A/N: If I don't give you this chapter now, I'm never going to be able to part with it. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
Tim threw Harkness down on the rooftop with a careless, violent shove. Up above Gotham's bustling city, they were almost removed from time, separated from life itself. He hadn't decided on any place in particular, just one that was out of the public view where he could make his point. Perhaps he could have gone for something more symbolic, but Tim had never been one for dramatics. All he was worried about was getting Harkness where he wanted him, and thus far he'd achieved just that.
The criminal collapsed onto the rooftop, sprawled out on his side. Despite his hands being unbound, he hadn't tried to fight. Tim was secretly glad that they weren't. If they'd been bound it would be as if he were going after a caged animal. No, he wanted Harkness to feel powerless without being trapped, and that was exactly the position that Tim had him in. The man lifted his head, turning and glaring at Tim. Perspiration lined his forehead, from the exertion of reaching the rooftop, and perhaps the nervousness of the confrontation.
"Alright, you got me," Harkness said, rolling onto his back and sitting up on his elbows. "What do you got against me, huh?"
Tim's heart pounded in his chest, the heat in his veins coursing in a continuous cycle. Just looking at the man set his blood on fire, unlike anything he had ever experienced otherwise. He'd imagined what it would be like to stand in front of Harkness, to stare down his father's killer. None of his scenarios prepared him for the spiral of emotion that unfurled inside of him. His nerves screamed with readiness, his throat tightened, and it took all of his self restraint not to pounce immediately.
"You're a murderer, Harkness," Tim said, his voice cold, devoid of his real feelings. "You kill for nothing but greed and power."
"Well doesn't that make me special," Harkness replied. "You wanna get somewhere in life, you do what needs to be done."
The man smirked, looking at Tim's masked eyes as if he could see right through them. "All of you playing the good side, you'll never get anywhere. People like me, we see what it'll take and we aren't afraid to do it. We know they're all gonna die one day. Whether I kill em or not, it'll happen. Can't avoid it."
It wasn't as though Tim was expecting any remorse. But the words nearly made his mind go blank as the heat flared, scorching him from the inside out. Tim had every instinct to throw himself at Harkness and put his hands around his neck. Somehow, he held it together, his hands curling into fists so tight they trembled slightly. "Neither can you. Not forever."
Tim reached behind him, underneath his cape, and pulled an object from his belt, bringing it around and into view. He clutched the boomerang tightly, imagining his hand slick with Jack Drake's blood. There was no way he could ever forget the first time he tried to pry the boomerang out of his father's chest. Holding it now was like touching sin. As sickening as it was, Tim embraced it.
Harkness looked at the boomerang and then at Tim. At first surprise plastered his features, even a tinge of nervousness sparking, but it all slipped away as a slow grin came onto his face. "So that's the way this is gonna go? You think you can solve your issues by gutting me?"
"No," Tim answered, "but for all the crimes you've committed and the people you've made suffer? Maybe."
His dad would still be gone. It wouldn't repair anything, but that wasn't what Tim was looking for. He wanted the satisfaction of justice, the knowledge that Harkness wouldn't get to live with his crime and could properly suffer for it. He wanted the criminal to feel a fraction of the pain that Tim would never be able to fully escape. From behind him came the sound of heavy boots hitting the rooftop. Tim turned his head slightly, but he already knew who it was. "Come for the show?"
"You could say that," Jason answered. To Tim's surprise, he didn't move from where he stood. There was a pause, and Tim glanced further over his shoulder. Jason stood there, features hidden by the helmet, but Tim sensed his contemplation. The Red Hood inclined his chin in Harkness' direction. "This is him?"
"Yeah," Tim answered, his voice flat. He suspected Jason already knew that, and was using the question to open a doorway to conversation.
Jason turned his face to Harkness fully, a sudden distaste surrounding him, as if he'd been infected by Tim's own darkness. "Cowardly, taking out innocent people like that."
Harkness shrugged, unbothered. "A job's a job, mate."
The explanation didn't help his case. Tim turned his head to Jason, eyeing him with the same coldness. But unlike when he'd faced off against Dick, he didn't have the same bitterness and hurt. Because he knew that even though Jason claimed he needed to stop him, there was a part of Jason that wanted to put a bullet in Harkness' head himself. Jason craved revenge for far too long to forget what that desire felt like. And Tim had watched him put enough bullets into foul men without blinking an eye. This would be no different, but with greater retribution.
"You know why I have to do this," Tim said, his tone not allowing any argument. But what could he even try to say? Any denial would be a bold lie, one that Tim could see right through with ease.
