Chapter 9


Tim hadn't realized how utterly spoiled he'd been having the endless resources provided by the Justice League for all the missions he'd been on throughout his life. Apparently, it wasn't normal to have access to transportation at the drop of a hat and arrangements had to be made beforehand.

Tim had been too used to having Bioship around, M'Gann's sentient ship from Mars. And Sphere, another sentient bit of Alien tech from New Genesis who could transform into a flying motorcycle for someone if she liked them… and she liked Tim.

But unfortunately, no one would understand why he'd have any need for Sphere if he was hibernating out at Stephanie Brown's apartment. And he couldn't just take her because he was sure that her absence wouldn't go unnoticed.

So, he waited. While Jason made phone calls and set up whatever the hell they needed to get from Gotham New Jersey all the way to Santa Prisca in the Northeastern Caribbean Islands, Tim packed (which took all of 5 minutes), prepped (another 20), planned (unnecessary, because he'd already planned all his next steps before even making the request in the first place), and sat on his hands.

It occurred to him that he should probably check his phone to make sure people weren't getting too suspicious of him. Scrolling through his messages, the highest offender on his text list was of course Dick Grayson. Dick had been adopted by Bruce Wayne shortly after the death of his parents and tended to see himself as a protective older brother of the growing Wayne vigilante family. That protectiveness had, of course, extended to Jason Todd after he'd been adopted.

Tim however, had declined Bruce's offer of adoption. Unlike his predecessors, he'd had a family at the start of his career as Robin. And even though they'd been absent for most of his life and probably didn't deserve his loyalty when they'd died two years ago… accepting the Wayne name in the aftermath felt like a betrayal.

Still, Tim and Dick had grown close in the eight years they'd known each other, so Tim wasn't entire surprised to find an absurd number of texts inquiring on his whereabouts and general state of health. Tim sent him a vague answer back that he was doing well, concussion abated, and that Steph's house was exactly what he needed to be away from everyone. He hoped that would at least curb some of the inquiries.

Bruce's text had been a little harder to stomach.

It's okay kid. This week then? Stephanie doesn't live too far away so let's all have breakfast sometime. I'm serious about those waffles.

Guilt clamped down on Tim's gut as he read that one. Stephanie still lived in Gotham, though on the farthest most southeast side. It was far enough away that it explained why he wouldn't be hanging around the Wayne Manor frequently, but not far enough that Bruce wouldn't notice the snub when Tim didn't come by.

Sorry Bruce! Can't this week. Let's try again soon, though. Waffles sound great.

That was the best he could do.

The next was a voicemail from Steph. She'd tried to call and, from her tone, was peeved that he hadn't picked up. But annoyance aside, she was kind enough to tell him that so far everyone seemed to buy the ruse that he was staying with her. It hadn't been hard to convince everyone. People seemed to think that he and Steph had a thing going, which was not only categorically false, but also categorically impossible.

It was safe to say that Tim was not in any way Stephanie Brown's flavor; something she'd confided in him during one particularly tedious stakeout mission that had them on bored out of their minds and inclined to share about their lives. That had been the night they grew close, back when they'd been on Batman's covert team together.

Tim knew that Steph wouldn't settle for some bullshit vague text, so he was actually honest with her when he wrote back,

Missed your call. Sorry about that, I'm on a night schedule. I've found a lead on what I've been working on. I have a partner, so not alone. If anything goes wrong my coordinates will be sent to you.

And another, Thanks for this.

Immediately after sending, dots popped up on his screen that Steph was writing back.

A partner? Who?

But he chose not to respond to that one.

Last, Tim scrolled through various texts from members of The Outsiders, none of which were anything of great import. Notably Cassie's name was absent from the list of names, making good on her promise that she wouldn't be reaching out to him anymore. Tim didn't like to admit to himself how much that hurt. Of anyone in the world, he knew Cassie the best, and suddenly not having her presence in his life felt like there was a gaping hole that had been ripped open. One that he had no way of repairing.

Not that he deserved to repair it anyways.

Suddenly, Tim heard the tell tale clomp of combat boots walking up the stairs. Outside his open door, Jason came up the stairwell. He'd already changed and was back to wearing his uniform, black leggings, black long-sleeve, and a red hooded tunic with gold trim overtop.

Tim had also changed into his stealth uniform; a vague resemblance to his regular outfit, though without the obvious R that stood for robin, and black where his normal one was red. His utility belt was black as well, and an older model at that. Tim hadn't been on a covert mission in awhile, so he hadn't needed to update it as regularly as his frequently used model. It was something he'd already reprimanded himself for multiple times over in the time that Jason had been securing transport.

