A/N: I'm trying not to keep you all waiting too long for updates. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

It didn't take much convincing for Jason to get Tim to switch safe houses. Even though he was confident that Bruce wouldn't catch onto their trail, he wanted to make sure that the Bat had nothing to trace to them. Upon hearing his reasons Tim agreed to it without a fight, and the next day they swiftly moved to their next location. It was about the same in quality to the last one, nothing very special about it. This one, however, had an extra room that Jason once used for storage. He spent that afternoon cleaning it out and moving things around to form an extra bedroom for Tim, shoving his weapons, gear, and other items into any closet or empty cabinet that he had available.

Once they were situated at their new residence, the teen wandered into his room without a word, and didn't emerge for the rest of the night. Jason focused on getting the safehouse in order, checking the locks and managing his inventory. The part of him that liked to be busy wanted to head out to the streets and patrol, but the rest of him needed a night to recover. He wouldn't admit it, but the whole ordeal of the previous night had shaken him. Jason felt as though he'd fallen out of time, watching himself through Tim once again, similar to how he'd first found the teen at the hands of a nightmare with a crowbar.

Deep down he wanted to do what he always did and throw himself into accomplishing a goal; hit the streets of Gotham and start cleaning it up himself. It was the only way Jason knew how to move forwards, and how he dealt with his past. But, after a few hours of getting all of the household tasks completed, he managed to ease that need. This wasn't his past, this was Tim's present. He could work with that, understand that.

The next day Jason took his time getting ready, all the while glancing over to Tim's door. The teen had looked like a dead man walking when he'd gone inside, pale and blank-faced with tiredness in his eyes. Jason let him be, continuing with his simple tasks. He wasn't going out in the daylight, anyways, and so he'd wait and see if Tim decided to get up.

As the hours ticked into mid-afternoon, Jason figured it was time to check up on the teen. He went to the door and knocked, waiting. When no response came, Jason slowly opened the door anyways, stepping inside the doorway. The room was dark, the curtains on the window drawn, a sliver of sunlight coming through, creating a line on the floor and walls. Nothing in the room had been touched, save for the bed. Tim laid there, facing the wall, the blankets pulled over his face so that only his black mop of hair showed.

"You up?" Jason asked, keeping his voice normal, but in a softer tone.

Tim gave a small sound that Jason translated to be a yes. He shifted under the blankets, but didn't turn his head. Jason briefly wondered if it were possible for Tim to dig deeper into the bed. If it was, he probably would have done it by now.

"Need anything?"

Tim shook his head, refusing to lift his gaze away from the wall. It was nothing personal, Jason knew. Even though Tim probably could use some food or a shower, he didn't want it. All he wanted was to mourn, and Jason didn't have the right to interfere with that. He knew how hard it hit, remembered how he had laid on the floor, curled and sobbing for hours after the reality that he'd been replaced sank in. There was nothing he could say that would make this any less painful.

"Alright," Jason answered, knowing better than to push. He'd only just found out about the new Robin. They had to give it time, even if the pain wasn't ever going to go away. Jason looked around the room and then back to Tim, "I'm going to go out for a little tonight. I won't be long, okay?"

Tim nodded, head bobbing slightly, and gave another affirmative sound. It was better than silence; at least he was responsive. Jason stepped halfway out of the room, hand on the doorknob as he looked back at the mound of blankets. "I'll be out here if you need anything."

There was no answer to that one, and Jason closed the door behind him, sighing quietly to himself. He wouldn't push Tim to get back to his feet; he knew that wasn't possible. And Jason was in no rush. He could handle keeping an eye on Tim, making sure he still took somewhat care of himself while he tried to process this change. It had been hard to pick himself up after he went through it, but at least Jason had the experience to know what to do this time.

Meanwhile, he'd get started on his vision for the city. Gotham wasn't going to get anywhere if he only sat back and contemplated his ideas. He suspected that while he'd been gone the crime situation had only gotten worse. The villains were one thing, but it was the more human criminals that people often forgot did just as much damage. That was what Jason would target. He may not be able to control the bigger villains, but he'd make sure that the small, everyday scum stayed trapped in his grasp.

With that in mind, it was time to get to work.

Jason spent his evenings researching and doing recon, evaluating every street and drug deal he could find. Much had changed in his absence: power switching from one dealer to another, different streets of activity, new methods of transportation and communication. There were many aspects to consider, and while he wanted to immediately put a stop to it, he had to get all the information first.

If he went out during the day, he made sure to check on Tim before he left and once he returned. He always found the teen in the same spot, usually asleep. Tim did a lot of sleeping, but Jason let it go, leaving him food on the bedside table. When he woke up, Jason sometimes dropped the suggestion that the shower was open and he'd be leaving in a little while, hoping to prompt Tim to action. Jason hid his relief when he'd step into Tim's room and detect the light scent of soap in the air, or see that things were slightly moved in the bathroom.

It took some time, but eventually Tim drew himself out of his room and into the living room. He didn't seem to want to go far from it, but Jason appreciated the effort. He heard Tim's hesitant footsteps as he stepped out from his safety zone and into the open. Jason looked up from the beginnings of a map that he was slowly making, the sound breaking his thought process. "Look who's up."

