Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! The most common comment I got for the last chapter was 'Well, that went better than expected.' ^_^ And you're right, but only on the surface. The next few chapters will show that it's not even close to a happy ending for everyone quite yet. Also I'd like to draw your attention to the time line. These chapters are all happening within the same night/day for now. I know I skipped days as Damian and Jason traveled but now everything is much more compact. I'm pointing this out to give you a sense of just how much is being revealed all at once. Please enjoy and review!
"I'm seriously pissed off with you."
Those were the first words Jason spoke as he stepped back inside the apartment. The replacement – Tim, he had to keep reminding himself – was still on the roof, probably a little afraid to follow so soon. Dick met him on the doorstep, looking so apologetic that Jason wanted to punch him all the more for it.
"Don't say you're sorry." He cut him off when the man opened his mouth. "I'm tired of people telling me they're sorry. When you're sorry, you do something about it or you stop saying it. Are you going to suddenly take that suit away from him?"
Dick sighed. "No. But I am sorry you found out the way you did. Tim had lousy timing..."
"You seriously think there would've been any good timing?" He really didn't want to hear the boy's name.
"...I didn't realize he'd come here tonight."
Jason glared at him. "You should've told me."
"When?" his brother asked miserably. "When you were bleeding to death in that alley or when I was patching up that bullet hole in your shoulder? You gotta cut me some slack, Jay. It's been a rough night for all of us."
Had he really just gone there? After all Jason had been through coming back from the dead, being brain-damaged, institutionalized, and living on the streets, being found by Talia, taking a dip in the Lazarus pit, then spending six months in captivity, and finally running across the whole of Europe and the Atlantic ocean, this was the welcome he was receiving?
"I'm sorry me being back inconveniences your perfect little life! No wonder you didn't believe the kid. You just didn't want to."
Dick's face hardened. "That's not fair. I wanted to tell you and I was going to when you were a little stronger. I'm... I'm trying to look out for you, Jay. I didn't last time but I'm trying to make up for it now."
"Well, you're doing a piss poor job," Jason shot back.
The hurt look on his brother's face was almost enough to make him stop, take it all back, and tell Dick he was sorry, that he hadn't meant it. But the rage still boiled and he needed to take it out on someone. Dick was the chosen victim because... well, frankly because he partially deserved it, but also because Jason knew he could take it. He'd always been the strong one. Still there was a voice inside his head, the same one that had helped guide him since his reawakening into the world, that said this was wrong.
Take a step back, it told him gently. Hurting your brother will not make you feel better now, and you'll only regret it later.
He already regretted it. Jason had spent so long just wanting to get home. Was he really willing to give that up now? However shitty the execution was, deep down he knew Dick meant every word he said. He was just not a very good liar. Jason was too tired to fight with him anyway. The interrupted sleep after the night he'd had and all the rage that had burned through him left him exhausted, even though the sun had almost completely risen by then. He took a deep breath.
"I'm going to try to get a few more hours of sleep," he declared, and Dick nodded approvingly. The issue was far from resolved, but he knew his brother wanted him to rest. Jason glanced around. "Where's Damian?"
The child in question was curled up on the bed instead of his place on the couch. Even in sleep he was frowning, lying on his side, one hand fisted in the sheets Jason had thrown aside as he bolted out. Dick offered to move the boy, but Jason just waved him away.
"Go take care of your new Robin," he said dryly. "Think I might've scared the little bench-warmer."
He thought there would be some sense of relief with his brother's departure, but there wasn't. Jason still felt nearly as confused as the first time he laid eyes on the impostor only a couple hours ago. Except that confusion morphed into something else. What if he was the impostor? He'd been away for so long. What made him think he could just come back and expect everything to be the same? All of that required too much thinking, though, and he was so tired.
Despite his best efforts, Damian stirred when moved onto the bed. "Jason?"
"Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep."
The boy didn't rise but rubbed at his eyes as if attempting to wake. "Are you okay?"
God, no. "It's fine, kid. Everything's fine."
He was as far from okay as it was possible to get, but for Damian he could pretend otherwise. However Jason was almost as bad at hiding his emotions as Dick was at lying, and the boy was the son of the world's greatest detective. The frown on his face told Jason he didn't buy it for a second. He scooted closer, mindful of Jason's injuries, and for once the young man didn't stiffen at the contact. It was actually felt good to be needed, to be around someone who had never lied to him or intentionally kept any secrets.
"We don't have to stay here," Damian pointed out very quietly. "If you don't want to."
That took him aback a little. He shifted to look at the child. "I thought you liked Dick."
"I do. He's really nice… but if you don't like it here… The other one upsets you, I could tell."
Jason was touched. Not that he wanted Damian to get in the middle of all of this – Dick had been absolutely right to send him away earlier – but it was nice to know someone was looking out for his feelings. He smiled weakly and wrapped his good arm around the boy who squeaked a little, surprised by the sudden affection where Jason hard rarely been able to show much before.
