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Chapter 6

Liar

Jason slipped silently in through the window, breathing in the darkness of the room on the other side. With the exception of the day he'd found Tim, he hadn't been near the manor in years, and it bothered him only slightly that Alfred might have left the window unlocked expecting him. It never failed to surprise him how well the old man could predict the movements of the members of the household. Even somewhat estranged ones.

Some little noise drew his attention to the bed and the muss of black hair stark against the pillows. Tim stirred restlessly, caught in the throes of fitful sleep. Exhaustion had carved out hollows under those shuttered eyes. Not that Jason cared.

He didn't care whether the kid lived or died. Bruce had him now, it wasn't Jason's problem, but… something about their last encounter had been bothering him. He could still see the thoughtful tilt of blue eyes, talking like they'd spent years together instead of a couple hours aggravating each other. That was why he was sneaking into the manor while Bruce was out. Not because he wanted to see the kid again or anything.

Looking like Timothy was one thing. Talking like him, knowing things only Timothy would know, was a completely different dysfunction. It had happened twice now, and while the first time might have been happenstance—easily overlooked, easily put aside, even imagined—twice… Twice felt contrived.

What had brought those instances on anyway? Had he pushed the kid too far? Because he couldn't help but wonder, if he pushed a little further…

Jason considered, stepping toward the disheveled figure on the bed, only to be brought up short by a sudden shadow in the doorway

"Jason?" Dick sounded surprised.

Well, dang. He'd hoped Dick and Damian would be out on patrol covering Bruce's absence, leaving him some quality time with the little interloper, maybe ask some of his own questions. He should have known they wouldn't leave Tim unguarded, not even for patrol.

Jason turned to face him, only to find Dick grinning. Jason frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dick held up his hands placatingly, but he wore that you-do-care, knowing smile that made Jason want to turn around and walk right back out.

"I'm here for information," he snapped. "What's the deal with the kid?" Because they both knew there was no way Bruce was going to just let the kid go. Nearly frying the kid's brain that first night wouldn't have been good enough, oh no. He wouldn't rest until he knew what was really going on.

"Because you have no interest in looking in on a certain new resident at the manor," Dick teased. Jason ignored it. This was serious.

"There's something wrong about him."

Dick hummed, unperturbed, and sat down on the corner of Tim's bed, managing to make a painfully cross-legged pose look lazy and effortless.

"The fact that he looks like Timothy or the fact that he gets under your skin?"

Jason waved the other boy's comment aside. "You've noticed it. I know you have. The way he slips out things he shouldn't know."

"He's Timothy."

"No. He's the universe's idea of screwing us over maybe, but he's not Timothy. "

"Hypothetically then," Dick replied, reaching out to pet back stray strands of black hair from Tim's face. "What if he is Timothy and he just needs our help?" Jason followed that gesture to the boy on the bed, lying there so unsuspectingly, helplessly tangled in troubled sleep. He caught himself wondering absently why the kid wasn't sleeping well. It didn't matter.

"I don't accept replacement models for the people I care about." He meant it as a barb, but this was Dick, who saw through people, who saw through his family more easily still. Dick's smile was kind.

"It's okay to care about him."

Something in Jason's throat tightened. His frown turned sour. Obviously he wasn't getting anywhere with Dick.

"You know what, good luck with the kid." He turned—he'd done his duty, he'd warned them, he didn't have to stick around for this—but Dick had other ideas, arms wrapping around him from behind.

"No, wait. Please stay."

"Why?"

"Didn't you want to talk to him? Find out for yourself?" The idea didn't hold the same appeal anymore. Jason kept walking, now dragging Dick, whose attempt to weigh him down was only meeting with minimal success. "Come on, Jason. We hardly ever see you."

"Let go."

"Never!" Dick proclaimed somewhere between Jason's shoulder blades, proceeding to cling on tighter. Jason cursed as they went down, knocking into a small end table and sending the lamp perched thereon careening toward the floor. Jason was too busy trying to extricate his legs from Dick's death grip of love to notice.

