#And this will lead to a team up and unofficial adoption of one Tim Drake

[aceofshitposts]

Batquinn oneshot where Harley switches sides after joker kills Jason? Like it's the catalyst for her escaping

OOOH what a good one. i usually headcanon that harley is accepted as the arkham psych right after jason's death and joker's admission into arkham post getting almost every bone in his body broken for it BUT

i like this a lot here we go

-

It's the first time Bruce has been in public since Jason's death.

Jason never liked these things. Neither has Bruce, not really, but especially now he feels the sharp sting of holding a champagne flute in one hand and holding a placid smile on his face with no one here to commiserate.

The parade of well wishers seems never ending. People coming to shake his hand and sympathize for his loss in one breath and try to talk business the next. The same people had shown Jason nothing but disdain when Bruce had adopted him; whispering about street rats like Jason belonged under the shoes.

Bruce clenches his fist, not for the first time tonight. He wants to be out on the streets. He needs to be out there. Out on patrol where he doesn't need to hide behind a tired smile.

"Hey, take it easy there, big guy."

There's a hand on his bicep and for a moment Bruce sees pure red. He barely manages to reign in a snarl as he turns to whoever just touched him-- gently. Like they actually cared. None of them actually cared--

Blonde hair swept over one pale shoulder. A red cocktail dress with a slightly garish feather boa wrapped delicately around her elbows. Red lipstick and pale blue eyes looking at him without fear.

Harley Quinn. Joker's girlfriend. What was she doing here and did that mean Joker was prowling around too? He should be in Arkham, there was no way he was fully healed from Bruce's last encounter with him--

"Hey, hey, eyes down here," Harley says, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Bruce's vision focuses back on Harley, a small smile gracing her face when he makes eye contact. "Deep breaths. He's not here, he's not coming, okay? Let's go sit down before you break that champagne flute."

She gently reaches for the glass, taking it easily from his hands and leading Bruce off to the side from prying eyes.

His mind continues to race. Was this a trap? And-- she mentioned him. She's must mean Joker but then. Did she know? If she did, how did she know? And why was she even here?

"Sit," Harley demands as they step outside into the night air.

Numbly Bruce finds himself sitting on the bench she points at, dropping himself onto the polished wood with a grunt. Harley settles in next to him, a small gap between, and begins to pick at the feathers in her boa.

"He was a good kid. He didn't deserve that."

Bruce has heard a lot of people say some variation of that all night long.

It's the first time he's actually believed someone means it.

"You know," he says in response. There's no use in denying it. He's too tired to even try.

Harley looks at him with a lopsided smile.

"Course. Who do you take me for? I've got a PhD, y'know."

Silence settles between them. Bruce doesn't know what to do. Even with her association with Joker, she wasn't involved in what happened. Bruce was clear headed enough to acknowledge that.

"I'm not with him. Anymore, I mean. We were already on a break when he left and..." she's fiddling with her boa again, red feathers falling to her feet. "You have no reason to believe me but I never wanted to hurt Jason like that."

Harley stills, taking several deep breaths.

"I never wanted to hurt you like that. But this isn't about me." - Harley stands, dusting plucked feathers off her lap. - "I just wanted you to know that."

Bruce grabs her wrist before he has time to really think about it. She starts, looking at him with wide eyes. There's going to be talk tomorrow, probably pictures in the paper.

Brucie Wayne with some new arm candy after the death of his adopted son.

Let them talk. There was no stopping the gossip mill regardless.

Harley was the only person at this gala that really saw him.

"You can stay," he whispers, releasing his grip on her wrist. "If you want."

Harley smiles, small and genuine.

"Okay, B. I will."

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila were in a brief relationship.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

“Have you seen this?!” Damian explodes, stalking into Tim’s office with all the fury of a pit-bull wearing a thousand-dollar suit. His somewhat bruised face is red with fury as he slams of a piece of paper down on Tim’s desk.

“Did we have an appointment?” Tim asks lightly. “Because otherwise, I need to call an exorcist about a demon problem.”

“Stow your inappropriate humor, Drake, I just received a memo from our lawyers—”

“You received a memo? You don’t even work here officially. You were probably just sitting in B’s office pretending to do your homework and then snooped in his inbox when his back was turned.”

“A technicality that holds no bearing on this,” the boy sniffs, waving the paper again. “The patent office is denying Wayne Enterprises claim for the personal water filtration device we filed for on Tuesday.”

“What?” Tim demands, snatching the paper and glaring down at it; that was one of the projects he’s been overseeing the past few months. “On what grounds?”

