A/N: Long time no see! This is a little different than the path this story has been going on, but it fits within the whole plot. These are meant to be connecting oneshots anyways, so I think that it works. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
Tim knew he was smart.
It wasn't a fact that he could deny or act humble about, though he wasn't arrogant about his intelligence. If he didn't have a detective-like mind, he never would have figured out the real identity of Batman. He never would have become Robin, or Red Robin, or any other seemingly impossible situations if there wasn't some sort of advanced knowledge in his brain. Brilliance, as some would call it, was what earned him his spot as Batman's partner.
But Tim also knew he was intuitive.
The two qualities went hand in hand, but that night he was relying more on intuition than knowledge. Bruce had received an alert about Scarecrow's moves, which he had been tracking since Tim's incident. According to his adoptive father, the case was more complicated than he had originally thought. Scarecrow had vanished from view, and had not made an appearance since. But when reported signs of the villain had made their way to the Bats, Bruce wasted no time in gearing up and preparing a plan.
Tim was able to walk again, shaky and slowly, and had chosen to go down into the cave to see what was happening. He found Bruce guised as Batman, fingers typing away on the computer. Damian was absently tossing a batarang between his hands, standing beside his father and staring intently at the screen. The ten year old was donning his Robin suit, and Tim had no doubt that Damian was proud to be allowed on such a dangerous mission. It was present in his posture; tall and straight; feet planted firmly. A knot formed in Tim's stomach at the sight, of this ten year old about to fight his battle, and looked to the side.
And then there was Jason, sliding guns into their holsters and holding his helmet under his arm. He stood a little away from Bruce, and he was the only one who was not focused on the computer. Instead his eyes were trained on the floor, a ferocious glare in them that made Tim pause on the final step. No one paid him any attention, though they most likely knew he was there.
Damian's patience seemed to run out, and he released a sigh, "Father, please tell me that we haven't lost this criminal again."
"No," Bruce answered in his deep Batman voice, "but we need to take every precaution. There can't be any mistakes, not again."
Tim involuntarily winced, realizing his father probably didn't know it was him standing there. While Bruce was indeed right, it had been Tim's own fault he had ended up this way, there was still some pain felt at the words. Still, his stomach dropped at the idea of his family going off to find Scarecrow, and not because he thought they couldn't handle it. He wasn't afraid of Scarecrow either, but he couldn't but his finger on what exactly he didn't like about this.
Jason raised his head, eyes softening slightly when they landed on Tim. The older brother caught what Bruce had said, so he had been paying attention, and knew the Tim had heard it. But as quickly as the sympathy was there it was replaced by fury, and Jason's eyes snapped towards the computer. He took a dangerous step forward, tension apparent in his body; coiled tightly in his being. "Hate to kill the suspense, but we either take it to the street or I'm taking care of this savage lunatic myself."
Tim sunk back against the railing; he knew that his family was going to these lengths just to gain justice for him. Part of him wished they would give it up. Bruce turned, as if in agreement, heading towards the Batmobile with a quick and even pace. Damian grabbed weapons and stuffed them into his belt, while Jason continued to inspect his guns once more. All of them were in mission mode, preparing to fight crime in the dangerous streets of Gotham.
And Tim stood back, as apparent as the shadows on the walls and did nothing but watch.
"You'll meet Damian and me at the point we discussed," Bruce said to Jason. "If there are any signs of disturbance on the way, alert me immediately."
Jason looked as if he was resisting rolling his eyes. It was true that Jason was a grown man and his own person, perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Yet everyone seemed to know that disobeying Bruce, no matter the age, wasn't a very wise choice. And so Jason blew out a sigh and said, "Yeah, yeah, look for signs of trouble, don't do anything unless we're together. I know the drill."
"Then do it," Bruce replied, sternly though not unkindly, and got into the Batmobile.
Damian went over, and jumped in; calling over his shoulder, "See you on the field, Todd!"
The ten year old smirked at his older brother and slammed a fist into his opposite opened palm, to which Jason confirmed with a nod. As the Batmobile left the cave, Tim understood the gestures; they intended to crush Scarecrow for what he had done. Tim didn't feel any better, only worse as his skin prickled in anxiousness. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach; there was something not right. The only thing he was sure of was that it circled around his family.
Jason started to walk, coming towards Tim but with every intention of passing him in order to get to his mode of transportation. "Go upstairs and rest. We don't need your gigantic brain for this one."
The humor was lost on Tim, who replied as normally as he could, "I don't think you should go."
Jason raised an eyebrow, "Look I know that vengeance is a thing, but it's not something you're up for. We'll take care of it."
"That's not what I mean," Tim said, expression darkening. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"I do too; I'm not going to be able to kill Scarecrow off for good." Jason dismissed his brother's worries, giving him a once over. "We're adults, Tim. Well Damian is ten, but he doesn't count. We'll be fine. It's not like I'm scared of dying, anyway."
Yes you are, Tim thought, but held back from saying so. Jason was obliviously riled up enough; there was no need to stoke that fire. Jason reached out and ruffled his hair, giving him a vicious grin. "Trust me; I'm going to enjoy this."
Tim couldn't reply, his mouth acting as if it were sewn shut. Whether his brother would admit it or not, Jason took these situations hard. Underneath the stone exterior there was a heart, one that not only cared but felt the need to repay criminals for their actions. Tim knew that; knew that when it came to well known villains Jason was fully prepared to give them his special treatment. If it had been the Joker that had done this to Tim and not Scarecrow…
He banished the thought completely. That was one scenario Tim did not want to imagine.
Jason put his helmet over his head, changing from civilian to Red Hood. As he walked away Tim could only feel the pit in his stomach expand into an abyss, and he swallowed hard. All he wanted to do was call Jason back, then call Bruce and tell them all to come home, to not go into the city that night. He wanted to don his own suit and follow, take his own revenge instead of others doing it for him.
