A/N: Been toying with this one for a while, but I'm going to let you guys have it now. Hope you like it, and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

Tim took a deep breath of Gotham's night air, releasing it slowly. It had been months since he'd gone out at night, surveying the city's darkest parts. Crouched on the rooftop, he had to admit he felt a little exposed. Tim spent his days looking at the same four walls, knowing that no one was looking over his shoulder or sneaking up on him. Out in the city, his instincts were making a full return, his senses heightened. It was a feeling that he didn't realize how much he'd missed until that moment.

He'd wanted to get back out in the field for a while, itching to get out of the safehouse. But, Tim had to prioritize. He knew that working behind the scenes would be more beneficial, especially with Jason making a name for himself in the city. His skills were better served that way, and they'd made significant progress with the arrangement. But with Jason taking hold of the drug trade, and at the same time Gotham's underground, he didn't have to spend every night behind a screen. It was finally time for him to stretch his legs.

"Perimeter is clear," Jason said from behind. Tim looked over his shoulder as the Red Hood approached, walking across the rooftop to meet him at the other side. "Your calculations were correct as usual."

"Not like it's that hard to figure out what these guys are up to," Tim said, looking down below at the docks. There was a small sect of thugs who were still loyal to Black Mask trying to capture an incoming shipment before anyone else could retrieve it. That didn't fall into play with Jason's proposal, and once Tim figured out when the mission was taking place, he alerted the Red Hood.

Tonight was about a simple drug bust and sending a message. There would be those who resisted Jason's grip; there always would be. But as long as they controlled the interference, everything would come together. Tim had done the predictions and estimates. If they stayed consistent, these little uprisings would become fewer and fewer.

Jason crouched next to him, peering over the edge. Below them, Black Mask's loyalist men approached a cargo ship, breaking open the crate. They may be experts in smuggling drugs into Gotham, but they weren't smart enough to cover their tracks. Jason sighed, taking his guns from their holsters. "And to think I gave them such a good offer."

"Shouldn't take long to deal with," Tim answered. They were outnumbered by plenty, but Tim wasn't worried. Skill trumped brute force, and lucky for the two of them, they had both. Tim had dealt with much worse during his time in the vigilante crowd, and he knew Jason had as well.

There had been a time where Tim watched Jason pull the trigger with unease. Tim didn't like it, but he also saw the logic in Jason's view. Get rid of the problems for good and it significantly lowers future issues. The way he went about things meant he eliminated criminals for good, saving lives that might have been ended or terribly changed by those people. Jason's philosophy may have been grim, but it was true.

Now, Tim was used to it. Lately, he'd been able to let Jason make the decisions without feeling the need to speak against it. Sure, he gave the Red Hood suggestions if he felt he needed to take some people out, but Tim felt he was doing what was necessary. He knew Jason had his own set of rules to follow; he didn't just kill without a reason. Besides, Tim had never really disagreed with Jason in the first place.

"Watch yourself," Jason warned, adjusting his grip on the guns. "You're probably a little rusty."

Tim just nodded in response, eyes trained on the men who surrounded the cargo container, venturing inside to retrieve the goods. They were moving swiftly and in an assembly line fashion, with other thugs acting as guards. The ones supposed to be keeping an eye out for intruders weren't doing a very good job, considering that Tim and Jason had been watching for the last thirty minutes, moving around and all, and still hadn't been detected.

Jason rose to his feet and leapt, and without a moment of hesitation Tim followed suit, the air rushing up under him as he dropped full force. Jason landed harshly on top of the container, front and center, with Tim next to him.

At their entrance the men started, jumping at the suddenness of their arrival. Jason aimed his guns at them, "I thought we had a deal, boys. Didn't get the message?"

"Black Mask will never bend to your will, Red Hood! You don't run this town!" A thug shouted at them, causing the others to yell in agreement.

"Well it's either me or Batman, and I'd say he's losing on that front." Jason answered. "I gave you a chance to change your allegiance."

"And screw that!" The same man drew a gun, prompting other thugs to raise theirs. "Get them!"