“LexCorp apparently filed for a similar product 24 hours before we did.”

“Bullshit,” Tim snaps. “As of last month, they weren’t even out of the developmental stage on that.”

He knows because he’d been to the factory chasing down a lead on a completely unrelated case as Red Robin and happened to catch sight of their prototype. It was nowhere near the quality that Luke Fox already perfected in the Wayne tech division.

“Apparently someone’s been helping them out.”

“Any idea who?”

“I can ferret out the traitor soon enough, and make them see the error of their ways,” Damian says, smiling unpleasantly.

Which could mean anything from destroying their legal existence, or a personal beat-down by Robin depending on his mood.

“No,” he says. “We’ll figure out who did it, and why. Then we take it to Lucius.”

“I would imagine the motive for the deceit is rather self-evident.”

“It isn’t always. Motive colors everything. For all we know, it could be a blackmail situation. I wouldn’t put anything past LexCorp, or their R&D team.”

“And the issue of the patent itself?” Damian demands, folding his arms. “This company has invested significant capital in developing the product; if LexCorp retains the patent, our profit margins this quarter will tank.”

Tim smiles coolly. “They’ve invested a lot more than we did. Especially if they’re paying off a corporate spy. I’ll talk to Luke and his dad, but I think if we circulate the story we’re placing the design schematics online to ensure anyone in need can construct their own unofficial versions of it—for humanitarian and innovative reasons of course—LexCorp will take the worse hit and with the good press WE gets, we can recoup.”

“You don’t actually intend to follow through with that, do you?” Damian asks, nose wrinkled in distaste. “That reeks of compromise.”

“Of course we’ll follow through. With the prototype designs, not the final versions. Profit was never the main goal of that project anyhow, so we can afford a delay on returns. With the sudden influx of bootlegged versions of the technology, owning the patent will no longer be the challenge, it will be providing the most efficient and functional model. Which ours is, given the time we spent developing it.”

“So even if LexCorp releases their version, it will continue to underperform next to ours,” Damian realizes. He thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “That’s a semi-acceptable solution. Not enough justification for you to still be here, though.”

A brief, shining moment of an almost-compliment…and we’re back to that again.

“You know, if you’re so concerned that the team in San Francisco is bereft of management, you could always fly down yourself.”

“This is my city. I won’t leave it.” Which is the same argument he used last night; odd, considering Damian likes to be varied in his attacks on Tim. “Besides, we have all seen the results of the alternative.”

Meaning their short-lived team-up where everyone compared them to each other and Damian split.

Tim raises an eyebrow at that.

It almost sounds like he’s…upset about that. Funny, he’s never indicated he minded leaving the Titans when I came back. And half the time he’s off doing whatever it is he does with John.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such a jerk to them, they wouldn’t have been so eager to see the back of you,” he points out, even as he immediately knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Damian’s expression, on the cusp of showing vulnerability, shuts down completely.

“I have learned it is futile to argue with stupidity, and that includes a preference for subpar leadership. Which you should be getting back to and cease wasting company time on whatever it is you don’t actually contribute here.”

Tim rolls his eyes, counts to ten in his head, and replies, “I have a case here, you know. I’m not leaving until that’s done. And maybe if you stopped being such an ass about it and just came out and asked, I’d be happy to call the team and suggest giving you another chance.”

“I don’t require your pity!”

“That’s not what—” Tim groans and pinches the bridge of his nose; why does every conversation with Damian that doesn’t include weapons, always go pear-shaped? “Are you and B fighting again? Is that what this is?”

“Of course not!”

Twin spots of red indicate that’s exactly what it is, and Tim groans internally.

Exactly when did I take over from Dick as chief soother of family problems?

Probably shortly after Dick “died” and went undercover with Spyral. Which he thinks is patently unfair, considering Cass is technically second-oldest, and Jason gives off more of that brother-vibe despite his abrasiveness.

Not that that’s particularly helpful now; he’s got his own problems to deal with.

And of anyone in the family, Tim’s the only one Damian interacts with almost as much as Dick, so maybe it’s not surprising.

Before he can ruminate any more on that, his phone buzzes; it’s from an unknown number, but Tim can guess who it’s coming from based on the first words in the text message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive…

There’s more to it, but Damian’s trying to read it upside down, so Tim snatches it up and reaches for his briefcase.

Apparently, the hospital put a rush on the paternity test results after all. Jason is probably freaking out right now.

 “We can continue this whole you-asking-for-help-but-not-really-thing tomorrow.”