"Hey," Tim answered, his voice sounding drained despite the hours upon hours of sleep he'd been getting lately. His hair was a disheveled mess, falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions. Jason noticed he'd at least changed his clothes from the last time he'd seen the teen. It was little difference, but better than nothing.

Tim approached slowly, settling himself down in the chair next to the couch where Jason sat. The teen's eyes flickered over the map, but without the spark of interest that they usually held. Instead, he seemed to look right through it, as if it weren't there at all. Jason had told Tim his plans as soon as they'd begun to form. The teen hadn't argued; he agreed easily with everything Jason said. There was no enthusiasm behind it, neither was there any motivation in his response. He didn't have much care for what was happening around him, and for now, Jason would let that slide.

He looked back to the map that he'd spent the last few hours constructing. It was only in its beginning stages, marked with symbols that Jason understood and were for his interpretation. As he got to know Gotham's current state better, it would grow in detail. Jason's gaze went to Tim from the corner of his eye, waiting to see if he would say anything. When he didn't, Jason prompted conversation, saying, "And I thought in my day things couldn't get much worse around here."

"That bad, huh?" Tim asked, drawing one foot up as he leaned back against the chair.

"Surprisingly bad," Jason answered. Honestly, he'd thought that Batman might have actually tried to stop the drug trade, keep the thugs away from children. Instead, he'd done virtually nothing. Must be distracting when he had to keep putting away the bigger villains over and over again. And that wasn't even an excuse that Jason was willing to accept.

"Mm," Tim said, talking without looking at Jason. "Good thing you're here, then."

"Had to have come back for a reason, I guess," Jason said, scribbling a note on one labelled street. Eventually he'd get this transferred over to a computer system, but he liked being able to work through these beginning stages by hand.

Tim nodded, saying nothing more. Jason glanced at him, sensing what he wanted even though he wouldn't say it. He didn't have to. Being around Tim for so long now, Jason could read him enough to know that he wanted to be alone. Space was something Jason could give him, and he didn't mind leaving for a while. Besides, he could use a patrol. It would give him something to do, and in exchange give Tim that privacy that he wanted but wouldn't ask for.

"I'm gonna head out for a bit, see if I can catch anything good," Jason said, standing up. He gathered his weapons together and attached them to his person, picking up the Red Hood helmet. "Don't wait up for me."

"Alright," Tim answered, and then after a pause he finally looked to Jason. "Good luck."

Jason nodded, placing the helmet over his head and then heading out of the safehouse. It was a balancing act to make sure Tim was somewhat alright and work on the future of the city. But Jason accepted the responsibility. Both needed him, one way or another. Both gave him purpose, and Jason knew that since he'd given up on his plan for revenge, he needed something new to keep him going-something that didn't make him wonder why he'd come back to life.

Right now, Tim didn't need him at his side. But Gotham called to him, and Jason heard it. He'd answer to it willingly, and resign himself to the never-ending fight.

The safe house was generally quiet, but with Jason gone, Tim swore he'd gone deaf. If not for the cars moving in the street outside or the occasional creak, he would have believed it. But at the same time, there was something comforting about the quiet. It gave him a chance to focus on the noise in his head, the constant thoughts and emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, choke him in their grasp.

Tim took a deep breath, trying to remind himself how to breathe. The last time he'd felt so badly, he'd been leaning over his father's lifeless body, the shock rattling his bones, the pain and denial surging through him with the adrenaline rush that had thrown him through the halls of his house, trying to get there in time. Then Bruce had come, drawing him away from the carnage, promising him that everything would be alright. He'd saved Tim then, came when he needed him most.

But Bruce wasn't coming now.

Tim stared at the wall ahead of him, head leaned back against the chair. Somehow, this hurt even worse than that day. That had just been pain and guilt, wishing that he'd made it there, so sorry that he hadn't been able to save Jack Drake from his masked life. But this burned with the heat of betrayal, a trust so broken that Tim couldn't believe it had been there in the first place. He kept replaying the scene in his head-from the new Robin's smirk, to Bruce's guilt-filled voice. It did not cease to hurt him each time he thought of it.

"I'm the blood son," the boy had said, all smugness and pride. Like he was the rightful owner of the Robin title. Like Tim was a fraud.

Tim closed his eyes tight, wishing he could block out the ringing in his head. Replaced. He'd been replaced. But why? Did it really matter that he wasn't Bruce's blood? Dick didn't share his DNA, and neither did Jason. Tim was the same in that regard. But perhaps blood came first, now that Bruce had a real son.

His stomach twisted at the thought. He didn't want to think it was true, but he remembered Dick's stories of how he and Bruce had fought and the things Bruce had said. He remembered how vicious Bruce had been after Jason's death, how he swore there would never be another Robin. And he remembered pushing for it, insisting that Batman needed a Robin, that he needed him. He'd stuck by that since his recruitment, and now...

