#it could also be how jason was so easy to escape batman and stuff before he was taken in

[ashoss]

Dick being a kid the god of travellers is like really perfect because like then Hermes was attracted to Dick’s mum who’s life is literally travel so I love that

But I also raise you Zeus kid Dick who can secretly actually fly but has to hide it cause like no one can know he’s a Zeus kid (he doesn’t want to die thank you very much) so that’s why he loves the traipse (no idea if I spelt that right) so much and then he doesn’t want to tell Bruce because Batman fights with no powers so Robin should too.

I also raise Athena kid Jason, he loves reading and seeing him absolutely terrified of spiders more so than like the joker is funny to me.

zeus dick (my inner 12 yo boy is giggling) is indeed interesting and i do like that inner conflict dick would have with “well batman doesn’t have powers, so i need to not use my powers” (plus bruce wouldn’t know how to train a kid with powers like that unless he told the league to help lol)

HOWEVER while in batkids have powers aus the “dick can fly” one is really popular but it kinds goes back what i was saying in the tags about attributing their own skills that they developed to a power. dick has been training his body since he could walk probably on the trapeze and with acrobatics- stuff that takes so much work and dedication and to give him the power of flight kinda takes that away? and that freedom he gets while in the air comes from his own satisfaction with his training (but its also cute to imagine baby robin dick flying around with superman :))

i do like athena jason ! esp with the more warlike association athena has as well. seeing as shes also the goddess of craft i can imagine him crafting super intricate devices and stuff for patrol lol

athena!jason, seeing the joker: eh whatever

athena!jason, seeing a spider- duel wielding guns, explosions going off, acid being poured on it

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART TWO OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC BOOK THAT TASTES LIKE MARVEL.

You know when you are reading a book and you feel like the story you are reading seems familiar but not really within the context you are reading it at the moment? If you can’t shake the wrong sense of familiarity you search for what it probably the biggest give away, the author.

Here it’s something like that; I have read other pieces of Chip Zdarsky’s work, namely Daredevil. While I could tell you the familiarity is there, in the subject of guilt after taking the life of another person, the reality is that this book doesn’t taste like Daredevil, it tastes like Marvel.

That can be either an excellent thing (because Marvel has amazing books) or something terrible (because DC isn’t Marvel and they don’t work the same way).

As of now I can’t really tell if this Red Hood story is going to be one or the other, but I can tell you that it feels out of place in the DC universe, or at least that’s how I see it. I will explore this particular thought later, I just thought this was a nice way to open this post.

If you would like to read the first post I made about this book I will leave the link here!

Now…let’s begin.

Part two picks up exactly where part one left off, we see Jason calling Oracle so she can bring the police to the place where Jason killed Andy a.ka. that gigantic piece of shit.

Jason is having some thoughts, ones that I think are important.

“I have taken lives before, a lot of them. I have killed guys knowing nothing about them except that they had guns and murder in their hearts. Those ones are easy; I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...”

Jason is troubled. He is now in front of a reality that he never truly thought about but to be honest with you I strongly believe that nobody in the DC universe thinks beyond what happens in front of them, that’s just how fictional comic worlds are designed.

Anyway, there is a little something that bothers me in this inner monologue of his, like since when have “murderers” been Jason’s actual target? Like Joker was his target but he didn’t kill him, the base of Jason’s morals when it comes to killing has always been drugs, most importantly if you sell drugs to kids. So unless he is saying “murderers” because they were selling drugs that caused people (especially kids) to overdose then I don’t really get what is going on.

Another thing that I also talked about in the first post is that Jason hasn’t killed in a very long time, this man has been sticking to the Bats rule for so long that it’s actually unreal. Even when he shot the penguin and Batman proceeded to almost beat Jason to death the penguin hadn’t died. So once again I am thinking that Zdarsky has some info that he is not sharing right now or maybe he just didn’t read Lobdell's run (in which case, can you really blame him?)

Now let me talk about the other part of his monologue “…I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...” This is something that I haven’t seen in DC, direct consequences after a hero/vigilante does something, and let me tell you it feels out of place. Is it a good or bad thing? I don’t really know but I have some thoughts on the subject.

I think it's unfair to put a comic character in that situation or dilemma. Jason has basically three reactions to the same situation and they are all valid, but can this situation be handled by a fictional person in a fictional world? Because to be fair I could also ask about the criminals that are put in hospitals after they are beat up by heroes, what if they die in the hospital? Is the hero a killer or does it fall on the hospital? If a criminal cannot pay for the attention given to them in hospitals and they immediately go back to criminal activity to pay for those things, are heroes a good thing? If the Joker bombs a hospital for the third time in four months and Batman does the same thing (take joker to Arkham) only for Joker to escape and do it again, is Batman as guilty as the Joker for the deaths of innocent people or not?

As I wrote it and as I read it again I see that it is a crazy thought because you can simply add more depth to the characters decisions and the consequences that would ensue because of them, but Gotham is a fictional city created to establish that crime is off the charts and that they need Batman because no amount of resources will be able to fix this city’s problems. So putting Jason in this position is new to me…but only in DC (more of this particular thought below).

Going back to the comic in question, I feel like Jason had the answers and the ideas all in his head. In this issue alone he basically says that if the mother does not pull through the boy will be alone, but alone means going into the system (a horrible system that Jason does not trust and needs improvement), but also, Jason recognizes that if the mother died and the father was left alive then that man would have done horrendous stuff. I just simply wouldn't believe that a man that gave drugs to both his wife and son so they wouldn't bother him is just going to change after realizing that his wife died because of him. Even less believable is him becoming an amazing father.

In the big scheme of things, Jason has killed people who fitted very certain characteristics, never innocents (bye, Morrison). What happens after the killing is done? We don’t know because past stories have never focused on that (criminals in comics are by default one dimensional, villains are not)

But here is the thing, Zdarsky is a Marvel writer and Marvel has gone in depth within those situations (like what happens after heroes commit mistakes or kill someone) mostly with Civil War by Mark Millar and more recently in Daredevil written by Chip Zdarsky, but DC hasn't and DC has been plain for a long time, DC doesn't really explain how batman hurts people severely and nothing happens beyond that.

What I am trying to say is that Zdarsky is going for a different and unique route for Jason here but I think the story is out of place in the DC universe.

I promise I am done with those thoughts, they were really difficult to put on paper and to make them make sense, so I apologize if I only confused you, sorry!

Anyway! After the monologue is done we have a flashback where little Jason is being told by his mother to go buy bread (the only thing they can afford) but she is also making him leave so he doesn’t have to be present when Robby (a friend if you ask Jason’s mom, a drug dealer if you ask Jason) comes to the apartment to help her.

Sadly as Jason is leaving Robby is walking up the stairs, now not to copy little Jason but fuck Robby. Jason’s issues with drugs, drug dealing and overdosing is once again shown here but what is also shown is the violence that comes with it. Jason being terrified for himself (and his mother) as Robby pulls a knife on him broke my heart and as he is left there in the corridor to his apartment all we can see is a defeated little boy and that shit hurts a lot.

After that we jump back to the future with none other than Batgod…I mean Batman. Batman is following a man called Sydney and apparently he disappointed Batman because B told him to stop being a criminal, like come on man if I ask nicely or if I break both of your arms you will surely stop, right? Yeah, no.

I feel like I mentioned something about this while my brain decided that DC never usually explains what happens with criminals after they get caught or killed and now here we are. Consequences. Batman scares a man off of working for Scarecrow but the man still needs to work (does he have a family to provide for? We don’t know. Does he do it because it’s the only job he can get? We don’t know.)

This Batman intermission ends up with Oracle telling him that Jason might be in trouble.

So we find ourselves back with Jason and Tyler in his safe house, Zdarsky does not hesitate and first thing he does is give us a couple of very angsty panels.

I love the way it hurts.

Jason honey, my sweet chonky boy…what are you doing?

Well at least I am not the only one asking that because Jason is having a moment to reflect about what has happened, what is happening and what could happen in the future. In this monologue he says the following:

“Dammit, Jason, what the hell are you doing? You can’t take care of this kid! But you can’t put him in the system either! Just waiting for some obsessed militaristic billionaire to adopt him? Dammit. His dad was scum, he hurt Tyler, he hurt his mom. But if Tyler’s mom doesn’t pull through…I just made this kid an orphan. He is my responsibility, he is too young to really see what he’s gone through, he can still be saved…unlike…”

Yeah that’s some really angsty thoughts, he is really going through it and I understand it. He lost his cool after what that horrible human being said he did and killed him and now he has to face the consequences of his actions, he recognizes that if the boy is left truly alone he will have to step up…but here is the thing, does Jason really want that? It seems to me like Jason is deeply against the idea of children working as heroes, and here he is as an adult that is a vigilante with an impressionable child that sees the Red Hood as his hero, I don’t know, it looks like the perfect recipe for a disaster.

But we don’t get to see what Jason does right away because its flashback time.

Jason only moved from his spot in the corridor of his apartment door to get the bread but as Robby comes out of said door Jason is there waiting. Robby teases that he and Jason’s mom ended up sharing the “medicine” and that she will be sleeping for a long time, and that seems to be it for Jason because next thing you know Robby is falling down the stairs.

Aw, shit.

Jason from the future continues his monologue while he remembers what happened on those stairs.

“I never had a chance, not for one second. But he does, Tyler has a chance. I can help him, help him be okay. This doesn’t…what I did…what his parents did, it doesn’t have to define him.”

So Jason wants to make things right for Tyler so he doesn’t become like Jason. Now I don’t truly know what Zdarsky is going for but I will go for the unconscious route, little Jason pushed Robby (that fucker) down the stairs and he was left unconscious there.

In Jason’s eyes Tyler is still a good kid that deserves only the best (like you Jason, please don’t think so low about yourself) and that can be saved from a life of vengeance, justice and trauma. But whatever Jason was going to actually say to Tyler we don’t know because Tyler informs Jason that through the Red Hood mask there is someone telling him that Batman is coming.

Batman appears out of nowhere as he does and starts talking shit.

Honestly Batman what is with that “not my town” bullshit? Baby this isn’t the medieval times, you are not a king and as far as I know not only is Lucius Fox richer than you but so is Dick so sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.

Luckily Jason is giving the outstanding amount of zero fucks and tells Batman exactly what he needs to be told, sadly Jason’s big brain time doesn’t last long because he absolutely loses his cool and starts a fight. So you know what that means, monologue time!

“This was a mistake, but I can’t help myself, he gets under my skin. His sanctimony, he acts like he’s God, all knowing, all seeing when really…he’s just another failed parent.”

Amen. Jason knows many languages but he chose to speak facts.

As the monologue ends Batman is standing over Jason like he is about to murder him but no such thing happens because Tyler, who was quietly watching them fight, jumps in to protect Jason. Yep, there goes my heart, goodbye.

And this is it. The issue ends with Tyler putting an end to the fight and telling batman that he has to leave the Red Hood alone because he is a good guy. Jason of course is thankful and promises that everything is fine.

 I don’t know about you guys but so far I can’t say if I like the book or not. Both parts left me with mixed feelings. I obviously want to see how it ends but I honestly think that there is only one way this story can end with a happy ending, which I think it would be Tyler going back to his mom and Jason somehow working to help her with her drug addiction, maybe even have Dick involved so he can help them economically.

Things that I surely do not want to see are Jason backing down again and limiting himself to the Bats rules. I also absolutely don’t want Zdarsky to go all Geoff Johns on us and make Jason think that he should give up the Red Hood mantle.

Jason really needs to gain his confidence back, he was smart, calculated and strategic and now they have taken those things away to accentuate his “daddy issues” and “inferiority complex”. Why the quotation marks you ask? Oh, because those things are bullshit and there is no room for those things in Jason’s characterization other than to add more angst to the plot.

Let me know how you felt about the issue and my review! Are you excited about what the four next issues are going to bring to the story?

Also if you read Marvel, did this issue taste like Marvel to you too or am I going crazy?

[anothertimdrakestan]

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately. 

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you. 

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly. 

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship. 

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes. 

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry. 

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered. 

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die. 

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth. 

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day. 

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it? 

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal. 

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N. 

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time. 

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape. 

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit. 

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago. 

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest. 

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. 

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there. 

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest. 

[a-la-la-llama]

Aged Up Daminette Pt:2

This is a continuation of This post! I suggest you read it first before this one.   This was amazing! Damian was actually having a pleasant conversation with a girl who saw him and only him. He didn’t have to worry about the ending of his legal name or the image that came with it, nor the weaseling of his pesky brother! For a good hour and a half, that was when an intoxicated Jason Todd thought it was a good idea to approach his favorite person. “Pixie-pop! I didn’t see you till now! Is he causing you any trouble?” Marinette giggled as Jason wrapped an arm over her shoulder and looked at his brother with a smirk. “No Jay, Larry actually sent him over!”, flicking to the pink straw in her drink indicating the bartender thought Damian was safe. It was the little safety indicators like these created by Larry and Alice that kept her coming back. “What was he thinking! Sending Demon Spawn over here, he could have killed you!” Jason was livid, there was no way he would ever trust his youngest brother to be around her. Marinette crossed her arms and leaned against Jason, facing Damian, “So you're the ‘Demon Spawn’ Jason's always complaining about?” Damian wanted to kill Todd that very second, he had a legitimate chance with this girl but it was all thrown down the drain by his loudmouth brothers.

  “What did you say, Todd?”, he seethed hissing out the words while glaring at said brother. Damian was greeted by a cheeky smile, “You know, even if I could remember I wouldn’t tell you. I’m usually black-out drunk when I start spewing things about my life.” Marinette giggled and pushed herself out of Jason’s embrace, “And that’s also when he likes to start fights!” Damian scowled, that wasn't fair, he wanted a hug too! “I always have valid reasons though, I’m not some brute!”, Jason defended himself. “What about when you broke a barstool on someone when they interrupted you and Larry trying to order a drink?” Jason retorted, “Okay, but-“ Marinette added more, “Or when you stole someone else’s shot and proceeded to throw them out the window?” Jason huffed, “But that-“ Marinette just continued, “Or when you stabbed that-“ Throwing his hands up, “Okay, Pixie-pop! I get it, you made your point!” She smirked now satisfied with the points she made. “Since Damian has someone to talk to now, I’m going to the bathroom!” She closed her sketchbook before sliding off the stool.

  Damian turned to his brother once she was out of sight, “Now tell me what you told her, Todd!”, he all but demanded. “I’m not lying when I say I don’t remember. Now tell me what you're doing around her, of all people!” Jason asked, dropping his smile for a narrowed glare. “That’s none of your business.”, retorted Damian. “Oh, like hell! Pixie-pop is a literal angel and I will not let her be corrupted by the son of satan on my watch!” Tt, as if Damian would do anything to harm her, he did like the name angel, however. “Where are Grayson and Drake?” Jason stole Damian’s drink and chugged what was left in it before answering. “Grayson passed out and was picked up by his wifey and Tim is over there chatting up Larry about mixed drinks.” The two turned to stare at Tim who was desperately trying to understand the concept of a Galaxy Cocktail. “Fess up, what are you doing with Mari! I care about her more than you, so if-“ Damian did not stay sitting around to listen to the rest of Jason’s lecture, who had not turned around yet from looking at Tim so it was an easy escape. At the moment, Damian was on a search for a good spot to wait for the wonder of the girl.

  Idly waiting on the edge of the dance floor, Damien leaned against a structure pole little ways outside of the bathroom. It was the perfect spot to wait, hidden by the crowd on the dance floor to hide from Jason but where he could easily catch Marinette without it being weird. That is until a woman along with a man walked up to him. Both seemed a few years older than him, most likely in their late twenties. “So you're the dude hanging around Mar-bear.” The woman was the first to speak with him, well more like interrogated. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was set in a staredown with him. He kept her gaze while answering, “Yes, and who might you be?” She gave a small huff, “I’m her honorary big sister! Let me tell you, everyone who knows her in this bar is not above throwing down and kicking ass for her!” Damian grew up with Bruce and Batman as a father; this self-proclaimed ‘big sister’ would not deter him from Marinette. “No need for that Alina, he has been nothing but nice!”, Marinette joined the conversation before Damian could even say anything snarky. “You never know Mar-bear! He could be just like that ‘nice guy’ Matt from last week. I’m just doing my duty as a big sister to protect you!”

  The man placed an arm on the pouting woman, Alina, and smiled. “Sorry Marinette, you know how she gets. I couldn’t hold her back this time.” Marinette waved her hands in dismissal, “You don’t have to apologize Aven, plus this is Jason’s brother so he has it covered!” Alina raised an eyebrow to the new information, “Which one?” Marinette threw a thumb towards Damian, “This is Damian!” The couple, Alina and Aven, sighed. “Mar-bear, he has like three! Are you the smart one, annoying one, or the evil one?” Alina asked, turning her attention towards him. “ Hm. Drake is definitely the smart one. I could be considered an annoying or evil one. I’ve learned he refers to me as Demon Spawn, here.”, he all but grumbled out. Aven was the one to comment, “ No way! You’re like my favorite to get him to talk about. Dude, you do the craziest shit sometimes. Like when you stabbed Jason in the leg when you were like twelve after he ate your dessert. I could not stop laughing when he showed me the scare!” Out of all the stuff Todd could have said about him, he picked how violent he was. How was Marinette not running for the hills yet? “You got your work cut out for you then, Mar-bear here is a little fire-cracker, if you know what I mean!” Alina nudged Marinette in the side. “What?”

  Marinette giggled at how stunned Damian looked, “Who do you think is Jason’s back up in fights, Dami?” As if summoned by his name, Jason popped up out of nowhere. “There you are Demon Spawn, we gotta go! Say bye to Pixie-pop cause it’s the last time you’ll see her on my watch!” Tim was there too, but was occupied with the hell-ish concoction he convinced Larry to make him. “No need, Jay-bird! Big sister Alina has this covered!” Said sister nudged Jason out of the group. “Hey! I met her first, plus, I fought that Matt guy last week when he wouldn’t stop hitting on her! I got honorary brother rights too!”, pushing Alina back. “ One, Marinette actually knocked him out, you just threw him outside. Two, I’m a girl and she’s a girl so it should be me! And three, this is your brother, that makes you biased!” Having a feeling this was going to go on for a while, Damian took the opportunity to grab Marinette’s hand and lead her further into the crowd on the dance floor.

  “You know, you have to ask a girl to dance before you just take her away?” Marinette teased him along with a smile. “My bad, Angel. That was not my intention.” Surrounded by people, he stood in front of her and looked down. Damian realized why Jason’s nickname fit her, he had at least a good eight inches in height above her. He lifted her hand that he held up and intertwined their fingers, his hand was huge compared to her small, soft, and slim ones, and brought them back to their sides. “You brought a girl onto a dance floor but expected not to dance?”, she said between giggles. Now embarrassed Damian looked away and tried to excuse himself, “Ask my family, I don’t dance and I’ve got two left feet. It really isn’t my style either.” The giggles stopped and he could feel her body tense up through her hand. He turned his head back to look down at her again. “It’s Alright! I’m just teasing you, Dami.” Her smile didn't go to her eyes, was she disappointed? That caused a jab in his heart, she really had him in the palm of her hand. Screw it! Damian didn’t care, he’d do anything for her no matter where to keep that smile. He brought their joined hands back up and spun her before setting his free hand on her waist and bringing her closer.