"Got us a plane," Jason, unmasked, said at Tim's doorway. "We'll meet it the docks. You ready?" he jerked his head towards Tim's backpack where he'd stuffed a spare change of clothes and emergency essentials. Neither of them knew how long they'd be gone, so better to leave prepared.

Tim nodded. "As I'll ever be," he said as he hoisted his bag over his backpack and stood from his bed with a loud creak.

They decided to take their motorcycles.

Slowly, the garage door opened, allowing for the windblown rain to drift onto them. Together, they turned on their ignitions and walked their bikes up the steep but thankfully short driveway. They took off after that, wasting only a moment to nod to each other under helmets before Tim drove off first with Jason in tow.

Things were okay at first, but it quickly became annoying driving with Jason behind him. Tim tried to navigate Gotham's busy traffic, but his efforts were made harder whenever Jason would creep up behind him, unnervingly close, and rev his engine, as if demanding that Tim go faster. It was distracting, and nearly caused Tim to get in an accident a time or two.

"What does he want?" Tim mumbled under his helmet, quickly glancing over his shoulder, and hoping he was conveying an effective message for Jason to back the fuck up. Instead, at the next red light, Jason pulled up beside him.

Tim flipped up his visor and gestured angrily to him. "What the hell are you doing? You want to lead? Go right ahead!" he yelled, very narrowly avoiding the temptation to flip him the bird.

The empty expression of Jason's red motorcycle helmet just stared back at him. Strangely, he just turned away from Tim and looked straight ahead. The lights from the cross traffic reflected against his visor. Green…yellow…red…

Jason's motorbike roared off the crosswalk as soon as their own light hit green. Cursing under his breath, Tim flipped his visor down and took off after him with a screech of tires against asphalt. Jason was going at a totally unnecessary speed, dodging and weaving between the gridlocked traffic, and sometimes even onto the shoulder streets when necessary. Tim was a good 20 meters behind.

Fire flared in Tim's chest. His jaw set. Totally against his better judgement, he rolled his throttle, and burst forward with his bikes newfound speed. Tim quickly caught up to Jason and weaved his bike left, not wanting to be the same type of asshole as the other man by careening up directly behind him. Now side by side, Jason twitched his head in Tim's direction before accelerating his bike forward. Tim rolled his throttle more to keep up, this time speeding beyond Jason with a short-lived lift of his tire; a lead that was lost soon thereafter.

Jason. Tim. Jason. Tim. Their bikes raced forward un unspoken competition. Lights from Gotham's high rises glittered above them. Angry honks erupting like a song. A soft rain pattered across their backs and helmets and wetted the asphalt under their screeching tires, the danger posing no deterrent for their contest.

Tim knew the exact moment he'd lost. As soon as he got the first murky waft of Gotham's polluted harbor, a car abruptly pulled out in front of him to change lanes. Tim hissed, having to press down on both the front and rear brake simultaneously to avoid disaster. His bike's tires screamed in protest, edging closer to a skid than he ever wanted, but not quite as he slowed to a stop. Ahead of him, an ancient old lady laid on her horn with an angry toot.

Tim had avoided the near disaster… but that was little consolation when Jason took that moment to race ahead of him, howling his victory. Tim cursed as he accelerated again, slower this time and decidedly ignoring the pointed glares of the people in the cars he passed.

This time, as he approached the harbor, he had no need for stealth, so he just drove his bike all the way to the warehouse. Jason was already parked and waiting for him. His helmet was propped on his hip, and he looked at Tim with a haughty stare. Tim's fists clenched on the handlebars, knuckles surely white underneath his gloved hands.

"What took you so long, Timbers?" Jason crowed, no warmth in his eyes but clearly soaking up his victory for all its worth.

Tim took off his helmet. "I told you not to call me that," he snapped as he hopped off his bike, leading it towards the massive and familiar warehouse for storage.

Jason tsked. "Such poor sportsmanship," he said, following Tim as he led his own bike inside.

"You could have gotten us killed," Tim sneered at the man, who'd now caught up and was walking by his side with the bikes between them. As if the bikes would be enough to ever deter them if a fight broke out.

"Jesus, Drake," Jason's eyes rolled to his skull in what was becoming an annoyingly frequent gesture, "I didn't know you'd become so allergic to fun since I've been gone.

