A/N: Quite a few people have commented in reviews and PM's how much they liked Jason Todd in under the Red Hood and some suggested that maybe it was because the wonderful Jensen Ackles voiced him. I think that's very likely (Jensen Ackles rocks) and I can't think of anyone better suited to a big brother role than the guy who plays Dean Winchester. Maybe that's why he's bonded so well with Dick?

Oh, and Jason wasn't listening to me about the swearing so I had to get Bruce to call him on it in this chapter. The boy was a total potty mouth.

oOo

They were joined for dinner that evening by Dick's friend, Wally West. Jason was surprised to learn that not only was Wally aware of Dick's secret identity, he also fought alongside Robin on the junior version of the Justice League, where Batman deployed them on missions. It was another marked difference between the two realities; this Bruce seemed to encourage teamwork. Jason's Bruce didn't play well with others.

Jason enjoyed dinner, although he had been both revolted and fascinated by the amount of food Wally seemed able to put away; the kid was like a walking human garbage disposal.

"It's a metabolism thing," Dick had whispered to him at one point when Jason's fork had paused in midair while he watched, mesmerised, as Wally accepted fourth helpings from Alfred. Jason didn't know about metabolism, it seemed more like a tapeworm problem to him.

Bruce had asked some questions about the Batman and Robin from Jason's reality, which he had answered without revealing too much of his past; there were certain elements of it that he preferred Bruce didn't know about.

He did, however, laugh until his sides hurt at Dick's reaction to the Robin costume from his world.

The boy had choked on his juice, spraying some of it on the table, much to Alfred's chagrin. "Green scaly underwear and…pixie boots?!" he spluttered. "That's child abuse! Bruce, you ever try to make me wear something like that and I swear I will hunt you down!" The fiercely horrified expression had prompted a small smile from Bruce and gales of laughter from Wally and Jason.

Both teenagers had asked Jason way too many questions about his adventures in the 'other Gotham,' something that Jason was not at all eager to share. He had managed to divert them from their enquiries by asking them about the adventures of Young Justice. Much to his amusement, they had both preened under the attention and tried to outdo one another with tales of action-packed heroics. He suspected that Bruce had clocked his evasion of the questions though, and wondered if the man would call him on it later.

After dinner, Alfred addressed Bruce as he started to clear away the plates. "Will you have coffee in the library or your study, Sir?"

"The library I think. Jason, join me?" The tone was neutral, but Bruce's eyes told Jason it wasn't a request.

"Sure."

They got to their feet. Dick showed signs of wanting to follow them, but a sharp look from Bruce stopped him. He gave Jason a quick grin and retreated upstairs with Wally.

Jason followed Bruce into the library. It was almost identical to the one in his reality, right down to the painting of Thomas and Martha Wayne over the fireplace. The only difference was the pictures of Dick and Bruce decorating the mantelpiece.

Bruce sat into one of the large easy chairs by the fireplace while Jason occupied the opposite chair. Alfred poured coffee for them both, smiling slightly at Jason as he did so.

Dick had been right about the ice-cream cake. Alfred had been surprised and pleased when Jason had sheepishly presented him with it, and his manner towards Jason had thawed considerably. Jason was glad. This Alfred was identical to his own in every aspect, and he did not want to be thought poorly of by him.

Bruce waited until Alfred left the room before speaking. "Did you and Dick enjoy your day in Gotham?"

Jason nodded, sipping his coffee. Gut instinct told him this was going to be part conversation, part interrogation.

"What did you talk about?"

Jason shrugged. "Pretty much the differences between our worlds. Dick talked a lot about you and the Justice League."

"Did you talk about Robin?"

"It didn't come up."

"Good." Bruce leaned forward. "I know you mean well by Dick, but the choice of whether he wants to be Robin or not is his to make. I won't have you trying to influence him just because you have issues with the role of Robin in your world."

"You don't know anything about me or my world!" Jason snapped defensively.

"You're right, I don't. And I noticed that you're not so eager to share information about it either."

"Does it matter?"

"It does if it impacts on Dick in this reality."

"I already told you, I don't want to hurt Dick! I'm not going to do anything to screw up his life here."

"But you don't agree with his being Robin?"

"No."

"Why are you so against the role of Robin? Does it have anything to do with your death?" Jason remained silent and Bruce continued. "You've alluded to your death several times now, but you've never told us what happened. Why?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I don't. But you seem…angry about it. I'd like to help."

"I was murdered! Of course I'm fucking angry about it!"

Bruce's tone was gentle. "Jason, what happened to you?"

"Nothing much to tell; Joker beat me half to death with a crowbar, then blew me up. It hurt. End of story." Jason's voice was full of bitter anger.

"I'm sorry."

