A/N: This is the chapter which started this whole story. I've been waiting a long time to write this scene, and around this one idea formed an entire story based upon the question, "What if?" It's so strange to finally have it written down, and I hope I've done it well enough. Thank you to everyone who has followed this story so far, everyone who has stuck by over the years. I'm excited to move into Act Two of this story and continue to take you on this wild ride.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I can't wait to continue on this journey. Let me know what you all think, and if your theories were right!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
The chase was on.
Jason's boots barely touched the ground as he ran through Gotham's streets, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. The farther he ran, the more he recognized the buildings and streets, getting an even better grip on reality rather than relying solely on his memory. But memory served him well as he kept maintained his short distance from Batman, staying out of reach. He didn't know if the Bat would get fed up and try to stop him. But Jason didn't plan on getting captured so easily.
And so he kept running. Batman stayed right on his heels, never slowing down no matter how fast Jason ran or how many tricks he tried. The Bat was like a bloodhound, never losing his scent. Luckily, Jason didn't intend to lose him. All he wanted was to give them some room to face off, away from the public. That meant moving out of the more crowded areas of the city where violence wouldn't be welcomed.
It meant taking this to the streets that Jason once called home.
He could tell he'd hit the grittiest part of the city just by the feel of it under his boots. The East End had a familiarity ingrained in Jason the same way Batman had etched training into him. Except this was where he was born, this was the air he breathed and the blood in his veins. Violence spewed from the East End, and Jason believed he was a product of it. He had no problem leading the Bat there to see it.
Of course, Batman didn't falter or hesitate. He followed Jason right there, until Jason finally stopped and spun to face Gotham's vigilante. Batman stopped at the other end of the roof, both of them breathing hard. Jason swallowed, the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He'd always imagined this day when he finally fought his mentor. But he never expected to have this twinge in his gut, the kind that asked him to rethink his decision. The kind the said no matter how much he told himself this was what he wanted, it still felt wrong.
Because Tim had put the thoughts in his head. Because Tim had told him so many things that he'd wanted to hear but couldn't believe. If the teen had just let Jason think the way he wanted, there would be no hesitance. It would be so easy to fight.
Now, Jason didn't know if he really wanted to fight anymore.
"Man, age hasn't slowed you down," Jason said as his breath normalized, at least to match the rush in his veins. "I guess the criminals are still keeping you in shape."
"There's no point in running," Batman warned, ignoring Jason's attempt at banter. "Whatever this is, it ends now."
"Oh, come on, Batman," Jason said, stretching out his arms as if to refer to the area around them. "There is never an end. All the villains, all the criminals, you just chase them in circles until they come around again."
"What do you know about justice?" Batman asked, his voice on edge.
"More than you'll ever understand," Jason shot back, dropping his arms to his sides. "You make the same mistakes over and over again. You'll never learn."
"Care to fill us in?" A voice called to them as the figure landed on the edge of the opposite rooftop, interjecting into the conversation.
"Nightwing," Jason mused, slightly surprised even though he didn't show it. "I thought you'd be hunting Tim down as we speak."
It was odd, seeing Dick for the first time since his revival. The original Boy Wonder was just like he remembered, but with an upgraded suit. That, and the hardness in his face that he had never directed at Jason before. But he was the enemy now, he reminded himself. Dick may not have liked him much in the beginning, a lesser grudge than Jason held over Tim. But Dick had gotten over it, eventually. Jason couldn't help but wonder if his death was a victory for him, or if he had mourned Jason. At the moment, the answer wasn't exactly important.
Nightwing narrowed his masked eyes, "I had a message to pass on. Besides, the best way to find him is to come straight to you."
Jason wanted to say that there was nothing but anger in the other man's eyes. But in his expression and posture, he sensed a hesitance. That was not at all like Dick, who would dive head first into a fight if it meant saving his family. Jason wondered if Tim had told him the truth of who he was, but he quickly dismissed that. Tim wouldn't give him up that easily. But whatever the teen had said, whatever message he wanted Dick to pass on, it had the hero held back, even if it was just by a fraction.
"Well, I'm all ears," Jason said, looking up at him. "What's the message?"
"Nightwing, find Tim," Batman said gruffly, not taking his eyes off of Jason. "I'll handle this."
"Yeah, about this one," Nightwing started, looking at Jason suspiciously and then glancing back to his old mentor. "Tim is fine. It's our new friend here we need to be concerned with."
"Talking about me like I'm not standing right here," Jason interrupted. "And assuming that we're friends. Rude."
Then he reached to his belt, his hand sliding past one of his guns to pull out his knife. He brandished it in his hand, holding it up. "This doesn't involve you, Nightwing. Step aside."
"Right," Nightwing scoffed, then raised an eyebrow. "Tim was pretty adamant that you aren't who we think you are. Which makes me wonder what's really going on here."
"Wouldn't expect you to catch on," Jason replied. He didn't like where Dick was starting to take the conversation. It was starting to teeter into territory he needed to avoid, and even though he had his reservations only a little while before, the only distraction he knew was to fight. Jason rushed forwards, Batman turning his attention back to him and running towards him. Then they were at each other, Jason swinging the knife, Batman ducking and dodging the blade. Jason slashed it upwards, causing the Bat to jump back, and Jason sheathed the knife and brought up his fist, punching the Batman square in the jaw.
