Tim bypassed the electronic locks and snuck in the window just a few hours after midnight. He felt like he was at the top of the world, like nothing could go wrong. Hopefully the billionaire playboy was still living it up at the movie premiere. He could get changed and be in bed before anyone knew the difference. At least, that was the theory.

The dining room light clicked on almost instantly, revealing a kindly old man. "Out for a walk, Master Tim?" Alfred asked, still dressed in his nightclothes. "Little warm for the tights, don't you think?"

The teen balked like an animal in a trap, the residual feeling of bliss deflating like a balloon. "Uh, yeah! So I'm going to bed, big day tomorrow…" He fibbed as he tried crept towards the stairs.

Alfred grabbed his sleeve and led him into the dining room. "Oh no you don't, you're not getting off the hook that easily." He sat the teen down and poured them each a glass of milk. The elderly man was doing his best as a surrogate father, assuring that "You don't have to worry about him, Master Bruce isn't home yet."

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey Bruce, remember that kid you adopted and made Robin? You know, the one that was brutally murdered and came back from the dead to seek revenge? I've decided that we should forgive him for killing all those people and you should totally let me go out with him!" Nothing could possibly go wrong.

The elderly man reached across to touch the boy's hand, snapping him out of his daydreams. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. I won't tell Bruce if you don't want me to."

Tim looked up from the table, rubbing his arm nervously. Take a deep breath, explain everything, and hope nothing explodes. "I'm not in trouble, but you have to promise that you won't freak out or tell Bruce."

Alfred promised with a smile. He takes care of a grown man that dresses up like a bat, freaking out was impossible.

The boy continued, "I've fallen for someone, someone who has done bad things with good intentions. I went to see him tonight and-"

"What kind of 'bad things' are we talking about? Shoplifting?" The elderly man asked, before realizing what was in the last part. "Wait, you went to see him?"

Tim cringed and forced out the next part. "I think I'm in love with Jason." He admitted and a tinge of pain flashed over his face when he saw Alfred's mortified expression.

Tim could see all the things Alfred wanted to say: that he was crazy, that he was making a mistake, that Jason could very easily kill him. "I-I think you should go to your room." The Englishman stammered from shock and dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "We'll finish this later."

"He's still a good person, Alfred. He just needs some help." The teen stood and went to his room, but there was not a single drop of regret about going to Arkham.

…

He came home from school the next day and found Bruce waiting for him with a sour look on his face.

"Where is he?" His mentor growled.

Tim didn't spare a second glance as he set his backpack down. "Where's who?" What now? Did the Joker escape again? He wanted this over with as soon as possible, he only had a few hours before he had to get ready for patrol.

When the boy made a motion to leave, Bruce grabbed his arm and harshly yanked him back. Tim yelped in surprise and pain. "Let me go, you're hurting me!" He cried.

If Bruce knew his adopted son was hurt, he didn't show it. "Jason Todd. He escaped this morning and stole a revolutionary smart bomb en route to Star Labs. Four guards were killed in the process." His mentor spat out the words, like he wanted each piece of information to be sharp enough to cut flesh.

Tim blinked in disbelief, why didn't know about this? "That can't be right…He would never-!"

The grip tightened, and the teen could feel the bruises forming. "The bomb has enough force to vaporize half of the city, thousands will die.I'll ask you again, where is he?"

The teen shook his head, his mind still racing to process the situation. "I-I don't know, he didn't tell me anything!" It couldn't have been him. Jason isn't a mass-murder!

"You were the last person to see him. Where the hell is he!"

"I don't know!" He cried.

Bruce slapped him across the face.

There was a loud crack as the blow landed and the teen was knocked to the ground. Gingerly, Tim touched his bleeding lip.

He hit me…

"Get up." Bruce demanded coldly. "I didn't train you to be this weak."

He actually hit me.

Tim pulled himself up to his feet. "You're right, you trained me to be a soldier. Not a human being." He spat blood onto a cream-colored carpet. "I quit."

He picked up his jacket and headed for the door when he heard his former mentor shout "If you walk out that door, you can never come back."

At this point he was beyond caring.

…

Tim had been walking the streets for hours.

Betrayal and loneliness weighted down every step he took. He was lost.

Tim drew his flimsy jacket tighter around his frame. It was unseasonably cold and it started to rain. He ignored the cars, even as one splashed water on him as it drove past. He didn't know or care where he was going.

One family was taken from him and the second he threw away. He made himself believe that this would have happened sooner or later. He even threw his cell down a storm-drain when Barbara tried to call him.

The teen found brief respite from the rain under the roof of a bar and watched a prostitute apply make-up over a black eye. Even after all these years, the streets still looked exactly the same. It chilled him to the bone to think that everything was pointless.

Maybe they were wrong, maybe nothing they did mattered. The same batch of criminals was back on the streets and doing the dame crimes.

The roar of an engine caught his attention, it was a lion's roar compared to the usual drone. He turned his head to see a shiny red motorcycle and it didn't take a second glance to know whose it was.

So he did escape.