"You darn limpet, get off!" He was also too preoccupied to notice when the noise woke up the third occupant in the room. So the pillow that whistled by an inch in front of his nose was something of a surprise. They both turned simultaneously to look at Tim, who was sitting up in bed, arms crossed, glowering unhappily.

"Ah," Dick whispered conspiratorially in the momentary silence, "you woke him up."

"Whose fault was that?" Jason asked, indignant, seriously considering smothering the other boy with the pillow. Not that it would help.

"Both of you! Ugh, it's the middle of the–" A huge yawn split the sentence. Jason smirked. "–night! Some people in this household actually need sleep!" Tim stopped mid-rant with a surprised blink at the open window. Then he rounded on Jason suspiciously. "How did you get into the room?"

"The window," Jason replied, unabashed, raising one eyebrow archly. Tim chucked another pillow at him, which Jason caught one-handed. Dick was quietly laughing; Jason could feel it.

"You!" Tim said, undeterred, pointing imperiously at Jason, "knock like a normal person!" Dick's silent laughter only redoubled at that. Jason hit him over the head with the pillow.

Unfortunately, at that moment a sudden beeping echoed up through the foundation, and Dick's head jerked up to listen, mirth instantly dying.

"Sounds like trouble," Jason said.

"What is it?" Tim looked between them curiously, unable to hear the incessant beeping through the walls.

"It's the signal." Dick looked at Jason pointedly. "You coming?" Jason hadn't come there to get caught up in their work like it was suddenly old times and everyone was happy and alive, but…

Sometimes he wondered if Dick's powers of persuasion worked on him too, because somehow Dick always managed to talk him into things. He'd been distant with them since Timothy's death and he hadn't planned on any awkward family reunions. There was no way to avoid them now.

Dick swept Tim up in his arms so they could get down to the batcave faster, and Jason found himself following.

Damian was already waiting for them, standing by the computer in nothing but a red shirt and gray sweatpants. He had grounded-from-patrol written all over him, from the frustrated fold of his arms to the almost-sulk of his mouth. Jason's day got a little brighter.

"Grayson, I demand you see sense and take me with you," Damian followed as Dick whisked past him to look into the situation and turn off the alarm. "You may need my expertise."

"Sorry, Dami, you can monitor form the cave. Someone else will have to do." Dick looked at Jason questioningly, but Jason shook his head.

"This is your thing. You don't need me. Besides, I need to hunt."

"The barbarian?!" Damian demanded at the same time, outraged. "He'd as soon stab you in the back!" But Dick held up a hand impatiently, gaze never wavering.

"Jay…" That soft, sad tone was definitely the prelude to something mushy and sentimental. "We've never stopped needing you. Won't you come with us?"

Jason grinned a sharp, menacing baring of teeth.

"I don't think so."

Dick's eyes held his for another second, frustrated. Time was short for arguing the point and he knew it. Jason had won.

"Come on, Tim…" Dick started to reach for Tim, but the kid cut him off.

"I want to go with Jason."

Judging from the sudden silence, Jason wasn't the only one thinking he'd heard that wrong. He'd nearly killed the kid once already. There was no way Tim wanted anything to do with him. So he'd definitely heard it wrong. The fact that he had abnormally acute hearing be damned.

"What?" he asked, stupidly.

"I want to go with you," Tim repeated, arms crossed. Even Dick looked worried now. Jason was about to let slip another, still-dazed, "What?" determined that there was something wrong with his hearing, and if he repeated the question enough times he'd eventually get the right answer, but luckily Dick saved him the humiliation.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go with…"

"I'm sure." Not even a second's hesitation. This was getting them nowhere. Jason shook himself out of his dumbfounded daze.

"No." He glared coldly at the kid, his very best, fiercest glare—the one that scared drug lords straight. Too bad it didn't seem to affect Tim at all. The kid merely tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Please?"

"No. You're a darn nuisance, kid. You aren't coming with."