The Red Hood stood there, appearing tall and impassive, and yet Tim swore he could see the internal struggle on the face of the helmet. He knew that Tim was right, and any disagreement would sound as fake as it was. But there was nothing in the way he stood that Tim suspected he'd lie; Hood was only trapped with admitting the truth, which put justifiable reason into Tim's entire plan. When Jason spoke, his voice came lowly. "I know why you want to. He hasn't suffered enough for what he's done."
"No," Tim agreed, "he hasn't. And he doesn't deserve to live with it."
"Deserve…" Jason mused over the word, and then gave a short, humorless laugh. "No, he doesn't really deserve anything. But you don't deserve to live with the blood on your hands."
"I can live with it," Tim said, looking back at Harkness. He'd thought it over thousands of times, pictured it in great detail-he'd let the images send him to sleep, and wake fueling him to keep going. It wasn't anything he hadn't already considered.
"Sure about that?" Jason said it quietly, still not moving.
The way he said it made Tim turn back to the Red Hood, contemplating. It wasn't a question of if he would do it or not-Jason didn't doubt Tim for a minute. But Tim knew the way he said it wasn't a question of Harkness' life, it wasn't a question of morality. It was concern for his well being, not a quest to keep Tim on one side of the law or another. Jason lived in the grey. He knew all the struggle that came with it.
For a few moments Tim thought over the question, his grip on the boomerang loosening by a fraction. Then a large shadow flew over them, dropping onto the rooftop across from where Tim stood, near Jason. The shadow stretched to full height, and Tim tightened his grip, glaring at their new arrival.
Batman.
Jason could practically see all of Tim's consideration fall to the wayside. Of course, Batman would show up in time for Tim to reconsider. Throwing the man into the mix that the teen was second-most bitter with didn't make for conflict de-escalation. Then again, Jason had never been good at it to start, so it wasn't surprising that he found himself back at square one.
"What is this?" Harkness looked between all of them, his frustration evident. The man pointed at Jason and Tim, bewildered. "Who even are the two of you?"
Jason was almost offended that Harkness hadn't heard of him yet, considering the chaos he'd been causing lately. But his words stirred something in Tim, the teen glaring as he looked at Batman. Suddenly he spun, grabbing hold of Harkness and hauling him to his feet, the boomerang pressed to his neck. Both Jason and Batman started to move only to freeze, their bodies rigid, trapped halfway through movements. Jason's gaze locked on the teen, not knowing whether he should leap for it or wait. Tim waited until they both stopped moving, staring them both down in a crippling stalemate. The seconds passed painfully slow, each of them regarding one another tensely. It was Tim who acted first. He released Harkness only to bring his knee upwards, simultaneously pulling the man down by the shirt collar. His face connected with Tim's knee, and Harkness fell unconscious to the rooftop.
Better than killing him, Jason supposed. He looked to Batman as he slowly dropped his arms. "I don't want to fight you."
Tim's glare penetrated through his mask, even with it hiding his features. Jason didn't need to see the look to know the intensity of it. "Then why did you come?"
"I know you're angry," Batman said, cautionary, as if he were talking to a wounded animal, "but it doesn't have to be like this. You can still make the right choice."
"I'm supposed to listen to you? To your code and your lectures?" Tim scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't have any reason to do that. This is who I've become. This is what you made me."
Wrong, Jason thought. He wished he could blame all of it on Batman's carelessness, but the vigilante wasn't solely at fault. This person that Tim was teetering on the edge of transforming into, it wasn't Batman's fury and darkness that created him. This was Jason's months of spitting poison into Tim's mind sinking in. Jason clenched his jaw behind the helmet, angry at himself more than ever. Maybe Tim wouldn't blame him, but Jason could surely accept the truth.
"I can help you," Batman insisted, taking a step forwards. He turned and looked between him and Jason. "I can help both of you."
"Can you?" Tim didn't miss a beat, the bitterness pouring out of him. The months of carrying it around, of shoving it down, came in a rush. "Because you're the reason this is happening. All of this is on you."
Batman always came off emotionless, but somehow Jason knew that the words dug deep. There was something, maybe a slight drop in his shoulders or the way his lips pressed together, or even the twitch in his fingers that Jason detected the pain. How couldn't he be hurt by it? Jason had longed to say those things and worse, and now watching it play out he didn't know if he wanted to anymore. He'd wanted to do it because he knew it would hurt, but it only recently occured to Jason that Bruce hurt every day of his life.
Tim shook his head, "I've always made the choices you want. I'm done with it. If you don't want me doing this, you're going to have to try and stop me."
The teen drew his staff, bringing it into his hands as he slid into a fighting stance. Batman narrowed his eyes, but the tension appeared all throughout his body, the air crackling between them. "Don't do this."