The bullets came flying their way. Tim and Jason leapt off the container in opposite directions, Tim's foot connecting with the face of one thug as he landed. The thug hit the ground, and Tim rushed into the fray. He dove out of the way of a spray of bullets and then righted himself again, landing an uppercut to the thug with the weapon and knocking him out.

He turned, ready to fight more of the men, only to see the blur of a fist coming towards him before it made impact with his face. For a brief moment he saw stars, his vision failing. Tim stumbled back, feeling a trickle of wetness run down from his nose. It dripped onto his lips, and he tasted iron. Tim wiped the blood with the back of his hand, eyes narrowed.

Rusty, maybe. But not for long.

"Look at this kid," a man with a long metal pipe in his hand grinned. "Thinks he's all tough just cause he's running with the Red Hood."

Another laughed, brandishing a long knife. "C'mon you scrawny brat. Let us teach you what happens when you mess with the real crime bosses of this city."

Tim welcomed the invitation. He surged forwards, ducking underneath the arm of the man with the pipe as he swung it towards him. Tim grabbed a hold of the arm and twisted, turning his body and bringing his elbow down on the limb. There was the obvious snap of bone and the man cried out, Tim tossing him to the ground. His gaze snapped to the rest of the thugs as he did so, carelessly letting their comrade collapse into a pained heap.

The rest of the men were at him in seconds, and Tim was ready for them. His focus locked, a course of energy rushing through his blood, and the teen embraced the feeling as he fought. He blocked their punches with practiced quickness, returning them but making sure that his landed harshly. Tim jumped and twisted, delivering strong kicks and blows that were not made to simply suggest that the criminals give up. These were hits meant to subdue and conquer, bone cracking under the force of his actions. The control that Tim once had disappeared as he made sure that every hit he made landed as hard as it could, bruising and pulverizing the thugs that came his way. Blood streaked across his gloves from their wounds, but Tim paid it no mind.

He barely noticed how he clenched his jaw, how every animalistic instinct that he'd ever had seemed to push to the surface. His hits were merciless, Tim making sure that each of thug found themselves against the pavement-and that they stayed down. He picked up the discarded pipe and swiftly spun as the man with the knife came towards him. Tim used the pipe like a staff, thrusting it out to slam into the man's ribs, and he swore he felt them break. Tim then cracked the pipe across the man's face, watching him crumble to the ground.

Tim drew himself up straight, breathing hard, his eyes searching for the next thug to come his way. He listened for the click of a gun, the sound of footsteps running towards him. There was nothing but the water lapping against the docks, and his own heavy breathing.

It took Tim a few moments to register the sea of unconscious and broken bodies around him, and that he stood in the middle of it.

There was fire in his veins, racing through them, the flames circling his pounding heart. Tim looked up at the sky, breathing in Gotham's polluted, sinful air. It stung his lungs and filled him with a twisted satisfaction that Tim had never experienced before. Like a release of his rage, like letting go of everything he'd held inside of him-like finally regaining a voice where before it had been silenced.

For the first time in months, he felt free.

The fight was child's play. Jason knew that going into it, and it was why he wasn't worried. He knew he wouldn't get that lucky and have all of Gotham's criminals convert to his rules in one night. But he also knew that the resistance was made up of low-rate henchmen that thought with flailing fists rather than their heads. Those with huge egos who foolishly believed they would be better off with the well known crime bosses and villains weren't really Jason's biggest threats. Nonetheless, they had to be dealt with. At least they were good for making an example.

The low threat was also why he'd agreed to let Tim come along. He didn't want the teen's first night back out in the field to be something high stakes, knowing that Tim needed a chance to get the feel of the vigilante life again. This was simple, something that he believed Tim could handle without Jason having to watch his back the entire time. He knew that Tim was capable enough, or else he wouldn't have bothered to train him in the first place.

Jason dealt with the thugs one by one, firing shots-lethal to the ones who could fight well enough, life altering to the ones who he wanted to eventually crawl back to Mask. Jason knew killing them all would be the most effective, but he also knew that he wanted at least a handful to go back to Mask and relay the incident. Most likely Mask would take care of them in a fit of rage, and so Jason's work would be done either way.

