Synopsis: "I need money" was just the beginning of a long conversation.
Between Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne, the batfamily never had to worry about money. At least, that was the persona they embodied to the public eye. But Dick, born with the love for simple things, had never found an interest in anything fancy or overly pricey, and Jason, keeping his street mentality, had never found a need to spend. Thus a majority of the money was split between the family owned businesses, crime fighting tech (that seemed to go out daily), and any other issue Damian seemed to dish out by the hour.
Yet, even then, only Bruce seemed to spend his wealth on the infinite duties that appeared with being a crime fighting vigilante while, under Batman's insistence, Tim's inheritance remained mostly untouched. Indeed, Tim had little use or value of money, and would have prefered such frivolous things be left forgotten or never existed. But it was in moments like these, as random and varied as they were, that made him grateful.
It had started with a random knock in the middle of the night. Well, the knock was more like a light rap against the window sill at two A.M. in the morning, and Tim was quick to judge whoever had found the time and diligence to climb up a three story high building rather than enter by the front door. But, really, he wasn't surprised when the Red Hood, of all people, came propelling himself through the window mere seconds after Tim had opened it, and had it not been for the younger's quick reflexes, Jason would have been facing more than just a semi-guilty conscious.
"What are you doing?" Tim asked, and though he knew he should have been mad for the sudden intrusion at such an hour, Drake knew, like everyone else, that superheros and villains alike did not understand the meaning of well needed sleep. Jason took a second, glancing around in boredom as Tim shut his laptop closed. A few papers remained strewn across the bed in organized stacks in what would have otherwise been the paradigm of an elementary room.
"What? No souvenirs from missions? Surely you at least have a gun lying around," Jason whistled out half in condescending admiration and the other half in disbelief. Tim merely raised an eyebrow in confusion while crossing his arms defensively. "Your degree in home decorum is severely lacking," he rebuttled, yet Jason had already begun investigating the drawers and under the bed for "typical teenager magazines" which only caused Tim to roll his eyes and sigh.
"Honestly though, why are you here?" Tim asked again once Jason, in a somewhat hilarious manner, had begun contemplating whether or not to risk Alfred's wraith and remove the floorboards in search for such profane materials. Finally, Jason gave up his futile search and had pointed an accusing finger at Tim's direction. "You fail as a teenager AND as a man!"
There was a moment of silence, a heavy pause, and suddenly the dull echo of chirping crickets had never seemed so obvious.
"So you snuck through my window, on the third floor, at two in the morning to see if I had obscene reading materials?" Tim asked, and excuse him if is voice sounded doubtful. Jason merely shrugged nonchalantly before speaking. "I need money." Oh, so that's what this is about …
What? No. He still didn't understand at all. But apparently it showed on his face as Jason was quick to reiterate. "I just need a couple hundreds," he said with an innocent wave of his hands. The gesture, although not intimidating, made Tim narrow his eyes wearily. "Why?" he asked though his mind was still in mid debate on whether or not he truly wanted to know. Jason only shook a finger at the other in a mocking manner with an equally mocking tone.
"What? Can't a man just find condolences in Benjamin Franklin?"
Tim frowned. "Money can't drown your sorrows."
Jason smirked. "That depends on how much you give me."
The corners of Tim's mouth dragged downwards at an even more impossible angle. A couple hundred wasn't too much to part with, but Tim had a sinking suspicion the money would be used for more uncouth habits of beer, guns, and women. But family was family. Plus, he needed to get rid of the other before his room was flipped over in an explosion of gunfire, and so Tim didn't question Jason. "How much do you need?"
Really, he wouldn't be surprised if he never saw those Benjamin Franklins ever again. But, to Tim's surprise, the other had leaped out the window in a similar fashion as his grand entrance while calling out "I'll pay you back!" Strange. Tim would have assumed the Red Hood would say something along the lines of "I'll send you an 'I owe you!'" or something equally stupid with no doubt in the Red Robin's mind that his money was gone in the chaos of the other's street life, but apparently this was different. Suspiciously so.
Tim knew he should have let it be. But his brain was slower than his curiosity, and curiosity is what empowered his detective skills. So, with some weary reluctance, Tim had decided to investigate the gunslinging maniac's motives. In all honesty, if Tim had been asked for what he expected by the end of his search, he would have doubted even he had the slightest clue over the possibilities. Perhaps Jason had once again murdered someone or had found himself exploited by one of the many evil companions he always chaperoned with. But this was certainly not one of them.