The teen's face grew hot as his would-be rescuer slowed to stop at his side. This was ridiculous and implausible. "Are you supposed to be my knight in shining armor?" He asked, speaking over the pouring rain.

Jason leaned back and shook his head. "Just shut up and get on already." He teased and tossed his helmet to the boy.

Tim could see his reflection in polished red fiberglass.

He shouldn't be this happy.

He shouldn't be happy knowing that he might be the reason Jason broke out and possible return to crime.

He shouldn't be this happy to see him smile.

There were still too many questions that weren't answered. How did Jason know where he was? Or that he was wasn't at home? What about the bomb?

Tim looked up to find the vigilante still waiting.

He didn't have a home to go back to anymore and then again, neither did Jason. The older man silently asked to be trusted, and the teen couldn't refuse.

He got on the bike and shyly took the kindness offered to him. His arms found their way around a strong waist, pressing himself to body in front of him. Grateful to find that it was still warm.

They arrived a few minutes later at a cheap apartment near crime alley. The building was falling apart and the old stairs creaked under them as they walked. Once they were inside, the boy was able to take a hot shower and change into some dry clothes.

It was a little awkward with Jason's tee-shirt being at least three sizes too big. He took an odd sense of pride in wearing it, like a girl wearing her boyfriend's jacket.

He walked out of the bathroom to find the vigilante at his desk, cutting a piece of wire for some crude machinery. Tim leaned over his shoulder. "What are you making?" The teen asked, partly out of curiosity and partly out of worry.

Jason gave more of a grunt than an answer.

Tim pressed the issue further by asking "Does it have it anything to do with Star Labs?"

The vigilante glanced up from his work, setting the cutters down with a click. "Would it bother you if I said 'yes'?" He asked, taking a minute to gauge the boy's expression.

Tim flinched and his body fought to keep the color in his face. "No."

"Well, that was unexpected." Jason thought to himself. He leaned back in his chair, reaching for his cigarettes. Both of them were waiting for the other to speak. A crack and a flash of flame later, Tim spoke up. "Because you wouldn't use it, you wouldn't hurt an innocent."

The second Robin was quiet as the words sunk in. He had dealt with a lot of insane things in his life and survived most of them. He'd been stabbed, beaten, blown-up, and tortured. He's jumped through windows into a symphony of gunfire without even a second thought.

But this…

Being alone with an underage boy, with Tim, his mind corrected, was frightening.

The name itself was enough to make his hair stand on end. Jason used to hate him, despise him, for the sole reason of being his replacement. Nothing more than an object to project his own self-loathing onto, he wasn't supposed to be human.

Yet, here he was. Human and alive and disgustingly so, still wearing the sweet lace of innocence. He bravely walked into the lion's den for the second time now, and the beast was altogether mystified. However, the beast was neither blind nor dumb.

He knew the boy was looking for affection, maybe even love. On the ride over, he had felt Tim's warmth on his back and his hands just above his belt.

It was maddening.

He took another hit of nicotine. "Actually, I was fixing a radio. I use it to pick up police scanners and occasionally spy on you guys. They were looking for you, they even called in Dick from Bludhaven." He stated and saw Tim's mood brighten. He checked off where they already looked and went from there. "I don't keep explosives in the apartment anyway, it's too risky."

Strangely, the boy's face didn't fall by his admittance. "Why did you take it in the first place?" Tim asked.

"To keep it from being taken by someone else." Jason answered and of course the boy asked who. "People would do far worse things to you than kill." He said sternly, shooting down the teen's offer of help before it was even asked.

The vigilante extinguished his half-gone cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "It's getting pretty late. There's a bedroom, first door to the left." He sighed, gesturing to the hallway.

Tim didn't really like that idea and asked. "And where are you going to sleep?"

"Couch" He shrugged. He's done it before.

The teen looked at his feet and nervously offered "That's not really fair, I-I mean, it's your home and all."

Jason's eyes narrowed, his ears catching the shyness and stutter. No.

Like a train racing towards an unsuspecting person on the tracks, Tim kept going. "I could sleep on the couch or…" Hell no. "…we could always share. I don't take up much space." Wrong on so many levels.

"Sure" Fuck! "Yes!..I mean, no!"

Tim raised an eyebrow in confusion, not knowing what to make of the vigilante's sudden hysteria. Neither did Jason.

Both of them were blushing, although for different reasons. The vigilante was dazed and needed sleep. "I-I'm gonna sleep on the couch…and not be a pedophile."

"Pederast, actually…" Tim corrected, not helping his case. "…little too old."

Jay looked up from his hands and asked "Should I be worried that you know what that word means?" The older man got up and started walking away, shaking his head in surrender. "Nevermind."

"Where are you going?" The teen asked, afraid the other would leave him alone.

He opened the first door to the left, leaning against the doorway for a moment to say "To sleep. Join me or don't, it's your choice."

Even though he couldn't see it, he heard the mattress creak under Jason's weight as he lay down. The teen's heart beat faster, and his face turned red. He was a little scared, but that was normal right?

He gathered up his courage and headed down the hall.