"Yeah, well, you've missed a lot," Tim muttered as he shoved his bike against the warehouse wall with a clang. The sound echoed against the walls of the warehouse which was decidedly emptier since the last time he'd been there. Whatever the al Ghul's had transported, they'd gone about it fast.

Jason carefully propped his bike against the wall beside Tim's. Shooting Tim a disdainful glare, he tilted his head, "'plane's this way. Let's go."

Tim walked behind the older boy, not wanting to say aloud what was humming through his thoughts.

Their race had been… fun. More fun than he'd had in a long time.

It had been a moment were he just stopped thinking about anything. It was just throttle, tires, and gas.

No thoughts of clones that sort-of-might-of come back from the dead to haunt him. No thoughts of a man who'd been like a brother to him, but was now ashes in the wake of kryptonite and fire. No thoughts fraying relationships with people who'd once trusted Tim implicitly, but he'd betrayed when he'd followed batman during the vigilante's abrupt resignation from the Justice League.

His friends said that it didn't matter. That they didn't resent him for the near seven months that he'd been lying to them, pulling strings with the "anti-Light" members, a secret organization that had been born out of Batman and other members of the Justice League's frustration with the Light's surging advances. A secret organization with a very select few members, of which, Robin was one.

His friends said they didn't resent him... But they didn't know how their faces changed when Tim walked into a room. The briefest mixture of suspicion and tension, before relaxing into a smile. One could argue that perhaps Tim was being oversensitive. That perhaps he was projecting his own insecurities onto his friends. That's at least what Black Canary had told him during one of their mandatory therapy sessions.

… too bad reading body language was Tim's thing. It made it a little harder for a therapist to give soft versions of the truth that even she didn't quite believe.

But for that one moment, racing through Gotham's streets with a man who, nine times out of ten, made Tim want to rip his hair out, he'd been able to forget all that. Instead, it had been him and the road… and the jackass who nearly killed him in his insufferable desire to win.

The two walked through the warehouse, the hard steps of their boots echoing against the walls. They eventually made it to a door in the far wall, the very same that Talia al Ghul had walked through the first night that they met.

It shouldn't have surprised Tim to see a well outfitted seaplane dock just beyond the door, but it did. It was common knowledge that the Gotham harbor was more often frequented by the city's criminals for their various import-exporting needs. But for the al Ghul's to be so established that they had their very own way in and out of the city. He wondered who exactly they'd paid off at Gotham's Air Traffic Control to set up this schtick.

The massive plane that floated at the end of the dock was equally as impressive. Clearly a military grade vehicle, Tim didn't doubt that the hunk of metal could cover 1,000 miles easily, nearly double that of the average water plane. No doubt its speed was just as impressive as it's gas mileage. Tim had only seen the planes it's equal in the Wayne Enterprise labs.

Tim knew there was only one person in the world who offered tech that rivaled Bruce Wayne's, and his thoughts once again soured that he would be partaking in transportation courtesy of Lex Luthor. The plane was likely one of the remaining remnants of al Ghul's alliance with the light before they parted ways.

Jason was light on his feet, clearly enjoying the action far more than Tim. He grabbed headphones and a leather jacket, pulling both on loosely as he jumped the short distance from dock to cockpit. The waves from the harbor's water lapped at his ankles as he jumped.

Tim paused, "Where's the pilot?" he asked, dread slithering up his spine that Jason was about to say what Tim thought he was about to say.

"I'm the pilot," Jason said contemptuously, not looking at Tim as he began flipping switches and speaking into the intercom of his headphones.

"You can't be serious," Tim's fingers were white as they gripped the strap of his backpack. His body took an involuntarily step back, feet thudding against the wooden dock . He suddenly recalled a distant memory of a reckless teenage Jason crashing Sphere into the side of Mount Justice. She never did like Jason after that mishap, and safe to say that Jason Todd was not trusted with large machinery by The Team thereafter.

"Fucking hell, Robin," Jason argued, using Tim's alias given the hot mic of his headphones, "Get in the damn cockpit. The plane flies itself. Just needs some assistance with the takeoff and landing bits."

That absolutely did not make Tim feeling any better, who was well versed in the knowledge that most fatal flight accidents happened during the ascent/descent portions of the flight.

But what choice did he have?

Totally against every survival instinct that screamed for Tim to turn back, he let out a frustrated groan and ran his hand roughly over his eyes before lifting himself up into the cockpit. He pointedly ignored the sardonic smile from the man next to him. Without a lot of leg space, he was forced to throw his bag into the empty cabin behind him. He fastened his seatbelt across his chest and gave it a tug for good measure.