  Damian took back what he said, “I’d loved to dance, Angel. As long as it’s with you.” Taking a peek back down, Damian enjoyed the view he had of her blushing face. Best idea ever. He took note of how he could feel her lean into his chest and the way her voice vibrated against him, “Thanks, Dami.” If Damian had the guts, he would tease her and tell her how she was waltzing away with his heart with how adorable she is. Maybe, he should save that for the future? For now, he enjoyed their first dance together and hoped for his sake, the first of many. God, he sounded like Grayson! Marinette finally helped him understand Grayson’s words

  “Wait till you have a girlfriend, Baby Bird! When you’re older you won’t be teasing me then, I’ll be teasing you!” Which he always responded with, “Yeah right! I’d never give into disgusting emotions like you. It’s a waste of my time.” Though, that might have been from living with the league. He was that kind of kid who despised romance. Oh, how wrong younger him had been. Good thing his Angel never had to meet the teenage version of himself. Hear stories, maybe? But meeting the hell-bent kid version of him would have been a nightmare. Damian knew if they had known each other then he certainly would have driven her away. Love never came his way until this day. He never imagined he would want to settle down with someone, let alone someone he just met. But everything felt easy with Marinette. It was familiar, felt normal, almost natural. As if they were destined to be with one another. She might not be feeling what he was, but Damian was determined to make this last. This was the farthest he had ever gone with someone and it had only been a few hours. Dancing as if there was no one else around him and Marinette, Damian decided he wanted this as his future.

Bonus!

Jason: “Tim! Are you recording this? I’ve never seen Demon Spawn dance!”

Tim: “There he is, spinning this girl round and round in circles. Hell must be freezing over!”

Jason: “ Dick is going to have a field day tomorrow!”

Alina: “Truce. We are totally working together to spy on their first date.”

Aven: “ Isn’t this technically a date?”

Alina: “Shut up, babe. That’s just the minor details!”

Jason: “Shut the fuck up both of you! I’m trying to get good blackmail here!”

People who said they wanted more in the last post!

@mystery-5-5 

Well this was a 3:14 am!                                      Next

[internalsealpanic]

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (1) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary:  Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.

The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.  

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do: 

Your skin itches as you make your way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After all, Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting your back, petting your head, and pinching your cheeks made every inch of skin want to slough off. Tim owed you. He owed you big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling your physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on  ‘vacation’.

You should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked you to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. You’re clad in blue contacts, a black wig, makeup, and a stolen suit. As safe as you felt in someone else's skin, you still felt like you were gonna fall over. Maybe it's because you were dumb enough not to bring your cane.

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Your mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for you to forget about the ache in your leg. You knew this night was gonna be far longer than you could stand.  You needed a drink. Or 9.

"Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking your fifth(?) flute of champagne. You wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes,  you wave another server over and take 2 flutes of champagne.  "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this."

"No," Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from your hand.

"Big bro pleeeaaasee" You drawl sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move.  Dick tries to look unmoved but you could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in.  "I'm having an episode," The word episode felt strange and wrong but there really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." You added hastily.  

"Fiiine-" Dick whines, resolve crumbling to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds: "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes, motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, you down it, feeling the tearing in your head beginning to fade.

"Jesus, calm down," Dick said taking the now empty flute from you.  

You are less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol.

While Dick lectures you on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, You feel the press of another person's mind.  The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them.

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but your mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly,  you dropped down to your knees. Your joints complained but you could feel your mind smooth as you placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur.

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!".

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, you began to piece yourself back together and the pain in your head receded.

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into your hand. You forget the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat, laughter bright in his blue eyes.

You, for the first time, notice the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis,  stretching out his hand to shake yours.  

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." you shoot up to shake his hand. You notice the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. You’re pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have makeup on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence.

Your eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh.

"Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance," Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion.  You weren’t entirely certain that you offended him but you were probably close.

You want to say that it's his eyes that you notice first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine,  a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made you shudder. You would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well-tailored suit.  You file the image for further appreciation later.  But, unfortunately, you are far too accustomed to checking your brothers for wounds for your eyes to not immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in you not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin. Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else.

Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete.   Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest, and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, your mother always did treat Anatoli like a king.

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting you on the shoulder jostling you out of your thoughts.

You sigh. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

"I think you've demonstrated why."  

You- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in your skull coming back- jab "Alright Fabio , you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .  

"That's pretty mean eve-"

"I didn't mean it to be mean-"you honestly didn't but you were byelingual at this point.  "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."  

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " you hissed rubbing the side of your head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

You feel your head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut you off from the booze. You find yourself wandering around until your feet take you outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth you warmed skin as you slide against it.  

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.  

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " you snark, looking up expecting him to grin at you but was greeted with a look of concern. You’ve seen it before. Your hand almost automatically makes its way to your nose.  You felt a thick liquid brush against the pads of your fingers. If you looked at them, you’d likely see them covered in blood.

You shrug and brush your deep red sleeve against your face. You probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face.

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good-naturedly. You know he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it.

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "  

"Well, in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to you. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids.

You, feeling particularly cheeky, take the cigarette between his lip and take a long drag, inhaling and letting your eyes slide close.

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from the sea of minds, you can feel his eyes on you. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. You shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before you cough out   "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

You hand him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into your sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking you in the eyes. You can still see the faint speck of color on his face.

"Well,  he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something you really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis.

You crouch down to Lizzie's level and put your hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into your hands.  

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no."

"How drunk are you?"

You mime counting.  "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk."

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling you by the arm. You notice for the first time just how big his hands really are.  

"No, I-"

Gunshots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to you as a black van pulls up in the alley.

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. You recognize him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. You think he's checking the injuries- which in your opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he-is in fact-checking for a gun.  

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men.

You think to grab a stray brick or something but you knew your best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely.

Lizzie runs out in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.  

Lizzie whines into your touch. The tendrils of your mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. You want to scream. Your mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume you. You want to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than you could speak.

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well-placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Your breath catches.  

"There's two of them,"

"What do you mean there's two of them?"

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?"

"Not really"

You want to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given,  it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

"Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.  

You think to make a break for it but fast as you are(not really). Your head was still ringing and you couldn't really take them out on your own.

You hold your hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by your cooperation but not really willing to question it.

They throw cuffs on your wrist and literally throw you into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "your" shoes. You want to laugh. You really do. You also just want to cry.  

Tim is going to kill you. No, Alfred will. If you’re lucky-which you never are- Dick will suffocate you with a hug before they ever get to you.  

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it for you.

Yeah, right.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

I’ve finished writing this installment offically and eeepppp, I’m excited :) I also figured out where I want to go with this, starting to feel like that each installment is getting pretty formulaic and that another thing I’m excited about. I love Jason and I love setting Halley up during his Robin years BUT I also miss writing Tim and Damian like in my Mother’s Day 3-parter sooooo I’ve made a plan and can’t wait to start writing and posting it! 

Also I’ve never done any requests or stuff like that before, but if there was anything you guys wanted to see happen in this don’t be afraid to ask! 

You’re Taking Up a Fraction of My Mind pt.5

           Jason was hell-bent on proving himself to Dick; he was going to make that prick eat his words and admit that he was wrong about him by the end of the night. He knew what he was doing and wasn’t just some dumb knock-off version of him. Too prove he knew how to get a handle of situations like these, he decided on going with a full frontal assault, landing onto the roof of the bank and rolling safely into a standing position. He saw the sky light, walking to the edge of where the cement roof met the glass and looked in.

           Two-Face stood off directing his goons on where to go, watching as they raided the bank. Goons walked towards the back of the lobby, most likely making their way to the vaults. Robin noted how the alarms weren’t going off already being disabled. He knew that Gordon would probably be sending units this way regardless being tipped off and Batman saying he’d deal with it; someone had to clean up their mess once they were done doing the cop’s jobs. This whole thing started to give Robin a strange feeling. It was too easy almost. Why would Two-Face tip them off like this?  He shrugged it off, preparing himself to break through the glass-

           “Are you stupid?” Nightwing gapped at him, pulling him back by his cape. “Going in alone? Ahead of me? All of them are armed, you’d be gunned down the moment you touched the floor. What were you thinking?” Nightwing let him go, pretty sure he wouldn’t try anything now. He pointed to the ledge of the roof. “We climb down, enter from a window a floor above them and sneak ourselves in, take them by surprise, hopefully not all at once.”

           Nightwing didn’t give him a second to fight him on the plan, shoving him away from the sky light and towards the ledge, out of sight; if any of them below looked up they would’ve clearly seen Robin’s silhouette. Nightwing rolled his eyes as Robin huffed. The boy relented as he followed Nightwing down the building, landing on the fire escape a floor down. Nightwing was able to shimmy the window up with a tool from his belt and slowly lifted it, letting Robin go in first. He slipped in behind him, gently closing the window once his body was inside the office room.

           He took a few steps to get in front of him, moving in the shadows as they crept out of the room and into the hallway. They exited the hallway and were met with a balcony where you could see the lobby area of the bank down below. A man who appeared to be keeping watch of bellow stood a little ways away from them, still oblivious to the two intruders. Nightwing put a finger over his lips, silently telling Robin to stay silent and still as he moved forward.

           On the balls of his heels he crept in the shadows behind the man. When he was behind him, he reached a hand up to cover his mouth, the other arm wrapped around his neck, cutting off his airways. He backed them up away from the railing and back into the shadows of the hallway. Once he was sure the man was out like a light but still breathing, Nightwing carefully laid him to rest against the wall. He grabbed his gun and quickly took it apart so it’d be unusable.  

           He motioned with his hand for Robin to follow him now, speaking softly, “We take the stairs to the vault, take out the ones inside there first, then go to the lobby for the rest.” He signaled to the stairwell that led down to the vaults.

           Robin for once nodded, not talking back or doing his own thing first, following Nightwing as they carefully crept down below. He wanted to protest, but he had no other plan ready to pitch and he was prime in bitterness about the roof. He felt his chest tighten when he followed Nightwing into the next hallway where there had been the stairs to get the vaults; he really hated taking orders from him.

           “Hello boys,” Nightwing smirked when they reached the bottom of the stairs and away from the lobby above. He smirked when the henchman noticed them and jumped. Where all henchman so stupid? Yes, yes they were, Nightwing chuckled to himself, “Let’s dance,” He quipped, causing Robin to pretend to barf.

           Nightwing took the lead, taking his escrima sticks out, letting electricity crackle out from the tips. Jumping in he began his attack, using his weapon to smack against the back of a man’s neck while the other jabbed into another’s stomach. He moved fast, ducking and dodging bullets that flew at him, kicking guns out of hands and swiftly taking out his own set of thugs. He didn’t rely too much on gadgets, using his speed and agility to take down his opponents.

           In the middle of the fight he looked up to check on Robin. He was faring just as well, not as fast as Nightwing but his hits were more brutish, the impact of his fists causing the man he knocked down to spit out a tooth. When the enemy appeared to start to get the jump on him, he’d reach to his utility belt, pulling smoke pellets, slamming them down onto the floor, covering his area of the room in smoke. This gave him the advantage, continuing to let him punch out the men coming after him.

           The boys breathe in heavily once the room was filled with either unconscious or groaning men, the smoke clearing. “They’re not getting up anytime soon,” Robin smirked, fixing his glove.

           “Yeah,” Nightwing jeered, noting what Bruce meant about Jason’s fighting being rough.

           “What did I do now?” Jason could sense the sneer in Dick’s tone, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance. “Seriously, there’s no pleasing you is there?”

           “Don’t you think this is a little overkill?” Nightwing motioned to the men surrounding Jason on the floor. He looked to Jason before making his way towards the stairs, knowing that the gunshots must’ve already alerted everyone on the main floor.

           “I really don’t know why you guys harp so hard on going easy on them. They’re the bad guys.” Jason glared at the back of Dick’s head as he followed.

           “They are the bad guys,” Dick nodded in agreement but his voice was softer as he waited to jump back into action. “But we’re the good guys, so you should start acting like it.”

           With that Dick jumped into the room, cartwheeling right into his first goon of the room. He easily ripped the gun out of his hand, slapping the bag filled with money away as well. He kicked the man away moving to the next. He could hear Harvey shouting for his men to kill the two vigilante’s while he began to make his way to the door, grabbing whatever bags filled with cash he could hold. He looked surprised to see them. He bellowed for his men not already engaged in the fight, ordering them to grab whatever they could and get to the vans but he stopped when he saw flashing blue and red lights flashing from outside the tall glass windows and door of the bank.

           Robin saw this and ran past Nightwing determined to prevent Two-Face from escaping. He took out anyone who stood in his way, bashing in kneecaps and smashing fists into faces. He mowed them down, feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins as he got closer and closer to Two-Face. Taking out a batarang, he threw it, aiming and hitting his target. Two-Face was forced to drop the bag of cash in his hand as the blade of the batarang grazed his hand. He whipped his head around to look at the Robin, both of his faces enraged.

           “Ew, you’re as ugly in person as I thought.” Robin mocked disgust, having never had the pleasure of meeting Harvey Dent yet. “And, I gotta say, this plan was pretty lame; I thought you’d be somewhat smarter. You literally told us where you were going to be. It’s like you wanted to go back to Arkham.”

           “What are you talking about kid?” Two-Face sneered, pointing his gun out to aim at him.

           “The envelope you sent to the police station? You wrote the addresses of where you were going to be. Are you so stupid that you already forgot?” Robin laughed, leaping into the air to avoid the bullet Two-Face sent his way. “Hey, don’t be salty, it’s your own fault you got caught!” He taunted, enjoying the frustrated look on the villain’s face as he rolled out of the way of another shot.

           Harvey yelled out as the kid kept dodging his shots, switching over to his machine gun that rested on a strap around his torso, opening fire. Where did Batman get all these kid’s from? He had no idea what the kid was talking about, “I don’t know what you’re talking about kid,”

           Robin puffed, nearly getting hit this time but jumped behind a counter at the last second. Two-Face’s voice was thick with aggravation as he grunted, hearing his gun click. Empty, he hissed, quickly reaching for his suit for a reload. Robin peeked his head over the counter, hearing his hesitation. He took the chance to jump out from his hiding place just as Nightwing finished taking down the last of the goons. Nightwing saw his mistake before Robin did and wasn’t all that surprised. The boy just kept proving that he was impulsive. He didn’t even bother trying to call out for him to stop instead raced to get to the pair as Robin reached Two-Face.

           Robin kicked the machine gun out of his grasp, the force making him falter and hit the ground. As he was down Robin socked him right in the jaw when his feet touched the ground. Two-Face didn’t stay down for long, pushing himself up, recovering quickly as he pulled a second pistol he had concealed inside his coat pocket. He brought it up to jab into the underside of Robin’s chin, cocking it to let him know he would shot if he moved or try anything. Robin raised his hands up to signal that he wouldn’t, the metal cold against his skin.

           Dent pulled him to his chest, so that they both face Nightwing, the gun now digging into the side of Robin’s head. Nightwing dropped his escrima’s knowing not to test Two-Face. He still remembered one of his first encounters with the villain as Robin. He’d been captured and beaten near to death; Two-Face was unhinged and had no problem hurting kids, especially Batman’s.

           “Now, Nightwing, you’re going to let me walk out of here,” He said, saying his name like it was a joke. He had a no-nonsense tone to his voice as he continued, “Or else I’ll shoot the kid.” He started to back away, making Robin fall back with him.

           Robin opened his mouth to talk, already seeing the look Nightwing shot him to shut the hell up. This kid was a real piece of work, Nightwing noted, his mind rushing to think of a way out of this situation that didn’t end with Robin with a bullet hole in his skull. What he didn’t know was that Robin already had a way out and his mouth was needed for it to work. He had a look of exasperation on his face as he let out a huff.

           “You know, taking me as a hostage is probably the only good idea you’ve had all night-,”

           “Kid, I will shoot you.” Dent hissed, knowing Robins were known for their mouths.

           “Oh, no, I know you will.” Robin nodded, “But I really don’t think that’s a good idea and I swear I’m not saying that to just save my neck.” He continued not biting his tongue. “I just don’t think Batman would try anything funny if you had a hostage, me especially, I’m kinda his favorite now.” He eyed Dick as he let the dig slip out. Feeling spiteful at Dick’s unimpressed and clueless face, another lightbulb lit in his head. “Ha! I’m also the second Robin, and don’t you have some sort of 2 fetish?” Robin moved his taunts back to his captor, feeling the grip the man had on him tightening in anger.

           “You little shi-,” Two-Face started but didn’t get to finish.

           Robin moved quick, using the distracted state against him and heaving him up and over his shoulders. He let out a breath as he flipped him up and onto the floor. Kneeling down in one swift movement to hold down the hand with the pistol and dealing him a hard punch in the face, rendering him unconscious. He throw the gun aside, rubbing his hands together as he saw Two-Face out cold.

           He felt pumped by his take down, almost jumping in place from excitement. He single handedly took down Two-Face, if Batman had only seen that. His self-celebration was cut short as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. It was Nightwing of course and he didn’t look pleased. Please, he’s just jealous he didn’t get to punch Two-Face in the face, Jason smirked, as he got closer.

           “That was incredibly stupid.” Nightwing said, kneeling down to make sure Two-Face was really out. When he was pleased that he was he stood back up, towering over the boy. “What if he pulled the trigger while you were taking him down?”

           “Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Robin laughed, rolling his eyes as Nightwing made a fussy face.

           “That trick might’ve worked on him, but it wouldn’t work on someone like the Bane or Joker, hell, you’re lucky that it even worked on Dent.” Nightwing chastised, as the doors of the bank were flung open, revealing the GCPD; of course they show up once the fighting’s done. Nightwing rolled his eyes, leading Robin out of the building as the cops began handcuffing those inside. “That was pure luck nothing else. Don’t let it get to your head.”

           Robin rolled his own eyes again, sick of Dick’s nagging. Once they were outside they noticed Batman arriving as well, going to talk to Gordon who also just showed up. The pair made their way to the two, seeing Gordon moving away to take a phone call. Batman saw the two boys approaching, giving them a curt nod, silently telling them good work.

           “Dammit,” Gordon’s voice took their attention. He quickly hung up the phone, shooting Batman a pissed off look. “There’s been an incident at Arkham, Harley broke Joker out.”

           Batman’s eyes narrowed at the news, turning to look at the bank. Harvey was being dragged out by officers. He looked back to Gordon before looking to Nightwing. Robin bit his lip, feeling rage take over him. Harvey’s words echoing in his head. He hadn’t sent the envelope to the police and Batman; he’s been set up and they played into it. The Joker must’ve somehow found out about the robbery. He did have his goons set up all over the place, he probably had Harley set some up inside Batman’s Rogue’s ranks.

           Jason wanted to groan, realizing what that would mean. He looked at Dick, as he and Batman began to discuss with Gordon how best to track the Joker down. He had said it first, back at the police station. Dick was right, the Joker did in fact send the envelope.

[meterokinesis]

Skin and Bones

Read it on AO3

Prompt: Starvation

TW: Hunger/food insecurity, ED mention (very short), Implied/referenced drug use

Summary: Jason Todd knew what hungry felt like. Hunger and Jason had always been bosom buddies.

Jason Todd knew what being hungry felt like.

That’s always what they called it when he was a little kid and the teachers tried to pretend that most of their class had full bellies. They’d say “when you haven’t had lunch yet, you’re hungry. But when you don’t eat for days, that’s hunger.”

Hunger and Jason were bosom buddies, and had been for years.

It was bad enough when it was just him and Catherine. At least then he could pilfer through her pockets for enough loose change to buy them rice and bread and beans. It wasn’t much, but it kept them alive in between the free lunches Jason got at school.

It got worse when Catherine had to be admitted to the hospital. Jason wasn’t stupid--he’d gotten an A on that last English paper. He knew that she was doing drugs. He knew that their food money went into plastic baggies full of powder and who-knows-what-else. He knew that their already low budget would be gone as soon as the hospital started sending bills.