"It would be good for you to spend time with him." Dick was suddenly thoughtful and Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing. Worse, Damian seemed to approve, his face lighting with vicious satisfaction.

"Think of the family bonding, Todd." What a smug smirk the little git wore.

Jason shot him a withering glare, growling.

"Get another babysitter."

"Without Damian, I'll be busy. It'll be hard to keep an eye on Timothy." Dick put a hand on his arm, and how had it come to this? He should never have come back to the manor. Between the kid's bright eyes watching him hopefully and the gentle pressure of Dick's hand connecting them… "Please, Jay. There's no one better qualified to protect him."

How was he supposed to say no?

"I hate all of you."

Babysitting.

Jason hated babysitting.

It was one more person to watch out for. One more person to carry around. One more person dragging him down.

He was a solo act. A one-man show. He didn't do partners. Not since… He growled rather than finish the thought.

He'd wanted to talk to the kid, sure. A nice chat, maybe some threatening, a few poignant questions. Dick had set him up for life. Yes, this was all Dick's fault. Dick had saddled him with the kid intentionally. If Dick was so sure about the kid, why wasn't he–

Jason paused, caught off guard by some little head tilt—that was new, Timothy had never…

Jason shook his head. He was going to get Dick back for this. Someway, somehow, he was going to get him back.

Right just then he had to take this situation under control before the kid started thinking he was a pushover.

"Look, you might have the others fooled, but not me. You're not Timothy."

"Of course not. Isn't that what I've been saying all along?"

"If it were up to me, I'd have killed you on sight." The kid was definitely not taking him seriously enough.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He grinned. He actually grinned. Jason felt that dumbfounded daze coming on again and shook it off. The kid was hopeless.

"Just stay out of my way." He stalked off ahead, leaving Tim to hurry after him.

He didn't need to look back to keep an eye on the kid. He could tell exactly how far apart they were without trying. It was the little sounds: the pad of soft feet on pavement, the sigh of cotton against a garbage can, the rhythmic beat of his heart. Not that Tim was noisy—in comparison, he was nearly silent—but to Jason's acute perception, everything about the kid gave him away.

The dark and the dank warmth of the streets closed around them, and they settled into a semi-comfortable pattern. The kid didn't pester him with conversation attempts, and Jason never darted too far ahead. Never far enough that Tim couldn't catch up.

It didn't take more than half an hour for Jason to realize something was bothering him. Something about… there itwas… the way the kid kept unconsciously tugging his collar back up. Anyone else Jason would have said was nervous around him, but Tim seemed perfectly content trailing along at his side, just observing. The kid had only been truly afraid of him that first time. So if not fear, then what…

This new gesture was only the latest in a long list of things that bothered him about Tim though. It was the way he sometimes seemed surprised, attention turned inward in the middle of a conversation, or the way he'd sometimes say something he shouldn't know anything about, all while wearing the most distant expression.

Jason wasn't used to humans making him feel uncomfortable. He didn't like it one bit.

Sudden commotion around the corner ahead jerked him out of his thoughts. Something to distract him. Just what he needed.

"Stay here." He motioned Tim to stay back before slipping ahead to sort out the disturbance.

His senses told him more than he needed to know before he ever hit the scene. There were five distinctive heartbeats, one pitched high and quick in fear. They were all clustered together close up against the building on the right judging by the way their voices echoed.

Then he rounded the final corner separating them and they all came into sight just where he'd pictured them: three boys and a girl circled around the fifth, a man, pressing him back against a dirty green door, demanding he open it. Jason got there just as the man found his key, catching the girl and the slighter of the boys by the collar, throwing them against the far wall. The others stumbled back, one swearing loudly. Jason grinned maniacally, all teeth, and the remaining two turned and ran in opposite directions, the dull thunk of a knife fallen from nerveless fingers following them.

There were some aspects of this job he'd never get tired of.

Maybe he didn't have the same effect as Bruce. Maybe they didn't dissolve into helpless lumps when he glared at them or spend the next month babbling incoherently, but he did well enough.