“I’m not—that isn’t—you presume—” the kid splutters as Tim closes his laptop, before recovering and demanding, “Where are you going?”

“Picking up Ives at St. Camillus,” he lies with ease and mentally apologizes to his absent friend for using him as a cover. “He’s had a hard go of it, so we’re doing pizza and a Mission Impossible marathon.” He pretends to pause. “You’re welcome to come, but I’m telling you now we’re not ordering vegetarian or vegan pizza for you. It’s going to be a no vegetable zone.”

In the past few years he’s discovered the fastest way to get Damian to leave him alone is to welcome him to spend time with him. The kid is so set in his ways of insisting he loathes Tim that he’ll go out of his way to refuse such an invitation on principle, even in cases where Tim suspects he wouldn’t mind sticking around.

Tim thinks he has another year or two of that strategy working before Damian finally figures it out. Which could potentially be fun—he wonders what it would be like to have a younger brother that isn’t constantly trying to cut the knees out from under him—but for now, he really wants to avoid it.

Luckily, in this Damian remains predictable.

“I’d rather not stunt my growth like you,” the boy sneers.

Tim pretends that dig doesn’t irritate him, the way it has been since he noticed Damian catching up to him in height. The kid is smug about it and likes to rub it in. Tim, however, has learned the best way to circumvent that is to make a joke of it.

“I thought everyone assumed it was the energy drinks,” he grins.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out on your territory since you’ve decided to engage in an evening of sloth instead of important work,” Damian grumbles and stalks out of his office.

“So that’s a ‘no’ to pizza night?” Tim calls after him, fully aware of the answer.

“You’re a disgrace, Drake.”

“Make good choices!”

He allows himself a moment to bask in the satisfaction of ticking off the younger boy, before growing solemn again. He unlocks his phone to scan the whole message.

- Hospital called. Tests positive. Pickup tonight. Legal stuff figured out?

Tim shakes his head; Jason might as well be organizing a stakeout for all the details he’s given. It’s a typical Bruce-ism they’ve all adopted for when they are too overwhelmed to deal with something. He wonders if Jason’s even aware he’s doing it.

He quickly types out a reply—I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together. I have papers you need—and heads for the company garage.

He remembers the process from when Steph had her baby and signed the adoption papers, and so has ensured the documents the hospital will require are on-hand. Social security and medical history forms, birth certificates, driver’s license—a surface survey of identification to prove that Jason Ardila exists.

All Jason needs to do is memorize them on the drive over in case anyone decides to ask questions. Which they won’t, since the fact of Jason being the baby’s biological parent cuts down on a lot of paperwork for them, and Tim knows from personal experience that when it’s possible to avoid paperwork, most organizations do.

Inching back home through Gotham’s usual rush hour madness, Tim wonders if Jason will still be there when he gets to the apartment or if this is the point where he gives up and makes a run for it.

Halfway to the Nest, he gets another text from Jason, this one informing him he’s not at Tim’s place. A follow-up message lists an address Tim thinks he might have read recently, and it’s only when he gets home that he recognizes it from the file he read on Isabel.

Guess he decided to go out today after all.

He quickly changes from his business suit to something casual and unassuming, not wanting to draw attention if he goes into the hospital with Jason, and then hunts up the car seat from the piles of baby things Tam bought. Once that’s carefully installed into one of his less flashy cars, he heads out to the location Jason gave him.

He pulls up in front of a well-maintained condominium, and texts Jason about his arrival; though he knows he’s there, he’s still somewhat surprised when the older man materializes from behind the building, his face ashen and entire body pulled tight and tense.

As Jason gets into the car, Tim knows better than to ask him what’s wrong or if he’s alright.

Instead, he asks, “Have you eaten?”

Jason blinks at him like he’s speaking a foreign language, and then processes. “Not yet.”

Tim’s eyebrows go up at that because usually, it’s him that has to be reminded of eating; Jason’s one of those people that has to eat every three hours, or they become ornery.

He spares a moment to wonder where he picked up that bit of knowledge, and then suggests, “We can stop for food first if you want.” There’s a place on the Upper Eastside where Red Hood has been known to frequent. “We can take as long as you want.” 

“If I eat anything right now, I’m going to throw up,” Jason informs him. “I want to just get this over with.”

“Right.” He can understand that. “Okay, on that note—” Tim strains behind the seat, finagling the folder he stuck there with only the slightest pulled muscle, “—here.”

He hands Jason the folder of documents.

