Two months after Red Hood and Scarlet began complying with his wishes, to a degree, Jason began to get increasingly volatile. He hated Sentinel with a fiery passion, and was not afraid to let that be known. Tim had come away from their 'conversations' more often than not with a raging headache after the man cussed him out so loudly he was sure everyone in a three block radius of the Hood could hear him.
This of course never once stopped Jason from using the information provided to him however.
He couldn't blame him for his behavior, not really.
Jason was a naturally cautious and suspicious person and from what he had seen over the years this had always been the case.
Jason was not pleased in the slightest that someone knew so very much about him. Tim was careful, only revealing that he knew about the Hood, not the man- the boy, which existed prior. Revealing anything regarding one Jason Todd would have Jason plowing through Gotham seeking Bat and/or Bird blood in an instant.
But Jason knew that someone was watching… watching at all times. That someone knew every last detail, every little habit, every trigger… and it terrified him, whether the man would admit it or not. He felt horrible exploiting things, but when it came to Jason, anything less would result in complete and utter dismissal.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Tim became ill one week, and spent most of each day curled into a limp ball within his sheets, with Pru tending to his 'charges'.
Sans Jason of course.
He ignored the Red Hood for the better part of the week, unable to pass that responsibility onto Pru (for one, he could not trust her to keep her cool with him) all the while cringing at the thought of hearing the man rage against him whilst he already had a steady unrelenting pounding in his skull.
To his shock, Jason contacted him at the close of the sixth day of his absence, needing assistance with one predicament or another that he had gotten himself wrapped up in during his disappearance.
The Hood was under the assumption that he was merely being an ass, forcing him to break down and ask for help… Tim could have laughed if it wouldn't have made his head feel like he were beating it against a brick wall.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Things returned to normal once he could will himself out of bed once more.
Not a single one of the vigilantes noticed the brief change in command, something he applauded Pru for as he made her dinner that evening, before she set out for her own dwelling to sleep away the morning.
It had made his life easier, and his recovery smoother.
Rest was not a luxury he was able to take advantage of however, as plans surfaced along the opposite shore for a major drug shipment, one that would surely spill over into Gotham within a few days' time if he allowed things to hit the streets.
Clearly Jason's department.
Something the man agreed with him on for a change.
It was short lived.
"Ya know, one of these days, I'm going to find you… and I'm going to force you to tell me everything."
And Tim could only snort into the mic, hearing the distorted noise echo through the sound system.
"Getting tired of not knowing who it is that's tracking our every move. Bunch of bull, you fucking coward."
"We all get tired Hood. Sometimes we just need to learn when to lay down and rest…let things be. I did." And with that, he had cut the transmission, too tired to listen to the man carry on.
In hindsight, he had not been giving Jason enough credit, as he soon found out…
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Jason might not have been as great of a detective as Bruce, and had admittedly gotten around with more street smarts than anything during his tenure as Robin, but he was far from being stupid, and had learned a hell of a lot since his revival.
So he took advantage of what he had been provided despite Sasha's complaints to 'just let it go', or 'ignore him'. He showed her just how much he was not going to listen to her by leaving at the crack of dawn while she was still dead asleep from their patrol just hours earlier, and set off for Gotham without her.
Why?
Because it was always Gotham.
After that, things were not hard at all to piece together. After flitting across town, intimidating all the runners (who had tried desperately hard to forget him in his absence), and collecting Intel, there was no doubt in his mind that this 'Sentinel' was Tim Drake, computer genius, former Robin- Replacement, and as it seemed former Red Robin.
Red Robin had not been seen for months, and Batman did not have any 'new' vigilante friends, so it wasn't as though he had just switched costumes again. When he thought about it, he really hadn't seen Red Robin in ages, the teen having been absent from every confrontation he had had with Dick-bats and the Demon spawn over the past year. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, because he had tried hard to not think about his replacement if at all possible after their last run in (in which admittedly, he had gone a tad bit overboard, but had been in a bad place at the time… for reasons) but now that it was on his mind it irked him. Red Robin had seemingly disappeared altogether several times over the past year and a half before vanishing altogether… and because he was not at all interested in familial chit-chat that would likely end with him back in Arkham, he hadn't the slightest clue as to why.