"Get out of here," he growled at the man by the door. The man didn't have to be told twice—he swiped up the key he'd dropped and bolted. That taken care of, Jason turned his attention toward the ones who'd escaped, stalking after one set of the fleeing footsteps he could still hear just fine, the desperate song of blood through that heart.

Right up until the footsteps cut short with a clatter and soft whumph from around the next corner.

He cursed. Tim. Of course. Why had he ever thought the kid would play it smart and keep himself out of trouble? This was why he hadn't wanted to take Tim along. It was just begging for liability issues.

He rushed around the corner, frustration becoming an angry rant in his head.

Was it his fault if the kid had a death wish? Got himself killed? Dick couldn't blame him for that, could he? Because it would be a nuisance if he had to go through another fifty years of not talking to his family.

The furious tirade of his thoughts came to an abrupt end when he rounded the corner to find his broken-nosed quarry disarmed and apparently knocked out, lying sprawled on the street. Tim stood crouched over him, unharmed but tensed like a cat caught in the light. There was an angry rebuke on the tip of Jason's tongue, something like, "Do you ignore everyone's directions or just mine?" but Tim wasn't looking at him. He was staring intently into a patch of shadows by a dumpster. Jason followed that gaze.

He knew the sounds the silence made, knew the way the shadows lay when undisturbed. There was something off. It was the same feeling he'd had when he'd found Tim on the roof watching Dick and Damian below. But if there'd been anyone, he would have known. No one could hide from him. Especially not in the shadows.

"What's wrong?" The way the kid was focused, he'd obviously noticed something too. At the sound of Jason's voice those blue eyes flicked toward him, startled.

"Nothing."

He hated being lied to.

It only took a second to cross the distance and haul the kid up by his shoulder, forcing him onto his toes. Jason enjoyed the mmph sound the sudden displacement jarred out of Tim. Disgruntled blue eyes slid to meet his glare as if to ask, "Was there something you wanted?" The kid had spunk.

"I could make you tell me."

"You could." Tim didn't even blink. "But I didn't think you were as cheap as that." Jason released him, disgusted. Everything about the kid had a way of putting him off, a way of getting under his skin like no one else could.

Maybe not no one else.

"Congratulations. You've finally become Timothy."

Lips pressed together tightly, he stepped back into the shadows, ignoring the "Jason!" shouted after him, turned and slipped ahead again, hunting. Letting his rage seep out in the stalking of his footsteps hard against the ground, in the thrill of anticipation—a safer direction than confronting the kid. It was bad being around him right now anyway. His hunger had grown, exasperated by the excitement earlier, and Tim made too tempting of a target.

He didn't go far. He'd promised Dick he'd keep an eye on the kid after all—well, an ear would have to do right now. So, irritably, he let awareness of the kid tether him to a certain circumference.

It didn't take long to find the boy who'd run the other direction earlier, sweep him swiftly into the shadows.

The age was close, and the hair black, even if he was dirty and had crooked teeth. Beneath Jason's arm, the boy was pudgy. Not like the kid he'd left momentarily behind to fend for himself. Tim would have been all lean muscle. The thought was only further frustrating. When Jason smiled at him, all teeth, the boy started babbling irritatingly, and since when had that started bothering him?

Since he'd run across a kid in a red jacket who had stared silently back. Dispassionately, he banished the thought of disappointed blue eyes from his mind in favor of the welcoming thrum of blood from the whimpering boy he'd caught. Unfortunately, it was about to become harder to block them out.

"Are you going to kill him?" Of course Tim came after him. The kid practically had a homing sensor. Jason ignored him, leaning toward his catch, only to pause when a hand caught at the sleeve of his jacket beseechingly. "Please."

Jason bristled.

"Are you going to take his place?" He said it more to get the kid off his case. He definitely hadn't meant it as a serious option. But as Tim stepped forward, staring up at him with those bold blue eyes, daring him, Jason realized the kid was going to call his bluff, cornering him into letting the terrified boy in his arms go. That was fine. The boy had been too greasy, too frightened to make a realistic substitute. Jason let him go, let him run, attention already shifted to a more suitable replacement.