"Talk about choices all you want," Tim said. "You made yours."
He bolted towards Batman, and the vigilante moved as the staff came down. Jason watched as Tim threw himself at his old mentor, and all Jason could hear was his own voice echoing back at him: stop holding back, get angry, feel something.. Batman moved out of the way of the swings, his fists cutting through the air as he tried to hit Tim. The teen dodged them, doubling back and then rushing forwards again. Batman attempted to hit him, but Tim slid underneath the vigilante's arm. He twisted, bringing the staff down on the edge of Batman's cape, causing him to trip. Tim then flipped the staff and jutted it hard into the Bat's back, the man falling to his knees.
Tim brought the staff back into his hands and swung it back, preparing to bring it down onto the vigilante again. Jason moved, putting himself between the two of them. He caught the staff in his hands and locked it in place. In the next second he brought up his foot hard, knocking Tim back and forcing him to lose his grip on the weapon.
The teen regained his footing, facing Jason in his stance. He set a furious look on the Red Hood, his eyes burning despite being hidden by the mask. "I thought that out of everyone, you would be the one to understand."
"Hell Tim, I do understand," Jason said. He tossed the staff aside, far out of reach, the weapon rolling across the rooftop. "That's why I can't let you do it."
Tim grit his teeth and then launched himself at Jason. It took seconds for the rush of battle instincts to kick in, and then Jason retaliated, blocking Tim's punches. He moved side to side, Tim's gloved fists black blurs in his vision. Jason then stepped forwards, shoving his shoulder hard into Tim's chest. The teen flew backwards, landing in a crouch.
Jason faced him, Batman at his side as they looked to Tim. The teen reached into his belt and threw out his hands, golden discs spinning from his palms towards them. Jason and Bruce divided paths as they ran ahead, dodging the discs. Jason angled his body to the side, one of the gold weapons nearly grazing his helmet as it passed by his face. Jason heard it cut the air, and regained his balance as he continued forwards. Tim wasn't holding back-he was aiming to do damage.
He'd taught him too well, Jason realized. He pushed himself ahead of Batman, reaching Tim first. Jason threw a punch as Tim moved backwards, the teen flipping and then landing on his feet. But Jason charged forwards, tackling Tim in his midsection. He continued moving until he'd pinned Tim up against the entrance of the rooftop, his arm across the teen's neck.
But Tim's kee slammed into Jason's ribs, sending him stumbling back. Tim's fist connected with his jaw in an uppercut, and then again across his face. The impact sent Jason reeling, and he fell onto the rooftop on his hands in knees, the world a violent blur. Jason tried to grip onto the rooftop, fingers curling as he attempted to orient himself. Slowly he lifted his head, seeing double as his vision came into focus.
As the blur faded he saw Bruce and Tim throwing punches and kicks at one another. Tim launched himself at Batman, but Batman suddenly found an opening. He blocked the punch and immediately sent one back, hitting Tim in the face. His foot came up and kicked Tim hard in the chest, the teen falling to the rooftop. Batman grabbed him by the uniform, lifting him up harshly, his fist drawn back as Tim clutched onto Batman's wrist, trying to release his hold.
A fearful dose of chemicals shot through Jason's veins at the sight. For a split second he didn't think, his mind blank. And then it hit him all at once, and Jason reacted. The yell tore from his throat, the warning evident. "Bruce!"
Both Red Robin and Batman froze, the Dark Knight looking over his shoulder at Jason, taken aback. Tim even stared, disbelief crossing his face at what he'd heard. Jason knew that even if Tim had fully turned against Bruce, he never would have shared Batman's real identity. And Batman, who knew Tim well, had to know that too. It was one thing to know Batman, but to know the man under the cowl was an entirely different level of knowledge.
Jason drew himself to his feet, Batman releasing his hold on Tim. The two of them broke apart, their fighting stalled. Tim's expression said it all: What are you doing? Jason wished he knew. All he did know was that he had to put a stop to this, now.
"It's over, alright? All of this," Jason said, gesturing to them. "You can't blame him, Tim. Not for all of it."
"How? You were right," Tim answered. "You were always right."
"I wish," Jason said, "because this would be a whole lot easier."
It would be ideal to have it all come together that nicely, but this was far from simple. Jason knew he'd dug them all into this hole, and he had to make Tim understand that. "Everything that I said, everything I ever told you, that wasn't fact. That was just what I thought. By the time that I started to believe you, by the time I'd changed my mind, it was too late."
Jason fixed his gaze on Tim, as if he could stare directly into his mind and pull the memories out himself. "You knew it then, and you still know it now. Remember what you said to me. You were the one who was right all along."