Jason looked away. It was easy to say sorry, but actions were what showed the real sentiment in someone's heart. He turned back to Bruce. "If Joker did that to Dick, what would you do?"

Bruce's face darkened. "Joker will never do that to Dick. I guarantee it."

"But you can't guarantee it, that's the problem. The Bruce in my world never intended for me to get killed but he still couldn't stop it. Same as he wasn't able to stop Two-Face from battering Dick with a baseball bat, even though he was right there at the time."*

Bruce looked horrified. "You both died?!"

"No!" Jason shook his head. "Dick survived. It was his first year out as Robin and the first time he confronted Two-Face."

"If Dick is still alive, why did you become Robin?"

"Dick got tired of being ordered around so he hit out on his own, calls himself Nightwing now."

"So both of you are estranged from Bruce?"

"What makes you think we both are?"

"You both gave up the mantle of Robin. And some of the things you've said indicate that you didn't reveal to your Bruce that you were alive until very recently."

Jason stiffened. He'd forgotten how damn observant Bruce Wayne could be, even in this reality. He would have to tread more carefully. "Dick and Bruce have a truce of sorts. They even work together from time to time. Me and Bruce? Let's just say we don't agree on some of the finer points of crime fighting."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

Jason scowled. "Because you don't need to know about the relationship between me and the Bruce in my world. It's not relevant here."

"I disagree. I've been catching attitude from you since we first met and I think it's related to some unresolved issue between you and your mentor. Do you blame him for your death?"

Jason scowled mulishly at him and crossed his arms. He remained silent. Bruce Wayne could go to hell if he thought he was going to psychoanalyse him.

Bruce frowned. "You don't blame him for your death, do you?" Jason could see him watching him carefully and looked away. "You're not angry at him because you died," Bruce continued. "You're angry at him because he let Joker live."

Jason's head snapped back around. "Can you blame me?!" he spat out. "That freak has murdered countless people! Even my death wasn't enough for Batman to finally see sense."

"So you think murdering Joker is the only solution?"

Jason was on his feet. "Don't you pull that sanctimonious shit with me, Bruce! Its not murder for something like Joker; he's not human! No one can do the things he does and have any humanity left in them! It's a waste of time to keep returning him to Arkham to 'rehabilitate' him." Jason used angry air quotations. "Joker doesn't want to be rehabilitated! He wants to kill as many people as amuses him, and to make as many people as possible suffer! How is someone like that worth keeping alive while the innocents around him die?"

"Maybe he's not. But that's not your decision to make, it's not anyone's decision to make. Once you give in to the instinct to kill, you become the people you hunt."

"Bull! There's a big difference between murdering innocent people and getting rid of the scum that prey on innocent people!"

Bruce's mouth was a thin line, his eyes dark. "I'm guessing that this is one of the finer points of crime fighting that you and my counterpart disagree on; you think it's acceptable to kill, he doesn't."

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" snapped Jason bitterly.

Bruce fell silent, staring into the empty fireplace. Jason could see his jaw clench as he digested what he had just heard.

"So what now?" demanded Jason. "Is this the part where you tell me to go? That I'm no longer welcome now that you know I have blood on my hands?"

"No."

Jason blinked. "No?"

Bruce looked up at him and his expression was deeply unhappy. "Jason, I don't wish to criticize your mentor–"

"Go right ahead, doesn't bother me!"

" – but it seems to me that he's made a lot of mistakes by you."

Jason froze. The last thing he had been expecting now that Bruce knew he was a killer was understanding or sympathy. "What are you talking about?"

Bruce gestured towards the chair Jason had been sitting in to indicate that he should retake his seat. He did so, wondering what sort of ploy this was.

"Listening to what you have told me and watching you fight the other night, I've noticed some things. But first, let me ask you this, have you noticed any differences between Dick's Robin costume and your own?"

"You mean aside from the fact that Dick's is a hell of a lot cooler?"

Bruce gave a slight smile and nodded. Jason thought about it, not seeing anything other than a Robin costume designed for stealth and a Robin costume designed for the circus. But then he realised something. "Dick was heavier as Robin," he remembered, thinking back to the differences in weight when he had kidnapped Dick and when he had forcibly removed him from the burning docks. He looked at Bruce. "Kevlar?"

Bruce nodded. "Protecting all the vital organs, but still not as much Kevlar as my own costume. Do you know why?"

Jason thought about it. Robin's fighting style flashed into his head. "You fight at close quarters," he answered. "Robin's costume needs to be lighter because you've trained him to fight from a distance, not to engage where possible."