“These are all the official stuff they might ask you for, though I doubt we’ll need all of them today,” he explains. “I also included a list of social media sites you’re now registered on and tweaked your membership dates to exist retroactively, though that’s more for you and not the hospital.”

Jason makes a face. “You gave me a Facebook account.”

“Having one is almost more proof of your existence than having a passport these days,” Tim replies. “Which you still need to get, but we can hold off on that for a little longer. Everything here is just to throw off anyone from social services or the government if they decide to investigate you while we’re coming up with the long-term plan. And if we need an ironclad background, we can bring Oracle in on this.”

Jason’s expression becomes darker.

“Obviously I know you want that to be a last resort,” Tim says quickly. “But just keep in mind it’s an option. And O’s pretty good at keeping secrets from the rest of the family too, you know.”

The older man flips through the documents again and shakes his head. “This is pretty comprehensive considering the kid’s not hanging around here for long.”

“Trust me, if you want to get her out of the hospital, it’s going to have to be that comprehensive.”

It looks like Jason has a comment for that, probably about how he doesn’t want to take her from the hospital, but he visibly buries it and focusses on getting familiar with his new background.

The rest of the drive is silent and tense, and not for the first time Tim questions the wisdom in getting involved at all. Out of everyone in the family to help Jason through a tough emotional spot, Tim always considers himself the last resort; even Damian has more in common with Jason. On the other hand, with this particular scenario, maybe there is no right person to help.

Luck of the draw, I guess…

The tension in the car ratchets up tenfold as they pull into the hospital parking lot. Tim makes a judgment call to not simply drop Jason off on his own this time and even offers to carry the baby-carrier with him into the building, though Jason declines.

Probably needs something to do with his hands.

Tim feels a modicum of relief at that; the contraption is bulky and seems too big for the baby he held in his arms yesterday. Knowing him, he’d probably drop it and send Jason into a panic attack…

They head to the neonatal section in silence, and when they get there Tim’s the one who speaks to the receptionist. She hands him a clipboard with a bunch of release forms and waivers, then assures him the doctor will be with them shortly, before pointing them toward the waiting area.

Once seated, Tim divides up the forms and offers Jason a spare pen from his jacket pocket.

“This stuff’s all insurance and stuff,” he tells him. “I can fill them out for you.”

“I said I was going to handle it.”

“Did I say I was putting my information down on it?”

Jason scowls. “I hope you know how creepy it is you know so much about me.”

“Creepy, but useful,” Tim retorts and shoves a different form at Jason. “This is all family and medical stuff. That’s on you.”

“How generous,” Jason deadpans, though he takes the paper and reads through it.

Despite having the majority of the forms, Tim finishes long before Jason does. When he glances over to see what’s keeping him, he realizes that while everything else is filled out, he seems stuck on the name part of the questionnaire.

“You almost done?” he prompts, instead of asking if he’s alright.

Jason visibly shakes himself, jots something down on the paper, and practically shoves it back into Tim’s hands. “Yeah. All good.”

Tim glances at the form, noting that in a fit of inspiration, Jason has added Isabel as the child’s middle name.

As if expecting Tim to comment, he mutters, “Wherever she ends up, she should at least have a part of her mom.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He takes the documents back to the receptionist to be copied and filed, before returning to sit with Jason.

“It’s a nice name,” he offers after a while. “Luisa Isabel.” He considers. “We can call her Isa. It works for both.”

“Shit. Jason blinks. “I didn’t think about that. Maybe it’s not too late to change it.”

“I wasn’t making fun, you know. It’s a decent nickname.”

Jason shoots him a sharp look. “What did I say about getting attached?”

“Why do you even care? Whoever ends up taking her might change it anyway.”

That comment makes Jason frown, as if he didn’t consider it, but if he has anything to reply, it’s cut off when a nurse appears and calls out Jason’s name.

“Right this way,” she beams at them, leading them to the hallway outside of an observation room; she promises to return in a moment.

Jason and Tim look inside, where there are rows of infants in clear cradles. The nurse stops in front of one of them—labeled Baby Ardila—and picks up the pink swaddled infant.

“Mr. Ardila,” a familiar voice interrupts, and they glance up as Dr. Kerry makes an appearance. He hesitates upon meeting Tim’s gaze, clearly wanting to keep to the privacy he requested yesterday. “Mr…”

“Draper,” Tim supplies smoothly, glad for the attempt.

“Right.” The man shakes his head and returns his attention to Jason. “As you’re aware, we did receive the tests back confirming the paternity. All that’s left is to release her into your custody, though I do have a few last-minute matters to discuss.”

“Sure,” Jason says tightly.