"Why did you do it?" Batman spoke, turning his body so that he fully faced Jason instead of staying angled towards Tim. "What drive did you have to do this?"
"Come on, old man," Jason said, unable to help himself. "Some detective you are for not figuring it out by now."
A flicker of recognition passed over Batman's face, almost as if it was hesitant to acknowledge it. But Jason had enough of secrets, and enough of games. He should have come clean a long time ago. There was no way to go back and change it, but he could make due on his promise: to end all of it. Jason reached up and placed his hands on either side of the helmet. Before he could change his mind, he pulled it off, lowering the helmet and dropping it to the ground beside him. He raised his head, his unmasked eyes setting onto both of them.
He could practically see the stages of emotion play out across Batman's face. First confusion, then shock as his masked eyes widened. Everything else seemed to dissipate, the fight in him disappearing. His voice came, filled with disbelief, "Jason."
"Makes sense now, doesn't it?" Jason looked back at him, his expression hard. He held out his arms slightly at his sides, palms facing outward as if to show himself off. "Your greatest failure is back to prove a point. Except I'm tired of trying to show you. Honestly, I've been over it for a while."
He knew it had to be a terrible amount to process-and not just the fact that he was alive. It was accepting that all the actions of the Red Hood were his, that Batman's old Robin had turned into this. But he didn't reveal it for Bruce, not really. Jason looked to Tim, gesturing to himself, "Look at me. Is this really what you want? Because this is what your future looks like. This is the road that you're heading down."
Tim regarded him quietly, but in a way that Jason could tell he was listening. His shoulders were no longer tight, the fight gone from his posture. He watched Jason not defensively, but with an understanding that he didn't exactly want to accept. But it was for his own good to do so. Tim wasn't a fool, and Jason knew that no matter how stubborn he was, he knew when he had to relent.
"You don't want to be me. You don't even want to be him," Jason said, pointing to Batman. "But don't sacrifice who you are because of something that others have done."
Tim stood there, cape draped around his shoulders, and glanced between Batman and Jason. He said nothing, but his expression said it all: he may not know all the details as Jason did, but he understood. Somehow, it all reeled him back. Tim looked to Jason, and then suddenly his expression changed to one of horror. He threw his hand out to Jason, as if reaching for him, just as Batman started to move forwards, Tim calling out, "No!"
Jason's hand brushed his gun, and he started to look over his shoulder. A sharp pain nailed him in the back, cutting through the strong fibers of his suit and sinking into skin and muscle. Jason yelled, his body tensing, arching, and he stumbled forwards. The pain filled his whole body like fire, and from his peripheral vision he could see the tip of the boomerang reaching into the sky.
Blood trickled down his back, blooming across his suit. The pain left him weak and Jason fell forwards, unable to keep himself standing. Batman was there instantly, catching Jason as he collapsed to his knees. Jason raised his head and watched Tim throw himself at Harkness, tackling the criminal to the rooftop. He slammed the man down, hands around his throat. Harkness gasped for breath, hands clutching at Tim as he choked out, "You don't have the stones, mate…"
Tim held him down, his grip tight, unrelenting. Fury lined his face, his posture, and then all at once Tim released Harkness from his grasp. He heaved for air, and Tim grabbed the criminal and forced his arms into handcuffs, tossing him harshly back to the rooftop. Despite the pain, Jason felt the relief in the back of his mind. But Tim turned, rushing back over to them, terror on his face as he dropped down beside them.
"I'm alright," Jason wanted to say. But he couldn't form words past the pain. His vision darkened at the edges, Batman keeping him from falling face flat on the rooftop. He blinked hard, trying to stay awake, but Jason could only fight his body for so long. Batman said something to Tim, the words a garbled mess of sounds in Jason's ears as the world swam around him, growing ever darker.
Bruce gripped his arms, his voice steady, urgent. "Hang on, Jason. I've got you."
The low-spoken words made it through, and Jason's scattered mind sent him back to the warehouse in Sarajevo, back to every conversation he'd had with Tim about Bruce and the pain he'd felt about losing him the first time. Jason remembered laying on the floor of the warehouse, aware that he had only seconds left, and knowing, deep down, that Bruce wouldn't leave him-that he was trying, that it wasn't his fault.
What would it do to Bruce for him to die twice? What would it do to Tim?
No, he couldn't do that to them. He tried to turn his head to see Tim, but the teen leapt from the side of the building, following Batman's orders. His head dropped as he pitched forwards, choking out the words in a mumble, "Bruce...sorry…"
The vigilante said something that Jason couldn't hear, the darkness clouding his senses. The pain was far too much for him to bear. He fell into it headfirst and let the darkness pull him under.