"I… didn't expect there to still be a Robin," he said as simply as he could. "That's all."
Damian sniffed. "I don't like him. We could just make him go away."
Wasn't that what he wanted? If this boy was not in the picture, everything would be back to normal. But something in the way the eight-year-old said it sent a chill up Jason's spine. He suddenly remembered what the boy had said about being trained, and this wasn't a whiny comment made by a child. There was something cold about it, like Damian really could make the replacement disappear. It reminded Jason far too much of himself.
"It's not his fault," he said, attempting to pacify the child. And it really wasn't. When he thought about it, Jason realized he was angrier at Dick, even Bruce, but the kid who talked way too much was not the problem. He would have been furious to see anyone else as Robin. "Anyway, we're not going anywhere, little D. I have to take you to your dad."
"My father?" For some reason Damian looked alarmed.
"What?" Jason blinked.
"You said 'my' father, not 'our' father."
Oh, damn. Jason screwed his eyes shut. He'd been referring to Bruce as 'Dad' specifically for Damian's benefit, to drill home this 'brothers' idea that the boy had initially had so much trouble with. He'd also said it to Talia, to make her feel just how much she'd hurt all of them by keeping them apart. But in the privacy of his own head, he'd been 'Bruce', same as always. That is, at least until recently. The closer they got to Gotham, the more natural the familial term had felt. He was calling him that for Damian, anyway. Why couldn't he think of the man who'd given him a real home as 'Dad'?
But now he was angry and hurt and it was back to 'Bruce', 'your dad', not 'our', which clearly was not going over well with the boy. Since he lost his mother, Damian had lived on Jason's promise to get him to Gotham and introduce him to his... their father. And now Jason himself was undermining that very plan.
"Sorry." He held the boy closer, rubbing his palm across the child's back in wide soothing circles. "It was just a stupid slip."
Dick was not sure what to do. Calling the manor again seemed like the obvious thing. Surely Bruce was back by now, but he so badly wanted Jason to be calmer, better when the reunion took place. As much as he'd clearly wanted to be back home before, now Dick was not at all certain he wouldn't lash out at Bruce. Despite each others attempts, their relationship had been rocky just before Jason's death. He didn't want to return him to his father like this.
Sitting across the kitchen island from him, Tim gave him a disapproving look. "I don't think you're right."
Dick held up a finger to his lips indicating for the teen to be a little quieter. It was already mid-afternoon, but Jason and Damian were still sleeping and he was inclined to let them considering the night – weeks, months, years – the pair had. Tim lowered his voice but persisted.
"I don't think you're right," he repeated. "I think you need to call Bruce and get him over here now, before something else happens."
"Showing up in the Robin suit definitely didn't help," Dick gave him a pointed look.
"I know. I already said I was sorry. It's not like I knew he'd be here tonight. I had no idea where he was. I'm tracking Ra's' people, and as far as I can tell, they're still in the UK. That, and... I admit: I didn't think."
"Yeah, well, it's done now, but stick to civvies for the time being." He paused at the coffee maker, poured himself a cup, and then finally actually raised his eyes. "Look, you were right, and I apologize for not listening to you right away. But Jason being here, especially now that he's found out about you, it's not all as simple as you think."
Tim frowned. "I thought you said he took it better than you expected."
"I meant he wasn't outright violent," Dick elaborated. Tim stared at him like he'd just earned a one-way ticket to Arkham. In the teen's mind, it simply wasn't possible. Heroes just didn't go on random rampages because of what he perceived as a small misunderstanding, but Tim didn't know the real Jason. "You think it's all over, that he's just going to calm down, accept this and move on, but it's not. Jason buries his feeling..."
"How is that different form anyone else we know?" Tim demanded. "Especially Bruce."
Privately Dick had to admit a lot of similarity in that department, but aloud he said. "Because he ultimately can't control them. Bruce rationalizes his way through everything, even things he shouldn't. Jason can't do that. Like I said, this isn't over. I want you to be careful."
The frown on the teen's face deepened. "He won't hurt me."
"No," Dick agreed. Jason had never laid a hand on a child. "I don't think he'll hurt you now. But he'll most likely find a way to hurt himself, and I'm afraid Bruce in the process."
Tim shook his head and shifted on the barstool. His fingers wrapped tighter around the steaming cup in front of him. Dick knew what he was thinking. Neither of them said the unspeakably painful accusation aloud, but he knew the teen thought him little better than Talia. The reasons might be different, but the end result was the same: Dick was not telling Bruce about his sons.
The two in question entered the kitchen just as Tim looked like he was about to say something else. Both were dressed and washed, but it looked like sleep had not improved Jason's mood, and Damian was determined to follow his lead. The boy didn't even respond to Dick's smile and attempt at greeting, choosing to instead cross his arms on the island counter as he climbed up, set his chin in the center, and glare daggers at Tim. Jason silently went for the coffee.
"Do you guys want some breakfast?" Dick offered. "I have bacon and eggs, bagels..."