"Very good. Everything about my costume, about my body, is designed for close combat. Everything about Robin's costume is designed to enable him to use his strengths – his speed, his acrobatics – to keep him out of arms' reach." Bruce leaned forward and his eyes narrowed slightly. "The Robin costume from your reality offers no protection, but yet your fighting style is like my own. You've been trained to engage, to use your strength against an opponent…that tells me that your Bruce did not take enough precautions to ensure your safety. Whether he intended it or not, he left you vulnerable. That was mistake number one."

"What was mistake number two?"

"He left your anger unchecked. I could be wrong, but it seems that the only outlet he gave you for your rage was the Robin persona, and that's not enough."

"What else is there?" said Jason shortly, not liking how uncomfortable, or how vulnerable, this little chat was making him.

"Talking. Regardless of how sentimental you think that is, it is important to understand your anger so that you can learn to deal with it. If the only way you learn to channel anger is through violence than it becomes the only way you can vent it, making it dangerous and destructive to yourself and those around you."

Jason's heart was beating so hard against his chest, he was amazed Bruce couldn't hear it. "Are you saying it was my own fault that I died?"

"The only person responsible for your death was the Joker. I'm just saying that I think your Bruce left you unprepared for some of the realities of crime-fighting, and that has impacted on your ability to deal with the fall-out from your death."

"And I suppose you can help?" snorted Jason sarcastically.

"I don't know. I'd like to try if you'll let me?" The tone was soft, warm.

He hadn't been expecting this. Jason stared at the ground, his vision a little blurred. He wondered would his life have turned out as it did if his Bruce had been more like this one? So much less about the mission and so much more about the people around him. His Bruce had been Batman all the time. This Bruce was Batman only when in costume.

Maybe he could help him. Jason blinked and his vision cleared. He looked up at Bruce who was watching him and gave a nonchalant little half-shrug, trying to keep the pain he was feeling hidden.

He was fooling no one. The older man smiled a little sadly. "Okay then. We can keep some of the…realities of your world between us. Dick doesn't need to know about them."

Jason nodded, relieved. He could stand Bruce knowing that he was a killer, but he couldn't bear it if Dick knew. He was the first person in Jason's life who had ever looked up to him, and Jason didn't want that to change.

"If we're going to do this, then we need to set some ground rules," Bruce's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Okay."

"First, no killing people. I don't think I need to explain my reasons to you?"

Jason nodded. He didn't bother to tell Bruce that he didn't think killing was needed here. This Gotham had hope; it wasn't as mired in filth as the one in Jason's own reality.

"Second, tone down your language, especially around Dick."

That caught Jason off guard and he stared. Bruce was scowling and had his arms crossed. Jason could tell at once that he had been itching to say that to him since they'd first met. He blushed slightly. Maybe he was a bit of a potty mouth. If he was making changes then he may as well go the whole hog; go big or go home and all that.

He tried to think of this as a learning experience and not a fresh start.

oOo

"Checkmate."

"What! Again! How?"

Dick stared in frustration at the chessboard and Jason chuckled. They had taken to playing chess over the last few evenings while Bruce had been out on patrol and although Dick was very good, he still hadn't been able to beat Jason. Jason could tell that it was setting off his competitive streak.

"You still thinking three moves ahead?"

Dick nodded, glaring at the chessboard, trying to discern just where he had gone wrong.

Jason smiled. "That's old hat. Everyone plays chess like that. Start thinking five moves ahead and plan multiple strategies."

"If I did that it'd take me forever to make a move!"

"Better to take time deciding what to do and getting it right than rushing in and playing yourself into a corner."

They both knew he wasn't just talking about chess. Jason's years of outthinking criminals, strategic planning and enforcing multiple scenarios made him a master tactician. Dick was good, but he was still learning.

"Play again?"

"Rain-check, Kid." Jason smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, before standing and stretching. "It's late and you have school tomorrow."

"Huh," said Dick, catching sight of the clock. "I didn't realise it was so late. Batman's been staying out later and later the last few nights." He started to tidy away the chess set. "Jason, do you think he's worried about something?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"He wouldn't let me patrol last night–"

"It was a school night, Dick."

"That hasn't stopped him before," Dick pointed out. "And ever since Sunday, he won't talk about what's been happening on patrol. He's been on edge…plus he's spending all his time in either the cave or his study. Jason, I know something's bothering him."

"He's probably just working on getting me back to my world. Try not to worry, Dick, I'm sure everything is fine." He spoke consolingly, but Jason had noticed the same things that Dick had. Combine that with the tension that was forming around Bruce's eyes and something was up. But that didn't mean that Dick had to worry. "Shouldn't you be getting off to bed? Don't you have that ABC math thing tomorrow?"

"AMC," Dick corrected, smiling. "And it's just a mock exam Mr Wilcox is setting to see if I'm up to the standard of the AMC 12 exams. It's not a problem, I can do it easy."