In a sick, satisfying way, it felt good to land that punch. Batman stumbled back and Nightwing jumped in, leaping from the rooftop to the ground and lunging for him. He advanced, throwing punches and kicks that forced Jason backwards and nearly into the wall. Jason side stepped the swing, Nightwing's fist connecting with the wall instead of his helmet. As he moved out of the way, Jason brought his knee up into Dick's abdomen, knocking the air from him and then smashing his fist against the hero's face.
Dick went falling sideways, stunned from the hit. Jason turned in time to narrowly avoid Batman coming for him, and the two became locked in hand-to-hand combat once more. Batman's fists came towards him, and Jason caught them in his palms, locking the two in place, their cowl and helmet covered eyes glaring into one another's faces.
"What do you want with Tim?" Batman demanded, pushing against Jason's own force. "What did you do to him?"
"I trained him-the right way," Jason responded, bringing up his foot and kicking the Bat in the chest. Batman fell back and Jason took advantage of that and surged forwards, knocking him to the ground. Jason's foot came down to pin Batman with a boot against his neck, and Jason leaned down, making sure he looked the Bat in the eye. "At least with me, he'll survive."
He'd been waiting all night to strike the nerve, and that did it. With a sudden flare of strength Batman grabbed a hold of Jason's leg and twisted, causing Jason to hit the ground. Jason rolled backwards and onto his feet again, but Batman reached into his belt and threw batarangs his way. They flew towards him, and Jason leapt, spinning in the air to avoid them and landing, the metal weapons only snagging his clothing.
Nightwing pulled himself off the ground, taking position beside Bruce as he drew his escrima sticks. Jason's gaze flickered between them. He didn't want to take them both at the same time, but that was what it came down to, and he didn't plan on running now. Jason moved as soon as Nightwing came towards him. He sidestepped away from each swing, batting away the escrima sticks until his hand finally clamped around Nightwing's wrist, twisting it. He felt a pop, not quite a cracking of bone, but Dick cried out and dropped the weapon. Jason released his wrist, picked up the fallen stick, and swung, hitting Dick hard enough with it that he fell back into the nearby wall.
Jason tossed the weapon aside, facing Batman and drawing his knife into his hand once more. "It's you and me, then. What are you going to do now?"
Batman rushed forwards and Jason raised his knife. As Batman came within a foot of him Jason launched himself forwards, grabbing the Bat and raising the knife to his throat. Before he could do anything more, and even before Batman could react, a figure rushed out from the darkness of the alley, right into the fight. "Stop!"
Jason's gaze snapped to Tim standing there, his expression hard to read. He looked serious, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked between everyone. Then his eyes locked on Jason, and, for a reason he couldn't quite place, he pushed off of Batman and stepped back, keeping the knife in his hand.
"Tim, what are you doing?" Dick said, standing up from the wall, and holding his wrist.
The teen looked to him silently and then to Batman, his eyes barely holding back the flood of guilt in them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"What's going on, Tim?" Batman asked, his voice suddenly level. He turned towards the teen, as if completely forgetting that Jason was standing there, a possible threat to him.
Tim went to speak, and then his eyes darted up, just as Jason caught sight of something glinting in the moonlight and flying straight for the teen. Instinctively Tim dove out of the way, and the metal and wire contraption that Jason recognized from Batman's arsenal to tie up criminals on the run hit the empty spot where Tim had stood. The weapon clattered there, empty of its intended target. Tim's gaze shot to the rooftop and then down as another smaller figure dropped into the alley. The figure was of a child, no more than ten, with black hair and masked eyes, his expression sour. He stood there in familiar red and green suit, a golden R emblazoned on his chest.
No, Jason thought, horror striking through him, nearly as hard as the Joker's crowbar once had smashed into his body. His blood nearly ran cold as he took in the sight before him. No, I have to be wrong. He couldn't have done it again. Not another replacement. Not Tim.
"It's about time, Drake. You've caused enough problems as it is." The child narrowed his eyes at the teen with clear disgust.
Tim stared at the boy in the Robin suit, suddenly pale. His blue eyes were wide, the shock causing his mouth to fall open, looking as though someone had just stabbed a knife through him. The only words that came out of his mouth were accusatory. "Who are you?"
"Damian Wayne. I'm Batman's son," the child said, as if announcing he was the prince of Gotham. There was a smugness in the way he said it that surged beyond pride. "The blood son."
Jason could practically see everything he'd ever warned Tim about, everything he'd ever said about Batman and partners, play across Tim's features as his expression fell. He was so still that it didn't even look as though he was breathing. He stared at the boy until he was only looking through him, trapped in the thoughts that took over his mind, the struggle to comprehend just what he was seeing.
"Tim," Batman said, starting to reach a hand out to him. The boy's gaze snapped to his mentor, eyes still wide as he jolted back to reality. He took a step backwards, and then another. Jason knew that look, that posture. It was the kind that frightened animals made before they bolted.