The last thug fell at his feet, and Jason lowered his arms, looking around his side of the fight. No more men came rushing towards him, all of their resources drained. Jason spared a glance inside the cargo container, checking to see if there were any others hiding there. It proved to be empty, nothing there but the drugs that they'd come for. Jason could confiscate them, but he didn't see the point. The police would show up and take them, which meant that Black Mask or anyone else who wanted the goods wouldn't get the chance. Even if Jason controlled the drug trade, he still had a strong hatred for it. He'd be happy for Jim Gordon to take this batch off the streets.

There was very little sound now, signaling that the battle was over, and he moved from the cargo container and turned to look to Tim. He'd been keeping an eye on him, but only enough to tell that the teen was moving quick and fighting, which Jason took to interpreting as he was handling the situation well enough.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks, and Jason was suddenly extremely glad for the helmet that disguised his features. The sight of Tim standing among fallen bodies normally wouldn't be so shocking; he was supposed to knock them out, after all. But he hadn't just done that. Jason looked at the carnage, at the blood and twisted limbs, the destruction so violent, and had to remind himself that he hadn't taken out those men. It had been Tim.

As if he knew that Jason was watching, Tim turned to look at him, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Jason holstered his guns, inclining his head to gesture to the men. "A little aggressive, don't you think?"

"Coming from the person that'll shoot criminals point blank," Tim answered, unfazed.

Well, he did have a point. Jason had to admit that deep down he was impressed. He never thought Tim had the guts to fight like that. Sure, he'd seen Tim's animalistic side when he pushed the right buttons, but for the teen to bring it out on his own was something else entirely. The shock of seeing it set in quickly as he processed the scene, able to push away the fact that it had caught him off guard. What struck Jason most, however, was how uneasy he was. There had been a time when Jason would have felt victorious, would have felt a swell of pride and triumph at Tim's display. But he didn't feel that now.

He regarded the teen carefully, aware of the strange atmosphere around him that made his skin crawl. There was an aura coming off of Tim that unsettled Jason in a way that rarely did. It was dark and cold, as if detached from everything that he knew Tim to be. "Leave the killing to me, kid. It's not really your style."

"I didn't kill anyone," Tim answered flatly.

"You sure about that?"

Tim's masked eyes narrowed and he walked towards Jason, away from the fallen men. "They're a bunch of drug dealing thugs who wouldn't flinch at the idea of murdering someone. They got what was coming to them."

"Yeah, maybe," Jason answered suspiciously. He knew they weren't dead-he could see them all breathing, so it was clear that the teen hadn't fully crossed the line. Tim didn't stop walking as he approached Jason, and that was when he realized that Tim didn't intend to wait around and talk. Still Jason had to ask, "What happened to that moral code?"

"That was Batman's code," Tim replied as he moved past Jason, not hesitating to answer. And even though he didn't say it, Jason knew the full explanation. Robin followed Batman's rules. But Tim wasn't Robin anymore. There was nothing holding him to them. Jason wanted to believe it was out of spite, but he couldn't be sure. Tim had been loyal to Batman, willing to follow what he didn't completely agree with just for the sake of his mentor. It might have been that now that Batman had turned on him, he could let his true beliefs show.

Jason half turned his body, watching Tim's back as he walked away. He wasn't rushing from the scene, in fact his stride was calm. Other than that, however, Jason didn't know how to read him. He called out, "Whose code are you following now?"

It caused Tim to stop walking, and he looked over his shoulder, his expression set. Jason couldn't tell the look in his eyes behind the mask, but some part of him whispered that he didn't want to know.

"My own," Tim replied simply, voice hard. He and Jason regarded each other for only a moment, and then Tim kept walking, heading back towards the safehouse.

Jason knew he could stop him, could say something and get to the bottom of what was wrong. But he didn't. Partly because he knew that Tim wouldn't give in that easy, mostly because he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't bother to look behind him at the carnage, and instead followed behind Tim. They left the scene behind them, but the disturbance stayed with him, sinking into his bones in a way that Jason couldn't shake.

He was starting to wonder if he'd ever really known Tim at all.