"Don't get cocky. Remember that story about the tortoise and the hare?"

Dick rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Whatever, Yoda. We still on for a sparring match tomorrow evening?"

"Yeah. I'll make sure to bring my kid gloves."

"No kid gloves!" Dick grumbled and Jason laughed.

"No kid gloves," he agreed. "Night, Dick."

"Night."

"And hey, boy genius, don't forget to eat your wheaties tomorrow!" Jason called teasingly after him as he exited the room, chuckling as Dick threw a mumbled retort back at him that he was pretty sure neither Bruce nor Alfred would approve of.

Jason had been surprised to learn that Dick was something of a math genius. The Dick from his world was smart but not genius level smart. Jason enjoyed teasing Dick about his slightly nerdy side. It was fun, a lot like having a kid brother.

The thought sobered him. Got to stop thinking like that, Jason scolded himself. You're not staying!

Why not? The thought that had been scratching away in the back of his head for days clawed its way to the surface. Why shouldn't you stay?

There was nothing for him in his own world. Here he had something. You don't belong here! Jason reminded himself.

So? the voice persisted.

In an effort to escape the discomfiting thoughts, Jason decided to go to the cave and spar with some of the training machines. He hadn't had a good work out in days. Combine that with Alfred's delicious cooking and he would turn into a serious lard-ass if he wasn't careful.

However, all thoughts of a work-out disappeared from his mind as he descended into the cave and found Bruce in his Batman garb, cowl pulled back, pouring over data on the computer.

"Didn't know you were back," Jason greeted him.

"Didn't know you were up," Bruce returned.

Touchy. "Lost track of time playing chess with Dick. He's gone to bed now," Jason added, at a look from Bruce.

"Good. He has an exam tomorrow."

"Yeah, that math thing. Wouldn't worry, he'll nail it." Jason joined Bruce by the computer. "Want to tell me what's eating you?"

"There's a new player in Gotham."

"New player, huh?" Jason was surprised he had actually answered the question. "Who?"

"I don't know. But whoever they are, they're leaving a bloody trail right through the city."

Bruce picked up the file beside him and handed it to Jason. He flicked through it, his stomach churning slightly at the images within; a man in a suit with his organs removed, two police officers with gunshots to both eyes, and a woman without her head that on closer inspection was revealed to have been blown off not cut off. Not wanting to see anymore, Jason closed the file. "So, new psychopath with a thing for gore. What do we know?"

"Not a lot. The murders started last Saturday night with a scientist at Gotham University. He was working late in the lab and someone force fed him Sodium Hydroxide."

"Lye," said Jason and grimaced. What a way to go. "How do you know all the murders are connected? Is there a signature?"

"Somebody has been leaving a Joker card at all the scenes, but the Joker is still incarcerated at Bell Reve." Bruce scowled. "I checked."

"So somebody is imitating a homicidal clown. Peachy. How many killings have there been?"

"Nine."

"Nine?! It's only been four days!"

"Glad you appreciate the seriousness of the situation."

"Do the police have any leads?"

"No fingerprints, no DNA, nothing. They've been keeping the killings out of the news but after this evening, they won't be able to keep a lid on this for much longer."

Reluctantly, Jason opened the folder again and spread the pictures along the computer console. "What order were these murders committed in?"

Bruce rearranged the photos and pointed to the man with his organs removed. "This man was the first, he was a Surgeon." He moved to a picture of a man whose brains had been beaten in with what looked like a Gavel. "This murder was committed tonight. It's Judge Watkins, one of Gotham's hardliners. This will make the papers tomorrow."

"We had a Judge Watkins in my Gotham too," Jason told him, frowning. "Joker murdered him four years ago." He looked back down at the pictures. The one of the woman without her head jumped out at him and he picked it up. "Who was this?"

Bruce glanced at it. "Selina Arklow, a Psychiatrist."

"So, we have a Surgeon with his organs removed, a Judge who had his head beaten in with a Gavel and a Psychiatrist whose head exploded…do all the other victims deaths have the same sick punch line?"

"Yes."

Jason looked back down at the pictures. "I guess this is why you haven't been letting Robin out?"

Bruce nodded, his expression tight. "I'd rather he wasn't exposed to such brutality."

"Don't blame you." Jason studied Selina Arklow's picture again. Something was nagging at him about this one but he didn't know why. "With Robin benched, it looks like Batman could use some help."

"Are you offering?"

Jason looked up. "I guess I am. Is that okay with you?"

"If I agree, we do this my way."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No killing people." Jason waved a hand at Bruce and returned his attention to Selina Arklow. What was bothering him so much about this killing?

He didn't know it yet, but Jason's past was about to invade this reality in the most brutal way possible.

A/N: * Taken from the events in Robin: Year One.