He started stealing parts off cars that he passed on the walk home, then selling them to the shady guys at the garage. He’d sneak what he could from pockets and couches and placed it in places no one would ever notice. Bills rolled up in the toes of his sneakers, pennies and nickels shoved into his sock drawer. Jason was good at sneaking around already, but he learned to be even better. His life depended on it.

Catherine died the Friday after Valentine’s Day. Her hospital room was full of discount flowers and cheap chocolates. She squeezed his hand before she died, and she smiled. Her smile was unmatched, totally unique. In the days that passed afterwards, Jason would wonder if his smile ever looked like hers.

As Catherine’s breathing slowed and then stopped, Jason snuck out of the fourth floor and onto the street below. He had one, maybe two days left in the apartment before CPS found him and tried to force him into a foster home.

He’d rather die than go there.

So Jason Todd, eleven years old and barely five feet tall, broke into his apartment to survey the life he was leaving behind. Some of it was easy. He could afford to take two bags: a backpack and a duffel. The duffel got a pair of boots, a pair of sneakers, five sets of clothes, jackets, and a copy of Huckleberry Finn. He’d already read Tom Sawyer, he didn’t need to bring that too.

The backpack got essentials, like his toothbrush and toothpaste, his school ID, the money he’d saved up, and another set of clothes. His birth certificate and Social Security card were wedged under the loose floorboard already, so he left them there. When his path led him to the kitchen, Jason swallowed hard before grabbing a knife and a pair of scissors, then wrapping them both carefully and placing them in the backpack too.

He crawled into his bed, with its blue striped bedsheets, and tried to fall asleep. The sounds of Gotham weren’t comforting anymore, but rather like every monster under his bed amplified. He was too old to be scared of things that weren’t there, but every Gothammite knew that the city was not to be trifled with. The city he’d soon be in the heart of.

The clinking of keys on the apartment’s old doorknob woke him up. He’d always been a light sleeper, but for a second he thought it was maybe just Catherine coming home. Then he remembered how she’d never come home again. Jason was out of bed in a matter of seconds, grabbing his bags, tugging on his shoes, and climbing down the fire escape. The old watch he’d taken from Catherine’s room--he thought it was his dad’s--read 7:12, which meant it was really 3:17. Jason crept through the streets, not letting his heart catch up with his head. He’d have to squat somewhere for the night, maybe an abandoned warehouse or something. He’d found a few while adventuring the summer before, and not all of them could have been blown up in the last eight months.

“Clinton and Hall has a good one,” he mumbled to himself, steering his feet that way. It was cold, even for February, but he had no choice. It was either walk seven blocks now or walk straight to CPS. He’d take the seven blocks.

It was a quiet night, at least for Crime Alley. There were the usual shady guys doing deals in the back alleys and the over-rouged women in heels and too-short skirts, but at least no one was running around trying to blow the city up again. A night without Batman and Robin coming around was a good night, as far as Jason was concerned.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Batman, just that he tended to invite more trouble than he did away with. Even the most well-intentioned people couldn’t fix Crime Alley. Jason would know, he was Crime Alley through and through.

He finally reached the warehouse and dragged himself up seven flights of stairs, where there was an office that sat mostly untouched. There was a boarded-up window and the walls were probably full of asbestos, but the door locked, so as far as Jason was concerned it was great. The boy placed his duffel bag under his head and slipped his backpack around so it covered his stomach. As the first breaths of sleep came to him, he could hazily feel hunger stab at his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in three days.

                                         _______________

In the eight months since Jason had taken to the street, he’d learned a few things: trust people sparingly, only share if you have enough, and never let anyone give you shit. His copy of Huck Finn was tattered now, but it was the only real piece of home he had left.

He wasn’t alone by any means. There had been some older kids who had taken him under their wing for a few weeks back in April, but they got busted for dealing and Jason hadn’t seen them since. He and his occasional allies worked pretty well, a shared meal here, a hand-me-down there. Life wasn’t so bad like this, if you were careful.

Stealing the tires off the Batmobile wasn’t careful.

Jason felt Batman before he saw him. The guy just had that kind of energy, like a horror villain. But Jason already had three wheels off, with one stashed nearby, so there was really no point in stopping now.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” The gruff voice asked, and that’s when Jason knew he was well and thoroughly fucked.

He didn’t answer, because Jason was never the type to admit guilt. A large hand fell on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but jump. Batman turned him around, more gently than Jason thought he treated most criminals.

“Kid, you’ve gotta be what, thirteen? Come on, put those tires back on and get in the car.”

Well, Jason might be reckless enough to steal from Batman, but he wasn’t dumb enough to make himself an enemy. So, he silently put the tires back on the Batmobile and turned to face Batman. He was just as intimidating as everyone said he was.

“I know that you have stuff stashed somewhere,” Batman prompted, like he’d already seen thousands of alley kids today.

“Behind the dumpsters,” Jason muttered, staring at his scuffed-up sneakers.

Batman ducked behind the dumpster, and emerged with the two bags and a tire. Jason sheepishly put the last tire back, then stood and opened his hands for his bags. His hands were stained with dirt and grease, like black blood.

“In the car,” Batman ordered, and Jason’s stomach dropped.

“No!” He cried, his throat as dry as bone. “Please, you can’t turn me in. They’ll send me into the system or juvie or something. I’ll die in there, I know kids who have.” As much as he wished that was a lie, it wasn’t. Foster kids didn’t last long in Gotham.

Batman hesitated a moment, then spoke again. “Fine. Get in the car. I won’t take you to CPS, but I can’t let you go back on the streets.” His voice was firm, but also gentle. It was… strange.

Jason nodded, and tucked himself into the passenger side. Batman sat down in the driver’s seat, and with a reminder to fasten his seatbelt, the pair was off.

The drive wasn’t particularly long, but Jason was antsy all the same. His heart thundered as they entered a long tunnel in the side of what looked like a mountain, but Jason was pretty sure that there were no mountains in Gotham. Finally, they parked in some sort of weird cave-garage-thing. Batman turned to Jason, and looked him in the eyes.

“I have a doctor here. She’s going to take a look at you and make sure you’re okay. You can spend the night here. Then, we’ll discuss other options. No matter what, you’re not going on the street again.” He said this all in a perfunctory manner, but it was polite nonetheless.

Jason scrambled out of the Batmobile, only to see a familiar face waiting for him.

“Hello, Jason.” Dr. Thompkins smiled, and he tried to hide his surprise that she remembered him. He hadn’t been to the clinic in at least a year.

“Hi, Dr. T,” he mumbled.

“Alright, let’s get started. Can you sit down over here for me?” Jason followed her gesture, only to see a full clinic set up. What kind of garage was this? He nodded absently and shuffled over, then sat on the crinkly paper.

Dr. Thompkins walked him through a normal check up, with some added questions about how the past year had been. The whole time, she kept glancing at his face, like she expected him to start crying at any moment.

“So, Jason, I’m so sorry to hear about your mom.” She said as she tested his reflexes. His heart lurched in his chest, but he tried to keep his face from betraying him.

“... Thanks.” He mumbled, then left it at that.

Dr. Thompkins finished the exam, then stepped away to speak to Batman. Jason laid down to stare at the wall, but he couldn’t help but overhear some snippets of conversation.

“... known him for years… neonatal abstinence syndrome… only eighty pounds… severely malnourished… needs individualized support…”

The conversation trailed off as footsteps padded back into the room.

“Alright, so we have to get you up to date on vaccinations, and then you’re all done with me. You’re brave, you’ll be okay.” Jason nodded, and she injected the first vaccine. After three more, his arm was sore and his head was heavy. Dr. Thompkins led him to a reclining position, then pulled the curtain shut.

“Goodnight, Jason. It’s going to be okay.”

                                            _______________

Jason hadn’t expected to like the Imposter’s girlfriend so much, but he did. Stephanie got it in a way no one else did. The pair sat on a Crime Alley rooftop, sharing a combo meal from BatBurger.

“-And then, they accused me of being anorexic! Like no, I don’t have an eating disorder, I just can’t afford to eat more than saltines and water!” Stephanie rambled, gesturing wildly with a fry. “Seriously, I don’t think I ate an actual meal that wasn’t made by a lunch lady until I was fourteen.”

Jason chuckled, “My first big meal was when Bruce took me in. Until then, I thought having pizza or chicken nuggets for dinner was a splurge.”

Stephanie quieted, then looked from the carton of fries to Jason.

“Hey, does it ever get easier? Do you ever stop panicking when you grocery shop or when you treat yourself to lunch?” She questioned, her voice hoarse.

Jason took another bite of his burger.

“No. No, it doesn’t.”

[nokomiss]

deadtedkord replied to your post “taking prompts!”

more excellent jaysteph bonding please you're stuff for them is amazing!!

Even in Gotham, it’s hard to get takeout at 4am.  

So after a particularly grueling night fighting crime -- not Arkham-escape bad, but involving the Condiment King teaming up with Mad Hatter for easily one of the grossest in every imaginable way nights Steph could remember -- the troops all ended up at the Cave, fighting over who got into the showers first. The troops in question being Bruce, Damian, Tim, Jason and herself. Steph saw the writing on the wall immediately and booked it up stairs to shower in luxury before Bruce could complain about ketchup in his fancypants rich people showers.

After convincing herself that she couldn’t, actually, just live in the bathroom at Wayne Manor for the rest of her life, Steph reluctantly got out, wondering if she could convince Bruce that installing the same shower at her decidedly less luxurious home was actually a necessary crime fighting expense. The water pressure alone had relieved a few lingering muscle aches she’d been nursing a few days.  

She ransacked various rooms for a new, mustard-free outfit -- she had clothes stashed away somewhere, but everyone knew other people’s clothes are far superior, especially when they were Selina’s yoga pants, which she was never returning because damn they were amazing, Cass’ fuzzy socks and Tim’s softest hoodie.

By the time she returned to the cave, smelling like coconut and feeling like a champ, the boys had managed to clean themselves up and were bickering about food.

“I got Stromboli’s to deliver at 3 last week,” Damian was insisting, even though the Batcomputer clearly showed that they were closed.

“Maybe we could bribe someone at Batburger? They’re open all night,” Tim suggested, sounding doubtful about the prospect.

“There’s food here,” Steph suggested, because she, too, was starving.

Silence for a moment, then Bruce said, in a voice that almost sounded sheepish, “Alfred isn’t here.”

Steph felt a little bad about the smears of ketchup she’d undoubtedly left in the bathroom. “Did he… did he take the kitchen with him?”

“Pennyworth is the only one permitted to use the kitchen,” Damian said loftily while also not looking at anyone directly.

“Yeah, but… we’re hungry,” Steph pointed out.

“They don’t know how to cook,” Tim said, gesturing towards Bruce and Damian. “They’re really bad at it.”

“Like you’re any better,” Damian snapped. “Remember when you set the microwave on fire?”

“I didn’t realize there was still a spoon in the bowl!” The tops of Tim’s ears were turning bright red.

Steph looked at the only person in the room not howling about their own ineptitude in the kitchen. “Please tell me you’re not as useless as they are.”

“I’m insulted that you would think I am,” Jason replied. “I certainly didn’t grow up with a butler.”

Steph sighed, and said, “Wanna go make some food?”

Jason looked at the other three, who were suddenly very focused on writing the night’s mission report. “If it means we’re done with the paperwork, yeah.”

So she climbed the steps to up to the manor for the second time that night, and when she entered the kitchen she suddenly understood the silence and sheepish looks.

“I have seen active crime scenes less disastrous than this kitchen,” Jason said with an awed tone.

“How long has Alfred been gone? A year?” Steph said, staring. “And the question is, is he ever gonna return if he knows this is waiting on him?”

 “Probably he will, but he’ll finally snap and murder them all in a dishes-fueled rage,” Jason said, poking at the mountain of dirty china piled haphazardly in and around the sink.  He poked at a dish. “I’m pretty sure someone ate Spaghetti-Os out of fine china. Is this a real silver spoon?”

The spoon in question had curdled milk clinging to it.

“Okay so ten minutes ago, I would have told you there was no way anything could be grosser than Mad Hatter flopping around in a pool of mayonnaise,” Steph said, “but oh, how I have been proven wrong.”

“How do they even function as human beings?” Jason wondered. “Was it always this bad? I mean, I lived here. I know Bruce is an absolute moron in the kitchen. But…”  He looked around. “Wow.”

“Do you suddenly feel so much better about yourself as a person?” Steph said. “Because I gotta say. Really feeling good about myself right now.”

Jason offered a hand to high five, and Steph did, happily. They rummaged through the pantry side-by-side and found that the staples were still intact, though anything ready-made had been ransacked.  The fridge offered up similar bounty -- takeout leftovers of questionable providence, some wilting produce, and basics.  

“Pancakes?” Steph suggested once she saw the state of the waffle iron -- had someone tried to make a grilled cheese on it? -- and pulled out the dry ingredients. “I’m not willing to eat anything that requires a condiment right now.”  Thankfully maple syrup had not been one of Condiment King’s weapons of choice.

“I’ll make eggs,” Jason said, pulling out a carton. “And there’s some fake bacon of Damian’s.”

“We are a breakfast-making machine,” Steph said. It was true, too -- away from the chaos of crime fighting, she found that working alongside Jason in the kitchen was surprisingly easy. Steph stared at the sink again, and said, “I think that it’s time that certain vigilantes learned the domestic arts.”

“Yeah, we can’t let Alfred come back to this,” Jason said. “He’s too valuable. If he quit--”

“We’d never have his cookies ever again,” Steph said in horror. 

“Maybe we could steal Alfred,” Jason said after a pause. “Like, let nature take its course, then swoop in and take Alfred for our own.”

“Share custody of him,” Steph said, nodding. “We could put him on a rotating schedule, and give him days off, and… I don’t know. Let him join a book club, instead of spending all his time with these disasters.”

They spent a few moments in quiet contemplation of a life where Alfred showed up and made creme brulee at any hour of the day.  Then Steph sighed, giving the pancake batter one last stir before letting it sit and moving to the stove, clearing off several crystal goblets with what looked like coffee dregs in them before finding a griddle.  “There’s only one flaw with our plan.”

“The thing where Alfred loves Bruce like a son and would never abandon him to die alone and hungry in his filthy mansion?” Jason flipped the fake bacon.

“That’s the one,” Steph said, deciding the griddle was hot enough and spooning pancake batter onto it in cute little shapes. She thought that Damian’s should be hearts, and she experimented with bat-shapes for Bruce. 

Jason peered over and saw what she was doing. “I want stars.”

“Of course you do,” Steph said, though she tried to make one as soon as Damian’s hearts were done. It turned out a little wonky, but still recognizable. She was awesome. “Gotta be difficult, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jason replied, cracking eggs into a bowl.  He glanced at the kitchen door. “Are they hiding in the cave in shame?”

“Like, it’s wrong, but the fact that I think they are makes me really happy,” Steph said. “Like, kind of makes up for all those times they acted like I was a moron for not knowing something.”

“Right?” Jason said. 

“I mean, how do you master dozens of different kinds of kung fu, but never once master the grilled cheese? I was making my own grilled cheese in kindergarten!”

“There are only three ingredients,” Jason agreed. “It’s a true embarrassment.”

“We should nominate him for Worst Cooks In America,” Steph said. “I really want to see Bruce on reality television, and that would be comedy gold.”

“Just seeing him get an invitation to be one of the worst of anything would be fucking amazing,” Jason said. “Like, congratulations, sir, you suck at this.”

“You suck so hard we want to feature you on television,” Steph snickered.  She flipped the last of Bruce’s pancakes onto a plate before they burned, and began making Tim’s. She tried to make a coffee mug shape, but it turned out looking like a blob, so she made teddy bears instead.  

“I mean, I kind of get why they’re so terrible at it,” Steph said, “given their upbringings. But I would have literally starved if I hadn’t figured out how to cook early on. Takeout was not an option.”

“Right? Only for special occasions,” Jason said. “The rest of the time, you had to make shit yourself.”

“Exactly,” Steph nodded. They didn’t really talk much about how they were the ones in the family who’d grown up poor, who’d spent a lot of time raising themselves because their parents hadn’t been capable of it. She knew it was why Bruce had compared them so much -- there was a startling amount of similarities between their childhoods, from their mothers’ drug problems to their fathers’ criminal inclinations -- and for once, it felt nice to be the ones with the necessary skills while everyone else floundered. 

They grinned at each other, then put the last of the food onto the plates.  Steph grabbed the maple syrup, and stopped short, staring at the calendar on the fridge. “Four days!”

“What?” Jason said through a mouthful of fake bacon.

“Alfred has only been gone four days,” Steph said, pointing to the note on the fridge, “and he left prepared meals.”  

They gazed in wonder at the chaos around them. 

“He’s going to be back tomorrow,” Jason said suddenly, pointing.  

“Okay, so we feed the troops, then we start Mission: Learn to Do the Damn Dishes,” Steph said. Sleep was for the weak. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jason said, and followed her to the breakfast nook, setting down Tim and Damian’s plates and going back for the rest. “Wanna tell them now?”

“Let them have a final meal first,” Steph said. “Then we’ll light a fire under them.”

Jason grinned. By the time Bruce, Tim and Damian came out of the Cave, she and Jason had polished off half of their meal, and Steph had to admit that delivering a lecture to Batman about chores was one of the highlights of her week.  Possibly the entire month.

It took until dawn, but Alfred came home to a kitchen that no longer looked like it had witnessed the collapse of civilization.

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange Part 10, Mr. J finds Robin

Realized it might be easier to add titles so people know whats going on in these

Marinette was glad she had red hoodie, er, Jay back. He helped her escape her overprotective rouges, and aas the only one she could rant to about JL members without worrying about secret identities.

They may also be plotting to get their Hero Stalker out of the batfam—apparently Dick was a dick to Jason and chances of him changing with Tim were slim.

Speaking of, he didnt pick up lastnight and there havent been Robin sightings lately. Though, she is a but distracted trying to manage Jay’s murder rampages. Zsasz was helping with those and the Sirens pointed him to targets that deserved it, mostly traffickers and cartels.

The Council said that at this rate, he’d be her bodyguard or a new member. She didnt know what that meant for him besides staying beside her, when she worked as ‘Harley’s Niece’ (thank you puzzles for that) but otherwise she was kept away as Pixie Pop (too easy to id her) and Jill was just her father’s daughter taking to his patients and keeping certain Rogues from plotting mass murder (Uncle Jerome, Penguin, Riddler) or terrorist attacks (mostly Scarecrow but sometimes Ivy, Dent and Mr. Freeze)

But it bugged her, Robin being missing. She mentioned it to Rose, who said her flowers hadn’t seen him at all. As Tim or Robin.

She sent out a rouge and RKC search city-wide. Jay helps, as Red Hood (helmet was better but no, hood. Even though he isnt wearing one and is still in the awful outfit they met in).

Red Hood has managed to get a following on the streets and made a no kids rule for everything. All kids found were given to Uncle Oswald or his ‘son’ Marteen (late twenties) for recovery phsycially. Mentall Harley had her own picks for help on therapy, social and psychological sides.

The RKC was thriving since that system was installed.

But Robin was missing two days in. Mr. J was still back and too quiet and damnit!

Marinette skipped her treatments. Gotham is loud and she knows it but she has to do something. Jay is in his gear and she puts on her knock-Harley outfit and stocks up on knives, stungun, bolas and rubber bullet guns on her hips or legs.

She doesnt think about the fact that the red and black makes it look like her and Red Hood are trying to match with the the different red and black he’s wearing. Her makeup covers her face again—done up like a mime with a few contour tricks now.

