AN: *singing absentmindedly to myself* These characters refuse to do what I tell them to do! Now my story plan needs review! Do do dooo!
Now the math worked out more clearly.
Red Hood was Jason Todd. More to the point, Jason Todd was Red Hood.
Tim's thoughts took flight, speeding around and around him. Jason hadn't died? But no, Red Hood had just said that Robin's heart stopped at the hands of the Joker. So Jason had died, but then he had come back to life.
Somehow, though, that wasn't the most confusing part of the equation.
Most things made sense once Tim factored in that Jason Todd was Red Hood. After all, Jason had died basically in Batman's arms, of course Jason might have some issues to work through with Batman now. After all, Jason had always had a protective streak, especially for those in Crime Alley, of course he would attack criminals who targeted the unfortunate people there. And after all, since Red Hood had appeared not too long ago, well after Tim became Robin, of course Jason would be mad that Tim had become Robin while Jason was dead. Tim had stolen his spot!
A few big things, however, did not make sense. The obvious one was how Jason was back to life again, but that didn't seem particularly relevant at the moment as Tim stared up at Jason's furious green eyes (even though Jason's eyes had been blue when he was alive the first time). Instead, what seemed relevant was-
"Why didn't you go back to being Jason Todd?"
Jason stared at Tim.
Tim stared at Jason.
Jason cursed, letting out a loud string of expletives, then he added, "You can't ask that!"
"Why not?" Tim asked. He was already probably in as much trouble as he could get into at this point. It was kind of a "here goes nothing" kind of thing.
Jason sputtered. "Because!"
"You could've gone back to being Jason Todd. You could've returned to Wayne Manor from the start, whenever you came back from the dead, and fought out your issues with everybody from there. And you know, you still could go back to being Jason Todd," Tim said reasonably.
"No?! I can't?!" Jason said.
"Yes, you can. They all love you and miss you so much," Tim said.
Jason scowled. "If they love me so much, why is my murderer still walking around? Why didn't they avenge me and kill the Joker?"
"To be fair, both Bruce and Dick tried," Tim offered.
Jason blinked. "What."
"Bruce tried, but Superman stopped him. Dick tried, and I think the only thing that stopped him was Bruce getting there shortly after I did," Tim said thoughtfully.
Jason was staring at Tim again.
Tim continued, taking a careful step away from the wall he'd been backed against just minutes before, "And really, I think there are a couple reasons why Joker is still alive. For one, if Bruce started killing, he'd get really messed up. I don't think he could keep being Batman. For another, if Batman started killing, the public would probably stop trusting him, and no vigilante would be able to operate in Gotham, which would be really bad given how much crime goes down here. For a third reason, there's this whole theory about how if the Joker dies, whoever killed him becomes the Joker? Like, we're not certain the Joker is the original Joker, or if he's not, how many versions of him there's been. So if Bruce or Dick or even Alfred killed Joker, they'd become the Joker in some messed-up way, which I feel like is worse than the Joker continuing on as he is."
Jason kept staring at Tim. Honestly, it was getting a little concerning at this point.
"Do I have something on my face? Or in my teeth, or something like that?" Tim asked, reflexively swiping at his face with one hand. "You keep looking at me like that, like there's something wrong."
"Everything's wrong!" Jason exploded, his arms flailing.
Tim readied himself to drop into a fighting stance, but before he could even shift his footing slightly, Jason deflated and slumped backward, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.
"Everything's wrong," Jason muttered, looking down at his still-gloved hands. He looked up at Tim. "Tell me this, then. If Bruce loved me, why did he take another Robin?"
"Just, you know, theoretically, do you think he stopped loving Dick when he took you as Robin?" Tim asked.
Jason's whole face convulsed.
"Also, like, Bruce was going off the rails. He was on the verge of killing criminals constantly," Tim said. "Dick wasn't really talking to him, and Alfred was trying to pretend everything was okay. Bruce needed someone to bring him back from the edge. He needed Robin, and you were dead. So I made him make me Robin."
"Nobody makes Bruce do anything he doesn't want to do," Jason said tiredly.
Tim nodded a little. "To an extent, yeah, I know. It took a lot of convincing, and a couple of times sneaking out into battles, and maybe some sort-of psychological warefare-"
Jason huffed a broken sort-of laugh, which Tim counted as a win.
"And I don't know why he accepted me being Robin at all, still," Tim admitted, regretting it as soon as he said it. With the shame of it, his shoulders rose up like they were trying to get past his ears. But he thought this might be what Jason needed to hear. "I'm not good enough. I've never been good enough. But I was all there was. So."
"So," Jason echoed.
