. He had done this once before, all those years ago, to a street rat stealing wheels off his car. "Let me help. Bring Robin back, and let me make things right."

It sounded so simple. Put the past behind them and move forwards; it could be done. Jason could let it all go, tell Bruce exactly what he thought...and then what? Where would they go from there? Tim was already Robin, and Jason didn't want the title anymore. He couldn't fit to that mold now when he couldn't even do it back then. And how could Bruce even think to look at him once he knew who he really was? Jason was not the same; he killed, he used guns-the forbidden weapon of the Batclan-he stomped on criminals the same way kids crushed bugs underfoot: without mercy.

The shame on Bruce's face would hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

"There isn't anything you can do. The damage is already done." The words felt thick on his tongue, like he didn't want to say them. Truthfully, he didn't. It would be so much easier if he could let everything go, but that was never Jason's way.

He stepped backwards towards the ledge, but didn't take his eyes off of the Bat. "Tim will come to you when and if he's ready. Don't be surprised if he doesn't come back at all."

No matter how he felt deep down, no matter how confused Jason might be on the inside, he still couldn't help but strike Batman where it would hurt. He cast one last look at the Bat, and then turned to the ledge.

"Wait!" Batman called, but Jason leapt from the roof, descending into the red and blue lights of the police cruisers parked outside the alley. His boot clad feet landed hard enough to dent the roof of one, and all the officers turned to him, mouths agape.

"Hey, it's that Red Hood!" One of them called out, and they all drew their weapons. "The one from Bludhaven!"

"My name's gotten around. I'm flattered," Jason replied, but didn't bother reaching for his guns.

One of the cops nodded back towards the alleyway, "We should have known it was you behind all of this."

"Sure," he said simply. He supposed he'd take the fall for Bruce's behavior and save him some face. Besides, he would have done worse if he'd been after those thugs. "Glad I'm getting the message across. Sorry, I can't hang around and chat. Kind of on the run, here."

He flipped off the roof of the car, drawing his guns into his hands. Immediately he ducked behind the car as the officers opened fire, and his eyes went to the sky. Sure enough, Batman dropped from the roof and into the alley, and the officers turned, startled by his appearance. It was the opening that Jason needed, even if it kept Batman on his tail. He rolled out of the way of the car and pulled the triggers, shooting purposely past the officers. They all scattered, Batman throwing his cape up and then moving back into the alley to get cover.

As soon as they were all out of the way, Jason took off into a run. He knew it wasn't over between him and Bruce, and that was fine. The fight had yet to come, but he needed time to clear his head, to let the adrenaline and the will to face off against Batman fill his head. Until Bruce had Tim, this wasn't over.

Jason rounded the corner, knowing that he couldn't outrun Bruce for long, but he needed at least a few minutes.

He needed to pay the Robin a call.

"This was yours?" Damian squinted at the costume behind the glass, his nose scrunched in disapproval. "Why is it so bright?"

"The light to Batman's darkness, I guess," Dick answered, leaning against the railing. He hadn't been surprised that Damian had started investigating every inch of the cave. The manor was a sight to see for its sheer size and elegance, and it had its interesting points. But the cave had a special kind of awe to it, and plenty of significant pieces kept inside its walls. That included the suits that Bruce kept on display.

When Damian started to browse them, Dick had glanced over to the memorial case, set apart from the rest of the suits. While he didn't mind answering the boy's questions about the other suits, he didn't want to get into Jason's old uniform. Dick was already mentally exhausted enough, and he didn't think he had the emotional capacity to explain about the second Robin. There was too much guilt and sorrow in that suit for Dick to talk about right now, and if he had to talk about it, the explanation deserved to be the best he could. No half-hearted attempt, no brushing it off. Unfortunately, his nerves were stretched too thin to discuss it right now.

But Damian hadn't gotten that far yet. Instead he'd stopped to look at Dick's old Robin uniform, his expression one of displeasure. He turned to Dick, raising an eyebrow. "I'd say you're just making yourself an easier target in this."

"You'd be surprised," Dick replied, gesturing to the suit. "I can't say I was ever an easy catch."

Damian rolled his eyes, turning back to the glass. "This is all that's left of it?"

"There are probably extra pieces lying around somewhere," Dick answered with a shrug. Ever since he'd retired from the role, he hadn't put much thought into where all his-or Jason's-extras had ended up. He supposed Alfred kept them somewhere in the cave, or Bruce had stashed them away somewhere. Tim would probably know, since he certainly had his own extras stored away in case he needed them.