She sneaks out and patrols on the rooftop, one of Robin’s usual routes. Maybe they just need to talk in person.

Then she catches something that sounds like her Hero Stalker when he was frustrated and tired and oh god that was screaming in there.

She moved. hit Rose’s tracker flower hard enough to leave a distress trail as she ran.

Jay ran after her, following her twists and turns.

She wished she skipped her treatments sooner. Could fly off to help but she hadnt and she cursed herself for this.

At 10 she found Mr. J torturing her friend in a warehouse.

“Stalker,” she whispered. Becuase that’s who he was first, the hero stalker that loved Batman and Robin (Robin-Jay, a small voice corrected her) for helping his city and were kind and caring and nice when his home was cold.

Robin and Mr. J didn’t hear. She knew that words were being said but she couldnt process them. Shock, Harley talked about that a lot after last summer.

A camera was recording. The sick fuck, he wanted to show this to someone.

She grabbed her bolas and threw them at Mr. J’s head.

He went down, hard. Jay handled him, but Marinette only cared about getting her friend off that table.

There was an oversized ray gun lointed at them while she fiddled witht he restraints, picking the locks.

She heard the whirling in it and kicked it in another direction.

It threw lightning. What the hell. What the hell—where was Batman. Why wasnt he keeping her friend safe. Why did he fail to keep Jay safe. Why—why does he get to put kids in danger?

Marinette felt sick. She got an exhausted Tim out and carried him.

She felt Harley run a hand through her hair as she refused to let her friend go.

She didnt know when the others got there, but they were.

Never alone, never go in alone. Always call the family and they will show. Never fight alone—the Council drilled this into her for years. Why was Hero Stalker-Robin alone? Did Batman forget how dangerous Gotham can be?

Zsasz was there with Jay, something Jay being “too nice” about needing to kill him painfully and permanently this time—“properly put him down this time.”

Her mind was a mess. She went to her Father on autopilot, carrying Tim over the rooftops. He clung to her. She’s ten and he’s twelve clinging to her as support. Where’s his team, his backup. Where’s Batman or Batgirl or Nightwing or the newb—Spoiler?

Why was Tim clinging to her and her team when his should be there. When his fights hers. Why were his enemies there and Batman—no, Bruce, his dad. Why wasn’t his Dad there for him. Why?

Father’s assisant helped fix Tim, their ability is to augment healing after Father puts them back together. Any attempt to move his mask was met by her breaking their wrist.

He had enough to worry about. No identity reveals on top of this nightmare, not on her watch.

She didn’t leave him that night. Refused to sleep too.

When he came to the next day, Jay was with a despondent Marinette.

“Going Kronos route,” Jay. Jay was tlaking about that monster. “He said I didnt have to see that.” Jayw as looking at her weird.

Marinette nodded, hoping it was the last time for real Jerimah would die. She lost track of how many times he’d been killed.

“Dad, he’s gotta be worried...” Tim, why the hell aren’t you thinking for yourself? Marinette wants to shake him, to keep him there and never let Bruce see him again.

Jay is debating it too, she can feel it. “I don’t know, he replaced me pretty quick.”

She wants to hit her brother. Becuase she knows he’s hurting but Jay can you chill for a but—he knew Hero Stalker befor ehe became Robin. He kenw what Tim’s life was like before Bruce. And Tim has been through enough, especially for now, hasn’t he?

“I, Ja—” so his first name started with a J. He was Jason Todd Wayne. Red Hoodie was Jason Todd Wayne and Robin and now James Smith. A lot of o’s until now, she noted (distract to aviod processing an overwhelming situation.)

“Its Red Hood. That kid died.”

“Hoodie...” she wanted to hug him or hit him or something. She doesn’t know. It hurts and doesnt at once.

Jay put an hand on her shoulder.

She knew he meant it. That Robin was killed by negilence from what he’d told her and she could peice together. The batfam picked Dick who left over him—a new Robin with no idea what was going on and how to Wayne and was being bullied by the rich kids and teachers in the ways that Jason couldn’t fight against. And when he finally lashed out—started being abit more violent—they put distance and then he went to find someone that might want him, his birth mother. That person sold him out to Mr. J. He died trying to protect his birth mom who wanted him dead.

She wanted cry but her eyes weren’t working. Still in shock then.

“I’m taking you back home if you want, but you have to stop being Robin like this. You can still do detective stuff but you need backup when you patrol or do a bust ir anything. You’re thirteen, not twenty.”

Tim didn’t make eyecontact. “I, he needs me.”

Marinette wanted to throttle Bruce. Badly.

“I get that.”

Harley only got better when Ivy stepped in. Jerome only recovers as long as Marinette keeps talking to him, the Sirens are slowly adopting him so she has more free time. Zsasz does what she says, and when she said no more taking hits unless they broke an RKC rule—attacking kids, abuse (any kind), murder that isn’t justifiable (see Dent for clarification), and active enablers of systematic abuse (dirty cops and their ‘albi’ partner, the false alibi givers too—Rose and Ivy’s plants were happy to testify the truth of anyone’s lcoation at any time).

Hell, if it wasnt for Frost and Ghoul and Puzzles, she doubted their fathers would even be considering backing off of crime. As it stands, Riddler is now running a youtube let’s play and working on game design as her and puzzles constant request. The other two were slowly moving off of crime and more into science again.

Her father would still be.. she didnt want to know how he’d escalate. But there were rumors of an alter around... she’d handle that tomorrow. Today was making sure Tim understood boundaries.

“But that doesnt mean you die for him. Do you hear me?”

Tim wasn’t looking at her then, looking at Jay instead.

“How are you even...”

“I dont talk about it.”

Tim nodded, slowly turning back to Marinette. “I, uh...”

Jay shook his head. “He wont get it pixie.”

“I,” Marinette sighed. Everything in her hurt and she didn’t know why. She wasnt injured. “He can try. Just, please Jay?”

Jay ruffled her hair. “Talk to him then you’re getting some z’s got it?”

Marinette nodded, feeling Jay leave. Probably to talk to Father about this. Maybe the Council.

“T—Robin.” He turned to her then. “Please, don’t die. If its life or death situation, please dont be the one to die. Don’t pull an idiot move and martyr yourself fighting a war. Focus on the causes, find the root issue and kick its butt. If anyone can, its you.”

Tim blinked slowly at her.

Marinette sighed. “Get some rest. Everyone knows if the touch your mask Jay’s got free reign.”

She went home and let Harley gove her Ivy’s knockout tea.

“Hun, how...”

“He doesn’t even realize how screwed up it is. I, he can’t becuase he came from such shit parents and...”

Harley raised an eyebrow at her word choice, and decided certain people would get a talk. Lter, when her neice didnt look like she couls blow up at any minute.

Marinette wanted to scream and kick and fight but thst won’t help her friend.

“...how bad.”

“His birth parents left him alone enough for him to stalk vilgantes and rogues and get pics. They didnt even notice.”

Harley took a deep breath. “I’m giving him a burner. If he’s in deep, he can message us. I can talk to him but we both know that not how Waynes work.”

Marinette rubbed her temples. She suspected Harley knew but... “Do they know?”

“Only me, Selina and Jerome for now. Ivy suspects. Want it to stay our secret?”

Marinette nodded.

Harley patted her head. “Get some sleep. You have a Bat to chew out tonight.”

—

Marinette walked Tim to Batman, escorted by Jerome and Harley.

Jerome was pissed, she noted.

“Batsy, care to explain why my neice and us were the ones to find your bird?”

Batman didn’t look good. His skin was tired. Hopefully from searching for his son, right?

Batman was silent.

Tim ran into his arms, crying.

Marinette could feel Jerome ready to punch Batman. She held him back.

“Give him a minute, please.”

Jerome narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

Batman idly noted the interaction. Apparently this girl... clown-mime? She had sway over Joker and Harley. And found his son.

He didnt know how to thank them, or what to do with that.

“Er, Mr. Batman?” The girl sounded different then. More than a tonal shift.

“I, you need to fix your team. This is the second time this happened to one of your sons.”

Batman tensed at that.

“It was Mr. J again. I, one of my uncles and my brother are handling him. This is the third summer he’s tried killing a kid.”

That had both looking at her. “He,” Marinette was smaller then, almost... scared.

Batman seemed to catch what she was trying to say.

“He kidnapped my girl here with hatter, killed Hatter infront kf her, and held her for a week while deciding how to kill her until she escaped and called us.”

Batman stared at Marinette then, something clicking enough to make him pale.

“He targets kids. The, the RKC are claiming jurisdiction on him and claiming his body to prevent future revivals,” Marinette got out, shaking slightly. She hated thinking about that week. It took day with the green crystals and week after to recover phsyically.

Batman didnt say anything, waiting for her to talk. Not the adults—he put together she’s incharge.

It was unnerving.

Tim was looking ar her too. They both knew she knew a lot. He wanted to see what she’d do with that knowledge.

She hated to dissapoint him, but Oswald and Marteen and Fish told her to make sure negotations go her way by any means necessary.

“I, Robin is either to be supervised or partnered during all patrols, put on a team somewhere else where he gets that support or be removed from fieldwork and he needs a new alias for his safety.”

Robin, not Tim, stiffened. “You’re not the boss of me!”

“If these conditions aren’t met, then i...”

Harley stepped forward then. “Then me or Jokes will blab about who’s under the mask. If its bad enough, then my mini-me will let out four other leaguer’s identities and their sidekicks. She’s pretty smart, even panicked when she found out i knew how much she knew.”

Marinette was paler under the makeup. She knew

This was the best plan for sucess but it made her feel sick.

Batman put Tim behind him.

“How does she—”

Marinette winced at the tone.

Batman froze at her reaction. He didnt like it when kids were scared of him.

She was shaking when she spoke. “Paterns and friends with their obsessions and me with mine and a few photoshop jokes and it just...” she trailed off, curling in in herself and eyes on the ground.

Bad move but she, she cant look at people right now. Maybe Jay but not the man who pushed her brother into a palce where he was vulenerable, not one who failed to get two of his sons away from Mr. J.

“You, you should have a meeting or something on secret identities becuase i have to keep a lot of them now. Becuase, becuase you guys are bad at them and blocking JL news did nothing to stop figuring out Arrow with his archery style and Superman’s only works with general disbelief and acting and Wonderwoman should vary how she carries herself or something and uh, yeah, Flash was more a senses thing and uh, i just...”

She was fiddling. With her ropes. When did she start doing that?

“I’ll talk to the league.” Batman was watching her carefully. Too carefully.

“Just, just think things through, okay? Tag team patrols if he stays and new costume—i made him by knowing him before... maybe a different role on the team? I, i don’t know just...”

Marientte squeezed the rope. Oh, those were tears starting up. “please keep him safe.”

She didnt see their reactions. She heard Jay coming over, in his helmet.

“Pixie, time to go.” It was Jay that lifted her up. She was lighter then? Did her worry screw with her treatment processing again? She didnt know. Or maybe she was just light to him?

She let him take her the long way, to the RKC.

She cried with Rose’s plants growing over her and Jay into him. Rose kept Ghoul from going to kill someone by getting him to help her make crepes for Marinette.

It was an absymal attempt. But it got her to laugh.

Frost gave her an ice sculpture and told them he’d be taking her to his summer classes in Central for a few.

—

The JL have a meeting. No one likes what Batman tells them.

“You’re telling us Harley Quinn—who took you down on her own twice—she has a neice that knows not only your team’s identities, but mine, Supes, Wonder Woman and Flash’s?” Arrow summized.

Batman sighed. “Yes.”

The League was silent for a moment.

Flash was the one to break it. “You wouldnt happen to have any pictures of Harley in casual clothing would you?”

Everyone turned to him, various looks of confusion, rage and disgust.

Batman put a picture of Harley with the Sirens up, one where she forgot her make-up during a ‘shopping spree’ in the Sirens early days.

“Yeah, i think she’s this girl, Jill i think, her aunt. The kid was wicked smart when i met her at the Flash muesum last year, and knew more than she should about acfive police cases. I think she’s our mystery girl, Pixie.”

“That’s what Red Hood was calling her before taking her away.”

The league burst into chaos then.

“We need to find her”

“Get the security feeds from the Flash muesum last summer.”

“Theyre deleted already.”

“Databases for american girls named variations of Jill born between XXXX and XXXX”

“Wait, alias, maybe?”

“Damnit!”

—

The Flash was patroling his city when she spotted her. Pixie. At central city university.

“Hey there kiddo.”

The girl jumped a bit, turning to see him. Earplugs. sensory issues?

“Uh, hello?” Th girl looked around, like she was expecting someone else. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Kind of. Maybe you can help?”

That got the girl’s attention, sitting up straighter and her eyes sharper. Definately the girl Batman said she was. He put his league comm on, hoping the others would hear.

“There’s this case I’m working on, but the lead scientist is stuck on. I heard from a certain reporter you’re pretty good at forensic science, think you can help with a bit of bio?”

Marinette blinked a few times, but nodded. “Kind of. Im not allowed in labs yet so i mostly just look at data and figure out what patterns fit it best. My father doesnt want me to get too involved with biology or medicine since mom has a science ban.”

Red flag. Restrictive learning is a red flag. Possible abusive or toxic home. Procede with caution.

“Well that’s good. Give me one sec, the lead on this isnt getting it done.”

flash came back in less than a second, holding a file. “Can you look this over and tell me what happened?”

“The kid was moved through multiple locations while injured. He, he couldnt fight back since there’s no defensive wounds, but restraint bruising, looks like metal since its uniform... i, mr. flash, they have a lot of injuries, but some are old and defensive so in bad fighting situations a lot too.”

Marinette handed him back the file.

“Thank you. The forensic guy is taking forever.”

That had the girl, Jill? Looking at him again, this time curious. He hoped the league turned on his camera to see her reactions. Get her into their database.

“Who is it?”

“Barry Allen.”

Marinette couldnt help it, Barry (not flash, Barry who is hiding being a meta and still speaking out) is her personal hero. Him and Harley, but still. “He’s really cool!”

Okay, she can’t hide her fangirl side.

Flash raised an eyebrow. “Not really. Always late, sloppy attire, testimonies are eh.”

Marinette was mad then—why cant Flash let his alter be amazing!

“He’s late becuase he’s known to stay up late working on other cases when he isnt paid to and doesnt have to. And appearances and organizational skills arent what matters—his expertise is and he’s one of best with getting everyone what they need in time for case-building. So what if his reports are hard to read sometimes? He explains it in personso everyone gets what happened, which is very important and a lot of people are super bad at. And—and he advocates for meta rights and for their ability and circumstances taken into consideration during sentencing—none of the others even try to remind people of that and that a lot of metas dont chose their powers and it gets overwhelming and scary and then one instictive reaction later and people get hurt when you didnt want to react at all.”

Flash felt something kick him in the chest then. The girl is meta. Ear plugs. Possibly hurt somone by accident.

“If its okay, can i ask what your ability is?”

Marinette froze. “I. If anyone finds out, I lose Maman and Papa and Father and everyone.”

Flash froze at that. “What do you mean you lose everyone.”

“I, I’m visiting family for the summer. I live in France.” She didnt want to say more than that for location. “Being meta there is bad. Automatic life sentence with no trial bad.”

Flash sat down, putting an arm around her. This, this was not what he was expecting.

“My powers get worse in the summer. If I slip here, most of my family can handle it. Nothing bad happens. If i slip at home with Maman and Papa, i... if anyone knew then i’d be taken away whether they wanted it or not.”

“Where would you end up?” He had to know how bad it was.

“Living zombie in correction centers. Then jail-jail when you’re 18 until you die... no trial. Being meta is a crime there. And, and mr. Allen doesnt think that way at all. He keep saying you need to contextualize power and abilities and intents and if you defend yourself and you’re meta you go jail...”

Flash stayed silent, letting her continue.

“Maman screamed a lot when i hit this stalker in france. He was following me and other kids from school with a bat, saying he’d teach us all lessons. We got away but he kept trying to get us. I snapped one time and he was mostly fine, nothing permanent but Maman was so angry at me for almost getting caught becuase it was on tape and i was a little kid and little kids run, they dont fight.

“My powers didnt show though—Father made a treatment to keep them from that. No one suspects stickers... but she’s still scared its enough for a rep to come and check me for meta abilities and that she’ll lose me again.

“Again?”

Marinette twisted at that. “I, uh, probably would be dead if Father didnt find a treatment for me as a baby. Its how i got my abilities, but if theyre ever neutralized completely, i’d be dead. So we have to curb them... Maman forgets i need them and almost threw out my supply once. She forgets that i’m not normal until things like a student stalker happen and i hit the guy with his bat and then she remembers and gets scared i’ll be taken and its just...”

Flash decided he was adopting her, somehow. Smart and powered and in need of help.

There would be an intervention in France soon.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure, especially for someone your age.”

Marinette didnt make eye contact. “I have to. If i dont then there’s a dot in the open and thats a possible pattern and someone might connect it to the ones i couldnt stop. And Father and me are good at connecting dots and finding possibilities.”

Flash wanted to scream at the League then, he ahd a feeling they only added to her stress.

“He, he says we’re hardwired to find patterns and possibilities. But i shouldnt catch as many as i do. My teachers keep saying i need to slow down and dial it back and stop catching on so fast and blurting things out but i just...”

Marinette was fiddling with her hair then, it was down enough to.

“Sounds like you’re a real smart kid.”

“Smart kids don’t get caught.” She needed to be smarter, untraceable.

Flash thought she meant the Justice League wasn’t smart. And if the girl was reluctant to let him bring them in just yet...

“Do you at least have someone you can talk to about this?”

“My Auntie Quinn and Rose. Rose doesnt like you though.”

“Oh? Who made her mad at us? Was is Arrow?” He already knew but he wanted to know why.

“Batman. He, uh gave her to someone who, and i quote, ‘should never be allowed to have a sentiment child that is not a plant’ when she was found by him. She’s younger than me but she looks older, and isnt allowed outside of her house.”

Flash heard a low thump from his comm. oh, Batman knew who it was alright.

“I, uh, do you need help with another case?”

Flash smiled at her. She needed a distraction from what she just said.

“Back in a flash!” Once he was back in starr labs he turned on his audio. “Who was it?”

“Poison Ivy’s daughter. Cadmus, not Ivy, created her apparently.”

Flash swore as he grabbed a differnt file. Potential speedster case he hadn’t gotten around to.

“Here ya go kiddo,” Flash grinned at her.

Marinette nodded her head and looked over the file.

“Something doesn’t add up... there!” She pointed at one of the photographs. “See?”

Flash leaned in to get a better look.

“It looks like the speedster marks but that would only work if the speedster was messing with spacetime continum! But there’s no evidence of that so Occam’s razor, its a lightning meta!”

Flash looked over the picture and it did add up. Especially the lack of certain streaking patterns.

“They were probably teleporting since theres no drag or streaks, just one epicenter,” Marinette continued.

Flash decided that the League would be visiting Paris, and he’d be personally fixing the meta policies. And that the girl, Jill, she’d be in the League. She lectured Batman and Robin on safety and seemed to be focused on helping them in their weaker spots as heroes... mainly identity maintenance. And she likes science and is good at it—perfect to add a science-centric member to the League as she grows up.

—

That’s the end of this summer. Next time we do marinette meeting Tikki and becoming Ladybug. That should take a few posts until we get back to gotham.

Let me know if you want a JL handling looking for Marinette as Princess (the kiddie kyptonian) and Jill (who Flash found and is presumed to be Harley’s neice). Im happy to if there’s interest.

Reminder, there will be many a miraculous swap and the Ladybug parts will diverge from cannon as 1) i changed a lot of characters, 2) charater dynamics are altered too and 3) i’m changing when students came in and how Adiren ended up in school.