There was a women with a single large drab coat that flanked around her as big as Batman's cloak. Her fingers, the only flesh Tim could physically see, were bony and thin with miniature scars traced across the thickened palms and fingertips. Clutched by her side was a boy with an equally frail appearance and a sunken face cast half between shadows and bruises.
Tim had never faced the misfortune of being cast out onto the streets. And though he understood the pain of losing a home, he did not understand the fear that came with the loss of money. Even so, he was not oblivious. He understood the consequences of a widowed woman, and he had a sinking suspicion he now knew what Jason had done.
So when Jason snuck back through Tim's window a few nights later, mask and all with a glorified flip, Tim was sure to greet him with a pointed glare. If it hadn't been for the red mask, Tim would have witnessed the rare sighting of Jason Todd's confused tilt of the mouth, yet the said man took little time from his escapade as he had then handed Tim a wrinkled envelope filled with crushed dollars and dog eared corners. "Told you I'd pay you back," Jason said with an air of confidence and an exaggerated flip of the hand.
Tim only stared at the money, the very same amount he had given Jason just a week earlier, before handing it back to the taller man. "I don't want it," he responded to Jason's confusion. But Jason's moment of surprise had only fallen to a frown. "I promise I only killed one man. Besides, he was true scum. The money is completely free of corrupted taint," Jason vowed though he didn't admit that there was another minor incident that was in NO way Jason's fault. That man should have seen the warning signs and moved.
But Tim did not listen. Instead he tried to shove the envelope back into Jason's closed fists. "I know what you did, and I think you need the money more than I do." There was a moment of silence, a pause. But Tim remained resilient. He knew what the other had done; he had seen it with his own eyes.
"Don't deny it Jason. You really are nicer than you put on," Tim accused though his words lacked bite. Jason only frowned in return. "You're delusional." There was a solemn weight to his words that Tim could not understand nor had the time to try.
"I saw what you did," Tim continued. "You helped that woman." His tone was no longer accusing, more sentimental over the recognition of pity. Jason was quick to understand though he did not threaten Tim or berate the younger for spying on him. Instead, Jason merely readjusted his posture to a threatening figure that loomed over his younger brother. His mask now seemed more imposing, but Tim refused to budge.
"I killed that woman's husband."
"Don't lie to me, Jason Todd. Do you truly think me a fool?"
There was another pause, silence, and then a soft snarl as Jason jabbed a gloved finger into Tim's chest. "Not. A. Word," he snarled out before snatching the envelope from Tim's still open hand and swinging out of the room in a motion that would have made Dick proud. But there was no denying what Tim had seen. The woman had lost her husband to a stirring of gang and faction wars. With no job, the woman had then been forced to sell all her possessions including her house to a broker that had demanded she pay her deceased husband's debt. A threatening slap to her son's face later and there was no turning back.
Jason, despite his insistence, was a kindred spirit. He knew the pains of the street life far better than Tim, and while he could not save the family of two, he had invested a majority of his income to the mother, yet had fallen a couple bills short with no time to put in a last minute job before the debt was due. Suddenly everything had made sense, and Tim was blinded with the realization that Jason Todd truly was soft-hearted.
Tim would later drop the subject and leave Jason to his own devices until Alfred came bearing a large cardboard box with a simple "For you, sir." Tim had looked at it questioningly before opening it. His face had then fallen into revolted surprise as he flinched backwards and slammed the box shut again. Nope, NOPE, NOPE.
Alfred, still standing by the door, had then spoke up. "Perhaps this will explain the gift, Master Tim." It was then that he had given Tim a note, folded and creased multiple times around the edges. Tim frowned, but took it nonetheless without complaint.
I noticed you didn't have any good reading materials, so I bought you some. Don't worry about paying me back, I used the money you gave me.
-Love your insufferable brother whom you can not live without, Jason
Okay, so maybe "insufferable" wasn't exactly in print, but it should have been.
AN- We aren't very familiar with Tim's personality, so any suggestions or advice would be helpful. Thanks for reading and we hope you enjoyed this second chapter.