 “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. She’s in excellent health,” the doctor assures them, as Jason fiddles with the baby carrier. He seems to be unsure if he should carry it by the handle or in his massive arms.

It would be kind of funny if he wasn’t so terrified.

“Her Apgar scores are perfect, she’s already had her Vitamin K injection and shots against Hepatitis B—all of which was arranged and signed off on before the birth,” he adds quickly, wary like he’s expecting them to rage at him for vaccinating the child.

“Good,” Jason says, probably because it’s one less thing to worry about.

Kerry appears relieved, and continues, “She’ll have a series of injections and boosters she’ll be needing, but her pediatrician will give you all of that information when you bring her for her check-up a week from now—" Kerry cuts himself off as if remembering the situation. “I can give you several referrals if you haven’t selected one yet.”

“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary,” Tim says. “We have a family physician.”

Kerry glances at Jason, as if unsure if he should be deferring that decision to Tim considering the kid’s paternity, but Jason nods. “I think that’s probably the only thing we for-sure have covered.”

Not entirely sure Leslie’s area is babies, but she’s still the only doctor worth trusting in this city. Jason knows it too.

“Very well,” the man says with a hint of doubt in his voice. He appears to debate with himself about something for a moment and then squares his shoulders. “We do have a social worker on-site if you change your mind about adoption.”

“No,” Jason says.

Kerry sighs. “Mr. Ardila, if you’ll pardon my input—you’re young. And given the circumstances, this is quite a shock. It’s admirable you want to do the right thing and step up to your responsibilities, but it would be remiss of me not to remind you to do what’s best for the child and yourself as well. If at any time you think you can’t do this, you have options. It’s better to figure out what you want to do now while she’s so young than once she’s had time to bond with you.”

Jason looks torn by either prospect, so Tim cuts in with a polite, “Thank you, doctor. We’re aware of our options. As you said, this has been quite a shock, and we have a lot do discuss. However, we would rather the baby not be left indefinitely in the hospital while we do that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” Kerry clears his throat, uncomfortable. “The attending nurse has a few papers to give you, commonly asked questions and the like. Just an overview of care for the next week or so, but if there’s any concern—anything at all—I’ve included my emergency phone number and email.”

“Thank you.”

He hesitates a further second, before excusing himself. There’s hardly any time to process that, before the nurse has returned, Luisa in her arms.

“Here she is,” she murmurs softly, almost a coo as she presents the baby to them.

When Jason hesitates a half-second too long, Tim immediately reaches out to pick up the swaddled infant. He may have done a little bit of research and YouTubing earlier to ensure a little more confidence when holding her.

Today, Luisa’s eyes are actually open—barely—though unfocussed. She has no reaction for Tim other than a slight scrunching of her nose and futile wriggle against the blankets keeping her wrapped like a baby burrito. Her skin’s blotchy and a bit greasy looking, and she still resembles a potato, though maybe a bit less wrinkled today.

Jason puts the carrier down, and while he appears intent on whatever the nurse is telling him—either congratulations or the infant care Kerry promised—Tim busies himself with figuring out how to put the infant in the carrier.

Does she really need that many straps and buckles to keep her in? It’s not like she’ll even have the coordination to escape for another two years…

Eventually, he manages it, however, and picks up the carrier by the handle; he sees now why Jason felt so awkward with it before, it doesn’t exactly feel convenient.

“…and that’s it,” the nurse is saying, while Jason nods.

I highly doubt that’s it.

He doesn’t say that out loud, though, if only for Jason’s sake; instead, he smiles and says, “Thanks for everything.”

“You take care now,” she admonishes. “The first week is hard on new parents.”

“No kidding,” Jason replies with a laugh that anyone else might call nervous, but which Tim recognizes as bordering hysteria.

Time to leave. “I’ve got no doubt we’ll manage. We’ve been in tougher situations.”

That seems to penetrate some of the panic the other man is working himself into. He blinks as if suddenly remembering who he is and how much they’ve survived.

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little shaky but surer. “We have.” He takes a deep breath, offers an actual attempt at a charming smile at the nurse, before turning to Tim. “We should get going.”

“We should.”

He still makes no move to take the carrier, but Tim doesn’t comment on it; he’s sure in the next days and weeks Jason will be easier around the baby. But right now, he’s not able to do it, and that’s the whole point to Tim being there.

They turn to leave, baby safely in her carrier between them; when the nurse calls out a parting, “Congratulations!”, Tim pretends he doesn’t notice Jason flinch.

⁂⁂⁂

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