Also, see my kwami posts for how the kwami are in this AU as they are not the same as cannon and it will be a bit obvious.

@dast218 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @weird-pale-blonde-person @emeraldpuffguide @mystery-5-5

[incoherentbabblings]

First Date (8/9)

Tim has one more test to pass before Bruce will allow him out as Robin. Like Dick and Jason before him, he has to avoid being caught by Batman for one night. He has already failed once, and is determined to succeed this time. Determination which might not count for much when Stephanie Brown is on the run from the mob. Her mother kidnapped as a way to threaten her father, Stephanie manages to escape and run into Tim. Unable to leave Stephanie alone when she is in need, Tim decides to try and multi-task. All he has to do is rescue Stephanie’s mother, take down the mob, avoid Batman, and get Stephanie to agree to a proper date all in one night. Absolute anarchy ensues  Ao3 link here!

After exiting the car, Tim had shot up to the neighbouring warehouse, looking down.  There was an obvious hole in the roof where Bruce most likely had crashed through.  The rain and wind had gotten worse since they had set off and it was a grim early morning in Gotham.

“Oracle, what happened to Batman?  Do you know?”

“We made a mistake.  We’d assumed that with the number of people out looking for you two, the numbers within the warehouse would be pretty manageable.  Ibanescu has more men behind him than we thought.”

“He’d have taken down a few first right, though?  Before?  He would have gone down fighting.”

Oracle give no indication that she had heard Tim.

“We need a view of the building, I’ll see what the Batmobile can do.”

Tim frowned to himself, finding the entire situation increasingly suspect, but said nothing.  He waited patiently whilst Barbara taught Stephanie how to use parts of the car.  Barbara had hooked their audio channels together, so he kept silent listening to Barbara’s instructions and Stephanie’s general confusion.  He felt a slight ringing in his ears as he felt the sonar pass through him multiple times.

“Do you get the image wherever you are?” Stephanie asked from inside the car.

“I do.  Can see there’s about fifteen bodies in there.  You two and Batman took out a few on your city travels.”

“Is Batman in there?”  She asked.

“Can’t say for certain, it doesn’t give a clear enough picture.  It’ll help Tim know what way to enter, so thank you Stephanie.”

“You’re welcome.”

Three men on the top floor, ten on the ground, congregated in two groups.  Two further back and off to the side than the others. Possibly Bruce and Crystal, though he wouldn’t know until he crashed in.  Sucking in air between his Tim, Tim clambered over to the hole in the roof and tentatively peered down.  He had to catch them off guard somehow…  He sighed, then spoke to Oracle.

“Going in now.  See if she can get the EMP to go off.  It’ll cut off my communications, but the other tech should still work.  It’ll mess with their stuff real good.”

“Be careful Tim.”

“Promise.”

He leaned over the edge of the hole and grabbed hold of the roof beams that were still intact and could support his weight.  He remained up high, creaking wood giving away his position, but the building was so old, and the weather was so bad that the entire structure was creaking regardless.  In his ear, he heard Stephanie ask,

“Oracle?  How do I set off an EMP?”

“One sec…  By the gear stick, there’s a circle of smaller buttons with a big button in the middle?”

“Hit the big button?”

“No.  Do not hit the big button.”

“What’s the big button do?”

“Don’t touch it.”

Tim snorted a laugh and struggled to contain it.  He moved overhead of one of the three men, waiting for Stephanie to mess with their electronics.

“What can I touch?”

“Bottom right.  Hit once, no more than one second.  It’s pretty fierce and will knock out a block if you hold it too long.”

Tim turned off his earpiece, knowing it would give a firecracker snap if he left it on, and waited.

Sparks lit up from the inside of the men’s jackets and trousers with their phone’s sparking off, and in one instance a fancy looking gun one man held fizzed so violently he dropped it with a comical squeal, arm almost spasming from the jolt. 

Looking at their disorientation, Tim dropped down on one gangster. The force of his weight was enough to make the man’s head ricochet off the wooden floorboards.  Before the other two had managed to turn around, Tim fiercely wacked one, then the other, with his bo staff.  The three men fell to the ground, out of action.

Easy peasy.

Pleased with himself, Tim made his way across the room, heading for the stairs.  Poking his head down, he could see the main hall of the warehouse.

The group of ten was not necessarily what they appeared.  Ibanescu stood in the centre of three men and one woman who had congregated to the centre of the room. He was wearing a white suit and holding a comically large gun.  To Tim he looked like a Black Mask wannabe.  Further up the hall, closer to Tim, was Crystal.  She seemed awake, albeit exhausted, but also seemed to be in pain, emotional and physical.  Knowing she’d been sat on the cold floor for hours by this point, hands bound uncomfortably behind her, and denied her pain medication she was dependent on, Tim frowned and gripped the stair rail tighter in sympathy.  She was sat behind Batman, who to Tim looked unconscious rather than dead.  Thankfully.

A pile of five unconscious bodies had been moved to one corner, so Bruce had managed to take out a few before one of them had managed to bonk him hard enough on the cowl to make him plonk to the floor.  Tim breathed a silent thank you to Bruce.  Five was more manageable.

But why hadn’t they killed Bruce?  They must have thought Stephanie had died falling off that bridge, but maybe they were hoping beyond hope that Arthur Brown would show up with the promised money, probably wanted to make a grand spectacle of it all. 

Tim checked the roof of the room, seeing if there was another place he could spring off, but nothing suited.  He huffed to himself, becoming impatient with his delays.  The quicker he moved in, the faster it would be over… one way or another.

Well, no time like the present.

Tim threw a smoke bomb down and followed it quickly by the small bombs that he had accidentally set off nearly twelve hours ago, before he’d left the Batcave.  The bright light, loud noise, fog and heat from the bombs was enough to scatter the men.  Tim jumped down, using the smog as cover from the ensuing gun fire, and began to kick, punch and strike as hard and fluently as he could.  Occasionally, he’d feel the whizz of a bullet shoot by, making him twitch his head instinctively away from the noise, but otherwise no-one managed to land a punch on him.  A few members slid away, out of the smoke and into clearer air, but Tim remained within, out of sight.  He ran backwards and slid over to Crystal and Bruce.  She had managed to curl herself over Bruce like a shield, proving her protective instinct was stronger than her self-preservation.  Maybe that was where Stephanie picked hers up from. 

Ibanescu called for people to gather round him, his voice nasal and high pitched with fright, and wait for the smoke to clear.

Tim moved towards Bruce to cut through the binding that held his wrists and legs together, Crystal very reluctantly moved back once she realised what Tim was doing.  Once the material scraps fell the floor, Tim gestured for her to turn.

She did, but also began asking him, “You’re with him?”

“I am.”  With her wrists free, Crystal brought them around to her front, grimacing at the red and damaged skin round her wrists, dried blood and dirty wounds.  A sudden thought came to her, and she whirled around and grabbed Tim’s shoulder.  Tim groaned at how fiercely she held on, but he did not let go of Batman’s cowl in his attempts to awaken him.

“My daughter –”

“She’s outside in the batmobile.  She’s been shot a couple of times but she’s fine.  I promise she’s safe and she’s helping me right now.  Sit tight until it’s over.  I don’t want anymore of you getting caught in the crossfire.”

“She’s alive?”

“She –”

A large explosion ripped a gaping hole in the building.  Crystal shrieked whilst Tim floundered at the unexpected interruption.  Bruce groaned with the injection Tim had given him waking him out of his temporary slumber.

“Batman, hurry up, wake up…”  Tim shook Bruce incessantly.  Bruce grunted again, then went to raise himself off the floor.

Somebody grabbed Tim from behind and pulled him up and away from Crystal, who shrieked in alarm.  Tim saw that there were two members still standing after his attack and the imploding wall, plus Ibanescu himself, and the man holding Tim.  Ibanescu had his gun aimed at the pair, and in a moment of utter panic, he fired the gun, ideally aiming for Tim’s head.  The man who held Tim seemed to realise what was going to happen to him and cried out, only for it to be cut off sharply and violently.

Tim froze, limbs still splayed and uncoordinated from being picked up off the floor.

No... way.

The shell went wide and missed Tim, who was too short for the shot, and Tim was suddenly faced with carrying a very heavy corpse on his back.  Screeching and generally freaking out, he flipped the body over, thrusting it upwards to rest on one of the numerous hanging platforms used for moving cargo.  Tim hadn’t intended to fling it across the room, but his adrenaline and flip had given the body enough momentum to reach a nice height.  The upper torso hung off the platform, dripping onto the floor below.

"Oh.  Oh crap."

Tim felt chunks of bone and tissue slide of his back and refused to look at the corpse.  He turned around to glare the gangster.  The two remaining members stared at the body, then to Tim, then to the back of Ibanescu.  Looking briefly at each other, the man and woman decided the batmobile was an easier target, and probably safer from stray shells, and ran out to beat their way in. 

“Stephanie!”  Tim cried out, and went to follow, but Ibanescu raised his gun, and Tim froze.  He wouldn’t miss again.

“Enough!”  The gangster shouted.  Crystal flinched and was unable to stop staring towards the ceiling at the dead man.  She began crying.  Tim moved back to shield her and a still struggling Batman.  He let Ibanescu rant.  “Arthur swindled me out of such a sum I couldn’t get the last import… and he’s such a coward he wouldn’t show up to save his wife or avenge his daughter!  Fuck it, fuck him, and fuck you and the Bat… this whole night has been spoiled!”

It seemed to Tim that Ibanescu had a higher opinion of Arthur Brown than was probably warranted.  He seemed deeply shocked and disappointed (and angry) that the man had not showed up for the sake of his family.  Maybe Arthur was smarter (and crueller) than anyone gave him credit for. Tim glanced around the room, trying to find a way to get the gun out of the other man’s grip.

A tasered mobster was thrown back into the warehouse.  Tim’s mouth dropped open in pleasant surprise.  Stephanie had managed to activate the defence system.  When Ibanescu was distracted by the collapsed figure, a batarang whizzed over Tim’s shoulder and buried itself into Ibansecu’s shoulder.  Bruce had recovered enough to disarm the threat to Tim.  Ibanescu cried out, arm dropping the gun and swinging uselessly.  It allowed Tim to rush forward and body slam the man, knocking him to the floor and out cold.

There was a moment of silence, then Tim whooped.  “I did it!”

A familiar grunt behind him brought the jubilation to a cold close.  Crystal stumbled to her feet, muttering about Stephanie.  Slowing his breathing down, Tim rolled over the unconscious man and went to bind him up.  He heard the crinkle of Batman’s cape as Bruce rose up, but Tim determinedly ignored him, childishly delaying the inevitable heartbreak. 

Tim had just managed to handcuff Ibanescu when Crystal went to run out of the warehouse. 

“Wait!” Tim yelled, but he could only watch at the batmobile jerked amateurly into the building, knocking Crystal back onto the floor.  “Ah!  No, Mrs Brown!”  Tim stumbled up, tripping over the man on the floor, and returned to pinning the body down.

Crystal waved a reassuring hand upwards.  “Okay… I’m okay.  Woo!”  She huffed, rolling around on the floor, gaining momentum to push herself back up.

Tim could only stare at the strange older woman, realising more and more where Stephanie got her ability to seemingly brush off things that would cripple another.  Tim got the feeling that Crystal Brown was stronger than Stephanie gave her mother credit for, but then again, he was only judging from ten minutes of interaction.  The potential was there, maybe, but perhaps it had been beaten down after decades of a toxic husband.  Tim felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Batman kneeling down next to him, moving to Tim’s level.

“You can get off him now, I’ll take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, you’ve done enough.”

His tone, as always, was impossible to decipher.  Tim felt drops of blood fall on the floor off his hair and clothes, and decided Bruce meant it derisively.  Someone had died because of him.  He slid off an unconscious Ibanescu, despondent. 

“Wait…”  He said, as Bruce went to move all the unconscious people into one easy to arrest pile.  Bruce paused expectantly.  “What happened?  You’ve beaten more guys than this.  They didn’t have a clue what they were doing?  None of them did…”

Batman looked over to the knocked over mother and sighed.  “Crystal was... not the most well behaved hostage.”

It wasn’t much of an excuse, but having hung around her daughter for ten hours, Tim nodded in solid empathy.

Stephanie meanwhile has started to rock in horror in her seat, and surveyed the damage she’d caused by blowing open a hole in as structurally unsound building.  No-one was left standing, aside from Tim, who was crouched over a suited man next to a conscious Batman. 

Her mother thrust a hand on the hood of the batmobile, and wailed a cry as she pulled herself upwards, seemingly aware that her daughter was inside it, and Stephanie burst into tears.  Unbuckling in a rush, she ignored the restricting pain of her stomach, and kicked the door open.  She fell out of the car, and pulled herself off the cold concrete floor.

“Mom!  Mom!”  She cried out, clinging to bonnet and waving Crystal over.

Crystal, who looked none the worse for wear, aside from a bruised neck and wrists and a tear stained face, rushed over, careening into her daughter, disturbing the sore leg and gut.  Despite the pain, Stephanie’s tears were ones of a relief so sharp it did not compare to the pain of being shot.  Her mom was safe.

“They told me you were shot and fell!”

“No that definitely happened.  I’m alive though.  Somehow.”  Stephanie voice was watery and fragile, but she still managed to joke to her mother, who pressed aggressive kisses to her face.

She looked over her mom’s shoulder, watching Batman and Tim converse.  She could not see either of the men’s faces.  She couldn’t tell how the fight had gone, aside from the fact that they had won.  She couldn’t see if Batman was well, if Tim was unharmed, or if the mood was light or angry and somber. 

Raising her eyes, she saw a body lying further up on a hanging platform.  Its head was missing.

Stephanie froze in her mother’s arms.  Was that where the screech had come from?

“Mom…who’s body is that?”

“Oh.”  Her mother began crying hysterically.  “Oh God.  I’m going to need therapy.  Some gangster your father had gotten in trouble with… Arthur never showed.  He never…”

Police sirens sounded off in the distance, and Tim approached the couple.  Stephanie blinked at the dark blood running down his skin.

“You’re hurt?!”  She moved from her mother and cradled Tim’s cheek, to which he smiled bashfully and shook his head.  He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing tight.

“No… not mine.  Don’t worry, not a scratch on me… Better than him I guess…”  His smiled turned sad and the sirens grew louder. 

“Did you…?”

Even the possibility of Tim killing someone was enough to make his flush red.  “No!  No.  God no.  Ibanescu was aiming for me but missed…”

“Oh.  Okay… poor guy.”

Crystal rolled her eyes at Stephanie’s simple but well meaning sentiment and clung to her daughter’s side, unwilling to let go.  Tim heard Bruce moving towards the car, and knew the night was over.

“We have to… we have to go now.”

Stephanie’s blinked, realising what this meant, and frantically turned to her mother.  “Mom, mommy, this is the boy who saved me right at the start near the pharmacy, kept me safe all night.”  Stephanie smiled, eyes wet, feeling very fragile and desperate for her mother to understand what Tim had done for her.  She spoke quickly and breathlessly, afraid that Tim would leave before she could explain it all.

Crystal looked at Tim suspiciously and said nothing.  Taking a step away, Tim spoke, practically reading Crystal’s thoughts.

“Not true, your bullet wounds and fall off the bridge say otherwise.”

Stephanie frowned and tugged on Tim’s hand urgently, not wanting him to go.  “Remember your promise okay?”

He laughed very gently.  “Yup, yup.”

“The police will take it from here.”  Said Batman, storming up to the trio.  He loomed over the three of them, a solid foot taller than Crystal, and several inches more than Stephanie and Tim.  He seemed okay but did not offer any explanation for what had happened on the initial rescue attempt.  Stephanie supposed she would have to hear it from her mother.  He offered as parting words, “I’m sorry this happened to you both.” 

His words were kind, but his tone was not, and Stephanie suddenly felt like defending Tim.

“I asked him to stay with me.  I couldn’t have gotten through tonight without him.”

“…I know.”

“I’m okay because of him.”

Batman said nothing and went to leave.  Stephanie blurted out, “And you?  Are you okay?”

Despite the cowl covering most of his face, Stephanie recognized the look of mortification when she saw it.  He wasn’t expecting that question, and refused to answer her.  Maybe he took it as her demeaning him, when in fact she was being genuine.

Huh.  Tim’s behaviour was rubbing off on her.

And then he left, entering the car.  The other door was opened, a clear signal for Tim to enter as well.  Tim did as he bid and after one last tight squeeze, and a love sick smile, let go of Stephanie’s hand.  She returned to her mother’s embrace and watched as the car drove away more smoothly than her or Tim’s attempts to control the vehicle.  She stepped out of the building, wanting to watch him go, through the hole she had punched through.  Only as she reached the alley she was met by four cars and two vans pulling up.  Several armed police came out, guns already held upwards.

Instinctively, both Stephanie and Crystal raised their arms.  They had dealt with the police enough times in their lifetime to know what to expect. 

“It’s safe!” Crystal yelled across the way, “They’re all subdued… though one…”

They were gestured to enter the squad car, ready to be driven back to the police station. 

Stephanie sat down with a gasp, her gut aching something awful.  She leaned down and grasped her thigh, massaging the muscle reassuringly.  Crystal nervously put on her seatbelt and began rubbing her wrists, smearing drying blood on her hands and forearms.  She seemed more focused than Stephanie, and managed to talk to the police officers without sounding like a hysterical woman. It must have been the ER nurse in her kicking in.

Looking out the window as they began to be driven away, Stephanie could see the sun was beginning to rise.  She was exhausted, seriously injured and feeling remarkably lost.  Her mother breathed a final sigh of relief at finally being safe.  They probably weren’t going to given much chance to rest, and would have to recount what had transpired in the past twelve hours.

As they drove through Gotham, Crystal leaned over to her daughter’s side, resting her head on Stephanie’s shoulder.  Reaching up, Stephanie buried her fingers in her mother’s hair, giving her the comfort she needed after a night of horror.

“Dad never showed.”  Stephanie finally spoke.

“No.  The money he stole… I don’t know what he was thinking.  Stealing from a human trafficker, like two wrongs make a right?  Or was he not thinking at all?  He never came.  But he knew.  They rang him.  I heard their conversation…”

“Maybe he knew if he showed up, we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Hoping for Batman to save us first?”

“And he did.”

“Hmph.  That boy…”

Stephanie sighed happily.  “You’d like him.”

“Does he have a name?”

Stephanie continued to stare at the daybreak, trusting Tim to keep his promise.  “Robin.  I hope.”

[bigskydreaming]

In the vein of Dick’s feelings about his first family, pre-Bruce, that’s another reason why ‘Ric’ Grayson bugs me. Other than, y’know, everything about that stupid storyline BUT WHATEVER.

Anyway, I know Rebirth and nu52 before it both have tweaked Dick’s origin considerably, so who even knows what the current ‘canon’ take is, not this guy that’s for damn sure. But until he lost his memories, he was still going by Dick, so unless otherwise specified, his reasons for going by Dick should be just as true for ‘Ric’ Grayson....since he’s still supposed to remember up through Bruce taking him in after his family died. It was only everything after that point that became foggy or whatever.

But Dick only goes by Dick instead of another variation of Richard, because Dick is what his dad called him. And the REASON Dick’s dad called him that, is because Dick was named after his Uncle Richard, his dad’s brother. And his uncle’s preferred nicknames were Rick or sometimes Rich.