Tim was more interesting. It had been awhile since he'd found someone who would stand up to him.

Jason wondered how long that would last. Would Tim's will hold out if Jason pressed him?

Tim dragged in a bracing breath when Jason reached out, fingers hooking in the hollow behind his clavicle to jerk him unceremoniously closer. No matter what bravado he pretended, Jason could feel the lie, could feel the nervousness in the fingers slowly fisting in his jacket for support. He had to know this wasn't going to be like before, when Jason had bitten him briefly to see how deep the illusion of Timothy went. He had to know this was for real. But he wasn't backing out. His fingers tightened faintly as Jason leaned closer, a hand curling around the back of his neck, tilting his head with the slight pressure of fingertips. There was resistance there—a slight hesitation before yielding. Good, let the kid realize what he'd sacrificed. Maybe he'd think twice next time.

With his fingers against that soft throat, Jason could feel the pulse, strong and steady. He could hear the thrum of blood under the surface, could hear the quickening of it—that seductive beating—as his lips whispered over the skin. He could feel the tensing of muscles, especially where his other hand rested, fingers scraping at the faint hollows between ribs—the most careful of bars to keep him in place.

For the first time, it was perfect. There was no flaw. Not in the grace or power of movement, or the wispy black hair or sharp blue eyes. Not even, he knew, in the clever mind behind that exterior, the inclination to solve everything alone, to face problems head on and overcome them. If he bit through that careful covering of skin, he knew the boy would taste like Timothy too. The illusion was perfect. Too perfect.

He fought briefly with the ache—worse in that moment with Tim willingly pressed against him than usual—urging him to bite down, to tear through the thin veneer of skin offered so trustingly and pull the blood out he needed. He fought it, because he couldn't do it. Not like this: bare and stark with nothing but pain between them, pain making the kid's body seize against him—even if maybe Tim deserved it for lying—because the kid might never look at him the same again, might never trust him the same again, and that was too much to lose. He could've enthralled Tim, could've taken away the sting and replaced it with blissful languor, but that… Jason hadn't done that since Timothy.

So the joke was on him. He knew what he was letting go, and he couldn't do it. Not to Tim.

It had nothing to do with how much Tim reminded him of Timothy—and if he was honest, it felt like Timothy all the time: watching him from Tim's evaluating gaze, telling him off with Tim's voice, leaning against him with Tim's body. Maybe the similarities had made it a little easier to accept Tim. That was all. Maybe it was that streak of bravery in the face of his own vulnerability, but somehow, the kid had come to hold his own place in Jason's good graces despite the odds.

That was definitely Dick's doing too.

He huffed out a soundless laugh against pale skin—at himself, but Tim didn't need to know that.

"Come back when you're serious, kid." He intended to push the kid away, knock some sense into him, but at the last second, something caught his attention. Where his fingers had slid under the collar of Tim's turtleneck, pushing it down to rest against the pulse point, there were faint black smudges, and he ended up yanking the kid closer instead, frowning.

"What… is this?" Jason touched the trace of… lettering? It definitely looked like lettering, like the fine scrawl of a pen. Tim froze at the feathering of fingers, eyes wide, only to jerk suddenly when Jason reached to see more.

"Don't!" He struggled, trying to knock Jason's arm away and cover the incriminating marks. Jason's interest only deepened, closing in on the kid mercilessly. After everything else, this was what he chose to fight? The invasion of his privacy? Well, it was no use. Words couldn't get him out of this and he was no match physically. Jason snagged his arm, dragging him over to a stack of crates. It took little effort to bend the kid back over one of the dirty wooden containers, hair mussed in the filth and snagging on the rotten boards, an arm across his chest to keep him there. He jerked Tim's shirt up, heedless of the renewed escape efforts this produced or angry demands to be released, baring that fair skin. Or what should have been fair skin. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't the trails of black script scrawled across the kid's side and chest, thinning into indecipherability in inky tendrils along his throat. The skin fairly bled black. Reaching out, Jason brushed fingertips over rows of ribs now lined with intricate circles and strokes, unmindful of the way Tim squirmed under his assessing gaze. He followed the scrawl up over the heart he could feel just under the inky-black skin.