Dick pushed off the railing, going over to the case. He could see why Damian asked such a question: the suit was worn, and the gadgets he used to carry weren't there any longer. Still, he felt touched that Bruce actually kept a suit up here for him. Even though the Bat claimed he wasn't sentimental, Dick had a different opinion.

"Those were the days," he said with a sigh. Good while they lasted, but Dick didn't regret leaving them behind. He'd found his own path, and he couldn't do that as Robin. Nightwing had allowed him to move on, but Robin had made him who he was.

A sudden buzzing in his pocket grabbed his attention, and Dick pulled his phone out. On the screen a number glowed back at him, but it was one that he didn't recognize. That caused him to raise an eyebrow; Dick didn't just give his number out freely and he knew everyone's number who would usually call him. He accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey Dick. How have you been?"

"Tim?" Dick straightened up, his eyes widening, his heart constricting in his chest. Shock, relief, urgency, they hit him at once, hard enough that it nearly made him dizzy. Damian's head snapped to him, brow furrowed, but Dick was more focused on the phone. "Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, I swear," Tim answered. While his nerves tried to say otherwise, Tim did sound unharmed. "I saw the news. Where is Bruce?"

"Out looking for you. We've been searching all of Gotham." Dick pulled away from the glass case and moved back to the railing, holding onto it with his free hand. His instincts called for him to start tracking the number and follow it to find Tim, but he resisted. He needed to let Tim talk so that he could find out just what was going on.

"I know," Tim replied, sounding both grim and regretful. "I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't mean for this to go on as long as it did."

"What do you mean?" Dick frowned, his eyes staring down at the bottom floor of the cave. "We know the Red Hood has you."

"No, it isn't like that. He didn't kidnap me. I'm not being held prisoner."

"Then where are you?" Dick could feel the crease in his forehead forming in confusion. "Why aren't you back here if he isn't holding you against your will?"

"It's complicated. Hood isn't...he's not…" Tim began, but then cut off with a frustrated sigh. "I can explain, I promise, but not right now. How's Bruce? Is it as bad as the media says?"

"Worse," Dick answered, taking a deep breath. "Tim, I need to know where you are and bring you back here. Then you can tell Bruce and me everything, alright?"

"No, I can't. Not yet," Tim said firmly. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. You need to tell Bruce that I'm fine and I'll be back. Tell him that the Red Hood isn't what he thinks."

"Why can't you? There is no reason to be hiding," Dick said, knowing that he sounded just as confused as he felt.

"Because-" Tim started, and then there was a pause before he continued, "I have to go, I need to take this call. Tell Bruce what I said. And make sure he knows I'm fine."

"Tim, wait!" Dick tried to stop him, but the teen hung up before he could protest further. He looked at the phone and its blank screen, incredulous. Never had Tim been this vague with him, and he'd never purposely put distance between himself and the rest of them like this. Not even after the death of his father did he act this way.

Damian looked up at him, arms crossed. "More trouble with Drake?"

"I don't know," Dick answered, gripping the phone in his hand. He needed to trace the call before Tim did something to make sure that he couldn't. That would be the teen's next step, if he really didn't want to be found. Considering he hadn't made much of an effort to alert either him or Bruce in his absence, Dick strongly predicted he wouldn't be trying to give himself away that much now. Then why had he made the call in the first place? What was the point in all of this?

From the computer came a familiar sound, and it broke Dick from his thoughts. He all but vaulted to the computer, Damian right on his heels. Dick sat down in the chair, pressing a key and looking up at the screen. "Cave to Batman."

"I found the Red Hood," Batman said, voice gruff. "He's run off, but I'm going after him."

"In Gotham?" Last time they checked, Hood had been in Bludhaven. Dick wanted to hit his head off the keyboard he was beginning to grow so frustrated. "What is he doing here?"

"He has something against me," Batman answered. Wind tore through the comm link, signalling that the chase was on foot. "I don't know what, but I'm going to find out where he has Tim."

Dick leaned forwards, even if there was only audio coming through the screen. "Listen, I'm not going to tell you to stop going after him, but you need to know-"

"I can't talk," Bruce answered. "I'll call when I have answers."

"We can help, Father," Damian insisted, dropping his arms.

"Stay in the cave, Damian. That's an order," Bruce said firmly. Before either of them could try to say another word, the comm link cut off.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Of course, no one wanted to listen to him. This was the usual. He stood from the chair, pushing it back as he did, and looked to Damian. "I need to get out there."