And although most adaptations like cartoons and movies and one-shot origin issues streamline the events of Dick’s origin, and go with the idea that it was just his parents who died that night....pre-Flashpoint, it was canon that the Flying Graysons act was never just Dick and his parents. It also included his Uncle Rick and his Aunt Karla, and their son, his older cousin Johnny. Dick was the only one not performing in the final act. It was Dick’s parents AND his aunt and cousin who all died that night....and his Uncle Rick fell too, but survived. However, he ended up with brain damage and has been in an assisted living facility ever since, and that’s why Dick had no legal guardian.

But yeah, the real reason Dick goes by Dick, is because as far as he and every one in his family, every one in the circus was concerned, it was his Uncle Richard who was Rick or Rich. Everyone called him Dick so there was no confusion. And that’s why Dick has never been willing to entertain the idea of going by a different version of his name - his only other living blood relative already has claim to the other variations, in Dick’s eyes.

Tangent - the only vaguely interesting about the amnesia plot actually is the one angle they kinda unintentionally laid out, but haven’t done anything with. The difference in personalities between Dick and ‘Ric’, with Ric being angry and abrasive and just taking a job as a taxi driver and not wanting anything to do with being a superhero....given that he supposedly now has no clear memories of anything after his first few months living with Bruce, his personality change actually makes a lot of sense with his pre-Flashpoint origin at least. Again, I don’t know what the ‘official’ canon is these days, but with the pre-Flashpoint origin, the one where Dick ended up in juvie after his parents died and was only taken in by Bruce after he’d already spent a month there....Ric’s new personality fits that perfectly. It was not an easy transition, originally. Like the way its presented in cartoons and one-shots, as though Bruce just instantly decided Dick was going to come live with him because he bonded with him over their shared tragedy.....that’s not how it played out in the comics. 

In origin stories like Robin: Year One Annual and others, yes Bruce was there the night Dick’s family died. Yes, he felt a connection with Dick because of the similarity to his own tragedy. Yes, he comforted Dick that night, because of that. But then he left Dick in the hands of the case worker who showed up to take custody of Dick, and that was that. Bruce had ZERO intention of taking Dick in himself at that point. He did believe Dick about Zucco having sabotaged the trapeze and started looking into it as Batman right away...but THAT was how the ‘connection’ he felt with Dick manifested for him. He did what he felt Dick would want, would help him the most, get closure for him...the same thing as Bruce had wanted himself, after his parents were murdered. And that was as far as it went. 

Even a lot of readers and fic writers who do acknowledge the juvie part of Dick’s origin treat it as though he was stuck there for a few days while Bruce had to navigate through red tape to get custody of him, but again, that’s not how the actual comics detailing that period depicted it. In that annual I mentioned, he was in there for a month, and it was established that he basically had to fight to survive against bigger boys every single day he was in there. His first night, three guys beat him so badly he was convinced he would have died if the guards hadn’t stopped it. And eventually, after a month had gone by, using his acrobat skills, he escaped. (After Devin Grayson retconned Dick as being Romani, the couple times Dick’s talked about this period of his life since then, he mentions that his English was not very good at the time, and it was this combined with his heritage and circus background specifically that led his racist case worker to decide that obvsly, he was destined to wind up in juvie anyway, so no need to waste a bed elsewhere on him. There he mentions being in juvie for closer to three months, but the takeaway that whatever the actual length of time he was in there, it was definitely somewhere between 1-3 months).

But after that, he had enough of getting the shit beaten out of him every day and was convinced the promises of a new family and getting out of there at some point were all just lies, so he parkoured his way out of the yard and over the fence at night.

And ran into Batman on the rooftops.  

Yeah. Batman was just out doing Batman stuff, and he ran into Dick Grayson running around Gotham’s rooftops with no shoes and detention center-issued clothes. He told Dick he believed him about Tony Zucco and was looking into the case, and then told him Dick couldn’t be of any help to him as a fugitive, and convinced him to go back to the JDC and he’d make sure he got out another way. (Dick btw, cynically thought ‘yeah right, why should I trust a guy who doesn’t even show his face’, and pretty much only goes back to the JDC because he’s sure Batman would just drag him back there anyway if he didn’t.) The very next day, Dick’s case worker showed up for the first time since she’d left him there and led him outside, saying someone had volunteered to take him in, and basically just handed him over to Alfred who was waiting with a car. 

So...yup. Bruce had felt a connection with Dick that night and empathized with him....but that hadn’t led him to just decide ‘hey I’m gonna take in this traumatized kid, I’m obviously the best candidate for that.’

Bruce took Dick in himself because he felt GUILTY.

Because he hadn’t even known Dick was in juvie. Hadn’t thought twice about checking up on the kid after that night, focused totally on just building a case against Zucco, as well as his other cases. I think there was a reference in an issue where Dick said something about how Bruce had made sure his family’s funeral arrangements were paid for, but that same issue Dick said he hadn’t even been allowed to GO to the funeral, so its not like Bruce was there with him like a lot of headcanons and fics depict it. DICK wasn’t even there.

Nope, it was good old fashioned guilt that motivated Bruce to take a personal hand in Dick’s well-being. Because he just happened to run across Dick on a roof randomly one night. THAT’S the pre-Flashpoint origin of the Batfamily. Random coincidence and a guilty conscience.

And it goes a long way towards explaining a lot of Bruce’s later actions in canon. He met Jason when the latter was stealing his tires, when Bruce missed Dick and quite probably felt guilty about driving Dick away. And he runs into this homeless kid who reminds him of Dick that SECOND night he met him, and who is actively engaging in criminal activities and thus could easily end up in juvie, the very place that had traumatized Dick so much because Bruce had just trusted the system with him back then. Its not surprising in that context that Bruce made the leap to thinking he was a better option than leaving Jason in CPS’s hands or with someone who might’ve been less patient with him, less motivated to make sure he stayed out of the JDC, no matter what that took.

I’ve always felt it explains everything about Dick’s choice to make Robin his persona. In one issue, when Dick’s sketching out possible costume ideas, Alfred asks him why not something like Batboy, or some variation of his mentor’s name. Dick said that he wanted something that was completely his, that Bruce didn’t give him. That’s why he picked Robin, his mother’s nickname for him, and why his costume was just a version of what he’d worn in the circus, a reminder of when he was happiest. 

But IMO its also why he’s always insisted on being referred to as Batman’s partner rather than his sidekick. Because Robin was never meant to be an extension of Batman, a part of HIS mission. Robin was Dick’s own mission. Because for all that he and Bruce had the murder of their parents as a shared tragedy, a connection.....it didn’t motivate him in the same way it motivated Bruce, because for Dick, that was only PART of the tragedy. Everything that came after that traumatized him, shaped him just as much. His trauma didn’t start and finish with their murder, and bringing in Zucco could never bring closure for everything he’d been through because he fell through the cracks of a flawed system. So Robin was never meant to be an extension of Batman, something to help Bruce fulfill his personal crusade. Robin was more about using Batman to fulfill his own crusade.

Bruce created Batman for the criminals who caused tragedies like the one he’d been shaped by. Dick created Robin for the people left behind after those tragedies, like he’d been. Just as everything about Batman was meant to frighten and intimidate the people he focused on, everything about Robin was meant to cheer up and comfort the people HE focused on. Bright, happy colors to help soothe a shaken victim while Batman dealt with the perpetrator. Light-hearted jokes and laughter to remind people that even after something terrible happened, there were still good things in the world. 

Dick designed Robin to be everything Batman WASN’T. To do everything Batman didn’t do for him.

So, just saying....as much as I hate the Ric Grayson storyline and still think it was a mistake....it COULD have been an interesting examination of nature vs nurture. How much of Dick Grayson is just innate, and how much would he be different if his experiences were different, like he never remembered being Robin.

Because a Ric Grayson who had no clear personal memories after his first few months with Bruce would absolutely be as bitter and angry as Ric was first shown being at the start of the amnesia plot. Because in those first months with Bruce, Dick had been very, very angry indeed. 

Being Robin is what changed Dick, helped him heal. And not just because it let him put away Tony Zucco. Because even after he’d endured terrible tragedies, it could still remind him that he’d been happy once, and he could be happy again. And as Robin, he reminded other people of that too.

[shauds-archived]

Engage with Eddie Bloomberg, Stephanie Brown, and maybe a mention of Jason Todd

Wasn’t the first request I got, but it had parts of both the OTP and the brOTP. I had to.

Titans tower is an easy place to get lost in. It’s also an easy place to bump into people. Stephanie and Eddie both learn something new about his old penpal.

The Titans Tower was, in a word, big. Why they needed so many floors of rooms, Steph could only guess at. Maybe they’d expected more of those kids that had come and gone over the past year to stay, but this time, it was the Titans who were rejected. Or they had some huge parties and needed the place for people to sleep it off afterwards. There was no way of knowing and, as entertaining as the reasons behind it were to think about, it didn’t really help any with her current problem.

More than just big, the place was near as twisty as Gotham’s back alleys and also like those alleys, not very easy to navigate if one wasn’t already familiar with the layout. A really good setup in the case of the intruders the Teen Titans had to deal with every other month, but not so welcoming to guests either. Not that Steph would have ever called them exactly welcoming to her per se .

Taking all of that into account, it wasn’t entirely Steph’s fault that she got lost in the place on her way back to her assigned guest room. What she would, however, take full responsibility for, was that her rush to find that room resulted in her moving a bit too fast, resulted in her not paying enough attention to where she was going, resulted in… this.

Dozens of envelopes and sheets of paper fluttering down the staircase she’d been descending and a very confused… she thought this one was Kid Devil, on his but at the foot of those stairs with a near empty cardboard box in his arms.

“Oh my god I am so sorry.” Steph said, hurrying to pick up some of the letters. “I was trying to find my room, and this place was so big and I…”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He yelled, waving his arms and leaping to his feet and startling Steph into dropping the letters she’d gathered. He flinched at her response. “Sorry, they’re just, sort of old and fragile” he said more softly, there was a gentleness to the way he picked up the letters himself, tucking some of the well worn pages into corresponding envelopes they seemed to have escaped from in the fall escaped from in the fall.

“If I’m really careful?” She waved her hands on either side her face. “I got dainty, detective’s hands.”

“Yeah, sure.” He offered her a shy grin, showing off the orange glow that was apparent even through his teeth.

“Cool.” Steph replied, glad for the mask that hid at least some of how embarrassed she was and gathered some of the letters, careful as when she’d helped Batman gather evidence as Robin. “Again, so, so sorry. I was a little lost, and I didn’t think anyone would be around here.”

“Neither did I.” He said. “It’s kind of why I was taking this route.”

“Oh.” Steph nodded. “Don’t want your friends to get a look at all of your love letters?” If her face had been visible, Steph might have waggled her brows.

Kid Devil snorted and shook his head. “Nah, these are all from a penpal I had when I was a kid.” He accepted the stack of letters Steph handed him and slotted them back onto the box.

Steph might have left it at that, thinking he probably just didn’t want to get run over by any of his more rowdy teammates like he had been by her. Then the next thing she picked up was a picture. An old polaroid, worn as the rest, of Robin posing as dead in the mouth of that huge t-rex down in the Batcave. The Robin wasn’t Tim, and the picture didn’t look like it could have been from when the first one was that small, it obviously wasn’t Steph herself, and unless there was some other one she’d never heard about, process of elimination dictated it had to be… Oh boy.

“So, just a penpal, huh?” Steph passed him the picture, and looking at it turned his lips up in an amused smile before he tucked in into an envelope. “That’s pretty cool, why hide it?”

“People…” he trailed off, looked up at Steph, then quickly away from her, his brows furrowed. “They say bad things about him now, and…” he picked up a few more letters. “he was my friend, I mean, if you asked me, he was cool.” That made a little more sense, if Steph had been the Red Hood’s penpal when she was a kid, she wouldn’t exactly be shouting it from the rooftops either. “I always thought his family would make them stop eventually, but now…” he closed the box and pressed down the no-longer sticky tape along the middle. “I just, don’t want to have to hear those thing’s again.” Now that, and the resentful tone he’d used, it made a little less sense, but it was kind of interesting to get another perspective on the guy. “Want me to take you by the kitchen?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Steph brushed some of the dust from the letters off her knees when she stood. “You think they’re lying or something?”

“I think, you shouldn’t say stuff like that about someone who can’t defend themselves anymore.” He held the box carefully, like something precious and locked eyes with her. “And I know he wasn’t like that and they…” His fingers dug into the box, leaving dents in the cardboard. “They didn’t even tell me when he died, I couldn’t go to the funeral or anything, I didn’t even know until after there was a new one, and I waited so long for another letter.” Geez, harsh much? She knew Batman was cagey, but really?

“Yeah, I know those guys, they don’t do much of the telling-people-things thing.” She rolled her eyes, trying not to think about the way it stung to learn that she’d been kept out of the loop, that she’d only be included if she was part of a club that she’d never be let in to. “If it makes you feel any better, they never told me much eith…” Wait, if they didn’t tell Kid Devil when Mister Dawn of The Dead was curtain called… Oh no “Bet you uh, would have liked to see him again.

"Well, yeah sure, ” his face scrunched up at her question, not in that ‘the girl I’m talking to asked a dumb question’ kind of look, but this one made her feel almost as bad. God they were assholes. “but I’m also kind of glad you know, that he’s not around to hear what…”

“Jason Todd is alive.”

“What?”

Yeah, maybe she shouldn’t have blurted that out like that, but she was in it already, might as well swim deeper. “Your penpal?” Maybe he just didn’t know the name, she hadn’t until a while ago either.

“I know who he was, but he, is?.”

“Yeah he is, crawled up out of his coffin - probably not literally - ,” hopefully not literally, “and went Pet Cemetery on Gotham’s underworld. "A little too late for Steph, but she had the image she’d gotten from the Batcave of Black Mask making like eggs and scrambling from a rocket launcher and nobody could ever take that away from her.

"And, it’s really him?” He sounded, somewhere in the vicinity of hopeful, but there was something else there.

“I think so?” It sounded like a question, she hadn’t meant for it to sound that much like a question.

“How long?”

“I really don’t know much, but a couple years maybe?”

“A couple years!” He yelled, then looked at her for a couple of seconds, unblinking, and his eyes narrowed sharply. “That ass.” He shook his head, his lips curled in a scowl that seemed very out of place on his face.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have told you, he’s…” She sighed and lifted up her face mask to actually let the guy look at her. “I just thought you deserved to know, but he’s on Batman’s 'do not engage’ list, that’s the list he put Joker on. You know what that means?”

“Can you hold my letters?” He pressed the box into her hands, then pointed down one of the halls. “Kitchen’s down that way.”

“Hey Kid!” She called after him, but he was already gone. Steph huffed. Batman hadn’t been able to find Jason Todd in all this time, and she’d never heard of Kid Devil being some great detective. Then again, she’d never heard of Jason Todd having friends in the hero community either so, that wasn’t saying much. Maybe it would be better to tell someone. She felt the weight of the box in her hands, thought of the way he’d held it. Maybe she’d just go after him herself instead. “Do not engage means do not engage!”

000

There were a lot of time, over the past four years, and even before, that someone saw fit to tell Jason he was going to hell, that they hoped a demon dragged him off. He doubted, sincerely that any of those someone’s had ever meant it literally.

Even with everything Jason had seen in his lives, of all the thing’s he’d thought would happen to him, being tackled off of a rooftop by a very loud, sort of happy, sort of mad, very demonic looking demon guy was maybe at the last.

“A couple of years Jason?!”

The purple girl showing up to separate them afterwards was a very close second.

[cloudparadox]

Remnants || Chapter 2 - Robin

Summary: AU in which Tim can see things others can’t. (Aka Ghosts)

Tim learns pretending makes things a lot easier. Especially when you watch as one Robin leaves and the other dies and you have to make sure that Batman doesn't go off the deep end.

Tim knew he wouldn't ever be Robin, not like his predecessors, but he'd damn well try, if only for other people's sake and not his own.

Words: 1855

Warnings: Angst, death, ghosts, mental health issues, bad parenting

Pairing: Tim Drake x Jason Todd (eventually)

Notes: So this chapter also kind of just happened?

I really like how this is going so far. There might be a few more typos seeing as I'm posting this from my phone so sorry in advance.

Taglist: @sweeetsummerchiild 

Chapters: one,

As Tim grew older, he learned to pretend. Pretending almost came naturally to him. He had days where he didn't feel comfortable in his own skin and so, he wore someone else's. He borrowed the best parts from those around him, and carefully crafted a new version of himself.

As such, he also started getting better at acting as if he was normal. What defined as normal was beyond his reach, but most times, normal was living up to his parent's ideals and expectations. With each passing year though, Tim realized there was more to it than that. Still, he now was somewhat capable in sending spirits away, looking away, acting oblivious to their presence unless his attention was specifically demanded by a spirit in dire need.

He was too soft, as father told him a lot. Mother had expressed the same worry. One night, now long ago, when she'd tucked him into his bed, she'd brushed a hand through his messy hair and smiled. "You're too good for this world, Timothy." Back then he hadn't quite understood what she meant, but now he was sure it was a mix of admiration, love even and a warning. To be stronger, not to leave yourself so vulnerable and trusting.

Tim tried. He really did. But some of them, he just couldn't ignore. So he helped in subtle ways, did research and discovered things that sometimes weren't things meant to be seen by a child. But he was good at that. Knowing stuff and learning more and more each day. So he did just that.

With his parents barely around, it was easy to sneak out and do whatever needed to be done. There were also his nightly adventures as he followed Batman and Robin. Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. It hadn't been hard to figure out, after seeing that move, the puzzles pieces clicking together, one by one until it formed one big, glaringly obvious picture. Tim didn't tell anyone. Wouldn't tell anyone. Especially not after what happened the last time he confided in someone about something so big and important of his life. Fat load of good it did him, the last time.

There were days when the guilt was eating him alive, concerning Dick. He'd promised Mary that he would make sure her son was safe.

She did say 'at home', didn't she?

Tim pushed the voice back towards the deepest parts of his mind. He felt bad, but what exactly was he supposed to do? Tell on Bruce and Dick so they get discovered and Gotham loses what looks to be the city's only hope? No. That wasn't an option. Dick was doing really well anyways. He was smart, strong and just good, perfect for everything Robin stood for. The Drake boy admired him, practically worshipped the very floor he walked on. Yet not once did he dare reach out to him.

'I met you the night your parents died.' or 'Your mother visited me in ghost form and asked me to look after you' weren't exactly great conversation starters. So he just let it be. It was probably better that way.

He was content with following the dynamic duo around at night, snapping picture after picture and filling entire photo albums. It was better than anything else he could've collected. This was his, and his only. Nothing he had to share, nothing he was going to be judged on since no one knew. Not even the big bad Bat himself, nor his Robin.

As all good things come to an end, so did Dick's time as Robin. It saddened Tim incredibly, but another night in Gotham during the particularly hot and humid late summer, Tim learned that the end of something could mean the birth of something new.

One quote stuck out the most as he was reading through a book.

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." - T. S. Eliot

It reminded Tim of a supernova. A star's life comes to an end, and one last time it glows bright, billion times as bright as before. Maybe even brighter than an entire galaxy. And out of that, new things are born. A neutron star, or perhaps even a black hole.

That was a good way to describe how he felt about Jason. He was lured in, and from then on unable to get out. Not like he wanted to. Where Dick was seemingly flawless, a bright and endless supernova that demanded everyone's attention and fascination, Jason was a black hole, something brash, dark and mysterious to the point where Tim wanted to know more, his curiosity and thirst for knowledge dragging him out to the rooftops at night more often than ever.

Black holes are so dark because they don't let any of the light inside them escape. And while Tim had never spoken to Jason before, he knew there was a lot of light in the new Robin. He saw it when Robin took his time to talk to some kids, gave them candy or even walked them home to make sure they were safe. Behind all the anger and frustration he took out on the thugs and criminals of Gotham, there was a good, genuine person.