Jason drove the plane away from the dock, Tim's stomach cresting and falling with every wave underneath them. Once safely away from the dock, Jason clicked an ominously red button, subsequently setting the propellers spinning at dizzying speeds. Then, just as they crested their final wave, Jason pushed the throttle forward and the plane began to accelerate. Faster, faster, over, and off of the water.

Tim had never gripped his chair so hard in his life. Jason, it seemed, was an adequate pilot, and it didn't take long for them to rise high to the level of Gotham's tallest skyscrapers, and beyond. Tim had the morbid curiosity to look out the window and see the Gothamites disappear into specks beneath him, but then he remembered it was Jason piloting, and that snuffed out all curiosity thereafter.

Eventually they seemed to reach an acceptable height and the plane leveled out. Jason spoke into his com a few more moments, establishing planned course and estimated time of arrival. No doubt speaking to an air traffic controller who would pass along the message to others within their network to keep other aircraft the hell out of their way.

"Signing off." With one final flip of a switch, the plane transitioned to autopilot and Jason took off the headset. "See?" he said, having to speak slightly louder to be heard over the planes whirring hum, "Told you there was nothing to it."

Tim finally relaxed. The strained tension of his muscles loosened. Tim had seen LexCorp's distinct logo when he'd climbed into the plane. And while Tim couldn't trust the man as far as he could throw him, at least he could count on the Luthor's tech being good. Tim would take automated technologies over human error any day… especially when the driver of those possible errors was Jason Todd.

He didn't go so far as to unbuckle the seatbelt across his chest, but he loosened it considerably. Tim turned his body in the extra wide chair so that it was settled more comfortably. He stretched his legs out, pleased that he wouldn't be cooped up for the rest of the four-hour flight.

At the rate they were going… make that three.

Jason had also taken the liberty of getting more comfortable. He'd chosen to take off his seatbelt and was lying totally horizontal in the chair, his feet propped up on the side, his hands clasped over his abdomen. He looked at Tim questioningly, his dark eyebrows quirked in an expression so distinctive and so reminiscent of a Jason that Tim had known long ago.

"So, what's the game plan here?" he asked

It somewhat humored Tim that the man had been so quick to jump on the chance to escape the safe house for action. He'd never even asked why Tim wanted to go to Santa Prisca, a Caribbean Island northeast of Puerto Rico, and current home of the League of Shadows. Tim wondered how exactly he'd even been able to convince Talia of this pursuit with no real facts behind the reasoning.

It only made Tim more suspicious. What exactly was Talia looking for? What secret weapon had the al Ghuls been hiding all these years?

He angled himself so he was facing Jason more head on. "I'm not as convinced as Talia that The Shadows aren't involved in this," Tim said, wishing he could turn on his watch so it could project some of the key leads that he'd come across in his data search. But turning on the watch would immediately ping his location to Oracle. Helpful, if things became disastrous. But not before then.

Dark eyebrows knitted together, "'Cause of Shade? Sure, he used to be part of the Shadows. But he was more of Cheshire's man than anyone else. When she left, he left. I can't imagine him sticking around for anyone else," Jason shook his head. "More likely he's tied himself to some member of The Light. Someone like Queen Bee. She and Cheshire share a similar vibe."

Tim disagreed, and he told Jason so. Cheshire, also known as Jade Nguyen, was Artemis's troubled older sister who'd long slipped back into criminal antics, much to her sister's distress. Tim explained his reasoning, noting that Cheshire was nothing like Bee. Cheshire was ruthless, a trained killer who enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse with her victims. But she was also surprisingly human, plagued by insecurities, demons, and a fierce protectiveness that kept her from living happily with those who loved her.

Queen Bee on the other hand was cold, cruel, all business all the time, and an absolute force on the political front. Tim was both impressed and terrified by the power she'd attained through sheer iron-will. No… Bee wasn't who Shade would choose.

Shade was quite literally a shadow, and Tim had always had a running theory that the criminal liked to align himself with people who reminded him of they way he used to be, the man before his meta human transition. No, far more likely than Bee, Shade would trail behind someone like Cheshire. A man who also enjoyed a good hunt. A man who liked to taunt his pray before devouring it. A man who also shared a sardonic wit. A man like,

"—Deathstroke," Tim said, "He likes to collect people. He's desperate to establish himself within The Light… if he hasn't done so already. And for that he needs underlings. I've briefly seen interactions between him and Cheshire, they're similar. And he has ambition. Shade would be attracted to that, and Deathstroke would take him in no question."