Seeing the kid marked this way, Jason felt the slow, familiar burn of anger welling up inside him. Anger at the blatant threat against someone under his protection—even if it had only been a minute ago he'd decided to extend that protection, no one marked one of his family this way and kept all their limbs afterward—anger at the realization: this was what Tim had been trying to hide.

Didn't he realize how important he was? Didn't he realize how upset everyone would be if anything happened to him? He hadn't seen Dick smile so often as in the last couple days. Even Bruce's dark mood seemed lighter. Tim had brought them together again—unified them in a way nothing else could. They'd all been going out of their way to keep an eye on the kid, and here he was taking stupid, unnecessary risks. Of all the idiotic… Jason didn't realize how upset he'd become until Tim gasped painfully.

"Jay–" The kid's chest heaved against the restraining arm holding him down, crushingly heavy. The edge of the wooden crate was probably digging into his back too. Jason pulled him up, throwing him over his shoulder instead, ignoring the angry protests that ensued. It was downright charitable of him, considering just then he wanted to shake the boy until he decided to start being honest.

"I'm taking you back to the others. Now."

Tim had thought clinging to Dick's back while jumping rooftops had been a terrible way to travel, but it was nothing to hanging upside down over Jason's shoulder like luggage. By the time they reached the cave, Tim had tried everything to get free and been reduced to glaring holes in the back of the other boy's jacket.

For a minute, Tim thought the cave was empty, that he'd lucked out and the others weren't back yet. Maybe Jason wouldn't want to wait around for them. Maybe he could get away with only Jason, maybe Damian knowing. But there was no such luck for him that night. Jason turned just right and Tim could see Dick moving into view.

The older boy blinked as they came in, taking in Tim's over-the-shoulder position.

"Surely he couldn't have ticked you off that quickly?" But then he caught Jason's expression and his amusement died. "What happened?"

"Bruce!" Jason shouted, ignoring Dick. "I know you're back too! Get in here!"

"Jason, put me down." When the desired response was not forthcoming, he thumped the older boy in the back. "I mean it. I'm going to be sick." At that, Jason finally dropped him, dumping him unceremoniously on the hood of one of the automobiles. No sooner had he set Tim down than the older boy put a hand on his chest, pinning him in place, sprawled out over gleaming black metal.

"Uh-uh. You're not going anywhere."

Tim knew he couldn't throw Jason off—couldn't even remove the other boy's hand from his chest. All that was left was reason.

"Please, Jason. Don't." But Jason was done reasoning.

"No. You don't get a choice anymore."

"What are you doing?" Dick sounded angrier now. He didn't know what was going on, but he could tell that Tim was upset, half panicked, and he didn't like it. For a second, Tim considered using that—using Dick's protectiveness of him to get Jason off him—but it wouldn't do any good in the end.

Damian was the first to appear, stepping out of the doorway with a visible twitch upon seeing the scene before him.

"In the future, Todd, you will refrain from contaminating the machines with your lascivious displays. I just cleaned those."

"What's going on?" Bruce was only moments behind. The sound of that voice sent a shiver down Tim's spine. Something about the man's presence always affected a room like the promise of pain, the fever-hot rush of fear. This time it might have had something to do with the knowledge that all Tim's secrets were about to be bared before the man. His secrets were the only thing left protecting him—the little web of lies keeping him safe from their judgments, their control. And they were about to be stripped away.

"You need to see this." Jason snagged an arm around his waist, pulling him struggling onto his lap. Not that Tim stood a chance, but he fought anyway. He fought it the entire way down, digging fingers sharply into the arm Jason used to bend him back, pulling him into a taut arc over one knee until there was no more give in strained muscles and he thought he would break if forced another inch. Sharp pain blossomed along his tailbone from the irregular angle, an electric current along the bowed curve of his spine. He strained for each tight, sharp breath against the too-tight cage of his ribs. But it was the helplessness that burned the worst. There was nothing he could do to stop what he knew was coming.