That why carried in to several topics, such as, why assist him of all people? Why give him names, dates, locations, and evidence if eight out of ten times people ended up in a body bag? Why had Red Robin vanished… and why weren't Dick, Bruce, anyone out looking for him?
And because he could not let it go, nor go back to pretending that he had no idea who was on the other end of those invasive transmissions, he did the only thing he could do.
He tracked him down, watched, learned, and approached with every intent to beat the truth and explanations out of the teen.
But things rarely went down as Jason intended.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Tim Drake's routine was alarming, repetitive, and not at all what Jason had been expecting.
He had managed to track him down as a civilian with alarming ease. He was not hiding in the slightest; in fact, he even had to lose reporters on a regular basis as he drove through the city due to his Wayne family connection.
He had been alarmed to see the teen on crutches, handicapped, but ended up all the more confused when Tim would simply toss them aside once entering his home. After a bit of research, courtesy of the internet, he discovered that Tim had been shot. Supposedly. He wasn't sure what exactly had gone down but clearly it had not been him, otherwise he would be crippled for real. This did not at all explain his absence in the field, nor the complete lack of communication between him and the rest of the lot.
It was at this point that he questioned why he gave a flying fuck, rationalizing it as shear curiosity, and the need to put his fist through the teen's face for having the audacity to order him around with a snarky ass attitude.
Tim kept his curtains closed tight for the most part, limiting what he could see whilst he wasn't putting on a show for the public. His only visitor being some mercenary chick that was very clearly not Bat-fam, and might or might not be familiar…
After four long, uneventful days of stalking him, he had had enough.
He had to give the kid credit… it took him three hours to take down his security system and slip inside before it reset.
The emptiness of the apartment was unnerving. Too neat, too bare, too white… he had to suppress a shudder as he made his way through the halls and rooms, most looking seemingly untouched.
The only room that looked remotely lived in he concluded to be Tim's personal dwelling. Even then it was unnaturally tidy save for an unmade bed, an overflowing laundry bin, and a dresser top covered in… bottles.
Prescription and vitamin bottles that Jason did not like the look of. To make matters worse, other than standard penicillin and pain meds, he didn't recognize much at all.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
He waited for Tim to return home against his better judgment. He had wanted to run after seeing the mass of the pills, suddenly not all too keen on finding out why Red Robin had vanished from the rooftops, yet at the same time had not wanted to prolong the inevitable confrontation he would have with 'Sentinel'.
So he had sat cross-legged on the bed, boots and all, unable to bring himself to explore any further.
When the telltale sound of a key jiggling a lock sounded, he had made his way silently to the doorway, watching as Tim stumbled in through the front door, clumsy with the crutches, until he was able to shut it behind him.
And without even seeing Jason standing by idly, he let out a frustrated snarl and whipped the unnecessary crutches across the bare floor, pressing his back up against the wall as he tried to recompose himself.
Apparently the day Jason neglected to follow him around was the day something of interest actually went down. He could only roll his eyes at his own damned luck.
"And see, here I thought it was only me that has those violent mood swings. Someone tell you what to do, and how to do it today?" He snorted, watching Tim flinch and stiffen as he looked up to see him leaning against the door jam.
"What are you doing in my house Hood?" He deadpanned, frown spreading further across his face.
"Nope. I'm the one asking the questions here. What are you doing, rambling off in my ear, thinking you can sit there, boss me around all secretive, and expect me to just go with it?"
Tim only sighed, and rubbed at a temple, feeling the ache of the weeks' worth of headaches creep back up upon him.
"Jason…"
"And what the fuck did I miss after my unplanned prison break? You- or rather, Red Robin, dropped off the map. Then you come up with all this shit. The hell's going on here?"
"It… it doesn't matter-"
"Bullshit. You dying Replacement?"