It didn't take Tim long to fall for that. Trust him to crush on someone he never talked to. He couldn't help it, no matter how much he tried. Jason was just so...perfectly imperfect. He was a mess, but Tim could relate to that in so many ways. Dick had never given him that feeling since he seemed so utterly perfect all the time.

Tim knew that was bullshit. Dick wasn't perfect, after all, no one was. But Jason was different. He was perfect in spite of all of his faults and flaws, at least to Tim. Now more than anything, he wanted to meet Robin and he actually began hoping for it, unlike before. Optimism wasn't exactly his strong suit.

Still, Tim continued to capture snapshots of Batman and his Robin.

Until Robin was gone. Until Tim found out. Jason Todd had died. His parents expressed the obligatory condolences to Bruce and then already forgot about it a few days after.

Tim wished he could've gone to the funeral. Wished he could've done something to save Jason. Wished he had been more confident to actually get to know Jason. They could have been friends. Maybe. He'd never find out. He didn't deserve to be there, anyways. It wasn't his place to have demands.

Regrets and more guilt plagued him, only getting worse when he saw how it began affecting Batman. Someone needed to do something. This couldn't go on. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Batman needed his Robin. Bruce needed Jason.

Tim felt ashamed for thinking that he needed Jason, but as it was, he couldn't bring himself to feel all that much.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, staring at the grave and feeling his insides clench painfully, invisible hands tugging at his heart until it felt like it was being torn apart. "You deserved so much better, Jason. You could've done so much more-" he choked on a sob, hastily wiping at his face with the sleeve of his thin hoodie. By now it was almost summer again, and it hurt to remember the past summers. It had only been a year since the last one, yet it felt like an eternity, an entire lifetime ago.

He felt the presence before he saw it and whirled around to see a girl standing near him, only a few paces away. She didn't look much older than Tim, maybe a good four years, if at all. Not even an adult yet. Her hair was brown, a warm color that shone under the sunlight. Her green eyes were twinkling with something akin to mischief. The only thing that told him she wasn't alive was the way her presence felt.

"Hey. I noticed you around. I almost believed you couldn't see me. Good acting skills." her voice was both soft and strong.

"It comes from years of practice," he responded dryly.

That made the girl crack a grin at him. "I like you." she gave him an all-over,  then looking left and right, eyes raking over the empty graveyard. "I'm really sorry to bother, but this kid's ghost isn't hanging around here."

"I know." Tim had pondered what it meant. Why Jason's ghost wasn't present. He'd come to the conclusion he'd simply moved on right away, though that felt wrong. As if Jason would give up that easily. In the beginning, Tim suspected his weakening powers were the source of confusion but now he had another ghost's knowledge and insight.

The more he concentrated, the more it felt like Jason was neither gone nor here. Tim couldn't explain it and that bothered him.

Once more, he felt utterly useless.

"It sucks, huh? Being stuck like this sucks too, but from what I can see you look like shit, sorry to tell ya."

"S'okay" his voice was raspy from misuse and he cleared his throat. "I didn't even really know him. Still, it feels like I've lost someone close, kind of like a best friend." Tim really hoped no one was seeing him "talking to himself." That was always awkward.

"It's okay to be sad. I am. A lot. It's lonely."

"I get it." And that he did. Loneliness had long since becoming an unswerving companion of his.

Somehow, they ended up talking to each other the whole day. Her name was Maia. It was easy, talking to her. And he did for many more days and nights before she too moved on. It was a tearful goodbye, but Tim knew that he wasn't enough to keep her here. Maia promised him that he was enough, and he was reminded of what Mary Grayson had told him all those years ago. He actually believed her. Both of them. They had meant what they said.

Now only he needed to believe in it, too.

Tim knew he'd have to, especially with his plans to become the new Robin. He'd struggled with the thought for a long time, weighed out the cons and pros and made up dozens of plans when it came to the approach. Then it was all only a question of gathering up enough courage.

Batman needed a Robin. Dick didn't want to be Robin. That really only left Tim as an option. So he steeled himself for the rigorous training, the endless hours of lost sleep and pain that came with it and pulled through. He wouldn't tarnish the symbol that was Robin, couldn't, didn't want to. He fought tooth and nail to achieve what the Robins before him had.

And as he got dressed for his first real patrol together with Batman, he promised he would do his best to make Jason proud.

He might never be more than a pretender, but he was fine with that. Pretending was how he got through life, after all.

[loxare]

Harm

Chapter 2 - Unexpected

“Casey?”

The little girl perched on his headboard moved so her face was in Jason’s field of vision. “Yes Red?”

Calmly, he flipped a page on his book. “What did I say about permanent markers?”

Casey pouted, but he heard the distinctive click of a marker cap being put back on. “Please don’t.” She tossed it back into her bag, pulling out a washable marker instead.

But she hadn’t finished. “Because…?” Jason let the word trail off.

“If I use washable, I can make a new work of art every day.” Her pout vanished under a smile as she applied the neon green to the white streak in his hair.

“There you go.” He was sitting in his hospital room with half a dozen kids sitting on or around him. Casey, of course. Tomas was practicing his violin in the corner, the ear shattering shrieks of a poorly played note becoming less frequent as he went. Elliot was sitting on Jason’s feet, playing gin rummy with Caroline who was sitting on Jason’s stomach. Marcelle was the only high school student in the room. She was skipping class tomorrow to make up her sleep, but had brought her homework to work on. And Marcelle’s younger brother Ed was sitting quietly, playing with a fidget ring one of the other kids had brought him.

He felt a bit bad. If he hadn’t tried to sneak out once or twice (or three times, or eight times…) before Ivan’s dad said he could go, the kids wouldn’t feel the need to stay up all night to make sure he stayed put. But Jason couldn’t help himself. It had been two months and Batman hadn’t shown up yet, which was making him beyond antsy.

For the fifth time in the past hour, his eyes wandered towards the laptop tossed carelessly on one of the chairs. Two days ago he’d finally looked at the files he’d taken from the Batcomputer, which had resulted in his bed being overturned, two broken windows and what he could only shamefully describe as a temper tantrum that had lasted an hour before the kids managed to calm him down. He tried blaming the tears on the pain meds, but they didn’t believe him and he could tell. Thankfully, they didn’t call him on it.

With a sigh, Jason turned the page and tried to focus on his book.

Almost immediately, his phone went off. “Red Hood collectibles, genuine lead bullets for every scum collector. How may I help you today?”

“I have a stalker,” the boy on the other line sounded terrified. “At least, I thought it was a stalker. But he came after me with a knife, and now he's chasing me.”

Jason lurched out of bed. His legs twinged, but the fractures had healed at least a week ago. “Where are you?” Shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder, he reached under the bed for his bag, the one he insisted on having in the room every time they moved him.

“Heading north on the Spine. Passing a Chinese grocery store.”

And wasn't that just like Bludhaven? A terrified child running from someone with a knife, on a busy street like the Spine, and the kid had to call a murderer for help. “On my way.”

“No, you're not,” Marcelle said as soon as the phone call ended. “You are going to sit here until the doctor releases you.”

Jason was part way out the window, Tomas and Elliot both trying to pull him back. “I can't! Someone out there-”

“Needs help, I know.” Having crossed the room, Marcelle grabbed Jason as well. “Why can't you let the Red Kids handle it? They've been doing good so far!”

And everything Jason was rebelled at the idea. “They've been giving blankets and food to homeless kids and breaking up minor scuffles. This is a knife-wielding psycho!” The oldest and most well trained of them could handle small stuff like that. Anything else would paint a target on their backs faster than Ani could spray a red helmet on a brick wall. Which was very fast.

“They. Can. Handle. It!” Punctuating each word with an ever more vicious pull, Marcelle and the boys were nearly dislodged Jason's hand from its death grip on the window sill. On one hand, Jason should not be getting pulled back by three kids. Maybe he should stay in. On the other, it didn't take any strength to pull a trigger.

“They're going to get themselves killed!” Something in his expression or his voice or his body language made Marcelle let go. On the bed, Casey and Caroline looked worried. Red Hood didn't raise his voice often. Ed was rocking and holding his hands over his ears. Quieter, Jason said, “I already told you I don't want them out there. And while I'm out, I'm going to think of some very good reasons why. But for now, keep them out of this.” Before anyone could reply, he was out the window, helmet on and swinging.

Maybe he should leave Bludhaven. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was to shoot the guilty in their skulls and make the city safer. But ever since his showdown with Superman, every kid and their dog had tried doing what he did. Busting in on abusive parents, following child trafficking rings for information, taking on pedophiles. It had taken so much arguing and pleading to get them to stop, to slow down, to convince them that blankets were just as important. That nothing was worth their lives.

It didn't help that in the two months he'd been laid up, crime had been on a rise. A sharp rise. Like standing at the bottom of a cliff and looking up. Things were almost worse in Bludhaven than before he'd first started shooting people.

Clearly, it was well past time for him to get back on his feet. With him on the streets, the criminals would have something to fear again, and more importantly, the kids wouldn't be able to use him not being there as an excuse to risk their own lives doing something stupid.

Speaking of risk, the people of Bludhaven were being true to form and taking none in regards to their own health and well being. The kid was easy to see from a few stories up. He was running and panting and asking strangers for help. Every single one avoided eye contact and continued on their way. Sure, the Spine wasn't as busy at four in the morning, but the kid ran into someone every few minutes.

The maniac following the kid was easy to see as well. The knife glinted in the street lamps, and he swung it as he ran, so the sidewalk in front of him was completely clear. Every single person hiding in a doorway or alley would probably survive the night, but it sure made it easy for Knifey to see and therefore keep following the kid.

Also, really easy for Red Hood to pull his sniper rifle from his back and shoot the guy in the skull without worrying about hitting anyone else. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the last incoming call. “Kid? I got your guy.”

“Thanks... Red,” the kid said between pants. “Sorry I... called. Know... you were... still... recover...ing.”

“It's cool. I'm mostly healed up anyways. Need me to get you out of there?”

“I got it. I have an... uncle up the street. If you hadn't... made it, that's where I... was headed.” He paused to take a deep breath. When he finished, he sounded a lot better. “Thanks again. I'm Carmelo by the way. Carmelo Pulnik.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. No wonder the kid had a stalker. The Pulnik's were one of the few rich families in Bludhaven to get their money from mostly legal means. Not being in the pockets of the larger crime families made for a lot of enemies. “Got it. You keep safe Carmelo. Call if you need anything.” And he hung up.

Sitting back, he let himself relax a moment. Although he would never admit it to the kids (especially Marcelle), he was wiped. His left arm was still in a cast and hadn't taken kindly to the ten minute swing across the city. Plus, he had the feeling his legs would become fairly reliable weather forecasters from now on, if the way they were aching was any indication. Fractures maybe, but it was still too early to be landing on rooftops and jumping off them again.

Including the two months of bed rest and subsequent muscle atrophy, he wasn't doing great. Red Hood would have to take it slow for a month while he got his strength back.

He was nearly recovered from his run across the city when the roof gravel crunched in that particular way it did when someone sneaky landed on it. He swiveled, rifle up and aimed at the blue bird on the guy's chest.

Wait.

“Fuck.” At that, Red Hood stood, launching himself off the building in the same movement. He freefell for a moment to build momentum, then shot out his grapple. But even then, he wasn't fast enough to escape the, “Jason, wait!” that followed him.

Like hell. As he swung over the police tape surrounding his crazy stalker (and of course the police would respond to a dead maniac with a knife, but not a live one), Red Hood tried to think about how he could get out of this. He couldn't use his knowledge of the city to his advantage because Nightwing knew almost as much as he did about it.

Neither could he outrun him. Red Hood had made his grapple based on a vague memory from eight years ago. Learning how to disassemble and reassemble it, how it worked, how to fix it. Nightwing's grapple, based on sound alone, was way more high tech and from the few blurry camera phone videos online, probably had more than one line and faster recoil.

Turned out, it didn't matter than Nightwing had a better grapple. Red Hood landed wrong on the next rooftop, twisting his ankle and going into a roll that ended with him landing on his cast. Pain shot up his limbs as he struggled to his hands and knees. Even as he did, he knew it was no use. He'd dropped his grapple when he'd landed, and now Nightwing was between them.

“Jason?” The word was filled with hope and trepidation.

Red Hood flopped back, sitting against an air conditioner. He cradled his arm to his stomach as he said, “yeah.” With a bit of effort, he pulled off the helmet.

There was a moment of silence. Jason didn't look at Nightwing's face. Didn't want to see what might be there. Finally, Nightwing broke it. “You... you're alive. You're alive.” And when he did look up, Nightwing had fallen to his knees, hands to his face like he was crying. But when he looked up, his cheeks were dry. “Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you tell us?”

And Jason couldn't stop himself from mumbling, “didn't think you would care.” Because why would they?

Nightwing mouthed the words, like he had to roll them around to understand them, like they were so foreign. “Of... of course we would care!” It was said with enough vehemence that Jason thought Nightwing might even believe it. “Of course we would, and we do! You're family, you're my brother-”

“Since when?” Jason cut him off. A second ago, he had been sitting in his own defeat, knowing that nothing good could come of this. Now, now he was angry. “Since when have you ever considered me your brother? You didn't give me the time of day when I was Robin! I saw you once. Once in that entire time, all those years!” Jason could feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he ignored them. “So no, Nightwing,” and he spat the word like a curse, “I didn't think you would care. You never did.”

Jason could see the potential replies flash across Nightwing's face. I know I never showed it. You have to understand. Jason didn't want to hear them. “If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“I can help you.” Jason froze at the words. “If you’re being framed for all of this, I can help you clear your name.”

It was a struggle to pick himself back up. He tugged his helmet on, leaning heavily on the air conditioner. “Nothing to clear. I killed every single one of the people they say I did, and more besides. And you know what?” Nightwing lifted his head a bit, not enough to look Red Hood in the eyes, but enough that Jason could see the hope draining out of his face, being replaced with anger. “They deserved it. Every last one. Just like Blockbuster deserved it.”

He trudged to the other side of the building, giving Nightwing a wide berth as he did. When he finally reached his grapple, Nightwing found his voice. “You're hurt.”

Red Hood snorted. “Yeah. You can thank your hero for that one. Big blue boy scout isn't the saint everyone thinks he is, is he?” He picked up his grapple and checked the line. It was fine for now, but two mad dashes across the city was wearing on the spring.

Another beat of silence, then, “Why?” The question was strangled and hoarse and rather open ended.

Red Hood knew what Nightwing was asking. Why did he start killing? If he answered though, then there would be no end to the Bat incursions. “Why am I in Bludhaven? That's on you. When you let Blockbuster die, he left a power vacuum. So many underlings and unaffiliated gang members trying for the empire. So thanks.” The last word had more than a little sarcasm in it. Still, he hoped the guilt would keep Nightwing away.

A few more limping steps brought him to the edge of the roof. He paused, turning to see Nightwing still on his knees, slumped over with his back turned. “One more thing. And you can spread the word. If you, any of you, come into Bludhaven again, I will shoot you. You, Batman, Robin. I don’t care. Stay away from me.”

Red Hood took a slower route back to the office building that fronted as an insurance company but housed Ivan's dad's illicit practice. He endured Marcelle's lecture as he wrapped his ankle, then pretended to sleep until she believed him.

Around six, the kids fell asleep on the other beds in the room. Jason snuck out to the roof of the building and cried.

AN: *cough* That went well. Oh, don’t worry, it’ll totally get better! *averts eyes, fakes smile*

Requests start again next chapter, so look forward to those! For the folks who don’t remember, Casey is from the Shazam chapter, she needed help cleaning her kitchen. Tomas’s brother Greg needed help with his homework and Elliot called because his sister Amelia was doing self harm and he was worried. Marcelle, Ed and Caroline are new.

[internalsealpanic]

I’ll be Your Tim Drake for the Evening

Summary:  Preferring to do anything but her physics project, Mila decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does her project, she tries to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

or My excuse to write banter between two halves of a whole idiot

masterlist

Warnings: Not very descriptive violence, swearing, head aches

a/n: Mila has sort of hyperactive empathy which makes her either feel emotions as tactile or her mind just gets consumed by other minds.

Mila's skin itched as she made her way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After, all Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting her back, petting her head, and pinching her cheeks made every inch of skin want slough off. Tim owed her. He owed her big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling her physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on  ‘vacation’. 

She should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked her to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. She's clad in blue contacts, a black wig, make up, and a stolen suit. As safe as she felt in someone else's skin, she still felt like she was gonna fall over. Maybe it's because she was dumb enough not to bring her cane. 

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Her mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for Mila to forget about the ache in her leg. She knew this night was gonna be far longer than she could stand.  She needed a drink. Or 9. 

 "Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking her fifth(?) flute of champagne. She wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes,  she waves another server over and  takes 2 flutes of champagne.  "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this." 

"No." Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from her hand. 

 "Big bro pleeeaaasee" Mila drawls sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move.  Dick tries to look unmoved but she could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in.  "I'm having an episode" The word episode felt strange and wrong but their really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." She added hastily.  

"Fiiine-" Dick whines resolve crumbling  to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds : "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, Mila downs it, feeling the tearing in her head beginning to fade. 

"Jesus, calm down." Dick said taking the now empty flute from her.  

She is less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol. 

While Dick lectures Mila on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, Mila feels the press of another person's mind.  The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them. 

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but Mila's mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly,  she dropped down to her knees. Her joints complained but she could feel her mind smooth as she placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur. 

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!". 

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, Mila began to piece herself back together and the pain in her head receded. 

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into her hand. Mila forgets the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat. The laughter bright in his blue eyes. 

Mila, for the first time, notices the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis,  stretching out  his hand to shake hers.  

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." She shoots up to shake his hand. She notices the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. She's pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have  make up on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence. 

 Her eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh. 

 "Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance." Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion.  She wasn’t entirely certain that she offended him but she was probably close. 

She wants to say that it's his eyes that she notices first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine,  a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made her shudder. She would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well tailored suit.  She filed the image for further appreciation later.  But, unfortunately, she is far too accustomed to checking her brothers for wounds for her eyes to not  immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in her not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin.Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else. 

 Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete.   Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest ,and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, her mother always did treat Anatoli like a king. 

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting her on the shoulder jostling her out of her thoughts. 

Mila sighs. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

 "I think you've demonstrated why."  

Mila- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in her skull coming back- jabs "Alright Fabio, you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .  

"That's pretty mean eve-" 

 "I didn't mean it to be mean-"She honestly didn't but she was byelingual at this point.  "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."  

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " Mila hissed rubbing the side of her head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

Mila feels her head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut her off from the booze. She finds herself wandering around until her feet take her outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth her warmed skin as she slides against it.  

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.  

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " Mila snarks, looking up expecting him to grin at her but was greeted with a look of concern. She's seen it before. Her hand almost automatically makes its way to her nose.  She felt a thick liquid  brush against the pads of her fingers. If she looked at them, she’d likely see them covered in blood. 

Mila shrugs and brushes her deep red sleeve against her face. She probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face. 

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good naturedly. Mila knows he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it. 

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "  

"Well in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to her. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids. 

Mila, feeling particularly cheeky, takes the cigarette between his lip and  takes a long drag, inhaling and letting her eyes slide close. 

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from  the sea of minds, Mila can feel his eyes on her. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. She shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before Mila coughs out   "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

She hands him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into her sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking her in the eyes. She can still see the faint speck of color on his face. 

"Well,  he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something she really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis. 

Mila crouches down to Lizzie's level and puts her hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into her hands.  

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no." 