"Father said not to go," Damian said, as if his punishment also extended to Dick. In reality, it probably did, but Dick was used to disobeying at this age.

"I have to tell him about Tim, and he's not going to listen this way." Dick grabbed his weapons from a table, strapping them to his back. "Stay here with Alfred. If I call, I'd appreciate it if you'd pick up."

Damian sent him a glare, hands in fists. Dick felt bad for the kid, he truly did, but he couldn't sit in the cave with Bruce out there and so much missing information. Dick had never been one to stay back and do nothing, and that wasn't about to start today. He put a hand on Damian's shoulder, "Thank you for all your help. I'll see you soon."

The boy merely turned his head away, the glare now off to the side. Dick didn't have the time to try and console him. He turned on the tracker in the Batsuit, and when he had the location pinned he hurried out to find his mentor.

Damian stood rooted to the spot until Dick had gone, before he let out an aggravated growl. He had not come to Gotham to be locked up and away from his father, and treated like he wasn't capable of anything. If Drake didn't want to come back, then what was the point in trying to find him? He didn't sound like a decent partner in the slightest, if that was his personality. It didn't help that Damian already had a poor opinion of him based on the problems Drake had caused since his arrival.

He found himself wandering the cave, back up to the second floor. Before he knew it, he stood in front of the glass again, staring at the old Robin suit, his reflection staring back. Damian's eyes bored into the glass, straight to the red, yellow, and green uniform. What did it take to be Robin? And how was Drake qualified to hold such a position? At this rate, he'd never know. What he did know is that his father and Grayson were out there fighting an enemy that they had never experienced before, and Drake was of no help to them.

"Tt," Damian said, even though there was no one around to here. He stared at the suit, his eyes locked onto it as it reflected back to him, mockingly.

"Jason?" Tim sat forwards, his elbows pressing into his knees. He hated that he had to end the conversation with Dick, but they were treading into information that he couldn't share. As horrible as it might be, Jason's call was great timing. But why he would call was what made him worry.

"Oh good, you picked up," Jason said, and it sounded as though he was running. His boots hit against the ground, his quickened breathing echoing through the comm link in his helmet. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm probably about to fight Batman, so don't expect me back any time soon."

"You didn't tell him?" Tim pressed his lips together, making the connections even before he knew what had gone down.

"It wouldn't matter," Jason said, and there came the sound of rushing wind and then Jason's boots hitting hard against the ground. "This has been a long time coming, Tim. I'm the bad guy, here. That's how this works."

Of course he thought it wouldn't matter. Jason was convinced that he didn't matter at all, and no amount of convincing had done any good. Apparently seeing Batman in person hadn't done what Tim had hoped and only brought more problems. He shouldn't have been confident that Jason would come clean when he carried such a burden on his shoulders. It was more pain than Tim could imagine carrying.

Tim stood, then crouched by his bag on the floor and started going through it with one hand. "You know it's not like that. Listen, I called Dick. I told him I'm fine."

"Well, doesn't seem like Batman got the memo," Jason replied. "Tim, it's your choice if you go to Nightwing or not. This is between Batman and me."

Yeah, right. Tim knew deep down that Jason had some sort of objective. And even if he'd been a pawn in whatever game that the young man had been playing, Tim knew it wasn't like that now. There was no guilt, no twisting of words from Jason to try and make him stay. But Tim had planned to stay hidden so that Bruce and Jason could work out their grief on their own. He should have known that the two of them were too blinded by their own emotional turmoil to address anything.

"Where are you headed?" He grabbed his makeshift uniform out of the bag, tossing the pieces onto the couch.

"Who knows, I'm just running until I get caught," Jason answered. "I'll tie up these loose ends and then I'll be back. Don't wait up for me."

The line went dead, and Tim tossed the phone onto the couch. Then he grabbed his things and changed quickly. Jason's idea of a uniform may be relatively basic, but it did make for a quick switch from regular citizen to...whatever he was. Tim, however, didn't bother with the domino mask tonight. He didn't intend to fight, but he did intend to stop the one that was coming. He had to get to Bruce and show him that he was alive before he could lay into Jason the way he'd been taking on regular criminals.

Tim reached into the bag once more, taking out a small device. Lucky for him, Jason failed to notice when he had installed a tracker into his uniform. He pinned the location, even though Jason was still on the move, and then headed out the door.

He had to stop this fight before there was nothing left to save.