"No donuts?" Jason quipped.
For this, Dick allowed himself to send the other man an eye role. "No cop jokes."
"Yeah, I'll pass." His brother ignored him. "Last time I checked you couldn't cook to save your life. Guess that could've changed though. Everything else has."
Ouch. Dick sent Tim a look that clearly read "See what I mean?". At best, Jason was going to be passive aggressive about it which was only marginally better than just aggressive. The teen nodded almost imperceptibility before, to Dick's alarm, turning to his brother.
"Hey, you know there are..." Jason gave him a sharp pointed look, eyes shifting to silently indicate Damian. "Errr... you know there are bad guys after you?"
To his surprise Jason almost seemed to relax. It took him half a second to catch on to what had just happened. Jason was very much aware of his perusers, but he hadn't told Damian that it was the boy's grandfather they were running from. If Tim had let it slip, there might have been another explosion, but luckily he'd gotten the hint faster than Dick did. Jason seemed to appreciate that in some manor.
"Yeah, I know," he replied casually as if it was no big deal. "Saw one of them in Ireland."
Ah, so it was going to be that. Talk about work rather than anything personal and pretend nothing's wrong. It was downright frightening how much both reminded him of Bruce at that moment. Dick watched the two over his coffee. Jason's casualness and relaxed demeanor was so out of character that he was sure even Damian wasn't buying this charade.
"So I'm thinking we should probably come up with some kind of plan for when they do get here," Tim suggested.
"Who's 'we'? Last time I checked there was someone else wearing my suit."
Ouch again. Dick felt bad for the teen, but Tim didn't look too upset. "To be fair it's not exactly your suit. Mine doesn't have scaly underwear. Seriously, it took three Robins to come up with pants for this thing?"
To his eternal surprise Jason actually laughed. He didn't even mind what the young man said next. "That's because the original's an exhibitionist."
Okay, he minded a little, especially when Damian finally deigned to raise his head only to ask, "What's an 'exhibitionist'?"
"Good job, Jay." Dick glared before turning to the youngest. "He's saying I like showing off."
"Aha, that's the G-rated version." Jason took a sip of the coffee he'd just pored for himself and grimaced at the bitter taste. "Tell you the other one after puberty."
God bless Tim who tried to steer them away from that topic. "Okay, funny costume aside, why can't there be two Robins?"
Jason looked surprised, and Dick had to admit even he hadn't thought of it. Actually he hadn't thought of the role much at all until Tim showed up. Hadn't Bruce intended to bench Jason for a time right before his death? He expected Jason to be angry at being replaced, but even if Tim was not in the picture, he was not so sure it was a good idea for him to be out in the field again so soon. What he was certain it was far too soon to be having this conversation, but as Jason recovered from the initial surprise, the choice was taken out of his hands.
"Let's start with the fact that no matter what you might think, you don't know me, kid, and I sure as hell don't know you. All I know is that you just showed up here in a version of my suit. Kinda hard to build a trusting work relationship on that..."
Tim was undeterred. "I can tell you anything you want to know. Just ask."
"...Not to mention two birds in the field would make for messy communication."
"So just change the name slightly. Why don't you be... ah... Red Robin! I can help you design a whole new suit!"
Jason appeared more exasperated than angry when he looked at Dick. "Your new little bird makes it hard to hate him being so damn happy and enthusiastic. It's kind of disgusting actually."
"He's just trying to impress you," Dick said as if the young teen wasn't standing right there and was amused to see annoyance flash over Tim's face.
"Well," Jason glanced at the Tim. "I haven't tried to kill you yet, so mission accomplished. For now."
Dick cleared his throat. "Can we save this discussion for later?" Like when we see Bruce.
"Sure," Jason shrugged and jabbed a his thumb in direction of the youngest in the group. "We might both get beaten out by the latest petitioner for the position anyway."
Damian was either didn't get it or was ignoring them. When Dick looked, he was idly fiddling with the remote to the thirty-two inch flat screen that hung on the wall to the right of the stove and sink. He might not have even been intending to turn it on, but suddenly the television sprang to life. The boy looked up with mild interest.
"There might be some cartoons on channel five or seven," the eldest said. Jason gave him a look as if he'd said something completely idiotic.
"He doesn't watch cartoons. Here, D, give me that." He retrieved the remote from the child. "Let's see what's been going on out in the great big world."
What was that called? Precognition? None of them were metas but right now something inside was screaming at Dick to take the remote from Jason and turn off the television. The program seamed harmless at first. Something about security systems upgrades provided by Wayne Tech. What had that been for again? Dick tried to remember even as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The news reporter said it first though.
"The new motion sensors will be installed in every cell in Arkham, starting with none other than the Joker's. The infamous killer has plagued Gotham for years and had managed numerous escapes from the asylum, though eventually he was always apprehended by Batman. Here's hoping that Wayne will succeed where thus far the authorities and the dark knight have failed: keep the clown in he box. Coming up..."