Jason's hand flew to his belt and he pulled out a canister, flicking the tab open as he yelled, "Tim, run!"
He threw the can, a white smoke pouring from it and filling the alleyway. Dick called out for the teen as the thick fog covered the scene in seconds. Jason saw Tim stumble backwards until his instincts kicked in once more, and he turned and rushed from the alleyway. The smoke quickly eliminated him from view, and Jason melded into it, avoiding Batman's attempt to grab him. He flew through the smoke, taking off in a different direction. He put as much distance as he could between the scene in which he trapped the others in, and then dove into the side streets once more.
His knowledge of the area allowed him to find Tim not too far from where they'd left, and he grabbed the teen's arm as he tripped over a pipe on the ground. Jason righted him, pulling him along as they ran for cover. They put Crime Alley far behind them, becoming nothing more than part of its shadows.
Maybe it was luck, maybe they'd just managed to keep Batman off their trail. Either way, they managed to get back to the safe house without being followed. Tim entered, his hand gliding across the wall as if to hold himself upright, until he grabbed a hold of the back of a chair with two hands. His knuckles turned white as he stared down, and Jason locked the door behind them, slowly approaching. He stopped a couple feet behind him, at a loss for what to say. Even he was still reeling from what they'd seen.
"You were right," Tim said finally, shattering the silence. His voice was flat, no emotion in it, as if his entire soul and will had been torn from his body.
"It doesn't make sense," Jason said. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean for this."
"We both know what we saw, Jason." Tim looked over his shoulder at him, his expression cold. "Did that look like a misunderstanding to you?"
"No," Jason said, taking a deep breath. "Tim, listen...there are things you need to know."
Tim slowly turned towards him, bracing his hands against the table behind him and looking at Jason, the same dead expression in his eyes. Jason felt his stomach twist into knots. He never thought this would happen. He'd hoped, when he realized that he didn't see the teen just as a piece to a plan anymore, that he could sweep it all under the rug and pretend it never happened. But that wasn't fair. Jason could see what the impact of his words had done, and he'd never thought they'd come true. Now, he had to come clean.
"I used you," Jason said, forcing the words out as much as he wanted to keep them to himself. "When I found you, I wanted to turn you against Bruce to get back at him. I wanted revenge, and this seemed better to me than even going after the Joker. So I took you with me, and I told you everything I could about Bruce to change your mind."
Tim looked at him, nothing in his face changing. It nearly startled Jason that he had no reaction to it. And when Tim spoke, he was completely calm. "You think I didn't know? As soon as I figured out your name I started coming up with theories. It only made sense that you'd want to use me to get back at Bruce."
Jason blinked, looking at him in confusion. "But you stayed."
"I wanted to get to know you. Yeah, I went along with it and so it was easy to dismiss what you were saying." Tim shrugged a little, "I guess I also thought I could eventually convince you to come back with me."
Relief that Tim wasn't about to turn on him filled Jason, but it came with sorrow too. They'd both been playing their own agendas with each other, but Tim's had been much more sincere. Jason figured since he'd stopped the plan he wasn't the worst, but it still hit a nerve with him that he'd used Tim. It struck him that Tim could have had his way, had they had a little more time. "Almost had me, kid."
"Going back isn't really an option anymore," Tim said, his gaze falling to his shoes for a minute and then looking back to Jason. "Whether you were saying all of that to get to me or not, it turned out to be true. And that isn't your fault."
"I didn't really think he'd do it," Jason admitted, shaking his head. "I...wanted to believe that you were right. That he didn't actually replace me."
"I know he didn't mean to replace you, Jason. But for me…I wasn't dead and he knew that. He knew I was out there, somewhere." Tim's eyes narrowed at the ground, his jaw clenching. "I never thought he could just throw me to the side like that...like it was nothing. Like I was nothing."
Tim stepped away, running a hand through his hair with a shaky hand. His hand clamped onto the nearest chair and Tim sent it flying, crashing into the wall. He shoved the table, dishes and gear that Jason had thrown on top of it clattering to the ground, ceramic shattering. Tim knocked it all aside, a rageful sound tearing from his throat. Jason moved, grabbing a hold of Tim's wrist and pulling the teen back before he ripped the safehouse to the ground.
The boy's gaze burned bright blue, tears shimmering in his eyes. Jason remembered how he'd torn his apartment apart after finding out that Batman had moved on. He recalled all the pain, the rage, the betrayal that raced through his veins. He saw it all in Tim now. And he understood, more than anyone, the impact of it.
"He may have left you," Jason said, bringing the boy's wrist down and releasing it, "but I'm not going to abandon you. You have a place with me, Tim. And I don't do replacements. You're not alone."
Not like he'd been. Not like back then. Tim stared at him, and then slowly the tears started to fall. Tim's knees gave out from under him and he hit the ground, Jason lowering himself beside him as Tim buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Jason placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight.
"I've got you," he said quietly, letting Tim grieve. They sat there side by side, two broken and abandoned birds in the middle of Gotham, while a younger bird soared high above them.