He drew his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly. Tim had been gone, and in his absence a new Robin had come along. How the boy was even worthy of the title, he didn't know. But it wasn't an uncommon trend. In fact, that appeared to be how the Robin line went. One left, and another took his place. Jason warned him for weeks that that had been the case and that it would happen. And whether Jason really believed it or not, his prediction came true. Tim was not special, was not needed. All this time he'd been expendable at best.

He understood Jason more than he ever thought possible.

Tim buried his face in his knees, thankful that Jason had left. He was glad he had the Red Hood, else this would be so much worse. But right now, he needed to be alone. He took another deep breath, trying to stop his watering eyes and swallow the lump in his throat. The tears slid down his face anyways, fighting through his defenses, overtaking him.

Through his silent crying, the bitterness rose. It sat in his chest, festering. And Tim, whose loyalty to the Bat had never wavered once before, let it grow on and on, until he drowned in it.

Patrolling went rather well, without many incidents. Jason made sure to avoid Batman at all costs, sticking to the areas that he discovered the Bat rarely went, but still had plenty of activity. He watched, he waited. Jason used his observant eye, restrained himself from getting involved just yet. Overall, things were coming together smoothly, his map growing larger by the day. Already he had plans of where he needed to start, and where, if all things went smoothly, they would end.

As tedious and long as these nights were, Jason at least felt like he was making progress. After a particularly long night of patrol and just a few hours of sleep, Jason was on his feet, his mind too busy with ideas to let him relax. First thing was first though, he needed to get food for the safehouse. He knew Tim didn't get out of bed until mid-afternoon at the earliest, and so he had plenty of time to himself. He made his way through Gotham, unworried about being caught. He hadn't seen much of Nightwing or Batman lately, except on the news, which he watched when Tim was asleep. Neither had tried to track them, and Jason wondered if they'd given up on convincing Tim to come back. It wouldn't surprise him, considering they had a new Robin to take his place.

Jason chose a small diner that morning and bought breakfast for the both of them, taking his time as the daylight brightened. He returned to the safe house straight after, unsurprised to find everything as he'd left it. Whistling to himself, Jason opened the bag and put Tim's food on a plate to save for later. He was about to put it in the fridge, opening the door, when Tim emerged from the bedroom. He looked clean and dressed for the day, his hair brushed for the first time in a while. Without hesitating he took a seat at the island, looking at the food and then to Jason, "No burgers today?"

Jason blinked, closing the fridge and going back to the take out boxes. "Not at nine in the morning. Thought we'd have something different for a change."

He placed the food on the counter and pushed Tim's plate towards him, and the teen picked up his fork and dug in, looking at the newspaper that Jason had also brought with him. Jason looked at him for a moment, masking his surprise, and then went back to filling his own plate, sitting down across from him. He wasn't going to mention that Tim looked like he'd just bounced back from his grief like it had never happened. He knew better than that. Tim might be acting like he was fine, but there was no way he was completely recovered. The teen was putting up a front, maybe in order to help himself move on. Jason didn't mind, since he was glad that Tim was finally eating and looking more back to normal.

"Surprised you didn't get waffles," Tim said, looking up from his plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

"Still getting over my memory of bad breakfast foods," Jason replied, sipping from a cup of coffee. "Mainly waffles."

Tim gave a short laugh. "I can't fault you for that one. Tasted like paste, I'm guessing?"

The corner of Jason's mouth quirked upwards, glad that Tim knew just what he meant. "Completely. Kept it a secret though."

"Always," Tim agreed with a nod.

Jason made a point to not bring up the manor and anyone in it. He had to admit that he was relieved Tim could still talk about their old butler and friend without it being awkward. Even when they weren't on good terms with the Bat, Alfred was always a safe topic. It was an unspoken rule that he was never included with the bad blood between Bruce and anyone else.

Tim reached for his own coffee, holding it up and asking before taking a sip, "So what are your plans for today?"

"I wanted to map out some of the more active zones of the city. Maybe some light recon later tonight." He wasn't all that tired yet, and if the caffeine gave him a boost, Jason would be good to go for some time.

Tim nodded, setting his coffee down and leaning his crossed arms on the countertop. "Mind if I help? I know a few places you might be interested in."

This was not at all what Jason thought the morning would entail, but he found himself relieved for something different than the normal routine they established. Tim wasn't fooling him; he knew the teen hadn't miraculously put everything behind him. But the shock must have finally faded, and Tim was most likely looking for something to move him forwards so he wasn't stuck in the endless loop of betrayal and agony of their reality.

"I could use the assistance," Jason said. "I've been working all the way from the bottom, trying to piece together what I remember and what's different. You know the modern threats, and I know the basic system."

"I don't know everything about the drug trade, but I know enough to help get us some solid footing," Tim replied, and Jason could see the wheels turning in his head. The spark was back in his blue eyes, his mind working out the details. "We can make more progress that way, if you can get me what I need."

"Write up the shopping list," Jason said, a small smirk crossing his features. While he'd been fine doing this on his own, he had to admit he wasn't disappointed in Tim's interest in the plan. Jason knew what he could accomplish on his own, but Tim brought insight and an intuitive mind to the table. Together, they could do far more than he was able to do by himself, and much faster.

It was a partnership that Jason didn't find himself dreading.