But he was in no shape to follow. And so Tim was reduced to watching Jason leave, finding himself alone in the cave when he had gone.
Some part of his mind knew he would be the cause of grief that night.
Later on he'd recall all of the details.
Tim remembered being unable to sleep and wandering aimlessly around the manor until Alfred ordered him to bed. He remembered getting up and going to sleep in the computer chair in the cave until everyone returned from the manor. The teen even knew how he'd woken up; dazed and alarmed at the sound of the Batmobile pulling in, and even more alarmed as Jason's limp body was hauled out of the vehicle.
His heart had stopped in that moment and all that Tim could think was that it was his fault once again. Jason had died and it was because of him, he'd cost Bruce this pain twice. Tim felt frozen in the chair until his heart was beating again and in his throat, blood flowing through his veins again. He leapt from his seated position and started to dart over towards his brother, hearing Jason's name release from his throat like he was calling for him over the sound of a storm.
And then Dick had been there, getting out of the Batmobile and grabbing the teen to keep him from following after Bruce as he took his brother away with Damian's help. Tim had sworn and tried to pull away, barely hearing Dick as he explained that Jason was alive, just injured, and that he would be okay. "Tim," he had said as the teen comprehended the words, "it's alright. Jason will be fine."
"Why did you do this?" Tim snapped, anger spilling over as the fear drained out. "I could have dealt with Scarecrow on my own once I was back on my feet! Now look what's happened!"
Dick met his eyes sternly, spinning Tim around so that his hands rested on the teen's shoulders. "When Jason died, Bruce took his vengeance by putting the Joker in a body cast. Did you really think he wouldn't avenge you too? That we wouldn't?"
Tim was silent. No, he hadn't ever thought that; he hadn't died so he assumed everything was okay. Scarecrow would be taken care of for crime, not for injuring him. It's what he had thought before that night. It's what he had thought before Damian and Jason's interaction, their determined grins; signs that revealed to Tim just how much this case really meant. He felt as honored as he felt guilty.
"It is how Father and the rest of us find closure," Damian said as he appeared, tearing off his mask. His eyes were bright with determination and assurance. "We found that tonight; Todd took a few bullets but that is nothing new or concerning."
It was Damian playing off the situation, and so Tim let it go. He took a deep breath and then exhaled, looking to his younger sibling. "Is Bruce keeping us out?"
"No," Damian answered, "Todd's vulgar language just became a nuisance, and Father forbade me from knocking him unconscious."
For some reason, that managed to get a laugh out of Tim. Perhaps he was only shaking off his panic, but otherwise he collected himself and headed for the medical bay. Sure enough he could hear the cursing of his older sibling long before he reached the room. Once he did it had subsided, and Bruce was exiting while rubbing his face. He didn't say anything to Tim, but briefly put a hand on his shoulder before walking away.
Tim took that as a signal that he was allowed to go in and entered the room. Jason had bandages wrapped around his upper arm, leg, and shoulder. Yet he didn't look nearly as bad as Tim had when he had come home, and Tim was briefly annoyed by that. He shoved the feelings away and sat down at his bedside, and promptly glared at Jason.
"Sorry I came back alive," Jason answered, pulling himself up with his good arm.
"Shut up," Tim muttered, his anger blooming again.
Jason gave him a look of uncertainty, "What's your problem? I get hurt all the time and you barely blink an eye."
"What's my problem?" Tim said, words exploding. He jumped up, his chair being pushed backwards in the process. "I told you not to go out tonight!"
"And?" Jason said, completely unaffected by the outburst.
"But you're an idiot! You threw yourself in harm's way for vengeance!" He cut himself off, trying to stop the words, trying to keep his emotions inside.
"Why is this surprising?" Jason kept his face blank, as if Tim's anger was hitting an invisible shield and reflecting off of it.
Tim gritted his teeth, "It's not! It's stupid and aggravating and do you not see how much I need you alive?"
The last part of his sentence came out of nowhere, burning feelings that had finally erupted into words. Tim shut his mouth as soon as they were spoken, taking a surprised step back as if someone had slapped him; or rather he had hit himself. Jason sat there, astonishment present for merely a second before melting into a facial expression as blank as his red helmet.
There was silence, a stretch of quiet for so long that Tim debated turning around and walking out the door. Before he could execute his idea, Jason said, "So let me get this straight. You're afraid that I'm going to be pushing up daises again and leave you helpless and alone?"
"I am not helpless—" Tim started, but Jason held up a hand to stop him.
The older man said, "You are in need of help as we all know. But let me ease your little conscience before you're lying in a cot next to me from stress. No, I'm not going anywhere. I just got a few scratches."
"Bullets," Tim emphasized.
"Same thing," Jason answered, continuing on. "My point is; don't get your Red Robin pants in a twist. I'm not letting you deal with this on your own. I'm not going to purposely put myself in a position where there is a high casualty rate."
Tim gave him a single glare, looking at him up and down, and Jason rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll think more often before I act. Happy?"
Another stretch of silence followed before Tim exhaled a long sigh, "Yeah, sure."
The teen collapsed into the chair again and muttered, "You're a pain."
"And you're sick." Jason said pointedly. "We all have our drawbacks."
"Some more severe than others," Tim answered and locked eyes with Jason. The two held it, and then Jason started to chuckle and Tim cracked a grin. Before they knew it, both of them were laughing, Jason's head thrown back and Tim leaning over with his arms on his knees.
"You are such a pain," Tim said again, simply because there was nothing more he could say to Jason.
"But you need me," Jason pointed out with a grin.
Tim was smart enough to know that it was true.