"How drunk are you?"

Mila mimes counting.  "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk." 

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling her by the arm. She notices for the first time just how big his hands really are.  

"No, I-"

Gun shots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to Mila as a black van pulls up in the alley. 

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. She recognizes him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. Mila thinks he's checking the injuries- which in her opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he is in fact checking for a gun.  

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men. 

Mila thinks to grab a stray brick or something but she knew her best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely. 

Lizzie runs out  in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.  

Lizzie whines into her touch. The tendrils of her mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. She wants to scream. Her mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume her. She wants to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than she could speak. 

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Mila’s breath catches.  

"There's two of them," 

"What do you mean there's two of them?" 

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?" 

"Not really"

Mila wants to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given,  it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

 "Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.  

Mila thinks to make a break for it but fast as she is(not really). Her head was still ringing and she couldn't really take them out on her own. 

Mila holds her hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by her cooperation but not really willing to question it. 

They throw cuffs on her wrist and literally throw her into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "her" shoes. She wants to laugh. She really does. She also just wants to cry.   

Tim is going to kill her. No, Alfred will. If she's  lucky-which she never is- Dick will suffocate her with a hug before they ever get to her.  

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it. 

............................................................

The ride was less than comfortable. Outside the more affluent districts Gotham's roads were atrocious, bumpy, pothole ridden death traps. Based on how bumpy it was she suspected they were close to the docks. A minute into the death trap, she decided to pull Jason's head into her lap to cushion it from further damage. The problem was his face was still covered in vomit and now so were her trousers. This evening was gonna stretch on for an eternity. 

By the time she thought of the 19th way Damian was gonna tell her how incompetent she was, they arrived. The doors opened, stepped in, extracted them, and hauled the like sacks of potatoes.

She looked over to Jason who finally stirred to what seemed like consciousness. 

"Hey, are you-" 

Jason snarls breaking free of his captors and launching himself at the man who shot Lizzie. They were down on the floor. Jason on top wailing on the man. His knuckles getting bloody. Logically speaking, she should stop him or at least try. On the other hand, Lizzie's death still stung. There was also a brutal efficiency to his strikes each landing where it would hurt the most. Wait. How the hell is he even out of his cuffs? She makes a mental note to practice getting put of her cuffs or to at least get pointers from him. 

It takes a surprising amount of time before they actually restrain him again. It was either from shock or they just really didn't like their coworker. The man on the ground is wheezing and bloody when another takes him away. 

They tie them to a post. 

She lets out a heavy sigh riggling against the rope. "You really do excel at being a pain in the ass, don't you?"

 "It's just my dazzling personality, sweetheart."

"Ah yes, the one that won you an expenses paid trip to this wonderful Gotham warehouse."

"You're here too dipshit." 

Mila opens and closes her mouth to protest, to say something snarky but he was right. She decides to stay silent. 

 "You're worth a lot of money,right?" Jason asks, breaking the silence with a level tone. 

" Uh the guy I'm dressed up as is, yeah. Why?"

"You're not Tim Drake?" 

"According to my birth certificate, no.  But they don't know that so can it. " 

 "You're going to die." Jason sighs on the opposite side of the beam. She can't quite picture his sharp features into something soft but she likes the idea. 

" Thanks, sunshine. " 

 "Unless you can pull a plan out of yer ass-"

"I do have a plan." Kind of. 

"Well let me hear it, genius." He jeers, tugging on the ropes so he can turn to her. From the corner of her eye, she can see him looking at her intently. 

"Sit here and wait."

Jason blinks at her trying to process what she just said. "Great. Wanna make tea cosies while yer at it?"

Mila's nose scrunches up indignant. "Still working better than yours. At least, I don't have a concussion!"

 "Got any more salt you want to rub in my wound, Tom?" She can't see it but she can practically feel him roll his eyes. 

Mila full on snort laughs at the comment. She definitely blames Dick for her affinity to shitty jokes.

"Well-" 

 "So which one of you is the Sionis kid?" the man asks pointing a gun at them.  

Mila and Jason try to look at each other. 

"Don't lie." The man add hastily. This is probably his first abduction. Mila felt kind of bad. Part of her even wanted to give him a few tips. 

 "Brilliant idea. They'll definitely answer." The man behind him snarls rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Larry." 

The men continued to bicker leaving their hostages mildly bewildered. 

 What would Tim do? Tim wouldn't be in this situation. Wait. Yes, he would. I'm giving him too much credit. 

Mila decides negotiation is her best option. 

"He's the real Jason Sionis. " Mila says flatly leaning her head towards him. 

Jason looks at her incredulously. He looks betrayed but his face is too hardened and jaded for it to show fully. Unfortunately for both of them, Mila could feel it oozing off of him. 

 "How do we know you aren't lying?" The first man says pressing the gun to her forehead. She can still feel the trembling in his hands.

Mila: I have my driver's license on me. My wallet. It's in my coat pocket. 

The man reaches in her coat pocket and pulls out Tim's wallet.  Mila's skin begins to prickle uncomfortably from the close contact. 

" Ha! See. It worked." 

" Yeah. Yeah. So what do we do with this kid?"

"I can pay you to let me go!" 

"How do we even know he's worth anything?" Someone shouts from faraway.  

"Mo's gotta a pretty good point." 

"Did the $2000, puke covered suit not give it away?"

"Nah, it's the puke covered $1000  dress shoes." Jason quips more venomously than she anticipated. His sarcastic grin was still etched with the barest hint of betrayal. 

Mila death glares him but she couldn't really tell him 'Don't worry I just need to call my vigilante brothers to help you.'

 "Ok, ok, those are also  good points." 

 "Plus, haven't you heard of Drake industries?"

Crook A; "What do you do? Make ducks?"

"No, you idiot. They- Never mind. How do we know you're good for it?" Larry hisses.

 "We really should ask the boss first."  Mo pipes up again.

As if on cue, a large man clad in black and a scowl that would make anyone wither. 

She vaguely recognizes him from one of the cases Tim was working on but no name comes to mind. Bryan? Brent? Something along those lines.  

 “Let me call my family. He'll even let you see him sign the check.” Mila pleads as sweetly as she can. 

The man in charge looks at her making her shrink.  On a good day,  she is a decent fighter given she has her cane, she isn't sloshed, and the man she's fighting isn't built like a goddamn brick wall. Right now though eve as they untie her, she can feel herself trying to curl up. 

But as much as she wants to, she needs to make it out alive. If for nothing else than to spite her youngest brother. 

"Please. Jus- just one phone call."

Giving her another appraising look, he hands her the phone. Does he know? Are her freckles finally showing through the make up? She shakes her head but the shiver doesn't go away. 

It's good for her acting she tells herself. 

The phone rings. She breathes deep listening to the dial tone. For her sake and possibly Jason's,  she had to keep a level head. The place smelled of sea water. The building was big and barren with little to nothing in it. By the looks of it, it was one of Gotham harbors 'rare' abandoned warehouses. She looks around, making sure to fidget. It was dark but she could see a 13. 

"Hello, who is this?"

………..

Her stomach drops. 

Fuck. 

Of course, Damian just had to be the one to pick up. 

"Hey baby bro, could you pass the phone to dad?"

"I'm sorry who is this?"

This little shit. 

"You're such a kidder! Dami, it's me, Tim. "

“Ah yes, Drake-” Mila can hear Tim choke in the background. “What do you want?”

“Please Dami just pass the phone to dad, I- I really need to talk to him”

“Very well,”

“Tim?” The voice sounded like Bruce’s but the intonation was all wrong. The voice changer Tim and Babs were working on seems to have made progress.

“Hey dad, I- uh. I might have gotten kidnapped.”

Tim makes another choking noise. “Might have?”

“I was at the party. I think I had around 13 drinks. 13! Can you believe it? I felt like a right sailor after that, like the harbor workers, y’know? Anyway, I was taking a smoke-”

“Enough!” The large man roared, snatching the phone from her. “Send us $100 million by tomorrow or your kid’ll be shark bait!” Who says that anymore?

“Of course! Of course! I’ll have the money sometime this evening. Please don’t hurt him.”

Tim, god bless him, does not laugh. Tim’s acting needs some work but he sure does know how to act worried. 

The line dies and  they tie her back up to the post. 

 “What the hell?!” 

 “We have to make sure you don’t just run off.” The large man says tightening her bonds. Truthfully, she’s felt far worse. After all, corsets exist. However, this was still a close second.  

 “Do I look like I could out run a snail?”

 “He’s got a point boss. He looks like he hasn’t even seen the sun in ages.”

This, Mila decides, is true for Tim. When was the last time he went out before dark? Maybe he got sunlight when he stayed over at Eddie’s place. 

The large man grabs Jason by the collar and throws him to his men. 

The 3 men kick and curse at him. They mock him and beat him down. They wail on him with their fists, their steel toed shoes, and sometimes a brick. Jason takes it all with a crooked grin and a sharp tongue. Mila watched in awe. Even on the floor, Jason looked sturdy, ferocious, and  indomitable. 

"They all break, sweet girl." 

Jason is on a tiled floor. No, he should be on concrete. His blood is on the tile. They’re hitting him. They’re hitting him with a bat. No. They aren’t supposed to be holding a bat. They were kicking him but now they’re holding a bat. No, She’s holding a bat. There's  supposed to be three of them, three men,  but there forms coalesce into her.  She can hear his ribs cracking. Next are his legs. His legs are always next. Then his arm. She'll break each bone in his arms and his hands.  He’s wheezing. His voice sounds hoarse. His voice is too hoarse. He sounds like he’s been starved and dehydrated for at least a day. They’ve only been here for an hour. That  isn’t right. Oh God! Now she had a cleaver in her hands. 

No! 

No! 

He doesn’t need to die. She can’t. 

no.

 No.

 No!   

  The scene crescendos as the tall, dark, sinewy silhouette towering over Jason raises the butcher's knife above her head. 

 “Harder, daddy!”

“Son?”

 The scene of the kitchen fades and the shit eating grin on Jason melts into view which shifts from amusement to confusion then back to amusement.

Mila blinks seeing his stupid grin far too clearly. 

Mila let’s a bark of gut busting laughter out as she strains against the rope. Her brow pinches with concern but based on the scowls she’s receiving they're more focused on the fact that she was laughing like a mad man.  

Jason looks like he’s about to laugh from the absurdity as well when the man in charge picks him up again tossing him into a chair. The other men tie him down binding his wrists and ankles. 

"I've had worse." He spits out. 

The phone rings again, the dial tone echoing. Jason looks like hell with his face swollen and bruises beginning to bloom on every surface but he still looked like he was 5 seconds from starting a fight. 

The large man punches Jason hard in the gut knocking the air out of his lungs as the dial tone cuts off.  “Hear that, Sionis? Your little bitch is pretty soft.”

Oh God, are they serious?

“Who is this? Nevermind. You ok there, sweetheart?” Roman Sionis’ ‘concerned’ voice carries over the line. 

They are. 

 “Nothing I can't handle, daddy.” Jason chuckles with the utmost casualness. Mila, on the other hand,  instantly wants to disinfect her brain. Thankfully, before her mind could wander somewhere it can't return from,  the big man growls into the phone. 

“Don't you recognize the voice of the man whose life you've ruined?!” 

“You've gotta be more specific than that. I've ruined quite a few lives but I would like to know whose brain I need to put a bullet in.” 

 “IT'S ME  BRUNO HARDIN!”

“Doesn't ring any bells.” Roman deadpans almost sounding completely disinterested. “Sweetheart, you remember anyone like that?” 

 “Nope” Jason replies letting the p pop. It seemed like a strange sort of triumph before it all crashes down with another swift punch to the ribs. 

Mila stares at the strange scene torn between amusement and horror. 

 “Take this seriously!” Bruno roars.

"I'm taking this about as seriously as it deserves." 

A part of Mila thought 'yeah this is ridiculous enough to warrant nonchalance' while the other part wanted to scream.  On one hand, even Mila found his identity anticlimactic. Doesn’t he know just how many small time businesses Roman has ruined? He’d be lucky to get into the top 50. It’s not like he was running a pretty ethical establishment either.  On the other hand, your freaking kid is getting the shit kicked out of him. Emote damn it.

 “Jason. Don’t you worry. Daddy’s going to take care of this. Your Uncle D happens to be in town. He’s on his way to pick you up. Love you, baby. See you soon.”

The line dies. Mila's stomach sinks further somehow. She doesn't know if the nausea is due to the fact that the line died, the threat, or the number of times the word ‘daddy’ came up. Who the hell is Uncle D? How is he supposed to help? Her gaze trails to Jason who is now lowering his head to the floor seemingly tired. Maybe that last punch finally drained the fight from him.

“You're all so fucked.” Jason barks out in a fit of laughter. The men around him, jumping from the volume of his voice.  

Bruno grabs Jason by the collar and begins to shake him as if the  “Shut the fuck up you little bitch! Whoever your Uncle D is he's-”

 “Deathstroke”

Mila feels like someone kicked her in the chest. First of all, Uncle D? Really? Mila guesses that there are worse hills to die on. This was somehow weirder than hearing Faust and her siblings call him pops. Second of all, Fuck. She'd never gotten her asshanded to her by Deathstroke but based on how banged up the Titans looked after fighting him this wasn't gonna be pretty.  All she could hope for was that she wouldn't get caught in the crossfire. Although, the image of Deathstroke grudgingly letting a kid call him Uncle D lightens her mood a bit.  

Bruno throws Jason on the floor hard enough for his body to bounce. Like Jason earlier, Bruno is radiating murder. 

Just run, you thick motherfucker. 

Mila being the ‘nice’ Wayne kid that she is tries to tell him as much but sadly that was halted by shattering glass. A flurry of black, orange, and metal crash through the glass and cut through the crowd of men.  

They fire at him, panic making their faces even paler. They hit him, bullets sinking into his flesh, blood splatters but none of it fazes him. He skewers and cuts them down with ease. His swords and suit are liberally decorated with their blood when it’s all done. 

He steps over Bruno’s body. From the grunt that comes out, Bruno is still alive. Dumb bastard doesn’t know how to play dead. He’ll die from blood loss anyway. 

“Hey, kid-” Deathstroke greets tursely,  picking up Jason’s nearly limp body.  “We’re gonna get you home.” He slings Jason’s arm over his shoulder. 

“Wait!”  

Deathstroke stops sounding slightly annoyed. 

Jason turns to Mila who is still unhappily tied to a post.  “We gotta get him out.” He rasps.  

“Kid, you’re the only one I’m getting paid to rescue.”  Deathstroke helpfully informs as he carefully adjusts his hold on the struggling young man. Mila blows out a breath somehow more irritable than scared.  “Just cut me out. I can make my way back just fine.” 

 “Walk in Gotham, are you stupid?” Jason hisses. The concern bleeding through. 

 “Which one of us charged at their captors while they were armed?”

Jason scowls at her with a petulant twist in his lips. “Yanno what,  Leave ‘im.”

 “Ok, ok, I’m sorry and yeah I’ll be fine. I know where to avoid. Just please don’t leave me with them” She pleads, throwing away any pride she held  as she glances at the most likely dead bodies. Deathstroke cuts her out. Her skin feels raw but she’s otherwise unharmed. 

They walk out of the warehouse and Dick practically throws himself at her. “Oh thank god, they didn’t shoot you in the head.” He mumbles into her wig.  

 "Why would you think they would shoot me in the head?" 

Dick pulls back and frowns at her through the domino mask.  “You aren’t exactly the most pleasant-”

“ We were model hostages.” She squawks.

Jason snorts far too loudly to be helpful. 

She glares at him but she wasn’t about to say fuck off to him while he has one of the world’s deadliest assassins right next to him. 

 Deathstroke coughs.  “Well if you don’t mind we’ll be taking our leave.” 

Dick holding Mila protectively, glares but says nothing. Maybe he does but she faints before she can hear it. 

………………………….

The car ride  was awkward to say the least and disastrous to some unholy degree. Dick had insisted on calling her while she was driving, not really taking into account that she  might need navigation on the way to the hospital. Moral support he said. She understands though. It wasn't obvious but all of them got a bit clingy when one of them was kidnapped. Dick was just the most obvious. Bruce scolded her. Alfred insisted she should rest but, in her opinion, 2 days was enough resting. Cass and Dick were practically koala bears when she got home. They probably held her for hours and even when her skin pricked, she let them.  Tim offered to put a tracker in her favorite earnings which she declined because she didn't want to find out whether Bruce had already put trackers in there. Damian actually offered to go with her. It was sweet but she declined. She was tempted but she knew if she let Damian come with, Dick would insist on going then Cass then Tim then maybe Batcow or something. She had no intention of suffocating Jason. 

His bodyguard, Reggie, looked like he had every intention to suffocate her. 

“Uh hi- I'm Tim. I-” I'm Jason's abduction buddy. But how does one say that without getting socked in the face by a man who can bench press 10 of you.

"I'm Jason's friend(?)." Mila squeaks with the utmost sincerity she can muster. Reggie's brow ticks up in response. Fuck. 

Reggie leans down, getting in Mila's face. She could feel her skin begin prick. If she was Dick, she'd be able to pirouette over this easy (or make it 10 times worse). 

"Reggie just let him in you fucking tightwad" Jason shouts from the other side of the door. 

Mila slips in as smoothly as she could trying to hide her giddiness.  "Hey pretty boy, you look like hell." She says with a light jovial tone almost saying it like a laugh as she nudges past the crowd of dogs. How the hell did they get dogs in here? 

"Aw you say that to all the injured rich assholes you meet!" 

 "I know Dick Grayson! I have standards." She protests handing him a bouquet of get well flowers. 

Jason stares at the flowers with a pinched brow, mouth twisted into something unreadable. "I'm surprised you wanted to talk to me again. " He says, voice wavering. "Most people don't react well to getting kidnapped."

Mila has been through worse but she still has nightmares about it. "I've- " She shrugs " Not your fault." She sits  down to pet the dog nudging her leg. The dog by her leg looks exactly like Lizzie. Her heart sinks. It's not like he wanted to be kidnapped. Not like he wanted her to even be there in the alley. None of it was his fault as far as she knew.  Her mouth pulls to one side not. It's pursed, deep in thought. She looks up at eyes bright and focused unlike the last time they met. She looks at him dead serious as if she was gonna tell him something really important. Maybe she should say something meaningful like condolences for Lizzie or Is Box ok? 

 "Ok, fine, I wanted to see your dogs."

"Fuck!" He belts out laughing. "My ribs still hurt damn it. Don't make me laugh!"  

"As a fellow rich asshole, I am offended that you did not expect that of me. " She really tries not to smile but something about how his rugged face tugs into a smile makes her chest warm up. And that laugh! Now in the quiet of a hospital room with only the whirring of machines as accompaniment, Mila could now appreciate the dulcet tones of his voice. It was rough from fatigue but it still sounded velve-

Shit. She sounded like Dick. 

"I got you a get-well present  by the way. "

 She sputters tossing him the bag realizing too late that that was probably a bad idea to throw things at a sick person. 

"You really didn't have to…." He said sheepishly. 

He opens the bag. It's a copy of Tales of Earthsea. 

"I heard through the grapevine that you liked books,"

"You did, huh?" He asks clearly skeptical but amused by the lie. No, she found out through research. She really should have checked what kind of books he was into but he doesn't seem annoyed by the choice. 

"Stalker," he snorts his face pulling into a cocky grin.  

Mila liked this side of him as well. He was cute either way.  She had to stop giving Dick shit about pretty faces. 

"Thanks…" 

"Mila. It's Mila." 

Mila really hoped Bruce was wrong about him. 

If that was the case, so much for giving Bruce shit about his type.