Tim shrugged, trying to get his shoulders to settle back down. He stepped forward a little, resting a hand on the back of the couch, fidgeting with the cushion. "So."
"And your parents apparently selling you off to be tortured on a regular basis for no reason has nothing to do with any of this," Jason said dryly, something steely making its way into his gaze.
"Not for no reason," Tim said again. "And, and it's not torture. It's business. It's discipline. It's the math of it all."
"The math of it all," Jason said. "Do explain."
Tim floundered for a moment. He had never really needed to explain any of the math before. Everyone else just seemed to get it. "Well, if you take something away, you have to give something back. That's how the math of relationships works."
"Who's doing the taking away?" Jason asked, propping his elbow on one knee and propping his chin on his hand.
"Me," Tim said after a moment. "Obviously. I messed up, I prevented my parents from being able to make a big deal with a business partner, and so I needed to give my parents something back."
"And that 'something back' is what?" Jason said.
Tim felt his cheeks warm. He didn't really want to say it.
"What?" Jason repeated.
"You know," Tim said. "Giving them a way to connect with other business partners."
"And that way is you," Jason said. His voice began to get louder. "Specifically, that way is giving you over for them to-"
"If you say torture one more time, I am going to throw this at you," Tim informed him, raising up the couch cushion he was fidgeting with.
"A slightly-musty cushion, I'm so scared," Jason said. He met Tim's eyes and lifted his chin. "Torture."
Tim threw the couch cushion with all his might.
The couch cushion sailed toward Jason, who caught it easily then met Tim's eyes again. "Torture."
Tim threw the other couch cushion.
"Torture," Jason said again as he batted it away with cushion he was already holding.
"Stop saying that!" Tim said, fumbling for something else to grab. In lieu of anything else, he scooped up the Red Hood helmet from the floor and reared back with it.
"Okay, actually, don't throw that one, it has a bomb in it," Jason said hurriedly.
Tim looked at the helmet. He looked at Jason. "You wear this on your head."
"And it has a bomb in it," Jason said resolutely.
"That kind of sounds self-destructive and like a cry for help," Tim said, lowering the helmet very carefully to the floor again.
Jason wagged a finger. "Don't change the subject. We're talking about your own self-destructive cry for help right now."
"And what is that?" Tim challenged.
"Not telling Bruce that your parents are having you…" Jason paused and stared hard at Tim. "Tortured."
Tim launched himself at Jason.
A decent scuffle later, with casualties including the shattered screen of the old TV (Jason's foot), a torn couch cushion (Tim's teeth), and several bruises (from and on both Jason and Tim), regrettably, Tim was stuck in place, not like he had stopped struggling.
"Kid," Jason said flatly, like he didn't have Tim in a headlock. "I have several years, several inches, a good hundred pounds, and plenty of League of Assassins training over you. Chill out."
Tim did pause struggling then. "League of Assassins?"
Jason shrugged and said sarcastically, "Between the fumes of the Lazarus Pit, the creep factor of Ra's, and Talia's 'mothering' skills, you must be shocked that I left."
Ah. Several things made more sense now.
Tim returned to the previous topic, hoping to catch Jason off-guard. "It wasn't torture."
"Why not?" Jason asked.
Tim floundered again. "It wasn't!"
"Why not?" Jason asked again, calm and clear.
"It, it just wasn't!" Tim said. To his horror, tears pricked at his eyes. "So back off! It wasn't torture!"
"Maybe not," Jason said, and he released Tim. "Technically, I think torture is defined as being done by organizations or groups. It was definitely abuse though."
"It wasn't abuse," Tim said. His voice sounded weak even to his own ears. "It made sense."
"Bad things often make sense when you're in the middle of them," Jason said, not looking at Tim and slowly easing down to sit on the cushionless couch.
Somehow, Tim didn't know if they were just talking about Tim's parents any more.
"It made sense," Tim said quietly.
"You know what would make sense?" Jason said. "You should call Batman to come pick you up."
"No way!" Tim said.
"How does refusing that make sense?" Jason challenged, and now his voice was the one that sounded weak. "You want me to go back to being Jason Todd, and I can't. I want you to leave your crappy excuses for parents, but I'm guessing you won't, not on your own. The most obvious person to solve both of those problems is Bruce, who'll tell you I can't be Jason and you can leave."
Tim considered it. He looked at the Red Hood helmet, then at Jason. "You call Batman. We both explain ourselves. Batman says what's right, which is that my parents are fine and that you're fine to go back to being Jason."
"Or that your parents are crap and I can't be Jason," Jason retorted.
"That's up to Batman," Tim said. He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"
Jason took it in his own hand with a fierce grip and swung it with such force Tim could feel it in his teeth. "Deal."