All too soon, Jason's free hand found the flat plane of his abdomen—Tim jerked at the scrape of fingers dragging his shirt up for the second time that night, revealing the black starburst staining his side for everyone to see. Angry tears stung the corners of his eyes, quickly crushed between black lashes. Even if it had only been a matter of time until someone noticed—he couldn't have hidden it much longer—that didn't mean he wanted everyone to find out like this. Not like this, with Jason stripping him like some sort of display. His fingers curled into fists.

"Let go of me." Tim couldn't look at them. He didn't want to see the revulsion and pity in so many pairs of blue eyes.

He nearly jumped when Dick settled beside them on the fender, one hand pressing against his chest, skimming the marks there. Dick, who had to feel everything, touch everything to verify it.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

He'd expected pity or disgust, but there was only protectiveness, defensive anger. That knowledge didn't diminish the sting.

"I'm not your problem." Maybe he'd spent too long taking care of himself to rely on anyone else so easily. Maybe it was just hard to relinquish what little control he still had. For too long he'd been the only one he could rely on. He didn't need sympathy help now.

When Jason still hadn't released him, Tim twisted, jerking hard against the other boy's restraining grip so that Jason had to let go or let him dislocate his shoulders. Predictably, he let go. Dick reached out, but Tim backed away and Dick's hand dropped.

"We just want to help."

"I was working on it," Tim told him flatly, unhappily. "I don't need your help." Jason threw his hands in the air.

"Yeah, you and Timothy both, and now he's dead!"

Something finally snapped in Tim at that. It was just all suddenly too much: the markings, the voices, the déjà vu, the pressure of being someone he wasn't, of hiding too much, of having everything revealed too suddenly. He wasn't going to take their criticism on top of it.

"Stop comparing us! I'm not Timothy! I don't want to have anything to do with him!" He took a deep breath. "You want me to trust you and tell you everything, but I don't even know you! You try to kill me, kidnap me instead, and you have the audacity to complain that I don't tell you everything?" Jason looked like he wanted to say something, but Tim continued and Jason's mouth clicked closed. "This only started when you showed up." His shoulders sagged, the defensiveness burned up, replaced by weariness. "I wish I'd never met you." No one seemed to have anything to say to that. Dick looked hurt, Jason mad. Neither spoke up.

Instead, it was Bruce's calm tone that finally broke the silence.

"Do you even know what this is?"

"I've looked through every world language," he finally admitted, "but these letters don't exist."

"They aren't letters. This isn't a language." Bruce's mouth thinned, if that were possible.

"This is a curse."

Author Notes: Sorry, Tim! It had to be done. If only this entire family wasn't so determined to fix their problems on their own. But on the bright side, I think we're slowly unraveling the character flaw I gave Jason. Did you notice that? Also, as I told my friend, I couldn't keep Dick from dissolving into a bit of a goofball in the opening scene. He does this to me all the time, like he tries to throw himself on Tim and hug him to death, and I'm like, Would you stop that, I'm trying to write a story here!

Now you know what the marks are. More answers next chapter, which sadly is going to take me awhile to release, I can already tell. I'm actually kind of worried about this one scene, which through no fault of the characters involved therein got a little touchy-feely, and while I have no compunctions about the use of intimate character interaction, I try not to cross into intimacy. I'll have to ask my beta if I need to dial it down. (I'm working with sexy vampires, I guess I was doomed to run into this problem eventually) Out of curiosity, how many of you read slash versus how many only read het?

I tend to think the antagonist in this story is easily identifiable, despite the fact that I really haven't given that many clues. How many people think they know who it is? Asking, because next chapter will reveal what's been stalking Tim, and I think it will push people to lean toward a certain villain.

Wow, I just wanted to say I was really surprised by the number of people who responded to my question last chapter, and I was so excited to see so many Tim fans. That was awesome!