Jason just stared at Tim for a moment, his eyes betraying an emotion that looked somewhat close to… impressed? "You just came up with all that shit just from your search this morning? Fuck," he finally exclaimed as he ran his hand through his messy hair and rested them behind his head. "It's so freaky how you read people like that."

Incredible how praise devolved into insult so quickly. Tim glowered. He wished he hadn't said anything at all. It was all conjecture at this point. And he usually didn't share his conjectures until he had either absolute facts or reasonable probability to back it up.

"I'm serious, man," Jason said as lowered his legs from the chairs side and stretched them out on the metal floor. He leaned into the cushioned back of the chair. "What does your freaky reader senses tell you about me?" he looked at Tim suspiciously. His grey eyes flashed.

"Nothing," Tim answered. And it was the truth. This Jason was so hard for him to read. Jason Todd always had been, even before… But at least at that time Tim had been able to pick him apart eventually. Understand the hurt beneath the sharpness, the fear behind the meanness.

But now… Tim knew nothing about this person who called himself Jason Todd. And so far, their forced proximity had brought him no closer to figuring him out.

"Huh," Jason said, a satisfied smirk on his face that Tim wanted to wipe clean off. "Good."

Tim rolled his eyes, unable to look at that shit-eating grin for one more second.

"Well Timmy," Jason spread his muscled arms in an exaggerated stretch, a yawn betraying his true tiredness. "I'm going to get some sleep. Wake me up if anything starts beeping." He tipped his chair back far enough that he was near horizontal.

Tim looked at him incredulously. Jason was going to sleep in front of him? Weren't they enemies? Did enemies sleep in front of each other? Only a day ago they'd been at each other's throats. Delivering deadly blows that would have killed anyone who wasn't them.

"You know I could kill you in your sleep, right?" Tim said, still unbelieving that he was staring at a vulnerable Jason who had his eyes closed for fucks sake.

"Pffft," Jason snorted. A grey eye peeked open and looked at Tim like he was being ridiculous. "Don't make me laugh. One, I'm pretty sure you have some hideously rigid moral compass that you base your whole personality on. And two," he smirked, his eyes closing once again, "You can't kill me because you haven't figured me out yet. And everyone knows that the Great Timothy Drake can't leave a puzzle unsolved," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Without waiting for Tim's angry retort, Jason pulled out some earbuds and stuffed them in his ears, leaving Tim to simmer in anger. It didn't take long for Jason's breaths to even out. And when Tim did finally look over at him, Jason was fast asleep. Unguarded. Totally vulnerable.

Tim stared at him for a moment before turning towards his own thoughts.

He lost track of time as he replayed the mission over and over in his head, working out any kinks or flaws that may hinder their objective. Thinking through every possible outcome he could come up with, and then three steps after.

So lost in thought, he hardly noticed when things started going wrong.

The breathing alerted him first. What were once long and steady breaths became shallow and fast. Short little gasps of air that were just noticeable enough over the machinery. Tim turned to the sleeping man.

Jason's body was rigid. His eyes darted wildly beneath his clamped eyelids. His mouth was set in a grimace like he was in pain. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his forehead was creased with tense wrinkles. His breaths came short and fast between clenched lips.

"Hey," Tim said, not quietly.

The man didn't answer. Instead, his body started to jerk and from his mouth came wounded noises, so terrible that they scraped the inside of Tim's skull, indelible in his memory.

"Hey!" Tim yelled louder. When he still got no answer, he wadded a page of nearby flight notepad and threw it harmlessly at Jason.

At contact, Jason shot up from his chair with a roar. He crashed into the cockpit's dashboard, not even caring as his body pressed down on an innumerable number of switches and levers. The plane shuddered around them. A warning siren blared.

"THE HELL ARE YOU—" Tim's shout died in his throat as the heaving man turned towards him.

Jason's eyes… they were green.

A/N What do you all think so far? I hope you're having as much fun as I am. This chapter right here really gets into the heart of why I wanted to write Tim's story. In the YJ universe, we never really get to know this Tim. Many of his most well known great qualities are given to Dick (whom we still love for it!) But what we're left with is a quiet, serious, analytical version of Tim. Where his friends are his whole world and he is happy to be left painting the background of their more colorful personalities. I always wondered how Tim felt during Season 3, leaving his friends (who were his everything) because of his loyalty to Batman. How the lingering hurt from that choice would impact him, and what... or who, exactly it would take to help him heal. Anyways... I digress, but I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you're in the giving mood, I'd love to know your thoughts!