Tim paused, looking momentarily flustered, before giving Jason a questioning, confused look.
"Pills. You've got a dozen bottles lying all over the place, things I've never heard of, so I put two and two together. Evidently came up with five judging by your face…"
"No… I'm not dying. Not right now anyway…" He muttered, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall and slipped past Jason, making his way towards his room. "You shouldn't just barge in and rummage through people's things. If you have misplaced anything-"
"I didn't, it's all where you left it. If you're not dying, where the fuck have you been, and what are they for? You don't strike me as the type to have some kind of whacked out addiction to something I've never even heard of on the streets."
Tim stared at him, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of saying what was on his mind, or possibly ignoring him all together, before he sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat.
"I… can't do this, the rooftop patrols, drug and heist busts, the Arkham breakouts, any of it, not anymore. I could, but it… well, it would kill me. Sooner rather than later. My body, in its present state, would be unable to handle it for very long."
"I'm not following…" Jason frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, blowing at a bang in front of his eye in irritation.
He watched as Tim's jaw stiffened, and his brow wrinkled, struggling with his choice of words.
"My…spleen was removed. I ended up in way over my head several months back. I'm not even sure how I survived. I was pretty ripped open, and lost a massive amount of blood… when I awoke I was so shocked to be alive I thought he used the pit. Ra's, I mean."
"Wha-" Tim held a hand up to stop him before he could go off.
"I wasn't working for him- not really anyway… He simply had access to more than I could ever hope to get ahold of, and he kind of forced his way into my plans. I was trying to find Bruce… knew that he was alive. No one else would assist me, believe me… But, he saved my life, even if I'm not quite sure how, even if my spleen could not be salvaged. I lived. Then I crashed his network and fled, but we're not getting into that right now. The point is, without a spleen this line of work is too risky. My immune system is shot, and any semiserious wound could cause my body to do a number of less than pleasant life threatening things. Meaning, I'm officially benched if I plan on making it to twenty."
Jason drew in a ragged breath.
"Then…why all this? Why not just walk away?"
"Could you ever walk away? If so, we wouldn't even be having this conversation, as you would have done it a long time ago, and I wouldn't have the scars to prove otherwise. This… it's a part of me. I can't let it go. Not completely. This is what I've been left with. Computers. Intel. Eyes."
"Why me? Why assist me, when you know damn well what I do, and how I do it?" he snapped, stepping forward.
"Firstly, you're not my sole client. I have slowly been building a network of outside vigilantes. But to answer your question… it's because you do things the way that you do."
"…say again?"
"Jason… the way we- they do things? It's not always the solution. Some of these people… they never back down. They keep pushing, and pushing, and hurting innocent people that have done little more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or have simply been the victim of association. How many people have died solely because no one could survive with their mentality intact if they crossed that line? Too many. You however, and a handful of others? You've already crossed that line. Been at your worst. You are willing to do what the others cannot, and you will do it whether anyone, especially me, helps you or not. But with my help? Things can be done clean. No civilian casualties. No mass property destruction. Best of all? You are safer, not having to take as big of risks, put yourself in as much danger." He stated confidently. " Killing is not automatic for all. The majority of the time I see you let your targets free. Fear still does a lot with the general population. You only kill when no other choice has been left. I've already lived under one way of doing things, seen the results, the good and the bad. Things will carry on even with me gone. If I can help handle the ten percent those methods neglect to work on, I will."
Jason stared, processing the mass of information that had just been thrown at him, watching Tim's face for a wavering that never came. After a moment, he sighed, reaching into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. He pulled one from the package with his lips, lit it without breaking eye contact, and took a deep drag.
It was Tim that broke his gaze, moving to step away.
"You've changed."
Tim paused, hand on the doorframe, before slowly turning and meeting is gaze.
"I haven't changed. I just stopped pretending…" and with that he entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him leaving a stunned Jason behind.
When Tim resurfaced half an hour later the man had gone.
He wondered how this would change things…